Fractured (Lisen of Solsta Book 1)

by D. Hart St. Martin

  “Yes?”

  He reached into his beltpouch and pulled out the note from Rosarel. “The captain asked me to get this to his friend, Captain Palla.” He handed it to her.

  “I’ll see that he gets it, my lord.”

  With a nod, Nalin turned and left. Damn, he was tired. He headed down the hall, but as he passed the door to the Empir’s office, he paused. From within he heard a heated discussion, and he smiled despite his sorrow-laden exhaustion. It seemed Lorain was having difficulty accepting Ariel’s explanation of what had happened and was undoubtedly lecturing him on some finer point of intrigue. If she could keep him harnessed, he’d prove a difficult foe to beat, but if even the clever and manipulative Holder of Bedel could not control him, Ariannas of Solsta just might have a chance.

  Shaking his head, Nalin moved on and headed out of the palace. As he stepped outside, he saw the hearse had arrived, and the guards were about to unload the body. Unable to bear one more second of pain, he rushed down the stairs and away from the Keep.

  The Empir has passed. Long life to the Empir.

  Ariel had done it, just as Lorain had thought. She stood behind him, squeezing his shoulder, and she could say nothing. She’d aligned herself with a madman. She’d known all along he lacked the normal sensibilities, the moral fortitude, but she’d thought him capable of some impulse control. Clearly, she’d misjudged him, and that probably angered her more than anything else. The planning this must have required. And the patience, which without her guidance usually eluded him. Who’d held his hand through it all? In whom had he confided it all? So many questions she didn’t dare ask. She bit her tongue and said nothing until she could regain the calm she’d require to bring him back into check.

  “Lorain,” he said, trying to wriggle out of her grasp, “you’re hurting me.”

  “Forgive me,” she said and released his shoulder. Did she sound as distracted as she felt? He stood up and turned to face her.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked.

  “Your mother is dead, beloved. I think the better question is what is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with me. I never loved her, and I’m not going to pretend I did.” He turned away from her and stepped to the desk, easing his way around it, allowing one finger to drag across its smooth, polished surface as he did so.

  “Listen to me.” Lorain tried to soothe yet maintain a firm tone. “You will pretend, and you will do a better job of it than you did with Nalin a moment ago. If you think he didn’t see through those tears of yours, then you are a fool.”

  “I don’t care what he saw or thought he saw. I’m Empir now, and he has fallen out of favor.” He plopped down in the chair behind the desk.

  “Ariel,” she said. “My Liege,” she amended as she stepped to stand in front of the desk. “What have you done?” she asked softly. He looked up at her, and she raised a hand, palm towards him. “No. No. I was wrong to ask. I won’t be used as a witness against you.”

  “You expect this to reach that point? Ah, Lorain, you disappoint me. Where is your faith?”

  “Faith? Faith in what? In you? Listen to me. You must put on the best show of which you are capable.”

  “And you listen to me, Lorain.” He leaned forward. “Nobody will believe it. You know that as well as I do. She never loved me, and I stopped loving her a very long time ago. I must play this as a fortuitous happenstance, a lucky break for me.”

  “What did you do?” she whispered. She’d find a way to face it eventually. She’d consider and reconsider it until she could accept the mental discord which had made such an act possible. But, for now, she couldn’t disguise her shock.

  “I, Lorain? I did nothing. You say you don’t want to know, but here it is. You heard Nalin. It was that servant who did it. I’ve always said you can’t trust the servants, and it turns out I was right.”

  “There will be an investigation,” she said.

  “You forget, Lorain. There already is an investigation, at my order, and the commander will find nothing to implicate me. I’m blameless, innocent. I did nothing.”

  “Of course.” She sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, took a deep breath and recovered herself. “So this is all yours now.” She looked around the room. She’d spent very little time here. Flandari had extended no invitation, and in the four years since she’d inherited Bedel, Lorain had requested only two audiences, both of which had been brief.

  “This and a great deal more. Oh, Lorain, wait till I show you. There’s so much about the Keep that only a resident can know.”

  “I look forward to seeing it all, my Liege.”

  He grinned. “Oh, I do like being called that.”

  They turned at the sound of the opening of the door from the hall. Commander Tanres strode in.

  “My Liege?”

  “Yes, Commander?”

  “The hearse has arrived from the docks.”

  “Duty calls.” He rose from his chair, and as Lorain stood to join him, he waved her off. “No, I think this is a thing best done alone. Wait for me upstairs. You can comfort me once this is done.”

  “As my Liege wishes,” she said with a nod. She remained where she was until he and the commander had left, and then she dropped back down into her chair. Foolish, foolish boy. He’d bought a servant who had then silenced herself. That was the part Lorain did not understand. If the woman had discovered a conscience after the fact, why destroy the only witness against her collaborator? Lorain could ask Ariel, but she knew she must never hear it straight from his lips. It was the only way to protect him. Knowledge was power, but she would not allow Nalin to use her knowledge to his gain. She had spies and a gift for analysis; she would learn the truth on her own.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LONG LIFE TO THE EMPIR!

  Lisen opened one eye. Damn. Morning already? Sleeping on the ground had grown old after three nights, so old that she could no longer call it sleeping. Jozan Tuane, on the other hand, slumbered right beside Lisen, seemingly content, and she was a noble. Nothing bothered her. Nothing. And Lisen hated that Jozan had even joked last night as they curled up in the scratchy blankets about how her back had never felt so good. Right, Lisen thought. And mine’s never felt worse.

  After halting before sunset yesterday, they’d set up camp here in the shadow of the mountains. The captain claimed it wouldn’t do to expose themselves on the plains more nights than absolutely necessary. So, if it was supposed to take about a week, and it took nearly three days in the mountains, that must mean just three days, or three nights, on the plains? Thank God.

  Lisen forced herself to sit up and watched as the sun rose and illuminated the golden glory that was the proud plains of Prea. Solsta seemed very far away now, Woodland Hills even farther. Only three days on the road, and the routine of one lifetime had been ripped from her with no hope of return no matter what, while the life she’d come back to had vanished in one final heartbeat. She would never again know anything about the Holts and what changes in their lives and habits would result from her absence. On the other hand, she could speculate about the haven and its routine. Right about now the hermits would be meditating in the sanctuary. Soon, as the sun’s light peeked from above, the meditating hermits would rise from the benches in the sanctuary, and they would adjourn to the dining hall. They would break their fast while someone read the words for the day. Lisen imagined what today’s recitation might be—perhaps the story of Brives the Younger who’d stood as spiritual guide to Empir Tactir during the first of the Thristan Wars. Late winter usually signaled a return to that tale. Or perhaps a fable of fall and redemption, such as Iva and Firsum.

  She sighed. Not for her. Not anymore. Not ever again. Would she ever adapt to these sudden, relentless hairpin turns on this road that was now her life? She’d already been forced to disengage abruptly from the plans of first one lifetime and then another. How many more shifts in direction must she manage? Anything could happen. It already h
ad, and she knew nothing of what she really needed to know—the slippery sooth’s words to the contrary. What could she have learned on Earth that could possibly serve her here?

  The captain stirred and sat straight up from where he lay, the cold ashes of last night’s fire between them. He looked across the burnt logs at her and smiled. He was a hottie, that one—sometimes brooding, always filled with purpose, and, as a guard, definitely experienced in discretion and secrecy. He probably had a secret or two of his own, but she didn’t care what he kept hidden as long as she could bask in his smile on those rare occasions when one lit up those brown eyes of his.

  “Time to begin your training, my Liege,” he announced as he pulled a ration of dried meat for each of them from his pack. He tossed Lisen’s share to her. Right about now she would do anything for a Slim Jim. She didn’t even like Slim Jims, but at least one of those would have had some flavor to it and not take so much energy to chew. This dried salty meat satisfied her protein requirement but was worth little else.

  Korin rose, buckled on his belt with its sword and stepped over to Lisen.

  “Now?” she asked as she struggled with a chunk of the tough, leathery meat. Or string cheese, she thought. What about string cheese?

  “We’re clear of the mountains now. No more excuses,” he replied.

  Beside her, the heir sat up, yawned and stretched. “Lisen. Captain.”

  “My lord,” the captain said with a nod and offered Jozan her share of what had become their usual fare. Now that they had reached the plains, maybe they’d find some fruit trees or berry bushes. Lisen could but hope.

  “It’s early,” Jozan commented, squinting up at the captain and reluctantly accepting the meager meal.

  “Yes, it is,” he confirmed.

  “And you don’t care, do you?” Jozan smiled which made Lisen smile as well. The captain felt it necessary to begin early, to begin her training early and to begin it this morning, while Lisen wished she could stay wrapped up nice and warm in her blanket a little longer. She didn’t understand the point of being dragged out into the cold for this so-called training. It was going to take more than a few weeks or even months of sword play to turn her into a competent sword fighter. Other than soccer, she’d been lousy at team games in PE, and she hadn’t done any better with one-on-one sports, like archery or golf. Not that sword fighting was exactly a sport. She’d dreaded this moment, but she hadn’t even realized how much until now. The captain was about to discover how much she sucked as an athlete.

  “Come,” he said, reaching a hand out to help Lisen up. “And bring your weapon.” With a sigh, she grabbed Empir Flandari’s sword and rose with his assistance. She groaned as the aches of days of riding caught up with her. Then, resigned, she followed the captain as he led her a few steps from their camp. She found herself doing what she’d been doing ever since her return to Garla—trying to adjust her clothes to accommodate the feeling of strangeness about her body that after five days still irritated the crap out of her—but this time she stopped herself. I’m home. This is my body. Deal with it, she admonished herself. It’s gonna make faking athleticism a bitch though.

  “Right here should do fine,” Korin declared as he halted in a small clearing and turned to face her.

  She stopped before him, waiting. When he said nothing, she spoke. “How do we begin?” she asked.

  “If we were in Avaret or anywhere near a garrison, you’d begin with a wooden sword—better for you and definitely safer for me. But we must make do with what we have.” That made Lisen smile. She held in her hand perhaps the finest blade in the realm, and the captain spoke of making do.

  “I’ll try not to hurt you,” she said.

  “Oh, I won’t let you hurt me.”

  Properly admonished, she sighed and waited for instruction.

  “I’ve considered how to proceed, my Liege,” he began, but there she stopped him.

  “Enough.”

  “What?”

  “Enough. I’ve asked you repeatedly to call me ‘Lisen.’ I know that’s hard for you, but I am not your Liege. I may never be your Liege. You’re a soldier. You have your protocol. But, please, can it just for now simply be ‘Lisen’?”

  The sound of clapping rose from behind her, and she turned. Jozan had joined them and smiled broadly. “She’s right, you know,” Jozan said to the captain. “There’s a long road before us and plenty of time for her to adjust to her station. Is it so much to ask?”

  “As you command,” the captain said with a nod in Lisen’s direction.

  “Oh, come on. It’s a freakin’ favor, not a command.” Lisen snorted, hands on her hips, and kicked at the ground. “Now, shall we continue?”

  He cleared his throat, closed his eyes and then slowly reopened them, only then returning to his prepared speech. “I’ve considered how to proceed. There’s not enough time to coddle you and cultivate your skills. But I do believe we can make good use of your hermit talents.”

  “How so?” she asked, but in her mind another question hovered—What hermit talents?

  “You’re able to place yourself in a trance state, correct? You did it in the mudslide.”

  “Yes.” Well, she had done it in the mudslide. And with the Empir. And with the Empir’s assassin. She supposed she could figure out how to do it in a non-emergency.

  “That ability to focus may be just what you’ll need to make what I teach you here your own. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ll…uh…try.”

  “I’ll give you a moment to prepare,” he offered.

  “Uh, thanks.” How the heck was she supposed to prepare? Maybe if she closed her eyes and breathed deeply several times. At the very least, that would make it look as though she knew what she was doing. So she did exactly that, and, by some miracle, she felt herself slipping into a state where she could hear everything—the birds singing in the morning sun, the breeze slipping its way through the trees. She could smell the scent of fresh grass touched by a bit of dew wafting up from the ground, and the pheromones of her companions—which had blended into the background over the days since her return to Garla—assaulted her as well.

  She continued to breathe deep into her strange, pouched belly, and when she opened her eyes again, she gave herself over to the captain, his voice carefully modulated—in deference to her trance, she assumed—as he introduced her to the sword and its various parts. He pointed out the balance at the joining of blade and hilt and how that balance lessened fatigue in the long fight. He explained the difference between the blade and the point, how each had its uses in combat. He then taught her a set of warm-up exercises.

  Then, finally, he stopped lecturing and began teaching her parries and lunges, made her try them, and then showed her again, correcting her style. Over and over he pushed her, critiquing her form, forcing her arms and her shoulders, her feet and her legs into impossible positions which he claimed were necessary to her survival. And she tried. Really, she tried, as hard as she could. Yet she kept messing up, and silently she blamed her awkwardness on the absence of breasts, which allowed her to remain in a state of denial about her lack of physical prowess.

  After an hour or so of this torture, she was in the middle of a lunge she’d practiced so many times she was ready to scream when Korin shouted, “No! You’ve left yourself wide open!”

  Lisen pulled up from her lunge, breathing heavily, her sword dangling from her right hand, loosened locks of hair hanging into her eyes, and stared at him. Now she understood how Luke Skywalker had felt in that pivotal moment in The Empire Strikes Back when, after trying and failing at lifting his X-wing fighter out of the bog, he’d watched in awe as little Yoda succeeded where he’d fallen short. Luke had walked around the retrieved fighter, returned to Yoda, refusing to believe it. Yoda had simply explained to Luke that that was why he’d failed.

  But this was no movie, and there Korin stood, calm, unruffled, staring back at her critically with those dark eyes of his. Why had s
he ever agreed to the folly of this stupid training? She was a fool. The captain was a fool. They were all fools for believing there was any hope of making her anything other than what she already was—a girl from the Valley, a girl who had once aspired to becoming a hermit, a girl who had lied about being a necropath. She’d never defeat her well-trained brother in combat. The captain’s eyes told her that, reminding her, like Yoda had reminded Luke, that lack of faith in herself would be her undoing. Well, both Yoda and the captain were right.

  “I give up,” she said, dropping the sword and marching off, determined to march until she had left both Jozan with her watchfulness and the captain with his gruff orders in her wake. It was pointless, this training. There was no hope.

  “Lisen!” she heard Jozan shout from behind her. She could also hear the heir’s footsteps following her. Let her follow. It’s a path to oblivion.

  “Lisen!” This time Jozan was right beside her and grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to halt, but Lisen refused to turn to look at her. “Lisen?”

  “What!” She stared off into the northwest. Somewhere out there Solsta called. She didn’t know where to look to respond to Earth’s Siren song.

  “I know it’s hard,” Jozan said softly.

  “You don’t know anything.” Lisen was so pissed off she wanted to spit.

  “I do know it’s hard.” Jozan maintained her quiet tone.

  “Hard? Six days ago I’d never even seen a sword up close in my life. I never expected to ever see one either. Now?” She didn’t add that six days ago she’d been driving around the Valley, laughing with Betsy, not expecting any of this. Any of this.

  “I know. And here you are with two strangers who seem intent on turning you into a warrior and a leader with no regard whatsoever for what you want.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Lisen said with a shrug. She didn’t dare look at Jozan, and she couldn’t explain it. How did you tell someone you’d spent the last seven years of your life in a different world without sounding completely insane?