Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1)

by Olivia Majors

  “Don’t tell him,” I repeat.

  Someone by the fire calls to Axle. He growls a frustrated answer and stands up.

  “We’re not finished, Kyla,” he says.

  As he walks away, I lean back and cover my face with my hands.

  What the hell do I do now?

  Shade is mysteriously absent when nightfall arrives. The rest of the traveling group remains in a close-knit pack around the fire with weapons at the ready. I see the fear in their eyes whenever a stick snaps or a night owl cries out.

  There were zero casualties from the battle, I discover, but four of the men were injured. One shadow blade was discovered. It was near the place where Keegan and I had fought the shadow.

  “It has blood on it,” Axle had confirmed when Gregor handed the blade to him for further analysis. “A recent kill, maybe. Or Keegan is luckier than we thought.”

  When they’d asked Keegan if it was the blade that had stabbed him, he admitted that he didn’t know. He’d had his back turned. He’d abruptly cut himself off when he made that little slip, in which they proceeded to interrogate me. He anxiously waited for me to oust his unruly behavior, but the only thing I revealed was that we had been talking. I don’t begin to explain that I knew the shadows were there because I would have to explain how I knew. It shall remain a secret to the grave between Keegan and I. He relaxed a little bit when I continued to hide the truth. And despite my hate for the bastard, he did fight.

  Dirk had proceeded to remark upon Keegan’s recovery and the throwbacks of the wound. Gregor struggled to assure him that Keegan’s wound would heal and he’d be wiser from the event, but not permanently disabled. Relieved, Dirk had settled down by the fire without another word to his son. I watched Keegan’s face visibly sink and he turned his back on everyone, including me. A pang of pity briefly wiggled in my heart.

  I wait for everyone to fall asleep. It takes longer than usual because everybody is on edge from the previous night’s attack. But, slowly, one by one, they lay down and close their eyes. They snore. They roll uncomfortably. Even Gregor slumps against his place at the wall.

  Shade hasn’t returned.

  Axle is the only one who remains awake. He stares at me from his seat by the fire. I know he is tired. His eyelids sag during brief moments, and he yawns a couple times. But he watches me with relentless attention.

  One of the on-duty guards returns from his shift. He moves towards one of the men snoring and murmuring “Leah” by the fire.

  “Tavus,” Axle says, “I’ll take his watch.”

  “Are you sure? It’s four hours.”

  Axle nods, and Tavus lies down by the fire. It takes him less than a minute to fall asleep.

  Axle leaves.

  I know he wants me to follow.

  I wait ten minutes before leaving my bedroll and walking into the darkened woods. Tavus was guarding the west side. It’s a secluded spot, shrouded in trees and underbrush. Convenient. I wrap a blanket around my legs to protect them from unseen brambles.

  Axle is propped against a tree, his moon blade settled at his side against the rough bark for easy access. We both know he probably won’t have to use it. Shadows rarely test their luck, I’ve noticed.

  He doesn’t say anything to me. Just watches with those calculating eyes, judging my movements and my silence. My heart thuds against my ribs like a hammer. I want to run. I want to flee this place. I would face a dozen shadows if it meant I wouldn’t have to be under this interrogation.

  “Ask your questions,” I sigh.

  “When?” He gets right to the point.

  “I was fourteen.”

  “How did it happen?”

  I try to picture the event in my mind. It isn’t hard. I’ve dwelt on that brief fifteen minute altercation for three long years. “My father and I were walking home from the palace. Celectate Wood had called for a late-night meeting about something important. We hadn’t taken our carriage because Father hadn’t expected it to go past dusk. Still, we weren’t scared. The streets of Kirath near the palace weren’t nearly as crime-ridden as the lower sectors of the city. My father informed me that Celectate Wood would be initiating the Ostracized Act within the month. I turned my back, distressed.”

  I had only looked away for a moment. One moment that shattered the innocent, childish girl I would never be again.

  Axle patiently waits for me to continue.

  “I turned back around. He was hanging in midair.” I’ll never forget the fear that laid a cold hand on my heart.

  “It dropped my father on the ground. He hit his head and didn’t get back up. There were three of them. No, there were four. One grabbed me and held me close. I still remember its cold claws. Its icy breath. Its smell. One of the shadows left. And then it bit me.” I remember the pain. The feeling of two fangs in my neck. The terror icing my veins, turning me to stone, trapping my voice inside my throat.

  Axle’s eyes widen. “How the hell are you still alive?”

  Now we get to it.

  “Someone saved me.” He looks up. “Someone shrouded in darkness. Someone with a sword. A sword that obliterated shadows.”

  “Shade,” he breathes. Awe thickens his voice.

  I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “He disappeared – like a ghost. No one would believe me when I spoke of the event. They thought I was hallucinating. I saw doctors who determined I was under a spell or a curse. Others called it ‘fever talk.’ I insisted I was telling the truth – until my mother finally pulled me aside and said that no one would believe me. So I buried it. It became my dark secret.” I look up at him. “I was raised to believe Shade was a ‘cannibal.’ But what I’d seen – what he’d done – didn’t make sense.”

  Axle’s face turns a sudden shade of red, and he pushes himself away from the tree so fast that his lanky legs tangle and he nearly falls flat on his stomach. “You – he spoke of you! He returned to camp after hunting a group of four shadows beyond the Wall. I told him not to. That it was a foolish errand. But they’d killed two hunter companions of ours and you know his nature. He came back to camp. He was pissed. Like ‘throw his swords on the ground and punch a tree’ pissed. He said he’d shown himself. To a girl. A Kelban girl. But that wasn’t all . . .” He trails off, his gaze deepening. Something knots in my stomach. That look – I’ve seen it before. He had the same look when he suspected I knew ancient Kelban.

  A tingling sensation urges me to grip my dagger. I resist it.

  “He said he saved a witch.” Axle takes a step towards me. “He said she’d told him they spoke to her. That they wanted her. That they were going to take her.” His gaze darkens. “She’d understood the shadows.”

  Kill him. Kill him now, my inner voice screams. Fear freezes me in place. That lead ball of pulsing power spasms in the palm of my hand, ready to lash out. To defend me. To kill.

  No. I fist my hands against their presence, holding them at bay.

  Axle draws closer. I wait for him to take his Illathonian blade.

  End his life.

  He puts a hand on my shoulder.

  Cut it off.

  His fingers brush the ostracized scar. Gently.

  The pulse inside of me slows. Grows faint. Disappears altogether.

  He’s not going to hurt me.

  Axle finally looks at me. His face is passive again, and there’s a spark of genuine pain in his eyes. “It must have been hard having to hide all this time. Hiding what you can do. What you can hear. What you have seen. Keeping secrets isn’t healthy.” I know he’s not completely speaking about me now. “But we keep them anyway.”

  I feel like I’m holding my breath. “Does that mean . . . are you . . . will you . . .”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” He pats a hand over his heart. “Until this turns to stone, at least. Mind you, when that day comes, I might seek a more reliable confidant who actually gives a shit.”

  He gasps when I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. �
�Thank you,” I whisper.

  “Uh, yeah sure, Kelban. No problem.” His words slur uncomfortably. “You . . . saved my sister’s life. Witch or not, that’s a debt I’ll be repaying for the rest of my life. I don’t give a damn whether or not you’re cursed or if demons speak to you. Hell, I wouldn’t care if the gods spoke to you from the abyss of darkness itself. You saved her. You didn’t have to. Witches and demons don’t do that – usually.”

  “Thank you,” I say again.

  He shifts nervously. “Sure, Kelban. But would you mind letting go of me now? No offense, but it’s hard to breathe when all I can smell is ‘girl’ mere inches in front of me.”

  I release him and he straightens his vest with a nervous cough.

  The silence between us grows. I count the leaves in the trees. The leaves on the forest floor. The rings of my palm. He pretends to scout the perimeter, but every few minutes he looks in my direction.

  “So . . .” He blows out another breath and leans back against the tree again. “That night . . . what did they say to you out of curiosity? Do you remember?”

  There’s no way in hell I would ever forget the first words spoken in that harsh dialect.

  “The fourth one – I think he was the leader – told them to kill my father and . . .” I pause as the experience – the feelings – rush back into my mind. “And me. But it didn’t. Not then, anyway. It bit me. I . . . I remember the pain of the teeth and then Shade was there – killing them. He protected me. One was still alive. It asked for me. Told Shade to give me to it.”

  With each new sentence, Axle’s face darkens and the corner of his mouth tilts up at an odd angle. “It . . . asked for you?”

  “Yes.”

  He grips my shoulders, firmly, and forces me to look him straight in the eye. “You’re sure. You didn’t mishear it. It asked Shade to give you to it. It said, specifically, that it wanted you?”

  A ball of fear tangles my throat in knots, but I croak, “Yes.”

  He falls back, face pale. Then, he stands up and begins pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. I wait for him to explain himself. To say anything to quell the ropes knotting and pulling at my insides.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I grab his arm and swing him around to look at me. “What the hell is wrong . . .?”

  “Shadows don’t do that, Kyla!” he says. His voice cracks with strain as he struggles to hold back the panic and fails. He tangles hands in his hair. “They don’t . . . they are monsters, understand? They don’t exclusively hunt down people unless you’re famed killers like Shade and I. They enjoy causing mayhem and creating chaos. They enjoy watching people die. But they have plenty of us to kill here in the Wilds. Very few go into Kelba. Shade’s tracked maybe a dozen loafers into that country in the past three years. Only a dozen versus the millions we hunt here in this land! They don’t pick out specific people to destroy. Do you understand what I’m saying, Kyla. They just don’t do that!”

  “Are you saying they were hunting me? That they came after me . . . on purpose?” A wave of nausea overtakes me, and I lean heavily against the tree. All this time, I’d thought it was in their nature to hunt and kill, but Axle’s right. Why Kelba? Why over a wall they had to take serious endeavors to scale? Once again, I feel like a fool.

  “You said your father’s a High Lord. Would they have been after him?”

  I ponder the idea and shove it away. “No.”

  He blows out a frustrated breath. “What the hell . . .” he mutters. I can see the mind behind his eyes whirling for answers. He releases another ragged breath. There are no answers. “What the hell . . .” He allows the sentence to trail off.

  I shift uncomfortably, looking around at the stillness, a new terror growing in my chest. I remember shadow words.

  “Grag said to kill her.”

  “What if she’s the one . . .”

  Grag said to kill her. Kill her. Kill her.

  I struggle for breath. They were hunting me!

  That boy in Gavrone – they came for him too. What is our connection? Why do they hunt us?

  Axle places a hand on my shoulder. “You alright?”

  No. I’m cold. I’m afraid. I’m ripping into tiny pieces of myself that I can’t recognize or put back together.

  “Yeah. It’s just . . . frightening.” Not even the correct word for it.

  He nods.

  “Shade . . .” I say.

  Pain crosses his features, like it grows in my chest, and he lowers his head. His grip on my shoulder tightens.

  “We can’t tell him, can we?”

  “No.”

  We stand like that, his hand on my shoulder, mine on his hand, while a slight breeze blows the leaves at our feet. I wish it would blow all our secrets away too.

  Axle and I return to camp, him supporting me beneath the shoulders since I am still recovering from the battle. My spine feels like a broken ladder that’s missing several rungs.

  We discover Shade by the fire when Axle moves me towards our pallet. He starts to walk towards us and stops. He looks from Axle to me and back to Axle again. His eyes darken and beneath my arm, Axle tenses. I wait for Shade to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his back and continues to stare at the fire.

  Axle gently sets me down and returns to his own bedroll after patting my shoulder comfortingly. “Goodnight, darlin’,” he whispers. Shade’s shoulders visibly tighten.

  I rest the dagger beneath my blanket, close enough for me to grab it if the need arises.

  Shade remains by the fire.

  I stare at his broad shoulders. At the white lines that disappear beneath his vest. The ache in my chest deepens, and I close my eyes, when seeing him becomes unbearable.

  He’ll kill me if he knows. If he knows what I can do – what I can hear – what I remind him of with his past. He hates the shadows too much to ignore what has become a part of me.

  I pull my blanket over my head, shrouding myself in darkness.

  And I allow myself to drift to a place where Shade smiles and laughs and the shadows of our lives don’t lurk in the darkness, threatening to ruin us.

  I am in darkness.

  The darkness opens.

  I have seen this place before, in another of my nightmarish visions. The garish carvings in the stone jump out at me with demonic claws and bulging eyes. I shuffle through the winding tunnels. Around me, shadows shuffle around me like a normal crowd, silver blinking from beneath their hoods.

  The tunnel suddenly opens up into a giant room that I recognize instantly. Fires glow from cauldrons lit in the center of the floor. Torches line the walls and swirl up higher and higher revealing an unending ceiling. And, situated in a corner of the room, a giant swirl of deep black moves slowly towards the fires.

  “We failed, lord. Forgive us.” I recognize the shadow’s voice. One of the demons that escaped last night. “We took our stealth and skills for granted and it brought us shame and ruin. We were angered, lord, at Lavon’s death.”

  “I thought I made my orders very clear.” The deep black speaks and swirls into a monstrous, caped form similar to all the other shadows, except it possesses more power. “I told you to follow them. Spy. Be stealthy. To not engage until the right moment. All of these things you fools forget so quickly.”

  “Please, lord, we didn’t forget. We intended to do exactly as you said but . . .”

  “But? But? You dare provide me with useless excuses, you pissing bastard! If you had completed half of the mission I might be merciful, but you failed wholly and entirely in every essence of each instruction I gave you!” The darkness spreads foggy talons from beneath its cape. They glitter like obsidian.

  “We tried. But the girl . . . be wary, lord. She possesses unique skills. Perhaps, is she the one he’s been looking for. If she is . . .” The shadow cries out as a talon wraps around its throat and disappears inside its hood, strangling its cries into silence. The shadow curls in on itself and then . . . explodes into a ball of da
rk light that quickly disappears.

  “My lord . . .!” The talons wrap around the second escapee. Moments later he, too, is nothing.

  The remaining shadows in the room draw back, terror in their movements.

  One of them steps forward. It possesses more of a build than the others. “Grag,” it says in a deep voice that crawls along my skin with a familiarity that makes me cringe. “Have you switched sides?”

  The dark shadow – Grag – tenses. I watch his talons visibly shiver.

  The deep-voiced shadow unfurls its own talons from beneath its hood. They match Grag’s on each glorious branch. “What are you planning, you vile traitor?”

  Grag doesn’t answer and lashes out instead. Their talons connect like a thousand swords flashing their dark colors in the giant room. Shadows move out of the way. Grag is thrown across the room and into the wall, but he recovers quickly and transforms into a ball of floating fog. He moves like a strong wind has blown into him and slips through the other shadow’s talons until he’s close enough to strike. I gasp as Grag’s talons rip into the shadow’s hood. I hear crunching noises similar to bone and flesh and the talons shoot out of the tormented shadow’s back. Slowly, they spread out, ripping him into tiny pieces. He explodes.

  The talons disappear back inside Grag’s cape. “Anyone else?” he asks.

  The room remains silent.

  Grag turns towards the fire again.

  One shadow moves forward, visibly disturbed. “My lord, he was the only one who knew Agron . . .”

  “I will handle Agron!” Grag snaps.

  “And the girl?” another shadow asks, the voice softer.

  Grag growls beneath his cape like a fearsome beast and the talons shoot out angrily, curling up towards the endless ceiling like vines. “She’s nothing, but a bitch’s bastard.”

  The darkness explodes around me, forcing me back down a tunnel of darkness.

  I bolt upright into a cold sweat, gasping for air. I feel like I’ve been underwater.

  Strong hands grip my shoulders. “Breathe.” Axle’s voice.