Alize rode hard. Harsh sunlight cut through the rising mist and burned spots into her eyes. She tried to convince herself that the swirling quality of the world around her resulted from Josoun’s rapid speed, but the sickness she felt did not lessen when he tired beneath her, nor when Alize eased his pace. Without the rhythm to maintain her motion, her dizziness threatened to overwhelm her. She dismounted Josoun to walk alongside him, leaning on him for support and balance.
Around her, the trees murmured an uncharacteristically strong disapproval but Alize paid them little heed. She concentrated on staying upright and trying to estimate the distance she had covered. Instead, she stumbled forward and fell, smashing her forehead on a rock. It took her a moment to gather the will to roll over and look up at the forest ceiling.
The daylight twinkled through the withering leaves. They cast the world in amber and exhausted green, the colors blending into the rustling din that never faded, even when the wind was still. The forests that lined the steppes were home, the peace Alize wanted more than anything, but without the pain in her head, without the confusion in her mind, or the shame in her bones.
Hesna would have known what to do about the Sargon’s magic.
When she tried to rise, the trees again voiced their disapproval, but Alize could not fathom any option beyond returning to her clan. Soon Hrumi and horse were riding fast. The mud from the rainstorm traced up Josoun’s legs and splattered on Alize’s boots and the cuffs of her leggings.
Her clan’s tracks flattened the stiff grasses by the stream, but a second set of tracks overlaid them. The Kogaloks’ footprints trailed the Hrumi, and Alize estimated that they had overtaken her sisters only a few hours earlier.
By evening Alize reached the site of the encounter. Even a city-dweller could have identified it by the Kogalok bodies. Alize dismounted and stamped her foot in warning to send a menagerie of carrion creatures scurrying away on padded feet or twisted talons. The action only intensified her sickness. She held her head gasping until she found something reminiscent of composure. The Hrumi had prevailed, but Alize did not yet know the cost.
Around her the dim reflections of the night’s last stars trembled in the puddles, the stable constellations still swollen with new stars. Autumn always portended death, but this autumn brought unknown changes. Some of them could be permanent. Not the stars, never stars, but there what of the soldiers, the Sargon, and the eastern journey. The changes so far did not bode well for Alize.
Through her sickness, there was also anger. Her sisters should have been safe in the west fulfilling their autumn assignments, but Celillie had sent the eagles to call them east instead.
Alize’s head pounded as she remounted Josoun. She could follow those thoughts another time. Hrumi healing could not be delayed. Alize was beginning to see visions.
At first, she thought they were animals in her periphery, tricks of the twilight, but soon their shapes developed into transparent outlines, hazy and undulating. Against the timid moonlight, flickers of lights near Alize disappeared if she examined them directly. They began transforming, developing hollow mouths and widened eyes, a crowd of faces peering at her from all directions only to evanesce under her gaze.
Weak as she was, Alize expected the Hrumi scouts to find her. As they escorted her towards the camp, she noticed that the trees had not relaxed. External to her sickness Alize sensed the other Hrumi regarding her with hostility. Was it because she stumbled?
Her escorts halted in front of Celillie’s tent and Alize slouched onto a stump, straining against her strange apprehension. The camp bustled under the low branches weighed heavy with the rain and trees whispered ominously. Alize bent under her exhaustion.
Breathing in, she attempted to rationalize her discomfort but she could not imagine the reason for it. She sat surrounded by Hrumi tents, by her sisters, by the smell of orange peel and roasted chickpeas. What harm could come to her here?
When Celillie’s footsteps finally approached, they clamored inside Alize’s skull.
“Stand up.”
Alize obeyed instantly though her head swelled in response. She teetered as she began to perform the ceremonial sign of subordination.
Celillie caught her hands with a rigid grip. “Never again,” she spat as she released them towards the ground.
Alize furrowed her brows, suddenly aware of the heightened attention of the nearby women.
“I hereby inform you,” Celillie called, “that you are renounced from our clan. You are no sister to us-”
Alize missed Celillie’s next words as she balked in utter bewilderment. Dismay scrieved from her head to her fingertips like lightning.
“There must be some mistake,” Alize gulped, “I need to see a healer, I’m not well.”
“…you will not associate with any Hrumi clan members ever again…” Celillie continued as if she had not heard Alize.
“I’m ill!” Alize cried, resisting the impulse to double over. “I fear a Sargon soultrusser!”
Celillie stopped for a moment. “You dishonor yourself to use such a rouse for pity!”
“No, Celillie, I-”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Address me again only at your peril.”
“Listen to me-” Alize grasped Celillie’s arm, partially for balance and partially as an appeal to her.
In response, Celillie grabbed Alize’s wrist and twisted. Alize held back the shout of pain bubbling up her throat, but could not simultaneously maintain her balance. She crumpled softly but groaned when Celillie kicked her in the chest. The pain ripped through her with sharp heat and Alize slumped to the ground.
“An onion rotten on the outside can be salvaged,” Celillie told her, “but any rot on the inside is too much trouble to bother with.”
Alize sucked in her breath and coughed. Her ribs ached.
“The clan renounces you. I strip you of your Hrumi identity and-”
“You can’t do that!” Alize choked. Renunciation meant losing everything, her companions, her directives, and probably her safety, for the Sargons would hunt her nonetheless.
No, Alize resisted, I cannot be renounced. She was nothing if not Hrumi. She pressed her hands to the ground, intending to rise to face Celillie.
This time Celillie’s foot struck Alize’s belly, sharp and deliberate.
Alize buckled from the force of the blow. Don’t let her see your weakness. All around the trees wailed in agony, but Alize could barely hear them over the pain, the sickness, and her own disjointed thoughts. She had to stand up.
But Celillie kicked her again and Alize curled her knees to her stomach. Her voice failed her and the silence carried it owns disturbing meaning.
Celillie leaned down, her breath scratching Alize’s skin. “Do you wish to challenge me today to trial by combat?” The coolness in her voice was smug and false, just another reminder that Celillie could entertain fools because she held all the power.
I need your help, Alize protested silently. She managed only to shake her head, feeling gritty dirt embed into her scalp and mud cake her cheek.
She expected a response from Celillie, but while the trees hummed in misery, none came. Alize scrunched her eyes open. Celillie had abandoned her. The remaining Hrumi performed their tasks in uncharacteristic silence. Alize gingerly pulled herself up into a sitting position to watch them. Not a soul returned her gaze.
Alize lumbered to her feet, absorbing the scene. She knew all these women by name and a few she knew quite well. Sosje tended the fire, her lips drawn thin, barely an arm’s length from where Alize stood. The woman all treated Alize with equal and chilling oblivion, like an insect crippled by the fingernail that flicked it away.
Alize clenched her teeth. The dizziness she felt commanded her attention but she forced herself to move with dignity. One step, then a second. She approached the camp boundary with what she sincerely hoped looked like resolve.
The Hrumi avoided her path and Alize avoided addressing them, to beg for anything. Hesna had raised her better than that. There would be a time to dwell on the full meaning of Celillie’s words, to ponder a resolution. Later.
Alize passed the last tent and forced herself to keep walking. She would return to the path she had taken and trust the trees to provide for her safety. At least until her head cleared.
Afraid to rest within the range of Hrumi scouts, Alize continued her steps. It was not until she heard a familiar braying behind her that she paused.
Josoun emerged beside her, her own saddlebag still attached to the stirrups. Gratitude washed through Alize as she reached pat her horse. “They let you go, huh?”
Josoun stamped his foot in reply.
“Or they couldn’t keep you.”
Alize inhaled and faced forward. And nearly jumped out of her skin. Before her stood a man. His nose hooked downwards and his bristly brown hair fell limp past his shoulders. He twisted his face as his scarious lips moved in stiff demands that did not reach Alize ears.
Suddenly his eyes meet hers and his mouth formed a sneer. “I can see her now.” His voice reached Alize garbled, as if he spoke through flowing water. “Our connection is improving. She’s towards the end of the Berej pass.”
“Who are you?” Alize whispered. Each breath she took inflamed the bruises already forming where Celillie had kicked her. Alize reached out to the man and her fingers passed through the space where his torso should have been. “What is this?”
The man leaned into her, his eyes livid. “A complication.” He extended his hands to the sides of her head and Alize thought she could feel the lightest touch on her neck. “But if we have a connection, you may yet have something to offer me.”
His smile turned to a frown. “A Hrumi? Then we shall have to do this the conventional way.” The pressure on Alize’s neck grew until she started to choke.
At that moment Josoun brayed loudly and the man completely disappeared. Immediately Alize reeled in pain - all her sickness doubled in intensity and she began to dry heave. A feverish wind tossed the forest around her while the trees fought to maintain the calm.
Though she waited, the man did not return. Maddened and weary, she dragged Josoun forward on the road.
The sky darkened before the man appeared to her again. This time Alize obeyed the trees pressing her to escape from him. She dashed down the trail, but the distance between her and the man stayed the same. His feet brushed through rocks and his body through trees but he did not leave Alize’s side.
He displayed more and more fury, “Why do the echoes seek you?!”
Alize could stand it no longer. She broke into a run, too fast and too quickly. Normally she was a great runner, but her desperation encumbered her limbs like thick honey.
The man’s form remain next to her, overseeing the process with amusement.
Alize’s eyes were losing the ability to process the dim light coming through them, and the world around her blurred into indistinct shapes. She gasped for a breath and suddenly felt herself pulled forward. With the force she lost her balance, hitting the ground sooner than she expected. She tossed onto her back, trying to restructure the sight before her.
The townman – no, the Sargon, blinked as he regarded her. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to knock you over.” His hair tossed in the wind,
“Sargon.” Alize barely could muster the strength to mutter her words. “Soultrusser.” Alize trailed off, closing her eyes. She did not want to confront the pale-faced specter behind him any longer.
“Look at her eyes, Onder!” The Sargon whispered.
Alize raised one hand to her face and saw a light dimly reflected on her own palms, arising from somewhere under her skin. She was shattering, like the wolf, like the Kogalok.
“I believe you have someone else’s magic.” The Mage’s face appeared before her.
“His?” Without looking, Alize raised her hand to indicate where the hollow man stood. “Do you see him?”
After a pause the Mage answered. “I see no one. But listen, I may be able to enchant that magic out of you. Will you allow me to try?”
“Not a soultrussing?” Alize breathed.
“That is not magic I know.”
Alize had no weapons left to fight with. “Then do as you will.”
The Magi shuffled next to Alize but she only vaguely heeded his muttering until a tremor in her chest shocked her from her stupor. She could not hear the sound of her own voice over the ringing in her ears. It happened again, and then a third time. “Stop!” she shouted.
And then, instantly, everything did stop. Alize blinked her eyes open. The Mage and Sargon stood over her, but the pale man was nowhere to be seen. Alize pulled herself up, feeling that the throbbing and the crowding had disappeared from her skull. The world sat with a strange emptiness and clarity, tainted only by her own exhaustion.
And then darkness.