Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  As Othmar talked, Nemma stared at the clear ball. The Thaide carried out their jobs in an instinctive way? She remembered being strung up, her arms and legs aching as she hung mid-air, the breath being pressed from her lungs and the dizziness she felt.

  The air became thin. A numbing sensation washed over her and Othmar’s voice entered her mind.

  You are accessing the Gift, Isa. Listen carefully to me. Allow the sensation you are feeling to fill your entire body, embrace it. It won’t hurt you…

  Nemma realized she was resisting the feeling. Relaxing, she welcomed the sensation. It rose within her, penetrating her skin, hair and eyes with a rush, swooping through her like water rushing through the Brook. She gasped, closing her eyes and raising her face to the ceiling as her entire body tingled, the hair on her arms and legs stood on end.

  Don’t let it overwhelm you. Reach outside yourself. Feel for those around you.

  Nemma tried to feel beyond herself and was stunned to find vibrations all around, pulsing with different strengths. The atmosphere buzzed silently. When she opened her eyes she was drawn to the Elementyth. His vibration was the strongest in the room and pulsed much stronger than anything else.

  Now, find the vibration for the ball. I want you to draw it close to you by extending your reach and taking command of it. Try and reach out, but with your Gift. You will feel when the ball submits to you.

  Nemma felt for the ball, struggling to find it amongst the buzzing environment, but once she focused, ignoring everything else, she could feel its smaller, quieter vibration. She willed her energy out to it and an echo of her vibration stretched out. As it surrounded the ball the vibration in the ball slowed and matched the vibration of her reach. When she willed it to her, it came. Slowly at first and then it picked up speed. She reached up and let it thud into her palm.

  Now let the energy go. Quieten the energy by focusing on something within you, like your heartbeat.

  Nemma closed her eyes, feeling for her heart and listening to its rapid beating. She filled her lungs with deep breaths and willed the energy away. The rush in her body slowed to a trickle until she could no longer feel it.

  “Very well done, Isa,” Othmar said. “That’s difficult to do with such control the first time.”

  Nemma took a few deep breaths. She felt strange. A whole other world had opened up to her and remnants of it lingered on her senses. The other scholars stared at her. Haleya and Deron’s mouths had dropped open, while Syra sat with her arms folded. Terris’ light brown eyes flitted between Nemma and Othmar.

  “I’m pleased that you followed my instructions exactly. You will make an excellent scholar.”

  “Thank you,” Nemma said hesitantly, handing him back the ball.

  Othmar talked a bit more about what they could expect for the rest of day and reminded them to stick together and assist each other. “A meal has been prepared for you all,” he finally announced. “Please exit through that door and follow the aides to the dining room. Isa, you stay here a moment.”

  The other scholars made their way to door, glancing at Nemma. Terris smiled at her while Deron grinned as though she was a new being he couldn’t wait to explore.

  Othmar sat in a chair next to her after they left. “I’m not going to keep you long Isa, I just wanted to talk to you about your Gift.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not really, but...” He clasped his hands together and thought for a moment. “When you were accessing your Gift you could feel the energy of the things around you, correct?

  “Yes.”

  “How did they feel?”

  “They felt like… vibrations inside my body but from different directions.”

  “And how did each vibration feel?”

  “They all felt different. Some were quiet and smooth, others were soft, some were fast or hard.”

  “How did the other scholars feel?”

  Nemma thought for a moment. “They felt soft.”

  “Yes,” the Elementyth agreed. “This is because they were not using their Gift. We call this being ‘at rest’. If they had been using it their energy would have felt different.”

  “Like yours?”

  “Yes. A magien’s vibration always feels stronger when he is accessing his Gift. All living and natural things emit an energy that you will be able to feel when you are accessing your Gift. Their vibrations may be different, but with practice and focus you will be able to recognize all the living and natural things around you.”

  “Even plants and trees?”

  “Yes. Even this table.” Othmar pointed to the wooden table in the center of the circle. “It was made from a living thing so it has a vibration, even though it will be greatly muted. It’s the same with the balls—they’re made from tree bark. Less powerful magiens struggle to feel the subtler vibrations, but they are there. What does this tell you about citizens?”

  Nemma thought again. “They have a vibration also?”

  “Yes, and this vibration is soft, like magiens at rest.”

  “That’s why you don’t know who has the Gift unless they’re using it?”

  “Traditionally, yes. Since then Visionyths have developed methods to detect the Gift and the Thaide have methods to test for it.”

  “So the Gift is the ability to change our energy?”

  “The Gift is the ability to sense and effect the vibration of other things,” Othmar corrected. “Using the Gift is like using one of your physical senses. When you access the Gift, it’s like opening your eyes and seeing everything around you. When you withdraw from the Gift, it’s like closing it off again. Don’t worry, you will be trained on all this. Now, do you know what an energy release is?”

  “No.”

  “It’s the echo of a person’s vibration. It pulses from their physical body like an energy heartbeat and is an indication of their Gift-strength, general health and other things. The non-Gifted have this also. Anyway the point here is that there is a discrepancy in your energy. I can barely feel any vibration from you whether you are at rest or active, but your release is extremely strong.”

  Nemma frowned. This did not sound positive.

  “It’s an odd combination,” he continued, thoughtfully. “I haven’t felt anything like it before. It’s as though your energy is almost nonexistent yet your release is stronger than magiens usually feel, at the same time. It makes it difficult to pinpoint you from an energy perspective.”

  “So the Giftborn can be detected through their release also?”

  Othmar shook his head. “Not normally, but it’s something my wife specializes in so I know a bit about it.”

  Nemma said nothing. Why must she always be different?

  “Sometimes when a scholar arrives with a different energy pattern, their vibration changes to a normal state the first time they access their Gift, so I am assuming this is why it wasn’t looked into before, but when you were using the Gift it still had the same double quality so I must recommend that you are examined by a Puryth in order to see if it will affect your training or affect your use of the Gift.”

  A dusting of hope settled on Nemma’s nerves. “And what will happen to me?”

  “Nothing, Isa,” he assured. “We will just determine how we can integrate you into the Arc life. You will still have a home here and you will still contribute to one of the sects. It could be that there will be no effect on your use of the Gift at all.”

  Nemma breathed out, which the Elementyth seemed to take as a sigh of relief. He smiled and rose from his chair. “I’ll take you to the dining room now. I’m sure your group will want to question you about your new abilities.”

  Thirteen

  On the top floor of a tall tube shaped building, a stone ledge protruded from an office lacking an external wall. Clisantha stood on the ledge in awe of the Arc, spread before her as far as she could see in the late orange sun.

  The buildings, fashioned into tubes, domes, squares, rectangles, pentagons and irregul
ar shapes, curved, twisted and jutted in various directions. They held an elegance that unified them, possibly the milkiness of their colors, or the glow that emanated from them, growing stronger as the sun waned. A number of them hovered some way from the ground and some had been decorated with pathways of shooting light. Fine imprints spread across some of their walls, like swirls made in sand or patterns carved into clay. The majestic roofs of the Priest Assembly and top-rank’s buildings curved either towards the sky or the ground, immense and shimmering, encrusted with gems and crafted lumni. The magien architects had certainly found new ways of utilizing their skills. Patches of green could be seen further away to the north of her position filled with flowers and trees and grass. The turn of the season had passed, and the auburn and flame colored leaves on the sculptured trees dotted around the Arc had fallen, now replaced with emerald and forest green leaves.

  Magiens traveled about their business with ease and grace, streams of cloaks drifting through the air at different heights. The ice-blue shine of the Healing Temple dome caught her eye and she smiled as the memory of her first visit to the temple resurfaced. She had only been five and it had seemed like the most wondrous place. Far to the west, she could just about see the square cream build of the Arc library while the cone-shaped Torak Tower shone like a beacon in the north-east.

  Shrieks of laughter drifted up from below and Clisantha squinted and smiled as she watched a handful of young children shooting round each other on small platforms in the air.

  “I would have thought citizens to be cautious of the ledge,” said a deep voice behind her.

  Straightening her face, she turned. “I don’t fear height.”

  A tall, lean man dressed in a smart dark blue velvet suit stood behind her, sipping green liquid from a short glass that spiraled down to a pointed end. “Good. You have plenty of other things to fear.”

  Clisantha turned back to the view, breathing deeply. “Have you decided what stock you are giving me?”

  “No,” the man said curtly. “I’m not sure I need to trade any of my stock now. Sales have picked up.”

  Clisantha watched as the children used their Gift to push fallen leaves at each other, some managing to trap others in whirling cocoons of crisp orange and yellow. “So you have sold over a hundred items in the last few days?”

  The man snorted. “It’s not your concern how much I have sold, Mss Saraethien, only that I no longer need your services.”

  Clisantha turned to him. His elaborately shaped facial hair could not hide the lines of tiredness and worry. “Magien Yusten, I can triple the sales you have made in the last eight weeks in one day. How can you say you don’t need that business?”

  The man held her eye for a moment and then sighed, joining her on the ledge and swirling the liquid in his glass. “Do you know what the Houses say about you, Mss Saraethien? They say that you are the disgraced daughter of a once brilliant Thaide and that those who do business with you are damned.”

  Clisantha let the flutter of annoyance that rose within her peter away before speaking. A few other magien merchants had made strange references to her father but none had been so rude. How dare he. “Disgraced?”

  “He didn’t live up to his responsibilities as a Thaide and now you are encouraging trade between magiens and citizens. It isn’t honorable. You weren’t even blessed with the Gift through him.”

  Clisantha swallowed, willing the anger away. “Don’t you find it strange that it’s only those that are in comfortable financial situations who are against others making money through my business? I have the approval of both the Thaide Priest and the High Priest to conduct business between magiens and citizens. Are they as dishonorable as I?”

  The man swirled his glass, lowering his gaze.

  “It’s not a question of honor, Magien Yusten, it’s a question of what kind of profit you want to be able to record next week,” Clisantha continued. “I know you are struggling and I know you are on the verge of dropping down to a lower merchant tier. Let my business help you. I have already increased the profits of over eighteen trades in the last three months and seven of those moved up two tiers. They will tell you how abundant my scheme is. Would you prefer to join them or watch them spend their lorel?”

  Yusten smoothed down his suit as he thought. “Can you guarantee to triple the figures?” he asked, finally.

  “Yes. Demand is high.”

  ***

  “How have you found your first three months, Mss Saraethien?” asked Kelvedon.

  Clisanha stared out of the window of the Thaide Priest’s hjuy, taking a moment to think.

  “Different than I expected, your grace,” she answered, smiling at him. He had never asked her anything before.

  “What did you expect?”

  Clisantha lifted her eyes as she thought of a suitable answer. “There are some unhealthy prejudices stifling the Arc that I didn’t anticipate. I don’t recall these issues when I was living here.”

  “You were young,” he said. “The Arc is not unlike most other cities.” He turned his head to glance out of both windows.

  “I have heard it said numerous times that I am a disgrace… something about my father,” Clisantha said, watching him. “It’s affecting my business and the sales targets the High Priest expects. How do I address that?”

  His dead-pan eyes rested on her. “Who have you heard that from?”

  “Different merchants,” she shrugged. “Not many, but enough to make me think that it’s affecting my sales.”

  He stared at her, pausing so long she thought he would not respond. After all, what he had said so far was more than any conversation they had had in the entire time he had been escorting her in and out of the Arc. Finally he said, “I will look into it,” and leaned back against the wall of the Hjuy.

  In all of her time in the city, Clisantha had never realized that the white Arc wall held no gate. Carriages and Hjuys penetrate it at a certain point to gain access. The Thaide Priest’s Hjuy emerged on the other side and as the denser, uniform buildings of Torak appeared, it struck Clisantha how little greenery there was in Torak. She settled back into the soft cushioning of the hjuy wall and seat, watching the Thaide Priest. He sat with his eyes closed, almost as though he was asleep, but Clisantha had spent enough time with him to know he was as alert as the Thaide guarding Torak Gates.

  Many considered Kelvedon the most handsome man in the Realms and that could be true if his rugged demeanor was a part of the appeal. He was a block of a man, with a wide chest and thick arms. His color was that of the Yetsari people of the Eastern Realm, and his black hair and eyes complimented his golden hue. His chin frequently carried a layer or two of stubble and his hair always fell down past his chin, looking greasy and unkempt at times. But he had an entrancing intenseness about him that made many people nervous. A room always felt more charged when he was present. Clisantha often wondered what he was thinking. His dark eyes showed no expression or emotion and there was no indication of his thoughts through actions or gestures. He was very disciplined indeed.

  After a little while, the Hjuy slowed to a halt.

  “Have a good evening, Mss Saraethien,” he said, his eyes still closed.

  “Farewell, your grace,” Clisantha replied, before stepping out of the Hjuy.

  ***

  Security within Torak had not calmed since the day Riyen had put the note into her robes. Thaide flooded the city every day and it had become routine for citizens to answer questions about their daily activities. Clisantha was just relieved that the detection ball had been removed. She climbed into her waiting carriage.

  As the carriage hurried along towards the core, her mind drifted to the trips she took with her father into the city. He would routinely visit all of the lords and merchants he knew, introducing her to their families and way of life and encouraging her to appreciate their homes and wares. When she moved to the city, she already had a great advantage over others that had been discarded by the Arc, which
annoyed Orna enormously as her threats to abandon her meant nothing. Clisantha gazed, unseeingly, at the darkening sky. With the pressure of expanding her business she had not had time to investigate further into her father’s death. She had searched through his books looking for any hint about his life and found nothing. Her father had been the most honorable and dedicated person she knew and it angered her that some of the magiens she visited could not see that honor in her because her Gift was hidden. Still, it had been Father’s wish that she did not declare her Gift when he died and she didn’t, so she was forced to abide by the choice they had both made.

  She alighted from her carriage and headed to one of her storage factories, which sat just over the boundary that divided the third quarter from the fourth. It had weathered worse than her other factories, with peeling maroon walls and rust at every corner.

  “You’re late.” Elementyth Riyen sat on a table in the center of the main factory space, dressed in his green robes.

  Large wooden cases filled with broken or damaged items lined the back wall and a number of clothing stalls had been pushed in front of them but the rest of the space was relatively clear. Riyen had insisted on using this factory to meet, which made sense since it the one least used.

  Clisantha shrugged off her robes and threw them onto a chair near the door. The anger about Yusten’s attitude towards her father still lingered, but her mood lifted at the thought of her training session.

  “Bad day or bad meeting?” he asked, as Clisantha strode towards him. Over the last three months he had been in good spirits and gone out of his way to be pleasant and helpful, making it easier for her to focus on her business. She had begun to feel more at ease with him, but she had not forgotten the basis of their liaison or the threat around her throat.