Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1)

by K. R. Cunningham

  “Yes.” Owen looked away a moment, narrowing his eyes as he thought of Rhielle. “It was a strange encounter. She seemed . . . afraid. She told me Amias was alive. It was enough. When I fled, she didn’t try to stop me.” He took a breath and shrugged. “Strange. Why’d you risk your life for me, anyway? You could have kept going. No one would be looking for you.”

  “You know, I do have this thing called a conscience.” Colt tapped his temple. “What, you think I’m some ass who doesn’t give a shit about other people?”

  Looking up as if he was thinking, Owen shrugged. “You came off that way before.”

  “Right, well, suppose I can be an ass sometimes. I don’t mean it. And I didn’t mean what I said to you back at Edgewater about you having an easy life. Suppose I was a bit envious, maybe. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  Owen nodded. “It’s been a lonely life since mother died. Everyone I know ends up fading away from my life.”

  “Well, that makes two of us then, yeah?” Colt set down a run of cards in front of them. “But seriously, Owen.”

  When their eyes met, Owen’s breath caught in his throat. He liked hearing his companion say his name. He waited for him to go on.

  “Don’t run away again. You’re under my protection. Got it?”

  Owen looked at his cards. Going after Amias had been Owen’s goal, but he had found out the hard way that going north to Alacor was a fool’s errand. No one had given him their pity, but he also should not have expected it.

  “Well,” he started. “I suppose I could use it. I can barely fight with a blade. I’m still trying to learn this power I have, and this travel is wearing on me. I owe you my life, but I can’t pay you anything for it. I have no food, no money. I have nothing.”

  Colt shrugged. “I’m not asking for payment. Just . . . friendship.”

  Honey flowed around him. Colt’s energy was easy to pick up now, and though the lemon flavor still remained, it was now forever mixed with a sweet taste. “Friendship?” Owen raised his brows, a smile creeping at the corner of his lips.

  “Well, I tend to make more enemies, it seems. But when I do make friends, I tend to like the company. You got me?”

  “So we’re friends?”

  “Right, that’s it. And I don’t do friends wrong. At least the ones I have, which isn’t many. I won’t leave you out in the cold, not even in Avathon. Never intended to.”

  Relief washed over Owen. His chest filled with happiness that rose up into his cheeks. He drew a queen of hearts from the card pile and melded it with two others, then discarded his last with a laugh.

  “First win against me,” Colt said.

  “It won’t be the last.”

  After his win, Owen piled his cards together carefully and handed them to Colt. “I think I’m ready to lay back down for a while.”

  “Right, can’t have you staying sick now. Get some rest. I don’t want to hear any of your bellyaching tomorrow.”

  “I swear it.” Owen made his way to his bed, and was about to turn down the blankets when the door opened.

  Gilda burst in, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, with mud stains on her buttoned-up shirt. She put her hands on her hips and stretched her back with a wince.

  Owen furrowed his brow. “Everything alright?”

  “I hate horses,” she stated, shaking her head.

  “Maybe I can help out, now that I’m feeling better.”

  “No. You just leave it to me and Colt. You’ll only get sicker otherwise.”

  “You opted to help with the stables instead of the cooking?” Colt quirked an eyebrow.

  Gilda held her chin up and rubbed her nose, sniffing. “That’s right. I don’t cook.”

  “Great, that means I have to do it, then.”

  “Better get on up there so you can make us something to eat.”

  “You mean leave you with Owen?” Colt hesitated, scratching his neck.

  “You don’t trust me?” Gilda asked.

  Owen bit his lip as he sat on his bed. “It’s fine, Colt. Really.”

  Colt nodded, giving Gilda one long stare before leaving the room to help the farmers.

  After the door closed, Gilda rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “I hate men,” she muttered, then looked at Owen. “Except for you, of course.”

  Chapter 24

  “Milarc connects to Avathon here, and the main road is under tight watch.”

  Owen looked down at the map Colt held. His companion pointed near the peninsula that connected Milarc to Avathon. The morning had brought them farther south with no run-ins with Wielders.

  “What should we do, then?” Owen asked. “I’ve never been this far south in Milarc.”

  Gilda strolled up to them, hand on her hip, and looked at the map. She ran her finger along the coast. “See Covehaven, here? They watch everything. There’s a guard wall that stretches the length of the border. You two seriously want to leave Milarc illegally? What in the world did you do?”

  “Nothing more savage than what you did,” Colt said.

  Drawing up her gloved hand, she inspected her exposed fingernails. Her dark leather jerkin, brown trousers, and muddy boots looked as poorly as Owen’s and Colt’s clothes. Their chances of getting past the border with warrants on their heads, looking travel-worn and suspicious, were slim.

  Owen looked back at the map, squinting at the small words printed beside the coastal town of Covehaven. “Rolic Keep. Isn’t that a Legion base?”

  Gilda nodded. “It’s the keep before the border wall. They keep a close watch on anyone traveling to the border, but I heard it’s in shambles now from a quake.”

  “I remember that man in Berry Farms talking about the quake.”

  “Well, either way, if we can’t get through, there are caves that run deep into the ground. They come out into Avathon. The downside is the caves are dangerous. The guards don’t bother with patrolling them because they’re so treacherous.”

  Owen’s brow wrinkled. “How so?”

  “It floods sometimes. The floor and parts of the tunnel give way. It’s dark, and there are also people who live there who are . . . said to be not entirely human.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Colt sniffed. “Right, we’ll carry on, and decide what to do once we get to Covehaven.” He rolled up the map and tucked it carefully into his bag.

  “Are you sure you’re good to go on?” Gilda asked.

  “We don’t have much of a choice.” Owen sniffled, but he felt in better spirits. He glanced at Colt briefly before he looked back at her.

  “What?” She stiffened, her eyes widening.

  “Well, it’s just that Colt and I are kind of on a dangerous journey here. We’re wanted by the Legion. We have . . . Wielders on our trail.”

  Colt nudged him with his elbow, trying to silence him. Owen threw a dirty look his way.

  “Wielders, huh?” Gilda looked away, nodding.

  “They have Cores that glow when they get near people like us.”

  Gilda’s eyes were soft as she looked at Owen. “So the rumors are true. I’ve been hiding from the Legion for so long, hiding behind other people who would fight for me.” She breathed in deeply, as if thinking. “I’ll keep on with you two. I haven’t anywhere else to go. I do have a bit of money; I can help pay for food or rent.”

  “Can we trust you?” Colt crossed his arms, his face serious.

  “I got you both out of the camp, didn’t I?”

  “Sure, right before you stabbed your mate in the back.”

  Her eyes narrowed sharply. “I have no reason to kill either of you. I wouldn’t have risked my neck otherwise.”

  “Let’s just go,” Owen said, walking forward. “I’m getting a headache listening to this.”

  Gilda looked at Colt and shrugged before following after him.

  Morning moved swiftly as they picked up their pace off the main road. The land flattened among the sparse trees. They broke at noon and ate what Talin and Mabel had given them: fru
its, hard bread, and cheese. Between them, they ate it all.

  As afternoon waned, Owen saw several deer leap away as they drew near. His stomach ached for food more filling than fruit and cheese. Placing his arm against his stomach to relieve his hunger pangs, he said, “I want to try and hunt. I think I’m really ready this time.”

  Colt slowed his steps and looked at him. “Get your bow and we can.”

  Owen smiled at his compliance.

  “If you’re both doing that, I can set up camp here,” Gilda said. “I’ll build a fire.”

  “A fire would be nice. It’s already cold.” Colt dropped his bag several yards off the path. He cast a keen eye at Gilda as he drew up his bow and quiver. “My bag is off-limits.”

  “Why would I steal from you?” Gilda rolled her eyes. “Your bag no doubt reeks.”

  Before Colt could say more, Owen pulled on his arm and they walked together to a wooded area. They both sat against the base of a tree, arrows set loosely against the frames of their bows. They watched in silence for any animal life.

  As they waited, the sky grew darker, and the sunlight cast an orange glow against the trees. Owen marveled at the yellow haze filtering through the air, so bright that he could see the smallest of flying insects buzzing around him. A certain peace fell upon him, and he felt more at home there in the woods than he had anywhere else on his journey so far.

  Colt nudged him and nodded toward a rabbit scampering around in the distance.

  Owen’s chest ached. He did not want to kill the rabbit, but he knew he would have to do it if he wanted to survive.

  Taking in a deep, silent breath, he nocked his arrow against the string of his bow, aimed steadily, and let the arrow fly.

  When night fell, they sat by the fire and settled down. Colt had skinned two rabbits, one Owen’s catch and the other his own, and skewered them on sticks to cook over the fire.

  Tonight was colder than any Owen had felt since he began his journey from Emberton. The chill seemed to go through his body. He had packed one set of winter clothes, but he had not expected to wear them for a while. His coat was suitable for autumn weather, but he could feel the early touch of winter already. The rabbits took the bulk of the heat while they waited. When the wind picked up, it whistled through the swaying branches of the trees.

  Owen eyed Gilda. She sat like a stone, her eyes thin as if she was close to dozing. The orange flames lit her round face and curls. She rarely smiled in their company, but when she did, it was usually in the form of a smirk. He concluded that, though she seemed small and serious, she was indeed full of mystery and a dark humor that he did not quite understand.

  “What is it?” she asked, cutting her eyes to Owen. “I can feel you looking at me.”

  Owen looked away. “I was just thinking about how grateful I am to you for saving me. Really, both of us.” He looked at Colt, who raised an eyebrow.

  She looked at him curiously before she said, “I became rather attached to you in our short time. As young as you are, I hope you don’t mind me saying it felt as though I was caring for a child. Not that you are, it’s just . . .” She broke off, unable to finish her sentence.

  As he searched her energy, Owen found a sadness so deep it was painful, much like his own from losing his mother. “I understand.” He thought of the scene at Harold’s camp, how he saw her moving her hands around as if using power. “Back at your camp, were you helping spread the fire?”

  Colt poked the rabbits to see if they were done. His eyes looked tired as he sat back and listened.

  “Yes, but you caused the biggest uproar,” she said. “You made the flames spread the most.”

  “I feel awful about what happened.”

  “Don’t. Those men were going to hang you. You were defending yourself. And you saved me, too. From someone who abused me. From men who would have done more than call me names if it weren’t for my abuser.”

  “Did they know you were Astran? Some of them called you a witch.”

  “If I wasn’t Astran, they would have already had their way with me. It helped keep them away.”

  Owen hesitated for a moment, then said, “How did you evade being marked by the Legion?”

  “I didn’t. I was marked when I was younger.”

  “Was?” Colt asked, his interest piqued.

  “Before I turned seven, my father took me by the arm and cut the mark from my skin. Then he made me flee with my uncle.”

  “Your father cut your mark off?” Colt chimed in. “Talk about brutal.”

  “He did it to save me. He didn’t want me Cleansed, and at the time he had joined the Union. Then the Battle at Thorn Hill wiped the rest of them out and the Legion tried to take hold of Arcmere. This was when the Legion still governed the country. Now it’s in constant war. Luckily, the Legion doesn’t govern the whole country anymore.”

  Owen furrowed his brow. “You’re from Arcmere? How did you end up here?”

  Gilda shrugged. “My uncle took me all over Avathon, and I stayed with him until I was sixteen. I’ve gotten into a world of trouble ever since.” She looked at the both of them. “Enough about me. What about you two? Why are you leaving Milarc, aside from being hunted by Wielders?”

  Owen and Colt exchanged glances.

  “Long story,” Colt said. “But if you want the brief version—we’re leaving to get him away from Milarc. It’s said Avathon doesn’t have glowing Cores. He’s got Wielders after him and hiding in Avathon could help.”

  “For a short while.” Gilda brought up her legs and rested her arms on her knees. “How long before Avathon uses Milarc’s blueprint for the new Cores?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Colt pulled the skewers from the fire and broke up the meat evenly between them all.

  Owen ate quietly, reflecting on Colt’s words. His companion had left out some important details, but Owen knew Colt still did not entirely trust Gilda.

  After they ate, Gilda lay down, her back to the fire and her hand on a sheathed knife that lay beside her.

  Owen took out the medallion that Brom had given him. He ran his thumb over the lines etched in the stone, thinking of Amias and how he had drawn the same lines in the dirt.

  Everything is connected, nothing is closed, he thought. Amias, I hope you’re all right.

  He looked up at the stars through the gnarled branches of trees and sought an answer from Arcan. Only silence greeted him.

  “What is that thing you’re playing with?” Colt asked as he laid out his sleeping bag.

  Owen leaned over and showed him the medallion.

  Colt squinted his eyes in the firelight. “The Astran symbol.”

  “Yes. Everything is connected. Nothing is closed. That’s what Amias told me.”

  “Amias knows a lot of Astranism.” His voice was low. “I never knew he’d been a Wielder, too. Even when I was skeptical of what he would tell me about being a scholar, I still didn’t know.”

  “Perhaps it was a cover-up?” Owen wondered if Amias had ever Cleansed an Astran. “I wonder what it’s like to have your power suddenly gone.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t have to find out.” Colt leaned against the lone tree. “Don’t worry about a first watch. I’ll stay up a bit, and if all is well, I’ll go to sleep.”

  Owen nodded, lying down in his quilt, and gazed at the embers of the fire. Images of the burning men came back to him. He had channeled power that sent them all flying back, with enough air to sweep the fire across tents, and even burn flesh.

  He thought of when he had felt the crate fall out from beneath his feet, and the sensation of the rope tightening around his throat. He put a hand on his neck, feeling the bob there as he swallowed, and winced. He was grateful to be alive, but part of him felt guilt for attacking those men, possibly causing their deaths.

  Late in the night, as he dozed in and out of dreams, an ominous feeling seized hold of Owen and jolted him awake. A glance out into the darkness confirmed his omen, for
something eerie lurked just past the trees.

  Getting to his knees, he shook Colt awake.

  “What’s wrong?” Colt mumbled.

  “Something is out there.”

  Dreary-eyed and half awake, Colt fumbled with his blanket as he rolled it up. Owen doused the remaining embers of the fire as Gilda stirred awake.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Owen replied. “It’s like something’s following us. Can’t you feel it?”

  It took Gilda a moment before she said, “Yes, I feel it. I can’t quite make it out. Could it be Wielders?”

  “We don’t have time to find out.” Colt urged them forward.

  Their pace was quick at first, but after half an hour or so, they slowed their steps. Dark clouds shrouded the moon and stars, and the wind picked up, blowing piercingly cold air through them. The bad omen came to Owen as they stumbled in the darkness, this time so near that he could feel it resonating somewhere behind them, as if someone was watching. He’d had the same feeling with the Outriders, though not with the Wielders, much to his surprise.

  As they quickened their pace into a run through the field, Owen spotted three shadowy figures fast on their heels. His chest tightened, his breath choking in his lungs. A strange and overwhelming sense of urgency overcame him, and with it the will to survive. He was ready to attack just as the figures came upon them. He whipped his body around, his dagger firmly in his hand.

  The three of them stood back to back as the shadows surrounded them. Their breaths formed white tufts in the chill of the night as they looked from one figure to the other.

  The dark beings resembled the Entity Owen had seen in Birchwood. They seemed otherworldly and inhuman. Their long, black cloaks curled at the ends like wisps of smoke, seeming to disappear before reappearing again. Their faces were shrouded beneath their hoods. Only two dimly-lit yellow eyes stared back in silence as they circled them slowly.