Sharani series Box Set

by Kevin L. Nielsen

  “Bleeders?” Lhaurel asked. A small voice whispered in the back of her mind, telling her she already knew what he’d say. She had to hear it for herself though. Samsin turned to look down at her, his white-blonde hair whipping in the slight breeze and dancing across his regal face.

  “They don’t aim to kill,” Samsin said. “They only want to wound. Anyone that gets hit by an arrow is drained instantly of blood by one of the Sisters. They call it justice and proof of their right to rule our religion and the Progressions.”

  “What?” Gavin asked, though Lhaurel understood.

  “They use the blood to fuel their power and then turn it against the brethren of the very men they killed. You get killed, literally, by your own blood.”

  Lhaurel shuddered, remembering the Oasis, remembering the old man, moments from death, she’d been forced to use as a means to kill the genesauri. She remembered feeling Shallee’s pain, remembered the feeling of hundreds dying in the Oasis. How could those monsters feel all that and still act the way they did? Lhaurel felt sick and angry at the same time.

  “What can we do?” Gavin asked, looking from Samsin, who had lost all the arrogance and condescension from his voice, to Khari. “What can we do, Samsin?”

  Samsin shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do except sit here and wait for the Sisters’ judgment.” With that, Samsin turned and strode a short distance away, head bowed. He reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out a small round medallion before dropping to his knees in the sand. Behind Lhaurel, someone started to cry, which sparked others to join.

  Lhaurel, awash in her powers, felt the fear permeating through the Roterralar like sand after a sandstorm. Even without her powers, Lhaurel was sure she could have felt the fear; it was that palpable.

  Gavin looked over at Samsin, his mouth working, then back to Khari, who still hadn’t said anything.

  The woman finally blinked and seemed to come to her senses. “Gavin?” she asked.

  Lhaurel felt her inner calm, brought on by the powers she was holding, tremble and threaten to give way at the absolute despair and hopelessness in Khari’s voice. The Matron of the Roterralar was the rock upon which Lhaurel had built most of her foundation. Especially now, after everything that had gone on, Khari was the one person Lhaurel could always turn to. She was immovable. She was solid.

  She’d given up.

  “Gather everyone, Khari,” Gavin said, recognizing the need to take charge. “And move back. They’re not attacking yet.”

  “Lhaurel can save us, like she did with the genesauri, can’t she?” Khari asked, looking over at her.

  Lhaurel felt a rush of panic and a great weight settling on her shoulder. Gavin looked over at her as well, hope in his eyes.

  “I—I don’t know.” Lhaurel stammered, honestly unsure if she could duplicate what she’d done. She didn’t even really understand how she’d done it in the first place. What she’d read told her that what she’d done was impossible, even for one of the Seven Sisters. “It doesn’t work like that. I mean, I can’t get it to do what I want when I want it yet.”

  Gavin swallowed hard and made a good show of not reacting, though Lhaurel could sense his disappointment.

  He turned to Khari. “Get the woman and children who can’t fight to the back. Get Cobb and some of the others to help you.”

  Khari nodded absently and walked off, not a trace of hurry in her step. Lhaurel scurried over to Gavin.

  “What do we do?” Lhaurel whispered. “There are only a few dozen of us and only a handful of mystics that can fight.”

  “Are you sure you can’t?” Gavin made a vague gesture and Lhaurel shook her head. Gavin nodded again and his jaw firmed. He rocked his head back a few times as if stretching his neck.

  “What do we do, Gavin?” Lhaurel repeated. “If we get a good plan going, maybe we can figure this out.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” a voice said. Lhaurel turned to see the man she’d broken walking up behind her. His face was wan and his eyes wider than they should have been, but he suppressed his fear well.

  “Who are you?” Gavin asked.

  “Darryn.”

  “Ok, Darryn,” Gavin said, turning to the man. “You’re a mystic, right? Gather the other mystics and meet me back here. They aren’t attacking yet, but we need to have a plan when they do.”

  Lhaurel noticed he didn’t say if. Silently, she agreed with him, realization gripping her with shadowed fingers. She let her powers fade, feeling the latent exhaustion pile in. The pain in her leg returned and a throbbing headache threatened at her temples. Why now? Still, a small voice in her head knew a battle was coming. There would be plenty of time then to draw on additional fuel for her powers. No! No. She would never do that. Not again. She was not a monster. She was a Rahuli and she would fight and die defending them.

  * * *

  “I need at least two of you watching that army at all times,” Gavin said. “Cobb, you’re in charge of making sure the women and children are kept calm and they stay behind anyone who can defend them. Khari will help you with that.” The old man nodded, expression neutral, but his white hair was plastered to his face by sweat. “The rest of you I need to fly as many trips as you can out to the clans and bring as many of them back with you as you can before we lose the light.”

  “What about them?” one of the men asked, jutting his chin toward the vast sea of red. His question was echoed in the expressions of everyone else in the circle, even Lhaurel, who had found a sword somewhere and belted it on.

  “They’re not going anywhere,” Gavin said, resting a hand on the pommel of his greatsword, which he’d retrieved from Nabil’s back. “It’s nearly dark. Unless they have the ability to see in the dark, they’ll be just as blind as us. I don’t think they’ll attack.”

  Gavin held the man’s gaze for a long moment, trying to convey as much confidence as he could muster. It was difficult, but he knew that’s what they needed.

  Eventually the man nodded, apparently satisfied. Farah flashed Gavin a brief smile when his eyes passed over her, which gave him a small boost of confidence.

  “Alright then,” Gavin said. “Let’s go.”

  The majority of the group moved to leave, but one woman lingered. “What about Maugier’s clan?” she asked.

  Gavin looked over at her and tried to not breathe a sigh of frustration. Maugier’s clan. Gavin still hadn’t figured out what to do about them. If he sent another messenger, they would just get ignored. He really needed to either go himself or have Khari go, but they were both needed here. Gavin pursed his lips and ran a hand through his dusty, matted hair.

  “I don’t know. I hope they’ll come, but right now we can’t spare the men or aevians to go warn them or convince them to come. Everyone in the Sharani Desert saw the section of the Forbiddence come down. If they’ve any sense, they’ll come now.”

  “I can go,” the woman volunteered. Gavin regarded the woman, noticing her trembling hands and the stony set of her jaw. Some of the others who had turned to leave turned back to witness the exchange.

  “We need to save as many as we can,” Gavin said. “I don’t know if we can spare you. What connection do you have to the Maugier’s clan? Family?”

  The woman nodded. “My sister and mother are with them,” she said. “Please.”

  Gavin scratched at his chin. “Go. If you can’t convince him tonight, you get back here by first light tomorrow. If we’re still alive then, we’ll need you.”

  The woman nodded and, to Gavin’s surprise, snapped a fist to her breast in a salute. Gavin nodded to her and she spun on her heel in the sand and hurried to her aevian. They were in the air in moments.

  “What are the rest of you waiting for?” Gavin asked, looking around at the others. They broke apart immediately, even Cobb, who snapped a salute at Gavin, then left, leaving Gavin alone. Gavin looked around and frowned. Where had Lhaurel gotten off to? He searched the group, but didn’t see her. Instead, his eyes fell
on Samsin, who still knelt in the sand a half-dozen spans away, fiddling with the medallion in his hands.

  * * *

  Lhaurel made her way through the mothers and children, careful not to jostle anyone. Not that it was hard to get through them. They made way before her easily. Her scarlet hair and nails made her easily recognizable and, even among the Roterralar, she was considered something of an oddity.

  Lhaurel ignored them all, instead focusing her attention on finding Khari. Gavin’s plan was fine. It was probably even the right one. But what Lhaurel needed right now was a little stability, and that meant snapping Khari out of whatever stupor she was in. Thankfully, in such a small group, the woman was not hard to find. Khari sat in the sand alongside Shallee, the small former outcast woman nursing her baby as she carried on a running stream of one-sided conversation with Khari.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what all is going on here, but at least we’re safe for now then, aren’t we?” Shallee said, smiling over at Lhaurel as she took a seat in the sand next to Khari. “I mean, there’s no sense getting all worked up about something that hasn’t happened yet, is there?”

  “That’s right,” Lhaurel said, though her words sounded hollow in her own mind. “Gavin’s worked up a plan. We should have the rest of the clans here by morning. We’ll have more people to help us in the fight.”

  Near them, aevians called softly back and forth to one another where they nestled in the sand. Even the unbonded ones stayed close, though they were subdued.

  “Really?” Shallee asked, moving her child over to the other side so he could continue to suckle. “That’s good. We’ll be safe until then.”

  Khari frowned at this and turned her head over to look at the woman. “Safe? For over forty years I got used to dealing with the set pattern of the Dormancy and Migration. Nine months of life followed by three of terror. I devoted my life to the protection of the Rahuli people and to the Roterralar. Makin and I even gave up on having children of our own. As the years went by, the Roterralar warriors became our children, to an extent. What kind of a mother am I now?” Khari’s gaze shifted over to Lhaurel and her expression softened for a moment. Then it hardened again. “I thought we were safe when the genesauri were gone. I thought. I hoped . . . what can I do against this now?”

  “Oh, it’s not so bleak as all that.” Shallee said, though Lhaurel was inclined to disagree. “Lhaurel destroyed the genesauri, right? She can protect us now, if we need it, can’t she?” The woman looked to Lhaurel expectantly.

  “I—” Lhaurel began, but Khari cut her off.

  “No,” Khari snapped, fire returning to her voice. “She can’t. Her mind has barely begun to heal from the effort last time. No. This battle we fight on our own. I must protect my children.” Khari straightened suddenly and her lips formed a hard line. She got to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Gavin about his plans.”

  Lhaurel watched her go, grateful Khari had returned to normal, but also recognizing the woman’s lies for what they were. Though Khari’s confident, commanding posture and presence had returned, the woman’s eyes were dull, the fires of hope and resilience within them dim. Lhaurel rested hand on her sword, a deep desire to help Khari blossoming in her chest. Maybe she could save them in the heat of the battle, as she had last time.

  No!

  “What do they even want, anyway?” Shallee asked, most of the brightness gone from her voice now that Khari had gone.

  “All that was a show then?” Lhaurel asked. “Just to get Khari back on her feet?”

  Shallee shrugged, which upset the baby. “And what were you doing just now, may I ask?”

  Lhaurel shot the woman a wan smile. Shallee returned it, then glanced back at the assembled army in what remained of the sunlight. The red-clothed archers were busy setting up tents in neat rows, working around the Earth Wards as if they were stone statues instead of men. “We all do what we can to help our parents, even if they’re only surrogate ones.”

  Lhaurel nodded, looking back over at Khari’s retreating form. Khari had done so much for her, as had the Rahuli people. There had to be a way to protect them. Lhaurel glanced back down at Shallee and found the woman smiling down at her child, who gazed up at her with wide, wet, innocent eyes. Lhaurel remembered feeling Shallee’s pain that day that seemed so long ago now. The pain one goes through for their children. Khari’s pain came from there as well, though her children didn’t even know they were such.

  “Lhaurel?”

  Lhaurel looked over. “Hmm?”

  “What do you suppose they want?”

  Lhaurel opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again as Nikanor’s words came back to her. “Me,” she whispered.

  Nikanor had said they would kill her to hide their lies. But what if . . . a plan formed in Lhaurel’s mind, one that made her hands tremble and her entire body shake. Lhaurel took a few deep breaths, steadying herself, then slowly unclenched her fists. If it all worked out, she could save the Rahuli people. If it didn’t, well, what did she have to lose?

  * * *

  “Talk to me, Samsin,” Gavin said again, grabbing the man on the shoulder and trying to turn the massive man to face him. “I need some answers.”

  Samsin pulled out of Gavin’s grip with surprising ease, seeming to shrug and turn away at the same time. “Leave me to my prayers, slave boy,” Samsin said softly. “If I am to start the incarnation process over again tomorrow, I want to rise to the next Iteration this time.”

  Gavin ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and blew out a long breath. “If you just answer my questions, maybe we can figure out a way that doesn’t involve us dying either from this whole desert being obliterated or shot by arrows and drained of our blood.”

  Samsin spun back to face Gavin, face contorted with emotion. Gavin was surprised to see tears in Samsin’s eyes. “Nikanor is giving himself up for you. He’s gone. Do you understand? Let me mourn our passing in peace.”

  Gavin swallowed and then nodded.

  Chapter 26: Desperation

  “The Iterations, the Schema, they are not simply paths to a different power. They are more than that. They are the paths to the salvation of souls. They show all of us what we are striving for. The Seven Sisters show us how to attain them, or should, in a perfect world.”

  —From Commentary on the Schema, Volume I

  Lhaurel walked through the sands on silent feet, her limp all but gone. The ease at which she’d been able to escape the makeshift Roterralar camp had surprised her, but then, they were busy helping the aevian riders unload passengers from the other clans so they could try and get back out there for more before the sun fully set.

  Lhaurel shivered in the growing darkness, wrapping her arms around herself. Cold came quickly in the darkness, though it was probably only relative to how warm it was when the sun was out. She chewed on her bottom lip as she strode toward the army arrayed at the foot of the Forbiddence, careful to stick to the shadows so she wouldn’t be spotted for as long as possible. She didn’t want to get stuck by an arrow before she could speak to the Sisters.

  The plan was reckless. It relied too much on information that could very well be false. But it was the only chance they had. They were relying on her to save them. Despite what Khari had said, despite everything Gavin claimed, she could see it in their eyes. They wanted her to save them. After what she’d done to the genesauri, how could they not look to her for salvation again? But Lhaurel wasn’t going to pay that price again. No, Nikanor had said they were here for her, or they would kill everyone once they found her to cover their charade. Lhaurel hoped to bargain for something better.

  An arrow screamed through the sky, nearly hitting her. Lhaurel jumped and broke into a run, not away from the arrow, but toward it.

  “How dare you fire upon one of the Seven Sisters!” Lhaurel shouted, hoping it would work long enough for her to get into their view. It was stupid, dangerous, and foolish, but no additional arrows came. There
was still barely enough light to see she was alone, now that she was no longer hugging the sides of dunes and trying to hide from view.

  A row of sentries appeared before her, seeming to materialize out of the gloom. Behind them, Lhaurel could make out the tents constructed there and the score or so Earth Wards still retaining their statuesque stances in between. Lhaurel studied the sentries as they dashed toward her. Each was clad in red capes and conical steel caps, quivers full of arrows strapped to their backs. Each carried a massive bow in one hand. To a man, they were tall and muscular, as tall as the tallest Rahuli warrior, but they weren’t even close to Samsin or Nikanor’s massive height. Were there different types of Orinai, just like the Rahuli were divided into clans?

  They surrounded her, arrow tips inches from her face. One of the men produced a torch and lit it with an ornate striker. Lhaurel squinted against the sudden flaring light, raising her hand to block the light. The torchlight glinted off her blood-red nails and hair. Immediately weapons were lowered and the archers all took a collective step back.

  The one holding the torch cleared his throat, proffered a hasty bow, and said something that Lhaurel didn’t understand. Were they talking in another language?

  “Take me to my Sisters,” Lhaurel said. She held her breath, hoping he would understand. Nikanor and Samsin had spoken in her language, hadn’t they? A bead of sweat formed on her brow and slid down the side of her face.

  The torch bearer’s eyebrows rose into his dark black hair and his eyes widened. They shone a pale green in the light. “Your pardon, Honored Sister,” the man said in the Rahuli tongue, though with a heavy accent. “We meant no dishonor. We did not know you were here. Your Sisters did not tell us to expect another.” He swallowed and licked his lips, though his posture returned to rigid straightness and his expression melted back into the soldier’s nondescript stare.

  Lhaurel felt something relax inside her and she let out the breath she’d been holding. She also released her grip on her powers, which she’d grasped at in desperation when the torch-bearer’s eyebrows had risen. For the first time, Lhaurel was grateful for her blood-red hair and nails.