Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1)

by Patrick Hodges

  'Don't move'? What in God's name made me think she can understand a word I say?

  The woman's body tensed, but Maeve kept the edge of the blade firmly pressed against her neck.

  “Com vala so nee spira,” she said softly. “Kashat veh.” The last two words were spoken with conviction.

  Maeve didn't budge.

  “Kashat veh!” she repeated, much louder this time.

  What am I going to do now? I can't just kill this woman!

  Maeve had an idea.

  Shoving her prisoner forward with her left hand, she reached for her pistol with her right, reasoning that the loud report of a gunshot or two might get the primitive to surrender. That goodness she'd properly cleaned the gun to prevent another jamming disaster like the previous night.

  As Maeve's hand touched the cold hilt of her gun, however, she felt the sudden sensation of invisible tendrils snaking around her body. Before she could even react, she was flying backwards, as if thrown by the concussive blast of an explosion. She landed flat on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs.

  What the fark? Did she just throw me?

  Her breath ragged, Maeve scrambled to her feet immediately, drawing her gun and holding both it and her short-sword in front of her in a defensive posture. The woman had turned around, and Maeve saw her face clearly for the first time.

  It was her.

  The woman from the cave. The woman she'd formed a mental connection with.

  The woman she'd just held at knifepoint.

  Shite.

  Maeve and the woman stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Neither moved.

  The woman looked to be about her age. The image Maeve had seen in her mind didn't do this woman justice. She was beautiful. She had bronze skin, piercing brown eyes, a regal nose and full lips. She had the bearing, the demeanor of a warrior queen.

  “Nee shala tovum se cala Arantha?” she asked in an inquisitive tone.

  “What?”

  Great. Language barrier. This is gonna be so much fun.

  “Nee shala tovum se cala Arantha?” she repeated, much louder this time.

  “I don't understand what you're saying!” Maeve replied, still holding the gun on her.

  The woman raised her hands, and in a moment of panic, Maeve assumed she was going to use whatever magic she seemed to possess to hurt her again, perhaps even kill her. Maeve's finger squeezed the trigger.

  A loud bang disrupted the serenity of the landscape. The woman's face contorted in pain as the bullet grazed the upper part of her left arm, and she used her right hand to cover the wound.

  Maeve gasped.

  What did I just do?

  Maeve looked on with a mixture of relief and horror as the woman removed her hand to reveal only a few drops of blood. The bullet had barely nicked her, but the shoulder of her robe was now a darker shade of red.

  She turned to look at Maeve again. Her face was livid.

  Oh, f-

  Before Maeve could even utter a half-assed apology, she felt her body lifting off the ground as if plucked by an invisible hand. A hand that was closing into a fist and rendering her immobile. She could see everything in front of her, but struggle as she might, she couldn't move. Unable to control her hands, Maeve dropped the gun and the short-sword.

  The woman took several steps forward, glaring up at Maeve, who dangled like a puppet in mid-air. Powerless to do anything else, Maeve made her face as apologetic and contrite as she could, hoping she could stave off death just like she did with the wolf-creatures.

  Just then, the woman's body began to shake, and her eyelids fluttered. Maeve felt the invisible fist loosening its grip. Seconds later, it disappeared altogether, and Maeve crashed to the ground in a heap.

  She looked up at the woman, whose eyes had closed. Her hands had dropped to her sides, and she was swaying unsteadily. Then, before Maeve could climb to her feet, the woman toppled over, landing on her side with a thud.

  Maeve ran to her, turning her face-up, and grasped her hand. The woman's face, so full of anger mere moments ago, now looked drawn and haggard, as if she hadn't slept in years. Her eyes fluttered open again, and she stared up at Maeve. Their eyes met, and Maeve's guts clenched.

  I played this all wrong. This woman is not my enemy. This is her world, not mine. I curse the Jegg for their brutality, and then I prove I'm no better than them.

  Maeve exhaled. “I'm so sorry,” she said, knowing full well the woman wouldn't understand her.

  The woman released Maeve's hand, moving her own hand up to Maeve's face. Maeve wasn't sure what the woman was going to do, but she wasn't going to resist. If there were any chance she could keep this cock-up from escalating further, she had to take it.

  Without flinching or resisting, the woman touched her fingertips to Maeve's forehead.

  There was a blinding flash of white light, and then blackness.

  * * *

  Davin exited the cave just in time to see his mother, kneeling next to a strange woman in a reddish-brown robe, keel over when the woman touched Maeve's forehead.

  He was about to cry out when he felt his legs go numb and his vision fade.

  He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

  * * *

  Within the walls of the castle Tynal, Elzaria's legs wobbled and collapsed under her. She fell to the ground in a heap, right outside her bedroom door.

  * * *

  On a wide dirt road leading from Dar to Ghaldyn province, Mizar felt his head start to throb. He doubled over, trying to stay atop his merych and somehow stave off unconsciousness, but it was no use. The last thing he heard was Sen's cry of “Master!” and then darkness overtook him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  O ne thing Nyla hated was the way most of the older Ixtrayu looked at her out of the corners of their eyes whenever she walked past. She knew it was only because she was Kelia's daughter that they chose not to make their disapproval obvious. Her mother, despite all the reasons they had to doubt her, had earned their respect. Nyla hadn't, and for the first time in her life, it bothered her.

  She'd spent her entire childhood not caring what others thought. She didn't care that she was the Protectress' daughter, destined to follow in her mother's footsteps. All she wanted was to have fun, enjoy her childhood, and put off for as long as possible the responsibilities she would one day need to shoulder. When, at age eleven, her Wielding powers began to manifest, she saw it as just another way to enjoy herself.

  Seeing her mother leave the village under mysterious circumstances for the second time in as many weeks, coupled with the subsequent murmurs from her tribemates about the possible reasons behind her departures, set Nyla to thinking about the society she lived in. She thought about all the thankless tasks her mother performed every day, trying to keep the tribe unified, happy, and safe. Even when everything seemed to be going well, like now; the crops were plentiful, the hunt was bountiful, and apart from Talya, no Ixtrayu had been severely injured in many months. A thousand little things always seemed to crop up that Kelia had to deal with in order to maintain the fragile tranquility.

  Then there were the Sojourns. She had been the last daughter born to the tribe, and she could sense the anger in many of their eyes whenever they looked at her: resentment at Onara for stopping the Sojourns, at Kelia for having had the special privilege of being the last Ixtrayu to go on Sojourn, and, by extension, at her for being the product of that Sojourn. The tribe had called untold generations of her family “Protectress,” and now it all threatened to end.

  The blazing heat beat down on Nyla as she worked in the fields with Yarji. The bushes and vines needed extra water, and Nyla was more than willing to spend an additional ninety minutes helping Yarji with watering duty. Keeping cool was both easy and fun, being so close to a river they could both manipulate and cool at their whim. By now, Nyla had earned Yarji's trust to take care of the riverfruit and juva-berry bushes on one side of the river Ix unsupervised while she took the o
ther side. Her trust made Nyla happy. It gave her fulfillment, and Yarji was always kind to her. She had come to love Yarji like a big sister.

  All afternoon, Nyla pondered her mother's departing words regarding Susarra and Vaxi. It was true: Vaxi had been quite distant of late, but Nyla figured it was the usual depression at having to live with her impossible-to-please grandmother. Kelia had asked her to keep an eye on Vaxi, but how was she supposed to do that? During the day, Vaxi was out with Runa's hunting party. The rest of the time, Susarra almost never let Vaxi out of her sight.

  The sun had already set when Nyla finished her Wielding training session with Liana. By the time she entered the dining area, she was famished, and she was pleased to see Sarja already there. Runa was sitting on the opposite end, eating her meal with a group of her sister huntresses. Nyla quickly filled a plate with kova meat and fruit and sat down across from Sarja. It didn't look like her friend had much of an appetite, though, as her plate was only half-full, and she was barely nibbling at the meager portion she'd taken for herself.

  “What's wrong, Sar?” Nyla asked, tearing into the juicy flesh of a slice of riverfruit. “Not hungry?”

  “Not really,” she replied, her eyes hooded. “I, um, got my …” She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “My blood.”

  Nyla swallowed hard. “Oh,” was all she could say. Ixtrayu girls usually started having their regular bleedings at around Sarja's age, and though Kelia told her many times that it was part of growing up, she wasn't looking forward to it. “Sorry, Sar.”

  “It's okay,” Sarja said. “It's the third time for me. I'm starting to get used to it.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. After picking a kova bone clean of meat, Nyla looked up to see Sarja staring at her. “What is it?”

  “Do you think you and me will end up being companions?”

  At that moment, the piece of meat Nyla was chewing on went down the wrong pipe. After a brief but noisy fit of coughing, she swallowed the offending bite and chased it down with a long gulp of water.

  “Sorry, Ny,” Sarja said, lowering her eyes to avoid the stares of several Ixtrayu who were looking in their direction. Her face had gone scarlet. “Didn't mean to blurt that out.”

  Nyla took another sip, followed by a deep breath. “Are you serious?”

  She gave the slightest of nods. “Ever since we had that talk with Vax, I've kind of been thinking about it.”

  Nyla blushed as well. “Why? It's not like we have to choose our companions right now.”

  “I know, Ny, but think about it. We're the two youngest girls in the tribe, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how many other girls are close to us in age? Six?”

  Nyla shrugged. “Sounds about right.”

  “Everyone knows Bika and Zarina will be companions; I mean, they can barely keep their hands off each other now. You can bet they'll have their bonding ceremony by the time the cold season's done.”

  “I'm sure,” said Nyla. “I would also be surprised if Jara and Lami didn't choose each other. They're a lot better at hiding their feelings than Bika and Zarina are, but even I can tell how much they love each other.”

  Sarja nodded. “Which just leaves Eleri and Cassia. I honestly can't see myself choosing either one of them. Can you?”

  Nyla thought for a moment. “Not really. Eleri's really nice, but she's been infatuated with my cousin Talya since she was twelve. And Cassia … well, she's just mean. We haven't gotten along a single day in our lives.”

  “Exactly,” Sarja said. “Which means we'll either have to choose companions that are at least three years older than us, or –”

  “Or each other,” Nyla finished her sentence.

  “I mean, maybe by the time we're old enough to choose, the age difference won't matter as much. But by then, we might have even fewer choices than we do now.”

  “I see your point.” Nyla pursed her lips. “If you could choose someone else right now—-you know, besides me—-who would you choose?”

  Sarja thought for a moment. “Ebina, I suppose.” Her face flushed.

  “Ebina?” Nyla pictured the two of them together. “I guess I can see that. You're both huntresses. And she's gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, she is. But she's twenty-two, Ny. I'm only fourteen. And I don't really know her that well. I doubt she's going to wait for me.”

  An idea came to Nyla. “What about Vaxi? You're already friends with her, she's also beautiful, and she's only eighteen. Almost.”

  “That's true, but choosing her would mean having to deal with Susarra every day. I'm not sure I could take that. And besides, Gruta already likes her, remember?”

  Nyla sighed. This conversation was becoming more awkward by the moment. “I know our options are limited, Sar, but if I choose a companion, I want it to be with someone who wants me for who I am. Someone who doesn't care that I'm not tall and sexy and gorgeous like Vaxi or Ebina, or that I'm going to be Protectress someday.” She cast her eyes to the table. “That kind of narrows the field down to zero, doesn't it?”

  She looked up again. Sarja's large, pale blue eyes were open wide, and her brow was furrowed. “So you're saying that if I was available, you wouldn't want me?”

  Nyla became lost in thought. Me and Sarja, companions? I haven't even started having my bleedings yet! Why does she have to bring this up now?

  Seeing the hurt look still plastered on her friend's face, she said, “It's not that, Sar. You've been my best friend since I was four years old. In fact, for the most part, you've been my only friend. Most of the other girls stay away from me because I'm the Protectress' daughter, but you never have.”

  Sarja's shoulders relaxed, and a happy smile returned to her face. “Our mothers have been best friends since they were children, so I guess it makes sense that we are too.”

  “Yes, Sar, best friends. But companions? I've never thought about you in that way.” Nyla's eyes widened as a thought struck her. “Are you thinking about me that way?”

  “No!” Sarja retorted, her face reddening.

  The expression on Nyla's face didn't change. “Really?”

  “Okay, maybe a little,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I mean, I know a lot of people end up not choosing companions, but I don't want to be one of those people, living your whole life with no one to –”

  “Sarja!” Nyla interrupted.

  Sarja looked shocked, as if she'd read Nyla's mind. “I wasn't going to say that, Ny. I just meant that it would be nice to know there's someone waiting at home who … loves you. I mean, someone besides our mothers. You know?”

  “I guess.” Nyla suddenly became aware that her heart was racing, and a bead of sweat was trickling its way down her neck. She took a deep breath, pushing several strands of hair back behind her left ear. “Can we please talk about something else?”

  “Sure,” Sarja said, exhaling. “You want to tell me what's going on with your mother?”

  “Wish I could,” Nyla said, thankful for the change in subject. “She's consulted the Stone a bunch of times since she got back from the western outcropping, but if she had any visions, she didn't talk about them with me. And then last night, when she came home, she had this crazy look in her eyes that I've never seen before. Then this morning, she met with the Council, and an hour later, she took a chava and left. The Stone had to have shown her something.”

  “Where was she going?”

  “Across the desert, to the Kaberian Mountains. That's all I know.”

  “She didn't say anything else?”

  Nyla shrugged. “Just that it was Arantha's will. And to keep an eye on Vaxi.”

  Sarja's brow furrowed. “Vaxi? Why?”

  “I don't know. She thinks Councilor Susarra is up to something, and Vaxi is involved.”

  “Susarra's always up to something, and it's never good,” Sarja mused. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don't know. I don't even know where Vaxi is right now.
”

  Sarja cast a quick glance over Nyla's shoulder before facing her again. “She's right behind you,” she said, smirking.

  Nyla turned around to see the tall huntress standing at the serving table, talking to Aarna, the tribe's head cook. Neither one was smiling. After a brief conversation, Aarna disappeared into the back room where the kitchens were. While Vaxi awaited her return, she scooped up several large slices of riverfruit. But she didn't put them on a plate; rather, she wrapped them in a piece of cloth that she retrieved from a large satchel hanging over her left shoulder. After placing the wrapped fruit in her bag, she brought out another cloth and set it on the table. A minute later, Aarna returned with a small bundle bound tightly in kova leather. Vaxi took the bundle, wrapped it in the second cloth and deposited it in her satchel as well. She and Aarna then exchanged cheerless nods, and Vaxi headed for the exit.

  “Hey, Vax!” Sarja called, waving her arm.

  Vaxi stopped in her tracks, turning her head to look at Sarja and Nyla. Then she glanced at the exit again, as if unsure whether she should stop to chat with her friends or keep going. After a few seconds, she still hadn't made up her mind, so both girls rose from their table and approached her.

  “You okay, Vax?” Nyla asked.

  Vaxi didn't look at them, instead keeping her eyes focused on the exit. “I'm fine.”

  “You're not going to eat with us?” Sarja sounded hurt.

  “I can't,” Vaxi said softly. “I have to bring Grandmother her dinner tonight. She's, um … she's not feeling well.”

  Nyla and Sarja exchanged glances. “Sorry,” Sarja said, even though all three of them knew she didn't really mean it.

  “Do you need our help with anything?” Nyla asked in her most congenial voice.

  “No,” Vaxi quickly replied. “I'll be all right. I just want you to know that I'm … I'm honored to have you girls as friends.”

  Nyla cocked an eyebrow. Huh? Where did that come from? she thought.

  Again, Nyla and Sarja looked at each other. “Uh … thanks?” Sarja said.

  A jarring thunk came from the doorway, and all three girls turned to see Susarra standing there, scowling at them. Nyla scanned the Councilor's face for signs of illness, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just that horrible glare.