Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2 (19 page)

Marc looked at the ground. “I never believed someone could be soulless. You know, because… that’s just kind of silly. But…” His deep brown eyes sought Shanti in desperation. “If ever someone was soulless, it would be him. He was just… empty.”

Shanti patted Marc’s shoulder.
Should I hug him?

Rohnan nodded.

Shanti hugged him, and started when Marc threw his arms around her. He was turning into a man, but part of him was still very much a boy. Shanti patted his back. “I’ve seen some bad things,” he said. “When we went into that place the Inkna occupied, and I saw how the people were treated—I was scared. That could happen to us. But now… this guy…”

Shanti backed off to look the youth in the eye. “It helps to get angry. To let the rage over his wrongs fuel you and override the fear. That’s what Rohnan does. I…”

Shanti settled back into her heels. Fire burned in her memories—flames swallowing her home and her village. Bodies writhed. Blood dripped from faces like tears. Her people lay in heaps on the ground, run through with swords and then discarded.

Instead of helping, she’d run. Left them all behind to rot in the open because no one was left to nestle them into the ground and make their journey up to the Elders easier.

A tear dripped down Shanti’s face as she hung her head. “He doesn’t scare me in that way. I look into his eyes and see a mirror. I see a woman who over and over again deserts those she loves, over and over again. I feel the emptiness inside me that I see in his eyes. So no, he doesn’t scare me. How could he?”

She rose, avoiding Rohnan’s eyes, trying to push away his concern and sorrow. Instead, she looked down on Marc as the emotions threatened to overcome her. “But I ache. I ache for what I’ve done. I know that I will never be like him. I will never reach a place where I can no longer feel the destruction I’ve caused to those I love most. That I continue to cause. When you look at him, hold onto your humanity with both hands, and know that as long as you can still feel, you are better than him. You may not believe it most of the time, but as long as you can
feel
, you can find your way back to grace.”

Shanti felt Cayan’s warm mental embrace as it tried to entwine within hers. He was trying to wrap her up and cradle her within himself to protect her.

For once, she let him. She allowed what felt like his strong, unyielding arms encircle her body, cushioning her against the unspeakable horror in her mind. She couldn’t escape her past, but this time, she welcomed his comfort to endure it.

Shanti walked away from the area. Without realizing where she was going, she ended up in front of her horse. Without thinking, she slapped it across the face, picking a fight. It responded as she knew it would—by releasing that weird growl and trying to bite her. It stamped its hoof. She slapped its face again. It kicked its front foot forward and nearly clipped her thigh.

Fast bugger.

Another hoof kicked out, almost getting her arm. She shied away and hunched as the sobs bubbled up.

She’d run. Like a coward. She’d turned and run away from all of her people.

She sank against her horse and threw her arms around its neck. She didn’t care if it kicked her, or bit her. She just wanted a moment of escape from her past. Just one second of sinking into the unfeeling world the Hunter occupied would seem so luxurious.

Instead, she gained a few stolen moments of hugging a stubborn bastard of a horse, and felt a surge of gratitude for it letting her.

A
s the day progressed
, they came to several forks in the path. To test him, they had Sanders continue to choose which path to take and each time Burson followed his advice, indicating he was right.

“Any idiot can see which way the supply trains are going,” Sanders said. “But that could lead us right to a camp full of armed and dangerous people. So who’s the idiot? The one that follows the path, or the one that doesn’t?”

It had been a good question. One that had everyone looking at Burson.

Burson looked at the sky with a smile. “Only few choose the right paths. I was one. There have been only a handful of others. But I had the doctrines on my side. And the
sight
as it comes with my mind-power. You have only brain. Yet that is enough, it seems. Remarkable. The other paths lead to traps and they do the work of a large army. I wonder if this group of warriors and insightful young women would have found the signs to avoid the traps? Maybe.”

Shanti had looked back at Rohnan at the mention of
sight
. Burson was a
Seer
in some way, not solely relying on his doctrines as he’d led them to believe. It gave more credibility to his decision-making.

Shanti’s horse edged around a bush laced with a glimmering spider web. The dank, moist forest smelled like it has been scrubbed clean with moss. Dust particles sparkled in the snatches of light filtering through the canopy. The dense foliage seemed to
press
in on them, as though nature was trapping them into a tight embrace.

Tingles worked up Shanti’s back and arms as the eeriness of the surroundings toyed with her mind. Unseen eyes peered out at them, watching from natural hideouts. She could feel the minds all around them, wary and hostile. It had been like this for a quarter hour. They were being stalked by those unseen, but no move had been made.

“Can you see anything?” she asked Cayan.

He shook his head.

“Can’t you just chase them out with your mind-thing?” Tobias asked in a hush.

“Burson said no, remember?” someone replied in a loud whisper from the back. “They have let him through at least once already.”

“I don’t like this hiding bullshit,” Sanders growled.

Shanti didn’t either. She had a grip on all their minds, but Burson had told her to maintain peace. Peace was the only way through the wood without bloodshed.

Tell that to the people waiting with weapons in the trees.

The rasp of branches sounded off to the right. Cayan’s head snapped that way, trying to see who made the sound. Shanti’s focus went to the other side, in case the noise was a distraction. Behind them, leather creaked as tightly wound men shifted in their saddles. A slow slide of a sword from a sheath mingled with the clomp of hooves on dirt.

“Got movement,” Tepson called up. “They’re definitely watching us.”

The itching between Shanti’s shoulder blades intensified. She strained her eyes, looking into the trees for the telltale glint of eyes. For bodies. For
anything
that might give these people away. They were like ghosts, silent but ever-present, stalking them through the woods. Dangerous ghosts, at that.

Shanti’s horse neighed. It pranced to the right, either sensing her apprehension, or feeling the people waiting just off the road.

“Do any of them have that mind-weapon?” Sanders asked quietly.

“No. But none are scared like Marc is—they’re experienced.” Shanti let her fingers play across the blade of her sword. “They think they have the upper hand.”

“Saw one—I saw one!” Gracas hissed.

“What are they waiting for? They have us surrounded.” Cayan asked in rough voice. He took out a throwing knife.

“Wariness. I’m getting heavy doses of wariness. Some recognition is also evident, though soft,” Rohnan said. “Tension is higher, though. It’s building. Something is coming. They’re waiting for something.”

“They can hear us, right? They’re close enough to be able to hear what we say?” Marc asked from down the line. “If so, let’s not give too much away. They’re not giving us anything.”

They’re giving plenty away,
Shanti thought.
And that scares them because they’re used to lying in wait, undiscovered. We’ve blown their greatest asset—concealment.

“Here we go—” Rohnan said. He stood in his saddle and pulled his staff free. Cayan whipped out his sword from its sheath, signaling those behind them to do the same. Metal slid against leather.

A group of fifteen or so entered Shanti’s tight mental focus, sprinting. “Here they come and they’re coming fast!”

She stood in her saddle, brandishing steel. She glanced at the ground—stay on or get off?

“They have no horses—stay on your horse,” Cayan growled.

A thrust of stinging mental power slapped her mind. Everyone behind her groaned. Marc and Leilius both shrieked. As the runners drew near, the power intensified, pounding her with waves of mental needles that felt like they were piercing her whole body.

“
T
his is nothing
—grit your teeth against this!” Sanders roared. He swung a leg over his saddle, ready to jump off and attack.

“React!” Burson shouted. “Do not kill.”

With a lifetime of experience, Shanti fought the attack until she could identify each of the participants. As Sanders was jumping from his horse, she found the source and gripped each of their minds, ready to softly end the attack.

Cayan had also reacted, but unfortunately his maneuvers weren’t so subtle.

Without warning, a deep rumble
blasted
into the trees. Like a shockwave of invisible fire, power blistered toward the attackers, mental-workers and fighters alike. Those waiting within the trees recoiled from the thick, heady power. One toppled out onto the path, clutching his middle and screaming. Another wave rolled from Cayan, the subatomic thunder unlike anything Shanti could duplicate. It hit the runners like a wall, stopping their progress. Shrieks and screamed filled the trees, and still he pumped out attacks. His eyes glowed, flickering with the power that left him in steady torrents.

Shields slammed home to protect the attackers, but they were nowhere near strong enough to withstand Cayan’s might, especially with her mated power to bolster him further. He pounded into them, dropping them to their knees. Shanti felt the agony as minds pulled into themselves, like bodies curling into the fetal position.

“Enough, Cayan,” Shanti yelled, pulling back. She wrestled his mental power, turning it from its path as best she could and pulling it into herself. His mental presence wrapped around hers. The spicy quality of their mated powers fizzled and tingled her limbs. She sucked in a breath as a flood of warm comfort and support radiated through her core. He must have been thinking of her episode earlier that day, and their intimate mental contact had brought out his concern.

This was not the bloody time!

“Cayan, pull
back!
” She ripped out of his mental embrace before jumping from her horse as her
Gift
blossomed out once again. “Secure the first row of attackers—do not kill!” she said to the others

She pinpointed the
Gifted
as they tried to rebuild their defenses, though some were undoubtedly still curled up on the ground. Cayan’s
Gift
joined hers, back under control now that the immediate threat was gone. She let it swell her power, and then
pierced
. A thin stream of intense strength hammered into the center of their defenses. Their mental shields shattered. She clutched their minds in a steel grip. When one or more tried to shake her loose, or put up further defenses, she
twisted
. New shrieks rent the air.

“Follow the game trails, Chosen,” Rohnan shouted as he veered to the right.

Shanti jumped over a form huddled on the ground moaning. His sword lay in the dirt. She ran around another who sat with her arms around her knees, rocking with eyes closed.

She saw the trails Rohnan referred to, crisscrossing like a spider web. They weren’t for game, they were for ambushes. Clever.

“Rohnan, go farther right. There are two there. Cayan—”

“I got it,” came Cayan’s reply. He was running left with his sword at the ready.

Shanti burst through a hedge, and nearly stumbled onto an arm lying across the trail from a fallen body. She hopped over, took a few more steps, and turned with sword in one hand and knife in the other. There were four people, from ages twelve through forty, all kneeling or lying on the ground. A man, the oldest, looked up with pleading eyes.
“Please spare my wife and son,”
he said in the common trader’s dialect.
“He’s only fifteen and she—”

“Not me,”
the boy spat with a raised chin in grim defiance.
“Spare my mother.”
He pointed to the woman lying on the ground, heavily pregnant.

A shock of horror engulfed Shanti. Without thinking, she screamed for Marc and ducked to the woman.

“Is she weak in power?”
Shanti asked in a rush, rolling the woman off of her stomach.

The son made a quick movement. A fisted hand holding a rock lashed toward Shanti’s head. She ducked and punched, clipping him on the chin before
blasting
him with her
Gift
. He grunted and clenched his jaw before she thrust into his mind for a deeper connection. With one fierce
tug
, she sucked his
Gift’s
essence into her. She could latch on and use his mind’s control center to wreak havoc with his body, or she could keep sucking until he passed out, cutting off before he died.

She opted for the second. She only wanted him out of the way.

“No!”
the man shouted. He lurched for his son before hesitating and leaning back toward his wife. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Please. Please don’t hurt her. She’s eight months pregnant.”

“I’m not going to hurt her, and your son is just sleeping. You people really should trust a little more. Surely you realize I could’ve killed you outright.
MARC!
”

“S’am?” Marc crashed through the trees like a wounded deer.

“Here,” she called.

Finally he stumbled through dense bushes with a sword and a white face. He looked around with wild eyes, saw the man raise his arms in defense, and stabbed forward. Before Shanti could jump up to intercept, he veered the thrust away to the right. “Is he surrendering?”

Marc turned around, still wild-eyed, and saw the woman on the ground. “What happened?” He knelt to the woman in a rush of movement. His eyes cleared of fear immediately, but his hands still shook with adrenaline. He felt along her belly and pinched her eyes open. She moaned and moved her head.

“It’s her
Gift
. Her mental thing. She’s exhausted, like you get sometimes.” Marc went back to feeling her belly. His eyebrows dropped low over his eyes. He jumped before ripping his hands away. “Weird. I’ve never felt a baby kick before. It has some punch. But, the baby is alive. And her pulse is fine. She just needs to rest, I think.”

Shanti bent with a lung-filling sigh. If she’d killed a pregnant woman, not even the underworld would welcome her in.

“What were you thinking having her out here? Are you insane, or just stupid? Get her home.”

“They said you were powerful. That we all had to come or else they couldn’t hold you,”
the father said in a quivering voice. He crawled over to his wife and grabbed her hand, shooting furtive glances at their son.

Shanti shook her head.
“They should’ve known that the few extra people wouldn’t have helped.”

Rohnan returned, his weapons already put away. He glanced at the people on the ground before dropping down to the woman. “What happened?”

“She’s weak in the
Gift
but she’s okay. Help Marc get her to her home. I’m going to go see what’s going on with the fighters—see if we can expect any more violence.”

“This how they been able to keep strangers out,” Rohnan said as he felt the woman’s pulse. “With their
Gift
. All together they are powerful. Is enough for many, but not powerful enough to keep Graygual out for much longer.”

“No. Not with the Graygual armies moving this way in greater number.” Shanti kept her sword out. She didn’t know what she’d find back with the others, and her people were still outnumbered.

“The Captain’s
Gift
is… unique…” Rohnan said. His tone was even and his shield was up tight. There was subtext to his statement, his body language and blasé attitude made that clear, but he intended to keep it to himself.

She absolutely hated it when he did this.

“I can see that you are trying not to make a point, Rohnan, and, succeeding in being irritating.” Shanti looked at Marc. “Are you okay to stay with him, Marc?”

Marc didn’t bother looking up. “Is he a doctor? He’s being pretty thorough. Seems like he knows what he’s doing.”

“He’s a healer, of sorts. His
Gift
lends to that discipline. Also that of working with kids. He—”

“I cover that, Chosen,” Rohnan interrupted. “You have other things do.”

“
To
do, ingrate.” Shanti hefted her sword and stalked back toward the earlier fray. As she left the others, she heard, “Did you call her ‘Chosen’?”

Not only did someone speak the Mountain Region language, he knew of the title. Great.

She felt Cayan making his way along the path and looked right as he emerged through the lush trees. His gaze traveled her body before converging on her trail, directly behind her. “Easy take down,” he said.

“Yes. The wonders of working with a
Gift
.”

“The Inkna will no doubt think the same when they need to use this wood as a thoroughfare. Going around eats days.”

They slowed when they found Tepson, one of their men who was known for his luck, standing amongst a group of ten. He had his sword out and his captives tied with their wrists behind their backs. The rope connected one to the other, and they each knelt, women and men of all ages, with pressed lips and tight eyes. Wariness, fear and sorrow radiated from the group.

Tepson glanced up when he saw movement. His gaze went right around Shanti to the Captain. “Sir, we have them all situated. Waiting for instruction.”

Cayan scanned those on the ground before settling on a man in his mid-twenties with short-cropped hair and a square jaw who bore a scar on his neck, as if someone tried to slit his throat and failed. He had wide shoulders layered in muscle, and thick arms.

“Who’s in charge?” Cayan asked.

Before Shanti could translate, the man’s jaw tightened. Defiance sparked in his eyes. “I’ll cooperate if you release the women and children.”

Cayan stared at him. He was undoubtedly sizing the other man up, deciding how best to work with him. He must have seen potential and wanted to win his trust.

And he would. Cayan was great at that sort of thing, but it could take time. Shanti didn’t have any more patience.

“Look at my eyes!” she barked. “Do you think we’re the sort to harm women and children?”

With a hard gaze haunted with battles lost, he met her eyes. She read desperation there immediately. Hopelessness. He wasn’t just hiding, he was lost. Exiled of his own volition. Waiting to die.

He must have seen the Graygual in action. And it had crippled his resolve.

Without thinking, she stepped forward and slapped him across the face. “Your fight isn’t done yet! You’re young. And you’re able. You don’t have to hide here with these families. You can take your life back!”

His eyebrows dipped low as his cheek started to turn red. His gray gaze traveled her face before resettling on her eyes. Surprise lit up his features.

“That’s right,” she said “I’m on the run. I’ve seen what the Graygual can do, too. But I can’t hide. I’ve wanted to. Kiss the Elders, I’ve wanted to. I’ve wanted to let Lord Death claim me—to let my past bury me with those I left behind. But I can’t let what happened to me happen to anyone else if I can help it.”

She waited, giving him a moment of silence.

“They took my wife. She was newly with child, and still they took her.” He blinked as his eyes started to glisten. “They slit my throat, but without conviction. One of the survivors revived me. They killed my wife after they—” He cut off in a strangled sob.

Shanti envisioned wrapping a warm blanket around his shoulders. She knelt in front of him and laid her hand on his cheek. In a soft voice, she said, “They killed all of my people. I know what you are going through. I won’t lie and say that ache will go away—I don’t think it ever will. But hiding isn’t the answer. My brother and I were given the duty of getting help, and then tearing down the Graygual. Join me. For your wife. For all the wives. For all the survivors. Help me.”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared into her eyes. His nod was so slight she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been touching his face. She bent forward to kiss his forehead, then gave him a hard slap on his shoulder.

Men couldn’t mope for too long, or they turned into horrible whiners. A little violence went a long way with a fighter.

“What nation are you from?” Shanti asked as she stood.

“Dirkshore.” He cleared his throat. In a steadier voice, he continued with, “On the south-western coast.”

“Then you were one of the first. I am from the north-western coast. We were the last on the coast to be conquered.”

“I’ve heard of you. The little girl who knocked Xandre down.”

“Not for long, I didn’t.” Shanti took a deep breath and looked at the others huddled together. Their fear had completely dissipated. So had the hopelessness. These people were all hiding; that’s why they guarded this area with such a heavy hand. They were afraid of their enemy coming in and dragging them back out. And with the
Gifted
, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. They would’ve been entered into the breeding program, and their lives would be spent in a gilded cage.

“I hate the Graygual,” she spat. She looked back at the gray-eyed warrior who was watching her expectantly. “Yes, I am that little girl. And that ‘victory’ cost the lives of everyone in my village. The only victory as far as Xandre is concerned would be one resulting in his dead carcass. That’s it. As long as he is alive, he will keep going. He’ll keep killing. He might wait years, but eventually, he will revisit all who wronged him and rip their lives apart.”

“Then we must kill him,” said a slight woman with a bow lying next to her. Her eyes were hard, and just as haunted.

“Are you all survivors of the Graygual?” Shanti asked in dismay.

“In one way or another, yes,” the woman replied. “But you should talk to Yeasmine. She’s the one who started this place. She is the one who guards us.”

“She failed today,” the gray-eyed man countered.

“Be thankful she failed with me. It could’ve been worse.” Shanti started forward.

Cayan said to Tepson, “Untie them. But good thinking with the rope.”

“Didn’t want to cut it up, sir. We’ll probably need it again,” Tepson responded.

“He’s a fast thinker,” Cayan said as he followed closely behind Shanti.