Terry Simpson - Etchings of Power

The animals drinking from the pond acted as if he was one of them, hardly batting an eye at his presence. Ryne filled the water skins with the cool water and took a long drink. When he finished, he poured what was left over his head before refilling the container. With a cursory bow to the gathered wild life, he strode back up the hill.

Ryne took a seat near the dead cooking fire and picked up the pot. Inside was a stew made with wild potatoes, seeds, and brown meat. The spicy food set Ryne’s taste buds tingling, and he recognized the stringy composition and succulent taste of slainen flesh. By the time he finished the meal and washed it down with water, Sakari returned with Thumper.

As they mounted to leave, curiosity nagged at Ryne. He opened his Matersense. Essences flooded him immediately. His Scripts responded with more than their usual eager ferocity and life-like writhing. Somewhere deep inside him, his bloodlust resonated. The craving to kill rose, but with ease, he gathered the essences he could and thrust them into his center. Despite the violence of all the individual essences and the elements they formed, Ryne’s core became as calm as the pond down in the glen. He smiled. “I’m ready.”

Sakari was silent for a moment. Then, as if whipped by a fierce storm gale or shot from a massive bow, Thumper bounded through the Entosis’ entrance. Outside, the hills, the fields, trees, grass, the ground, and the sky stretched into one multicolored mass with the speed Thumper ran.

Coughing and sputtering, Ancel crawled away from the riverbank. The wind gusted, flapping his shirttail and trouser legs and pressing the wet material against him. He shivered as rain peppered him with cold, pebble-sized drops. Beside him, Charra followed with slow steps to match his own. The daggerpaw’s head shifted from Ancel and out toward the marshy land along the city’s bulwarks.

Lightning lashed the shrouded sky, its afterimage burning into his eyes before fading in a blink. Just ahead of him, Danvir helped Mirza to his feet. To their left, and several dozen feet behind, water rushed from the large sewer drain set into Randane’s towering wall, spilling filth and rats into the dirty, foamy swirls of the Kelvore River. Ancel thanked the gods for the winds and the rushing water that swept away the stench.

He still remembered the drop into the murky depths. For too long to measure in the dark, he’d allowed the current to take him when a pinprick of light grew into the sewer’s exit. The speed of his descent increased until he was tossed every which way the sewage wished. He spun, darkness became light, the cramped tunnel became open air, and he flailed as he fell. A splash, a roaring in his ears, and he found himself battling for breath, his lungs burning as he swam for the surface.

Ancel retched, breaking off from the memory. Struggling to his feet was an agony-filled exercise, his body feeling as battered as if he trained nonstop for an entire day. Step by painful step, he teetered to where his friends huddled with their backs against Randane’s granite wall where it curved away into a long expanse with towers dotting its length. If their appearance was any judge, they all resembled disheveled beggars. At least the river had taken care of most of their smell. And, blessedly, they were alive.

Ancel looked toward the water pouring from the tunnel into the river below. Each splash of anything large enough to be a small person brought hope. Not one turned out to be Kachien. With every disappointment he sunk further into himself.

Mirza was the first to speak up, his voice cracked and hoarse. “So what do we do now?”

“Find this boat of hers and cross the river,” Danvir said, his white-blond hair plastered to his cheeks much like Ancel’s dark layers felt.

Seeing his bear-sized friend hug himself and rub his arms made Ancel even more aware of the chill. Another too cold summer day. Ancel surveyed the land around them. “I doubt it’ll be that easy,” he said.

The bloated waters of the Kelvore River carried on for miles before dwindling around a curve. Stunted trees, marsh reeds, humps, and hills provided more than adequate hiding places. Besides the threat from flooding, there was also the threat of discovery.

“I’d say go to the ferry, but that area’s sure to be watched,” Mirza added. Red bled into his shirt from his hair-an oozing head wound that caused Ancel’s heart to skip before he realized it was the dye.

“Of course, it is watched.”

Ancel’s heart leaped at Kachien’s quiet voice. Danvir and Mirza started while Charra whined.

Soaked to the bone, she threaded along what was left of a thin embankment of rock and sediment as if the slippery formation was the most stable surface in the world. Her long, golden hair hung in wet strands about her face, and her dark breeches and shirt clung to her body. Rents in the fabric revealed her tan skin. Not even her tattered cloak could dispel her serenity or her beauty.

“You three are lucky there are no guards in the tower above you. If there were, the entire regiment would be here with the noise you have made.”

Ancel snapped his mouth shut. He made an effort not to glance up at the tower. Hopefully, if his features were as dirty as his two friends, the muck hid his blush.

With a dainty leap, Kachien flew over a break in the rock, landed on the riverbank, and joined them. “The boat is hidden along the wall there under those reeds.”

Resisting the urge to touch Kachien, Ancel followed her gaze to the plants and trees in question. They looked as normal as any other, if a bit more disheveled from the weather. “What happened in the tunnel?”

Kachien shrugged. “I used the Forms to destroy the walls and build another path for the water and the rats to follow.”

“You’re an Ashishin?” Mirza and Danvir blurted all at once before covering their mouths.

“Keep your voice down!” Kachien warned. “No, I’m no Ashishin.” She looked away from the recognition on Ancel’s face.

Ancel remained quiet. Now he knew why she’d avoided his question about if she could touch Mater. He also understood her fear for him. Her emotions were written plainly in her eyes. She lacked the control. That’s why she had to kill when she helped them escape. She was a Deathbringer. What she must have suffered tore at him while at the same time the horrific things he imagined she did gave him pause.

“You sure that didn’t let them know where we were?” A slight doubt creeping through his insides, Ancel placed himself between Charra and Kachien.

Kachien didn’t hide her pained expression. “Maybe. But it was the only way for us to escape. We will not be here when and if they do come.” She walked a wide arc around Charra and headed to the hiding place she mentioned.

“What’s with you three?” Mirza glanced from Kachien to Charra to Ancel.

“Nothing.” The secret was hers to reveal. Her hurt look at his wariness bothered him. If she lacked the control to decide who to kill she would have murdered them long ago. Besides, why would Teacher Galiana trust someone who was this unstable? Exhaling deeply, Ancel tried to shake his uneasiness. “Let’s go.”

They followed Kachien, staying close to the wall. Rain beat down on them, and the constant grumbling of thunder and the dark clouds skittering across the sky showed no signs of letting up. Although Ancel was sure it must be afternoon by the now, the dim light made the time of day seem more like evening.

Kachien wasted no time in sloshing through mud and water pooled near the reeds and small trees. Without waiting for help, she began to drag the well-crafted covering of branches and leaves away. Soon, a small rowboat not big enough to carry all five of them became exposed.