I smiled. “Why not? Find a comfortable place to sit and we will begin with your mental defenses.”
Settling in the seat that I had just vacated, Zez closed her eyes. I didn’t give her much time to raise her defenses before reaching out with the same energy with which I sent thoughts. With an invisible hand and eyes, I examined her. I was surprised to find a reasonably strong-looking wall erected around her mind. I spotted similarities to Selwyn’s methods, but there were large portions of defense work that I had never seen before.
Pressing against one of those places, I was rebuffed so suddenly that I lost my connection. It was unlike anything I knew of. Opening my eyes, I regarded Zez with a frown. She blinked up at me.
“What was that?”
“An energy burst triggered by your probe,” she replied. My expression slowly registered and worry flickered across her features.
“You have been experimenting.”
“Only under Selwyn. Was that wrong?” When I didn’t respond right away, she explained. “He liked some of my ideas and we worked out a way to incorporate them into the accepted rules. He said it was alright.”
I nodded slowly. “I want a complete log of all the inventions that the two of you have developed.” Ordinarily I would have scolded her and had a very serious talk with Selwyn, but in light of our current situation with the Elitists, their ideas might give us an edge. “I am going in again. Warn me against any more triggers. Neither one of us wants to cause damage.” She nodded and closed her eyes.
Opening my senses up again toward her, I pressed past a more familiar section of defense work and into her externus, the outer rim of her consciousness. As I focused on a familiar-looking technique, her presence slipped into my thoughts, filling my mouth with a rush of mint.
“An antiquus disguise,” she sent.
“I recognize it. How do you form it?”
Her answer came freely and the explanation was clear. I tested her on the theory behind the tactic and found her well versed. Selwyn apparently had trained her well.
“Have you developed a modification of this?” I asked.
She hesitated. It was strange how I knew though. The flicker of fear and uncertainty didn’t come as it usually would from someone who was sending to me, distant and foreign. Instead, it was as though I felt what she felt. As much as I wanted to explore this new development, I knew that now wasn’t the time. “I won’t punish you for it if you have. I am just testing your theory.”
“Using the underlying concept of disguising a new thought as old, we thought we might try disguising a thought as something mundane, below a searcher’s notice.”
“Like what to have for dinner or when to do the laundry?”
“Exactly.”
I refrained from praising the idea, but I couldn’t help appreciating the ingenuity. I moved on to the next defense. An hour passed smoothly as I moved deeper into her mind. She demonstrated everything I could have asked for in a defender applicant, but as much as I didn’t want to admit it, she also offered more. Within the few minutes that I had given her to prepare, she had erected defense tactics that took more energy than most defenders had in their arsenal. Yet, she still had the concentration and control to escort me through the steps that she had taken, explain the modifications, and more than once, stop the reaction that I triggered in my examination.
“Have you ever experienced dizziness or nausea after a lesson or exam?” I asked as I examined her angulus’ outer wall. The angulus was the central and most critical part of the brain. All activity and memories emanated from there. Defending that area was the hardest skill to master, yet she appeared to have hers well protected.
I felt her confusion at my question before her answer flowed through my thoughts. “No. Why?”
“They are some of the symptoms of overuse.” I pushed away the memory of my own first introduction to overuse.
“Is it normal to have overuse?”
“Some talents experience it when they have overextended their talent during a short time period. What is this?” I drew her attention to a thin place in the wall.
“That is a trigger for ConProp. If an assailant presses it, I will ConProp instinctively. Based on the reactions that Selwyn has experienced, the rebuff can throw a man a few feet.”
I raised my eyebrows. “How long does your talent stay silent?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried to time how long I can remain blind. I do know I can retune to my amoveo within a few minutes. My sending ability soon follows.”
“It could be something useful to know.”
Zezilia
HE WAS STRUGGLING WITH something. I could feel it as though it was happening within me instead of him, yet I could not discern the reason for his unease. Perhaps it was this new sense of understanding I had toward him. With the first touch of his presence in my head, I had done as I always had with Selwyn and joined my energy with his to communicate and see what he saw. But from that first latching, it felt different than any of the moments with Selwyn. I could almost hear the Sept Son’s thoughts as they flowed beneath the surface of his mind. His emotions coursed through me in a way that felt as though they were my own. Intimate and intriguing, I struggled to hold back my curiosity and concentrate on my exam.
“It seems that Errol is correct again.” Suddenly he withdrew from my thoughts. I blinked in surprise as my eyes adjusted to the dim light of dusk.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can’t just walk away from you.” Rising to his feet, he took two steps away so that his back was to me. Head bent and arms crossed, he lingered in thought.
“Why?” I couldn’t help asking. I knew why Errol and Selwyn wanted me to go with the Sept Son. They wanted me to fulfill whatever destiny that the Almighty intended, and they believed that training under the Sept Son would best prepare me for that. However, that didn’t mean that it was Master Aleron’s motivation.
“You are a risk that I cannot have wandering around unprotected.” I stared at him in shock. He turned in time to catch my expression and suddenly laughed. It was a rough, stumbling sound as though he hadn’t laughed lately. “I don’t believe that you are going to come attack me.”
“That isn’t what I was thinking,” I protested.
Crossing back to me, he crouched down. Looking into my eyes, his face grew serious. “What has Errol taught you about the Elitists?”
Puzzled, I listed all the facts I knew about them. Master Aleron nodded when I finished.
“They have also begun kidnapping untrained, talented young women to marry their men. Leaving you here, unprotected, would be foolishness.
“When I register your acceptance into the community of talents, your ability and training will become public record and cause a small sensation among talents. If I leave you here, on the coastline, others may try to take you.”
“You don’t need to convince me that the Elitists are evil. I have seen what they did to Blan.”
“And they are capable of much worse.” Closing his eyes, he wearily lowered his head. “I fear the end is coming, Zez.” The weight of his voice shook me. I heard the crises he listed for Errol, but his fear then was nothing compared to the hopelessness in his slumped shoulders now. “I fear for our nation. The Elitists are going to be unstoppable unless we do something soon, but I am not even settled on what to do.”
“The Almighty will make it clear,” I reminded him.
Slowly he nodded. “The Almighty will make all things clear.” Rubbing a hand across his face, he laughed bitterly. “Forget me protecting you. I am going to need your clear sight to keep hold of the big picture. No sooner am I out of the pit of self-assurance and self-centered thinking, than I am slipping into the tar again.” He smiled at me, studying my face with tired, brown eyes. “I propose an exchange. I will take you with me. You join my household as my aide, and I will teach you everything I know. In return, you promise to constantly remind me of the Almighty’s omniscient omnipotence
.”
“It seems as though I am getting the better end of the deal.”
“So, it is a pact?” He extended a large hand over the short distance between us. Something about his dark eyes told me that there was more to this agreement than what was spoken, but I didn’t care. He needed me.
“Agreed.” I gripped his wrist with my hand as he closed his fingers around my wrist. It was a childish gesture, made over trades of marbles or favorite rocks. However the sensation of his large fingers completely encircling my arm erased the simplicity and made it something more.
“YOU WILL COME BACK,” Candra demanded as I packed the last of my clothing. “You have to come back and visit. Who else will help me add another room to the tree house?”
“Selwyn isn’t going away. He can help you more than me anyway.”
Candra frowned at me from her perch at the head of my bed. “But he doesn’t understand why I want to add to a perfectly good tree house.”
“You didn’t tell him about your plans to move out there next summer have you?”
“He wouldn’t understand,” she protested. “Besides he isn’t going to be here. Ilias is taking him too.”
My copy of the Revelation paused on its trip to the trunk as I frowned at Candra. “What do you mean? Why?”
Candra shrugged. “How should I know? Father is going, too. He said something about preparing for the future. You are coming back, right?”
I settled the Revelation into the corner, tucked beneath my new dress uniform and a small copy of the talent’s Code. Apparently Adreet had known ahead of time that I would be accepted as an Aide in the Sept Son’s household. My stomach turned in apprehension as I smoothed the deep blue cloth. “I don’t know Candra,” I admitted finally to her and myself. “I don’t know what is going to happen next.”
Suddenly, Candra launched herself at me. “I am going to miss you,” she told me with a huge squeeze that drove the breath from my lungs. Slipping my arms around her, I returned the hug.
“I am going to miss you, too. I will write.”
Candra retreated with a grimace. “I won’t promise to write back.” Her penmanship was legendary for its cryptic form. “But I will be glad to get your letters. You must tell me all about the exciting things that you have to do for Ilias.”
“I doubt they will be all that exciting. He is only going to be training me. I expect to be busy studying more rules and procedures.”
The door opened as I closed the lid of my trunk. “Wait,” Eloine exclaimed. “I have something for you.” She presented a lumpy-looking package wrapped in brown paper. “I intended it to be for your birthday.”
Accepting the gift, I hugged her.
“Is your trunk ready, Zez?” Galatea asked busily as she sailed into the room, hair swinging in long waves down her back. “The man has come for it and mother won’t send him up until you are finished packing.”
“Just give her a minute,” Candra protested.
I thanked Eloine and promised to open the gift on my birthday, which was only a week away. Closing the trunk lid again, this time with the gift inside, I locked it. Adreet called the girls downstairs to attend to a chore and I was suddenly left alone in the barren room.
Looking around at the plain walls, cleared shelves, and the neat bedding I felt frightened. I was stepping out into the unknown and facing mysterious responsibilities and duties.
I crossed to the window and looked out at the empty nest in the branches outside window. I could no longer call it my window. It would now belong to one of the other girls. She would be the one to lie on the bed and watch the baby birds grow from hatchlings to adults. I hoped Eloine gained this room. She would appreciate the beauty of the cycle of life.
Looking down at my traveling clothes, fear crept in again. What if Master Aleron asked me to do something I didn’t know? What if it was a disastrous mistake? What if...?
My hands shook as I gripped the sill. Almighty Father, God of all, Keeper of the Great Plan, please help me. My thoughts cried out to the unseen One. I am so inadequate for this task. Foolish and weak, I can only stumble where I should stride with confidence. Why have you chosen me?
As I closed my eyes and waited for my answer, a passage from the Revelation slipped through my thoughts. “His grace is made perfect in weakness. By His strength alone will they rise victorious. Then who can say it is of their strength they accomplish these things. It is of the Lord. To Him alone give praise.”
I am yours Lord. Do with me what you will.
“Zezilia.” Adreet’s voice called from the stairwell. “Renato is here for you.”
“I am coming.”
Closing the window, I smoothed the spot on the quilt where Candra had sat, gathered my small traveling sack, and took one last look around the room. Then straightening my shoulders, I walked out the door to face my uncertain future.
Zezilia and Hadrian will return
in the next installment of The Talented,
The Defender
About the Author
Rachel Rossano, author of historical-like romantic adventure stories and science fiction dramas, has carried the workings for Zez and Hadrian’s fantastical story with her for over a decade. Burdened with the weight of the message, she frequently set the writing aside only to pick it up again because she was driven to finish. As with all of her work, she hopes and prays that this story will encourage, inspire, and draw the reader’s attention back to the one true source of peace, the Lord Jesus Christ and the glorious purpose He is working in each believer’s life.
Mrs. Rossano lives in the Northeastern portion of the United States with her loving and supportive husband and their three growing children. She loves to spend time reading, teaching, and creating midst the chaos of family life. She has been known to claim that writing keeps her sane because her characters are less argumentative than her children, most of the time.
Also by Rachel Rossano
Novels of Rhynan
Duty
Honor
The Making of a Man
(a short story anthology)
The Theodoric Saga
The Crown of Anavrea
The King of Anavrea
The Reward of Anavrea
Stand Alone Works
Wren
(a Romany Epistle Novel)
The Mercenary’s Marriage
Word and Deed
(a short story)
Exchange
(a science fiction short)
Sneak Peeks
Duty
First Novel of Rhynan
Chapter One
"THE RED ONE IS MINE," he said.
I didn’t raise my head although instinct urged me to. Father had called me Red. He said I was born screaming, skin deep red like the beets in the garden and hair fiery like the setting sun. The man who spoke was not my father.
I glanced at him from beneath my cloak’s hood. Arrogant in his size and superior mass, his eyes picked me out of the writhing mass of captives. Early morning sunlight glinted off plain armor and an unadorned helm, yet the unwashed barbarians treated him with the respect due a commander.
The crowd of women around me parted for the soldier fulfilling his order. Mothers moved back with babes in their arms, toddlers clinging to their skirts. Their fingers clutched older children’s hands or shoulders. A living mass, their voices silenced by the army surrounding them. Their faces spoke eloquently of their fear.
The soldier, smelling of sweat and sour wine, grabbed my left arm and dragged me out from among them. I didn’t want to bring harm to the women around me. The soldier would injure many before subduing me. I allowed him to pull me toward the commander with only minimal resistance.
Once free of the captives, however, I yanked from the man’s grip in an attempt to run. Three pairs of rough hands caught hold of my arms before I managed more than a few steps. The stench of their unclean bodies turned my stomach. I gagged as I fought them. They dragged me through the dust a
nd dumped me at his feet.
I struggled up only to be brought down again. Pressure behind my knees forced me to kneel.
I lifted my face to glare at the commander.
“Remove her hood.”
Someone pulled my cloak half off my shoulders in his enthusiasm. Red curls fell free in a wild mass about my shoulders.
Silently I cursed the color. If only I had been blessed with plain brown or even blond tresses, I could have hidden in plain sight.
“My Lady Brielle Solarius, I presume.”
He had the audacity to meet my glare. His eyes were only glimmers beneath the beaten metal and leather of his helmet. He made no bow or any show of the honor due me. I was a noblewoman. I didn’t claim the right of deference often, but still the fact remained.
“Might I know your name, barbarian?”
His reaction did not change his posture. I could not read his emotions.
“Lord Irvaine is no barbarian.”
The soldier at my left, a young man barely my senior, shoved me between the shoulders. I resisted, pressing back against his hand despite the burning in my thighs from the effort. Finally I shrugged him off.
Anger filled me, blinding my reason. Caution, a weak flicker of light in the night of anger, wavered and almost went out. The darkness like a living thing, growing ever stronger, pressed me more closely every second I lingered, waiting to hear my fate. I could not lose control. My people were counting on me. Their families were under my watch.
“By what right am I treated like this? I am a noble of Rhynan, born of an ancient house and loyal to King Trentham.”
“Trentham is dead.” Lord Irvaine lifted a gauntleted hand and pointed off to the south. “He fell in battle a fortnight past. Mendal of Ranterland is now king.”
Panic clutched my chest. Old stories of the unrest that followed a coup flooded my mind. Allegiances sifting with the wind and the death toll rising despite the end of hostilities as the disloyal were killed off and the loyal rewarded.
Seventh Born Page 24
