Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles, 1) (31 page)

All eyes found her
. Lucius smirked.

“How?” Daniels asked
with a pompous air, his voice as hard as his eyes. He still didn’t trust her.

“I asked the prisoner. Unfortunately,
even though I said ‘pretty please,’ he tried to keep it a secret. I had to pry the knowledge from him. He’s no longer…much use.”

“Point to it on the map,” Cayan
commanded.

She produced a hand drawn sketch made with a shaky hand. A boxy picture of a house or castle—not much was to scale—was on a bluff along a large river. Sterling took it and laid it in front of the Captain. He traced the areas that seemed to line up
on both maps and put a big “X” to indicate the goal. They would have found it, but it would have taken a day or so. That one day could’ve made the difference in Sanders’ life.

Because it was Sanders who had been taken. Him and a few others. The half-dead man who made it back had said that in Leilius’ earshot. And if Sanders had even a glimmer of a chance at being alive, he would be.
Shanti had to believe that.

“We leave at dusk. Assemble the troops.” Cayan straightened up.

“I would like to take Leilius,” Shanti said quietly with bowed head. Now was not the time to poke at the Captain, so she kept her tone light and small. “And you probably want to take Marc.” She cleared her throat into the thick silence.

Of all the
incredulous staring, Cayan’s blue stare was easily the hardest. “No.”

“I think Leilius can be of great value. He can get to places where not many others can. He has a gift for it.”

“He’s too young. He’s not ready.”

“Well, he’s sitting ten feet from you, and since no one has noticed, I would say he might be
close
to ready…”

Everyone looked toward the nearest window.

“Stand up Leilius,” Shanti instructed, trying not to lounge in any way. Everyone else had such straight posture when the Captain was around, she thought it best to try and follow suit. At least until they were on the road.

The rustle behind Daniels had the older man jumping and whirling around, grabbing a big eyed Leilius. Cayan was
still staring at Shanti.

“And Marc?” Cayan
asked calmly, like an executioner sharpening his axe. All the men in the room stiffened.

“He is the most talented of all the medic trainees by far, and has been training for combat. He isn’t great with weapons, but he knows to stay out of the way, and he doesn’t balk when he is needed. Assuming the doctor is too old to go, of course. Obviously experience is better.”

“And the others?”

“Are too young and not ready. Except for Lucius
, who is under your command. So that’s…uh, your choice. Obviously.” She cleared her throat again, hoping to dislodge a stare or two. This was starting to get awkward.

Cayan nodded his head slightly, his eyes on fire. “Dusk. Meet at the front gate. Daniels, I’ll hear your plan then, but you will be staying behind. If this goes sour someone has to take over, and Sterling stayed last time.”

“Yes, sir,” Daniels responded. The disappointment in his mind didn’t convey in his tone. His warning look at Shanti wasn’t missed, either.

Shanti stayed out of the arrangements as the day wore on. She wasn’t even allowed to sit in to hear the strategy, which was actually fine because she’d always had people to do that for her anyway. She was a decision-maker, not a planner. And now she was a follower and nameless fighter.
Chosen
, indeed.

When dusk finally came, she and the two Guard members waited at the back of a long line, mostly overlooked or ignored.

“Why me, S’am?” Leilius asked in a tiny voice as he and Marc huddled close.

Since they learned they’d be going to rescue Sanders, the two boys had been following her around with wide, fear-crusted eyes.

“Because you are excellent at your craft,” Shanti replied distractedly as she monitored Lucius. Her Chance was checking men in line, saying a few words, then nodding with responses. Though he wasn’t a commander, he was the Captain’s right-hand man. It twisted her stomach painfully, worry eating away like acid. She hoped he would be there for her if she needed him, but knew that if his Captain needed him more, his decision might leave her vulnerable.

“But why not Xavier? He actually
wanted
to go…”

“Don’t whine, Leilius. It will be harder to fit in.”

“We’re the youngest here, hanging out with a woman wearing men’s clothes. There isn’t much hope of us fitting in,” Marc reflected.

Shanti had to agree there.

A huge man with a ragged scar across his forehead stopped in front of Shanti. “You, woman—to the front.”

Leili
us jumped and clutched onto her, his wide eyes staring at the experienced fighter in front of them. She gently shrugged off the kid and stepped out of the line, sparing a wink for the boys.

“Kind of rude,” Marc mumbled as he crossed his arms in front of his scrawny chest.

The grim warrior walked up the line at a measured pace, giving Shanti plenty of time to check out her comrades. Men waited by twos, swords on their belts and arrows on their backs. Hard, expectant eyes adorned eager faces. Their metal gleamed and their crisp blue uniforms identified their ranks.

Shanti couldn’t help looking down at herself. She had a pair of faded brown pants of Marc’s with three patched up holes. Her shirt hung loosely, wrinkled and stained with dirt. And while her weapon did gleam with a high shine, the leather work looked poor and uncared for compared to their expertise.

Oh yeah, and she was a woman. There wasn’t a chance in all Death’s Playground that she would fit into this crowd.

As they reached the horses she inwardly sighed. She didn’t have
a great love of horses. They didn’t have their own mind, and just when you thought you had a nice rapport, they freaked out and tried to run away. Granted, the only time she rode horses was right after she killed the owner and stole them, but none of her experiences had been good. Except she had never ridden one like she saw before her. Fierce eyed and large hoofed, these beasts had about as much gloss as her sword. As she walked around them, skittish and not afraid to show it, more than one stamped its foot.

“They are reacting to your fear,” Lucius said from the second row of horses. His brown beast scowled down at her.

“It’s not fear. I’ve just heard the horses in this land bite. I’m not in a hurry to lose my shoulder.” Shanti continued following her guide past Sterling on a deep brown animal.

“Only the war horses with a bad attitude,” Lucius responded.

“So, all of these, then…”

A crowd of people waited to see the heroes off, the beautiful women giving doe eyes at Cayan. And there he sat, a
top the largest horse in the horde. Black as night and mean as Time, the beast stared at Shanti like he might her for dinner. Cayan was only slightly more agreeable as his cold blue gaze tracked her progress.

“Well? How do they look?” he
asked. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, ready for battle. His shoulders strained his uniform and his powerful legs gripped the moody beast below him.

“Like their bites would hurt,” Shanti replied.

Cayan’s brow furrowed. “The men, I meant.”

“Oh.” Shanti glanced back the way she’d come. “Ready. Eager. Vengeance walking. Keep them busy or the less experienced will pick fights because they don’t know what to do with the anticipation of violence.”

“Walk with me,” he said. “I have some questions. Come here, you can ride with me for a while.” He reached down a large palm.

Sterling
’s horse side-pranced, giving her room and making her uncomfortably jittery. Shanti had been on the receiving end of a couple of hooves. That had hurt more than a little.

“I’m okay. I’ll walk. It hurts falling off of those things.”

Cayan’s laugh was loud and throaty. It hadn’t been a joke.

With no discernible movement, suddenly the large black warhorse was
in action. It stepped forward, shaking its head proudly. Shanti jogged farther ahead, wanting to stay out of the way. Thankfully, Sterling fell behind so she wouldn’t be trampled. The crowd started yelling and waving, seeing their men off to the battle. It wasn’t until the roar of the crowd diminished that Cayan spoke again.

“Do you know how they fight?”
he asked, looking down at her.

Shanti
drifted a little closer so they didn’t have to yell. Unfortunately, Sterling and the others had the same idea. Before she knew it, she was walking among spindly legs and sharp chompers.

“This is not the safest of places for a walker,” Shanti acknowledged as she pushed Sterling’s horse with an outstretched hand. Its head bent around, eyeing her. She jerked her hand back into her chest as Cayan’s tree trunk arm reached down and snatched her. Before she could shake him off, she was being hoisted up the side of the shiny black animal, dangling until she was lobbed on the back, forcing her to scrabble up behind him.

“That wasn’t the solution I was going for,” Shanti huffed, clutching onto Cayan’s broad back.

“Would you rather be in front?” The way Cayan said it sounded like
on top.

She ignored him.
“Their fighters are small and quick, but not excellent. They aren’t ones for head-on combat. They’ll come from the sides, or descend in a horde over a hill. As you saw, they’ll sneak over walls or come in the back way, content to let some other nation get chopped down.”

“Do they all have the
Gift? The ability for mental warfare?”

Shanti shook her head, clutching onto Cayan so she didn’t slip off the saddle.
She had no idea how to properly ride one of these—a gaping hole in her education. “From what I’ve heard, one in forty has some sort of
Gift
, but not usually with any real strength. They are working on it, though. They push arranged marriages, which is usual with the top tier of a class system, but from what I’ve heard, they peel their eyes for any new talent, then work them into the arrangement system. Still, they are lacking as a whole, I believe.”

“In comparison to who?” Sterling asked.

That gave Shanti pause. She was used to thinking in terms of large quantities of excellent fighters with strong
Gifts.
She looked behind her at the sea of solemn faces. She still traveled with excellent fighters, but none had the
Gift
save Cayan. Every one of them would be vulnerable to an attack, no matter the strength of the
Gift
used.

“Do you think any will match you? Or I?” Cayan asked through her worried fog.

“No. I am nearly a myth and you are completely unknown. But
they are trained. You are not.”

“How many can you take?”

“Take, or kill?”

He didn’t even pause.
“Kill.”

Shanti resisted the urge to lean
her head against Cayan’s back. It seemed her life was only about killing these days. All hate, fear, and death—no family, no love. Some day she would have to answer for the things she’d done. She would have to face her ancestors and explain herself. It was a good reason to stay alive.

“With the new surge of power, or while linked to you, a great many I should think.”

“What are they after?” Sterling asked.

“Your city and its wealth. If they kill the Captain, they can move in while you are all in turmoil and ta
ke over the moneymaking operations. Their chief concern is wealth. Even before power. That’s why they are a Graygual favorite—keep them in riches and they won’t strive to steal their leader’s power.”

“And by the Captain going to them, we are giving these Inkna exactly what they are after,” Lucius said from behind them.

“Yes. If I were granted any sort of opinion, which I realize is doubtful in this company, I would say it is the least wise thing in this whole venture. I can handle mental warfare, the rest of this crew can handle the arms. The Captain should stay at a safe distance when his leadership is no longer needed. But I am just following orders; therefore, I have no opinion.”

“I cannot let my countrymen die for a decision I made,” Cayan stated.

“Then you will find war extremely difficult.”

“This isn’t war,” Cayan growled.

“Wrong. This is the beginning stages of it. You are choosing a side by going against the Inkna. By not turning me in. By not turning yourself in. You are choosing a side, and it will lead directly to war.”

“Shall we run, like you are doing?”
he growled.

Shanti clenched her jaw. The man could get under her skin
like no one she’d ever known. And right now, he was trying to. “I’m not running; I am uniting two halves into a whole. I’m seeking out our distant relations and hoping they’ll give aid. I’m hoping to bring the largest war this land has ever seen, which is what it will take to tear down the empire the Being Supreme has already created. You’re a stop on my journey. Your
Gift
is a new dimension to the overall situation. But I’m not running, because there is nowhere to run
to
.”