The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  He got enough complaints from Wynn.

  “I think ye’re making a bigger deal out of this than ya need to. Who says Cadmus was behind the attack?” Wynn twisted in her saddle and stared her down to emphasize her point. “Could have been a coincidence. Someone like the Head Magi would be stupid to not watch the pass.”

  Mara met Ethan’s gaze—his eyes tightened at the corners and his jaw clenched. He knew as well as she did that they hadn’t been ambushed by sheer chance. With the Augeo boosting his abilities, it seemed as though Cadmus’s reach had increased more than they had imagined. He could Read further than any Magi should be able.

  “Fine, if you want to risk it, be my guest.”

  Wynn didn’t respond. She uncorked her vial, her nose crinkling in distaste, and tipped it back her throat. Ethan’s face fell when she gagged and snatched her water skein, guzzling the water to wash away the taste.

  Reluctantly, Mara took two bottles from Ethan. “You’re positive this will help?”

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore,” he said quietly, and she knew he was thinking of the explosion.

  “Hey,” she reached over and squeezed his hand, “you’re trying your best. We wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

  “Thank you, Mara.” He gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes as if he were humoring her, but didn’t believe a word she said.

  Alex nudged his horse forward and took a vial from Ethan, raised it like he was making a toast, then tipped it back this throat in a single gulp. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and said, “Not that bad,” though he said it with a grimace.

  Mara watched as Ethan drank his, then rode to the front of the group, his posture rigid. She sighed and shook her head before gently shaking Tamil awake. Bleary-eyed, he took the vial from her and swallowed the potion. Satisfied that everyone was protected, at least temporarily, Mara drank hers.

  As she tucked the bottle into her saddlebag, she caught Alex watching her. “What?”

  “Your Gift,” his eyes darted toward Ethan and Wynn like he was making sure they were out of earshot, “is it still diminished?”

  Tamil twisted in the saddle to look at her, eyes wide, “What—”

  Mara clamped a hand over his mouth and glared daggers at Alex. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play dumb, Mara.”

  She deflated. “How could you tell?”

  “I saw how you reacted after you took off your Deleos. It was the same way people act when I take their Gift.”

  She took a shuddering breath and steeled herself for the worst. “Is that what happened? Is my Gift gone?”

  “Only a Guardian can take Gifts.”

  “Damaged, then. Is it broken?”

  His brows furrowed. “I’ve never heard of it before. Odds are that you just need rest to recover and you’ll be good as new. You should talk to Ethan. He might have an elixir you can take.”

  “But what if that doesn’t work?”

  “Then we’ll talk to a Healer when we get to Orgate.”

  “No, I mean what if the elixir doesn’t work, and Ethan blames himself. He already has too much weighing him down that I can’t add anything more.”

  “Do you think that would comfort him if we’re attacked and you can’t fight?”

  “I—”

  “Tell him, Mara.”

  Her eyes burned, and she pressed her lips together. He was right. She nodded.

  After he kicked his horse to follow Wynn and Ethan, Tamil said, “My father tried hiding his new concubine from my mother once.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with—”

  “She gave him a week to tell her, but he never did.

  “Was she jealous?”

  “Why would she be jealous? It’s the Reina’s duty to care for the harem, and he was stealing that from her.”

  “Your mother is the Reina?” Mara asked.

  Tamil nodded. “That is not the point. After a week, she hid a viper between his sheets.”

  Mara’s face scrunched in confusion. “But he’s a Venelo. A viper wouldn’t be able to hurt him.”

  “It wasn’t an assassination, it was a warning—a reminder that while he might be Rei, she had power too.”

  “This is a . . . lovely story, but I don’t understand how it relates—”

  “Secrets are poison, Mara. Truth is the antidote.”

  Her jaw snapped shut. Maybe they were right. Hiding something like this from Ethan was ridiculous. Next time they stopped, she would tell him.

  They rode in silence, eyes swiveling around the barren landscape, alert for any signs of danger.

  The land carried a heaviness to it, like the prelude to a tragedy. It pressed on her from all sides, suffocating her. When she’d traveled north through Lingate on their way to Tregydar, she’d gotten the impression that the country was dying. No green could be seen for miles, and even the hardiest plants were wilting. It was unnatural, and she couldn’t imagine what was causing the wide-spread decay.

  By midday they reached the village of Briarwood. What was left of it anyway. Blackened walls lay flat on the ground, surrounded by broken furniture and discarded scraps of clothing. Dozens of bodies scattered the streets. The heavy smell of smoke and rot clung to the air, coating the ruins of what had once been a thriving town.

  Ethan held up a hand for them to stop. Mara pulled back on her reins, bringing her mare to a halt. After dismounting, Ethan walked over to Tamil and helped him down. He turned to Mara and reached up, placing his hands on her waist. She blushed and braced her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her off the horse.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant lately,” he said.

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind. I understand.”

  “Are you all right?” His eyes radiated concern. She caught Alex giving her a meaningful look. He mouthed the words, tell him.

  And she would . . . just not now. It didn’t seem appropriate, given their surroundings.

  “Fine,” Mara said, giving him a tight-lipped smile. Her shoulders burned as she led her horse to a post that was still standing and looped the reins around it.

  They made their way into the center of town, Alex leading the way.

  “What happened here?” Mara whispered. She wrapped her arms around Tamil’s quivering shoulders, resisting the urge to cover his eyes. No nine-year-old boy should have to see this. Her stomach curdled. “Was this Tomar?”

  What else could have caused this? But if Tomar was already this far north, he would reach the capital before them.

  “Not Tomar, the clans.” Wynn walked beside her, jaw clenched, keeping her gaze straight ahead. No doubt seeing the carnage was dredging up painful memories of her past. “Welcome to the real Lingate where ya’d stab yer neighbor for a loaf of bread.”

  Mara wanted to pull her into a hug, but she knew Wynn wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, she reached out and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Are you all right?”

  “Ya should know better than to ask stupid questions, love.” She pulled her hand away and shot Mara a pointed look. Her other hand twitched toward her dirks and her form flickered in and out of view the way it always did when she was feeling intense emotions. “I’m going to scout ahead,” she said before disappearing entirely.

  Mara wished she had that ability. How easy would it be if she could simply avoid the hardships of life by vanishing at whim? She sidestepped a skeletal figure laying across the road, its hand outstretched as if it were reaching for help that never came. Several more figures leaned against the remaining buildings at awkward angles, their baggy clothing hanging off their emaciated bodies. She could have sworn one of them moved. Could they still be alive? She pressed a hand to her mouth and glanced over her shoulder, “Alex?”

  The Guardian’s eyes tightened at the corners. He bent to press a finger to the person’s neck. After a tense heartbeat, he shook his head sadly. “He’s gone.”

  �
��I’m sorry, Mara.” Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist. She leaned against him, grateful for the support. “They were weak, and according to the rules of Lingate, fair prey.”

  He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner that she shoved him away in disgust. “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Ethan winced. He pressed his lips together like he was trying to collect his thoughts. “You have to understand how they work. With so many people and so few resources, they can’t waste anything on the weak. Every day is a struggle for survival.”

  “These people were starving. Why would anyone kill them?” It wasn’t like they had much to begin with. Mara was reminded of Stonehollow where the homes weren’t fancy, but they were serviceable. But compared to Stonehollow where the town banded together to take care of each other, these villages had preyed on each other.

  “I’d like to find out,” he said grimly.

  Ethan paused outside one of the few homes that remained standing. The scorched wooden walls swayed in the breeze, and Mara had serious doubts about going inside. Just her luck, it would fall on her head. “Come on.”

  There was no telling what was waiting inside that home. She turned to Tamil. “Wait with Alex. I’ll be right back out, okay?”

  He looked like he was going to argue, but whatever he saw in her expression made him shut his mouth and nod. Alex laid an arm across his shoulders and led him around the corner.

  As she stepped inside, the stench of waste and rot punched her in the face. She covered her nose with her sleeve. Two adults slumped over a table, their heads resting on the wood. Children, clothed only in their underthings, were curled up on the bed. Their skin stretched tight against skeletal figures, and their eyes were sunken into their skulls. Only the slight rise of their chests was evidence that they were still alive. Mara choked back a sob. They should be running around, laughing and playing, not laying here waiting to die.

  Ethan made a strangled noise, and his eyes turned glassy. “This is . . .”

  Worse than anything she’d ever seen.

  Mara couldn’t take it any longer. She raced back outside, falling to her knees on the frozen ground. She heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach on the road. How could people be so cruel? These weren’t soldiers cut down in the heat of battle, they were innocent children and families left to die a slow death.

  The crunch of footsteps on gravel sounded behind her. Mara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced up. Wynn was watching her, her expression tight. She’d stopped flickering, but her body was rigid.

  “There are survivors,” Mara said fervently. She wiped a hand across her mouth. “Where’s the nearest town? We need to find a Healer right away. We have to help.”

  “Too late.” Her nostrils flared, and her tone darkened. “They’ve been starved for too long that their bodies wouldn’t Heal, not even with a dozen Healers.”

  “We can’t just leave them like this!”

  “Ye’re right,” Wynn said, her hands flexing on the hilts of her dirks. Her face hardened, the scars pulling tight. “The best thing we can do for them is give them mercy.”

  A shudder swept through Mara’s body when she grasped her meaning. “That’s—”

  “Ya don’t get it, do ya?” Wynn snapped, a vein in her neck pulsing. “For us, ye’re either the hunter or the prey. Ya still want to believe the best about people, but here? Clinging to the idea of goodness will get ya killed.”

  Mara recoiled, and tears sprung unbidden to her eyes. “Is it always like this?”

  “Always.” Her expression was firm, unrelenting. Mara almost felt embarrassed for being so impressionable, but the level of depravity around her was unimaginable. She’d grown up sheltered in Stonehollow. Despite growing up a dreg, she’d never experienced anything like this. Wynn’s expression suggested that this was just the surface. “There’s something you should see.”

  Mara stood and brushed her knees. Wynn led her to a stone house in the middle of town. Other than some scorch marks on the stone, it appeared undamaged. After a brief hesitation, she stepped inside. A man with a large belly laid on the floor, his throat cut. A flash of hatred swirled through her for the dead man. He’d obviously been well-fed while the rest of the town starved.

  A door behind him was broken off its hinges. Judging by the train of corn, oats, and the lingering scent of smoked meats, it had been a store room. But it had been long-since emptied of anything edible. She assumed whichever clan had attacked the village had raided the food.

  “So, what? He hoarded food for himself and let his people starve?”

  “Makes me wish he were still alive so I could kill him myself. But this isn’t just about one man’s greed.” Wynn pointed to a desk shoved into the corner of the room. Scratch marks on the wooden floor suggested it hadn’t been there originally. A wooden chair laid on its side a few feet away. A jar of ink had spilled across the surface of the desk, staining the wood black.

  Mara walked over and picked up a sheet of paper. Her eyes widened as she read.

  Cultors of Lingate:

  By the order of the Warlord, report to Orgate immediately

  and present yourself in service at the gate.

  In exchange for your aid in growing food for the army,

  you will be given rooms within the Aonach Neart,

  and all your expenses will be paid.

  The Warlord extends her gracious protection to your family

  and will shield you from the vengeance of the clans.

  As a reminder, defectors will be hunted down and thrown into

  the volcano as tribute to the ancient ones.

  Glory and death forever,

  General Magnus

  Mara laid the paper back down on the desk. “I don’t understand.”

  “This, all this? Was the Warlord’s doing,” Wynn circled her hand to encompass the whole town. “She stole the Cultors to the capital, leaving the villages with no way to grow food. I can guarantee it’s just as bad in the rest of the villages. She’s turned her back on her people.”

  Mara was going to be sick again. “She’s starving her own people just to keep power. That’s disgusting.”

  Wynn nodded. “And with the food shortages, towns are butchering each other for scraps of food.”

  “Makes you almost hope Tomar beats her, doesn’t it?”

  “Tomar doesn’t care about these people. He only wants bodies to throw at the Order,” she growled. “Even if he killed the Warlord, nothing would change. But someone has to. If this keeps up much longer, there won’t be anyone to rule over left but ashes and bones.”

  ***

  Mara found Tamil outside helping Ethan and Alex build a funeral pyre for the dead. He scavenged for dry wood which was plentiful—many of the houses were already nothing but kindling. Alex carried the body of a young man and laid him out with care, gently folding his hands over his chest. Tears left tracks through the dust on his cheeks as he turned back to the town to find the next one.

  Unable to stomach helping him, Mara began to gather more wood.

  Ethan pulled flint and steel from his pouch and knelt by the pyre. He gathered tinder and struck. The sparks caught on the tinder and began to smoke.

  They stood side-by-side watching as the flames licked the wood, burning through the pyre. Mara covered her nose and wrapped an arm around Tamil’s shoulders, pulling him against her. Ethan reached down and took her other hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Even Tamil, who was no stranger to death, stood solemnly and watched.

  Mara whispered a silent prayer for the souls of the fallen to any of the gods who were listening.

  An hour later, Mara, Tamil, and Ethan walked east out of Briarwood. Wynn and Alex had gone back to retrieve their horses. After the shock of seeing the town, Mara couldn’t think. She was numb. She wished there was something they could do for the people of Briarwood, but there was nothing
more that they could do. Their only focus now was to reach Orgate before Tomar and reunite him with his son, hopefully stopping a war in the process.

  The dirt was hard and dried grasses crunched beneath her boots. Despite the sun being full in the sky, the air stubbornly held onto its chill. Her breath formed white puffs with every exhalation. The lack of sleep was finally catching up with her on top of the emotional drain of the past few hours. She rubbed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to find a place to stop and rest, but none of them wanted to stop so close to town.

  Ethan stared at the ground as they walked. He looked so broken. Should she tell him about her Gift now, or should she wait until they put some distance between them and Briarwood? No, Alex and Tamil were right. “Ethan? There’s something I need to talk to you about. Earlier you asked me if I was all right.”

  “If I recall correctly, you said you were fine.” He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “I did, but it wasn’t entirely true. You see, ever since the Impriga drained me, well, I haven’t been the same.”

  “Go on.”

  She took a deep breath and glanced up.

  Then she froze.

  Four people on foot were making their way toward Briarwood. Three of the figures were tall while the fourth was almost as tiny as a child. Ethan caught sight of them a moment after her. He jerked to a stop and tilted his head to the side. He sucked in a breath. “Oh no.”

  “What are you—”

  “They found us.” His jaw clenched. He grabbed her arm and began to guide her back into town—to hide?

  Mara went deathly still. “It’s too late. They spotted us.”

  The group was close enough now that she could make out their gray robes. She glanced at Ethan out of the corner of her eye. He looked horrified, no doubt wondering how his elixir had failed.

  The smallest figure looked up and locked eyes with Mara. Mara stumbled backward. Tova had found them.

  She looked exactly how she remembered, from the unmemorable facial features to the mouse-brown hair that brushed the shoulders of her gray disciple robes. When they’d first met, Tova had been traveling with Wynn. She’d claimed to have been the daughter of Delegate Winters from Aravell. Convinced that Tova had been captured by the Order, Mara and her friends launched a rescue mission that turned out to be a trap which resulted in Ansel’s death. Later, they learned that Tova was actually Cadmus’s daughter. Her betrayal had affected all of them, but it stung Wynn most of all.