Pulse: Book One of the Zoya Chronicles

by Kate Sander

  “Barzilai has taken the day off. You and I will be doing this together. This is complicated and will take all day, but I am confident we will get this done.”

  Senka pulled the flask out of her pocket. Barzilai had been busy. On a table by the forge were her two exquisitely crafted tantos, both with thin copper wiring running through the blade. The hilts were insulated with sap taken from a tree. This ensured the Pulse would not reach the user’s hands. A metal plate was in each hilt which would attach to the plates in the gloves. The supple leather gloves with the metal plates were on the table as well, perfectly designed and fit to her hands. The forearm packs were built and inlaid into the leather that would easily attach to the gloves. The copper wiring ran through the forearm packs to the gloves. All they needed was the Pulse.

  She returned to the forge. The Shaman had another, smaller table set up. On it was a chunk of silver metal, a glass of water, a brick of hard salt, and papyrus, a thin paper made from the local trees. Senka placed her flask of Quicksilver on the table with the rest. The Shaman nodded. He placed two flat metal casings on the table as well. This would contain the Pulse pack so it could be loaded into the forearm holds.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. The forge burned brightly, casting a red glow throughout the cabin.

  Senka nodded.

  “We must work together. This will be a long day. Any failures and we will have to start over.”

  The bright orange flame danced, sending shadows across her face, making her sweat. She was ready.

  Hell or high water, she would protect her family.

  The Shaman nodded and they began. They first started by heating the Quicksilver. They made sure that the fire burned bright and there was plenty of oxygen being vented into the fire. They needed the Quicksilver to turn from its liquid silver to a powdery orange colour. When it finally did, they removed it and let it cool. The zinc was heated until it was malleable. Breaking it into two chunks, the whittled it down so it exactly fit in half the metal casing of the Pulse pack. They dissolved salt in the water and dipped the papyrus into it. They tore four strips off of the soaked papyrus and laid two layers on the side of the zinc, effectively dividing the casing in two. Next, they poured the red and powdery Quicksilver into the other side of the paper.

  As soon as the paper touched the powder, blue sparks erupted. They finished and put the top of the casing on the pack. With insulated gloves, they transferred it to the forearm holds.

  Senka put the forearm holds on gingerly. Between the Pulse pack and the casing there was a layer of sap to protect her, but she was still hesitant.

  She knew the power that these packs held. It could kill her easily.

  The gloves slid on easily and she picked up the tantos, locking them into the metal plates. Barzilai had designed the plates to spin, giving her as much free reign over her weapons as possible. She inhaled deeply and pressed the tantos against the plate. This pushed copper from the wrist of the gloves to the copper running through the forearm holds, effectively completing the circuit. Her blades powered up into a mesmerizing, beautiful blue light. It illuminated her face. Her eyes were dark, her jaw set.

  She was ready.

  24

  Titus

  Titus found out about his father’s murder in a town a few weeks walk from Solias. New clothing had been an easy steal, and he was now dressed as a peasant. In one of his braver feats, he sneaked into a Sun Gods detachment one night and stole a sword. He had no money, they weren’t allowed any personal possessions in the Sun Gods. He stole food and water from small towns lining the coast and won a game of chance to earn a small amount of credits. All in all, he was eating and drinking more than he had in two years with the Sun Gods and he was much happier.

  He walked through a town when he saw the townsfolk grouped together and speaking in whispers. He slowed and instantly became nervous. If the news of him going AWOL had reached this far already, he would have a hard time making it all the way to Solias. He passed closer to a group of people and heard, “Yes the King! Murdered by a Melanthios. No, they don’t know who did it.”

  Titus hurried on. He didn’t feel much sadness for his father. He was a hard man and a mean drunk. He was more distressed for his mother. With his father dead, his mother, not being a Sol, was in grave danger.

  He hurried on and was a few days from the city when he heard of the upcoming wedding between his mother and his uncle. When he heard he fled the town and wept. His uncle was behind all of this, and his mother was going to die. He had to save her. He caught a ride with a man heading to the city to see the wedding and arrived the morning of the scheduled nuptial.

  He sat in the market, playing with the food on his plate, remembering how he had come to the city when a man bumped him on the shoulder. Turning around angrily, he was ready to swing. There was a throng of people behind him and he couldn’t tell who had pushed him. He did see, however, his uncle’s right hand man Sebastian walking with the bustle of people. Titus ducked out of the restaurant and walked towards him. Sebastian hadn’t seen him and continued on.

  He followed Sebastian through the streets. Sebastian seemed to be meandering. Titus saw him take a hard right between rows of market tents. He was smart enough not to follow and knew Sebastian had caught wind of a tail. He himself then meandered and turned hard to make sure that Sebastian hadn’t started following him. When he didn’t, Titus needed to think of another plan.

  There had to be some way to get into the castle.

  It was the morning. By afternoon, he had been turned away from the castle gates in at least six different cloaks and disguises. He had tried to enter as an assistant to a servant in the kitchen, as the flower boy, as a tailor, as a cousin and as a friend of the Princes. Nothing worked.

  So, his only option was to enter with the rest of the commoners for the wedding itself.

  Feeling defeated, he realized he would have to go and rescue his mother after the wedding. He waited until the gates were open to the public and made his way with the throng of people. They entered the courtyard. It could hold thousands of people and it was almost full. The sky was dark, rain was coming. Titus pushed his way to the middle where there was a large marble fountain. Climbing atop, he had a good view of the main entrance to the castle where the wedding would take place.

  His uncle walked out of the castle. Dressed in traditional all white, expensive robes, he stood tall. The Head of Justice followed, his massive frame in the traditional deep purple of the officiant of a wedding. The crowd was silent. Titus could feel his heart beating in his neck. You could have heard a pin drop. Finally, his mother walked out.

  Shock ran through him. His mother couldn’t have sent a stronger message. She was still dressed in all black, traditional in mourning. Women always wore white at weddings and his mother had chosen to wear a black dress and black veil. His heart leapt at the sight of her, standing with her chin out.

  If she was forced into this marriage, she wouldn’t go quietly.

  Armend did a double take. But, smooth was in Armend’s game. Quickly, he replaced the shock with a glowing smile, kneeled and kissed her hand.

  The crowd was in shambles. People gasped and whispered to each other. A woman wearing black to her wedding was unheard of. Justice began to speak and the crowd stopped talking to pay attention.

  Lightning flashed overhead. Titus was too far away to hear what Justice was saying. Instead, he was transported to a fight he remembered his parents having. He was in the same room as Sol and they were both pretending to sleep. His father had come home drunk again, and his mother was not impressed.

  “Drunk!” she had yelled, “Smelling like hookers. What if your sons were to see you?”

  “Shut up, woman,” his father had slurred back. “I am the King. I can do whatever, and whoever, the fuck I want.”

  “I am the Queen, and I can say the same thing! What if I came home to you after fucking numerous other men?”

  His father had thrown something th
at sounded like a lamp. Sol whimpered beside him.

  His mother had laughed. He didn’t know why, but that laugh had always stayed with him. When in danger, his mother laughed.

  “You done?” she had asked. An inaudible mumble from his father. “Good. You’re a good man, Sol. If I didn’t want to marry you I would have worn black to the wedding.” His father had chuckled. The fight was over. He and Sol had both drifted back to sleep. After that, he knew his father only drank. He was quite sure he had never touched a hooker again.

  Titus snapped back into reality and stared at his mother’s black dress. This wasn’t an act of defiance, it was a desperate call for help. Tears dripped down his cheeks and he angrily brushed them away.

  The wedding came to a close.

  Justice crowned Armend. Armend shot a wicked smile, then leaned forward and pulled up his mother’s veil. The Queen held her distance, and Armend pulled her towards him and into a kiss.

  Titus’ heart broke and the sky broke open. Thunder crashed and rain poured down in a way Titus had never seen. The crowd cheered, but in a subdued, obligatory way. There was no joy here.

  The crowd meandered their way out of the courtyard. Titus stayed where he was. His mother gave a desperate look towards the crowd and he put his hand up over his head. He was sure she didn’t see. Her new husband led her inside. Titus joined the crowd, then peeled off at the gate. The guards were distracted with the downpour and didn’t see the small boy dressed in black turn away and find the shadows next to the wall.

  Titus stayed in the shadows and found his way to a side door. It didn’t lead directly into the main chambers, but to a hallway connecting back hallways for the soldiers and the servants. Titus had run and played here lots as a child. He reached the door and found it unlocked. Security had apparently gone lax since he had left for the Sun Gods.

  He stood, dripping in the stone hallway. It only took a few seconds to allow for his eyes to adjust to the Pulse lights. Once they had, he ran lightly down the hall, making sure to keep on his toes for any soldiers. He figured that they would all be partying the night away, and he wasn’t disappointed. No soldier monitored the halls. The sound of clinking china and music drifted down the halls. There would be a wedding feast for the few hundred upper class to celebrate the new King.

  He made his way in the direction of the noise to the great hall. The atmosphere sounded subdued to say the least. His mother’s blatant disrespect had apparently not gone unnoticed. He sneaked his way to the side of the main doors. They were closed over, with a slight crack in between. Peeking inside, he saw the end of the table and people eating. No one was really talking. He slipped back beside the door and fingered his sword. There was no other way. He started ramping himself up. Storm the room. It was his only option. Hopefully he could make the head table and kill Armend before anyone could react.

  If only Sol were here. He’d think of something smarter.

  But he wasn’t. Titus was alone. He would be hanged for treason. But it would be worth it. Saving his mother was worth it, and Sol could return to Solias to rule. His family would miss him, but they would get over it. He was hyped, he was ready. Bouncing on his feet, he was ready to charge the door when he heard a woman say, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  He jumped and turned away from the door. Standing beside him was a short woman, blonde hair cut short and kept dishevelled. She had bright blue eyes. Her face looked oddly familiar, but Titus couldn’t place her.

  “Come with me,” she said, and she grabbed his arm hard, fingers dig deep. This woman was as short as he was, but she was much stronger. He told himself that he followed her because she caught him by surprise, but he knew that wasn’t the case. This woman scared him.

  She led him to a closet and pushed him in, closing the door after him.

  “You’re really stupid, did you know that?” she said, examining her finger nails.

  “Who are you?” he asked. His voice cracked and he blushed.

  “I’m no one. What I can tell you is that there is a price on your head.”

  “No one knows I’m here. I haven’t been here in two years, no one could possible recognize me.” He jutted his chin out.

  “You look like your mother when you stand like that. And I recognized you, so your plan is already going well.”

  He didn’t say anything, just stared at the bright blue eyes.

  “You won’t save your mother,” she said. “Not like this. What, do you think the King hasn’t thought of you? There are guards lining the walls. As soon as you opened the door you would have been shot with a crossbow. You would have been dead before your mother even recognized you.”

  “What else am I supposed to do?” he asked angrily. He had always been quick to anger, and terrible at hiding his emotions. That was Sol’s job. “You’re telling me to abandon my mother to die.”

  She nodded, “Your mother is doing what she’s doing to save you. That’s it. She wouldn’t do it for anyone else but you and your brother.” She shrugged, “So let her. It’s her choice. Or, run in there and let your mother watch her youngest son get shot and killed in front of her. Up to you, really. I couldn’t care less.”

  “I will find help and come back for her, you better believe it.” He was crying again. “Believe it.”

  “Whatever, kid. I just work here. Leave the city. If I see you again I’ll have to kill you. I won’t give you another chance.”

  He nodded again and turned and fled.

  Intelligence watched him go. She wasn’t exactly sure why she had let him go. She felt it was kind of a middle finger to Armend for pulling the wool over her eyes. She had agreed to undermine the talks of peace, but what he was doing was way out of the realm of what she had agreed to.

  Intelligence shook her head and returned to the party, which felt strangely like a funeral.

  25

  Queen Anita

  It had been a bad day. One of the worst. Queen Anita was removing her black wedding dress. Usually servants would be helping her but she had dismissed them. She had been holding back tears all day. She needed to protect her family from the monster. How had she been manipulated by that bastard? He had weaseled in and destroyed Solias without her even seeing it coming.

  It was still storming and the rain pounded against her window.

  She put on her night robe and hung her head in her hands. She hoped Titus and Sol had received her raven and had gone into hiding. She would never see them again, that much was certain. An innate motherly urge told her to leave and join them, but she couldn’t abandon Solias to the hands of their new king.

  She didn’t know where this patriotism had come from. Before this everything she had done she had done for family. She didn’t do anything for her city, just her family. But the love of her city had wormed its way in like never before.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  A light knock on the door.

  She never knows when to leave, she thought. “Judith, I told you you could go to sleep,” she yelled.

  Another knock. Shaking her head, she went to the door to dismiss her handmaiden in person.

  Distracted by her thoughts, she unlocked and swung the door open. Armend was standing there, still in his white wedding robes. At least he removed his crown, the Queen thought.

  “What are you doing here?” She was still holding the door, ready to slam it at any moment.

  “You’re my bride,” Armend said, toying with the top clasp of his robe, “And I expect you to act as such.” He smiled wide and it scared her.

  She was terrified, but she swallowed her fear and laughed in his face. “I agreed to marry you. I never agreed to anything else. I will not be told what to do by anyone. We are husband and wife on paper, and that’s where it stays.” She tried to slam the door closed, but Armend caught it.

  “You forget yourself.”

  Armend smiled again and started pushing the door open with his shoulder. The Queen was trying to push back but he was so much stronger
than she was. It seemed inhuman. She was young and strong and he was old. She should be able to overpower him with ease.

  “I see you underestimated me,” Armend said and exploded through the door. Anita was pushed backward with the force. He grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her bodily against the vanity. Bottles crashed as she hit it and crumpled to the ground.

  It was the shock at the sudden violence that had allowed him to take her by surprise. Her back hurt and she had hit her head. She moaned and started getting to her hands and knees.

  “You’re a fighter,” he said, closing the door behind him and cracking his knuckles. He towered over her. “I like that. My last wife was weak and boring. You’ll be harder to break.” He kicked her in the stomach.

  The Queen took the blow in the ribs and it knocked all of the wind out of her as she collapsed back to her stomach. She felt a rib crack. She coughed and rolled to her side, bringing her knees up to protect herself. He tried to stomp on her, but this time she blocked it with her elbows. He withdrew his foot, but her arms throbbed with the blow.

  “Good!” he laughed, “Good! I have never met a woman who was your equal. I can see why, despite your class, Sol was smitten.”

  The Queen’s mind raced. She needed to think, to plan. He was way stronger and she wouldn’t beat him in strength, but she could outsmart him. She coughed again and stayed on her side, knees drawn to her chest.

  “Get up,” he said.

  The Queen coughed again and groaned. Weaknes… She had to show weakness. Feed his ego. She noticed his large floor length mirror standing by her bed across the room. A plan formed. But she was going to have to take a hell of a beating.

  Shakily, she rose to her feet and tried to stand straight up, raising her chin proudly even as she slouched to one side protecting her damaged ribs. She made sure the mirror was directly behind her.