Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  Recognition dawns on the beggar’s face, and he relaxes his grip on the club. “Ulmer? This is... unexpected, to say the least! Why have you come here?”

  The old man – Ulmer, I infer – begins to speak slowly. “Listen to me. The boy is in danger. I think it prudent that we get him to safety. Tonight.”

  The beggar sighs, nodding. “I knew I felt something amiss.”

  “Your intuition serves you well.” Ulmer glances around, lowering his voice. “Zeldek is coming for him.”

  As he says these words, a raven screeches from the rooftop and soars into the air, disappearing beyond the thatched peak of the building next to us. Dread washes over me, and I look up enviously at the raven that can fly away so freely. Zeldek. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but it is meaningless to me.

  “Why now?” Banner’s voice is tremulous, yet resigned. “He could have come for him at any time. What is he planning?”

  “My source was unclear. Simply that he plans to capture the boy himself.” The old man shakes his head. “I must inform the council of this development. We may not have the numbers to wage war against him, but we can distract him while you get the boy to safety. We will reconvene at this location at midnight. Be sure he is with you then. If Zeldek gets to him first, I fear he will be beyond our help.”

  Banner nods. “I will protect him with my life.”

  “I know you will, little brother,” Ulmer says, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I must be off.”

  “All speed to you,” Banner returns, lines of worry sinking into his brow.

  Ulmer pulls the hood down over his eyes and slips into the crowded street outside.

  No sooner has he gone than I feel a tugging on my shoulders, and I am jerked back into the wall. Next thing I know, I am once again breathing in the heavy air of the scullery, the flames of the fire dangerously close to my face. I stumble backward, my eyes stinging from smoke. My foot catches on a loose brick in the hearth, and I hit the floor before I even realize I’m falling. All air flees my lungs.

  When everything comes back into focus, the alley is gone.

  The scullery, on the other hand, is too real. All five of the maids have stopped their work and are staring at me, agape, as if expecting me to sprout wings or turn into a worm.

  “What’s it doing?”

  “Stop that! Stop that, you hear?”

  “Loretta, do something!”

  Beads of sweat form on my forehead – whether from mortification or exhaustion is hard to say. A wave of nausea overtakes me and I feel suddenly very weak. I run my sleeve over my face, widening my eyes in a futile attempt to clear my vision.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, trying to scramble to my feet.

  My knees wobble and buckle underneath me. An awkward pause hangs in the air while the maids hang back, motionless.

  Come on! Get up! It’s a dizzy spell. It’ll pass.

  If anything, more of my strength is draining away.

  “Are you alright?”

  Stunned, I crane my neck in search of the owner of the kind voice. Faces swim before my eyes, only adding to my confusion.

  And now I’m hearing things. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

  The voice comes again, louder this time. “Are you alright?”

  The face of a girl appears above me, genuine concern in her clear grey eyes. Even through the fog in my mind, I know her. She’s the maid that was hired yesterday. The strange, quiet girl with the pure white hair, like that of the aged – though she’s still quite young.

  “May I help you?” she asks.

  I stare at her, bewildered. “M-me?”

  She laughs, a soft sound, like the strings of a harp. “Who else, silly? The pheasant?” She nods her head in the direction of the roasting bird, a wide smile on her face. “I don’t think I’d be much used to him now.”

  I begin to answer, but stop myself. I know the rules better than anyone. People who fraternize with half-breeds tend to get hurt, as do the half-breeds they associate with. I won’t see her get in trouble on my account.

  “Sorry, miss,” I mumble, bowing my head, “but I can help myself.”

  “Are you sure? You look a little pale.” Her voice isn’t so light now.

  Pretending not to hear her, I grab the edge of a nearby table and pull myself to my feet. I fall into it, knocking a bowl of leeks onto the floor. No one moves to retrieve it.

  “Did you pass out?” the girl persists. “Maybe you should lie down.”

  “Please, miss,” I hiss, my gaze darting to the other maids in the room. The lot are eyeing the girl with collective suspicion and disgust. “Let me alone. I can take care of myself.”

  She steps back, her brows furrowing. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was only trying to help.”

  “Annalyn!” barks an unusually deep, raspy female voice from across the room.

  The girl jumps at the sound of her name and backs away as a thin, sour-faced hag with a long, skinny neck and a terrible under bite charges toward us.

  Watchdog.

  That’s what I call her, anyways. Her real name is Loretta, but she takes it upon herself to be Lye’s eyes and ears while he’s out of the room. If the two of them aren’t already married, there is certainly something going on between them, and since she knows Lye has a vendetta against me, she’s taken it upon herself to treat me with just as much contempt.

  “Back to your work, half-breed lover,” Watchdog growls to Annayln, “before I give you more trouble than you’re worth!”

  Annalyn flushes a deep red, and biting her lip, she turns back to peeling potatoes.

  Watchdog turns on me. “What do you think you’re doing, filth?”

  I open my mouth to make an excuse, but she backhands me across the face. The force of her blow sends me spinning to the floor again.

  I’ve only been down a moment before she jabs a foot into my ribs. “Up, now!”

  I try, but I’m too slow for her.

  “I said up!”

  She snatches a wooden spoon from the table and raises it to strike me. As she brings it down, a strange wave of energy shoots through me. My vision snaps clear. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve caught the spoon in my hand and twisted it from her fist.

  Gasps and shrieks ring out. Watchdog’s mouth drops in alarm and she stumbles back. The orange-haired maid turns and flees the room.

  I stare down at the spoon in my hand, frozen.

  How did I do that? Why did I do it?

  Watchdog grabs a knife from the counter. “Drop the spoon,” she orders shakily.

  I throw it aside, putting up my hands. “I’m so sorry!” I blurt. “I didn’t mean—”

  The scullery door bursts open, and Lye enters, the orange-haired maid close behind. I gulp and shrink back.

  Things just got a whole lot worse.

  Chapter Three

  I ’ve never seen Lye so furious. Puffing and spitting, he takes in the scene, his face turning so red it could easily be mistaken for a beet. Even his moustache, two tongues on either side of his upper lip, frays at the ends as he prepares to blow.

  “Half-breed!” he bellows so loudly that my ears begin to ring. “What are you doing? The bird is burning, you idiot!”

  I back away, glancing at the remains of the pheasant. He’s right. Curls of smoke rise from its blackened surface. As I watch, it bursts into flames.

  Lye throws back his head with a cry of distress. “Ruined! What will the master have now?”

  Watchdog is at his elbow in an instant. “The half-breed’s gone savage! I’ve heard of it happening before, but I never thought I’d see the day. In my own scullery! The look in its eyes, like a wild animal it was. And glinting—”

  “What are you babbling about, woman?” Lye sputters. “Can’t you see? Dinner is ruined!”

  She points a finger at me. “The half-breed attacked me! I warned you, didn’t I? When they put it to work down ‘ere, I told you it was no good!”

  Lye’
s face, once red with fury, has turned white. “Attacked you? How?”

  “There!” She points at the offending spoon lying near my feet. “Snatched it right outta my hands. Scared the devils outta me. I grabbed this ‘ere knife to defend myself. It had blue death in its eyes, I saw it! And the maids, they can attest!”

  “That’s a lie!”

  Annalyn’s face is red with indignation and she wipes her hands on her apron. Lye turns to her, shocked speechless. It’s not every day that he’s confronted, least of all by one of his own staff.

  She takes a deep breath, straightening herself up. “Sir, it isn’t his fault. He only took it to stop her from hurting him. If anything, it was self-defence.”

  “It’s a half-breed! It don’t got the brains to be deliberate.” He jabs his finger at her. “And you don’t got no right to speak to me that way, missy!”

  Her eyes blaze and she opens her mouth to protest.

  “I did it on purpose.” The voice is shaky, but clear, and I realize it’s my own.

  If anyone’s going to get in trouble for this, it’s me. No need for her to join my punishment.

  I jut out my chin. “There, I said it. Pleased?”

  Lye lunges at me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “You dare mock me, whelp? I’ll put you in your place once and for all!”

  He yanks me around the table, shoving me toward the exit. I stumble along without protest, pretending I don’t care what happens to me, that I’m not afraid of getting whipped for the second time today. I’d rather Lye take out his rage on me than have him find out.

  Lye kicks open the door and pushes me out into the courtyard. Rainwater drenches my face from a deluge that must’ve only just started. The door slams behind us, and he shoves me forward. My feet slip on the wet cobblestones and I fall on all fours. I scurry to my feet, but he throws me down again with a blow between my shoulder blades. My ankle twists beneath me and I gasp as pain vibrates up my leg.

  Lightning flashes in the sky.

  “Really?” a familiar voice calls over the pattering of the rain. “Him again?”

  Fear rises in my throat like bile as I search for the owner of the voice. I soon find him leaning against the trunk of the large oak tree in the centre of the courtyard.

  Ralcher.

  A relatively young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, Ralcher is the son of the master of the household, Lord Thane. Whatever the maids say about him, he’s a devil who takes cruel pleasure devising unusual and painful ways to hurt things so he can break their spirit. He was the one that bought me. Said he saw a lot of spirit in me.

  Lye picks me up by the collar of my shirt and holds me at arm’s length. “Master, this half-breed of yours is nothing but trouble! He ruined dinner, set the pheasant afire, and attacked Loretta!”

  Thunder cracks. I glare defiantly at Ralcher through the long straggles of hair that have freed themselves from the tie at the nape of my neck. I feigned some remorse for Lye. Ralcher gets no such privilege.

  Ralcher lets out a deep chuckle, a wide grin showing his crooked teeth. “Does my little half-breed have anything to say for himself?”

  I bare my teeth.

  Lye cuffs me upside the head. “Answer him!”

  Ralcher holds up a hand. “That will do, Lye,” he says with an easygoing smile. “You may return to your post. Dinner still needs to be served, after all.”

  Lye releases me with a shove. “I suppose I’ve got to make new arrangements for the main course,” he grumbles.

  Turning, he retreats indoors, his anger appeased.

  When the door to the scullery has closed once more, Ralcher straightens up and starts toward me with his usual off-balanced swagger. I don’t dare move as he grips my face in his hand and peers into my eyes with his wild, chestnut ones.

  “The rebellious spirit lingers still.” He shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. “I’ve never had one as young as you last for so long.”

  I struggle to breathe without shaking.

  He pushes back my head, moving my hair out of my face. His eyes glint with a sadistic ire, and his dark hair hangs in wet strings, framing his face and accentuating his appearance of insanity.

  “I’ll win, eventually. I always do.”

  I want to run, to get as far away from him as I can. But he’ll only catch me. And he’ll make me pay. Instead, I grit my teeth, and brace myself.

  He seizes a handful of my hair and drags me across the wet grass to the tree. Throwing me backward into the rough bark of the trunk, he brings his fist into my gut. I double over, but his hand closes on my throat, and he slams me back against the tree again. His fingers dig into my skin, cutting off my windpipe.

  I sputter, trying to take a breath. He waits, that casual smile still playing on his features, until my chest feels like it’s tearing itself apart. Then he lets go. I double over, gulping air, but he grabs my hair again and slams my head back into the tree. White light shoots across my vision. When it clears, I’m on the ground at his feet. Pain splits my head. The dizziness is returning.

  “You’re pathetic!” he spits, sending a sharp kick to my stomach.

  Gasping, I paw at the wet leaves scattered on the grass, searching for something solid to cling to.

  He kicks me again. “Quiet, wretch!”

  That only sets me to coughing, and when I remove my hand from over my mouth, it is specked with blood.

  “What is it that you cling to? Freedom? Hope for a better future?” He stands over me, rolling me onto my back with his foot. “You want the pain to end, don’t you?”

  I nod faintly.

  “It will. But first, you must understand; you are nothing. You never will be anything. Embrace it. Then the pain will end.”

  It’s a lie. I... I can still be something.

  I struggle to my knees, and he lets me, a cruel smirk twisting his features. I look up, blinking through rain that pelts my eyes.

  “Do what you want,” I breathe. “You will never—”

  Down on the grass, fingers in the soft dirt, I am unable to finish my pledge. A shock of cold rushes through my arms, gathering in my palms, and blue lightning flashes from the sky. The ground around me explodes, throwing Ralcher back onto the cobbled path. Rocks and dirt shower down on me, and I fling my arms over my head to shield myself.

  Crack!

  The sound is followed by muffled screams from indoors. Forgetting about myself, I look up toward the building. Although my vision is blurred, I can see that it is undamaged, which is more than I can say for the rest of the courtyard. The cobblestones have been ploughed up, the grass left in ravaged clumps, and the oak tree has been uprooted and thrown against the now crumbling wall that surrounds the estate.

  My gaze falls to the ground close around me. Though scattered with dirt and stones, it is otherwise untouched.

  The rain pours down harder than before.

  Ralcher picks himself up off the ground, stumbling in a full circle before his mad eyes come to rest on me. “You did this!”

  I shake my head, shocked. That feeling of exhaustion is taking me again, and I blink, trying to keep focus.

  My voice is weak. “I didn’t.”

  An insane glee takes hold of him. “You’re a sorcerer!”

  “No, I’m not. I swear!”

  “But you are! I saw your eyes glow. You’re a sorcerer!” He pauses, realization dawning. “You just tried to kill me.”

  “No, please!” I cry desperately with aching lungs. “I didn’t!”

  “This has gone too far, I’m afraid,” he says, and leaps over a mound in front of him, charging toward me.

  Terror rips through me, giving me strength to run. I bolt for the wall, scrambling over turned-over boulders, dirt, and roots. Ralcher is close behind, but I manage to scale the wall before he reaches me. I leap down the other side, ignoring the pain prickling in my ankle as I stumble toward the opening of a nearby alleyway.

  The world is spinning around me, but I manage to stay on
my feet. I bump into the corner of the wall beside the alley before stumbling onto the dark, grimy pathway, clinging to the wall for support.

  I’ve got to be invisible before the city guards start looking for me. As soon as they receive word of a sorcerer loose in the city, they’ll be after me. They’ll close the city gates until they catch me. There’s no way I can get out in time.

  They will catch me, eventually. No matter what I say, they won’t believe that I’m not a sorcerer. Ralcher’s the son of a powerful lord. I’m a nobody.

  Panic begins to creep in. Unless I figure out a way to escape the city, I’m doomed.

  Chapter Four

  N ight descends swiftly over the city. The rain lets up a little, but the streets are already crawling with men in the red and black livery that marks them as the city’s superior security. I perch on a rooftop, watching from the shadow of a chimney while a squad of nine guards rushes past. Their leader barks directions. They split into groups of two to search the surrounding alleys and streets, leaving him to wait for their return. He stands with his back to me, his hands clasped behind him. I recognize the silhouette of the Great Black Bear glinting on the back of his armour.

  Ancient mythology speaks of the Great Black Bear and the battle that raged between it and the Phoenix of the neighbouring country, Valamette. Both animals were Bereziak, charged by Irla, goddess of life, with the task of creating their own people groups to inhabit Theara. The Bear and the Phoenix both claimed the western side of the Tireth River as their own. Instead of settling the dispute through negotiations, the Bear challenged the Phoenix to a battle. In the end, the Phoenix struck a mortal blow to the Great Bear, and carried his body to the other side of the river. With his dying breath, the Great Black Bear swore vengeance upon the Phoenix, and using his own blood, he created a people that were as strong and fierce of heart as he was. To this day, Zandelba values brute strength, arrogance, and power above all, although they prefer to call it courage, patriotism, and loyalty. They honour the Great Black Bear and have sworn to one day reclaim the land that is now the country of Valamette.