by K. F. Breene
“Can’t you just chase them out with your mind-thing?” Tobias asked in a hush.
“Burson said no, remember?” someone replied in a loud whisper from the back. “They have let him through at least once already.”
“I don’t like this hiding bullshit,” Sanders growled.
Shanti didn’t either. She had a grip on all their minds, but Burson had told her to maintain peace. Peace was the only way through the wood without bloodshed.
Tell that to the people waiting with weapons in the trees.
The rasp of branches sounded off to the right. Cayan’s head snapped that way, trying to see who made the sound. Shanti’s focus went to the other side, in case the noise was a distraction. Behind them, leather creaked as tightly wound men shifted in their saddles. A slow slide of a sword from a sheath mingled with the clomp of hooves on dirt.
“Got movement,” Tepson called up. “They’re definitely watching us.”
The itching between Shanti’s shoulder blades intensified. She strained her eyes, looking into the trees for the telltale glint of eyes. For bodies. For anything that might give these people away. They were like ghosts, silent but ever-present, stalking them through the woods. Dangerous ghosts, at that.
Shanti’s horse neighed. It pranced to the right, either sensing her apprehension, or feeling the people waiting just off the road.
“Do any of them have that mind-weapon?” Sanders asked quietly.
“No. But none are scared like Marc is—they’re experienced.” Shanti let her fingers play across the blade of her sword. “They think they have the upper hand.”
“Saw one—I saw one!” Gracas hissed.
“What are they waiting for? They have us surrounded.” Cayan asked in rough voice. He took out a throwing knife.
“Wariness. I’m getting heavy doses of wariness. Some recognition is also evident, though soft,” Rohnan said. “Tension is higher, though. It’s building. Something is coming. They’re waiting for something.”
“They can hear us, right? They’re close enough to be able to hear what we say?” Marc asked from down the line. “If so, let’s not give too much away. They’re not giving us anything.”
They’re giving plenty away, Shanti thought. And that scares them because they’re used to lying in wait, undiscovered. We’ve blown their greatest asset—concealment.
“Here we go—” Rohnan said. He stood in his saddle and pulled his staff free. Cayan whipped out his sword from its sheath, signaling those behind them to do the same. Metal slid against leather.
A group of fifteen or so entered Shanti’s tight mental focus, sprinting. “Here they come and they’re coming fast!”
She stood in her saddle, brandishing steel. She glanced at the ground—stay on or get off?
“They have no horses—stay on your horse,” Cayan growled.
A thrust of stinging mental power slapped her mind. Everyone behind her groaned. Marc and Leilius both shrieked. As the runners drew near, the power intensified, pounding her with waves of mental needles that felt like they were piercing her whole body.
Chapter Sixteen
“This is nothing—grit your teeth against this!” Sanders roared. He swung a leg over his saddle, ready to jump off and attack.
“React!” Burson shouted. “Do not kill.”
With a lifetime of experience, Shanti fought the attack until she could identify each of the participants. As Sanders was jumping from his horse, she found the source and gripped each of their minds, ready to softly end the attack.
Cayan had also reacted, but unfortunately his maneuvers weren’t so subtle.
Without warning, a deep rumble blasted into the trees. Like a shockwave of invisible fire, power blistered toward the attackers, mental-workers and fighters alike. Those waiting within the trees recoiled from the thick, heady power. One toppled out onto the path, clutching his middle and screaming. Another wave rolled from Cayan, the subatomic thunder unlike anything Shanti could duplicate. It hit the runners like a wall, stopping their progress. Shrieks and screamed filled the trees, and still he pumped out attacks. His eyes glowed, flickering with the power that left him in steady torrents.
Shields slammed home to protect the attackers, but they were nowhere near strong enough to withstand Cayan’s might, especially with her mated power to bolster him further. He pounded into them, dropping them to their knees. Shanti felt the agony as minds pulled into themselves, like bodies curling into the fetal position.
“Enough, Cayan,” Shanti yelled, pulling back. She wrestled his mental power, turning it from its path as best she could and pulling it into herself. His mental presence wrapped around hers. The spicy quality of their mated powers fizzled and tingled her limbs. She sucked in a breath as a flood of warm comfort and support radiated through her core. He must have been thinking of her episode earlier that day, and their intimate mental contact had brought out his concern.
This was not the bloody time!
“Cayan, pull back!” She ripped out of his mental embrace before jumping from her horse as her Gift blossomed out once again. “Secure the first row of attackers—do not kill!” she said to the others
She pinpointed the Gifted as they tried to rebuild their defenses, though some were undoubtedly still curled up on the ground. Cayan’s Gift joined hers, back under control now that the immediate threat was gone. She let it swell her power, and then pierced. A thin stream of intense strength hammered into the center of their defenses. Their mental shields shattered. She clutched their minds in a steel grip. When one or more tried to shake her loose, or put up further defenses, she twisted. New shrieks rent the air.
“Follow the game trails, Chosen,” Rohnan shouted as he veered to the right.
Shanti jumped over a form huddled on the ground moaning. His sword lay in the dirt. She ran around another who sat with her arms around her knees, rocking with eyes closed.
She saw the trails Rohnan referred to, crisscrossing like a spider web. They weren’t for game, they were for ambushes. Clever.
“Rohnan, go farther right. There are two there. Cayan—”
“I got it,” came Cayan’s reply. He was running left with his sword at the ready.
Shanti burst through a hedge, and nearly stumbled onto an arm lying across the trail from a fallen body. She hopped over, took a few more steps, and turned with sword in one hand and knife in the other. There were four people, from ages twelve through forty, all kneeling or lying on the ground. A man, the oldest, looked up with pleading eyes. “Please spare my wife and son,” he said in the common trader’s dialect. “He’s only fifteen and she—”
“Not me,” the boy spat with a raised chin in grim defiance. “Spare my mother.” He pointed to the woman lying on the ground, heavily pregnant.
A shock of horror engulfed Shanti. Without thinking, she screamed for Marc and ducked to the woman.
“Is she weak in power?” Shanti asked in a rush, rolling the woman off of her stomach.
The son made a quick movement. A fisted hand holding a rock lashed toward Shanti’s head. She ducked and punched, clipping him on the chin before blasting him with her Gift. He grunted and clenched his jaw before she thrust into his mind for a deeper connection. With one fierce tug, she sucked his Gift’s essence into her. She could latch on and use his mind’s control center to wreak havoc with his body, or she could keep sucking until he passed out, cutting off before he died.
She opted for the second. She only wanted him out of the way.
“No!” the man shouted. He lurched for his son before hesitating and leaning back toward his wife. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Please. Please don’t hurt her. She’s eight months pregnant.”
“I’m not going to hurt her, and your son is just sleeping. You people really should trust a little more. Surely you realize I could’ve killed you outright. MARC!”
“S’am?” Marc crashed through the trees like a wounded deer.
“Here,” she called.
Finally he stumble
d through dense bushes with a sword and a white face. He looked around with wild eyes, saw the man raise his arms in defense, and stabbed forward. Before Shanti could jump up to intercept, he veered the thrust away to the right. “Is he surrendering?”
Marc turned around, still wild-eyed, and saw the woman on the ground. “What happened?” He knelt to the woman in a rush of movement. His eyes cleared of fear immediately, but his hands still shook with adrenaline. He felt along her belly and pinched her eyes open. She moaned and moved her head.
“It’s her Gift. Her mental thing. She’s exhausted, like you get sometimes.” Marc went back to feeling her belly. His eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. He jumped before ripping his hands away. “Weird. I’ve never felt a baby kick before. It has some punch. But, the baby is alive. And her pulse is fine. She just needs to rest, I think.”
Shanti bent with a lung-filling sigh. If she’d killed a pregnant woman, not even the underworld would welcome her in.
“What were you thinking having her out here? Are you insane, or just stupid? Get her home.”
“They said you were powerful. That we all had to come or else they couldn’t hold you,” the father said in a quivering voice. He crawled over to his wife and grabbed her hand, shooting furtive glances at their son.
Shanti shook her head. “They should’ve known that the few extra people wouldn’t have helped.”
Rohnan returned, his weapons already put away. He glanced at the people on the ground before dropping down to the woman. “What happened?”
“She’s weak in the Gift but she’s okay. Help Marc get her to her home. I’m going to go see what’s going on with the fighters—see if we can expect any more violence.”
“This how they been able to keep strangers out,” Rohnan said as he felt the woman’s pulse. “With their Gift. All together they are powerful. Is enough for many, but not powerful enough to keep Graygual out for much longer.”
“No. Not with the Graygual armies moving this way in greater number.” Shanti kept her sword out. She didn’t know what she’d find back with the others, and her people were still outnumbered.
“The Captain’s Gift is… unique…” Rohnan said. His tone was even and his shield was up tight. There was subtext to his statement, his body language and blasé attitude made that clear, but he intended to keep it to himself.
She absolutely hated it when he did this.
“I can see that you are trying not to make a point, Rohnan, and, succeeding in being irritating.” Shanti looked at Marc. “Are you okay to stay with him, Marc?”
Marc didn’t bother looking up. “Is he a doctor? He’s being pretty thorough. Seems like he knows what he’s doing.”
“He’s a healer, of sorts. His Gift lends to that discipline. Also that of working with kids. He—”
“I cover that, Chosen,” Rohnan interrupted. “You have other things do.”
“To do, ingrate.” Shanti hefted her sword and stalked back toward the earlier fray. As she left the others, she heard, “Did you call her ‘Chosen’?”
Not only did someone speak the Mountain Region language, he knew of the title. Great.
She felt Cayan making his way along the path and looked right as he emerged through the lush trees. His gaze traveled her body before converging on her trail, directly behind her. “Easy take down,” he said.
“Yes. The wonders of working with a Gift.”
“The Inkna will no doubt think the same when they need to use this wood as a thoroughfare. Going around eats days.”
They slowed when they found Tepson, one of their men who was known for his luck, standing amongst a group of ten. He had his sword out and his captives tied with their wrists behind their backs. The rope connected one to the other, and they each knelt, women and men of all ages, with pressed lips and tight eyes. Wariness, fear and sorrow radiated from the group.
Tepson glanced up when he saw movement. His gaze went right around Shanti to the Captain. “Sir, we have them all situated. Waiting for instruction.”
Cayan scanned those on the ground before settling on a man in his mid-twenties with short-cropped hair and a square jaw who bore a scar on his neck, as if someone tried to slit his throat and failed. He had wide shoulders layered in muscle, and thick arms.
“Who’s in charge?” Cayan asked.
Before Shanti could translate, the man’s jaw tightened. Defiance sparked in his eyes. “I’ll cooperate if you release the women and children.”
Cayan stared at him. He was undoubtedly sizing the other man up, deciding how best to work with him. He must have seen potential and wanted to win his trust.
And he would. Cayan was great at that sort of thing, but it could take time. Shanti didn’t have any more patience.
“Look at my eyes!” she barked. “Do you think we’re the sort to harm women and children?”
With a hard gaze haunted with battles lost, he met her eyes. She read desperation there immediately. Hopelessness. He wasn’t just hiding, he was lost. Exiled of his own volition. Waiting to die.
He must have seen the Graygual in action. And it had crippled his resolve.
Without thinking, she stepped forward and slapped him across the face. “Your fight isn’t done yet! You’re young. And you’re able. You don’t have to hide here with these families. You can take your life back!”
His eyebrows dipped low as his cheek started to turn red. His gray gaze traveled her face before resettling on her eyes. Surprise lit up his features.
“That’s right,” she said “I’m on the run. I’ve seen what the Graygual can do, too. But I can’t hide. I’ve wanted to. Kiss the Elders, I’ve wanted to. I’ve wanted to let Lord Death claim me—to let my past bury me with those I left behind. But I can’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else if I can help it.”
She waited, giving him a moment of silence.
“They took my wife. She was newly with child, and still they took her.” He blinked as his eyes started to glisten. “They slit my throat, but without conviction. One of the survivors revived me. They killed my wife after they—” He cut off in a strangled sob.
Shanti envisioned wrapping a warm blanket around his shoulders. She knelt in front of him and laid her hand on his cheek. In a soft voice, she said, “They killed all of my people. I know what you are going through. I won’t lie and say that ache will go away—I don’t think it ever will. But hiding isn’t the answer. My brother and I were given the duty of getting help, and then tearing down the Graygual. Join me. For your wife. For all the wives. For all the survivors. Help me.”
A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared into her eyes. His nod was so slight she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been touching his face. She bent forward to kiss his forehead, then gave him a hard slap on his shoulder.
Men couldn’t mope for too long, or they turned into horrible whiners. A little violence went a long way with a fighter.
“What nation are you from?” Shanti asked as she stood.
“Dirkshore.” He cleared his throat. In a steadier voice, he continued with, “On the south-western coast.”
“Then you were one of the first. I am from the north-western coast. We were the last on the coast to be conquered.”
“I’ve heard of you. The little girl who knocked Xandre down.”
“Not for long, I didn’t.” Shanti took a deep breath and looked at the others huddled together. Their fear had completely dissipated. So had the hopelessness. These people were all hiding; that’s why they guarded this area with such a heavy hand. They were afraid of their enemy coming in and dragging them back out. And with the Gifted, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. They would’ve been entered into the breeding program, and their lives would be spent in a gilded cage.
“I hate the Graygual,” she spat. She looked back at the gray-eyed warrior who was watching her expectantly. “Yes, I am that little girl. And that ‘victory’ cost the lives of everyone in my village. The only victory as far as
Xandre is concerned would be one resulting in his dead carcass. That’s it. As long as he is alive, he will keep going. He’ll keep killing. He might wait years, but eventually, he will revisit all who wronged him and rip their lives apart.”
“Then we must kill him,” said a slight woman with a bow lying next to her. Her eyes were hard, and just as haunted.
“Are you all survivors of the Graygual?” Shanti asked in dismay.
“In one way or another, yes,” the woman replied. “But you should talk to Yeasmine. She’s the one who started this place. She is the one who guards us.”
“She failed today,” the gray-eyed man countered.
“Be thankful she failed with me. It could’ve been worse.” Shanti started forward.
Cayan said to Tepson, “Untie them. But good thinking with the rope.”
“Didn’t want to cut it up, sir. We’ll probably need it again,” Tepson responded.
“He’s a fast thinker,” Cayan said as he followed closely behind Shanti.
“Because he didn’t cut the rope?”
“Yes. That took foresight. You probably would’ve cut it.”
Shanti glanced back in time to see those dimples accent his smile. She scowled at him. “Shows what you know—I haven’t needed rope. Nor do I have a desire to tie anyone up. ”
“Being tied up can be fun. I could show you sometime…”
Shanti’s eyebrows created a shelf over her eyes as she processed both his tone, and the humor rolling around in his empty brain. He was calling her naïve. And blast if he wasn’t right.
Why hadn’t she and Romie tried rope? Huh.
Cayan’s laugh grated.
She slammed up her shields as they walked into the clearing. Quickly, she noticed that her horse was standing all by itself. No other horses, and no humans, stood within ten paces of it, but it seemed perfectly content. A line of twenty men and women sat right in front of the tree line with their hands tied behind their backs. Sanders stood at the head with an older woman. She stood regal with her chin raised, her back straight, and shoulders squared. If she knew she had dirt smeared across her face, messed gray hair, or a large rip in the knees of her pants, she didn’t give a sign. Or perhaps she just didn’t care.