Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1)

by Olivia Majors

  “You are meant to die,” he rasps, kicking me with another of his dreadful, hardened wisps. I curl protectively into a ball. My rib-cage feels too tight against my lungs. “You will destroy Ebonia if you are discovered.” He pauses above me and flips me onto my back, pinning me to the ground with four talons on my legs and arms. He dangles one of his whip-swords over the curve of my waist, the rise of my chest, the dip of my throat. “Our way of life will fall apart, girl.” His black, gloved hand tightens on the weapon’s handle. “You are our doom.”

  “Kyla!”

  No.

  Grag spins around at the sound of his voice. I watch him tense as both Shade and Keegan appear from the mist, their eyes wide and alarmed. Watch his cape unfurl around him. Watch a black, wispy talon shoot from inside and pierce Shade’s abdomen in a sickening crunch.

  My scream sounds silent in my ears as I watch Shade crumple into a heap on the ground, his limbs loosening.

  Grag turns his attention to Keegan. Keegan pulls his gaze from Shade’s immobile form and raises his own blade, casting a shimmering glow of light in Grag’s direction. The shadow chuckles, and releases me, aiming its poised talons in his direction.

  Fighting against every aching cry of my body, I force myself to my knees and scan the ground. The mist. The forest. A dull silver light emanates in the distant fog of my surroundings. My Illathonian blade.

  Shade’s groan reaches my ears. Even from my present spot, I can smell his blood as it drenches the ground.

  I stand and stare at Grag’s retreating back as he angles in on Keegan. He strikes once. Keegan chops the talon in two. Rage glows in his eyes. Grag only chuckles.

  Shade groans again.

  This is the last time a shadow is going to hurt him.

  I step after Grag, the pulse flaring to life in the palm of my hand.

  This is the last time a shadow is going to frighten me.

  From the mist, the dull silver light moves towards me.

  This is the last time this shadow is going to breathe.

  “Grag!” I snap.

  Shocked at the sound of my voice, so close, he turns around and shrieks as we come face-to-face, less than a foot of space between us. Beneath his hood, silver flashes at me. I ignore it and raise my left hand beside my body.

  Behind Grag, Keegan tries to take advantage of his distraction and strike. One of Grag’s talons knocks him sideways next to Shade. He groans.

  “You were right about one thing,” I tell Grag, opening the palm of my hand, “I am your doom.”

  My Illathonian blade cuts through the mist, flying through the air by silent command. Its hilt slams into the palm of my hand. Grag has no time to attack, and I plunge the shimmering blade deep into his chest. He screeches, long, pained, and enraged, as his body decays around the light. His cape burns away, revealing the charred remains of a body very similar to a man, except for the silver mask where his face should be. I reach up and peel the mask away. The charred body decomposes and sinks to the ground in a pile that resembles old leaves. My Illathonian blade rests on top of it, its light dimming.

  I stare at the mask in my hands, my mind throbbing with questions. But I toss it aside, and rush to Shade instead. I clamp a hand over his wound, blood leaking between my fingers. He’s unconscious.

  “Keegan,” I snap.

  He stumbles to his feet.

  “Help me bind his wounds.”

  Once we’ve returned Shade to Agron and Gazel has assured me that his wound is not critical, I return to the ruins in search of the silver mask.

  It isn’t there.

  Chapter XXXVII

  The victory celebration that Otis insisted on having is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Wild, pumping music rocks the town square and delicious scents from the tables lining its perimeter tease my nose. But, despite the gaiety, music, and food, I can’t forget about the silver mask and Grag’s form. He had looked so human without that cape and those cursed talons. Or had I been seeing things?

  I’d allowed Grag to toss me around like a toy. I had planned on stabbing him from behind as soon as I located my Illathonian blade. But the improvised version of my plan hadn’t been so bad.

  Grag had been talking. He’d been giving me answers to questions that had been brewing in my mind from the day I entered this gods-forsaken land. Now, thanks to the boy I killed for, I may never have them.

  “You’re not smiling.” Shade’s soft voice hovers near my ear. “Does it still hurt?” He slides a hand to my side, against my hip.

  “No. River patched me up. You?” I pat his abdomen. A bandage hides beneath his vest. He winces. “Sorry.”

  “I’d never fought a shadow like that before,” Shade muses. “Their wisps are too harmless and weak to penetrate human flesh. But .. .” He shakes his head. “That one was different.”

  He had no idea.

  “In all your years among them you never saw one like that? Even once?” I’d of thought with all the time he’d spent in their land he’d know everything about their hellish existence.

  He shakes his head. “If you remember,” he says in a low voice, “I was their slave. I was too busy trying to survive to document their appearances.”

  I lean back against the rail I’ve staked out, biting back a yawn.

  “You alright?”

  “A bit tired. Oh, and not to mention scarred for life, mentally and physically. You forget that was my first time. Battling shadows, I mean.”

  “Trust me,” he says, an amused light flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t forget.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I step towards him, clenching fingers into a fist. “Are you saying I didn’t look like I was kicking ass?”

  A voice out of nowhere startles us. “Actually you looked scared shit-less to me.” Axle stands behind us, two wooden cups of liquor in his hands.

  I glare at him. “No, I think that was you. ‘Kyla. Kyla, don’t!’” I mimic his last words to me before I’d gone for the leader, adding a high pitch for effect.

  Shade chokes and grabs one of Axle’s cups.

  “It’s a completely normal reaction when a scrawny, little girl – no offense – turns and says to you, while we’re battling an army of sadistic monsters, mind you, ‘Oh, I’m taking the leader.’” He grins despite the mockery. “Which, was kind of bad-ass of you, I have to admit. Are you sure you’re not meant for me instead of Shade?”

  Shade chokes on his liquor. “On the contrary, you’re rather gangly for her.”

  Axle presses a hand to his chest and mimics an injured look. “Well, thanks, asshole. Nice to know I can count on a friend in time of need. And I am not ‘gangly,’ for your information. Gazel says I’m just more ‘skeletal’ than the rest of you.”

  “Okay, you’re skeletal,” I confirm. “Is that supposed to be attractive?”

  Axle looks between me and Shade a couple times. “Damn, you guys, why are you both picking on me?”

  “Trust me,” Shade says, elbowing his friend’s arm playfully, “I’m sure you’ve done something to warrant it.”

  My stomach growls.,

  “I’ll be back,” I mutter. They hardly pay any attention to me. They’re too busy exchanging insults.

  The food tables are stacked high with meats, fruits, and simmering veggies. I pluck a wing from the gorgeously prepared tray and take a bite. It melts on my tongue.

  “Having a good time, honey?” Mama Opal loops an arm around my shoulders. No sooner had she woken from her deep eight-hour sleep then she’d been back on her feet. She’d been slow and pale, but refused to rest while others needed her help. With her home ransacked, she’d had to borrow supplies from other Agron women, but she’d made her special medicines and teas. The wounded had appreciated her kindnesses.

  “You should be resting, Mama,” I chastise.

  “Enough of that. I’ve had Otis, Gazel, Shade, and anyone who participated in your brilliant plan telling me that I need to sit down and breathe. Well, they can
take their advice with them and shove it . . .” She pauses before she says something unladylike. “You understand, honey. Of course you do. Why, you lead the charge, for gods sakes. Who knew when you came here, shivering and scraggly, that you’d be so brave. You’re a miracle, honey.” She pulls me into a tight, warm hug. “And,” she whispers, “bless you, child. For saving me.”

  She releases me, wiping something she insists is a speck of dust from her eye. “Well, go have fun, Kyla. If I may be so bold there’s a young gentleman somewhere in this crowd who I’ve never seen tapping his toes, and I’m sure he’d be the perfect partner for you. That fellow’s got so many secrets I wouldn’t be surprised if he could move his feet properly.” She hurries off towards Otis who is standing nearby trying to appear like he wasn’t watching Mama Opal’s every move.

  I am returning to Shade when someone grabs my arm and pulls me into the darkness of a nearby alley. My eyes adjust, almost immediately, to the darkness and locate Keegan’s face.

  “Let go!” I snap, tugging on my arm.

  He does, throwing me into the stone wall of the alley. He leans in close and cages me in with both arms on either side of me, forcing me to stare straight at him. His eyes sparkle with grin fire. “What the hell are you?” he growls.

  My chest pumps madly. “I don’t . . .”

  “I saw you!” he snarls. “I saw you kill it!”

  Fear spreads cold claws around my throat. “Have you been eating frassas root again?”

  He blows into my face. There is no scent of the drug on his breath. “I’m as sane as I was when I watched that blade fly through the air and land in your gods-damned palm! You better have a hell of an explanation. And, please, save me the innocent, little girl tricks that you’ve used to deceive everybody into believing you’re Agron’s savior.”

  I remain silent.

  “I want an explanation, vugra,” he snaps, grabbing my throat in his big hand and forcing me to look at him, “now! You owe me that.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing!”

  “No?” He releases me and steps back, gesturing wildly at the alley around him. “I’ve kept your secret for almost twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours, Kyla, sitting in a dark room, contemplating if I was going insane or not. If what I saw really happened. If I should tell my father and give him a reason to cut your throat, once and for all.”

  I should kill him. I should bash his head against the stones and make it look like an accident. But self-control stays my hand from lashing out.

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “Because, damn it, it doesn’t make sense!” he snarls. He runs a trembling hand through his blonde locks, that hang wildly around his face. “You’re not what you’re supposed to be! You . . .” He pauses long enough to catch a breath. “You saved my life! You weren’t supposed to do that. You were supposed to let me die. You were supposed to hate me enough to watch me die with a smile on your face. That’s what my father says about your kind. About demons. But you . . . you saved me. You saved Agron. You . . . Damn it, what am I supposed to think about you?” He slams a hand against the wall in a rage. “Y-you’re a demon. I know it. I should kill you.” He stares at me. “Shouldn’t I?”

  “I prefer to live.”

  He snorts. “Of course you would.” Blood clots against his knuckles where the stone sank into his flesh. He wipes it on the edge of his tunic. “And since you saved my life, I’m going to give you a chance.”

  He cages me in with his arms once more, leaning over to press his lips against my ear. I don’t dare move a muscle.

  “I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to get out of Agron and as far away as you can before I tell Otis and my father exactly what I saw. Otis may praise your name now, but even he won’t be able to stop my father and a hundred others from coming after you. If you head towards the desert wastelands you may stand a chance of survival with those cursed skills of yours.” He pauses, his lips trembling against my ear. “If they do not catch you, they will send word to the king. He will hire mercenaries to hunt you down. He will not kill you. He will use you. He will force you to feed his ambition. You’ll be a bird in a cage. A slave. And I may have hated you once, and I may fear you now, but you don’t deserve that.”

  He pulls back, leaving me weak and trembling against the wall, because he’s right.

  I’ve known for some time that I could never belong in Agron. But, just once, I thought if I tried hard enough I might build a place in this land for someone like me.

  I was wrong.

  “Remember,” Keegan whispers, “twenty-four hours.”

  He backs out of the alley and returns to the celebration. I watch him fade into the darkness and sink to the ground, struggling to hold back the sobs that tremble through me.

  I pack a satchel of my things – two pairs of extra clothes, boots, a blanket, a week’s supply of food and water, and a flask of hunter’s brew – and hide it in the forest just outside Agron’s wall before sneaking back towards the celebration. I will not wander into uncharted territory without a weapon to defend myself, and my Illathonian blade is still leaning against the rail where I left it.

  “There you are!” Shade finds me before I can slip quietly away. He takes my hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where did you go?”

  His hand – so warm, so comfortable – in mine strikes a chord deep in my heart. I will leave – after I savor one last moment.

  I let him pull me into his embrace, relinquishing my hold on the sword – on the urgency to disappear – and rest my head across his shoulder. “You don’t want to know,” I whisper and run a finger down the curve of his jaw playfully. His skin is rough beneath my touch. “And what could you possibly want to do with me anyway?”

  He spins me around to face him, pressing me against his chest tightly. “You’ve no idea all the things I want to do to you . . .” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “Alone.” He lightly nips at my earlobe.

  It takes every ounce of willpower within me to push him away instead of pull him closer, into the darkness, with me. “Swim?”

  His eyes darken with thrilling intent that sends spirals of heat circling into my gut. “Swim,” he agrees.

  The guards let us pass, warning us to be back in two hours so they can close the gates, and we walk, hand-in-hand towards the pool.

  The moon is full when we reach the pool and casts a white reflection across the base of the mountain. Stars twinkle in the water. We swim until our limbs are numb with exhaustion and finally take rest on the bank.

  It has been more than two hours.

  “You never intended to get back in time for the closing of the gates, did you?” I ask with a wry smile.

  Shade turns to look at me. “No. I intend to spend the whole night out here, under the stars, like I should. This place is more of a home for me than Agron.”

  I shift onto my side and rub a hand along his arm. “Why?”

  He sighs. “I spent years in a dark cell without the sun. Without the moon. Without the stars. Now that I’m free again, I could stare at them for centuries and the sight would never cease to amaze me.”

  I draw a lazy pattern against his side, teasing the ends of the lash marks on his back. “You know they make you look fierce, right?”

  He follows my gaze to the edges of his long-ago wounds. “Fierce,” he snorts contemptuously. “Or broken?”

  “They never broke you!” I snap, angry at the thought. He winces when I accidentally press the fresh wound in his abdomen. “Sorry.”

  Shade turns onto his side, as well, and faces me. His gaze shifts to my shoulder. “You told me, once, that you thought it was ugly.” He slowly brushes the lines of the scar with his fingertips. The scar tingles expectantly. “Would you believe me if I told you it makes you so beautiful . . . so strong?”

  I stare at him, unable to form words. Beautiful? Such an ugly black mark . . . beautiful?

  He leans in and presses his mouth against the burnt, scarred
flesh in a tender kiss that stirs a wave of heat, ice, and ache inside me. His hair sweeps across my skin as he trails soft, little kisses up my collarbone to my neck and back down to the ostracized scar. I sink my fingers into the sand at my sides as the waves surge into a storm within me. His kisses become passionate. Stronger. Harder.

  “S-Shade . . .” I moan and he covers my mouth with his own, devouring the passion that rises in my throat.

  I run my sand-filled fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until there is no more space between us to fill. He breaks away from my lips to play with the curve of my neck.

  Oh, gods, I can’t do this.

  “Shade,” I say again, “did you really mean it when you said you felt alone in this world?”

  He kisses me again – hard and insistent – and I almost forget the question I asked. “I’m not alone when you’re with me,” he says, breathless.

  He should come with me. We could survive together – no need for people, Agron, or the Wilds – just the two of us.

  “Shade . . .”

  We both hear it at the same time. Metal sliding against metal. A raspy order in the darkness.

  Shade dives towards his blade, which he dropped beside the pool, but two shadows grab his arms and have them bound behind his back in a matter of seconds. He lets out an enraged cry, tinted with fear, and one of his captors slams the hilt of his blade into Shade’s gut. Shade doubles over, coughing for air. Blood drips onto the sand.

  There are too many for me to count all at once. They surround me, their capes fluttering against the harmless moonlight and their dark blades gleaming. One of them steps towards me. I scurry to my feet, scanning the forest, but knowing full well that no help will come.

  I should have run when I had the chance.

  The shadow reaches out and grips my jaw with a gloved hand that is so cold it might as well be carved from ice itself. It roughly jerks my face to the side, clawing at my neck. Its fingers grind against the two little indents behind my ear. Satisfied, it releases me. I wipe at the icy sensations on my skin, resisting the urge to vomit.