The Endonshan Chronicles Book 6: Traitors

By Cy Bishop

The occupation is over. The Hranites have been driven back to their own land. In Kenara, the people must find a way to recover from the brutal years under Hranite tyranny. Kibi, one of the now-Broken Tulvans who betrayed their nation, joins the others like her on a pilgrimage, sent to live in service and find answers. She serves willingly but can't bring herself to believe anything could ever make things right again.

To her amazement, a message comes from Maker that they are to be remade into something new, giving them a second chance to be whole again. But when some of her companions begin to abuse their newfound gifts, she will have to find the courage to stand against them or see history repeat itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy Bishop
• Release date: Sep 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463809402

Cy Bishop

I enjoy life in the Pacific Northwest with my family and a constantly excited, thick-headed black lab. I obtained a degree in Counseling Psychology from Northwest University in Kirkland, WA, which I use to create fully dimensional characters with unique personalities and quirks. When not writing, I can usually be found reading, watching movies, or wasting entirely too much time on the internet.

Book preview

The Endonshan Chronicles Book 6

TRAITORS

By Cy Bishop

Copyright 2018 Cy Bishop

Smashwords Edition

With special thanks to:

God, my patient family, Google,

and Jessica Dodson for the fantastic cover

Table of Contents

Start of Book

Pronunciation Guide and Glossary

About the Author

268 years before The Division

Chapter 1

I sat against the prison wall, bars pressing into my side as I both felt and didn't feel the cold from the stones sinking deep into my skin. Rain water dripped from the narrow window at the back of the cell, echoing the dull melancholy that hung in the crowded cell.

None of us spoke. There was no reason. We all knew we deserved whatever fate was in store for us. I looked over my cellmates without moving my head. Some slumped, some leaned. Most sat, holding their knees to their chests and staring into nothing. Dovannel, long my friend and now my fellow traitor, leaned against the wall beside me, his head drooping. Even we, so close that many mistook us our friendship for romance, hadn't said a word to each other in ages. A room full of Tulvans with no life left inside.

No, not Tulvans. Not anymore. We had abandoned our true selves and became something else, like a vase so thoroughly shattered that it cannot be restored. Broken husks of what we once were.

Metal scraped stone further down the corridor as the entrance gate to the dungeon opened. Too early for our paltry dinner. Another prisoner? Those near the door to our over-packed cell automatically shifted away from it, their drooping heads never lifting.

The footsteps in the hallway were new, a slow shuffle with the unsteady thump of a heavily leaned-on cane. I let my head shift back against the wall, only half watching the corridor. It didn't really matter who came in the end. Another prisoner meant yet another of us who had failed, another to join us in our brokenness, paying for our crimes through an irreparably shattered state of being. An executioner meant justice would be served.

It didn't matter.

The cane thumps grew steadily louder until the bearer came into view. An elderly Kadrian, withered and weary, accompanied by a guard on one side and a masked attendant on the other. What was left of my heart sank as I recognized the woman. Lady Tash, matriarch of the royal family who ruled the land we had betrayed.

Growing up in the commune, I’d been obsessed with stories of her reign. Now I only felt heartsick; our people had been her greatest champions, and we betrayed her and all of Kenara to the Hranites. Her weak frame, I’d learned, was due to use of the now-rare magic to free her family. Her frailty was just as much our fault as the Hranite occupation had been.

The masked man set down a stool outside the cell door and helped Lady Tash settle on it. She patted his hand before resting her own on the knobbed head of her cane. Aged eyes still filled with vigor and life surveyed us. Her voice creaked only slightly, the wear of old age barely diminishing the tone of calm, unflinching authority. Tell me.

Heads remained drooped. Eyes that weren't already fixed on the floor shifted there. The weight on our chests didn't budge, didn't allow us to draw in a full breath. Same as always.

She remained still, waiting patiently for a response we didn't have.

I looked down. My voice cracked from weeks without use and came out foreign to my ears as I pressed a fist over my heart in salute. Milady. There is no word in any language for the depth of our shame. We rightfully deserve whatever sentence awaits us.

She addressed me. What’s your name?

Kibi, milady.

Lady Tash looked us over. Does she speak for you?

The others pressed their fists against their own chests. Their voices rang dull. Milady.

She nodded and spoke a note softer this time, addressing me. Tell me.

I hesitated, words failing. Dovannel linked his finger with mine, lending his support.

With effort, I managed to lift my gaze to rest at her feet instead of my own. When the Hranites attacked… The wise and righteous Tulvans fought to the end. The smart, though cowardly, fled to our commune in the eastern mountains. I swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. We—given the choice to aid the Hranites or die, we chose…

My gaze dropped again. We chose wrong. Painfully understated, but there was nothing more I could say.

Silence reigned. She finally leaned forward, her eyes softening with compassion. Her voice came out gently this time, though with the same authority. Tell me.

I closed my eyes, thoughts a jumble in my head. Nothing seemed adequate. I opened my eyes again, meeting her gaze for the first time. We are sorry. I can't express how much we regret… I faltered and tried again. Something inside me wanted to cry. There is nothing we could ever say or do to make this right. We will submit to whatever justice is chosen. There is no punishment too harsh for what we have done.

She held my gaze until I couldn't bear it and had to look away, my eyes returning to the floor in front of me. No one moved as we waited for her to pronounce her judgement upon us.

Lady Tash straightened, addressing us all. I have spoken to many like you in the past weeks. All betrayed Kenara and helped the Hranites oppress and abuse our people. Is there any who would say this is not true?

No one spoke.

All deeply regret this choice and wish that they could go back and choose differently. All wish the crimes they committed could be taken from their victims and inflicted upon them instead. Is there any who would say this is not true?

Her words resonated through the cell, meaning weighted heavily, so much clearer than my stumbling words had been able to express.

Kenarans no longer trust your people, and they are right to feel such. She paused again, waiting to see if anyone disagreed. We didn’t.

All I have spoken with also, upon learning that my family had been freed, immediately turned on the Hranites. They fought the Hranites back until none were left, and then surrendered themselves for justice.

Truth. We had all given our shameful stories when we were first gathered into Emsha’s dungeon from the outerlying cities, and we all had the same story. It seemed we weren’t the only ones, either.

Therefore, I will give you the same judgment I gave them. Lady Tash looked us over once more. You will go to the Temple of Peace in the eastern mountains and serve the Peristas until they direct you otherwise.

I looked up; not even the weight of brokenness could dull my surprise. Most of my cellmates had the same reaction.

The compassion from Lady Tash’s eyes now marked her voice. I know how broken you have become. I see it before me now. You are not what you once were. You betrayed us, and in doing so, betrayed yourselves. I have seen you already suffer greatly for your choices, more so than any external punishment could inflict. I could have you held here to remain in suffering, but I believe Maker has yet some purpose in this. You will be released by morning to begin your journey to the Temple.

Dovannel spoke quietly. We deserve death for what we have done, milady.

And instead you will live to serve. She surveyed us. Is there anyone who challenges my decision?

Part of me wanted to—it was such a light sentence for what we had done!—but I couldn't challenge her. My cellmates remained silent as well.

Then my decision stands.

Milady? The tiny voice almost couldn't be heard, despite the silence. Gida, the youngest of us, barely far enough out of youth to have left the commune. Her gaze remained fixed on her hands in her lap. Are—are there many like us?

Lady Tash looked on her with kindness. There are always those who choose wrong, child. Devote yourself to what is right.

Gida nodded, more a defeated bob than a nod, a tear slipping down her cheek. I felt the same heartbreak over the knowledge that so many of our people chose to betray Kenara. The only difference was that I had cried my tears dry long ago.

The masked attendant helped Lady Tash back to her feet. She patted his hand again, then pressed her fist over her chest. We automatically returned the salute. Serve, she said, and seek wholeness. Listen to the Peristas’ guidance.

Milady. The faint word hummed through the room.

She dipped her head and allowed the attendant and guard to lead her from the corridor.

Silence resumed in the cell, undergirded with uncertainty. What could we offer the Peristas? Would we even be received there after everything that happened? How could Lady Tash think we could ever find wholeness after what we had done?

The hollow questions rolled through my mind over and over. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cold stones once more.

Do you think… Dovannel stared at the stone floor. Do you think we’ll make it?

His question had so many meanings. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

* * *

Guards came early the next morning, their faces making their thoughts clear: they, like us, found Lady Tash’s decision far too light. But they dutifully opened the cell door and herded us down the corridor. My joints protested after such a long time without hardly any movement. The others were just as stiff. As we moved through the dungeons, our limbs slowly regained their strength.

I hadn’t realized how badly our cell stank until we were far from it and breathing fresh—or at least fresher—air. The stink still clung to us, like an olfactory proclamation of our crimes, but the air we breathed was less foul, less dense. Despite this, the weight on my chest still wouldn’t let me draw in a full breath.

The dungeon doors opened, and light blinded me. A mess of voices followed, tumbling over in a mishmash that my ears couldn’t sort out. Too long without anything to smell but our stink. Too long with only torchlight and a narrow strip of window to illuminate our cell. Too long without anything to hear but dripping water and the occasional shift of weight. My senses were overwhelmed.

The guards prodded us along, and as we stepped out into daylight, the world gradually faded back into order. People filled the road, glaring in rage and shouting bile at us. I wondered if they might tear us apart, and the thought was almost welcome. But they never tried to push past the guards, only trailing alongside us as we walked to the main road through Emsha and out of the city.

Unbothered by the people, the guards remained stoic, though their hands remained on their weapons. It was obvious enough that they weren’t so much