Shattered Destiny (8 page)

“What did you do? I felt the magic but can't figure out what you did,” Saemus said.

“I used my power to slow Kyron down, so that he appeared to be coming at me in slow motion. I don't know exactly
how
I did it. I just did.” Jon shrugged.

“You didn't use the forbidden power did you?” Keera asked.

“I used my own power. Not that it's any of your business,” Jon snapped.

“Well, you can't blame me for wondering.” Keera grabbed a piece of her hair and stuck it between her teeth. “So do you think you could teach us how to do it?”

As they traveled, the Chosen practiced Jon's new spell and
managed to perform it without the use of a word. However, the spell drained them of their power quickly.

“We won't be winning any big battles with this spell.” Keera snorted in derision. She was out of breath, as though she had just run up a large hill rather than only performing a magic spell for a few moments.

“It could come in handy in a tight spot.” Gwen was as out of breath as her friend.

“It is a useful spell, but perhaps one that should be saved for when it is truly needed,” Brok suggested.

He was proud of the progress his Chosen were making with their use of magic. They had been able to do things he'd never dreamed.
It is their destiny.

Brok had them traveling off the main roads. Something dreadful had happened in Enisae and until they found out who the perpetrators were, Brok would take every precaution. He could not shake the feeling that he and the Chosen were in danger.

When they approached the first farm on the outskirts of Oak Brooke, Brok hardened his heart for what he feared they would find. But instead of finding evidence of foul play, it was as if the folk has simply left their home. Their rooms were a mess, with clothes flung about as if they had packed in a hurry. They found all pens and coops with their doors wide open, and the animals wandered close to the farm, happily fending for themselves. There were several goats gorging themselves in tall ears of corn that stood like green soldiers in neat rows. The Astran Chosen grabbed as many cobs as they could fit in their packs.

“It seems as though they had warning of what was coming and managed to leave before it arrived,” Gerok said.

“That is good news at least. But it still doesn't answer the question as to what exactly has happened,” Brok said, brow furrowed.

“The family traveled in that direction,” Moylir said, pointing to the north, toward the Shadow Mountains. The mountains could be seen rising from the ground like jagged teeth, their peaks tipped in purest white.

“Maybe they went to Oak Brook. That is the nearest village.”
Keera felt worry gnawing at her belly. She wanted to see her mother and brother, to see for herself that they were alive and well and not lying in some unmarked grave somewhere. Ever since coming across the dead bodies on the farm, the Astran Chosen had kept their fear under tight rein, refusing to give in to hopelessness. Now that they were so close to home, the fear was beginning to win over their careful control.

“It will be dark soon. Let's make camp and we'll continue on to Oak Brook in the morning. We need to see about dinner,” Brok said.

“There is plenty of meat walking about here. Which one shall we kill?” Kyron said pointedly.

“See if you can find some chickens,” Brok said. He had a craving for red meat but knew that if they killed a cow, they would be wasting more of the meat than they could carry. And simply leaving most of a carcass would attract predators that would prey on the other farm animals. Brok felt bad for them and did not want to endanger them any more than they already were, outside and without the protection of their barns and coops.

The Volgon males loped off, eager to be of some use. They were disappointed when they were told that they would not be hunting but rather gathering chickens to kill. The rust-colored birds were so domesticated that one could simply walk up and slit their throats with a knife or wring their necks. Brok hated to be so unsporting, but they needed sustenance and they did not have time to waste on hunting when there was plenty of food nearby.

The Astran Chosen searched the house for some clean clothes for all of them. The father had been a large man so his clothing would fit the Volgon males.

There was plenty of water in the well. The boys brought buckets of water so the girls could bathe. Keera lit a fire in the cook stove and placed two buckets at a time on top to heat. There was only one tub so they took turns, changing the water between each of them. The men got tired of waiting so they walked to the creek and hurriedly bathed in the cold water.

By the time they reached the abandoned farmhouse, the Volgons had returned, carrying several chickens. They had plucked and field dressed them.

“This is not work for a warrior. I wish to hunt.” Kyron tossed the birds to Kaelin and Gwen, who had decided to roast them over an open fire, along with the ears of corn they had taken from the field and were soaking in buckets of water.

“Take this.” Saemus tossed the big Volgon a bow that he had found while searching for boots in the little back room off the kitchen. There was even a full quiver.

“What is it?” Kyron asked, turning the bow over in his hands, pulling on the string.

“I'll show you.” Saemus took the Volgons outside to demonstrate how to use the bow while Keera, Gwen, and Kaelin got dinner ready. Jon fetched a bale of hay and set it up near a fence. Saemus demonstrated the basic use of the bow. He had never been proficient, but he knew enough to give the Volgons the idea of how it worked. It did not take the Volgons long to master the use of the weapon.

“This is their area of expertise. Perhaps it is like your Chosen being able to perform amazing feats of magic,” Gerok surmised at Brok's incredulous grunt.

“It takes the men of this planet many years to be able to do what your Chosen have managed to do in a short time,” Brok said, still shaking his head at the ability of the Volgons to nest an arrow in the direct center of the hay bale at more than three hundred feet. The best archers on Astra could barely shoot a target one hundred and fifty feet away.

The boys searched the farmhouse thoroughly but could not find another bow. They thought that perhaps the men had taken their weapons with them.

“Can we not make more?” Voilor asked.

“It takes a skilled craftsman to make a good bow. And you have to have rawhide for the string, and there isn't any around that I can see,” Saemus explained. He had watched his father make bows but had never taken the time to learn the craft. He had either been too busy getting up to mischief or, as he got older, devoted to his studies.

“DINNER!” Keera's bellow interrupted any further talk of making bows and arrows. Saemus and Jon grinned and raced for the
house.

Gwen stood at the door, arms crossed, holding a large spoon. “There is water in the wash basin, if you would.”

“Aww, who cares if we eat supper with dirty hands?” Jon sulked as he waited for Saemus to finish.

“Just because you're not eating at your mother's table is no reason to let your manners go by the wayside, Jon Stone,” Gwen said firmly.

Gwen watched as Jon walked to the washtub. Though his hair was dirty from the travel, she longed to run her fingers through it. As she watched his muscles move under his thin tunic, she couldn't help but notice he had filled out since the day he had run away from home.

He's not nearly as big as Feeror, though.

She blushed and put a hand over her mouth, thankful that no one could read her thoughts. Gwen thought even a blind woman would notice Feeror's masculine form. His clothing barely fit over his bulging arms and thighs. Gwen wondered what his hair dark, wavy hair would feel like. She shook her head disgustedly.
The man can't even stand to look at you, and here you are making moon's eyes at him!

Jon hurriedly ran his hands in the water and wiped them on his pants before dashing past Gwen and into the kitchen. He pushed past Saemus and grabbed a seat in front of a plate laden with chicken, corn-on-the-cob, and assorted fresh vegetables. He was followed closely by Saemus and the Volgons, who eyed the food with greedy, hungry eyes. Brok and Gerok were the last to arrive and graciously waited for the girls to have a seat before beginning to eat.

“Really! The way you act, one would think you hadn't eaten for days!” Brok scolded.

“Wait! You have to peel the husk off first!” Gwen said as she watched Kyron try to take a bite of the corn. She giggled as she demonstrated how to peel the husk to reveal the tender yellow kernels.

Kyron managed to look sheepish as he peeled the cob, letting out little hisses when his fingers encountered a particularly hot piece. He
tried to brush his brown hair out of his eyes and turned to Saemus and Jon with an exasperated look.

“Why is your hair short? This is so distracting, and it gets in the way,” Kyron said as he tried unsuccessfully to keep his hair out of his eyes.

“You can use sharp knives to cut your hair. Many men with longer hair use bits of cloth to tie it back to keep it out of their eyes,” Saemus said. “Those with the power can use it to shorten their hair if they wish. That's what Jon and I do.”

“You use knives to cut hair? Does it hurt?” Voilor asked.

“Not at all. But since we don't have knives that are sharp enough, why don't we just try to tie it back?” Keera suggested. “After we eat, that is.” She took a large bite from a chicken leg, her fingers slick with grease.

When Gwen finished eating, she jumped down from the bench and waddled over to the counter where there were some assorted pieces of cloth. She picked one that was the right length and tore it into three pieces. She came to Kyron first.

“You will have to get down on the floor so I can reach you,” Gwen said.

Kyron gave her a flat stare. “I will wait until one of the others is finished eating.” He turned back to his empty plate.

Gwen fought tears as she stared at his back. She turned to sit back down when Feeror spoke.

“I wish to have my hair tied also.” Feeror cleared his throat as he knelt down with his back to Gwen.

Gwen smiled in gratitude, even though he could not see her face. “Men here either wear the cloth around their foreheads, like so, to keep their hair from their eyes.” Gwen demonstrated around her own forehead. “Or they take up the hair at the nape of the neck and tie the cloth around it, like this.” She gathered her hair in a ponytail at the base of her head and turned to show Feeror.

“I like the first,” he said as he turned back around.

Gwen tried to steady her shaking hands as she pulled Feeror's shoulder length brown hair back from his eyes. The big man winced when she touched him. Gwen took a deep breath and continued. She positioned the cloth just right, leaving equal amounts on both sides
to tie it behind his head. She tied it gently and stepped back.

Feeror stood and gave his head a shake. “This will suffice.” He looked down at the little dwarf girl, a blush creeping to his cheeks as he tried to meet her eyes. “Thank you.” He sat back down.

“I would like the tail option.” Voilor allowed Gwen to pull his hair back into a ponytail and tie it with a bit of cloth.

Kyron waited until Keera was finished and then demanded that she help with his hair. Keera stood facing the large Volgon, her red hair flying about her livid face. “I will do no such thing. Do it yourself!” She turned and took her plate to the sink, grabbed the bucket off the counter by the front door and then stormed out of the house, muttering under her breath.

“Then you do it.” Kyron pointed angrily to Kaelin.

She stood, her face pale and cold. “I'm busy. Find someone else.”

Gwen felt a rush of gratitude for her friends. The feeling was diminished somewhat by the look on Kyron's face.

“Enough. We cannot fight amongst ourselves,” Brok said.

“I will do it myself.” Kyron took a piece of cloth from the counter and used it to tie his hair back, though he had trouble with the knot at first. He stormed out of the house.

“Don't let it get to you, Gwen,” Saemus said.

“Easy for you to say. He doesn't hate
you.
” Gwen lashed out.
Why did I have to be born this way?
The tears fell down her cheeks, though she tried hard to stop them. She still held the piece of cloth in her hands.

“Do not judge him so harshly, little one,” Moylir said. “Your way is not our way. We cannot change who we are. The feelings we have for those who are weak is a part of who we are. It is why we survived.”

“Not all of you seem to have issues,” Jon said.

Moylir smiled grimly. “We all do. It's just that some of us hide it better than others.”

Gwen swallowed hard at the admission. She thought that the incident in the cave had changed their minds about her and that they finally accepted her. It appeared she had been mistaken.

“I'm sorry too, little one. We do not mean to offend or anger you. We can't change who we are any more than you,” Seelyr said.

“People can change, if they really want to,” Gwen mumbled.

Moylir shook her head. “Changing an attitude is not the same as changing something that is fundamentally a part of your make-up. We cannot change our feelings any more than you can change being able to use this power. You can choose to not use it, and thus change an aspect of yourself, but you can't change the fact that you possess the power. Strength is everything to the Volgons. Our race has been bred so that only the strong survive to pass on those favorable traits to our pups. And in the rare instance that one is born sick--” she looked at Seelyr “--it must be sacrificed for the good of the colony.”

“We can force ourselves to interact and be civil, but the feelings of repulsion are still there. They surface each time we see your deformed body. But we are trying. And that is all we can do,” Seelyr said, forcing herself to touch Gwen's tiny hand.

Gwen kept her hand there even though all of her instincts screamed at her to yank her hand away and run off to be alone. “This is why the Masters needed us to spend time together, to learn about one another. We have to work together to fight the Mekans, and we can't do that if we fight amongst ourselves.” Gwen raised her brown eyes and met Seelyr's blue ones. “You are not the only ones who need to try to change. I, too, need to understand you and your world.”