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

by D. L. Armillei

  Jorie nearly dropped Zachery. “Paley! Watch your words!”

  “Under the circumstances,” Brux continued, “Uxa probably told Marcus so he could protect Daisy on the mission. It’s probably why Merloc believed he had captured the Anchoress-in-Waiting to begin with—Marcus confessed to being her AP.”

  “Tortured it out of him,” Trey said callously. “Probably would’ve been better to stick to protocol.”

  “Daisy could use our help,” Elmot said, looking concerned.

  Jorie lifted her face toward the others, as she re-holstered Zachery. “We can’t risk crossing the southern border again.” She bent her head, deep in thought. Her hand grazed her Mohawk, then she looked up. “But we could stay put. Michael and Daisy are headed this way. We could wait for them to catch up to us.”

  “They’ll have to come through Araquiel,” Elmot added. “It’s the only way into the north.”

  Paley batted her eyes at Brux. “I vote we rescue Daisy.”

  Brux smiled at Paley.

  Van rolled her eyes and said, “We need to stick to the plan, stay focused on getting the Coin.” Why couldn’t anyone else see that they had to keeping moving? Van had brought Paley along to have her back. She understood why Brux would want to help his sister, but Paley was her best friend and should be supporting Van, not flirting with Brux.

  By now, Paley knew that Van and Brux had a thing. Just because Brux didn’t return Van’s affection didn’t mean Paley was free to go for him. At least, that’s the way their friendship worked on the island. Paley was being disrespectful, and Van didn’t like it. She had started to regret bringing Paley with her.

  Jorie took their comments under consideration, then made the decision to stay and wait.

  “What happened to tick tock?” Van asked Jorie.

  “It will be time well spent,” Jorie said, putting an end to the discussion.

  Afterward, the conversation died.

  Van yawned. Her jaw had stopped aching. The ointment Trey had put on her cheek yesterday had expedited the healing of her bruise. She toyed with the idea of heading out on her own, then remembered Uxa had told her that, as a team, all of their skills were necessary to complete the mission. Van would also need Trey to actually retrieve the Coin. And she didn’t know how to get to the Troll’s Foot Tavern.

  She yawned again and curled into her sleeping bag on top of a bale of hay. She had to persuade the group to continue north, but how? Lulled by the patter of sleet against the roof, a full belly, and warmth from the fire, she wracked her brain to recall Jacynthia’s words—Don’t fight against the darkness, stick to your purpose, maintain your faith and gratitude. What did that mean?

  The only thing Van knew for certain was that they needed to keep moving, and right now, they were stuck. She tried to call on Jacynthia for advice but instead fell into a disturbed sleep.

  Grandfather clocks relentlessly tick, tick, ticking filled her dreams—reminding her that time was slipping away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Day 8: 4:10 p.m., Living World

  Van woke up irritated to see Brux in a buoyant mood. He teased Paley, as she broke through the thin ice in the pig’s trough and used its water to wash her face. They playfully flicked the near-freezing water at each other, and Paley giggled at everything Brux said. Not that Van cared.

  She tried to persuade the others to keep moving, but this only made her seem as if she weren’t a team player and didn’t want to rescue Daisy.

  “The best thing for our mission is to reach the Troll’s Foot Tavern as soon as possible,” Van insisted. “Get whatever info we can about the location of the Coin, and then get moving again.”

  “Rescuing Daisy and getting her on our team is the best thing for this mission,” Brux countered. “And no one said anything about not going to the Troll’s Foot.”

  “Afterward, we’ll head north,” Jorie said.

  Van gave up and placed her faith in the Light, and if that meant doing nothing, she was on the right track.

  Roguey dropped by to check on them and handed Van a basket of salted auroch strips on his way in.

  “Thanks,” Van said. She feared becoming weak from hunger later down the road and secretly tucked a few pieces in her pants pocket before sharing with the rest of the group.

  “What time you heading out?” Roguey asked them.

  “Change of plans,” Jorie said. “We’re going to stay for a day or two.”

  “No, no,” Roguey said. “Can’t do that.”

  Jorie leaped to her feet, with Zachery in hand. “You tell the Balish we’re here?” She rammed the war axe’s handle across Roguey’s neck.

  Trey and Brux jumped into combat stance, drawing their weapons: Trey, a loaded crossbow; Brux, a dagger.

  “How long do we have ’til the soldiers get here?” Jorie asked through clenched teeth.

  Elmot stayed back with Van and Paley. “Jorie, take it easy,” he warned.

  Roguey held up trembling hands. “Y-You don’t understand. The border checkpoint’s closed. Solana isn’t letting anyone cross in or out of Fomalhaut. Balish soldiers are searching everywhere for escaped prisoners. Not leaving any stone unturned. I’m tryin’ to help you, is all.”

  “Damn!” Brux muttered under his breath. He and Trey lowered their weapons.

  Jorie released Roguey.

  “All’s I know is you best head on out of here,” Roguey advised, rubbing his neck.

  The only direction they could go without running into Balish soldiers was to the north. They were back on track, without any effort on Van’s part.

  Maybe having “faith in the Light” worked after all, thought Van. “How do we get to the Troll’s Foot Tavern?” she interjected, before anyone suggested a change of plans again.

  “Why?” Roguey asked loudly. “How would I know of such a disrespectable place as that?” His eyes darted back and forth, searching, then settled on a snaggle-toothed stable hand who appeared from the shadows.

  Jorie, Brux, and Trey snapped to alert mode, again.

  Instead of being paranoid like her teammates, Van found her curiosity piqued by the stable hand. She figured he had caused the shuffling noises coming from the stalls. He probably lived in the barn’s loft, sleeping on haystacks and tending to the horses as his life’s work. He must have been spying on them the whole time. If he’d wanted to hurt them, they would all be dead by now.

  “This be Jeb, folks,” Roguey said, waving his hands to calm them. “Nothing to be afraid of, known him my whole life.”

  “They be okay,” Jeb said. “Been watching ’em all day, listening. Definitely not marketier’s scouts. Definitely not Balish spies. Lots of talk of the Coin, Anchoress . . . saw them using magic.” He chortled. “These here kids are Lodians, through and through. Safe to say, they be no friends of the Balish.”

  With Jeb’s seal of approval, Roguey happily spilled his guts. He told them that both he and Jeb supported peace between the Lodians and the Balish. Roguey called them “fellow Manikists,” which he claimed was anyone who didn’t support the Balish regime, and he professed a love for Lodians.

  As it turned out, Van didn’t have to flash her eyes in an attempt to convince Roguey she was the Anchoress-in-Waiting. Roguey asked how they had heard about the Troll’s Foot Tavern, and Van told him about Len. Roguey was a friend of Len’s, and, based on that, he willingly gave them directions and the password to the Troll’s Foot. Van felt eager to get that visit out of the way and continue their journey north.

  The “password” consisted of a phrase in the Language of the Ancients, “sandum ete vultrie.”

  Brux told them, “It translates to ‘the Balish are excrement heads.’ It’s a loose usage of the Language and something no Bale would ever utter, for fear of persecution.”

  The only problem was, the Troll’s Foot didn’t open until midnight.

  Groans echoed throughout the barn, even as Roguey agreed to help support their cause by keeping them hidden for the nig
ht.

  Ticking sounds of a grandfather clock chimed in Van’s head, loud enough to echo like a headache. The musty walls of the barn were smothering her. Her nose felt stuffy from the hay and mold. She feared she wouldn’t be able to keep her sanity, trapped in a barn and doing nothing until midnight.

  “You’re a vultrie,” Paley whispered to Van and then giggled.

  Paley’s joke snapped Van out of her anxiety spiral, and she chuckled.

  Resigned to wait, everyone settled around the fire. The conversation turned to terrigens.

  “Why do the Balish hate terrigens so much?” Paley asked. “Solana seemed to like me.”

  “That’s because she didn’t know you were a terrigen,” Van said.

  “And Solana thought she could use you to help her cause,” Trey added.

  “It’s a common belief that the Creator made terrigens from the mud, or from below,” Brux said, answering Paley. “Vichors were created from a piece of Her Light, or from above. This is where the ichor in our blood comes from and why some people believe terrigens are beneath, or not as good as, vichors.”

  “Lodians are direct descendants of the Elementals,” Elmot said. “That’s why the Elementals favor our race.”

  “Does that mean Elementals and vichors mated and poof, Lodians came into being?” Paley asked.

  Brux flashed Paley a smile from across the fire.

  Paley perked up and grinned back at Brux.

  Trey snickered. “Sort of.”

  “Back before recorded time, the Elementals were sent down to the world of humans to instruct them in the ways of the Light on behalf of the Creator,” Brux said. “Instead, they ended up frolicking with and seducing humans. As a result, they inadvertently created the Lodian race and interfered with the will of the Creator—an act for which they were condemned. The Creator cast them down from the Heavens to be forever bound to the physical plane, banished to live on Mt. Altithronia.”

  “It’s obvious they still hold a grudge against us mortals for being so gosh darn sexy,” Paley said with a flirty grin.

  Brux chuckled at Paley’s comment.

  Trey picked up where Brux left off and said, “This disruption of the Creator’s will caused a ripple in the vibration of the world, making it split in two. The less enlightened humans accumulated in the lower vibration, forming the Earth World. The higher evolved humans elevated here, to the Living World.”

  “Balish have always hated terrigens,” Jorie said. “And they hate us because we’re the protectors of terrigens and the Earth World.”

  “They call us dirt lovers,” Elmot said to Van and Paley. “A very derogatory label.”

  Jorie shrugged. “If we don’t help those below us, we weaken our own foundation.”

  “People who like dirt and mud aren’t so bad,” Van said. She remembered how much she loved digging in the sand at Buzzard’s Bay beach when she was a child.

  “The Balish are plagued with greed and a relentless desire to conquer—just like terrigens,” Trey said. “They hate the people most like themselves.” He snorted, then grabbed a stick and jabbed at the fire.

  Paley leaned toward Van and mouthed, “Is that how I am?”

  Van whispered back, “He means the mainland terrigens.”

  “Actually,” Trey said to Paley, obviously overhearing their conversation, “you’re the worst kind of terrigen to be. You were born here but got bounced out.”

  Paley let out a tortured squeak.

  “Trey!” Van scolded, wrapping an arm around Paley and pulling her close. “Rude!”

  “Oh, sorry,” Trey said. “I was just telling the truth. I thought you wanted to know.”

  “You can say things in a nice way,” Elmot said crossly.

  “By all means,” Trey said, extending his palm toward Elmot.

  Elmot hesitated. “Well, um . . . ”

  “A blunt,” Jorie said. “Paley, you’re a type of terrigen called a blunt. Someone born in the Living World who has no ichor.”

  “You would’ve died if you’d stayed here,” Trey said, trying to make amends. “Your energy vibration is too low. The Living World spit you into the Earth World for your own protection.”

  “It’s not the terrigens’ fault,” Elmot said, as he squeezed Paley’s shoulder affectionately and glared at Trey. “They vibrate at such a low level that they don’t know any better. Their society relies so heavily on man-made creations—electricity, oil-based machinery—which deplete nature to operate, that it takes them even further away from being able to connect to the Universal Energy Grid.”

  “They use science to desecrate nature, rather than connect to its abundant flow of energy,” Trey said, causing Van to wonder if he still held the Balish belief that terrigens were lesser people. “Even at their low vibrational level, they have the ability to connect to nature for renewable energy.”

  “It would make their world a more peaceful, loving place,” Elmot said.

  “And they would generate fewer demons,” Jorie added.

  “We can protect terrigens from demons, but we can’t protect them from themselves,” Trey said, shaking his head.

  The depressing conversation, along with Brux and Paley’s flirtatious smiles, worsened Van’s claustrophobia. She needed a distraction and turned to the friendliest one in the group. “Elmot, can you teach me how to navigate? What other skills do you have?”

  Elmot seemed pleased to give Van a mock-topography class. He began by telling her about land formation based on weather conditions over time, then broached the subject of plate tectonics. He explained that the natural opposing element of earth was water and how water erosion formed tunnels and caves.

  Jorie interrupted, saying, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and teach Van how to use the land to defend herself against an enemy, like a Balish soldier or a demon?”

  Elmot loved the idea.

  Van suggested that Paley listen in, but her friend cared only about fixing her nails. Van’s heart fluttered when Brux sauntered over, but it sank when he said he’d rather study the translations Van had transcribed from Manik’s text. Van gave him the parchments from her backpack without protest.

  Elmot continued his lecture about how to use the landscape to avoid, escape, or defeat the enemy. Van felt let down. She thought he would teach her how to use magic to raise a golem from the earth or something similarly cool, but it turned out to be a standard lecture about the earth’s landscape. After a half-hour, Brux joined them.

  “Did you translate this from Manik’s text?” Brux asked Van. He held a scrappy piece of paper.

  “No, I found it in my father’s study,” Van said. “Why?”

  “It’s a magical Grigori chant to fight demons,” Brux said.

  Van shrugged. “Oh, I thought it was a poem or a song.”

  “You translated it correctly, by the way.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Van rolled her eyes. As Brux turned to walk away, she said, “Wait up,” and jumped to her feet. “Did you read the part I translated about the Blood Moon? What does it mean?”

  Brux looked at her quizzically. “About Manik’s prediction? That the next Anchoress called forth to fight against evil will determine the fate of all worlds? Yeah, I read that.”

  “No . . . well, yes. I mean, the part where she would be born under a Blood Moon.”

  Brux nodded.

  “I remember overhearing Uxa,” Van said. “She didn’t know what kind of moon this generation’s Anchoress-in-Waiting was born under.”

  “Elders read the moon’s surface on the night Lodian royals are born,” Brux said. “Like reading tea leaves as a predictor for what kind of life that person will live. But I’ve never heard of a Blood Moon.” Pain echoed in Brux’s eyes. “My parents told me it was cloudy the night Daisy was born.” He paused to brace himself, as if each word cut into his heart. “Couldn’t see the moon’s surface. But we know it was waning, a weak moon . . . it didn’t cast much light.”

  The account of Daisy�
�s birth matched what Van had overheard Uxa and Fynn say about the Anchoress-in-Waiting. They had said the night was cloudy, which was a bad omen and predicted the heir was too weak to survive the journey to find the Coin.

  Van opened her mouth, excited to share this bit of information, then snapped her jaw shut. Telling Brux would only cause him more pain, and despite being mad at him for rejecting her advances and then flirting with Paley, she still couldn’t do it. Astonished, she realized that by hurting him, she would hurt herself as well.

  Instead, subdued, she watched Brux turn away from her and return to the dark corner to continue his cozy chat with Paley.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Day 9: 12:00 a.m., Living World

  By nightfall, people were getting on one another’s nerves. Being cooped up together in a barn all day together seemed like a test of the highest caliber. When midnight came, the group readily set out for the Troll’s Foot Tavern.

  With Elmot’s help, they found the poorly lit road that led to the Troll’s Foot. One lone stone hut stood on the road, with no sign identifying the structure, only a piece of parchment nailed to the door that read “Closed for renovations.”

  Jorie threw her hands in the air. “Oh, great! Just great!”

  “Wait a minute,” Van said. “It’s a fake sign, meant to ward off anyone not welcome.”

  “How do you know that?” Brux asked, as Paley shamelessly clung to his arm.

  “It’s obvious,” Van said tartly, determined not to go back to the barn. She rapped on the door.

  Someone slid open a small rectangular window. Two sparkling blue eyes stared out. “Sorry,” said the voice behind the door. “Closed for renovations. Come back another time.”

  Before he slammed the window shut, Van said, “Roguey sent us. We’re . . . friends.”

  The blue eyes darted, inspecting each of them. “Password?”

  “Sandum ete vultrie,” Van said.

  Paley giggled and clutched Brux tighter.

  “That’s a sentence, not a word.” The blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Jorie pushed Van aside. “Tough crap. Let us in!” She reached for Zachery, ready to bust down the door.