Endra started walking through the trees again. “I don’t know how it could have happened.”
“Why was I here as a baby?” Nemma asked, taking larger strides to keep up. “Where did I come from?”
“Carrick took you to the Merronign camp you were just a few days old. He told us about you but wouldn’t tell anyone where you came from, only that you would be our greatest warrior. He planned to take you into the Arc and be trained, but things went wrong. The Thaide attacked the Merronign camp and he had to get you to safety. He passed through here before he took you across the border and into Hannaw. It’s most likely the Thaide followed.”
“Is that why he left me in the Ryim? To keep me from being discovered?”
“Probably. He had found you a magien family that were desperate for another child but I doubt he would have risked taking you to them while he was being chased. He couldn’t take you home because my sister wasn’t tolerant to our cause. He probably planned to collect you from Jonam once he had deflected the Thaide. Jonam probably stayed in the Ryim to keep you safe.”
Nemma digested this. Mother and Father lived in such a horrible place to protect her. And all along she thought she was protecting them. “Who else in the camp has this kind of energy?” She asked.
“No one.”
They walked on, their boots crunching on the leaves and small twigs on the earth.
“So how do you know my Gift isn’t deformed?”
Endra slowed and turned to her again. “Tell me about how you killed those Thaide that murdered Jonam and Isa.”
Nemma explained what had happened to the best that she could remember.
“And how did it feel when you chose to access the Gift for the first time?”
Nemma thought back to the first time she met Othmar. “It felt like a thrill running over my whole body… a physical reaction.”
“Good, that’s normal. Did it feel like that when you pushed away the Thaide’s force-bind?”
Nemma lowered her head in thought. She could not recall the particular feeling during that encounter, but they were trying to kill her. She shook her head. “I don’t remember, it was…”
“Distressing, I know,” Endra finished. “But it’s likely that you wouldn’t have accessed the Gift in that state.”
Nemma tried to make sense of what she was saying. “But how could I have made any impact on them if I wasn’t accessing my Gift.”
Endra smiled, her face becoming young again. “Exactly. Your Gift is unique.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Nemma said, frowning. “How can I have used the Gift without accessing it?”
“For everyone else, the Gift is like another sense. Like opening your eyes or putting out your hand to touch something. They can choose to access it or not. For you it’s part of your existence. It’s always active.” Endra angled to the right, heading towards a clearing a few yards away where Nemma could glimpse dark figures, like shadows, moving. “You use it without realizing it. It’s likely to be the reason why you look freshly washed, even though I know the ordeal you have been through today.”
Nemma stayed silent, thinking back to the gems floating in mid-air before her at the brook. She could not recall accessing the Gift at that time either.
They reached the large clearing and it was filled with almost one hundred men and women dressed in black tunics and trousers. They all stood with their feet apart facing the same direction, slowly raising their hands past their stomachs, blackened palms up.
“What is this?” Nemma asked, breathless at the sudden sight of so many people. They made no sound in the quiet woods.
“These are Phalorian warriors, they’re training.”
Looking closer, Nemma saw boys and girls younger than her, raising blackened palms among the adults and elderly Phalorians. Their necks and arms were larger than the rest of their bodies and their muscles flexed as they all twisted their torso to the left and pressed their palms away in complete unison. All of their heads were either shaved or cut short.
“It’s a curious fashion,” Nemma said in hushed tones, gesturing to Endra’s hair.
Endra smiled. “Hair holds energy. Cutting it short makes it harder for the Thaide to take command of our bodies. It’s a defense precaution.”
“Take command of your bodies?”
Endra tilted her head. “The most powerful Giftborn can take command of energy on the same level as them. That includes other people. Every Thaide is extremely powerful.”
Nemma watched the warriors for a moment. “Why are your palms black?”
Endra raised her hand to Nemma, and she saw that her hand was filled with black scars. “We do this to our hands with our Gift.”
“Why? It must be painful?”
Endra smiled. “Are you accessing the Gift now?”
“Yes.”
Endra turned her palm downward and pulled the dirt from around their feet into the air. “What do you notice?” she asked Nemma with her hands outstretched, as the dirt hovered around them.
Nemma frowned, confused. “You feel like you’re at rest.”
Endra dropped the dirt. “We don’t control the Gift the same way you do. We use our hands to maneuverer and control the energy. It’s called palming.”
“So you do this to hide that you’re Giftborn from magiens,” Nemma said, lifting one of Endra’s hands.
“Yes. And if we choose, we can hide from them completely. The energy we wield tends to be weaker but it’s easier to use and faster to direct the energy, which is a benefit when in combat.”
The scars on Endra’s hands were hard and thick, and covered her entire palm and the underside of her fingers. “How long does the scarring last?” Nemma asked.
“Forever,” Endra said. “They will always be present.”
“Father didn’t have scars,” Nemma recalled.
“Ah, but he did.” As Endra spoke the scars on her hand began to fade. “They can be hidden.”
Within a blink, Nemma was looking at the creamy underside of a normal hand with lines etched into the palm and fingers.
“There are many things we can do with the Gift using palming,” Endra said as Nemma let go of her hand.
She turned towards the warriors who circled their arms above their head, twisting their torso and twirling their wrists, all in silent unison. “We practice like this to keep our arms and hands quick and strong, but we always need at least two Phalorians to fight one Thaide in order to have a chance of overcoming them.”
Nemma faced the warriors too. “Is that why you won’t help me prevent Innogen’s death.”
“Isn’t that a noble reason?” Endra asked, a hard edge to her voice. “You’re asking my warriors to die for this task. What kind of commander would I be if I didn’t consider the odds?”
Nemma did not answer. She was truly on her own, but would they let her go?
“Furthermore, you may be more important than every Phalorian here, if my suspicions are correct. I have to protect you.”
There it was. “I don’t need protecting,” Nemma said. “I need help.”
Endra looked at Nemma, her voice soft. “If every Phalorian warrior from across the Realms was at this camp right now, we would have a chance. But the Arc usually has at least two hundred and fifty Thaide within its wall at any one time. By the time they reach here they will be joined by Thaide in Hannaw, on the border and in Osrien. Saving Innogen instead of leaving this camp immediately, puts us in danger.”
Nemma nodded. “I can understand that. But I hope you understand that I can’t leave her to die. I’m responsible for her situation and I won’t let someone else I care about die because of me.”
Endra turned away from her. “Many people have died to help you in some way. You just don’t know them all.”
When they returned, Chesna and Riyen were still in the hut. Riyen stood up when they entered.
“Everyone is getting ready to leave,” he said to Endra.
“Good. It will
take the Thaide at least a day or two to reach us if they use a series of bridges. We’ll leave at sun-rise.” She looked at Nemma and walked back out of the hut.
“Riyen,” Nemma said. “You told me you wouldn’t force me to join your cause.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t lie. Endra hinted I’m too important to leave behind.”
Riyen shifted on his feet. “If you’re that important, we have to protect you.”
“So I’m not free after all?”
Riyen’s pale eyes roamed over her face. “We won’t lock you up, Nemma, but if you’re the key to everything we have been fighting for, for centuries, we can’t let you walk to your death. I suggest you prepare to come with us.” He headed to door of the hut and paused. “I am sorry,” he murmured, before leaving.
Nemma clenched her fist as a ball of frustration twirled in her chest. Her Gift expanded from her as she expelled her energy with her breath. Had she moved from one type of prison to another?
“Not used to feeling helpless are you?” Chesna said. She patted the chair next to her. As Nemma sat down, Chesna picked up the round fenyac pot and poured the smooth gold liquid into a wide shallow cup. The earthy, nutty aroma exploded into the hut and Nemma breathed it in, realizing it smelled better than it tasted.
“I thought you were going to go on your own way as soon as we reached Osrien?” Nemma asked, shaking her head as Chesna offered her a cup.
“I was,” Chesna said. “But I can’t find my way out of these woods alone.” Chesna took a sip from her cup, savoring the liquid in her mouth before swallowing. “Ghalen, the big one with the shaved head, offered to take me to Orath city, but the more I heard about these people and their cause, the more I thought I might stay.”
Nemma shook her head. “Chesna, it’s dangerous.”
“I know but…” Chesa’s voice faded and she took another mouthful. “You may have been a beggar, but you had family. You had people that loved you and who looked out for you until you were old enough to learn how to take care of yourself.”
Nemma nodded. The camp felt calm, quiet and friendly, the opposite of the fourth quarter and the foundhouses. Endra clearly cared about her people. If Chesna felt safe, Nemma did not have the right to dissuade her.
“Do you think I’m being unreasonable for wanting to get Innogen back?” Nemma asked.
Chesna placed her cup back on the table and hitched her right heel up on the seat of her chair. “When Riyen came into the blind spot, it shocked me. No one had ever entered it before as far as I was aware, and I didn’t even know there was a door there.” She hugged her knee. “I ran over to you and saw that you already had a shield around me and Innogen.” She smiled and her face rounded out. “I can’t describe how that felt, to have that security.”
Nemma smiled back at her.
Chesna poured more fenyac, releasing another burst of aroma into the hut. “I had a brother once. We grew up in foundhouses and on the streets of the fourth quarter. He taught me how to be invisible, how to see the unusual, how to negotiate and figure out what people want.”
“What happened to him?” Nemma asked.
Chesna shrugged and sipped the fenyac “One day he just didn’t return. I have been on my own since. I can’t remember what it feels like to truly care about someone, so I can’t pretend to understand friendship, but if it feels like how I felt in your shield, I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the small candle flames bouncing their shadows to and fro. Nemma’s determination grew and she began to consider how she could slip away from the camp without being noticed. If they kept to their word and didn’t lock her up she may be able to find a way out of the woods.
“I have to say though,” Chesna said, breaking the silence. “I can’t understand why you would wish to put these people in danger to save one person.” She drained her cup. “I have made many decisions to give up on a foundling to protect the group. And these people helped us, Riyen fulfilled his promise.”
Doubt and guilt softened Nemma’s determination. Could she really accept causing the deaths of many Phalorians? Was she being selfish?
Riyen and Endra walked back into the hut and started to clear the table, putting all of the items into the carrysacks they held.
“Nemma,” Riyen said, alarmed. “I can feel your release.”
Endra looked up. ”What?”
“The shield with the code,” Riyen said. “It’s gone.”
“How?” Nemma and Endra asked at the same time.
Riyen lifted his shoulders. “You must have dissolved it.”
“I didn’t,” Nemma assured. “I haven’t even thought about it.”
“You have been feeling emotional, Nemma, so you could have done it without realizing,” Endra said. “Magien codes don’t really have an effect on you, this one may have only worked because it was fused with your own shield.”
“Come on,” Riyen urged. “We need to recreate it now.”
“Why? There are no magiens here.”
“The Sovereign will still be able to detect you,” Endra said.
“But you told me my Gift can hardly be detected,” Nemma said. “And I’m too far away for anyone to feel my release.”
“Yes.” Endra said, her face stark in the candlelight. “But not the Sovereign, not if he’s looking for you.” She glanced at Riyen. “We have less time than we thought.”
Twenty-Seven
Essen watched the Sovereign standing sturdy, almost relaxed. His legs apart, arms by his side, a fixed gaze directed somewhere above Essen’s shoulder. Between them the bridge, formed like a tear in the air, quivered and buzzed. As the last Thaide stepped through, the bridge shrunk into non-existence and its vibration faded into an eerie silence. Essen took a deep breath, realizing he had been holding it. The Sovereign was indeed a most miraculous being. To create a bridge of that strength, covering that distance for a number of almost three hundred was one of the most incredible uses of the Gift Essen had seen in all the years he had been serving as High Priest.
“What are your orders, High Priest?”
Essen reined in his awareness. The Thaide all stood before him, still and alert with their hoods over their heads. He looked about them. Sun-fall had taken place at least an hour ago, leaving a dusky sky streaked with ribbons of orange and pink. When the colors faded they would be left in almost total darkness. It would be difficult to pinpoint their exact location until the moon rose, but the Sovereign had said he would put them a few yards from the border where the Rahnall Woods in Osrien began. After that display of strength and skill, there was no reason to believe he had done otherwise. Essen accessed his Gift and felt for the trees.
“Set up camp here,” Essen told the Thaide waiting for instruction. “No light. Check on the prisoner. We’ll wait for moon-rise to proceed.”
Thaide Tahmores, a fair, thick-set man, nodded and began directing the rest of the Thaide. He was Kelvedon’s second-in-command and had not asked why Kelvedon was not leading the attack. He had some commanding experience, judging from the orders he barked out.
Essen walked towards the woods, stopping where the trees began to thicken. The last time he had been on an attack of this magnitude had been so long ago, when he himself had been the Thaide Priest. He rarely thought back in depth to those times even though he drew on his experiences regularly. He walked along the edge of the woods, his boots pressing into the shrubs covering the ground, until he came across a series of large boulders. Heading towards a particular cluster, he ran his hands along the rough, uneven wall until he found the low small cave. He smiled to himself that he still remembered it. It was only large enough for one person to sit in but the ground inside was a tangle of weeds, plants and insects, the inside walls covered with a sticky, moist dark green moss. Essen knelt and used a cleansing code that produced a clean rock wall and bare ground before crawling in and sitting down cross-legged. One of the wonderful things about the Th
aide cloaks was that they were made with a material the Creation sect had created that rarely became stained or dirty. Coupled with the protection codes in the designs that swirled over them, they were the perfect aid in battle.
He crawled back out and made his way back to the camp.
Tahmores had organized the company into five different troops as per protocol, spread out into five different camps across the area and into the distance. Moonlight brightened the area and illuminated their white cloaks.
“Have you found somewhere, High Priest?” Tahmores said, by his side at once.
“Yes. How is the prisoner?”
“She seems well,” Tahmores answered.
Essen nodded. “Let’s begin.”
***
A few short yards into the woods held a small clearing loosely surrounded by tree stumps. The low moon filtered through the trees to light the area where a Thaide sat on a stump waiting. Essen, in consciousness form, swooped down to the Thaide’s shoulder. He did not detect him.
A short while later, rustling reached Essen from the other side of the clearing. A tall woman with a shaved blonde head, dressed in black Phalorian wear, slithered out into the clearing.
The Thaide stood up. “You won’t be hurt.”
The woman glanced around. “Where are the rest of you?”
“Out of the woods, nearer the border,” he answered. He sounded nervous.
“Why are you here?”
“I’d like to speak to Nemma.”
A new female voice came from the woods, deep and strong. “You brought hundreds of Thaide here just to speak to one girl?” A woman emerged from the shadows between the trees stepping into the clearing. Essen floated over to her. Endra. She had grown up since he last fought her, specks of silver filtered through her cropped hair and a grave seriousness was etched into her face in the form of light lines and creases. The easy carefree expression she used to have that looked as though she could laugh at any time had disappeared. She stopped in the center of the clearing, her hands by her sides, blackened palms facing forwards towards the lone Thaide.
Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1) Page 35