Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2

by K. F. Breene

  Hunted

  The Warrior Chronicles #2

  K.F. Breene

  Copyright © 2015 by K.F. Breene

  All rights reserved. The people, places and situations contained in this ebook are figments of the author’s imagination and in no way reflect real or true events.

  Created with Vellum

  Synopsis

  With a new Chosen coming forward, Shanti has lost sight of her duty. With her plans unraveling, she does the only thing she can think of-- frees her brother and a mysterious stranger from a Graygual camp before heading back to beg for Cayan's aid.

  Unfortunately, that stranger was precious to the enemy, guarded by one of the elite. A Superior Officer known as the Hunter, this man always catches his prey, and his focus is now on the elusive, violet-eyed girl and the man she ripped from the his hands.

  With danger mounting, and one of the best constantly on her heels, Shanti will learn that running will never be enough.

  Chapter One

  From high on the hillside Shanti surveyed what lay below. The sun had started to sink toward the horizon. The cool, soft breeze brushed her face as she lingered within the leafy trees. A valley bathed in soft, yellow sunshine stretched out below her. Shimmering grasses surrounded an encampment densely populated with tents and dotted with people.

  The organization of the camp suggested this was one of the many planning headquarters cropping up all over the land. Information came and went, allowing the best and brightest to soak it up, consider it, plan the next steps, and then send out orders to the many smaller satellite camps. Seeing one of these camps this far east meant the Graygual were moving at alarming speeds. Xandre had an agenda, and Shanti bet his focus was on the man proclaiming himself the Chosen, a title her people had tried to give to her.

  The only true Chosen would come out of the trials in the Shadow Lands, so it was possible neither of them had the right to the title that would command allegiance of the Shadow people, but Shanti had to admit that the scriptures had always said the Chosen would be a man, and this man would have a huge army. If she was honest with herself, he was better qualified for the role than she was.

  So what did a girl do when things started unraveling around her? Track down rumors, of course.

  After listening to a few drunken gossips in taverns, she’d tracked down the elusive Ghost; the man with light hair and eyes who haunted the Graygual’s steps and picked off any stragglers. He was a phantom, a terror in the night, instilling fear in the lower tier of the Graygual army, and boosting hope in the oppressed townspeople. Often the word Ghost was uttered in the same sentence as the violet-eyed girl. They were both light of feature, both dangerous, and both unwilling to bow to the Being Supreme, Master Tyrant himself.

  Shanti was almost positive the Ghost was actually her brother Rohnan, even though she had thought he died during the battle of her people to allow her to flee. There could be no one else, with a similar agenda to her own; not with features that came mostly from the northwest coastal area.

  And only a fool would follow around after the Graygual. A fool, or someone with nothing left to lose.

  Now that fool had been caught and imprisoned within the camp below.

  “How does he get himself into these things? He evades for months only to finally get caught out in the open?” she whispered to herself.

  The rumor was that the Ghost had wandered out into the open one day, hands out in front of him, asking to be captured.

  “Why allow them to take you, Rohnan? What did you have planned?”

  It was disconcerting when she asked questions that no one answered. That way lay madness. And yet, still she talked to the air. Things weren’t looking good.

  She glanced at the sun already halfway between midday and the horizon. She had some time before nightfall, when she would venture down into the camp and scout things out.

  * * *

  As day bled into dusk, Shanti found herself on the edge of the Graygual camp crouched between a dirty wooden barrel and a canvas tent. The smell of horse wafted from a line of the tethered animals a few paces to her right. Murmured voices rumbled out of a tent across a walkway in front of her. The walls flickered with light, illuminating the shapes of three men bent over a table.

  Shanti let her Gift cover the encampment like a light fog. Rohnan was being held no more than a little ways in front of her. He hadn’t moved much all day and was exuding unconcerned patience. Six guards waited around his tent, all vigilant even though he was probably restrained.

  Two more shapes ambled along the path in Shanti’s direction. As they came into view, Shanti saw a man with his black uniform opened at the neck, exposing his hairy chest. His heavy arm draped across the shoulders of a woman with a pronounced bust. Her cleavage popped out of her gaping dress, with the sway of her hips and the unmistakable swagger of a whore who had found her mark.

  Judging by the stagger of the man, and the lean on his ladylove, he’d had his fair share of alcohol. He would most likely be lowered into bed, fondled until he passed out, and then the woman would take his money and move on. This was great news. Shanti would be able to dart in, grab a uniform, and better disguise herself within the camp.

  Shanti kept pace easily after they had passed, skirting between tents and hiding in the black shadows while the man made his way to his bed. Only once did the couple run into another person—a man in a crisp black uniform with the red circle etched across the breast slashed with three lines. A Graygual officer. He’d looked at the staggering man with a hard eye and straight face, but except for the thinning of his lips, made no comment on the man’s drunken state. He didn’t seem to notice the whore at all. She might as well have been invisible.

  Shanti’s intended choice of disguise changed instantly.

  When the couple reached a small tent on the very edge of the encampment, Shanti crouched across in the shadows and waited. The woman led the man inside and then lit a candle. The flame flickered to life, the soft glow allowing Shanti to watch through the open flap of the tent as the whore begin the tedious labor of undressing him.

  “Okay now, you get out of dem trousers, hmm?” the woman said in a husky voice loaded with a thick accent.

  The man grunted then burped. He dug his hand into her top as she dropped his pants. A loud, wet fart ripped through the tent.

  The woman rolled her eyes as her hand found his mostly limp manhood. Ignoring his fumbling hands, she worked him for a while, staring away from him with professional patience. “You go get to bed, hmm?” she purred.

  “Mmmrr maa nuun.” The man burped again and swayed on legs made of jelly. He nodded in an exaggerated way, his eyes drooping so low he looked asleep on his feet, before lunging toward his cot on the far side. Unfortunately, he misjudged the position of the small table in the middle of the space. His foot caught the table leg, throwing off his already impeded balance. Numbed hands groped for a brace that wasn’t there before the man toppled over. He fell directly onto his face. Another fart flapped into the room.

  “Oopsie,” the woman said as she adjusted her top. She made no move to help him.

  Acting quickly, Shanti tore off her hooded cloak, untucked her shirt, and ripped open her top until her breasts were mostly exposed. She stepped into the tent. “Can I help?”

  The woman glanced up with a scowl. Hands on her hips, she turned toward Shanti with a haughty expression. She was twice her size in the waist, and three times her size in the bust.

  “He be mine, honey.” The woman raised her chin. She didn’t bother to look behind her at the man struggling to pick himself off the ground.

  “Yes, of course. I just meant, can I help pick him up? He looks too b
ig for you to navigate.”

  Painted black eyebrows settled low over eyelids shadowed in pink. “Navigate, huh? Fancy word. I not seen you around.” The woman’s shrewd gaze traveled over Shanti’s clothes, paused for a moment on her bust, then rested on her hair. “That hair not be naturally black. Not with light eyebrows. What you put in it? Coal?”

  Yes. She had. She’d never claimed to be great at disguises, but usually men were too stupid to notice when a hint of breast peeked out. Whores, however, were extremely observant it seemed.

  “Look,” Shanti said in a placating tone. “I’ll help you set that mark to rights. You’ll never get him on the cot by yourself—he’s just about to pass out. If he doesn’t think he got something from you, he’ll come for his money, and you’ll be punished.”

  The woman glanced at the man lying limply on the ground. Gravity had been too much for him in his drunken state. He’d given up trying to stand and decided to sleep where he lay.

  She looked back at Shanti with her hands still on her hips. “What you get out of it?”

  “I want to trade clothes.” Shanti rubbed the fabric of her cloak and then that of her shirt. “This is fine material. It’ll fetch a nice price.”

  “You no whore, girl. You not from around here, neither. Where you from? You sound like them.” The woman jerked her head at the man on the ground.

  “What does it matter? You’re doing what you need to, and I’m doing what I need to.”

  The woman considered for a moment before snorting. “Guess it don’t matter. We all want somethin’, that be true. But I got work to do. Your clothes be fine, but these shelnas be rich. I wear your clothes, I can’t work. I lose out.”

  Shanti dug out two gold pieces, more than this woman would make in three nights. She tossed them on the table. The coins bounced twice on the stained wood before rolling to a stop.

  The woman’s eyes rounded before her gaze resettled on Shanti. “You rich girl, huh? Look like a scrap, though. You stole that money, that’s what I bet. Up to no good, too. Lucky for you, I been with some of these fools before—not the officers. No, the grunts. They a mean, nasty bunch. Used me up bad. I no forget.” The woman nodded decisively as a fierce light came into her eye. “I no forget.”

  The woman sauntered the two steps to the table and snatched up the coins. She placed them in her mouth, one after the other, biting down to judge the quality of the gold. Satisfied, she tucked them deep into her bodice. “Help me get this here trash up ’n we trade clothes. Good thing you wearin’ sacks for clothes, neh? Otherwise, this no work. Skinny thing, you are. Still might not work.”

  Without delay, Shanti helped hoist the loudly snoring man to his bed. The woman took a small jar out of her large skirt pocket and dribbled a thick liquid onto the man’s phallus. To Shanti she said, “They no question when they wake up in they own mess. Don’t even notice it not the same stuff.”

  Sounded reasonable.

  The woman turned and put the jar on the table. Without preamble, she stripped out of her clothes and held them out to Shanti. Shanti did likewise and exchanged.

  “Binding the breasts, eh? Look at that muscle, girl. Goodness me, you isn’t skinny, no way. You toned.” The woman stepped into the pants—not nearly as roomy on her—and turned serious eyes to Shanti. “You cut a throat with this group and they track you down easy. They not like regular Graygual.” She spat on the ground after saying the name. “You gotta be sneaky, hmm? Bide your time.”

  Shanti stepped into the skirt and tied the fabric in a knot at her middle. She slipped the shirt over her head. It looked like a blanket.

  “Here.” The woman reached for Shanti.

  Hands coming at her made alarm bells sing. Shanti swept the woman’s hands to the side with her forearm before stepping forward. Her palms slapped down on the woman’s cheeks, ready to crack her neck before her brain caught up with her movements.

  Shanti froze, letting the situation soak in. Immediately embarrassed, and hoping she hadn’t scared this woman out of her willingness, she ripped her hands away and stepped back.

  “Apologies. I startle easily.” Shanti spread her hands to the sides. “Sorry. Please. Fix whatever you like.”

  “Auuhhwee!” A haphazard smile crossed the woman’s face. Fear was completely absent in her eyes, replaced by a hopeful sparkle. “Oshawn heard my prayer! He sent you. Get in close, He said. I did. Good and close—here I am. And He sent you!”

  The woman’s smile dwindled as she fixed Shanti’s binding to show more cleavage. “There be a lot of us. A lot of women been done wrong. Not by these officers—they pigs, but the normal sort of pigs. No, the grunts. Young girls, old women, young boys—it no matter. Women and children being escorted through towns now. Men watching their womenfolk when these pigs around. We be quiet, okay, but we be ready to do our part. We ready to pay our vengeance. We ready to fight back!”

  “I don’t—” Shanti shook her head as the, now familiar, helplessness overcame her. She’d seen this plight across the land. She’d seen the bodies, bent and twisted, left in the streets as bait for flies. The young gave her the worst nightmares but she had no way of helping anymore. No army, no title to get an army—she was just another lost soul looking to right a wrong. She couldn’t help the fallen when she could barely help herself.

  As if hearing all these thoughts, the woman’s gaze intensified. “You doubt. That okay. We all have doubt. But Oshawn sent you—he has a purpose for you, just as he has for me. You meant to find me, girl. My waiting is over. I’ll spread the word, and when you ready, we ready. My name be Tauneya. You ask for me by name. You ask for me, someone find me, no matter where you are, hear? I been all over. People know me.”

  “I’m not the one—”

  “Shhh.” The women cut Shanti off and pushed her toward the flap of the tent. “This group be organized. You won’t get two nights. You get your job done tonight, while they all drunk, and you get out. Go to Horse ’n Pony in town. Ask for Claude. Say Esme sent you—you need the map. That’s all you be sayin’. Esme sent you and you need the map. Take horses from here if you be able. Get your job done quick and get out. When they sober tomorrow, they be on your trail quick.”

  Shanti snatched a well-worn tunic and a pair of matching pants from the ground where they had been cast aside. The woman had retreated to the other side of the tent—probably to get her money off her mark.

  Without waiting another moment, Shanti worked the black uniform around her middle to hide it. She then adjusted the skirt and tied it off again. She now looked a little plump without the bust size to match, but she was still a woman, and available for business, so it probably wouldn’t matter to someone looking for a little fun.

  Stepping onto the main path, she adopted a sensual swagger to advertise her trade. Rohnan was still as calm and patient as before, but now he was in a different location—further north than he had been before. Was he on the move?

  “Hey, babeee,” a man slurred as he swerved in front of her. With half-closed eyes he glanced down at her chest and licked his lips. “I gotta need fer you.”

  A chorus of laughter rang from a bunch of shapes sitting inside a tent in flickering candle light. The crack of cards filled in the moments of silence.

  “Whadda’r say?” His eyes were half-hooded and liquid wet his front. He reached out to cup a breast.

  After the briefest of glances to make sure they were alone, Shanti batted his hand away and gave him a solid punch to the stomach. The breath left the man in a loud whoosh. He slumped over and started coughing. She walked him to the side of the path and eased him down to the ground. If anyone found him, they’d think he had fallen down drunk.

  A moment later, she was cutting through the tents and heading in the direction of Rohnan. He was walking, but not quickly. She stayed to the shadows as much as she could before returning to the main path. Once there, she slunk down and jutted out a hip, having to adjust her sword to keep it hidden within the loose folds of fabr
ic.

  Only a few paces later she turned a corner and saw him.

  Shuffling toward her with his hands tied in front of him and his ankles tied together with an arm span of rope, Rohnan held his head high and directed his eyes straight ahead. Each movement in his body in harmony, as fluid as a dancer’s, he showed assurance and confidence. Muscles played delicately across his exposed arms and bulged within his snug-fitting pants. To a fellow fighter, every line in his body screamed lethal!

  She’d trained him herself, working him every day, to be the best of their people besides herself. And now he showed it, like a prized horse among donkeys, gliding along the enemy tents with that killer’s grace. Rohnan didn’t even like to fight—he’d always said it was a necessary evil to protect his family—but he was exceptional, just like all of her people.

  Shanti blew out a soft breath, eyes focused and intense, watching the brother she’d thought she’d lost. She knew she could rush forward and kill his captors easily. They were watchful, but not ready for an attack. She’d take them unawares.

  The problem was, her deed would be found out quickly, and the enemy would be on her trail within an hour. This was an officer camp; they were the elite. They might be complacent in many ways, but at the first sign of trouble, their camp would be enraged like a hornet’s nest. She couldn’t take the chance.

  Instead, she waited as the progression moved closer. When Rohnan got within the range of his receptive Gift, his eyes widened. His gaze swung unerringly towards her. Relief and intense longing colored his mental path as moisture filled his eyes and joy lined his face. He’d missed her as much as she him.

  Revealing that would get her imprisoned right beside him, the fool!

  She glanced at his captors before letting the desire for violence fill her. She could tell that it took only a heartbeat for him to feel her intent with his Gift and remember where he was. His face smoothed over as a tear leaked from his eye. He swung his gaze forward before giving the slightest shake of his head. Not now.