Queens (The Wielders of Arantha Book 2)

by Patrick Hodges

  Kelia nodded. “Its taste is unpleasant, but it will help.”

  Maeve moved to the water basin, filled a mug and downed its contents. “I should introduce breath capsules to Elystra. And toothpaste. I'd make a fortune.”

  Kelia chuckled again. “Where is Davin?”

  Maeve jerked a thumb toward the other bedroom. “Zonked out, as usual. Getting that boy up before noon is a chore in itself.” She looked at Kelia's face, no doubt noticing the dark circles under her eyes. “Damn, you look terrible. Couldn't sleep?”

  Kelia shook her head.

  “Another nightmare?”

  Kelia nodded.

  “I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do.”

  Rather than dwell on the nightmares, Kelia changed the subject. “When do you plan to return to your ship?”

  “I'm not sure. The sooner the better, obviously, but we have so much to do here. I need to give your people a crash course in guerilla warfare, we need to speak to the Council about shoring up our defenses, and on top of that, I need to work with the Wielders to see if I can perfect my augmentation ability. Nyla should be involved too.”

  Kelia blanched. Now that Nyla had woken up, she had resolved to take a personal interest in her daughter's elemental training, especially now that Liana couldn't fulfill that duty. Every maternal instinct she possessed screamed at her to keep Nyla far, far away from any ensuing conflict, but as Protectress, she knew that wasn't possible. Nyla was a Wielder, with the potential to be even more powerful than she. The tribe would need her abilities if they were to survive.

  “Agreed,” Kelia finally said. “After morning meal, I'll schedule some time with each of the Wielders to see what we can work out. Nyla will go first. As for the combat training, Runa will help you. She's a fast learner, and whatever you teach her, she will quickly pick up. Then we'll meet with the Council to discuss the rest.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Maeve said. “When the time comes for me to cross the desert, I assume I'll travel by chava?” Her face creased. “They're not difficult to ride, are they?”

  Kelia smiled. “Not for someone who can communicate with animals.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “I agree that your journey should not be delayed. Teach us what you can, and hopefully you can return to your ship in two days.”

  “Sounds good.”

  * * *

  On a flat, grassy plain southeast of the village, not far from the bank of the river, Kelia stood with Maeve and Nyla. Also present were Yarji and her mother Gladia, as well as Zarina, one of the tribe's chava-keepers.

  Like Kelia, Yarji and Gladia were elemental Wielders. However, their ability only extended to the control of water. Most of their days were spent tending the tribe's fruit crop, consisting of the juva-berry bushes and riverfruit vines that grew near the river north of the village.

  Zarina, like her mother Olma and her aunt Tondi, had the ability to communicate with animals. As such, they were the perfect candidates to take care of the Ixtrayu's domesticated herd of chavas; the thickset, horned animals with wide torsos and powerful legs were the tribe's preferred mode of transportation when long journeys were necessary. Unfortunately, Olma had grown rather lame in one leg of late, and she now resided in a small room at the back of the stables instead of within the village itself. Zarina had shouldered the burden of wrangling and feeding the forty or so chavas the tribe kept.

  “All right,” Maeve said. “Let's get started. Nyla?”

  Nyla stepped forward. She looked much healthier this morning, and it seemed she'd made a full recovery from her ordeal. A few healthy portions of meat the night before, and Lyala had pronounced her well enough to resume her training. She looked rather nervous, however, casting furtive glances back toward the village.

  “Something wrong, Nyla?” Kelia asked.

  “No, mama,” she said, letting out a breath. “I just … haven't seen Sarja since last night.”

  “I believe she's on the archery range. You can join her after we finish here.”

  Nyla's eyes narrowed. She looked at the village again, then at her feet. “Yes, mama.”

  “According to Liana, your control over all four elements has greatly improved recently. However, it is imperative that you remove all distractions from your mind if you are to take the next step.”

  “You mean, controlling the power?”

  Kelia shook her head. “No, duma. It's not a matter of controlling it, it's more like … uniting with it. Becoming one with it. When I recovered from my first consultation, I found that my mind's ability to focus had greatly increased. Before long, it became a skill as easy as walking. All I had to do was think something, and the elements obeyed me.

  “I wish we had the time to properly hone your skills, but because of the severity of my … of our visions,” she corrected herself, “we don't have that luxury. You must perfect that control, achieve that unity, right away. Additionally, with Maeve augmenting you, there will be far more power at your fingertips to control.”

  Nyla's eyes widened. “How much more?”

  “That remains to be seen,” said Maeve. “Let's start with your earth Wielding.” She pointed at a large, circular section of plain where the grass, trampled repeatedly by chavas, had yet to grow back. “Grab as much dirt as you can, keep it suspended in the air.”

  With the others watching, Nyla closed her eyes. Her jaw muscles tensed as she raised her hands, palms-forward, in the direction of the circle of dirt. Letting out a breath, she opened her eyes. She began to move her hands, splaying her fingers, twisting her wrists and thrusting her elbows out.

  Kelia watched as a large volume of dirt shot up from the ground and hovered in the air. Several others of those assembled drew in sharp breaths, clearly as impressed as she.

  “Good, duma,” Kelia said. “Now try to form them into one solid mass.”

  Without taking her eyes off the swirling, spiraling dirt, Nyla brought her hands closer together, using them to mimic the motion of forming mud into a ball. As the crowd watched, every particle combined into a dense ball, several feet in diameter.

  “Excellent. Now—”

  Kelia's words were cut off as the sphere of dirt exploded outward, creating an ever-expanding, rapidly-approaching cloud of dust. Everyone turned away, closing their eyes as the dust particles pelted their backs and necks.

  Grabbing the folds of her robe, Kelia shook them, dislodging the accumulation of dirt that had stuck to it. She turned to Nyla, who stared down at her hands with dismay. “I don't know what happened,” she whispered. “I thought I had it, but … it was all too much. I'm sorry, mama.”

  “No need to apologize,” Kelia said, giving Nyla's shoulder a reassuring pat. “For a first attempt, that was very impressive.”

  Nyla met Kelia's gaze, then smiled. “Really?”

  “Well, I was impressed,” Maeve said, stepping forward. “Granted, I come from a world where things like Wielding are only found in fictional stories. To see it first-hand …” She whistled. “Let's try it again. This time, I'll help.”

  “Are you sure?” Nyla asked, brushing down her own clothes.

  “Of course I'm sure,” Maeve replied. “It's only dirt, but being able to control it gives us a definite tactical advantage. You can use it to obscure our enemies' vision or, if you can compact it tight enough, you can use them as projectiles.” Her eyes went wide, as if something had just occurred to her. She turned to Yarji and Gladia, who had remained silent during Nyla's demonstration. “You two can control water, right?”

  “Yes,” said Yarji, raking her hand through her long, fair hair to remove the lingering dust. Gladia was brushing the dirt off her tunic.

  “You can also control its temperature, correct?”

  “Yes, we can,” said Gladia, casting a wary look at her daughter. “What are you getting at?”

  “Water can be a powerful weapon in the hands of those who can control it. You can boil it, or turn it into superhot steam, or you ca
n freeze it into shards of ice sharper than any knife.”

  Kelia watched as a pang of worry crossed Gladia's face. She and her daughter were two of the most unassuming women in the tribe, and Kelia wondered whether their gentle dispositions would preclude them from turning their gifts against others. It was a troubling thought, one she shared. Being asked to kill, even in defense of their home, of their own lives, was no small thing.

  Slowly, Gladia turned to face Kelia, her inner turmoil apparent. “Protectress?” she quaked. “I can't do this.”

  “Mother?” Yarji asked, clearly taken aback at her mother's confession.

  “Let her speak, Yarji,” Kelia said. “Go on, Gladia.”

  In an instant, Gladia's kind eyes became hooded, haunted. “I give thanks to Arantha every day that she has seen fit to bless me and my daughter with the ability to Wield. I have spent my life tending the fields and the orchards, and I do not regret one single moment of that. But the idea of using Arantha's gift to … to kill another person …” Her breath shallow, she looked at her hands as if they were deadly weapons, which, in fact, they were. “I can't do it, Protectress.”

  “Mother!” Yarji said, in as angry a tone as Kelia had ever heard from her. “The Protectress needs us! Without our help, everyone could die! Is that what you want?”

  “Of course it's not what I want!” Gladia cried, not able to meet her daughter's eyes. “But you want me to stand in front of another person while I use my abilities to end his life, to watch the light fade from his eyes, to deprive his family of his return …” She fell into wracking sobs. “Forgive me, Protectress. I …” The rest of her words were lost as she cradled her face in her hands.

  The flush of anger drained from Yarji's face, and she held her mother close. Kelia, too, placed a hand on Gladia's arm. “It's all right, my sister. I will not force you. You may return to your duties.”

  Gladia disengaged herself from Yarji's arms, her sobs abating. She took a deep breath, then bowed to Kelia. “Thank you, Protectress.” With a final sorrowful look at her daughter, she trudged back to the Plateau.

  Yarji stared after her for a few moments, then faced the others, fists clenched and raw determination oozing from every pore. “I will fight, Protectress,” she announced. “I will do whatever it takes to safeguard our home.” To Maeve she said, “I will begin practicing immediately.”

  Both Maeve and Kelia nodded.

  Maeve spent the next hour augmenting Nyla's air- and earth-Wielding abilities. The difference in the level of control Nyla had with the Earth woman's help was like night and day. Kelia's emotions during this session ranged from pure motherly pride to utter astonishment at her daughter's potential. Watching her bend the very soil to her will, giving it an eerie life of its own, removed every nagging doubt from Kelia's mind.

  Kelia's elemental abilities, according to Onara, far surpassed those of any Protectress since the days of Soraya. It had taken her many years to accept that, but she'd done so. Nyla's abilities, however, were far beyond hers.

  As the practice neared its end, Kelia said a silent prayer to Arantha, thanking the divine goddess once again for blessing her with such a magnificent daughter. Though Nyla's preteen years had been one trial after another, her first consultation seemed to have aged her, in wisdom if not in years. Kelia pictured her as a grown woman, a leader, the next Protectress, leading the Ixtrayu to—

  Kelia shook her head. The path Arantha had set for the Ixtrayu, so many centuries ago, had fractured. It did not exist anymore. A new path awaited them. Assuming any of them survived.

  The huge ball of dirt, twenty feet in diameter, hovered and spun before their eyes, darting back and forth, up and down, all subject to Nyla's whim and Maeve's support. Finally, the sphere disintegrated, but not in the same chaotic explosion as before. Each granule of dust fluttered back down to the earth whence it came, leaving only a thin veil that quickly blew away in the last gust of manufactured wind.

  The look of joy on Nyla's face sent Kelia's heart soaring, and she enveloped her daughter in a huge hug. She felt Nyla's body sag against her, her ragged pants harsh in Kelia's ears. “I'm so proud of you, duma,” Kelia whispered.

  She cast a glance at Maeve, who wobbled slightly on unsteady legs. With her free hand, Kelia pulled Maeve into a shared embrace. Maeve didn't resist. Kelia realized that Maeve, too, was still getting used to her abilities; in fact, she was the least experienced in controlling Arantha's gifts. It had to be her military training, her mental discipline, that made her such a formidable ally in so short a time.

  “Um,” came a voice from behind them. “Protectress?”

  Kelia turned to see Zarina, shuffling her feet and wringing her hands. Standing next to her, Yarji's expression bore a mix of admiration and impatience.

  “My turn?” Zarina asked, an awkward smile on her face.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vaxi sat on the edge of Mizar's bed, staring at the fire burning in the fireplace set into the opposite wall. She clutched her bow in one hand while she tugged at the fabric of her dress with the other; it was a little snug around her forearms.

  She remembered the haughty look on Twilla's face when she removed her tunic, revealing the Ixtrayu hunting clothes she wore underneath, including the bracer wrapped around her right forearm. She was thankful that Mareta had successfully removed the bloodstains from her encounter with the Vandans, or she'd have had to explain where they came from.

  In the Ixtrayu village, bathing was a communal activity. When she would go to the cistern to wash the dirt accumulated from the day's hunt from her body, there were always several of her sisters already there. She felt no embarrassment or shame as she disrobed in front of them; after all, they were her sisters, her family. But having to strip naked in front of Twilla and her silent assistant was one of the more unsettling experiences of her life.

  Two hours of poking and prodding, with Twilla barking orders at her to stand up straight, raise her arms, lower her arms, turn around, look up, look down. Vaxi had reached the point where she wanted to strangle the old woman when, mercifully, the job was done. Twilla had taken a gown she'd once crafted for a daughter of one of the regional governors, which she said was refused because of its 'unflattering color', and adjusted it so it would fit Vaxi's muscular frame.

  Vaxi lay down on Mizar's bed. She had to admit, the dress was comfortable, but it felt so strange on her body. It felt like the person she'd tried to be her whole life was slowly disappearing. She'd left behind the Plains of Iyan for the halls of the Castle Randar. She was no longer that huntress. Was she even Ixtrayu anymore?

  She held the bow in front of her face, running her hands along its length. She felt the tautness of the string, and her mood softened. With this bow in her hands, she felt whole again. The clothes, the hair, none of that mattered. She was a huntress, and would one day be again. If Arantha willed it.

  Her musings were interrupted by the creak of the door opening. A tiny dark-haired figure clad in a blue coat, a white shirt, and black pants stepped through and rapidly closed it again, peering out into the corridor through the crack in the door. He seemed oblivious to her presence.

  Vaxi sat up and swung her legs off the bed. The dress's material made no noise as she moved. Her boots made contact with the small woven rug that ran the length of the bed, and she quietly approached the figure.

  By his height, he had to be a child; she guessed him to be a boy, six or seven years in age. Whatever he was on the lookout for seemed to have stolen all of his attention, and Vaxi came within five feet without being heard by the tiny intruder.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a loud voice, startling the child so much that he let out a high-pitched yelp. The door slammed shut as he spun around to face her, staring up at her with wide green eyes.

  “I, uh …” he spluttered, making gestures with his hands, but no further explanation came.

  “You do know this is the High Mage's bedroom, don't you?”

  “I-I
didn't think anyone was in here.” He trembled a little when he saw the bow in her hands. “Please don't hurt me.”

  She smiled, slinging the bow across her shoulders. “I won't hurt you. I promise.”

  The tension drained from the boy's face, and his shoulders slumped. “All right.”

  “Who are you, and what are you doing in here?” Vaxi asked.

  The boy drew himself up to his full height, which was still more than a foot less than hers. “I am Prince Lehr,” he said proudly.

  Vaxi nodded. Mizar had told her about the royal family of Darad, which consisted of King Aridor, Queen Belena, and their four children. Lehr was by far the youngest. Mizar had described him as 'an energetic lad, with a knack for getting into places he shouldn't', a knack that had become glaringly obvious.

  She gave him a smile and a polite bow. “I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness. I hope I didn't scare you.”

  “Of course not!” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “Princes don't get scared!” He cast a glance at Mizar's empty bed. “Wait a minute … since this is the High Mage's bedroom, what are you doing in here?”

  He seemed to be intimidated by her height, so she decided to go down on one knee. “I'm his guest. He told me I could use his room to sleep. My name is Vaxi.”

  He smiled, nodded, and bowed his head. Vaxi couldn't help but giggle at his show of gentlemanliness. “Are you hiding from someone?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “From my brother. We're playing search-and-find.” He moved his attention back to the door, opening it a crack and peering out again.

  “That sounds like fun,” she whispered. “How do you play?”

  He turned back to face her with eyebrows raised. “You've never played search-and-find?”

  She shook her head.

  He smiled again. “It's easy! All you have to do is hide from the person you're playing against. If they don't find you, you win!”

  Vaxi couldn't picture Agedor as the type to indulge in childish games, so she assumed he was hiding from his other brother, Warran. “Have you ever hidden in here before?”