Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  “When you say collecting, you mean imprisoning?” Nemma asked.

  The girl nodded. She picked up a handful of grapes. “I have to go back out,” she said to Chesna. “I was followed. I lost them but they will be looking for my signal, if I don’t go back out they will keep searching until they find us here.”

  Chesna nodded. She drew the girl into a hard hug. “Be safe.”

  She escorted the girl back up the stairs and returned with a thoughtful look on her face.

  “Why do you want to escape Hannaw and leave your group?” Innogen asked.

  “Have you been listening to anything I‘ve been saying?” Chesna snapped.

  “She means,” interjected Nemma, “you seem to be in a position to help your circle. You care about them and have found a safe space for them.” She gestured around her. “This is obviously home. Why leave them?”

  Chesna’s anger fled as quickly as it arose. She started packing away the food. “There’s only so much I can do. Eventually we’ll outgrow this place, or it’ll be found, or someone will betray me to the Thaide or other circles. I have to take the chance to get out when I can. None of them would blame me for it, we have a structure in place for another girl to take over if I disappear.” She turned to Nemma. “So what’s your plan?”

  Twenty-One

  Clisantha stopped her carriage to throw up on the side of the road. Inside that room it had felt like days had passed but, judging by the Thaide at the Arc entrance, it had only been a few hours. They had let her through with no problem even though the Thaide Priest had not escorted her. Clearly other issues were more important today.

  The carriage driver, a young man with kind eyes, leaned over. “Are you alright, Mss Saraethien?”

  She wiped her mouth and nodded. “I’m fine. Take me to the usual factory as quickly as you can.”

  She sat back bracing herself against the inside wall with a hand on her rolling stomach. She could barely remember the features of the girl that came looking for Father, but she remembered how upset she had been about his death. Perhaps she was part of this unlawful group. Maybe she had intended to kill the Thaide. The idea that she possessed the strength to kill two Thaide was both disturbing and wondrous. She had not looked like much of a fighter eight months ago, although she had certainly been skilled at avoiding questions.

  The carriage powered along at full speed, turning to and fro until it lurched to stop at her factory. She sent the driver home and retched again before going in.

  Riyen hovered high up at the back of the large space cross-legged on a platform. She headed over to the short-table by the chairs and picked up the bottle of white vynth they always shared. She filled the short glass on the table with the clear liquid and threw it into her mouth, the bitterness cutting through the rancid taste of vomit.

  “Clisantha!” Riyen called from the back of the factory. He lowered his platform.

  She poured and swallowed another three glasses before he had reached half way across the space. She placed the glass down on the table and walked towards him, pulling on energy to create a shield. He had taught her how to merge the energies properly so at least she knew it would work this time.

  “Where have you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you for days and you didn’t stick to—” He stopped a few feet from her, feeling her shield. “What’s wrong?”

  Through the fading cloud of nausea, her body still reacted at the sight of him and she clenched her fists with annoyance. She had to think clearly. She created a number of strikers in the air around her.

  Riyen glanced at them. “Clisantha, what happened? Why are you wielding the Gift?”

  “I know you are part of this group against the Sovereign Order.”

  Riyen’s face straightened.

  So her suspicious had been correct. “You chose to withhold the fact that my father was a traitor too.”

  Riyen did not answer. He withdrew from his Gift and relaxed his stance.

  “Why not just tell me that about him,” Clisantha snapped, “instead of pretending not to know him?”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me. You would have thought I was trying to mark your father’s name. You’ve never really trusted me, Clisantha.”

  “What?” Her strikers dipped towards him. “I’ve come here every day for the past five months and trusted you.”

  Riyen’s expression was calm. “To learn the Gift, yes. To keep your secrets, yes. But you don’t trust me when it comes to anything else, not even your heart. I don’t blame you for that. Your father trained you well. He was an honorable man.”

  “Honorable? Working against the Sovereign is not honorable, Riyen.”

  “You don’t know the truth about him, Clisantha. The Sovereign has done terrible things in his past. All we are trying to do is correct those things.”

  “He created Hannaw and the Arc and all the counties across the Realms. He didn’t murder Thaide and children, like my father did.”

  Riyen tensed. “Your father did what he had to. We’ve all had to do unsavory things.”

  “Why? Why are you fighting against this way of life? It’s a great way to live.”

  “How can you say that? You of all people should know what it feels like to be stuck somewhere you don’t belong.”

  “I wouldn’t be on this path if my insane father hadn’t set me on it,” Clisantha spat. “I would’ve declared my Gift from the beginning and lived happily in the Arc.”

  “Clisantha,” Riyen said, “you have it within you to always carve your own way, think for yourself, strive to be better. That’s something you wouldn’t have had if your father had allowed them to have access to you through training.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you think something is very strange here? People aren’t allowed to leave unless they are top-rank magiens or Thaide. Or unless the Arc needs their skills, which are usually used to help kill or capture someone. Why can’t the people of Hannaw be free to roam the Realms like everyone else?”

  “Why would we want to go anywhere else? The Sovereign’s home is here.”

  “Your father took you to the wards and you loved it. If he had taken you to Naju or Syfenra or Slivnyar, I guarantee you would have loved the different cultures and climates.” Riyen took a step towards her. “You have been trying to get out of this city your entire life and now when I’m suggesting that being trapped here is unnatural, you’re fighting it. Why?”

  Clisantha searched for an answer to her annoyance but could not find one.

  “That’s how they train people to stay and behave,” Riyen said. “I assume you completed part of their training? That’s how they do it with magiens. With citizens they do it during prayer hour.”

  Clisantha moved the strikers closer to him. “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

  Riyen eyed the glimmering orbs around him. “It wouldn’t make much sense to you right now, Clisantha. To understand you would have to trust me and clearly you can’t trust anyone.”

  “You forced me to work for you and withheld information from me.”

  “I forced you to work for me so I could make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. If you had been a kinder, friendlier person I would not have had to do that.”

  Clisantha launched a striker just left of him and it shot past his ear and sailed through the air, crashing into the back of the factory. “Just because you bed me, don’t presume to know or understand me. No one would have been kind and friendly in response to the threats you offered.”

  Riyen did not flinch. “Della has been there for you your entire life in Torak and you never once made time for her until recently. If you had allowed her to be your friend she would have helped you and I wouldn’t have had to be involved at all.”

  “Della? My neighbor?”

  “She is a Phalorian.”

  One of the strikers slipped from Clisantha’s control as she took a few moments to process what he said. The energy dissipated and
flew away from them into the factory walls and floor. “No. How can she be? She’s no fighter, she’s been having children for the past fifteen years or so.”

  “Those children have been trained with Phalorian principles. It’s one of the ways we get Phalorians into the Arc.”

  Clisantha shook her head. Della had been raising traitors and sending them into the Arc?

  “She was also placed there to help you.”

  “Placed by who?”

  “Your father.” Riyen took a step towards her, eyeing the strikers. “Your father knew that hiding your Gift would mean that you would eventually come to Torak. He set you up with somewhere to live, a business to run and a friend to look after you.”

  “A business to run?”

  “Yes. Unfortunately he died before he could ensure others didn’t interfere with his plans. Telmar destroyed the business and you and your mother didn’t let anyone get close enough for Della help you.”

  Clisantha’s emotions settled a little. If Father had tried to look out for her in his madness, she had to at least respect that. “Why didn’t Father teach me Phalorian principles himself? At least if he had done that, I may have understood.”

  “From what I understand, he tried,” Riyen said. “But your mother got in the way of a lot of things. His priority was to teach you to hide your Gift and there was little time to even do that.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “No, but I heard a lot about him.”

  “So where are you getting this information from?”

  Riyen didn’t answer.

  “Tell me!” Clisantha yelled. After a long silence, she shot another striker just above his right shoulder. “I looked up to that man all my life but if he was a murdering—”

  “The Sovereign has done worse than anything your father could have done,” Riyen snapped, “and yet you respect him. You think he is a god but his whole history is a lie. All he has done is destroy people.”

  “The Sovereign is not—”

  “The Sovereign has recreated the Realms to benefit himself,” Riyen interrupted. “He didn’t create all that exists. He was a boy once. He had a family.”

  Clisantha watched Riyen as he spoke. He truly believed what he was saying. Was this what Father believed? “How could he be so powerful if that is true?”

  “I’m limited in what I can tell you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Clisantha said, rolling her eyes. “What are you without your secrets?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “What is it then?” Clisantha said. “You come into my life, coerce me, train me, lecture me and bed me without telling me anything about who you are or what you are making me do. And now I find out that you are part of an organized group plotting against my way of life. What does that make me in your game of treason?”

  Riyen watched her for moment. “Clisantha, I care about you. I’m not bedding you for sport. Our personal relationship has nothing to do with the larger issue.”

  “Is that so? Because it seems to me bedding me would give you the final bit of control over every aspect of my life.”

  “That’s not true!” His voice boomed around the factory. “I have cared about you for longer than you know. You would be dead right now if I had not stepped in and forced you to take safer measures.”

  Clisantha lowered her eyes. That was true. The High Priest had placed a detection ball on her the first time she met him. The Puryth would surely have discovered her abilities if Riyen had not helped. He had gone out of his way to advise her in everything, from her business to her usage of her carriage.

  He took a deep breath, exhaling his annoyance.

  “Why have you not created a shield?” she said, noticing he still had not even accessed his Gift even though he could see the strikers.

  “I want you to trust me, Clisantha. I made the mistake of threatening you with my Gift before and I regret that. If you choose to hurt me, I will let you. You already have my heart.”

  Anger rushed out of her in a swift gust. She dissolved the strikers and released her shield.

  A moment of silence passed.

  Clisantha withdrew from her Gift and walked over to him.

  “Riyen.” She touched his cheek. “I may not trust you with my heart but you have it nonetheless.”

  He pulled her close, kissing her forehead, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, bunching up his robes around him.

  “Why didn’t you send Telmar to the Journey Grounds?” he asked. “The plan was set.”

  “I threatened him into leaving me alone,” Clisantha said. “Della told me he had committed crimes so I pretended to know about them.”

  Riyen chuckled, the bass of his voice vibrating through Clisantha’s cheek. “He believed you?”

  She nodded. “Tell me,” she said, looking up into his pale eyes. “Do you and your people attack serfs?”

  Riyen shook his head. “We don’t hurt them. We get produce from the land, that’s all.”

  A dusting of relief calmed her. She returned her head to his chest. “You need to tell me everything about my father. I need to know.”

  “Clisantha, your mind-web—”

  “There are no triggers.”

  Riyen stroke the back of her head. “How do you know?”

  “I have been investigating my father for a while. Nothing has alerted the Arc yet.”

  “That could just mean that the trigger hasn’t come up yet,” Riyen said. “Or maybe there is no trigger. They could just want to prevent you from remembering.”

  “Remembering what?” Clisantha asked, pulling away from him. “Why hide my childhood memories? It’s strange that they would choose to do that.”

  Riyen took her hand and led her to the chairs. Once sitting down opposite each other, he took her hands. “Your father had been investigating something for a long time before he died. I think he told you something, something related to what he had been working on. When he was captured, the Arc would have had to kill you or suppress those memories. They would have been reluctant to explain the death of a child born in the Arc.”

  Clisantha blinked, disturbed by the suggestion.

  “Think about it, Clisantha,” Riyen whispered. “You barely remember what happened around the time your father died. You have trouble with some of the techniques he taught you because you don’t remember everything. It’s likely you felt pain in our memory recapture sessions because you tried to go to those memories while I was in your mind.”

  “What would he have been working on that he would have told me about?” Clisantha asked, bewildered. “Something to do with your rebel group?”

  Riyen closed his eyes and sighed. “We’re not rebels. Who did you speak to about us?”

  Clisantha smiled apologetically. “Thaide Oskern, and then I asked the High Priest.”

  “The High Priest,” Riyen exclaimed. “You spoke to the High Priest about Carrick? Are you insane?”

  “It’s the least of his worries today. I had information he wanted, he had information I wanted. We exchanged.”

  “What information could you possibly have that he would be interested in?”

  “Do you know what’s happening in the Arc at the moment?” Clisantha said.

  “Yes, pulses have been shooting around for over an hour,” Riyen said.

  “The girl they’re looking for came to see me about seven months ago,” Clisantha said.

  Riyen stared at her. “Why?”

  “She was looking for my father. She thought he could help her.”

  “Why did she need help?” Riyen’s icy eyes burned with intensity and Clisantha felt like she was back in the room in the Thaide Capital.

  “I don’t know. We were interrupted,” she replied. “It was when I had the detection ball. They came to collect her before I could find anything out.”

  Riyen leaned towards her. “What exactly did she say?”

  Clisantha told him all she could remember, feeling more and more distu
rbed by his strange expression.

  When she finished, he stood up and turned away, silent.

  “Who is this girl? Why is everyone so concerned about her?” Clisantha asked, rising from her seat.

  “She escaped the Arc,” Riyen said, turning back to face her.

  “What do you mean, escaped?”

  “I mean, she rose on a platform and flew out,” Riyen said, pointing a finger up into the air and jutting it away from him. “No one could stop her, not even the Thaide Priest.”

  Clisantha’s mouth dropped open, as shock hurdled into her. Kelvedon was unable to stop the girl?

  Riyen stood in deep thought. He raised his head and closed his eyes, no doubt listening for messages from the Arc.

  Clisantha left him to his thoughts and headed to the far side of the factory to clear the mess her strikers had made, while her own thoughts raced. Father’s plan to have her looked after did not seem like the actions of a madman. She felt content that he had at least thought about her future, even if she was unsure what those plans were. Everything Riyen had said could be true, she could think of no evidence that disproved his claims. But he had not provided any evidence to prove them either. She picked up a bundle of shredded clothes and dented ornaments, sorting through them to see if anything had remained intact. She owed it to her father to listen to what Riyen had to say, if he would tell her all he knew. Father would have tried to tell her the same thing at some point and she would have at least listened.

  She paused. Muffled noises came from the back wall of the factory. She stepped closer, listening. It sounded like voices.

  “Riyen,” she called, beckoning to him.

  Riyen used a platform to float over and they both listened.

  He turned and walked to a door on the side wall of the factory. Clisantha followed him but he stopped her, holding up a hand. “Wait here, Clisantha.”

  “No,” Clisantha said, firmly. “I’m coming with you.”

  Riyen held her eye for a moment and smiled. She smiled back.