The Zoya Chronicles Boxed Set

by Kate Sander

  The current grew stronger and she managed to turn and face downriver. Ahead, the world opened up and the river ended. Deafened by the sound of crashing water, she realized she was going towards a waterfall.

  Looking around desperately, a low hanging branch above the river caught her attention. She reached up as she passed and grabbed hold. The tree held its position, it’s trunk firmly planted in the ground. Exhaustion set in as she tried to hoist herself onto the branch. She flailed feebly in the air, arms too weak and tired to pull herself up.

  Panic.

  The current pulled at her legs and waist, the cold water ripping at her. The river wanted her. With one last desperate attempt, she tried to kick her feet and pull her body on to the branch. If this didn’t work, she was going to die.

  She couldn’t do it. Her hands weakened and slipped. With a scream, she fell back into the river and was rushed over the edge of the water fall.

  One second.

  Two seconds.

  Three seconds.

  That’s all the fall lasted, though it felt like an eternity.

  Smack.

  She hit the pool at the bottom of the waterfall on her stomach. The water immediately swallowed her and dragged her down. Pounded by the water above her, she struggled desperately for the surface. It was no use, and she sank like a stone.

  As the surface of the water disappeared above her, she let herself relax.

  I’m going to die.

  The thought crossed her mind as she sank, and she knew it was true. She would die alone and afraid without knowing who she was and where she came from.

  Her lungs burned. One final breath would end it. One inhale, then the river would flood her lungs and all this fear and panic would go away. She prepared herself to force a breath in and end it all when a strange voice entered her head, “Fight. I know you can do it. Stay with me. Fight!” Her body jolted. A weird feeling radiated through her body from the center of her chest. Energy. It hit her muscles and cleared her head.

  Listening to the mysterious voice, she swam upwards. The river had moved her out of the way of the crushing waterfall.

  An eternity later, her head broke from the water. Gasping and coughing, she greedily sucked in air. She looked around, trying to get her bearings and find a place to exit the river. Without looking back, she ran up the bank and into the woods.

  She didn’t have a lot of energy left, so she resorted to walking, chest heaving. Even walking didn’t last long and she had to stop and rest only a few feet from the river. Exhaustion was taking over, the confusing last thirty minutes of her life reverberated through her.

  Self-pity overwhelmed her and she starting to cry. Crawling to a tree trunk, she sat against it and let the emotion overwhelm her. She didn’t know what she did to deserve this.

  After she cried herself out, she figured she should probably find some shelter. The sun was setting behind the trees and she was cold. Gathering her energy, she walked for a little bit and found a cliff beside the waterfall. In that cliff was a small opening that led into a cave. Creeping inside, it was warm and dry. There were no signs of any animals. She crawled to the corner and, laying in the fetal position, quickly fell asleep.

  A buzz of the Pulse light flickering woke her. Groaning, she gingerly felt her face. It hurt to the touch, but the swelling was gone and the bleeding had stopped. The herbs had done their job. She would live another day.

  Slowly, she pushed herself so she was sitting on her bed. No nausea and no urge to vomit. Her head swam a bit, but settled quickly.

  Buzz.

  Annoyed at the sound and the light, she covered her ears.

  Shut up.

  The light didn’t listen. Anxiety rose in her chest.

  Meditate.

  It was really the only option. She couldn’t go to sleep, not with that racket. And she needed to do something until the light flickered off and she was able to sleep again.

  The arrival of her dreams as a sign from her master that she needed to complete the memory and recall the entirety of her past. If she would have vengeance, she needed to confront her fears. And that meant facing her past.

  Testing out her legs and relieved when they held her weight, she took a couple shaky steps to the middle of the room. Kneeling, she breathed slowly and rhythmically and withdrew into her past.

  Panic.

  From dead asleep to awake, she fired up to her feet, looking around and panting.

  A cave. She was in a cave. And the sun coming through the mouth of the cave told her it was daytime. Desperately, she tried to remember where she was. A cave in the forest by the waterfall. And she’d woken on the hill in the middle of the grass. Before that… nothing.

  Growl.

  Her stomach grumbled in protest. Hunger. She was hungry. And still naked. She needed to do something about that.

  Venturing out of the cave, she looked around, trying to get a better sense of her surroundings and figure out exactly where she was. The ground sloped towards the river bank, where the waterfall thundered and churned. Comprised mainly of fir and birch trees, the forest was calm and still. Thirst hit her again and she walked carefully towards the river.

  Watching the riverbank from behind a tree in the forest, she waited for a long time. She didn’t want another run in with that mountain lion.

  A small deer walked carefully down the bank, not noticing her in the trees. The wind rustled the trees, and Senka knew she was up wind and the deer couldn’t smell her.

  Growl.

  Hunger. Mouth salivating, a fist sized rock by her feet caught her attention. Quietly picking it up, she focused on the deer and saw a green shimmer of light around it. Odd. When she stopped focusing the light disappeared.

  Growl.

  No time to think about that right now. She needed to eat. Creeping quietly, the waterfall hiding her footsteps, she made her way towards the drinking deer. Stumbling a bit, she focused again on the deer and saw the green aura wave.

  The deer lifted its head, saw her, and turned to bolt.

  Instinct took over. The girl threw the rock and, whether by luck or by fate, hit the deer in the side of the head. It went down stunned. Leaping, she straddled it and slammed its head into the ground over and over until its skull was mush. The green light was gone.

  Blood covered her face and she stepped back, shaking. What the hell had come over her? Reacting. That’s all she’d been doing. How had she moved so fast or stunned a deer with a rock?

  Chest heaving, light headed, she scrambled to the river and washed her hands and face.

  Dead. She’d killed a deer with her hands. Her stomach growled again.

  It wasn’t going to come back to life. Sitting heavily, a sharp rock skidded away.

  And she was still hungry.

  Somehow, she knew what to do. Returning to the carcass, she skinned the animal with the sharp rock. Managing to get it off without many rips and tears, she hung it over a large rock in the sunlight.

  Her stomach growled again. She dragged the skinned animal the fifty feet to the entrance of her cave. There was plenty of dried sticks and leaves around her, and she piled them up in a tent. Another trip down to the bank gave her two small rocks. A couple strikes, a spark and some coaxing was all it took to get a fire going.

  She cut a small piece of meat off the carcass and skewered it, hanging it over the fire. The fat dripped and sizzled, and her empty stomach protested again. She couldn’t take it anymore. With the meat still raw in the middle, she snatched it from the fire and gorged.

  Blood dribbled down her chin and she smiled as she wiped it away.

  Stomach no longer grumbling, she had the opportunity to think a little. How had she started the fire? How did she know how to skin a deer? It came as naturally as breathing. She was hungry and now she was eating. She had been cold and when that hide dried she would be warm.

  Reflecting on her last day, the mountain lion came into her head. She cut another piece of deer off and put it on the fir
e. The mountain lion had scared her. What had she done to deserve that? And what if it came back? If she killed the lion, she wouldn’t have to worry about it getting to her first.

  She cut the carcass into strips and put it over the fire to dry, hoping no other animal ate it while she was gone.

  The urge to kill swept through her. That mountain lion deserved to die. Going around, hunting people. Really, she was just protecting herself. Grabbing her sharp rock, she tried to find her way back up the cliff.

  She managed to find a game trail back up and around the cliff, away from the waterfall. The hill was steep and she puffed as she climbed. Flabby, soft, out of shape. This trip was already a struggle. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be back at the cave, making a bed and trying to find ventilation so she could build a fire in the cave. Barefoot, her feet ached.

  You need to kill it. You have to. It’s the only way to feel safe.

  All her logic didn’t stop her and she continued on the game path. Running parallel to the river, it was easy to fall. Once the river widened and quieted, the game path ran towards it and continued on the other side.

  Must be shallow enough for animals to cross, so it’d be shallow enough for her.

  Go home.

  No. Kill it.

  The hunger in her grew. She had to kill it. She had to kill something.

  To feel safe.

  Crossing, the river only came up to her knees. Once across, it was easy to pick up the trail of the cat. This must be its territory and it looked fresh. As the wind blew in her face, she smiled. Up wind. Perfect to hunt the creature.

  The trail led to a cave, this one cozied into the side of a grassy hill.

  Perfect.

  A soft purr came from the inside of the cave. Slowly, careful not to make a sound and give herself away, she climbed the hill and perched herself over the cave entrance.

  Grabbing a stick, she threw it as far as she could into the wood. The purring stopped.

  A few seconds later, a large tawny head poked out of the cave.

  The girl squinted, showing the cat bathed in a pink light. Odd, the day before it had looked red. Now it was a soft shade of pink. Maybe it had always been, but in her fear she’d seen it wrong.

  The aura shimmered as the cat stepped out of the cave a little more, sniffing the air hesitantly.

  The massive cat took another step out of the door, exposing its neck. Without a second thought, she leapt and thrust the sharp stone downward.

  With a sickening crunch, the rock hit the spine and she tore downwards as she landed. In a spurt of blood, she slit its throat. The cat fell dead in an instant.

  “Yes!” the girl yelled, elated in her victory. “Who’s scared now?”

  Forgetting to be afraid, she walked into the cave. Three small kittens, eyes barely open, cried out in the back corner of the cave.

  Their mewing was grating on her nerves. All the self-pity and anger from the day before welled up inside.

  These creatures were pitiful

  Just like you.

  “SHUT UP!”

  She grabbed each tiny animal and smashed their heads into the wall with a revolting crack.

  Silence.

  The girl looked at her blood soaked, shaking hands. Bile rose in her throat.

  “What did you do?”

  Retching, she ran from the cave and tripped over the adult.

  Falling heavily to her side, she turned on her back and scooted away from the beautiful dead cat. The pink shimmer was gone.

  A mother. Protecting her cubs. That’s all.

  In her fear she’d destroyed them all. The blank green eyes stared at her, accusingly.

  Sobbing, she turned and fled the carnage of the cave.

  With a deep breath, Senka drew herself out of her meditation. The only way to succeed in her venture was to confront the past.

  Shaking, she tried to get to her feet but couldn’t, so she resorted to crawling to her cot.

  Exhaustion took over. With her last ounce of energy, she pulled herself into her stone bed and flopped over to her side. She applied the last of the medicine to her face, which had again started its dull ache.

  Dead green eyes. The crunch of the cubs’ heads against the stone wall. Those things would haunt her forever. She’d vowed to never kill again.

  That was, until….

  Vows change.

  She’d lived in her cave for two months, hunting for food but ensuring she used the whole animal. Foraging, hunting, sleeping. Her life was a lonely one, in those trees. Not much different then right now.

  Stars. At least I could see the stars.

  Maybe. But you never looked.

  She couldn’t argue with herself. The Pulse light flickered off, another day of incarceration and torture done. With a weak hand, she marked another tick on her wall.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes to a dreamless sleep.

  7

  Armend

  Armend whistled to himself. Things in the Solias council were going swimmingly. It had been two weeks since the torture of 613 and his new alliance with Intelligence and Justice was turning out to be very successful and lucrative. Playing the double agent for the King and Queen was just icing on the cake.

  He walked down the broken cobblestone of the slums, looking for the bar where he was supposed to meet his informant. Even his bedraggled appearance could not dull his happy mood. He couldn’t dress in his usual fashion of gold robes and fine silks. That was an invitation to get robbed, even though Sebastian was following him in the shadows. No one would get near him without Sebastian slitting their throat. And that would never do. Random hobos murdered on the street was far too obvious tonight. He needed to stay inconspicuous today, and that meant plain grey cotton robes.

  A grimy alehouse materialized at the end of a dark street. The Pulse lights inside barely strong enough to permeate the cloudy windows. Disgusting. He opened the door and grimaced when his sandals stuck to the beer soaked flooring. Hiking up his robe slightly, he skeptically looked around the bar. Dark booths lined the walls, complete with sullen looking men and dirty prostitutes trying to earn some money. A few old and yellowed Pulse lights hung on the ceiling.

  The centrepiece was a dirty brown bar lined with a few forlorn, dishevelled men staring listlessly into their beers. There was no way he’d be recognized here. No person of higher birth would ever consider coming to a place like this. He doubted that even the low brow soldiers came into this place. This was where beggars and bums came with their spare Kritz that had been tossed to them on the street. A haggard, fat barmaid wiped down the bar with a dirty rag. He could see her warts from the entrance. Grimacing, he tried to hide the look with an awkward smile.

  Confidently, he strode towards the bar, ignoring the beer sticking to his sandals and the stares he received from the patrons. Perhaps the cotton robe was still too conspicuous, he thought. The door opened and closed, and the hooded Sebastian smuggled himself into the corner booth. Well, he thought, at least I won’t die tonight.

  “Hello, ma’am,” he said, flashing his straight white teeth to the barmaid, “A pint of ale if you would.”

  A grunt was her only answer. Without looking up, she went about pouring a murky brown liquid into a dirty glass. She slammed the beer on the top of the bar, the cloudy ale sloshing over the top and onto his feet.

  “Quarter Krit,” she said gruffly. Her breath almost knocked him out.

  Forcing a smile, he fished the coins out of his robe. He took the ale, sniffed it, and with a frown decided that he would only drink from that glass if someone had a knife to his throat. Another quick look around the pub showed him what he came for. A man was watching him from a shadowed corner booth.

  Armed headed towards the man dressed in a dark grey robe with a black cloak overtop, hood pulled down over the top half of his face. A lit pipe illuminated the blacks of his eyes, giving him a predatory look. A silver ring glinted on his finger with Armend’s house insignia. Definitely
Armend’s contact. Intelligence had set this meeting up. The less they knew about each other, the better.

  Armend squeezed into the booth, opposite of his informant. The man didn’t move, he just kept sucking on his pipe. He took the insignia ring off and tossed it on the table in front of Armend. It made a heavy bang. Armend looked down at the ring, then back up to the informant, who had inconspicuously pulled a short silver knife out of his robe and had it in his hand resting on the table pointed at Armend.

  “The rogue,” he said to Armend in a gruff, low voice, “Lose him or die.”

  Armend tried to hide his surprise and nodded. Without taking his eyes off the glinting knife on the table, he raised his right hand and waved. The door of the bar opened and closed. Sebastian was out, he was on his own.

  “Now,” said the hooded man, “I have information for you. I will only say it once. You must never know who told you this. I’d rather not be hung for treason.” He licked his lips greedily, “She promised me gold if I helped you.”

  Armend nodded and slowly removed 300 Kritz in notes from the inner pocket of his robe. In a flash, the money disappeared into the man’s robes.

  “Intelligence promised me triple this.”

  Armend gave him a hard stare. “If I like the information, you’ll get 300 more. You’ll get the rest in a couple months when things settle down.”

  The man hesitated and looked around. The 300 Kritz was what the man would make in any profession in the city in a year. Pure greed was driving him.

  “The Queen is the spy for the Melanthios. She is doing it on the King’s orders. They want the treaty signed and to live in peace, and suspect some members of the council are after blood. There will be a prison break, organized by the Queen. The identity of the prisoner is not known, nor is it known why that particular prisoner out of the hundreds of Melanthios you have locked up will be freed. There is rumour that it is a Zoya.”