Dissever (Unbinding Fate Book One)
Read Dissever (Unbinding Fate Book One) Online
Authors: Colee Firman
This
book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Unbinding
Fate
Book One
Dissever
Copyright
©
2012 Nicole
Firman
All rights
reserved, including the right of reproduction
in whole
or in part in any form.
The church in the center of the village was always his
final stop yet Oren still felt uneasy. The smell of the charring human remains
didn’t even register to him anymore, but stepping onto the holy ground after
what he’d just done made his stomach churn.
The methodical way he’d learned to pile them in the
hastily dug holes, and stoke the flames just right until the flesh was melted
from their bodies, wasn’t the way he'd been raised to tend to the dead. These
dead received no funeral, no prayers, and no flowers. Only a mass grave and
some quickly scribbled notes about who was where.
In the beginning, he’d arranged them by family, but
that wasn’t possible anymore. Too many bodies to deal with had resulted in mass
graves. First burning them, and then covering the smoldering pile of bone and
ash with dirt. Finally, a wooden marker was placed at each site with the date that
corresponded to the list he made for the day. When it was over, he hoped that
someone would prepare proper grave markers for the people he was disposing of
so crudely.
Most of the remaining villagers locked themselves away—Oren
didn't blame them. He’d wanted to do the same, but his wife Anna insisted that
they go on with life as normally as possible, helping when they could.
Oren and a few others were all that was left to remove
the dead before the rats could get to them. They burned down entire homes after
the last family member died, in a failing last effort to stop the sickness from
spreading. The village was a blackened smoldering shell of what it was before
the plague. He struggled to remember what it’d been like.
The quarantine hadn't stopped the sickness from
spreading, and nearby villages reported similar devastation. Unimaginable
sickness was ending the lives of his neighbors, and had taken his family. His
parents and brother were the first to go, then in the spring his sister-in-law
and niece died. Last month he lost his wife Anna and their son Jon. He had no
more family living.
Oren volunteered to tend to the gravely ill and
dispose of the dead. It was a gruesome task, but he had no hope or desire to
make it through the nightmare he found himself living in. He tried to take
solace in the fact that each body he disposed of saved another person from
living with the memory of watching their loved one burn.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that
he hadn’t become sick himself. Before she died, Anna said it was a blessing to
be spared, and he should be grateful. She believed there was a plan for him.
Perhaps she was right, but it seemed to Oren that he was suffering more than the
ones who’d become sick. They were at least given a speedy death. Once they
became feverish, they seemed to be pulled into a daze unaware of what was
happening to them. By the time the blood oozed from their orifices, they were
unconscious and quietly slipped away. Oren, on the other hand, was left to
suffer through their sickness and loss acutely aware of what was going on around
him.
As much as he desperately wanted to, he knew that
ending his own life wasn’t an option. Many others he knew chose that path and
he held no ill feelings toward them. He promised Anna he’d continue even after
she was gone. If he’d known what that promise would mean, he doubted he would’ve
made it. Instead, he prayed for an end.
In the front of the church stood a beautifully carved
statue of an Angel holding a golden book. It had always been his favorite part
of going to church. Its eyes were expressive and its lips were curved slightly.
Kneeling before the Angel as it looked down on the
rows of empty pews, he once again begged to be taken away. When he was finished,
he made his way to the pallet on the floor in the back of the church that had
become his bed. He couldn’t go to his home. It was stained with blood and
death. Oren knew it should’ve already been burned to the ground like the rest,
but it had proven easier to burn down his neighbor’s homes than his own. Closing
his tired eyes, he drifted off to dream of better times.
A woman’s voice speaking his name startled him from
his sleep. Once he cleared his mind, he assumed it would be one of the few
remaining villagers there to ask that he remove one of their newly dead loved
ones. It happened frequently. But looking up, he was met with the piercing
gaze of bright green eyes. Her long blond hair was pulled back tightly, making
her face look harsh. She was like nothing he'd ever seen—definitely not one of
his neighbors. Her skin had an unnatural glow that outshined the candles
lighting the small stone church where she looked down on him.
The man beside her wore a slightly more pleasant expression,
almost amused. He was tall and slender. The same strange glow shined from him, but
his golden eyes and messy dark hair made him less intimidating than her.
They were both dressed in gold colored robes tied
neatly at the waist, and carried strange marks on the top of their hands that
glowed with blue light. They looked like layers of wounds that healed into blue
scars in a curvy lined pattern. He tried not to stare but it was almost
impossible not to. He reasoned that since it had to be a dream, it didn’t much
matter if his long looks came across as insulting.
When he didn't speak, she spoke his name again in a
softer voice, perhaps sensing she’d startled him.
“Oren Sanders.” She tipped her head down, making eye
contact with him. “My name is Eva and my companion is Andrew—we are Akori. You
will
come with us
, we need your help.”
As if he was being willed to do it, and thinking perhaps
he’d wake up any moment anyway, Oren got to his feet. Normally he would’ve questioned
her odd request, but he didn’t—he had no desire to.
Leaving with them felt like the most normal,
reasonable thing he had been asked to do recently. No part of him felt any danger
as he obediently followed them from the church past the cries in the night of the
sick and suffering.
Oren watched as Andrew reached over and took Eva’s
hand, whispering in her ear. Eva simply responded with a nod.
“It’s not
coming
—there’s no way he’d move it
back here after what happened last time,” he said, kicking at the sand. “Let’s
go.”
Her hair was whipping around from the strong breeze
coming off the ocean and she gathered it, pulling it into a bun at her neck.
“He’s dying and he has no heir to take his position as the Overseer—he has no
choice
.”
He cut his eyes at her. “In nearly 250 years the
Sanders family has never moved it to the same place twice. We’re
wasting
our time.”
“Remember,
before
they were trying to keep it
hidden by moving it to a different place every year,” she said, “but Fate can’t
afford to do that this time. He needs to make sure every Akori knows
right
where to find it.”
“Even if it does show up here, that still doesn’t get
us any closer to getting the Overseer’s Stone,
or
figuring out how to
get the power from it.”
She put her hand up at him. “One thing at a time—
first
we need Tremain. They said it’ll be here tonight. ”
“Yeah, based on information from someone who
may or
may not
still be on our side.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that. A lot of planning
and time went into getting to this point.” She raised her arm, pointing across
the beach. “That guy over there’s been watching the same place we have all
night. He was there when we got here earlier.”
“I noticed.” He squinted his eyes in the man’s
direction. It was difficult to see through only moon light. “He doesn’t really
look like he’s trying to hide it either.”
“Think he’s one of their people? Maybe they sent him
ahead to make sure it was safe.”
“Not sure. Stay here, I’ll go check him—” He gasped
and took a few steps forward. “Look!”
A faint blue glowing began swelling up from the ground
in the empty beachfront lot ahead of them. They watched from behind the tall
grass growing along the edge of the sand as an ancient looking estate took
shape.
She walked up behind him and slipped her hands up his
shoulders. “Let’s get out of here before one of their scouts spot us.”
As if she hadn’t even spoken, the man began walking
quickly toward the twenty-foot tall stone walls surrounding the grounds of the
estate. The woman reluctantly trailed behind him. She glanced toward the spot where
the other man had been standing.
“C’mon, we need to report it’s here,” she said in a
hushed voice. “And the guy who was watching is gone—he probably
saw
us.”
The man glanced at her quickly as he reached the
corner of the wall. He pressed his hand flat against the stone. “It’s
freezing.”
She reached up and placed her hand next to his. “It
just came from somewhere cold—
really
cold.”
He tipped his head back, looking up. She followed his
eyes and they both stared up at a fifty-foot tall obelisk covered with glowing
blue symbols. There was one standing at each corner of the wall. The top of the
wall was covered with several inches of snow that glowed against the dark sky
above them.
He grinned at her. “Let’s just take a fast look
around.”
She looked back at him with uncertainty, but followed
behind him as he began moving. They skirted the edge of the wall until they came
to an archway. There was a gate, but it was wide open.
She grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Just a quick
peek?”
He nodded and continued through the opening to the
estate. The ground under their feet was covered in a thin layer of slushy snow.
It was melting fast in the heat and soaked through their shoes. The smell of
soggy wet earth was already beginning to fill the air.