Invasion (The Warrior Chronicles, 4)

by K. F. Breene

  “Show us the other side,” Cayan said in a loud, commanding voice.

  “Don’t like it when people think you’re poor, huh?” Shanti smirked at him.

  The man hesitated, something in Cayan’s voice drying up his protests. His shrewd gaze slid over Cayan’s frame, tall and broad, with a fighter’s grace. Calloused hands drew his eyes next, then the hilt of his sword. Finally he nodded. “Follow me.”

  “Are they made of gold or something?” Sanders growled as they followed the man to a second row of stables.

  As they got within sight of the horses, Sanders let out a low whistle. Compared to the first set of horses, these might as well have been made of gold. Large, shiny steeds neighed or bobbed their heads. Fierce-eyed and well groomed, they stood within their stalls expectantly. Or at least that was the way it seemed. Shanti didn’t need to know horses to recognize the breeding in these. She’d seen it up close.

  “Graygual stock,” Sanders said under his breath as he passed in front of Shanti and Cayan, his scowl ever-present. “Hiding the good stuff, huh…?”

  “Gustov, sir. The name’s Gustov. And no, sir. No, no. These are expensive animals, though. Too much for the common man.”

  A loud thump sounded at the end of the row, followed by a whinny.

  “Good thing we aren’t the common man,” Sanders said as he slowed his walk to a sort of stroll, his scowl still firmly in place. He eyed each horse in turn, completely ignoring the sales tactics of the stable man. When he approached the end, he stopped with a jerk and stared. His head turned slowly until he was looking at Shanti.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You won’t believe it.”

  Brow screwed up in confusion, Shanti stalked to the end, Cayan in tow. As they drew near, Shanti sucked in a breath.

  There, in the very last stall, was her bloody bastard of a horse. Shining like a star, sleek and obviously of excellent breeding even compared to the others, he huffed and neighed, shaking his head with all the ire and temper he was known for.

  “That one—bad attitude, that one. He’s a horse for breeding.” Gustov shook his head.

  “He’d bite the mare.” Sanders spat before pointing at the black stallion Cayan was standing near. “That one’s ready to bite, too. I’ll bet half these horses won’t take a rider.”

  As if on cue, the black stallion stepped closer to the gate. He pawed the ground. His nose went forward, but he didn’t bite. He nudged his previous owner.

  Cayan had found his horse, and Shanti bet he didn’t plan to pay more than stable fees to get it back.

  She smirked before noticing Rohnan’s horse was here, too, standing placidly as it watched what was going on. Someone had rounded them up after the battle, along with any other horse they could capture, and locked them up.

  “I wonder what happened to Burson’s,” she said quietly.

  The Bloody Bastard kicked the wall in a fit of temper. He blew out breath and stomped the ground.

  “My, my.” Shanti stepped up to the fence. “They let you get away with this temper, huh?”

  “I don’t advise that, lady. That horse is wild!” The stable master reached out to pull her back.

  The horse kicked, thrashing the wall, adding a hoof imprint to the plethora of others. It shook its head, scaring the man enough that he jogged backward again.

  “How’d you even get him in there?” Sanders asked, eyeing the animal.

  “We captured the others first, and then—” Gustov cut off when he realized what he’d said.

  Sanders’ eyes sparkled. Graygual didn’t subscribe to the rule of “finders-keepers,” and everyone who dealt with them knew it. Poor Gustov had just handed Sanders a giant bartering chip.

  “Can you still back that one down, mesasha?” Cayan jerked his head at her horse. “He’d be great to have, but there’s no point if he’ll be too wild. This is about haste…”

  “Open the cell,” Shanti instructed.

  “It’s a stall,” Sanders said with an eye roll.

  “They’re prisoners. Cell fits. Open it.”

  Sanders looked at the stable master and shrugged. “It’s her funeral.”

  “No, no. I don’t—”

  “You can close me in,” Shanti said. “C’mon. Let’s get this done. I’m stinky and I want a bath.”

  Gustov undid the latch slowly. As Shanti stepped up, he swung the door open and reached out to push her in. Before his hand could make contact, Cayan reacted, hard and fast. He snatched Gustov’s hand out of the air and leaned forward, dominating the stable master with his size. “You don’t touch her.”

  Gustov’s eyes rounded. Horse forgotten, he nodded adamantly. “S-sorry, sir. I didn’t mean—”

  “Who’s wilder, the horse or the man?” Shanti laughed.

  “This poor bugger is going to pay us to take these animals after we’re through here.” Sanders stepped closer to the stall.

  Without wasting any time, Shanti sauntered into the small area, thoroughly aware that this horse was twice her size, much stronger, and had more hard surfaces with which to hurt her. She didn’t care. This bastard would not get one over on her. She’d already put up with too much crap where it was concerned. There was no way she was going to let it off easy by spending its life knocking up mares. If she couldn’t hang around and have sex all day, neither could it. Fair was fair.

  “You’re coming with me, you bloody bastard!” Shanti said in her native tongue, ready for action.

  It neighed at her, shaking its head.

  “Now. Are you going to play nice?” She reached out to pet its neck.

  It neighed again, and this time, it threw out a hoof. She jumped out of the way just in time.

  “Oh!” Gustov yelled. “Watch out!”

  “You get one more chance to be nice, and then—” She narrowly dodged another hoof. The horse kicked behind, banging against the stall.

  “Enough is enough!” Shanti punched. Her fist connected with its cheek. “Knock it off or I’ll buy you just to make a stew out of you!”

  The horse gave its weird equine growl, a sound unlike any other horse she’d ever heard. It stomped.

  She lifted her eyebrow, and then reached out again.

  Another stomp.

  “Careful…” Gustov cautioned.

  Shanti’s palm touched the horse’s dirty neck. Then, slowly, remembering when this horse had let her hug its neck for comfort, she lightly placed her palm on its nose. The horse bobbed its head and blew out a breath, but he stilled. Shanti touched his nose again. After a moment, she rubbed.

  He remembered her.

  In a soft voice, she said, “I need an animal I trust on the journey ahead of me. Will you be that animal?”

  “What is that tongue she speaks?” Gustov drew out his words suspiciously.

  “Never you mind about that,” Sanders said, losing interest in Shanti and walking down the line. “What other stock have you got?”

  Gustov stared at Shanti for a moment longer. When she glanced at him, she saw a flicker of realization. His eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he hurried after Sanders.

  In confusion, she watched him go.

  Shanti took her hand away from the horse and stepped back. When the horse took a step, she backed out of the stall and closed the lower half of the door. The Bastard put his head over the barrier, allowing her to pet its nose one last time. If she let him, he’d probably follow her back to the inn. If he were human, he’d probably grumble the whole way.

  “He’ll be fine,” Shanti said to Cayan.

  “Good. Sanders?” Cayan waited for Sanders to glance up from the other end of the stables. “Take care of this.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll send Tobias and the boys over to help move the animals.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sanders turned back to the horse. “Now this one is seriously lacking. I hope you don’t want much for it—”

  Shanti felt Cayan’s warm hand on her back. “
Let’s get back.”

  “I thought you were worried about having enough gold?” Shanti asked in a low voice, hoping Rohnan had finished getting them rooms.

  “Sanders seemed confident. He’ll make it work.” They walked in silence for a moment before Cayan said, “That stable master had a strange reaction to your eyes.”

  “You noticed. He must’ve heard about me, but he didn’t say anything. That hasn’t happened before.” The uncertainty started to niggle Shanti again. “And if he knew I was Chosen, he would’ve known you are, too. Yet he never gave you a second glance.”

  “I don’t like this, mesasha. There was a large battle in this town only a few months ago. There was a huge battle in the Shadow Lands shortly after. Things are changing, but that isn’t reflected in this town. Why?”

  Shanti should’ve told Cayan about what she suspected, but even if she did, it wouldn’t account for these people’s lack of interest in her and Cayan. It was as if everyone was purposely putting on blinders, trying to forget all the strife around them and focusing on their daily life.

  Maybe they were. Maybe, as a people, they were shocked into not noticing the change coming. She wouldn’t blame them.

  “First things first—we need to free your city,” Shanti said as they saw Rohnan standing with Ruisa outside the inn. “One step at a time.”

  A few hours later, after they had all taken a bath and eaten dinner, Shanti sat quietly at a table with her fingers curled around a pint of ale. Cayan sat beside her with Sanders and Tobias opposite them. All were quiet, but unease and anxiety poured out of them and coated Shanti’s mind.

  “I almost wish there had been Graygual here,” Sanders growled before taking a big swig of his drink. “I could’ve used the outlet.”

  “I’d planned to visit that rough inn down the lane,” Shanti said, looking out over the strangely placid bar. A man at the far table glanced up, catching her eye. His gaze lingered for a moment, before he looked away. A moment later his lips moved, bending the head of the woman next to him. Shanti could read expectation emanating from both of them, but for what, she couldn’t say. They showed no sign of aggression and they weren’t preparing for a battle—what were they waiting for?

  Shanti felt the minds of the other patrons. “The people in this inn are guarded.” Another pair of eyes met hers, a woman’s this time. She sat with two men; both of them were keeping their eyes firmly on their mugs. “When have you ever known an inn not to have a card game going? Or dice?”

  “Never, and it’s a damn shame.” Sanders glowered. “I still say we should’ve gone to that rough place down the lane like Shanti suggested. Maybe someone would’ve tried to rob us on the way there. Or back.”

  “I could use a skirmish,” Tobias said before he took a sip.

  “I don’t like the feel of this town.” Cayan’s gaze swept over the room. “At first I thought no one knew us, but now I think something else is happening. It’s like we’re being shielded.”

  Sanders’ head snapped up. A fierce light glimmered in his eyes. “From who?”

  Cayan shook his head, looking at Shanti. “I don’t know. I can’t feel any threat.”

  “Your mind power can’t feel anything?” Tobias asked.

  Cayan’s expression was troubled. “No. All seems quiet. So why is this town on edge?”

  “They’re not on edge, they are expectant.” Shanti pushed her mug away. “But we can’t deal with that now.” She stood, waiting for Cayan to do the same. “We need to free your city. That has to be our first priority. We’ll leave at first light.”

  “I agree,” Sanders said, his eyes scanning the room. “But I’d just as soon bash a head or two before I go.”

  Shanti smirked as she led the way. More than one pair of eyes glanced up at her leaving, but none lingered.

  Tingles worked up her spine as she mounted the stairs to her room. Something big was happening, she could feel it. The press of expectation was begging her to notice something below the surface, ever-present but hidden from view. It was like a secret was being whispered around her, but she just couldn’t hear the words.

  She let her Gift comb the room before opening the door to emptiness. Cayan closed the door behind him. She felt the buttons on her tunic being undone. Her body warmed from the inside as her clothes slid to the ground.

  “I can feel your reservations about moving on,” Cayan said. His lips skimmed her bare shoulder. “Is it because you know I will want you to live with me?”

  More tingles. She really should’ve mentioned her earlier realization before he got his hopes up. This future he was planning would never come to pass. Not with her. She had a different fate than the one he was hoping for.

  She should’ve, but as he laid her on the bed and climbed between her thighs, she didn’t. It would only kill the mood, and she needed to think of something other than what lay directly ahead of them. So she clutched on tightly as his body entered hers, filling her in a way that blanked out her surroundings and soaked into her thoughts. As he moved, wrapped in her limbs, she longed for a time when they could do this without the ever-present danger hanging around them. She wanted to stop taking the herbs that kept her childless and see if their like-Gifts might grant them new life. She wanted any fate but the one she had been given.

  The climax came almost out of the blue, stealing her breath away. In the aftermath, as she lay with him quietly, the road ahead encroached on the moment. “Ruisa is positive the women of your city will fend for themselves.”

  “She’s young and idealistic. It’s one thing to have the knowledge to defend yourself, but another to stand up to tyranny.”

  “She thinks they’ll just poison everyone and be done with it.”

  Shanti barely heard Cayan’s sigh, but through their Joining, she could feel the crushing anxiety he somehow kept hidden from the world. “Again, she’s young. It’s a large city with probably a fair number of Graygual. They wouldn’t be able to get everyone at the same time. If even one hint of doubt strikes the Hunter, I imagine he’ll react hard and brutally to quell the uprising. I would, and I have morals. Surely the Women’s Circle will see that. They are all smart women. They pay attention. They’ll know the danger they’re in.”

  “So you don’t think they’ll act at all, huh?”

  “Hard to say. But if I had to guess, no, probably not. They’ve always had the army to fight while they hid. They might handle an abusive husband, but that’s because if things got out of hand, the law would step in. Now, there is no law. They’re completely on their own, and I don’t know who would have the courage to stand against it, much less organize a defense. I try to remain optimistic, but…”

  “Hopefully they can hold on, then. We can be there in a week. Then we’ll figure out how to get them free. How to get them safe. They just have to hang on.”

  Chapter Seven

  Alena froze in the darkness. She clutched her hands to her chest and pushed her back against the wall of the stone prison. A bead of sweat trickled down her back despite the chill.

  The deep voice of a Graygual sounded around the corner. Another answered.

  She glanced around her location, looking for a place to hide. The dull moonlight didn’t completely illuminate her, but with no trees or cover, she looked like a lumpy wart on the side of the wall. She’d be found for sure.

  A grunt and another rattling of foreign words had her heart beating wildly. He was getting closer.

  She glanced at the corner, knowing that the two guards and the prison entrance lay just on the other side. Her gaze landed on the nearest tree, and then she bent to the packed dirt below her feet. If she started running, they’d hear her. Even if she moved slowly, like she had been, she might still be found.

  What do I do?

  Trying to calm her body so her noisy breathing didn’t give her away, she eyed the way she’d come. She wanted to go home. She wasn’t cut out for this. Every moment she broke the rules acted like an anvil on her chest, crushing
her with fear. But the Women’s Circle needed her. They had faith in her.

  Her grip on the package tightened. She licked her lips. Should she stay or go? Hide, maybe, until the coast was clear?

  As she was about to back away, the Graygual voice sounded again before heavy footsteps pounded the ground. She sucked in a breath, ready to run…but no one came around that corner. He was going in the opposite direction.

  “You there! What you looking for?” the guard shouted. It sounded like he was going back into the prison.

  As if to prove it, a clink of metal slowly repeated until it turned into a regular rhythm. A tin cup against the bars, probably. The midnight guard liked to bully the prisoners.

  Steadying her breath, Alena moved closer to the corner. Once there, she inched her face along, trying to show as little of herself as possible in case anyone was looking.

  An open doorway flickering with soft light greeted her before the groan of a wooden chair from within the prison. Shadows draped across the building.

  Alena checked her timepiece. It was more than an hour since Gretchen, one of the cooks, had slipped a sleeping draught into the guard’s food. He should be getting drowsy by now.

  Another deep breath and Alena was around the corner, inching toward the door. She gripped her hands tighter to try and still the tremors. Her legs quivered, begging her to run away from danger and head straight home. Hiding in her house wouldn’t be safe, though. Nowhere in this city was safe, not while it was occupied.

  At the door, Alena froze one more time, making sure all was quiet. Usually after midnight no one moved around the city. The citizens were supposed to be in their houses, and the army men were all locked up either in this prison with the officers, or in the park with the enlisted men. The guards, complacent with the long, slow hours of the night, often dozed or stood at their posts with vacant stares. Usually they stayed put—she had no idea what the second guard had wanted with the first. She only hoped he didn’t plan to return.

  Aside from a few shuffles, some heavy breathing, and the occasional cough, silence reigned.