by K. F. Breene
Slowly, painfully, he climbed to his feet, not caring about the whimpers of pain he couldn’t contain. Hobbling, he made the long way to the city, thankful to be alive. Only when he was almost at the Captain’s quarters, drawing eyes and pitying expressions, did a greater fear wash over him.
He was alive, but if they were responsible for helping the Inkna-Chosen, and for shutting up Yarm, how much longer would S’am be alive?
Chapter Four
Shanti opened her eyes slowly. She’d been standing in the same spot, with her eyes closed, for an extended period of time. Listening. If there was anyone there, even a master at stealth, Shanti would either have heard him, or felt his presence. She didn’t have her Gift, but she’d grown up in the wood. She’d trained, snuck, spied and got up to mischief in thick trees amongst some of the best fighters in the land. The Gift could be a crutch, so Shanti’s people made sure they were well-versed in doing without.
The dwindling day remained quiet and serene. A lonely bird sang high in the trees. Raindrops fell in a smattering of plops. Nature produced the only sounds.
Mentally blind, Shanti continued on her way with soft footsteps. Knife in hand, eyes always on the move, she looked for signs of someone passing before her. A broken branch off to the right at shoulder height indicated someone unskilled in tracking or stealth had gone that way. The break was old, though. The exposed wood of the branch had darkened through exposure to the air for some time.
A few footprints filled with water from the rain were also old, made with a heavy boot with hard soles. The Shadow people had been wearing waterproofed, soft-soled boots. This imprint was typical of Inkna, but there was no telling if the full-powered Inkna-Chosen had made this tread, or one of the minions who’d been put through before him.
She reached a fork in the trail. Glancing first to the right, then the left, she couldn’t see any difference in the paths. Heavy trees crowded the walking space as branches reached overhead. Glistening moss grew on rocks and rough bark lined the outside of trunks. The heavy boot tread went left. Another, fresher boot tread went right. Both were probably Inkna.
Shanti went right.
Through the gaps in the trees overhead, rain sifted down. In other spots, the collected water on the high branches turned into plunks of fat drops. Still she walked, scanning. Listening. Noticing the slightest changes in the foliage.
Her stomach growled. Beyond the branches, the sky was darkening.
She needed to take care of the basics of survival in the wild while there was still light. The elements could kill as easily as the Inkna-Chosen—probably more easily.
With that in mind she increased her pace, identifying possible areas for shelter. Her garments would keep her warm thanks to the Shadow people, so she needed only the bare minimum, including a fire and a few provisions. Without delay, senses always alert, she sought out the things she needed.
* * *
As the day dwindled, Shanti sat down under the tarp, which was strung along the tops of a shallow rock outcropping. Two large trees rose to either side of her with a thick canopy overhead. If the rain turned heavy, her open fire would remain mostly protected.
She boiled rainwater that she’d collected, cooking wild vegetables in it. A small bird roasting on a spit was almost done. The woman had been right: this wood was plentiful, and sustenance was not hard to find. With the gifts of the tarp, clothes, pot and firestones, surviving would be easy—at least until the trials began.
Shanti scanned the quiet wood. She hadn’t seen a boot tread in some time, but she had seen some soft imprints, crossing the path from the grasses beside it. Those, she bet, were made by Shadow people.
I can’t kill anyone, she reminded herself as she stirred the pot. Let’s just hope the Shadow know when they’re defeated. Otherwise, I’ll have to maim, and that won’t be much fun for them…
As she removed the bird from the spit, thinking about how she would do the same with the hot pot, a snap sounded away to her right.
Shanti froze, immediately closing her eyes to cut out the distraction of sight.
The tiny sound of a branch moving reverberated in the silence. A bird gave a shrill cry, announcing someone in its midst, before the beat of wings suggested it taking flight. Silence once again reigned.
Thinking fast, Shanti used her old, damp garments to remove the pot, setting it on some grasses and mud. In silence, she scraped up two handfuls of dirt and slid behind the rocks that made her shelter. After smearing mud on her face and tucking any visible hair back into her hood, she settled into a hiding place and waited.
A slushy sound of watery mud came from the left. A slosh of boot announced someone approaching. A small movement twenty paces in the opposite direction drew her attention. A branch wiggled, as if caught by wind.
But there was no wind. Not even a breeze.
Goosebumps crawled across her skin. She removed a knife slowly and waited, eyes scanning the area in front of her. Nothing stirred.
She let her awareness expand out behind her. Almost immediately, she was rewarded with a slide of soft material on rock.
Adrenaline dumped into her body as she spun and threw her knife. A fffuuuwwww sound reached her ears, making her duck out of the way. A dart bounced off the rock beside her. A body, a man, staggered into a tree five paces up the incline. His hand reached for the knife in his shoulder.
Shanti ran at him, leaping over any rocks in her way. The man brandished a knife in his good hand. She dodged his first strike, then blocked the next, her forearm clashing against his. He slid his hand away, aiming the knife down toward her. She flinched back, shifted, and pushed the hilt of the knife in his shoulder, driving it in further.
The man grunted. His lips pressed, fighting the pain as his knife slashed at her. Her tarp shook, as if someone was brushing by it in a hurry.
Help was coming, but not for her.
She yanked the knife from the man, blocked his thrust, dodged a strike, and stabbed him in the leg. He cried out and bent, but she didn’t pause to reflect on a solid hit. Clutching his tunic, she yanked him toward her, then used his momentum to use him as a shield.
Another ffffuuuwwwww announced the dart right before it lodged in the neck of the man, barely three inches from her face.
These people had great aim with their darts. Thank the Elders for granting her luck.
“If that is poisonous, you’d better see to your man,” Shanti called out in the Shadow Lands language before shoving the man down the hillside. He staggered forward, limping badly on his leg, as she ducked behind the nearest tree. “You shot it into his neck—he may not have long.”
That is not my kill!
“It’s a sleeping agent—you’ve passed this trial. Please, stand down so that we may collect him,” a voice echoed from behind her shelter.
Adrenaline pumping, not totally believing the words, Shanti peered out from behind the tree in time to witness a tall man with brown hair hook a shoulder under that of his countryman. The injured man leaned heavily before his head started to roll. The sleeping agent worked fast.
Another man, with flaming red hair and brilliant blue eyes, came around the rocks of her shelter. He assessed the damage to his countryman for a brief moment before wiping his hands and stepping closer to help carry him. Taking his weight, he looked up. His eyes, only ten paces away, were piercing yet sparkling, full of jest and humor. He winked. “Your bird needs salt.”
“Care to supply any?” she asked, still keeping most of her body behind the tree. She had no idea if these people could be trusted.
“Next time. Enjoy your wet night. You might use the rain to wash your face.”
“What if I hadn’t avoided the dart?” Shanti called as the men turned and started back the way they came. “Why not have it tipped with poison? Otherwise, you’re just promoting failure.”
The flame-haired man stopped the progression and shifted so he could turn his head toward her. “You’re the first outsider to avoid
the dart. If it were poison, our fun would end shortly after it began. How can we train when we kill everyone right away?”
“Had I known I was helping you train, I might’ve devoted some time to following your trails and catching you unawares. You might step softer, if you want to stay hidden.”
A flash of smile crossed his face. “I see the old adage is true—women are infinitely harder to impress.” Laughing, he helped drag away his man who was now completely limp.
So the trials for the would-be Chosen weren’t so much about finding a future leader as they were for training. It probably hadn’t started that way, since the Chosen was prophesied, but the years of false-Chosen making their way through the trials had given the people of this land everything they needed to hone their skills. Since the Chosen couldn’t kill, there was no danger for the Shadow. Their only problem became the duration of worthwhile training. Hence the sleeping agent instead of poison.
An entire people had been given the task of making sure she failed.
“The woman at the beginning told me as much,” Shanti muttered, returning to her dinner. A large bite had been taken out of her bird. She shook her head. “Thieving fool.”
She’d be lying if she said she’d ever expected to make it through these trials. It had always seemed like too big of an undertaking for one person. But then, she’d never expected to make it this far, either. The important thing was finding the Inkna-Chosen and killing him. After that, she’d give ’em hell as best she could. They might’ve stacked the odds against her, but she’d traveled too far, and endured too much, to roll over and play dead. She’d follow the rules as long as she could, but when Death came to collect her, she’d take as many down with her as she could.
* * *
Cayan caught sight of the natural arch at the first light of day. After Leilius had limped painfully into Cayan’s room last night and revealed all he’d seen, a blast of fear had suffocated Cayan. That itching, clawing certainty that he should’ve gone into the trials with Shanti returned. The pull, the ache—he almost ran from the room straight away.
Instead, he’d used logic. Mistakes happened when decisions were made in haste, and mistakes would get his men killed.
Keeping his calm, he’d called a meeting of the company, explaining what he’d learned, what that might mean, and what he’d have to do. Everyone was allocated their roles. The chain of command would remain well-established.
He impressed upon them all that the most important thing was to stick together. Stay alive together. Against an army trained to be individuals, like the Graygual, Cayan’s men needed to be a tight unit, working for each other. Helping each other. Relying on each other. They were infinitely stronger that way.
As Cayan was leaving before the sun did more than lighten the horizon, Burson stopped him. “The choice you didn’t make yesterday was to go with Shanti. That choice led to a much harder road, fraught with death. The choice you make today rights the wrong. It tips the scale closer to balance. There will still be death, but you have made a wise decision.”
Cayan’s anger rose immediately. “Why didn’t you mention this yesterday?”
“The choice had to be made by you. If I had told you, it would’ve been disastrous. Keep her grounded. She is prepared for death—give her a reason to fight for life.”
Cayan would’ve loved to hang the man up by his feet and shake him, but that wouldn’t have solved anything. Instead, with the need to join Shanti clawing at his gut, he’d just shaken his head and started out.
He met the gaze of the man who’d greeted Shanti yesterday. With sleepy eyes and an untucked shirt, it looked like the man had barely made it here before Cayan. It meant the Shadow were watching the city closely, and word spread quickly.
He wondered if they were watching the Trespasser Village, too. It seemed unlikely, not with the hole in the thorn fence and the gruesome killing put on display. That was a level of viciousness that had been left unchecked. If it was allowed to continue running rampant, it would only grow into something nasty. The worst of the Graygual were in that Trespasser Village, Cayan had no doubt. And his sole purpose was keeping that danger away from Shanti.
“Why do you come?” the man asked as Cayan stopped before him.
“I seek entrance to the trials,” Cayan stated in a flat voice.
“Do you proclaim yourself Chosen?”
“No.”
The man’s light eyebrows settled low over his confused eyes. “Only those who proclaim themselves Chosen may enter.”
“Is that a rule?”
The man’s head tilted. He paused. When he answered, his voice wasn’t hesitant, per se, but he certainly hadn’t been confronted with this situation before. “To enter, one must proclaim himself Chosen…”
“Fine. I’m Chosen. Let me enter.”
“Once you enter the arch, you will either emerge the Chosen, or die in the process. Once in, there is but one way out.”
Cayan felt his impatience rise. “Obviously there are two ways out—alive or dead. But I wonder if you’ve found the third. Regardless, I understand. Let’s move along.”
The knot between the man’s eyebrows deepened as he gestured Cayan in front of him. “This is not… a standard situation.”
“I agree, but I came with a woman who does nothing the standard way. It’s rubbed off.”
Cayan walked through the thorny, green tunnel and saw a woman sitting on the wet ground in the middle of a clearing. A small movement to the left caught his eye. He barely caught a shoulder slip behind a tree trunk.
As his mind reached out, he picked up others, hiding within the trees, waiting to rush out should he try to kill this woman sitting on the ground. Cayan wondered if Shanti had received the same audience, or if this was because he was a man with an agenda.
He stopped in front of the woman, not bothering to sit. He then let his gaze sweep away towards the only trail, and figured that Shanti would’ve headed that way. He pushed out his mental reach, trying to find her, but once he reached a certain point and only felt emptiness, his Gift wouldn’t penetrate.
He refocused on the woman. Catching his gaze, she put her hand out in front of her. “Please, sit.”
He was about to tell her he would remain standing, but his Gift warped and bent, trying to pull away. He paused, struggling for control. It swirled out from under his grasp, and then blasted out, scouring the minds hiding in the trees. He tried to rein it back in, tried to follow Shanti’s fastidious training over these last few weeks, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop the torrent of power ripping out of him.
“Please, shield,” the woman prompted, touching her temple with a squint.
“I… I can’t…” Cayan said, trying to work with his power. Trying to collapse it down, or direct it up. Trying to do anything to stop the leak.
Then he felt it. That cover over the deep well of power, his safe-hold, lifted. Like worrying away a scab, the strange feeling in this place, the warp on his Gift, had that cover rocking. Peeling away.
More power leaked out. Then more. Surging, pushing up into him, dumping into his body, the power filled him. Fear pooled in his gut.
“I need to get to the sea. Or a place with no human life. Please—” Cayan squeezed his eyes shut, clamping down on that cover. Trying to contain the searing, burning power that was crawling up his insides. He could feel it searching for its mate.
Cayan took deep, lung-filling breaths. He tried to relax. He tried to let the power come so he might be able to expel it. But the more it pooled into him, the more it blistered his insides and scorched his mind. He didn’t know how to control it.
Panting, his hands balled, he staggered in the direction he had come from.
“You cannot leave once you have entered,” the man behind him said through a strained voice.
“The pain you feel right now is nothing,” Cayan grated. “That’s the power I can usually control, after a fashion. What’s coming will kill you. I can’t cont
rol it and I don’t know how to link with you to get help. It’ll kill me first, then explode out and kill everyone in this clearing. You need to let me attempt to direct it to the sea.”
The man hesitated, but Cayan didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed past him, staggering toward the arch. His body bounced off the razor sharp sides, but he felt no pain. Not through the blaring, blistering agony welling up within him.
He fell to his knees on the muddy bank, grabbed as much power as he could, felt like he was gasping for air, and then EXPELLED.
In a huge gush, the power ripped out of him. His scream scored his throat. The power raked his insides. A low rumble blasted out to the sea but also curled around him. A backlash shot out behind, small in comparison, but still dangerous. Another scream sounded, filled with both pain and surprise. The mind did not wink out, even though agony flashed strong.
As the power dwindled away, the only sound was the lazy lapping of the waves against the dock. Cayan took a huge, lung-filling breath and wiped the tears of pain from his eyes. It felt like he’d swam the length of the island underwater.
Getting painfully to his feet, he turned to find the greeter with a pale face and wide eyes. Cayan wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Yes, I just broke protocol, but I am going into those trials. If I were you, I’d get out of the way and pass me through as quickly as possible. I don’t know what strange flux is in that clearing, but I can’t control my power when I’m in it.”
“We’ve never experienced this before,” the man said. He couldn’t control his shaking voice, or maybe he just wasn’t trying.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I need admittance.”
The man held open a hand toward the arch. “I am not in charge of who goes through.”
Cayan stalked back into the clearing, fear clawing at his insides. He had no idea how long it would take that power to build up again, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be long.