A Girl From Nowhere

by James Maxwell

  The plan was working . . . except that there was one minor, but growing issue.

  The Rift Valley was a maze of ravines. The bax who lived there, and the warriors Blixen was forming into an army, were able to hide from the city guard.

  A mystic could search a larger area than a thousand wyverns, and in a fraction of the time. Unfortunately, Tika-rin couldn’t cast as far as the Rift Valley.

  But the Protector had a newfound hope. He might soon have two mystics. If the girl had power, he would use her to find his enemies no matter how they tried to hide. If she served willingly, he would treat her well enough.

  If not, she was going to serve anyway.

  24

  Selena was free.

  As she walked the streets of the white city, she had to keep telling herself that she wasn’t dreaming; this was real. Her plan had worked. Mugrak and Borg were both dead. Her actions had finally brought her to the place she had dreamed about for so long.

  Her head turned from side to side; she had never been more excited. Zorn was beautiful, everything she had wanted it to be. The streets were clad in smooth paving stones that gleamed in the bright daylight. Tall white houses stood proudly side by side. Soaring over the rooftops, the tower ahead of her was a grand, noble structure that announced to the world that this city was a haven from the precariousness of life outside the wall.

  Selena wished more than anything that Taimin was walking beside her, rather than the commander of the city guard. Lars should be with her too. Yet even thinking about the two companions she had become separated from couldn’t banish the pleasure she was feeling.

  “I take it this is your first time in Zorn?” Galen asked.

  “Yes,” Selena said with a smile.

  He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. Other than that, his face was carefully blank as he guided her through the streets and toward the tower.

  “Why does the Protector want to see me?” Selena asked as she watched the commander’s face.

  “He takes an interest in all newcomers,” Galen said, and then paused. “Particularly mystics.”

  Selena remembered when she had wanted more than anything to remove her curse. She realized that she had changed. She no longer had seizures or headaches. Her talent had brought her to where she was now.

  She returned her attention to the streets. At first everything she was seeing was overwhelming, but as she began to make sense of the place, she was able to focus on more of her surroundings. The broad avenue she and the commander were following thronged with city folk. Rather than gaze in awe at the structures on all sides and wonder at the city’s sheer size, she began to look at the citizens.

  At first, the figures blurred together. But as she inspected people individually, she experienced a strange feeling.

  A slight sense of unease began to grow in her chest.

  Dusty laborers with gaunt faces trudged. Scrawny women carried sloshing water sacks and glared at anyone who strayed too close. The faces Selena saw were careworn. Several of the laborers had thin scars on their shoulders . . . the lines left behind by a whip.

  Selena was now close to the tower, where a plaza and bustling market surrounded the broad, circular base. Her misgivings grew. Hearing shouts, her attention was drawn to a crowd that surged around the nearest stall. Men and women held up a variety of flasks, gourds, and clay jars. There were few among them dressed in the fine clothing that some of the citizens wore. Young or old, they all cried out the same word. “Water! Water!”

  The vendor, a skinny man with a wispy beard, struggled to keep up as desperate people reached out to him. He took containers and filled them from a barrel on a stand behind him. He then exchanged them for money until, with nothing more to give, he began to turn customers away.

  Other stalls displayed wares Selena was familiar with: lizard and wherry skins, treated leather, lengths of woven plant fiber, tools, weapons, and dried meat. Yet water was clearly the most popular commodity, and the crowds only appeared to be growing.

  Selena cast a swift look at the man walking beside her. Galen’s features were hard and angular. His eyes were dark, as if warmth never touched his heart. His white, close-cropped hair made him striking, easily picked out in a group.

  “Is there a shortage?” she asked.

  Galen glanced at her sidelong. “Only for the time being.”

  Selena’s mind was spinning. She had told herself she would be safe in Zorn . . . she had done the right thing, and the commander had gone out of his way to help her. She was going to see the Protector, which was what she had always wanted.

  At the same time, another part of her knew that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She should be here with Taimin, instead of the cold-faced commander of the city guard. Rather than help her, she sensed that the Protector wanted something from her.

  All she knew for certain about Zorn was what she had learned from Blixen’s memories. She had believed that Blixen’s experiences must be the result of a few overzealous soldiers, and that in turn the bax had committed their own atrocities. Humans were her own kind.

  No. Something wasn’t right.

  Selena brought herself to a halt. As the commander stopped alongside her, his expression changed. He didn’t look pleased.

  “Well?” Galen asked impatiently. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to go with you,” Selena said firmly. She lifted her chin and held his eyes for a moment, and then made to turn.

  Quick as a snake, Galen’s hand wrapped around Selena’s upper arm and he yanked her toward him. She tried to fend him off, but his grip was unrelenting. Her struggles made him growl at her to stop, and then she froze as the sharp point of a dagger pressed into her side.

  Galen barely tried to hide his movement. Passersby shied away and pretended to look elsewhere. “You may be a mystic, but my mind is protected,” he hissed into her ear. He tapped his collar meaningfully, and Selena saw a metal necklace that sparkled with tiny green pieces of aurelium. “My instructions are to take you to the Protector.”

  “Why?” Selena demanded.

  “Because of what you are.”

  Selena tried to pull away again, harder this time, but Galen held her tightly and used his dagger to keep her moving toward the tall doorway at the tower’s base. A soldier wearing a crimson uniform made way at the entrance and opened the heavy door.

  She scanned people as she passed them. Surely a young woman being dragged toward the tower wasn’t something that happened every day?

  With a horrific, sinking sensation in her stomach, Selena knew that everything she had thought Zorn to be was false. This was a place where laborers were whipped. The poorer citizens were skinny and desperate for water. The faces she saw were afraid. No one was going to help her.

  Selena stumbled into the tower, where an immense circular chamber opened up in front of her. A series of oval windows let in the sun, but the air was cooler than outside. A curling stairway disappeared into the ceiling high above.

  “Keep moving,” Galen grunted. “Up the steps.”

  With Galen behind her, Selena began to climb. Each step was spaced strangely far apart, which meant she had to lift her legs more than felt natural. The first level she came to was as wide and open as the one below but far less empty. A multitude of storage crates filled the space.

  As her thoughts whirled, she glanced back at Galen. For a brief moment she wondered if she could push him, but he was watching her every move. As she continued to climb, with the commander following behind, she soon realized that what she had seen was just one storeroom of many. Several doorways on the next level were open and she glimpsed sacks and ceramic jugs. It was the same on the levels above.

  Soon she reached levels that were more functional. She saw corridors lined with linen mats and guessed they might lead to sleeping quarters. Rooms off to the side were sealed with sturdy doors. The plain furnishings were obviously human in origin: woven rugs, tapestries, barrels, wooden tables, and cha
irs. There was a strong contrast between the graceful, oversized beauty of the tower and the furnishings within its walls. The occasional window gave her an incredible view of the city from above.

  She still hadn’t encountered any other people; the Protector evidently kept himself separate from his citizens. Passing a level, she glanced into an open archway. Beyond was a large, high-ceilinged room with wide windows that let the light inside.

  Selena was expecting to see another storeroom, but the sight that greeted her was something else altogether. She gasped.

  A snub-nosed trull stood next to a pair of skalen, a male and a female. Farther away, three mantoreans had their heads together in a pose that suggested they were conferring. She saw bax of both genders, and even some bax young. The adults held the weapons typical of each race: javelins for the skalen, bows for the mantoreans, and clubs or spears for the bax. Every creature was utterly motionless, supported by sharp poles embedded in their bodies from below.

  The corpses had been preserved and put on display.

  The sight was so shocking that Selena came to a sudden halt. She stood frozen in place as a chill raced along her spine. Her gaze darted from one corpse to the next. Each creature made her stomach churn.

  Any remaining belief that the Protector might be a wise, good man, vanished in that moment.

  “Keep moving,” Galen said sharply. “The Protector is waiting.”

  Selena felt a burning desire to run, but her fear grew stronger when she realized that she wouldn’t make it far. What kind of man was the Protector, to have such a display? She tried to find a rational explanation. Her mind drew a blank.

  With no option but to keep walking, she was short of breath by the time she reached the top of the stairway. A shorter, narrower set of steps lay ahead of her, and she could sense from the change in the commander’s manner that she was close to the Protector.

  “If you need to rest, here is a good place,” Galen said.

  She stared into his dark eyes. The commander was fit and strong, and she had never climbed so many steps, but she wasn’t going to show him any weakness. “The Protector wants to see me. Why wait?”

  Galen gave her a cold smile. “You have a strong spirit,” he said, “but be mindful of who you are about to meet. Go on, then.”

  As Selena climbed, she looked up and ahead. She saw that the steps terminated at the floor of the level above. She had no doubt that she was entering the room at the tower’s summit.

  When she made it up and emerged from the stairway, she stepped into a place unlike anything she had seen before.

  The chamber was open on all sides, with a roof supported by columns. The lack of a rail created a terrible sensation of exposure—all she had to do was walk off the edge and she would fall to her death. Whoever had built this tower had no fear of heights.

  Divans sprawled on one side of the chamber and faced a table and a brooding desk. A warm breeze blew. The stairway was located at the back of what Selena was already thinking of as an observation room, given the sweeping views.

  Selena inspected the room’s occupants. Near the desk, a tall, older man in black trousers and a snug vest was frowning as he sipped from a cup of steaming liquid and gazed out at the city. His skin was weathered and his hair was neatly combed. When he turned, his blue eyes widened slightly before they became narrow and appraising.

  Her gaze moved to the center of the space, where a straight-backed wooden chair had been given special importance. Two men in white tunics sat on stools and faced the chair. Surprisingly, upon Selena’s arrival, the two men on the stools didn’t look up at all. Instead they never stopped staring at the chair’s occupant.

  Selena couldn’t take her eyes off the mantorean in the chair. She was a pitiful creature. Her carapace was marred with ugly patches and her antennae drooped. The men facing her were both dark-haired and a decade or so older than Selena. One was stocky and round-faced, the other thin and wiry.

  As Selena sensed Galen emerge from the stairway behind her, the mantorean turned her triangular head and looked at Selena with sad eyes.

  “I am sorry you came,” the mantorean said in a weak voice. “I would have warned you if I could.”

  “Enough!” the thinner of the two men snapped. Like his companion, he never took his gaze off the mantorean.

  Selena’s head jerked to the side when the older man set his cup down on a table and approached. Dread sank into her chest as she saw the man’s eyes, which were an intense shade of pale blue. He was a tall man, imposing despite his gray hair and craggy skin. His forehead was creased, lending him a stern expression.

  He regarded her with a look of assessment. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and confident. “What is your name, girl?”

  “Selena.”

  “You are a wastelander?” he asked. When she didn’t answer immediately, he nodded. “Of course you are. And you are alone. No one knows you are here.” He cleared his throat. “Selena, I am the Protector of Zorn. I command this city and keep my people safe from our many enemies.” He glanced past her to Galen. “You did well. Perhaps she will prove easier to manage than Tika-rin.”

  As Selena looked at the mantorean, the forlorn creature spoke again. “If you can get out of here, leave,” she said in a voice without hope.

  Meanwhile Galen had moved to stand with his legs apart and fingers hooked into his belt, where he could watch the proceedings while also blocking the stairs—the only exit from the room.

  “Our friend exaggerates,” the Protector said. “You will be valuable to Zorn, and I mean you no harm.” He tapped a silver neckpiece he wore around his throat. “I also do not fear you. My mind is safe.” The Protector continued to examine her. “Well, Merin?” he finally spoke. “How powerful is she?”

  One of the two men in the chairs, the stocky one, stopped watching the mantorean. As Merin focused on Selena, she felt a touch, a slight probing of her mind. An expression of surprise crossed his round face. “Powerful.”

  “More powerful than Tika-rin?”

  “Yes.”

  Then something strange happened. As soon as only one of the two men on the stools was watching the mantorean, Selena heard a voice in her mind. Please, help me. She recognized the voice, even though the mantorean wasn’t looking her way. I need to know if my egg is safe.

  Perplexed, Selena scanned the room until she saw a small stand on the desk, supporting a pale egg the size of a big man’s fist. The desk was only a few steps from where Selena was standing.

  Just rap it with your fist. It can survive a much more powerful blow. I need to hear the sound it makes. Please. I am desperate.

  Feeling nothing but pity for the wretched creature, Selena wondered what to do. She frowned at the Protector. “What is it you want from me?” She made a show of looking around. “What is this place?”

  As she examined the chamber, she moved closer to the desk. She heard a voice and glanced at the two men in white. She knew they had to be mystics.

  “Arren,” Merin said to the thin man beside him. “I think they’re communicating.”

  As soon as Selena was close, she turned and gave a firm but gentle knock on the egg. She expected to hear a thud, which would tell the mantorean something about the state of her egg. But the moment Selena touched it, the top of the egg caved in as the shell crumbled to dust. Any life inside the egg had been extinguished for a long time.

  The mantorean cried out. Despite her clicking, croaking voice, it was a loud sound, a cry of utter anguish. Without warning, she shot up out of the chair, startling the two mystics. She burst into a run, heading directly for the void.

  Arren and Merin both shouted. Merin lunged but his fingers closed on empty air and he was unable to prevent the mantorean’s mad dash. The pitiful creature reached the edge of the floor and, without pause, threw herself from the tower.

  It was over in moments.

  Selena gasped, shocked to her core. With a sharp jolt, the knowledge of what the mantorean had b
een driven to do made her feel sick. The Protector’s eyes flashed with anger as cries came from the streets below.

  “You fools,” the Protector snapped at the two mystics.

  “It’s the girl’s fault,” Merin said, scowling at Selena. “What did she say to you?”

  Selena’s chest was heaving. “She only wanted to know if her egg was safe. How was I to know it wasn’t?”

  “We shouldn’t have had two strong mystics here in the first place,” Arren said. He glared at Galen. “The commander should know that.”

  Galen returned the thin mystic’s stare and put a hand on the hilt of the sword he wore at his side.

  “Enough!” the Protector said curtly. He stared directly into Selena’s eyes. “Girl, I have brought you here to serve. My men rescued you, at no small cost, and serve me you will, whether you wish to or not. I could have made this pleasant for you, but it appears you have already made your choice. Arren and Merin have skill in abundance, but what they do not have is strength. That means I need you.”

  “You don’t need me. I can barely farcast.” Selena willed him to accept the truth of what she was saying.

  Merin snorted. “Her ability is untrained, Protector, but that won’t stop us.”

  “Let us hope you are correct,” the Protector said. He turned to the commander. “Galen, instruct some of your men to deal with Tika-rin’s body.”

  With a look of disdain at Arren, Galen turned and exited down the stairs. Selena watched him go. Her heart was racing. The tower had one set of stairs, and one door at its base, which was guarded. The Protector was now standing uncomfortably close to her.

  “What is done is done,” the Protector said. “Tika-rin is no more. Arren, Merin, it is imperative that you harness our new mystic’s talents. I expect results and soon. A long delay in our casting could be fatal.”

  “Understood, Protector,” Arren said.

  “As for you, Selena,” the Protector said to her, “you will help to ensure our survival. You have a unique talent, as you are no doubt aware, and fate has marked you as a tool for this city to wield. We will keep you safe, here in this tower, and in return you will farcast for us. You will track the movements of our enemies and guide our patrols. Do you understand me?”