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

by Amanda Twigg

  Tipping the cage, she watched the bead roll through its center and along the wire channels. Whichever way she angled it, the ball ran into a blocked route.

  “Thanks, Dannet. Just what I need—a problem I can’t solve.”

  She retrieved the Collector, meaning to stow both the objects beneath her bed, but the bead came to purple life inside its metal cage.

  Her breathing quickened, her thoughts whirled, and her mood plummeted. “Of course,” she said with resignation. “Magic.” The Collector always brought her power to life. Without rolling the cage, the ball rose inside its metal trap. Her blue aura encased it, and her mental desire for escape sent it twisting through the channels. Wires distorted with a whine to allow the bead’s passage and then creaked back into place. Finally, the bead of purple magic dropped through the center channel and out of a hole. It settled on her palm and made her skin tingle. I’m about to become the first magic-possessed Chief Warrior Elect in Jethran history.

  “Fantastic,” she said to the wall. A relieved sigh parted her lips when the wall didn’t answer back.

  Chapter 34

  Fear of discovery had nagged Landra since her magical visions had emerged. Today, it squeezed like a tightening noose. She practiced a gritty smile and waved at her reflection. This was how she used to look, not with shaggy hair, gaunt cheeks, and gaudy party clothes, but auraless and dull.

  A glance down to her flesh-and-bone hands stiffened her smile into a pained mask. Auras might cast no reflection, but a flip of her palm sent eddies swirling through her real-world Soul. This is my truth.

  She heard a noise outside. Rap, rap.

  “Guard detail here, Citizen Hux.”

  “I’ll be out soon.”

  “Make it quick. We’re on a schedule, Lan. We’re to accompany several guests to the investiture party tonight.”

  Brennan’s voice. The three-bar’s service to Hux Hall had begun well before Landra’s arrival from the junior barracks. His familiar voice was unexpected but welcome.

  “I won’t be long,” she said. “The world won’t end if the party starts without me.”

  Might be worse if I do go.

  With every important six-city Warrior and Templer scheduled to attend, Landra couldn’t imagine pulling this off. Just because Oakham hadn’t met any Soul-sighted soldiers didn’t mean there were none on base.

  Not shelking likely. I should have said something sooner. Why did I hide?

  The knock came again.

  She slipped the Collector’s strap over her tight underbodice, covered her knife with a flouncier shirt and jacket, and arranged her trousers. Dell’s custom design of floating panels barely covered her thighs and showed a ridiculous amount of skin.

  Rap, rap. “Is everything all right, Citizen Hux?”

  Deep breath, Landra.

  “Coming.”

  A compliment of four household soldiers from Hux Hall waited outside. A nice touch. She knew them all—Brennan, Cleaver, Harp, and Dobbs. Much as she liked them, she tugged the back of her overgrown hair, wishing she had Thisk for protection.

  “Hey, Lan,” Dobbs said, beaming. His gaze fixed on her legs. “We get to walk you through Warrior Hall and on to the party.”

  “Everyone in place,” Brennan ordered, and the group formed a loose ring around Landra to head down the corridor.

  “Who d’you think they’ll announce tomorrow?” Dobbs asked, edging alongside Landra.

  “Not our place to guess,” Brennan answered. “Youngsters like you don’t know the way of things. Part of the excitement’s in the surprise. Ain’t that right, Lan?”

  She took a deep breath, added bird-like grace to her bearing, and felt ice in her heart. “That’s the way I heard it.”

  The quizzing brought home her situation. This time tomorrow, I’ll be the new chief elect—or in jail. Anything between felt impossible.

  Dobbs nudged her elbow, feasting his gaze on the peep of her thighs. “But surely you have an idea who it is, Lan. I bet it’s Dannet. Did he say anything to you? Go on, you can tell me.”

  “It’s supposed to remain private until the ceremony,” she said, swallowing hard and trapping her trouser panels in place beneath her hands.

  “I know, I know. But—”

  “Dobbs!” Brennan snapped. “Stop your whining and keep watch. Citizen Hux knows the rules, like you should. Taking you on a job is like dragging along a junior barracks brat.”

  The young soldier leaned in close and winked. “Share the news with me when the others have gone.”

  Landra’s stiff smile made her cheeks ache.

  “Can I have a dance when my duty finishes?” Dobbs asked.

  The floor seemed to rise to her next step, making her stumble. Dobbs caught her arm. At only four years her senior, his one-bar rank and a posting to the Hux Hall guard put him on a Warrior track. He’d be a good catch for any girl, but his thin aura dissipated against her own strong shades. The mismatch doused her interest. She’d already planned to search Bexter out for a dance.

  Still, why limit myself to one partner on my last night of freedom? Dobbs will likely salute me tomorrow rather than ask for a date.

  Chanting sounded as they neared the Warrior Hall exit. Not a soothing temple chant, but angry tones riding a stream of hateful shouting. Landra’s heart thudded against her ribs.

  “Attention,” Brennan ordered, and everything changed. The guards halted in a tight circle around Landra, swords drawn. She reached to her hip for the sword Thisk had given her in the remote lands, but bunching, soft fabric filled her grip.

  Shelk! Defenseless.

  As the chanting mounted to a persistent chorus, phrases stood out, making sweat break on her palms.

  “End Hux rule! Templer for elect!”

  Back off and you’ll get your wish, Templers. Half of it, anyway.

  She strained her neck to see through the exit and saw a female Warrior striding to meet them. Light bounced off the woman’s bevel-edged sword at odd angles, and muscled shoulders spread her battle-spiked epaulettes wide.

  “Templer protest outside,” she said. “Leave the back way.”

  “Is it bad?” Brennan asked.

  “It’s nothing,” she answered, but gyrating flashes surged through her aura, exposing the lie.

  So, it begins.

  From her vantage point, Landra saw a line of helmeted Warriors, holding still behind a row of positioned shields. Their massed auras formed a heaving ball of roiling blue light.

  “Hold, Warriors,” the order went up from the commander in charge. An arcing firebolt crossed their line, flying over their heads like a comet trail.

  The bolt landed in the Warrior Hall entrance. Red, molten tongues spread from the impact, licking the walls as they raced through the corridor.

  Landra jolted back, recovered her balance, and charged forward, sure the missile had hit the supporting soldier ranks. Fire in a wood-built base—criminal, unconscionable. Rage set her ready to battle.

  “Easy, tiger.” Brennan moved to block her path. “We have Warriors to deal with this, and my duty is to keep you safe.”

  “But no.” She edged to pass him. Her Hux Hall guards shouldered together, blocking her progress. Their combined auras gelled into a warning barrier she was loathe to touch.

  Not fair.

  “Brennan?” she asked, a pleading note to her voice.

  “We know our job, Citizen Hux, and that’s to protect you. It’s time to go.”

  “This way,” Cleaver said, dragging her back down the corridor. The wood beneath her feet shuddered.

  “Run,” Brennan ordered, as a rolling ball of fire chased them down the narrow hallway. “The magic’s after us.”

  “Shelking demons of the mist,” Cleaver swore.

  Landra’s terror soared, equaling what she felt from her guards’ auras. Her legs pumped, her heart banged out a staccato rhythm, and her thoughts froze. Fire filled the corridor behind to form a blazing trap, and flaming tongues chas
ed after them. Harp paused to drag old Brennan up when his legs failed, then resumed his flight, but the old soldier buckled again not three strides further on.

  “Shaft,” Landra said, as she remembered Thisk’s lessons on evacuation routes. “Where’s the shaft?” Her eyes darted around, but she couldn’t recall the hall’s geography. Her reclusive stay in Warrior Hall felt like a mistake now. Heat from behind reached her aura, rippling her blue shades in wavy patterns and softening their edges.

  Brennan went down again, so she turned back and ran toward the inferno. There was no smoke or natural coiling flames. Red magic rode arrowing tongues of fire down the corridor. Heat blasted her face, and she knew they were going to die.

  The magic fingers aimed for her with precision. She couldn’t imagine how anyone would know who to target, but she was sure her secret was out. These men will die with me. Not fair. Can’t…

  Her aura surged into action in an instinctive response. The blue shades expanded into an immense bubble, which encompassed her guards. Yes. Yes. This might help. She focused enough to harden her aura edges into a shield, but heat still seared her skin. Sweat poured down her neck and back. Hard to breathe. Each second the shield remained in place, her energy drained more. It was exhausting, debilitating. Her body shook, her teeth rattled, and she wanted to sleep.

  Can’t rest now. Surely, this is what it means to be chief elect—giving all to save my people. So, I’m using magic. Doesn’t lessen my courage or devotion.

  Her knees wanted to buckle but she edged forward, her aura ranging with a will of its own. It grew again, enveloping and suffocating the flames. The fire crackled and snapped, fighting the constriction, dwindling in size, and fading in color. Her aura’s edges closed tighter, squeezing, squeezing. The blaze licked at her limits in search of fuel, but an inner bubble of stronger color protected her soldiers. Her outer bubble left no gaps.

  Splutter. Spit. The fire stalled. It twisted, dwindled, and popped out of existence, leaving a stench behind—and the trace of a Soul.

  Who’s there? Shelk.

  Harps’s rough grab at her collar woke her to the world again. “What were you thinking, citizen?” He pulled her away from the smoldering section of corridor, and the aura contact broke.

  She glimpsed a wisp of pink thread shrivel and twist away down the passage, and her own blue shades wound in like a sucking whirlpool. It felt like there was no room in the narrow corridor, and her chest heaved as she tried to reclaim her breath. Warriors charged down on them, their fury battering Landra as their volatile auras spun with outrage. One insistent Warrior herded them to safety, and her guards settled into a close group with her at the center.

  “You all right?” Brennan asked.

  “Right,” Dobbs and Harp answered.

  “Shelking shit balls,” Cleaver added. “What happened there?”

  Landra knew but wasn’t about to explain.

  “You, Citizen Hux?”

  You asking me if I happened? Or if I’m all right? The guards’ stares made her cringe, and trembling ran through her entire body. “I’m fine,” she said, remembering the Soul touch and feeling far from well.

  “Take it easy, dear,” Brennan said, and Landra could have sworn it was in Oakham’s voice. “The fire’s out, and everything’s under control.”

  In whose world?

  “A party’s not worth this,” the old soldier said. “We’ll stay in the hall tonight.”

  Landra grabbed his arm. There was nothing she wanted more than to hide in her room. “No, Brennan. I still need to go.”

  “Come on, love, there’ll be other parties.”

  “Not true,” Harp said. “Investiture parties don’t come more than a couple of times in soldier’s lifetime.”

  “Well, I might not see another, but that means you whippersnappers have another to look forward to. I’m ordering you to stand down.”

  Landra’s grip tightened, and she leaned toward Brennan.

  “D’you need to see Medic Sturton?” he asked.

  “No, Bren, I need to go the party.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Landra breathed deep, taking air into her strained lungs and steeling her determination. “Brennan, I don’t want to go to the party. I have to go, and that’s an order. I…”

  He turned wise eyes on her and took in the shaggy cut of her hair. His half-cut, half-tattooed insignia showed his experience. With floppy jowls, age-spotted hands, and bowed shoulders, he was old enough to command them all, but he pulled to attention. He stopped just short of giving a salute, but whirling thoughts showed behind his lively blue eyes.

  “And you have to go to the ceremony tomorrow?” he whispered beside her ear.

  Landra took longer this time, but she nodded.

  “Guard detail,” Brennan shouted, the command returning to his growling voice. “Head for the back door. There’s a party to attend.”

  Chapter 35

  After a quick stop to clean up, Landra tracked through the City’s deserted corridors with her guards. “Where is everyone?”

  “Dancing,” Dobbs said, the mischief in his voice carrying no trace of their recent ordeal.

  “Of course. It’s a big occasion,” Brennan said. “There’s not been a night like this since Griffin stepped up. Funniest thing I’ve ever seen. We could tell he was getting promoted cause he looked ready to mess himself. Begging your pardon, Citizen Hux.”

  Landra wondered if he was trying to help her relax. Did she show the same look now her father had worn then. For shelk’s sake, she had more reason to feel nervous. Her stomach heaved as if she’d swallowed a skipper bunny raw. Whoops of excitement came from the leisure sector concourse, unsettling her more. Soldiers were celebrating a chief elect appointment, and tomorrow they would know it was for her. She gripped her belly, thinking the skipper bunny had started a party in her guts.

  “Just party noise,” Harp said in a reassuring voice.

  Great. Can everyone tell I’m shitting myself?

  They turned the corner, and an unprecedented celebration greeted them on the concourse with acrobats contorting into unimaginable shapes, musicians plucking cheerful melodies, and dance troupes coordinating practiced moves. Every light ball beamed at full brightness to illuminate the ceiling’s bunting.

  “Holy mother of the mist,” Dobbs said. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Don’t they know there’s rioting back at the hall?”

  “Doubt they do,” Brennan said.

  Landra dug her heels into the floor. Surely this can’t be for my promotion. It’s too much.

  Casually dressed soldiers spilled out of every bar and food hall, laughing as if oblivious to the troubles of their world. A sparking liveliness to the aura mass held her attention, and she couldn’t look away. Don’t you know civil war is coming? An image of the scenes back at Warrior Hall flashed into her thoughts. Gods. It’s already here.

  “Can’t beat one night off from duty and worry,” Harp said, as if reading her Soul.

  She glanced at him then turned away from the pink tinge in his aura. Shelk! Nothing makes sense tonight. She didn’t know who to trust, who to follow, or who to believe anymore. Why isn’t Thisk here? He was more confusing than any soldier she’d met, but he was a protector she trusted.

  “Let’s get you to this party,” Brennan said. “Guard detail, Grekko’s bar is on the other side of the concourse. Stay close as we make our way through.” He drew his sword before nudging the group out into the heaving throng but held it point-down to forge a path.

  Landra stayed in the middle, barely accepting the surreal event. The gold walls, decorated ceiling, and spattering of pink auras overwhelmed her senses.

  “This is fantastic,” Dobbs said. “Do we have to wait for the chief to die for another holiday and free drinks?”

  “Dobbs, I’m gonna give you a kicking all the way back to the hall if you don’t shut it.”

  “Don’t mind me,” Landra shouted over the party noise. �
��Dobbs is right. Everyone is happy. I wish it could be like this all the time. Knowing my father’s constitution, we’ll be waiting decades for another party.”

  “I pity the ones left on duty,” Cleaver said in his usually dour tones.

  “There’s not many working,” Harp said. “It’s a skeleton watch tonight.”

  The conversation stopped when they reached a queue snaking out of Grekko’s door.

  “Shelk,” Dobbs said. “Will I even get in this place? There’s more high-ranking insignias here than on the honors board. Nothing below a two-bar Warrior in sight.”

  “Probably not,” Brennan said, pushing past the queue to the front.

  “You sure Landra’s allowed in?” Harp asked. “She’s only a citizen.”

  Brennan answered with a snort. “I’m sure.”

  “Name?” The door guard snapped out with tired efficiency.

  “Citizen Landra Hux,” Brennan said.

  A perfectly proportioned Warrior at the front of the line pushed him aside. Casual-cut sleeves showed off the definition edging his biceps, and his stature made Brennan look like a child. “Hey, can’t you see there’s a queue?”

  “Sorry, sir.” Brennan stiffened to attention but held his ground. “Citizen Hux has priority security.”

  The Warrior scratched his angular jaw and narrowed his eyes at Landra. “Hux, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered. wondering if he knew her true rank. Her gaze slipped hopelessly down the line of waiting Warriors, and she wondered the same thing about every soldier there. You’ll know tomorrow, and won’t it be fun? Now, she was certain she had that shitting look Brennan had talked about.

  “Soldiers with priority security jump the queue,” the door guard said.

  The Warrior threw up his hands in disgust. “Shall I say I’m called Hux?”

  Landra didn’t want special attention, but she had no control here. The door guard checked her off his list, as if her name meant nothing, and opened a barrier to allow her through.

  “Any weapons?”

  “No, sir,” she lied, certain they wouldn’t confiscate the Collector if they found it on her back. The discovery would cause a scene, though, so she offered her most innocent smile.