Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1) (27 page)

She made it to the park and kept going until she was at the wall. Flipping off her sandals and scraping all available skin, she was up and over and running again, trying to overcome the feeling. Trying to outsprint it. Trying to get to a safe distance where she could figure out a way to extinguish it.

She felt the minds of sentries around her, watching, in their trees, protecting the people, wondering why this half clothed, bloody woman was running. She felt an arrow nock. She didn’t know how she knew—it was an action, not an emotion, but she did. They probably thought she was trying to escape. She stopped and knelt, grabbing each mind with ease, the power bubbling, needing action.

Using a trick she’d learned from the nasty little mouse, she cut out the
function of their minds. Not dead, just unconscious. A sleeping spell of sorts, like a coma. One sentry fell and she hoped he’d be okay. Following her own advice, feeling ripped in half, she looked up to the sky, and
ROARED.

It all went black.

Sanders opened his eyes slowly. His head
pounded. The last thing he remembered was a swarm of little guys descending on his trade party. He’d planned for that, of course. He hadn’t planned on the feeling of needles prickling his eyes. That had hurt. Real bad. He’d tried to keep fighting, but fighting three guys when you’re nearly blind wasn’t an easy chore. And now he knew.

He hated that that foreign girl
had been right. She’d probably insist on rescuing him just to rub it in his face.

“You are awake.”

“Yes, that is exactly the accent I was expecting to hear,” Sanders said, not bothering to sit up. He lay on cold, hard stone in near darkness. The only light came from one torch on the opposite wall. Being that it was a dungeon, there wasn’t a ton of natural lighting. “Did I piss myself, or is that smell just an added attraction of his lovely little bed and breakfast?”

“I am told you are the leader
of this outfit.”

“Yup.”

A soft scrap sounded somewhere to the right, beyond the bars. “I am not planning to kill you. I simply need to know some information.”

“You might as well just say ‘the shoe’s on the other foot’.”

“The shoe on the foot?”

Sanders snorted in a self-
deprecating sort of way. “Never mind. What did you want to know?”

“Would you like some food?”

“Easy ones first, huh? Food would be great. Unless it’s poisoned. Then no thanks.”

The gloom was dank and smelt musty, the space he was imprisoned
in barely larger than his outstretched body. Men shifted at the door, keeping watch.

Well, he hurt too bad to escape anyway, so before the tortur
e started he might as well just take a little nap.

“I don’t know why they even gave you your own place. You always end up in mine.”

Shanti was in the familiar hospital room with the familiar nightgown that tangled her legs and
gave her nightmares of people tackling her. And, of course, the same dry witted doctor who thought lecturing her would do some good. He’d made it clear he didn’t care about her sleeping preferences.

“Did they find me outside the wall or did I stumble in somehow?” Shanti asked as she wiped the sleep from her eye
s.

“Same old story. The Captain miraculously found you even though Molly had nearly the whole town looking, then brought you in, yelled for everyone to drop everything and see to the foreign girl
who can’t stand on her own two feet for longer than ten minutes, and left with a promise to return. Well, promise and threat are synonymous.”

“He was okay?”

“Actually, no. But that might be the first time you’ve asked. Finally starting to think of someone other than yourself?” The doctor stopped putting his items into a leather bag for a moment as he looked at Shanti. “Ah, the permanent scowl must mean no. Dare to dream. Oh well. To answer your question, the Captain could barely stand. He apparently walked out of the ball fine but didn’t return. He wouldn’t let me see to him, though, so I have no idea what ails him. Though it seems you do. Care to enlighten?”

“I don’t make a habit of messing around in the Captain’s business.”

“Hmmm, I see a shocking lack of proof to that statement. Regardless, I must leave you.  I have five sentries to care for. It seems they all fell asleep at their posts. One even fell out of his tree. Amazingly, he didn’t wake up upon hitting the ground. Suspiciously, they happened to be in your vicinity at the time. How strange. But the Captain says there is no correlation so, as the lowly working man, I must defer.”

“I didn’t catch half of what you said, but you seem bitter.”

The doctor stopped halfway out of his crouch and gave Shanti a flat look intended to portray his suffering at her presence. She smiled in response.

“I used to have an easy life,” he said whimsically, picking up his things. “Colds, muscle strains, the occasional accident with a weapon. Now I have unexplained mental weakness, everyone has holes in them, broken limbs
—“

Still mumbling, the doctor left the room. A second after that, still in her nightgown, Shanti left behind him. Her head was fine, her
body felt great, and that bloody power was starting to build again. She needed to start working with the larger flow or move out of the city. Only two choices at the moment.

As she neared her small
bedroom, she breathed in the rich smell of living forest. Her living quarters, which were barely big enough to turn around in, were an add-on to Lucius’ much larger residence. Currently he either wasn’t home or had someone over because his front door was closed. It was too bad—she wanted to ask him about Cayan’s release of power. She knew Lucius would be honest with her.

Halfway through her
door she froze, sucking in a familiar masculine smell she hadn’t realized she recognized. Lying on her bed with one arm thrown over his face and the other resting on his flat stomach was none other than Cayan. He was in his normal blue uniform but his shoes were off and set neatly beside the bed. His large feet hung slightly off the end.

“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded like a hasty release of breath.

He lifted his arm away, revealing his clear blue eyes with their dark blue rim surrounded by a tired red. Seeing her, he sat up slowly, moving as though he was a hundred years old. “I needed a place to rest without disturbance and without being in a hospital room.”

“What about Lucius?”

“He’s entertaining a young lady. And he judges. Then lectures.”

Having the city’s hub in her room without the proper control over her power was bordering on disastrous. Plus…what about privacy? She didn’t need much, nor did she have many possessions, but hav
ing someone lying in her bed who wasn’t a lover was a bit…awkward. Her personal things, such as they were, were out in the open. He needed to know a few things about her, sure, but those were historical in nature so as to arm himself and his city with knowledge of what would come. There was absolutely no need for him to know the color of her undergarments, or how she liked her weapons stowed, or… how sometimes she wasn’t the most tidy of people. That stuff was embarrassing and bordering on intimate. It was stuff to share with people close to you, not a city leader, handsome army Captain, and serious pain in the ass.

She crossed to the single chair opposite the bed and sat. This room had a closet,
a dresser for the few clothes she had, her bed, a tiny table with candle supplies, and the chair she currently sat in. Through a door to her right was the tiny kitchen: not much more than a sink, stove, and small table. There was no place in her living quarters to entertain a non-naked guest. And despite his near perfect form, she absolutely did not want this man naked anywhere near her person. Only bad things could happen.

“Why did that happen?” Cayan asked
with a grave look into her silent mental turmoil. The space issue apparently wasn’t playing hell on his nerves.

All Shanti could do was shake her head. She didn’t know. And it scared her. It was so much power. Too much. She didn’t know how to control it, and it was still pinging in her body, dancing around like skeletons in an earthquake, waiting to be used. She d
idn’t even have to open her awareness to feel the minds around her anymore. She didn’t have to try to clutch them. Those minds were hers; they were just on loan to their owners.

“Did you ask the prisoner?” Cayan asked
, settling back down and throwing his arm over his tired eyes.

“Yes. He just repeated what he said before. If I find a mate, my power will increase. Mate is not wife. Or manwife—
I forget the term Junice used.“

“Husband.”

“Mate is…the power’s mate. The other half. I’m not sure if it has to be in a man’s body, but it sounded like it. It’s time for you to tell me what you know. But maybe…outside…”

“It’s time for you to
show
me what
you
know. Teach me.”

“I’ve shown you a portion. So far this is all one-sided.” Should she mention moving outside again? Was he not uncomfortable? Because she was uncomfortable.

Cayan scratched his head then wiggled deeper into the mattress. “The power comes from the Ancient’s. The Old Blood. No matter your belief system, there were a People who walked this land at the beginning. Every religion talks of them. They were the dawning of human kind. To them, power was another sense. Touch, see, hear, taste, smell, perceive. No one knows where they originated, or even if they were a myth.

“Then, as humankind grew, the trail of the Old Blood got weaker. With each generation it got weaker still. In some places it vanished entirely. That is because the bounty of the blood is passed from mother to child. The sex of the child is unimportant, but the
Gifts, as you call them, are in linage with the mother.” He paused for a second, letting that sink in.

“So spreading your seed to a city full of people won’t matter? You’ll sire large, strong men, but none with
Gifts
?”

“That’s what the stories say. I have nothing written on this, of course. This is all from my
grandmother’s diaries, left for me when I was born. She died shortly after. As did my mother.”

Barely suppressed emotion colored his words, but he hid it within the deep rumble of his voice. He wasn’t hiding the flashes of pain from his mind, though. He hadn’t known his mother, not in any real way. Unlike Shanti, who at least had vague memories from her youth, Cayan only had a longing.

“Then you are right, I would’ve regretted killing you,” Shanti said quietly.

A crease formed between his eyebrows.
“The bounty bestowed can come in many forms. You are probably an expert on that, from what you’ve said. Your people were isolated; the blood stayed strong. Mothers passed it to daughters who had daughters who stayed within the land to continue to pass it on. Various gifts were bestowed, all in partial potency, until you showed up and got a full blast.”

“Why don’t more of your people have it?
And how come you didn’t know you had it?”

“My great-great-grandmother was of the Old Blood. She was a wanderer—not originally from this area. Met my great-great-grandfather on one of her travels and fell in love. She decided to settle in. It’s from her this information, and my
Gift, is passed down. Since her, I come from a line of daughters, each having only one child, until me. I am the first boy. And while each mother tried constantly for more children, they only had one to term. It is another reason the blood has nearly disappeared from the land. Fertility. I was told that women with the Old Blood have a harder time bringing a baby to term. She did not know why…but it sounds like your people had the concentration to figure it out…”

“Like-
Gifts
with like-
Gifts
often had two or three.” Shanti cut in. “One family, both parents with the
Warring Gift,
had four. It was the record. Non-like-
Gifts
but still having a
Gift
was less. Usually one, maybe two. A
Gift
with a non-
Gift
had one if they were lucky. It was why my father didn’t think he’d have a child. It was why my grandfather hated the match with my mother—until I came, of course. Then my mother rubbed it in his face constantly. Until—“ Shanti cut off and swallowed. No need to go down that road. They both knew what happened; Shanti didn’t need to voice it.

Without sitting up, eyes still closed, Cayan spread out an arm and put his hand on her knee. The touch vibrated, and the power shifted deep within, but it continued to simmer rather than explode. He left his hand for a second, the spicy feeling igniting, then removed it back to
his flat, bumpy stomach. Aside from potentially city-damaging behavior, the gesture, however small, was welcomed. It had helped for the moment, which was all she could ask for with a history like hers.