Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  “Try again,” Pa said. “All of them at the same time. I’m just going to have a word with this man.”

  She nodded, determined. She would make sure she could do it by the time Pa finished speaking.

  “You have been out of touch for days,” big head was saying as she pulled on the blades of grass again.

  “I’ve been training my daughter.”

  She pulled again, and three blades of grass rose. She glanced at Pa, he was distracted. He would not notice if she lifted them one blade at a time.

  “… is concerned.”

  “There’s no need for me to check in every week, Ghalen,” Pa said with a shade of irritation.

  “She wants to know…”

  Clis grinned and clenched her fists, trying not to clap her hands with excitement. The fourth blade shuffled up and joined the three hovering the air.

  “… transfer the Gift to the Sovereign and remain alive. So it is possible, we just have to find the method,” Pa said. “And I cannot do that while having to constantly…”

  The sixth blade took more concentration. She blocked everything out and lifted the sixth blade very slowly while maintaining the others. As it joined the rest she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “How is she?” Pa muttered.

  “She misses you,” Ghalen said.

  The seventh blade of grass lifted much easier than the sixth but the eighth and ninth required full concentration again.

  “Papa, I’ve done it. I lifted them all.” When she turned, Pa and big head looked angry at each other.

  “It’s time for you to go,” Pa said.

  The man glanced at Clis, turned and walked away.

  Pa looked at the grass. “I hope you didn’t cheat, Clis...”

  She shook her head.

  Pa gave her a stern look, but she could see the smile in his eyes. “Clisantha?”

  She breathed through her lips and rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll do it again.”

  The hazy image jumped and she was at home in the Arc. The sun lit up her bedroom.

  “… before I married you that you were part of this resistance group, I wouldn’t have gone through with it!”

  Clis paused from playing with her serf family toys. Mother sounded angry. She hardly ever shouted, except that time Clis took Gram’s Dyerian necklace to play dress up with Ket. That had been a disaster.

  “I do mean it! You tricked me.” Mother’s voice dropped lower. “Do you think I’m unaware of you and her? I could tell you’d been intimate with each other from the moment you were in the same room.”

  She climbed off her bed and padded out of her room wondering if there was any more berrymilk. Her favorite flavor had finished this morning.

  “… sick that you would marry me and still carry on bedding my sister.”

  If there was only brackleberry, she would have to beg Papa to go out and get cherry. When she reached the living room he sat on the edge of a soft-seat with his head in his hands, while Mother stood over him.

  “It’s not like that,” Pa muttered into his hands.

  “I don’t care what it’s like,” Mother spat. “If you dare ask me to be involved in anything against the Sovereign again, I’m going straight to my father. And you know he’ll report you.”

  Pa dropped his hands and looked up at Mother, gray fires of hatred in his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said. “Your pride wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Mother?” Clis asked. “Do we have any more berrymilk?”

  Mother jumped as though she had been pinched. She stormed over and slapped Clis in the face.

  She cried out, her head jerking to the side as pain exploded in her cheek and caused her eyes to water.

  “How dare you interrupt!”

  She burst into tears as Pa rose from his seat. “Orna! Don’t touch her!”

  “Can’t you see you’re getting fat?” Mother sneered. “You’re wearing clothes for a child at least two years above you. Get some sweet water and go to your room!”

  Clis turned and ran as Mother shot a retort back to Pa, engaging him in another bitter argument. Closing the door muffled their voices enough that she could crawl under the covers with her toys and pretend she was somewhere else.

  The image jumped again. She was in bed, but this time it was dark outside and her legs were longer under her covers. Father sat talking to her.

  “So you don’t think I should help this baby? What if she dies?”

  Clis crossed her arms. “Her own father should help her.”

  Father frowned. “Clis, that sounds a lot like selfishness. What did we say about that?”

  “But you said it’s dangerous,” she said. “Why should you help someone when you could get hurt?”

  Father took her hand. “Clis, sometimes it’s worth getting hurt if you can help improve the lives of a lot of people.”

  “Are you going to improve the lives of a lot of people?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “When people use the Gift for a long time, it makes them sick. I want to help the people that are sick.”

  Clis shook her head. “I haven’t seen any sick people.”

  “They’re hidden away in the Temple but they’re in a lot of pain.”

  “But I don’t get sick. You don’t get sick.”

  “It’s hard to explain the sickness, Clis. But this baby can help with that. Don’t you want me to help her?”

  A horrible feeling niggled in her stomach. It was a baby. A child much younger than her, with no mother or father. “Are you bringing her here?”

  “No. But I’m sure you’ll meet her soon, and I hope you’ll always help her and look out for her.”

  “Why?”

  “It would mean a lot to me. She’s important.”

  A flash of annoyance burst from her. “I’m important.”

  “Yes, you are,” Father said, squeezing her hand. “But in a different way.”

  “Different how?”

  “Do you remember the stories I told you about the god-spirits? The Etherya?”

  She nodded. They were still her favorite bedtime stories.

  “When this baby grows up, she’ll be able to find the last one alive.”

  A sense of wonder filled her. “They truly exist?”

  Father nodded. “If you’re friends with the baby, I’m sure she’ll let you meet it.”

  She hugged herself, letting excitement tickle over her arms. “Which one will it be?”

  “Come now, Clis,” Father teased. “Don’t you remember the stories?”

  Clis laughed and nodded. “But I want to meet all of them.”

  Father sobered. “There’s only one left thanks to the Sovereign,” he said. “This baby will help us defeat him.”

  “Why do we want to defeat the Sovereign? He gave us the Gift.”

  Father smiled a sad smile.

  “So how am I important?” she demanded.

  “You’re going to lead the Phalorians.”

  “The people where you’re from?”

  Father nodded. “And that is very special.”

  She grinned and threw her arms around him.

  He smiled, rose and kissed her forehead. “I will see you in a few days.”

  The image twisted and jumped again. This time she stood in Ketzia’s room, but Ketzia was not in it.

  Ketzia’s father, Mr Noine, entered. He was a lean man with a bald head and a thin silver mustache that always seemed to tilt on its own. “Clisantha, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what, Mr Noine?”

  “Your father…” he did not finish his sentence. His eyes glistened as he took her hand. “Clis, I’m going to just check your brain functions to make sure that everything is alright with your Gift.”

  “Why?” Clis asked, sensing something was wrong. “What is it about Father?”

  “Your Father asked me to do this,” he said.

  She pulled her hand from his, worried by his serious expression. Mr Noine
was always smiley. “Where is he?”

  “He’s on his way,” Mr Noine assured her, attempting to lift the corners of his mouth. “But he asked me to make sure you are safe.”

  Clis watched him. He had always been kind to her and she knew that he and father were close. ”Where’s Ketzia? We always study together now.”

  “She’s out shopping with her mother,” Mr Noine said. “Clisantha, do you remember that I’m a trained Puryth?”

  She nodded. Mother always saw him when she felt poorly.

  “So I hope that you trust me when I say I will look after you?”

  “Alright,” she said, after a moment’s thought.

  He sat on the soft-seat in front of her. “Good, now close your eyes. This may feel a little strange but I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  The image faded away as quickly as it came.

  Clisantha opened her eyes, tears escaping from them. The Arc had not hidden her memories, Father had ordered it. To protect her. He had wanted Clisantha to look after Nemma and help her, and the first thing she had done was given her to the Arc.

  “What just happened?”

  Clisantha cleared her throat and brushed away the tears on her face. “Nothing. Just feeling a bit of pain, your grace.”

  The Thaide Priest rose from his chair. The air in the room seemed to have fled. “There was a fluctuation in your energy. Explain yourself.”

  Clisantha shrugged, trying to downplay his concern. “I don’t know what you mean.” She needed time to process the memories and what they meant, they held so much information.

  “You’re lying. Something is going on with your energy.” He turned towards the door of their room. “Officers!”

  Two officers entered the room.

  Kelvedon pointed at Clisantha. “Detain her.”

  The officers did not move. “Pardon me, your grace,” one of them said, his voice trembling, “but you’re not holding the position of Thaide Priest at the moment. We have been ordered not to take any such instruction from you.”

  Kelvedon’s face twisted into something of pure anger and the officers lowered their heads and backed out of the room.

  Clisantha’s heart jumped to her throat as he turned towards her.

  “The High Priest may be taken in by you, but I’m not fooled,” he growled. “When I return to my post as Thaide Priest, the first thing I will do is investigate you.”

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  Thanks for reading Deviants of Giftborn! I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I would appreciate a short review on Amazon or Goodreads, to help new readers decide if the book is for them. Reviews are crucial in helping to spread the word, and also lets me to know how I’m doing so I can improve for the next book :). I’d be grateful for your time if you could spare a moment. Thanks, Zuri.

  Acknowledgments

  To the readers who decided to take a chance on this book, thank you. It has been long in the making and I could only hope it is worthy of someone’s time. I am passionate about creating engaging fantasy worlds, stories and characters for fantasy lovers so I hope you continue to check out my stories and adventures.

  Thanks to editors Claire Rushbook and John Jarrold for their work on improving this book, as well as my beta readers, Shani Thompson, Barbara Walsh and Tafah Thompson. I could not have shaped the story without your guidance and advice. Thanks to artist Nick Deligaris for the brilliant cover illustration, and Glendon from Streetlight Graphics for his design of the typography.

  Lastly, a massive thanks to all of my family, who encourage, nurture and support creativity and entrepreneurship. Mum, your continued support for everything I do has shaped me into to the person I am, and I am eternally grateful. Shani, you have been unwavering in your support for my writing and this book, and this has kept me motived and focused on crafting a story I am proud of, thank you. Dad, Tafah and Amri, thanks so much for your advice in the creation of this book.

  About the Author

  Zuri Amarcya was born and raised in London, England to a family of creatives. Her childhood consisted of miming to Cher and Whitney Houston, reading mountains of books and exploring local parks for massive hills to ride her bike down with her brothers. She has been a fan of fantasy fiction since she could read and her ambition is to contribute to the genre with her engaging brand of epic fantasy adventure.

  Zuri is passionate about Dance and has worked in the performing arts industry for most of her working life. She has completed a Dance and Professional Practice Degree and currently teaches Dance and Performing Arts at a sixth form college. She is working on building her catalog of literature work and finishing the Etherya Series. She spends her down time reading, attending dance performances, arguing with her cat Neeko, and finding new recipes to try.

  You can check out Zuri’s fantasy-orientated blog on her website, where you can also sign up for her Reader’s List to get updates about special offers, bonuses and latest releases:

  http://www.zuriamarcya.com