The Silver Siren (22 page)

Bearen was dueling with the largest of
the men, but the man’s armor protected him from side blows and
deflected the smaller swings. My father wasn’t as lucky—his
leathers offered little protection. He was faster than the armored
knight, but he was also older.

Odin was the first to go down, a sword
in his stomach. Fenri let Odin’s cries of pain distract him, and he
missed a parry, slipping on the wet grass.

Bearen roared as he continued battling
two of the men.

Not again! I refused to lose any more
to battle if I could prevent it. I darted in for the bow and picked
up a few scattered arrows. I aimed to pick off each of the warriors
in succession, one after another. I knew my gifting would very well
lead me to lose control, but in that moment, all I cared about was
saving those so important to me. I screamed in pain and frustration
as I channeled that destructive power into the arrow and aimed for
one man’s beating heart. Faster than I have ever done it before, I
released the arrow.

Like a snuffed candle, he was
gone.

Each arrow exploded with my rage upon
contact. I worked my way out, focusing on those closest to me. The
one who had his sword raised to stab Odin again was blasted
backward as my next arrow exploded into his chest.

I curled my fingers and turned to
Bearen’s attackers. One danced an intricate dance of parries and
thrusts, leading my father around to expose his unprotected back to
his companion. The other man saw his opening and ran forward to
thrust his sword into Bearen. With an enormous magical push, I
shoved my father out of the way. Unable to stop his momentum, the
enemy stabbed his own comrade. Bearen used the opening to kill the
other man while he was distracted. He slid his knife into the
soldier’s back and held him until he fell forward to the ground
dead.

Fenri had regained his footing and run
over to Bearen. Only one man remained. glancing around, he ran for
his horse to make a hasty escape. I should have been exhausted,
falling over faint with the use of expended energy. I should have
been on the verge of blacking out.

Instead, I felt alive. Powerful. And
it scared me.

Odin pulled himself up and surveyed
his wound. It had apparently missed any major organs. He was
already ripping his vest and making a bandage. Since he wasn’t
worried, I wasn’t worried.

Fenri turned to yell at me, but I was
already moving away from them. I had one particular goal in mind.
The messenger. The first one killed. I stared, unfeeling, at the
body of the stranger. Maybe I should have felt something akin to
pity but I didn’t. Instead, I focused on the leather satchel
attached to his side. With a quick flick of my knife, I detached
the bag and shoved it under my arm as I ran to Faraway and mounted
him.

“
Thalia, don’t read
those,” Bearen warned, running toward me.

“
I won’t if you tell me
what they say. Why have you been hiding this from me? If this has
something to do with the Septori, then I need to know.” I grabbed
the bag and shook it in his face.

Bearen reached for the satchel and
tugged it gently from me. “Once a year, he sends a messenger with
men demanding that you come to Sinnendor. Every year we refuse.
When you were younger he didn’t know your name, just demanded that
the child of Thelonia be escorted back. A few years later, he
demanded the girl child. Now he asks for you by name.”

“
Why?” I
gasped.

“
I don’t know. There were
many things your mother refused to share with me about her past.
But I discussed it with the council and we all agreed that we would
not respond or give you up. Recently, the demands have come closer
together—the first week of each month.” Bearen opened the satchel
and pulled out the message. He turned and showed me what was
written upon it in fine script.

Bring me Thalia
Valdyrstal.

~King Tieren

“
That’s it?” I scoffed.
“That’s all it says.”

Odin winced as he walked over to me.
“It’s exactly as your father says.” He nodded across the field to a
large mound of rocks—the kind we used to cover the graves of our
fallen members. The one he motioned to was larger than the other,
so tall and round it looked like part of an avalanche. “They’ve
been coming more frequently over the last few months, and we’ve
started leaving fewer and fewer survivors.”

“
Does this have to do with
Sinnendor’s borders being open?” My mind began to whirl with
possibilities.

“
As far as we know, the
two are separate matters.”

Odin turned to go back to his horse,
and I couldn’t help but reach for him and gently touch his side.
His face relaxed and he sighed as I sent a healing touch through
him, closing up the wound and spending an extra few seconds working
on his bruised muscles. “One could definitely get used to this.” He
opened his eyes and leaned forward to give me a side hug. “Having
my own personal healer would make aging much more
enjoyable.”

Bearen watched us with a solemn
expression. He looked down at his forearm and the deep cut laced
across it. He looked over at Odin and then back at me before he
thrust it my way and turned his face away.

I tried not to smile as I ran my hand
over the sides. It was easy to coax the body into healing itself. I
pushed a little bit of energy toward the wound and watched as it
sealed itself up. My father tilted his head just slightly to watch
what was happening out of the corner of his eye. When I was done,
he held up his arm and flexed his fingers, studying the place where
the wound had been with interest. “Yes, and it may be that Tieren
knows something more about you than we do.”

I smiled wanly. I was happy that I’d
healed my father, but scared of the new turn of events and what it
meant for my future. I couldn’t ignore that there was an unending
threat that seemed to be closing in on me from every angle. It was
only a matter of time before it caught up to me. I just couldn’t
guess who would strike the first blow.

King Tieren and his army or the Raven
and his Septori.

Chapter 20

The
sound of metallic swords clashing and women screaming made me fly
out of my room with barely enough clothes to be considered decent.
Leaving boots by the door, I grabbed one of my father’s swords and
rushed into the street, unsure what I would find.

I was unprepared for the bloodshed.
People rushed by, running for cover. Others grabbed weapons,
attacking the invaders.

Horses with black-clothed riders flew
between houses laying waste to anyone who opposed them. My heart
raced as I tried to scan the crowd for my father, but one warrior
was too hard to find among the mass of furiously battling
clansmen.

Still, something was very wrong. This
wasn’t a ragtag band of thieves trying to steal and pillage from my
village. They were trained soldiers in black and silver.

HERE!
I heard Faraway call to me and I ran over to him, jumping
onto him bareback. We rushed into the fray and fought for our lives
and for those of my clan. I killed without blinking an eye. I
stabbed an attacker in the back as he was about to behead a little
one. He fell off of his horse to the ground, and I leapt from
Faraway to finish him off—hell bent on saving the child.

I saw another towheaded child run
between the houses. A horse nearly ran her down. I caught her,
threw her onto Faraway, and beckoned the other child as well. He
was smaller, probably around four. It pained me that I couldn’t
remember his name, but I placed him in front of the girl and told
her to hold him, giving Faraway instructions.

Take them into the woods
and guard them.

I should stay with
you.

Children come
first.
I left no room for argument.
Faraway bobbed his head at me and carefully trotted into the woods,
keeping his gait nice and even for the children. I heard the boy
yell out “horsey!” I could tell from the slant of Faraway’s ears
that I had hurt his feelings, but I didn’t have time for that.
Someone needed to get the children out of harm’s way.

Someone yelled my name, and I turned
to see Syrani send a soldier flying through the air as she kept
another soldier from entering a house. There must be someone
inside. I yelled for my father and ran toward the town center. The
soldiers were after something. They were entering each of the
houses and pulling out the women.

Me! They were here because me. My mind
roared at the thought! Fenri fought ferociously with a sword in
each hand, spinning and attacking the cavalrymen.

Pounding hooves alerted me to an
attack from behind, and I turned and raised my sword to meet the
downward thrust of a blade. I deflected, and the rider turned in
his saddle to glare at me. He slowed and turned back, beckoning me
with his black-gloved hand.

Fear raced through me, but anger
matched its intensity. How dare they attack my home and taunt me! I
adjusted the heavy sword in my hand and tilted my head in
acknowledgement. I knew that on my own, I was no match for soldier
on a horse, but I had a different kind of advantage if I had enough
control on my power to wield it.

The horse snorted as the rider kicked
his mount spurring it on. He leaned forward in his stirrup and held
his sword high.

I rushed forward, my sword low to the
ground, trying to keep a small target.

He swung down.

I rolled to the left, sprung back up,
gripped my sword and used all my strength, plus whatever power I
could still pull from within to launch the sword directly at his
torso. It flew straight and true and should have been a kill
shot.

What followed was near
impossible.

He saw the sword leave my hands. His
eyes widened in surprise as a young girl launched an impossibly
large sword at him. He twisted his body at the last second and
almost unseated himself from the saddle, but the sword passed him
by.

I’d missed. My mouth dropped open in
utter shock. And to make matters worse, I had just thrown away my
only weapon.

The soldier beckoned to another of his
comrades and pointed at me. “That one.” Both horses turned toward
me and I could see their intent.

Closing my eyes, I reached outward,
trying to grab their life forces. I was shocked when I saw that
they were surrounded by dark shadows. Their inner light wasn’t
bright and white like the Denai but black and shaded like mine. How
could we be the same? The discovery momentarily distracted me, and
I didn’t act in time.

The ground shook as the horses bore
down and I turned to run.

Hands gripped my shirt and I was
pulled upward and over the rider’s lap. I gulped as the pommel
thrust into my stomach. I could smell, sweat, leather, and
something akin to cinnamon. I kicked, screamed, and scratched until
the horse started to gallop and the pommel knocked the wind out of
me. I gasped loudly. Weak, I looked over the rider’s leg and could
see Fenri running after me.

We were moving too fast. I screamed
out one last time as the other mounted soldiers surrounded him,
drawing their swords. Fenri slipped through the cracks of soldiers
and was able to position himself next to Syrani, but the odds were
impossible. I imagined I could see his cheek tick with anger at the
thought of being cut off. He raised his sword and rushed forward.
We crested the hill and galloped down.

And I lost sight of Syrani and
Fenri.

My heart exploded with worry and fear.
For them certainly, but even more for myself. What would these men
do to me? What kind of danger was I truly in? Thinking fast, I
played opossum. I went slack across the horse and could feel the
rider adjust to try and keep me balanced. I used his instability to
try and push backwards off the horse, but he caught me. He grabbed
my hair and yanked me up into a sitting position in front of him.
Pain raced down my scalp, leaving a burning ache.

“
You think you’re smart,
trying to get away. No one gets away unless we want them to.” I
dared a glance at his face and was stunned by his golden
yellow-toned eyes. His deeply tanned skin only enhanced the ghastly
color of his white-dyed hair. Something about the combination
chilled me to the bone. I studied my captor’s black uniform, cloak,
and gloves.

The hair on my neck rose in fear as I
pieced together who these men were. I only had to look a little
closer at the clasp on his cloak to see the pendant. I already knew
what the design would be. Hadn’t I always known? It was the same
crest that decorated my own home. A silver wolf, the crest for
Sinnendor. We didn’t have to cross into Sinnendor, after all. They
came here first—and they hadn’t sent just any soldiers. We’d been
attacked by Sinnendor’s strongest warriors.

The Elite.

Suddenly, the soldier pressed
something over my eyes and shoved a gag into my mouth. A sickly
sweet smell wormed its way through my head, and then everything
went black.

Chapter 21

Darkness. The sound of dripping water somewhere nearby made
my body crave the refreshing liquid. When had I last eaten? I
couldn’t remember. I tried to count the minutes and the passing of
time to keep myself from going insane. I was once again in a prison
cell. Shackles bit painfully into my wrists.