Owen bit at his cheek but said nothing. They continued their way across the road and through the fields at a steady pace. At noon, they broke their walk to eat. Colt readied his bow and quiver to hunt in the woods nearby, and Amias suggested he take Owen with him.
“You might as well teach him a bit,” he said. “It could help us all.”
“You going to pay me something for that?” Colt said, but then he waved him off.
Owen half expected Colt to hunt without teaching him anyway, but Colt proved him wrong.
“Take the bow,” Colt said, handing it to him.
Owen smoothed a hand over its frame. Its wood was simple, yet strong, and the string was tight and sturdy. When Colt handed him an arrow, he lined it against the string, but struggled at pulling back.
“Nock it here. Don’t just pull back before you’re ready, and grip it here.” Colt placed Owen’s hand on the grip, where the bow recurved slightly. “The string will be a bit hard to pull back on at first.”
After several minutes of pulling back on the string and lining up the arrow, Owen felt good enough to try a hand at shooting. He dropped the arrow on his first attempt and nearly shot Colt’s foot on his second. By his third attempt, he managed to shoot an arrow into the ground a good distance away. He was sure all his failed attempts would gain him flak from his teacher, but much to his surprise, Colt was patient and told him to try again until he got it.
On his tenth try, Owen shot the arrow into a nearby tree. He smiled as he retrieved it and brought it back.
“That’s enough for now,” Colt said. “We can hunt later.”
Owen straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. “I’m sore already. How do you do this all the time?”
“Lots of practice. May take you years before you get it.”
“Years . . .” Owen doubted Colt would stay with them that long. Would he need to rely on hunting from now on? Would he and Amias spend the rest of their days in the wilderness of Avathon, living among the trees and animals?
He glanced up at the pines surrounding them, and his heart jolted when he spotted something black in the distance. Owen blinked several times. The dark mass was like a smudge against his vision, disappearing more every time he looked. It matched the strange floating shapes he’d seen last night.
“What’s wrong?” Colt asked.
Owen stepped forward, his head hot from holding his breath. He walked around the trees, his feet moving faster. An unintelligible voice whispered to him through the woods, and eyes seemed to watch his every move. The world blurred, the noises of nature deafening him until all he could hear was his heart pounding in his head and a whisper calling for him.
“Seek it.”
“Hey!” A hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him around.
Owen gasped and looked up, his eyes wide as his vision cleared.
Colt’s brow creased. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know. I thought I . . .” Looking back, Owen searched for the dark figure who had whispered to him, but it was gone. The chirps of birds and the scurrying of squirrels replaced the thunderous flow of blood in his head. “I just thought I saw an imp.”
Colt’s lips tightened, and he rolled his eyes. “You’re the only imp I see. Come on, let’s get back before Amias comes looking for us.”
They met Amias back in the clearing and began their trek across the field.
“How about you try your hand at channeling while we walk?” Amias asked.
“You mean right now?” Owen looked around nervously, still distracted by the shadow in the woods. “What if someone sees me?”
“Aren’t any folks around but us,” Colt said, and pointed ahead. “Main road’s that way, and ain’t no one on it at the moment.”
“I’m not ready to channel.”
Amias smirked. “I think you should. It would be good practice for you.”
“I haven’t tried it in a long time. I’m not sure what to do. I only read auras.”
“Ha!” Colt popped a few berries in his mouth. “Auras, huh? Indulge in a lot of lore to call it that, you do.”
“Yes, I do. And I like lore, thank you.” From the corner of his eye, Owen saw Colt smile crookedly.
“Listen,” Amias said. “It’s not something that has to be difficult. You have to open more than your senses to channel.” He reached out his arms and splayed his fingers as if feeling something. “Everything is connected—the roots as they plant into the dirt, the clouds as they drift low, the animals as they enter the cycle of life. You have to get a feel for this energy surrounding you. Open yourself up to it, grab it, and use it.” He moved his arm out, as if he were channeling himself.
Taking a ragged breath, Owen tried opening himself up to his surroundings, but the most he could do was sense the stirrings of woodland creatures among the trees and slight vibrations around him as they walked. Then came the overpowering zest of bitter citrus.
He glowered at Colt, who was busy looking along the land as he ate. For some reason, his new companion was taking up all his senses, flowing heavily.
When Colt turned to him, he flinched and said, “What’s with you?”
“I can’t do it,” Owen said, turning to Amias.
“Maybe close your eyes and do it.”
When Owen stopped walking and closed his eyes, he branched his power out again to reach for open energies in the grass, trees, and sky. He found the wind as it caressed his cheek. As he reached his hand out, it was as if the air itself coiled around his arm, cool to the touch. Had he somehow managed to get a grasp on the breeze?
When he moved his hand down, a gust of air blew around them. The grass ruffled softly.
“Was that the wind, or you?” Colt looked behind them.
Owen looked up quickly. “It was me. At least, I think it was.”
“It was you. You channeled.” Amias beamed at him. Then his mouth slowly turned downward, and he looked away.
“Are you all right?” Owen put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.”
A shadow moved within his gaze, but when Owen jerked around, he saw nothing.
“Something wrong?” Amias looked along with him.
The wind tousled the long blades of grass, rippling them like water. The air seemed to whisper, like before. It sent a chill through him. “I thought I saw something.”
“Another Outrider?”
Owen rubbed his eyes. “No. I think I’m just tired.”
“You fell asleep during watch,” Colt stated.
“I’m not used to sleeping outside, though. I never could fall into a deep sleep.”
“You’ll have a bed soon enough,” said Amias. “Come on.”
Arcan, please keep us safe and keep any shadows at bay. He sealed his prayer silently without his companions seeing as they continued on, though uneasiness washed over him.
Though Owen tried to ward off the shadow, it seemed to stay. He was not sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him or if something lingered there, moving between the grass and trees along the way. Perhaps he was too on edge. He needed more sleep, and a good roaring fire to warm his bones.
“You’re lagging behind pretty far, there, mate!” Colt called out.
Looking up, Owen noticed how far away Colt and Amias were. His heart was constantly drumming and his breathing was ragged. At the moment, his mind weighed as much as his bag. Both slowed him down considerably.
“Don’t worry,” Owen breathed. “I’ll catch up eventually.”
Colt and Amias stopped and waited.
“Think you could carry him the rest of the way, Colt?” Amias laughed softly as Owen walked up to them and exhaled, his shoulders slumping.
“Probably.” Colt looked him up and down. “He can’t weigh more than a sack of potatoes.”
Owen cut his eyes at him. “I rather like potatoes,” he panted. “Especially with butter and pepper.”
“A bit of milk and eggs in it is good
, too.”
“Eggs?” Owen pulled a face. “I’m not sure about eggs in my potatoes.”
“It’s actually pretty good,” Amias cut in. “Especially if you mash it all up. Back in the citadel, the cooks allowed us a variety of spices. Paprika was one of my favorites. It gives everything a burst of flavor. It was especially good on fish and eggs.”
Colt suddenly picked up his walk again. “All right, all this talk is making me hungry. I’ll see you both at the inn.”
Owen held back a smile as he trudged along once again. When he glanced behind him one more time, he exhaled in relief to see no more shadows.
Chapter 8
Elian stood in silence as he looked down at the remains of the Outrider. The gut was spilled out and the Core missing from its neck. He squinted, pondering how someone had defeated it.
From this height on the cliff, he could see much of the coast. The wind whipped the tails of his long dark coat around his legs. He welcomed the chill. There was something refreshing about it. He glanced briefly at the ocean; it looked a bit different on the west coast than it did on the east near the outskirts of Alacor. There were more rocks here, and the sand was darker.
So damp and dreary here, he thought.
Rhielle approached him, bringing him out of his stupor.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Amias, or someone else?”
Strands of blonde hair whipped around her face in the breeze.
“The smith in Emberton said he saw him go this way from the house on the cliff,” Elian replied. “He’s moving south now.”
“Amias seems to have a plan.” She looked around at the mess and nudged the Outrider’s paw with her scuffed boot. “He stopped to pick up that lad the smith mentioned.”
“Yes, he has friends everywhere. No doubt someone to protect him. It seems he’s had a plan outlined for a while. He didn’t kill this thing on his own. These dumb animals are designed to go after Astrans. This Owen, and the other man he’s with, they’re aiding him. Makes it a little harder, but Amias isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.”
“So should I send a message to Alacor? I can ride to the post a few miles in.”
“Not yet. We’ve just picked up his trail. I want to bring him to the Elder myself.”
Rhielle cast her eyes away and chuckled before turning on her heel.
Elian reached into the leather pouch attached to his belt and pulled out his brass-colored Core. He drew in a deep breath as he let the orb fill the palm of his hand. The Core rested quietly, as if in a deep slumber, its sharp designs unlit for now.
The memory of Anna’s ritual flashed in his mind, of her lying dead in her own blood upon the hard, cold stones. He rubbed the metal with his thumb. The brothers and sisters of the Core had a superstition that even inside a Core, an Astran’s power held a part of the person it had belonged to.
He wondered if the girl’s soul was somehow locked away inside the mechanical sphere along with her power. After such a hard ritual, it turned out that Anna had not been Starborn after all, but she’d resisted the Core with her very life. An Astran who came out of a ritual with their power intact was Starborn. Elian had known none in his lifetime.
With a wince, he put away his Core, turned to Tuck, and patted his sleek, brown neck. The horse nickered, nudging Elian’s face with his snout, and Elian gave him a sugar cube before climbing onto the saddle. “There’s a village not far from here,” he said. “We’ll check there.”
After riding all morning and through the afternoon, Elian and Rhielle arrived in Green Springs. Their horses were tired and in need of rest, so they tethered them up at a post nearby.
“Brush them down and check their hooves,” Elian told Rhielle. “Whatever we find here, we’ll need to rest for the night before pressing on.”
“Oh, all right.” She went to remove the saddle from her mare. “I’m all for some sleep.”
“I’ll ask around town for Amias. Do you want anything from the shop?”
Rhielle looked at him hesitantly, then finally said, “Yeah, a decent ale.”
Elian smirked. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He left promptly. A few women carrying baskets stopped and greeted him with nervous smiles. No doubt they caught sight of the Legion pin on his coat, which represented Yuna, or the silver emblem chained on his belt, engraved with a Core.
He nodded at them as he strolled to the bread shop in the heart of the village. Several yellowing leaves spiraled around him, some catching on his coat. He brushed them away before entering the small store.
The bell chimed, alerting an older, gray-haired man. “Ah, good day, sir. What an honor to have a Wielder out this way. What can I do for you?”
Elian said nothing. He walked casually around, looking over the colorful fruits and vegetables neatly organized in crates on the shelf, at the sacks of flour and sugar sitting on the ground. He peered around the counter and caught sight of fresh loaves of bread on display.
“A charming store you have here.” He flashed a smile. “Very organized and tidy.”
The clerk bowed his head in respect. “Many thanks. I aim to serve the best products this side of Milarc. Down in Torke we’ve got a cafe. Come up this way to spread our name. So far it’s done us well.”
“I’ll have to visit it sometime. I’ll take half a loaf of rye and some butter for the road.”
“Will do.”
As the man sliced the bread, Elian cleared his throat. “Also, I was wondering if you might be of some help. I’m looking for someone who may have come out this way. Have you had any other travelers in the past day or two?”
The man looked at him curiously. “Well, we don’t get many travelers once the autumn season’s started, but we have our own huts set up outside, free for the dreaming wanderer. Green Springs is a marvel out in these parts. I told the village master to start charging folks. A good bit of coin could do the village upright.”
“I see. Is there anyone at all that might have stuck out to you? A man in his fifties, perhaps? Short, balding, light beard, exactly six feet, light brown eyes, and no doubt asking about tea?”
The clerk froze and raised his brows. “Down to the specifics.” He thought for a moment and nodded. “Come to think of it, I do remember someone. Just the other day. A man came in and bought some bread and other goods. Asked about Wielders in the area. I told him there were none I’d seen lately. He did ask about tea, but he didn’t buy any.”
“And then he left?”
“Stayed the night, I believe, with two other lads. Haven’t seen him since.”
Elian nodded and took the wrapped bread. “Much obliged. Good luck with your store. Oh, and do you know where I might be able to get a good ale?”
“There’s a quiet pub just down the way. A bit of a small place, but the best ale you’ll taste for miles.”
Elian gave the man more coin than what his food was worth and thanked him again.
The man smiled and nodded before tucking his profit away. “Good day to you, sir, and come back now.”
Elian came out into the breezy evening and met with Rhielle as she finished tending to their horses.
“What, no ale?” she asked.
“There’s a pub down the path. We can eat and drink a while.”
“Did you find anything out?”
“We’re on the right track. And if he’s on foot it won’t take us long to catch up to him. I got us some bread for the road, too.”
When they came to the small building near the end of the path, they sat at a table in the corner. The barman tended to them, bringing them ale and a pitcher of water, and both of them a bowl of vegetable stew from the cauldron outside.
Rhielle ate hungrily from her bowl, sopping the zesty juices with a slice of bread from the shop. “Who knew so much time traveling would make one’s ass sore,” she mumbled.
Elian glanced at a few folks sitting at the bar. At the moment there were only two others there, but the patrons glanced their w
ay so he kept his voice low. “I find it better than sitting in Alacor, attending meetings and hanging on the word of the masters at all times,” he said.
“Hm. They’re a bit pompous, if you ask me. They get upset over the slightest mishap.”
“Well, a Wielder has to be constantly on the lookout for Astrans and keep tabs on the ones who are marked. If we slack off, they don’t like it.” He took a drink of water from his cup and ate his stew slowly. “So take into account that once you’re a Wielder, they won’t let you get away with much. They’re lenient with assistants.”
“Do I need to be taking notes on this?”
“Just be glad you weren’t a Wielder a hundred years ago. Things are much easier now.”
Rhielle laughed and propped her foot up on another chair. “Not even you were a Wielder that long ago.”
Elian smiled crookedly. “And I’m very grateful for that.”
“I heard the people in Wheaton calling us witches, dabblers in dark magic. Think they’d start a revolt?” She raised her brows.
Dark magic. It was something the common folk accused the Legion of, and many of the common folk up north were willing to protect the Astrans. He knew it well enough. The practice of the Cleansing was no more magic than smoke and mirrors. What they called dark magic was a chemistry that would not be possible without the presence of Astran power.
To extract power from an Astran, they had to lay the lines out perfectly, speak the words right, and most importantly, use a Core. It was where the extorted essence fled to. Elian could not quite understand it, but that was what he’d known to be true for the last twenty years of his studies. And the Wielders before him had known it, all the way back to the one who created the Cleansing ritual herself.
It was no dark magic. It was a divine rite.
He felt the curve of his Core at his side through the pouch. At the moment it was quiet; no hum or glow.
“The common folk can think what they want. We Wielders know what’s true and what’s not.” He took in the last few bites of his stew with a piece of bread.
“Wielders?” A man at the bar staggered to his feet. “We don’t take kindly to Wielders in these parts.”
Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1) Page 9
