In their youth, his brother had always been the better of the two when it came to manipulating his powers. He’d shown remarkable skill at a young age, able to bend others to his will by the time others were just learning to block their minds. Despite his mental strength, his physical strength had always been lacking.
Therin pressed forward, throwing all he had into taking a few more steps. With a solid push, he broke free of Nyson’s grip and lurched forward, grabbing his brother around the throat and slamming him against the wall. Nyson winced as the arrowhead collided with the wall, jarring his wounded shoulder.
“You took everything from these people. You controlled their lives and took away their choice. You’re going to pay the price.”
Nyson smiled. “Are you going to kill me, Brother?”
“No, Nyson. I think it’s time you shared their fate.”
With his free hand, he locked his fingers against the side of Nyson’s face. There was a moment of panic as he realized what was happening, but by then it was already too late. Therin pushed against his mind, slicing through the delicate threads holding it together.
Nyson shuddered and went limp. Therin released his grip, holding his brother steady as he swayed, unsteady as a newborn colt. When he raised his head, his eyes were dull, his jaw slack as he stared off into space.
Unbinding, a power he’d been cursed with, that he’d kept hidden. Such a power wasn’t meant to exist, wasn’t meant to be used, but for Nyson he was willing to make an exception. As he turned away from his brother, he felt the ripples of the past finally still.
His rebellion had stripped those in Sanctuary of their independence, had forced them to live a lie. It was time for them to make their own choices, to live their own lives. It was time for them to be set free.
CHAPTER 39
Kirheen watched smoke curl from the funeral pyre, weaving through the blue wraith wood like tiny spirits seeking escape. The world seemed unnaturally still. No wind blew through the trees that night and the people standing near her seemed more like apparitions hovering on the edge of her peripheral.
There was a crackle as the wood caught fire and the dry tinder exploded into blue flames, licking upwards to claim the body that lie over it. She felt her stomach twist with guilt, felt the wounds he’d inflicted burn like the fire raging beneath him. Shame coated her skin like a film of sweat and it was hard not to think that those standing beside her were blaming her for the pain they were feeling.
Tomias stood close to the fire, watching the flames with dead eyes. He hadn’t spoken a word since the events in the temple. He was distant, trapped in a prison of pain and there was no saving him from it.
Trista was nowhere to be seen. The pain was too much and grief had driven her into isolation. The healer had allowed Kirheen this moment, a moment to see off a man that had been both mentor and friend. Once it was over, she’d be drugged, forced to sleep until their business in Sanctuary was over. Her wounds needed to heal, both mental and physical, but she worried Trista might poison her while she slept.
She took a cautious step forward, her shoulder brushing Tomias. His eyes never left the flames and she felt a stab of overwhelming sadness when he refused her hand. There was nothing to be done for him. His grief was beyond comprehension. She could only stand by his side and hope that somehow, he found comfort in her presence.
They watched the flames wash over Fenir, curling around his body as if to embrace him. He faded, claimed by the heat and smoke until he was no more. Kirheen choked back tears, biting her cheek to stop herself from crying. Goodbye, my friend.
Even long after the flames had died and the others had fled, she stayed with Tomias. The moon was big and bright above them, the gentle light making the surrounding trees glow even brighter. She probably would have stayed there all night had Trista not come to fetch them. Grieving as she was, she was still a healer and that part of her was strong as ever.
The vial of herbs she downed were bitter, but she had no desire to complain. She settled into her bed and let herself weep quietly until she couldn’t fight off the effects of the medicine any longer. She was pulled into a dreamless slumber, free of the pain that had hung over her like a cloud. It was the last time she’d ever sleep there, the last time she’d ever see Sanctuary. A new life awaited her come morning and with it, a new set of struggles.
There were so many broken. He forced himself to knit their minds back together one by one, driving himself to exhaustion day by day. Those that had recently undergone the unbinding returned to the world just as they had been, but those that had spent years under the control of Nyson remained as they were, vacant and empty.
In the end he opted to give them a merciful death and his companions, those that had been part of his rebellion, joined in the grim task. Each of the broken were given a proper burial and laid to rest, their symbols carved onto wraith wood planks so they’d never be forgotten.
The Bonded and their instructors, freed from the control that had been exerted over them, were shocked to learn the truth. Without purpose, the idea of freedom was overwhelming and terrifying, but they agreed to make the journey to the outside world, to forsake their powers and begin life anew.
They left Sanctuary, leaving the whispering woods behind once and for all. They carried those battered and wounded souls with them and crossed through the mountain that would lead them to their new home.
CHAPTER 40
Kirheen examined herself in a small mirror above the washbasin. A vivid red scar ran across her cheek and she brushed her finger over it, feeling the roughness of the jagged line. Despite the outward appearance, it was healing nicely. The same couldn’t be said for her wounded arm, for the deep puncture marks that marred her torso. It was a miracle she was still alive at all. The wounds she’d received from Fenir should have killed her, but she’d clung to life. Her recovery had come as a shock to all that had tended to her, and they still fussed over her injuries as if they expected her to drop dead at any moment. The pain came and went, washing over her in powerful waves when it did decide to strike. Leann had taken to dosing her with various tinctures to help her cope with the pain.
If the external wounds were bad, the pain she felt in her heart could have been called catastrophic. The death of Fenir was fresh in her mind and she often suffered from terrible nightmares, reliving the terror of what had happened in the temple again and again. She’d wake screaming, often disturbing Tomias in the process. With little room for them elsewhere, they had taken up residence in Therin’s barn, sleeping on beds made out of hay in two empty stalls.
The space between them was palpable. Most days, Tomias would barely eat, his eyes far away and filled with a pain Kirheen wanted desperately to fix. But there was no way to fix that pain, no way to bring his brother back. He’d killed his own brother in order to save her and, while she was grateful, she’d have traded places with Fenir in an instant if it meant saving Tomias from the grief he was feeling.
Each and every day, Kirheen tried speaking with him, but she was always ignored. After weeks she gave up all together. Despite the weight of his silence, she cared for him as best she could. She made sure he was eating, kept his area tidy and his bedding fresh. She brought steaming cups of tea steeped with herbs to help him sleep and books to give him a distraction during his waking hours. Though it was a rare sight, she’d catch him reading from time to time, flipping through the pages with trembling hands.
Garild, while in considerably better health, was of little help. His anger over losing his hand was a festering wound growing worse by the day and his vitriol towards her kept her at a distance. She didn’t think losing his friendship would hurt so bad, but she found herself mourning his loss and wishing for the distraction of his words, his cheerful laughter, his steadfast companionship. She further distanced herself from him, too consumed by her own feelings of guilt to deal with the embers of his anger. She wanted his forgiveness more than anything, but she was willing to wait. It would happen
when he was ready and she needed to give herself time to heal before she fought that battle.
She kept herself busy, helping Leann on projects around the house. Leann kept her moving, claiming it would help her wounds heal faster and keep her from getting stiff. More than anything it kept her mind busy and for that she was grateful.
As she grew stronger, she became restless. She took up lessons with Therin, learning all she could about her new home and the places beyond it. She studied maps, fascinated by the alien world around her. It was so vast, and she struggled to wrap her head around the sheer size of it all, around the amount of people said to reside within each city.
She learned of the deities, of the royal family, and their worship of Zekar the Nightbringer. The plight of her people was a convoluted web and the details of their struggles made her head spin. It was a struggle most of her kind tried to avoid. Having powers, Therin said, wasn’t worth losing their lives.
And she learned other things; to cook and to farm, to mend clothes and care for the horses. A gathering on the outskirts of town led to a night of learning how to dance and for the first time in weeks, she laughed, linked arm in arm with a boy as they twirled into the night.
And on a day just like any other, after she’d risen from her bed and brushed the hay from her hair, Tomias spoke.
At first, she thought she’d imagined it, thinking the small croaking sound had come from Benny, the white and brown horse that shared the barn with them. She eyed him curiously, but he simply stared at her, his teeth working on a clump of hay. It was only when she saw movement in her peripheral that she realized it was Tomias. He had moved from his usual spot and was trying to stand, rising with the painful grimace of a man much older than he was.
Kirheen was at his side in a flash, steadying him as he stood on weakened legs. They took a few cautious steps and then he sank to his knees. She lowered him down carefully, sitting beside him in the dirt and hay. “Are you all right?” she asked gently.
To her surprise, he seemed to acknowledge her words, his cinnamon colored eyes rising to look at her. With an unsteady hand, he reached out, his finger touching the jagged red line on her cheek. He traced that line down to her jaw and then let his arm drop back down to his side. “Thank you,” he whispered. There were tears welling in his eyes and she looked away, feeling ashamed that the mere sight of her could cause him such pain. “Thank you,” he said again slowly. “For not leaving me. For not giving up.”
His words drew her eyes to his and she found herself lost in the beauty of them, of the strangeness of seeing life where there had been only emptiness. That small spark was enough to take her breath away “I’ll never leave you,” she whispered. “I’ll be right here.”
He glanced back at his makeshift bed. “Can you help me back?” he asked, looking ashamed to be asking for help for something so small. “I don’t think I’m ready. I thought maybe I could, but I can’t.”
“Of course.” She helped him stand and walk back to his bed. He settled into the hay, leaning back against the stall, his eyes drifting shut. She rose as quietly as she could and turned away, intending to let him drift back to sleep, when he called her name.
“Kirheen.”
She stopped and turned back towards him. He was staring at her intently, eyes swirling with an emotion she couldn’t define. He inhaled deeply, his exhale long and slow. “It was always my brother. Ever since we were young…it was always him. Every bad thing that happened to us, he was the one that took the brunt of it.” Inhale. Exhale. “Every scrape and bruise, every broken bone, it was always him. And now he’s gone, taken by my own hands.”
Kirheen struggled to speak, her voice cracking as she coaxed words out of her throat. “Tomias, I’m so-”
He raised a hand. “I’m not done,” he said gently. “Kir, I am broken. I can’t explain to you the pain I feel at having lost him. He was a part of me, just as I was a part of him. I feel like a part of me died that day. Maybe part of me did.” He looked down at his palms, examining his hands as if they were foreign to him. He curled his fingers inwards, then stretched them out wide. He repeated the movement several times, as if he were trying to bring feeling back to his fingers. When he finally looked up, his brow was furrowed, his gaze troubled. She shuddered, knowing full well what would follow. He’d blame her for what had happened, would tell her to go away, a wound she more than deserved after what she’d put him through. “Despite this pain I feel, despite this grief, I don’t… I don’t regret saving you, Kir.”
She felt something heavy shift within her heart, as if a floodgate had been lifted, and emotions she’d held back were finally freed from some place deep within her. She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, her eyes burning with tears. She wanted to say something, to ask him to repeat himself so she’d know for sure that what he’d said was real, but she couldn’t make the words form.
He opened his arms, beckoning her towards him, and she rushed forward, diving into him harder than she’d intended. He huffed, trying to reclaim the air she’d driven out of him with her elbow. Her wounds protested the harsh treatment, burning from the sudden impact, but as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, she found herself caring little about the pain. His chin settled on top of her head and he sighed.
After several long peaceful moments, he leaned back, resting his hand on her cheek. His thumb gently caressed her scar and she leaned into his touch. His hand travelled from her face to her shoulder, down her arm to the bandages protecting her healing wound.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“At times, but it will heal,” she replied. We both will.
He nodded slowly and pulled her closer, mindful of her injuries. They remained that way, nestled together in the hay, basking in a strange mix of hope and sadness that surrounded them like a bubble. “What happens now?” he asked. “I know you. You won’t stay here forever.”
Kirheen mused, mulling over the question. She’d thought about her options, about what she’d like to do, but none of it had felt possible. He was right though. As soon as her wounds healed and she felt able to, she’d have to find a purpose. She couldn’t imagine just staying in the village, growing old without ever seeing what was beyond. It would be no better than a life lived in Sanctuary. “I want to go to Val’shar,” she said, referring to the capital city on the southern coastline. “I want to see it with my own eyes, not just read about it in books.”
“Hmm, a change of scenery then.” He pressed his cheek against her forehead. “I think I might have to go with you,” he stated simply, as if it were something she should have already known.
She pulled away from him, stunned into silence by his words.
“I don’t want to rot here,” he explained. “It would be good for me to travel, to take my mind off of things. Besides, I’ll need to be there to keep you out of trouble.” He smiled then, wide enough that she could see the dimples on his cheeks. It filled her with joy, and she nestled against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She drifted to sleep in his arms, lulled into slumber by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She dreamt of places she had yet to see, of oceans and fields of grain, of crowded streets filled with bright tents, alive with sound and bursting with the smell of foreign spices. She dreamt of spiraling towers stretching into the sky and felt hope bloom in her heart once more.
To those continuing the journey,
this is for you.
PROLOGUE
Coming to Val’shar had been a mistake. Kirheen knew it, could feel it deep in her bones, the truth sending an icy chill straight through her marrow. She surveyed the writhing mass of flesh and anger in the square below her. Nobleman and beggar alike stood shoulder to shoulder, a repulsive mixture of perfumed velvet and the mildew stench of a human body left to the elements for too long. Beyond them, too important and too wealthy to stand among the foul smelling commoners, were those that had paid an exorbitant sum to watch the execution from afar.
&n
bsp; Wooden platforms were erected around the Scarlet Square, elevating the nobility above the crowds. Guards stood vigilant, their weapons at the ready. With an increase of activity from rebels throughout the city, they weren’t taking any chances. Those they guarded were pretty, pampered things. They wore elegant masks meant to disguise their identity from those that would seek to retaliate against them, but Kirheen knew it was for show. Everyone knew who sat on that platform, masks or not. Many of the nobles wore garbs of the deepest black, jewels sewn into their finery sparkling like stars in the night sky. It was a nod to Zekar himself, warden of souls and keeper of the stars.
Something stinking of rotten vegetation collided with Kirheen’s face, leaving a trail of slime as it rolled away from her. She gritted her teeth and winced as a tomato came streaking across the sky, pelting the young boy tied to her left. He cried out as it struck him, whimpering and mewling like a newborn kitten. His mother, bound next to him, whispered reassuring words, but it did little to sooth his cries. Kirheen felt her blood roil, her powers shifting beneath the surface of her skin. She wanted to jump into the crowd and strike back against them, to fight their anger with anger of her own. Splinters jabbed into her hands as she squirmed and the ropes binding her chaffed her wrists as she struggled against them.
“Kirheen,” Tomias called, his voice sharp and urgent as he tried to get her attention. The sound of her name on his lips chilled her anger, her guilt rising from the depths to smother the flames. His eyes were on her, she could sense them, begging for her to meet his gaze. She wanted to see, to turn and look at him, but that would mean facing him and acknowledging that they would soon die, that Tomias would die. It wasn’t something she was ready for and she kept her eyes locked on the crowd even as she spoke, her words breaking against the jagged walls of her emotions. “It isn’t fair,” she choked, fighting back tears. “You should have stayed. If you hadn’t-”
The Allseer Trilogy Page 32
