Dissident (Forbidden Things Book 1)

by Nikki Mccormack

  She said nothing. She had a choice. If he spoke the truth, she could leave this place, and him, behind anytime. There would be no more of this pain, but…

  Dodging those thoughts, she said, “My father gave his life fighting the slave trade.”

  “Desgard Milan!”

  She stared, startled to hear her father’s name, the pronunciation skewed by his accent. “You knew my father?”

  “His name is well known in Lyra. He and those who fought with him are heroes to many. People tell stories of their exploits. They caused my… They caused the emperor quite a few headaches.”

  She lowered her gaze to hide the sudden well of tears. “Headaches. He died for the sake of causing a few headaches.”

  His hand rested on her arm, strong and comforting. “Your father was fighting an impossible battle, but he did restore many lives. The emperor chooses to sell his people into slavery. It will take more than a handful of fighters to stop him.”

  “Why does he do it?” She looked up, searching his pale eyes, savoring his touch. Melancholy swept in when he withdrew his hand.

  “To eliminate those who oppose him and frighten the rest into behaving. I admired his artifice until I was old enough to understand that it’s the product of cowardice and inability to lead. You should be proud of your father. He was very courageous, a trait he seems to have passed to his daughter.”

  She rolled her eyes and started to turn away, but he caught her jaw and forced her to look at him.

  “I mean that. Not many people would stay here to help a stranger. You’re a more remarkable woman than I think you realize.”

  Not many would sleep with that stranger either. What does that say about me? She squirmed under the intensity of his gaze, wishing he would kiss her or release her. Unfortunately, he chose the latter.

  “Why are you fighting Emperor Rylan?”

  His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes, their striking depths darkening with anger. “Lyra is a proud and beautiful country with a rich history. Her people are proud and beautiful as well. Rylan is destroying that, undermining a magnificent empire that was the greatest single power in the known world not so long ago. I will not stand by and watch my country and its people crumble.”

  A wave of affection surprised her. She pushed the berries around her palm with one finger and smiled. “You sound like my father ranting. He would have liked you.”

  “Is he why you agreed to help me?”

  “This kind of behavior does seem to run in the family,” she replied, “but there’s more to it than that.”

  “What?”

  Yes, what?

  She stayed because of Hadris and her father, two of the dearest people to her heart, but that wasn’t all.

  She averted her eyes and put a few berries in her mouth. The tart morsels did nothing for her hunger or her growing thirst. “Is there water nearby?”

  He smirked at her evasion and let the question go unanswered. “There’s water at the next shelter.”

  “I don’t suppose a carriage will be by soon?”

  He shook his head, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and took her hands, lifting her to her feet. “No.”

  “Lead on then.”

  He continued at a more deliberate pace now that he was aware of her pain, which also allowed for conversation. “If I recall the stories right, your father wasn’t a fan of mandatory academy training for adepts in Caithin. He couldn’t have liked watching them take you away.”

  “They didn’t. Hadris, my Lyran tutor, was an adept. She taught me to mask my ability.”

  “But you are training as a healer?”

  Yes, because they were both dead now. All those efforts to protect her. She had nothing to show for it but fear and haunting memories.

  “Go, Indigo. Please don’t watch this,” Hadris pleaded, her violet eyes overflowing with tears.

  The Ascard Watchmen shoved Hadris to her knees and pulled her pale hair forward. Indigo wanted to look away, but her eyes wouldn’t close, her head wouldn’t turn. The blade was sharp. She wept and screamed when her tutor’s head fell away in a gush of blood, her body slumping to the ground like a dropped sack of flour.

  Judgment and execution were immediate for a Lyran slave caught using ascard in Caithin. Her father’s death must have looked much the same, though she’d been spared that sight.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hadris was executed for using ascard a few months before my father was caught and executed for treason. Mother chose not to go on living without him. My uncle took me in and negotiated to preserve my noble status, but I’m corrupted by my father’s deeds and my exposure to a Lyran adept. I’m a stain upon society so I let some of my ability show in order to train as a healer and better my standing.”

  “Some of your ability?”

  A spark of fear danced along her nerves. A few careless words and he now knew more about her than anyone alive. Still, even if he got free of this place, it wasn’t likely to come up in his life again and telling someone about her secret was as terrifying as it was cathartic.

  I’ve gone this far.

  “Hadris and Father told me to never reveal my full strength. I can’t bring myself to ignore their warning. I keep much of it hidden.”

  He picked his way through a section of broken basalt and she precisely followed his footsteps.

  “So you know there’s more to using ascard than healing.”

  “Not where I’m from,” she replied.

  “You can’t be satisfied with that.”

  “Can’t I?”

  “Not knowing the power you use to heal has so much more potential. You already use it to mask part of your strength and to prevent conception.”

  She stumbled, wincing at a flare of pain in her foot. “How…” She bit off the question, her cheeks burning and scowled at his back.

  The first thing female students learned from peers at the Healer’s Academy was how to use ascard to prevent pregnancy. Most students were away from supervision for the first time in their lives and much discovery went on in the residences that polite society turned a blind eye to. The ascard method of protection was easier than other options and required no pre-planning. Senior students passed on the knowledge like sacred doctrine. The Watchmen had to be aware of the practice, but such a minute amount of ascard energy wouldn’t alert them unless they were within a few feet of the guilty party.

  “I don’t think about it.”

  “Of course not.” He glanced back. His enigmatic smile snared her curiosity.

  “What do you know? Are you an adept?”

  “The academy is a good thing to a point,” he said, sidestepping the question. “Caithin channels their adepts down a specific path and provides necessary training. In Lyra, people choose their own path, but healers are rare because we have no organized training. People can use the ascard as they choose. Since healing requires intimate knowledge of the human body, few put forth the effort to learn it.”

  “Lyra should create schools. Healers are an asset to any nation.”

  He gave her a measuring glance and nodded. “I agree. Why does Caithin control the use of ascard so rigorously?”

  “Because uncontrolled power is dangerous.”

  “They drill that into your heads to keep you out of trouble. Do you honestly think the military potential has escaped them?”

  She stumbled again and glared at the rocks as if they, and not her unease with their conversation, were responsible. This discussion alone would be grounds for arrest in Demin. “You think they have military trained adepts they’re keeping secret. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?”

  “I…” She trailed off. Ingrained fear made her defensive. If she thought about it, his words made more sense than the assumption that Caithin’s leadership would ignore an obvious military asset. “No, it isn’t.”

  Silence followed and her thoughts wandered while she struggled with ever-increasing pain. Why was she putting herself
through this when she could leave at will?

  The answer lay in a man she barely knew whose every look made her feel needed, whose every touch made her feel wanted. A man who challenged her to see her world with fresh eyes. Being with him forced her to acknowledge how flawed her relationship with Jayce was and how much she longed for someone to confide in. The mere act of mentioning her masked ability was like throwing off shackles she’d worn most of her life, shackles that would click shut again the moment she returned home. For those reasons, she would stay, even doomed as this relationship was.

  “Indigo.”

  His urgent whisper sent a spear of panic through her seconds before he grabbed her arm and pulled her down beside a table of basalt.

  “What?”

  “Company.” He gestured beyond the rocks with a jerk of his head.

  She rose enough to peek over.

  “Are you mad?” He yanked her back down.

  Before her head dipped below the rocks, she saw the beast. It was a ways off, moving in a course that would intercept their path several yards back. It looked like a hairless hound, only the size of a horse. The long head swung back and forth close to the ground, milky white eyes staring ahead.

  Her heart stuttered frantic in her chest. “Is it blind?”

  “Yes, but it has a fine sense of smell.”

  “Do you have any weapons?”

  He gave a cynical sneer. “Oddly, when they sentenced me to this torment, they chose not to leave me a sword.”

  “So it was a stupid question,” she snapped. “What now?”

  “We wait and hope it doesn’t come after us.”

  “And if it does?”

  He met her gaze. “I’m working on that.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fear gripped Indigo and sudden pressure on her lungs made her gasp. The landscape shifted out of focus.

  “No.” Eldrian brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I need you here.”

  A hint of desperation shone in his eyes, yet he remained poised and gentle. Her throat tightened at the thought of disappointing him and the constriction around her chest eased. The landscape came back into focus.

  “I’ll take care of this. I promise.” He looked back the way they had come, his brows pinching together. He held a hand out. “Give me your shoes and heal your feet.”

  Odd as the command was, she handed him the shoes and began the healing process. The beast’s claws made a shrill noise, scraping over exposed basalt.

  Indigo shuddered.

  He placed a hand on her arm when she finished healing, seizing her attention with unsettling intensity.

  “Stay hidden and be ready to cover your ears.”

  Another odd command. She gripped a ragged knob of basalt tight enough to cause pain, distracting from her fear, while he crept over to crouch behind a jut of rock further back along their path. The head of the hound, its pasty white eyes shifting, came into view a few yards beyond his position. Crusted blood around a wound on the creature’s head exaggerated its grotesque appearance.

  The hound stopped, its scabby black nose pressing to the ground where they had passed. Its breath started to come in excited huffs. She tightened her grip on the knob of rock.

  The beast turned their direction and started to follow the scent trail. Eldrian tossed one of her shoes toward it. When the shoe struck the ground, the creature’s head swung toward the sound with the precision of a sighted hunting dog. A growl thrummed through the air like distant thunder and she covered her mouth to muffle frightened breathing. It lunged, pinning the shoe in place with front paws and tearing at it until shreds of tan and blue material lay strewn about its feet.

  Indigo broke into a cold sweat despite the heat of the dismal environment, distantly aware that she had let go of the knob of rock.

  Eldrian tossed the other shoe out beside his hiding place and the beast advanced. Oversized teeth had shredded the flesh around its mouth, distorting its lips with the bloody swelling of continuous injury. There was nothing right or natural about the beast.

  Eldrian picked up a rock, testing the weight in his hand like a sword hilt. The warrior in him emerged, his posture and expression taking on a fierce aspect barely more human than the hound. The transformation made her feel very alone. She held her breath while he moved to the edge of his hiding place. The creature began to tear at the second shoe, bloody drool dripping from tattered lips.

  Eldrian sprang out, bringing the rock down hard on the existing head wound. A piercing shriek emitted from the abomination, making sense of his warning about covering her ears. It lunged and missed, barreling into the outcrop next to him. Blood ran thick and dark from the wound on its head. It shrieked again and twisted, its mass swinging into him with enough force to send him sprawling.

  The hound staggered and shook its head, its nose working hard to sniff out its opponent. Eldrian started to rise, but he moved slow, dazed and injured by the impact. The beast turned toward him.

  How much did she care for this man?

  She grabbed a rock and stood, hurling it at the beast. It struck the creature’s flank with a meaty thwack. The hound spun toward her, staggered to the side, then righted itself and advanced. She froze, time slowing, and stared into the sightless eyes. The beast bunched to lunge.

  Bursting into her vision, Eldrian rammed his shoulder into the hound and it toppled. He went down with it and slammed the rock into its head again, pounding it repeatedly into the bloody wound. The sound of cracking bone made her stomach turn. The beast thrashed, throwing him off. Then it sagged, twitched a few times and was still, its skull lying open like a shattered bowl.

  Eldrian attempted to rise and stumbled. His hand went to his side. His face twisted in a pained grimace and he sank beside a large rock. She hurried to him, trying not to see the pulp that had been the hounds head. Moving his hand, she placed hers against his side and used ascard to assess the damage. Five broken ribs.

  “This isn’t good.”

  “I could have…told you that,” he said around a pained gasp.

  Could she heal this? If she accessed more of her ability, she could, but what if she couldn’t hide it again as it had been before? What if she couldn’t control it?

  Fear stalled her, but his harsh, shallow breathing pressed her. He couldn’t continue this way and she wasn’t going to leave him. Cool sweat broke out on the back of her neck. She reached into her inner aspect and stripped away part of the masking that hid much of her ability. Tuning out his agonized groan, she began to set and heal the bones. The injured flesh around his ribs also required careful attention. It was better to deal with major injuries in stages, allowing natural healing to occur between efforts, but it wasn’t always possible. The abrasions on his arm and side she left to time to heal.

  Finally, too exhausted to care about rough rock poking at her backside, she sat and pulled her knees to her chest then rested her arms across them and let her head fall on the table they formed. Her inner aspect was strong enough, but she wasn’t accustomed to working with so much ascard energy at once.

  His hand touched her shoulder. When she lifted her head, his mouth claimed hers in a long, ardent kiss. When backed away, his regard boiled over with pleasure and disbelief. “You stayed.”

  She started to smile, but something else caught her attention and she wrinkled her nose instead. “What is that smell?

  With wry grin, he sat back and pulled off his boots, the stiffness in his movement betraying the ache that would remain in his healed side for a few days.

  “Our late friend.” He nodded to the dead hound then handed her the boots. “Put these on.”

  “They’re much too big.”

  His uncompromising scowl convinced her. He stood with a stiffness to match her exhaustion and they resumed their trek. The boots were too big, making her footing less sure, but at least she wasn’t going without.

  “You should have warned me about that thing.”

  “I hoped we wouldn’t run into
one. I had an altercation with that wretch yesterday.” He indicated the arm she had healed the night before.

  “How do they survive here?”

  “They’re ascard creations. The hounds don’t eat, sleep, or drink. The adept who created this place put them here to harry me and kill me if I get careless.”

  “You have imaginative enemies.” His choppy, painful strides made her feet ache in sympathy. “Please take your boots back?”

  He spun and his eyes cut into her, the coldness behind them reminding her how little she knew about him. Hiding apprehension, she lifted her chin in defiance of his aggressive stance. His eyes warmed, fondness chasing away the cold.

  “In my normal life, I rarely go out of my way to be chivalrous. Consider this my penance for that and stop being foolish. Besides,” he added, turning away, “I have you to heal me. We’ll be at the shelter soon.”

  Gloom of dusk darkened the landscape when they reached another rock shelter. Several stubby trees and thorny berry bushes formed a partial fence around the entrance. Stomach growling, she dove into picking berries.

  He caught her hands and shook his head. “I’ve something better. Come.”

  They ducked into the shelter and the glorious crisp smell of fresh water beckoned from a pool in the back. She snatched the rough made wood cup he offered and knelt by the pool. The first cup of cool water ran down her parched throat, a celebration of refreshment. When she’d drunk her fill, expunging dryness from her mouth, he moved a rock to reveal carved out hollow full of dried meat and berries. Clutching a fistful of meat, she kicked off the oversized boots and sat, biting into it. It had an unusual musky flavor, a welcome change from berries.

  Eldrian left smears of blood in his wake when he walked to the pool. She set the meat aside and stood, taking the cup from him.

  “Sit.”

  “As my lady wishes.” He sank to the floor with weary grace.

  She filled the cup and handed it to him. Then she sat and took one of his feet in her hands. The raw scrapes were quick to heal. Once his feet were restored, she refilled the cup for him before returning to her meager meal, hunger and exhaustion amplified by the strain of more healing.