by Karen MacRae
“Hey, I’ve just realised,” said Beitris. “That’s why the country has such a boring name! The King. The Kingdom. The wording’s part of it, isn’t it? Light, I’m slow!”
“But how can it know?” Anna insisted, ignoring Beitris’ revelation. “How can anyone know if something’s in the King’s interest? In The Kingdom’s interest?”
“The best I can fathom out is that your oath knows your true intent,” Seleste answered. “If you genuinely believe you’re doing the right thing and that the King would approve, it lets you do it. If you have misgivings, it doesn’t.”
Anna shook her head. “It’s a form of mind-control. It’s wrong.”
“But it works, Anna. It holds our leader and his people in balance, the ones who’ve sworn at least. One can do nothing to harm the other. The Kingdom is the fairest, safest, most prosperous nation in the world.”
“It’s no big deal,” added Beitris. “Assuming you don’t make a habit of breaking the law, it doesn’t interfere with life at all.”
Anna looked unconvinced.
“Would you rather Nystrieth were in charge?” Seleste asked quietly.
Anna thought of the horrors she’d seen in Bojek’s memories. She shivered. Light, no, she would do anything in her power to prevent that monster from taking The Kingdom. She supposed it didn’t matter whether she thought that because she truly believed it or because of her oath. It was true either way.
CHAPTER 6
Nystrieth
H e could hear arguing outside the door. He shut it from his mind. The guards would deal with whoever dared disturb his nightly meditation. The noise faded as his body relaxed and his mind emptied. He never sought to control where he went next, but it always began at the same place: with a smile. He knew a moment of peace and then his mind jumped to a slow-motion scene from what the Sevians called hell.
They woke to screams, the crackle of flames and the smell of smoke. She jumped from bed so he followed. She pulled him behind her as she peeked out of the door. He sneaked a look around her legs. All he could see was fire. All he could hear was screaming and harsh laughter. A man flashed by on a charging horse, a sword swinging. The old witch from the neighbouring hut crumpled in two, her body going left, her head going straight down like a ripe apple falling from a tree. He was yanked back into the hut before he could watch the man’s sword connect with the old witch’s snooty wife. Berita she was called. He quite liked her. She’d given him a chunk of honey bread once.
She’d picked up a knife from the table while he’d been thinking of honey bread. She crouched before him. Her voice was urgent, serious. Her ‘do as you’re told’ voice. “If I tell you to run, Kazi, don’t look back, just run like the wind. Don’t stop until you’re far into the forest.” Her aura was scarlet and peach. Pretty. He nodded and she pulled him into a quick hug then grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her again. They stopped in the doorway for a second so she could warn him to keep up and then they were off.
She almost pulled him from his feet in that first dash. He was concentrating so hard on keeping up he didn’t notice the bodies they passed or the blood and guts they trod in. He only worked it out afterwards, when a stream swirled red around his feet.
They skidded to a stop beside the pig pen. The animals were squealing as if it were Slaughter Day. She held his hand so tightly it hurt. Her breathing was fast and hard, her eyes wild. He saw Dakan then, lying just a few feet away. His eyes were staring without seeing, his mouth fixed in a grimace of pain, his hands clutched to his fat belly. Thick coils of flesh spilled around him. She saw Dakan then too. She let out a sob. She liked Dakan. He was the only man who brought gifts when he came to play grown-up games on the bed with her. The whittled toy the man had given him last month was safely hidden in his special place. He’d get it later, when the scary men had left.
She tugged at his hand. It was time to run again. He tried to ignore everything but the need to pump his legs up and down as fast as he could. He didn’t see the stone. His ankle turned on it and he sprawled face down. Their hands had nearly parted, but she held on tight. She hauled him to his feet. The giant stepped around the side of the last hut just as she turned back towards the forest.
“Come on then, gifted,” he sneered. “Give it your best shot. Or are you too scared to even try?”
She let his hand go then, shoving him behind her for the final time. She spat at the huge man. “I don’t need my gift, you pathetic excuse for a man. A real man, a real warrior, doesn’t kill the defenceless for sport. Does your mama know what you do for fun?”
Kazi gaped as he saw the man’s aura explode with shame and fury. She’d broken the rules. She’d used her gift. She’d said exactly what was needed to make the giant mad. Why would she make him mad?
“I’ll show you who’s a real man, you freak,” he bellowed.
She just stood there. She didn’t try to run. She didn’t scream. She just stood there as he stalked towards them. He felt her squeeze his hand and then let it go. “Run,” she said, too quiet for any but he to hear. He didn’t want to leave her. His feet refused to move.
“Run!” she screamed, bringing the kitchen knife up in front of her. He ran like the wind, just as she’d told him to. He would have made it to the forest if he hadn’t wondered why she wasn’t behind him. Instead, he went back for her.
At least half the huts were burning, lighting up the rows of crops before him with a flickering orangey red. He kept his eyes down, scanning the ground for her. Maybe she’d stood on a stone and fallen over like he had?
He heard them before he saw them. The giant was playing grown-up games with her while three others argued about who went next. She wasn’t making the noises she normally did. She was just lying there, her body half-on and half-off the cart, her arms sprawling, her eyes closed, her smile gone.
He could tell she was dead. Her light had vanished, just like the pigs on Slaughter Day.
The pain hit the adult him then. It happened every time his mind took him back to that day. Every time, it felt as sharp and brutal as new. He’d come to accept it and then to look forward to it. Finally, he’d learned to revel in it. Only the dead felt no pain.
She got clearer as the young he walked into the village, hope burning within him that he was wrong. His vision blurred with tears and he wiped them away angrily. He made no attempt to hide from the loud men, but they didn’t see him until he was standing right beside her. His eyes took in the ugly bruises around her neck, the ripped bodice, the skirt bunched up above her hips, the giant’s hands on her breasts, his body between her legs.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, little man,” the giant grunted. The others laughed. “Put him with the rest.” No one moved.
“You hurt her.”
“She don’t feel a thing now, boy,” the giant laughed. The others joined in.
“Stop.”
“Get this brat away from here!” the giant shouted in his ‘you’re annoying me’ voice.
“You hurt mama.”
“Now!” the giant shouted in his ‘that’s it’ voice. The man at the back of the queue shrugged then began to walk towards him.
“I said stop.”
“For light’s sake!” the giant cursed, pulling up his trousers. “You’ll pay for the interruption, you freak.” He pulled a knife from his belt and stepped around mama. A part of Kazi expected her to get up and pull him behind her, but she couldn’t protect him anymore.
The two men grabbed him. He squirmed and kicked, trying to get away from their slimy auras. Mama had told him never to touch people’s lights, never even to tell people he could make the lights dance. The two men held him tighter. They called to others out of sight, telling someone to come and get another brat, asking if anyone fancied a go with a fresh boy. He didn’t know what they meant, but he could see their excitement and their disgust of him, his mama and the others in the village. He could also see their fear. It confused him.
He looked over at m
ama. A new man was playing with her now.
“No! I said no!” he shouted. “Leave her alone!”
The giant slapped him. His head snapped back and blood filled his mouth. He felt something hot and fierce in his belly. It spread until the pain was burned away. “I said no,” he whispered. He pushed at the giant’s horrid aura stronger than he’d ever done before. The man dropped like a stone, his light gone. “No means no.”
The man holding his other arm let go in fright. Kazi turned to look at him. Fear had completely taken over the man’s aura. Just like the pigs on Slaughter Day. Without thinking, without remembering the rules, Kazi held a hand out towards the man and twisted his aura until it was a mass of pain. He watched in satisfaction as the man fell, writhing and screaming on the ground. The fire burned brightly in his belly. It felt good.
He heard scared gasps behind him. Without taking his eyes off the howling man, he sent a wave to knock the bad men’s auras away. He heard thuds as they fell and felt happy.
Shouts came from the centre of the village. He looked up to see two men rushing towards him. He didn’t react until they drew their swords, their eyes fixed on his, their lights a confusing mix of fear and anger. They were planning to make his head fall like an apple.
He chopped off the lower half of their auras and the men’s legs stopped working as if cut from their bodies. He felt the heat warm him and wanted more. He noticed the screaming man had gone quiet, his aura gone. He was glad the noise had stopped. He walked over to the struggling men and waved a hand over them, peeling away the rest of their auras. He wouldn’t let them hurt anyone ever again.
There didn’t seem to be anyone else left so he walked back to her. One of the men had fallen on top of her. He tried to pull him off, but the grown-up was too heavy for him. He looked around for help and spotted Master Vetrov hiding under the hen house. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, his aura full of terror.
“It’s all right, Master Vetrov, they won’t hurt you now,” he shouted. “Please, help me?”
The man didn’t move. Kazi heard footsteps behind him. He spun round, ready to protect his mama, but saw it was only the villagers. “Can someone help me, please?” he asked politely, still desperately tugging at the lightless body trapping his mama.
The familiar faces had never been friendly, but they were neighbours. Mama had called some of them funny names, but only at home. There was Kuutra who could bend metal and was every bit as rigid as steel. He didn’t expect help from her; she hated mama. Her husband liked to play with mama, though, so he might help. He couldn’t see him anywhere, though. There was jobsworth Neeta. She was super strong according to mama. She’d be able to move the man. But she might not break the rule. She was the one who punished people who slipped up. She’d probably want to punish him, but all he’d done was stop the bad men from hurting mama. They would have done the same, wouldn’t they, if they could?
Faces swam before him. The crowd grew as more and more villagers appeared from their hiding places. There was Stepan the drunkard fighter and his wife Pritta the air mover, Wilson the runner and his wife Norin the wishy-washy water-worker, Suush the ugly singer and her daughter Ruutie the even uglier acrobat, Mipel the skinny thrower, Euth the know-it-all archer, Wulth the strongman, Kathlee the uppity talker…
As he thought of all their gifts, it dawned on him that mama could understand lights, but she couldn’t fight, she couldn’t crush, she couldn’t bend things and she couldn’t throw things. Mama couldn’t have stopped the bad men, but the neighbours could have. Together, they could have stopped the bad men. They could have saved her.
The heat in his belly was overwhelmed by pain as he realised he could have saved mama too, if only he’d stayed.
The first stone hit him just as he began to cry. He looked up in shock. Euth’s son had thrown it. Why would he throw a stone at him? Why didn’t his father tell him off? The second stone hit him before he could ask. Then the third, then the fourth.
“The whore brought a viper amongst us.”
“Aura Shaper!”
“Shaper? Light, protect us.”
“Begone, Shaper!”
“Vermin!”
He curled into a ball under the cart holding his dead mother’s body and wept. Pain and heat raged within him as the stones rained down.
An angry voice outside the door interrupted his meditation. He uncrossed his legs and stood up in one smooth move. He acknowledged he was irritated then suppressed the emotion. It was of no benefit.
As he pulled on his robes, he thought of the village where he’d first embraced his power. The weakling naysayers, rejecting their gifts as aberrations unworthy of any but the gods, living as ungifted, running scared from any who dared challenge them. Abandoned by his father, his mother had hidden him there, sacrificed a life of relative wealth and ease to scrape a living as a whore. Then she had given her life so he could escape. It was as it should be, but he would never forgive her for choosing such a fragile hiding place. He would have liked her by his side. He could have used an accomplished Reader.
He wondered why his mind continued to take him to that place. He had forgiven himself for not saving her. Teaching him to suppress his gift had been her error, not his. He had also forgiven himself for his error in not killing every human in the village for their cowardice, their twisted beliefs and their extraordinary ingratitude. But he’d been only seven years old. It was acceptable at that age to allow emotion to overtake action, especially without the proper training. Once The Kingdom was under his rule, he would build the right schools and Rybis’ gifted would swell his army to a force unlike any other for generations to come. Without emotion, immune to the pathetic pleas of the weak, unconcerned by ridiculous societal norms of right and wrong, they would be unstoppable. They would be the backbone of the better world he would create: an absolute meritocracy with the most powerful of all at the helm. It would be his legacy.
The noise outside the room had increased in volume. It stopped abruptly when he opened the door. His men immediately threw themselves to the ground. The newcomer stayed standing, unsure what to do with himself. He finally decided to bow.
“My men explained I am not to be disturbed at this time?”
“Yes, sir, er, Your Majesty, Imperial Majesty, sir, but…”
“There are no buts. You will return in the morning and be grateful for my mercy.”
“But..”
“Take the trash away,” he told his men as the newcomer crashed to the ground, his aura gone forever. “And take care to keep the noise down in future.”
He was about to close the door when he noticed a piece of paper that had fallen from the man’s hand. He doubted it was worth the man’s life, but he was mildly curious. A guard handed it to him, but he could make no sense of the scrawl. The underlined ‘URGENT!’ was self-explanatory, but ‘riuq raioled Stakeu T’ meant nothing to him.
He put the interruption from his mind. He had work to do. Five minutes later, he found himself reaching for the puzzle. He smoothed out the strip of paper and looked again at the scribble. Nothing showed on his face when he finally worked it out, but his children hissed and snarled as his rage infected them. The two youngest prowled around then launched themselves at each other, claws out, teeth bared. The scent of blood filled the air. The other cats roared their approval.
He slowly clenched his fist and smashed it into the wall. Just once. It was all that was required. The panthers slunk away to lick their wounds as their master looked again at the paper.
The T at the end was for Taylor, the Alscombe financial ring had been raided and Sesi had been taken.
He crushed the message in his bloody hand.
CHAPTER 7
Leask
T he resolute servant looked Mystrim straight in the eyes. “I mean exactly what I said, sir,” he said calmly. “My master is away from home. He will be back in three days. I’m sure he will be delighted to receive your call at that time. Until then, I wish you a
good day.”
Mystrim’s mouth dropped slightly open as the ornately carved door was closed in his face. His partner stepped forward and repeatedly slammed her fist against the wood. Her knocks were ignored. The weather mage caught her arm as she raised it for the sixth time.
“People are looking. We’ll try another door,” he whispered.
Elona’s face had gone white with anger. “Let go of my arm,” she spat, her eyes like daggers.
Mystrim blanched as he realised his error. He drew heat from the air as he stepped away from the Reader. “Take it easy,” he told her, raising his hands in apparent surrender. A surrender that gave him the ideal angle to burn off her perfect face.
“Never, ever, touch me again or I’ll rip off the offending hand,” she warned.
He didn’t doubt she spoke the truth, but he could see she’d calmed down enough to understand why he’d grabbed her arm. They couldn’t have guards looking into a disturbance at their agent’s front door.
In truth, Elona had felt the air chill. She’d known he was ready to defend himself. It had been enough to break through her phobic reaction to someone daring to touch her without her consent. She swallowed her anger and descended the steps with an amused smile on her lips. “Trust Aaron to forget his cousin was visiting today,” she said just loudly enough for any curious onlookers to hear. She shook her head at her cousin’s oversight and turned to hold her hand out to her companion. “Shall we go back to that delightful inn for some dinner, my love?”
Mystrim stuck an answering smile on his face and took the proffered hand. “What an excellent idea,” he said cheerfully. Inside he was cursing all women and especially this hellcat he was partnered with. She’d happily cut off his hand for grabbing her arm then she holds out her hand for him to hold? He’d never work her out.
