LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “You’re a coward. Run along, little coward. Run home to grandfather so he can tell you how important you are to our people.” Larnin spit, then bristled. “You couldn’t save your parents. You don’t even know how you saved the village. I bet if a Graygual had a sword to your throat, you’d cry like an Empath and die. Useless turd. You should go to the fishing boats. At least then you’d have—”

  Shanti’s body slammed into his. She wrapped her arms around his middle and head-butted him. His nose cracked. On the ground, she punched his cheek once, and then again. His hands scrabbled against her shoulders, trying to get her off. She batted them away and thumped her fist into his face for the third time, smearing the blood running down his cheek.

  “If I’m a useless turd, and I just gave you a black eye and a broken nose, what does that make you?” Shanti braced her hands on his shoulders before shoving herself away, driving his body harder into the ground. She stared down at him for a moment, just to get the point across that she’d bested him, before moving on down the lane.

  She was going to get in trouble for that. Even though she’d been defending her honor, and her family’s honor, her grandfather would say she’d done nothing more than show her weakness.

  Uncomfortable emotions dragging down her features, unable to push away the feeling of inadequacy, she banged open the door to her home. Rohnan was there, his snow-blond hair framing his solemn face. He slinked closer to her, putting his hand out to touch her shoulder.

  In a flash of irritation, she slapped it away and stalked further into the house. “I don’t need a hug. Go away.”

  He followed along behind her like a ghost that would not leave her in peace. She ladled some water into a cup and took a long sip. A steady, thin finger drifted into her line of sight before delicately touching the smear of blood on her hand.

  “He had it coming.” Shanti put her cup down, scrubbed off the blood, and turned toward her corner where her bed lay.

  Annoyingly, Rohnan’s presence drifted right along behind her. Always behind, never beside or in front. He thought so little of himself.

  Her gut pinched, thinking of what Larnin had said. She snatched up her bow and turned back to the door. Rohnan’s slight body was in her way.

  “Would you leave me alone?” She shoved him out of her path, a little harder than she’d meant to. He tumbled across the floor.

  Not stopping, she kept for the door. Then froze.

  Her grandfather’s large frame stood motionless in the doorway.

  She guessed she wasn’t learning much after all.

  “Come with me,” he said in a soft voice hinting at pain and torture. Only he could pull that off.

  She deflated and dropped her bow. Sparing a hate-filled glance for the annoyance of her life, who was now sitting cross-legged on the ground with big, sorrowful eyes, she followed her grandfather.

  She knew what Rohnan’s expression meant. She saw it all the time. She might have been able to hide her inner turmoil from everyone else, but not from him. It was really aggravating.

  “This is the last time I am going to tell you, Shanti Cu Hoi…” Here came the lecture. “Rohnan lives with us now. For good. I am not looking for another family for him. You need to embrace this change.”

  “Why can’t we take in someone else? Anyone else. He never speaks! It’s been two years and he’s never once said a word. He just follows me around, Grandfather. It’s strange.”

  “He went through a traumatic event.”

  “My parents died in the Battle, too! A lot of kids have been orphaned. Why is he so different?”

  Her grandfather came to a stop on a bluff overlooking the ocean. The wind caught and flung thick strands of his hair away from his head. After a moment, he said, “Rohnan’s Gift is not like anyone else’s. He’s not strictly an Empath. Nor can he work effectively as a healer. From what I’ve observed, his receptive capabilities regarding emotion are unparalleled. When others are in pain, he feels that pain as acutely as they do. Like you, his Gift is one of a kind. He fits nowhere and everywhere at the same time.”

  “How can he fit everywhere? You don’t know what to do with him.”

  “Fate has put him with you. In so doing, it made him integral to our future. Somehow, he has a part to play. This was not foreseen. We are blind to his role in the prophecy.”

  “Then maybe he has no role. Especially because he doesn’t help me at all. He just follows me around, looking sad and trying to cuddle.”

  Her grandfather’s face turned down to her, the lines hardening. “He was hiding in the room when his father, mother, and brother were killed. He felt everything they went through.” He paused. Then, in a deeper voice, “Everything.”

  Shivers wracked Shanti’s body. Memories of that night tore through her. The pain. Screaming. The blood. She shook her head and looked out over the sea, trying to forget. Trying to block out what she’d felt, and desperate not to think about what that level of grief would be like amplified.

  “He is fragile right now, but he survived,” her grandfather continued, now leading her toward her most dreaded place. “Most children would have gone mad, but he is hanging on. He stays near you because he can feel your strength. He can see the fight in you. In you, he sees a future. We all do. And in return, he is offering you solace against this duty you must shoulder. He is offering you a place of comfort.”

  “I’m not going to cuddle a skinny ghost of a boy,” Shanti muttered, feeling a flutter of unease at her grandfather’s words.

  “Leadership is not about pushing people around. Leadership is about protecting the weak and bolstering the strong. It is about solidarity and unity. Two are better than one. A village is better than a five-year-old girl with a full dose of the Gift. Rohnan will help you learn this, I am sure of it. You will guide him, Shanti Cu Hoi. You will be responsible for him from now on. He is your charge.”

  Shanti’s jaw went slack as her grandfather pulled open the door to the records room. She stared at him for a silent beat, saw the severity spark his eyes, and closed her mouth again. If she pushed, she’d get punished, and that wouldn’t be pretty.

  Or maybe this was a punishment already.

  “I’m not supposed to study for a few days,” she said as she looked through the door.

  “I think using your head more often might do you good.” He jerked his head, silently telling her to go in.

  Sighing, Shanti sought out her seat. The room smelled musty, and dirt piled up on the windowsills. Layers of yellowing paper were heaped on the desks. Quills were dried up and left on stands or stools. Books lined the shelves, old volumes that would never be thrown away, containing vast knowledge she could never hope to hold in her brain. That wouldn’t prevent her grandfather from trying to stuff it in, though.

  “We will discuss Graygual tactics,” her grandfather said.

  “Again? We did that last time…”

  His answer was a narrowing of lips. And then a stack of maps slapped down in front of her. “Now. Let’s begin.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  SHANTI SMOOTHED DOWN HER HAIR with heavy pats, snatched up a sack, and headed for the door. Halfway there, she felt the familiar shadow that had been plaguing her steps for two years. Why he insisted on trying to get close to her, she had no idea. She was surly at best, and downright unbearable most of the time. She knew this, but she couldn’t help it. Since the Battle, most of the time she wanted to bash people’s heads in. She wanted to rage and scream and scour the land with her Gift. She hadn’t been able to find peace, and had said goodbye to joy entirely. Xandre had taken her life from her when he’d invaded and killed her parents. Worse, he’d strapped her with an impossible duty that would eventually mean death. At seven years old, it was kind of a lot to handle.

  Maybe Rohnan’s way of dealing with the Battle was better. Maybe she should try to shrink away and hide from the pain and the horrible images she saw. But really, would it make any difference? They were both friendless and misund
erstood. She might as well continue being violent. That was much more fun.

  Regardless, there had to be more pleasant people to tag along after.

  “Go away—” She paused, remembering what her grandfather had said. Then she sighed. “Fine.” She turned around and flung a finger in his face. “You can come. But this is free time. My time. Do you get that? I don’t have to fight until later, or study until after that. I don’t get much time to myself, so if you are going to tag along, you have to do what I say, when I say it. If you get me caught, I will give you a thump, got it?”

  Rohnan nodded solemnly.

  “And I’m warning you, what I’m about to do isn’t strictly…approved of. You’d be a fool for coming along…”

  Rohnan nodded again. He stepped around her outstretched finger toward the door.

  “At least I know you won’t give me away by chattering. That’s something.” Shanti jogged out the door without looking back. If Rohnan couldn’t keep up, that was his problem.

  She crossed the lane and walked along a side path where there were few people. Usually only those going to or from the hot springs took this route. She recognized two people making their way, and immediately looked at the ground. With her Gift, something she couldn’t quite shut down yet, she felt their fear and pity both. Risking a glance up through her eyelashes, she saw them veer in the opposite direction, giving her a wide berth.

  She tried not to hunch as she hurried past. Quick feet sounded behind her before a gentle but firm hand landed on her arm. She felt Rohnan’s calm understanding riding a strange current of trust.

  A surge of emotion welled up before she shrugged him off. “I’m trying to keep my Gift to myself. You should try it too. Or else people won’t stay around you, either.” Blinking to clear the stupid moisture from her eyes, she started to jog again. She used to be welcomed as a child in these villages. She’d been smiled at and hugged. Those days were gone. The Battle had changed all that.

  In the center of the village, she found the baker’s hut, its oven emanating smells that made her mouth water. People passed by, their pace unhurried despite what they had to accomplish for the day. A man and woman had stopped in front of the hut, talking and sharing a loaf of bread.

  “Okay, Rohnan,” Shanti said, hunkering down in the shadow of a hand-cart across the way. Her eyes darted around the space, noticing everyone in the vicinity as well as their focus. “You know how to stay verbally silent, which is good. But now you need to learn to move silently as well. You need to make your presence invisible. You can’t follow me around if you stick out.” She got his nod before traversing the shadowed side of the lane, moving fast with silent footfalls. Amazingly, she barely heard Rohnan behind her. He was a natural.

  An unruly bush provided cover, reaching in front of them, blocking them from view. She could read intents and strong emotions from her Gift, giving her insight beyond her vision. Those in front of the hut were whimsical and joyous, each one’s focus intent on the other, not noticing anything else. Within the hut was focus as well, the baker churning out edibles with a practiced hand.

  An older man on the street glanced Shanti’s way. She felt his Gift touch her mind, and then poke. His power was moderate, but his perception was great. He could tell she was up to no good.

  She tried to shield, envisioning reaching up to her forehead and pulling down some shutters. Her Gift, gushing and flowing like a violent river, would not allow her to tuck it away, though. It resisted, then fed off her growing irritation, pulsing a blast across the lane and smacking into all of the villagers. People gasped and grabbed at their heads. An older woman staggered, falling toward a wall. The old man turned toward her fully, his expression severe, his intent to apprehend her.

  “Flak!” She took off running like Death was chasing her. Ducking under a reaching branch and leaping over a prickly bush, she put distance behind her and her slip of power. She ignored the fear pumping from those her Gift had touched, and the uncertainty in her control over her power. Instead, she cut directly for plan B.

  Panting from fatigue but not giving in, she sprinted across an open field and to the village down the hill. A little smaller and with a second-rate baker, this wasn’t ideal but it would have to do. It was also easier to procure the goods.

  “Let’s try this again,” she said as she flattened against a wall. The smell of freshly baked bread tickled her nose and beckoned her closer. She put a hand on her rumbling stomach. Saliva filled her mouth. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring that scent.

  Rohnan’s hand pressed against her arm. Concern radiated out from him.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stealing it for me.”

  Shaking her head, she flattened against the wall again, took stock of those around them, and then darted across the way. With quick feet and faster hands, she snatched a loaf off a low table where it was cooling, and then grabbed a few biscuits. Rohnan, right next to her, didn’t reach for anything. Items in her bag, she dashed away again, sliding into a bush and rolling across a rock. The shock of pain made her squint before looking back to see if anyone had noticed.

  A woman coming up the lane scowled in her direction. She crossed to the baker’s hut to tattle.

  “Bloody fruit, let’s get out of here!” Shanti crawled on her belly to stay hidden, not able to do anything about the noise. Rohnan, behind her, wasn’t any quieter. It didn’t matter. That woman wouldn’t chase her. Shanti only hoped she hadn’t gotten a good glimpse of who she was.

  Far enough away and in the cover of thicker trees, Shanti hopped up and started an easy jog toward the beach. She felt Rohnan’s confusion, bringing a smile to her face. Once there, she once again found cover and hunched down, out of sight.

  In the clearing overlooking the sea played a handful of children, squealing in delight and chasing each other through the low grasses. Shanti’s smile burned brighter, followed by Rohnan’s lean against her.

  “The Empaths bring the children here to play,” Shanti explained, remembering when she had been younger. She’d always looked forward to the outing, loving the wild whip of ocean wind through her hair. And nearly every time, Eonis would sneak them bread or treats, whatever he could get his hands on.

  “Eonis died in the Battle,” Shanti heard herself saying. A pang of grief pierced her. “He’d brought us a loaf of bread that day. I remember being so excited to see him. I tore into that loaf so fast—I completely ruined my supper. Then that night…” Shanti swallowed. She shrugged and opened her pack. “I thought I would continue the tradition. Besides, it helps me learn to stalk, right? Learn to blend in. Grandfather says I need to hone every skill I’ve got if I want to stay alive after the Graygual invade the next time. Or…stay alive for longer, I guess. I doubt I’ll make it across the land—not alone. But I didn’t get a choice, did I?”

  Rohnan’s comforting hand landed on her arm again.

  She shrugged him off. “I’m not a toucher. Stop doing that.”

  She counted up the children, then tore the bread in equal parts. The biscuits she halved. First come, first served on that score. Finally, she made sure the Empaths were all off to the side, relaxing and not paying close attention, before she grabbed the emptied bag and prepared to wave it over the bush line three times. That was the signal. Before she could manage to do so, though, three presences stilled her hand.

  Frowning and cocking her head because the presences weren’t familiar, she glanced out to the left. A white butterfly caught the sun as it moved through the air. A leafy tree shimmered on one side. A boot smashed down the grasses, peeking out.

  A thrill ran through her as she recognized that style of boot. “Graygual,” she croaked, panic choking her. “Oh Elders, what do I do?” She glanced out at the children playing. Then at the Empaths. They weren’t trained to fight, any of them. They could work a knife in defense, but against a moderate fighter, they were as good as useless. The Graygual would slaughter the children.

 
“They know we prize the children. They must.” Shanti bit her lip, feeling the other two Graygual even with the first, but unable to see them. “They are afraid to attack the adults and lose again, but the children…” Another thought struck her. “They’ve been watching us. They’ve been studying, just as Grandfather suspected they would. How else would they know when the children played here, unprotected? How has nobody felt them?”

  Rohnan prodded her, his eyes still on the Graygual. When she glanced at him, he turned to her quickly, tapped her temple, and then looked back.

  “You need to start talking. You make no sense, otherwise.” Shanti patted her knives, the only weapons she kept on her. If they had a sword, she wouldn’t be much good. “Who am I kidding? I’m not much good anyway.”

  The boot lifted. A shock of fear pounded into her. It fell again, closer to the children. A tree closer to the cliff line shook. The Graygual were advancing.

  “Flak,” she swore. “Oh flak. What do I do?” She tried to grab her Gift, desperate to control it. Just like in practice, however, it slipped away, elusive. She tried again, seeing a body now. Broad chest and thick arms, he held his sword in a thick fist. She took a deep breath and tried to corral her Gift this time, gathering it closer to herself so she could direct it. At least the Graygual were advancing slowly.

  Fear pumped, pulsing her power and then scattering it.

  “I just have to put myself in front of them, Rohnan,” she said through a tight throat. “My power will react with me. That’s the only way.”

  Rohnan grabbed a handful of her fabric and pulled her back. She yanked away and stood. Fear poured out of Rohnan, thick and heavy. She could almost see it sullying the air around him.

  One of the Graygual pointed to an older girl with long, wheat-colored hair. Then they started jogging.

  An Empath shrieked and hopped up, knife appearing almost like magic in his left hand. Another followed, grabbing her knife as well.

  “Children, behind us!” one shouted.