Powers of the Six

by Kristal Shaff

  “It’s different. I wasn’t like either of them.”

  “Of course,” Alec said. “You only ran into a wall of arrows.”

  Nolan winced. Like he needed a reminder.

  Away from the ruined city, the forest took on a more civilized feel and paths cut through the dense foliage. The flattened soil underfoot was wonderful after days of cutting their way through the vast woods. After a very long hour, a man stepped soundlessly out of the trees.

  A sword seemed to appear in Alec’s hand.

  “It’s okay,” Emery said. “He’s a friend.”

  The man wore only a pair of leather breeches: no shirt, shoes, or weapon of any kind. His torso—bronzed darker than Nolan had ever seen—was well developed. He crossed his arms over his chest, not returning Emery’s warm greeting.

  “It’s about time.” The man’s dark eyes scanned the group as he pushed a strand of black hair from his face. “You have new initiates, I see.”

  “Indeed, Maska. We’ve added four.”

  “Not as many as your last excursion,” Maska said. “Are you all well?”

  “Some more than others.” Emery gestured toward Hakan.

  Hakan growled. “Enough of this. You all think you know everything? Well then, find your way without me.” He clomped ahead of them on the path, like a small child throwing a tantrum.

  Maska studied his retreating form. “It would appear Hakan has come upon the same ailment as many in the village. The mood has grown exceptionally foul today.”

  Emery and Maska led the way, discussing the strange atmosphere passing over their home. Nolan noticed Maska’s fluid movements. Every sweep of his arm, every step he took, resembled a synchronized dance. And his accent, though faint, reminded him of someone … something …

  Nolan snapped his fingers. “Ha! You’re Talasian.”

  They all stopped. Maska turned with a curious expression, the first hint of emotion Nolan had seen since they’d met.

  “Duke Ragnall’s wife is from Talasi,” Nolan said. “You remind me of her.”

  “Duke Ragnall?” Maska asked.

  “He’s the duke of Alton,” Emery answered.

  Maska nodded. “One of my people would not marry a duke, especially from this land. Our people tend not to stay long. We are rarely welcomed, let alone married to leaders. This woman you speak of, I doubt she is Talasian. You must be mistaken.” He turned and continued his conversation with Emery as if Nolan hadn’t spoken.

  Megan gave Nolan a sly smile. “Don’t worry too much about Maska. He’s not rude, really. He just isn’t allowed to show emotions. It’s part of the culture of Talasi. Emotions are a sign of weakness.”

  “I don’t think he needs to worry about weakness.” Nolan noted the muscles chiseled onto Maska’s bronzed back.

  “He was disowned by his people,” Megan said. “That’s why he’s here in Adamah.”

  “Disowned? What he’d do?”

  “He won’t say,” she answered. “He’s a man without a country. He doesn’t feel comfortable in Adamah, yet he isn’t allowed into his own land.”

  She casually linked her arm in Nolan’s. He’d seen her do it enough times with Emery and Flann; he tried not to make anything more of it. But even so, he took a deep breath to calm his pulse.

  “We think his power has something to do with it,” she said. “As far as we know, he’s the only Talasian with a Shay.”

  Nolan didn’t know anything about Talasi. None of the plethora of books he owned talked of them. His only experience was with Mikayla.

  “What’s his Shay?” Nolan asked.

  “Strength.”

  Strength fit him. “And how did he end up here?”

  “Emery found him,” Megan said. “He saved some idiots who were going to attack Maska.” She shook her head. “Little did those men know what they were up against. Luckily, Emery prevented it before it happened. He could read their intentions. And, of course, he also saw Maska’s gift. Emery has a knack for finding people.”

  Her gaze rested on Nolan; she wasn’t just speaking of Maska.

  “I suppose he’s found quite a few,” Nolan added. “Probably you as well?”

  She laughed. “No. He found Flann. I came along because I’m family. My power didn’t emerge until two years after I arrived at the village. I fell, broke my arm, and ended up healing myself.”

  “That was convenient,” Nolan said.

  “Very.” She smiled. “Though, with all the healers in the village, I would’ve been just fine.”

  “So how old are you, anyway. Sixteen? Seventeen?”

  She giggled. “No. I’m twenty.”

  Twenty? His heart sank. Crows, what must she think of my dumb ogling.

  They walked in awkward silence while Emery and Maska continued to speak of what had happened since Emery left for Alton. It was strange to see such a lack of expression in someone when speaking of such horrible events. Even when Emery spoke of his capture, Maska only nodded, as if he were mildly interested at best.

  “Why would a whole race of people hide emotions?” Nolan whispered.

  “Perhaps they have no choice,” Megan answered.

  “No. The duke’s wife has no problems expressing emotions.”

  “Maybe Maska’s right. Are you sure she’s Talasian?”

  “I’m positive.” Nolan saw Mikayla’s emotions a lot more than he wanted to, especially the “I want you” kind.

  “How’d the duke get a Talasian wife, anyway?” she asked.

  “She was a gift.”

  “A gift? From whom?”

  Nolan frowned. “King Alcandor.”

  “We’re almost there,” Emery said. “It’s right through—”

  A group of people clustered in a clearing, yelling. An older man’s voice, in particular, rose above the rest.

  “If you’d excuse me,” Emery said and went toward the group. They stopped fighting and presented their case to Emery without even a hello.

  “Oh my,” Megan whispered. She pointed to the older man. He was tall and thin with wavy brown hair. “That’s Garrick. He’s one of the founders of our village, an original Rol’dan who escaped with Emery. He’s also the calmest, most steady man you’ll ever meet.”

  Garrick jabbed his finger into Emery’s chest as he screamed curses.

  “He doesn’t seem very calm.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “And those others are his students. He helps train those who come into Accuracy. While in the Rol’dan, he was the highest ranking archer …”

  Her voice trailed off. “I don’t understand. Garrick’s usually so calm.”

  A violet light took hold in Emery’s eyes. The curses in the group faltered and then stilled. Emery spoke to them briefly, then they trudged off the field. It was then Nolan saw a grouping of structures in the center of the huge clearing. Small houses. People coming and going. Carrying baskets. Hanging clothes.

  Emery approached with the tall man; light brown hair hung in the man’s face. “I wanted you all to meet a good friend of mine, Garrick Grayson,” Emery said, frowning.

  Garrick offered his hand and shook Alec’s first, a hard smile plastered on his face. “It’s good to meet you. Welcome to our family.”

  He shook hands with everyone, shifting from one leg to another like he’d rather be anywhere else. When he got to Nolan, his countenance changed slightly. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Nolan Trividar.” He held out his hand; however, the man only stared at him with a strange, hungry expression. Nolan pulled back and stepped away.

  Emery placed an arm on Garrick’s shoulder. “Flann, can you show the others around and find them a place to stay?” He pointed toward the buildings. “The smithy shop is still empty. Alec and Kardos can go there.”

  Emery met their gazes, apology lingering in his brown eyes. “We’ll sort this out, I promise. Please, make yourselves at home.”

  Emery led Garrick away. Nolan tried to forget Garrick’s strange look,
and the way it made his skin crawl. Instead, he focused on the new sights around him.

  They stood in a pleasant field, a dozen practice targets an easy shot away. The town—or village, they’d said—was centered in the clearing. To the east of the village rested a calm and welcoming lake. Several trees lined its edge strategically. Nolan wondered if some Strength user had transplanted them. To the west of the structures, a grouping of people sparred with swords. Surrounding the entire clearing were poles with lanterns.

  “This way,” Flann said with a smile.

  As they drew closer, details of the structures came into view. Warm smiles greeted them as they walked a dirt road between rows of small cottages. The buildings stood close together, but it didn’t seem crowded. Instead, Nolan thought the whole place was cozy. The cottages were plain wood and stone, natural grays and browns instead of Alton’s gaudy colors. Nolan had never seen anything so wonderful.

  Without saying a word, a woman handed Nolan a warm basket and smiled; a flash of Empathy flared in her eyes. He blinked back confusion before the smell of fresh bread met his senses.

  “That’s Mary,” Megan added. “She likes to bake.”

  They’d suddenly become the center of attention as people came outside.

  “Welcome,” said a man with a full mustache. He patted Nolan’s shoulder as they walked on.

  A little girl ran up to Taryn, giggling, and handed her a handful of dandelions. Taryn knelt next to her and they whispered together as if they’d known each other for years. Somewhere close by a dog barked, and children played. Nolan had imagined a group of hard-faced traitors, sulking over a fire as they discussed their imminent capture. He’d never imagined such a place.

  Nolan began to realize how void his life had been the last two years. He had no friends in the manor. Only his books. His brother—the rare moments he’d see him—went out of his way to make his miserable life even more miserable. Even before then, when he’d lived at home, his father criticized him like he wasn’t even his son. And now, strangers welcomed him? Without question and with open arms?

  “Nolan?” Megan broke into his thoughts. “You okay?”

  Nolan smiled. His nose was running. He wiped his face and … Crows! He was crying? What must she think of me?

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she said, as if she didn’t notice his humiliating display.

  Nolan didn’t dare answer. Even when he was home with his family, he never felt like he totally belonged … like he did now.

  Chapter Twenty

  NOLAN PUSHED HIS SPECTACLES to the top of his head and stared at the stone with his naked eye. He’d seen pretty much everything, as far as stones went. Growing up near the sea had given him plenty of opportunities. He’d collected rocks and shells as a child, but none of those gave him strange sensations like this one.

  He turned it over. No matter how many different angles or in how many sources of light he held it, it still looked like … well, like a rock. A nice rock—smooth, milky white, and translucent—but still only a rock. He tossed it onto the bed next to Hakan’s “magic stones.” The palm-sized stone and the painted pebbles looked nothing alike. He couldn’t shake Hakan’s comment about them being the same. Was this, in fact, one of those legendary magic stones?

  Nolan shoved his hands behind his head and lay down. He sighed, sinking into the feather pillow. He now called a one-room cottage home. It was bigger than his room at Alton manor—but not by much. The walls held no towering bookshelves, nor were there stacks of parchment piled in the corners. The desk remained empty, not covered in quills, ink, or miscellaneous projects half finished. New morning light drifted in through the windows. His Alton room had no windows of any kind. Nolan had depended on candles, even in the day. It was odd to wake to sunlight, and he wrapped his mind around the idea of freedom. No projects loomed over him. No responsibilities … yet. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  Nolan jumped when a rap sounded at the door. He put on his spectacles, picked up the stone, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  Someone knocked again, this time more impatiently.

  It was probably Alec. He’d talked about getting together this morning. The knocking turned to pounding.

  “Hold on a second!” Nolan called.

  In a few strides, he closed the distance and lifted the latch; but to his surprise, it wasn’t Alec. It was Garrick. What in the Darkness is he doing here?

  The tall, thin man stared at him, wringing his hands. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Emery asked me to fetch you. We’re meeting to discuss the ruins you saw yesterday, as well as the …” His voice trailed off, and his eyes dropped to Nolan’s hand. “He wanted you to bring a stone. Crows, is that it?”

  Nolan clenched the stone. If Emery thought he’d just hand it over, he was mistaken.

  “He won’t take it from you.”

  Nolan’s eyes shot up. Garrick had Accuracy, not Empathy.

  “He told me you’d react like this.” Garrick leaned against the doorframe.

  “Are you okay?”

  The older man forced a smile. “Not really. Emery sent me so I’d have something to do. Get my mind off of this … anxiety.” Garrick’s eyes were pinched. The expression reminded Nolan of his own when Emery found the stone in Alec’s bag. Blood left his face. Crows, no. He didn’t want to consider it, but he had to. Was Emery right? How could he be right?

  Garrick didn’t notice Nolan’s turmoil; he was too caught in his own. Nolan squeezed it in his palm. If he shared it with Garrick, he’d no longer have it to himself. But this man was important to the village, Emery’s friend. He couldn’t keep it from him … could he?

  Nolan groaned inwardly and took a deep breath. Before he could change his mind, he grabbed Garrick’s hand and placed the stone into his palm.

  Garrick gasped, and all the tension slid from his shoulders and disappeared into the ground. After a lengthy pause, he looked at Nolan, wonderment on his face, and then his eyes dropped to the stone.

  “Just don’t walk too far away from me.” Tension ticked through Nolan’s arm.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Where did you find it?” Garrick’s gaze remained fastened to it.

  “It found us, actually. I think Emery suspects the king gave it to us.”

  “Alcandor?” Garrick huffed. “I couldn’t imagine that.”

  “Neither could I. But I also didn’t think it could make people feel so terrible.” Nolan frowned.

  “Not everyone is feeling bad. So how could it be the stone?” Garrick said. “Maybe it is a cure, not a cause.”

  “A cure for what?”

  “I … don’t know.”

  Nolan held out his trembling hand. “I’d like it back, if you don’t mind.”

  Garrick cleared his throat. “Of course.” He hovered the stone over Nolan’s outstretched hand. Finally, he placed it into Nolan’s palm.

  Nolan relaxed, feeling the peace wash over him.

  Garrick’s hand lingered, the stone resting between their two palms. Finally, he let go and rubbed his empty hand with his other. He followed Nolan’s movements as he slipped it into his pouch.

  “I know we’ve just met,” Garrick said, “but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”

  Nolan exhaled slowly. “We’ve become best friends.”

  Garrick laughed. “Ah! Emery said you were a good fellow. I can see why he likes you.”

  They stepped outside, and Nolan closed the door. “What else did Emery say?”

  Garrick displayed a friendly, crooked-toothed grin. “He mentioned I might have competition with my Accuracy gift. Considering we’ll be spending a lot of time with each other, we can test his theory soon.”

  They continued down the small road, and Garrick waved at an old woman sweeping her front entrance. He smiled at another child as she darted by.

  “Morning, Garrick,” a young man said.

  He was quite different than the c
ursing madman from the night before. Garrick was actually a nice guy.

  They turned toward the center of town. It didn’t take long, for the village was small. A larger building loomed above the rest of the cottages. It had the same plain wooden walls, no adornments of any kind. Functional, not decorative. When they reached it, they walked up three steps and Garrick opened the doors, letting Nolan go in first.

  He flanked Nolan, standing not even a hand’s width from his arm.

  The building consisted of two rooms. One was large enough to hold quite a few people, probably most of the village. It was comfortable, though it resembled a stable compared to the Great Hall in Alton. An improvement, in his opinion. No ugly tapestries, no glass-domed ceiling. Small windows lined the walls with shutters propped open with twigs, letting in a cool breeze. Nolan paused and inhaled, taking it all in.

  Conversation drifted from the second, smaller room. Hakan’s angry voice carried over the rest.

  Garrick opened the door, and every head turned.

  Seated around a thick-legged table were Hakan, Emery, Flann, and Maska.

  “You know most everyone,” Garrick said. He motioned toward an old man standing off to the side with slumped shoulders and a small circle of gray hair ringing his nearly bald head. “This is Jared.”

  The old man nodded.

  Emery stared at Garrick, and his eyes flared with Empathy. “By Brim, man. What happened?”

  Garrick smiled. “You’ll have to ask Nolan.”

  Nolan recounted what happened and then reluctantly handed the stone to Hakan. The mountain man held it in his large, dirt-stained palm for a long time, staring at it as if waiting for it to move. Finally, he huffed an exaggerated sigh and said, “What in the Darkness am I supposed to do with this anyway?”

  “If you were silent and waited a bit longer,” Maska said, “perhaps you would know.”

  “And if you’d shut your trap and not add your opinions—”

  “Enough,” Emery said. “Arguing won’t give us answers.”

  “I am not arguing.” Maska crossed his dark arms over each other. “I am merely stating fact.”

  Hakan rose from his seat, his massive form towering over the table.