Pulse: Book One of the Zoya Chronicles

by Kate Sander

  Testing out her legs and relieved when they held her weight, she took a couple shaky steps to the middle of the room. Kneeling, she breathed slowly and rhythmically and withdrew into her past.

  Panic.

  From dead asleep to awake, she fired up to her feet, looking around and panting.

  A cave. She was in a cave. And the sun coming through the mouth of the cave told her it was daytime. Desperately, she tried to remember where she was. A cave in the forest by the waterfall. And she’d woken on the hill in the middle of the grass. Before that… nothing.

  Growl.

  Her stomach grumbled in protest. Hunger. She was hungry. And still naked. She needed to do something about that.

  Venturing out of the cave, she looked around, trying to get a better sense of her surroundings and figure out exactly where she was. The ground sloped towards the river bank, where the waterfall thundered and churned. Comprised mainly of fir and birch trees, the forest was calm and still. Thirst hit her again and she walked carefully towards the river.

  Watching the riverbank from behind a tree in the forest, she waited for a long time. She didn’t want another run in with that mountain lion.

  A small deer walked carefully down the bank, not noticing her in the trees. The wind rustled the trees, and Senka knew she was up wind and the deer couldn’t smell her.

  Growl.

  Hunger. Mouth salivating, a fist sized rock by her feet caught her attention. Quietly picking it up, she focused on the deer and saw a green shimmer of light around it. Odd. When she stopped focusing the light disappeared.

  Growl.

  No time to think about that right now. She needed to eat. Creeping quietly, the waterfall hiding her footsteps, she made her way towards the drinking deer. Stumbling a bit, she focused again on the deer and saw the green aura wave.

  The deer lifted its head, saw her, and turned to bolt.

  Instinct took over. The girl threw the rock and, whether by luck or by fate, hit the deer in the side of the head. It went down stunned. Leaping, she straddled it and slammed its head into the ground over and over until its skull was mush. The green light was gone.

  Blood covered her face and she stepped back, shaking. What the hell had come over her? Reacting. That’s all she’d been doing. How had she moved so fast or stunned a deer with a rock?

  Chest heaving, light headed, she scrambled to the river and washed her hands and face.

  Dead. She’d killed a deer with her hands. Her stomach growled again.

  It wasn’t going to come back to life. Sitting heavily, a sharp rock skidded away.

  And she was still hungry.

  Somehow, she knew what to do. Returning to the carcass, she skinned the animal with the sharp rock. Managing to get it off without many rips and tears, she hung it over a large rock in the sunlight.

  Her stomach growled again. She dragged the skinned animal the fifty feet to the entrance of her cave. There was plenty of dried sticks and leaves around her, and she piled them up in a tent. Another trip down to the bank gave her two small rocks. A couple strikes, a spark and some coaxing was all it took to get a fire going.

  She cut a small piece of meat off the carcass and skewered it, hanging it over the fire. The fat dripped and sizzled, and her empty stomach protested again. She couldn’t take it anymore. With the meat still raw in the middle, she snatched it from the fire and gorged.

  Blood dribbled down her chin and she smiled as she wiped it away.

  Stomach no longer grumbling, she had the opportunity to think a little. How had she started the fire? How did she know how to skin a deer? It came as naturally as breathing. She was hungry and now she was eating. She had been cold and when that hide dried she would be warm.

  Reflecting on her last day, the mountain lion came into her head. She cut another piece of deer off and put it on the fire. The mountain lion had scared her. What had she done to deserve that? And what if it came back? If she killed the lion, she wouldn’t have to worry about it getting to her first.

  She cut the carcass into strips and put it over the fire to dry, hoping no other animal ate it while she was gone.

  The urge to kill swept through her. That mountain lion deserved to die. Going around, hunting people. Really, she was just protecting herself. Grabbing her sharp rock, she tried to find her way back up the cliff.

  She managed to find a game trail back up and around the cliff, away from the waterfall. The hill was steep and she puffed as she climbed. Flabby, soft, out of shape. This trip was already a struggle. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should be back at the cave, making a bed and trying to find ventilation so she could build a fire in the cave. Barefoot, her feet ached.

  You need to kill it. You have to. It’s the only way to feel safe.

  All her logic didn’t stop her and she continued on the game path. Running parallel to the river, it was easy to fall. Once the river widened and quieted, the game path ran towards it and continued on the other side.

  Must be shallow enough for animals to cross, so it’d be shallow enough for her.

  Go home.

  No. Kill it.

  The hunger in her grew. She had to kill it. She had to kill something.

  To feel safe.

  Crossing, the river only came up to her knees. Once across, it was easy to pick up the trail of the cat. This must be its territory and it looked fresh. As the wind blew in her face, she smiled. Up wind. Perfect to hunt the creature.

  The trail led to a cave, this one cozied into the side of a grassy hill.

  Perfect.

  A soft purr came from the inside of the cave. Slowly, careful not to make a sound and give herself away, she climbed the hill and perched herself over the cave entrance.

  Grabbing a stick, she threw it as far as she could into the wood. The purring stopped.

  A few seconds later, a large tawny head poked out of the cave.

  The girl squinted, showing the cat bathed in a pink light. Odd, the day before it had looked red. Now it was a soft shade of pink. Maybe it had always been, but in her fear she’d seen it wrong.

  The aura shimmered as the cat stepped out of the cave a little more, sniffing the air hesitantly.

  The massive cat took another step out of the door, exposing its neck. Without a second thought, she leapt and thrust the sharp stone downward.

  With a sickening crunch, the rock hit the spine and she tore downwards as she landed. In a spurt of blood, she slit its throat. The cat fell dead in an instant.

  “Yes!” the girl yelled, elated in her victory. “Who’s scared now?”

  Forgetting to be afraid, she walked into the cave. Three small kittens, eyes barely open, cried out in the back corner of the cave.

  Their mewing was grating on her nerves. All the self-pity and anger from the day before welled up inside.

  These creatures were pitiful

  Just like you.

  “SHUT UP!”

  She grabbed each tiny animal and smashed their heads into the wall with a revolting crack.

  Silence.

  The girl looked at her blood soaked, shaking hands. Bile rose in her throat.

  “What did you do?”

  Retching, she ran from the cave and tripped over the adult.

  Falling heavily to her side, she turned on her back and scooted away from the beautiful dead cat. The pink shimmer was gone.

  A mother. Protecting her cubs. That’s all.

  In her fear she’d destroyed them all. The blank green eyes stared at her, accusingly.

  Sobbing, she turned and fled the carnage of the cave.

  With a deep breath, Senka drew herself out of her meditation. The only way to succeed in her venture was to confront the past.

  Shaking, she tried to get to her feet but couldn’t, so she resorted to crawling to her cot.

  Exhaustion took over. With her last ounce of energy, she pulled herself into her stone bed and flopped over to her side. She applied the last of the medicine to her face, which had
again started its dull ache.

  Dead green eyes. The crunch of the cubs’ heads against the stone wall. Those things would haunt her forever. She’d vowed to never kill again.

  That was, until….

  Vows change.

  She’d lived in her cave for two months, hunting for food but ensuring she used the whole animal. Foraging, hunting, sleeping. Her life was a lonely one, in those trees. Not much different then right now.

  Stars. At least I could see the stars.

  Maybe. But you never looked.

  She couldn’t argue with herself. The Pulse light flickered off, another day of incarceration and torture done. With a weak hand, she marked another tick on her wall.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes to a dreamless sleep.

  7

  Armend

  Armend whistled to himself. Things in the Solias council were going swimmingly. It had been two weeks since the torture of 613 and his new alliance with Intelligence and Justice was turning out to be very successful and lucrative. Playing the double agent for the King and Queen was just icing on the cake.

  He walked down the broken cobblestone of the slums, looking for the bar where he was supposed to meet his informant. Even his bedraggled appearance could not dull his happy mood. He couldn’t dress in his usual fashion of gold robes and fine silks. That was an invitation to get robbed, even though Sebastian was following him in the shadows. No one would get near him without Sebastian slitting their throat. And that would never do. Random hobos murdered on the street was far too obvious tonight. He needed to stay inconspicuous today, and that meant plain grey cotton robes.

  A grimy alehouse materialized at the end of a dark street. The Pulse lights inside barely strong enough to permeate the cloudy windows. Disgusting. He opened the door and grimaced when his sandals stuck to the beer soaked flooring. Hiking up his robe slightly, he skeptically looked around the bar. Dark booths lined the walls, complete with sullen looking men and dirty prostitutes trying to earn some money. A few old and yellowed Pulse lights hung on the ceiling.

  The centrepiece was a dirty brown bar lined with a few forlorn, dishevelled men staring listlessly into their beers. There was no way he’d be recognized here. No person of higher birth would ever consider coming to a place like this. He doubted that even the low brow soldiers came into this place. This was where beggars and bums came with their spare Kritz that had been tossed to them on the street. A haggard, fat barmaid wiped down the bar with a dirty rag. He could see her warts from the entrance. Grimacing, he tried to hide the look with an awkward smile.

  Confidently, he strode towards the bar, ignoring the beer sticking to his sandals and the stares he received from the patrons. Perhaps the cotton robe was still too conspicuous, he thought. The door opened and closed, and the hooded Sebastian smuggled himself into the corner booth. Well, he thought, at least I won’t die tonight.

  “Hello, ma’am,” he said, flashing his straight white teeth to the barmaid, “A pint of ale if you would.”

  A grunt was her only answer. Without looking up, she went about pouring a murky brown liquid into a dirty glass. She slammed the beer on the top of the bar, the cloudy ale sloshing over the top and onto his feet.

  “Quarter Krit,” she said gruffly. Her breath almost knocked him out.

  Forcing a smile, he fished the coins out of his robe. He took the ale, sniffed it, and with a frown decided that he would only drink from that glass if someone had a knife to his throat. Another quick look around the pub showed him what he came for. A man was watching him from a shadowed corner booth.

  Armed headed towards the man dressed in a dark grey robe with a black cloak overtop, hood pulled down over the top half of his face. A lit pipe illuminated the blacks of his eyes, giving him a predatory look. A silver ring glinted on his finger with Armend’s house insignia. Definitely Armend’s contact. Intelligence had set this meeting up. The less they knew about each other, the better.

  Armend squeezed into the booth, opposite of his informant. The man didn’t move, he just kept sucking on his pipe. He took the insignia ring off and tossed it on the table in front of Armend. It made a heavy bang. Armend looked down at the ring, then back up to the informant, who had inconspicuously pulled a short silver knife out of his robe and had it in his hand resting on the table pointed at Armend.

  “The rogue,” he said to Armend in a gruff, low voice, “Lose him or die.”

  Armend tried to hide his surprise and nodded. Without taking his eyes off the glinting knife on the table, he raised his right hand and waved. The door of the bar opened and closed. Sebastian was out, he was on his own.

  “Now,” said the hooded man, “I have information for you. I will only say it once. You must never know who told you this. I’d rather not be hung for treason.” He licked his lips greedily, “She promised me gold if I helped you.”

  Armend nodded and slowly removed 300 Kritz in notes from the inner pocket of his robe. In a flash, the money disappeared into the man’s robes.

  “Intelligence promised me triple this.”

  Armend gave him a hard stare. “If I like the information, you’ll get 300 more. You’ll get the rest in a couple months when things settle down.”

  The man hesitated and looked around. The 300 Kritz was what the man would make in any profession in the city in a year. Pure greed was driving him.

  “The Queen is the spy for the Melanthios. She is doing it on the King’s orders. They want the treaty signed and to live in peace, and suspect some members of the council are after blood. There will be a prison break, organized by the Queen. The identity of the prisoner is not known, nor is it known why that particular prisoner out of the hundreds of Melanthios you have locked up will be freed. There is rumour that it is a Zoya.”

  Armend balked. He had already guessed that the King and Queen were contacting the Melanthios and trying for a treaty so that was not a surprise. But a Zoya? Here, in Solias? And worse yet if he was working with the Melanthios… This news could unravel all the plans Armend had meticulously laid to save Solias.

  “I don’t know when the prison break will happen, but it will be soon,” the informant continued, “The Queen is not a woman who waits. I won’t be able to contact you again.”

  Armend sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin. “Get yourself in with the crew breaking this prisoner out. Do your best to help it succeed. You will go with them throughout this journey. Send a raven to my house when you can. This will be dangerous, and if you are caught I will never speak of this meeting and I will deny knowing you. Everything is riding on this. Do this for your city, and your rewards in the afterlife will be great.”

  “I don’t care about the afterlife. I want rewards now.”

  Armend nodded and took another 300 Kritz out of his robe. “If I like what you do, I’ll give you 10,000 more on your return to the city. That’s enough to live like a king for thirty years.”

  The informant nodded and the notes disappeared into his robes. Armend saw the greed in his eyes as he sank back into the shadows of the booth. Armend rose and, turning his back, exited the dingy bar.

  He whistled as he damn near skipped down the cobblestone street. A breakout of the prison right now was just what he needed! The smile spread over his face. That dumb bitch, thinking she could manipulate him. A prison breakout would put political pressure exactly where he needed and would explode all over the Queen’s face. He didn’t expect the breakout to succeed, but catching the culprits red handed would certainly help with getting the death sentence. And every death sentence helped vault him up the political ladder. A Zoya was troubling, but Armend doubted it was truth. Probably just some Melanthios orphan trying to rise through the ranks by starting a rumour.

  His feet had betrayed him and walked him to the brothel. The outside was dingy (like everything else in this part of town), but comforted him as he approached. The dark windows and broken shutters were the perfect diversion to the sins it held inside. This was where he was mor
e himself than anywhere else in Solias. This was his home. He needed this.

  “Can I buy you an evening?” he said to thin air, “I’m feeling rather generous today. I’ll even give you your pick.”

  Sebastian materialized from the shadows of the broken down apartments that lined the street on either side. Hooded, he fingered the dagger on his belt. “I wouldn’t fuck any of these whores here,” he said, “I don’t know how your dick hasn’t fallen off from the clap yet.”

  “Oh settle down,” said Armend with a sigh, “They actually have some good quality young ones. Straight off the slave trade in Carabesh.” He elbowed Sebastian playfully, “They wouldn’t even know if you were the worst they had, because they have nothing to compare you to!”

  Sebastian shrugged, clearly not sharing his master’s attitude. “I will wait out here as always, sir.”

  “Well I’m sending you out a girl for a blowjob in the alley. Your hard work earned that.” Sebastian didn’t argue and Armend laughed. “That’s my boy! I’ll make sure she has some experience for you. Nothing worse than teeth.”

  With that, Armend went through the door and Sebastian sank back into the shadows.

  Armend entered the brothel and nodded to the seven foot giant who was guarding the door. Thick red and gold carpets lined the floor, welcoming him home. Beautiful red and gold painted the walls, covered with lush tapestries that depicted the deliciously sinful acts accompanied by a price. Anything you could possibly imagine. The entrance opened into a large, well lit room, a staircase above the fireplace leading to the private rooms. Everything was plush and soft. Red velvet couches surrounded the fireplace, where the exhibitionists could perform if they liked.

  He smiled. A beautiful and bouncy woman was draped prone across the main couch, her head rising and falling rhythmically in a soldiers lap. Head back, mouth open, he controlled the speed with his hand in her blonde hair. The other hand was firmly planted on her lush, firm white ass. Shrieks of pleasure radiated out from every corner of this house. The beautiful flowered scent of women permeated the place.