The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  Mara approached the nearest horse, a dappled gray mare, holding her hand out. “Umm, nice horsie?”

  Ansel batted her hand away. “What are you doing? Do you want to get bitten?”

  “They can bite?” she hissed, eyes rounded. “How am I supposed to know that? I’ve never ridden a horse before!”

  A loud crash resounding from the front of the house silenced his reply. Ansel lifted her with ease, setting her on the saddle. “No time for a lesson now,” he said, mounting his horse in one fluid motion. He grabbed the leads of the four other horses and tied them to his saddle. “Just . . . don’t fall off.”

  That was reassuring. They kicked their horses and trotted out of sight as fast as possible.

  13

  “So, ye’re tellin’ us this crazy old lady who only spoke in riddles, kissed a Guardian and lived to tell about it? Oh, and she left exactly six horses, even though there was just the two of ya?” Wynn struggled to mount her horse. As if sensing her inexperience, the animal continued to step away each time her foot touched the stirrup.

  Mara swallowed a laugh, relieved that she wasn’t the only one who’d never ridden before. Even now, she was surprised she hadn’t fallen off. Yet. She patted her mare, whom she named Dumpling. They had a few days of hard riding before they reached the Mubali Oasis after all.

  “It was the strangest thing. If she weren’t a woman, I would have sworn she’s a Magi,” Ansel said, taking hold of the horse’s bridle so Wynn could climb on. She smacked his hand away, muttering under her breath.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Women can’t be Magi?” Mara asked. While the Order was made up predominantly of men, there were many female disciples who served in its ranks. Just because the two Magi she’d met just happened to be men, didn’t exclude women from having the ability. In her mind, at least.

  Ansel shook his head. “Sorry, I keep forgetting how much you don’t know. Only men can inherit the Gift of foresight.”

  Steel nudged his horse closer, looking at home on its back. “It’s true. I’ve never even heard of a woman being born with the Gift of foresight. As far as I know, it’s the only Gift that is exclusive to males.”

  “Well, that’s stupid.”

  “Regardless of her methods, I am most appreciative of this Ruby’s assistance.”

  “Speak for yerself. These dumb beasts will be the death of me for sure,” Wynn snapped, finally propelling herself into the saddle with the grace of a three-legged cow. This time, Mara couldn’t contain her laughter, which earned her a scathing glare. “Bet ya won’t be laughin’ later when yer arse is rubbed raw.”

  “These discomforts will fade once we reach Kearar. The Mubali Oasis boasts of the finest masseurs on the continent. And their saunas are second to none. There will be plenty of entertainment for you while Mikkal and I translate the documents. After a few days of being pampered, you won’t want to leave at all, I’d wager.”

  Mara’s hand went to the pocket in her tunic where the scroll was tucked away, debating if she should show them. Thanks to Ruby, she had a pretty good idea about what it said. She pulled it out and handed it to Steel before she could change her mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. In the Keep, well, I did find something. This scroll was hidden in the royal chamber.”

  Wynn scowled. “Keepin’ secrets again, eh?”

  Like she was one to talk. Mara bristled at the hypocrisy. “Well, it’s not like you’ve been completely open and honest with me, either.”

  “It’s the same language as the others,” Steel said after he had scanned the scroll. “Was there anything else?”

  “No, but back in Oxrest, Ruby translated it, I think.”

  Ansel looked over. “Don’t be ridiculous. That was all nonsense—the ramblings of a crazy person. I wouldn’t put much stock in anything that woman said.”

  “I don’t think they were. Well, not this one, at least. Besides, how do you explain the fact that she knew we were heading to Tregydar?”

  “But we’re not going to Tregydar, are we? We’re going to Kearar,” Ansel replied.

  “You know what I mean,” Mara said, turning to Steel. Ansel could doubt all he wanted, but he hadn’t seen the look in Ruby’s eyes, that brief moment of lucidity. “When she touched the scroll, she said something about a black sun and a star. Does that sound familiar?”

  “No, I’ve never heard of it before. Do you remember anything else she said?”

  Mara shook her head. “No, but we were a little preoccupied trying to escape the Guardian at the time.”

  “Well, it’s not much to go on, but perhaps we will find more in the archives.”

  Tova slipped into the clearing, as if she had appeared out of thin air. Startled, Dumpling reared up on its hind legs, depositing Mara on the ground in an unceremonious heap. While the others roared at her predicament, she squinted at the girl. Where had she been this whole time? None of the others seemed bothered by Tova’s comings and goings, so Mara brushed off her pants and climbed back into the saddle. She winced as she settled in. Falling off was not something she wanted to do again.

  “So, are ya gonna stand around talkin’ all day, or are we gonna get moving?” Wynn asked.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Mara said, reaching into her saddlebag. She pulled out a wrapped bundle and handed it to Wynn.

  “What’s this?” Wynn took it reluctantly, looking at the bundle like it was going to bite her.

  Mara shrugged. “Just a little something I saw in the general store. I thought you might like it, seeing how much you like using your daggers.”

  “They’re not daggers, they’re dirks.” Wynn unwrapped the package and held up the dual-bladed knife for a better look.

  When she didn’t say anything, Mara shifted in her saddle, frowning. Wait, was Wynn crying? “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

  Wynn scowled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thanks. I just . . . I never got a present before.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mara said, feeling a tug of sympathy for the older woman. No wonder she was so bitter. She gave Wynn a tentative smile.

  “This don’t mean I like ya. Prolly kill ya in the morning. And now, I got a shiny new toy!” Wynn grinned, slipping the blade on her fingers—no doubt imagining slicing it through somebody.

  Steel called for them to move out. They rode single file on an old game trail, worn smooth from decades of use, that zig-zagged through the forest. Steel led the way, pausing every so often to check a peculiar metallic device he held in his hands. When asked about it, he replied that it was a compass, helping to point him in the right direction. Mara didn’t understand why he didn’t just use the sun, but she shrugged and decided to let it go.

  Mara was too busy trying not to fall off, anyway. She squeezed hard with her knees, her white knuckles tangled in Dumpling’s mane. Mara glanced back at Wynn, wondering if she was having better luck at this riding thing. Nope. She was bouncing around in her saddle like popcorn in a hot pan, looking downright miserable. Mara flashed her a sympathetic glance.

  Overhead, a falcon let out a piercing shriek. Mara ducked down instinctively, scanning the skies. For a second, she could have sworn she saw Zeke, but brushed it off as a coincidence. There was no way Oona would have followed them here. Knowing Oona, she would be tucked safely back in Stonehollow, probably engaged to another unsuspecting sap.

  A few hours passed, and the forest gave way to open, rocky terrain. Monstrous boulders rose up from the bare earth like sleeping giants nestled under blankets of green moss.

  Mara took advantage of the widening road and nudged her horse closer to Tova’s, the rhythmic clomp of hooves echoing across the land. Compared to Tova, Mikkal was downright chatty. Mara couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with the tiny girl, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. An itch, just out of reach.

  Tova rode straight-backed, her petite form flowing in perfect sync with the horse’s movements, as though she were a
n extension of the beast itself. Mara felt like a sack of potatoes next to her. With a forced cheerfulness, Mara asked, “So, how are you doing?”

  Tova looked over with wide eyes, clearly not expecting conversation. “I’m all right.” Then she turned her face forward, erecting an invisible wall between them.

  Mara wasn’t about to give up that easily. “So, are you from Esterwyn?”

  “Why do you wish to know?” Tova asked, keeping her head forward, her posture going rigid.

  “Just curious,” Mara said. “I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all.”

  The mousy girl nodded, accepting her answer at face value. “I’m from Aravell,” she replied, not divulging any more than the barest minimum.

  “Aravell! You’re certainly a long way from home. What brought you here? How’d you end up with Wynn?” Mara couldn’t stop the questions spewing from her mouth. She snapped her jaw shut, hoping that she didn’t scare her off.

  A flash of irritation crossed Tova’s face and she sighed loudly. After a long pause, she said, “My father hates dregs. He’s a delegate in their senate, elected only last year, and he thought a dreg daughter would hurt his political career. So, he threw me out of the house.”

  “That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” Mara said.

  “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault. Anyway, he technically gave me two options: stay locked away, never to be seen again, or leave, and take my chances. So, I left.”

  “I can’t believe your own father did that to you. What about your mother?”

  “She’s dead,” Tova said frankly, waving away Mara’s murmured condolences. “It’s fine. She died when I was a baby, so I never knew her. I was raised by a nanny. And once I grew up, my father liked to parade me in front of his social circle like a prized broodmare, always trying to marry me off to one of his sycophant’s sons.”

  “Wait, dregs can get married in Aravell?”

  Tova stuttered momentarily. “Well, we could. Before, I mean. The Order has only become prevalent there in the last few years.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, dregs are hidden away in shame. They have no social status. No right to own property at all.” She turned to smile at Wynn. “Meeting Wynn was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Mara glanced behind her at the fearsome woman, who was currently holding onto her horse with her eyes sealed shut. Wynn seemed like an odd choice for a surrogate mother. She was coarse, hard as rock and downright terrifying at times. And yet, Wynn expressed an uncharacteristic level of care for the girl. “How did you two meet?”

  “I was out on my own for . . .” she scrunched up her nose as she thought, “a month? I was sleeping outside and stealing food to eat. It was . . . difficult, to say the least. Wynn found me shivering in a downpour, half-starved. I probably looked like a drowned kitten.” Tova let out a soft laugh. “She gave me something to eat and offered her protection.”

  Mara raised her eyebrows. “And she didn’t threaten to kill you first?”

  “It’s true, I swear. Although I can understand why you don’t believe me. Wynn is distrustful of strangers, given her history. And no,” Tova held up a hand, silencing Mara’s obvious question, “I won’t tell you. It’s not my story to share.”

  “Fair enough,” Mara said. She realized just how little she knew about the group and resolved to do a bit of digging on their trip.

  Steel brought their procession to a halt, turning his horse with a jerk so he could face them. “There’s a stream up ahead. As we won’t find anymore fresh water until we reach the oasis, you’ll need to fill as many skeins as you can carry.”

  Mara slid off her horse, keeping a firm grasp on the saddle. Her legs wobbled beneath her when she hit the ground. She felt like a newborn lamb, trying to stand for the first time. If this is what riding was like, she would keep her legs planted firmly on the ground. She stretched out her ankle. Still sore, but not as injured as she’d feared.

  Mikkal approached, offering the crook of his arm for her to lean on. She debated refusing, but in the end, she swallowed her pride and took his arm. “Thanks. I guess I’m not used to this yet.”

  He dipped his head in acknowledgment.

  “It must be frustrating not being able to speak. Wait, can you talk?” A morbid thought crossed her mind and escaped her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you even have a tongue? Oh no, that was rude. It’s really not my business.”

  He rolled his eyes and stuck his perfectly normal tongue out at her. Well, that answered that question.

  “Oh, so the no talking thing is a choice. Is that part of your role as a Shield? It seems counterproductive. Like, what if Steel was about to be attacked and you weren’t there to protect him in time? Wouldn’t you be able to yell or something?”

  Mikkal let out a long, suffering sigh.

  “Sorry. You probably regret helping me now, huh?” Mara took his answering shrug as an opportunity and continued, “What if I stick to yes or no questions?”

  He nodded, steering her down a shallow embankment and depositing her next to the shallow stream. She closed her eyes and listened to the musical lilt of the water as it flowed by. It made her homesick.

  When she opened her eyes, Mikkal was gone and in his place, stood Steel.

  “Having a nice chat?”

  “Oh, yes. Mikkal was very talkative. I don’t understand how you put up with his endless blabbering all the time,” Mara said sarcastically.

  Steel laughed. “You get used to his silence. For the longest time, I would try to trick him into speaking. I almost succeeded once. I dared him into using the lady’s bathhouse and while he was in the pool, I stole his clothing.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Oh, I most certainly did. I left a note, saying that if he wanted to keep his dignity, all he had to do was shout for help. Twenty minutes later, all I saw was a flash of his pale backside as he scampered home!” He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Actually, I’m not sure if he’s forgiven me for that. In my defense, I was only thirteen at the time and had the maturity of a six-year-old.”

  “Not much has changed then, I see,” Mara teased. She bit back a giggle, trying to picture quiet, stern Mikkal in such a predicament. It was impossible. “What I don’t understand is why he can’t talk. Wouldn’t it make his job easier?”

  “When you can’t speak, you’re forced to listen. Mikkal goes through life in a perpetual state of awareness, which isn’t always a good thing. For example, when we were ambushed during our trek to the Ghost Keep, he was so focused on you and Ansel that he missed the disciples approaching. Overall, however, it is a benefit. I cannot tell you how many times his dedication and quick thinking have saved my life.”

  “He seems like a loyal friend. How long has he been in your service?”

  “Fifteen years. My father hired him just before my trip to Kearar as a boy, though I have known him all my life.”

  “So, this friend in Kearar . . . what’s he like?”

  “Tomar was the quiet sort. He spent all his spare time in the library with his face buried in some book or another. A colossal waste of time, if you ask me. But, as a person, he was fiercely passionate about his beliefs, especially when it came to dregs and how we are treated.”

  “He sounds like a good man. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “And so, you shall. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go find Tova. No doubt she’s wandered off on some adventure again. I swear, that girl has no sense of self-preservation at all.” Steel gave her one of his funny half-bows and strode off.

  Mara knelt down next to the stream, dipping her hands into the cool water. Once she had drank her fill, she proceeded to fill her six water skeins. Would that be enough?

  She felt two eyes boring holes in the back of her skull, as though she were being watched. Mara turned slowly. A scrawny girl with torn, dirty clothing stepped out from behind a rocky outcropping. Her hair was caked with so much mud
that Mara couldn’t tell the actual color underneath. Half of her face was red and blistered, as though it had been burned. Crystal blue eyes glared at Mara with abject loathing.

  Mara squinted back. She almost looked like . . . “Oona?”

  14

  “So glad you remember me, scum,” Oona sneered.

  Mara climbed up the embankment and walked closer. Had she followed them the whole way from Stonehollow? Her disheveled appearance suggested that, and more. The charcoal she’d used to rim her eyes was smeared down her cheeks. Overall, she looked positively deranged. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for my husband. You know, the one you stole from me.”

  A gasp sounded from behind Mara and Ansel stepped forward, his face draining of color.

  “Ahh, there he is. Don’t worry, Ansel, baby. I’m here to save you!” With that, Oona pulled out a two-foot blade and charged at Mara with a feral cry.

  Mara twisted out of the way, berating herself for leaving her dagger in her saddlebag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ansel just standing there, apparently in shock and completely useless. Where were the others when she needed them? Oona turned around, slashing and hacking like she was trying to cut down a tree. Had she ever even used a sword before? Mara stumbled on the jagged ground as she dodged the clumsy blows. The blade sliced through her tunic, biting into her side. Mara hissed and pressed a hand to the wound. Not deep, thank the gods, but she wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.

  An idea came to her—a dangerous, risky idea—but it was worth a try. At least before she was impaled, that is.

  Mara shook her hands at her sides, begging them to come alive with power, fully aware that she probably looked stupid. Nothing happened. Oona swung the sword at her neck and Mara ducked, feeling the air ripple as it whistled over hair. How in the world did her powers work? She jumped to the side to avoid a jab at her ribs.

  Mara took a deep breath, drawing on her core, and pushed. A burst of white light flew from her palms and careened ineffectively to the side.