by K. F. Breene
They were thinking along the same lines. She’d have to wait.
She hated waiting.
Slinking back in frustration, she watched her sibling walk by. When they were twenty paces ahead, she stepped out of her hiding place and adopted the sensual gait of her assumed profession once more. The progression disappeared around a bend ahead. Without needing to speed up, she sashayed along the path after them.
As she stepped around the same bend, Rohnan’s party was disappearing around another bend up the path. In their wake stood ten men in a loose group, chatting with solemn faces. Two had rolled up papers tucked in their arms. Maps, she’d bet. Each had crisp, black uniforms with red slashes across the red circle on the upper breast. Her heart started to beat wildly when she counted one man with eight slashes!
What in Death’s playground is a Superior Officer doing here?
Shanti’s legs filled with fire as cold trickled down her spine. The urge to run was so great she couldn’t stop the rigidity from overcoming her body.
A Superior Officer was a rare and coveted position, one step away from Xandre’s inner circle. There were only a handful in the whole of the land. He would be a master at weaponry of all kinds, a skilled tactician, an excellent leader of men, and held the power to direct an army of thousands. In order to advance to guarding Xandre himself, a coveted position that came with vast rewards, he’d need an act of extreme valor, or to deliver a prize of war.
And here she was. The one person Xandre sought above all others stood fifteen small paces away, within a camp of hundreds. She was a gold coin to a beggar, and she was practically offering herself for capture.
She could take someone in Xandre’s inner-circle—she’d proved that on a chance meeting while heading east. But she couldn’t take a Superior Officer supported by others, and if she used her Gift, the whole camp would be roused by the Inkna residing there.
Her gaze scanned the men around him, officers all, many with four or five slashes, one with six. They were Death’s Huddle. More importantly, they would be her captors if she didn’t play this encounter perfectly.
Forcing herself to breath evenly, she pulled her top open a little to make sure her cleavage was on full display. Without changing her pace, and trying not to wipe her sweat laden forehead, she sashayed closer with hip and breast and sweaty palms.
Shadows licked her feet and crawled up her side. The urge to drift into those shadows tugged at her. If she did that, though, someone would notice. She was sure that these men already knew of her presence. To disappear suddenly would not be in keeping in character as a whore, which would raise suspicion.
Focusing on her breathing, and remembering to swing her hips, she sauntered closer. It didn’t take long for a few of the officers to glance up from the map, taking in the various elements that marked her profession, before just as quickly going back to what they were doing. Like the sober Graygual she’d seen earlier, they paid no attention to whores if they could help it.
Her small and silent sigh of relief was short-lived.
As she drew closer, the Superior Officer tilted his head up purposefully and looked right at her. His gaze did a quick sweep of her from head to toe, before honing in on her breasts. A small crease worked between his brows.
In that moment she knew—he wasn’t looking at her cleavage, he was looking at the binding containing it.
A crawling sensation worked up her spine in warning.
Cayan’s artisans had created that binding, working off of her instructions. Their styling had merged with hers, representing both lands; the land that birthed the violet-eyed girl, and the one who took down an Inkna settlement a few months ago. What’s more, it was made from material worth more than the rest of her outfit combined, intended for strength, durability, and comfort.
Her binding was the only physical thing showing on her body that hinted that she might not be what she seemed. And he’d found it right away.
A trickle of sweat ran down her temple, and the need to prepare for battle hindered the swing of her hips, straightening her walk into something too predatory for a normal woman. Something else he would surely see.
Terror ran through her. Not knowing what else to do other than kill him with her Gift and alert the whole camp to her presence, she veered into the middle of the path and trailed her hand down her chest, boldly presenting herself to him. Her fingers worked down her stomach and over her hips, back to their exaggerated sway. She tried desperately for a sultry smile, but only conjured up a stiff grimace. It would have to do. Hopefully the amount of sex she was oozing would overshadow her features.
The Superior Officer’s gaze flicked toward her hand. Then toward her hips. His lips thinned and his eyebrows settled low over his eyes. He glanced at the men around him, stiffening as he noticed more than one set of eyes taking his measure. Responding to their unspoken judgment, he shifted, showing Shanti his back as she passed.
She was sure his curiosity had been piqued; a riddle had been posed. Shanti knew it was just a matter of time before he pooled all the little items about her that were out of place, and figured out who he had sharing his camp. At the very least, he’d want to ask questions.
The sand was pouring through the hourglass.
Barely daring to breathe, she continued on, noticing the two men standing beyond the officers dressed all in black. Sarshers, what the Inkna called their Gifted, stood guard.
She slammed her shields home so they wouldn’t detect her Gift as she took the turn Rohnan had taken earlier. Being in that camp was suicide, and she needed to get out. Now!
* * *
Two hours later Shanti found herself impatiently crouching next to the tent of a loudly snoring man. Opposite her hiding place stood Rohnan’s guarded tent. Two guards stood at the front, staring straight ahead with tired, hooded eyes. She had every reason to believe those in back were also dead on their feet.
Their walk earlier had proved to be nothing more than a visit to the waste trench so Rohnan could evacuate his bowels. There had been one moment, shortly after she found them, that Rohnan had his hands free, his pants up, and within easy reach of a guard’s sword. Together, with minimal effort, she and Rohnan could’ve killed them all, stashed them in the distant bushes, and been on their way.
Rohnan had shaken his head again at her intent. Not now.
Shanti’s jaw clenched where she crouched, stuffing down her anger at the memory.
What was he waiting for?
She wiped the moisture from her face as the damp air, heavy with fog, shifted around her. The chill soaked through her skin and settled in her bones, making her long for the cloak she’d given away. The moon had worked its way across the sky, taking its light with it. Snoring ripped through the stillness of the night from a dozen nearby tents.
Like a flash of color, Rohnan’s brain went from calm patience to agitated fear and warning bells erupted deep within Shanti. Her adrenaline kicked in and her fight reflex became active. It was his signal, a way to communicate with her through her Gift—time to move!
She only hoped it wasn’t too late.
Chapter Two
She ran at the first guard, grabbing the sides of his face and jerking his head to one side. A crack rent the night as his neck snapped. His body fell limp at her feet.
Two more steps and her kick hit the next guard square in his jaw. His eyes popped open wide in surprise, but he was already falling. She stabbed down with her sword, piercing his chest. His dying scream muffled into her palm.
She ducked into the tent where Rohnan held out his hands. She cut the bindings around his wrists and ankles before hiking up the roomy skirt and yanking a second knife out of her leg brace. She handed it to her brother along with the Graygual uniform she’d kept around her middle. Making sure he knew to put it on, she ran from the tent and around to the men at the back.
The first was staring idly ahead, oblivious to the fact that two of his comrades had already been taken down. The snoring around
them, along with their desire for sleep had masked her exploits, as she had hoped.
With quick hands she sheathed her sword, grabbed another knife, and approached him from the side. She snatched a handful of hair with one hand and slit his throat with the other. His gurgle brought the other guard’s attention around.
“What did you—”
She stabbed him in the eye before he could finish his sentence, then clamped a hand over his mouth as she rammed the knife into his heart. His muffled scream was louder, and lasted longer, than the others, but no one close enough was awake to hear it.
Shanti dragged him toward the mouth of the tent where Rohnan had already moved the two guards from the front inside. Rohnan circled around and grabbed the last guard. The drag marks would not give them away until daylight, and by then it wouldn’t matter.
“Okay, let’s go,” Shanti whispered with her hand on Rohnan’s arm. He was so warm. Alive. So, so alive.
His smile at her emotion was short-lived. “We must get one more person.” Rohnan grabbed her hand and yanked her to the right.
She took two steps before tugging back. In a fierce whisper, she said, “Rohnan, they have a Supreme Officer here. We don’t have time for this!”
Rohnan turned to her with a gust of urgency. “I didn’t get caught by accident, Chosen. You must know that. I needed to get closer to learn more—to listen. And I am positive we need this man. He is paramount to the cause.”
“There is no cause, Rohnan. A true Chosen has come forward. We need backup and—”
A steel edge crept into Rohnan’s voice as he said, “The Supreme Officer is here because he is guarding this man. One of the selected elite is guarding a seemingly ordinary old man. What does that tell you? I passed right by him. Right by him! And I couldn’t get any sort of reading off him. I had no idea what might be going through his mind. I couldn’t even tell if he was happy or sad; his expression was of no more help. There’s something different about him. We must have him.”
Shanti stared at Rohnan’s angelic face for a single beat before she was in action. Anyone a Superior Officer wanted was someone Xandre wanted. Xandre would want those who would fuel his war effort in some way. She knew that person needed to be on her side, or dead. There was no middle ground. Not when dealing with someone as smart and cunning as Xandre, the man who titled himself the Being Supreme. He could turn even the most devoted enemy to his side with his lies and manipulations.
Rohnan led the way through the paths of the camp, staying to the dark places and slinking further into the shadows when they encountered a guard or random wanderer. As they approached a large tent faintly lit with a flickering glow, Rohnan slowed and stepped into a pool of black beside a tent across the way. He crouched and stared at the nearest guard, a Sarsher.
“There are four guards—two on the outside, and two sit within. Sometimes there is a Sarsher with him. Like now.” Rohnan let a knee fall to the ground to better stabilize himself.
Shanti squatted next to him. “Why only one Sarsher, I wonder? And he doesn’t have much power. Are the other Sarshers in the camp stronger?”
“Most, yes, but his Sarsher guards don’t have a lot of power, no more than half your former power. It seems your power is greater now, though…”
“My power found a mate. Long story, though no longer as shocking after hearing about the Chosen coming forward. My power increases greatly when I use it in tandem with his, and only has a small boost when I’m away from him. I don’t know why the extra strength remains if he’s not nearby, but… it does.”
“It’s a succinct mating. Only a few can ever find such a mate…”
“I hope you learned that on your travels, instead of keeping information like that from me.” Shanti shifted, readying a knife. “But, now’s not the time. The guards look half-asleep. This should be easy enough.”
“Agreed. But, whenever there is a man on your mind, you become violent. I want a weapon before this conversation.”
“There is no man on my mind,” she said. “Are we ready?”
“Yes, Chosen.”
“I’m not the Chosen. I’ll take the one on the far side.”
“Yes, Chosen.”
Shanti had time to scoff before reality smacked her. “Will this prisoner resist us?”
“I have no idea. I guess we’ll find out.”
“Let me compliment you on your preparedness, Rohnan. It really is awe-inspiring.” Shanti straightened and started forward with quick but light feet. Rohnan was behind her a moment later, his knife twirling in his fingers.
It took two full seconds for the guards to realize someone was attacking. By then, Shanti had her knife in a guard’s neck and her hand clamped over his mouth. Rohnan was just as fluid, sliding the knife between the man’s ribs deadening the sound just as effectively. Both bodies dropped to the ground in a lifeless slide.
Rohnan ducked into the tent first. Shadow cascaded over him, and then swallowed him up. Shanti stepped in right behind. She heard a grunt to the right where Rohnan was dispatching a guard, and felt the mind of another guard to her left. Before the guard could raise his hand or shout, Shanti’s knife found a home in his neck. Blood splattered her face.
“Ugh,” she grunted, wiping her arm across her face as she turned.
Even though it was the middle of the night, an older man sat on his bed in the corner of the tent. A high and gaping tear in the tent let the moonlight spill over the side of his curly hair and across a shoulder. His hands rested in his lap with fingers laced together.
Despite having just witnessed the violent death of two of his guards he sat with a straight back and placid expression. In contrast, his mind was spinning with emotions, each flitting by so fast Shanti couldn’t pick up any of them. They weren’t his real feelings—it was clearly some sort of mental defense.
“Come.” Rohnan said in a common Southern Region language. He held out his hand to the man. “We friend.”
“You’re terrible with languages, Rohnan.” She stepped to the side of the tent directly opposite the man. In a calm and soothing voice, using the same language Rohnan had, she said, “We do not wish to hurt you. We are freeing you.”
“A cage with no bars is still a cage,” the man responded in a sing-song voice. “But you know of cages, do you not? This is a dangerous place, for violet eyes.”
“How does he know that—he couldn’t see it in this light?” she asked Rohnan. Her stomach fluttered in unease.
“I don’t know, Chosen, unless he assumes it. He’s seen me in the camp—even in the moonlight he can see you’re fair like me. It’s not such a leap.”
Yes, it was. But they didn’t have time to discuss it. “We need to leave,” she said to the man.
The man brushed off his pants and stood. “Then, please, let’s change cages.”
“Well, at least he’s being a good sport about it,” Shanti muttered to Rohnan.
With her mind open, Shanti jogged to the mouth of the tent and peered out. Shadows loomed along empty, dirt paths. Canvas tents lined the way, quiet and still. The silence of the night was only interrupted by the lonely sound of a cricket hoping for a response.
“Let’s go.” She glanced back at the man. “Can you ride bareback?”
“We shall see,” the man answered with a laugh in his voice.
That must be a “no”. Lovely.
The dense equine minds waited both to the far east of the camp and to the north. She had every belief they were all excellent specimens and guessed most would be lenient with their riders. With half as many horses as riders, many were probably used for wagons carrying men and supplies. Prickly war horses only accustomed to one rider would be reserved for a select few. She hoped those were on the farther side of the compound.
Shanti pushed their pace as fast as she dared, knowing the older man wouldn’t be able to keep up if she strode out too fast. He didn’t need to be watched or coaxed, though; he seemed perfectly content to switch cages, as he sa
id, but Shanti worried that he didn’t question their motives. He was much too placid for Shanti’s peace of mind.
“I’ve only seen him like this,” Rohnan said in a whisper in their shared language as they neared the horses.
“Your Gift is like a shock to the system, Rohnan. I’d forgotten you could very nearly read minds.” Shanti slowed as they neared the long, horizontal board around which the horses were tethered. Many slept, but some gazed at them with docile, unassuming eyes.
Ignoring her, Rohnan continued with, “I caught the tail-end of a whipping, once. It was only three hard slashes, but afterward, when they led him away, he smiled at me and winked. I could see the pain still in his eyes, but he seemed completely unconcerned.”
“Does he understand us?”
The man stared at the far horse with an interested expression while he puffed wisps of white, out of breath.
Rohnan minutely shook his head. “I don’t think so. The Graygual language is similar to ours but he never seemed to understand what they said. He took beatings for it before they realized.”
“Berate first, get more information after. That’s always the Graygual way when dealing with prisoners.” Shanti began untying all the animals. “They didn’t treat him softly, huh? He’s a prize, but not a coveted prize?”
“No, he is coveted. This was before the Superior Officer arrived. Since then, he hasn’t been physically harmed.”
“You were in the camp all that time?”
“Not as a prisoner. I could come and go as I pleased before the Superior Officer and his team arrived. After that, it became harder to get around unnoticed. I don’t have breasts.”
“I don’t either, but I do have the suggestion of breasts. Apparently that’s enough for most men.” Shanti hesitated near the last three horses. She glanced at the older man. “Pick your ride.”