Altered Intentions Read online

  ALTERED INTENTIONS

  Jaben’s Rift, book 2

  G. David Walker

  Copyright © 2012 by G. David Walker

  All rights reserved

  Dedicated to the Loremasters among us who pass on their knowledge from one generation to the next, from the secrets of the universe to a simple family history.

  Every bit of wisdom we glean from the past helps us to make a better future.

  Every day, every moment, is another step on the journey.

  Find out more about G. David Walker and his upcoming projects at

  http://www.gdavidwalker.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Return

  New Players

  Plots and Plans

  Family Ties

  Unexpected Guests

  Masquerades

  Moving the Pieces

  All That Glitters

  Cloudburst

  Fire and Ice

  Lenai

  Mind Games

  Visiting Old Friends

  Hard Choices

  Walk, Fly, and Crawl

  Appearances

  Tossed and Turned

  Showdown

  Epilogue

  Appendix

  Taleth’s Prophecy

  From a far land, Jaben shall come.

  The last to arrive, he will already be here.

  Powerful and powerless,

  Our hope and our doom are in his hands.

  His destruction is our hope.

  His denial is our doom.

  For our land to live, the far land must die.

  Prologue

  She stood on the mountaintop, staring with unseeing eyes at the world spreading out before her. The forests and rolling hills below blurred together into a haze in the distance that joined seamlessly with the clouds resting on the horizon. If she wished, she could be standing at that horizon with little more than a thought, but she had no desire to move from her vantage point. The chill breeze whispering through her hair brought with it scents of a world to which she had once belonged so long ago, when her name had been Alayn. All of this went unnoticed. The memory of the brief meeting with the other Altered during the battle on the Scorched Plains pushed other thoughts aside.

  Airam, the closest thing the Altered had to a leader, had said they would discuss “other options” after the battle was over. She shook her head as she ran over the tense meeting again in her mind, and imagined the one to come. Regor would plead his case persuasively, of that there was no doubt. She'd been susceptible to his smooth talk once upon a time. Her dark eyes focused briefly as she raised them to the sky, watching a small cloud drift past. But that had been centuries ago. She'd long since become immune to his manipulations. Still, she knew him better than any of the others, and she knew he could twist words almost well enough to make black seem white, and night, day.

  The thought of the Altered posing as gods and goddesses to the people of Teleria turned her stomach, but if that was the decision they came to, she wouldn’t be able to stop them. She was strong, but not the strongest. There was no way she would be able to stand against all six. For all she knew, they might have already decided without her. After all, they knew how she felt about it. Regor would have made that crystal clear.

  She thought about her life before the world had changed, before the war. Back then, she had been a wife, a mother, a friend…human.

  Then she wasn’t alone any more.

  “Nyala.”

  She took a deep breath and held it as she put on an expression of cool indifference. Then she slowly exhaled and turned around. The other Altered stood before her arrayed in all their glory.

  The old names drifted up from the recesses of her mind. Airam, the Matron of Souls, her shining eyes constantly shifting through the colors of the spectrum. Haras, the Golden, looking like a living, breathing statue of a goddess. Ekim, the Storm Bringer, his body composed of twisting whirlwinds. Darnoc, the Flame, blazing like a fire elemental from ancient myth. Nivek, the Ever Changing, his appearance constantly shifting from young to old, male to female, and back again. Regor, the Shadow Lord, a mass of shifting shadows, the darkness only broken by two fiery torches where the eyes would be. As she named each one, the way they had looked so many centuries ago seemed to float in front of her eyes for an instant, only to fade away just as quickly. They had been her friends once. Some, more than friends.

  The people of Teleria had called her Nyala, the Sparkling Goddess.

  “Airam,” she said, “are the costumes really necessary?”

  “The conflict is ended.” Airam ignored her comment. Her eyes flared bright blue before shifting to an intense violet. “It's time for us to discuss the future.”

  “Which future would that be?” Nyala asked. “The future where we allow these people to live in peace,” she looked pointedly at Regor, “or the one where we subject them to each and every one of our slightest whims no matter how degrading or sadistic?” She didn’t have to see through the shadows cloaking him to know he was wearing a derisive smile. It was hard to fathom that this was the same man she had fallen in love with centuries before.

  “That is what we must decide,” Darnoc said.

  A pang of sorrow stung her as she looked at his flame-covered figure. He had been like a big brother to her before the Devastation. Airam, once his wife, like a sister. But now, the expression on Airam's face told her all she needed to know. This was all for show. They had already reached a decision.

  She nodded. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

  Airam shook her head. “Not here. Although this is a very secluded spot, we must be somewhere where we can be certain we will not be interrupted. Come.”

  So, it would be like this. She looked over her shoulder at the vista one more time. Jason, I hope you’re ready for what’s coming, she thought. She didn't dare reach out to him, not yet. She needed to know what their plans were. Besides, they would sense it immediately and stop her. She was sure they were expecting it. She turned back to them and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Without a sound, the Altered vanished from the peak. All except for one figure, staring toward the horizon. The features constantly shifted, now a teenage boy, now a stocky lady, now a frail old man. Only the sadness in the eyes remained the same.

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” he whispered, “but it has to be this way.”

  Then the peak was empty except for the mournful sigh of the wind.

  Return

  Jason Bennett wandered through the small village of tents and stands on the plateau behind Lore’s Haven. The battle on the Scorched Plains was a month behind them, and the Gathering’s End festival was in full swing. The men and women of Lore’s Haven strolled the lanes between the tents, admiring the wares of craftsmen eager to show off their goods. Festive melodies from lutes and stringed instruments filled the air along with warm, savory odors from the food vendors.

  It had been suggested that perhaps this year they should skip the festival. After discussing it, the Circle had decided that, since the battle was a month past, the people needed something to restore a feeling of normalcy and, even if only for a little while, take their minds off the events on the Scorched Plains.

  He stopped to admire a display of intricate woodwork with pieces made from a variety of different woods, some carved, some appearing to have grown into the delicate shapes. Saiken cha, craftsmen trained by the various Orders, displayed ornate works of wood, stone, ice, and metal shaped by the power of their Orders. The members of the Circle would be coming by soon to select the best from each category, which would then be displayed in the Great Hall of Lore's Haven until the next Gathering's End festival.

  Other saiken entertained passersby. A blue-
robed Sapphire student created dancing fountains of water from a series of large, ceramic jugs placed on the ground around her. The water would leap from jug to jug, sometimes briefly taking on the shapes of fish, birds, or flowers before splashing into the next jug. Behind her, another Sapphire student pulled water from a basin into abstract shapes, the water freezing as he worked it. Not far away, a member of the Topaz Order, wearing the Order’s yellow robes, played with a group of young children. Whirlwinds, summoned by the student, picked up the children and spun them around before gently placing them back on the ground where they would fall into dizzy, giggling heaps at their grinning parents’ feet.

  He tried to smile as he watched the children stagger about. Like so many others, he too was trying not to think about the slaughter on the Scorched Plains and the events leading up to it. Thanks to his confrontation with his ancestor, Bothan McFarland, the Circle had achieved a surprising victory. Their losses had still been significant, but not absolute.

  Unfortunately, Bothan himself, known as Bodann by the Circle, had escaped after almost killing Jason in the Riftlands. The last they’d seen of him, he was disappearing through a portal with an arrow sticking out of his back. There had been no sign of him since. They didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

  He lightly ran his fingers over his stomach where Bothan’s sword had pierced him. It still itched from time to time, even though Seryn, the Diamond Loremaster, had completely healed the wound, saving his life in the process.

  Once the battle was over, the cleanup had begun. Before the meeting between the two armies, four villages, Dronnin, Heartwood, Shandil, and Arynn had been completely destroyed. All of the inhabitants of a fifth, Brayden Fenn, had been killed by Manarachs, monstrous human-spider hybrids that gave Jason the creeps just thinking about them. The only survivors from the villages were those who were away from home during the attacks.

  Of the five villages lost, Brayden Fenn had been the most difficult for him to deal with. Liana, a little girl he'd met in Drey’s Glenn, had been among the victims. Seeing her encased in the Manarach trapsilk hit him harder than he would have thought possible. The wave of grief that swept over him when he saw the look of terror forever frozen on her young features had made him almost physically ill.

  So many died, he thought. If only I’d had my powers sooner. He knew it wouldn’t have made any difference for Liana and her family. All of the villages except Arynn had been attacked before the Circle had been aware that anything was wrong. Knowing that did nothing to change how he felt.

  The losses reached throughout Lore’s Haven also. Captain Gatlor, the leader of the Haven army, had lost his only brother, who left behind a grieving wife and daughter. It was Gatlor’s arrow that had ridden through the portal with Bothan. Gatlor came from a long line of warriors, but the loss of his brother left him as the only surviving member of his immediate family, his parents having died years before. He’d attended a memorial service for his brother and then returned to his duties at Lore’s Haven, any feelings of remorse or loss buried underneath a stoic facade gained from a lifetime of training.

  Of the two thousand Shanthi who had joined their cause, not quite fifteen hundred returned home. Because the underground-dwelling Grithor had collapsed the earth underneath the Shanthi retreat, not all of the bodies had been recovered, so the actual number of dead was unknown. Lenai was with her family and friends going through a period of mourning for those of her people who had fallen in the battle. Lenai’s older brother was among the missing.

  Although she was several days’ journey from the keep, Jason could feel her through the bond that had inadvertently been created when they'd shared Sho tu Ishta, the Shanthi Ritual of Clarity. He was still trying to sort out the implications of being soul-bound to her.

  Lenai had explained that, when she’d told him where he was she must be also, she was instinctively reciting the words from Chai na, the Bonding. They could be apart physically, but their souls would be connected. Ordinarily, two Shanthi would choose to go through the ritual only after a long period of courtship, and even then only with the approval of both families. She hadn’t intended it to happen between her and Jason.

  “Chai na is not love, Jason,” she’d told him in answer to his question. “It is beyond emotion, beyond mind and reason, beyond anything that can be described with mere words. Shanchai, those who are Bonded, are two and one at the same time. Joy is shared, as is despair, fear, triumph, anger…and love, where it exists, although it is not required for the Bonding. When one dies, the other is left only half alive. Often, the other dies also. Some choose to end their own lives rather than live without their ch’nai. Very few continue as before, and none are untouched.

  “Chai na has never been broken,” she told him, “but it has also never happened between a Shanthi and a human. I do not know what may happen or what is possible in such a union between our peoples.”

  It was partly due to the uncertainty of what could happen to her if he left that he had decided, for now, to stay in Teleria even after Nyala had told him it might be possible for him to go home. It wasn't as if Lenai could go back to Earth with him. Her color-shifting skin would eventually be noticed, almost certainly by the wrong people.

  When he’d felt a sudden wave of sorrow rush over him, it had taken him some time to realize that it wasn’t his sorrow he was feeling, but hers. Since she’d left, he’d felt sorrow, wistfulness, contentment, and even joy from her. It was very strange experiencing an emotion, but not knowing what the reason was for it. As if my feelings weren’t messed up enough before, now I have to deal with two sets of them. It had taken some getting used to. Fortunately, the emotions weren’t as intrusive now as they had been when it first happened. Unless he focused, it took a strong burst of emotion from her to override what he was feeling.

  Using dimsai, the cleanup had been finished within days. He used his power to help wherever he could, clearing away debris, helping with repairs, or just staying out of the way when he didn’t know what to do. Although the physical destruction had been cleaned up quickly, he knew that the emotional and spiritual healing of the people of Teleria would take more time.

  “Jason!”

  He jumped and looked around to see who had called out to him. Then he realized he hadn’t heard the voice with his ears.

  Nyala? he called inside his mind. No answer. Nyala, was that you? He waited, but still nothing. It had sounded like her. Nyala? Only silence answered.

  He frowned and sent his senses outside the castle, searching for Crin, his fortunewing friend and companion. He couldn’t suppress a small smile as he connected with the bird’s mind. Crin was circling over a nearby field, trying to catch some lunch. The link between him and the bird still astonished and delighted him. Perhaps in time he would come to expect it, maybe even take it for granted, but not yet.

  Crin, can you sense Nyala? he sent to the bird.

  “I have not tried,” Crin answered. Irritation tinged his tone. “Why are there no rodents in these fields? I’m hungry.”

  Jason shook his head, caught between amusement and consternation at his friend’s answer. Crin, please. I need you to see if you can contact her.

  He felt the mental equivalent of a sigh. “Very well.” Crin was silent for a moment. “This is strange.” A touch of concern now colored the bird’s thoughts. “I cannot sense her at all. Always before, even if she did not respond, I could still feel her. Has something happened to the sparkling one?”

  I don’t know, Jason answered. The battle was already over, so there shouldn’t be any reason why Nyala couldn’t contact him. Had the other Altered done something? If they had, was it because of him? He didn’t know enough about the Altered to know what they were or weren’t capable of.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a pretty good idea of what Regor could do because of their encounter on the Scorched Plains.

  It could be nothing, but an uneasy feeling in his gut argued differently. If it was nothing,
whose voice had he heard in his head? The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that it had been Nyala calling to him. He needed to talk to Reyga. Maybe the old Loremaster would have an idea. He turned around and headed back toward the keep.

  *****

  Reyga Falerian, Emerald Loremaster of the Circle of Nine, focused on the sickly stalk poking out of the ground in front of him. It looked barely strong enough to hold the few withered leaves clinging desperately to the scrawny offshoots. As he watched, the stem thickened and straightened, pulling the leaves higher. He smiled as the leaves unfurled, spreading themselves out to catch the sunlight. Within moments, a strong, healthy plant stood before him, one day to provide sustenance to the people of Lore’s Haven.

  With a grin, he clapped the young man beside him on the shoulder. “Excellent work, Salen! You are making remarkable progress. Your parents will be very pleased when I tell them of your accomplishments.”

  The boy blushed and ducked his head. Then he looked up and gave Reyga a gap-toothed smile. “Thank you, Loremaster Reyga. I had a good teacher.”

  Reyga chuckled and ruffled Salen’s curls. “Good students make teachers that much better. Now, go see Carys about your studies.”

  “Yes, Loremaster.” He bowed quickly, then turned and walked toward the door leading to the Emerald hall.

  Reyga looked at the now-healthy plant again. The boy is truly gifted. If, for any reason Carys decided to step down from her position as his apprentice, he would have to give serious consideration to Salen, even as young as he was.

  “Reyga.”

  He turned at the sound of his name, and then smiled as he saw Jason entering the yard.

  “Jason, hello! How are you today?”

  “I’m okay,” Jason said as he walked up. “But I was wondering if you had a minute to talk?” He had a troubled look on his face.