The Mighty One (Anasta Chronicles Book 1)

by Jenny McKane

  “The city.” Avalon stared into the flames.

  “City born and bred,” Skyresh said, nodding to himself. “It’s obvious. They think that they can take you and pass you off as one of us. They don’t realize that it is everything about you, that gives you away. The way you walk. The way that you look around.”

  Avalon shrugged. Obviously, it was true. Without even opening her mouth and speaking a word, they had known she wasn’t one of them. “It was worth a try,” she said, smiling brilliantly.

  Skyresh’s eyes narrowed. “And that is the mistake of all your kind,” he said. “Arrogance. Thinking that you are better than us, and smarter. It is enshrined in the Grey Book.” He took a sip of his drink. “It is all nonsense, you know. And yet you swallow it like a child swallowing its milk.”

  Avalon bristled. “The Grey Book is the law of our land,” she said. “It always is, and it always was.”

  Skyresh burst out laughing. “Such a good rote learner,” he said. “Tell me, have you ever had a thought of your own, your whole life?”

  Avalon’s mouth tightened. “I know that you and your people are inciting rebellion against the natural order.”

  “The natural order?” he repeated. “Agnor’s reign, you mean? The superiority of the Jarle? There is no natural order in that, Guardian.”

  Avalon stared into the flames of the fire, not speaking.

  “How did you like the Outlying Zone?” he asked suddenly. Both he and Brunn stared at her intensely.

  “It was…” she began, then faltered. She took a deep breath, then plunged on. “It was different, to anything that I have seen before. But I should not have passed into it; I would not have done if it wasn’t for your attack. It is forbidden.”

  “Why?” asked Skyresh. “Did you see anything there to understand why your regime forbids you to enter it, or even mention it?”

  Avalon’s eyes clouded. “There were…strange creatures.” She shivered, thinking of the creature that had stared at her, in the hollow of the tree, and the tiny beings on the ground.

  Skyresh laughed. “Animals,” he said. “They are called animals, and they all have different names, besides. They used to roam this land, as well. Until Agnor sent them away, into the Outlying Zone. It is like a prison for them. The spell that is used to keep them there is strong.”

  “Spell?” Avalon’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “What nonsense. And you know that any word that has to do with…that….is treason.”

  “Magic?” Skyresh prompted. “Don’t reel back, Guardian. The words have no power to harm you. They are just words, but what they represent is bigger, of course.” He paused. “That is why your leader forbids their mention. He knows that if enough people say the words, and think on the words, they will grow curious.”

  He smiled at her. “And then, they will start to remember.”

  Avalon’s eyes narrowed. “Remember? Remember what?”

  “The time before, of course.” He started to laugh, slowly, at the look on her face. “The time before the Jarle took over, and Agnor became leader. Before this realm was called Agnoria.”

  Avalon stared at him. He was mad, pure and simple. He should be locked away, so that no one could listen to his ravings. It was dangerous, spreading such lies.

  “The Jarle have ruled since time began,” she hissed. “It is history. You cannot change history.”

  Both Skyresh and Brunn laughed so hard, they doubled over in their mirth. Avalon stared at them, her back growing stiffer as their laughter grew louder.

  “Now that is a lie,” said Skyresh eventually. “You can change history. The Jarle have done it, very successfully. All you need to do is tell people enough, and they believe it. They cast a spell, when they first took over, to make people forget. The spell was strong; so strong, most never have an inkling of memory. And then they brainwash further, with their ‘Essential history’ talks.”

  Avalon stared at him. What he was saying was so twisted and deranged that she was speechless. She knew that there were rebels, but she had not known what drove them to defy the natural order. It was these lies, she knew now. Lies that when fed to people they slowly started to believe. No wonder the Jarle were so merciless about stamping it out.

  “You are a liar,” she said, studying him carefully. “A dangerous liar. It has always been The Year Zero.”

  Skyresh smiled. “Have it your way, Guardian,” he said. “It means nothing to me what you believe, as long as you tell me what I want to know. So, let’s get down to business.”

  Avalon sighed. What should she tell him? It was obvious that it had to be believable.

  “We know that you have travelled from Vyheim Castle,” Skyresh continued. “It is the headquarters of the Jarle in the Far North.”

  She nodded cautiously. This was no secret; the Jarle had bases everywhere.

  “What I want to know,” he said, “is where the weapons base is. We have had spies in Vyheim Castle before, and we know that few weapons are there. Only enough to arm the guardians.”

  Avalon’s eyes widened. They had spies in Vyheim Castle? This rebellion was more well organized than she had realized.

  “I am new to the area,” she replied, thinking quickly. “But I have reason to believe that there is a large weapon base located here. My commander mentioned that weapons are brought in as needed from there. It is in the mountains, at a secret location.”

  “Where?” said Skyresh, leaning closer to her.

  Commander Kallio had told them that there was a hidden outpost, in the mountains, that they should go to if they were hard pressed. “Only go there if you are under direct threat,” he had stressed. “In fear for your life. We don’t want the rebels following you to it.”

  But Everard had the exact location, the co-ordinates written on a piece of paper in his bag. Avalon remembered that it was located near the settlement of Farric. Could she take this man there, telling him that it was a weapon base? And then raise the alarm and have him arrested?

  It was risky, but it was all that she could think of for the moment.

  “Where?” repeated Skyresh, more urgently.

  Avalon tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I can lead you there,” she said. “I am not going to tell you the location. I’m not stupid. I know that as soon as you have that information, you will have no further use for me, and I will be killed.”

  Skyresh stared at her, his mouth thin.

  “I wouldn’t trust her, Skyresh,” said Brunn. “She could be leading us into a trap. I can take her to the gatekeepers if you want. They will make her talk.”

  Skyresh frowned. “No, not yet,” he said. “I think that I will let her lead us there, but we will take precautions, of course.” He turned to Brunn. “Go and talk to Mother Asta. Tell her that we need her help, reading a prisoner.”

  Brunn nodded, walking away.

  “Just so you know,” he said in a pleasant tone, “I will kill you, instantly, if I have even the slightest suspicion that you are not telling me the truth.”

  Avalon nodded. She felt relief wash over her. So far, so good. She didn’t know the exact location of the outpost, but it would buy her time at least, leading them there. Time, where she would have many opportunities to escape – or kill him. Who exactly was he anyway in the hierarchy? He seemed to command respect, and the woman Minna and Brunn, the bearded one, had obeyed his orders.

  If she did manage to find the base, she would have to think of a way to warn the Jarle that they were under attack, but she could tackle that problem if it eventuated. She was just happy that she had managed to avoid being killed – for now.

  She studied the tiny circle tattoos on his neck. They were drawn in blue ink and seemed old; they had a slightly faded quality. She had heard of tattooing, but none of the Jarle had any. To them, it was a common custom that belonged to the Stromel.

  “What do your tattoos mean?” she asked.

  He put his hand up to them, smiling ruefully. “I have had them since I was
a boy,” he said. “From my Initiation, when I was twelve years old.”

  “Initiation?” Avalon repeated. “Initiation into what?”

  “Initiation into the Fight,” he answered, simply. “The tattoos symbolize the circle of life, and a reminder of what went before. To never forget.”

  “The woman who was with us had them, too,” Avalon remarked.

  “Minna? Yes.” He stared at her. “She has sworn to uphold the Fight, too. We grew up in the same community, pretty much next door. She is like a little sister to me.”

  Avalon thought of Minna, and the way that she had looked at Skyresh. She didn’t think that Minna’s feelings towards him were quite so familial. If she wasn’t way off the mark, she would think that Minna was in love with him.

  Avalon could see why, even though she loathed the man. He was easily one of the handsomest men that she had ever seen. Those vivid blue eyes. That strong, powerful physique. He was a man who led an active life, that was obvious. The long, brown hair tied back to expose the shaved sides of his head. It was a style she had never seen before, and if told about it, she would have thought it strange. But it suited this man.

  A pity he was delusional, feeding lies to the masses.

  “So, where are you in the chain of command?” she asked, trying hard not to stare at him.

  “Me?” He gazed at her, fixing her with that arresting blue stare. “Did I forget to introduce myself? I am the leader. Skyresh Sakr, at your service.” He bowed. “Otherwise known as Gwalen.

  Chapter Six

  Avalon sat up, gasping. Where was she? She gazed around, blinking in the darkness.

  She tried to shake off the dream, which had gripped her so intensely she wasn’t yet sure what was real and what wasn’t. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably in her chest. Looking around, she could see people lying asleep around a fire, which had almost burnt out.

  Yes, she remembered, now. She was in the cave, the rebel’s hideout. She had crawled into the bedding they had provided for her almost as soon as the odd tasting stew they had cooked for the evening meal was finished. She was so very tired, after the day. Her muscles ached everywhere from running so hard and so fast through steep and unfamiliar terrain.

  The torches on the walls burned low. In this subterranean world, she could not grasp what time it was. It could be the dead of night, or the very height of the day.

  Her heart started to beat slower, and her breath was returning to normal.

  “Bad dreams, Guardian?”

  She gasped, turning her head around quickly, in the direction of the voice that spoke softly into the darkness. It was Skyresh. He was sitting up, staring at her.

  “It was nothing,” she whispered. “A silly dream. One that I have been having forever.”

  She could see the whiteness of his teeth in the dark, as he smiled. “Do not dismiss your dreams, Guardian. Especially a recurring one. They come as prophecies or are the old memories. Our people are very familiar with them, but your kind ignore all that is around you.”

  She stared at him. Nonsense, of course, just like everything he said was nonsense. Dreams were simply something that happened while sleeping; random images that the mind threw up, twisting them in odd ways.

  “Your people have strange ideas,” she whispered. “And my name is Avalon, by the way.”

  “Avalon,” he repeated. “A lovely name, but I am not sure if I should call you by it. I am not silly, you know. I realize how my enemy works. You are trying to get me to see you as a person, not one of the faceless warriors who attempts to crush and annihilate us.”

  She smiled sourly at him and shrugged. “Have it your way,” she said. “Call me by my name or call me nothing. It means little to me.”

  He laughed softly. “Perhaps if we had met in different circumstances,” he whispered, staring hard at her. She could feel his blue gaze hit her like a beam of light.

  She took a deep breath. “And what should I call you? Gwalen, or Skyresh? Or perhaps you would be happier if I call you ‘my overlord’, seeing as that is what you seem to desire.”

  He laughed again. “I desire no such thing,” he said. “When we defeat you, I do not want to be put on a pedestal and worshipped like your beloved Agnor. No statues will be made of my image and hauled to every village square.” His eyes raked over her. “You can call me Skyresh. The people call me Gwalen, but I have never asked for it, nor have I sought their adulation.”

  His gaze turned to the dead fire. “I will start it up again,” he said. “Daylight comes in a few hours, and we have a lot to do.” He turned to her. “Try to get some more sleep…Avalon.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then lay back down, pulling the blanket high over her. Her heart had started to thud again. She was acutely conscious of where he sat, inches away from her.

  In the blankets next to her, Minna opened her eyes and stared at the wall. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands, so hard she had to stop herself from crying out in pain.

  ***

  The camp was rousing when Avalon next opened her eyes and sat up. She could see people moving about and stirring pots over their fires. They often looked her way, but then they would avert their eyes quickly. She was the enemy, after all, and they seemed uncomfortable having her in their midst.

  Skyresh had taken a big risk, bringing her here.

  “Breakfast?”

  She turned. Skyresh was holding out a bowl to her. She took it, staring down into it. Gruel. It seemed to be the favorite thing to eat for breakfast up here. She couldn’t quite suppress a shudder of distaste.

  “Not to your liking?” he smiled. “Perhaps we should send out for something more to your tastes?”

  She didn’t answer. Lifting the spoon, she started shoveling the thin broth into her mouth. She needed to keep her strength up. She could feel his mocking eyes on her, and her mouth tightened. She knew he thought that she was a spoilt city girl, and it bothered her. She was just as tough as he was.

  “Blessed Goddess of Light,” a voice said.

  Avalon looked up. An old woman was standing at the edge of their camp. She had long, flowing white hair and wore a gown of a startling shade of magenta. A cloak of the same shade covered her; the hood was up. Avalon could see a gold amulet with strange patterns hanging around her neck.

  She gasped. The woman was so familiar. Like the old woman in her dream. She stared down at the ground, confusion overwhelming her.

  “Mother Asta,” said Skyresh, standing up. He put his hand over his heart. “Blessed Goddess of Light. Please, come and sit down. I will make you some tea.”

  The old woman walked to the edge of the fire, her eyes sweeping over the camp until they came to rest on Avalon.

  “This is she?” she said, turning to Skyresh.

  Skyresh nodded. “She ran into the Outlying Zone,” he said. “She and her companion were in the High Area. We are still looking for him.”

  The old woman nodded. Then she turned back to Avalon, her eyes assessing her keenly.

  “Give me your hand, child,” she said, sitting down in front of her.

  Avalon stared at her. Up close, her face was a maze of wrinkles. How old was the woman? She could see tattoos in blue ink on her forehead. They were a similar circular pattern to Skyresh’s, but more intricate.

  She hesitated, then put her hand into the outstretched hand of the old woman. What was she going to do?

  The old woman closed her eyes, muttering under her breath. Then her eyes flew open. She stared at Avalon.

  “What is it, Mother?” Skyresh asked.

  “I do not know.” The old woman’s voice was low. “The spell is powerful over her, stronger than I have ever felt before. As to whether she is telling you the truth, I cannot say for certain. A veil descends as soon as I try to reach inside.” She continued staring at Avalon, as if seeking an answer in her face.

  Avalon felt the hairs on her arms standing up. Chills swept through her body. She tried to take her hand away, b
ut it was useless. Her hand was like a dead weight, resting in the palm of the old woman.

  “There is something else…” the old woman was frowning. “I see another, standing behind her. A Mother, who is long gone.” Her face paled. “A warning? Or a prophecy? I cannot tell.”

  The old woman dropped Avalon’s hand abruptly. “She is either your ally,” she whispered. “Or she is your greatest enemy.”

  Skyresh frowned. “You speak in riddles, Mother,” he said. “I just need to know whether I should risk her leading us to where she says the weapons are kept. I already know she is my enemy.”

  “Do you?” The old woman turned to Skyresh, studying him.

  Minna had gotten up and was watching them. Her eyes narrowed. She turned to Skyresh.

  “She will lead us to our deaths,” she spat. “Why can’t you see that? She has no intention of letting us know where the weapons are. She seeks only to prolong her life.”

  Avalon stared at them, trying to keep her face expressionless. Minna was right, of course, but she had to convince Skyresh that she would keep her word.

  “I will lead you where you want to go,” she said simply.

  Skyresh looked from one to the other, considering. “We will risk it,” he said eventually. “Minna, you do not have to be part of the group if you do not want to. I understand your fears. But, if we can secure the weapons, it would be a great leap forward in our cause.”

  Minna sighed in frustration. “I will come, if you are determined.” She glared at Avalon. “But I do not like it.”

  Skyresh nodded. “It is settled,” he said. “We will start out immediately.” He turned to the old woman. “Thank you, Mother Asta. I only wish that your reading had been clearer.”

  The old woman nodded. “It is the way,” she said. “Sometimes, all is revealed, but other times the Goddess only allows fragments, especially when the spell is strong. I feel a strong sense of fate surrounding this woman. Watch her carefully.” She gazed at Skyresh intently. “Do not let her go. She is important, in a way that I do not yet know.”