THE ABSENCE OF SOUL (SOCIETY'S SOUL Book 1)

by Amanda Twigg

  “Really?” Father, have you sent this man to test me?

  “I’d rather just train as a Warrior.” It felt like the truest statement she’d said all morning.

  A smile quirked the Warrior Fourth’s mouth. “As would we all.” He unclipped his cloak and hung it on a peg. The flowing material carried as many award ribbons as her father’s cloak did, but its shorter length made them pack tighter together. He drew the short, fat sword from his chest sheath and took up position in front of Landra.

  “We’re going to fight now. Remove your jacket and offer me the respect you should have given Winton.”

  Train… or fight? There was no way out of this, so she unbuckled her jacket and draped it over a bench. The Warrior stepped close enough for his smell to fill her senses—worn leather mixed with... What is that? Not the laundered scent of ranking soldiers who visit Hux Hall.

  Thisk poked his tongue out, as if tasting something sour, and then teased her collar aside with his sword tip. “Bruises? Illegal fighting?”

  “No!” Landra said, tilting her chin up, but she recognized her lie at once. There was nothing legal about her encounter with Chief Hux. She caught a breath, deciding some events needed forgetting. “Not really.”

  “Good, because I’d hate think my future leader is stupid.” A rumble came from his throat. “We’re an army with no war to fight, Hux. We won’t survive by turning on ourselves. A future leader should remember that.”

  Landra couldn’t blame the Warrior for his outraged expression, but she saw no way to gain his respect.

  He rolled his sword over then clasped it in preparation. “Now! Shall I kill you and finish this nonsense?”

  Ah. It hadn’t occurred to Landra that Thisk might want the chief’s position enough to kill. He even had the power to make it look like an accident. She thought she should react, but her calm demeanor held. The fluid edges and gently swirling shades of Thisk’s aura were the signs of a man at peace rather than one about to commit treason and murder.

  “You disagree with my appointment as chief elect, then?” She kept all emotion from her face.

  Thisk held still, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Of course. There’s no way you deserve the honor.” He stood up and relaxed the sword to his waist. “But that’s irrelevant. I’m a Warrior in the Jethran army and loyal to Chief Hux. It’s clear now why I was put here. I have no interest in protecting a young girl. My chief elect, however, that’s a different matter. And maybe, one day, you will deserve the title. Did Chief Hux give you a date for the announcement?”

  Hope bubbled up in Landra. He actually considered her future worthiness a possibility. This wasn’t Father who desired a Hux succession or her brother who thought everything she did was both hopeless and wonderful at the same time. There seemed like no point in hiding the details now that he knew so much.

  “Just before the championships. I have a sixty day training cycle to prepare.”

  “Good, that gives us time to get you ready to compete.”

  “I… My scores are nowhere near the qualifying level, sir, and I’m too young to enter.”

  “Irrelevant,” Thisk said. “The chief elect gains automatic entry, regardless of age. If the announcement comes before competition starts, you’ll be expected to participate. Everyone will want to see what you’re made of.”

  Terror, excitement, and disappointment warred within Landra. She’d longed to enter the annual competition since watching her father take the title more than ten years ago. Yet, she had expected her inclusion to be a final prize for years of effort. Having the opportunity given to her because of a title, rather than merit, felt dishonest. Her reaction went unrecognized by Thisk. He adopted a formal pose with his sword across his chest.

  “Landra Hux.” He met her gaze, looking every bit a commanding officer.

  Her stomach fluttered. What are you doing, Thisk? You look like a date proposing marriage.

  He tipped his head in a small bow. “I, Dolan Thisk, Ranger Warrior Fourth of the Jethran Army, pledge my duty of protection to you, Chief Elect Landra Loni Hux, and I will train you to lead.”

  Holy mist. That’s not a statement. It’s an oath.

  She wavered, not knowing how to take this change in fortune. He made the chief elect role sound more important than training as a Warrior. She supposed it was, and if the Warrior Fourth was prepared to follow Chief Hux’s orders in this matter, what place did she have in doubting the decision?

  He raised his sword again. “Train.”

  Landra picked her sword up, rolled it over in her hand, and brought it back to readiness. The moment outmatched any dream she’d had of becoming a Warrior, and the impending fight felt more real than any training session she’d had with Winton. Her heart pounded, and the thrill of battle thrummed through her body, agitating the patterns in her aura.

  Thisk groaned. “You can ditch championship posturing. I’m not judging you on juggling a weapon or the smoothness of your roll. I’m teaching you to survive.”

  She firmed her grip on the sword just before Thisk made his first move. His blade swung quicker and with more force than Winton had ever managed. She tried dodging, but her muscles cramped again and her body screamed with pain. She’d barely moved when Thisk’s flat-sided blow smacked into her side. The impact collapsed her to floor, and she crunched around her belly. More bruises. Ow!

  Peering down, the Warrior spiked his sword tip into the mat next to her head. “Hmph!”

  She stared up at her new tutor, unable to speak. After a long consideration, he replaced his sword in its chest sheath.

  “I’ve never trained a soldier before, and it’s clear I have lessons to learn. You’re no use to me like this. Eat, see a medic, and meet me back in the library at second siren. I’ll be taking all your lessons from now on, and it’s time for a history lesson.”

  Landra’s eagerness ebbed at the prospect of academic study. She’d read every book in the Hux Hall library, twice, and her current assignment was a repeat of previous work. “Shall I bring the books I’ve been working on?”

  “Gods of the mist, no. Our history lives, Chief Elect, and it’s about time you learned that. You’re going to need warm clothes.”

  Without explanation, he left her on the training mat, writhing in agony and staring after his departing form.

  Warm clothes? What the shelk?

  Chapter 6

  “Good day, Citizen Hux.” Cadet Baylem greeted Landra outside the armory. “I’m to accompany you until second siren.”

  “Baylem?”

  Baylem held her pose a moment then eased the tension from her shoulders. Her smile puckered dimples into her rounded cheeks, and her light aura brightened. “Sorry, Lan. Warrior Fourth issued the order, so I took this as official soldier business.”

  “Don’t,” Landra said. “The Fourth is just… Well, I don’t know what he is, but be yourself. I’ve had enough disruption today without my friends going strange.”

  “Glad you said that. Everything’s topsy-turvy. Half the guard is missing, and Barthle’s stomping around his kitchen clattering pots loud enough to hear back on Jethra. Don’t go near the food hall if you value your life.”

  “Too late. I tried for an early breakfast.”

  “And you’re still alive? Wow! Huxes are tough. Did you work out what got him riled?”

  “A fault in the magic power supply.”

  “Yuck! Nasty stuff, that magic. Don’t tell anyone I’m saying this. Official line is that Templers and Warriors work together, right? But I wouldn’t put it past priests to interrupt the supply out of spite. If you ask me, the Warrior Council should rip out the system and start again. There’d be no need to keep the temples open, and we could exile all the priests. Wouldn’t that be sweet revenge for when they kicked us off the homeworld?”

  Landra couldn’t disagree, despite the creeping fear that it could signal her own end. She considered sharing news of the assassination attempt but flattened her lips into a
thin line. If the incident wasn’t public knowledge now, sharing it with Baylem would make certain of it being city-wide gossip by evening.

  “What’s our schedule?” Baylem asked, clapping her hands together. “We could try the food hall again. I hear Dannet went back there with Bexter.” A mischievous twinkle glinted in her bright eyes.

  “Too much to do.” Landra buried her disappointment and set off down the corridor. “It’s a trip to Leo’s and the showers for me.” The movement spasmed pain through her chest and stole her breath. “Besides”—she stopped to lean on the wall—“no one should see me in this condition.”

  Baylem hung close, nodding at passing soldiers to stem their attention. “Tough training,” she said to a willowy scribe who paid too much notice.

  “Thanks,” Landra said after the scribe moved along.

  “I can see you’re battered and there’s a story there, but I won’t ask what happened and Bexter won’t care.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Surely you’ve noticed how he is when you’re around. His back stiffens like a sword’s rammed beneath his jacket.”

  “Don’t be stupid. He barely notices me.”

  “Oh, he notices, Lan, but he wouldn’t dare make a move. I mean, you’re the chief’s daughter, and he doesn’t want to end up on charges or ruin his career.”

  “Why does my father make a difference?”

  “He just does. I’m exactly the same around Dannet. I want to talk to your brother but just…” Baylem wriggled her body and sighed.

  “Dannet?”

  “Of course, Dannet. He’s become quite a soldier since going to the academy. Basic training’s broadened his shoulders in a very attractive way.” She opened her hands wider than Dannet’s shoulders had ever measured and grinned. A plea shone from her eyes.

  “Stop!” She couldn’t think of anyone considering her brother in that way. For her own part, she liked Bexter, but if the cadet found her unapproachable now, how would he feel when she was chief elect? That was another problem for later. She continued her pained stride toward the barber shop, and Baylem fell in line beside her without question.

  The tic, tic sound of Leo’s clippers met them before they reached the open front of the barber shop. As they turned in, the sight of Bexter sitting in the barber’s chair made Landra trip over nothing and stumble into the room. Leo’s clippers paused, Bexter squinted up at her with as much surprise as she felt, and a waiting Warrior shot her a glance. She elbowed Baylem to hush the girl’s nervous giggle.

  “Sorry,” Landra said, trying to avoid glimpsing her reflection in the wall mirror.

  Too late.

  She saw her ragged hair, red cheeks, and a sweat-patched training tunic. It was hardly an appropriate look for chief elect duties—or impressing a handsome cadet.

  “Take a seat,” Leo said. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  If she hadn’t needed to smarten up, Landra would have made an excuse to leave. “Thank you.” She squirmed into the closest chair.

  Staring at Bexter was unavoidable; his broad features and broader chest drew her gaze. His dark hair and green eyes were attractive by Jethran standards, but it was the purity of his aura she found most alluring. The deep blue shades formed an even edge around his form and pulsed to a deeper color in time with a steady heartbeat. Landra experienced most aura limits as a barrier, but Bexter’s hues invited her into his space.

  “This worked out well,” Baylem whispered.

  “Shush!” Landra looked away from Bexter and stared through Leo’s lighter aura to the wall beyond. The barber’s shades jumped and twitched in time with his clippers as he danced around the cadet. He trimmed the hair short then swapped his clippers for an insignia marker to etch a ranking design.

  A nod from him made Landra realize she’d been staring. Thankfully, Bexter had his head tipped sideways, so he hadn’t noticed her scrutiny. After returning Leo’s nod, she focused on an instructional wall poster from Chief Barber Vernon.

  The clippers silenced, and Bexter removed his protective cape. He stood up and brushed a few rogue hairs from his jacket before coming to attention.

  “Two-bar cadet.” Leo picked up a badge with two diagonal lines for rank and two more hatched lines for second-year status. It matched Bexter’s hair design perfectly.

  Landra stared at the floor, thinking to give Bexter a chance to leave without further embarrassment. Polished boot caps came into view, and warmth from the cadet’s aura enveloped her body. She looked up. Had he ever stood this close before?

  “Citizen Hux, Cadet Baylem,” Bexter said.

  It sounded official. She gathered herself and did a quick assessment of her condition. A definite whiff of sweat rose from her uniform, and she felt as if every bruise and ache showed. Conscious of his flawless grooming, she surged to her feet and tugged her jacket straight. Baylem came up at her side, barely able to contain her excitement. For all the girl’s three extra years on Landra, her immaturity often showed through.

  Poise, Baylem. Please don’t embarrass me.

  “Good morning, cadet,” Baylem said.

  “Will you join the group training at third siren, Landra?” Bexter asked.

  It was an invitation, but she wasn’t sure of its meaning. Was he offering general courtesy, as all soldiers who resided in Hux Hall were automatically invited? Or was he looking for an excuse to talk? Baylem had hinted at his interest, but the transition from childhood friends to something more felt impossible. Not that he’d been her friend. He’d practically grown up with Dannet and much of the boys’ childhoods had involved finding ways to escape her company.

  “I’ve been given a heavy schedule for today, but I always try to attend the session.”

  Does that sound like an acceptance, a refusal, or like I’m brushing him off? Shelk, I don’t know.

  Bexter’s spine straightened, and Landra realized he was nervous.

  “I’ll be there,” she blurted, determined to find a way to make her schedule fit around the training. The cadet rewarded her with a careful smile that could have mistaken for politeness, but a deepening richness in his aura left her in no doubt of the invitation’s nature. His aura grew, spreading toward her in a clear indication of interest, and her own blue shades quivered in response. Excitement rattled through her as she started planning how to make herself presentable.

  “I’ll see you later,” Bexter said, his green-eyed gaze lingering on her face a moment longer than casual politeness dictated, and then he was gone.

  Landra’s thoughts raced. She shared a grin with Baylem, but inside, she was dying. The relationship needed to develop before her chief elect announcement or she might seem unobtainable. Easy, right? Sixty days should be enough time.

  Chapter 7

  Landra returned to her room before second siren. She showered, changed, and was in possession of a numbing salve from Medic Gren. The salve came with a bed rest instruction. Part of her knew the doctor’s order overrode all commands, but bailing on the Fourth didn’t feel like an option. Still, how hard could a history lesson be?

  Thisk arrived early and dismissed Baylem from the door.

  “Weren’t we supposed to meet in the library?” Landra asked.

  The Warrior waved her question aside. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  Landra compared her citizen-blue jacket with the Warrior’s mottled brown and green outfit, realizing her miscalculation. He’d cleaned up and trimmed his beard, but woolly linings bulged above the tops of his boots, a fur hood topped off his double-layered cloak, and the fingers of his padded gloves dangled like a bunch of Barthle’s hung sausages. If his aura had been even, it would have barely shown beyond the thick garments, but his blue, irregular outline protruded beyond his bulky clothes in several places. His hands glowed with a shimmering azure, as if the gloves couldn’t contain his essence.

  She tried not to stare. “Where are we going?”

  “Above.”

  Landra nearly couldn’t
find her voice. “Above? I—”

  “I’m guessing you’ve never been.”

  “I’ve barely been out of the Hux Hall apartment. There’s rarely a need.”

  “You’re in for an experience then.”

  Her mouth fell open. She hadn’t ever thought to visit the overlevel. Most soldiers never went outside. This wasn’t a safe history lesson tucked away in the library, and it was as far away from bed rest as possible. “Isn’t it dangerous?” she asked. “I heard a guard was mauled by an animal, and two maintenance soldiers died in a lightning strike last cycle.”

  “Is that the gossip? The overlevel’s fine at this time of the year if you know what you’re doing. You scared?”

  He was the second ranking Warrior to question her courage in two days, and she examined her feelings for hints of cowardice. Her hands were dry and steady, but her heart set a charging pace in her chest.

  Is that fear? No, it’s excitement.

  A trip to the overlevel offered more chance to step up to her chief elect duties than any amount of hours in the library. A smile spread across her face.

  “I’m not afraid, but Father will be annoyed with me if I die.”

  A glint of amusement creased the dark skin above Thisk’s beard. “I believe his anger will come my way, so let’s make sure you stay alive.”

  “What about my history lesson?”

  “I told you, citizen, history lives in our world if you know where to look. I’m searching it out and taking you with me. Or you can sit at a table in a wooden box, surrounded by books.”

  His aura animated in time with his words, as if roused to action, and he swept from the room without checking to see whether she followed. Landra stared after him, a host of questions racing through her mind.

  Are you giving me a choice? Will my clothes be warm enough? Am I supposed to bring the Collector?

  The thud of his boot heels faded, and she came to the shocked realization that he wouldn’t wait or come back, so she stuffed the medic’s ointment in a pocket and dashed out to the double stroke of second siren.