Shock of Fate: A Young Adult Fantasy Adventure (Anchoress Series Book 1)

by D. L. Armillei

  “She probably didn’t know how to use it,” Trey said with a snicker.

  In a flash, Jorie whipped out Zachery and, with the precision of a practiced warrior, whacked him across the chest with the flat part of the blade.

  “Oooof!”

  “Amaryl?” Van murmured. The statue of the woman in the fountain she had seen in the House of Lacus was Queen Amaryl of the Dark War. “She was the Anchoress in her day?”

  Brux bobbed his head. “Amaryl’s mother was killed during the war before she could pass the knowledge of the Anchoress to her daughter.” He sat on the log next to Paley, who miraculously perked up.

  “No wonder she had no idea how to use it,” Paley said compassionately.

  Van suspected Paley’s concern was more for Brux’s attention than caring about Amaryl. She felt uncomfortable with the growing coziness between Brux and Paley, especially since Paley knew that Van had feelings for Brux. Van felt that as a friend, Paley should step aside.

  “How could someone use a coin to create a weapon?” Van asked, changing her focus from Brux and Paley to the task at hand. “Sounds ridiculous!” Although, under the same circumstances, she would have given the Coin to Goustav, too, with the command, “You figure it out!” Van visualized Queen Amaryl flinging the Coin like a Frisbee, trying to lop off soldiers’ heads, and giggled.

  The others ignored her, though Elmot gave her a worried side glance, as if she were losing her mind. Then he went on. “We found some new information about Goustav. Could be majorly important, if it’s true. We read that Goustav fathered a child.”

  “Goustav had no kids,” Jorie said. “He got cursed by a sorceress whose family he murdered during the Rebellion. Everybody knows that.”

  Elmot leaned forward. “We read that Goustav believed he did have an heir—a girl—before he was cursed.”

  “If we didn’t get jumped by Solana’s goons, we could’ve nabbed some of the documents to offer proof,” Trey said, “maybe even traced Goustav’s lineage. Now, even if we find someone who claims to be his heir, we won’t know if he—or she—is legit. We can’t rely on the cantankerous Elementals to help us verify the heir’s identity.”

  “Whoa,” Brux said. “If Goustav’s lineage carried forward, one of his descendants would be the true heir to the Balish Kingdom. That would be a huge threat to Solana’s throne.”

  “Can you imagine? That heir wouldn’t stand a chance,” Trey said. “We all know Solana will take out any threat to her throne.”

  Elmot held his palms out toward the fire. “It’s a good thing the Balish think our Anchoress-in-Waiting’s bloodline died out during the Dark War. That her existence today is a myth carried on by the wishful thinking of orthodox Lodians.”

  “I’m not sure if Solana believes that,” Brux said.

  “That’s something no Bale would ever believe in,” Trey said. “It’s too close to a Lodian belief.”

  “The Balish fear our tribe,” Jorie said. “With or without the Anchoress-in-Waiting.”

  “The Balish fear Lodians because we’re descendants of the Elementals,” Brux said, addressing Van and Paley. “Not all vichors have the ability to harness the energy of nature to create magic. Our blood connection to the Elementals gives Lodians the genetic ability to be highly skilled in magic, more so than other tribes. Lodians with the highest concentration of Elemental blood are considered pureblooded, or ‘royal.’”

  “Elemental blood gives Lodians the ability to connect to the frequencies of the Elementals to create really powerful magic,” Trey added. “During a war, magic would no longer be outlawed by the Balish, putting them at a disadvantage.”

  “They fear us because our Grigori are strong.” Jorie beat her fist against her chest like a beast.

  Brux ignored Jorie’s outburst and said, “The Anchoress is super-powerful because she has the highest concentration of Elemental blood of any human being. That, coupled with her innate ability to connect to the energy of the moon, to use its power to amplify her magic, makes her an unbeatable force.”

  “Keeping the percentage of Elemental blood at its highest is why the Lodian Consilium and the Lodian people encourage royals to marry other royals,” Elmot said. “This pleases the Elementals, ensuring their continued favor of the Lodian race, like keeping Manik’s law intact.”

  “Seriously, how come nobody has any clue who this Anchoress person is?” Paley asked. “You all seem to think it’s Daisy, but you’re not sure.”

  “Lineages from a thousand years ago are hard to trace,” Trey said. “People had just begun to use surnames. Those who believe that Amaryl, the last known Anchoress, had a baby refer to her child as the lost baby of Amaryl and Rowen.”

  “Since Uxa confirmed the Anchoress bloodline does exist, that means Amaryl did have a baby with her husband, Rowen,” Brux said. “The Lodian Consilium perpetuates the myth that Amaryl didn’t have a baby to protect her heir from the Balish.”

  “The baby survived, and her parents didn’t,” Trey said. “So we have to assume the baby was adopted. But by who? And what name did they give her? The Balish confiscated written documents from that time.”

  “And Lodian tradition evolved into carrying last names through the female’s line,” Trey said. “While the Balish carry last names through the male’s line.”

  “Theoretically, the Anchoress heir could live anywhere,” Brux added. “Her bloodline makes her resistant to the drain of the Earth World. She can live there without having to recharge.”

  Van undeniably felt drained when she didn’t go to her special classes. The Elders allowed her to stop going when she was in the fifth grade, and Van had gotten sick again. If Van were the Anchoress-in-Waiting, she wouldn’t need to recharge in the Living World. For her, this settled it: Daisy had to be the Anchoress heir.

  “Everyone knows your family’s lineage, Brux,” Trey said.

  “How come?” Paley asked.

  “The purest bloodline families are celebrities in Salus Valde,” Elmot said, hugging his knees.

  “It’s the consensus among those who believe in the Anchoress heir that your family traces back closest to the lost baby of Amaryl and Rowen,” Trey said to Brux. “That’s what I heard.”

  Brux nodded in agreement. “I agree. I think if the Anchoress heir is someone on our two teams, it’s my sister.”

  “Can’t there be two?” Van asked. “Two teams, two heirs?”

  Elmot shook his head. “There is only one. The magic of the Anchoress bloodline is carried down by the firstborn female. And when she connects to her magical abilities, she’ll become so powerful that the Balish royal family will feel threatened,” he said in a shaky voice.

  “No kidding,” Trey quipped. “Once she’s called forth, the Moors will no longer be in denial about her bloodline. They’ll know she exists and send assassins to kill her like there’s no tomorrow.”

  A pained look clouded Brux’s face.

  Jorie threw a contemptuous glare at Trey. “Not helpful.” She stood. “Enough! Time for shut-eye.”

  After what had happened in Agerorsa, they decided to sleep in shifts.

  Van felt so tired, she didn’t care what they did. She was out before her head hit the sleeping bag.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Day 5: 6:17 a.m., Living World

  Van slept through the night. Yet when the golden light of daybreak shone on her face, she felt as if the morning had come too fast.

  Her day was filled with walking. Walk, walk, walking—with little rest, except brief stops for water and nibbles from their diminishing food stores.

  “Making good time to Dricreek,” Jorie kept repeating, brainwashing them into another forced death march.

  By afternoon, Van was drenched in sweat and shuffling her throbbing feet. She felt too exhausted to care about her chipped nail polish and frizzed hair anymore. Her only goal was to survive.

  “Are we there yet?” Paley asked in a cranky tone. “How much longer?”

 
Although Van was an athlete, she found it difficult to keep pace with the group. Her heart went out to couch potato Paley, because it was even more arduous for her.

  The rest of the team seemed to entertain themselves by goading one another.

  “You’re naive to think it’s a coincidence . . . our mission . . . coincides with the Alignment,” Trey said, trying not to lose his breath while talking and walking.

  “I never . . . said it was!” Brux said, huffing from the effort of the walk.

  Van’s mouth felt dry, and she had difficulty getting the words out. “Wha-what’s the Alignment?” Not that she cared; she simply liked the distraction.

  “Whaddyah live under a rock?” Even Jorie breathed heavily from the exertion, though her expertly cut Mohawk held up like a trooper. Van conceded that Jorie had simply been born with great hair.

  “Every year, there’s a specific time in the celestial cycle,” Brux said. “When the round calendar . . . the solar calendar of the Earth World and the linear calendar . . . the lunation calendar of the Living World . . . intersect for thirty days. We call your dating system the Calendar Round, and ours, the Long Count.”

  “Like a wheel rolling on a road,” Elmot said, faring about as well as the others. “The solar calendar goes in a circle like the wheel, the same date comes around every year,” he paused to take a breath, “and the lunation calendar is one long string of dates. The same date is never repeated. This is the metaphorical road.”

  “The ancients called the point of intersection—when the wheel hits the road—Luxta,” Brux said. “Today, we use the translation, Alignment.”

  “The thirty days is now?” Paley asked, red-faced and scuffling to keep up.

  Brux and Trey grunted.

  “Why’s it not a coincidence?” Van asked.

  “Folklore says you can only get the Coin during the Alignment,” Jorie said.

  “If we miss this window of opportunity . . . the Coin will disappear back into its place behind time and space.” Brux paused to catch his breath, then continued. “Still existing but at a higher, unreachable vibration. If someone takes possession of the Coin, it gets anchored here.”

  As dusk crept over the horizon, Jorie mercifully announced they could stop for the night. She set up camp, while Elmot and Paley went to search for berries and mushrooms. Trey scanned the terrain and decided the area was ripe for kopidodens—squirrel-like creatures. He darted away to hunt for food. Brux went to gather firewood. This time, Van volunteered to help. She followed Brux into the woods, hoping she could get him alone.

  “Can I borrow your axe?” Van asked Jorie. It would be easier to chop, rather than break branches, ruining what was left of her manicure.

  “It’s a labrys,” Jorie said, insulted. “A weapon of war! And if you try and touch it, you’ll pull back a bloody stump!”

  Van couldn’t tell if Jorie’s face was sunburned or if she was enraged.

  Gathering wood was a waste of Van’s effort. Whenever she tried to get Brux alone, someone intruded. This time, Paley and Elmot always seemed to be foraging for edible plants in the same area where Van and Brux gathered wood.

  People’s lack of boundaries on this trip made Van want to scream, as did the stress of trying to find the Coin before her father did. She wanted to fix his mess without bumping into him, so they could both get back to their normal lives. Van would spend her time lounging at the beach, and her father would go back to being a good guy, doing his job as a Grigori.

  Right now, with Solana running amok, torturing innocent people and burning down villages, Van’s father probably kept getting closer and closer to the Coin. The farther north they got, the more Manik’s text would help them. She had to get Brux alone.

  The rest of the team ran out of matches, so Paley offered hers. Brux started the fire, while Jorie prepared several kopidodens caught by Trey. Elmot skewered the meat onto sticks, along with some mushrooms, and cooked the kabobs over the campfire. It smelled delicious, and Van and Paley were starving, so they didn’t complain about eating the strange meat.

  After dinner, they sat around the fire, drinking rockwine from Elmot’s wineskin—one of their few remaining rations. For fun, they went around the circle, each declaring which food they would eat if they still had the boundless bowl.

  Van had never experienced wine before; it smelled like musty earth and tasted like flat grape juice with a kick. Her cheeks flushed; the wine warmed her stomach, extending into her fingers and toes. It gave her a sense of groundedness and confidence. After a few more passes, her anxiety waned, and heartfelt affection for the others grew. They’re all pretty great, she thought. I’m so lucky to be on this adventure with them. She laughed at everything Brux said, funny or not. She had such a good time, her cheeks hurt from smiling.

  “Done,” Trey said, whipping the empty wineskin at Elmot.

  Van frowned at the empty wineskin, then fell into a fit of giggles.

  “Good thing, I think,” Brux said. “Someone’s had enough.”

  To Van’s surprise, he tilted his head toward Paley, slouching on the log with her eyes half-closed.

  The others chuckled, though none of them seemed affected by the wine.

  “You laff now,” Paley slurred. “I’m th’ loss baby—th’ Anchoressss.” She slowly slid to the ground.

  Van clung to her seat, staring wide-eyed at her motionless friend. “Is she dead?”

  Paley wheezed, then began snoring as loudly as a buffalroo, sending Van into another fit of giggles.

  “Time to call it a night,” Jorie declared. “Who wants first watch?”

  “I will,” Van and Brux answered in unison.

  Jorie furrowed her brow at Van. “Okay,” she said in a questioning tone. “Both of you take first watch. Brux—after two hours, wake up Elmot, then it goes to Trey, then me. It should be close to dawn by then.” No one seemed surprised that Jorie skipped Paley.

  Van had planned to take first watch and, once everyone was asleep, wake Brux and show him Manik’s text. Now, Brux had made it easy for her. They would be lookouts together.

  She watched Jorie and Trey settle into their sleeping bags, but before Elmot got into his, he jumped up and—to Van’s horror—rummaged through Paley’s backpack. He grabbed something, and Van panicked. What if it was Paley’s Twin Gemstone? Van held her breath. Elmot pulled out a small brown square and pulled the string. He wrapped the inflated sleeping bag over Paley and then tucked himself into his own.

  Van sighed in relief, though now she had a headache.

  Brux tossed a wineskin filled with water at Van. “Drink,” he instructed. “I’ve got to get more wood.” He pulled a branch from the campfire to use as a torch. “I’ll be right back.”

  Van felt a wave of anxiety, as she watched the dark woods swallow Brux. Her hands trembled, and the forest shifted. The wine that had bolstered her had turned. She closed her eyes and felt both nauseated and giddy. No wonder Jorie had hesitated to let Van take watch. Well, their leader was right. Van wasn’t fit for such an important task.

  She slid off the log onto the ground and sat in the lotus position. She pressed her sitz bonez into the cool dirt and straightened her spine, as she had done numerous times in her special classes. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her breathing erratic. To calm herself, she began a technique called four-square breathing. Deep breath in, one . . . two . . . three . . . four. Hold, one . . . two . . . three . . . four. Let it out, one . . . two . . . three . . . four. Hold again, one . . . two . . . three . . . four. And, again.

  She repeated four-square breathing until her heart stopped racing and she felt peaceful. Van loved this feeling—the same tranquility she felt just before drifting to sleep.

  “Hello, my little warrior.” Jacynthia appeared clear and vibrant, hovering several feet above the ground. Her long white hair flowed in a mysterious, otherworldly breeze.

  Jacynthia! Van said without speaking.

  “Your distressed mind called out to me.
I am here. But we do not have much time.”

  I have so much I want to talk to you about. The wine got in Van’s way and disrupted her peaceful state. Jacynthia became blurry and started to fade.

  “Breathe deep. Focus on the Light within. Stay calm.”

  Van struggled to obey. Finally, Jacynthia came into focus again. Van had many questions, one of them being the location of the Coin. However, she asked her most pressing question first, the question that related to the motive behind her father’s actions.

  Why, in a place where there’s so much for everyone, do people commit acts of . . . evil?

  “What is Dark seeks that which is Light. To extinguish it. But by doing so, only serves to enhance its brightness. Our own fears and weaknesses create Darkness. It gains energy through others, because it cannot harness energy on its own. Evil has no power, other than that which we give it.”

  I have no idea what—

  “HEY!” A hand roughly grasped Van’s shoulder and shook it.

  She lost her connection to Jacynthia and snapped her eyes open.

  Brux hovered over her, smirking. “No slacking on the job.” He walked toward the fire and threw in some dry branches. “I’ve never seen anyone sleep sitting in that position before.”

  “Maybe because your big mouth keeps waking them up.” Van angrily brushed dirt off her butt and then plopped down on one of the log seats.

  “Nah.” Brux turned toward Van with a stupid grin. “That’s not it.” The campfire roared. He stepped back and sat on the log.

  Van jumped up.

  “Hey, now. No need to be like that,” he said, still grinning. He watched Van rifle through her backpack.

  “I have to show you something,” she said.

  Brux raised an eyebrow.

  “You can’t tell anyone. Promise?”

  “Promise,” Brux said, with an even bigger grin.

  Van glanced around the campsite, satisfied everyone else was asleep. She sat down next to Brux and handed him the most sought-after text in the Living World.