The Five: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Airshan Chronicles Book 1)

by Nhys Glover

  His intelligent, dark eyes studied me in bemusement. And though I could feel his fear—still convinced as he was that we meant him harm—you wouldn’t have known it to look at him. Mostly, he just looked cautious and incredibly sad.

  “Well met, Landor. I am sorry for your loss,” Zem said, looking at the dead woman in the bed.

  “Thank you. She was... She was my protector. My teacher. The only person...”

  “I know. But now there will be more people in your life,” Zem spoke gently, as if to a child. I expected Landor to resent his attitude, being our senior by seven suns, but he didn’t. In fact, he couldn’t believe Zem’s kindness. He expected all men to be cruel and dangerous.

  “You told me what the writers said in your books. What do you think is the truth?” I asked him, drawing his attention away from Zem.

  He tipped his head to the side, and a lose stand of hair fell across his high, broad forehead. I had the ridiculous urge to brush it back.

  “I have no way of determining the truth. My experience of the world is limited to this room and two women. Both of whom saw me as a monster.”

  I nodded as sagely as possible. “I never much cared for religion when I was younger. That was for other people. Like my Dah, who needed the Goddess to keep him safe at sea and find him sealings for his nets. But she didn’t keep him safe, so I though she didn’t exist. Then I met a woman called Airsha. She has hair the same colour as yours, and pale skin, though not as pale as yours. And her eyes are the colour of the sea at sunset. Blue tinged with lavender. Though I imagine you have no understanding of that.

  “Anyway, Airsha found herself selected as the Goddess’ Chosen One, her earthly incarnation. She was tasked with bringing the false gods and their followers down. Zem and me helped her do that. Because of Airsha I know the Goddess exists. Not as something to pray to for protection or a good catch, but as a Being intimately invested in this world.” I paused to let my words sink in.

  I could tell Landor was listening intently, though he did cringe a little at my bad grammar when I said Zem and me instead of Zem and I. That was his problem. I spoke as I wanted to, and no nobleman, imprisoned for life or not, was going to make me speak like Mam used to force me to, just because it rubbed a nerve.

  Pulling back from my internal tirade of indignation, I focused on what Landor was thinking. He was wondering why I was telling him all this. But he showed no impatience or irritation. In a way, he was just happy to be listening to another voice, other than his own or his mistress’. He liked the sound of mine. He thought it was low and melodic, for a woman. Pleasing to the senses, as was my appearance. He had read of people with red hair, but he’d never expected to meet one. It didn’t look quite real to him. His was white, his mistress’ was dark, the servant-woman’s brown like Zem’s. That was all he knew.

  “Yesterday I was visiting Airsha, and the Goddess spoke through her. At that same moment both Zem and me felt a stinging on our inner wrist of one hand. When we looked down, this had appeared.” I held out my wrist for him to see the star brand. His sharp intake of breath was the only outward indication of his profound shock.

  Zem held out his wrist to show him his, too. Landor reached out a finger to touch the mark on Zem’s skin, but stopped just before making contact, as if he was afraid he might contaminate Zem if he touched him.

  “The Goddess said that a great evil, called The Jayger, was about to be unleashed on the world. Only five people could stop him. The five people who wear this mark. Five mages of great power. Then last night I dreamed of you here. I saw your mistress die and felt your anguish. Your fear that you would die here alone. And I saw your mark. This mark.” I thrust my wrist closer to him, willing him to touch it without fear.

  He looked at me and then down at my wrist. Then at Zem, wordlessly asking permission to do what I was asking him to do. Zem nodded slowly, withdrawing his own wrist.

  Landor set his fingertip on my mark, so softly I wouldn’t have even registered it had I not been watching him do it. He looked at me again, assuring himself I was accepting of his touch. I nodded and smiled.

  He stroked my skin and the slight ridges that outlined the star. “You dreamed about me?”

  I nodded. “I was in your mind, I felt your pain. I know what your mistress did to you, what she said to you. And it isn’t true. The only good thing she did in her sorry, sick life was–”

  “Flea!” Zem censured me.

  I realised suddenly the effect my condemnation of his mistress was having on Landor. She was all he’d ever had, and I was verbally attacking her—when she lay dead, not a foot away from him.

  “I... I’m sorry. I know you loved her and you have sustained a great loss. More than I can even imagine. It’s just that she... she treated you badly. I hate what she did to you. And I’m not good at hiding my feelings or watching my tongue. Just ask Zem. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with me. He spends his life getting me out of the trouble my mouth gets me into.” I said all this apologetically, though I didn’t feel apologetic.

  Landor took my hand in his tentatively. “My mistress was not always kind, but she did save my life and keep me safe. You may not approve of how she did it, yet I live because of her. But I thank you for your concern, fiery Flea. Had I known there were people such as you in the world I might have yearned more to see it.” Turning my hand over, he kissed the back of it, ever watchful in case Zem might object.

  I felt my heart flutter in my chest. Gods, he was so... strong. I expected to come here and find a broken man. Instead, I’d found a compassionate and accepting one. Maybe the Goddess wasn’t insane after all.

  “Would you like to go up and see that world now?” I asked softly, when he released my hand.

  “What if there are people up there like the serving woman, who will name me monster and wish to kill me,” he asked, more out of curiosity than fear.

  “Then we’ll defend you. No one will call you monster ever again. You are the Goddess’ champion. You have no idea how much weight that carries in the world.”

  “Hmmm. I like the sound of that. Although I would never have imagined in my wildest dreams that I could be anyone’s champion. I read about such men in my books, who were brave and resourceful warriors. I am none of those things.”

  “I have doubted the Goddess many times, but She seems to always know what She’s doing. And She has chosen you to be one of The Five. She believes in you.”

  Landor chuckled softly. “What an odd thought. And yes, Flea, I would very much like to see the world beyond these walls.”

  It turned out the key that locked the door also unlocked the manacles. Why Landor hadn’t taken his mistress’ key and released himself, I didn’t know. Probably because he thought a mob of monster-hunters would be awaiting him on the outside. Gods, how was I ever going to convince him he was no monster? How did you undo that kind of mental abuse?

  But he had already surprised me. Landor was stronger and more resilient than I had expected. And he seemed open to exploration.

  He would have a lot of exploring to do!

  Chapter Eight

  As I said, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see the world for the first time after a lifetime in darkness. So watching Landor do just that was a revelation.

  He had stood for a few moments, testing out the weight of the previously shackled ankle. Then he began limping toward the door.

  “Are you injured?” I asked him.

  “What?” he looked down at his leg, as if seeing it for the first time. “No... That is just the way I have had to walk. Because of the chain. I am not hurt. My mistress made sure it never hurt me.”

  I nodded, as if that made shackling him all right, and we resumed our escape from the hell hole.

  At the door he paused, touching it. “I was never able to reach this. For many turns I would wonder what it felt like, what it looked like up close. It was what separated me from the world outside. I... I gave it almost otherworldly properties
. But it is just wood, like my bed frame. Oddly, that disappoints me.”

  I touched his arm in comfort. After a surprised jerk, he looked down at me and smiled. “Why do you touch me?”

  The blush burned hot into my cheeks. I shrugged and looked away.

  Zem spoke for me. “It was a gesture of understanding... of caring. A way of saying you are not alone in this.”

  I turned to stare at him. Was a simple touch of the arm imbued with all that meaning? And yet, when I thought of the moment just before I did it, and of the reluctant compassion I felt for this odd man, I knew Zem’s explanation was true.

  Landor looked bemused and a little discomforted. In his mind, I saw him trying to equate the gesture with what he’d known. His mistress touched him only during sex. He tried to search back to an earlier time when she might have comforted the boy he’d been back then.

  There had been times when he cried in loneliness or fear, especially after one of her stories about what would happen to him if ever people found out he was here and came for him. But she had never offered him comfort, never tried to make him feel less... alone.

  Was that normal? Was that what people did in the world? Did it mean more than what Zem said it did? Was it a prelude to sex? Would this woman want his white fluid—his seed—too? How would he feel if that were the case? Good. He would feel good. He liked her. She was kind. He’d read about kindness, but had never experienced it. But he knew the word described her.

  I pulled myself out of his mind with a shudder. Kind? I wasn’t kind. And my touch had not been a prelude to sex. Though I found him attractive, the idea of being with him when he’d been so abused felt wrong. It would make me like the sick bitch who had chained him and used him.

  Zem opened the door and led the way down the short corridor, the lamp providing a steady circle of light to ease our passage. Landor ran his fingertips along the wall as he went. His mind was a jumble of sensations and thoughts, but the cool feel of the wall grounded him. Touch had always grounded him.

  We mounted the narrow stone stairs and Zem opened the door at the top, which the servant must have closed when she left. He let in the natural light of the sun, even though it was muted by walls and ceiling. Landor jerked back as the light hit him—almost sending him off the narrow stair. Luckily, I was coming up behind him and could steady him.

  Zem stepped out into the daylight. Landor paused. There was so much light. It didn’t come from one small place, but from everywhere at once. And there were no shadows.

  No, that wasn’t right. There were shadows, but they were so pale as to be more like the glow of a lamp or candle. So much light!

  He stepped forward, wanting to see more. Excited for the first time to see more.

  I realised how true that was. Up until this moment he had taken on this challenge out of obligation. Because he knew he should take advantage of this opportunity to see the outside world. Hadn’t he yearned for that all his life? But only in this moment, as he experienced daylight for the first time, did he really feel excitement.

  He followed Zem down the shadowy hallway, his fingertips gliding over the papered walls. No stone here. No coldness. It was as if the walls had been dressed, covering their rude nakedness. He registered his own meagre covering for the first time.

  He had been given a fresh tunic and breeches every seven mealtimes. With those clothes came a bucket of warm water, a sliver of soap, a ragged towel and fresh bed linen. The mistress had told him he needed to wash before he put on his clean clothes or made up his bed. So he did so dutifully, even going so far as to wash his hair as best he could in the limited supply of water. He worked out he had to leave enough in the bucket to rinse off the soap because he couldn’t be clean while there was still a residue of soap left on him.

  I held back, letting him get the necessary six strides ahead of me so I could escape his mind. Gods, it was unbearable! I’d lived in hovels without running water, with children who didn’t seem to know the advantages of being clean, but being in Landor’s mind while he remembered his limited attempts at cleanliness seemed far worse somehow. That he could feel his state of undress because of paper on a wall? That seemed worse still.

  Zem led Landor out to the large atrium where a curved staircase led to the upper floor. The floor here was covered with marble but it was not as shiny and clean as most grand houses I’d visited. With only the one servant to do the work, I assumed very little cleaning ever got done.

  There was more light here, coming in through the stained glass windows on either side of the large, oak front door. Landor shielded his eyes from the brightness of it, while Zem waited for him to be ready to move on.

  Was he planning on taking Landor outside into the full sunshine? What if he burned the moment the sun hit his skin? The cleric hadn’t given many details about his condition only that the sun could burn him easily. But the sun could burn me too. My skin was pale and freckled, and if I wasn’t careful it could burn and then peel. Only over time had my skin built up a resistance to the sunlight, tanning it as Zem’s skin was naturally tanned.

  How long would it take before Landor burned?

  Our newest member of The Five had lowered his arm, but was still blinking rapidly. Did the light hurt him? It had seemed to in the darkness, but it also hurt me if I suddenly came into light after my eyes were accustomed to darkness. And Landor’s eyes had been accustomed to darkness for a very long time.

  “Not outside, Zem. He’s not ready for that,” I called across to my friend, my lover... my consort.

  He nodded his agreement and stood, legs apart, hands at his sides, relaxed and yet ready for any eventuality. Zem was in warrior-mode, I realised suddenly, and had been since we entered this house. Landor was a stranger. Zem didn’t know him as I did. His unusual appearance was off-putting. What if he did something to hurt me? I knew these would be thoughts circling in Zem’s mind right then.

  Landor prowled the entryway, touching everything—his gaze drifting from one object to another—as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

  “There is so much light. Is it always like this?” Landor asked in wonder.

  “The light changes as the day goes on. It is just past midday now, so it’s at its strongest. But from now until the sun sets the light will begin to fade,” Zem answered him, giving him the kind of details I wouldn’t think to provide. Details and how things worked was always a fascination to Zem.

  When Landor had explored enough he turned to the oak door. “Can we go outside? That is the outside, isn’t it? The light seems to be coming from there.”

  “Aye, we can go out if you want. But be prepared for very bright light. It might be better to do this later in the afternoon when the light isn’t so strong,” Zem cautioned.

  Landor shook his head. “No. I need to experience it at its most fierce. If I can withstand that; I can withstand anything. My mistress said the sun would burn the skin right off my body. She held my hand over the flame of a candle to show me. I... I want to know if what she said was true.”

  Zem grimaced, and I knew he was feeling empathy for this abused man. “I don’t think it’s true. I’ve never heard of such a thing. But then, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Maybe we should find the kitchen first. I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry, Landor?” I said hurriedly, hoping to put off this moment. I wasn’t sure what we would do if he literally burned up in the sun.

  “Aye, let’s find food. The sun will be there for a long time yet,” Zem agreed.

  Landor looked unconvinced. It was as if he was building up courage to face the sun, and he didn’t want to be put off. But he was also used to doing what he was told. So if we said we were hungry, who was he to want something different?

  Normally, I’d encourage him to do what he wanted. But right then I was just too overwhelmed to handle anymore. And if I couldn’t take more, how could he?

  We found the kitchen easily enough, and there was no sign of the servant. Maybe she’d t
aken my advice and left. I hoped so. The larder was surprisingly well-stocked with food and Zem busied himself putting together a meal for the three of us. Landor stared at him in wonder. Or was it the food that captured his interest?

  “All this was up here and the Mistress saw fit only to feed me... Never mind, she fed me enough. I am being ungrateful,” he muttered under his breath.

  “She gave you only enough to keep you alive and in reasonable health. Why should you be grateful for that, when she could have fed you properly? She was a wealthy woman and clearly didn’t stint on food for herself. I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m doing it again. It just makes me so mad!” I exclaimed in frustration.

  Somehow I kept my mouth shut the whole way through the simple meal of fruit, bread and cheese. All the while, I watched Landor eat with delicacy and manners that would have fit well at a nobleman’s table. Was that innate or had his mistress trained him to eat like that?

  I found myself mesmerized by his hands. They were bigger than any I’d seen before, and were made up mostly of long, elegant fingers that moved with incredible dexterity.

  He sat on the other side of the table from me, with Zem between us at the head of the kitchen table. I noticed his eyes when he glanced up at me after my most recent tirade. In the dark room his eyes had seemed black because their pupils were so enlarged. Here, those pupils were much smaller and the irises were revealed. They were a very pale blue like the sky at sunrise.

  I expected them to be pink, like the cleric had told us an albino’s eyes were. Did that mean he was only a partial albino? Would he still have been killed if he only had part of the condition? Aye, he likely would. With a dark, olive-skinned mother it would have been a shocking anomaly. I wondered what his father looked like. Probably dark too, given the royals of this kinglund had long been darkly olive-skinned, though not as dark as Trace had been, or even little Trace.