“Well, it’s right you should feel that way,” Richard said with a cheeky grin.
Mahesh rolled his eyes, and moved towards the door. “Definitely not mutually exclusive.” He gave a brief wave, and then was gone.
Richard listened to his friend’s footsteps fade away. He closed the door to the Security Office and resumed his seat in front of the console. He enjoyed one more swig as he gathered his thoughts, then pressed the Record button on the screen. One more deep breath, and he began to speak.
Queens, Chapter Two
K elia choked back a sob as she removed her hands from the Stone.
She became aware of her racing heart, thumping dramatically in her chest. This was not unusual when she consulted Arantha, but it was made worse by the unfathomable horror of her latest vision, the same vision she’d been subjected to repeatedly since returning from the Kaberian Mountains.
Perspiration beading on her brow and acid roiling in her stomach, she lurched across the dusty stone floor and out through the narrow entrance, stumbling as she crossed the threshold. She squinted in the light of the morning sun as her eyes adjusted from the dimness of the cave.
She turned to the right, taking in the view of the Ixtrayu village that had been her people’s home for eight centuries. Built directly into the walls of the plateau on either side of the River Ix, it was a sight she’d seen countless times since she was a little girl walking at the side of her mother, Onara. Back then, the sight was welcome, familiar, but with every unhelpful vision she’d had since donning the mantle of Protectress, it felt less and less so. On this day, the comforting babble of the river did nothing to calm her turbulent thoughts.
Rather than cross the nearest bridge to the other side of the river, where her home lay invitingly close at the top of a large stone staircase, she moved down the narrow footpath along the eastern bank toward the Room of Healing.
Upon entering, she scanned the spacious room for either of the tribe’s two healers. She spotted Sershi near the back wall, watching as the young, willowy woman removed a kettle from over a small fire and filled three mugs with its contents. The spicy fragrance of jingal-root tea filled the air, and Kelia instantly felt her mind quiet.
“Protectress,” Sershi said, her mouth morphing into a tired smile that wasn’t reflected in her eyes.
Kelia strode forward, picked up a mug of tea from the table and held it under her nose, closing her eyes as it filled her senses. She took another deep inhale before blowing on the tea and taking a cautious sip. She felt the hot liquid slide down her throat, savoring its piquant taste.
“Oh, I needed that.” Kelia took another quenching sip and set the mug back down. “How is your mother doing?”
“Still weak,” Sershi said. “It may be another day before she’s up and around. Extracting the hugar’s venom from our … guest’s body took more out of her than either of us realized.”
“I understand,” Kelia said, casting a glance at several huddled forms sleeping on beds of lyrax pelts on the other side of the room. Davin lay curled up next to his mother, snoring peacefully, his curly red hair spilling over his face. “How are they doing?”
“The woman has improved,” Sershi said, following Kelia’s gaze. “She seems to have regained some movement in her extremities. I believe we eradicated all of the poison, but now it’s up to her body to rejuvenate itself.”
“There’s nothing more you can do?”
Sershi shook her head. “As you know, we’ve never had to heal something like this before. We’re monitoring her, and I assure you, we’ll chronicle every detail in our records in case it ever happens again.”
Kelia nodded. “And Nyla?”
The healer took two steps forward, shifting her gaze to Kelia’s thirteen-year-old daughter, lying on a different pallet of furs. “Her heartbeat is strong, and the burns on her palms have healed. Beyond that, she’s in Arantha’s hands. I’m sorry I don’t have more to tell you than that, Protectress.”
Kelia just nodded again.
Sershi’s voice became even more tentative. “What are we going to do about the boy?”
Kelia remained silent. It was a good question, and one she didn’t have an answer for. Davin was the first male to set foot in the village. Ever. And as such, he couldn’t be allowed to roam around unattended. Having spent two days getting to know Davin, she knew him to be an intelligent, personable young man, playful and mischievous at times but a devoted son. Until she could convince her sisters of his good nature, however, he would be considered dangerous, and thus in danger himself. For eight hundred years, her people had looked upon men with suspicion and contempt, only interacting with them when seeking mates on Sojourn.
Additionally, he was from the Above, as was his mother. She only hoped she could get her sisters to understand that their new friends, just like the Ixtrayu, were following a path set forth by Arantha, and it was at this moment in time that those paths were converging. Kelia desperately needed the Council’s help in that regard.
“He will stay by his mother’s side. Should he wake, tell him I will have their food brought to them. But they are not to leave this room until I say otherwise. Can you keep the more curious of our sisters out, or shall I have Runa assign one of the huntresses to stand guard?”
“That might be wise, Protectress,” Sershi said. “At least until my mother has recovered.”
“I will arrange it right away. No one is to enter but me, Lyala, or the Council. Oh, and Sarja.” Kelia allowed herself a brief smile, remembering Runa’s daughter’s recent declaration of affection for Nyla. The two had created their very own tradition before Nyla laid her hands on the Stone for the first time, pledging their hearts to each other. But Nyla’s first consultation had been too much for her, overwhelming her just as it did to Kelia when she was that age. She silently prayed that her willful daughter would wake soon.
With final glances at Nyla, Maeve, and Davin, she strode from the room.
* * *
From her large chair at the head of the Council Chamber, Kelia sat, spine rigid, as she looked at the three older women facing her.
“We’ll try not to keep you long, Protectress,” said Katura, concern etched into her aged but kindly face. “Rumors abound about our mysterious visitors, and they look to the four of us for explanation.”
“Agreed,” said Eloni, her short, dark hair as elegant as ever. “While I’m thankful the woman’s life was saved, hers and the boy’s arrival couldn’t have been more ill-timed. Thanks to Susarra, emotions have been running high since Vaxi’s departure. We need to speak as one voice if we are to keep the fragile peace from shattering.”
Kelia felt a knot form in her stomach at the mention of Vaxi. Despite her best efforts to free the young huntress from the clutches of her domineering grandmother Susarra, she’d failed to do so. Only four days earlier, the vision that sent Kelia to the Kaberian Mountains gave Susarra the perfect opportunity to send Vaxi on Sojourn without Kelia’s permission. Now the girl was beyond their reach, and Kelia could only pray she came to no harm.
“Councilors,” Kelia addressed the triumvirate, “I apologize for keeping secrets from you. The reason I did not tell you about my … bond with Maeve was because I didn’t think it was necessary. When I left them, I did not think I would ever see them again. Believe me, last night’s turn of events was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“Let’s put that aside for a moment,” said Liana. Though Kelia’s aunt had only been on the Council for one day––a replacement that became necessary after Susarra’s disobedience came to light––she’d slipped into the role as easily as the white robe she now wore. “Let us instead focus on the circumstances that led you to Share with a woman from the Above.”
“It happened in a moment of weakness,” Kelia confessed, her fingers idly grasping the familiar lump of cold metal that dangled from the necklace she wore, a necklace given to her by her late mother. “I was fatigued from my journey across the dese
rt. My first meeting with Maeve precipitated a show of force on my part, and using my abilities drained the last drops of my strength. I was at her mercy. She could have killed me if she so desired, but instead she rushed to my aid. Though we did not speak the same language, I knew at that moment that she wasn’t my enemy. Her eyes bore no malevolence, only sorrow.”
Kelia took a deep breath, staring at the floor as she relived the memory. “There was something about her, Councilors, something I’m not even sure I can explain. Before I even made my trek to the mountains, Arantha had shown me visions of her. I felt … drawn to her, somehow. Like our meeting was destined, preordained by Arantha. I concluded that Sharing with her was the best way to reach an accord before tensions could escalate further.”
Katura raised her bony hand, briefly covering her mouth. “In the cave, she spoke in our language. Was this also a result of the Sharing?”
“It was.” Kelia nodded. “From what I gather, though she and her son are speaking in their native language––she called it ‘English’––we are able to hear her in Elystran. And likewise, they can understand us equally well.”
“Remarkable,” said Eloni. “Thank Arantha for providing us with such a gift.”
“Of course, at the time of our Sharing, I didn’t realize that she’d already developed Wielding abilities.”
The eyes of the entire Council widened. It was many tense moments before anyone breathed again. “Great Arantha,” whispered Liana.
Kelia continued, “Her healing ability manifested itself before they even found the Stone. When I first envisioned Maeve, her back bore many large, deep scars. But because of the Stone, the scars are no longer there. With my help, she discovered she could also heal others.” She pulled up the sleeve of her tunic, showing off the upper arm where Maeve’s gunshot had grazed her. Only a tiny patch of rough skin remained where the bullet wound had been.
“Soon afterward, we discovered she could communicate with animals. She was able to command my chava with nothing but a word and a gesture.” She recalled the moment when her wide-bodied mount, with whom she’d spent years building a rapport, completely ignored her and ran straight to Maeve. “She also told me she’d used this ability to pacify a pack of lyraxes several nights before.”
She paused, scanning the faces of the Council. “But the largest surprise came after we found the Stone. I attempted to use my air-Wielding to levitate myself, and just as I felt my strength begin to slip, Maeve … empowered me. Somehow, she added her strength to my own. We spent the next minute hovering above the ground together.” Kelia smiled at the memory. “It was the most exhilarating moment of my life.”
Of course, this was followed by a brief but passionate kiss between her and Maeve, but she saw no need to inform the Council of this.
“Simply unbelievable,” said Liana, “that Arantha would bestow such power upon a woman not of our world.”
“Agreed,” said Kelia. A sorrowful look crossed her face. “And as you heard, Maeve has matters of extreme importance to discuss with us when she’s recovered. In her brief moments of clarity before sleep claimed her, she told me there was more at stake than just the future of Elystra. I do not know what it could possibly mean, or what our future holds for us.”
This was a lie. Kelia knew exactly what was coming. She’d seen it in her last three consultations. The same terrible, horrible images being shoved into her mind.
The nearby forest, ablaze.
The Ixtrayu croplands, aflame.
The charred bodies of her sisters, scattered on the ground.
If this is the future, Kelia thought, why does Arantha torment me so? Is it so we may find a way to escape such a fate? Or are we doomed no matter which way we turn?
Queens, Chapter Three
T he torrent of water roused Rahne from his slumber. The shade of the so-called “Tree of Justice” to which he was chained protected him from the warmth of the sun, but exhaustion had taken over several hours before, and he’d lapsed into a fitful sleep.
Whipping his head back and forth to clear several strands of dark hair from his eyes, he squinted up to see Sekker leering at him with no small amount of disgust.
Sekker was by far the fattest man Rahne had ever seen. He was callous, officious, and puffed up on his own sense of self-purpose. His favorite boast was that he was a distant cousin to King Morix––a very distant cousin, Rahne reasoned, to be given the title of High Magistrate of an insignificant little coastal town like Larth, where the air perpetually smelled of fish and nothing of consequence ever happened.
“Rise and shine, thief.” An ugly smile formed between his jowls. “I haven’t got all day.”
Every one of Rahne’s muscles ached in protest as he attempted to sit up straight against the tree he’d been manacled to for the last twenty-four hours. Everyone in Larth knew this tree, the tallest in the area, located in the middle of a large, open meadow a half-mile east of town. It was a common punishment site, where victims of the magistrate’s whims were chained, sometimes for days, without food, only yards away from the nearest of several wells nearly full to the brim with fresh water.
With great effort, Rahne dug his boots into the soft grass and pushed himself upright. Now fully awake, he stared up at the magistrate. “Like I told you yesterday during that farce you called a trial, I’m not a thief. That boat belongs to me.”
“Not anymore, it doesn’t,” Sekker retorted, throwing the empty bucket on the ground next to the nearby well. “Your boat, or should I say your father’s boat, became the property of the crown upon his death.”
Rahne flexed, but his arms had very little range of movement, spread wide as they were against the bark of the tree. “That’s a lie! My grandfather built that ship with his own two hands! He passed it down to my father, and as his only living relative, it goes to me! That’s what the law says!”
Sekker chortled, his ample belly quivering. “We went over this yesterday. Of course, you were only half-conscious during most of your trial, so I guess that explains your lapse in memory.”
Rahne remembered being struck on the head by one of the local constables on the way into Sekker’s office, his punishment for a particularly choice insult about the man’s questionable lineage. “What are you talking about?”
Sekker leaned over, speaking to him as if to a naughty child. “The law states that property can only be transferred to a relative if said relative has reached his twentieth birthday. By your own admission, you are only nineteen.”
“I’ll be twenty in ten days.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re nineteen now.”
“Fine,” Rahne said through clenched teeth. “Let me go, and in ten days I’ll take ownership of my boat.”
“Doesn’t work that way, boy,” Sekker said, using the toe of his boot to kick Rahne’s heels; not enough to hurt, just enough to annoy. “Your father died with unpaid debts, as you may or may not know. Those debts have come due now that he’s journeyed to the Great Veil.”
“What debts?” Rahne asked. “He paid the taxes on the fish he caught for years. It was too much, but he paid it anyway. We barely had enough to get by.”
“Ah, but your father docked his boat at a public pier. I just recently enacted a law regarding a harbor tax that all boatmen must pay, and it seems he neglected to pay the harbor master this additional duty since the law’s enactment.”
An increasing sense of helplessness flashed through Rahne. “How much did he owe? At least let me try to pay it back!”
“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. Your father’s boat was by far the most valuable thing he owned, and that’s already been sold. It only covered about half his debts.”
Rahne felt his stomach clench. “You slimy bastard.”
Sekker flashed an evil grin. “You’re more than welcome to travel to Talcris and complain to the King. Oh, no, wait, you can’t.” He laughed again.
Two weeks ago, a Barjan captain named Elzor and his army, the six-hundred-str
ong Elzorath, laid siege to the capital city of Agrus. It took several days for news to filter down the coast to Larth, the southernmost city in the region. Stories had been told at the local pubs ever since about how Elzor’s twin sister Elzaria singlehandedly decimated the Agrusian army. She was a Wielder, the first female in the history of Elystra to wield the power of Arantha.
Rahne could hardly believe his ears when he heard the story about how lightning shot forth from Elzaria’s hands, killing or wounding more than two-thirds of Agrus’s soldiers, and Elzor’s men had scored an easy victory after that. King Morix, the entire royal family, and most of the nobles were dead within days. Everyone expected their conqueror to send someone to Larth demanding some token of fealty or tribute, but there had been none.
“Larth’s small size apparently puts it beneath the notice of that pernicious whelp who now dares call himself Lord of Agrus. And as the only citizen of Larth with royal blood, that means I can adjust the law how I see fit. Which puts you … well, right where you are now.” He chuckled. “Tomorrow, you will be released into the custody of a local fishmonger, in whose employ you will remain until the rest of your family’s debts have been paid.”
“You mean Joor?”
“Ah, you know him?”
“We’ve met,” Rahne said with a scowl.
“Good. I wouldn’t count on getting much downtime during your stint at his shop. Or food. And I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.” Sekker’s bushy eyebrows raised, and his enormous girth seemed to expand even further with his perceived victory.
A faint sound from down the road leading north and slightly inland caught Rahne’s attention. Sekker hadn’t yet heard it, as he was in the middle of another fit of cackling laughter. Rahne cast a glance in the direction of the noise. Several men on merychs appeared through a dense copse of trees. As he watched, an entire procession appeared, dozens becoming hundreds, headed right for where he was chained. He realized with a start that the one leading this army could only be Elzor.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 38