The trees blurred as she ran, but Macy didn’t notice their color. The world around was gray and lifeless—just like Bastian. Her breath caught and she stumbled. Tolen grabbed her arm but she tugged out of his grasp.
The Raksasha tailing them shrieked in defeat and gave up the moment the sky began to lighten on the horizon. A bright rainbow illuminated the eastern sky a half-mile ahead, slowly beginning to fade as the sun made its appearance in the sky.
“There.” Tolen pointed and slowed down. “Ardia said that’s where the camp is.”
Macy turned toward the hazy lines of the vanishing rainbow.
Light was warmth—light was peace. Macy knew this but felt neither. Empty, hollow—that’s how she felt.
She fell to her knees and everything went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Followers
of Light
“Macy!” Tolen dropped to Macy’s side. She looked terrible, her face ashen and covered with dirt and dried tears, her arm wrapped in a blood soaked piece of her shirt. His stomach clenched. He hadn’t even known she was injured.
The sound of crunching bracken met his ears—someone or something, was coming. Tolen whirled around and his heart stopped.
A group of seven huge men emerged from the trees. Their silky dark hair fell in long, colorfully beaded, thick braids down their backs. Strange, beaded, leather headdresses crossed low on their foreheads, and wove gracefully back into their hair.
Their clothing was an array of dyed animal skins pieced into leggings. They wore vests that hung open, exposing intricate breastplates of bright crystals that glowed softly. Over each shoulder they carried an intricately carved long bow, and a quiver of arrows hung on their backs. A gleaming curved dagger dangled from sheaths strapped to their thighs.
Tolen jumped to his feet, blocking Macy from view. The closer the men got the taller they seemed. They towered over Tolen’s 6 foot 2 inch frame, making him feel like a child as he looked up into their intense brown eyes.
Within a few seconds, calm filled him, and he felt safer than he ever had in his life. These men radiated goodness. Their eyes, though fierce and serious, held no malice. There was no thirst for violence in their countenances. They were powerful, but deep in Tolen’s heart he knew these men did not use their power the way the Dark did. In every way they were the opposite of the creatures he had encountered since he first learned who he was.
Radia Warriors?
“Is she all right?” A man with blue beads in his headdress stepped forward, holding his hands behind his back. His deep voice held no cruelty, but the power behind it still made Tolen nervous.
“I—I think so. She’s hurt and she passed out.”
“We’ll take her to camp. We have a Sphere there who can help her.”
“Can—Can I just do it now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Heal her. I sort of know how.”
The man’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his headdress. “You are a Sphere?”
“My mother is.”
The man bowed and motioned for Tolen to proceed, his eyebrows still raised.
Tolen knelt down beside Macy again, held his hand above her arm, and called for the warmth. He looked at her face and his heart ached for her loss. His fingers blazed and he ran them across her injury. Her face twisted as the skin pulled together, but she didn’t wake up. As an afterthought, he ran his fingers over her weak leg—asleep she couldn’t argue with him. He felt the bone finish knitting together and the bruising within the muscle disappear. It was easier this time, now that he knew what to look for, just like Bastian had said. Tolen swallowed back the guilt that wanted to consume him for the role he’d played in his Watcher’s death, and touched Macy’s cheek to try to get her to wake up.
“She will wake when she is ready.” The man held out his hand with a strange look on his face, almost wary. “I am Incrah, captain of this band of Radia Warriors.”
Tolen stood up and shook Incrah’s massive arm.
Incrah ended the handshake quickly and waved his hand toward the others, pointing them out in turn. “Jéno, Kapha, Rada, Denhon, Sernad, and Beyn.”
Tolen knew he’d never get their names right. “I’m Tolen . . .and this is Macy.”
Incrah looked Tolen up and down. “You have entered the Unastra training camp. We will take you to Jonas—he is our Sphere and leader. He will know what to do with you.” He knelt beside Macy. “I will carry the girl. You look near to death yourself.” He lifted Macy into his huge arms.
Tolen glanced down at his bloodstained shirt and the cuts on his arms. His watch was so badly damaged from his crash into the tree he could barely read it through the scratches. He felt a pang of anxiety as the strange men surrounded and herded him through a gap in the trees. He could barely get his achy body and tired feet to keep moving.
“How did you find us, young one?” A warrior with tawny beads in his headdress spoke up.
Tolen shook his head, trying to clear the sleepy fog that had settled over his brain. He had no idea what he was allowed to say. “Uh, we were in the Binithan with the Doogar and we left . . . we got in a fight with some Dark creatures and then . . . then we ran here.”
The men gave him curious looks but didn’t say anything after that.
The trees soon thinned to reveal a huge open space. A river flickered lazily in the distance. Row upon row of tents rimmed the area. Everywhere fires burned in pits, and people of every kind milled about doing the most extraordinary things. Some stood in makeshift arenas sparring with swords or knives, some practiced with the long bows, shooting at stuffed targets painted black like Raksasha.
In front of one tent a young girl, probably no more than seven or eight years old, sat with a deep look of concentration, twisting her fingers as she manipulated a tuft of wildflowers to lace around her feet until it looked like she was wearing pretty grass sandals.
A few feet down the line a group of nine or ten teenagers stood facing a row of makeshift targets. Exhausted and nervous as he was, Tolen couldn’t stop himself from pausing to watch.
Two young girls were calling up rocks and with only their minds, sending them screaming toward their targets. One young man with a waist-length braid literally disappeared, then reappeared right at the target, and slammed a knife into its center. Two others, a boy and a girl, standing near the river, called up thick ribbons of water and shot it, not at the targets, but rather doused the entire line of youth, sending them all into shrieks of laughter. Suddenly there was too much mud, wind, and water, to see what they were doing. Tolen turned away and moved to catch up with Incrah just as he stopped in front of another tent.
“Wait here.” Incrah carried Macy into the tent. When he returned, she was no longer in his arms. “She is in the care of our Houseman. He will see that she is safe. You will follow me.”
Tolen swallowed and looked at the tent, his stomach knotting up. It didn’t feel right leaving her, even if he couldn’t doubt the man’s honesty. His Radia shard warmed against his chest, comforting him with the knowledge that wherever they took him, he’d still be able to sense her, and he pushed his heavy feet on.
The rest of the warriors parted company as Incrah led Tolen to the shade of an enormous tree. Beneath it, sitting on a carved wooden chair, a very old, very bent man, with white wispy hair that brushed his shoulders, watched them walk forward expectantly. His brown eyes were cobwebbed with white, but still perceptive. In his gnarled hands, he held a chunk of wood that he appeared to be whittling into some type of animal.
“Ah, I have been waiting for you Tolen.”
Tolen jumped and the old man’s lips curled into a half smile. He looked up at Incrah. “Thank you, Incrah. You may go. Tell the Houseman to bring McLacy to me once she wakes, will you?”
McLacy? “Um, you mean Macy?”
Jo
nas’ white eyes focused on Tolen once more. He looked amused. “Is that what you call her? Hmm. Interesting.”
“Certainly, Jonas.” Incrah bowed slightly and gave Tolen barely a passing glance.
Tolen watched the warrior walk away until Jonas cleared his throat.
He looked back to find the old man staring at him. His eyes were creepy. Tolen shifted his feet and Jonas put the wood down.
“Eight there are, and the Ninth shall lead them,” he whispered.
Tolen’s shard pulsed with strange warmth and a strong feeling of deja vu came over him, as if he should know what the crazy old man was talking about.
The man leaned forward. “You are not what I expected . . . but still, whatever is what one expects, hmm? I am Jonas, Sphere and leader of this camp.”
Tolen’s exhausted, grief-muddled brain could barely process what was going on around him, but he managed to ask, “H-how do you know who we are?”
“Forrest Bastian is a great Watcher.” Jonas laced his knobby fingers under his chin.
Tolen’s heart swelled with sadness at the mention of Bastian. “Yes he was—”
“Is,” Jonas interrupted.
Tolen tried to swallow the golf ball sized lump rising in his throat. “I’m sorry. He . . . he’s dead. The DéHool . . . they . . . they killed him.” Because I screwed up. The thought burned a hole through his chest.
Jonas tilted his head. “And you believe that duty ends with death, do you?”
Tolen rubbed his eyes. “Huh?” He just wanted to forget this whole day ever happened. Couldn’t the guy just let someone take him back to Macy’s tent or any tent for that matter? The adrenaline had long since worn off, and now that he knew they weren’t about to be attacked, it was taking all he had to keep his eyes open.
Jonas leaned on the armrest, dropped his chin into his hand, and tapped his temple. “There is much to be done and little time in which to do it. The Dark is plotting something; something as implausible as it is terrifying. The shift in the Balance, though unnoticed by most, is there. Darsapean is gaining strength.”
“Dar—who?” Tolen rubbed his temples. This guy made no sense.
Jonas ignored him. He seemed to be talking more to himself than Tolen. “Fate is intervening. Your arrival has changed the course. The Dominants will be here tomorrow. You and McLacy will have time to regenerate while we wait. There is much you must do.” He took a deep breath and slapped his hands on his knees. “I will have a tent prepared for you to rest. We will begin the ceremony as soon as McLacy wakes.” He turned his cobwebbed eyes to the forest and dismissed Tolen with a wave of his hand.
What?
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Incrah standing there.
“This way.” He led Tolen away from Jonas, away from the camp, and away from Macy. He no longer felt in control of his body, more like his limbs were working of their own accord, his mind was too exhausted, his thoughts too painful to try to think.
He barely acknowledged Incrah as he held open the flap to a small canvas tent. “Macy?” His lips felt numb and difficult to move.
“She’s fine. She’s resting. Sleep, Tolen. We’ll be back for you as soon as she wakes.”
Tolen could barely nod as he tripped forward and collapsed onto a low, blanket covered cot.
Tolen tossed pebbles into the small stream and watched the ripples roll across the glassy surface. This place was surreal in its beauty, the atmosphere so different from the intense and frightening world he’d been in the last few weeks.
He’d slept through the rest of the day yesterday and all last night. Tolen tried to decipher the time beneath the deep scratches on his watch. About 6:30 in the morning was his guess.
He’d considered walking back into camp and looking for Incrah, or even the weird guy Jonas, but as soon as he stepped out of the tent the quiet stillness of the morning had felt too peaceful, and he’d only made it as far as the stream fifty feet from his tent. He knew there was a bigger reason he didn’t want to face anyone—Macy in particular. He could never take back what happened. If she knew Bastian had died to save Tolen, she’d never forgive him, and how could he even expect her to? His petty anger toward her the past few days only added another rock to his guilt-riddled gut. First, he’d scared her off with his touchy-feely stuff, and then been mad at her for not being interested. Of course she wasn’t interested in him. He was as dangerous as he’d always feared, and now not only did he have Dane’s blood on his hands, but Bastian’s as well.
If he could, he would stay in this spot and never face anyone again. Even the drive to save his parents couldn’t penetrate the despair he felt. He’d failed so many times, how could he possibly believe he could actually save his parents? Even Bastian hadn’t believed he could do it. He was stupid and naïve.
He threw another rock into the water, eyes stinging, and then dug his fists into the dirt, teeth clenched to hold back the emotion. It did no good to cry.
He stood up, whirled around, and smacked right into someone. “Oh, excuse me. Sorry.” He stepped back to see a beautiful young woman with wavy black hair and odd, bright violet eyes. The tips of her ears were slightly pointed.
“You’re an elf.” He blurted and snapped his mouth shut.
The young woman smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m a Lafar. Our kind inspired the elf legends, but it isn’t our true name. I’m called Nova.” She held out a delicate hand.
Tolen shook her arm, realizing afterwards that he’d just been digging in the dirt. “Tolen.”
“I’m sorry, Tolen, about intruding on you.” She dusted off her arm. “I didn’t know you were here. I come to the stream to collect Kornikye for the Houseman. Lafar are the only ones who can coax them out of the water.”
“It’s no problem.” He only understood half of what she said.
She smiled again and Tolen’s stomach gave a funny flip despite the war going on inside him.
“Nova!” A squat old man in a dirty apron waddled toward them.
Nova’s face reddened.
“I thought I told you to fish for the Kornikye downstream. You know you are not supposed to interfere with the boy’s Solitude.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled and quickly darted back into the trees.
The squat man bowed. “I am sorry, young one. Nova has a tendency to let her curiosity overrun her good sense. Forgive us, please.”
“Oh, it’s really no problem—”
“Everyone calls me Dirt.”
“Dirt?”
“Yep.” He held out a small covered basket. Tolen thought he could smell fresh bread. “Breakfast. I’ll leave you alone now.” He bowed again and followed Nova into the trees.
Tolen debated on following, but instead dropped back down to rinse his hands in the stream, embarrassed that he hadn’t realized how dirty he was before shaking Nova’s arm.
He wondered if Incrah would really come and get him when Macy woke up, or maybe she already had and didn’t want to see him. He dried his hands on his pants, stood up, and stared in the direction of the camp, feeling no desire to go and find out.
He walked into his tent, set the basket on the floor, dropped face down on the cot, and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Watcher’s
Farewell
Macy stared up at the dirty canvas roof of the tent, trying to ignore the emptiness in her heart. She’d known she would have to lose Bastian one day. She’d known it would be hard. She had no idea it would be this hard.
She looked down at her healed arm, perfectly strong leg, and wished she could punch Tolen. Heck, she wished she could punch anyone.
She bit her lip in frustration. It was hot enough, and light enough, that the sun had to be fully up, but she hadn’t gone outside yet. Why bother? She didn’t want to
see anyone.
She heard someone approaching but made no move to sit up. The tent flap opened but she didn’t bother to look over. It was probably just the Houseman. When she woke up, he’d been sitting by her head sprinkling smelly herbs all over her face. He’d nodded once with a grim smile and left.
“Time to get moving McLacy Allicandra.”
Macy shot upright. Some old fart stood in the tent door leaning on his cane.
“How do you know my real name?”
“Forrest Bastian is a good Watcher.”
“Was—”
“Is.” The old guy sighed and shook his head. “You and the boy share the same misunderstanding. Death does not stop duty.”
Macy clenched her teeth.
“My name is Jonas, Sphere and leader of this camp. It is time for you to join us.” Jonas’s cobwebbed brown eyes bored into her face. “The ceremony is about to begin.”
“No, it’s time for me to leave. I did what Bastian asked. I brought the kid to the Radia Warriors.”
“That is not what your Watcher asked of you. He told you to protect the Ninth. If you leave now, you would be breaking your promise. Tolen needs you. The Balance put you together for a reason.”
Macy’s face burned. “Oh yeah? Well I’m sick of the Balance messing with my life. Why the crap did the Light have to choose me anyway?”
“That is a very good question, and only you can find the answer.”
Macy sat back on the cot and dropped her head into her hands.
Jonas shuffled over and put a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off, but for an old guy he had a pretty firm grip. She gave up and settled for glaring at the floor.
“The Balance can feel the depth in every life force on this planet. It is made up of both good and evil, touchable matter and untouchable energy. It shifts and sways like the wind. The Light within the Balance finds those souls that are pure and good, just as souls filled with evil are sought by the Dark. The Light chose you because there is something within you that shifted the Balance so much that it knew it needed you. You have a purpose McLacy—a purpose far greater than being a Chosen protector for humankind. You need to find your purpose, you mustn’t let your parents’ or Bastian’s loving sacrifices be for naught.” He paused as if waiting for her to speak. When she refused to take her eyes off the floor, he continued.
A Chosen Life Page 27
