The Turning

By Sarah D. Silvey

Welcome to Azaria, a land of forgotten myths and mysterious ruins.

Here are creatures in human shells who can kill with a thought; they call themselves Others. They crave power and view mankind as chattel.

Here is a secret order of knights who ensure the Others remain little more than a legend: assassins with the discipline to move faster than their enemies can think. They dedicate their brief lives to tracking and killing these monsters.

Sienna was born with an Other in her head. When her home is destroyed by an evil spell, she vows to use the monster within her against its kin, but maintaining control of it is no easy task.

Her only companion, a cold assassin, leads her through mutants, madmen, battles, cruel landscapes, and horrors beyond imagining.

With enemies on all sides, she struggles to survive. Yet her greatest trial will be defending herself from possession by her own inner demon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah D. Silvey
• Release date: Mar 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311179999

Sarah D. Silvey

Sarah D. Silvey has a Bachelor's degree in Creative Writing. A well-laid plot is like peanut butter to her inner dog.The Turning is her first novel, and she is working on a sequel. She occasionally maintains a blog at https://freshhell.me/.

Book preview

THE TURNING

By Sarah D. Silvey

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Copyright © 2016, Sarah Silvey

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Book I: The Finding

Book II: The Turning

About the Author

Prologue

Annali strode into the throne room, her footsteps muffled by the thick gold carpeting. She knew better than to show fear.

Golden braziers lined the hall, their inexhaustible flames rendered smokeless by Other’s magic, cutting the chill in the cavernous stone room. A tall flight of stairs led to a landing on which was perched the Empress’s ornate red throne. At her back was the wall, to prevent anyone from creeping up on her from behind. It was mostly a formality; no human would be able to approach her undetected, and few Others would dare. The stairs gave the empress’s position a dizzyingly lofty feel, but it did not have the intended effect on Annali. Instead of awe, it only filled her with envy.

This was a secret meeting. The Empress had sent her guardsmen to fetch her in the dead of night. Annali could only guess at her reasons; the one thing she knew for sure was that she would have to keep a close guard on her tongue. There were few Others as powerful as herself, but if she showed the slightest disrespect, the old crone would crumple her up and cast her aside like a paper toy. There were plenty of other thralls for the empress to choose from. This was either a magnificent opportunity or the end of her existence.

She wore a silken wrap of fine make, the bright yellow contrasting beautifully with the dark hue of her skin, but the Empress’s wrap shamed her own. It was bejeweled beyond imagining, glittering magnificently in the candlelight when she shifted in her seat. Gorgeous though the trappings were, they were only trappings.

What did impress her was the woman’s power. Annali had the ability to sense its strength, and the intensity of it was distracting.

She halted before the steps, sank to her knees, and bowed deeply, her forehead close to the floor.

Arise, the Empress commanded.

She stood and looked up to meet the Other’s eye, though she had to crane her neck to do it. The old crone hadn’t bothered with a glamor; the creature’s true face looked down on her thrall. Wrinkles lined her forehead and sagged her jowls. No matter how clever that mind might be, there was no denying the age of her human body. Her power would need a new vessel soon. Annali silently promised herself that she would be around when that time came.

I have a task for you, the Other said. Her yellow eyes glowered down at younger woman, sizing her up, even as she sent out invisible waves that scoured her thrall’s mind. Annali allowed the invasion, but held parts of herself back, trying to control what the Empress saw.

You are strong, she mused as she pressed against the mental barriers Annali had thrown up. But do not think you can fool me.

A great wave of energy pressed against Annali’s mind. This was a test. She steeled herself against the assault, but it increased more, and more, until a sharp pain throbbed in the center of her head. Instinctively she knew that if she did not relent, she would die.

She’d never had to relent to anyone before. Part of her would rather die than let her in; but that was her human pride pulling at her. Shoving it aside, she let the Empress break through. It was painful in more ways than one. She winced as the Empress tore through her mind and rifled carelessly through the memories. She saw all the Others she had killed to get as strong as she was, her penchant for torture, her disgust at the Empress’s age, her envy for the Empress’s position.

It seemed to go on for a lifetime, but at last the assault ended, and Annali was alone in her own mind once more. A trickle of blood threatened to drip out of her nose. Closing her eyes, she pushed the blood back into the veins and healed the broken blood vessels with only a little concentration. Head injuries were harder to heal than most, especially on oneself, but she was more than capable. She would not allow the Empress to see her bleed.

You are clever, the Empress said. But are you clever enough?

Empress?

There is a town across the desert, far to the West where humans run wild. Its name is Cumbry. I want everyone there destroyed.

Annali bowed again to acknowledge the command. You will not be disappointed in me, Empress.

Stay down, the Empress barked. You could use some humbling.

It rankled within her to do it, but she bowed deeper than before, even going so low as to touch her forehead to the rough carpeting.

She cackled rustily. Maybe you are clever after all.

The crone paused in her conversation, taking time to shift unhappily in her seat. When she got comfortable, she said, Hear me well. Do not let one soul survive.

She leaned forward to give her words greater weight, and even at this distance Annali could smell a trace of her breath wafting from the dais down to the floor where she still bowed. It reeked of decay.

Prove your worth to me by doing this, and you will be given a position of high power. You may rise.

Annali schooled her face to be as blank as she could, but she couldn’t keep some of the disgust out of her eyes as she obeyed.

You are dismissed, the Empress said.

She bowed once more, then turned and walked back through the braziered hall, past the row of towering guardsmen with their red and white painted masks. When the thick stone doors shut the Empress’s prying out, she finally allowed herself to think about what she had just learned. Cross the desert to destroy a town? This was more than a test. If she’d wanted to test Annali she could have put her through her paces right there, in whatever way she saw fit.

Did she want her dead? Sending someone through the desert was nearly a death sentence as it was. But if the Empress had wanted such a thing, all she would have had to do was think it and Annali would be rendered a smear on the wall for the servants to clean up.

There was no question about it: she was being used. But to what end?

She retrieved her blue cloak from the servant at the door, scanning it carefully for any changes: a burr, a spider, a poisoned dart. She had eliminated Others stronger than herself with hidden poison before, and an Other of her caliber had to be on the lookout for assassination attempts at all hours, in all places. Today she detected nothing; today her cloak was safe. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she stepped out of the door into the city.

There was something more going on here than what she had been told. For now, she daren’t disobey the Empress. All she could do was play her part. Killing an entire town would be fun, at least; rarely were they given leave to such high-profile acts of destruction.

Even more interesting was what she had learned about the Empress herself. The creature was slipping. She should have hidden her true form from Annali. Now Annali knew that her aged, fragile body was a liability. Annali intended to exploit that liability. For a while longer would she play the obedient little thrall; by the time the Empress realized her mistake, Annali would steal her strength and seat herself on the red throne.

BOOK I: The Finding

Sienna lay on her back on her ferry and waited for the sunrise. There was silence here at least. She breathed deeply and watched the blue on the horizon lighten through the trees. She loved to get up early, while the air was still crisp, and feel the gentle rocking motions of the raft. The sound of the water slapping underneath her and the creaking of the rope only served to accent the quiet. Her ferry was nothing more than a raft, large enough to hold four men, or one man and a horse. A rope ran through the ferry and connected to a block and tackle pulley mounted on posts on either shore, which kept her from being swept away by the current, as well as being the means by which she would pull the raft across the water.

She kept the pulleys smooth and oiled so that her strength could to carry any travelers across. Wagons with oxen did not pass through this way; there was a bridge several miles down for them, on the main road. People who were important enough to own wagons did not have business with the little town of Cumbry.

In half an hour, the townsfolk would wake up. People would call to one another, talk about this and that, curse at their geese and goats. The dogs would bark at the children, the children would step on the geese, the geese would honk and flee. Morning would lose its sacred silence. The men or women of Cumbry would come her way with the chatter they always carried amongst themselves, and she would pull them across for a copper or two, and they would pay her no more mind.

She knew what they thought of her. No decent young woman, in their minds, would live alone on the edge of the Red River and ferry people across for coppers. It was dangerous, living alone so near the woods, so far from the safety of the ruins. They wanted her to find a woman’s job waiting tables at the inn or making the beds. She was supposed to become part of the noise. She should get married to a young man in the village and have lots of children so she could spend her time chasing them around with a dishrag in her hand, scolding the dog for barking at the children, scolding the children for stepping on the geese, scolding the geese for getting in her way.

But she couldn’t. They were happier without her, though they didn’t know it. She was safe, and so were they.

Someone comes.

Ah… that was the Other. It was the reason she craved solitude. It often broke into her thoughts like this, especially when she was pleasantly losing herself to the moment. No matter how alone she was, the Other was always inside her head. Sometimes it would respond unbidden as it just had, and sometimes she would call on it and it would remain silent. But always it was there, in the back of her mind.

The Other was the reason why she abstained from socializing. She might be having a perfectly genial chat with someone as she rowed him across, until Other whispered what he was thinking into her ear. The things it told her usually made her want to stop talking. When she did manage to keep up a conversation, it was difficult to remember what she was supposed to know and what she wasn’t. Her acquaintance might be telling her one story, but the Other would be telling a different version even as they spoke. People often lied, but the Other didn’t. She knew more secrets than anybody.

She sat up to see just as the customer rang the bell. The bell was only for form’s sake; the Other always told her when someone was near before they even had a chance to ring it. Grabbing the ropes, she pulled the ferry over to meet the stranger.

It was a woman, she could tell that much from her shape. But everything else about her was concealed by a soft blue cloak of a strange cut, the hood pulled low to obscure her face.

She stepped onto the ferry without a word, and Sienna was glad there was no need for her to force a conversation. Instead she heaved on the ropes in the opposite direction, drawing the raft across the river. As she pulled, she found herself stealing glances back at this newcomer who stood sphinxlike behind her. There was something odd about this woman, but the Other kept still, despite her curiosity. Sienna realized she was actively asking the Other and made herself stop. She didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to know.

The woman raised her head, catching one of Sienna’s stolen glances in the act, and it was all Sienna could do to keep from gasping in astonishment. Her skin shone a deep brownish-black where it touched the sun. She’d never seen anyone that color before. The deep tones in her skin only accented her eyes, which were as yellow as lemons, nearly glowing from under her hood. She was the most beautiful woman Sienna had ever seen.

At that moment, the Other did something Sienna didn’t expect. It allowed her to feel the woman’s soul. It was smooth as glass, almost slippery, and so dark she could hardly sense it. Turning hastily away with only a minimal hitch in the rhythm of her pulling, Sienna focused her eyes on the ropes and considered her options.

Never in her life had she seen a soul as inhuman as the one behind her right now. She had to do something, but what could she do? Sienna imagined trying to pull the knife from her boot and stab at her, but just thinking about it made her heart skip a beat. It wouldn’t work. She couldn’t explain what it was exactly, but she held an aura of power that made Sienna’s clumsily wielded knife feel a flimsy weapon.

The ferry had never felt so small before.

Before she could make any decisions, they hit the opposite bank. The woman dropped a half-copper on the warped boards of the ferry and stepped onto the land, a trace of a smile on her face as she brushed past. It was an insult twice over. First that she hadn’t had the decency to hand her the coin, and second that it was only half the fee she normally charged. But Sienna hardly had the courage to speak, much less confront the woman. All she could do was watch the monster slither over the bank and toward town. She wanted to chase her down and challenge her, or rush ahead and warn the folk. But there was nothing for it. The people thought her crazy enough as it was; what would they say if she ran down there spouting nonsense about evil women with strange skin? There was nothing she could tell them; all she had to warn them was her word, and her word was already in shaky standing with the people of Cumbry as it was. Her lessons had been hard learned to keep her mouth shut about what the Other told her. Odds were that the woman was only passing through, and wouldn’t hurt anyone anyway. Somebody that exotic couldn’t possibly have business with this town.

The coin glinted at her.

Don’t touch it, the Other said. She agreed. Angrily she pushed the copper off of the raft with the tip of her boot. She might not be able to stop the woman, but she didn’t have to take her money either. What a coward she was.

The sun climbed the sky and a few more people passed through: ordinary townsfolk, farmers come in from around the area, men and women she saw every day who kept the pleasantries with her to a bare minimum. They might have had wooden eyes for all they saw. They hadn’t the faintest awareness that there was a murderess in their midst.

It was nearly noon when she felt something sinister brush by her consciousness, like a bad odor on a breeze. She studied her surroundings alertly, but there was nothing to see, and it was gone before she could even try to pinpoint the source. Was trouble brewing? As clodheaded as the people here were, they were her clodheaded people; they hardly deserved that woman brought down upon their heads.

She tried to let it go, but it niggled at her. The town was noisy and ignorant as always; everything was business as usual. The river kept running, and the geese kept honking, and the people kept up their usual mundane conversations. She had just decided that she was getting paranoid when the bell on the opposite shore rang, making her start.

The Other hadn’t said a word.

A man stood, still and patient, on the opposite bank, awaiting passage into Cumbry. This day was only getting weirder; she didn’t often see strangers, and here were two in one day. One thing was for sure; she would not make the same mistake twice. She would not let every criminal with a copper buy his way into her town.

Standing to take the ropes, she asked the Other about him, and it tried to respond… but all it could manage was a strained silence. That had never happened before. Planting her boots on the raft, she pulled the ferry toward the opposite side, studying him, trying to make a judgment call without the Other’s help. He was slender in the way of a steel blade or a flexible switch of willow. There was a sword strapped to his back and a dagger at his side. He was no taller than most men, but he stood well enough that he gave an illusion of extra height.

She took her time reaching the opposite shore, but it arrived despite her best efforts, her Other giving her no information at all. The man stepped aboard, his soft-soled boots hardly making a sound on the hollow wooden planks. His face was angular, smooth, and stern, with prominent cheekbones made even more pronounced by a harsh lack of fat. His eyes were so pale as to be almost white, the irises limned in deep blue. He couldn’t be much older than she was, but his expression was a thousand years beyond her.

Again she felt the strange sensation of her Other trying and failing to get any information. Somehow, this man defied her Other. How was that possible?

What’s the fare? His voice was quiet and even, but it sent a chill down her back.

She bolstered her courage. He might look like death incarnate, but she was not letting any more horrible people into Cumbry without putting up some kind of a fight.

Two silvers, she said. If it’s too much, you can take the bridge downriver. She didn’t mention that it was six miles away. If he took the bridge, there was a good chance he might avoid Cumbry altogether.

The man pulled two silvers from a black leather purse at his belt and gave them to her without batting an eye.

Now that he had paid the fare, she had no choice but to start pulling the ropes. She crossed to the back of the ferry so that she could keep her eye on him as she pulled, though it made the raft tilt. The man didn’t face ahead like most people would; instead he faced toward her, his back to the approaching shore, his unblinking eyes watching her every move. She might return his money and refuse to let him cross, but she knew that it would do no good. If he was truly determined, all he had to do was slit her throat and take the ferry across himself. Why wouldn’t the Other answer her? Seeming to hear her question, it made another failed attempt to communicate, but this time she was able to pinpoint the source of the suppression. He had a necklace hidden under his shirt. An amulet of some kind.

The silent intensity of his stare made her self-conscious, and an awkward blush heated her cheeks. She had to say something, with them facing each other like this.

Why do you carry a sword into town? Her tone came off more accusing than offhand. She didn’t mean to sound so rude; she was going to get herself killed.

Why do you keep a knife in your boot? He responded coolly. Of course he could tell she had a knife. He was a fighter, trained to notice such things. Ask a stupid question, she thought.

Unable to think of anything else to say, she resorted to staring back at him. Most of his clothes were black, well-kept and of modest make, with a touch of simple silver embroidery on the sleeves. It looked like a uniform of some kind; perhaps he was a guard in Tio. His cloak was thicker than the season called for, and had once been a rich shade of purple but was fading yellow along the shoulders from long hours under the sun. It had been carefully mended several times. He had a knife in his boot in addition to the blades she had noticed earlier. She’d never seen anyone so well armed.

She had pulled as slow as she was able, but they still reached the bank, and she knew no more than she had before. Anxiety welled inside her; she was letting another murderer into Cumbry. She was doing the cowardly thing again.

The man released her from his stare and regarded the town. Facing away from her, his sword on his back and his spine straight, she saw him in a different light. He looked fearless, braced for battle. But he also looked alone; terribly alone. His chest expanded and fell in a silent sigh as he prepared to debark. Something about that sigh made her sad for him.

He leaped lightly ashore and started to walk toward Cumbry.

Sienna felt low; without the aid of her Other, she had misjudged him. He had taken her slights with impunity, he had paid her exorbitant fee without complaint, he had responded fairly to her accusing question. He had tolerated her unjust treatment with patience. Just because he was intimidating did not mean he was evil.

Wait! she called, hopping ashore after him. He turned, a question in his eyes, and rejoined her with cautious steps.

Sienna reached into her purse and made change for the unfair fee she’d charged him, then held it out, her arm outstretched, not getting any closer than she had to.

I only charge a copper, normally. You frightened me, but I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.

He studied her face for so long that she regretted her compassionate impulse. He should have apologized back; she wasn’t the only one who had been rude.

Here, she said shortly, gesturing toward him with the change.

The change in his face was subtle. Though it was still as stone, she could see laughter behind his icy eyes. No offense taken, he said, and turned away, leaving her standing there like a fool with her arm out and money still in her hand. He broke into a smooth, easy lope toward town, and did not look back.

Sienna bit down her anger. What was that? She had an urge to throw this, too, into the water, before she had to stop and laugh at herself. It was a wonder she made enough to eat as it was; she didn’t need to start throwing money into the river every time she felt she’d been insulted. Putting the change in her pouch, she decided to count herself lucky he hadn’t stabbed her for overcharging him in the first place.

* * *

Brennan continued along Annali’s trail. The girl at the ferry was a mystery, but he had bigger problems right now.

Annali was only a few hours ahead of him.

At first it appeared that she was heading straight into the heart of Cumbry, and he dreaded to find another horribly tattered corpse in her wake. Instead he was relieved to see that her trail diverged from the main road and circled the outskirts of the village. She knew he was following her, but she made no efforts to hide from him. Her lack of regard might have been intended as an insult, but if it was then she didn’t know the Darcean knights very well.

Why would she not go through the center of town? She’d had no qualms about going through settlements much larger than this. Could this tiny little village be her destination? What could she possibly hope to gain from this place?

He took extra caution when he plunged into the woods after her; a trail this obvious might not be disdain at all; it might be a trap. Even if her footsteps had not left such clear imprints in the soft mud and wet leaves, he could sense the spell she was working through his amulet. The sun shone through the trees where the townsfolk had made a clearing for their homes; the smell of water permeated the air. Cumbry was nestled in a crook of the river, and the water came around again on the opposite side of town. It was this section of the river she was heading for; the section upstream from Cumbry. It provided a clear view of the entire town. He spied her blue robe through the trees and slowed to a soundless pace. One small crackle of leaves, one twig snap, one startled deer dashing her way, and he would be dead. She came into better view as he crept around behind her. She stood straight, the deep blue of her robe contrasting against the brown-gray bark of the trees, her hood thrown back to expose her dark face. Her arms were straight, lifted to either side palms upward, and her eyes were closed. His amulet was warm from the strength of her spell. She was up to a large kind of mischief if she was in a trance like this. He only hoped he was in time to stop it. Pulling his dagger from his boot, he stalked sideways, searching for a place where no trees would come between his dagger and Annali, funneling will into his amulet to keep himself invisible her power. No ordinary man would have seen or heard him, but it took extra care to sneak up on an Other, especially one in a trance. Speed and stealth were his best allies now.

There; the trees parted, giving him a clear view of the back of her head, her tight braid revealing where the base of her skull met her spine. Pulling back his hand, he made ready to throw the dagger. It was an easy shot for him, even at this distance, but he couldn’t afford to miss, so he exhaled quietly to steady his body, finding his center.

Ready, he whipped his wrist and tried to release his fingers. But his body did not respond; it remained immobilized, frozen in place. An invisible barrier had solidified around him. She knew he was there. Despite his amulet, she had found him. He focused his will to break the spell, but nothing happened. The spell wasn’t aimed at him; it was aimed at the air around him, so there was nothing he could do to fight it.

The Other lowered her hands and turned to face him, yellow eyes flashing open. She smiled a half-smile when she saw her pursuer. There was no artifice to her appearance as there had been when she’d gone through previous towns; she had cast her disguise away. Now her pupils could be plainly seen; they were slitted as a cat’s, betraying her inhumanity.

She saw his confusion and her smile widened. Surprised? You’ve been fighting raw Others, untrained and hopeless creatures. Any properly trained Other can work around your Order’s amulets. She paced around him, examining him from all sides. He could turn his head, but he didn’t; that would look like fear. By the time she passed into his field of vision again, her expression had changed to annoyance. They sent a boy to do the work of a hundred men, she said, ripping his dagger out of his hand and throwing it aside. You shouldn’t be out this late, child. She took a step back and folded her arms. Kneel before your better.

He felt himself forced to his knees, but he kept his calm. She would have no satisfaction out of him.

She leaned in close to his face. He could smell the Other in her; it was faint, but it fell off her skin warm and sickly sweet. I want you to know before you die, that because you failed, this whole town is going to be destroyed. How many people live here? Sixty? Eighty? Does that bother you?

He couldn’t let her get him angry; anger would cloud thoughts. He wasn’t afraid of death. But he and his Order was all that stood between humanity and the tyranny of Others. He pressed with all he had against the barriers that held him back, testing its limits, looking for a hole.

Ooh, aren’t you mad? she said. I like a boy with a little bite to him. I could have a lot of fun with you, but I just don’t have any more time to play.

The air constricted around his throat. Brennan tried again to break the hold, but he couldn’t budge a hair. Annali watched intently as his eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed with excitement.

Black spots danced before him. As much as she was obviously enjoying this, she had to watch him to make sure he was dead. He had one chance, maybe. The creature might be able to control the air around him, but she still couldn’t see into his mind or body. He mimicked death throes against his bonds, then collapsed. Still the pressure around his throat remained, the blood pounding in his head. His lungs burned. Everything in him wanted to fight for air, but he concentrated on relaxing through and controlling the spasms. The Order had taught him perfect willpower to defend his mind against intrusion. Now he had to turn that willpower against his own body. But it wasn’t enough; she didn’t let him go. She could see his pulse. He had to go deeper.

Brennan fell into another state of mind. His heart slowed, then stopped, and he held it there in suspension. His hands itched to claw at his neck. His vision went from speckles of twinkling light to muddy brown, and he slumped, his eyes glassy and unseeing. He could only keep this up for a few seconds before he would really die, but there was no other way to fool her.

She wasn’t letting go early. She was going to make sure. He felt himself being thrown through the air, his limbs as cold as wet rags, and he tried to will his heart back into action even as he lost consciousness.

* * *

As the sun finally set and Sienna carried the last of the farmers back into town from their land over the river, she felt another brush of foreboding, stronger this time.

She had decided that when the day ended, she would check on her town, ask some questions, make sure everyone was all right. Though they had their doubts about her, she knew them inside and out, and she felt a degree of responsibility for them, especially as she was the one who’d let the strangers through.

She fastened a padlock to the pulley on the ferry to secure it from being used in her absence, then she walked into the town toward Tom’s. If there was any place in town to get news, Tom’s was it. He made a good brown beer and had an easy manner that went well with everyone. She didn’t like to linger for long there, because emotions ran so high in the drunks their thoughts were often louder than her own. Still, she tried to go once a week to drink a glass of Tom’s beer. It was good for her to be around people, even if they didn’t want her there. Sitting with them helped remind her that she was as human as they were.

She pushed in the oak door and felt relief at the normalcy of it. The smell of stale beer and thunk of wooden mugs on wooden tables was the same as ever. The usual men were having their drunken arm-wrestling contest in the corner. Two large, rough-hewn tables with benches filled the small room, and a low, heavy bar lined one wall. Tom’s family slept in the back. A merry fire gave the place a warm glow while Tom himself stood behind the bar, filling a mug from a keg on the wall.

—like to touch those thighs. I wonder what color her—, the Other whispered. She looked and saw dirty old Mick ogling her like he always did. Self-conscious under his unflinching drunken stare, she sat down at the bar, let down her auburn hair, and re-tied it.

Sienna! a small voice cried out, and Sienna softened at the tone. Ellen was Tom’s four-year-old daughter. She was supposed to stay in the back or play outside, and her mother would periodically appear and take her away, but she always ended up back in the bar. For some reason Sienna could never fathom, Ellen liked her; maybe it was because so few women found their way into the tavern. Today Ellen showed her enthusiasm by climbing up the chair and onto her lap.

Hey, Sienna said, a smile finding its way to her face despite her concerns. Ellen turned to face Sienna, kneeling on her. Her small knees dug sharply into the meat of her thigh; Sienna shifted her a bit to get the pressure onto softer places. The girl was all elbows and knees; skinny as a twig, and her dresses never seemed to fit her right. No other child could be quite so knobbly and uncomfortable on her lap as this one.

The day that this graceless little girl learned the correct behavior toward her, Sienna might no longer feel the need to come to the tavern. But for now, Sienna only heard one voice when Ellen spoke; the girl was pure honesty.

I made this, Ellen said. She took it off her neck and held it out to Sienna. It was an old snail shell on a string. She could see the snail’s body silhouetted in the candlelight, dead and withered, through the shell.

It’s nice, Sienna lied.

You can have it, Ellen said, and put it around Sienna’s neck, poking her in the eye with her small warm fingers as she pulled the string down over her face.

Sienna rubbed her eye. Specks of something fell off of the necklace and rolled down between her breasts. She told herself it was dirt and not desiccated snail bits.

Tom came up, eying the two of them.

Get off her lap, Ellen. I’ve told you before not to bother patrons. He pointed at her, attempting fierceness, until she climbed down, then faced Sienna. What’ll you have? Mindy’s roasted some potatoes, and there’s a little chicken left.

Sienna considered this. Tom’s wife made good food. She should have been ravenous, not having eaten since breakfast. But instead she was all nerves.

Just a beer, Tom.

As he filled her mug from the keg behind him, she ventured, I was wondering if there was any news in town.

Tom thought about this as he topped off her beer and set it on the bar in front of her. He always spoke deliberately around her.

—Here we go again, another crazy conversation with Sienna.—

After his moment of careful consideration, he said, Funny you should ask today. Old Sanderson came in just this morning.

Sienna’s gut dropped. Something horrible had happened, she was sure of it. Tom leaned forward onto his forearms and looked her in the face; rarely did he show this much intensity.

He said he hatched a chick with three legs.

That wasn’t quite the kind of news she was looking for. An awkward guffaw escaped her, and Tom leaned back, looking at her under his bushy eyebrows.

—never know what she’ll do or how she’ll react—

She forced her face straight and said, Is that all?

He cocked one of his eyebrow at her and said, Is that all? Three legs? That’s news enough for me. You know something I don’t?

She wasn’t sure what to tell him. Would a warning make any difference? It was always safer not to tell these things; if the strangers hadn’t hurt anybody, maybe... but even as she tried to convince herself, the dark feeling resurfaced: a sense of dread, the approach of death. And just as quickly, it passed. If only she knew what to do. I ferried some strange people across the river today, she tried.

Tom began wiping out the wooden mugs with a dishtowel, attempting to look casual. Strange like what?

Strange like… well, I saw a woman come through whose skin was darker than this bar. She rapped her knuckles on it for emphasis.

Ellen chimed in from Sienna’s side, Are there really people with black skin?

Tom looked vexed. Shouldn’t you be in bed, little one?

No, she said, and walked quickly off toward the back room.

Go to bed, Ellen, he called after her, but without any real energy behind it. He turned back to Sienna. Ain’t heard of any black women in town.

No strangers at all?

Nobody black, blue, or green. Maybe she just passed by.

Sienna thought for a minute, then sighed. That’s good. I didn’t like the look of that woman. I guess I was just afraid she’d cause trouble.

Tom shrugged and said, I’ll keep an eye out for her. But he didn’t look at her.

He thinks you mad, the Other said. He wants you to leave his daughter alone.

Sienna suddenly felt tired. She got up, leaving him two coppers for the beer and a half-copper for the news. Thanks, Tom.

When walking back to her cottage through the cooling air of twilight, she felt the dark foreboding grip her heart again.

Danger, the Other said. She glanced wildly around, but once again, everything appeared normal. Just as abruptly, the feeling slid away. It had been stronger this time; it was a little stronger each time it happened. What did it mean?

She got to her cottage safely and locked the door behind her. It was only one room, with a fireplace her father had built himself, a table that she had helped sand smooth, and a bed stuffed with straw. She built up a fire and stared at it, nibbling thoughtfully on some bread she’d had set aside.

It had been an extraordinary day. She picked the soft center of her bread out of the crust as she mulled it over. That man had an amulet that could block her Other. If it could do that, it might have been made with that purpose in mind. And if it was made with that purpose in mind, that meant there were more people like her. Maybe he was like her; maybe he had his own Other. Maybe that was why he had looked at her so strangely.

She had been ferrying all her life, and she had met a lot of people, but this was the first time she could remember encountering something that even suggested there might be more people like her. And she hadn’t realized it for what it was, and let it pass. The opportunity was wasted. All day she had consistently made the wrong choices. She had let a murderess into her town, made the most influential man in town, the barkeep, think her crazier than ever, and offended the only person she’d ever met who might know more about people like herself.

Others like herself. She didn’t dare to hope. It would be almost as if she had gained a family again. People who would know what it is like to live with the thoughts of strangers in their heads, keeping their secrets. Maybe they knew a better way to keep one’s sanity. Maybe they knew how to turn it off at will.

Almost on cue, the dark foreboding rested on her heart again. This was bad. Whatever was coming, was bad. It was building, but nothing had happened yet. Maybe she could stop it. Maybe… but she didn’t even know where to begin, what direction to walk. Usually the safest thing to do was to not interfere. Every time she tried to do anything she only managed to muck things up, and people were always better off without her meddling, especially where the Other was concerned. So maybe she had better keep her hands out of this. She tried to doze in front of her fire, but she couldn’t shut her eyes long enough for the flames to fade from her vision.

* * *

Brennan awoke on the ground. It was night already; he cursed himself for his weakness and staggered to a stand. He shouldn’t have remained unconscious for so long. He had a lump on his head where he must have landed when she tossed him away. Once on his feet, he felt his body try to stagger, but he forced his spine straight. His throat was raw, inside and out. He coughed and spat; the spittle was pink with blood. It could be worse. He could be dead.

Annali was no longer in the area. His amulet was warm with the residuals of the spell she had worked. This Other was too powerful for him to defeat alone; he had never encountered an Other he could not best before. He had to go back to the Order and tell them what happened. He would need help in taking her down.

She had said that she was going to destroy the town. Any minute now, whatever was building would come crashing down on these people; but it hadn’t happened yet. The town was still there. A dog was barking, and he could see a candle burning in one of the houses. How long did he have? How long did everyone have?

He couldn’t fight what she had done if he didn’t know what it was. Cumbry was so small, it didn’t even have an alarum to ring or a stronghold in which to hide. How could he alert the people? He could stand in the streets and shout that mutants were coming. He could set a house on fire. But those things wouldn’t make them flee the town; it would only make them band together. He searched his amulet and felt the enormity of what was coming. It was being held at bay, whatever it was. Annali had worked on it all day, and was probably trying to get clear of the area before she unleashed it. He knew in his heart that knowledge of this thing, or banding together against it, would not ensure survival. Running was the only option.

Perhaps he could break in, kidnap some people, and carry them bodily away. If he got a mob after him, he might get them out of town. But the river would hamper everyone.

The ferry.

His amulet thrummed with the echoed power of what was building, still building around him. He had no time to awaken the town. He had no time for anything. This Other had just bested him twice over.

He ran.

* * *

Sienna woke to a knocking at her door. What time was it? It was still dark outside; she couldn’t have been asleep for long.

Again came the insistent knocking.

Who is it? She asked, feigning sleepiness.

I need to cross the river, a man called through the door.

She asked her Other who it was, but it did not respond, and by that she knew him. He sounded hoarse. Was he injured?

I don’t run people across after dark, she said to the door. Opening the door for a stranger in the middle of the night was the first thing a woman did not do when she lived alone, especially when she couldn’t count on her Other to read his intentions. Maybe he really did want to cross the river, but she couldn’t risk it. Was it really so urgent that he couldn’t wait until daylight?

He didn’t answer at first; she could sense indecision in his silence.

Then I’ll break the lock and ferry myself across, he said. Though his footsteps were inaudible, the sound of his voice moved away from her as he spoke. He was walking off.

The scoundrel! Not on her watch. She’d ordered that lock from a merchant who passed through Tio; it was iron, and expensive. Though it was strong, she had no doubt that this man could break it. He seemed capable of anything he might put his mind to. With a tinge of nervousness, she opened the door and stepped outside. Instantly, dark forebodings assailed her. She could feel it on the night air now, thrumming with danger and making her very jumpy. She looked around and saw the man a few steps away, watching her. Was he the danger? He was certainly dangerous, but not in the way that she was feeling. The warning echoed all the way to her bones; this was no person that she was sensing, however dangerous he might be. It was something larger than that.

What happened to you? Sienna said. She tried to sound as angry as she’d felt when she opened the door, but some of her concern made its way into her voice despite herself.

He looked like he’d taken a spill; there was dirt on one side of his face, his neck was red, and there was a leaf in his hair. He must not have been seriously injured, as he still moved fluidly, and with purpose.

I don’t have time to explain, he said, and started walking again. She trotted after him, full of questions, trying to pick one. The Other. She had to ask him about the Other. There was no time and this was the most important question of all.

But she stopped short when she saw that the lock to her ferry had already been broken away. The ferry was drifting forlornly in the middle of the river. Someone had used it while she had slept. Swallowing her umbrage, she gripped the rope and pulled her raft to. As she worked, her foot hit something buried in the grass. She stopped to pick it up.

It was what was left of her lock. It hadn’t been broken as she’d feared. It had been melted as if it were an icicle. The steel had cooled back into shiny drips and puddles of metal; blackened grass and dirt were permanently embedded in it.

How was this possible? Only a forge had enough heat to melt steel, but there was no sign anywhere else of heat damage, much less a fire. She turned to the stranger, open mouthed, but he didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest; he had taken over her job of pulling the raft to shore.

My lock, she managed.

She couldn’t see his face as he pulled. It doesn’t matter right now, he said.

He was in a serious hurry. Then again, he was probably right. The dark foreboding was filling her with a sense of urgency as well. She set the melted lock aside to examine later.

The ferry touched shore and they climbed onto it; she started pulling them across while he kept his razor focus on their surroundings.

What is it? she asked quietly.

He looked straight through her with his icy white-blue eyes.

You know what, he said.

Her stomach lurched unhappily. He was probably the least friendly person she had ever tried to talk to, without even a veneer of politeness.

Something bad’s coming. I can feel it. Do you feel it, too? She tried, watching him.

No, he almost spat, then reined himself in. But I know it anyway.

She tried a new tack. What’s your name?

He seemed to soften a little, but his stare did not falter. Brennan, he said carefully.

I’m Sienna, she said. Brennan… where did you get that amulet?

He did not answer and looked anxiously up the river instead. She began pulling harder. She felt it too; it was as if something had snapped somewhere upstream. The thing that she’d felt all day; it would be here any second. It was rushing toward them. They were not safe.

Brennan grabbed the ropes and pulled with her, more than doubling their speed; the rope’s friction burned her fingers. They hit the shore hard; she had to take a staggering step to keep her balance, but Brennan used the impact to leap lightly ashore.

Her chance to ask him about the Other was gone, but it didn’t matter now. Instead she was overcome by a barrage to her mind; the Other was telling her to get off the water, watch out for the water, it’s coming down the water, we’ll die. Brennan looked back at her, a lingering look, she saw again that sadness that so pierced her. Then he faced the hill before them, but he did not move. He had been in such a hurry to cross the river, but now that he had crossed it, he was hesitating.

She had to get back to the safety of her cabin, but something in his distress gave her pause. At that moment, they both shared the same nameless anxiety. In their fear, they were united.

Brennan, she called impulsively. He looked back at her again; he seemed to be struggling with a decision. Be careful, she said.

To her surprise, he came back and held out one slender hand toward her. Come with me, he said. All his cold anger was gone; instead there was an earnest intensity.

What? Sienna stared at him. She couldn’t think straight with the Other shouting silently inside her, with the weight of this evil thing eclipsing her mind. Could she trust this strange man? Did she even have time to recross the river and make it back to her house if she didn’t?

Come with me. You know something bad is going to happen.

What about my things… she wavered, holding her hand half out. She felt the danger pressing on her so hard it made her heart skip beats. It was difficult to breathe.

There’s no time, he said. His cool fingers grabbed her hand, unceremoniously tearing her out of the raft with wiry strength, and then they were running away from her ferry, away from Cumbry, up the high hill on the other side of the river. She couldn’t keep up with his pace, and was yanked along with each stride, barely keeping to her feet.

She felt it more than heard it; a heavy rush that shook the earth under her, and a cool wet breeze. It wasn’t something coming down the river. It was the river itself. An enormous twelve-foot swell of black water was rolling down the channel, expanding where the land widened, filling the little valley in which Cumbry was nestled. The heavy mass raged along, blasting through the town at a speed which no man could outrun. It rushed like a great waterfall, a sound so loud it shook her very being and she stumbled more than once with the panicked imagination that the water was chasing her. Angry spray spattered the back of her neck and ankles.

The pull on her hand stopped; they had reached the top of the hill, and Brennan had stopped running. She turned, panting, not wanting to look but not able to stop herself. The river had already smashed her father’s little cottage and was washing the village away even as she watched. The strength of the emotions reached her across the river, flaring up in terror before winking out of existence. She had known the names and the hearts of every soul lost. Sienna screamed and covered her ears, but it was not her ears that heard the cries, and she could not block them out.

As quickly as had happened, it quieted. There were no more emotions to sense out there. Her mind felt empty without the background chatter of distant townsfolk’s thoughts, which she hadn’t even noticed until it was gone. The rushing sound fell away from them; the swell of water escaped the little valley and flooded the fields downriver.

The water subsided, carrying with it shattered rooftops and bits of wood that glistened wetly in the moonlight and collected against the remains of the ancient wall. The ruin had lost significant sections to the water, but it was the only thing still standing; it poked jaggedly through the black currents as the water fell away. The rapids in the water churned and slowed; something small and dark surfaced. Sienna shut her eyes before she could identify whose body it might have been.

All at once she remembered to breathe again, and was able to manage a shuddery intake before becoming vaguely aware that she was sitting, knees bent, in the weeds at the top of the hill. The plants were cold with spray. Her clothes were damp.

She looked for the tavern, but only water now eddied and swirled gently through what, ten minutes ago, was warm, dry, and full of life. She would give her life to have these bullheaded, ignorant people back where they belonged.

Come on, Brennan said. His tone was as cold and controlled as she’d ever heard it, but he grabbed under her arm and helped her to her feet gently. We can’t stay here.

Sienna followed him, feeling blank. She watched him choose a clearing, strike a tinder, build a fire, and lay his cloak across her shoulders before he sat down without her really being aware of any of it. She couldn’t believe the night was still dark; was it really that morning she had been laying on her ferry, listening to birds?

Get some sleep, he said to her. We start walking to Tio tomorrow.

Heaven, Brennan, Sienna said. I felt them go. Children, animals, everyone. Just like that.

Brennan said nothing. He calmly pushed a log into the middle of the fire with the toe of his boot.

His quiet air in the face of the tragedy incensed her. You knew about it. You could have warned someone, she said, glaring in his direction. Why didn’t you?

I warned you, Brennan said, his tone maddeningly reasonable. He wasn’t looking at her; he studied the fire instead.

Not me, Sienna said. Someone else! Couldn’t you see I wasn’t the right choice? I didn’t do anything to help them. I shouldn’t have been the one who made it out of there alive. There were children in that town. People who loved each other. Aware of her irrational conversation, she sighed and tried to get ahold of herself. I’m sorry, she said. It’s not even you I’m mad at.

I know, Brennan replied. Abruptly he rose and disappeared into the inky blackness outside the fire, leaving her alone.

Sienna wrapped the cloak tightly around herself and watched the fire miserably. She couldn’t decide which was worse; being alone with the cold night, or being alone with her emotionless new friend.

* * *

Brennan stalked the perimeter of the camp, deep in thought. He stepped over a branch that would have snapped loudly under his foot, then paused to listen as a bird took flight from the dark branches above before resuming his walk, careful to stay just outside the reach of the golden-orange firelight. Here the trees were only black silhouettes.

This had been a bad idea.

He should have left this girl to die with the rest of the town. It was only a matter of time before she turned on him. What would General Garmund say if he could see him now?

He would tell Brennan to kill her, and he would be right. She was dangerous, not only to himself but to everyone who was unlucky enough to come near her. Constantly her Other pried at his amulet, trying to find a way through to work some kind of spell on him. He shouldn’t have brought her. He had been foolishly impulsive.

When she tried to pay him back the silver, he was surprised, to say the least; it showed that she had a conscience. She was still ruled by her human side, a miraculous thing for an Other her age. Still, he had been fully prepared to leave her to the mercy of the water. It was the only logical thing for him to do. But when the moment actually came, and she’d looked at him with her big brown eyes full of real worry and told him to be careful, he had acted on impulse and taken her hand. She had looked so childlike; so human.

But it was a mistake. He had known it then and he knew it now. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to kill her. It didn’t even have to be cruel; he could be swift and silent. She wouldn’t even know she was dead. It would be a kinder end than what she might deal out in the future.

He came around the fire until he was at her back. She hadn’t lain down yet; instead she huddled in the cloak, looking small and full of grief. He had never killed an innocent before, but he couldn’t lose his nerve now.

Drawing his dagger, Brennan stepped softly up behind her, into the firelight, and aimed the point at the back of her head. He could drive it up into her brain quick as a blink. But he hesitated.

And he hesitated.

That was his own cloak which he had wrapped around her shoulders not a half hour ago. Her blood would be spilled on his cloak. He might remove the stain, but he would not be able to remove the memory.

Everything in his training told him that this was the right thing to do. But everything in his core screamed for him to stop.

Brennan faded back into the shadows and sheathed his dagger with relief. Part of him was glad he hadn’t been able to kill her; it was nice to know that his blood wasn’t as cold as that, even if killing her would have been an easy way to solve his problem.

He leaned his back against a tree and watched her watch the fire. He couldn’t kill her, and he couldn’t leave her alone to turn and start wreaking havoc. What would he do with her?

* * *

The dawn broke cold and dewy. Neither of them had slept very well. Sienna helped her new companion stamp out and scatter the embers of the fire, and they started down the narrow trail toward Tio. Scattered bits of pale rock suggested it had once been paved, but nature had taken it over so thoroughly that it was now nothing more than an overgrown, leaf-strewn