The Outlanders

by Erin Rhew

  “Are you a former Vanguard, Creede?” Layla continued her walk, needing to stretch her legs after hours of being cramped in the same position. Vanguard restlessness stirred within her muscles.

  Creede fell in beside her. “My former kingdom is irrelevant here in Volton. At this time, I am simply Volton Holt’s assistant.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “No offense taken.” Creede smiled.

  Embarrassed over her gaff, Layla attempted to change the subject. “So, where is Volton Holt?”

  “He is attending to his studies.”

  “And what is it that you study, Creede?”

  “When a young man enters the Voltons, he studies from each of the five disciplines—medical, instruction, kingdom, research, and black arts. At the end of his studies, the Volton chooses his preferred field. He must meet with the Volton Council, who will ultimately decide his fate, but he has the ability to weigh in on his choice. I have already studied with the first four disciplines, and I now study black arts with Volton Holt.”

  Layla’s curiosity piqued. “What are black arts exactly?”

  “Each black arts Volton selects his own particular specialty.”

  “Are Voltons always this cryptic?”

  “Always.” Creede grinned. “Particularly those involved in the black arts. I can tell you that Volton Holt has a specific interest in the First Ones and the Outlanders, but I cannot give you any details.”

  Layla stopped short and faced the trainee. “Since you are not a sworn Volton yet, could you tell me what powers the Outlanders possess?”

  Creede shifted from one foot to the other. “Though I have not yet chosen my field of study, I still consider myself a Volton. We cannot reveal secrets about one kingdom to another. I am very sorry.”

  Layla bit her lip in consternation. “I understand.”

  If only she could find out more information about the Outlanders. She hated the idea of going into their kingdom unprepared, and Mia had proven an unreliable resource. Maybe Volton Holt’s quarters held a clue…

  * * * *

  Layla waited in her chair for Wil to fall asleep. Once he had, she eased her hand from his and stood. Earlier, she’d offered to walk Creede back to his studies to find out where Volton Holt kept his research, so Layla knew how to get to the man’s office.

  She cracked Wil’s door, checking up and down the hall for approaching Voltons. Because of the late hour, no one traversed the wooden corridors. Layla breathed a sigh of relief and started to step out.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Layla froze. Had Wil pretended to be asleep? “We can’t walk into the Outlands without knowing a thing about them.” She informed him without turning around.

  “You could try asking Volton Holt. He may be more forthcoming than you expect.”

  Layla rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “Have you ever tried talking to these people? I might as well talk to a rock for all the information they give me.”

  Wil chuckled. “You’re going no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “At least promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “If I’m asleep when you get back, wake me so I know you are safe.”

  “I will,” she said again, though Layla knew she wouldn’t. He needed his rest, if they hoped to ride to the Outlands the following afternoon.

  “Promise me, Layla.”

  “I promise.” He knew her too well.

  Layla closed the door behind her, slipping down the corridors until she reached Volton Holt’s office. She gripped the knob and turned, shocked to find it unlocked given how secretive the black arts Voltons claimed to be.

  She closed and locked the door behind her. Layla fumbled along the wall in the darkness until she located a candle. With shaking hands, she struck a match and lit the wick. The tiny flickering light illuminated a small section of the room. She set the candle in a holder on top of the Volton’s main workspace. Papers lay scattered about the table. She dug at a frenzied pace, the need for information compounded by the desire to find it before being discovered.

  The words First Ones, Crus, Ree, Zed, Poden, Haddey, Cataleen repeated on several different parchments, but she couldn’t make sense of any of it. The name Poden sounded somewhat familiar, though she didn’t know why. Layla growled in frustration. She wanted to know more about the Outlanders. Why couldn’t he just have a sheet of paper lying on the top of the pile that answered all her questions? Would that be too much to ask?

  Layla rifled through more until the word Outlander caught her attention. She yanked the sheaf out and held it toward the candlelight.

  At that moment, the doorknob jiggled. Layla started to cry out in surprise but clamped her hand over her mouth. She scrambled for a place to hide, settling on the small, cramped area under Volton Holt’s desk. Blowing out the candle, she crammed herself into the space, the Outlander paper still in her hand.

  “I thought I left that unlocked.” She recognized Holt’s baritone voice as he muttered to himself.

  A key rattled in the lock and, with a slight squeak of hinges, the door opened and closed. Light footsteps echoed in the little workroom as he walked. The Volton must have been lighting candles as the office became more illuminated as he moved. He stopped at his desk. Layla imagined him scratching his beard, perplexed as he examined the jumble of the papers she had scattered.

  She tried to calm her breathing, hoping to make as little noise as possible to avoid detection. The Volton’s legs hovered right in front of her face. She hoped he didn’t plan to sit, or his feet would discover her.

  “You can come out now.”

  At first, Layla didn’t move. Was he talking to her? He couldn’t have deduced her presence a mere few minutes after entering the room. Could he? The Volton tapped his foot.

  “Please don’t make me hunt for you. I know you’re in here. Just come out.”

  With a resigned sigh, Layla tapped the Volton’s shoe. He stepped back just enough so she could crawl out, keeping her hair over her face to hide her mortification.

  To her surprise, Volton Holt laughed. She jerked her head up.

  “What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You think you’re the first person to break into my study? You’re the third person this week.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. My particular branch of the black arts often attracts attention. So, tell me, Layla, why are you in my study this evening?” He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she placed the Outlander paper into it.

  “Outlanders, huh?”

  Layla lowered her gaze. “I need information about them. I asked our Volton, Volton Mars, and I asked your assistant, Creede, yesterday. No one will tell me the truth.”

  Holt gestured for her to sit in a chair next to his own. They both sat. Folding his hands, he stared at her for quite some time. Her face grew warm under the scrutiny.

  “Volton?”

  Holt shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “I’m sorry. You just remind me of someone I used to know a very long time ago.”

  “I thought you weren’t allowed to think about your life and family outside of this place.” Yet, she thought the same of him…something about the expressions he made, the way he tilted his head to the side seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.

  “You’re correct. We aren’t supposed to. I think any man here would tell you it’s difficult.”

  “Do you have a family?”

  “Yes, I had a brother.”

  “You never married?”

  The color of the Volton’s eyes deepened as did the lines on his face. “I was married once. She died shortly after we said our vows.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.” Holt cleared his throat. Indeed, his wife’s death may have been a long time ago, as he said, but Layla saw how much the loss still affected him.

&nb
sp; “Is that why you became a Volton?”

  “Yes.” He relaxed further into the chair. “So tell me what you want to know about the Outlanders.”

  Her heart quickened. Maybe Wil had read Holt better than she had. Maybe he would provide her with helpful information. But how could he, a member of the High Council, betray the Volton vows when a mere trainee upheld them?

  “I need to know about their powers. That information could prove to be a matter of life or death.”

  Volton Holt raised an eyebrow. “Sounds serious? As much as I hate to say this, I cannot tell you about Outlander powers. I would be violating my vows, as I’m sure Volton Mars told you when you asked him.” Frustrated, she crossed her arms over her chest. “But I may be able to provide you with important information that would not contradict my oath.”

  “Really?” Layla sat up straighter in her chair.

  “I will help you as much as I can within the confines of my pledge.”

  She thought about Wil. He would want to hear this information too. “Would you mind coming with me to Wil’s room? I’d like him to hear what you have to say as well.”

  “Of course.” The Volton stood, straightened his papers, and opened the door.

  She watched as he locked it, checking three times to ensure no one could enter. Satisfied, Holt joined her in the hallway. As they walked in companionable silence, she stole a few glances at him, trying to understand why he appeared so familiar.

  “You used to be a Vanguard.” She didn’t ask, as she had done with Creede, but stated it as fact.

  “I did.” She drew back, shocked he admitted his former allegiance.

  When he tilted his head again, his eyebrow raised in slight amusement, the truth crashed into her.

  “You said you had a brother…he’s Jensen Mantar! You’re Samson and Grant’s uncle!”

  “Yes.” He gazed off into the distance. “I was his brother. I am now simply a Volton. Please do not tell Samson or Grant. We are not allowed to have contact with our family members, and I could get in a lot of trouble for admitting them into Volton knowing they are related to me.”

  “I won’t tell. My adoptive father mentioned a few times that he used to have a brother. I asked him what he meant, but he wouldn’t explain. I never understood…until now.”

  “We did not part under the best circumstances. The death of my wife rattled me to my core. My brother thought I was making a rash decision by coming here, and we had a big fight at the Day of Dawning ceremony. I left Medlin that day and never came back.”

  His shoulders slumped, and his gaze seemed to wander to a far off place. His sadness fell upon her like teardrops, soaked with a palatable ache. She longed to say something to ease his pain, but the right words failed her. This quasi-uncle turned Volton, while more amicable than most of his people, still remained detached, out of reach.

  When they arrived at the door to Wil’s room, she cracked it open and poked her head inside. Hallway candles provided enough light for her to see Wil’s blue eyes staring back at her.

  “Got caught I see.” His white teeth flashed in the dark.

  She rolled her eyes, which just made him laugh. His laughter, done without wincing, spoke volumes about the Voltons’ healing abilities. She would be forever grateful to them. She had come too close to losing Wil too many times already.

  She took a lit candle from the hallway and entered the room, and Holt followed. Layla closed the door and engaged the lock, ensuring their meeting remained clandestine. “The Volton can’t tell us about the Outlander’s powers, but he has agreed to provide us information within the confines of his vows.”

  “Thank you, Volton Holt. We appreciate whatever you can share.” Wil struggled to push himself up higher on the pillow.

  Holt sat in the large rocking chair in the corner while Layla lit candles around the room. When she finished, she reclaimed her seat beside Wil. Even in the candlelight, she saw color had returned to his cheeks.

  “Do you know the story of the First Ones?” Volton Holt asked, folding his hands but leaving his two index fingers in a v against his lips.

  Wil shook his head. “We only know what the Ecclesiastics tell us. Volton Mars once told me the story of the First Ones that used to be told from generation to generation, but the practice ceased once the Ecclesiastics began.”

  “Mars is not wrong. The message of the First Ones—their beginning, their struggle, their end, the cause of the war—all belong to the Ecclesiastics now. They dole out only what benefits the current Elder. Despite the attempt of Elders past and present to control dissemination of the message, I managed to collect a vast wealth of information about the ones who came before us. Their story is one of love, lies, treachery, death, and war. We are all descendants of this legacy.”

  Layla wrinkled her nose. “So you believe in the First Ones and the Prophecy? Mars said he believed only in what he could see.”

  “Each Volton must choose his own path and must believe to the degree he determines. Our pasts, they shape and form the Voltons we become, whether my people admit that truth or not.”

  “How does your past shape you?” She knew she shouldn’t pry, but curiosity won out.

  The corner of Holt’s mouth quirked. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “But you can tell us this long lost story of the First Ones,” Wil prompted.

  The Volton nodded. “Eons ago, people existed without powers. They lived much like we do here in the Village today. Then, centuries ago, two children—a boy and a girl, each born to separate families—demonstrated strange powers never before seen. Their abilities terrified the townspeople, so they banished the children to the Borderlands.

  “I’m sure the children were expected to die—and their strange abilities to die with them—but they did not. Instead, the boy, Crus, and the girl, Ree, prospered in the wilderness. They soon grew into adults and had three children of their own—Zed, Poden, and Haddey.”

  Layla recognized those names from the papers on the Volton’s desk. She leaned in closer, interested. Wil reached out and took her hand. A tingle ran up her arm. The warmth of his skin distracted her. With difficulty, she turned her attention back to Holt and his story.

  “What special powers did Crus and Ree possess?” Wil reeled her back into the conversation.

  “They were Seers.”

  “What are those?” Layla asked.

  “Seers can predict the future.”

  Wil sat up a little straighter. “The future…”

  Ignoring all the times Holt had avoided answering her, Layla pressed. “Is that what the Outlanders can do?”

  The Volton tapped a finger against his lips, a smile playing there. “You know I cannot tell you that. But the ability to see the future is a powerful tool and could be a powerful weapon, so you see why people were afraid of Crus and Ree. The two bore three children who were also gifted with unique abilities of their own.”

  “Three children, three kingdoms,” Layla whispered.

  “Correct. As children, Zed, Poden, and Haddey were inseparable. The two older boys looked after their younger sister, and she aspired to be just like them. As they grew into adulthood, the three siblings grew jealous of one another’s powers. What started as simple squabbles escalated.

  “When Ree foresaw the deaths of Zed and Poden at the hands of Haddey, she attempted to change the future. She and Crus banished Zed, Poden, and Haddey to separate kingdoms, hoping their children would create new, better lives for themselves.”

  Wil’s blue eyes sparked with intrigue. “Can a Seer actually change the future?”

  “Good question, King Wilhelm. After sending their children away, Ree and Crus lost the ability to see the future.”

  “Lost it?” Layla furrowed her brow. “How could they just lose it?”

  “Also a good question, which raises even more questions. You see how studying the First Ones can take a lifetime?” He held up his hands in a helpless gesture, grinning. “Ree and Crus
had sent their children off into the unknown, a scary proposition for any parent but especially those used to having advanced knowledge.

  “Zed went to Etherea, Poden to Vanguard, and Haddey to the Outlands. With their unique abilities, they rose to power within each kingdom, ousting the former monarchies with ease. They intermingled with the surrounding population. Soon, children were born bearing powers. The First Ones planted a genetic seed of jealousy within each new person.

  “With the combative siblings at the helm, the three kingdoms—which had always lived in peace before—waged war. The strife between their children, now passed on to their offspring, burdened the hearts of Crus and Ree. On her death bed, Ree received a final vision after years and years without one. She saw her children’s descendants engaged in war for centuries, just as they had been for years. But she also foresaw a day when peace reigned. From his wife’s last vision, Crus wrote the Prophecy and about the Fulfillment.”

  Wil glanced at Layla before he turned his attention back to Holt. “What happened to Zed, Poden, and Haddey?”

  The Volton let out a long, slow breath. “Zed and Poden died at the hands of their sister, Haddey, just as their parents feared. Even the distance did not prevent her deadly plan. After that, the Outlanders retreated from the war, and they still sit on the sidelines to this day.”

  Layla sat back in her chair. Could Crus and Ree, Seers from centuries before, really have predicted her birth and the impact it would have on the warring descendants of their children? Did they also foresee her marriage…to Wil or to Nash?

  “What if they were wrong?” She posed the same question to Volton Holt that she had posed to Elder Werrick. While he had chastised her for it, the Volton appeared unaffected.

  “Do you believe they were?”

  Riding in the carriage with Elder Werrick all those months ago, her future uncertain, Layla had wondered whether or not she believed in the Prophecy. At that time, a big part of her didn’t even care whether or not the ancient script held merit. Her desire to return home and live a peaceful life with her family trumped all else. She thought of Etherea, of all the people she’d come to know and care for, of the way she’d experienced Ethereal, Vanguards, and Voltons working together. Now, she believed peace could be achieved. She found herself hoping, believing, Crus and Ree had been right about the Prophecy and the Fulfillment.