by Krista Rose
He sat on the bench beside Lanya, his eyes roaming over her body as he deliberately ignored me. “Where are you from, pretty lady?”
I rolled my eyes, and pulled the wine out of his reach before he could snag it.
She blushed. “I’m from Fallor.”
“That’s a long way for such a pretty girl to travel. You moving to Joksten?”
“Stopping through. The storm.” She gestured to the room’s only window, where the rain lashed at the glass. I wondered why I had never noticed how long and delicate her fingers were.
“That’s too bad. Maybe you can stay an extra day, let me show you around.”
“I doubt it, but thank you.” Her eyes sparkled like sapphires as she looked at him, and I felt irritation blossom in my chest. Couldn’t he see that we were sitting together?
“What’s your name?”
“Lanya.”
“Keven.” He lifted her hand, brushing his lips against her lovely fingers. “A pleasure.”
She smiled at him, and my hands clenched into fists on the table.
“It’s a shame you won’t be staying in Joksten,” he continued, his eyes rapt on her face. “Perhaps you would allow me the pleasure of your company tonight instead.”
I glared at him as Lanya flushed, half-rising from my seat. I wished I hadn’t left my sword upstairs on the bed; still, I was more than certain I could kill this presumptious cretin with my bare hands.
“I- I don’t think-”
A tremendous weight descended over the room, turning my bones to stone. I couldn’t move, frozen half-way across the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kryssa lean against the great room door, frowning at us.
That’s enough, Lanya. I clearly heard her voice, though her lips didn’t move. Her eyes were so bright they looked like green fire. Let them go. Now.
Them?
I glanced around, wide-eyed, and realized every eye in the room was fixed on Lanya. The barman, the soldiers, the old men, even the prostitute stared at her with expressions torn somewhere between longing and despair.
I swallowed, and shook my head desperately to clear it. What had come over me? I was in love with Felice, not Lanya. So why had I felt so jealous of the soldier?
Lanya sighed, and I glanced up, terrified as I realized the truth. She had manipulated me. She had warped my emotions until all I thought of was her. She was- Gods, what was she? Was there even a name for this kind of sorcery?
And then there was Kryssa. Had she really just spoken into my mind? Who were these people? What were they? I whimpered as I sank back down in my seat, clutching the bottle of wine to my chest defensively. I was suddenly very sure that Brannyn- despite his ability to set himself on fire and destroy small forests- was probably the least dangerous person in his family.
I should have stayed in Fallor.
Kryssa met my gaze calmly, a small smile playing around her lips as she raised one of her brows. What, and miss all the fun?
LANYA
12 Davael 578A.F.
Joksten
Kryssa walked over to the table, her eyes amused. She flicked her fingers at Keven in dismissal. “Shoo.”
He scrambled away from the table, and Kryssa took his seat, helping herself to my glass of wine. Now that my initial attraction to him was fading, I could feel the ripples of confusion and alarm spreading across the room as my sister’s grip on their minds eased. Tanner was a knot of terror, staring at us as if we had turned into monsters.
Had I done this? I had been so excited to be noticed, to be flattered and flirted with. Keven’s charm had all but radiated off of him as he’d sat down. My own interest had grown, hot and vibrant, feeding off his building desire-
And apparently I had projected it onto the entire room.
I heard you upstairs, Kryssa informed me, sipping the wine. Or more accurately I heard Tanner. He was about to kill your new friend.
I’m so sorry. I felt small and ashamed. I didn’t mean- I didn’t know-
I know, dear heart.
But- but how did I-
“Will you two stop that?” Tanner pointed the bottle of wine at us, his eyes wild. “Can’t you talk out loud like normal people?”
“I’m sorry.” I bit my lip as I stared at him. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Mean to?” His voice was shrill. “Mean to? Mean to what? To- to make me- What are you? What is she?” He pointed at Kryssa. “What the hell is-”
“Calm down.” Kryssa’s voice was gentle but firm. “You’re making a scene.”
Tanner gulped, and shrank back.
I glanced around. The soldiers were huddled around Keven, whispering and casting frightened glances at our table. The barman was chugging from a whiskey bottle, and the prostitute was trying to pick one of the older patron’s pockets.
“What are you people?” Tanner hissed, pulling my attention back to him. “How did you do that?”
Kryssa sighed. “We are still the same. This is who we’ve always been.”
“No.” He shook his head. “No, no, no. This- this is unnatural. You- you talked into my mind. And you-” He pointed the bottle of wine at me “-you played with my emotions. You manipulated me.”
“It was an accident!” I protested.
“Accident? Falling off a horse is an accident. Falling into a nest of Vampyres is an accident. Even your brother setting the old Prince on fire was an accident. You-”
“Brannyn set the old Prince on fire on purpose.” Kylee slid onto the bench beside Tanner, ignoring his squeak of protest. “I would think that he told you as much.”
“I- I-”
She rolled her eyes. “What bothers you isn’t that Lanya has power, it’s that she used it on you. Stop being such a baby about it.”
He gaped.
“What Kylee means to say is that we’ve used our talents around you before, and you’ve never noticed,” Kryssa said more gently.
“No, I said exactly what I meant to say. He’s being childish.”
“Kylee.”
“What?”
“Hush.”
She huffed, and stole Tanner’s untouched bowl of stew. “Fine.”
“But… I still don’t understand. How is this possible? Do all of you- Can you all do this kind of-” He groped for the right word “-stuff?”
“I can’t,” Alyxen announced cheerfully, and walked around the table to sit on my other side. “I’m just a boring old storyteller.” He sniffed, his eyes gleaming. “Is that stew?”
I pulled my bowl out of his reach. “We’re not sure what we are,” I told Tanner quietly. “Our mother told us we were the chosen of the Gods.”
“Chos-” He choked, and took a long swallow from the bottle before trying again. “Chosen? Truly? Like in the stories? Is there going to be a second War of the Gods?”
“I certainly hope not,” Kylee muttered. “We barely managed to survive a handful of Vampyres.”
“It’s what our mother claimed.” Kryssa frowned at me. “I don’t think it’s actually true.”
“But I heard you. In my mind.”
“Yes.”
“And Lanya- she-”
“And she shouldn’t have.” My sister glanced at me with a faint frown. “We know better than to abuse our talents like that.”
I flushed and ducked my head.
Tanner took another gulp of wine, and a deep breath. “So, you’re the chosen of the Gods. Maybe. And you can read minds. And manipulate emotions. And Brannyn can set himself on fire and burn down small forests. Anything else I should know about?”
“Kylee can create lightning and talk to animals,” Alyxen added helpfully.
Tanner stared at my younger sister with wide, terrified eyes. She ignored him, and continued to eat his stew.
“Wha- what about you?” he asked after a moment, looking at Alyxen. “You said you didn’t have magic.”
“Nope.” He grinned, and tried again to swipe my stew. I moved it further out of his reach. “I’m just
me. Stories, songs. The occasional leaky roof and children’s toy.”
“And Reyce?”
Kryssa and I glanced at each other. Memories of our youngest brother’s face floated between us, his eyes solid black and terrifying.
Even we didn’t know what Reyce was.
“He’s our brother,” Kryssa said finally. “Isn’t that enough?”
Tanner didn’t look convinced.
“So now you know.” Kylee looked up, her gaze defiant. “You have anything to say?”
He stared at her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Don’t you ever smile?”
Alyxen collapsed off the bench in helpless laughter.
“Kylee doesn’t smile often,” I explained as she scowled at him. “She’s afraid if she does, people might actually like her.”
He nodded, then sighed and leaned against the wall. Some of the tension seemed to drain from him as he looked around. “Chosen of the Gods,” he murmured again, and shook his head. “I’m too old for this.”
“You know, you say that an awful lot,” Kylee pointed out rudely. “How old are you, anyway? Fifty?”
“Close.” A faint grin crossed his face. “I’m twenty-four, actually. But when I worked in the quarries, one of the other slaves broke my legs so he could eat my dinner. Healers did what they could, but they didn’t heal right. Aches will make you old.”
She flushed and looked away. “Oh.”
The barman seemed to finally notice the others at our table. He staggered over, smelling strongly of whiskey, and squinted at us with one eye as Kryssa ordered three more bowls of stew. Behind us, I could hear the soldiers leaving, heading out into the courtyard despite the rain.
The tension in the room began to ease.
“Well,” Alyxen said, and I realized he had finally managed to steal my stew. He grinned at me. “Who wants to hear a story?”
TANNER
13 Davael 578A.F.
The Southern Road
We left the tavern before dawn, unwilling to linger after the previous night’s incident. Though the rain continued to pour from leaden skies, soaking and chilling us, I was still grateful to be out of Joksten. Nightmares of my life as a slave had chased me through my sleep, and monsters with Felice’s eyes had toyed with my mind until I woke, soaked in sweat and shaking with screams locked in my throat.
The rain was infinitely preferable.
The storm returned in the afternoon, the wind rising to a shriek that deafened us and drove sheets of stinging rain into our eyes. We were forced to dismount and lead the horses as the holes in the well-worn road filled with water, dangerous and unpredictably deep.
We should have stopped for camp, but Kryssa was determined to make up for the time we had lost the day before. Her face was grim; I certainly wasn’t going to argue with her. So we pressed on, the grey light of the day darkening toward evening.
And stumbled, completely by accident, upon the slavers.
I don’t know who was more surprised at first, us or them. There were a dozen of them, dressed in the white shirts and colorful over-robes and turbans of Surakis. Deadly curved swords- scimitars, I remembered- hung from cloth belts. More than half of them carried habeduns, long poles with rope nooses used for catching slaves.
Kryssa recovered first. She drew her sword, her voice high and bright as she shouted, “RUN!”
Kylee and Alyxen vaulted into their saddles, their horses already vanishing into the rain before they had settled. Lanya struggled with her sodden dress, the material clinging to her legs as she tried to mount.
I yanked my sword free and rushed to her side, throwing her bodily across her saddle. Her horse spooked, rearing, and she clung to its mane desperately as it galloped after the others- followed by my own horse, its eyes white and rolling in fear as it dashed into the dark.
I stared after them in dismay. Dammit, now wha-
A rope descended over my head, tightening around my throat and yanking me backward. I staggered, struggling to keep my feet on the slick road, my fingers scrabbling at the habedun as I gasped for air.
Then I was free, stumbling forward so quickly I almost fell on my face. I turned, and found Kryssa between me and the slavers, her sword raised. One of the men was cursing, his habedun cut.
She had saved me.
Three of the men moved to circle her, scimitars raised. I took a step toward them, determined to help.
No. Her voice was clear and powerful, stopping me in my tracks. Take my horse. Protect the others. I will buy you time.
“Kryssa, no-”
GO!
The command was too compelling to ignore, and I turned, already feeling that I had betrayed her. Her horse was stomping the ground, wild-eyed and ready to bolt, and I swung into the saddle, pulling hard on the reins to keep it from racing away.
Two of the slavers had drawn close, holding her attention on their scimitars as a third man approached her from behind. I shouted to warn her, but it was already too late.
The rope descended around her neck, jerking her back. She stumbled and slipped, falling hard to her knees. The other two jumped forward, striking at her sword until she dropped it. Two more habeduns shot out, catching her wrists and pulling them tight.
She looked over at me, her eyes wide and terrified.
More slavers were approaching me, scimitars and sticks brandished in front of them.
Tanner, you have to run.
I pulled on the reins and raced off into the night, my heart heavy as a stone as I left Kryssa behind.
KRYSSA
My heart hammered in my throat as the slavers gathered around me, speaking in their harsh, native tongue. Someone roughly bound my hands behind my back. The first rope remained around my throat, holding me in place and limiting my air.
One of the men stepped forward and gripped my chin. I tried to bite him, and he casually backhanded me. Stars exploded in front of my eyes.
He murmured something to the others, and they laughed. Another man handed him a bottle, and he forced it to my lips. I did not want to drink, but he yanked my head back by my hair until I gasped, then poured the contents down my throat. The taste of poppies and starlight flooded my mouth.
I gagged, horrified. This- this is-
“Cattakasha,” the slaver informed me with a grin, his voice heavily accented as he spoke to me in common. “Now you will be good girl, yes? We have very important customer for you. Very big sale.”
I closed my eyes to the sound of his laughter, feeling as the darkness rose in my blood to swallow me.
BRANNYN
15 Davael 578A.F.
Fallor
“Something wrong?”
I glanced up and found Vitric staring at me. “Sorry, what?”
“Something wrong with your stew?” He gestured to the unappetizing bowl in front of me. “You’ve been scowling at it for ten minutes.”
“I’m hoping time might improve the flavor.”
“Doubtful.” He made a face and pushed his own half-finished bowl aside. Behind him, the tavern was filling, the drunken day-time regulars being joined by the still-sober night crowd. A harassed barmaid hurried past us, her arms filled with mugs of ale. Someone laughed, high and braying, and I winced.
“What’s bothering you?”
I sighed. I did need to talk to someone, and Elias was still on duty. “I’m worried about the others.”
“That’s natural, I think.”
“You don’t understand.” I shook my head. “I haven’t heard from Kryssa in two days.”
“You need to get more sleep, Brannyn. Kryssa’s been gone five days.” The look in his eyes said he’d counted every moment.
“Kryssa-” I broke off, wondering again if I should be the one to tell him about her gifts. It was difficult to know how much I should say.
My frustration must have shown on my face, because Vitric forward, his face serious. “Look, whatever it is that Kryssa’s hiding from me, whatever it is you’re
protecting for her, I can handle it. I want to help.”
I stared at him, curious. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”
“Since I was about twelve years old.” A smile flashed across his face. “Took a while to convince her she felt the same way, though.”
I thought of my stubborn older sister, and grinned. “I bet.”
His smile faded as the familiar haunted look returned. He glanced around at the crowd, and jerked a shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
I nodded, and dropped a few coins on the table to pay for our food. We passed the harried barmaid as we headed out the door, her arms filled with more bowls of stew as she served the unfortunate patrons.
The air outside was pleasant and cool, a welcome change after the stale atmosphere of the tavern. Late afternoon sunlight stretched, golden and brilliant, across the marketplace, and I estimated we had another hour or so of it before we had to report for our shift.
We wandered down the street to the guardhouse and paused outside, staring at the empty training yards. The centers of the archery targets were still bristling with arrows, and I wondered idly when Vitric was going to retrieve them.
He leaned on the fence and sighed. “What happened, Brannyn?” His eyes were dark and tired as he looked at me. “What happened in that house where you grew up?”
Hiding behind the door, the others staring at me in terror as we listened to Kryssa’s screams-
I shook my head. “I can’t talk about it.”
“I found your house.” He looked off toward the setting sun, his eyes faraway. “The next day. The embers were still hot. They never went out, you know. Even when it rained, even when it snowed. Your house is still burning.”
“It is?” I gaped at him. “How do you know?”
“I tried looking for the bodies once. Your bodies. So I could give you all a proper burial. I thought I was being haunted.”
