Shattered Destiny (7 page)

“Remember what we told you. Let the fear wash through you. Accept the feelings it produces. Embrace the beating heart, the nausea, the tense muscles,” Seelyr coached. She too wanted to turn from the hideous sights and smells but she would not allow that. She looked with eyes wide open at the death before her.

Gwen shut her eyes and tried to do as Seelyr suggested.
Let the fear wash through you.
Instead of trying to slow her breathing, she let her chest rise and fall rapidly. She did not try to still her racing heart; she simply let it thud thud thud at the pace it chose.

“See little one? You're learning,” Seelyr said.

Gwen opened her eyes and forced herself to gaze at the dead. Her stomach gave another jolt, but she did not try to fight it. She let the nausea sweep through her and was surprised to find that she did not have the urge to vomit as before.

She glanced to the others and found that they had more or less managed to listen to what Kyron had told them and were holding their own against the terror that threatened to send them fleeing the area in a panic.

The group once again began the slow trot to Enisae, mindful of Gwen's short legs. The Volgons raced ahead to see what news they could bring back about conditions in the village. The corpses were soon left behind and the air got a little easier to breathe. The Volgons came running back at an easy lope and told the others that it appeared that the village had suffered a similar fate as the farmhouse.

“Many of the buildings have been burned. We did not see any sign of life in the first buildings we came to. This village is large, and it will take all of us to properly search it,” Kyron reported. The tall man had hardly even broken a sweat, and his grey eyes were placid.

Although every instinct screamed at him to turn and walk away, Brok took a deep, steadying breath and walked briskly down the hill toward the village. As they got closer, Brok could see the burned out buildings and smell the faint scent of smoke. His heart sank at the sight. Enisae was a large village, with three times as many people as Heart Stone. He hoped they would find the villagers alive and well, perhaps recovering from a fire caused by a lightning strike, but his instincts told him that they would find that something terrible had happened in the village.

ASTRA

BROK AND GEROK LED THE GROUP
past the first burned out buildings in Enisae. Gerok wordlessly signaled to his Chosen to fan out and take up positions in front of the group. The Volgon ghosted between the homes and buildings. The Astran Chosen tried to walk as quietly as their Volgon comrades did, but each time they took a step, the sound of crackling leaves, shuffling debris, and crunching gravel echoed in the silent village.

Brok gestured to his Chosen, trying to get them to use their power to scan the area. They stared at him blankly, not having any clue what the man's wild flailing was all about. Brok sighed, exasperated.
Why did I not think to teach them silent signals?

Jon finally nodded and whispered quietly to the others. Brok gave the boy a hard look that said that he was only to use his own power and not touch the dark magic to cast his sensory net. Jon opened his mouth to argue, but Brok shook his head sharply. For one tense moment, Brok thought the boy would defy him, but Jon reluctantly nodded. Brok breathed a sigh of relief.

“It will be dark soon,” Brok whispered to Gerok. “We should try to find shelter.”

“We can always sleep out in the open,” Gerok said.

Brok smiled. “Only if you want to sleep soaking wet. There's a storm coming.” Brok had been able to smell the impending thunder storm brewing since they had begun their trek toward Enisae.

The Volgon Chosen had stopped to allow the others to catch up. Gerok ran to his Chosen, telling them of their need to find shelter. Voilor nodded and trotted off toward the center of town.

The village lay silent and empty. Every building had sustained some sort of fire damage. Most were only blackened ruins. None of the buildings they could see would provide shelter from the storm. Brok sent his Chosen amongst the buildings, searching for fresh vegetables or fruit.

Voilor returned and spoke in Gerok's ear before resuming the search of the village. “He has managed to find a building that should suffice for shelter.”

“We only have another few hours before the storm arrives. We should use that time to see if we can find out what happened here,” Brok said.

The Chosen and their Guardians searched every building, hoping to find some clue to explain the deserted, burned-out village. Everywhere there were signs that the villagers had not left of their own accord. Homes were full of broken furniture and dishes. Some even had dried patches of what could only be blood. Chickens, geese, cattle, and horses roamed among the buildings. The corpses of other animals that had been locked in coops and barns lay rotting, filling the village with the stench of death.

The Astran Chosen managed to find several armloads of vegetables. Saemus and Jon captured a half-dozen chickens that had escaped their coops and broke their necks. Keera stumbled under the weight of a heavy kettle. The Astran Chosen thought it might be nice to have a hot dinner of chicken stew. Voilor led them to the house he had found whose roof remained miraculously intact. Keera, Gwen, and Kaelin stayed in the house to get supper ready while the boys went with the Volgons to continue their search of the village.

Brok shook his head, bewildered. Nothing in his experience could have prepared him for this. He could not come up with an explanation for the burned, deserted village. The people here had not gone quietly. Brok was alone, on the west side of the village. He
had just passed the last of the buildings when he heard the unmistakable growling of a prairie wolf. Brok stopped, gathering his power, ready to throw a fireball if the beast attacked.

He crept around the side of the house and peered around the corner. His stomach gave a lurch when he saw the prairie wolf with a human leg in its bloody jaws. It looked back at Brok, amber eyes glaring its displeasure at having a human so close to its meal. Several of its pack mates dug furiously at something in the ground.

“
Incendio.
” Brok whispered the word of power, and a fireball hovered over his hand. He took careful aim and hurled the ball right in the center of the prairie wolf pack. The wolves scattered, But they did not retreat far, unwilling to leave their prize. They paced back and forth, growling low in their throats.

Brok ignored them as he moved closer to the area where the wolves had been digging. There was a large area of soft dirt, like someone had recently plowed the earth for planting. He spotted a bit of cloth in a spot where the wolves had been pawing at the dirt. Brok took the corner and pulled gently, his heart racing. The bit of red fabric was attached to an arm belonging to a young woman.

Brok jumped and spun as he heard movement behind him.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jon had gone an alarming shade of green at the sight of the severed arm in Brok's outstretched hand.

“Look at how big the area is! Dear Spirits.” Saemus could not take his eyes from the freshly turned soil, knowing full well what was beneath it.

Brok dug in the dirt again so he could bury the arm.
I don't know why I even bother. The wolves will only dig it up again.
Just as Brok stood, the first rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance. “We should get back to the shelter. We don't want to be caught out in this storm.”

The girls had managed to clean the common room and find enough benches and stools for all of them. The stew boiled, and the fire warmed the room. The wind had begun to blow and the temperature fell rapidly. Keera had gone in search of enough bowls and spoons for the group. She had been terrified at the thought of having to walk through the doorways into the burned and abandoned houses. The girl feared that she would come across a
dead body. When she had gathered enough bowls and spoons, she had run back to the shelter, afraid to look behind her, lest she see the spirit of a dead villager following her.

The girls were appalled to learn of the mass grave Brok had found. When it came time to eat the stew, they found they did not have much of an appetite. The Volgons did not seem to have any problems. They ate the soup so quickly that the Astran Chosen were surprised they tasted anything at all. They had seconds and thirds and even licked the bowls clean when they finished.

“You must excuse them. They have had nothing but tasteless gruel their whole lives.” Gerok looked at his Chosen fondly. They were groaning and lying back against the wall next to the hearth, arms over their full bellies.

“If they think that's good, wait until they get a taste of Mistress Meadows’ pastries!” Gwen said, smiling.

“Or Ma's fresh bread,” Kaelin said, turning to Saemus.

“Ma
does
make the best bread,” Saemus agreed, his tone sad.

“Master Brok, you have to let us go home and see our families. What if what happened here has happened everywhere?” Kaelin began to panic. She imagined seeing her home burned, her family dead.

Brok sighed. He had not wanted to risk traveling to their home villages. Brok feared that they had been gone a very long time, perhaps years. It would be difficult to come up with a feasible story to explain their absence. However, he, too, wanted to know if the villagers of Oak Brook, Willow Haven, and Heart Stone were safe.

“We will make for the Tarrows in the morning.” He held up his hands at the eruption of excitement from his Chosen. “But you must obey me as we travel. If I think it's too dangerous, we will turn back. If I sense anything at any of the villages, we will turn back. And you will let
me
do the talking. I must devise a cover story that will sufficiently explain our absence.”

The Chosen were so excited to be going home that they did not argue. A flash of lightening and a loud clap of thunder interrupted further talk. The Volgons jumped up, hands reaching for their knives, a hint of fear in their eyes.

“It is just a thunderstorm. There is nothing to be scared of,”
Keera said.

“I am not afraid,” Kyron said, his voice thick with scorn. His body language was the proof that his words were lies. With each burst of thunder, he would jump and his eyes would widen.

“Do you not have storms where you come from?” Gwen asked, trying to get them talking and their minds off the noise outside. The rain fell in sheets, pounding on the roof and the windows.

“We live underground, little one. Even if it did storm like this on our world, we would not be able to hear it. Does it do this all the time?” Seelyr asked.

“No. Sometimes we get a gentle rain that does not have all of the thunder and lightning. But this is the time of year for powerful storms. It will soon pass,” Saemus answered. He looked to his twin, who sat with her hands over her knees, gazing into the fire. She had always been nervous during thunderstorms. The crash of the thunder, the flash of lightening and the gale-force winds made her feel powerless and out of control.

“We should try to get some sleep. I want to leave before first light tomorrow,” Brok said. The Volgon Chosen lay down at the perimeter of the group, pulling wool blankets up to their chins. Brok watched as they fell into a restless sleep, their faces coming into focus when the lightning flared.
How harsh their lives have been. I cannot imagine having to live my entire life under the ground, at constant war, wondering if each day would be my last.
But Brok had to admit that their way of life had shaped them into formidable fighters, giving them skills that would enable them to survive the fight with the Mekans.

Brok winced a little as he positioned himself for sleep. His bones felt their age this night. His mind wanted to re-visit the horrors that he had seen today, but his body was past exhaustion and won out over the turmoil of his thoughts.

*   *   *

As promised, Brok had them up before the sun. Keera grumpily
used her power to build up the fire so that they could have some light to see by. The Astran Chosen stumbled and grumbled as they gathered their belongings and stuffed them into their packs. Brok had them take some of the vegetables that were left over from dinner the night before. The Volgon Chosen got up without complaint, as alert as if they had been awake for hours.

It took several days to reach Oak Brook. During the journey, the Volgon Chosen took to training the Astran Chosen in fighting forms. The sparse training they'd received on Gentra was nothing compared to what the Volgons showed them while they rested on their walk to Oak Brook. The Volgons took to hitting the Astrans with bundled-up sticks, telling them that when they fought a real foe, they would be using something far more dangerous than pretend wooden swords. The Astrans took their beatings and did not complain about their bruises.

An idea sprang into Jon's head after he had taken a particularly nasty beating from Kyron. Jon had muttered to himself that if he could move faster, the big Volgon would not stand a chance. Acting on instinct and without uttering a word of power, Jon drew on his own magic and slowed time down around the Volgon warrior coming at him. Jon was able to come in under the man's attack easily and give him a few good whacks with his own wooden stick. Jon released the magic and stood grinning down at Kyron, who was lying in the dirt and wiping blood from his mouth, eyeing Jon like he had grown a second head.