Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2 (11 page)

C
ayan still hadn’t moved
from his location in the park. His assistant had checked in to briefly go over accommodations for everyone. They’d set up barracks for the new soldiers, but there were the four additional bodies, including a prisoner, to take care of. He felt Shanti and another threading their way through the trees quickly. Moments later, a small movement ruffled the leaves before Shanti stepped into the clearing.

Cayan’s breath caught. She moved with the sleek, predatory quality he remembered perfectly. Her curves defined her as woman, but the stealth in her steps and her economy of movement cried hunter. It also spoke of an unconscious sensuality.

“Hi,” she said in a low, sultry voice.

He nodded in response.

She took a step to one side. As if on cue, a man stepped through the foliage and appeared where she had been standing. His mind was that of a sensitive and caring soul and yet he moved like someone born with a sword in his hand, sleek and balanced. His gaze traveled Cayan’s limbs and paused briefly on his palms laying relaxed in his lap, cataloging. Identifying the threat.

“This is Rohnan.” Shanti ticked her head toward the man. “He is my Chance—like Lucius. Except, he has held this role since… forever. Since childhood. He is my brother in everything but blood.”

“You thought him dead…” Cayan said slowly.

“Yes.” She walked until she stood directly in front of Cayan, and then gracefully sank to the ground. Rohnan didn’t move. “He took a wound to the stomach, but as soon as he was mostly healed, he came looking for me.”

Cayan shook his head as confusion enveloped him. “Where did you find him?”

“I heard rumors of a ghost.” Doubt crossed her face. “I heard many rumors. I knew it must be him, though. He was likened to me—they thought there was some connection. That similarity is rare so far east.”

“So you followed his trail instead of continuing on your journey?” Cayan kept his voice level, careful not to make it sound like an accusation.

The man spoke up in a voice that almost sang even though Cayan could not understand him.

Shanti waved her brother away. “I can read him just fine, Rohnan.”

She put her hands in her lap. “The other rumor I’d heard was about the rightful Chosen. An Inkna. The duty given to me by my people has been forfeit. We were mistaken.”

“So you decided to track down a ghost, instead.”

“That’s right. Hoping it would be my brother. And it was—I freed him from a Graygual camp, even though the great lummox had put himself there in the first place. I also freed the man who is still waiting in the trees. He is the reason Rohnan was in that camp.”

Cayan felt a moment of embarrassment as he
searched
for the person in the trees. Embarrassment turned to confusion when he didn’t find anyone. His gaze hit Shanti’s again.

“He has a special
Gift
. Burson, come out please,” she said.

The trees rustled as an older man stepped into the clearing. He wore a wool sweater and a big smile. “It is wonderful to meet you, Captain. So far you live up to the records, and let me just say, I didn’t think that would be the case. The
Seers
were mostly women, and women… well, they can embellish when describing heroes. Remarkable.”

“He’s…” Shanti shook her head. “I’m not quite sure what he is, exactly, and he won’t say, but his
Gift
is one I haven’t seen. One I didn’t even know existed.”

Suddenly, Shanti’s mind disappeared. Vanished, just like the old man’s. Cayan tensed. “He can mask minds?”

“Not only that, but he can suffocate someone’s
Gift
, or shield people from it.” Shanti’s full lips quirked. “He was a great steal. He would’ve made it incredibly hard to kill Xandre.”

“I see,” Cayan said in a noncommittal voice. Her confidence was shattered, and she still came bearing gifts. The woman was one of a kind.

Burson looked at the sky with a smile. “Answers are many, but time is short.”

Shanti scowled. “He constantly speaks in riddles, or some kind of code. He seems to have studied some doctrines about a person called the Wanderer, who he thinks is me.” A wave of hopelessness washed over her. She turned so she could see the other two men in the clearing. “You can go. I wish to speak with Cayan alone.”

Rohnan spoke again in what must be their own language, but Shanti shook her head. “Rohnan, you need to start speaking in this language so you get used to it again. I’m just as safe with him as I am with you. Maybe more so. You can go.”

“My task stay by you. All times. I wait in trees.” Rohnan turned to go.

“Rohnan.” Shanti’s voice filled with a warning. “I need to speak with Cayan alone. I’ll meet you outside the park.”

Rohnan stared down at her for several moments. The edge in his eyes sharpened and his jaw tightened. Cayan smirked—he was the image of Shanti when she dug in her heels, which she was doing now. She held the stare, unblinking, with that same edge. Her gaze also held violence, and she was prepared to chase him out.

Without a word, Rohnan turned and silently walked out of the clearing. He obviously knew her well. Burson, still smiling, went after him, shaking the branches and rustling the leaves as he went. Shanti faced Cayan and bowed her head. She looked at her hands.

“You came back,” Cayan said quietly.

He barely heard the answering, “Yes.”

After a moment she lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were deep and remorseful, opening up so that he felt like he could look through them down to her soul. “I have to begin by saying that I apologize. I was a coward. While I did feel the duty, I did not properly explain myself to you. You were right—I was running out of fear. I’ve done a great many things out of fear. I realize that now.”

“But if it wasn’t for the Inkna posing as Chosen…?”

Shanti barely shrugged. “I would’ve continued on, I suppose. I would’ve stumbled along blindly, without a real plan, and probably landed into Xandre’s hands. I wasn’t thinking.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on his as she reached forward with her fist. Her hand turned over. Slowly, her fingers peeled away to reveal something metallic glinting in the moonlight.

“My people have a custom,” she began. “When someone acts in cowardice, and puts others at risk, it reduces our honor. It lowers us in the eyes of our fighting brethren. When we also cripple trust, we put other lives in danger. That is not acceptable. In this situation, we must either ask to be severely punished, or we must offer something of great value to us. By presenting something of great value, it acts as a gateway to healing. You can hold onto the medallion, as long as you need to, to rectify your feelings. That may be never, and I will honor that. But when you heal, you can offer it back with a request to communicate openly about the issue, or to just let silence descend. It is all in your hands.” She looked down at her palm. “I realize you won’t punish me. It’s not in your nature, even if I was a man. Plus… that would be the easy way. This is infinitely… more perilous to me.”

With a shaking hand, Shanti pushed her palm closer to him. “This is my amulet. Besides Rohnan and my father’s ring, it is the only relic from my home. It is the only personal item I possess that captures my heart. This represents all that I am, and I have worn it since I was two years old. Please accept me back.”

Her gaze lifted to his. Even if he couldn’t feel the guilt and regret emanating from her, he could see it in her face. He could see the fear of an uncertain future, and the hope that he would help her get through the next stage, in her eyes.

He took a deep breath. “What happens if I refuse to take it?”

“I am dead in your eyes. I do not exist.”

“Wouldn’t that make practice sessions in your village difficult?”

“This has only happened once, and Shanus, the coward, drowned himself at sea. He chose his own punishment.”

Cayan’s eyes widened. Without intending to, he put his hand on Shanti’s knee. “What about a knife? Or your clothes? I could easily take those. It’s cold—I’ll let you almost freeze before I allow you to return home.”

“Giving weapons are forbidden for a fighter. And these clothes aren’t mine. I had to trade my clothes for that of a prostitute’s. She was twice my size, however, mostly in the chest, so I then exchanged those for what I’m wearing. It’s a long story.”

Cayan leaned forward. Her direct and honest gaze held his unflinchingly. She wasn’t joking. “I’m going to need more information. A whore?”

Her lips quirked again. “Some other time. I’m tired and my body hurts. I’ve been tied to a bloody horse twice in the last day.”

“Why were you tied to a horse?”

“Because I’d ground myself down to zero energy and fell off.” She gave a slight shake of her hand. “Please take the amulet, Cayan. Please forgive me.”

Cayan leaned a little farther forward, his face now only a foot from hers. His eyes trained on those lush lips as he brushed his fingertips over the tender area of her wrist. He saw goosebumps prickle her exposed skin. He laid his palm flat to hers, feeling the sizzle of electricity pass through their touch. “Every time you look at this amulet around my neck, you will be reminded that I hold a piece of you?”

Uncertainty muddled her mind. Heat wormed into her eyes. “You plan to wear it?”

“Yes.”

She licked her lips. He leaned just a little closer.

She said, “I will be reminded of my cowardice, and hope that your forgiveness is forthcoming.”

Cayan’s thumb brushed hers, stirring something deep in his body and coaxing that electricity higher. She gulped, but did not back away. He focused on those lips. On her heat. “I will wear it as a sign that you are forgiven, but keep it so that you won’t run again.”

A crinkle wormed between her eyebrows. He was bending her custom, and creating new rules, but he wanted her to be reminded that he held a part of her. More importantly, he wanted her to grow familiar with him holding that part.

He stroked his fingertips across her palm. The metal rolled over her skin. Their energy heated and sparked as he let their touch linger. Finally, his eyes locked with hers, he took the amulet and fastened it around his neck.

“Have you decided what comes next?” Cayan asked softly.

Her eyes were round. She hadn’t taken a breath. Fear and uncertainty rolled from her mind, along with something else he couldn’t quite place. A deeper feeling, but it wasn’t taking shape. Even with access to their minds, he still had a hard time reading women.

“Shanti?” he coaxed gently, dropping his palms. His fingertips rested on the edge of her knees.

She took a breath and backed away from his touch. Her eyes flicked to his neck. She wanted to run again.

Cayan almost laughed.

In a voice that started out weak and wispy, but quickly gained strength, she said, “Xandre cannot have the Shadow People. If they join his cause, we are lost. There will be nowhere either of us can hide. Nowhere I can go. He would track me into the underworld and drag me back out for his benefit if the rumors of the Shadow People are true.”

Cayan let the gravity of the situation steal the moment. “The Chosen is responsible for leading the Shadow People, correct?” She nodded. “Then how can that be prevented?”

“I will kill this new Chosen. He matches my power, but he is Inkna. I doubt he can fight.”

“But he is surrounded by an army.”

Her tongue rolled over her bottom lip. The uncertainty was back. “I realize your offer of aid may no longer be on the… um. Table? But I’ve come to ask it, anyway. I have qualities you need. I can train you. I can fight with you. I can work with your men. I know more about Xandre than most—I’ve studied him. I have more like Rohnan and me. They are the best and brightest. I also have some sort of network blossoming because of this Wanderer title. And I have Burson, who is mad half the time, but his
Gift
is valuable.”

“And you require my army.”

“You, and your army. You are my power’s mate. We’re stronger together. Much stronger… like you said.” Her gaze flicked to the amulet. “There’s something else—I’m being hunted. One of Xandre’s Superior Officers is on my trail. He aims to take Burson and me alive. He’ll kill everyone else with me, except for maybe Rohnan. I don’t have much time.”

Cayan stood, waiting for her to stand with him. Then he stepped closer to steal a little more of her heat before they headed back. Their conversion had turned to business, but he was a man—part of his anatomy stayed active regardless of the topic. “I’d heard about this Chosen. I have plans in motion to move in that direction and deal with him.”

“I know. And I want to go with you.”

“Is Sanders that easy to read?”

“Rohnan’s
Gift
is… irritating, to say the least, but extremely helpful at times. Especially when fighting. He can read intent, having him reacting before the punch is even thrown. You might spar with him—it could humble you.”

Adrenaline spiked through Cayan’s body. He flexed, having Shanti’s eyes rounding again as her gaze left his and found his chest, then arms. She backed away. “I’ll just head to my new… quarters.”

“One more thing,” Cayan said, stopping her as she tried to quickly slip away. She didn’t turn toward him. “Report to the practice yard tomorrow. I want you training. In the afternoon, at your usual time, you will meet your Honor Guard there. Be warned—all but Leilius hate you. The day after tomorrow there will be a farewell ball. It is customary. You will be there. Visit the dressmaker and have something designed and made for you and your Chance. The morning after that, we leave. Is that soon enough for you? Will this new danger find you before then?”

“Let’s both hope not.” With that last, somber sentence, she disappeared into the trees as silently as death.

Cayan took a moment to reflect on her parting words. Whoever was chasing her, he had to be worse than the Inkna for her to use that tone. Cayan had thought the Inkna were incredibly tough adversaries. He couldn’t imagine what might be worse.

T
he next day
dawned chilly but bright. Shanti awoke to a fire and a full change of clothes. Most she recognized from her previous time in the city—faded and stained, they were conditioned to fight in. Some, though, she knew were a sort of joke from Cayan, as the shirt and pants were bright pink.

Her gaze drifted out of the window at the far end of the large and richly furnished room. She felt so out of her element. Like water on hot cobblestone, her life’s purpose had evaporated upon hearing about the new Chosen. Since then, there had been one strange piece of news after another: new titles, a different set of milestones, an underground group of people looking for a leader… It was as if she’d been ripped out of one future and placed in another.

The only stability was Cayan. The one place that hadn’t changed, even though the world was changing around it, was his city. Somehow he had become the one constant in her life.

After breakfast she, Rohnan and Burson made their way through the immaculate city to the training grounds. Rohnan muttered and chirped about the layout, the cleanliness, and whatever else, but all Shanti could focus on were the knots in her stomach. Her Honor Guard would arrive in a few moments and she was terrified they’d slipped back into uselessness. She worried that she’d deserted them, and left them with a new style no one else could teach in a place that valued fitting into a hierarchy, when she had led them in a loose structure where everyone was heard.

“I wasn’t thinking, Rohnan. When I left, I wasn’t thinking about anything but a pale duty handed down in old and faded documents. I had five boys who could be shaped into an incredible group of fighters, and I left them in the middle of the night. I had a powerful ally that could join with me and take out an Inkna
clutch
, and I stole his money as a silent farewell.”

“You and he could take out a
clutch
?”
Rohnan asked quietly.
“That is more than twelve—incredible.”

“Your leaving was necessary. This unbalance is necessary,”
Burson said as the expanse of the practice yard came into view beyond the shops lining one of the four main streets.
“When the phoenix emerges from the ashes, it can burn all the brighter.”

“Super. We’ll roast a pig.”
Shanti let her fingers slide over the hilts of the knives in her leg harness.

“I find it amazing that a city of this size, with this much to offer, doesn’t have more travelers and traders.”
Rohnan’s eyes were dancing over the bustling practice yard.

“They are too far north, I think,”
Shanti said.
“They get visits, but often they are the ones traveling to trade. I’ve never asked Cayan if that was by design.”

“This is a large, spacious practice yard full of stagnation,”
Rohnan said in an even tone. Doubt poured out of his emotions.
“What do we hope to accomplish by being here?”

“This is how they practice. I suspect Cayan has an ulterior motive, as far as we are concerned, but I couldn’t decipher it.”

Shanti and her people had always practiced in the trees. There were no set areas, no organized starts and stops, and no standing still. Everything was on the move, like in battle. Waiting in line to throw a knife wasn’t anything they had experience with, and for good reason.

“We will stand out, Rohnan. Prepare yourself.”

“Is that why you’re wearing that insanely bright… garment?”

“Partially.”

They stepped onto the dirt of the practice yard. Shanti glanced at Burson, still beside her.
“What do you plan to do?”

“Watch. You must understand, I’ve lived with an outline of possible future events—many variations are possible on any one outline. I’m now fortunate enough to fill in the space between the milestones. It is both exciting and necessary to future decisions.”

Shanti stopped as gazes drifted her way. To the far left lay the Pit, the most stationary of practice areas. Those waiting for their turn to throw a knife at a target had turned toward Shanti, some with open-mouthed stares.
“Are you a
Seer
Burson? Is that why you directed us toward Sanders yesterday?”

Burson gestured for her to keep walking.
“Let’s get you working. I suddenly find the number of large warriors looking our way… terrifying.”

Suspicion fell off Rohnan in sheets as he looked at Burson. Shanti felt the same.
“Soon I will rip away this cloak of mysteriousness you surround yourself with, Burson,”
she said

“Soon, yes,”
Burson waved them on. The hard edge was creeping back into his darting eyes.
“But not yet. First you must regain your footing. Answers come as the questions arise.”

“I just asked the question,”
Shanti pushed.

“Please start working. I don’t like the looks some of these men are giving you. They’re obviously not used to women in their midst, and don’t like you flaunting your femininity.”

“He’s right, Chosen. By stepping onto this practice yard, tension has started to rise.”
Rohnan’s hand drifted toward his own set of knives. He hadn’t brought his staff, preferring to work with the sword today, something he wasn’t as accomplished with.

Shanti waved away their thoughts as she started toward the Pit. The soles of her shoes made a soft sliding sound as she increased her stride across the yard. Her thoughts of fallen comrades and her uncertain fate fell away as she felt the drive and push of fighters with their swords. Her fingers tingled and her adrenaline surged, not just ready, but anxious to get back to the one thing in her life that was always certain: training. Fighting. Dominating.

A path cleared as she swept through the lines of men at the Pit. She moved with an edge in her eyes and a killer’s grace in her bearing. A large man with a scar across his forehead watched her approach with a sneer and a chuckle.

“The pretty lady come to play with knives, is it?” the man taunted. “Watch out you don’t break a nail. I only date presentable girls.”

Shanti stepped forward and punched him in the sternum with her right hand. She elbowed him in the face with her left before ripping his knife from his hand. With economical movements, she knocked him in the head with the hilt, punched him in the gut, ripped his big body to the side, and stepped around him with a smooth movement. The knife made a loud
thunk
as it found the center of the target painted on the wooden post twenty paces away.

“You should never be flat on your feet,” she said in an instructional voice. Rohnan walked toward the post, stopped halfway, and turned to her. He took out two knives in the styling of this town—Cayan must’ve left instructions for Rohnan to be outfitted with weaponry. “Even in practice, you should always expect to get attacked. Always.”

Rohnan ran at her, knives flashing. She stepped toward him, ripped a knife from its sheath, dodged the first swipe and blocked the second. She tried to get a throw off to the distant target, but Rohnan had already shifted. A blade swung down toward her cheek. She flinched back, but the tip sliced across her chin.

“Move faster, Chosen!” Rohnan prompted in the local language.

“No shit, Rohnan.” Shanti kicked at his foot and stabbed toward his middle.

“Shit…” he murmured as he blocked her thrust and stepped back.

“Bad… word… for—” she thrust at him again, then pivoted and threw. The blade stuck in the target, off-center, as he gouged forward. “Poop.” She blocked with an empty hand and ripped out another knife. She did a backhanded slash to back him up.

“You distracted, Chosen,” Rohnan panted as he took two fast steps with knives jabbing and swinging. “
Focus!
”

Shanti let the world dim further. She pushed out of her mind the eventual confrontation she’d have to have with the Honor Guard, her amulet on someone else for the first time in her life, and the incredible odds against them defeating this new Chosen. She shoved it all away and let the moment sink in.

The trees called from the not-so-distant wood. They sang through her
Gift
and seeped into her blood. The soft breeze cooled her hot face. She felt the hard dirt beneath her feet, lifting her up—offering its services to help her on this day. The knives in her hand felt like a friend’s touch. The target waited twenty paces away.

Shanti focused on the sparkling green eyes of the enemy in front of her. She bent her knees a little more. The knife shifted a fraction in her grip. The battlefield and the goal realigned in her mind’s eye. She winked.

“That’s better.” Rohnan smirked. “Let fun begin.”

Shanti stepped forward in a gush of strength and precision. She slashed with her right hand before punching with her left. Rohnan leaned back and swirled around her. She spun, threw a knife, hit the edge of the target, and ducked under a swinging foot. She punched upwards and connected with his inner thigh.

Rohnan winced and staggered. For their mock battle, his leg would now be useless.

Shanti threw her own kick, knew it would miss, but then lunged, punching him in the gut with the hilt of the knife, and then ripping to the side. She spun again and threw the next knife. It hit off-center.

A heavy weight tackled her from behind. She twisted, but couldn’t break the iron grip. She hit the ground full force. Her cheek bounced off the dirt. Pain radiated through her face.

Two fast punches hit her ribs and gut. It didn’t matter, though. As she stood, panting, she acknowledged the truth, “We’d both be dead. I failed.”

Rohnan stood in front of her. Sweat darkened his shirt and dirt marred his face.

And then without warning, she punched him. She’d always been a sore loser—it was one of her more aggravating quirks.

His head jolted back, but as she hadn’t put much into it, he only took one step back. After a beat, his head tilted forward. A smile scratched at his lips. His brilliant green eyes started to sparkle. “Added experience hasn’t made you grow up.”

“Using your
Gift
when I’m not is cheating,” she said in sullen defense. She couldn’t help the answering smile, though. She knew what was coming.

And then it did.

Rohnan charged. Arms moving so fast she could barely keep track, he threw a punch at her face. She flinched to one side, just before his body barreled into her. He took her to the ground a second time, knowing she wasn’t as good a fighter on the ground. He didn’t know about her scuffles with Sanders, and she’d had a lot of practice since she last tumbled with Rohnan. And she’d had a dirty cheat as a teacher.

She yanked Rohnan’s hair as his punch landed in her rib. With the heel of her hand, she pushed his chin up and yanked his hair again, wrenching his head to the side. He grunted and raised his hands to ward off the assault. She twisted her upper body to get him off-center, having him scrambling over her to keep his position. She jammed a fist into his kidney, then his ribs, then under his armpit, aiming for sensitive areas. He pushed her down, getting his face too close to her. She head butted, smacking her forehead off his mouth. His lip split and he grunted again.

She strained and twisted before bucking, throwing his body off her. She was up a moment later, kicking him in the middle. He grabbed her foot, but she fell on him with a knee, landing right in the center of the back.

“Aw—yield! I yield!”
he yelled in their home language.

Shanti climbed off and wiped the drool from her chin, then realized it was blood from her previous wound. She took her sleeve and dabbed while Rohnan arduously picked himself up off the ground. Dirt coated his front and his once-perfectly shaped lips were swelling and cracked with blood.

“When you learn how ground fight?” Rohnan asked with a smile. He winced and dabbed at his split lip.

“Watch Sanders fight sometime. He cheats.” Shanti couldn’t help a triumphant smile.

“You more brutal, I think. Fight style, I mean. Coarse.”

“Nah.” Shanti walked toward the target to retrieve her knives. “I changed my style to offset yours. Cayan does that. I had to get savvy in this place—they have some unique and good fighters.”

As Shanti turned with her knives, she realized that the usual bustle of the practice yard was completely absent. Rohnan must’ve noticed it too, because he looked out over the still grounds as he slowly sheathed his knives.

All the men stood erect and motionless, staring in her and Rohnan’s direction with rounded eyes and gaping mouths. Swords and knives hung loose at their sides, almost forgotten. Burson, alone, had a huge smile.

“Um.” Shanti looked at the men standing in the line next to them. “Someone else’s turn? We cut in front…”

A tall, thin man holding a knife slowly shook his head.

Shanti couldn’t help a twisted smile as she shrugged. “Well Rohnan, looks like it’s your turn.”

“
W
ell
, it’s official—she’s crazy and so is that twin of hers,” Sanders said, his arms folded over his chest.

Cayan and Sanders stood at the edge of the practice field watching Shanti charge Rohnan with two knives. The goal was simply to get as many knives into the target as possible while also trying to thwart the attack. It was a level of multitasking in battle that his people weren’t practicing. It mimicked fighting against overwhelming odds, something Shanti’s people had always anticipated.