Ostracized (The Ostracized Saga Book 1)

by Olivia Majors

My head snaps up, and I search for his face. I find it, situated next to the tall, black-haired artifact named Gregor. They are exact opposites. Gregor is old and weather-beaten. Shade is young and muscled. Maybe Otis did it on purpose, in an attempt contrast their strengths with their flaws.

  “Why make him second-in-command?” a female voice in the crowd hisses. “He’s no guardian of our village. He doesn’t give a flying piss what happens to any of us. He’ll lead them all to their deaths like he swayed that young child. Poor Opal. Poor, heartbroken Opal.”

  “Hush, woman,” a man snaps. “That girl was bound to get into trouble sooner or later. Those things happen all the time. It wasn’t his fault that she decided to accompany her father. The girl volunteered.”

  “Just the same, he had a hand in it. That girl wouldn’t have been so wild if she’d been forbidden from indulging in his company altogether. The boy probably just wanted to screw her and shove off.”

  “You’re just upset because he wouldn’t screw your daughter when she went looking for his attention,” the man retorts.

  “Angus, you take that back, you hear . . .”

  “Is there a problem?” Otis asks.

  The bickering couple grow silent.

  Shade levels an icy stare in their direction.

  My hands ache and I realize I’ve balled them into fists. Slowly, I spread them straight at my sides again. Apparently, Mama Opal’s daughter had been quite the scandal. What had she been to Shade? A friend? Something more? Not that I should care. I don’t. I just wonder if their meetings in the forest had been purely innocent like Shade and I, or far more physical – and sexual.

  Slowly, Shade looks up and meets my eyes. His gaze sharpens. I hadn’t expected him to forget our last meeting. I had hoped we could leave it in the past, though. Because as much as I hate him for pretending, I like what he is beneath the rough exterior. I like the person he’s allowed me to catch glimpses of over the past few weeks. The real face hiding beneath all that asshole and bluster.

  The thought makes me feel sick, dizzy, and elated all at once.

  “Tell me again, what I’m supposed to do?”

  We’ve made camp after a long day of endless walking. The road to the capitol through the forest is overgrown. Axle says that’s because very few people who travel on it ever reach Smoke. Wild animals prey at night. Wild animals prey during the day. Among other things. He doesn’t have to tell me that those “other things” are shadows.

  Now, I sit near the edge of the clearing we’ve chosen, and listen to Axle describe, in detail, how I should behave when I meet the king.

  “Walk straight. Don’t slouch. Make sure you look him in the eye as much as possible . . .”

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I wave him off. “I know that part. What I mean is . . . are there ‘manners’ in Smoke. Do I bow? Curtsy? Use ‘royal’ pronunciation? Things like that.”

  “I would curtsy,” Axle says. He flushes red. “I mean . . . I wouldn’t curtsy. You would curtsy. I . . . I would do nothing. I would glare and . . .”

  “And mask your feminine behavior,” I jest. I pat his arm to make sure he knows I’m kidding.

  He glares at me anyway.

  “Definitely curtsy,” Keegan says. He sits in the middle of the clearing, his feet held up to the fire the men have created. “And if you, maybe, raise the hem of your gown high enough to reveal one of those glossy legs, the king may end up calling you ‘your highness’ before the night is through. Maybe you’ll even get to sit on his lap like a good ‘little girl.’”

  “Are you mocking the king, boy!” Gregor snaps from somewhere in the dark forest. He appears a few moments later. Shade is not far behind him. I assume they were scouting the perimeter.

  “No,” Keegan says. He winks at me. “Just advising her to use every means at her disposal.”

  Gregor ignores him. “Men,” he addresses the group, “there will be three guards, one at each corner of the clearing, ten feet into the trees. I don’t want any shitting on this duty. We are in enemy territory, without a village for thirty miles in either direction. Do not disregard any sound. Do no disregard silence either. Be on your guard. There is not a single soul in this forest but us.”

  “Not anymore that is. Right, Axle?” Keegan croons.

  Axle’s face darkens. “Eat shit, bastard!”

  “Keegan, you have first watch,” Gregor says.

  “What! But . . .”

  “Are you defying a direct order, boy?” Gregor asks with raised eyebrows.

  Dirk nudges his son in the shoulder and shakes his head warningly. No – threateningly. Keegan wags his head, a begrudging “no,” and stumbles to his feet.

  As he passes me, sword in hand, he whispers, “If you’re lonely tonight or in need of protection, I’m open to a midnight session in the forest if Shade isn’t in need.”

  “I’m not interested in whatever you could possible teach me.”

  “Oh, but, darling, you’ve no idea what session I’ve planned for us. And you . . .”

  “Are you lounging on a direct order, boy!”

  “No, sir!” Keegan says quickly. He disappears into the dark forest.

  “Shit-head!” Axle mumbles under his breath.

  Gregor chooses two more men from the group to watch the “east and west” sides. “The rest of you . . . get some sleep. Stay alert. We’ve got a long night.” He settles down by the fire and starts warming his hands.

  Shade volunteers to watch the “north” side.

  “You need sleep too, idiot,” Axle protests.

  “I’d rather not get caught with my pants down,” Shade responds.

  Axle shrugs. “Alright. Alright. I won’t argue with you, dumb-ass. But don’t complain when I’m energetic and spry in the morning, and you’re sagging behind like a little old woman.”

  The corner of Shade’s mouth tilts up – an imitation of a half-smile. “It won’t happen.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know. You’re the man of wonders, the man who never sleeps, the man who never loses. Got it. Registers, man.” Axle taps a finger to his temple. “Shove off and let me sleep then. I’m not as fond of midnight watches as you are. Wake me if you’re lonely.” He throws a blanket next to mine.

  “What are you doing?” I twist sideways as he slumps down next to me.

  “Sleeping. I thought I made that obvious. I rarely throw my blanket on the ground for fun.”

  Shade’s chin snaps up. “You can’t sleep there, Axle. You . . .”

  “Why not?” Axle props his arms behind his head and stretches lanky legs across the blanket. They are so long that his feet rest on the hard ground. “I’m not putting myself at the mercy of Dirk and his comrades, thank you very much, pal. Believe it or not, a Kelban seems like a more idealistic partner.”

  Shade fumbles for words. “Yes, but . . . but Kelbans are . . . you shouldn’t be sleeping next to one of them. They . . . she . . .”

  Hot rage burns my cheeks. “Is nothing,” I finish for him. “Don’t worry, Shade. I am ‘ostracized’ and I’ll be sure to know my place. If Axle isn’t offended by my presence and wishes to keep my lonely self company, I am not adverse to it.”

  Shade stares at me. The corner of his jaw moves back and forth, like he’s grinding his teeth. Good. About time I pissed him off.

  Again.

  “Unless, you have objections to me sleeping next to her because maybe she’s . . .” Axle’s mouth widens into a sly grin. “Because you think you’d do a better job?”

  Shade’s eyes blacken. “Vagra flanver!” he snaps and stalks into the forest. I watch him until the faint glow of his Illathonian blades disappear.

  Axle chuckles softly and pulls an animal skin over his shoulders. “G’night, Kelban.”

  “Is that why you’re sleeping next to me?” I ask. “To protect me?”

  “I have ulterior motives, but yes, if you wish to think that, it’s completely fine with me,” Axle whispers back. He reaches out and pulls my own blanket over m
y shoulder, his thumb grazing my skin lightly, before pulling away. He winks.

  I roll my eyes.

  Axle smirks. “He’s gonna be so pissed at me in the morning.”

  “It’s nothing he should be mad over. You can decide who you socialize with, even if that person doesn’t belong among you.” I tuck my arms beneath my head. My feet throb beneath the blankets. River’s shoes are definitely too small.

  Axle laughs like I’ve told a joke.

  “What?”

  “Oh, gods, you are naive” Axle shuffles closer, until our faces our so close I can smell his breath. Hunter’s brew. Murky water. Pine needles. “Is that really why you think he’s mad? Damn, you were such a child even in marriage, weren’t you? Didn’t your husband ever get insanely jealous?”

  I widen my eyes. “You think Shade is jealous?”

  “Time will tell,” Axle says. “He could just be objectifying you. After all, you two hang out all the time. He might be used to having you all to himself and doesn’t want to share. It’s a basic primal instinct.”

  “Now you sound like Keegan,” I balk in disgust.

  “Simply observing my bosom buddy, Kyla Kelonia Bone.” He draws out my middle name in a soft voice. “It wouldn’t be beyond him. He’s objectified a lot of people. Leanna, for instance.”

  The breath leaves my lungs in a soft gasp. “What?”

  “She was the first who didn’t care if he talked to her. She’d talk anyway. She brought him food. Made him clothes. Cleaned his wounds when he came back from a hunt. She didn’t push him. Didn’t ask questions. Just said she’d be there and help if she could. She told him he was a ‘good boy’ and that he just needed ‘time’ to sort through it all. She never had any idea what he’d gone through or what he’d done or what he’d seen. She just let him keep it to himself. Let him stay silent. She didn’t force him to face any of it.” I don’t miss the bitterness in Axle’s voice. “In a way, it broke him. He started talking. He started treating everyone like humans. Masked his hate. His emotions. His true thoughts. Whatever he said, Leanna did. Whatever he asked her to do, she would do. Like a puppet. A perfect, compliant puppet.”

  He notices my startled gaze. “I didn’t hate her, Kyla. Gods, she was the sweetest, strongest girl I’d ever met. Smart. Witty. Talkative. Charming. But she could never understand a person like Shade. She was not willing to breach the things he hid. She wanted him to stay the same elusive, quiet, mysterious boy he was.”

  The same way I’d first thought of him. The same way I’d idolized – no, objectified – him for three years into something he was not. Sadly, I learned how wrong I’d been about him.

  “You’re not an object to him, Kyla,” Axle whispers, “but you’re not nothing to him either. I haven’t figured out what you are to him.”

  “I don’t care what I am to him.” I turn my back and try to sleep.

  Counting doesn’t work this time, though.

  Shade enters camp, mid-morning, with both blades drawn. He appears so suddenly that Keegan chokes on a spoonful of porridge.

  “Pack up,” Shade says quickly. His entire body radiates tension. “The forest is thick. The light won’t keep these monsters away. They will congregate in the shady parts of the forest. We don’t want them to realize they’re not the only ones here.”

  “You heard him,” Gregor prods.

  In fifteen minutes, we’re ready to walk.

  Shade ignores Axle and I.

  “Rough night, pal?” Axle asks him. “Was something on your mind?”

  His reply is Shade’s middle finger.

  “Haven’t seen that one in a while. Usually he’s verbal.” Axle frowns.

  I smile.

  “What?”

  “Pissed-off Shade is more fun,” I say loud enough for him to hear. “I don’t have to listen to him be an asshole.”

  “Excellent point. Hear that, Shade? You’re sexier when you’re quiet.”

  I grab Axle’s arm, fingers digging in. “That’s not what I said!”

  “No? You said he was ‘fun.’ Doesn’t that mean . . . ow, ow! Okay, yield. Yield. Damn it, I said yield!”

  I let go of his ear.

  And I don’t think I imagined it, but Shade’s shoulders shiver as if he were laughing, quietly.

  A stone gateway arches over our heads. A single name is carved on it in bold, thick engraving.

  Brunt.

  Everyone is solemn. Like they’re walking on holy ground.

  Or cursed ground.

  “We’ll make camp here,” Gregor says.

  “But it’s the middle of the day!” Dirk whines. “We can keep going and be in Smoke before nightfall if we . . .”

  “Your eagerness is understandable, good sir. But it is also foolish. There are no clearings. No springs. No natural substances. Brunt is the last inhabitable place on our journey. If we sleep in the middle of the forest, we will certainly decrease our chances of survival,” Gregor says. He glances around sorrowfully. “And though it may be home to ghosts, they will not mind sharing. Make camp, men. We will reach Smoke tomorrow morning.”

  Keegan is tasked with finding a decent campsite and suggests the crumbling remains of what must have once been a tavern. The roof is caved in, leaving only the walls (which suffer from many holes) and a staircase that winds upwards into nothing but air. Hayden suggests it might be more of a prison than a camp, since we are boxed in on all sides. Dirk says it will hide the firelight from demons. Gregor ignores their bickering and sets his packs down in a corner of the building. The argument ceases. The once-upon-a-time tavern is our camp.

  I set my packs in one of the other corners as far from the group as possible and search out the brook that I saw running through the middle of the village. I admire the view on the journey there. Brunt would be gorgeous if it weren’t for the unfortunate ruins and the dismal light.

  Axle is already bending over the water, washing the grime off his back and torso. I note the lash marks on his back. The remains of a burn on his hip. But he doesn’t have the same purposeful, gouged scars like Shade. No one took a dagger to him. Why?

  “The water’s safe,” he says as I get down on my knees next to it.

  I splash some on my face and look around. “What happened here?”

  “What always happens when people get too happy and secure,” Axle mutters without looking up. “Things go to hell.” He purposefully tries to ignore my gaze, but he isn’t fast enough.

  A wave of nausea curls in my stomach. That look in Axle’s eyes is too dark. Too painful.

  Too full of memories.

  Axle stands up and looks straight ahead. He walks through the brook to the other side. Confused, I follow, wiping water from my mouth. I have to jog to catch up with his long legs.

  He stops in front of a beautiful stone house. It’s roof is caved in and the doors and windows are gone. In the stones are carved hundreds of images. Tales. Symbols. I had read about ancient Kelban tradition jotted down in the history books of Master Rolfe’s collection. The ancient Kelbans used to mark their houses with the symbols of the old language every time something beneficial occurred. The birth of a child. A girl’s first bleeding. A marriage. The death of a loved one. All of it was marked upon the surface of a home as a personal history of sorts.

  Axle reaches out and touches the corner of the stones where the door should be. He draws his finger over one of the symbols carved there: a tree with tiny leaflets on it and roots sinking into the ground. A sign of beginning life.

  “My father carved this when River was born,” he says.

  I blink. I remember River telling me where they were from. Brunt. It hadn’t clicked until now. That’s why he didn’t want her to come. She would have seen this. She would have seen her home. Their home.

  “The shadows came seven years later. Sacked the village. Massacred everyone they could find. I don’t know how many escaped but it was less than twenty. My parents . . . I buried what was left when I found them.” The pain
in his voice makes my chest hurt.

  River never told me what happened to her parents. Although, it’s possible, she doesn’t remember very well. Young children find it easier to forget a traumatic experience when a loving relative like Axle is there to depend on.

  I nod in understanding.“So you kill them. Hunt them. Make sure no one else dies.”

  He shrugs. “I became a guardian because I couldn’t stand to see Agron suffer. But it was more than that. I cared about River. She needed a home. A place to be safe. Personally, I’d be fine wandering the countryside and hunting every last shadow I could detect, but she needs me. Needs Agron. Needs Mama Opal and Otis and everyone in that village. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be lonely, cold, hungry, and frightened for her life. I vowed she never would. Not after that day.” He runs his fingers over another of the symbols in the stones – a boy holding a sword. No doubt, his father carved it for him.

  He moves inside the house, touching symbols, smoothing the stones, and muttering under his breath.

  Slowly, I leave him to his solitude. This is not the place for me.

  Did the same thing happen to Shade?

  I cannot return to camp. Instead, I head uphill. There are still stone steps where people must have taken morning strolls. I am sure many a lover walked the molded stones on a moonlit night, staring at the stars blinking in the openings of the trees. If it weren’t for the bloodstains dried on their gray forms, they would be beautiful. The steps finally disappear into a grove of trees with red and white buds between the leaves. Several skeletons are scattered around the trunks, their bones jutting at awkward positions. Broken. Smashed. Torn apart.

  My stomach sinks at the gruesome sight. They were tortured.

  I turn around. I won’t stay here. It’s too familiar. Too painful. Too . . .

  I face a lone body tied upright against one of the ashen trees. Red buds sit upon the shoulder-blades. A caterpillar rests in one of the barren eye-sockets. Patches of remaining hair, flaxen blonde, twist in the light breeze blowing around us. My throat tightens. Those empty holes that used to be eyes stare right at me. The rawhide binding the poor skeleton’s arms to the tree are still tightly knotted. They didn’t kill this one. They made it watch as they tore the others limb from limb.