Spilt Secrets (A Talnarin Novel Book 2)

by D. E. Chapman

  I move to the bathroom, stripping as I go. It’s been a long two weeks without a shower or bath. It’s to the point where I can’t stand my own smell anymore. Malik and Freya insisted I refrain from getting my back wet. Why I couldn’t take a sponge bath is beyond me. Either way, it was brutal.

  Instead of rushing through the bath as I normally would have, I take my time to soak. I allow the scented water to soak up into my skin, replacing the stink with a pleasant smell instead. It’s a little awkward with the appendages at my back, and finding the right spot in the tub becomes a challenge.

  As I settle into the warm water, my mind wanders.

  In my two weeks in the infirmary, the incident occurred three times. That same nauseating and fear paralyzing sensation of being watched happened again and again. After the first time it happened though, I kept my mouth shut. I don’t know if it was terror clamping my mouth shut or disappointment at not being believed the first time around.

  After that first night, the person returned the following night. Again, I waited until the presence disappeared before bolting for the light. Only when the brightness illuminated the sterile room did my heart finally calm. But the underlying terror, along with all of my questions, remained.

  The night following, I had left the light on, deciding to stop tempting fate. When the night passed with no incidents, I managed to convince myself it was nothing more than a dream.

  My mistake was turning off the light again.

  The third time unsettled me more than I care to admit. I’m not entirely certain why this is the case either. Nevertheless, the third incident resulted in the lights remaining on permanently. That brightness seemed to keep the unwanted presence away.

  For now.

  I shudder, heart pounding. Not wanting to delve any further, I push the thoughts aside. Instead, I turn to more enlightening memories of the past two weeks. We had practiced more of the Mindula affinity and it went well. I got to a comfortable place in the training where I didn’t need to close my eyes to envision or seek my energy. I could glean more than emotions, too. Hearing people’s thoughts—or Malik’s thoughts, in this case—was interesting.

  Malik had expressly told me from the start that any influence I have on him is a result of letting down his barriers. Without permission, I wouldn’t have been able to enter Malik’s mind at all. Even the suggestions I supplied were a result of him accepting them. Malik said that if he wished, he could deny the whispers in his mind, but that would defeat the point of the exercise.

  It wasn’t as defined as I expected, either. I envisioned a clear stream of consciousness, or at least something close. While that happened occasionally, it was mostly like impressions in my own head stemming from the talnarin in front of me. Like rapid images of what Malik was thinking about, memories he’d recalled, and made up visions of the future. It was more than thoughts and words. It was sight. I saw what Malik saw in his head. It was an otherworldly experience. One that was addicting and tempting in its allure.

  Beyond the emotions and thoughts were actions and directions. I could send a little whisper of my energy with my intentions into his head. Whatever it was that I requested from him, he did. Anything from standing on command and answering my questions. It was thrilling seeing the control I could have.

  It was then that I realized just how far someone could fall when faced with this amount of power. Somehow, I had managed to keep a hold of myself, to not give into the sweet seduction of power.

  It’s safe to say I didn’t hurt Malik either. My approach to his mind was soft and subtle, pleasant. Or so he claims.

  When I wasn’t practicing Mindula with Malik, I passed the time reading and researching. Unfortunately, I still found nothing on golden eyes. Not even one mention, it’s infuriating. I couldn’t find anything on talnarins with multiple affinities either. But I’m not giving up, there’s more books to read. I’ll get to them… eventually.

  Other than the lack of leads on those two subjects, I brushed up on the energy fundamentals and all I can do with Elestal, Firvo, and Mindula. As a just in case, I researched Flokil as well. It was fascinating reading about the weapon materialization you can do with all the affinities and I couldn’t wait to get back to training in the arena. It was all I could think about in these last two weeks. Who knew I could get so excited just thinking about exercising? It helped to envision all the cool tricks I could start honing. The anticipation was nearly overwhelming.

  Most of my time in the infirmary was pleasant, except for that stalking presence and the nightmares, of course.

  It seems that the more free time I have, the more nightmares I have. If I don’t work myself to exhaustion, then it’s likely I’ll be revisiting my old life in my sleep. It wasn’t every night, but it was close enough. They weren’t all about my time with Him either. Some nights, I woke crying silently.

  Those nights were the worst of all.

  The nights I dream of my family are the hardest to bear. They were always good dreams, pleasant and happy. Just like how we were. We would laugh and make jokes, play games, and dance. My dream self always wore a wide smile, joy in her eyes.

  Until I woke.

  Then it became a nightmare because it could never be more than a dream. The bittersweet reality of my life would hit hard and the tears wouldn’t stop. To be so painfully reminded of a time and place that no longer exists is the hardest thing to deal with.

  I hate it.

  I hate myself.

  But I hate Them more.

  The rage would bubble up when the tears finally dried. The anger was still, silently festering along with my resentment. I didn’t push it away, and instead I let it build and consume. I needed to feel the pain and anger. I needed to embrace it. I needed to heal. I needed it to replace the fear that seemed to swallow me whole.

  I needed to feel like the old me again.

  I also needed someone else to blame. I need something other than myself to share this heavy responsibility. So, I blamed Them. Everything was Their fault. If They didn’t exist, none of this would off happened. If I hadn’t met Him, things would have gone differently. These thoughts festered that anger, fed it. With the growing anger came the growing determination. It made me want to be stronger. It made me want to fight harder. It made me want to survive longer.

  It made me revert to how I was a month ago.

  The pain and resentment were like an old friend, one that welcomed me home. A part of me hated it and a part of me craved it. It was a familiar feeling and I needed that moment of comfort, no matter how brief. But then the terror would climb up, shaking me from the anger’s hold.

  It’s times like that I fear myself. I fear what I become. I fear what I can do. The anger is so palpable and so overwhelming and I don’t want to live like that anymore. To be trapped and suffocated by rage and sorrow is no way to live at all.

  I know this.

  These last few weeks at Craforian have changed me, altered me in a way that I never thought possible again. The darkness inside me isn’t as overpowering as it was a month ago or two months ago. I see good in people again, I see light at the end of the road. It may be faint, but it’s there. At least I know it’s there. I even feel like I can be me again, given the time. And I find I want that so badly it nearly paralyzes me.

  But I want revenge.

  Can I have both? Can I still achieve my revenge without the festering rage? Or will I be too soft to end the bastard that ruined me? Who ruined my people? There is no doubt in my mind that His death is what I want most in this world. That fact hasn’t changed.

  But now, I find I want other things too.

  I want happiness even though I don’t deserve it. I want to smile at the world even though it’s fucked me over time and time again. I want friends even though I’ve lost them before.

  I want a family.

  And that’s the one thing I’ll never have again. The one thing I will never allow myself to have again. To lose them twice would be the death of
me. I would break.

  Completely.

  Chapter 19

  I stretch awake, feeling my joints pop gloriously. A weird groaning noise escapes my throat as I yawn. As I lie there, I think about yesterday.

  After my brief emotional melt down, I climbed out of the bath and dressed. Sleep followed shortly after, though I made sure the door was locked and the lights were left on. No way in Hellvian was I taking any more chances with the sleepstalker on the loose.

  I sit up and nearly scream.

  Malik is leaning against my door. “What the fuck, Malik?” I manage to sputter.

  A nasty smirk stretches wide. “You have five minutes.” Without another word, he turns and leaves my room, the door shutting with a click. I stare at the offending door I’m certain I locked with distaste. How the Hellvian did he get in?

  And why can’t he act like a normal person for once?

  I sigh heavily, rubbing my face in irritation. Grumbling, I stand and get ready in record time. I somehow manage to make it to the arena with time to spare. I see Malik and Zeke waiting for me so I give them my meanest sneer.

  Malik’s grin widens and Zeke laughs.

  Speaking of Zeke, looks like he’s back already. Malik told me last week that Zeke had gone on a short little recon mission, I think that’s what he called it at least. Supposedly, Zeke left to gather intel on some top-secret subject.

  Bunch of shit if you ask me.

  Malik just doesn’t want to tell me what they were dealing with. Fine by me, I plan to figure it out some other way. If I find out it involves those damn rogues, I’m going to rip Malik a new one.

  I want in. I need to be in.

  If he’s hunting those bastards, I need to be a part of that. Any hand I have in killing those rogues is perfect. The more I kill, the less they’ll hurt innocents. And the more I kill, the closer I’ll get to Him.

  In theory, anyway.

  I focus on the task at hand: training. Expression hard, I narrow my eyes at the two talnarins. Halting a few paces from them, I cross my arms and wait for instruction. But, just as it did a few weeks ago, my attitude only amuses them further.

  For the next few hours, I work tirelessly with Zeke, trying in vain to call up Elestal consistently. For whatever reason, this affinity decided to be a pain in my ass. I can envision the energy fine, but calling it is a separate matter. It doesn’t react like my Firvo or Mindula affinities.

  I manage to spark at least ten different times, but the jolt was weak and fleeting. It only materialized for a few seconds before flickering into oblivion.

  My patience is running thin.

  Thankfully, before my anger takes control, Malik calls an end to practice. My first reaction is disappointment at not being able to continue working on this affinity. When I give myself a moment to think about it, I realize it’s probably for the best that I take a break. After all, it’s not like it went anywhere and frustration will only cloud my judgement. Someone could get hurt. It’s not like I can blame Malik for calling it quits, either. Compared to my progress with my Mindula affinity, Elestal is just pathetic.

  I snap from my thoughts as Malik stands before me. “Next, we’ll learn to fly.”

  “Excuse me?” My jaw hits the sand and my eyes widen. “Did you just say we’re going to fly? Because fuck that.” There’s no way I’m flying. I just managed to gain full feeling and control over my wings less than a week ago, and it wasn’t easy.

  I wake with a yawn and stretch. A tingling sensation whispers down my back and I startle. Whipping my head around, I find them twitching.

  My wings are moving!

  Fascinated, I stare in awe as they ruffle a bit before settling. I flex the muscles in my back, trying to get them to move again with no luck. Not willing to give up so soon, I twitch and flex every muscle in my body, one at a time. Just as I’m about to call it quits, they twitch and shift once more. I recount what I did and try again.

  Success.

  The wings move like an extra arm or leg. The wings have their own set of muscles it seems that move when I tell them to. I was thinking of them as an extension of my back. That if I moved my back muscles, the wings would react. But they carry their own sensors that move when my mind tells them too. It’s amazing.

  For the longest time, my wings were numb and I felt no physical attachment to them at all. Then that day came and I simply woke up and bam, I could feel them. I spent the better part of the day figuring out which way they move and how much they can move. It was an interesting experience, one I never thought would be possible.

  Having just overcome that challenge, I’m in no hurry to push my luck. I’m not ready to determine just how well these fragile wings can keep me in the air.

  No thank you.

  My panic must show on my face because both Malik and Zeke rumble a laugh. I hurry to my feet and put my hands on my hips furious. “It’s not funny, assholes. I just got them moving, I’m not about to see if I can float too.”

  That only seems to spur the laughter on. Soon Zeke is hunched over, hands on knees as his whole body shakes. Malik at least as the decency to try and compose himself. He gives me a look filled with great amusement on my part and says, “Capalts. We’re going to ride capalts, Alanna.”

  My face heat as understanding hits. Embarrassed, I lash out, “Well how in the Hellvian was I supposed to know that?”

  “You should have seen your face.” Zeke manages to say between laughter. “It was hilarious.” He moves out of the arena, laughing the entire way, a scowl on my face.

  I whip my head back around and eye Malik with disdain. “I don’t find it funny.” And to stress my point I say, “At all.”

  His amusement fades marginally, though a grin still remains. “You weren’t to know.” I remain silent, still festering. Unbothered, Malik continues. “You never know when the situation arises and you’ll need to ride a beast. It’s a good lesson to learn sooner than later.”

  I huff out an irritable sigh as Zeke returns with two capalts. One I recognize as Malik’s, the other one is the beast I road on the way to His village.

  If feels like that time was so long ago that we were headed to the talnarin village, when it’s only been about three weeks. The two capalts looks just as they did before, too. The one I had ridden puffs out his chest, his dark indigo scales on display. Malik’s beast has his held high, his inky black scales reflecting in the sunlight.

  “What are their names?” I softly ask, moving closer to the blue beast.

  “That one,” Malik begins, “is Ivora and the other is Magilor.” He gently pats his loyal beast as it purrs. So, mine is female after all. She bumps my arm with her head, asking for affection. I willingly give it to the magnificent creature. Malik reaches for Ivora and pulls a bundle from the saddle. He thrusts them at me and says, “Wear these. It will be cold up there without them.” I grumble at the command but comply. The jacket is snug and warm, the scarf and eye coverings stifling. Thankfully, the back has slits for my wings. Looks like Malik came prepared.

  Once I’m ready, Malik commands, “Saddle up.”

  I glance over sharply, apprehension washing through me. One, I’ve never mounted one before on my own. Two, I’ll be riding alone with no clue on how to control Ivora. Three, we are going to be in the sky.

  What if I fall? What if I move her too quickly and I end up upside down? What if I crash down to Bylir and take Malik with me?

  I snap out of it. Those situations are ridiculous. I need to calm down and breathe. I’ve seen the others do this before. I move to the side of the beast, heart pounding. Gripping the horn closest to me, I wedge my left foot into the foot holder, whatever it’s called, and lift. Once I’m high enough, I shift my leg up and over before sitting down.

  I did it.

  Thankfully Ivora had crouched down, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to climb up. Now that the easy part is completed, I wait for further instruction. I look over at Malik as he pulls Magilor up to my side. “To m
ove forward, snap your heels into her flank. Gently pull the reigns in the direction you wish to go. To draw to a stop, pull on the reigns. Do not pull on the horns.”

  I gulp. “Why not?”

  “The horns are for flying. Pull back on her horns to lift and take off. To turn and maneuver in the sky, use the horns, that is her distinction to fly and not move along the land.” I gulp, apprehension washing through me. “But remember, be gentle in your movements. They have been trained and listen well. All you need to do is guide. Don’t jerk or pull, otherwise you will lose control.”

  “Got it.” I think.

  An amused smirk spreads across his face. “We’re not flying immediately. We will start on land until you get accustomed to her movements.” A relieved sigh escapes me in a rush. “Let’s go. Just follow my lead.”

  Nerves eat away at my stomach, making me queasy. But I was never one to left my fears control me, so I push through. Head held high in a semblance of control, I gently hold the reigns and coax Ivora after Malik. She does so without hesitation. Soon, we leave the arena and meander through the greenery of Craforian.

  The slow gait of the beast is soothing and my jitters slip away. It’s a beautiful day for riding. The sun is shining and the wildlife sings.

  All of that fades to background noise when Malik says, “Good. Now it’s time to take for the sky.”

  The blood slowly drains from my face. I hadn’t minded the flying when Malik was securely behind me to catch me if I slide off.

  Malik doesn’t wait for me to back out, and instead he grips the horns and pulls. In a flurry of activity, his beast is already thirty heads up, soaring past the wall and surrounding trees. Not about to be left behind, I gather my courage and follow suit. I don’t give myself time to talk myself out of it as Ivora jumps into the air and takes off.

  My stomach drops to the ground.