One for Ahl

By H.H. Moss

When refugees from the war-torn country of Ahl face extreme discrimination, Jane is nominated to represent her people in Listuan's hero program, which trains a handful of idolized saviors for each generation. However, instead of bringing peace to the refugees, Jane is possessed by a demon of forgotten origins and targeted by a powerful abuser. Pulled into conflicts both ancient and young, Jane must fight for control and search for her purpose, all without understanding her past.
One for Ahl is the first book of “The Ahlian Chronicles”.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Jul 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662938160

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Lady Genivi Artemisia glided down the row of tents, doing her best to hide the disdain from her face as she lifted her skirts away from piles of refuse. Small, broken faces gleamed up at her in awe. Most of them were children, a few adults, and even fewer elderly. The tally, refugees from the neighboring country called Ahl, were gathered just outside the Lady’s own gates but could not be further from proper society. Allowing them here gave her sway, so she chose to endure the smell and shattered moans.

The Lady already recognized some of the faces. She had personally performed some of the surgeries and healing to keep the many wounded from death. She never truly cared for healing magic, but she had to admit she had a propensity for it far above most magic users. She would use whatever power she had to further her goals, even if it meant scrubbing blood from beneath her nails. She felt pride in how the tally looked at her now, in reverence. Genivi focused on that pride to fix her facial expression and hide the slight disgust as a child covered head to toe in burn scars reached a dirty hand out to touch her coattail. The Lady, first and foremost, had pride in her cleanliness, and the child’s hands likely hadn’t been washed since their arrival when Genivi cleaned the weeping boils.

Focus on your task, Genivi, she scolded herself, forcing what she hoped was a gentle smile as she reached down to touch the child’s cheek before removing the offending hand from her clothes. Gathering her bearings, she looked around for any able-bodied children with all limbs intact and continued walking. She almost gave up her search when she reached the well that supplied the tally camp’s water. Most of the able-bodied refugees from the camp were already in service to the Artemisia household, and none had suited Genivi’s current goals, plans she had yet to name to even her confidants.

At the well stood a measly little thing, standing in spite of her starved stature. The girl was in rags worse off than any of the other tally but was—relatively speaking—clean, as though she regularly washed. The girl tended a line of refugees, drawing the bucket up for those who could not, with each customer dropping crumbs on a handkerchief resting on the well edge. The girl couldn’t be older than seven, though her underfed figure looked younger and her gaze, now turned to the Lady, was that of a tortured ancient. What this child had suffered was beyond a lady’s limited-by-privilege imagination, Genivi thought to herself.

You there, child, what are you called? Genivi tried her best to sound loving but commanding. Internally she wanted to flinch as she remembered her father’s lessons against her usual monotone speech.

I… I can’t remember my name, Lady. The child spoke with a confidence Genivi hadn’t expected, if a tad too quiet. My number is 1258, Lady.

Have you a family?

None that I know of, Lady. The child studied Genivi’s face but didn’t quite meet her eyes. Genivi preferred it that way. It was uncomfortable how people feared Genivi’s eyes, which had pitch-black irises in stark contrast to the whites. Piercing, they called her gaze. She was doing her best not to look away, to remain commanding. Piercing would do. This child would also do.

Come with me, 1258. Hmm, that’s a mouthful. Genivi sighed and quickly scanned her mind for a name that would be less effort to remember. Assigned tally numbers always got mixed up in her head. A doll she had as a child came to mind, small and thin like the girl, with eyes haunted by unknown horrors. Janea. I’ll call you Janea moving forward. Be sure to respond to it.

Janea mouthed her new name a couple of times, nodded her head in confirmation, then turned to lift the bucket the rest of the way out of the well. She poured most into the waiting pail in front of her, then splashed a small amount over her hands to rinse off rope fibers that speckled her palms. Excellent, Genivi thought. She wouldn’t have to spend weeks training the child in basic hygiene. She’ll do.

The Lady waited for Janea to gather her things, knowing it would be simpler to let her grab the handkerchief of crumbs now than to explain it wasn’t needed. Then she turned to lead the way back to her gates, Genivi’s guards shifting to just behind the young child as though they feared Janea would bolt like a frightened animal. Genivi recognized frightened eyes from curiously haunted eyes, but it seemed most people didn’t care to study faces as she did.

No, Lady Genivi Artemisia had no fear of the child running. She only hoped the tiny thing could be cultivated to bring Genivi’s plans into action. The tally needed a hero, and Genivi would give them one.

PART 1,

Of Tallies and

Sparrows

CHAPTER 1

Hey, Jane! We found him. We’re done! Footsie’s voice echoed over the labyrinth walls from afar. The lanterns overhead flashed, then faded to a dull flickering white, and Jane lowered her twin hooked daggers in defeat. She had failed another session. The floor beneath her morphed back to flat, bleached stone, with a bright blue line illuminated to lead her out of the labyrinth. Was it Footsie or Candid that found him this time? As the question formed in Jane’s head, she knew—less deep down than she would have liked— that Candid was to be the one bragging that night.

Finally, after a couple of minutes spent trudging down corridors that were just recently filled with obstacles, Jane reached the ladder that had been lowered for her. Climbing her way back into the warehouse, she blinked until her eyes adjusted to the red light that poured from the warehouse’s lanterns. Footsie, Candid, and Meerkat already stood at the wizards’ desk to the right of the labyrinth’s entry, discussing the session.

Candid still had the dummy slung over her broad, square shoulders like a trophy buck. Had it been an actual wounded soldier, it’d probably have sustained a wounded ego from the ease she carried it, her oversized ax, and full armor. Then again, it wasn’t too unusual for the eight-foot-tall half-giantess.

Jane, finally! You must have gone in pretty deep. We were about to check to see if the sensors failed. Footsie held out his hand as he spoke, giving Jane a toothy grin as she handed him the small runestone sensor. Behind the desk, the wizard in charge of the rune sensors waved his gloved hand over the labyrinth’s map, clearing the last of the flashing markers, and began to tally their scores. Jane fought to yank her eyes from the magicked page and smiled weakly at Footsie.

Yeah, I was probably near the back corner or so when it ended. A smoke elemental chased me pretty far. Jane paced quickly to the long weapons counter at the back wall before her friends could ask which smoke elemental she had run from. She handed the daggers to the dwarven smith, who rolled his eyes at the black charcoal stains on the blades and began to scrub them clean while his apprentice ran to log the condition upon return.

Dragging her feet back to the group, Jane listened as Meerkat reassured Footsie. It was just that s-siren, Footsie. N-n-nobody would have gotten past a s-siren’s tank without drinking essence-of-chastity or w-wearing full deafness-muffs, you n-n-know that.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Gotta hand it to ya, Meer; thinking of morphing into a sea snake was genius. I was almost pulled out right there.

"I told ya you should’ve turned left with me. No wounded man would’a gone down that tunnel. I found the dummy in the sphinx’s cave, jus’ like the section three of…" Candid was cut off by the shrill ping of the mage’s bell, and they fell silent to listen for their scores.

The wizard placed a palm-sized speaking crystal onto the desk, linked to its twin in the judges’ room, where the full tallying had taken place. A monotone female voice rang from the crystal and echoed through the warehouse.

Lott, Thomas, codename Footsie. Species, human. Blood origin, West Darklands. Two hundred nineteen points. Assigned study, Supply and Monster Recognition. Footsie nodded his head slowly, not surprised in the least.

Meera, Kathali, codename Meerkat. Species, shifter. Blood origin, East Darklands. Six hundred nineteen points. Assigned study, Retrieval, Armory, Return Shifting. Judge note, your ears are still striped. Meerkat quickly covered her ears, which were the white and black of the sea snake, and her face turned red.

Gaw, Lock, codename Candid. Species, half-giant, half-human. Blood origin, Tundra. Nine hundred ninety points. Assigned study, First Aid. Jane patted Candid’s back and gave her a thumbs-up while they waited for Jane’s score.

1258, codename Janea-Artemisia. Species, human. Blood origin, tally. Fifty points. Assigned study, Retrieval, Elemental Defense, and Basic Tactics. Judge note, extra hours required. Jane wiped the soot from her face and shrugged an invisible weight from her shoulders. Her friends avoided her eyes as they headed for the warehouse exit.

Muggy air billowed around Jane’s face as she followed Candid and her prize dummy, Footsie, and Meerkat out of the large room. They briskly walked down a long, dimly lit brick passageway, past plain metal doors, and into a relatively low-ceilinged circular room with three doors of varying sizes and adornment. Jane waved goodbye to Footsie and Meerkat as they went through the common-sized door to their carriage house, congratulating Candid once more as she and the dummy left through the giants’ door. Turning on her right foot, Jane stood for a moment in the empty circular room, staring at the plainest and smallest of the doors. She let out a heavy sigh, lifted her shoulders, and slowly pushed open the plain door, ducking her head to pass through the five-foot-tall entrance.

Jane’s hair brushed the ceiling as she followed the dimly lit, square tunnel that lay on the other side of the door. The tunnel led to the cart station, another warehouse-like room with horse-drawn carts lined up on the far wall and stable-style doors on either end of the line. Jane headed to the front of the line, where an old man by the name of Fitzwilliam Smith sat on an archaic cart drawn by a horse that looked nearly as old as Fitzwilliam himself. Jane handed the man a single copper piece and climbed into the cart.

Evening, Fitz. Library as usual, please. Jane settled into the cart, leaning on a sack of what she guessed was potatoes.

Another long evening in the study hall, then, Miss Jane? Fitzwilliam smiled a crooked, tooth-deficient smile as she nodded her head. The missus wanted to say hallo and all the usual naggin’ that you need t’ take care of yourself an’ all. Here. He pulled a sandwich wrapped in cheesecloth from his coin bag and tossed it to Jane before calling for the doors to be opened. Packed an extra for ya. No, no, don’t you be apologizing for a kindness we chose to do. Just make the missus happy and eat up!

Grateful, Jane downed the pork and greens sandwich in silence. Fitzwilliam rattled on as much as his cart as they cantered into the forest down a cobblestone path toward the large library five miles away. Through the trees, she could occasionally glimpse larger, more defined roads. Carriages rumbled past on those roads, but the cobblestone path remained empty aside from Fitzwilliam’s cart. When the cart pulled up to the stables behind the three-story library, Jane joked with Fitzwilliam that she had a thorough bum massage as always on the servants’ road. Fitzwilliam accepted a hug in thanks for the food and took off once again.

After simulation tests, the group always looked forward to a few days of self-study to improve their lowest scores before changing instructors. Jane looked up at the looming library apprehensively, knowing that her cycle of failure was about to restart. She had a few days before meeting the newest and final instructor and watching them lose hope in her all over again.

Jane entered the library through the back door, leading her into a cavernous room filled with shelf after shelf and landing after landing of books, as well as sets of stairs leading down into the underground practice rooms. I’ll be here until close, with Basic Tactics assigned, Jane thought moodily as she settled down in front of one of the book stacks already set aside for her by the librarians. The others would spend time at the library in the morning, but Jane preferred to get the majority of her hours over with during the evenings. That way, the morning could be dedicated to practicing downstairs.

Hours passed, the sun shifted behind the mountains, and Jane finished the assigned studying with a final scribble in her notes before shutting the last book. The late-shift librarian, a shapeshifter who looked like an older version of Meerkat with her tan skin and long, raven hair, shuffled Jane from the building before locking up and shifting into a rather large eagle for her flight home.

Jane’s eyelids were drawing closed as she walked into the forest, down a thin and winding trail. She listened to the noise of the woods, from branches creaking to brambles rustling, moved by winds and unseen animals. Jane followed the path by memory in the dark and found her way to the meadow, a small clearing with tents built of collected rubbish and sewn-together rags. The three homeless families that shared the clearing with Jane were asleep, save for a single man sitting watch by the fire. Johns, I think. Jane gave him a small wave and climbed into her own shelter, a tent she had built under an oak tree on the side of the clearing. She collapsed against the hay-matted ground and succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Her eyes opened. The whites had been replaced with the greens of her irises, and the pupil stretched to just past the lid, allowing her to see the matte colors of old cloth inside the tent as though it was just before sunset. Sitting up, her skin pulsed as the patterns of tree bark etched down her limbs, and her hair fell dark brown and shiny against her shoulders. Jane was asleep, but Astrid had risen in her place. Crawling through the back of the tent, Astrid slipped silently into the forest, adjusting her eyes and stretching her lithe form like a cat. A ghostly mist followed her as she gathered shadows. Her feet landed on tree roots, pushing away quickly, and she brushed away branches, trying to make as little disturbance as possible. Had any human followed her path, they would have seen the forest lighten slightly as shadows were stolen away to form leathery, black wings upon Astrid’s back.

To any mouse sitting upon the forest floor, Astrid was thought to be a rather large owl, perhaps descended from the mountain. To any shifter flying in the night sky, or giant on watch over their fields, Astrid was a shade or trickster elemental, a mere pest not worth the trouble of catching. She used this to her advantage, streaking through the trees, skimming the branches, and gliding skillfully through the lush growth until she was past the commonly used airspace.

This was a nightly habit for Astrid. She didn’t entirely know how she came to exist, and Jane didn’t really know about her beyond occasional suspicions. Every night Jane would be drawn into a heavy sleep, and Astrid woke in her place. Likewise, Astrid collapsed at dawn, and Jane took over.

Astrid paused upon a rather large branch, sniffing at the air for anything flying nearby. The musty scent of deer below her was all she could smell, so she spread her shadow wings and pushed herself from the trees, breaking into the sky. Grinning with exhilaration, Astrid reached back to entangle her arms with her wings. The shadow she had collected became solid, almost as if the being of her arms had been spread out into feathers and muscle, and Astrid filled the solidified wings with the wind to lift herself towards the heavens. She didn’t know what she was. She didn’t know if there was anything like her in the world, and she didn’t particularly care to look for answers. What Astrid did know was that she could fly.

Higher. HIGHER! Astrid strained as she soared upward, looking at the stars. They were so bright, past the thinned cloud layer, and she pushed toward them with a dream, a yearning to reach past them. Maybe, just maybe, she would find silence out there. Perhaps there she would find peace from the noise of the forest, from the fear of the world below.

Her wings shuddered, and Astrid knew her stamina was about up. Some of the shadows called to be returned to the forest below, and she was never able to collect the shadows from clouds, so she couldn’t safely go much higher. With a deep breath, Astrid opened her wings and angled them to carry her in a glide. Here at least, the world seemed silent, and she was high enough that the light of the scattered fires and buildings looked rather similar to the stars above. She could feel Jane’s mind shift from a warm dream of cottages and porridge to a nightmare of elementals chasing her and stones being thrown by unseen people. Astrid focused on the view below her, then closed her eyes and sent images toward the part of her that was Jane. Feeling her own mind meld into Jane’s dreams, easing the nightmare, Astrid opened her eyes once more and drifted through the night, collecting shadows from clouds until her entire body looked like a dark wisp. It’s just you and me, Jane. Or me and me, whatever the hell we are, Astrid thought to herself as she drifted solemnly towards the noise of the world below.

* * *

Whack! The wooden training sword landed squarely between Jane’s shoulders, the noise echoing in the practice room two floors below the library’s entrance. She clamped her jaw as her knees buckled. Oh, s-sorry Jane! Meerkat squeaked out while Candid coughed down a laugh from the corner of the room.

Don’t apologize, Meer. You did pretty well. Jane wiped the sweat from her upper lip and slowly stood. I don’t think there are many people who could block that. Let me try again. Meerkat nodded and raised her sword. Jane rolled her shoulders and tried to focus. They held their position for a moment, then Jane jumped forward to make a strike, feinting to the side while keeping her feet light. Meerkat managed a tight spiral around Jane and nearly struck the exact spot between the shoulders. Jane was expecting it this time and dropped herself to the floor, rolling out of the way. As Jane was jumping to her feet, she took an awkward step, and Meerkat’s sword struck hard against Jane’s jaw. Jane saw black until Candid held a healing crystal to Jane’s head, providing instant relief.

Jane, are you okay? You should’a been able to block that. Somethin’ wrong? Candid helped Jane up. Meerkat’s expression echoed Candid’s concern.

It’s nothing to bother about. I just… didn’t sleep very well, I suppose. You’re up! Jane stepped out of the sparring circle and threw her training sword in the barrel full of them.

A’right, if you say so. Candid shook her head. Hey Meer, how about some weapon-free practice, then? Jane skipped to the stool in the corner quickly to watch them spar from a safe distance. Meerkat shifted into a grizzly bear, easily matching the half-giantess in size, then quickly shifted to a snake to slip away and leave Candid unbalanced from a failed grapple. Meerkat began to rotate shifts, creating a new challenge for Candid each time until the battle threatened to pass the boundary of the ring. Two minutes in, Jane decided it would be safer to escape the sparring if only to save her ears from the deafening roars between her friends when Meerkat held her grizzly form. Footsie was still upstairs, working on his assigned study, so Jane headed to join him.

Sliding into a chair to the right of her friend, Jane eyed Footsie, whose face rested in his palms. A small book was opened to a page with an embedded speaking crystal, a recorded voice quietly droning on about preparedness for various foes. "I can’t believe I am stuck going through this instruction again, Janea," Footsie groaned. Jane mumbled agreement, pulling the smallest first aid book from Candid’s pile to look busy. She couldn’t give a reason for one of the librarians to send her off.

Hey, Footsie nudged his elbow against Jane’s, you have plans ten days from now? On those few days we’ll be gettin’ off for Meer’s pilgrimage?

"Nothing real important. What do you have in mind?" Jane stared aimlessly at the pages in front of her, reading the same sentence three times over. So many of these instructions are about the use of crystals. What happens if we run out?

Footsie grinned, his white teeth dazzling against his ebony skin. Well, I suppose I’ve been invited to my cousin’s wedding, and I don’t have anybody to keep me from utter death by boredom. Plus, I think you’d like the architecture in Pritha. It’d be great to have you there.

Which cousin?

Handen.

"The, er… funny one?"

He likes to think so. Footsie screwed his face into his best impression of his cousin’s pretentious sneer, and Jane choked on her own spit to keep from laughing. She could feel the eyes of the shifter librarian from the night before bearing into her head.

I’ll go if I can borrow a dress from Meer. None of mine are fancy enough. Jane closed the first aid book. I’m gonna head up before the whole library jumps on me. See you at the track later.

Aye, Footsie returned his eyes dully to his now-silent book, See you then. Jane went to the wide set of stairs near the library’s entrance, climbing her way to the uppermost floor. She brushed her hand down shelves of titles, stopping at a section she had previously scoured. It was marked Dream Translation on a small wooden plate.

The only book on the shelf that Jane had found interesting and worthwhile was titled On Dreams of Flying and Reaching for the Sky. It did absolutely nothing to help Jane figure out her recurring dreams of flight, but it did cover a shifter’s premonition of their first shift with wings. Jane was endlessly curious about how magic seemed to affect clans in different ways when only a rare few could store magic in the crystals that defined their daily lives.

Jane moved onto the next shelf and grabbed a thick but squat scarlet tome titled Art of the Seers, and wandered to one of the sunlit window seats to start reading. The sun had wavered through clouds until it was past noon when a man cleared his throat obnoxiously behind Jane.

You’re out of bounds. The male voice came out as a sneer with a hint of a threat behind it. What business does a tally have here? Can you even read, girl?

I’m not a girl; I’m a woman, Jane answered dryly. Also, have you not heard the news, sir? Tally is considered an offensive term. You may call me an Ahlian Listuanian if you want. Jane barely attempted to mask the dripping sarcasm in a polite and apologetic tone. She turned to look the short man in the eye and consider her adversary. Another human… or perhaps elvish descent? Forest-born, regardless. He wasn’t wearing a uniform at the moment, but his bearing told Jane he was definitely military. The man seemed to be sizing her up as well. For a moment, he seemed so shocked that she had spoken back to him that he couldn’t move his mouth. The moment passed.

"What is your number, girl?"

"Woman, not girl. Try again, guy." Jane could feel her core shuddering nervously. This was always a dangerous game, standing up for herself while being all too aware that it could go very wrong.

The man stepped closer, visibly pissed. You will tell me your number.

Jane stood, pleased that she wasn’t shorter than him, at the very least. "Personnel searches