“Tell their minds they can’t talk,” Alec said. “Why freeze them?”
“Hmm,” Nolan said, rubbing his chin. “Interesting idea.”
“But I suppose nearly killing yourself and destroying several buildings in the process was more spectacular than just soothing them and keeping them from talking.” Alec crossed his arms over his chest. “Or maybe you like walking around without clothes.”
Kat coughed and covered her mouth.
Nolan turned toward Alec. Did he really want to argue? Nolan’s frown faded when he noticed a smile on the corner of Alec’s lips. It was good to see hints of the old Alec returning. Nolan grinned. “A blanket is far less constricting than clothes.”
Greer pointed at the small boat as it closed the distance to the dock. “Come. I believe it would be best if we met them.”
Walking through the crowd was easy enough; anyone who saw Nolan shoved others aside to get out of his way. Nolan and his friends emerged at the front of the crowd just as the boat bumped against the dock. The leader jumped onto the wooden platform before the boat stopped moving.
A trio of warriors followed, their hands at their sides, their dark eyes scanning the crowd. The leader’s gaze fell on Nolan, traveled down his form, and then lingered at the blanket wrapped around his waist. His examination flicked to the townspeople, obviously comparing their wardrobes, before inspecting Nolan again.
Nolan shifted his feet, tamping down a flush warming his face.
The warrior’s eyes came back up, meeting Nolan’s. His dark brows twitched, hardly enough to notice. Curiosity, wonderment, admiration, and a touch of fear leaked from his stony resolve. The warrior’s knot of feeling stayed tightly concealed behind his emotionless, tattooed mask.
The Talasian leader bowed ever so slightly and uttered a phrase Nolan couldn’t understand.
Nolan turned to Greer, who gave a subtle shake of his head. Apparently, the Guardian didn’t speak Talasian either.
The leader spoke again, but it sounded more like a jumble of mutterings, spoken with a lot of k and t utterances. Frustration and anger spiked through the leader’s emotions, though the man’s face still maintained its stoic appearance.
“He wants to speak to whoever is in charge,” a voice said from behind.
All heads turned to the gypsy girl. She wound her way through the crowd toward them, slowing a few steps as she passed Nolan. Her eyes traveled down and back up to examine him. She then smiled, winked, and continued on until she came face to face with the leader.
Greer leaned toward Nolan. “She wants you.”
Nolan started. “What did you say?”
Greer frowned. “Master Nolan. Her desires transcend what you might expect. She wants you. But in what way, I cannot tell.”
“In what way?” What other way is there?
“I will explain later,” Greer said. “For now, we have more pressing matters.”
Nolan was about to insist he tell him, but the gypsy girl and the Talasian leader began speaking to each other in the strange Talasian language. Occasionally, they would glance in his direction; the leader made a wide gesture as he spoke.
The gypsy turned to Nolan. “He wants to know what you are.”
Nolan hesitated. He’d like to know that, too. He cleared his throat and gave the only answer he could. “I am an Emissary to Brim, the god of light, as well as a servant and friend to the king of this land. In the name of King Emery Cadogan, I welcome you and ask why you have come.”
The gypsy scowled and raised a brow.
“Tell him,” Nolan said.
She snorted and relayed the message, though by her shortened translation, Nolan doubted she’d said the whole thing.
“He wishes to speak to our king. Word has reached him that Alcandor was overthrown. The Talasians want peace between our two lands to stay in place, and he wants to offer King Cadogan something to assure the union.
“They stopped here for supplies and will continue by ship along our coastline until they reach Faylinn.”
Kat leaned in toward Nolan. “Can I make a suggestion, Lord Emissary?”
Nolan nodded, pretending he didn’t hear her “Lord” title again.
“Maybe we should go with them, to make sure they’re doing what they say.”
“We can’t,” Alec cut in. “Emery needs Nolan now. He wanted him back a week ago. If Nolan gets on that boat, it will take him weeks to reach Faylinn. By Speed, we can be there this afternoon.”
Nolan looked at the savage, then back to Alec’s pleading face. With all his abilities, Nolan couldn’t be in two places at once. These people couldn’t have free rein, even if it was only by sea. They would need to be watched over. However, Emery needed him.
“When will they be leaving?” Nolan asked the gypsy.
“At first light tomorrow,” she said.
“We’ll make sure they get whatever supplies they need.” Nolan clenched his fist, knowing what he said next wouldn’t go over well. He motioned toward Greer and Alec. “Tell him my two friends will join them on the last leg of their journey.”
Alec opened his mouth to object.
Nolan surged a smidgen of Empathy, waved his hand as if he were swatting a bug, and sealed Alec’s mouth.
Alec grabbed at his throat, giving Nolan a murderous glare.
Nolan leveled his gaze at the gypsy. “And you will accompany them as well.”
“I will not.”
“By the authority of King Emery, I order you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We are gypsies. We have no king. What we do is our own business. You have no claim to order me anywhere.”
Nolan stepped toward her. “Go on board that ship by yourself, or I’ll tie you up and throw you on it. Your choice.”
She glared at him, her emotions defiant.
“Tell him,” Nolan said.
She paused, then spoke to the leader.
The Talasian studied Greer first, then Alec, affirming she had, at least, told him that much. After she finished speaking, the gypsy turned to Nolan.
“They will leave as the sun peeks over the horizon. Have your men waiting here on the docks. King Kamalin will have boats sent to fetch them.”
“King?” Nolan asked.
One side of the gypsy’s mouth turned upward. “Didn’t I mention that part?”
Nolan eyed the tattooed warrior. So this was the king of the Talasian people. Why would the king take a trip overseas? This meeting had more significance than Nolan had first realized.
King Kamalin turned to the boat. The small grouping of warriors joined him and pushed off the dock. The crowd whispered while several people ran off to tell of the Talasians’ arrival. The gypsy girl glared at Nolan and turned, flinging her dark braids in a large arc. With determined strides, she left the docks and returned to the congested streets of the town.
“Master Nolan,” Greer said. “She is planning to leave immediately and has no intention of following your request.”
“How did you—?”
“I’ll explain more to you shortly,” Greer answered. “But now, we should be more concerned about this girl’s departure.”
“Kat,” Nolan said. “Follow her and use any means necessary to persuade her to come.”
Kat’s smile widened into an evil grin. “Yes, my lord.” The golden-yellow light of her Speed Shay flared in her eyes, and she ran through the crowd, moving faster than any of the villagers could see.
Something struck Nolan’s upper arm. He turned to find Alec, fist balled, ready to punch him a second time.
“Oops, sorry,” Nolan said. As if he were flicking a page of an invisible book, he released Alec from his silent hold.
“Nolan!” Alec said, his voice raspy.
“What? I only took your voice, like you suggested. It worked pretty good, I might—”
Alec punched him again. “What in the Darkness did you do that for? I don’t want to go on that nightforsaken boat with those nightforsaken savages! I’m su
pposed to return with you to Faylinn.”
Nolan sighed. “I’m sorry, but you can defend yourself if something goes wrong. You’ll be the perfect escort. And with Greer here—”
“Sure. An old man and a fifteen-year-old will really intimidate them.”
“You are the best swordsman in all of Adamah,” Nolan said. “And as you know, there is more to Greer than he seems.”
Alec gritted his teeth. It was hard to argue with logic, even for Alec. He grabbed Nolan’s arm. “And what about the gypsy? Why does she have to come?”
“Can you speak Talasian?”
Objection lingered on the forefront of Alec’s emotions, but he held back, saying nothing, then he finally stomped away.
Greer smiled. “Watch your back, Master Nolan; he is concocting plans of revenge.”
Nolan eyed the Guardian. “What did you mean earlier when you said the gypsy wanted me, but you weren’t sure how?”
“Hmm,” Greer said. “Yes, I have been pondering that one further. She said you would be profitable if she could get hold of you somehow.”
“No, she didn’t.”
One of Greer’s eyebrows rose. “Of course not. She did not speak it out loud.”
Nolan’s mouth dropped open. “You can … read minds?”
Greer blinked slowly. “You can as well.”
“What? Me? No, I can’t.”
“Are you sure?” In silence, Greer headed toward the boathouse where the stones of Brim were still in place.
Nolan followed, twitching his fingers with anxious energy. Surely Greer is wrong. I can’t read minds. Empathy doesn’t work that way.
When they stepped inside the boathouse, the combined lights of Brim still shone on the ground. Only then, when they were alone, did Greer speak.
“I have told you that Guardians do not have Shay powers.”
Nolan nodded. “Yes, but it’s never made much sense. You have the same abilities as me.”
“Not so,” Greer said. “Guardians have similar abilities, but not the same. For instance, my Empathy cannot control anyone like yours can. We both can read emotions, but mine can also—”
“Ah, I see,” Nolan interrupted. “You can read thoughts, not just emotions.”
“Precisely.” Greer motioned toward the cloth wrapped around Nolan’s waist. “Which is why I could not persuade the tailors to create clothes for you. I do not possess the ability to influence them.”
“But Alcandor controlled minds. He’s a Guardian, too.”
“Yes, but Brim removed his Guardian powers. The powers Alcandor possessed came from the people after he stole their Shays.”
“So Alcandor only wielded Shay powers.”
Greer grunted. “I would not speak of it as a fault, Master Nolan. The power of the Shay is much more significant than that of a Guardian.”
More significant? Reading thoughts would be quite handy—it would’ve kept him out of trouble more times than he could count. Then he wondered why Greer hadn’t merely read the Talasian king’s mind, instead of using that nightforsaken gypsy.
“He thinks in Talasian,” Greer answered. “I do not yet speak his language.”
Nolan shook his head, still not agreeing with the whole Shay vs. Guardian power subject. “Are all the abilities different?”
“Yes. Some more than others. For instance: The Healing Shay absorbs one’s injury and pain; a Guardian can heal without taking the injury.”
“Would be nice,” Nolan said.
“It has its faults, Master Nolan.”
“Faults? How can not feeling pain be a fault?”
Greer sighed. “Far too often, humans die before I can reach them. I cannot resurrect.”
Nolan snorted but said nothing. He’d gladly give up absorbing injury. Raising someone from the dead could only be done once … usually. When a Healer resurrected someone, they sacrificed their life.
“Except for you, Master Nolan,” Greer said in response to Nolan’s thoughts.
“Yes,” Nolan said softly, frowning. “Except for me.”
“And our Healing is not as strong as a Shay either,” Greer said. “It takes longer to accomplish the same task. When someone is dying, the speed in which one heals can be most important. Every aspect of a Guardian’s powers is not as effective as a human’s Shay. Brim created us to protect humans, not overtake them. When our powers are matched, such as Guardian strength to the human Shay of Strength, the Shay will always win. Our advantage comes from being multi-powered, where humans only obtain one.” He smiled at Nolan. “At least until now.”
Greer cocked his head, his white glowing eyes examining him. “I thought you had already experimented with your Guardian abilities; you have both Shay and Guardian powers. I had assumed you just chose not to use them.”
“I had no idea.”
Greer placed a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “Search inside yourself. You might find the differences rather interesting. I am certain you will come to the same conclusion: Shay powers are far superior.” Greer’s smile faded, and his eyes clouded over, as if looking at an event far away. “We were easy to destroy when Alcandor turned the humans against us.”
Nolan knew Greer was referring to the history of the Battle of the Demons. Legends told of a time when Alcandor saved the land from a demon attack, when in actuality, it had been Alcandor’s attempt to inflict revenge on the Guardians for being thrown from their ranks.
Nearly all the Guardians had died. Those who survived ran for their lives. A few months ago, the remaining Guardians didn’t even know each other existed. Sanawen and Malik, the other two Guardians, waited for their return in Faylinn.
Greer grunted and pointed at the ceiling, obviously changing the subject. “We cannot leave the stones. I will find Alec to retrieve them and meet you at the inn.”
Chapter Five
NOLAN LAY IN BED, eyes wide open. Two weeks of unconsciousness didn’t help him sleep. He rolled onto his side, and moonlight shone annoyingly through the shards of fabric disguised as a window covering. He squeezed his eyes tighter, but it was no use. Why did it have to be such a bright night?
A roar of laughter boomed from the pub. Nolan inhaled and released an exaggerated sigh. His mind wandered, first to Alec—he missed their friendship. Forcing Alec onto a boat wouldn’t heal the strain between them.
Then he considered Megan and her strange illness. He doubted he could do anything, but at least he’d be there to try.
His thoughts drifted to the earlier conversation with Greer. If he could read minds and not absorb pain and injury when healing, what other things could a Guardian do? And, most importantly, could Nolan tap into those same powers? After all, he had Guardian powers, too. He closed his eyes, focusing on his inner Shays; they pulsed inside him.
Shifting his search, he touched on something else, an energy different than his Shays. It pulsed softly, similar to the warmth that spreads after sipping a strong drink.
Maybe Greer was right. Perhaps the Shays overpowered the Guardian abilities. But now that Nolan focused on them, they were obvious, like a huge, glaring blemish on your face. The Guardian part felt wrong somehow.
Inhuman.
Nolan shuddered, turned from the window, and pulled the thin blanket over his eyes. It yanked from his feet, sending a chill up his spine. Grumbling, he unfastened the blanket around his waist, wrenched it from underneath him, and threw it over his feet and legs. It would do no good as clothing now; better to block the breeze leaking through the sorry excuse for a window.
Another round of laughter sounded below, this time joined with the cackle of the buxom barmaid. He shook his head, wondering how anyone slept here. Maybe these rooms weren’t used for sleeping.
He squeezed his eyes tighter. He shouldn’t think about such things, especially with Lieutenant Connelly in the next room. He tried not to think of her in that way, but she hadn’t helped much. Her eyes drifted over him every time they talked. And her mind … he didn’t even want to think abo
ut her emotions. She knew he sensed her, but she didn’t seem to care or even try to hide it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized she would probably welcome a visit … if Nolan only asked.
Nolan cursed. Now he sounded like Kael! Even if she agreed (which she just might), he shouldn’t. How could he? She deserved better than to be treated like a tavern wench.
The laughing continued downstairs. He awakened his Perception and focused on where Kat slept. By the rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat, she was still awake. Lying there. Possibly thinking of him.
Nolan groaned. She was so … so … distracting.
Women had desired him before—well, at least one woman. The duke’s wife had made advances. Nolan’s first inclination was to just disappear, to be invisible. As a scribe for the Duke of Alton, he had gotten his wish. His dark and deserted corner of the manor made it easy to hide. The duke’s wife never ventured down there.
He had considered the duke’s wife’s advances to be a matter of circumstance. She was young and attractive. Old, balding, and weighing as much as two men put together, the duke couldn’t keep her attention. His wife flirted with Nolan because she had nothing else.
Nolan ran his hand over his chest, feeling the defined muscles. Sometimes he struggled to believe they were his own. Sure, he had made progress when he’d trained with Alec, when he was still a normal young man. He’d been proud of how he’d looked then; he had worked hard and had earned it. Now, he was transformed into something few could attain, muscles that would normally take a lifetime of effort. He deceived others, just as the Talasians hid emotions behind a false indifference. He, too, wore a mask. His body—along with his powers—didn’t belong to him.
Nolan crawled into his personal misery. One would think being more powerful than even Alcandor would be a good thing. Nolan, however, preferred blending in. With this nightforsaken body, that would never happen again.
A thump, then a crash sounded from the room next door. Nolan jumped out of bed, focused his Perception, and heard the telltale sounds of conflict, including a small cry from Kat.
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