House of Falling Rain (Eyes of Odyssium Book 1)

by C. A. Bryers

  “The Majdi are the reason I’m a prisoner, Rainne. Maybe forever. You’ll have to do better than telling me a story of your noble sacrifice for Ulong before I consider it some ugly part of your past like the things you had to have seen about me.”

  Frustration built in the lines of her face, but she continued. “Very well, Salla.” It was a long time before she mustered the will to begin. “I was sent to Ozaros with two others of the Order to identify a plague that was spreading there, and to offer our help. I met a young woman. Pregnant. She was suffering. She was dying.” Her composure was starting to show signs of breaking again, but a stiff breath pushed the pain back down. “We lost the mother. The baby could not have survived. Of this we were certain. We were preparing the burial when…when I saw it under the skin, moving. This little thing was pushing from inside of its mother, fighting for the chance to live in the only way it knew. By the time we got her out, she was not breathing. I tried so hard to resuscitate her, but my efforts fell short.” Rainne’s lips curled, stifling another upswell of tears. “That child fought harder than we did. We had given up. But there she was breathing, crying out into the night, screaming for someone, anyone to care for her, to guide her on her way in this world.” She shook her head despondently. “But there was nobody. The plague had left nothing of her family. And here this baby girl was—this miracle who battled death and won. What was I to do? I knew nobody there. Who could be trusted to give this amazing girl the wonderful life she had fought so hard for?”

  “What did you do?” he asked quietly, but moved no closer to comfort her.

  “I let her almost die twice—once inside the womb, once outside. I was not going to fail her a third time. I was going to care for her myself, even if I had to sneak her out of Ozaros under a blanket.” She took a corner of her scarf to wipe at her eyes. “The other Majdi who came with me stopped it from happening. Took her out of my arms. I do not know who they gave her to, where she is now. She could be d—” Rainne shook her head as if the very thought was a poisonous insect in her mind she had to chase away. “Nothing was the same when I came back. My focus was gone. My concentration fell to pieces every time I tried to straighten my mind out, to get back into the rhythm of everyday Majdi life. Even furthering my knowledge of the illness that was taking Afa…I couldn’t do it. I hate—hate—myself for it, but I have found myself thinking that maybe it was time, Salla. It was time to just stop. Let him go. When I think of that girl…when I see her in my dreams and imagine what I almost had, I can’t get past that feeling.” Her voice became tiny. “I am so selfish, Salla. I want children, and I am letting the man who raised me, who gave me everything he had to give, just…just die because of it.”

  This time, Salla did take a step closer.

  “I had an evaluation after Ozaros. My behavior warranted it, and they discovered it all. Why I was one of them, everything.” She stared off into the distance, eyes haunted. “Uhreht’sa.”

  “You know what Ulong would say.”

  A painful smile sprang to her lips, eyes pinching tight. “He would tell me to go. Have children. Be happy.”

  “And he would mean it,” said Salla, closing the distance to lay his arms around her.

  That moment became a turning point. In Rainne, he saw more of himself than he had ever suspected he might. Warring forces, the Eyes of the One and traces of the Magsem, had nearly taken his life. For Rainne, it was her struggle to live for her Afa, and a sudden desire to live for herself for the first time. It might not have been a hideous, terrible secret in Salla’s eyes, but for Rainne, it was an unforgivable transgression that threatened to tear her to pieces.

  Holding her in his arms, Salla turned his head to find Ciracelle alone at the doorway of the Iron Grounds. There was no telling how long she had been there, or how much she’d heard. The look on her face was brittle, a smile battling its way onto her lips, but falling short.

  “Lochmore’s almost ready for you.” Her voice was small and hollow. Uncertain as to what to do or say next, it seemed, eyes darting left and right, Ciracelle offered a faint wave. “Bye, Tallas.”

  As he watched Ciracelle go, Rainne withdrew from him, wiping her eyes anew. “Who was that?”

  “A—” he stammered, discovering his mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed. “A friend.”

  She nodded. “I should go clean myself up before we meet the Adjutu. I will meet you by his office.”

  With that, Salla was left alone, a tempest of emotions roiling within him. Rather than dwell on them, he relished the sight of the dwindling sunlight overhead, taking not a single shade of its golds and oranges for granted. He felt lighter somehow, no longer feeling any semblance of the weight of his animosity toward Rainne. For the first time in a long while, a glimmer of newfound optimism shone from somewhere inside of him.

  Considering how dire his shackled future had looked only months before, now he realized there was much for which he should be thankful. He’d survived his meeting with Rainne, and emerged with a sense of understanding. His life was no longer in danger from the forces battling within him, so long as he remained diligent. He had a new friend in Ciracelle. Sure, she had appeared conflicted and perhaps a little jealous of his moment with Rainne, but he could amend that later tonight.

  It gave him hope that perhaps there was still a future waiting for him out there somewhere. Maybe one day he could walk in the open again, breathe in a breeze rolling across the sea, and bask in the muted glow of a sunset like the one tonight as a free man.

  24

  Lochmore and Rainne were there waiting for him when Salla made his way around the subtle bend in Adjutu’s Path. Or rather, the pair enjoyed each other’s company while they waited. Rainne stood beside the door to the Adjutu’s quarters while Lochmore leaned against it, talking, smiling, and missing no opportunities to give her arm a tap or brush with his fingers as they spoke.

  The sight made Salla go cold. When he had stumbled upon Lochmore and Iriscent in the filing room just down the hall from where he stood, it had been almost amusing. Iriscent was a strong, confident girl who could take care of herself. Rainne, as he had just discovered, was anything but at the moment. She was hurt, confused, and feeling entirely alone during the whole of her struggle, plagued by conflicting feelings about both her Afa and her own wishes for her future. Lochmore, on the other hand, was handsome, charming, and an authority figure here in the House of Falling Rain.

  “I love the color of this scarf,” the Adjutu was saying to Rainne as Salla approached, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “I don’t know what it is, but it just brings out the warmth in your eyes. Maybe it was just the scarf you were wearing before, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice how striking your eyes are.”

  Salla announced himself with a heaving sigh, fighting the urge to roll his eyes in full view of the facility’s Adjutu.

  Lochmore let the corner of Rainne’s scarf slip from his fingertips, turning that golden smile on him. “Tallas, we’ve been waiting for you. I was telling Rainne here that stature in the Order doesn’t mean a whole lot to me where rhos are concerned. Take Orrock, for example. Strong, well-regarded throughout the Order, but not a drop of civility. I have to deal with someone’s rho at least a few times a week. Now you tell me, who would you rather deal with—a lumbering beast like him, or a gentle flower like yours right here?”

  Salla scrunched his features up in mock self-debate. “I…think this is the strangest question I’ve ever been asked on an evaluation in my life.”

  The Adjutu’s smile faded, but only a little. “Just saying you’re a lucky man, Tallas. But, sounds like you’re ready to get things moving, aren’t you?” His eyes found Rainne and lingered on her in concern. “You’re looking a little tired, Rainne. I’d be happy to move this into my office so you can sit down.”

  She waved the offer aside. “That is kind of you, but unnecessary. I am fine.”

  “I’ll try to be brief, then. The good news is Tallas hasn’t had any re
ported incidents since the last time I saw you. The bad news—well, I’m not even sure if this is bad news, since I don’t have an account in his file regarding his grasp on the whole tephic thing prior to his accident. I know you came on late as his rho, but I don’t suppose you have any idea what level his ability was?”

  She shook her head, green scarf swaying. “I am afraid I do not. To my knowledge, I do not believe he has ever wielded tephic without a bracer, however.”

  “Oh. Well, then, that’s fair news,” Lochmore said with a warm smile. “He’s hanging out at the bottom of the ability charts, so I suppose it’s safe to say not a lot has changed. On the positive side, his openness to receiving the implants is good and his effort in the practice sessions that follow is commendable. Again, it’s just a guess, since we don’t know how far along he was before his setback, but I’d say he still has a bit of the road left to travel before he gets off the remedial lists and back into proper training with the others.”

  She smiled up at Salla. “I am pleased to hear he is doing well.”

  “It makes my life easier when they do. Now—”

  In that moment, Rainne’s legs buckled, and she fell. Still in close proximity, Lochmore was able to react, catching her before her knees made contact with the stone floor. Salla leapt forward to help.

  “Easy, there. Easy, easy,” Lochmore said, trying to hold her upright. “Tallas, grab her legs. I’ve got an empty room from an assistant of mine that left the Order. Let’s bring her there so she can rest.”

  Salla did as asked, scooping her legs up by the ankles and following Lochmore down the hall until the Adjutu drew to a halt outside a closed door.

  “Does she do this often?” he asked, wrestling with the handle.

  “Not that I know of. But she’s had a rough day already. Emotional, you know.”

  Lochmore nodded and kicked the door open with his heel. By the time they were inside the small, sparsely furnished living quarters, Rainne began to stir.

  “What happened?” she asked, eyes going wide in concern.

  Lochmore gave a faint chuckle, touching her cheek. “You said you were fine, and I made the mistake of taking your word for it. Rest here.”

  At once, Rainne started to sit upright, lips parting to speak.

  “Hey, hey. Before you object, I’ll remind you that I’m Adjutu of this House. My place, my rules, so consider it an order.”

  With an unenthusiastic nod, Rainne took a deep breath and closed her eyes. As soon as she did, Lochmore swept a hand over her face. Within seconds, Salla could see the remaining tension in Rainne’s body go slack. The Adjutu placed a hand on Salla’s back, leading him out of the room.

  “She’ll be fine, just seems to be overstressed and exhausted. The rest will do her good.” The door closed behind him. “Your review’s all wrapped up here. There are still a few rhos loitering around that I have to send on their way as politely as possible, so enjoy the rest of the evening. You’ve made a lot of progress, Tallas.”

  Salla shot him a distracted smile, eyes still darting between Lochmore and the closed door. “Thanks. I’ll check on her later.”

  “Not necessary. I put her out for the rest of the night. If you have the time in the morning before we assemble for tol’kaa, swing by. She should be awake by then.”

  Taking a step back, Salla still could not bring himself to entirely turn away. After witnessing his clandestine dalliance with Iriscent and only minutes ago walking up to find Lochmore turning his charm on Rainne, he no longer trusted the Adjutu of the House. He liked Lochmore, true enough, but the man’s predilection for seemingly the entire breadth of womankind left a bad taste in Salla’s mouth. Though he knew there was nothing to be done about it, something inside still held him in place to remain stationed outside her door.

  Lochmore started to walk away, but noticed Salla had yet to move. “Something wrong?”

  Salla shook his head, but said nothing.

  The Adjutu seemed to put the pieces together within seconds. “Look, I can see you care a good deal for her. But whatever worries you might have, put them at ease. Nobody’s going in that room. She’s safe. You have my word.”

  Salla gave a downcast nod. “I appreciate it. And you’re right. I suppose I do.”

  With his mind somewhat at ease, Salla turned away, heading back toward the foyer. The entryway to the House of Falling Rain was an empty shadow of what it had been a little over an hour ago. Ota was still being lectured by the old Majdi who was his rho, and Ystolt and Trigg seemed to be comparing notes on the results of their respective reviews. He caught a few glances as he walked past but plunged heedless into the corridor on the other side of the foyer that housed the stairs leading down to the prison levels.

  It was an alien feeling to come down here with anyone but Iriscent, but those days were over now that his rudimentary tephic skills had calmed the wild beasts raging inside of him. He wondered if Ciracelle was even here yet or whether she would come at all, considering the dazed look written all over her face the moment she’d caught him earlier in an embrace with Rainne. That look had opened a window to how Ciracelle might view their friendship. Perhaps, just perhaps, she thought of Salla as something more.

  The thought gave him pause, and he slowed his descent down the stairs. Was he ready for such a thing? Did he even want it? He vividly recalled keeping Rainne at arm’s length because of how he still felt about Natke Orino. Certainly more time had passed since then, but was it enough? Although she was no longer as close to the surface of Salla’s everyday thoughts, Natke remained a ghost he was certain he would carry with him always.

  He sighed. Having just had an emotionally draining conversation with Rainne, the last thing he wanted was to pull apart and decipher where his relationship with Ciracelle might or might not be headed. Letting those thoughts scatter to the wind, Salla resumed his descent. The familiar random splashes of flickering light shone upon the foot of the stairs. He strode into the prison level corridor, looking left and right for Ciracelle. There was no sign of her, just empty, decrepit pathways on either side that hollowly carried echoes of his every footstep in both directions.

  He stopped, leaning against the wall between cells to wait. Only a few seconds of silence enveloped him before the sounds of someone approaching filled the halls. He knew it was her. Parting from the wall, Salla felt a strange tingling of anticipation in his chest. He peered into the dashes of light to his left. It was as if he could sense her coming, feel her encroaching presence to make his heart beat just a little faster.

  Something was happening, something unusual. It was an intangible thing, however, there in his mind one moment and gone the next.

  A moment later, there she was, coming around the corner of the dank cell block. Ciracelle Belfair neared with slow, timid steps, her dark eyes seeming to appraise him with each sporadic burst of light from above.

  “I wasn’t sure you would come.” She stopped a dozen paces away, her voice subdued, hesitant. “I…I’m glad you did, though. I think.”

  “You think?” Brows furrowed, Salla took a step to close the gap between them.

  “Stop,” she said, holding one tremulous hand forward. The conflict in her mind was written all over her face. “I don’t know why I feel this way. I didn’t want to feel this way…about anyone here.”

  Something inside compelled Salla to take another step closer despite Ciracelle’s insistence that he should not.

  “Please, Tallas.” Her head dipped slightly, hurt reflecting in the eyes that peered through the curtain of blond hair. “I don’t want to feel this way if your heart is with someone else.”

  “It’s not. Rainne is my rho.” He sighed, trying to think of where to begin, what to tell and what to omit for her sake. “There’s nothing between us. Not really, at least.”

  Now it was Ciracelle’s turn to move nearer. A measure of strength emboldened her steady gaze, and Salla felt another pull, her eyes luring him ever closer. He stared back at her, sea
rching the angles of her face, finding his way to the shape of her lips. They looked almost inviting, parted ever so slightly. Salla found himself wondering for the first time what it would be like to feel them, to taste them. He glanced downward, and despite the drab gray House uniform she wore, he found subtle hints of the body that lay hidden beneath. It was then that he realized his limbs were trembling, originating from an anxious shuddering deep within his chest.

  What’s happening? He had just been thinking of someone on the way down the stairs…someone far away now. Scouring his mind for a name, a face, even…

  His eyes narrowed for a moment as he looked at Ciracelle, trying to recall what he’d been thinking about only a second before. With each step she took, her sudden, intoxicating allure became more potent. Salla watched his hand extend as if of its own accord, grasping her by the shoulder. His other hand reached out as well, fingers slipping into the separation between shirt and pants to wrap about the small of her back, clutching the smooth skin he found there and drawing her to him with a gentle tug. Ciracelle looked up in startled wonderment.

  “Tallas, what…what is this?” Just behind the surprise in her smile, mischief lay only barely hidden, hungry and waiting.

  Salla’s focus narrowed. He saw nothing but her lips, studying the way they moved when she spoke, the way she wet her lips with her tongue in anticipation of what he might do next. Ciracelle tipped her head upward, her once-fragile gaze now a challenge, daring him to accept.

  “Do it,” she whispered, eyelids slowly descending, lips parting ever so slightly wider. “You want to. So do it. Give in. I want you to give in to it.”