The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  Mara elbowed Ansel in the ribs. “This reminds me of Oxrest, just with a lot more people around.” When he didn’t respond, Mara frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Ansel sighed. “Look, I’m still upset with you. I can’t help but feel that you’ve been selfish.”

  She froze, stopping so suddenly that a Kerani man ran into her back. She waved off the man’s angry words with an apology and turned back to Ansel. “Selfish? You think I was selfish!”

  “Yes, I do. I gave up my life for you. When we first joined the group, you didn’t even consider what I wanted. I went along with it because you’re my best friend and you needed me. But then, Oona came along with a signed pardon. Rather than go home, you decided to keep going on this suicide mission. We almost died crossing the desert!”

  “But we didn’t die.” Mara pointed out. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I do care about your opinion, and I can’t tell you how grateful I was that you decided to come with me. It means a lot.”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . it’s not like I could leave you unprotected,” he said with a wink, and she got the feeling that she was forgiven.

  She laughed. “And look, Steel was right. His friend will help us.”

  Ansel made a face. “Yeah, about that . . .”

  “What?”

  “I don’t trust him at all.” He paused, mulling over his words. “Remember back when we met the others and I said that I didn’t like how Steel looked at you? He looked at you like… I don’t know. Like someone had delivered a wagon-full of gold at his doorstep. Tomar is the same way. Men like the Rei don’t do things for free, so what will he want in return?”

  She frowned. What would he want from them? Gold? They didn’t have much, but it was his and more if he could help them. Maybe Tomar’s friendship with Steel would be enough.

  “And then . . . what does Steel plan on doing with the information? I’m worried that we’re getting caught up in something bigger than we can handle. He has a death wish if he’s planning to take on the Order.”

  “Shh, someone will hear you,” Mara slapped her hand across his mouth and threw a nervous glance over her shoulder, half-expecting a disciple to pop out of nowhere and arrest them. Talking like that about the Order would get them beaten, or worse.

  Standing by a table was a man dressed head-to-toe in black with a hood obscuring his face. He must be sweltering in this heat. Perhaps he was disfigured, and he didn’t want people to look at him? His attire made him stand out as a foreigner more than anything.

  The crowd shifted, and she lost sight of the stranger. The Kerani moved like a wave, all heading in the same direction. “Where are they going?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Ansel replied.

  They followed the crowd to a platform made of rough sandstone, bigger than the one in Stonehollow’s square. Guards herded people, most of them children wearing simple white dresses, onto the platform. A colorful surge of Kerani people pressed forward. A slave auction, Mara realized. She wanted to vomit.

  “This is sick,” Ansel said, turning green. Mara nodded, unable to respond. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her away. “Let’s go see if Steel needs any help. The sooner we leave this cursed place, the better.”

  ***

  “So, run that by me again,” Mara said, snagging an olive off a tray of food that Tomar’s slaves had brought, popping it in her mouth. The Rei might be one of the scummiest people she’d ever met, but he sure had good tastes.

  After a few hours in the library, which was anti-climactic, as far as appearances go, Steel and the group decided to take their research back to the tent Tomar had provided for them. It wasn’t nearly as opulent as his personal tent, but it was certainly comfortable. He and Mikkal poured over the scrolls and tomes, comparing them to the books from the library.

  “It says here, provided our translations are correct, that the Magi were creating an elixir to suppress a Gifted’s abilities. This scroll was a letter from Head Magi Conrad almost two hundred years ago,” Steel said, holding it out for her to see.

  Mara walked across the tent and wedged herself between Steel and Mikkal. She turned the scroll over, trying to make sense of the runes. Even with the help of the translation, it was borderline illegible. “Okay, so why is this important?”

  “How do you think the Magi create dregs in the first place?”

  “They don’t. During a Gifting, they awaken the baby’s ability. I assumed they would just . . . not do that for a dreg,” Mara replied. She frowned. “It’s not like I remember anything, considering I was only a year old at the time.”

  “I have no memory of my own failed Gifting either, but compare this to another partial scroll we found,” Steel reached across the table and grabbed a scroll that was half-burned, it’s edges black and crumbling. He held it delicately, as though he were afraid it would fall to pieces in his hands. “This is the first place we see reference to the term ‘dreg’ right here. And here is the same symbol for the elixir.”

  Mara rubbed her hands across her face, groaning. Her head pounded so hard she felt it might explode. “That’s great, Steel, but here’s a little problem. It still doesn’t tell us why they’re leaving people dregs, or, if your theory is true, making people into dregs.”

  “That’s all you’ll find from these books. Theories,” Ansel said. “Unless you speak to someone within the Order itself, you’re not going to get concrete information. And I doubt they would tell you the truth anyway.”

  “The boy’s right. Ya have to cut the truth out of ‘em,” Wynn said, brightening.

  “Umm . . . not what I meant,” Ansel said.

  Mara bit back a smile.

  “What if dregs aren’t Gifted because they would be too violent? Because their Gifts are too violent?” A tiny voice asked from the cushions. Mara glanced over to see Tova reclining on the pillows, fanning her red face with a book. She felt a pang of sympathy. Not everyone was handling the heat as well as Steel and Mikkal.

  “Why should they have that sort of authority? Who gives them the right to decide who is and isn’t Gifted?” Ansel said.

  “Look at Mara. Her Magi didn’t Gift her for a reason. No offense, Mara, but you’re pretty scary when you use your powers,” Tova said, sitting up and looking her in the eyes.

  Mara frowned. Tobias didn’t fit that mold at all. He was kind and sweet and gentle. “If they based it on violence, no one would be an Ignis or an Armis then, either. No, there’s something else at play.”

  Tova shrugged. “If you say so. At least we can rest here while they waste time.”

  Mara shifted. “Yeah, about that. I think we should keep moving.”

  “But we just got here!” Tova said.

  “Wouldn’t you like to see more of the Oasis? Spend a few weeks relaxing a bit before we move on?” Steel asked.

  “That does sound nice, but I don’t think it’s the wisest decision. Look, I know you love your friend and think highly of him, but there’s just something about him… I think lingering here longer than necessary is a bad idea. We have what we came for, and there’s no reason why you can’t translate the scrolls on the trip.”

  “I agree with Mara. I think we should leave as soon as possible,” Ansel said.

  “Hard to relax with the Order crawling around this place,” Wynn said, picking her teeth with her dual-bladed knife before gesturing to Ansel and Mara. “Just because those two got a pardon don’t mean the rest of us are safe.”

  Steel sniffed and pursed his lips as he gathered the books and scrolls into a pile.

  “Steel . . .”

  “No, no. It’s fine. I completely understand your desire for caution. We will leave at first light then.”

  Mara helped to put everything back into the packs. “Thank you.” One of the books caught her eye and she picked it up, snorting at the title—The Antiquated Cultures of the Scion Peninsula. No wonder he knew so much about Stonehollow. “Reading is a colossal was
te of time, huh?”

  He smiled. “Well, with little else to do in the desert, one tends to read a lot.”

  ***

  Mara was jostled from her sleep by sounds of a scuffle. Wide awake, she jumped out of her nest of pillows and came face-to-face with a two-pronged spear. She froze, and the rest of the picture came into view. Ansel, Tova, Wynn and Steel waited on their knees, their wrists in chains. Mikkal fought two of the guards but was losing ground fast.

  Mara felt the power building in her core, desperate to be released, but she tamped it down. If she used her ability in the cramped quarters of the tent, she was more likely to hurt one of her companions than a guard. The guard took advantage of her hesitation and clamped handcuffs around her wrists. Instantly, she felt her powers dim and she held her hands up for a closer look. Scripted around the cuffs were dozens of runes. Were they blocking her Gift somehow?

  Another guard pulled a tube out of his suvali and blew into it. A dart flew into Mikkal’s neck and he fell to the ground, unmoving. Steel cried out and tried to jump to his feet, but the guard backhanded him across the face.

  Tomar strolled into the tent and eyed up the group.

  “What is the meaning of this, Tomar?” Steel asked through clenched teeth. “I thought we had an understanding.”

  “I’m afraid not. It would not be in my best interests to offend my new benefactors in the Order.” Tomar clasped his hands behind his back. “Besides, you have presented me with a quite a lucrative opportunity, my friend. I simply can’t pass it up.”

  “You’re siding with the Order now?” Steel’s face hardened.

  “Times have changed. The weight of Kearar rests on my shoulders. I may not agree with everything the Order represents, but they have unmatched power, and power is something I can respect. It is better to side with the strong than stand with the weak.”

  “So, what. Are you going to hand us over to them? We could help you.”

  “No, I think not. You came into my kingdom as beggars, fighting over scraps. How could you possibly help me? Six against the might of the Order? You would more easily tame a sandstorm with a bucket of water. No, I’m not going to turn you over to them, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be of use, my friend. Ind vak teka atva. Ind mvaga teka na raken dreg.” Tomar clapped his hand once and guards streamed through the tent opening. In seconds, they were surrounded. “I do hope you understand.”

  “So that’s what it will come to. You’re going to sell us as slaves?” Steel asked.

  “Slaves!” Wynn growled and pulled on her restraints. “Over my dead body!”

  “The Kerani are not like you northern savages. We do not kill our dregs. Instead, we offer them a life of service to their Gifted superiors. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You will gain a purpose for your miserable life and I will gain financial compensation in return. Therefore, you will all be auctioned off as a packaged lot. It’s nothing personal.” He glanced at Steel. “Well, not you, my friend. I wonder how much your father would pay to have his wayward son returned home?”

  Mikkal paled. Steel opened his mouth to reply, but Ansel cut him off.

  “You’re nothing but a coward,” Ansel seethed.

  “You have done nothing but insult me and my culture.” Tomar turned to Steel. “I wouldn’t help you even if you delivered his head to me on a platter.”

  “We aren’t your subjects,” Mara said, trying to reason with Tomar. A guard shoved a two-pronged spear inches from her face and she froze. “You can’t sell us.”

  “It’s no matter. Pale-skinned slaves are especially rare and valuable, and you’ve all but gift-wrapped yourselves for me,” Tomar replied with a smirk. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it appears I have a letter to write. Please enjoy your stay in Kearar.”

  Tomar left and Steel’s expression turned thoughtful. Before Mara could guess what he was thinking, the guards wrestled them outside and marched them to a large red tent on the other side of the Oasis. Inside were three wooden posts jutting out of the ground and stained carpets covering the sandy floor. Mara squinted. Some of those stains looked suspiciously like blood.

  As he was being chained to the post, Steel glanced around and said, “Well, this is an unfortunate change of scenery.”

  “Change of scenery? We’re in bloody prison, nitwit,” Wynn said as she struggled against her bonds, chest heaving.

  “This is true, but it won’t be for long,” Steel said, looking altogether unconcerned about their predicament. “You don’t know Tomar as well as I do. He’s always been a bit of a prankster. Oh, he’ll let us stew in here overnight, but at dawn, he’ll be back to let us go. Wait and see. We’ll have a good laugh over a pitcher of cucha.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mara said. She didn’t share Steel’s optimism. She’d seen the gleam in Tomar’s eyes. Greed was a powerful motivator.

  17

  They waited in the tent for a week with no visitors, save the occasional guard bringing them fresh food and water. Even then, the guards refused to speak, content to loosen their bonds slightly and stand watch. Mara began to wonder if she would rot in here. Now and then, a rogue breeze would blow open the flaps of the tent and bring with it some relief from the stifling heat. Sweat tracked rivulets down her face and neck.

  The others weren’t faring much better. Tova sagged on the carpet, her eyes closed. Her arms, stretched above her head, trembled, too weak to fight the effects of dehydration. If they didn’t escape soon, she would die.

  Mara knew it was futile, but she attempted to summon her powers again. The first time she had tried, her friends had watched with such hope, putting their faith in her abilities to free them. Mara hated watching that hope fade into nothing but bitter acceptance. Mara felt the power building in her core and pushed it out to her hands where it faded harmlessly. It was useless. Her shoulders sagged, exhausted from the effort.

  “Ya should just tell them you’re Gifted. Get out of here while ya can,” Wynn said. She had wrapped herself around Tova as much as the chains allowed. Now, her face was etched with grief, as though she expected the girl to fade away at any second.

  “No, I’ve told you a million times. We’re not leaving you.”

  “Wynn is right, Mara. You, Mikkal and Ansel should take your chances. If their law says that dregs are no more than property, it would stand to reason that it is illegal to sell Gifted,” Steel said, his voice barely above a whisper. He sat at the base of the post, his arms stretched above his head. Mikkal stood at his shoulder, apparently taking his protective role seriously, despite the circumstances. The man hadn’t let down his guard once.

  Mara looked at Steel’s defeated face, feeling a twinge of sympathy. Tomar had been his friend from boyhood, and then he’d betrayed him. She imagined it would feel the same if Ansel had betrayed her. Steel was taking this worse than anyone else. The first day, he had laughed it off as some grand joke, certain they would be free the next day. As time passed, he grew silent. This was the first time he’d spoken in days, and in Mara’s opinion, it was long past time for his wallowing to end.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Mara said, “but it doesn’t seem like the Rei cares about following rules if it would cost him financially. Look, this isn’t your fault, Steel. You brought us here because you thought that your friend would help us. It’s not your fault that he turned out to be an absolute snake.”

  He shook his head and turned his face to the fabric wall, shutting her out completely. Mara sighed, wondering if her foot would stretch far enough to kick him. She heard soft footsteps fall outside a moment before the tent flap flew open and an angry Rei stormed inside. He marched over to Steel, shaking a piece of parchment in front of his face.

  “I wait a week for this letter. A week! And what does your father say? My son is dead. I have no son. Go ahead and sell the imposter,” Tomar yelled, spittle flying from his lips. He ripped up the parchment, throwing the pieces in Steel’s face. “Is he insane? What sort of father would allow
his only son to be enslaved?”

  “The kind who wishes to protect him, I suppose,” Steel said, gazing back impassively. Mikkal winced and let out a shuddering breath. Mara narrowed her eyes at the quiet protector. That was an odd reaction. If she didn’t know any better, he almost seemed relieved that Steel’s father didn’t want him back.

  Tomar’s face darkened. “This afternoon, you will all be sold at auction.”

  The clouds vanished from Steel’s face and he sprung to his feet with a smile. “We’re to be sold? As a lot, perhaps?”

  Tomar backed up a few paces and cocked his head at Steel. “Yes, as a lot.”

  “Excellent!” Steel grinned like a lunatic. “And will we be given those beautiful collars before the auction?”

  “Of course not.” Tomar frowned, perhaps wondering if Steel had completely lost his mind. Mara could relate. “Why are you smiling? What is wrong with you?”

  Wynn snorted. “I ask him that every day.”

  “And what about the marks? Will we be tattooed or branded?”

  “That is for your new owner to decide. Seriously, what are you so happy about? What part of being a slave sounds appealing to you?” Tomar squinted at Steel, as if he expected a trick. His eyes darted to the chains.

  “Fantastic! Oh, my friend, that is wonderful news,” Steel said, flashing his teeth in a radiant smile of utter madness. Tomar backed out of the tent without another word, shaking his head slowly. Mara felt like joining him. Had the heat finally fried Steel’s brain?

  Once they were alone, they rounded on Steel, demanding an explanation for his bizarre behavior.

  “I thought it was obvious,” Steel said. “I have a plan. You should know that it depends on whoever buys us, but if it is a lone buyer, it should work perfectly.”

  “What sort of plan?” Ansel asked, staring at Steel with excited eyes. Mara leaned forward.

  “Shh, someone’s coming,” Wynn said.

  Six guards entered the tent and unshackled them from the posts, leaving their hands bound in the metal cuffs. One shoved a bundle of white cloth in Mara’s arms and she held it up, her lip curling in distaste. This little scrap of fabric wouldn’t cover much.