The Outworlder

by Natalie J. Holden

  “I didn’t.”

  “And he left you out while nominating a new vessár.”

  “From what I understand, there was voting.”

  “Which he initiated. Against protocol.”

  I didn’t know that, but it didn’t matter. This was outside of my scope of authority, and I was ready to accept it, like every other decision ever made by my commanders. Shit, I didn’t even want that position, I didn’t want to be nami either, but it all happened too quickly for me to refuse.

  “Even if I wanted to get rid of him, why would I do that in the most conspicuous way possible?” I asked, not willing to give up. “Someone’s trying to frame me, don’t you see that? You keep pumping me, when the real killer is out there, getting rid of both of us with one strike!”

  “Calm yourself, Aldait Han.”

  I hadn’t realized I was screaming. I exhaled, struggling to stop my body from shaking. Another idea popped in my mind.

  “It’s because I’m Tarvissi, right? You all still think I’m only waiting for an opportunity to betray you?”

  “That’s a possibility we’re considering, yes.” His tone was frigid and my stomach dropped. I was hoping to catch him off guard.

  “You fail to consider one thing,” I said. “Other Tarvissi were ready to torture and kill me; why would I ally myself with them?”

  “I don’t know, Aldait Han. Maybe they changed their minds.”

  “But why would I change my mind?”

  “From a misplaced sense of superiority?”

  I froze.

  “What?!” I managed to stammer.

  Where did that come from? I studied his face, hoping to find some hint that all of this was some fucking joke.

  He wasn’t laughing.

  “From what I’ve heard, you tend to keep to yourself,” he said. “Not mingling, not talking to anybody. Why’s that?”

  “I’m not a sociable person.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know, I’m just not good with people. It’s not a crime.”

  “Or you think yourself better than us?”

  “No!” If I refrained from social activities, it was because of anxiety. I knew I was gonna screw something up and it was… it was just safer this way. “I didn’t have friends among the Tarvissi, either.”

  “Huh. It’s convenient everyone who could dispute that is out of Dahls.”

  “So is everyone who could confirm that.”

  This was ridiculous. The worst thing was, I had no idea how to rebuff his charges. And there was no one who’d stand for me, this much I knew, even without considering the alleged murder attempt.

  “Where did you ever get that idea?” I asked, resigned.

  For the first time, Adyar Lah hesitated. He then looked at the other guy, as if searching for affirmation, before speaking: “You were heard uttering a racial slur.”

  Oh, fuck. I pressed my eyes shut, trying to banish the memory, but that only seemed to make it spring to life: the big tent lit by the magical diagram on the floor, the pelting of the falling rocks, Tayrel Kan’s eyes glassy, unseeing as I tried desperately to grab his attention…

  But as much I wanted to blame it on my fucking brain picking up the worst possible things—from those bastards on the other side of the wall for sure, since they were the only ones I’d ever heard uttering this word—I had to face the truth that… perhaps I wasn’t different from my compatriots. Perhaps the bigotry my race was known for was still running in my veins, waiting for the opportunity to rear its head.

  “I spoke in anger,” I stammered. Shitty excuse, if I ever heard one, but I had nothing better. I knew I wouldn’t be able to put to words everything I thought. “It was an emergency, I wanted… I wanted to get Tayrel Kan’s attention. I could just as well have called him an asshole.”

  A sense of betrayal set heavily in my stomach. Not so long ago, we spoke freely, joked, laughed—shit, he wasn’t always kind to me either! But then, as the tides turned, he was the first to rat on me.

  “But you didn’t.”

  I exhaled. A part of me wished to remain angry but, as much as I loathed to admit it, he was right.

  What was wrong with me? Why did I always have to say the worst things? Quarreling with supervisors was bad enough, but threatening them in front of the entire camp? And then running around screaming the only word I absolutely shouldn’t have? It’s not hard, Aldeaith! One fucking word!

  I didn’t know if I want to laugh or cry. I joined Mespana to steer clear of this shit, hoping the rigid structure would keep my tongue in check. All in vain. It was not the structure I needed, it was a fucking muzzle.

  “Look,” I said, panting heavily. “It was… a lapse of judgment. I’m prone to them.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “You really think I would join Mespana, spend most of my life among Dahlsi, if I thought myself better?”

  “Sentiments change. Especially in times like this.”

  What could I say to that? I closed my eyes, the defeat bitter in my mouth.

  “I guess your friend is busy scanning my mind,” I said. That was my last line of defense. I was innocent—of attempted murder, at least—but that word itself was enough to get me kicked out of Dahls. Peridion family was probably waiting for me on the other side. I only hoped Mespana would let me keep my wand. “How about you ask him if he found anything discriminating?”

  Adyar Lah didn’t answer straight away. I raised my eyes to him, but he averted his face, pressing his lips into an embarrassed grimace.

  “She’s your friend, actually,” he explained.

  “What?”

  For the first time since we came into the tent, I looked at the other person. Adyar Lah was right. It was a woman, though with one of those nondescript faces that could belong to anyone, and a body that was all skin and bones, crossed arms hiding whatever feminine attributes she possessed. But also, I knew her. We’d worked together a couple of times in the past and I was pretty sure we were introduced at some point. I just couldn’t, for the life of me, remember her name.

  “Dalyn Kia-Havek,” she said, I didn’t know if to put me out of my misery or to humiliate me more.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, then turned back to Adyar Lah. “See, that’s what I mean. It’s hard to make friends when you can’t remember fucking names.”

  “You seemed to recall those Tarvissi leaders just fine.”

  I licked my lips nervously, though my tongue was almost as dry as them. That wasn’t a pleasant recollection, definitely not one I wanted to share, but… Ah, fuck it, Dalyn Kia probably read it in my mind anyway.

  “When I was younger, they liked to gang up and beat the shit out of me. I was always alone, easy to pick on. Kinda hard to forget.”

  “Even then—” he stopped abruptly and snapped his head up, listening.

  At first, I wasn’t sure what for, but it didn’t take me long: from the edge of the camp, came an unmistakable whistle. Adyar Lah frowned.

  “Stay here,” he ordered and turned toward the exit.

  Before he could take a step, another whistle tore through the air, followed by a pop as the tent wall gave up, then a painful grunt. Adyar Lah sucked in a breath and collapsed, a tail of a bolt sticking out of his chest. The spell binding me loosened and I dropped to the floor. The next bolt flew over my head. I murmured a quick blurring spell, hoping it would at least make it harder to aim at us. Nothing better came to my mind.

  Across the tent, Dalyn Kia was also crouching, seemingly unharmed. Vessár laid on the ground. I crawled toward him. The wheezing breath suggested he was alive, and wide opened eyes—that he was conscious, but most likely in shock. Pink foam formed on his lips.

  Dalyn Kia joined me as I was reaching for a pack of healing clay. I glanced up.

  “You’re gonna stop me?” I asked, bitterness tainting my words.

  “Nah, I was trying to tell them it’s bullshit. You don’t have it in you to be a traitor.”

  Adya
r Lah’s words echoed through my mind, she’s actually your friend. Heat rose to my cheeks.

  “Thanks, I guess,” I murmured.

  “One needs to be good at communication and cooperation to be a part of a conspiracy, and you’re incapable of either.”

  I flinched, but her words were hard to argue. Plus, we had more pressing matters to deal with.

  I pointed to a bolt sticking out of Adyar Lah’s chest. “You gonna help me out with this?”

  She grabbed it without a word and looked at me with expectation.

  “On three,” I said, preparing the clay. “One, two, three.”

  Dalyn Kia yanked the bolt out, wringing a painful groan out of vessár’s mouth, and almost at the same moment I crammed a handful of clay into the wound. I hovered my palm above it as I whispered the healing spell. Doing it always made me uneasy. I had an instinctive fear of magic, so I never really got good at it. Most of the spells we performed on duty were simple and unobtrusive, but healing was a different matter. Especially healing someone else. I should probably ask Dalyn Kia to do this, I realized too late.

  Despite my concerns, when I removed my hand, there was no trace of the wound. The clay melted and fused seamlessly with the surrounding tissue.

  Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. Or maybe I had screwed up, and in a few cycles, Adyar Lah would grow a malignant tumor. One of the two. After all, it’s much easier to kill a man than patch him up.

  For now, he stopped wheezing, his breathing became regular, and it seemed like he lost consciousness. There was nothing else I could do for him. I turned toward the exit. The flap was open and Dalyn Kia was already peeking outside with a wand in her hand. I followed her gaze. Mespanians were running around and if I squinted, I could make out tall, dark silhouettes standing in the distance, releasing series after series of crossbow bolts.

  “Tarvissi,” hissed Dalyn Kia.

  I rolled my eyes. Who else could it be?

  Yet I hesitated. Healing a fallen colleague was an automatic response, acquired after cycles of training. But now that I had time to think… What should I do? Go out and fight? For what? A country that considered me a pariah? People for whom I was a traitor?

  I should just stay here. With all the shit going on outside, no one would blame me. Well, they blamed me for everything anyway, so what difference did it make?

  Worst case, Tarvissi would come first and see me cowering…

  Ah, fuck it.

  I took out my wand, but it was an empty gesture: the enemies were too far for spells. I needed to get closer. Preferably without getting myself killed. I considered putting up a magical shield, but then I looked at the bolt we removed from Adyar Lah. The head was made of iron; no magic would stop it.

  Someone grabbed my arm, and I yanked it automatically. My eyes met Dalyn Kia’s.

  “Look, I’m not such a bitch to keep you stranded in the middle of the fight. But getting yourself killed is a shitty way of clearing your name.”

  I had no intention of getting myself killed. Without a word, I cloaked myself with another blurring spell and crawled out of the tent.

  “Yeah, sure, keep acting like an asshole,” she grumbled after me, “I’ll stay behind and make sure our vessár stays alive.”

  By now most Dahlsi managed to find cover. All I had to do was move from one piece of machinery to the next, from one fallen body to another. Some I recognized, but I didn’t stop. Soon, ash filled my mouth and nose, making me regret shunning the breathing masks the true Dahlsi carried at all times. I could scavenge one from one of the bodies. But when I thought of it, I was already at the edge of the camp, crouching behind a hitched bike. I paused to catch my breath, but had to jerk away as another bolt pierced the machine inches from my head. I cursed. Damn nubithium was as good as paper. Well, at least it was shielding me from the Tarvissi’s view.

  Carefully, I peeked over the seat and tried to estimate the distance. The bastards were just outside my wand’s range. Chewing on another curse, I squatted back and weighed my options. I could charge and get myself killed. Or sit there and wait for them to come and kill me. Choices, choices…

  Before I made my decision, the familiar tingling ran down my neck. A moment later, a surge of air threw ash into my face. I coughed and spurted, screwed my eyes shut in a vain effort to protect them… Then it was gone and I opened my eyes to see again.

  It was Tayrel Kan. He walked right past me, surrounded by whirls of ash and flames. A few bolts were sticking out of his body, but he didn’t seem to care. Apparently, aging wasn’t the only thing he was immune to.

  Stopping at the edge of the camp, he waved his hand dismissively and the crossbowmen fell like toys swatted by an unruly child. He raised both arms and the tent on his left was ripped from the ground, torn to shreds, and set ablaze. The cloud of fire shot at the enemy like a pack of hungry dryaks.

  But one whirl tore from the pack and rushed towards me. It snapped its flaming jaw, exploding in the last moment on a hastily conjured shield. Tarvissi had no such means and their shrieks filled the air. I doubted any of them survived.

  I waited till the screams died out before daring to peek out again. Tayrel Kan stood a few paces away, still spurting the fiery demons, as if unaware the battle was over. One of his pupils spotted me, but I banished it before it could get near.

  “Tayrel Kan, stop!” I screamed.

  He ignored me. Haven’t we done that before?

  Another demon jumped at me and I barely managed to expel it, its breath burning my face. The screams started again, this time closer.

  Cursing, I looked around, searching for something to throw at him—I didn’t dare to use my wand against a rampaging sorcerer. But I saw nothing. All nearby objects were too heavy to lift, and even if I managed, I would probably kill him in the process.

  Without other ideas, I stood up from my hiding spot. Dispersing another demon, I approached Tayrel Kan and somehow managed to grab his shoulder and yank him toward me.

  The view almost took all my courage. His face was pale, crossed with lines so red they were more like fresh wounds than scars. And I could swear, every single one of them spread in its own mocking grin, flesh between the stitch marks akin to teeth. His eyes shone like lanterns, and at this moment, I felt there was nothing human left in him. He was just a force of nature, wild, untamed, and completely indifferent.

  “Tayrel Kan, that’s enough,” I shouted, fighting the tremble in my voice. “You’re gonna get us all killed.”

  He only laughed, a high-pitched, inhuman sound that made the hair on my neck stand on ends.

  “No one will mourn you here,” he replied and pushed me away with a blast of magical wind. But his words were more daunting than any spell; mostly because I knew them to be true.

  And he probably wasn’t even aware, I realized, unable to tear my gaze from his crazed face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said just like before, this time without the faintest hint of remorse. My fingers closed around a tiny object on the bottom of my pouch. I took it out and shoved it in his mouth.

  Tayrel Kan’s eyes widened, and he spat; my last carai-nut, red against the bare ground.

  But it did its job. Within seconds, the inhuman grin gave way to confusion, light all but disappearing from his eyes. Tayrel Kan gave out a weak huff, then another. He tried to walk away but stumbled and fell to his knees. His left hand shot up to clutch uselessly at his neck, as his right scrabbled to recover the syringe from his belt. I rushed forward just in time to catch him before he collapsed. His face was red and swollen, eyes glassy.

  He was dying.

  With growing dread, I attempted to wrest the syringe from him. But then a spasm shook his body, his hand cramped and a disgusting crunch tore the air. I froze. When I looked down, I saw broken glass, glimmering like stars against quickly darkening ground that greedily drank the last drops of the medicine.

  Tayrel Kan didn’t have any more shots. My meds had expired, and I didn’t bother to pick up n
ew ones. He was gonna die and it was all my fault. I killed him. I killed him…

  Someone pushed me aside and pressed something into Tayrel Kan’s thigh. The sorcerer stopped struggling, and slowly, his breathing normalized. When I looked up, my eyes met Adyar Lah’s.

  Chapter 17

  The smell of burnt meat lingered in the air long after the last screams died down.

  It’s all wrong, Taneem thought. Karlan was full of shit: two battles, and the Dahlsi didn’t seem ready to run. No, they were regrouping, preparing for the counterstrike. And with the gate of the mansion wrecked, there was very little to stop them.

  “We’re all gonna die here,” the words fled Taneem’s mouth before he could think of them.

  “Not all hope is lost,” retorted Kiraes, his tone as even as if he was talking about the weather.

  Taneem couldn’t hold back a burst of hysterical laughter.

  “Have you seen what has just happened?” He swept his hand towards the window; needlessly, as Kiraes’s eyes were locked on the outside, not sparing his friend a glimpse. “They didn’t even need to mobilize, all it took was one lonely sorcerer to dispatch our entire team. Can you imagine what will happen when that bastard comes here?”

  “There must be a reason why he hasn’t already!” Kiraes huffed, and it became clear that despite the calm facade he was as shocked as Taneem. “There’s a limit to how much ae one can process in a day. He’s probably all spent.”

  Kiraes was always fascinated by magic and even tried his luck at the Academy in Sfal; a chance he’d never had gotten if their families remained in Tarviss. The irony was not lost on Taneem.

  “There may be others like him.”

  “Hopefully not.”

  The silence descended, heavy and precarious.

  “Why are we even here?” asked Taneem. He never wanted any of this. His life in Sfal was better than he deserved; he didn’t even care about having revenge on the Tearshan family. He only bullied the kid because others did it, and he wanted to fit in. He wondered if Tearshan knew that Taneem didn’t hate him.

  He wondered if it mattered.