Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1)

by K. R. Cunningham

  “Well, I think you’re wonderful for doing so.”

  “Here, come this way. I’ll show you where you can get a rest.” Rose’s gangly form pulled on Owen’s arm.

  Owen glanced back at her house, hoping Rose’s mother would not come storming out with a frying pan, but luckily they were able to steal away through some bushes and across a wheat field that bordered the small village.

  His stomach growled again. He unraveled the cloth and bit off a piece of cornbread. It was the best cornbread he had ever tasted.

  Before them, the wheat swayed gently in the cold breeze as the sun cast its morning rays against the field.

  Owen rubbed his arm for heat. His coat was no longer warm enough to sate him in the icy mornings. The nights would only get colder. He hoped he would find a place to stay along the road.

  “So where you headin’? You got a home?”

  “I’m on my way to Covehaven.” It had been his plan before he’d decided to go after Amias, and if things turned sour, he would be heading there anyhow. But Rose did not seem to be a threat to his plans.

  “See that barn there?” Rose pointed ahead at a faded red barn.

  “Mm.” Owen shoved the last of the bread into his mouth.

  “That’s my uncle’s horse barn, but he’s out on business right now. My cousin takes care of the animals while he’s gone. I bet he’ll let you sleep there.”

  It was as if Rose had read his mind.

  When they neared the barn, Rose opened the door and skipped inside. “My favorite horse is Shira. She’s brown and has white spots. See, look.” She ran to one of the stalls and jumped up on the gate.

  A large brown mare stood inside, nickering as Rose rubbed her snout.

  Owen leaned against the wall. “I’m not real fond of horses. One threw me off when I was fourteen.”

  “Oh!” Rose’s eyes widened. “Well, Shira’s different. She’d never boot you from her saddle. I ride her all the time!”

  Owen smiled and, despite his contempt, he gave the horse a pat. When he looked at Rose, he glimpsed a mark on her arm, just below the crease in her elbow. “Are—are you marked?” His brows furrowed.

  Rose looked down at her arm and shrugged. “Yep. Get to have a Cleansing in six years. Mama said it’ll do me up right real good. The guards won’t have to keep close watch on us, and I won’t have to keep having a Wielder visit every month. But—” She lowered her voice. “Sometimes I like to channel when I’m off in the woods. It makes me feel like a powerful mage.”

  Owen chuckled. “Do you want to be Cleansed?”

  For a long moment, Rose was quiet. Then she said, “I mean, not really, but what choice do I have? I’m not supposed to have power. It belongs to the goddess.”

  “Is that what they teach you?”

  “The Wielders? Yup. Yuna is a beautiful lady who will come back one day. It’s not mine, it’s hers.”

  A sting tore through Owen’s chest. This young girl would not possibly believe in such a thing on her own. Someone had to have whispered such lies. “But if you wanted to, you could . . .”

  No, I couldn’t tell this child to fight back. Look at where fighting back has gotten me lately. Hiding seems to do no good either.

  “You could go wherever you want after you’re Cleansed, I suppose.”

  “Mama’s gonna take me to Avathon after it. Heard her a few months back. We got family down that way, and I ain’t ever been able to go since I’m marked, and now I will.”

  Despite the disheartening talk about Cleansings, Owen was happy that Rose could see something good in such a thing, even if he could not.

  “Rose?” came a new voice.

  Owen looked toward the other side of the barn, where a boy around the age of twelve stood with a shovel in his hand. His blond hair matched Rose’s, but his eyes were dark, as well as panicked.

  “What’s going on?” the boy asked. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh, Jeremiah. This is Owen.” Rose hopped down from the gate. “He needs a place to stay tonight and Mama won’t let him at our house. Can he stay in the barn?”

  “Rose, that’s really not necessary,” Owen started.

  “No, I want you to.” Rose turned back to Jeremiah and clasped her hands together. “Oh, please? Just for one night. Uncle won’t be back for a week at least.”

  “My father should arrive in a few days,” Jeremiah scolded her. He peeled his eyes up to Owen. “He wouldn’t like this, Rose.”

  “Just one night, Jerry!”

  “Don’t call me that!” he spat. Sizing Owen up, he said, “Just one night, then.”

  Rose’s face beamed. “Good. You stay here and rest. I’ll see about gettin’ you some more food, Owen.”

  She ran off before Owen could protest, leaving him alone with Jeremiah, who glared at him as he cleaned one of the empty stalls.

  “Hey,” Jeremiah called. “Why don’t you be useful if you’re going to stay and help me clean.” He tossed the shovel at Owen, who caught it with a grunt.

  Owen forced a smile. “Sure. I used to clean stables all the time.”

  “Yeah, I bet you did.”

  He pretended not to hear and set to work cleaning sour hay out of a stall. The dank smell of the horses reminded him of his stay at the Gallows’ farm. The farmer and his wife had worked him hard, shoveling manure, saddling and cleaning the horse and their stalls, tending to pigs, shearing sheep.

  Their farm was set before the backdrop of the Layran Mountains. It was a beautiful place where the white caps of the peaks were so sharp, Owen had sworn they could rip the sky apart. The air was bitterly cold up that way, but the fields were lush and green.

  But he was often beaten for running off with the village boys and getting into shenanigans, and they also made him skip meals as punishment for incomplete work. He could still remember the day that Amias came to the farm after Owen had suffered a black eye from Mr. Gallows. Amias had given the man an earful of his mind.

  Not long after that, Amias took him to Emberton, and he fell in love with the village. It was all but a memory now.

  He shifted his focus to trying to get to Amias.

  When the sun began its descent, Owen put up the tools he had used to clean the stalls. While Jeremiah left to check on Rose, Owen picked out an empty stall to sleep in. His stomach reminded him of his hunger, and he wavered as he made his way to the stall. His body was running on his last bit of energy, and the cold seeping through the barn only made it all the worse.

  Just as he sat down in the stall to sleep, ignoring his rumbling stomach, Jeremiah emerged at the head of the barn, but he wasn’t alone.

  “There he is.” Jeremiah pointed.

  Owen stiffened when he saw a familiar woman with blonde hair. She wore dark attire, and there was a fierce fire in her eyes as she marched down the stalls.

  As soon as the woman started after him, he knew it was Rhielle. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, for a moment. Then Owen bolted out the other side of the barn.

  His lungs burned as he sprinted out into the field toward the woods ahead, but Rhielle was quick. Something whizzed past him, and he saw the glint of sunlight on something steel as it landed in the grass.

  He focused on his power, his veins warming, but before he could let it out, a sharp star punctured his lower back.

  Owen cried out and whirled around, tripping in the grass. The stinging pain from the weapon tore through his back. He tried to reach back and grab it, but Rhielle got to him first.

  “No, not another move,” she said, huffing. She ripped out the star, making him yell out in pain, and turned him over onto his back. Squatting over him, she shackled his wrists.

  Owen gritted his teeth. The pain was not as severe now, but he could feel the blood dripping down his side.

  “I’ll bandage it up as soon as we’re on our way out of town,” she said. “Now get up.”

  After Rhielle brought Owen into the village and patched him up, she took his dagger and bag, made s
ure his shackles were tight, and made him get up on her horse. Owen was reluctant, his heart hammering as he sat in the saddle, hoping the creature would not buck him off as it did its owner before.

  The whole village had taken to the path to watch the spectacle. Owen found Rose among them, her brows knitting together as she looked at Owen. Her mother stood behind her, a deep frown etched on her face.

  Despite his circumstance, he smiled at Rose and nodded, and hoped the girl took this as a silent thank you for her hospitality. From one Astran to another. He sensed her aura in the smell of warm cinnamon bread and hoped, for her sake, that her spirit would not break when it came time for her Cleansing.

  As Rhielle rode them out of the village, the sky darkened.

  “Are we going to ride into the night?” Owen asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. She took out a hard object and pushed it against Owen’s back.

  He tensed at the feel, instantly realizing it was a Core. “You have one, too?”

  “For training,” she snapped. “But in this situation, exceptions can be made. I don’t want your friend catching up to us, wherever he is.”

  Pain tore through Owen’s chest, but he masked it with a laugh. “You might be in for a bit of disappointment. I parted ways with him, and he more than likely won’t come after us.” He was suddenly glad he’d written the note and decided to leave on his own. If he hadn’t, Rhielle would have found Colt as well. Now the man could lay low or leave Milarc without the burden of traveling with someone who endangered him.

  “I doubt that,” Rhielle said. “Astrans always have someone following after them. Part of your charm, no doubt. I expect him to show his face.”

  “I have no charm, but I suppose you’ll be ready to kill him with that faux-power tool of yours?”

  Rhielle yanked him back by his hair and looked at him sidelong. Her eyes lit with fire as she said, “I’d watch that mouth of yours, Astran. I’d hate to mess up your pretty face.”

  Owen gasped as she let go. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a threat.”

  “Shut up.”

  Owen clenched his jaw but said no more. Rather than argue back with her, he decided to read her energy instead. What he found on her surface was something akin to earth and rain, something that sometimes put off an inviting smell, while other times it gave off a strange stench. Deeper beneath her tough exterior was a will to not fail. He felt compelled to probe more at it to get her to open up. This, he decided, he would do later on when enough time had passed between them.

  When the sky blazed bright orange, they stopped off the road near a temple. Owen looked at it in silence, his eyes roving over a colorful window depicting a figure of Yuna. It put a sour taste in his mouth. Though small, the newly-built temple served as a place for travelers to devote their time.

  In the far distance, along the right side of the road, was a Wielder tower. It looked like the one he had seen when coming out of Birchwood. He supposed there they would take him as prisoner, which meant he did not have long to make an escape. It had to be soon, or not at all.

  Rhielle took advantage of the soft grass nearby and sat them down to eat. Owen watched her in silence, noting the gait in her walk, and remembered she had been struck with an arrow before.

  In the evening light, Owen noticed her trembling. Something was not right with her. Digging deeper into her energy, Owen found within her a sense of confusion and nervousness.

  “Here,” she said, taking a red apple from her sack and handing it to him.

  “Thank you.” Owen brought the fruit to his lips and ate hungrily. When he was done, he asked, “Is Amias alive?”

  Her weary eyes softened. “Yes. If you want to see him again, you should be compliant. Elian won’t hurt you as long as you are. I can promise you that.”

  She’s letting her guard down.

  A monk in tan robes walked out of the temple and bowed his head to them.

  “Ah, Wielder Rhielle. It is so good to see you here,” the monk said. “Can I assist you with anything?”

  Rhielle stood, her hard shell resurfacing. “I’m just on my way back to the tower with a prisoner.”

  “Ah,” the monk said, narrowing his eyes on Owen. “Might you come in and rest a bit? I have a place we can secure the prisoner.”

  “No. I’m in a hurry.” Rhielle brushed off her pants, then helped Owen into the saddle.

  “There is flatbread and wine available.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t linger.” Rhielle climbed up behind him.

  “Safe travels to you,” the monk said with a sheepish smile.

  “Same to you.” She nodded and urged the horse forward.

  Owen felt for Rhielle’s emotions, finding fear. She was shaking in the saddle. He looked back at the monk, who watched them go.

  “He made you nervous, didn’t he?”

  Rhielle grabbed his arm and turned him back around. “Sit still.”

  They passed a few people on the road, homes with quaint gardens, and a few stables. But it was the tower that Owen kept his eyes on, coming ever nearer as the sky darkened.

  He would have to think fast about what to do.

  Then an idea came to him. It involved startling the horse, but he had no other option. He rolled his head about as if dozing, then finally plopped his head back onto Rhielle’s shoulder.

  She pushed him gently, startling him. “Lean forward if you want to sleep,” she said.

  He made a face, considering her proposal as he thought of a new idea. Within minutes, he began feigning a light snore as he dropped his head down. As soon as he felt the Core against his back loosen its hold on him, he kicked the horse with his boots, making the animal rear back.

  In her panic, Rhielle dropped her Core to grab the reins. When the horse steadied itself, Owen elbowed her in the ribs and threw his leg over the saddle. He lost his footing and fell into the dirt.

  “Owen!”

  He did not waste any time scrambling to his feet as Rhielle jumped off her horse. Seeing the Core lying in the dirt, Owen kicked it across the road before she could get to it.

  “Owen, you little ass!” she yelled. Her hand flew to the knife on her belt, but Owen stretched out his hands in the shackles, and a burst of power sent her blade flying to the ground.

  He let his power flow through him, and though he seemed to only be able to use the air to his advantage, he grasped at it and sent a wind whirling at her. Standing straight, hot energy pulsed through his fingers. He felt the surge as it ran through his veins and skin and out to strike his enemy with a pulse of air.

  Rhielle hit the ground, landing hard on her hip. She cried out, seething in pain.

  The mad rush of adrenaline made Owen feel invincible, and in his urgency, he went to her horse, where he grabbed his bag and dagger, and the key to his shackles, before running toward the line of trees in the distance.

  He half expected Rhielle to come running after him again, but when he looked back, she did not follow him. Instead, her eyes seemed to show pity for him, and he wondered if she’d let him get away. She was a mystery that confused him.

  He looked ahead at the dark trees, hoping they would offer him a safe haven, and did not look back again.

  Chapter 20

  The foliage grew denser, and the trees bigger and wider, as Owen delved deeper into the woods. The first thing he did was remove his shackles, and hid them where no one could find them were they to come after him.

  How am I supposed to get to Amias if I keep running into setbacks?

  The trees dipped and climbed up hills, making it hard for him to know where he was going. He walked until the night was too deep to see, his side cramped and his hair damp with sweat. His chest ached and his muscles were weak. His mind exhausted and his eyes weary, he slumped against a tree, where he closed his eyes and dozed.

  When he woke, late morning light streamed through the trees.

  He jumped when he saw a small gray fox watching him. The animal g
lared at him, and for a moment he thought it would pounce on him, but it only made a chirping sound and ran off into the brush. He hoped any other animals he saw would ignore him as well.

  “Cute,” he said. “Now where am I?”

  When he shifted from his spot on the ground, he groaned. His whole body was stiff. His stomach rumbled for food, the few bites of cornbread and sausage long gone by now, and his mouth was parched. The air was cold. The trees were thick and tall, their trunks clad in green moss. The only weapons he had were his dagger and bow, but he had no arrows.

  He had very few vegetables left in his bag—a small, broken carrot, and a potato that he could not boil. In his desperation, he searched for the broken pieces of the carrot and ate them quickly. He bit off the potato and gagged.

  “I need some water,” he muttered.

  On sore limbs, he set out in search of a water source and found a brook nearby. He drank as much as he could, accepting the risk of sickness, splashed cold water on his face, and rinsed his hands. He was overdue for a wash, but at the moment his desire to find food and shelter took precedence.

  Though he was on his own, as planned, Owen’s heart stung. He was alone and terrified. He needed the company of others. He wondered how he would be able to go about finding Amias when he was unsure of his own whereabouts, and he was afraid that if he went any further north he would be arrested on sight. Rhielle had already spotted him. They knew he was in the area.

  “I messed up,” he said, putting a hand to his head. “What was I even thinking? I’m a complete idiot.”

  As the hours stretched on, evening approached once more. What would he do in the dead of night in the woods again, alone and cold and without food?

  As if in answer, he caught the scent of woodsmoke, and with it came the aroma of cooking meat. He pushed himself up from the ground, his head dizzy, and crouched among the trees, following the smell.

  Up ahead, the trees thinned. He came out into a glade, where the sky dimmed gray. Long streams of water puddled along a muddy path with tents on either side. There was a huge, half-uprooted tree that stood out among the glade, and when he came around it, he stopped in his tracks and gasped.