Element Wielder (The Void Wielder Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

CHAPTER 23

The aroma of pollen filled his nostrils. “Falcon, Falcon,” breathed a honeyed voice in his ear. A white blurred silhouette surrounded by a glowing aura stood over him.
Is it an angel? Am I dead?

No, the sharp pain across his back was too real. He had crashed through the roof of a building and landed flat on his back; that much he knew.

After lying immobile, his eyesight began to return to him. The hole he’d made when he crashed through the wall was right beside him, much bigger than he would have expected it to be.

Then, out of nowhere, a girl leaned over him. “Glad to see you’re up, how do you feel?” asked the mysterious girl in a low tone. It was the same honeyed voice that had called his name moments ago.
Perhaps I am dead.

The green-eyed girl who stared down at him looked like he imagined an angel would look like. She had long golden-brown hair that glimmered as the sun fell on it, an orange cream-colored flower hung over her left ear. She wore a skin-tight pink jumpsuit with a white blouse underneath.

“Hey, Falcon. Are you well?”

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” he asked.

She gave him a pained look. “Oh, I heard some people around the village mention your name earlier today, and as for my name, I am Faith. Faith Hemstath.”

“Hemstath, that’s the same as Mayor Seth. Are you two related?”

“He’s my father.”

“Oh, I never would have guessed,” said Falcon. He didn’t see the resemblance, except maybe in the nose and lips. They were both small, like her father’s.

“So where am I?” asked Falcon, rising. He didn’t know what to make of the unique surroundings. A sea of flowers of every color imaginable encircled him. Small blossoms decorated the ground along with large-stemmed flowers as tall as a man.

“This is my flower room. I grow and care for them here.”

“Your flowers are lovely,” he said with an edge of guilt in his voice. “I’m sorry about falling on them.”

“That’s fine. I can still cut the ones that are not too crushed and make a bouquet. They might still manage to brighten somebody’s day, especially after the attack.”

The attack! Falcon had forgotten all about it.
What had happened? Was Aya fine?

“Calm down,” she said, responding to Falcon’s panicked expression. “After Bellatrix fell, what was left of the Suteckh army fled into the forest.”

As Falcon breathed a sigh of relief, a ragged woman with tears pouring from her eyes rushed in. She clutched a bleeding infant girl in her arms.

“Faith, h-h-help,” sobbed the woman. “It’s m-m-my little Alexandra. An arrow went in, one second she was fine, then—oh, I don’t know what to do, my baby is dying.”

Faith pointed at an empty table that stood in the corner of the room. “Lay her here.”

One look at the wound and Falcon knew that no matter what Faith did, the girl would not survive to see another day. The arrow had gone clean through her stomach and emerged from her back. The possibility of an infant surviving such a wound, especially after all the blood loss, was impossible. He didn’t dare voice his thoughts, though.

Faith pulled out the arrow and tossed it to the ground. She put her hands over the openings and chanted under her breath. Her voice was too low for Falcon to understand the words she spoke. The radiant white pearl in her left glove intensified with brightness. It grew in size until her entire body glowed a dazzling white. Falcon staggered back, having difficulty accepting what he was seeing. This strange girl was a holy wielder! He’d never seen such a wielder before, few people had, considering they were as rare as chaos wielders. Now he understood why he had seen an aura when he first opened his eyes; she had been healing him.

The injury the girl suffered might be un-healable to the best medics in the land, but it was mere child’s play for a holy wielder, or so he had read. The books at the academy spoke of ancient holy wielders who could bring people back from the brink of death and heal the most gruesome of wounds without even leaving a scratch. He was sure some of those stories were greatly exaggerated, but there had to be some truth to them.

A small crowd of villagers gathered inside the flower room, including Mayor Seth. Everyone held their breath. Faith placed her shaking hands over the wound. Her efforts to save the girl’s life were clearly draining much of her energy. The blood stopped dripping from the openings. Then the red gashes closed, leaving not even a scar where the arrow had once been.

But despite Faith’s efforts, the girl remained unmoving.
Perhaps Faith’s work has come too late.
Falcon had just about given up hope when the girl erupted with loud sobs.

The mother threw herself over her daughter. “Oh, thank you, Faith. Thank you so much. You are such a blessing to Asturia.”

Faith gave her a gracious smile. “It was nothing. I’m just glad I could help.” She looked pale and a blue tint lined her lips. Her energy-less emblem was now devoid of the radiant glow that had overtaken it mere moments ago. She stumbled and fell forward. Falcon caught her before she hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” asked Falcon.

Faith didn’t answer. She wasn’t unconscious, but she was groggy.

“She needs rest,” said Seth. “Please come with me, young man.” With Faith in his arms Falcon followed the mayor out of the flower room. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest, a scent of peaches radiated from her.

Aya was standing outside the greenhouse when Falcon emerged. “What happened?” Her eyes widened when she caught sight of who he had in his arms.

“No time to explain,” said Falcon, tightening his grip on Faith. He followed Seth through the dirt roads, passing dozens of worried onlookers along the way. Finally they arrived at small log cabin at the edge of the village. It had two windows at each side and an old blue door at the center.

The mayor opened the door and motioned for Falcon to enter. “This is my humble home. Come in.”

Falcon stepped into a room that seemed to serve as both living room and kitchen. It had a comfy-looking brown sofa in a corner. A sturdy stove with a pot of boiling stew stood at the opposing corner, and a short, sturdy table adorned the center of the room.

“Oh my, with all the commotion I neglected my soup,” said the mayor, rushing over to his stove. “Please set my daughter down in her room. It’s right down the hall.”

Falcon made his way down a candle-lit hallway. On both sides were doors that led to small rooms. Falcon had no idea which one belonged to Faith; that is, until he caught a glimpse of the room at the end of the hall. Its walls were filled with flowers of riotous colors. Even some of the paintings decorating the walls were of flowers. The largest of all the paintings hung over a small bed, it was of a short woman with the same color eyes as Faith’s.

Falcon carefully set Faith down on the bed. He checked her pulse; it was faint, but regular.
Good, she’ll be fine.

As he turned toward the door she took hold of his hand. “I’m glad I got to see you again,” she murmured in slow breaths. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Falcon had no answer. In her weakened state the girl was hallucinating, confusing him with someone else.

Luckily, he didn’t have to answer, as drowsiness overtook her. Falcon’s chest tightened; her face was vaguely familiar. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met her before, but of course that was impossible. So why then did he feel such a bond with the girl before him?

“She’ll be fine, young man.” The voice caught Falcon off guard. “My daughter simply needs rest. Please, follow me, we have much to discuss.”

Falcon and the mayor stepped down the hall and into the kitchen that smelled of spiced tea and the simmering beef stew. Falcon took a seat in one of the chairs. Aya and Sheridan were seated around the table as well.

“You wanted to know what motivations Shal-Volcseck has for attacking Asturia. Now you know; he wants my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” asked Sheridan. “But why?”

The mayor handed them all a cup of what looked like black tea. “You do know what it is that monster seeks, don’t you?”

Aya answered. “Just what we heard in stories. Legend has it that Volcseck roams Va’siel seeking an emblem of each of the twelve elements. No one knows what he intends to do once he collects them all. No one has ever done such a thing before.”

“It’s no legend. Shal-Volcseck has been collecting emblems of each element for decades. Rest assured he has obtained an emblem of all the basic elements; those are easy enough to come by. But some of the advanced elements have eluded him. One such element is my daughter’s holy element. He has attacked Asturia twice now because he wants my daughter’s holy pearl. He can sense its presence, but has yet to pinpoint its exact location.”

“He has attacked twice? How have you managed to keep him from finding her?” said Falcon.

“I have hidden her and suppressed her holy energy to the best of my abilities. The first time he came for her she was only seven years old. Her powers weren’t fully developed yet and it wasn’t too difficult to conceal her, but her powers grow with each passing day. To make matters worse, my daughter
wants
to be found. On the last attack the villagers begged her to hide, but she wouldn’t. We had to drag her underground. I was able to suppress her powers with my mind wielding, but the effort took all my strength.”  

“Why would she want to be found?” asked Aya.

“My daughter blames herself for Shal-Volcseck’s attacks. She believes if it wasn’t for her, that monster wouldn’t have come and lives wouldn’t have been lost.”

“I see,” said Falcon. “What do you plan to do if he comes looking for her again?”

“I will do what I always do: hide her and suppress her powers. I’m afraid it won’t be enough, though. Even at her young age, she has already surpassed my wielding abilities. That monster will surely sense her holy energy and remove the emblem from my daughter.” The mayor wept as he spoke. Falcon knew why: the only way to permanently remove a wielder from their emblem for a prolonged period of time was to kill them.

CHAPTER 24

“What’s that noise?” whined Lao, more to himself than to anyone else. “Turn that ruckus off, Falcon, I’m trying to sleep.”

“I don’t know who this Falcon be,” said a strange voice. “But you best be getting up before the general makes his morning rounds.”

Lao snapped awake. For a second he had forgotten he was at the Suteckh army camp.

After he saved the merchant family he had walked for two more hours before finally reaching Kach. Once he got there he inquired about joining the Suteckh army, which turned out to be surprisingly easy. Desperate to recruit as many fighting men as they could, the Suteckh bought into his made-up story in which he claimed to be the son of a regional province mayor.

After that he had moved out with the rest of the recruits and joined the main army, which he had marched and trained with for the past week now. He hadn’t learned much yet, but of one thing he was certain: The Asturian mayor was right. The Suteckh were planning an assault, but he had yet to find out what capital city they would strike first. He would just have to be patient. Soon he would have all the information he needed, and then he would be welcomed back to Ladria as a hero.

Lao slipped into his uniform, which he liked more than he cared to admit. The black leather and silver boots fit him snugly. Once he was dressed, he hurried from the tent and joined the wave of soldiers who were reporting to duty. The morning air smelled of ham and eggs. He rubbed his growling stomach, cursing himself for getting up so late.

Pushing the thought of food aside, he followed the marching men over the rocky training fields and through the swampy marshes. They continued on even as the musky smell of old wood replaced the aroma of the mouth-watering camp food. Not until they came upon a large cedar podium with four men dressed in black uniforms did they finally stop. The four men stood with their backs to the soldiers. Lao and the others waited silently for a few minutes: nothing happened.
Is this why they woke us up? To stare at people’s backs?

A dark-cloaked figured made its way to the podium. On its right side stood the Grand General of the Suteckh armies, Draknorr. His entire body was encased in a slim suit of black-and-gray armor. His helmet, which only had an opening in its back to let out a long burst of untamed hair, fully covered his head. Two razor-sharp metal claws extended from his right hand.

“All hail the Blood Empress,” ordered Draknorr. Instantly everyone bowed to the cloaked being who sat on the oversized throne. She wore a metal gray mask with dry blood protruding from her hollow eyes. “We are here to see who is the strongest among you. The victor shall be promoted to captain.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” whispered Lao to the soldier beside him.

“Those four men up there are best fighters in the army,” whispered the man, making sure to keep his eyes affixed to the front. “Whoever wins gets a promotion.”

The four men immediately unleashed their fury on one another. The biggest of the fighters, a man who wore a large Mohawk atop his head, quickly established his dominance by throwing his three competitors to the floor with one roundhouse kick. The three fallen competitors looked at each other and nodded. Lao recognized what had just happened. The trio, realizing that the large man was their biggest threat, had formed a silent alliance.

The three attacked at once. The mohawk warrior delivered a punch to the cranium of his first attacker, who crumpled to the ground. The last two men landed a flurry of blows on their opponent’s chest. They might as well have been hitting him with feathers. Letting out a fit of mock laughter, the mohawk warrior wrapped one hand around each of the men’s necks and picked them up with ease. The men kicked and choked as they dangled in the air. Not until their bodies went limp and their eyes rolled back did the large man release his grip. They fell to the floor.

“Highness and great general, these men are worthless adversaries,” boasted the victorious warrior. “Please, let me fight the best you have to offer.”

There was a murmur in the crowd as Lao felt his legs move, almost subconsciously. The possibility of power beckoned him and before he knew it, he stood at the center of the podium staring the soldier down. His heart beat with excitement.

The warrior stomped his feet. “You dare challenge me? Insignificant worm!” Drool dripped down from his mouth as he reached for Lao’s neck. He sidestepped and simultaneously delivered a blow to the back of the man’s head. The man rubbed his eyes with one hand, and swung wildly with the other.

Lao smirked; the fool was playing right into his hands. He grabbed the man’s arm, locked it in and pulled as hard as he could. The sharp sound of bones breaking filled the air.

“Aaarghh,” the man cried as he clung to his broken arm. Lao shot his arms down, aiming at the man’s legs, and drove him to the ground. He wrapped his hands around his legs and applied pressure. Bones broke once again.

“Please, stop,” whimpered the man, holding his hands up defensively and sobbing like a child.

“Shut up, weakling,” said Lao, disgusted that a warrior would beg for mercy. He kicked the man hard in the neck. The man let out a sickening gurgling sound as blood filled his throat. Then his eyes closed.

Proud of himself, Lao turned toward the Blood Empress, but she was gone. He looked around. The soldiers too were nowhere in sight. Only the general remained.

“You are a reckless one,” declared Draknorr, his fauld clanked loudly as he moved toward him. “But bold as well; perhaps the empress could have some use for you.”

“I’m the Blood Empress’ humble servant,” said Lao. “I shall do as she commands.”

Draknorr turned to leave. “We will see.”

“Excuse me, sir. Don’t I get the promotion? I won the fight, after all.”

“We will see,” repeated the general, not bothering to look back as he strutted off, his cloak swirling behind him.

~ ~ ~

Falcon rubbed his lower back, but it did little to alleviate the pain. During the past two days he had carried more logs than he wished to see in a lifetime.

After the attack, he, Sheridan and Aya had busied themselves helping the Asturians rebuild their village. They fixed the meeting hall and most of the homes. It wasn’t part of their job but it felt wrong not to help.

The combination of the remodeling and the defeat of the Suteckh dramatically changed the mood in Asturia. The somber faces that had been the norm days ago now revealed jubilant smiles. People laughed and joked. Children played outdoors without the threat of an attack looming over them. Festivities were held every night in honor of the Rohads.

Falcon wasn’t much for celebrations, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the feeling he got from helping. It saddened him to know that in a few days he would have to leave, but such was the nature of the Rohads, always moving to where they were needed, never staying in one place for long.

After giving his back a much-needed rest, he bent down and planted the last of the flowers. He was finally done replacing the flowers he destroyed when he had crashed through the wall. He stepped back to admire his work.
I’m not a half-bad florist.

That’s when an oil painting at the back of the room caught his attention. He had noticed the paintings before, but hadn’t given them much thought until now.

On each of the canvases were people playing, laughing, posing, and enjoying a picnic by the lake. But there was one painting in particular that seized his attention. He gazed at it, dumbfounded.

“Interested in the paintings?” asked Faith. “I came to check on my gardens but I see you have been taking good care of them.” The healthy shade of pink in her skin had returned. “All the paintings here are of people from the village.”

Falcon pointed to the canvas of a woman who held a baby in her arms. “That can’t be, these people have never lived here.”

“Why are you so interested in that particular picture?”

Falcon struggled to find the right words. “The woman is my mother, and the baby in her arms is me.”