The Mighty One (Anasta Chronicles Book 1)

by Jenny McKane

  The woman sighed. “You are lucky,” she said. “Only a few are chosen to come to the Re-Education Center. Only the ones that the realm has decided are worth re-educating. Most are simply executed, and I must tell you, Avalon, that the possibility of that still exists, if you do not comply.”

  Avalon’s eyes flickered to the woman. “I am lucky, am I?” She leaned over the table, staring at her. “I will tell you what would have been lucky. If I had killed all the guardians and completed what I set out to do.”

  The woman smiled. “Your thinking is wrong,” she said. “You have been corrupted. It happens sometimes, especially when captured and forced to live among the rebels. I will show you the true way again, Avalon.”

  “Your way is a lie,” hissed Avalon. “Do you even know? Are you even aware of what they do? Of the camps that they keep to kill people that they don’t like?”

  “The camps are there for a reason,” the teacher replied. “People are sent to camps because they have done wrong, Avalon. They have broken the laws of our realm.”

  “Even children?” whispered Avalon. “Because they kill children, as well. What have they ever done to the realm?”

  “Security risks,” said the woman crisply. “Or simply because of the sins of the fathers. Blood can be tainted, Avalon.”

  Avalon stared at the woman, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “You are telling me that you agree with it?”

  “Of course, I do.” The woman looked Avalon in the eye. “It is necessary, for the security of the realm. The Stromel are like children themselves – you have read the Grey Book. They do not understand and must be guided. Like children, they also must be punished if they misbehave. It is quite black and white, Avalon.”

  “They are not like children!” Avalon shouted. “They are as intelligent as any Jarle. They should have the right to determine their own lives, let alone being punished and killed for not saying the right thing or disobeying you.”

  “You are a Jarle yourself,” the woman said. “Are you willing to sacrifice all your privilege for the rights of these people?”

  “I am not a Jarle,” Avalon replied quietly. “I was taken as a baby when the Jarle conquered this realm. There is no Year Zero. There is no Essential History. The Jarle haven’t ruled this realm since the beginning of time.”

  The woman laughed. “Your delusion is strong,” she said. “I assure you that you are Jarle, Avalon. No one took you. And you have listened to Stromel folk tales. It comforts some of them to think that they once ruled this realm, but they are only folk tales and not real.”

  “What about the animals?” Avalon glared at the woman. “What about the magic?”

  The woman laughed again. “I have heard others talk of this,” she said. “Spouting tales of strange creatures who once lived here, and magic that was practiced. Again, Avalon, they are just stories. Fairy tales told to pass the time in front of the fire.”

  “I have seen them,” Avalon hissed. “I have seen animals. With my own eyes! They were sent to the Outlying Zone so that they cannot be our allies any more. It is a prison for them.”

  “Nonsense,” said the woman. “If you entered the Outlying Zone, what you probably saw were creatures, yes. They are monitored and kept out of our realm for our protection, but they never lived here, and they were never the allies of the people.”

  Avalon sighed deeply. There was no use in even speaking. She was wasting her breath entirely. What had she expected after all? That this woman was suddenly going to frown and have doubts about what she believed? She was here to serve the realm. Perhaps she had even seen animals herself, or experienced magic. It wouldn’t make a difference to her. She simply had a job to do.

  One that she had probably done many times before.

  “Tell me about Gwalen,” said the woman. “The rebel leader, who you spent so much time with. I have heard that he is charming and is very handsome. He is also not much older than you. Did you get along well with him?”

  Avalon stared at her. She didn’t answer.

  “I remember what it was like at your age,” smiled the woman. “Sometimes, you can develop crushes on handsome men, even if you know they are unsuitable.”

  “I don’t have a crush on Gwalen,” Avalon said through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t you?” The woman stared at her. “It is very romantic, being out in the wilderness with a handsome and charming young man. Easy to confuse your feelings with belief in what he is doing.”

  “I am a trained warrior,” said Avalon. “If I truly still believed in the realm, nothing would sway it. Not having a crush, as you say. I believe it because it makes sense, and I have seen things with my own eyes.”

  The woman sighed. “I want you to think about it,” she said, standing up. “We will talk again tomorrow. Your homework for the night is to ponder what I have said, that perhaps you were swayed by a magnetic man, who used his charm to manipulate you. It is nothing to be ashamed of, Avalon. It can happen to any of us. He has quite a reputation with women, you know.”

  She walked out of the room, closing it softly behind her.

  Avalon sat back in the chair. Frustration threatened to overwhelm her. She had to get out of this place, somehow. Skyresh was going to be executed. She must save him!

  The door opened, again. A guardian walked in and pulled her up from the chair. “Time for your education to continue,” he growled. He pushed her toward the door.

  ***

  She could barely keep her eyes open when they pushed her into the little cell that evening, curling up on the floor as weariness washed over her.

  They had only supplied her with a thin blanket, which she folded herself into, trying desperately to forget what she had just been through.

  They had dragged her to another room after the teacher had left and tied her to a chair underneath a spout. A single drop of water fell on her head, but her hands were tied, and she couldn’t wipe it away. Another man entered the room, clutching the Grey Book. He opened it and started reciting in a monotone voice, and all the while, the drip continued falling slowly on her head. For hours.

  She could still hear the man’s voice and feel the drops falling on her skin, over and over. She shuddered.

  They were trying to break her. She knew that. And yet, there were times this afternoon when the drip kept falling and the man’s voice droned on that she had almost screamed for it to stop and told them that she believed again. Anything to stop the slow torture of it.

  She curled into a ball, a single tear falling down her cheek. And then, her eyes closed, suddenly. Sleep took her away, and she was dreaming…

  She could see the temple in the distance. Then she turned, and the old woman was beside her. The woman’s eyes shone with love.

  “Take my hand,” the old woman whispered. “I will show you.”

  Avalon took her hand, stepping with her. They walked into the temple, where candles burnt bright. The Goddess was before them.

  “You must keep fighting,” said the old woman. “You must not give up.”

  Avalon turned to her. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Who am I?”

  The old woman smiled. “The time has not yet come,” she said. “But we watch over you. We have always watched over you. You are not alone.”

  “What must I do?” said Avalon, watching the Goddess.

  “You must picture her,” said the old woman. “When it becomes tough, you must picture the Goddess in your mind. It is the only way.”

  Avalon stared at the statue, feeling relief wash over her. She could feel the power of the Goddess washing over her. Then, there was a sound behind her. She turned.

  Another woman stood there. She was young; probably not much older than Avalon. And she had the same long, flowing brown hair. She was dressed in a short tunic with a sword. She had blue swirls painted on her face and black coal around her eyes.

  “At last,” the woman said, gazing at her. “It is almost time, she who has no name.”

  The w
oman walked up, standing beside the old woman. Together, they stepped forward, kneeling in front of the Goddess.

  “Her power grows,” said the young woman.

  “Yes,” said the old woman. “I feel Masgata returning.”

  Suddenly, it was as if they were travelling further away from her. She could still see them, but they were becoming smaller.

  “Don’t leave me!” She was screaming, over and over.

  But it was too late. They were so far away. And then, they were gone…

  Avalon sat up with a jolt. Her breathing was shallow. She could see nothing in the cell; the night was as black as ink.

  She knew now that these people were her family. The old woman, and the young one. That was why she had been having this dream forever. The women of her family had been reaching out to her, claiming her.

  She heard the old woman’s voice, in her head: I feel Masgata returning.

  Why did she recognize that word?

  And why did they keep insisting that she had no name?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Everard woke up suddenly. He had been dreaming.

  He stared around the unfamiliar dormitory. There were fourteen bunk beds, all in a row. Not all were in use. There were probably four other guardians asleep in the room. He listened, but the only sound that he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

  Avalon had been in his dream, he remembered. She was dressed in an old grey gown, and her head had been drooping down. He had called her name, but she had refused to lift her head and acknowledge him. He had grown impatient with her, calling her name over and over, but she never once lifted her head.

  Despair overwhelmed him. Where was she? What were they doing to her?

  He got up, dressing quickly. It was still night; he could see the moon high in the sky through the one window in the room. There was nowhere that he could go, but he couldn’t stay in bed. Sleep was beyond him.

  He walked down the room, past the beds, trying to be as quiet as he could manage. He didn’t want to wake anyone and alert them to his movements. All that he wanted to do was find somewhere that he could sit down and think.

  There was a shared kitchen further along. A place where the guardians could make a hot drink and sit together over it before they went on their missions or after they returned. Not all stayed here, of course. Some had their own homes and only came to Headquarters for meetings, but he didn’t have a home anymore that he could retreat to, a choice he had freely made, but now that choice curdled within him, like sour milk.

  He made himself a drink and sat down at the table, alone. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. His mind was whirling so fast that he could barely keep up with it.

  He had made it here the day before and had gone straight to the commander, as agreed. The commander had stood up when he had entered his office, his hand outstretched toward him.

  Everard had looked at the outstretched hand, blinking. It took him a moment to realize that the commander was congratulating him. He had taken his hand slowly. He didn’t want to be congratulated for what he had done.

  “Great work, Guardian Varr,” said the commander, smiling. “Please, sit down. Talk me through everything that happened.”

  Everard had done so, but he had felt like the words were being forced out of his throat. Re-living what had happened was hard.

  “It was your idea to approach her yourself?” asked the commander.

  Everard nodded. “Yes,” he said slowly. “At first, it was just my intention to inform the guardians and let them deal with her, but then, I thought that it would be better for me to do it. I could attempt to gain her trust and less damage might be done.”

  He sat back in his chair, swallowing painfully. That wasn’t the truth. The truth was, he didn’t know what his intention was when he had requested to deal with her in the palace. He had thought that perhaps he might still be able to save her. At the back of his mind, he might even have been toying with the possibility of helping her escape.

  But it hadn’t played out that way. He had seen, when he had gone after her, that she had stabbed a guardian along the way. He had looked at the man, writhing on the ground in pain and bleeding profusely. He would talk. She probably would have been better off killing him outright.

  As he had walked down the darkened corridors, he had known that nothing could be done now. And in fact, it never could have been. She had shown her own identification pass to the first guard. She had signed her life away, then and there.

  There had been a moment when he had been leading her out of the palace that he still believed it might be possible. That she could run away. He would have to take the responsibility of losing her, but he was willing to do that, but it had all been too late. Almost as soon as they had reached Grey Park, the guardians had been upon them.

  And she had realized that he had betrayed her.

  “Guardian Varr,” said the commander. “I know that you are conflicted by what you have done, but you must try to put that aside. Avalon Lund had become a major security risk to the realm. You say that a piece of paper was found in her pocket?”

  “Yes,” Everard said. “A piece of paper torn from a book. It detailed where the political prisoner’s camp is located.”

  “It is exactly as I thought,” said the commander. “She has switched sides and is now loyal to the rebels. Her intention was probably to break out Gwalen and his people.”

  “It would seem so,” said Everard painfully. He still found it hard to believe, but everything pointed to it. The fiercest warrior of the realm had turned traitor.

  “You must put it behind you,” the commander had said. “The mission is over. A good guardian shakes it off and looks to the future. Are you able to do that, Guardian Varr?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Everard, taking a deep breath. “I would prefer to go back to work straight away and try to move on.”

  “That’s the spirit,” said the commander.

  He had given Everard details of his newest mission, and then he had congratulated him again.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Everard sighed and took a sip of his drink. He should be sleeping now. He was due to set off on his new mission in a few hours, and he needed to be refreshed and strong, but he knew that if he returned to bed, sleep would evade him. He might as well stay up.

  He stood up, walking to the kitchen window, staring out into the darkness. She was out there, somewhere. He felt his hands balling into fists. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t let her go.

  ***

  Avalon walked into the room. Teacher Gaia was already sitting there, waiting for her.

  “Ah, Avalon.” The woman smiled. “Did you get any rest?”

  Avalon stared at her. What did this woman care if she were rested? Why did this woman act as if she were concerned for her? But she knew that she had to play the part – for the time being, at least.

  “I got some sleep,” she replied, sitting down in the chair.

  “No dreams?” The woman stared at her pointedly.

  “No dreams,” said Avalon, staring back. She wasn’t about to tell this teacher, this agent of the realm, about what had come to her in the night.

  The woman smiled again. “That is good,” she said. “Dreams can be disturbing, but they mean nothing. The Stromel, bless them, believe that they are visions, or prophesies. Another example of how they are like children.”

  Avalon smiled sweetly. “Perhaps they are right,” she said. “After all, magic does exist, even though we have been brainwashed that it is a figment of our imagination. Why can’t dreams mean something then?”

  “Magic does not exist,” the woman intoned. “You know that it is treachery to even say the word.”

  “Why is that?” asked Avalon, staring at her.

  “Because it feeds delusions,” replied the woman. “Like the delusion you have. All the little details, leading to how you are thinking now.” She paused, sighing. “Avalon, you were trained in thou
ght control. When you were captured by the rebels, you must have known that they would try to dissuade you from your mission. I was under the impression that you were a first-rate warrior. How is it that you buckled so completely when told a few lies?”

  “I did not buckle,” Avalon hissed. “I knew what my mission was. It was why I led the rebels to the safe house.”

  “So, it was only after you had done your duty,” Teacher Gaia continued, “that you started having doubts.”

  “I had doubts the whole way,” Avalon said. “I almost didn’t do it, but the training was too strong at that point.” She took a deep breath. “I am not weak. I knew what my mission was, and I was aware of the tactics the rebels would use on me.”

  Teacher Gaia sighed. “Avalon, there is someone I would like you to meet,” she said, standing up and walking to the door. She talked to the guard for a minute, then came and sat back down.

  A woman walked through the door, dressed in the Grey Guard uniform. She stood to the side, staring down at Avalon.

  “Avalon, I would like you to meet Guardian Meja Dalin,” said Teacher Gaia. “Meja was captured by the same group of rebels that you were and met Gwalen.”

  Avalon stared at the woman. Why had she been brought in?

  “Meja, why don’t you tell Avalon what happened,” said Teacher Gaia, sitting back in her chair.

  The woman named Meja smiled. “I was with the rebels for a few days before managing to escape,” she said. “Gwalen was very attentive to me, telling me Stromel stories and tales of how the Jarle mistreated them. He was very charming. He told me that he thought that we had a special connection and that he could feel that I was different.”

  Avalon flushed. She stared at the woman, but she didn’t say anything.

  “It is how he always operates apparently,” Meja continued. “He likes to target the women guardians, getting them to fall in love with him. I must admit, I was starting to get swayed by him. He is very magnetic, but I realized what he was trying to do and escaped before his lies had a chance to really get to me.”