Seeking Sorrow (Guardians of Terath Book 1)

by Zen DiPietro

  “Was it by specific design, Luc, that you selected three men and three women?” Lark Manning teased.

  “Not at all,” he denied. “In fact, I wanted an entirely different group of people but you lot were all I could get.” He harrumphed with indignation.

  A silence fell, then laughter pierced it. Joss Green, noted for his tremendous harnessing ability, tossed Luc a reproachful look. “Good thing we know better, or we might be insulted.”

  “Be insulted,” insisted Luc. “I know I am.”

  More laughter, and this time Luc joined them with a chuckle of his own.

  Orben Meadows was a dark-haired mountain of a man strong both in harnessing and transmuting. “Regardless of your reasons, Joss, Thom, and I thank you for gracing us with Lark, Azure, and Quillen. With them along, Sub-Apex is far more tolerable.”

  A few drops of rain plopped onto his head from the completely dry sky. He eyed the women suspiciously, but they all wore virtuous expressions.

  “On the contrary,” Luc objected. “I asked them along because I knew they’d be the last women on Terath to fall for your lame lines.”

  Instead of being insulted, Orben laughed along with the women. “Fair enough.”

  Azure Keats leaned forward. “Magistrate Trewe’s general is awfully young. Do you think he’s up to the task, Luc?”

  “I do. Will Azrith is the right person for this job.”

  “Are the shiv and the head archer involved?” Quillen Clear asked. “I sense something going on there.”

  “Hmm. Something, yes. They’re working out what. Not my business.” Luc shrugged.

  “Too bad.” Quillen sighed with disappointment.

  “Hey, I’m not bad with a bow,” Orben offered, puffing up his chest for Quillen’s benefit.

  “I didn’t mean him,” she answered dryly.

  Orben deflated, clearly out of his league. “Oh.”

  Lark laughed at his crestfallen sigh. “I guess this evening is full of disappointments.”

  Luc cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s better to discuss some details now rather than later, in the interest of preparedness. We’ve encountered some creatures, and some details, that you should know about. Then we can discuss strategy and how we should interlink our mana to work together.”

  “Ah, well, it always comes down to work, doesn’t it?” Thom Harking was the youngest male manahi. He was fortunate enough to have both good looks and ability in all three mana areas, though the strength of his gifts was moderate.

  “Don’t worry,” Luc advised. “We’ll be seeing enough of each other in the coming days. There will be plenty of time for socializing. In fact, I predict we will be entirely sick of each other in no time at all.”

  There was a pause, and they laughed together again.

  Some of their dinner companions had retired to their tents, and the rest had gone to visit other fires. Kassimeigh and Arc remained alone at their fire. They chatted about those they had met at the camp, then sat admiring the night sky.

  Kassimeigh felt wonderfully relaxed. “Sub-Apex isn’t where I’d choose to be, but tonight has been nice. I take it you knew most of those archers already?”

  “I did,” he agreed. “A lifetime of studying a craft will give you a lot of friends with the same passion.”

  “Makes sense. Most of my friends are shivs.”

  He considered. “What’s that like?”

  “It’s great. Who better to have as friends than a bunch of enlightened badasses devoted to justice?”

  He laughed, and she joined him. He shifted and leaned a little closer to her. “You’re different.”

  “You mean I’m not enlightened, or not a badass?”

  “No, you’re definitely both. But you’re behaving differently. More relaxed, less removed. You aren’t skirting the fringes of what’s happening right in front of you.”

  She ran her thumb along the seam of her shoka pants. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Why the change? Not that I mind. I really liked hearing the story you told about your friend and her brother.”

  She stretched her back, shifted, and happened to end up closer to him. She felt the warmth of his leg and arm drifting into her own skin. This close, she smelled his woodsy scent.

  “We’re all products of the events in our lives. Experiences, people, and the circumstance of how I appear to others have all had their effect. I must continually accept and adjust.”

  “You’re talking like a shiv again.”

  “I am a shiv.”

  He lifted his hand toward the back of her head. With a light touch, he removed the clip that held her hair in a loose twist. Springing free, her hair settled in an unruly mass of coppery-red curls.

  “There. Now you look like you did the night I first saw you. The Kassimeigh you, rather than the full shoka version of you.”

  He held the clip out to her. She reached for it but instead of letting her take the clip away, he caught her hand and curled his fingers around hers. The vibration ran up her arm.

  “Do you feel differently about being soulbonded? Or talking about possibly being soulbonded?” His lopsided smile disarmed any reticence she might have felt. She relaxed her hand, letting it rest in his.

  “I’m working on it. I’ve lived my life dedicated to the order. Becoming one half of a matched pair seems antithetical to that.”

  He released her hand and slid his arm up over her shoulder, nestling her against him. “You must accept and adjust.”

  His shift surprised her. She felt the resulting vibration of their contact moving down her chest in a pleasant hum of belonging.

  “So the order agreed to let you come here after you adjudicated the custody of the little girl. How do those two relate at all?”

  She appreciated the change of subject. “I’ve never adjudicated without full shoka. Although it’s usually a shiv’s choice to make, the elders felt I might rely on full shoka out of habit or fear. I had to prove myself above those frailties, and I suppose I did well enough. Though they did instruct me to remain without the hood for this mission as well. They didn’t explain, but I can presume it’s ‘for my own good.’”

  “You have permission to engage in actual battle, then?”

  “I do.” Her tone betrayed her ambivalence.

  “You don’t want to?”

  “I’m glad to be unrestricted. To be able to do what is necessary.” She chose her words with great care. “But I’m concerned about the force that might be required, and what it would mean. I don’t want to be forced to deem a war as necessary. I’m still hopeful that somehow we can resolve whatever is happening without a large-scale battle.”

  Arc shifted around to confront her. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. She’d never seen him look less than pleasant, and the change surprised her.

  “I admire devotion to peace, and a wish to do no harm. I do. But there are times when pacifism is a mistake. My aunt has risked her position by going around the pacifists on the Council so she can protect the people of Terath. We’ve all gathered here because we’re committed to this event, whatever form it takes. Aren’t we?”

  Kassimeigh looked down at her hands, which rested between his. Funny how she hadn’t noticed it happening. “I don’t like to talk in superlatives. ‘Whatever it takes’ seems like a simple phrase but it isn’t. You don’t know what it means.”

  He pulled his hands free of hers and put some distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit, Kass, I don’t want to talk in generalities or lofty ideals. I’m talking about Sorrow, which has a population of dust instead of people. I’m talking about your home, which suffered the same fate. I’m talking about the lives of the people in this camp, which are all pledged to this cause. If someone’s life is what it take
s, they will lay it down because that’s what it means to be here. But what about you? Will you pledge everything you have? Don’t you want to find whoever is responsible for killing your family? If not, then why petition the elders to be here? I don’t understand.”

  Confronted with his uncharacteristic antagonism, she retreated to cool detachment. “Revenge means nothing to me. But I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t committed to this enterprise. I’m only refusing to be goaded into a blind vow with lasting repercussions.”

  His mouth tightened to a hard slash. She sat transfixed by this expression she’d never seen him wear.

  “Fine. Keep your own counsel and don’t promise me anything. But at the very least, Will needs to know what he can expect of you before we get there.” He stood and strode away.

  The electric sensation he created in her faded, and the stillness felt like abandonment. She kept her shiv mask in place, but an unfamiliar emptiness grew within her as she retreated to her own tent.

  Because most of the mid-lats could be cleanly, quickly, and easily traveled by monorail, taking a cart was not an everyday occurrence. Carts primarily served the old and infirm or vacationers seeking to get away from it all. Few communities were far enough from a monorail station to require more than one’s own legs.

  Sub-Apex’s dreary gray early morning light failed to inspire a single resentful thought from the battalion. Everyone was too impressed by the strangeness of their convoy. Eighty-four carts traveled together across land that most of the occupants had never before seen outside of a viewscreen. The surreal nature of the experience stirred ebullience and high spirits. Laughter, shouts between carts, and joking filled the Sub-Apex blandness as the carts jolted northward over the uneven terrain.

  Izzy observed it all with approval from the back of her cart. She shared the amazement of being part of such an odd group. The happiness of three-hundred-plus people was all the sunshine she needed. It was a shame the sensation was marred by the rigidly reserved, conflicting attitudes she sensed from a certain shiv.

  Izzy decided to play dumb. She offered Kassimeigh a bright smile when the justice happened to glance back toward her.

  “Happy?” Kassimeigh remained blank. Whatever bothered her must be pretty serious, which was a shame. The shiv had only just started to relax in a way that Izzy had never seen from her friend.

  “Yes, quite. We couldn’t have hoped for such an auspicious start. Friendships are forming fast, which is a huge boon to the cohesiveness of the battalion. It’s lovely to be surrounded with so many cheerful people.”

  “Then I’m pleased for you.”

  “Aren’t you pleased, yourself?” Izzy felt Kassimeigh’s mood suddenly contract into a tight ball, then relax into a studied calm. The shiv showed nothing of the internal gymnastics.

  “Of course.”

  Kassimeigh’s carefully maintained dispassion concerned Izzy. She wondered about Arc’s absence from their cart and his emotional state, but his cart traveled at the edge of the group and she failed to get a clear sense of him among so many others.

  Though she wanted to pursue the source of Kassimeigh’s upset, Izzy was stymied by the presence of their driver. Justin was a rangy, good-natured guy and did a good job of steering them around the worst of the ruts in the ground, but Izzy could hardly delve into Kassimeigh’s personal business with him listening. She had no choice but to wait for some privacy.

  That evening, when carts had been parked for the night and tent poles thrust toward the sky, a camp sprang up to house the battalion. The overall mood of the battalion remained excitement, but a touch of anticipation and anxiety had begun to seep into the ranks. Heightened emotions coupled with the troops’ natural inclinations gave Izzy plenty to do. She handled the aftermath of a couple skirmishes, a case of inadequacy, and a bout of homesickness. When she finally had a chance to fill a bowl with some dinner and seek out Kassimeigh, she failed to locate the justice.

  “Ah well,” she consoled herself. “Tomorrow then, if the situation hasn’t already sorted itself.”

  “Don’t skip ahead to tomorrow when we aren’t done with tonight.”

  “Do I know you?” She stared up at the big boulder of a man in front of her. Damn him for having such a great smile. And hair. And abs. On the other hand, there was no reason not to enjoy what was so easily enjoyable.

  Carston edged closer, not the least bit convinced of her ambivalence. “You do. And you will.”

  “Don’t count on it. You’re not the only decent-looking guy around here, and if you haven’t noticed, I happen to be the only reader. Do the math. If you can.”

  He laughed. “Have you eaten?”

  She indicated the bowl in her hand. “Almost.”

  “Come with me. I’ll find us a cozy spot and make sure you don’t go hungry.”

  She went with him.

  Shiv Justice Kassimeigh of the Northern Keep hesitated. Her hand stilled in midair as it reached toward Arc’s tent. She warred with herself over what to do and how to begin doing it.

  She defined herself by her calm, logical process and her centered mind. Yet here she was, staggered over how to begin a conversation. No adjudication had ever been this hard to undertake.

  Her heart hammered out a drum solo as she finally lifted her chin and called, “Arc? Are you in there?”

  “I am.”

  Fighting to keep her voice even, she asked, “May I enter?”

  “Yes.”

  The urge to sprout wings and fly away clearly wasn’t a useful one, so she shoved it away and pushed into the tent instead.

  Arc sat on a bedroll. She saw he’d been preparing to retire for the day, though it was perhaps a little early for it. His boots lay near the tent flap and his shirt was unbuttoned. Her eyes followed the line of buttons downward before she caught herself. She forced her gaze onto the lamp as it spilled a lazy glow of mana-driven illumination on the tent walls.

  Realizing she stood in his tent without talking to him or looking at him, she struggled for something to say. She wanted to say something wise, erudite, and entirely reasonable. She was good at that.

  “Damn. I’m just not meant for relationships.” Somehow she managed to fail at all three of her goals.

  “So this is a relationship, then.”

  She dared to look up and saw one corner of his mouth tick up. Once there, her attention fixed itself firmly to him and she couldn’t look away. She stepped closer, then sank to the ground across from him. His words and his almost-smile loosened the knot in her chest and made her want to reach for him instead of a shield or a weapon. He had the uncanny ability to disarm her, just when she was suiting up to do emotional battle.

  “It was starting to be, wasn’t it? But I have issues.”

  He looked thoughtful. “Issues. Oh yeah. Big ones.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing her. It didn’t matter though, as long as he kept looking at her like that, and filling up the emptiness that had been eating at her since the night before.

  “What can I say? I’m sorry I wasn’t prepared to meet you. I’m sorry I’m not easy. I’m sorry I’m a bunch of pieces that don’t all fit together at the same time.”

  To her horror, a catch in her throat marred her last words. Though she was unfamiliar with the sensation, she was pretty sure it signified unshed tears. Which pissed her off.

  “Oh, bloody hell!” she shouted, disgusted with her unprecedented lack of emotional control.

  She found herself hauled into Arc’s lap. His warmth and the buzz of his nearness pulled the thickness from her throat and melted it into a pool of warm gooeyness that slid down her chest and into her belly. She let a slow sigh escape her like a pressure valve averting a massive detonation.

  Curling into the warmth of his neck, she took advantage of his open s
hirt to span her fingers over his skin, maximizing her contact with him. His subtle scent of fresh air and sun and whatever made him intoxicating twined into her senses. She dragged in deep lungfuls of him.

  His articulate fingers ran up beneath her curls. He cradled her scalp, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Stop acting like an idiot,” he advised. “You’re way too smart for that.”

  She snorted. “I am! At least I used to be, before I met you.”

  “So it’s my fault.”

  “Completely! I lay it all at your feet. You’ve ruined a perfectly good shiv.”

  A chuckle shook his chest and her with it. “Sorry.”

  She lifted her head and braved looking up at him.

  “No. I’m sorry. I know there are things we don’t know about each other yet. I’m working on letting you know me, but it’s hard. I should have handled the other night better.”

  “Okay.”

  She twined her fingers through his, liking the way their hands looked together. Tracing his fingertips, his knuckles, his palms, she examined the uniqueness that made his hands superior to any other hands on Terath. Energy pulsed under her skin wherever she touched him.

  “I’ve had a couple days to think it out, and the truth is, there’s no way I can objectively take a vow to do ‘whatever it takes.’”

  Surprise sparked in his eyes and he pulled his head back, but she tightened her grip on his hands to keep him from pulling away.

  “But my feelings for you aren’t objective. Being soulbonded with you isn’t objective. Even when I try to find a way to rationalize it, I know I could never see you in danger and not fight for you. I took a crossbow bolt for you without thinking about it, before you’d even seen my face. The vow you want isn’t voluntary. It’s written on my soul.”