The whip cracked again, and I blocked out the groans of my friends. I tracked the leather through the dirt. The guard stood in front of me and a little to the right. Someone stood behind me and to the left. Jonathon? My senses opened, and I strained, pinpointing four others ranged behind me, their quiet breaths like mini-storms of their own echoing in my ears, even over the wind. The shuffling of the crowd became a thundering herd of the oxen of the upper plains. My friends’ pounding hearts were the rhythm by which I wanted to move. They were all I had.
I was done with this. With all of it, with the pain and the humiliation and the unceasing fear. The sprout of anger blended with my broken hope as hot wind hit me and sand hit the buildings, the small tings ringing in my ears. I lunged for the guard. I didn’t get far.
Jonathon caught me by my hair, sending me to my knees. My cry was drowned out by another sound. A roar overlaid by a screeching cry. Jonathon was ripped from me, and my scalp burned. Around me, men and women—the flawed—scrambled for the buildings surrounding our little courtyard. They moved quietly, without speaking, barely breathing. Sound meant drawing attention, and attention meant pain. The overseers and guards were another matter. Their screams rang out, not in pain, but in astonishment and fear.
Funny how I could distinguish the quality of a scream now.
The screeching roar came again, drawing my attention up. Someone to my left choked, and someone to my right stumbled. I stayed on my knees, head tilted back. I should have been scared, trembling. I should have cried. Instead I smiled. Comfort and peace filled me. The cry, more of a call, came again, closer. A heavy figure landed next to me and metal clanked against metal.
“What is this?” Jonathon asked, the words coming out in a harsh rasp.
Why could he not leave me alone? This was no longer his place.
The thought was foreign, didn’t feel like my own. But it was mine. The flawed, my friends, they were here; this was their home, their place. Not the overseers’ or the guards’ or the emissaries’ or the empire’s. Those… bastards didn’t belong in this place.
They needed to leave.
I fixed my attention on the call above me, and—following an instinct I’d never before experienced—I answered with a scream of defiance.
A gloved fist hit my cheek, knocking me over. I landed on my side, face bouncing off the dirt. The calls above turned to screams of rage, and something large swooped down, knocking into Jonathon and sending him to the ground beside me. Another swoop on my left, so close feathers skimmed my shoulder. Jonathon shrieked as he was dragged away, his boots digging into the ground, the metal of the spurs chinging.
The sounds were so clear to me I could imagine the scene vividly; it was as though I could once again see. The beasts were the same ones from my dreams, made of feathers and fur and here to protect me. Protect all of us.
As I struggled up, my tangled skirts hampering me, one of the beasts landed in front of me. It chuffed, the sound soft with a hint of the piercing nasality of a bird of prey. Warm breaths passed over my face, and something cool and smooth pressed against the forming bruise on my cheek, easing the hurt. I reached out, and my hand encountered soft feathers, then claws. Just as in my dream. And as in my dream, when my finger met the tip of that claw, my skin was pierced.
It was a mere moment of pain. Nothing to what I had endured in this place. Just a prick, the sting of a needle bug.
And as in my dream, it changed me. So faint that at first I thought it was only a remembered vision, colors returned to me. A faint white-lavender swirled from the prick of that claw, up the feathered limb and over a wide chest before covering the beaked head and tufted ears of the creature before me. It traveled over the waist where feathers morphed to fur, and finally over muscled haunches and a tufted tail.
It really was the creature from my dream. Here, solid and tangible.
Another landed behind the first, gold fire outlining its form.
A scream was torn from Jonathon, and I twisted to the left where he lay. A third creature crouched there, larger than the others, outlined in copper. Its claws were wrapped around something, and as I watched, they tightened, pulling another cry from Jonathon.
“Please,” I said, the word slipping from me. I wasn’t sure what I expected to happen, but the beast stopped and cocked its head. He was listening to me. “Please,” I said again. “Do not hurt him.”
The copper one’s head tilted the other direction. I imagined it was thinking on my request. Then it nodded, and the claws opened—though they did not lift, telling me it continued to pin Jonathon in place.
A beak nudged me, urging me to my feet.
“What are you?” I whispered.
“Mila?” David’s small voice came to me from the right. He’d been freed. Where were the guards?
Before I could ask, the golden beast stalked toward David, and the boy whimpered.
“He won’t hurt you,” I called out. “None of them will hurt us.” An idea came to me, a bone deep certainty accompanying it. “They are here for us.”
For me.
The white-violet one huffed and nudged my arm. Then it tilted back its head and let out another cry, this one of triumph. The winds beat harder, drowning out the shouts of the guards and overseers. Then the gusts retreated. I could still hear the storm raging, but farther out now.
“Mila?”
I turned to Katelyn. She too must have been freed from the bindings. ”We need to get you and David seen to.”
“Mila, your eyes.” Her voice trembled.
I reached up, my fingers meeting the same dry skin that had covered my face for years. I closed my eyes. The same thin lids met my touch. I brushed away a few grains of sand.
Her hands gripped mine, pulling them down, and I turned to her. “They shine,” she said. “They...” She swallowed.
My senses continued in their hyperaware state, distracting me. There was too much coming in on me all at once, and though I did not fear, I was having trouble keeping up with everything I perceived.
“Abomination,” Jonathon ground out. A moment later, pain pierced my side, and Katelyn cried out. The copper beast screeched, and its claws dug into its captive, pulling a scream from Jonathon. Instinct had me reaching down, curling protectively around the blade embedded in me.
“That’s a lot of blood,” David whispered next to me.
I sagged, my knees weak. Arms wrapped around me as I staggered.
“You’ll be okay, Mila. You’ll be just fine.” Katelyn’s hands still gripped mine.
I couldn’t see the beasts. Their colors were gone. Cold crept up my fingers and over my limbs, despite the heat of the evening. Funny how darkness can close in on a blind person.
2
“Why is she not waking?”
The deep voice rumbled through me, pulling me from my sleep. It was a good sleep too. I’d been safe, surrounded by love where my flaws were an advantage, not a liability. I hadn’t had a sleep like this in years.
Snuggling back into the soft sheets, I attempted to ignore the world for a few minutes longer. Soon enough I’d need to get up and begin my work for the day.
“She’ll wake when she’s ready.” This second voice reminded me of sweet butter, smooth and rich. I hadn’t had that in over seven years. Hmmm… butter.
My stomach rumbled.
“But the wound healed well?” This third voice was younger, a little higher, and almost had me opening my eyes, simply so I could prove I was all right.
Though, why would these strangers be worried about me?
“Yes, the wound healed well. Very well, with almost no assistance needed from me, in fact.” The butter voice moved closer.
My fingers dug into the sheets, enjoying the feel of cloth that I hadn’t had to weave. It was far different from what I usually awoke to. In fact, this bed was too comfortable, the pillow much too soft, and there was none of the usual bustle of workers getting ready for the day.
I wasn’t in my o
wn bed. Which meant I was somewhere I shouldn’t be.
And that meant punishment.
My instinct was to apologize and scramble from under the covers, but I didn’t know where I was or who these men were. Maybe if I stayed still and quiet, I could learn something of my current situation. And what did they mean, “wound”?
A throbbing ache in my side answered the silent question. What...?
Memories rushed in on me, and I shivered.
“Why is she shivering?” the young voice asked. “Give her another blanket.”
“She has three,” the deep-voiced one answered. “If you give her any more, you’ll smother her.”
Someone loomed over me, and I tensed. I couldn’t control it.
“We’ll leave her for a bit. There is much we need to do to put this place to rights,” the buttery voice said from right over me. The bed frame shifted as he pushed away. “Audax, fetch her something to eat that will keep well until she wakes.”
“But—” the young voice began.
“Go. And then check on her friends. Let me know if they need to be seen to.”
I followed Audax’s steps from the room. The near silent hinges on the door and faint snick of the latch were more clues I was in a place I didn’t belong. The dormitories for the workers didn’t have doors, let alone latches.
“Now, what of the offender?” Butter Voice asked.
“He’s alive,” the deep voice answered, stiff.
“Good.”
“He shouldn’t be.” Was that a note of remorse? “He never should have had a chance to hurt her.”
“He needs to live. For now.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Butter Voice said, “she asked us not to kill him. And we need to find out what we can expect for retaliation from this empire. I do not believe they will relinquish this territory so easily to us.”
“And you are still intent on taking this town as ours? It is on the edge of the deserts. Exposed.” The deep voice moved to the door, though I heard no steps.
“We’ve discussed this.” Butter Voice, still beside me, remained calm.
“The dreams.”
“Yes.”
“That neither I nor Audax have had.”
Dreams? This man above me had had dreams as well? What of? Were they connected to mine, to the creatures’ arrival? They must be. Nothing else made sense.
“Orel,” the deep voice said, his tone admonishing.
A sigh. “You’ve trusted me this far. Will you continue to do so?”
The deep voice did not answer right away. Finally, he said, “I suppose this place is as good as any.”
“Thank you.”
The door opened again and latched, leaving me alone with the man with the sweet-butter voice. A light weight spread over me, a new blanket being added, and a large hand smoothed the bulky weave over my shoulder.
Warm breath whispered over my ear. “I know you are awake. And though I do not know your name yet, I want you to know mine. I am Orel of the Ifinsi tribe. You are safe with us now, stala.”
My shivers increased. When I didn’t open my eyes or give any other indication that I heard him, he chuffed, the sound reminiscent of the beasts in the sandstorm. Moments later, the door opened and then latched a final time, and I was alone. Gradually the trembles eased as well, and I let out a deep breath.
I gingerly probed at the bandages wrapped around my side, noting the fine texture. They’d used the good silk. Someone was going to be in trouble later. Or maybe not. What was it they had been saying about new territories and sorting things out?
Was the empire being invaded?
Did I care? No.
But what about my fellow flawed? What was happening to them? They were my immediate priority. I pushed myself up, cautious of my side, and assessed the rest of my condition. The ache in my side appeared to be the only wound. How much time had passed? They’d said I’d healed well, but that told me nothing of how long I’d been asleep. Based on the pain I had endured when my wound was inflicted, I had to have been under for quite a while for it to have been reduced to only a dull throb.
My stomach rumbled again. I ignored it. Hunger was nothing new for me. I needed to get out of here before the other one, Audax, returned. To do that I needed to figure out where I was. Based on the sheets and the mattress and the slight floral scent in the air, I was in the overseers’ quarters. The guards’ barracks didn’t smell as sweet, and I doubted they were provided such comfortable accommodations. If I wasn’t mistaken, I was in Old Britta’s rooms. She favored the flowers of Arbwan in her perfumes, said her son sent them to her.
I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and dug my toes into the thick pile of a rug, grateful for the rough trousers and shirt someone had put on me. It was one less thing to worry about. I pulled up my mental grid of Eusos. I was somewhere on the southern edge, in one of three buildings. I didn’t know these well, only that they bordered the healers on one side, with our small garden on the other and the central yard directly ahead.
My legs were a little unsteady, but I made it to the door with good speed. Just as my hand found the latch, the door flew open, crashing into my shoulder. I grunted, stumbling back, then froze.
It was the golden being, but instead of a creature of the sandstorm, before me was a man, not much taller than me. Surrounded in the black of my blindness, light outlined his features, revealing a thin face with strong cheekbones. It traced over his frame, picking out decent shoulders and a wiry build. One hand was held out flat, as though he held something.
“You’re awake. Good. I brought food. I was worried the dagger had done more damage than Orel could detect.” It was the young-sounding one. Audax.
I couldn’t answer. I’m sure I looked a fool, but I couldn’t take my gaze away from the sheen that danced over the muscles of his forearms or the lighter licks of flame highlighting his hair.
I brought my hand up, fumbling and clumsy, until it landed on his chest. He sucked in a breath but didn’t move. Where I touched, a faint outline appeared, purple in contrast to his gold. My hand. I was seeing my own hand.
“How?” The word was strangled in my too-tight throat.
He gripped my upper arm with a free hand. “Let’s get you back in bed. I’m not convinced you should be up yet. I mean, you were stabbed last night.” He led me back to the bed, and I sat, my determination to get out of there before I was found leaving me.
“Last night?” I asked. I found myself staring at his chin. There was a small cleft there, a deeper spot of gold. Before I could stop myself, I poked it.
“Hey.” He laughed, catching my hand, his grip gentle. “Don’t do that. You need to get some food in you. I’ll get Orel. He’s better at explaining things than I am.”
I twisted my hand and clutched at his wrist as he rose. “How can I see you? I can’t see anything. Not since...”
He stilled. Even the faint swirls of light froze. “Dreams?”
I nodded.
“What did you dream?”
Some of my caution returned. I’d told no one of my dreams. Being physically flawed was one thing. Those who were found to have flaws of the mind? Well, I only heard whispers, but they never returned here or to their families. The safety I’d felt evaporated.
“Where are my friends?” I asked.
“They’re at the healer’s. They are doing well.”
“Why am I not there?”
He smiled. “Orel didn’t want to chance anything happening to you. None of us did. So we... watched over you. Healed you. It’s one of Orel’s powers.”
“I want to go to them, to Katelyn and David.” I stood, tilting my chin in a way I hadn’t for seven years and holding back the tremble in my voice.
Audax stepped back, giving me space. “My next stop was to see them. We knew that when you woke, you would want word of how they fared. Would you eat first?” He gestured to his right, where he must have set the tray. Which I still could not see
.
My thoughts swirled as my eyes closed, blocking him out. Was this real? Was there a glowing man standing before me? Were there two others, one of whom had healed me? How? Where had they come from? Had I conjured them from my dreams somehow? I didn’t know what was happening to me. One moment I was the Mila of Eusos—meek, scared, and scarred, unwilling to confront my current captors. The next I was the Mila of old—stubborn, sure of what I wanted, and talking back. And then there was the third Mila, the one who had shown up last night. The one willing to fight, no matter the cost. The wild Mila.
“No,” I finally said. “Take me to them now.” As the words left me, the Mila of Eusos took over. I ducked my head, waiting for the cuff of a hand to my cheek.
“Very well.”
My eyes shot open. He didn’t argue or protest, simply agreed. Audax stepped back, holding his hand out to me. I placed mine in his, and again a faint outline of my hand appeared, the purple close to the colors of the first beast.
“I am Audax of the Infisi tribe,” he said. “I forgot to introduce myself.”
As had I, though I thought that could be excused. “Mila Inovi. Of… of Eusos.”
“Well, Mila Inovi of Eusos, allow me to take you to your friends so you may assure yourself of their well-being. And then you will eat something.”
I ignored the last bit for now. “I can find the healers on my own. I just need a reference point. You don’t need to escort me,” I said, partly in deference and partly in defiance.
Audax’s smile widened. “Oh, no, I need to. Not for you, though. For me. The others would skin me and then kick me out of the coalition. No, I definitely need to escort you.” He tucked my hand in the crook of his arm and turned us to the door.
The three sides of me once again went to war. Old Mila reveled in the attention. Flawed Mila wanted to pull away, to draw the veil of anonymity over her. Fighting Mila also wanted to draw away, but because she did not want this man leading her about like... like a helpless blind person.
Realms and Rebels: A Paranormal and Fantasy Reverse Harem Collection Page 158