The Sehret Chronicles: The Follower

By C. F. Barrows

Three hundred years ago, the Rhenor nation split into two, the Reshen and the Khanor. One dwells in the Outerlands, the other in the Rhenor Mountains - and although the nations have made peace, their people have not.
One fateful day, two patrols clash inside a cave within Khanor borders. Mutual distrust provokes a brawl, and the ensuing cave-in cuts off the primary routes back to both of their homelands. To escape, they must join forces and brave the one remaining tunnel, one which cuts through the ominous Forbidden Regions. Along the way, each traveler's beliefs will face challenge, and the secrets of a few may threaten the safety of all.
For as they go, Lusefar, lord of the Saethen, sends his agents against them, stalking their prey as ravenous dragons.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. F. Barrows
• Release date: Dec 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301415311

C. F. Barrows

C. F. Barrows writes to grapple with tough issues and to share the good news of Jesus Christ with her generation. She lives in Northern Indiana with her family and a freakishly well-behaved dog.

Book preview

I was a small child when I first smelled death.

Our village was under attack, though the raiders’ identities were unknown to me. I stood still, scared out of my wits by the flaming projectiles flying over my head. The warning horns blared. The air, usually so full of the smells of the marketplace where I stood, stank of smoke, sulfur, and another foul smell I could only identify as death consuming my village.

People swarmed through the streets, frenzied by the horns’ calls, by the raiders’ pursuit as everyone scrambled to find their loved ones in the hive of townspeople. Papa tugged me away from being trampled by the crowd. He pulled me close to his side and hurried back to our dwelling, knife drawn. I could see neither my mother nor my older brother. Frantic, I pulled away from Papa.

Stay with me, he urged, nearly lifting me off the ground with the force of his panicked embrace. I will not let them take you. A ball of fire crashed down on the town hall, and stone shrapnel flew from the shattered roof. A piece whizzed through the air behind me as Papa dove into the house, slamming the door behind him. He did not let me go until the door was barred.

For ten agonizing minutes we waited, huddled together, Papa’s eyes fixed on the heavy wooden door. The horns were silent, but the chaos outside our door was no less deafening. I burrowed into my father, shivering like the frightened child I was.

Yahveh, help us. The breathless prayer escaped Papa’s lips as though of its own accord, and I whispered it back to him. I had no idea who Yahveh was, but He was obviously someone important, someone who would make the raiders leave.

A big man crashed through our door, roaring an unfamiliar battle-cry as he charged us, weapon raised. Papa jumped in front of me, wielding his puny hunter’s knife against a cruel-looking short-sword. The raider lunged. Papa parried, eyes burning. He slashed, catching the raider’s side. The man roared. He lunged again, and father parried once more. He twisted his knife around, throwing his assailant off-balance. The short-sword clattered to the floor.

The raider barreled into Papa, and they both fell. Papa swung and missed. The raider grabbed for his throat, but Papa rolled. They both got to their feet, and the raider’s eyes found me. He grinned. I could almost smell his rank breath as it hissed through his rotten teeth. I whimpered, looked for an escape.

He lunged. Papa tackled him, roaring. They hit the wall, the raider pinned by my father’s strong hand, the knife pressed to his throat.

"You will not touch my child."

The raider only coughed, his breath hindered by the blade at his neck. He glanced toward the window. Suddenly he grinned, and his wild eyes returned to my father. Papa’s brow furrowed.

Something crashed through the door. I sprang to my feet, anticipating another raider.

Smoke billowed from the doorway, permeating the air with that deathly, mysterious smell as a large dragon loomed there, eyes afire, lips curled into a snarl. My blood ran cold. Papa paled, his knife hand dropping. The raider scrambled away, leaving us to the whims of the great creature as it let him pass. The dragon crouched, faced my father and licked its lips. Its muscles bunched, hunger burning in its reptilian eyes.

NO!

The creature froze. My throat was tight, another scream caught somewhere between my heart and my mouth. Papa whipped his head around to see that I was not harmed, not yet.

Slowly, the dragon’s eyes slid in my direction. I couldn’t move. Another whimper escaped me, and my wide eyes strayed to Papa. Don’t move, he whispered, his attention focused on the dragon. Ever so slowly, he shifted his weight and took one step toward me.

The dragon roared and lunged. Another scream ripped through my throat. Papa knocked me to the ground, covering me with his body. We rolled across the room and hit the wall. Papa sprang to his feet, knife at the ready.

The creature lunged again. Papa stabbed. The metal of the blade caught one of the dragon’s gleaming silver scales, peeling it off. The creature roared, recoiling.

Go! Papa pushed me towards the back door, eyes wild. I couldn’t move. The dragon, enraged by the loss of its scale, swung its horrible claws.

My heart stopped as Papa crashed into the far wall with a sickening thud. His beloved knife clattered to the ground halfway between him and the place where I stood. The dragon snarled at me, raised its claws again, the fingers outstretched.

I lunged for the knife, swung it up to block the attack like Papa would have. My hands shook as I used both to hold the blade.

The dragon stared me down, its lips curled as though it grinned at me. Its breath washed over me, rank and burning.

And death – I smelled death seething out from behind those gleaming fangs as they grinned at me.

With a choked cry, I curled up into a little ball on the floor and waited for those mighty claws to fling me into oblivion.

Instead, someone chuckled.

Wide-eyed, I looked around the room. Maybe the raider had returned. Maybe Papa was awake again.

But Papa was still, the raider was gone, and the dragon still leered down at me, ready to gobble me up in one mouthful.

Then its lips moved. Such a little thing you are.

I froze. The dragon spoke to me – it had thoughts! No, it couldn’t be true. Raiders weren’t burning my home to the ground, there was no talking dragon looming before me with death on its breath, and Papa wasn’t lying senseless a few feet away.

Papa… Fear clutched at me, and I spun around, running to Papa and shaking him, becoming even more panic-stricken when his eyes didn’t open. Tears stung my eyes. Papa – Papa, wake up!

Suddenly the creature snatched me up in its claws. A scream ripped through my throat. I clutched Papa’s knife like a lifeline as the dragon’s hot breath burned my face. My arms were pinned; my legs dangled in mid-air. I screamed for Papa, but he didn’t help me. He didn’t stir.

Yahveh, where are You?

The dragon snickered, lifting one of its right fingers to stroke the side of my face. It hurt. Papa’s knife slipped from my fingers. The dragon pulled his claw back, and his eyes burned hotter than the flames that even now consumed my village.

And now, little one, you are mine.

Yahveh, please!

The dragon roared and swung its mighty claw. My world went black.

The light in my heart has not returned since, and I have long given up waiting for it.

And for Yahveh.

Chapter One

Reshan Military Base, Jaern – Outerlands

If that tomato-head steps on my toes one more time, I’ll clobber her.

Yannah Delraen limped alongside the other new recruits and eyed the perfectly layered red locks of the girl ahead of her. She felt her sheathed shakahn bump her leg and considered giving the girl an impromptu haircut, but thought better of it when their escort’s bored gaze swept over her. So far, on their three-day journey, the most the guard had done was tell the recruits when to eat, when to drink, when to walk, talk, or keep their mouths shut. Once when two girls engaged in a catfight over one of the better-looking male recruits, the escort merely yelled to keep it down and continued with his meal.

Still, since he had the authority to discharge any overly-troublesome recruit, Yannah thought it best not to misuse her recently-acquired short-sword in his presence.

Though if this brat doesn’t back off soon, I might do it anyway.

All right, let’s get organized! I need two single-file lines – boys on the left, girls on the right!

Yannah pushed an unruly strand of light-brown hair that escaped its plait out of her face and complied, noticing that a couple of the more mischievous girls slipped in with the boys. Snickers met their presence, but no-one moved to stop them.

Why the Guard had chosen to set the minimum recruiting age at sixteen was beyond Yannah; most of her peers didn’t seem cut out for the military, even one as inactive as the Reshan Guard. Males held the majority, but Yannah knew the number of female recruits was up from last year – she guessed it was because the number of good-looking male recruits had increased shortly beforehand.

Her breath caught at another blow, and Yannah, hopping, saw that her tormentor had again chosen the walking space ahead of her. The girl seemed to feel the hot glare at her back, for she turned and shot Yannah a smile so sweet it was sickening. Why, oh why did their escort insist on leaving their horses in the stables and making them walk the last few miles so closely together?

Delraen, quit fooling around and keep moving, the guard barked. I haven’t got all day!

Oh, yes, you do, if you have enough time to flirt with Sersha. The pretty brunette had made eyes at the guard for practically the entire trip; that probably had something to do with his lack of interest in his assignment. Fuming inwardly, Yannah got back in line.

The main square, though practically dead when they first arrived, now buzzed with noise, both from the young people in line and an assortment of curious onlookers. The annual march from the recruitment base at Stahrn to the Guard-inhabited city of Jaern was likely nothing new to them, but still they seemed keenly interested in the gaggle of newly armed and uniformed teenagers straggling through their streets.

Yannah willed the heat from her face and shifted her focus to her surroundings. The town square was unremarkable – rows of one-story buildings, all of a similar shape and dull brown color, lined the brownstone streets. Here and there was a patch of grass – brown, of course. Yannah couldn’t help wondering if the builders were colorblind. Unimpressed by the town itself, she lifted her eyes to their destination.

That was substantially more interesting. The Reshan standard flew in front of a massive iron gate, waving proudly above the crest of the Guard. The walls obstructed Yannah’s view of the inside, but she could see the top of a large building towering behind it, composed of various black and grey stones. Colorless except for the flying standards with their bright greens, rich browns and majestic war stallions galloping in the wind, the base and its formidability made Yannah stand straighter even as her jaw unhinged.

All right, get your papers ready, the guard ordered, backing away from Sersha’s section of the line. Once the gates are open, each line will file past an inspector, who will check your papers and ask you the necessary questions! He turned and raised his brow at the boys’ line. Once again, boys on the left, girls on the right; any recruit found in violation will clean the equipment every day for the next six weeks.

Yannah hid her amusement when the three violators scurried discreetly back into their own line.

It was a good twenty minutes before Yannah reached the processing table and handed her papers over to the raven-haired inspector.

Name, he demanded without looking.

Yannah Delraen.

He scribbled in his notebook. Age?

Almost seventeen.

Your current age, please, Miss?

Sixteen, she replied, her face hot.

More scribbling. Place of birth?

Delnam, but I live near Stahrn.

The inspector lifted his frustrated green eyes to hers, and she saw that he was only a few years older than her. Look, Miss Delraen, I’ll ask the questions – you answer them clearly and honestly, and you don’t tell me anything unless I ask it. Are we clear?

"Yes – I’m very sorry," she bit out, not feeling a bit of it.

The inspector watched her for a moment, and she thought she saw him bite his cheek before looking down again. Volunteer or draft?

Volunteer.

Reason for volunteering?

She hesitated. Is that one of your questions?

No, I was just wondering whatever possessed a girl like you to volunteer.

Yannah glared. The inspector’s eyes definitely laughed at her as he handed her papers back, and then held out a small booklet. This is a guide to help you through your first few weeks of training. You’ll find a map, a code of conduct, and a schedule inside.

Yannah retrieved her papers and the handbook with such haste that she knocked several unclaimed handbooks off the table’s edge, drawing laughter from the other teens. Her face flamed as she hastily cleaned up her mess, setting the pile haphazardly in its former place. The inspector chuckled and winked at her as she rose.

Welcome to the Reshan Guard, Miss Delraen.

~~~~~~~

Khanor Military Base, Keht – Rhenor Mountains

~~~~~~~

Lehn Sohran had never sweated so much in his entire life, even after his sparring match with a master instructor on his second day of training. He left that match with so many aches and pains, it took him a week to recover enough to fully perform his duties.

He guessed this one would cost him at least a month.

He hobbled over to a bench against the wall of the gym, groaning from the effort of lowering himself to the seat. After two years of sparring, with most of his matches having been with the same partner, he ought to have known better than to accept the offer of an afternoon practice match in the gym dedicated to hand-to-hand combat.

Better luck next time, carrot-head. In his peripheral vision he saw a slim, dark-haired girl plop down beside him. He didn’t bother looking.

What do you mean, ‘next time’? He lifted his small canteen to his lips and tipped his head back, only to discover that he’d already drained it dry.

You know, the next time you feel an overwhelming urge to fulfill a death wish? Kyra Daehr pushed her chin-length black hair behind her right ear, leaving the rest to hang over the left side of her face, as always. Her lightly bronzed skin gleamed with perspiration and her breathing was shallow, but she apparently still had the energy to exercise her sarcastic wit.

One of these days, I’ll learn. He rose and began the painful process of walking to the pump for water.

Or maybe one of these days, you’ll beat me, she retorted, a challenging gleam in her wide-set eyes.

He laughed, and his abdominal muscles protested. You’re baiting me.

Of course I am, she returned as she got up to follow him outside.

Lehn could see Kyra clearly in the unearthly blue glow of the Terehn stones which illuminated their surroundings. She was an attractive girl, with high cheekbones, midnight blue eyes and a delicate chin. But as Lehn pumped, she wiped her sweaty face with her left sleeve, pushing her hair back momentarily to reveal claw-like scars that ran down the entire left side of her face. Whether they came from an accident or from battle, only Kyra and her elder brother Ender knew, but regardless of their origin, the scars were her signature, and the first thing any stranger noticed upon their first meeting.

That, and her knack for reaching combat range in the blink of an eye whenever someone challenged her, made her rather easy to remember. The fact that she was a well-respected fighter who had beaten almost every opponent in knife-wielding and martial arts – even before joining the Khanor Legion at age sixteen – certainly didn’t hurt others’ willingness to do things her way.

So has the Council decided what they’re going to do with you yet?

Lehn stopped pumping and took a long swig of water before answering. Not yet – there’s not much to do just now. You know how quiet it’s been.

Kyra sniffed. "It’s been downright boring, if you ask me."

Boring works for me.

You mean it works for Shaetha, don’t you?

Well, yes – Shaetha, too. Lehn’s younger sister was fifteen, a civilian, and battled with chronic anxiety – not a good combination when paired with Lehn’s responsibilities as a soldier for the Khanor Legion. They didn’t have much choice, though – the Khanor had taken them in as children, after all, and Lehn never felt right about taking advantage of their kindness without giving something in return. Joining the Legion was the best he knew to do.

Kyra’s familiar snort pulled him back into the present. Well, don’t get too comfortable; I hear they’re assigning small patrols to scout the outer rim. She quirked a brow and straightened her blue-grey uniform as she spoke. Ehran says he and Khaleb have been assigned to scan the outer caves. They’re supposed to bring a scope and survey the Outerlands from a distance while they’re on patrol.

Ehran and Khaleb have been assigned to an outer patrol? By themselves?

She huffed. My thoughts exactly. I accused Ehran of bluffing, but he showed me the debriefing papers, and there, in black-and-white, it said that he and Khaleb will begin patrolling the outer caves this coming week.

How much do you want to bet the commander sends out a search party to retrieve them from the Outerlands by the end of next week?

Kyra smirked. I don’t gamble, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you were right.

Finally; I’ve found you! Lehn turned at the familiar voice to see a petite girl with deep blue eyes much like his own and long blonde hair falling about her shoulders. She wore a blue boy’s tunic, made to fit by fastening a black leather belt around her waist, paired with loose-fitting grey pants and black boots. She obviously spent no more time on her appearance than it took to wash up and brush her hair, but she possessed innocent features and a fragile beauty which all the boys’ clothes in the world couldn’t disguise.

Shaetha. He smiled and met his sister halfway, embracing her in greeting. I was just talking.

It must have been an energetic conversation, she said, grimacing and pushing back. You couldn’t be any sweatier if you were chased by a dragon!

Chased by a dragon? Nonsense; everyone knows it’s no good running from those things! He grinned. All I did was spar with one!

Ha, ha – very funny. Kyra rolled her eyes and gave Shaetha only a sideways glance. A barely perceptible flicker of hostility passed over her expression.

Shaetha spoke up, oblivious to the change in Kyra’s demeanor. Lehn, it’s almost dinnertime. What are we having?

Why are you asking me? Lehn demanded incredulously. You’re the one cooking.

Oh, no, you don’t. Shaetha raised her brows and grabbed him by the arm. I’ve cooked three times in a row this week while you lay around doing absolutely nothing!

Kyra snickered and met Shaetha’s eye. If Lehn’s cooking tonight, should I start evacuating the base?

Lehn brought a hand to his chest and gave a wounded huff. Can’t a man get any respect around here?

"Not until you’re at least nineteen," Kyra quipped.

Well, that’s only a few months away; why not start practicing now?

Okay, fine – we’ll practice after you’ve cooked an edible meal for the two of us without my help. Shaetha pulled his arm and turned back the way she came.

Kyra chuckled. If you survive the fire, I’ll see you later, Sohran.

Chapter Two

Reshan Military Base, Jaern – Outerlands

I’m telling you, there’s been a mistake.

Inspector Sohrem Terahl continued filing the recruitment sheets and tried to ignore the spittle flying into his back. Miss, if this is about your rooming assignment…

"It’s not the room I’m thinking about, the newcomer snapped. It’s the room-mate that’s the problem." The shuffling behind him told him the girl was pacing.

Sohrem sighed and began shuffling through the filing cabinet. After a moment of searching, he pulled out the file designating the rooming assignments for the new recruits. Just the sight of another list made his stomach churn.

He turned around, rubbing his forehead, eyes fastened on the blur of names before him. And which room-mate might that be?

The girl huffed. The one with the lead feet.

Sohrem glanced up, puzzled. What?

Nothing. The girl looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. I think it starts with a ‘D’. She’s got red hair…

Ah – her. Sohrem bit his lip to restrain his smirk and scanned the list to find the girl’s name. What’s her name, Delia, Delilah…?

You remember her. She sounded more disgusted than surprised.

If she’s the one I think she is –

Most likely.

– then yes, I think I do. Upon finding the name, he lifted the file for his visitor to see the picture. Dehlara Kern, right?

The girl’s tongue clicked. That’s the one.

Sohrem suppressed a chuckle. He didn’t usually remember any of the new recruits, even though it seemed a few wished he would. But this one was rather hard to forget. So your name would be… He began searching for the name of Dehlara’s unfortunate new room-mate…

Yannah – Yannah Delraen.

Sohrem’s head snapped up. The girl took a step back, baffled by his reaction. In her frustration over being assigned to live with Dehlara, her cheeks were flushed, her fists clenched and her long-lashed gray eyes wide…

Sohrem had to laugh. You’re the one from Delnam – the one who lives near Stahrn!

Yannah’s jaw dropped as a flicker of recognition crossed her features. She wasn’t bad-looking – fair skin with freckles dusted across her pert nose, light brown hair that didn’t seem to like being pulled away from her face, an oval face and a long neck…

And the same flustered tendencies he recalled from checking her in that morning.

She managed to recover a bit of dignity he hadn’t imagined she had and crossed her arms. That’s me. So what?

Sohrem chuckled and looked back down at the sheet. He cleared his throat and forced a straight face. So you want a new room-mate.

"Yes." She nearly interrupted him.

A grin pulled at his lips. What was wrong with your current one?

Do you have to ask?

I seem to recall we had this conversation earlier, he answered. When I ask you a question, you’re supposed to answer it –

– Clearly, honestly, giving only the answer you asked me to give. She pursed her thin lips and shifted her weight onto one spidery leg. That only applies to questions that you’re required to ask.

"Actually, this one is required. I need to know your complaint in order to file for a transfer."

Oh. She pushed her hair out of her face and ducked her head. She looked almost comical in her embarrassment. She recovered only slightly before meeting his eyes again. Is it enough to say that she’s a brat?

The first time I requested transfer, I told them it was because my room-mate talked too much.

She quirked a brow.

He waved a hand dismissively. Long story.

She jutted her chin, obviously wanting to be done with the exchange. How long will it take for that request to go through?

He shrugged. Depends. It could be a week –

"A week!"

– or longer. He smiled. When I filed, it took almost a month.

Yannah wilted. Is there any way to speed up the process?

Theoretically, but more often it works in reverse.

Okay… thanks anyway. She sighed, then turned and walked out of the office.

Setting the file on the table in front of him, Sohrem rounded the table and sprinted to catch up. He got her attention again by stopping directly in front of her.

She halted and looked up at him, annoyed. Did you want something?

Her eyes weren’t gray; they were a rich mixture of green and blue, colored deeper by her frustration. He scrambled silently for a reply. Then he found one. You didn’t answer my question.

Her brow furrowed. Yes, I did. I said I wanted to file for transfer because –

Before that. He lifted his brows. You didn’t tell me why you joined the Guard.

She glanced away momentarily. Her cheeks flushed again. I had my reasons.

And those reasons were… He widened his eyes and waited.

Her eyes darted, and she cast him an exasperated look. It’s none of your business.

It’s just a question. What’s your problem?

You’re in my way, she responded, pushing him aside. That’s my problem.

He gave up and watched her go as she strode across the room towards the sleeping quarters.

Almost immediately, he smiled and bit his lip, amused. Then he called after her, Those are the men’s quarters. The women’s are the other way.

He chuckled as she abruptly turned and jogged in the direction he indicated. She spooked easily, but she was spunky. He liked that.

Maybe I’ll look her up later.

Grinning, he strode back into the office to finish his work.

~~~~~~~

Khanor Military Base, Keht – Rhenor Mountains

~~~~~~~

"I thought you wanted me to fix dinner without your help."

That was before you pulled out the sugar and said you were making potato soup. Shaetha turned from the cutting board and gestured with her knife. Hand me those spices I set out earlier.

What’s wrong with sugar? Lehn grabbed what she asked from the table and approached. We use it all the time, don’t we?

"You mean I use it all the time, Shaetha corrected, accepting the spices from his outstretched hand. Lehn’s face and personality had always been more boyish than he cared to admit, but tonight he looked exactly like a little boy attempting to help his mother in the kitchen. His auburn hair was in disarray, as usual. His clear brown eyes twinkled in amusement, and his mouth gaped in pretended shock. Shaetha maintained a straight face. The reason you don’t know how to properly use it is because you’re only in the kitchen when I’m physically incapable of fixing your dinner."

A man does what’s necessary to survive. He lifted his eyebrows in mock seriousness and lifted his index finger. I cooked dinner every night for an entire month, remember? And let’s not forget who made dinner every day for three years.

Oh, that’s right – Laera Jehns brought over bread and stew every night. I remember now. Shaetha smirked and swiped her knife over the cutting board. The potatoes landed in the water with a series of satisfying plops. She set the utensils back down and faced Lehn. I suppose I have to give you some credit for helping carry the dinner into the house.

That was only one year, and I hope you remember it wasn’t Mrs. Jehns who taught you to cook in the first place.

"And of course, my teacher had no ulterior motives whatsoever." She quirked her brows and began removing her apron.

Well, Miss Master Chef, you seem to have forgotten something rather vital, Lehn said, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

And what might that be? she queried, maintaining her teasing demeanor while mentally scrambling to think what she might have forgotten.

Lehn pointed directly below the pot containing the half-made soup. The fire isn’t lit.

Oh… I guess I forgot. Shaetha sighed and walked to the table by the stove. She tried to grab a match, but it took her several tries to keep from dropping the wretched thing onto the floor. Confused, she looked at her hands and realized they were trembling.

Then, suddenly, she was trembling all over, and she turned away from the table, unable to look at the stove or the stew waiting on it. Sorry, I – I don’t know…

Lehn hesitated, and then moved towards the pot. It’s all right; I’ll get it.

Shaetha nodded, her eyes fixed on the floor directly before her. She heard the shuffling of Lehn’s feet, the scratch of a match being struck. She shut her eyes tightly.

No, she thought fiercely. I’m not doing this again. She didn’t want to open her eyes, but she did. Slowly, she forced herself to watch Lehn. He brought the match to the special cooking stones under the pot. The match made contact…

Fire spread over the stones.

Shaetha gasped. Her heart accelerated. The air grew thin. Her knees grew weak.

It’s all right – it’s all right. The fire is too far away; it can’t hurt me.

Shaetha? Are you okay?

She nodded quickly. I’m fine. I just – Suddenly the flames jumped out at her. They were hotter now, bigger, brighter…

No, I can’t…

The flames engulfed her. Visions of another time, another fire, ate her alive with as much ferocity as the flames themselves. Shaetha screamed. She had to get out – get away, far away from the fire…

But she couldn’t. It was too late. It was just like before…

–––––––

Lehn jumped as the scream pierced the kitchen, causing him to drop the match on the ground before the cook-top. It extinguished as it hit the floor. A sick feeling of dread rushed over him.

Shaetha cowered on the ground, thrashing, screaming and crying. A look of terror filled her expression.

Shaetha! He rushed to her side and struggled to restrain her. He grabbed her shoulders and held her still. Shaetha, it’s all right. You’re all right! He shouted, stricken, knowing from her expression that she did not hear him.

Yahveh, please! She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

Sorrow overcame Lehn, and he pulled his panicked sister into his arms, restraining her as best he could. He stroked her hair and shut his eyes against the sight of her terror. It’s all right, Shaetha… I’m here…

It seemed like forever before the thrashing stopped and she finally looked at him, stricken. Lehn swallowed the lump in his throat. You’re all right.

But he knew even as she clung to him and sobbed that she was not. Yahveh would not help her…

And neither can I.

He stayed on the floor with his weeping sister in his arms, and his tears mingled with hers as the soup began to boil.

Chapter Three

Reshan Military Base, Jaern – Outerlands

Nice shoes. Dehlara sauntered over to her assigned place to Yannah’s right and slid gracefully into her chair. A coy smile spread across her face.

Yannah slowly slid her boot-clad feet a safe distance from Dehlara’s and pretended to focus on the words of the textbook before her. Somehow, when she’d enlisted in the Guard, she hadn’t pictured schoolwork being part of the mix.

But then, she hadn’t expected to have the school bully for a roommate, either.

You’re late, she hissed, although all of the school-aged recruits still milled noisily about the lecture hall. Yannah wished more than anything that whichever officer was teaching this session would step up to the podium and begin his speech.

For what? I hear this is just an introduction for the new recruits. Dehlara sniffed and flicked the pages of Yannah’s Studies in Metallurgy textbook. We don’t start any kind of schooling until tomorrow afternoon.

I’m getting a head start, Yannah spat, refusing to look at Dehlara. She felt her face flushing and wished for a few of those anti-stress herbs that her mother had always hidden in her meals.

Wearing your new uniform already, I see.

Yannah sighed and turned to face Dehlara. The perfection her roommate exuded was perfectly nauseating. Every strand of her scarlet hair was perfectly in its place, her face free of blemishes, every seam of her rose-colored blouse and leggings flattering her lithe form.

And you’re trying to get yourself suspended already, I see. What makes you think, Yannah challenged, giving Dehlara a skeptical once-over, that the officers won’t notice that you’re wearing civilian clothes to an official training session?

Dehlara shrugged, her amethyst eyes gleaming. "No-one said anything about a dress code for this first