Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1)

by K. F. Breene

  “He is the most talented of all the medic trainees by far, and has been training for combat. He isn’t great with weapons, but he knows to stay out of the way, and he doesn’t balk when he is needed. Assuming the doctor is too old to go, of course. Obviously experience is better.”

  “And the others?”

  “Are too young and not ready. Except for Lucius, who is under your command. So that’s…uh, your choice. Obviously.” She cleared her throat again, hoping to dislodge a stare or two. This was starting to get awkward.

  Cayan nodded his head slightly, his eyes on fire. “Dusk. Meet at the front gate. Daniels, I’ll hear your plan then, but you will be staying behind. If this goes sour someone has to take over, and Sterling stayed last time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Daniels responded. The disappointment in his mind didn’t convey in his tone. His warning look at Shanti wasn’t missed, either.

  Shanti stayed out of the arrangements as the day wore on. She wasn’t even allowed to sit in to hear the strategy, which was actually fine because she’d always had people to do that for her anyway. She was a decision-maker, not a planner. And now she was a follower and nameless fighter. Chosen, indeed.

  When dusk finally came, she and the two Guard members waited at the back of a long line, mostly overlooked or ignored.

  “Why me, S’am?” Leilius asked in a tiny voice as he and Marc huddled close.

  Since they learned they’d be going to rescue Sanders, the two boys had been following her around with wide, fear-crusted eyes.

  “Because you are excellent at your craft,” Shanti replied distractedly as she monitored Lucius. Her Chance was checking men in line, saying a few words, then nodding with responses. Though he wasn’t a commander, he was the Captain’s right-hand man. It twisted her stomach painfully, worry eating away like acid. She hoped he would be there for her if she needed him, but knew that if his Captain needed him more, his decision might leave her vulnerable.

  “But why not Xavier? He actually wanted to go…”

  “Don’t whine, Leilius. It will be harder to fit in.”

  “We’re the youngest here, hanging out with a woman wearing men’s clothes. There isn’t much hope of us fitting in,” Marc reflected.

  Shanti had to agree there.

  A huge man with a ragged scar across his forehead stopped in front of Shanti. “You, woman—to the front.”

  Leilius jumped and clutched onto her, his wide eyes staring at the experienced fighter in front of them. She gently shrugged off the kid and stepped out of the line, sparing a wink for the boys.

  “Kind of rude,” Marc mumbled as he crossed his arms in front of his scrawny chest.

  The grim warrior walked up the line at a measured pace, giving Shanti plenty of time to check out her comrades. Men waited by twos, swords on their belts and arrows on their backs. Hard, expectant eyes adorned eager faces. Their metal gleamed and their crisp blue uniforms identified their ranks.

  Shanti couldn’t help looking down at herself. She had a pair of faded brown pants of Marc’s with three patched up holes. Her shirt hung loosely, wrinkled and stained with dirt. And while her weapon did gleam with a high shine, the leather work looked poor and uncared for compared to their expertise.

  Oh yeah, and she was a woman. There wasn’t a chance in all Death’s Playground that she would fit into this crowd.

  As they reached the horses she inwardly sighed. She didn’t have a great love of horses. They didn’t have their own mind, and just when you thought you had a nice rapport, they freaked out and tried to run away. Granted, the only time she rode horses was right after she killed the owner and stole them, but none of her experiences had been good. Except she had never ridden one like she saw before her. Fierce eyed and large hoofed, these beasts had about as much gloss as her sword. As she walked around them, skittish and not afraid to show it, more than one stamped its foot.

  “They are reacting to your fear,” Lucius said from the second row of horses. His brown beast scowled down at her.

  “It’s not fear. I’ve just heard the horses in this land bite. I’m not in a hurry to lose my shoulder.” Shanti continued following her guide past Sterling on a deep brown animal.

  “Only the war horses with a bad attitude,” Lucius responded.

  “So, all of these, then…”

  A crowd of people waited to see the heroes off, the beautiful women giving doe eyes at Cayan. And there he sat, atop the largest horse in the horde. Black as night and mean as Time, the beast stared at Shanti like he might her for dinner. Cayan was only slightly more agreeable as his cold blue gaze tracked her progress.

  “Well? How do they look?” he asked. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, ready for battle. His shoulders strained his uniform and his powerful legs gripped the moody beast below him.

  “Like their bites would hurt,” Shanti replied.

  Cayan’s brow furrowed. “The men, I meant.”

  “Oh.” Shanti glanced back the way she’d come. “Ready. Eager. Vengeance walking. Keep them busy or the less experienced will pick fights because they don’t know what to do with the anticipation of violence.”

  “Walk with me,” he said. “I have some questions. Come here, you can ride with me for a while.” He reached down a large palm.

  Sterling’s horse side-pranced, giving her room and making her uncomfortably jittery. Shanti had been on the receiving end of a couple of hooves. That had hurt more than a little.

  “I’m okay. I’ll walk. It hurts falling off of those things.”

  Cayan’s laugh was loud and throaty. It hadn’t been a joke.

  With no discernible movement, suddenly the large black warhorse was in action. It stepped forward, shaking its head proudly. Shanti jogged farther ahead, wanting to stay out of the way. Thankfully, Sterling fell behind so she wouldn’t be trampled. The crowd started yelling and waving, seeing their men off to the battle. It wasn’t until the roar of the crowd diminished that Cayan spoke again.

  “Do you know how they fight?” he asked, looking down at her.

  Shanti drifted a little closer so they didn’t have to yell. Unfortunately, Sterling and the others had the same idea. Before she knew it, she was walking among spindly legs and sharp chompers.

  “This is not the safest of places for a walker,” Shanti acknowledged as she pushed Sterling’s horse with an outstretched hand. Its head bent around, eyeing her. She jerked her hand back into her chest as Cayan’s tree trunk arm reached down and snatched her. Before she could shake him off, she was being hoisted up the side of the shiny black animal, dangling until she was lobbed on the back, forcing her to scrabble up behind him.

  “That wasn’t the solution I was going for,” Shanti huffed, clutching onto Cayan’s broad back.

  “Would you rather be in front?” The way Cayan said it sounded like on top.

  She ignored him. “Their fighters are small and quick, but not excellent. They aren’t ones for head-on combat. They’ll come from the sides, or descend in a horde over a hill. As you saw, they’ll sneak over walls or come in the back way, content to let some other nation get chopped down.”

  “Do they all have the Gift? The ability for mental warfare?”

  Shanti shook her head, clutching onto Cayan so she didn’t slip off the saddle. She had no idea how to properly ride one of these—a gaping hole in her education. “From what I’ve heard, one in forty has some sort of Gift, but not usually with any real strength. They are working on it, though. They push arranged marriages, which is usual with the top tier of a class system, but from what I’ve heard, they peel their eyes for any new talent, then work them into the arrangement system. Still, they are lacking as a whole, I believe.”

  “In comparison to who?” Sterling asked.

  That gave Shanti pause. She was used to thinking in terms of large quantities of excellent fighters with strong Gifts. She looked behind her at the sea of solemn faces. She still traveled with excellent fighters, but none had the Gift save Cay
an. Every one of them would be vulnerable to an attack, no matter the strength of the Gift used.

  “Do you think any will match you? Or I?” Cayan asked through her worried fog.

  “No. I am nearly a myth and you are completely unknown. But they are trained. You are not.”

  “How many can you take?”

  “Take, or kill?”

  He didn’t even pause. “Kill.”

  Shanti resisted the urge to lean her head against Cayan’s back. It seemed her life was only about killing these days. All hate, fear, and death—no family, no love. Some day she would have to answer for the things she’d done. She would have to face her ancestors and explain herself. It was a good reason to stay alive.

  “With the new surge of power, or while linked to you, a great many I should think.”

  “What are they after?” Sterling asked.

  “Your city and its wealth. If they kill the Captain, they can move in while you are all in turmoil and take over the moneymaking operations. Their chief concern is wealth. Even before power. That’s why they are a Graygual favorite—keep them in riches and they won’t strive to steal their leader’s power.”

  “And by the Captain going to them, we are giving these Inkna exactly what they are after,” Lucius said from behind them.

  “Yes. If I were granted any sort of opinion, which I realize is doubtful in this company, I would say it is the least wise thing in this whole venture. I can handle mental warfare, the rest of this crew can handle the arms. The Captain should stay at a safe distance when his leadership is no longer needed. But I am just following orders; therefore, I have no opinion.”

  “I cannot let my countrymen die for a decision I made,” Cayan stated.

  “Then you will find war extremely difficult.”

  “This isn’t war,” Cayan growled.

  “Wrong. This is the beginning stages of it. You are choosing a side by going against the Inkna. By not turning me in. By not turning yourself in. You are choosing a side, and it will lead directly to war.”

  “Shall we run, like you are doing?” he growled.

  Shanti clenched her jaw. The man could get under her skin like no one she’d ever known. And right now, he was trying to. “I’m not running; I am uniting two halves into a whole. I’m seeking out our distant relations and hoping they’ll give aid. I’m hoping to bring the largest war this land has ever seen, which is what it will take to tear down the empire the Being Supreme has already created. You’re a stop on my journey. Your Gift is a new dimension to the overall situation. But I’m not running, because there is nowhere to run to.”

  “But your half has been destroyed.” Cayan wasn’t trying to hurt her; he was trying to understand. He was just hurting her in the process. And being a jerk at the same time, something he could always do effectively.

  “That’s right. None left save me. But I am quite a prize, am I right, boys?” Shanti swung down from the saddle and walked back to her boys.

  Chapter 35

  Sanders was half lucid. But only half. He was close to the end now. He didn’t even understand half of the questions anymore. He was praying for death. There were two others save him, and they were close to cracking. Sanders could hear it in their screams. Death wasn’t coming fast enough and there was only so much a mind could take.

  Chapter 36

  The fires were quiet as the troop ate their meal. The day had been eventful. Three different bands of Mugdock charged as Cayan passed through their lands. Shanti didn’t have to warn Cayan of their approach; he was well aware. That part of the lesson he was close to mastering. Marc had to work on two people, but no one was lost. The Mugdock weren’t so lucky, especially because they weren’t allowed to retreat and they weren’t captured. Their graves were the burnt land they had created and none of Cayan’s people seemed bothered by it.

  Beside those minor delays, the troop made great time. They had pushed hard and fast, covering a lot of ground, and now would rest for the night. It would take another half day to the destination. Hurrying hadn’t been planned, but it was hard to resist. Sanders and the other survivors wouldn’t have much time. They had been subject to pain for days by now, and Shanti doubted the Inkna were taking it any easier than she had after she found out Sanders had been captured.

  “Shanti, right?”

  She forced down a white-hot surge of violence at that last thought. It wouldn’t help right now. She turned to regard the speaker, currently taking a seat by her fire. Marc and Leilius had both already wandered away to go to sleep, and no one else dared go near the strange foreign woman with glowing eyes who cleaved through the Mugdock as though wading through shallow water.

  Jerrol was lowering himself to the ground next to her. She couldn’t make out the brown of his eyes in the fire, but she could see the lines of his handsome, nearly pretty face. It was exactly what she needed, a distraction. Hopefully that was the reason he stopped by.

  “Yes. Jerrol. Hello. I haven’t seen you since you turned me down.” She smiled and attempted a sultry pose. Being without practice she looked pitiful, so settled instead for sticking her chest out. This land greatly loved breasts. It was as good of enticement as any, even though she could’ve done with a bit more in that department.

  A slow smile crept up his face. “I don’t think you are remembering that right. I didn’t turn you down; I clammed up and made a fool of myself. I came over to repair the damage.”

  She had no idea what “clammed up” meant, but repairing damage she understood well enough. It matched the lust pouring off him. Then she matched the lust pouring off him.

  “No damage to repair. I thought you had a woman, though?”

  He crinkled his brow and lightly shook his head. Then his face cleared. “The ball, right?”

  She nodded, leaning closer. They should probably get out of sight for what came next. She searched through the nearby bushes and trees to find a place not inhabited by a sleeping man.

  “She is a…friend. We are not attached.”

  They matched smiles, their mutual desire offered, and accepted. Jerrol’s gaze flicked to the side. “Well, do you—“

  “Did you have a question, Jerrol?”

  Shanti groaned at the familiar voice.

  Jerrol’s eyes went wide and he stood immediately. “No, sir. I was just talking with Shanti, sir.”

  “It’s time you caught some sleep, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Shanti didn’t even get a chance to interject before Jerrol took off running like teeth were chomping at his backside.

  “Was that necessary?” Shanti asked in a pout as she turned back to the fire. Even if she followed, Jerrol wouldn’t defy his Captain’s unspoken command to keep his dick in his pants.

  Cayan sat down beside her, gaze glued to the flame. “He’s not your type.”

  “Actually, he is very much my type. He is a man, he is warm, and he has nice eyes.”

  Cayan’s gaze found her face. “Is that all you require? A warm body?”

  Shanti swung her shoulders so she was facing him, matching his blank face and acute stare. The glow of the fire flickered against his cheek. The other half of him was lost to shadow, much like the other half of her soul. “I have lost all I hold dear, Cayan. I have been alone for over a year. I have no one to talk to that knows anything about me, no one I trust to lean on when things get tough, and no one that cares about me outside of what I can do with my Gift or my body. I have no family, no friends, and no idea how my future will unravel from one day to the next. And now I barely have control over my present or my choices. So yes, a warm body that wants me, however superficial, is all that I require. I’m no longer a prime candidate for a mate, I can assure you. All that awaits my home fire is death.”

  His gaze held hers for a moment longer, his face softening but hiding his feelings. She didn’t dare touch his mind; she didn’t want to feel the pity she knew was there. She was designated the Chosen, and she had a job to do.
She was alive and her people were dead. She would do her part so she could earn a place among her ancestors. Other than that she didn’t care what people thought of her existence, least of all this mood spoiling, control assuming, stoic horse’s ass.

  “You should get some sleep,” he said curtly.

  She turned away, showing him her back, powerless to do anything else. She would follow his command in front of his people until Sanders was safe and his prisoners had paid, but after that the illustrious Captain could shove his dictatorship up his ass.

  She heard him leave quietly and continued to stare at the fire, grateful when Lucius quietly sat down next to her a moment later. His quiet support helped.

  Soon after she lay down where she was and went to sleep.

  Chapter 37

  As the sun crested the tree tops, the battle party was under way, everyone trying to hide anxiousness with stern faces. The upper tier of command looked at the maps often, delimitating, figuring out the land as it changed. Archers rode or walked around the outside of the ranks, ready to shoot anything they didn’t trust. Sterling took the front, arrow already nocked. She had perceived correctly, he was an expert shot. At least, that’s what she’d eavesdropped from the gossip around the campfire.

  Shanti’s mind was open, and stretched out over a league, but so far there wasn’t much in the way of habitation. A fact she’d told those around her, trying to loosen the hands clutching their swords, or slow their darting eyes, but they didn’t trust the strange foreign woman who spoke with a harsh tongue to their Captain. They probably figured that at any moment she would cut herself with her sword.

  About midday everyone came to a halt. A young man came trotting down the line, young but self-important, until he stopped even with Shanti. “The Captain wants you.”

  “Oh well, I better hurry then, shouldn’t I? I wouldn’t want to offend his majesty.”

  Three men surrounding her sucked in a hasty breath. For a Captain that hardly ever punished anyone, she had no idea how he inspired this much fear. It was a thing she actually wanted to learn. Quite useful at times.