Face Of The Void (Desa Kincaid Book 3)

by R S Penney

  Desa ran out into the open.

  Triggering the Gravity-Sink in her belt buckle, she jumped and flew straight up into the air. She retrieved a coin from her coat pocket, a special coin that would apply kinetic energy to her body and nothing else. She had discovered the means of creating such a thing in Ithanar; it was a simple inversion of the lattice she used to exempt herself from a Sink or a Source. This particular Infusion exempted everything but her.

  Tossing the coin out behind herself, Desa triggered it and used the wave of kinetic energy to propel herself over the stream. Then she stretched her hand out and activated the ring around her pinky. A Gravity-Source that would only pull on one thing.

  The coin slammed into her palm, and she closed her fingers around it.

  She let gravity reassert itself for only an instant. That was enough to put her on a downward trajectory. She saw the dark ground and the distant fire rushing up to meet her. Extending her hand, Desa triggered the Force-Sink in her bracelet, using it to decelerate.

  She landed in a crouch at the edge of the firelight, then stood up and began a slow march forward. “All right,” she said. “That’s quite enough. Let her go.”

  The three of them stared at her bug-eyed. Whatever they might have heard about Pikeman’s Gorge, they had not been expecting a woman who swooped down from the heavens like a hawk on the hunt.

  The young man licked his lips, then averted his gaze. He released the girl, but she didn’t run or try to get away from him. “We um…We were just having a little fun.”

  “Jonas is my betrothed,” the young woman explained.

  “Betrothed?”

  Heaving out a sigh, the girl stepped forward and smoothed her skirts. She was quite pretty: tall and slim with a round face and brown hair that she wore in a braid. “We’re to be married in the spring. He likes to tease me.”

  The older fellow had long, gray hair and a beard to match. His clothes were worn from many long days of travel, but he carried no weapons that Desa could see. She was beginning to think that she might have misread this situation. “Forgive my son and future daughter in law,” he pleaded. “They sometimes get carried away.”

  Folding her arms, Desa frowned at them. “A poor place for it,” she said. “Any number of unsavoury people pass through Pikeman’s Gorge. If I had wanted to rob you…”

  Raising a hand to forestall her, the old man shut his eyes and nodded. “Your point is well taken,” he said. “I was just about to insist that we turn in.”

  “I think that might be wise.”

  Desa slipped back into the darkness, moving as quietly as she could to make it that much harder for them to track her. She didn’t want them to see her using a Gravity-Sink to go back across the tiny river. They had already seen too much. Her goal was to pass through this region without incident. She had no desire to set tongues wagging about a woman who could fly. Maybe those fools were headed south, or maybe north. But if they showed up in a village where she had stopped for the night, it could mean trouble.

  It took almost ten minutes for her to make her way back to Midnight. She had to take hold of the Ether twice to find her way in the darkness, but doing so gave her a chance to look in on the three travelers. They had indeed climbed into their bedrolls and put out their fire. Desa prayed to Mercy that no one dangerous was lurking in the canyon tonight. If so, she had exposed herself to even more unwelcome attention.

  She fell asleep only moments after laying down.

  The crunch of rocks under shoes woke her, and she had to suppress the urge to sigh. Better if whoever was out there thought that she was still asleep. Maybe they would slink past without troubling her. She almost laughed. Since when was her luck that good?

  “Are you sure she went this way?” Jonas whispered.

  “Quiet!” his father hissed.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” the young woman protested. “You saw what she did. There are other targets.”

  With the utmost care, Desa slid out of her bedroll and stood up, hiding between the trunks of two tall pine trees. She removed the ring from her third finger and tossed it down into the muck.

  Then she listened.

  Midnight was perfectly still, not making a sound. She could feel him looking at her. He wanted to know what he ought to do. Just sit tight, she thought at him. I’ll handle this.

  The seconds passed like hours, and then she heard the scuff of boots nearby. One of those idiots was right in front of her; she could smell him. Unless she missed her guess, it was the younger man. He was breathing hard, clearly agitated. She heard a soft click when he cocked the hammer of his pistol.

  With a thought, Desa triggered the Light-Source in her ring, causing it to glow. Jonas raised a hand to shield himself from the glare. That momentary distraction gave her time to march forward.

  The young fool tried to point his weapon at her.

  Twisting out of the way, Desa caught his forearm with both hands. She wrenched his wrist hard enough to make him drop the gun, sending a jolt of pain through his body. She stepped on his foot, producing a yelp, then elbowed him in the face.

  Jonas fell hard on his backside.

  Footsteps nearby.

  Desa stooped to retrieve the fallen pistol, then spun around and pointed it into the thicket. The young woman emerged from the darkness with a knife in hand, freezing in her tracks when she saw the gun.

  “Drop it,” Desa ordered.

  Steel clattered to the ground; the child was wise enough to do as she was told. Which only left the old man. That one had to be skulking around here somewhere. She listened for him but heard nothing.

  “Over there!” Desa growled, gesturing with her pistol. “Sit with your beloved.” The girl hopped to obey, scooting over to Jonas and kneeling in the mud next to him. Two down. Now, where was-

  “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

  She turned around to find the old coot standing at the edge of the light with a revolver pointed at Midnight’s head. His mouth cracked, revealing yellow teeth, and his eyes shone with the thrill of triumph. “But I suspect this beast means more to you than you’re willing to let on.”

  Desa held his gaze, suppressing the anger that compelled her to act. Anger and humiliation. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten the drop on her. “You don’t want to hurt that horse.”

  The old man chuckled. “Yes, I’m inclined to agree,” he said. “So, if you’ll just give us your money and your supplies, we’ll be on our way.”

  “You want money? It’s in the saddlebags.”

  Like a greedy squirrel digging for nuts, he began rifling through her bags, checking every pocket. It took him all of thirty seconds to find a small pouch that jingled. “Now, what might this be?”

  Fishing out a copper penny, he held it between his thumb and forefinger, squinting as he tried to read the Aladri script. “Never seen currency like this before. But I reckon it spends as well as any other.”

  He tossed the coin up with a chuckle and then caught it in his closed fist. “Thank you, madam. You’ve been most obliging.”

  Desa triggered the Heat-Source she had Infused into the metal.

  The old man gasped, dropping the coin and his pistol as well. Reluctantly, he lifted a trembling hand and whimpered at the sight of blisters on his palm.

  Desa charged forward.

  She kicked his knee, forcing him to bend over, and then slugged him square in the nose. The poor fool staggered, trying his darndest to stay on his feet.

  Desa spun for a hook-kick, her heel striking the old man’s cheek. Thrown to the ground, he landed on his side and raised a hand to shield himself, terrified of the pummeling he expected to receive.

  Desa knelt beside him.

  Pressing the barrel of her gun to his forehead, she let her finger curl around the trigger. “I trust I’ve made my point,” she said. “You’ll behave yourself?”

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  “Good,” she murmured. “Never
threaten my horse again.”

  Half an hour later, she had the three of them kneeling by the riverbank with ropes binding their wrists and ankles. Young Jonas kept struggling against his restraints, but the other two had been chastened. They refused to look up.

  A glowing coin on the ground let her keep an eye on them while she checked each of her saddlebags to make sure that nothing had been taken. She could feel her Sinks and Sources as little bundles of awareness in the back of her mind, and she knew they were all accounted for. The food she had purchased over the last few days was right where she had left it. No harm done then.

  Patting Midnight with a gentle hand, Desa cast a glance over her shoulder. Her mouth twisted in distaste when she saw the three thieves kneeling before her. Jonas was cursing under his breath.

  “That’s enough of that?” she snapped.

  The old man looked up at her with horror in his eyes. “What…” He cleared his throat and began again. “What are you going to do with us?”

  Desa strode toward him, shaking her head. “First off,” she began, “I’m going to take some of your food. It’s the least you can do to repay me for my trouble.”

  “And then?”

  Dropping to a crouch, Desa stared into his eyes for a few seconds. “Nothing,” she said at last. “I’m going to leave you right here, unharmed. I’m quite certain that you’ll be able to free yourselves in a day or so.”

  The young woman sneered at her, seething with impotent rage. “You’re going to leave us here?” she spat. “Helpless and bound! A prize for any thief or who happens to come this way!”

  “Poetic, isn’t it?”

  “You can’t do this to us!”

  Standing up slowly, Desa replied with a smile. “I think I just did.” She turned away from them, making her way back to Midnight, and began loading up her bags with some of the food she had pilfered from their camp. Tough bread, cheese wrapped in cloth, dried and salted meats: she took as much as she could fit inside the knapsack and several of the larger saddlebags.

  Desa escaped the canyon without any further difficulties and continued northward for three days. She turned east when she saw the first sign that the grass was beginning to thin. Entering the desert from this point would be suicide.

  Her provisions lasted another week – though she had been forced to hunt rabbits on two occasions – and that was a lucky thing because she found no signs of civilization. No villages, no farms. Nothing but empty grassland as far as the eye could see. At least, the danger was minimal. No signs of human habitation meant little chance of crossing paths with someone who might want to steal from her.

  She was almost out of food when she came upon a small town of wooden houses with black-tiled roofs. The people were lively, though somewhat suspicious of a stranger riding into their midst.

  The first person she spoke to was an olive-skinned girl in a brown skirt and white blouse with laces. Long, brown hair framed a round face with a delicate nose. By the look in her eyes, Desa wondered if this child had ever met an outsider before.

  She sat in Midnight’s saddle with the reins in hand, favouring the lass with a smile. “Hello,” she said. “I was wondering if I might be able to purchase some food.”

  The girl said nothing.

  “I’m on a long journey, you see.”

  Shying back as if she feared that Desa might attack her, the girl kept her head down. Her only response was a shrug and a hastily muttered, “We don’t have very much to spare.”

  “I’m willing to pay.”

  The girl pointed to the town’s square. Taking her cue, Desa guided Midnight deeper into the village. Some of the people gave her wary looks while others ignored her outright. She noticed an old man in overalls and a straw hat who sat upon the porch of his tiny house. He looked up just long enough to notice Desa and then turned his face away.

  This place reminded her of Tommy’s village. The people there had also greeted her with a mix of wonder and suspicion. Small-town folk weren’t at all used to dealing with outsiders.

  Three apple trees stood in the middle of the town square, each with branches still bare despite the warming weather. A man in a black vest carried a basket full of turnips. Two boys followed him with another.

  “You came to buy food?”

  Turning Midnight around, Desa found herself confronted by a heavyset man with a neat, gray beard. A wide-brimmed hat sat atop the fellow’s head, shading his eyes from the sunlight. “I’m the mayor of this town,” he explained. “Marshall Collins.”

  “Desa Kincaid,” she replied.

  “I wish that we could sell you what you need,” Mr. Collins said. “But you see, our stores are nearly depleted after a long winter. It will be several weeks at least before we have much to spare.”

  Closing her eyes, Desa nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said. “But I might be able to offer something that will make it worth your while.”

  Mr. Collins removed his hat, holding it against his chest, and stared up at her in bewilderment. “I can’t imagine what that might be,” he said. “There are few things more precious than food when you live in these parts.”

  Pulling the ring off her third finger, Desa tossed it to him. The old man caught it with a deft hand and cocked his head. “It’s iron,” he said. “A simple band. No stone. Not worth very much, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t panic.”

  Despite her warning, the poor fellow jumped when the ring began to glow. He took a few shaky steps backward and dropped it as if he thought it might burn his hand. When he found his flesh unblemished, he stooped to retrieve the ring again. “It’s not even warm,” he whispered. “How is this possible?”

  “It’s just a trinket,” Desa said. “A small sample of what I have to offer. Imagine coins that can hold back the night’s chill or keep a cellar cool for days. Rings that can offer more light than a hundred candles. I’ll make as many as you like. All I’m asking is for enough food and water to last me six days.”

  “And where will you be in six days?”

  Dropping out of the saddle, Desa strode toward him with a hard expression. “In the desert,” she answered. “That’s where I’m going.”

  The old man stood there with his mouth hanging open, staring at her as if she had just declared her intention to thrust a knife through her heart. “It’s almost four hundred miles to the Molarin Mountains!” he exclaimed. “You won’t cover that distance in just six days.”

  “I’m not going that far.”

  He made a face, clearly troubled by her foolhardy plan, and then gave his head a shake. “All right,” he said. “Why don’t you show me what some of these trinkets of yours can do?”

  The town had no inn; she had to sleep in the hayloft of a barn, but compared to the hard ground she had grown used to, it was heavenly. She spent several hours making Sinks and Sources for every man or woman who wanted one. Most of the Infusions she created were attuned to heat. She created a Light-Source for a bespectacled boy who loved to read and another for a young man who insisted that raccoons kept digging up his garden at night. She gave each one a physical trigger and taught the townsfolk how to use them. It gave her such pleasure to see the enthusiasm in their eyes.

  Perhaps she should have stayed in Aladar and taught Field Binding at the Academy. But if she had done that, Bendarian might have released Hanak Tuvar without opposition. And the world would have been unprepared for the carnage that followed. Perhaps some good had come out of her choices.

  Well, how about that?

  Maybe it wasn’t all Desa Kincaid’s fault.

  Of course, Daresina might argue that if she had never taught Bendarian the basics of Field Binding, none of this would have happened. But looking out on these people who were so eager to learn, she couldn’t make herself believe that. Field Binding was a treasure. It must be shared with the world. Her instincts had been correct all those years ago.

  By sunset, she was exhausted and the townsfolk had at least three doze
n Infusions that they could use to keep their food chilled or warm their houses. She stayed another day, making more. It was the least she could do if she was going to take even a small amount of their food. In truth, she would have liked to have stayed another week, to rest and recover. But she couldn’t.

  The desert called.

  It was time for the final leg of her journey.

  Dust swept over hard, red clay. The sun was an orange ball on the horizon, painting the western sky a deep red. It was cooler than Desa would have expected. She had always pictured deserts as places of painful, scorching heat – and that had certainly been the case when she came here last summer – but in early spring, the days were only warm, and the nights were almost frigid.

  Desa sat cross legged on the clay with her hands on her knees, her eyes closed as she let go of the Ether. She had just finished Infusing the Electric-Sources in the metal cage around the blue crystal.

  Though she couldn’t see it, she knew that the strange device was only five feet away, sitting on a small lump in the ground. She was tired. Sweet Mercy, she was tired. Two days of crafting Infusion after Infusion and then three more in the saddle had left her worn out. Her throat was dry, but she didn’t dare drink any more water today.

  She opened her eyes.

  A thought was all it took to trigger the Electric-Source, and then the crystal began to glow with soft, blue light. It cast those strange beams in all directions, drawing object after object.

  One of them appeared to be a table or a slab that had been inclined at a steep angle, a suspicion that was confirmed when colour entered the image. It was indeed a slab with a woman held by metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. A tall woman with wavy, red hair and a haughty expression. Desa recognized Vengeance. Or Driala as she had been called before her ascension.

  The woman turned her head, snarling at someone that Desa couldn’t see. “Get on with it then!” she barked. “We don’t have much time!”