Powers of the Six (13 page)

Alec’s muscles jerked as an unknown energy coursed through him. Another wave of nausea finally took over. He choked it back, but his sword slipped from his weakened fingers and fell helplessly to the ground.

Alec paused, as if in a dream, as General Trividar lunged. His world stopped as if he’d plummeted off a cliff and hit bottom. Only then did Alec realize how fast he’d been moving. Faces had blurred, unrecognizable; trees had become a vague mass of green. He looked down—slower than he thought possible—to his father’s own creation impaled through his chest.

It was oddly painless. Then a dull throb took hold.

As another wave of convulsions wracked through Alec’s muscles, the edge of the blade cut new. This was not another cut given on the floor of the armory.

He heard a gasp, then a scream. A rush of pain jerked through him as the general’s arm yanked, pulling the sword free. Pressing trembling fingers to his tunic, he brought them away warm with his own blood. His legs lost their strength, and slowly, he crumpled to the ground.

Chapter Ten

A RAINBOW OF COLORS spilled before Alec when he opened his eyes. Six banners, each representing one of the sects of the Shay Rol’dan, hung around the perimeter of a large common room. He stretched, finding himself resting in the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in. Alec had been dreaming terrible things: Taryn coming into power, his fight with the general, the general stabbing him. Grasping his chest, his fingertips found a new, faint scar.

He gasped. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

Another memory surfaced: He’d come into a Shay power.

“Alec?”

Taryn sat on a chair next to him. He sat up quickly—much too quickly—as the foreign Shay power pulsed through him. Taryn squealed in surprise and jerked away. Alec collapsed, cursed, and hugged a plump pillow to his face.

“This can’t be happening,” he muttered beneath the pillow.

“I know,” Taryn said. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

Slowly, he pulled the pillow away and met Taryn’s concerned eyes. She was dressed in the black robes of the Healing Rol’dan. A green sash crossed her chest. Even in black, she looked beautiful.

“How long have I been here?” he asked.

“Just a day,” she said. “At least we didn’t have to take part in the last trial. From what I heard, Empathy must play some sort of guessing game with boxes. And you know how fun their games are.” She forced a nervous laugh, and then her smile dimmed. “What happened to you, Alec? Did they do this to you?”

She brushed her fingertip across an old scar on Alec’s arm. A jolt of healing energy pulsed into him.

She gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.”

“No, really. I can’t control this. Every time I touch someone …”

Alec sat up, this time pushing back the infernal Speed Shay and doing so at normal speed. “Most of these scars I’ve had for years. You know, we spar at the shop and all.” He touched the newest addition. It was amazing. He should’ve been dead! Taryn shook her head as her eyes roved over him, making Alec’s face warm.

“I’ve heard of your duels,” she said, “but I never imagined … I was frightened when they first brought you in. Your whole body was covered in blood. And when they took off your clothes …” She shut her mouth quickly. “I mean, they had a terrible time trying to clean you …” A pink glow tinted her cheeks.

Alec lifted the edge of the blanket. He wore nothing. He scanned the lodge, noticing soldiers milling about. “I suppose they did it here in the open?”

She smiled slightly, but couldn’t meet his eyes.

“And you were here too?”

Her blush deepened.

Crows! He didn’t even want to think about how much she had seen. By the way she was acting, he guessed quite a bit. He cleared his throat, pushing down the warmth spreading up his face. “I suppose that’s one way to keep me from running away.”

She finally met his eyes. “Keep you from running away?”

“By taking my clothes. Running through the woods wouldn’t feel so good, especially with all the pointy branches and such.”

She snickered. “Yes, I suppose so.”

The lodge doors burst open, and King Alcandor entered, followed by a group of Shay Rol’dan with General Trividar in the lead. All the soldiers in the lodge rose to their feet and bowed. The king ignored them and made his way directly to Alec and Taryn.

“I see we are feeling better,” King Alcandor said.

The king’s blue eyes glowed purple with Empathy, and a warming sensation came over Alec. Alec grabbed the blanket and pulled it up, suddenly self-conscious.

King Alcandor made a motion, and a soldier placed a folded garment on Alec’s bed: black breeches, a gold tunic and cape, and a leather jerkin. It was the uniform of the Speed Rol’dan.

Alec’s stomach turned.

“I am sorry this displeases you, young Deverell,” King Alcandor said. “Despite your disgust, your new uniform suits you well.” He picked up the garments and held them expectantly.

“Remember your Shay,” the king whispered. “You will move so quickly, no one will see you. Well, except those who share your skill of Speed.” He grinned. “But I am certain they won’t watch.”

The other Rol’dan chuckled. Alec couldn’t believe it. The king wanted him to get dressed in the open, in front of everyone … including Taryn. A familiar energy awakened deep within, and Alec knew, unfortunately, the king was right. He’d move faster than they could see.

Grabbing hold of what he guessed to be his Shay, Alec threw aside the covers and put on the uniform. Not that he wanted it, but he’d feel better with some clothes on. Alec knew, somehow, he’d done it in a sightless moment.

Taryn gawked, open-mouthed.

“Well done,” King Alcandor said. The man’s eyes traveled down Alec’s body in a way that made his skin crawl. “I will see you at dinner tonight. I am looking forward to getting to know you better.”

King Alcandor turned toward Taryn, and she inhaled. He took her hand. “And you, Miss Trividar.” His lips lingered on her open palm while she flushed a deep scarlet. “I will enjoy getting to know you much, much better, as well.”

The king turned away, his cloak billowing in a sea of golden silk behind him. He strode through a pair of massive wooden doors. Among the Rol’dan, only General Trividar followed.

“Dinner?” Alec asked.

Taryn smiled nervously. “It’s for us. Typically, new initiates dine with the king when they return to Faylinn, but since he’s here …”

Alec’s muscles felt strangely foreign; tremors of energy vibrated through them. He dropped his gaze to his new clothes, starting at his too-bright golden tunic and traveling down fine leather breeches to bare feet. Knee-length boots, adorned with brass buttons, sat next to a neatly folded golden cape waiting to complete the ensemble. His stomach ached, not from hunger or nervousness, but disgust. How could he face Father now that he’d become one of
them
—just like the one who had murdered his mother?

***

It was difficult getting to the dining hall. Not because it was hard to find, but because his legs had a mind of their own. He’d be walking normally, then Speed off, running into more walls and doorways than he wanted to remember. Taryn caught up to him each time, trying to cover the laughter splattered across her face. At least one of them found his nightforsaken power amusing.

When they finally reached the dining room, Rylan—the skinny fellow who had been slinging with Nolan—pulled his chair and accidentally threw it across the room. It shattered into splinters with the force of his newly acquired Shay of Strength. At least Alec wasn’t the only one struggling with their new power.

“This is horrible,” a redheaded girl said. She wrinkled her freckled nose as she lifted a goblet.

A boy next to her tapped her arm in a brotherly way. “You’ll get used to it, Sussan.”

“Get used to it!” she screeched. “It tastes like metal!”

“Oh no,” the boy said. “This is good. It’s fresh water here. Might be some iron ore nearby in the earth, that’s probably what you’re tasting. Wait till we get back to Faylinn. They boil the seawater, but it still tastes like salt. The better you get at your Perception Shay, the more you can block it out.”

“Faylinn?” Alec asked.

“He came into his power a few months ago,” Taryn explained. “He’s already moved to Faylinn.”

“I still say it’s horrible,” Sussan said, frowning at the glass.

“It’s just water.” A boy smirked from across the room, his eyes turning blue with Accuracy. He launched a small nut and, with a perfect
plink,
it landed in her glass. “It
was
just water.”

“Owen!” She slammed her glass on the table, water sloshing, and glared at the boy as her eyes flared with the orange light of Perception.

“So, you are Alec Deverell?” The brown-haired boy next to Sussan pulled a lopsided grin. “Sorry, we haven’t met yet. My name’s Daren Kinsley. I must say, the soldiers have been talking about you a lot this week.”

Alec grunted.
I bet they have.

“They were all surprised at your transformation. I can’t speak for the rest, but I’m quite glad,” Daren continued. “I’m from Tremain, originally. I’ve helped my father mine ore in the mountains for years. We saw your performances from time to time when we brought ore to Alton. Sold a lot to your father. He always gave us a fair price, too.”

Daren waited for a response before continuing. “Well, at least they train the Shay of Speed for sword skills. I’ve watched them practice. Compared to most of the Rol’dan, you’re an expert already.”

“Yeah. An expert. That’s why I got run through.”

“Well, you
were
fighting the general. He’s the best swordsman in the Rol’dan army, if not the entire land. You put up a real good fight;
I
was impressed.”

Alec wasn’t—the general was still alive.

“So … Alec, is it?” A boy with black hair glared, his eyes glowing purple with Empathy. Alec felt as if someone poked around his brain. “Why do you dislike the Rol’dan?”

Alec started.
Night’s shadows! Did he read me?
“I … I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Maybe it’s because annoying Empathy users barge into people’s minds.” Daren winked at Alec. “This here is Fanior, our newest intermeddler.”

“Empathy Rol’dan,” Fanior corrected, puffing his chest.

“Same thing,” Daren said.

The sound of breaking glass drew everyone’s eyes to Rylan. The remains of a goblet fell from his fist. Opening his palm, he examined a tiny cut. Taryn sighed, reached over to touch his hand, and her eyes glowed emerald green with Healing. She flinched and opened her palm as a similar cut faded away.

“Hey, thanks,” Rylan said.

“I have to start sometime, I guess.” Her hand lingered on top of Rylan’s before she shyly took it away.

Alec watched the brief exchange, and heat spiked his vision. As Alec reached for his glass, his hand bolted, flinging the glass, and its contents, over everyone.

Taryn smiled as she grabbed her napkin to dry herself.

“Sorry,” Alec said.

“That will get better, too,” Daren said. “It took a few weeks before I ate much of anything, or block out noise to sleep. With Perception, every sensation is amplified, so much it’s hard to function. Your body adjusts to the power eventually.” He forced down a piece of bread, like he was trying to eat mud.

“So how’d you get your power a few months ago, before the trials?” Alec asked.

Daren pushed bread around on his plate. “A trial isn’t the only way one can come into their power. There was a mining accident back home. I came into my power then.”

The doors to the small dining room opened, and a throng of servants paraded in, placing platter after platter of food on the table, a mixture of aromas filling the air.

Sussan clasped her hand over her nose. “I’m going to be sick.”

Daren put an arm around her shoulder, though he looked as green as she did. “It gets easier … with time.”

The door opened again and two soldiers wearing the floor-length purple cloaks and deep purple vests of the Empathy Rol’dan came in and stood on either side of the room. They crossed their arms over their chests and glared at the group. A glimmer of purple light flickered in their eyes.

The door swung open a third time. With a flourish, King Alcandor made his entrance, pulled out a chair next to Alec, and sat. Alec tensed and lowered his eyes, his muscles twitching with pent-up Shay energy. Crows. Why did he have to sit next to him?

Silver forks and knives scraped across plates in silence. The king didn’t eat; instead, he stared with nearly translucent blue eyes, his posture motionless except for a single, long finger running circles across the rim of his goblet. When his gaze reached one of them, they tensed, squirming in their seats. After several long minutes of his scrutiny, all eating stopped and nervous tension filled the room.

As the servants removed uneaten dinners and served dessert, Fanior, the annoying Empathy user, spoke.