Chapter 1
Quinn pulled her throwing knife from her belt and stole beneath the grass, her molten silver eyes following her prey with intent as it lolloped beneath the brush. It was a fat one… had a lot of meat on its bones and hell, she couldn’t pass it up despite having five of its cousins in a sack on her belt. It paused, its pink nose twitching as it sniffed the air and she seized the moment. Slowly raising her knife, she flicked her wrist and sent it soaring until it hit home with a squelching thud. Allowing herself a small smile she quickly scooped up the rabbit and stuffed it into her sack, finally satisfied with her hunt. Pushing her knife back into her belt she began the long hike back to camp. The forest was quiet, some faint snuffling of animals in the bush and the sounds of the wind whistling through the trees but nothing else. Quinn had heard tales of winged creatures that would sing high in the trees, calling to one another with a high pitched song. It was supposed to be a beautiful sound but she had never heard it. Those who had were older than the dirt she stood on. As she walked her mind wandered to what the days of old may have been like. She thought they may have been better than the current reality but she knew where the actions of the humans in that time had led… here. It was something the elders always preached about, well, one of the things they preached about. Hell, she couldn’t remember a day when they weren’t preaching. Regardless, she had been taught the value of not looking at the other side of the grass to see if it was greener. They all had. Her whole clan. It was one of their ‘sacred tenets’. The rules of which they lived by. Hell, she didn’t much care for the sacred tenets, nor did she care what colour the grass was. All she cared about was whether there was enough food and shelter for herself and her sister. Cruel as it may be, she couldn’t care less about the others of her clan. They didn’t care much for her either. Her gifts had saw to that. Even amongst the unusual she was an anomaly. Not Amira though. No, her little sister was the epitome of perfection, she thought, without a trace of malice and no small amount of pride. Whilst her own gifts lay in the region of destruction, Amira’s were firmly founded in the light. She was a healer in every sense of the word. Her hands could heal the worst of maladies and her laughter was a poultice for the soul. It didn’t matter what was happening, Amira had a way of making it alright. Quinn’s mind drifted back to Amira’s first day as she walked through the forest, her eyes skimming the bushes and shrubs as she went.
After Quinn’s father had died taking an arrow through the heart in a hunting accident, Quinn’s Mother, Anna-Beth, had found solace in any warm body she could. One of which was the son of the Clan’s eldest Elder. His name was Thomas and though at first he had seemed harmless enough, when Quinn’s Mother became pregnant with Amira, he turned cruel and sadistic. Quinn attempted to protect her Mother from his beatings whenever she could but her Mother forbade her intervention. Still, she would step in whenever she was present as anyone with an ounce of courage and incurable stubbornness would, though she never fought him. Instead she would position herself in front of her Mother and her swollen belly and take the beating until Thomas had satisfied himself or fallen down drunk. Anna-Beth would scold her and cry her apologies but it didn’t matter. It was just a beating and Quinn could barely feel it. That was one of her gifts… though sometimes she felt it was a curse. She could still feel things but most of the time it was muted. As though her brain was disconnecting from her body or she was receding into herself, only feeling the pains that broke through the barrier. Of course, that also meant that she could only feel the whispers of any tenderness as well. It made physical relationships difficult to say the least. They coped like that for a while. It had gotten to the point where Quinn would only leave her mother’s side when Thomas was passed out drunk or out on a scouting mission. Even then, Quinn would return within the hour with whatever haul she had managed. They almost starved at one point but it was better than the alternative. Then one warm, humid night, Amira came kicking and screaming into the world, right into Quinn’s waiting arms. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and when Quinn looked up to tell her Mother just that, she noticed the colour draining from her skin as her blood flowed freely, soaking the ground beneath her in a thick crimson wave. Quinn had wrapped the baby in a blanket and stowed her safely in a cradle filled with downy feathers before returning to her Mother’s side, trying to stem the flow of her blood. It was no use.
Anna-Beth had looked up at her one last time, whispered an apology and demanded a vow to protect the baby before the light had left her eyes and Quinn was left covered in blood, regret and remorse. The baby, still yet to be named, began to cry as Quinn sat in shock. Her soft, painful wailing brought the sour attentions of Thomas who staggered in, his fetid breath reeking of mulled wine. He shouted something unintelligible as his eyes fell on the broken body of her Mother before she heard a change in his tone. He wasn’t just drunk and defeated anymore… he was dangerous. There was a hatred in his voice that she hadn’t heard before, not even when taking his most savage beating. Before she could think of a reaction she whirled on her heel, finally facing him, to find his hands outstretched towards the innocent child in the cradle. Without hesitation, Quinn let her gifts loose from her tightly wound control and sent him careening through the air. She was unstoppable and unrelenting and he must have seen it because he quickly pulled himself up and ran from their tent, yelling bloody murder to anyone who might listen. She didn’t care though, she couldn’t. She looked down at the baby and then back at her Mother. She wanted to hate the child but she just couldn’t. She had sworn a vow and after that day, the baby, whom she named Amira after her Grandmother, became the most important thing to her. She had been prepared to leave. To take the baby and take her chances in the wilderness amongst the outlanders, certain that the elders would not allow them to stay since she had revealed herself and the gifts she had kept hidden but to her surprise and maybe even dismay, nothing of the sort had happened. Instead the elders held a funeral rite for her mother and reprimanded Thomas on his behaviours. Still, since then, she had been the Clan pariah. She often thought they only allowed her to stay because they thought they could harness her abilities for their own protection in case the Union ever made a move for them. It was a possibility they lived with daily and was the reason they had made a new camp twelve times in the last three moons alone. She had been told time and time again that the clan and many others like it was coveted by Jackson, the leader of the Union and sadistic megalomaniac in control of the free world. They were all gifted beyond that of the average Immortal and if they were gifted, they were unique. Jackson claimed ownership over the unique. So they segregated themselves, hid in the shadows of the forest, moving frequently to remain hidden. It was a never ending struggle but as long as she had her blades and Amira was safe she didn’t care much. It was all she had ever known for the forty two years she had walked the forest floors. Apart from Amira, she was the youngest of her clan and she was frequently reminded of it.
She heard the sound of a twig breaking in the brush to her right but she didn’t stop walking. She did however discreetly pull her throwing knives from her belt, one in each hand as she walked swiftly between the trees. Another twig broke and then another before whoever followed her decided to give up the ghost and charge towards her. As the footsteps came closer and closer, she kept walking, pretending to be an oblivious idiot. She waited until she could smell the sweat on her attacker before ducking low and rolling backwards, knocking him on his ass. He yelped in surprise as she moved deftly and straddled his chest, her knees pinning his arms and her ankles interlocking with his thighs. She held her blade to his throat, her eyes skimming the rest of the forest around her as she fought to hear over his frightened pants.
; “Just do it…” his deep voice startled her a little and she looked down upon him, his black shaggy hair had fallen over his eyes and a thick stubble covered his jaw, but beneath that he was fairly attractive, at least he might have been if she had been paying attention to such a thing.
“Who are you? Why were you following me?” she asked, her voice low as she continued to listen to sounds of the quiet forest around her.
“Why does it matter… you’re going to kill me anyway, just get on with it. I won’t go back, dammit. I won’t.”
“Go back where?” she asked despite herself.
“You know where… the Free World… stop mocking me and get it over with.”
“I’m not who you think I am… but how can I be sure you are who I think you are?”
“What?” he asked, grimacing and shaking his head. She had to admit it made more sense in her head than it did when she had said it out loud.
“How do I know you don’t work for the Union? How do I know you won’t kill me if I let you go?” she asked, pushing her blade a little closer to his flesh.
“You don’t… and neither do I.”
“What is your name? Where are you from?”
“Kieron… my clan… they’re all gone…”
“I’m sorry, Kieron…” she muttered after a moment, deciding he wasn’t much of a threat. His face was gaunt and he was clearly undernourished. She doubted anyone living in the Free World would be so unkempt or underfed. She crawled off of him but kept a throwing blade trained on him nonetheless. It paid to be safe rather than sorry.
“Why are you here, Kieron?”
“I… I escaped… I just ran and kept running. They chased me… I thought I lost them and then I saw you… I… I thought you were with them.”
She thought about what he had said for a moment before asking, “You’re gifted?” He hesitated, looking defensive before giving a short nod. She didn’t push for more information, understanding his reaction better than most. A gift was a manifestation of the soul, at least that’s what the Elders would say. She didn’t know what that meant for her soul but it did mean that gifts were highly personal. Not the sort of thing you would want to share with a complete stranger. They stood facing each other for a few minutes, almost at a standoff, each waiting for the other to make a move, when Quinn felt a sharp pain in her chest. The knowing pain, she had always called it. She might not feel much of physical pain but her body had a way of telling her when something was wrong. Her eyes widened as she looked at Kieron, his haggard appearance doing nothing to assuage her anger.
“What direction did you come from?” she asked angrily, her fear mounting as the pain in her chest grew larger and harsher, like a sharp, hot poker was being pushed through her flesh.
He frowned a little before nodding his head to the north… in the direction of the camp.
“Amira…” the name fell from her lips before she took off as though she had a band of Mech mutts growling at her heels, no longer caring about the wayward stranger behind her. She leapt through and over the brush on her path, climbed beneath the low hanging branches that threatened her progress until she reached the edge of the clearing that led to the camp. She crouched low, listening. She could hear some faint crying but nothing else. Just as she was about to step out she felt a presence behind her and whirled, throwing her knife at the same time. It whizzed through the air and lodged itself into a tree, missing Kieron’s shoulder by a mere inch. Had she aimed just a little lower it would have struck his heart.
“What the hells?” she hissed, her anger almost palpable as he gulped, his eyes wide before pulling the blade from its wooden casing and coming to crouch beside her. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t know there was a camp here… if I have led the Union to these people then I have a responsibility to help.”
“Uh-huh… how honourable… stay out of my way…” she muttered, crawling out from the treeline. She hurried alongside one of the tents before poking her head round the tarpaulin. It was pure devastation. The Union had come and decimated the camp in minutes and she had not been there to stop it. Her heart in her throat she made a beeline for her tent, hoping beyond hope that Amira was still inside. She reached the outside, seeing a smear of blood on the pale walls of the tent and her control slipped. A small tendril of fire fell from her hand and she gripped it, like one would a whip as she moved inside. Amira was not there, not even a body. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, as she fought against the haze of anguish and fear that threatened to overcome her, she registered that as a good thing, though her heart was thumping too loud for her to make sense of it. Her breathes came in quick pants and her head began to swim. Suddenly it felt as though the light linen shirt she wore was too tight, too constricting, and she couldn’t breathe.
“Hey… he’s alive…” She vaguely heard a voice and her glazed eyes fell on to a fuzzy figure leaning over another. She staggered towards them, her mind clearing slightly with each step. By the time she reached them she was almost cognizant.
“Help me with him,” Kieron pleaded, his emerald eyes searching hers for recognition. His earnest voice and unwavering stare broke through the last of her hopelessness and she came back to herself for a moment. Looking down she saw the bloodied and battered body beneath him.
“Figures…” she muttered, leaning down to Thomas, her hands reaching out and gripping his shoulders. “Where is she? Where is Amira?”
“Hey, back off, he’s not in any shape-” Kieron began but she ignored him.
Shaking Thomas a little she leaned closer, “Where is SHE? Tell me, Thomas, or I will end your miserable life now. Where the hell is my sister?”
“G-gone… took her… I… I tried…”
“Bullshit! You didn’t try, you never tried… she is your daughter!” Quinn screamed, her powers beginning to unleash once more and fire started to form above her skin.
“I…I’m sorry… tell her I’m sorry… find her Quinn. Find her…” Thomas coughed and sputtered, his eyes shuttering before he lay still completely. He had died before her eyes but she barely even noticed. Amira was gone… she had failed. She had broken her vow and her control was slipping away in the face of her failure.
“Hey… QUINN! LOOK AT ME!” she looked up at Kieron dispassionately as the world crumbled around her. His eyes were frantic and his lips were moving but she couldn’t hear him. Everything was silent except for the raging fire in her veins. She knew she should warn him, knew she should tell him to back away before she hurt him but she had no will left. Nothing in her but a vast emptiness swiftly being filled by her own power. It wouldn’t be long now… not long before it consumed her and everything else in the vicinity… she was fading and it was becoming. No… there was no time left, she was almost-
Chapter 2
Quinn awoke with a pounding in her head and a heaviness in her heart. Her memories flooded back to her in an instant and she was on her feet. She was able to keep a handle on her control this time as she looked around, squinting as her head continued to ache. She reached up and felt a patch of dried blood… that sneaky son of a bitch. Kieron had knocked her out. She remembered it clearly now, as her fingers ran over a fairly large lump beneath her matted crimson hair. She was losing control and he had struck her with a rock. She couldn’t really blame him, but she could blame herself. Amira had been taken and instead of searching for her she had lost her head and her shit. Now she could be anywhere. She looked around the small tent she was in. It wasn’t made of any material she recognised so she knew she wasn’t in her own camp. It was a dark green, almost black type of fabric that seemed to shimmer when her eyes moved over it. On the floor were two small cots, one that she had just vacated and another that hadn’t been slept in. She heard a sound outside the tent and her hands instinctively went to her belt, feeling for her trusted blades, but they weren’t there. Growling under her breath she reached down a pulled a small silver knife from the inside of her boot before creeping towards the
tent’s opening. Peering out, the smell of freshly cooked meat assaulted her in a wave but she tried to ignore it, even as her mouth watered. Kieron sat on a log, next to a spit, greedily eating a cooked rabbit leg. Beside him, as if to add insult to injury, she saw her hunting sack. The rabbits she was bringing back to Amira.
“Do you want some food?” Kieron asked, his deep voice much stronger than she remembered it being. He spoke without looking up, startling her.
“Where are we?”
“About a mile outside of your camp. I checked the area, there were no other survivors. I found eight dead.”
“Eight? Any-.”
“All men. No girls. From what I could tell the dead were the ones who put up a fight. It looked like everyone else was taken… including your sister.”
“What do you know about my sister,” she snarled, moving forward, her small knife raised.
“Only what I figured out myself. Younger sister, I’m guessing? The daughter of the man you wanted to cook alive back there?”
“He ain’t the only one on my radar…” she muttered, edging closer to the spit despite herself.
“What is your sisters’ gift? Fire, like yours?”
“No…” she muttered. He was wrong of course. Her gift wasn’t simply fire but she felt no need to correct him. “Amira is a healer. She has the healing touch.”
“Really? Wow… that’s rare…” he muttered to himself, his eyes flitting back and forth as he thought quickly.
“Yes, she is…” Quinn crept closer to the spit, the rabbit that was roasting there smelt so good and even though she knew she had more important things to attend to she felt an overwhelming sense of calm the closer she got to it. Using her knife she cut off a chunk of meat and stuffed it in her mouth. A guttural moan escaped her as the meat juices dribbled down her chin but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. It was as though the world was coated in a thick gauze and her problems were sent to live somewhere far away. The more she tried to focus on them, the further away they got. Despite the peace that settled within her, she knew something was wrong.
Dancing with Shadows Page 1