Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1) (17 page)

He was an enemy, though.

Leilius quickly grabbed the hilt of his blade and yanked. He let out a formless “huh” sound at the suction of knife leaving eye socket. He wiped off the blade immediately.

Focus on the circle. Keep your family safe!

He would. He would make Shanti proud. Focus on the circle. Only what he could control.

Limbs quaking, stomach queasy, he drifted back into the shadows to wait.

Shanti
sucked air in, panting with fatigue. She’d heard Sanders yelling a while ago, his vicious body ripping and tearing his way out toward her, but he couldn’t get far enough. She was cast off in a sea of filth, disgusting Mugdock creatures all around her. Even Lucius had been forced back, trying to stick with her, but under siege and unable to hold his ground.

She was actually hap
py. She was tired of this life, tired of overwhelming odds. She wanted to do her part and let the sea take her under, to die in battle, like her parents and grandparents. She would go down, but first she would take as many as she could.

Summoning
all her remaining strength, Shanti cut off the connection with Lucius and her Honor Guard, hoping they wouldn’t be overcome by the fear she was keeping hidden from their brains. She brought her mental net tight to her surroundings, then rezoned it out in front of her, aiming for the largest mass of enemy. There wasn’t much she could do with those behind her—she was too tired to pick out individual mental paths. She might accidently hit some of her own, and that would defeat the purpose.

She blocked a thrust
headed toward her head, turned another to the side, and grabbed the two minds in front of her as if her hands were made from needles
.
Mugdock released their swords immediately and clutched nasty, matted hair. Dirty faces screamed in agony as they fell.

Now was the time.

She seized everyone in front of her, out for fifty spans, all those bundles of emotion and intent flashing in her mind’s eye. She focused her power, called up her strength, pulled at the life-force in the surrounding wood, and
flashed.

A huge jolt of power ripped from her,
dropping her to her knees. Sinking into hundreds of minds. Boiling spires with searing edges. Burning out their minds.

The battlefield erupted in tortured screams. Swords dropped, falling into the mud with a soft thud.  Dirty nails dug into temples, the pain
unbearable. Consuming. And, finally, killing.

Shanti allowed a relieved smile as she fell, face first, into the bloody mud.
It was finally over. This life filled with pain and loss could finally be forgotten.

****

She was pushed ahead of him, roughly. She didn’t want to go. She couldn’t. Her grandfather had been cut down ten feet from where she worked. Her Chance had felled the man, but there were more coming. Tens of hundreds
of thousands running up the slope. They were beaten. She was beaten. They had lasted longer than expected, but the inevitable had come to pass. She had a destiny to fulfill.

“Go
, Chosen. Go!”

She was pushed again, large hands steering her, forcing her to move away. Forcing her to retreat. Moving her to the path that would lead into the hills. She had her map and supplies hidden. She would start on her journey.

Chance pushed at her. Harder now. She stumbled through the narrow lane of her village, the place deserted. Everyone had been evacuated to either join the fight or get the children away. Some had to knowingly sacrifice themselves so that others might live.

Past the village they saw the first signs of struggle. Some of the enemy had snuck in the back, probably trying to ferret away anyone they could. The
Graygual wanted specimens and promised a handsome payment for any living captures. They didn’t care the sex or age; they wanted examples. They would pay more for young women, however. Women exactly Shanti’s age and description. They wanted the woman that could kill from thirty paces away. They wanted her alive. They wanted to tame her. Then breed her. Then use her and her offspring as their ultimate weapon. The safe guard against the new empire.

Chance pushed her along until she was
stumbling into the small clearing behind her village. Into the pleasant green meadow where she had gone often with Romie. Her first kiss had been next to that old shed. She had lost her virginity to him just under the tree at the edge. It had been the site of some of her best memories. 

The breeze of the afternoon gently disturbed the green blades of grass. The flies disturbed the dead bodies.

Shanti hesitated with surprise at the sea of limbs piled together, sticking out at grotesque angles.

Chance shoved her forward, steered, and shoved again, working around the sightless eyes, the sagging faces. She felt like a wooden puppet held togeth
er with cable pulled too tight. Her legs and arms wouldn’t work properly, her head bobbing animatedly on her wagging shoulders.

From a bloody patch of mud, b
rown eyes stared at her, rims outlined in blood. She staggered, a sob ripping from her throat.

They hadn’t told he
r Romie was one of the Sacrificed.
He
hadn’t told her. He’d said he would be safe! He would be there when she got back. He was going to look after the children, he said. He wasn’t one of the best, but he was well liked. They had agreed to let him go.

She crumpled to her knees beside him, pawing at his blood stained chest. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, trying to drag her away. Her cries reverberated across the dead meadow.

Romie had offered to die for their people. For her duty. For his own.

He was leaving her to a world devoid of his spirit. Of his earthen eyes. He had left her forever, and she had no choice but to continue. Now alone.

“You must go, Chosen. Go! Keep going!”

Shanti open
ed her eyes in the dim light. Agony flared through her body.

Pain meant she wasn’t dead. Now how did that happen?

She wiggled her toes. It felt like two might be broken. She moved her fingers. They worked just fine. Each knee lifted with incredible muscle pain, but nothing deeper. Arms the same. Ribs felt like someone was sitting on her chest. One or two were probably cracked. She’d gotten a good blow by a
fleking
colossal. She’d ensured he died slowly with a puncture to the stomach, but still, it hadn’t been her finest moment.

She was in a sterile-looking room, all white except for the furniture, which was metal. So much metal. This place was so rich it was almost disgusting.

The door opened, revealing a tall man with a thin frame and thinner hair. He had a put-upon expression and a wooden board in his hand.

“Lovely to see you again, Doctor. To what do I owe the privilege?”
Shanti asked in a strained voice, trying to ignore the throb of her ribs.

“Yes, it seems your wit is intact. Goodie.” The doctor closed the door behind him, his face getting grimmer.

“How did I get here?”

The doctor pulled a chair from the corner and placed it at the
middle of her bed. He sat slowly, crossed his ankle over his knee, and leaned back, thin slab of wood resting on his lap. “You were brought.”

“Ah, this is a game, is it not? Twenty questions? Yes, Leilius loves this game. How is he, by the way? How are they all?”

The doctor surveyed her, his face impassive. “Alive. For now.”

Shanti tried to sit up. Pain stabbed her midsection—definitely cracked ribs—
but she pushed through it. The sheet dropped to her mid-section and she realized she was in one of those bloody nightgowns the doctor loved so much.

“What do you mean
for now?”

“Ah, you see? It is rather irritating when someone doesn’t adequately answer another’s questions, is it not?”

Shanti glared at him. She knew better than to open her
Gift,
though. After what she’d done, it would definitely hurt. She winced just thinking of it.

“Yes, painful, isn’t it? Being wounded often has that effect. But what do I know; I’m just a doctor. And yes, we do have a school for that here.”

“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to force me to
beat it out of you?”

The doctor gave a loud sigh and looked at his small, rectang
ular board. “Cadet Leilius is in the mud tub, sitting up to his neck and tied that way, because he kicked Commander Sanders in the shin when he wasn’t allowed in here to make sure you were okay. Gracas is right next to him because he tried to punch Commander Daniels for the same reason. He missed, of course. He now has a black eye. Xavier is carrying rocks from one side of the training yard to the other because he was able to successfully punch Sterling, who had barred his way. Let’s see.” The doctor consulted his board again. “Ah yes, young Marc suffered a stab wound to his leg, but he is mending nicely. Rachie got a rather serious wound down his chest. I have stitched him up, and he will heal in time. He will forever have a scar, but he informed me that women like men with scars, and was excited to test the theory just as soon as he is released.”

Shanti t
ook a minute to thank her Elders their care. She’d grown fond of those boys—she would hate to hear any harm had come to them. “Then what did you mean ‘for now?’”

“The Captain hasn’t gotten around to
speaking with them about refusing his orders and following yours.”

“Oh. Yeah, that probably pissed him in.”

“I see you are working on your slang. How lovely. You aren’t quite there yet, however.”

“Lucius?”
Shanti continued.

“Will have a great many women
, if young Rachie is correct. He is alive, though. Sanders just barely got him out. He didn’t want to leave you. Neither of them did. For some reason.”

“Sanders pulled me out?”

The doctor gave her a flat, assessing stare for a moment. “Sanders couldn’t reach you. He did try, but....” The doctor shrugged with one shoulder.

“Are you trying to teach me humility, doctor? Because the last person
who tried was unconscious for twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t doubt that. The difference between me and that unfortunate fellow is that I know a lost cause when I see one.”

Shanti stared at him. She would get up and shake it out of him if she had to. Although, she really hoped she didn’t have to. It hurt just to sit up.

The doctor must have read her mind because a ghost of a smile flickered at his lips. Finally he answered. “The Captain pulled you out. He wasn’t too happy you weren’t in the secure hold.”

Shanti couldn’t help blurting, “The Captain did? Why?”

“
That is a great question.”

“How did he get to me?”

“By doing what he does—charging in, taking what he wants, and charging back out leaving a trail of bodies behind him.”

So Cayan had gone aft
er her. But why? Also, what an idiot! He was in charge of a whole city. Risking his life for a foreigner just to get the last laugh was just plain stupidity. And if she didn’t hurt so badly, she would go tell him.

The doctor still gazed at her with his unimpressed countenance. Shanti suspected he loved being put out just for something to make a show of.
He said, “He is mending, too, in case you’re wondering. I noticed that you didn’t ask.”

No, she hadn’t
. She didn’t want to hear how badly she owed him for her life. For giving her people another chance. It was a large pill to swallow.

The doctor continued in his dry voice.
“He had cuts all up and down his left and right side. Gashes, fairly deep, in his back. Two bruised bones, but nothing was broken. Here’s a question for you: some of the recovered bodies, those that died at your feet and another, oh, sixty paces out or so, didn’t have a mark on them. They died in agony, that was clear, and most were clawing at their face, eyes or head—one had bloodied his ears—but none had an actual wound. Would you know anything about that?”

Uh oh.
“You would know the bodies I killed—they had sword marks, or knives sticking out of them.”

“Yes. Excellent knife throwing. If what I hear is true, you made extremely ha
rd shots and never missed. Impressive. I’ve always said, however, that women tend to have better aim, where men tend to throw harder. I enjoy being right. Regardless, that doesn’t answer my question.”

Shanti struggled for breath around her tight throat. She really wanted to l
ie back down—her ribs were killing her. “What were you doing wandering among dead bodies? Just what kind of a doctor are you? Should I be worried that you were planning to dress me, put makeup on me, and close me in a box?”