Altered Intentions Read online

  “Of course. I was just about to go to Secondmeal. Would you care to join me?”

  “Sure.”

  They went back inside the keep and headed for the dining hall. He returned the greetings they received as they walked through the corridors. Even had he not known of the battle, he still could have picked out those who had lost loved ones. Their greetings, while still courteous, had a vacant, almost lost, quality to them. He wished there was some way to ease their pain, but even were all the dimsai in Teleria at his disposal, some things could not be undone.

  They found seats in the dining area and waited for their food to be brought to them.

  “Now,” he said, after their food arrived, “what did you wish to speak with me about?”

  “Well, something kinda strange happened this morni—”

  A thunderous explosion from outside the keep shook the hall, making their plates dance and jitter on the table. People around the dining room jumped to their feet, trying to shield themselves from the small chips of masonry raining down like stone tears. Their food forgotten, he and Jason rushed from the hall and joined the crowd making their way to the nearest doors leading to the courtyard.

  “WE HAVE RETURNED!”

  He pulled Jason to a stop just inside the entrance as he heard the booming voice. “Wait.”

  Pushing Jason back against the wall, he leaned forward to peer outside. His heart sank and he fought to keep his balance as the strength drained out of his legs. By Agathon’s scrolls, what are we to do? Regor stood on the top of the front wall of the keep, along with other strange figures he could only assume were the rest of the Altered. No, not all of them, he thought as he scanned the parapet. Nyala was not among them.

  “People of Lore’s Haven, hear and heed my words.” A stern-looking woman whose glowing eyes constantly changed colors addressed the crowd. Her voice, while not loud, seemed to come from every direction. “I am Airam, the Matron of Souls. You may have forgotten that name, and the names of my companions. That will soon change. We are the Altered, and we are much more than the stuff of myth and legend that many of you may have once thought. We have been gone for far too long. Now we have returned to claim our rightful places in this world. Each of us will serve as patron to a different part of Teleria. It is time for you to meet your patron.”

  She moved aside as Regor’s dark figure stepped forward.

  “I am Regor, the Shadow Lord. You may call me ‘Master,’ for that is what I am. You will find that I can be a lenient and gracious master, or a harsh and unforgiving one. You will learn to serve me, or you will learn to fear the darkness.”

  His flaming eyes scanned the people below. “Some of you may have heard accounts of what took place on the Scorched Plains. I assure you, had I not been called away by the other Altered, that day would have ended much differently. Do not make the mistake of believing that any of you, much less your Loremasters or Jason Bennett, are in any way comparable to an Altered. Your strongest are little more than insects before us.

  “So that you do not harbor any false hope of resisting my rule, I will show you why you should abandon such foolishness. Bring me Jason Bennett!”

  Reyga ducked back into the corridor and grabbed Jason’s arm, pulling him back toward the center of the keep. “Come! Quickly!”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not we. You. You must go. You must go now!” He ignored the glances from the people he passed.

  “Where?”

  They had reached the dining hall. He pulled Jason inside and jogged toward the kitchen, dragging Jason along behind.

  “Anywhere but here,” he said over his shoulder.

  “But what about you? What about the other people here?”

  “We will be well, but Regor seeks you out to repay your defiance on the Plains. If you stay, he will find you, and this time he is not alone. Nyala is not among them, but I doubt even she could stand against their combined might.”

  They reached the doors to the kitchen and pushed through. He grabbed a bag from a shelf and began shoving fruits, breads, and cheeses into it. He looked around for a flask of water.

  “But where am I supposed to go? Where can anyone go to get away fr—” Jason stopped abruptly, staring at the floor. Reyga turned to him. He could almost see the thoughts racing in Jason’s mind.

  Jason looked at him. “I know where I can go! I’ll go to th—”

  Reyga dropped the bag and clapped his hand over Jason’s mouth, cutting off his words. “No! Do not tell me. Just go.”

  Jason pulled his hand away. “Don’t you want to know?”

  He set the flask down and grasped Jason’s shoulders. “If I do not know where you go, no one can get the information from me.”

  Jason’s eyes grew wide as he glanced toward the entrance. “You mean…” He grabbed Reyga’s arm. “Come with me. Regor won’t be able to find us. I know just where to go.”

  Reyga pulled his arm free. “I am a Loremaster. My place is here. I will not leave the people of Lore’s Haven to face this.”

  “But that’s what you’re asking me to do,” Jason protested.

  He shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Jason. The Circle cannot stand against the power of the Altered, but the people must know that we have not abandoned them. You saved us once on the Scorched Plains. I am asking you to escape now so that you can find a way to come back and save us again. So long as the Altered do not have you, I and the others of Lore’s Haven will have hope.” He laid his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “It would appear that your role in the prophecy may not yet be at an end.”

  He could see Jason struggling with what he was asking of him. So much resting on the shoulders of one so young. If there was any way he could have shared Jason’s burden, he would have done so gladly, but for now, the most important thing was for Jason to leave before Regor found him.

  He picked up the bag and flask and held them out. “Jason, you must go.”

  Jason took the supplies, a crease furrowing his forehead. “I know. It’s just that…I mean…” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you or the others.” He tossed the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll try to figure something out. I don’t know what it’ll be, but as soon as I do, I’ll come back. Tell my dad. And make sure Lenai knows I’m okay when she gets back?”

  “Of course. She will already know, but I will tell her and your father why you had to go.”

  Jason nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Be careful, Jason. Everything in Teleria is not always as it seems, so be on your guard at all times.” He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. “I have faith in you. Have faith in yourself.” He let go of Jason’s shoulder. “I must go. Wait until I am gone before you leave so that I will not have the slightest clue as to your destination.” He hurried to the door of the kitchen, and then stopped and looked back. “Do not fear. We will be well. Keep yourself the same.” Then he pushed through the door, hoping this would not be the last time he saw Jason.

  *****

  Lenai opened her eyes and looked around at the other Shanthi as the Ritual of Remembrance ended. They were in Council Clearing, a large open glade located midway between the different clans. Leaders from the clans met here once a year to compare news and discuss matters of importance to all Shanthi. Now, almost all the people of the clans were gathered, except for those too old or too young to make the journey, and any who stayed behind to protect them.

  The leaders had declared that the clans would observe five sixdays of remembrance and mourning in honor of the five hundred warriors who had not returned from the Scorched Plains. Now that the day’s ceremonies were over, the people were breaking up into groups, or moving toward their shelters. She lingered, as she had every day, waiting for everyone to leave so that she could observe her own private Ritual of Remembrance. Her older brother, Kelsu, was among those who had not come home.

  She thought about the battle. Her people had fought bravely. Songs and tales would be told
for generations about the deeds of that day. Her heart swelled with pride when she remembered the hundreds of warriors appearing outside the gate of Lore’s Haven. It humbled her to think that most of them had decided to stand with the Circle army because of what Jason had done for her during Sho tu Ishta.

  During her darkest hours, Jason had restored to her what it was to be a Shanthi, essentially giving her back her soul. But there had been another, unexpected result as well. Because of the ritual, she was now soul-bonded to Jason, something that had never happened between a Shanthi and a human. She certainly had not expected it to happen when she offered the Ritual of Clarity to help him in his search for the truth.

  She remembered the shock when she realized the numbing fear she felt while Jason was meeting with the Circle was not hers, but his. She found out later that Jason had thought Loremaster Brin was about to kill him. That was when she understood what had happened. I wonder if I would still have done the ritual if I knew what was going to happen. She watched a bird soaring overhead as the thought drifted through her mind. Such questions were meaningless now. What was done was done, and she would not change it now even if she could. She closed her eyes. She had learned to control the intensity of the emotions she felt from him, but she could still feel his presence as if he were sitting beside her when she tried.

  She opened her eyes as she heard someone calling her name.

  “Lenai.” Her father moved through the crowd, limping heavily. Although his breeches covered it, she knew his leg was tightly bound from the gash he’d suffered in the battle. He would also be adding a few more scars to the old ones on his arms.

  He had been more than upset when told about the Bonding between her and Jason. His distrust of humans ran deep, and he was not alone in his views. Most of her people wanted nothing to do with humans. Some had changed their minds after learning of Jason's actions, but only some. Her father, while acknowledging what Jason had done for her, was among those whose feelings had not changed.

  “Father.” They pressed their palms together in greeting. “You should be resting.”

  His face was grave. “Lenai, come with me.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and started walking back the way he had come.

  She hurried to catch up to him. “Father, what is wrong?” A seed of fear worried its way through her thoughts. “Is this about Kelsu?”

  “I do not know,” he said without turning. “Baruun told me to find you.”

  They made their way to the other side of the clearing. Lenai saw Baruun, the leader of her clan, apparently waiting for them. Her mother and younger sister were with him. They stopped in front of him, crossing their spread fingers in front of their face and bowing.

  Baruun nodded in return. “Come.” He started walking toward a small group gathered around a couple of men. The crowd parted as he approached.

  Baruun stopped in front of the men. An angry scar stretched across the shoulder and upper arm of one. The other had been blinded in one eye and had one arm bound against his body.

  “Dokru,” Baruun said, “this is Tarn, Kelsu’s father, Chentra, his mother, and Lenai and Tila, his sisters. Tell them what you told me.”

  The one with the scar stepped forward. He tried to give them the ritual bow, but she could see that his wounded arm would not rise far enough to allow it. With a grimace, he bowed his head instead.

  “Tarn, Chentra, Lenai, Tila,” he began, “I fought alongside Kelsu on the Scorched Plains. I would sing you songs and tell you the tale of his courage and skill, but that must wait for another time.” He shifted his wounded shoulder. “I was beside him when the Grithor collapsed the ground. When the rocks stopped falling and the dust settled, I saw him lying a short distance from me, unmoving. I thought at first that he had perished in the fall. I was wrong. Within moments, he awoke, and although he was injured and bleeding, he began moving stones and rocks away from me and others nearby. Then we heard the Grithor approaching. Their mumbling and chanting sounded like the beating drone of cort beetles.” He shook his head, rubbing his shoulder again. “I was badly wounded, and could barely move. Kelsu told me to conceal myself if I could. Although I wished nothing more than to teach the Grithor the price of their foolishness, I had lost too much lifeblood. I was too weak to stand with him. I gave him my dagger instead, and determined to stay concealed so that I could bring the news of his deeds back to our people. Back to you.

  “Ah, your hearts would burst with pride if you could have seen him. I truly believe he could have defeated a charnoth that day. He slew three Grithor before they realized he was among them. Two more fell before they could use their power. I have never seen a warrior fight as he did.”

  Lenai could not take her eyes off him as she imagined her brother raining death upon the Grithor. Her heart ached desperately for each word from his mouth, even though she was afraid she knew how the tale would end.

  “But, in the end, the Grithor’s numbers were too great,” he said. “A blast of power felled Kelsu. Even as he stumbled, he slashed out at the nearest enemy, leaving him with a token of their meeting. Then he fell, and the Grithor overwhelmed him.”

  Her father said what she could not. “So Kelsu is slain.”

  Dokru shook his head. “I do not know. That is why I am here. The last time I saw him, as the Grithor carried him back to their underground home, he was still alive. I knew I could not help him, so I stayed hidden until I could make my way back to tell you. I would have come sooner, but I have been unconscious due to my injuries for quite some time.”

  Simultaneous emotions warred within Lenai. Pride at her brother’s courage made her spirit sing. Worry about his fate twisted her insides. Fury that he was now in the hands of the dark-dwelling Grithor turned her heart to flame.

  She fought to keep from shouting. “We must save him! We cannot leave him in the hands of the Grithor.”

  “Lenai—”

  “Father,” she interrupted him for the first time in her life. “He is my brother, your son. We must retrieve him.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Baruun, dropping to one knee. “Baruun, honored leader of our clan, I beg you. Allow me to go. Allow me to save one of your people. Allow me to save my brother.” She looked up at him. “If Kelsu is still alive, there may be others.”

  Baruun did not answer at first. Then he turned to Dokru. “Did you see any others taken by the Grithor?”

  “No, but I was behind a pile of rocks and dared not move lest the Grithor discover me. I could not see the entire pit, so I do not know if any others were taken or not.”

  Baruun looked at Lenai. She could see in his eyes that he was weighing his decision. Then he shook his head.

  “Without knowing if there are others of our people in the hands of the Grithor, it is not my decision,” he said. “I will not forbid you to go, but the choice to allow it or not must come from your father.”

  She looked at her father.

  With a sigh, he said, “I know that look in your eye, daughter. Even if I tell you no, you will go anyway.”

  “Tarn...” her mother began.

  He gently stroked her mother's cheek. “I know. I am worried as well, but we both know she will go whether we tell her no or not, and we would all like to see Kelsu returned.” He turned back to Lenai. “So, instead I will say this: I will give my blessing to this only if you do not go alone.” He looked at Baruun. “Will you allow others to accompany her?”

  “I will allow three, perhaps four, others to go if they choose, but no more,” Baruun said. “I do not wish to start a war with the Grithor so soon after we have lost so many.”

  She stood. “Thank you, Father, Baruun. I will find companions and we will bring Kelsu back with us.” She knew her father would not approve of her next remark, but perhaps it would ease Baruun's mind. “I will see if Jason would be willing to help us.”

  Her father just scowled, but Baruun shook his head. “This must be a Shanthi matter, Lenai. If you can, you must slip
into the Grithor caverns, find and free Kelsu, and bring him back here without conflict. In a battle, I would welcome Jason Bennett's aid, but this must be done with cunning and stealth, not blades and power.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “If you find others of our people there that you are unable to free, then we will consider other options, but for now, it must be this way.”

  “I understand.”

  “And Lenai, one thing you must keep foremost in your mind,” Baruun said. “As dark-dwellers, the Grithor rely on more than just their sight to detect intruders. You must take greater care than ever in your life. Our ability to conceal ourselves may not be enough to keep you safe.”

  New Players

  A blast of arid wind and a deathly chill warred across Jason's cheeks as he stepped out of the portal. The first thing he saw was a rust-colored patch of sand and rock on the ground in front of him.

  My blood.

  This was where he and Bothan had faced off.

  This is where I almost died.

  Nyala had taught him that he had to have a clear picture in his mind of where he wanted to go in order to create a portal. There was no place clearer to Jason than this.

  The thought that he was looking at his own blood made his head swim. He turned away and looked to his left. The Scorched Plains stretched into the distance. Somewhere out there, where the Circle's army and Bothan's forces had battled, the ground looked a thousand times worse than this patch in front of him. Bothan's army, composed of races that would normally be at each other's throats, had been almost three times the size of the Haven force. The situation looked hopeless until Jason discovered how Bothan was controlling the creatures. Once Jason used his power to break Bothan's hold over his army, they had begun attacking each other, with the Haven forces hanging back to prevent any from escaping. Their corpses probably still littered the ground. The Haven army had only taken their own back to Lore's Haven.

  He turned to the Riftlands. The clouds over the eerie landscape roiled and churned as if the very air were in agony. Not far away, a large rift distorted the hills beyond. It made him almost nauseous looking at it for too long. I really don't want to go in there. But there didn't seem to be much choice. Nyala had told him that, since dimsai didn't always work in the Riftlands, and the Altered were creatures of dimsai, even they avoided the place. It was the one place he hoped Regor wouldn't come after him. He shifted the sack on his shoulder and started walking in a wide circle around the nearest rift. No need getting any closer than he had to.