Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1)

by K. R. Cunningham

  “Keep along the path,” Amias said as he came up next to him. “We’re headed to—”

  “Green Springs, I know,” Owen said sharply, as he walked swiftly away from his home. “I overheard you last night when I was packing my bag.”

  “Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I just need to be alone.”

  As the sun ascended behind thick clouds, the beach below turned gray. A thick fog rolled in from the trees amid the morning light, obscuring their trunks.

  They walked for hours in silence, until Owen’s house was lost in the distance, swallowed up by the rising and falling cliffs. He was deep in thought when they stopped for their first break after a few hours of travel.

  “Breaking already, old man?” Colt teased Amias as they sat on some flat rocks.

  “It’s best to start our travel out slow.”

  “Not wise with Wielders up this way.”

  “We’ve put in a good few hours, yet,” Amias retorted. “I don’t want us getting ahead of ourselves. We need to think about things before rushing into them. Something you’re not apt to do.”

  Colt laughed and turned away.

  “I’m fine to go on now,” Owen said. He did not want to be the one to slow them down. He was used to walking, though not so strenuously, and he dared not complain when he grew tired.

  Amias nodded. “I’m sure you are, but there’s no use in tiring yourself out so early.”

  “Maybe I should continue on and see what’s ahead,” Colt said. “There’s nothing down this way but foxes and squirrels.”

  “Yes, but I asked you to protect us, not separate from us.”

  “Part of my protection is scouting, old man.”

  “Stop calling me old,” Amias growled. “I may be old enough to be your father, not your grandfather.”

  “Fifty-four is grandparent status.” Colt looked around, his hands on his hips.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t have children, then.”

  A strange feeling suddenly came over Owen. Tuning out his companions, he glanced at the trees in the distance, where tall grass grew. He tuned out his companions and opened his mind up to sense the energy there. A dark feeling stirred in his bones.

  “Well, I think you’re a slow traveler,” came Colt’s voice.

  Amias shrugged and was about to reply back when Owen barged between them.

  “I think we should go,” he said, watching the trees.

  Amias and Colt followed his stare, their eyes straining against the fog.

  “Did you see something?” Amias asked him.

  “It’s more of a feeling.”

  “Best not to tarry, then. Let’s go.” Amias led them away quickly.

  Colt drew his palms together in a mock prayer. “Thank Meta we can carry on.”

  As Owen shifted his focus to the trees on his left, his stomach churned. The ill feeling gripped him for the next several hours.

  When afternoon approached, Colt came up next to him, his hand on the hilt of his weapon as he looked around. “What do you feel following us?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if anything is following us,” Owen replied. “I just sense something odd.”

  “Can’t see much in this damn fog. You must be using your power.”

  “I suppose. I don’t normally feel so in tune with my surroundings. The trees keep giving me a strange feeling.”

  Colt looked to their left. “You mean those trees sitting all glum over there? Let’s see what they’re up to.” He put a hand to his ear. “Oh, what’s that, then? My companion isn’t tall enough to reach your lowest branch?”

  Owen cocked an eyebrow. “If that was your attempt at an insult, you need to come up with a better one, jester. You’ve used it already.”

  Colt nudged him. “Oh, right. I promise—as soon as you come up with a story better than a man eating mermaids, bard.”

  Owen’s eyes widened. “You were listening?”

  “Long enough to finish my plate last night.”

  “I guess that means you liked the party.”

  “I liked the food. The entertainment needed work.” He chuckled and winked.

  Owen’s lips formed a tight line, his cheeks flushing.

  “It’s starting to rain,” Amias broke in. “There’s a tree ahead that we can rest under.”

  “Probably best not to stop long,” Colt said.

  “Yes, I know. We’ll pick back up when it eases off and stop an hour before sunset. Owen, do you still sense something?”

  “It comes and goes, but there’s nothing right now.” Owen glanced at the line of trees.

  “Good.” Amias led them to the edge of the woods, where a bigger tree hovered over the rest. They sat beneath its canopy.

  Owen nestled against the trunk and pulled his coat around him. He was not used to sleeping outside. The cold was gripping, and the hard ground was uncomfortable.

  “We picked a good time to stop, I think,” Amias said, just as the first few droplets of water fell from the sky.

  Colt sat on the other side of the tree and drew up his hood. “Rain in Milarc. How surprising.”

  “I love the rain,” Owen said softly. “The north sees such dreary days.”

  “Alacor sees sunnier days, despite its coast. Still, never have I lived in a place as dreary as Milarc. But it’s a beauty in itself. You either love it or hate it.” He smiled warmly, then added, “There is something we need to talk about before you get too settled.”

  “What is it?” Owen yawned as he waited for him to go on.

  “You should try channeling your power.”

  “It’s not something I care to do.”

  Amias looked sidelong at him. “If you’re going to avoid a Cleansing, you should open yourself up to it.”

  “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve practiced very little. Mother didn’t want me doing it, and neither did you. Now you want me to start?”

  “Yes.”

  Owen swallowed hard and crossed his arms tight against his chest. “I’m not very good at it. I can’t lift anything, only make things vibrate.”

  “Your power is weak because you won’t use it. It’s something you need the confidence to do right. Emotion can interfere. Fear and uncertainty can stall it. Anger can fuel it, but this method is hard to control. Confidence that you will succeed is what will keep it channeling for longer.”

  It sounded foreign to hear Amias speaking of his power in such a way, as something he could control with emotion. “I’ll try, I suppose, but not right now.”

  “We’ll practice it later, then. Get some rest for now.”

  Owen leaned his head back against the tree. He imagined he was back in Emberton, sitting on his porch as the rain pattered the grass around him. The thought made him smile, and he dozed off to the sound of the rain splattering around him.

  What seemed like only a few minutes later, Amias startled him awake and urged him to eat before they set out. Owen rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. While Amias looked over his map, Owen took out his journal and turned to a blank page. He ate a red apple as he sketched the trees near the cliff, which dropped to the beach below where waves crashed against sharp-looking rocks.

  On the other page he wrote, This is a hard journey to endure, not because of the cold or the walking, but because every time I glimpse the ocean to my right, I wonder if I’ll see it again. Not anywhere else, but here, in Milarc. The good thing is getting to see the beauty of my country. I haven’t ventured out from Emberton in well over four years. Before Emberton, I lived—

  Owen looked up. His senses drew him to the line of trees once more. He focused his energy. He was absorbed in the shadows, searching for whatever could be following them, when a low growl startled him.

  A large, cat-like beast emerged from the boulders along the cliff. Its shimmering fur was yellow, unnatural for any animal so far up north. It looked like a mountain lion, hunching its shoulders, waiting to attack.

  Droppin
g his journal, Owen grabbed the hilt of his dagger to whip it out, but fumbled the blade and it fell to the ground. A rush of air whirred past him as an arrow hit the wild cat.

  The animal hissed, the arrow wedged into its shoulder.

  “It’s an Outrider!” Amias exclaimed. He drew his dirk, but the creature slashed at him with sharp claws.

  Another arrow sank into its side, and the beast roared. The sound reverberated through the air, making them all wince. Birds scattered from the treetops nearby.

  The cat focused on Colt, who backed away slowly, nocking another arrow.

  “Careful, Colt,” Amias said. “Shoot it again and it may attack you.”

  “I thought these things weren’t supposed to attack!” Colt yelled out.

  When the beast turned, Amias slashed at its shoulder. The animal rounded sharply, hot steam huffing through its nostrils.

  “The Core is in the neck!” Amias yelled. The beast snapped at him.

  Owen had a good angle. He picked up his dagger from the ground as Colt pulled out another arrow. He gripped the hilt firmly, his heart racing. All he needed was one good jump.

  He ran forward right as a third arrow plowed into the beast’s hind leg, barely missing him. Owen faltered and spun around before landing in the dirt. The animal snapped its head at him and snarled, eyes flashing as it pounced and growled at him from above, its jaws opening. Sharp, brass-colored teeth filled a dark mouth that smelled of hollow decay.

  Owen’s hands flew to its jaw. His arms trembled as he pushed against the weight of the animal to hold it back. Its yellow eyes glowed brighter as it inched ever closer. The jaw opened wide enough that Owen could hear something cracking as he stared within the hollow darkness of its mouth.

  Just as Owen growled, unable to hold its weight any longer, a boot slammed into the beast’s head. Owen scrambled to his feet, his legs and arms shaking as the creature lowered to the ground.

  Amias grabbed Owen up and pushed him back. “Gods’ sakes, Owen, stay out of the way!” He stabbed the beast with his dirk, injuring it more. Though it bled from the many gashes, its belly scraping the ground, it still tried to attack. “There’s a metal plate covering the Core there!”

  Owen took up his weapon, coming up behind the Outrider as it became distracted by Colt, and stabbed the blade into its neck. The release of power flowed within his veins, making his body vibrate, as if a new energy ran through him. The impact caused Amias and Colt to stagger back.

  The lines in the blade of the dagger emanated a yellow light. When Owen withdrew it, the beast fell limp beneath him. Black blood oozed from the wound in its neck, and its yellow eyes slowly dimmed to black.

  What he ripped up from the neck was a brass-colored sphere the size of a plum, impaled on the tip of his glowing blade. Owen looked at it briefly, then to the carcass on the ground, and then up to Amias and Colt. Both men looked at him in shock.

  Owen watched as the yellow light faded. New energy surged through him as he removed the Core from his dagger, energy that could only be described in one word.

  Power.

  Chapter 5

  glanced at the sky. Gray clouds gave way to cold, light rain, something he was not thrilled about getting stuck in while riding along the backroads of northern Wheaton. He was far from Alacor’s walls, which was a breath of fresh air, but he did not enjoy passing through run-down villages where people scoffed at him.

  Harrow Grove was a step up from some of the others he had visited, though the people looked poor in health. Children ran without shoes down the mud-stricken path wearing little more than thin cloaks or shawls for warmth. What had once been a corn field was now full of long-dead stalks and cawing crows.

  Elian looked at his apprentice, Rhielle, as she rode beside him on her gray mare. Her braided blonde hair was peeking out from her hood. Light freckles dusted her fair face, while alert, deep-set eyes of green watched the children running beside them.

  “I haven’t been to Harrow Grove in a long time,” Rhielle said. “I hate to see it in the state it’s in now.”

  “Well, when the regional chief cut off funding to the village, the people ran it into the ground. What do you expect when you don’t pay your due in taxes?” Elian ran a gloved hand over his short brown hair, brushing the droplets away. He dismounted his horse, Tuck, and patted his brown snout. When a few children teetered up to them slowly, Elian nodded at them. “You may pet him. He loves affection.”

  Four girls from around the ages of five to ten put out their hands to Tuck, who nuzzled his snout in their hair, making them giggle.

  Rhielle smiled, though she was reluctant to let them touch her mare, Giddy. “She’s easily spooked,” she told them, just as Giddy backed away.

  “Can you point us to your stable?” Elian asked them.

  “My uncle is the stable hand,” said the oldest, tallest girl. She led the way while the other girls skipped along beside the horses.

  When they reached the stable, Elian thanked the girls and told them to come back later to see him and Rhielle off. The stable hand was a middle-aged man who wore a faded wide-brimmed hat. His eyes darted to them nervously as he raked a pile of molded straw out of a stall.

  “Don’t get many visitors up this way,” the man said. “I got a few stalls, but our hay is no good.”

  “No matter. I have some oats they can eat.” Elian glanced curiously at the man. He would have to take extra note of their belongings before he left their things. “They won’t be staying the night. We’ll be heading out within the hour.”

  “What’re you here for?” the man asked, his brow creased in concern as he noticed Elian’s brass Wielder emblem on his coat, a circle with lines etched into it like a Core.

  “There’s no need for nervousness,” Elian assured him. “We’re looking for someone who might have passed this way. His name is Amias Linswood.”

  The stable hand shook his head, his face relaxing. “No, no, haven’t seen that man in a while. I know him, but haven’t seen him in months.”

  “We’ll ask around for him, then, and be back to retrieve the horses soon.”

  They left the stable promptly. The mud squelched between Elian’s boots as he walked down the path. A few women outside a house gawked after him curiously. In the distance, several men worked on constructing a building. Despite the poor conditions, the people looked as though they were trying to build the village back to what it once was.

  “We’re continuing through the night?” Rhielle asked him.

  “Yes. There’s no need to stay here. We’ll only make these folks tense. It’s clear they’ve suffered a few bad years here. No need to linger and make them panic.”

  “It looks like they could use help to fix their village up.”

  Elian stopped and looked at her. “Why don’t you ask a few of the men working over there about Amias. I’ll ask these women.”

  “They won’t take me seriously.”

  “They will. Trust me.”

  They parted ways, Rhielle marching toward the men working on the building while Elian strolled up to two women who looked to be in their thirties. A child hung on a brown-haired woman’s skirts, while a redhead cocked an eyebrow at him. On the side of the house was a sign that read Lovelies.

  “Morning,” he said with a warm smile. “My assistant and I are looking for someone who might have come this way.”

  “Might can help, luv,” the redhead said. She held a long pipe in her hand.

  “I’m looking for someone named Amias Linswood. Do you know him?”

  The redheaded woman scoffed. “Do I know him? A regular pompous ass if there ever was one.”

  Elian raised his brows. “I gander you know where he went, then?”

  “Oh, I saw him a week or so back. Always hangin’ round that fool, O’Malley.”

  “Who’s O’Malley?”

  “A past headache,” the brown-haired lady said with a smirk.

  “So where can I find him?”

  �
��Out at his hermitage, I suppose,” the redhead said. She took a puff off her pipe and blew it away from him. “Stays in there all day, comes out to hunt. You’ll be lucky to get a word outta him. Then again, suppose you could, seeing as you’re a Wielder and all.” She sized him up with her eyes. “I have a vacant room in my inn if you need to rest.”

  “I appreciate it, ladies, but I’d best be heading on. Could you point me to this O’Malley?”

  The redhead pointed past the new building. “Take the path down, past the houses. You’ll see a hovel right before the wood. Can’t miss it.”

  “Thank you.” Elian nodded at them and met with Rhielle, who had gathered the same information.

  They walked through the cold, slick grass to the hovel in the distance.

  “They said the man’s name is Colt,” Rhielle said, “and that he left with Amias several days back.” When they came to the building, she looked through the glass of the window. “Guess they’re right. No one’s inside.”

  Elian pushed on the door and it broke open easily. Inside, the air of the tiny room was stagnant. The pallet on the floor was bare of blankets and the hearth was long cold of any embers. Several dirty pots and pans littered the counter, while little wooden carvings of animals littered the mantle and windowsill. He opened a small trunk, but there was not much there besides clothes and papers, none of them giving any information about Amias’s whereabouts.

  “All right.” Elian put his hands on his hips. “So whoever this Colt is, Amias came here to get him and left with him. So at least we know he’s traveling with someone.”

  “Yes, but where?” Rhielle found a small bag of marbles and dumped them out into her palm. She tossed a green one in the air and caught it.

  While Elian glanced around the room, deep in thought, Rhielle tossed the marble again. She missed it this time, and it landed in a small wooden trash bin.

  With a smirk, Elian dug through the bin to find the marble, then took out a piece of wadded-up parchment.