The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  Good damned thing I took the horse.

  “Whoa,” she said softly, patting the dappled gray neck as the horse slowed to a stop. She leaned to the side, gauging the distance to the ground, and gritted her teeth. “No instructions on how to get off, Haldin?” she grumbled.

  Kicking both feet out of the stirrups, she swung her leg over Ashes’ neck and pushed off, landing in a crouch. The impact jarred her body and she braced herself with a hand on the cobblestones, assessing any possible injuries.

  “Elegant dismount.”

  Kitieri stood, spinning toward the voice, and located a hooded figure leaning against a wall in the entrance to a shadowed alley. The husky voice didn’t strike her as particularly male or female, but the speaker’s frame appeared small and thin under the heavy cloak.

  Kitieri narrowed her eyes. “Thanks for noticing.”

  She turned back to Ashes, pulling the reins over her head, but felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the stranger continued to stare. When she looked back again, the hooded figure was several steps closer.

  “Who are you?” she snapped. Taking in the long, dark cloak again, Kitieri’s frown deepened. Was this…? It couldn’t be the same person that had followed her to Tira’s house…

  “I was starting to think you’d never show,” the stranger said in lilting tones.

  “Show?”

  “You’re here for the last gray officer, I presume. The red-haired girl.”

  Kitieri’s squint turned into a glare. “Why do you say that?”

  “No need to play coy.” A grin crept into the husky voice. “I know who you are. The girl with the lightning.”

  “Is that so?” Kitieri jerked her chin up. “Only fair that I know you, too, then.”

  The hood nodded. “You will.”

  The electricity humming in the air jumped, and Kitieri’s lightning rushed to her fingertips. She grimaced at the sudden flash of pain as her element thrashed, unchecked by oran for the first time since she’d come out of lock. She slammed her fists closed, one clamped around Ashes’ reins, as she started to back away.

  “Look, I don’t know what you want, but I have to go,” she said, turning for the Church without awaiting a reply. The warnings were coming any second, and this one was going to hurt.

  Before she rounded the corner that would bring her into view of Histan’s Square, Kitieri tossed a glance behind her to find the hooded stranger gone. Her element flared again, biting at her hands, and she growled. Finally a chance to confront her stalker, and the lightning had to act up. Damn it.

  She looked back to the Church, and movement along the wall caught her eye. Kitieri craned her neck for a better look, and identified a hooded cloak in the shadow.

  How in the hells did you—

  Wait, two cloaks… brown, not black. Kitieri furrowed her brows, watching the two spindly figures enter the gate. The same cloaks that came to the cintra mines on the wagons, she realized. And the same ones she’d seen all over the inside of the Church, so small and silent.

  “The kids,” Kitieri breathed, as the cloaks disappeared behind the wall. An image of Noia and Vina came to her mind, and she was transported back to the cell beneath the Church of Histan. Noia’s crystalline tear fell in the moonlight as she mourned for her daughter’s life of servitude over her own death.

  “The child slaves.” Kitieri put a fist to her mouth. “Gods, I hate this place.”

  Her lightning surged as the first warning tore through her, and Kitieri sucked in a breath, pain flooding her senses. Ashes snorted, ears up and eyes wide, and Kitieri dropped the reins to the ground to stumble away from the animal.

  “Stay, or whatever,” she ground out. Ashes’ huge brown eyes followed her, but she remained in place.

  Kitieri inched around the corner, poking her head just out of the shadows to look across the sun-drenched Square. She pressed her eyes closed instantly, but the image had already been burned into her vision. Inra stood at the pillar, chained at the hands and feet. Though her body quivered, the officer lifted her bruised face to the sky, the red hair Kitieri had only ever seen in a neat bun falling around her shoulders in tangled, matted locks.

  “It looks like you’ve been through the hells.”

  Kitieri heard Inra’s words from their first meeting, and squeezed her eyes closed harder. “Welcome to the hells,” she whispered.

  The second warning hit and Kitieri pulled back, flattening herself against the cool building. It hurt so bad.

  Control it. Clear your mind. Don’t let it feed off your emotion.

  She forced herself to stand straight and tall, tapping into the dark abyss that hovered somewhere beyond her racing thoughts.

  Give it nothing to consume.

  One by one, like prying off cold, dead fingers, Kitieri shed her doubts and insecurities. Haldin’s consequences. Inra’s fate. Taff and Jera’s broken hearts. Each heavy piece fell away, crashing to the ground until there was… nothing.

  Lighter than air, there came a strange sensation of floating.

  Kitieri opened her eyes. Her element hummed in her palms, its full attention on her command as she turned to face the pillar once more. A few red officers lingered with their Gadgets far across the open space, glancing nervously between the pillar and the Church doors.

  Histan forbid another victim escape your grasp, Kitieri thought bitterly.

  The third warning wrenched a cry from Inra, whose proud resolve seemed to buckle under the proximity of death. Her chains scraped against the back of the stone pillar, and Kitieri narrowed her eyes. Even if she called the Strike, Inra would still be chained there. They’d never declare her innocent and set her free.

  She gritted her teeth. It was a risky move, but there was only one option. She couldn’t repel this one. She’d have to catch it and use it.

  The lightning buzzed and whirred in Kitieri’s hands as the Strike approached.

  I have control. I own you—she squeezed her fists—and I own YOU. She looked up to the sky to meet the Blue Killer’s angry eye. Its energy filled the air, thick and metallic on her tongue as it gathered its hatred.

  Come get me.

  The Strike tore downward and Kitieri lifted her open hand. Searing pain threatened her control as the blue bolt met her palm, its hideous screech mingling with her scream in a deafening instant before the push. Twisting in brilliant streaks of blue and white, Kitieri threw the combined energies against the chains that wrapped the pillar.

  Silence followed, engulfing her before the familiar rush of coolness that followed a Strike. All except…

  Kitieri glanced down at the arm that had caught the Strike. Though her mouth fell open in shock, the cry caught in her throat. She stared in horror at the bloodied, melted flesh as her brain struggled to register its reality.

  A sharp sob rang through the Square and Kitieri looked up to see Inra vomiting onto the stairs of the pillar’s dais, her bonds broken.

  Through the jumbled, hazy mess of horror and urgency in her mind, Kitieri ran for her. A shout from the other side alerted her to the red officers’ approach, and the Church door flew open. She sprinted harder, pushing aside the sickening sensation of the breeze along her mangled arm.

  “Inra!” she cried. The woman’s head lifted, matted locks blowing across her face as her body heaved. “Run!”

  She saw her name on Inra’s lips in silent disbelief.

  “RUN!”

  The three red officers rushed for them, closing in on the pillar. Kitieri leaped up onto the dais and grabbed Inra’s arm to pull her down the stairs.

  “Get on the horse!” she commanded. “Haldin is waiting at the south gate—”

  Blinding agony closed Kitieri’s throat, turning her voice to a blood-curdling scream. She gripped her elbow below the burned, bubbling flesh of her forearm as her pain skyrocketed as though she’d been set on fire. Her eyes bulged as real flames engulfed her whole arm, and she waved wildly in a panicked attempt to put them out. Just as th
e scream faltered in her empty lungs, the fire vanished.

  Her breaths came in ragged gulps as she collapsed, shaking. A garbled cry told her that Inra was faring no better, and Kitieri curled in on herself.

  No.

  It was the only thing her shattered mind could muster.

  Shining black boots entered her vision, peeking out from under black robes that dragged the ground. Cold metal snapped around her good wrist, and another hoarse cry ripped from her throat as a hand grabbed the bloodied one, wrenching it around to force it into a pair of oran cuffs. Unbearable pain addled her thoughts, clouding her mind.

  “Ah, welcome back, Ms. Manon.”

  A voice. She knew that voice.

  A face leaned in close to hers, coming so near that the breath of the next words brushed her ear. “I must say, I thought Amadora had you put away for good,” he said. “But you’re a slippery one, aren’t you?”

  With monumental effort, Kitieri turned her head just enough to see the speaker’s face.

  “Well,” he snarled, tangling his fingers in her hair, “I hope you enjoyed your last hurrah.”

  Kitieri drew in a ragged breath, fighting to clear her mind through the torture. “Sending me back to the pillar, Stil?” she rasped.

  The long, pockmarked face twisted into a malicious grin, and a dark laugh resonated in his chest. “Oh, no,” he replied. “Though I doubt you’d fare so well without your lightning this time.”

  He grabbed her uninjured hand, and another blinding, sickening rush of pain sent Kitieri writhing, hoarse screams clawing at her raw throat. She jerked and pulled as his fire element melted her skin, but Stil held her hand tight in his.

  “The pillar is too good for you now,” he said with a cruel sneer. “Too quick.”

  When he released her hand, Kitieri pulled it back just as ruined and bloodied as the other. Her body shook uncontrollably, racked with unrelenting agony, and she pressed her forehead into the dais. Movement was impossible. All she could do was lie on the stone as her body seized with tremors, begging inwardly for any possible respite. Unconsciousness, death… it didn’t matter.

  “And you know what else?” Stil asked, lowering his face to Kitieri’s. “That little girl you cared so much about? The one you tried to run with? She’s mine.”

  Kitieri lifted her eyes just enough to see Stil’s lips moving.

  “I made sure to claim her as my personal servant in the future. And when that bitch Catarva finally falls, I’ll have your brother and sister, too. Maybe you’ll even be around long enough to witness it. In fact, I think I’ll make sure of that.”

  At Stil’s demented chuckle, Kitieri let her eyes fall closed again. Through the physical torment, only one concept echoed in her mind.

  I’ve failed them all. Everyone.

  Stil pulled away as he got to his feet, and his robes brushed her wounds as he turned to leave the dais. “Bring her,” he commanded two nearby officers. “I’m anxious to see how she appreciates her new accommodations.” His lips twisted into a mocking grin.

  Hands fell on Kitieri, scraping and aggravating her burns as they hauled her to an upright position between them. Her feet dragged on the stone, thumping on each step as they carried her down.

  “Chief Advisor,” another called. Stil shot an annoyed glance at the man. “What about this one?”

  A soft whimper reminded Kitieri of Inra’s presence, held only a few paces away. Slowly, shaking violently, she looked over at the bruised and battered gray officer. Tear-tracks left stark lines down her dirtied, bloodied face as her eyes found Kitieri’s. Eyes full of fear. Pain. Exhaustion.

  Kitieri dropped her unsteady gaze. Just another one she couldn’t save.

  “Get rid of her,” Stil said. With a grin back at Kitieri, he added, “We have something better now.”

  Kitieri’s eyes opened wide just in time to see a red officer run his short sword through Inra’s abdomen. The woman gagged and sputtered until thick red blood spilled from her mouth, and she toppled backwards into a heap on the stones of Histan’s Square.

  What little strength had been left in her arms and legs failed, and Kitieri’s full weight sank against the officers’ grips as the world faded away. Somewhere nearby, she heard the sound of hooves.

  Ashes?

  Not Ashes. Horses don’t just…

  Her thoughts drifted away as the officers dropped her to the ground amidst cries and shouts in a new chaos her broken mind could not comprehend. Finally, the blissful black claimed her as all consciousness fled with her pain.

  Chapter 16

  The murmur of quiet voices flitted in and out of earshot, unintelligible in the short bursts that interrupted Kitieri’s sleep. She turned her head away from them, clinging to the bright, happy images of Taff’s smile and the sound of Jera’s laugh tinkling through her subconscious.

  The voices faded again, and Kitieri drifted back into the happy dream.

  “Sit on your butt, Jera,” she said.

  Her sister rolled her eyes with a wide grin. “There’s no one here but us.”

  “I know, but we won’t always be this isolated…”

  The dream jumped.

  Taff was miming the alleycats, clawing at the air while Jera shrieked with delight. As he opened his mouth to laugh with her, dark blood poured from his lips onto the table, and he turned his head to look at Kitieri.

  “Why didn’t you help us?”

  Kitieri jolted, kicking her legs to run, but went nowhere.

  “NO!”

  Her eyes flew open to find that her voice was real, bouncing off the walls of an unfamiliar room. As she bolted into a sitting position, a pair of hands pushed her back down into a large, soft pillow. Kitieri kicked harder, tangling her legs in the blankets and waving her arms in a wild attempt to ward off the forces that held her down.

  “Get off me!” she cried, twisting against the strong hands on her shoulders. Two more hands grabbed her flailing legs.

  “Shhhh, Kitieri!”

  “Get off!” She landed a hard kick to the person at her feet, and was rewarded with the thump of a backside hitting the floor and a loud “oof.”

  “Kitieri!”

  Increasingly aware of her pain as her body wore out, Kitieri paused her violent rage at the sound of the husky voice. A tall, slender man hovered over her, hands on her shoulders, and a petite woman stepped up beside him. Wisps of gray at her temples stood out from her brown hair, the wrinkles around her brown eyes heavy with hardship and loss, and on her shoulders rested a familiar dark cloak.

  “You’re the creep from the alley,” Kitieri said. Her voice was damaged and hoarse from the screaming, and clearing her throat only made it hurt worse.

  “Creep, huh?” The woman crossed her arms. “Well, I guess I can live with that. The hood might have been dramatic, but it’s not like I’m exactly welcome around there.”

  “You’ve been following me.” Kitieri pushed up against the pillow as the man slowly pulled his hands back.

  “Guilty.” The woman showed a toothy grin.

  “What do you—” Kitieri cut off as a head popped up over the foot of the bed. “Tira?”

  “That’s a strong kick you’ve got, Officer!” Tira chuckled, rosy cheeks flushed extra red as she pulled herself to her feet.

  Kitieri’s eyes darted between the three of them. “All right, what is going on?” she demanded.

  “Easy.” The cloaked woman put out a hand. “You’ve had a rough day. The salve will be in full effect by now, but try not to move too much.”

  Kitieri’s heart-rate spiked as the memories flooded back, and she looked down at her hands. Thin strips of linen wrapped each arm from the elbow to the tips of her fingers, hindering most movement, but her pain was merely a ghost of its former glory.

  “Our doctors did the best they could,” the woman said. “It’s hard when you’re living off the map, but we still have some experts in our midst. Name’s Batessa—former librarian and historian for the Church
of Histan, but you can call me Bat. This exceptionally tall man here is Eriat, our resident genius, and I believe you’ve met our dear Tira.”

  “Batessa,” Kitieri repeated. She’d never heard the name before.

  “Bat.” The woman smiled. “Just Bat. Here, drink this. It will help settle your nerves.”

  She offered a cup of steaming tea, and Kitieri caught a whiff of the fruity berry blend before pushing it away. Only one other time had she smelled that tea… at Tira’s house.

  “All right, Bat,” Kitieri snapped. “Care to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

  “I knew you had an attitude.” Bat’s grin widened. “It’s perfect.”

  Kitieri narrowed her eyes to a slitted glare. “Where am I?”

  Bat opened her palms to the ceiling.

  “Welcome,” she said, “to the Church of Shirasette.”

  A long silence passed between them as Kitieri stared the woman down.

  “Look, I’m really not in the mood for bullshit,” she said finally.

  Bat’s cheek twitched, but she maintained her smile as she dragged a wooden chair over from the far side of the room.

  “It’s true,” said the tall man, Eriat, as Bat settled on the edge of the chair with her elbows planted on her knees.

  “There’s no such thing,” Kitieri said.

  “There is now.” Bat pulled out a small book from the inner folds of her cloak. Unwrapping its soft leather strip, she flipped the book open and tossed it onto Kitieri’s lap. “See for yourself.”

  The open pages were filled with ink, words formed into two neat columns, and Kitieri rested her bandaged hands on the edges to better read them.

  Names. She brushed her hand over the pages, searching the book. All names.

  “What is this?” She tore her eyes from the book to look up into Bat’s intent stare.

  “Tira tells me you don’t have much knowledge of the Churches,” Bat said. Kitieri tossed a dark glance at Tira, who looked down at her folded hands with a light blush.

  “Yes, Tira’s been working with us.” Bat cut off her question before Kitieri could ask it. “She’s come to us for help a time or two, and in return she agreed to learn what she could about you. I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d just run right into one of our people so soon, but there you were.”