by K. F. Breene
“The Captain is forming alliances. He’s got a bunch already on our side. We’ve got help.”
“Xavier!” Marc shoved the larger guy. “Will you wake up? She left, and that sucks. I hate her for it, too, but if you pulled your head out of your ass, you’d see the bigger picture. Alliances are all well and good, but the Graygual are still bigger. They are breeding people like Shanti. We need more than a few old farts from prosperous cities merging with us.”
They turned a corner at the last house before they reached the large, dusty training grounds.
“Well, the Captain is the best at what he does, and he’s working it out,” Xavier said. “He—”
Someone rushed out of the shadows.
Xavier reacted hard and fast. He grabbed the man and threw in one smooth, precise movement.
Hands windmilled as a body flew through the air. Before it hit the ground, they heard Leilius utter, “Why?” He landed in a tumble of limbs.
Xavier turned to Marc with a grin. “Did you just scream?”
“Did I?” Marc put his hand to his chest, out of breath. His heart pounded against his rib cage. Images of the Inkna battle had flashed through his mind, making him think someone was attacking with a sword or knife.
Xavier doubled over in laughter. “You screamed like a girl!”
“Well? He jumped from out of nowhere!” Marc defended.
“What’d you do that for?” Leilius asked as he picked himself up off the ground, dusting off his plain gray clothes.
Lanky and average looking, Leilius was the only one of them that was still as good with his skills as when Shanti left. He loved slinking around the town, randomly waiting in various places and watching people, waiting to see if they would notice him. He was the only one among them that had absolute faith—absolute, unequivocal faith—that Shanti would return.
The problem was, the army didn’t acknowledge silent loitering as a quantifiable trait. Of what the army did recognize as necessary skills, Leilius was only good at working with a knife at close range. Sanders often threatened to send him to work in the mines.
“What if you had been a Mugdock and I didn’t react?” Xavier asked Leilius as they continued on.
“How would a Mugdock get into the city without the sentries knowing?” Leilius said with a put-upon expression. He wiped at a small cut on his cheek. When his fingers came away with a smear of blood, he held it up with an incredulous expression. “You made me bleed!”
Xavier ignored the accusation. “You’ve gotten past the sentries without being noticed…”
“But then I got in trouble by the Captain for wandering around outside the walls when I was supposed to be cleaning out the horse stalls. He knew where I was. You think he wouldn’t notice a Mugdock sneaking in?”
“What if you’d been an Inkna? They can hide their minds.” Xavier hesitated as they neared the edge of the practice yard. Men of all ages and abilities congregated there to practice with swords, or to work in the pit throwing knives. There were even long-range archery targets set up into the trees beyond the perimeter of the city.
“Not really,” Marc cut into the argument, spotting Rachie and Gracas, the other two members of their old Honor Guard. The two guys were standing on the periphery of the crowd of cadets waiting for their Training Captain. “If the Captain was paying attention, he’d know they were there. They wouldn’t be hidden.”
“You said yourself,” Xavier pushed. “He’s not great with his power. Someone might slip past.”
“Oh, now he’s not great with his power? Desperate to be right, as always, huh, Xavier?” Marc rolled his eyes.
“All I’m saying is,” Xavier said to Leilius, “You can’t pop out and not expect me to react.”
“Well, next time I’ll pop out and avoid the throw. That’s something to work on. And you can work on not letting me avoid the throw. S’am would give us that homework.”
Xavier sighed in defeat. Leilius never took the hint that Xavier didn’t want Shanti’s name mentioned in a favorable light around him. “Whatever. C’mon, let’s go. Maybe we’ll do something interesting today.”
“Doubtful.” Leilius’ body slumped as he and Marc followed Xavier into the training grounds.
* * *
Cayan sat at his desk in his private office; a place few knew about, much less visited. For official business or meetings, he used the space that was more like a hall than working quarters. These days he spent little time there, though. Things were starting to heat up and he didn’t have a firm handle on the direction of their future as a city, or more importantly, as a people.
The door opened, letting in the brisk fall chill. Commander Sanders marched in with Cayan’s note clutched in his hand and expectation etched in his features. He gave Cayan a nod before coming to stand directly in front of the desk. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Cayan sat back and prevented himself from rubbing his eyes. Sleep was a luxury he no longer indulged in. “Yes. I’ve received a letter from the Duke of the Southern Peninsula. He is the last, and most important, ally. He’s agreed to help for the time being and indirectly join our cause.” He was also a pompous fool who thought more of himself than he ought. Still, the man was great at managing his assets, and had some equally great commanders. Cayan needed him.
“Yes, sir. Has anyone turned you down?”
Cayan glanced at the papers on this desk. “I was late to the party, actually. Krekonna from the west was already accumulating help. I joined their alliance, if truth be told. I then extended the request to a few nations closer to me, and of course, the Duke’s. Those further west have already seen the effects of the Graygual armies. Refugees have flocked to Krekonna and surrounding cities in droves. Women have disappeared, many turning up dead. Men have been killed in the street. It’s utter lawlessness. Their army is sick with power and unimpeded. They do whatever they desire.”
“Fear mongering.” Sanders clasped his hands behind his back. “Thieves do it all the time on our routes. They pick off some of the weak travelers and leave them to be found as an example of their brutality. Then, when the thieves approach softly and with a smile, people are so thankful not to be run-through with a sword, or their wives abused, they dump out their pockets quietly and obediently. Foul play, that. But it speeds up the process—so I’ve heard. They know better than to try that with my men, of course.”
A ghost of a smile passed Cayan’s lips. “I bet. Well, their plans are working. Krekonna is terrified of a Graygual invasion. He looks around him and sees the eventual death and destruction of his people. Unlike some, however, he doesn’t plan to surrender quietly. Or at all.”
“Does he have any in his city with mind power?”
Cayan couldn’t help another smile, this time with an underlying of sarcasm. “He’s seeking the violet-eyed girl. He wants to appeal for her aid.”
Sanders snorted and walked a few paces to the window. His muscles flexed. “I’d love to be in a locked room with that foreign woman.” He turned back to Cayan, regret and uneasiness warring on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, sir, I’m thankful for what she did. Not happy to admit it—I should be saving the damsel, not the other way around. But how she left… that wasn’t right. Took off like a fart in the wind. Cowardly, that’s what it was. She’s got her own agenda, the other nations that need her help be damned.”
Without warning, rage welled up within Cayan. Power boiled and bubbled before blasting the room. He wrestled with his control, quelling his Gift, but not before Sanders’ back straightened and his expression went blank, a sure sign that the commander was in pain.
Forcing his Gift down, Cayan took a deep breath and entwined his fingers, hiding his shaking hands. “I’m going to be frank.” He kept his voice level and tone somber, trying to hide the conflict within. “I’m sending you to the Duke with gifts—I have every belief he wants to be included in our new alliance, but he wanted us to beg. So I begged, promising him gifts.” Sanders nodded without comm
ent. “And once we have him secured, I’ll be leading an expedition to go after Shanti. I will want you with me.”
A hard, brown gaze hit Cayan. Incredulity fought with rage in Sanders’ expression. “She takes off, leaves us in the lurch, and now you want to go after her like she’s some runaway child? Excuse the blunt speech, sir, but that is madness. We have no idea where she went, what she’s up to, nor what her grand plans are—she’s a ghost. And you want to leave this city without its Captain to go traipsing after her?”
“You’ve heard of the emergence of the Chosen on your trade routes.” Cayan waited for the nod. He ignored the corresponding clenched jaw. “And you know that they weren’t talking about Shanti.”
“Some Inkna was named Chosen. She lied about her title.”
Cayan’s fingers turned white with tension as he clamped down on that raging inferno within.
Willing calm, Cayan maintained a steady voice by sheer will. “Her people thought she was the Chosen. She was on the way to merge with her distant kin to continue the war effort. Being called Chosen was a burden to her. Nothing but a weight to hold her down. The actions she took to fulfill that duty were… unspeakable. Yet, she thought she had no choice. No, she didn’t lie. And I’ll bet she wasn’t thinking when she left. The title of Chosen was leading her around by the nose. I should’ve realized it then and used a different approach in speaking with her. But what’s done is done.”
Sanders’ lips thinned. He obviously didn’t agree, but he didn’t have half the facts. Nor had he heard a quarter of the rumors.
“She has a full dose of power. As do I. As does the Inkna claiming he’s the Chosen,” Cayan continued. “I don’t know anything about the rightful Chosen, or even how such a person is defined. I also don’t know the myth behind the person called the Wanderer. Both are rumors, as far as I can tell. But I do know that many are stationing themselves throughout the land, trying to intercept this person called the Wanderer. They say she is a woman, and the key to our salvation from the Graygual. Rumors don’t help me, and they aren’t the basis for my decision. Here is what I am sure of…”
Cayan sat forward and pinned Sanders with his stare. “A power that mates with one of its kind multiplies in strength. Two full doses of power, both rare by themselves, mated, becomes an anomaly. Shanti and I, together, create that anomaly. I also know that Xandre, the pinnacle of this land, the one holding all the power, still ardently seeks her. Chosen or no, he wants her badly. Maybe he just wants her power to mate with the Inkna, I don’t know. But she is important, and she and I together, are essential. That is what I know. I am sure of it. I need her on my side, Sanders. I need her power to mate with mine. It is the key. Without her power, we might as well just sit with our hands out, waiting to be tied and taken. Without my power, she might as well wait for the same. Together, we have a chance. Perhaps our only chance.”
Sanders shifted. His gaze dropped to the floor, his brow knotted in consternation. Cayan could feel the uncertainty radiating from the battle-hardened commander. “And how do you plan to find her? She’s long gone by now,” Sanders asked in a gruff tone.
“She’s headed to the same place as the other Chosen—the Shadow Lands.”
Sanders’ head snapped up. Wariness crouched in his expression. “The Shadow Lands? Sir, forgive me, but knocking on the door of a bunch of devil-worshipping, black-magic users is a little extreme, even for that woman. I know you were told the same things I was as a kid—eat your vegetables or I’ll whisper your name to the Shadow people. Don’t bite your brother, Sanders, or I’ll ship you off to the Land of the Mist where they’ll cook you up and eat you…”
Cayan let a smirk quirk his lips. “Afraid of children’s tales at your age, Sanders?”
“Half of that is hearsay, sure, but legends often come from truth. There’s not one person who doesn’t fear what they call the Shadow People. Why else would they be banished from the mainland to a small island only reached through a treacherous journey across the sea? Location doesn’t lie, sir.”
“People fear what they do not understand. My power could be called dark magic. Shanti is as violent and destructive as they come. As are you, I might add, and you still bite. Banished might really just mean relocated to a more fertile land. That’s how this city started in the early days. But yes, that’s where she was headed. That’s where this Inkna is headed. That is why there has been a pause in the raids and attacks—I won’t say stopped. The Graygual focus is now away east. In their effort to secure these Shadow People, they are unwittingly giving the rest of us time to get organized.”
“Xandre seems smarter than that, if what you say is true. Why would he allow us to organize?”
Cayan stood. “He’s one man with a lot of pursuits, and we are small cities, however prosperous. He thinks we’ll be here when he’s ready. And he’s right. A few of us combined still don’t equal his might, especially with the number of Inkna and power he has. We need Shanti to get those Shadow People, and we need her to unite with us. I’ve thought long on this—her help is the only way. Krekonna thinks the same thing. He urged me to go after her. He was thinking of sending a battle commander of his who spent some time with her—”
Without warning, a blast of power surged, consuming Cayan, locking his jaw. It boiled his blood, blasted through his control, and gushed into the room. He staggered against the desk, fighting with everything he had. With the effort equal to wrestling a wild boar to the ground, he sucked it back in and shoved it deep, down within himself. Still, his mind swam and dizziness clouded his vision.
When the haze cleared, Sanders was leaning against the wall with a pained expression. “Sore subject, ay sir?” Sanders wheezed. “Don’t like mentioning that pain in the ass in the same sentence as other men, looks like. That makes you crazy, you realize that?” Sanders rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms as the power subsided. “Thank Satan’s butt those Inkna didn’t have your power in that torture chamber, or I might’ve broken.”
Cayan leaned over the desk as he huffed out a laugh. “No, you would’ve died quicker, and then you wouldn’t have to live with being saved by a girl.”
Sanders huffed. “True.”
Cayan rolled his head to loosen the sudden tightness in his neck. “She has a way of getting under a man’s skin.”
Sanders stiffly pushed away from the wall. “Yeah. Well. I plan to get her alone and beat some sense into her. Don’t think I’ll take it easy on her just because you want to see what’s under her skirt.”
“She’s going to beat you senseless, Commander. Which you know. Still wanting that fight makes you crazy, do you realize that?”
“Nah. I’m used to fighting battles I can’t win. Hell, I don’t think I’ve won an argument since I got married. I’ll just need to get another dame to save me from her.”
Cayan smiled and took a deep breath. “Anyway, I need you gone within two days.” Cayan shrugged into his jacket. “I have men waiting for you, and a wagon of goods to take to the Duke. Once you have his support, you’ll come back, get a day or two rest, and then we leave again.”
“Junice won’t be pleased,” Sanders mumbled.
“She knows what she married. She’ll probably be happy to see the back of you by now.”
Sanders snorted. “Got that right. She’s stopped asking what I want for dinner. She just makes what she wants and allows me to eat it.”
“Honeymoon is over.”
“Long over.” Sanders followed Cayan toward the door. “One thing—who’s going to guard the city when half the army is gone?”
Cayan raised his eyebrows a fraction.
Sanders nodded and rocked back on his heels. “The Duke’s men, right. The only leader with men to spare. He doesn’t think he needs them—and he might not for a while. He’s too far south at the moment, with no foreign woman to call attention to him. So you’re going to pay him for some manpower, then?”
“You’re not as dumb as the men say you are.” Cayan la
ughed as he swung open the door and waited for Sanders to stalk through. The man looked like he was in a hurry even when he had nowhere to be. “I’ve organized for the most disciplined of men to go with you—this journey is about speed. When you get back, we’ll get the Duke’s men in place, and then we leave. If we’re not in this battle, then we’ll be ground under by it. I will not let that happen to my people.”
They walked through the town without speaking. Townspeople smiled at Cayan as he passed. Many greeted them and more than a few young and available women batted their eyelashes and stuck out their chests. He let himself look, but that’s as far as the desire went. He could have them for a night, or maybe a few, but his attention would inevitably wander, as it always did.
“How do you plan to make her join our cause?” Sanders said, breaking the silence as they neared the practice yard. If he wondered why Cayan was escorting him there, he didn’t ask.
“Dangle her Honor Guard in front of her. Her interest in them was genuine. Through them, she had a way of fitting in to this city. She has pride in them. I plan to leverage that.”
Sanders looked at him sideways. His lips tweaked upwards at the corner. “I wondered why you left them with the cadets, especially Xavier. They’re bored, they’re flagging, but you’re two steps ahead. How long have you been planning this?”
“Her leaving was never an option. I’d hoped she’d return on her own. She hasn’t. I don’t like not getting my way.”
Sanders barked out a laugh. A group of scarred warriors on the edge of the yard turned to look. When they saw Cayan and Sanders, the humor from their expression drained away. Their group broke up almost immediately. Some walked toward the sword fighting area, while others headed towards the town.
“You’re a buzz kill,” Sanders said as they stopped within the practice yard.
“You’re the one they’re terrified of.” Cayan didn’t let the smile touch his lips. “There’s a rumor you bit someone’s nose off.”
