Kinsa's Binds Read online

  Kinsa’s Binds

  World of Teyzao, Book One

  M. Shinyama

  Contents

  Terminology

  The Gods:

  1. A Garde & A Bookkeeper

  2. Sanctuary

  3. The Council of Povani

  4. Undesired & Starving

  5. To Drown Without Water

  6. Fated

  7. Chickens Are Evil

  8. New Books & Bruises

  9. Hidden Locks

  10. Kinsa

  11. Eyes Like Mine

  12. Dark Fins

  13. Unlocking the Path

  14. Mimic

  15. Traditions

  16. Fractal Blessing

  17. Jura Va Cene Ma

  18. Muted Warning

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgments

  Art

  Follow the Author

  About the Author

  Available on Amazon Kindle and Kindle Unlimited.

  Copyright © 2019 Melody Shinyama

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Kamayama Designs

  Formatting by Duffette Literary Services

  https://authormshinyama.wixsite.com/welcome

  Dedication

  To Jen, Mom, B and my cats. Without them, I wouldn’t be here.

  Thank You:

  My Shiny Mamas, Jodie, RHIA, RAHRAH, Reese, and Renee.

  Terminology

  Kæn Fila: “Capital” of neutral lands, Vishtu. Co-mingling city. Main hub to find tech. Government is leaning patriarchal, women are considered ALMOST second-class citizens. Many outlaws run to this place trying to find shelter but are turned away. Well known for their alcohol, assassins, and artistry.

  Sonam: Capital for male controlled lands (Karnas), females required to live on the outskirts of the city. Well known for their beastmasters, gladiator fights, and armor crafting. A male will suffer the same penalty if a sponsored female breaks the law. Main gods worshipped: Ofan the Father, Entra the Avenger, and Wacene the Traveler.

  Povani: Capital for the female controlled lands (Diaza), which boasts wonderful dances, sword fights, arena challenges, and is well known for the crafting of weaponry. A man may only enter under strict guidelines, a lengthy wait if not previously announced, and accompanied by a woman. The woman who vouches will suffer whatever punishment the male incurs should he break any laws. The three goddesses usually worshipped are: Vala the Warrior, Nuo the Mother, and Wipo the Forger.

  Tuchæm: The holy city. Pilgrimages from any remaining land of Naos lead to here. Those divined to protect the city do so with fierce magic and weapons. The city itself is nestled between Karnas and Diaza, looking out towards the forbidden zone, Evas.

  Garde: Descendants of Garguantans. They range from 6-lenga-4 to 8-lenga.

  Lenga: Measurement of height. 1 lenga=30 cm. Part of a lenga is a sen-lenga, which each measures 1/10 of a lenga.

  Token: Concentrated magic etched into an item. One-time use, singular purpose.

  Disk: Extremely volatile and dangerous. Can have a range of uses and is essentially bottled magic. It has several different levels, all by color. Black is considered the most dangerous. That’s when it is unstable and has the potential to take out a quadrant of a major city.

  Vea: Direction. Like of a compass. Compounded with a god’s name to indicate where to head. e.g. Alou-vea

  The Gods:

  1. Entra – the Avenger

  2. Vala – the Warrior

  3. Nuo – the Mother

  4. Wipo – the Forger

  5. Gabrov – the Great Dragon (god-like, not a true god)

  6. Vanatu – the Sea

  7. Zafit – the Sky

  8. Jura – the End

  9. Opfusa – the Provider

  10. Sonef – the Hunter

  11. Asche – the Judge

  12. Alou – the Executioner

  13. Menen – the Artist

  14. Binaj – the Musician

  15. Wacene – the Traveler

  16. Ixa – the Beastmaster

  17. Ofan – the Father

  18. Zestra – the Shadow

  19. Iljar – the Land

  20. Etas – the Cook

  21. Kinsa – the Fate

  22. Finao – the Luck

  23. Nobu – the Illusion

  24. Zado – the Light

  25. Mestani – the Time

  1

  A Garde & A Bookkeeper

  MYRL

  Kæn Fila, Vishtu

  A glint of steel is all I see before the Garde in front of me is attacked. The stranger swiftly defends with a small dagger from her waist. Wide-eye and excited, I keep myself cloaked and sit behind a cart for good measure. Granted, I do not live in the best part of Kæn Fila, but it is still rare to see a public assassination attempt. Usually, people are taken out while they sleep. At least that way it is quiet. This though—whoever had a hit out on her needed it taken care of quickly with no regard for discretion. My foot twitches with yearning to step forward.

  Your curiosity is not worth injuring yourself.

  The Garde stands, towering over the assassin. Her incredible height illustrates her lineage from the Gargantuans of old. Not to say the lithe assassin is without skills. Their back and forth is hypnotic—besieges of strikes and slashes whirl against parries and transform flesh into open wounds. Majestic. A sharp jab and reflective block rings the crafted metals against one another. The assassin has already cut the Garde on her upper right thigh, abdomen, and in between two fingers where she shielded with her fist. If I had to guess, the weapons are laced with poison. Anybody worth note knows poison won’t kill a Garde. If you’re lucky, it may slow them down. Still, at the sight of the blood I flinch, unwilling to put myself in harm’s way. He tumbles to deal a blow from behind—an unfortunate mistake.

  At a minimum of six-lenga-five, the Garde is small for her race. Despite her muscular stature, her diminutive height affords her agility. Once the assassin stands, a distinctive crack reverberates in the empty street. Her backhanded fist sends him into the air. I don’t have time to react before his body smashes into the cart. My cart. Wooden splinters scatter in several directions and I yelp, pinned below the assassin, my hands bracing against pavement and shreds of wood. The Garde’s eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion while the assassin stares into my face.

  Oh no.

  My cloaking failed.

  “What in—" The assassin gurgles, a dagger protruding from his throat.

  Like a fish, my mouth opens, closes, then opens again. My mind is slowly processing, my throat struggling for air, while the man’s blood stains my blue top. Unfreezing, I scramble and shove the body away with a scream, coating myself further in the man’s blood. The Garde scowls but says nothing, her burnt orange hair twirling around her as she stalks down the alley. There is a pause in her steps then I blink, and her Garde strength is crushing my arm.

  “Ow! Listen—I don’t have much, but please don’t hurt me! I-I-I live above the bookstore. Please—" I babble and beg. Her orange eyes accent the rest of her: the tan yet slightly scarred skin, her beautiful and shiny hair, and the fiery demeanor with which she carries herself. Within them, I am met by her confidence, dominance, and zest for life. Those same eyes turn menacing towards me.

  “Listen here, girl. I am not going to harm you. You are a native, yes?” A nod is all I am able to muster, and she breathes out a sigh. “I need to go somewhere to rest. Is there a place nearby where I’m unlikely to run into more assassi
ns around here?”

  Do not get involved. If you do, those mercenaries may come for you.

  Inside, I am elated at helping the fighter and discovering more about her. I shouldn’t be. If I get caught up with this woman, I could lose my apprenticeship. The bookkeeper told me if I get into trouble, the bookstore will no longer be mine to inherit. Instead, he will invoke ownership and sell me to the highest bidder: the same manner in which I came to be his ‘child’. He is never inappropriate with me, but he is extremely stern. His reputation means everything to him.

  My pause is noted so the Garde tosses in a threat, “If you do not help me, perhaps I will tell the patrols you killed that man.” She inclines her head to the body rapidly cooling behind me. It’s then I notice she barely has any indications of a fight on her, and her cloak easily hides what little there is. By the time a patrol came by, she would have completely healed. Whereas I am practically doused in blood, as if I’m the one who slit his throat. Ice freezes my veins with dread. I could be executed or at the very least, imprisoned. A new wave of anxiety surges through me, dueling my desire to sate the curiosity buzzing in my mind.

  Panic compels me to take stock of my surroundings. The streets are abandoned—deserted of the ones who know who I am, know how weak I am. They would know my innocence if I proclaimed it. Yet no one but us is here. They’re all inside the tavern walls with their drinks and their whores. Licking my lips and against the wishes of the voice in my head calling me a moron, I croak out, ‘okay’.

  She smiles and releases my arm. “The name is Lesanna. I am from Diaza.” Her hand extends with palm facing upwards, a standard greeting from a Diaza woman. With the knowledge of customs learned from my books, I tilt my head down slightly, place my left hand—the one for giving respect to an elder—above hers and let it hover for a split-shade until she closes her thumb over my fingers.

  “My name is Myrl. I was raised here in Kæn Fila,” I reply quietly. I am not proud of where I am from. In fact, I dream of escaping but such an idea requires a pilgrimage to the holy city of Tuchæm. The only ones ever granted pilgrimage from this city are those with money or influence. I have neither. Not inferring my life surrounded by wondrous knowledge is bad—I adore books. Books don’t hurt, don’t threaten, and don’t have any ulterior motives. I’ve been allowed reading material by Povash, the bookkeeper, to learn from our supply. The studying helped train my magic; magic I’d like to continue hiding from the rest of Kæn Fila. “I have a room above the bookstore, but Povash will not be happy with you there. I can cloak you....but I have never done so for prolonged periods of time.”

  Lesanna’s smile exudes warmth and kindness. “I would appreciate it, Myrl. I shall follow you.”

  I reciprocate the expression and for insurance, cloak us. I don’t need a random patrol stopping us while I am bloodied.

  As if they would even notice. You live on the cusp of the Undesirable. When have they ever cared about you? Or what you do?

  My monologue has a point. Maybe I didn’t need to bring Lesanna with me. After all, aside from the threat, I’m only bringing her back because I got caught.

  But you gave your word. What are you without it?

  To those living in and near the Undesirable, someone’s word is considered laughable. However, I have built myself a reputation. My word is always carried through, and since I grew up here, those native to Vetasa Quad of Kæn Fila know of my honor. I won’t sacrifice that for this one unpleasant experience. After all, Povash says without the integrity of one’s word, we are no better than animals.

  We walk in silence until the shop comes into view. The lights are off, and I breathe out a sigh of relief from the anxiety of potential conflict. Povash must have finished already. No surprise to where he’s most likely at now—deep in a cup of Vanari’s famous Lights Out drink. To this day, I have yet to try the vile potion. I doubt such a day will arrive anytime soon.

  The storefront has several bay windows with Kæn Fila’s iconic nastra flower planted underneath. In the moonlight the petals glow silver, while in daylight they glow a warm pink. Each time of day gives off a different yet distinct smell: “Daylight brings fields of honey, while moonlight brings wisps of rain”. It’s a beautiful saying I once read in a book and couldn’t be more accurate. Many people will sit and read in and around our store purely because it is the best smelling part of the area. In fact, many have attributed our flowers to the boom in commerce here. Plenty have tried to steal them, but you cannot uproot the beauties from their dwelling easily. They will die if extricated improperly. Povash’s family has a dedicated farm, so he knows precisely what their care entails.

  Truthfully, Povash isn’t a bad person. Yes, he bought me, but he did so with altruistic motives. I did the cooking and cleaning, but it was a fair trade-off for the limited learning I was permitted. I have the freedom to go anywhere in Kæn Fila, which is more than most who are owned; they are normally relegated to their ‘homes’ and never seen but by those who force them to call them ‘master’. My stomach roils at the thought, but I know I am not strong enough to help them. Maybe one day.

  I open the door to the bookstore and motion for Lesanna to follow me. She has to duck a bit which brings out my smile. It’s rare to see a Garde in our bookstore. I lock the door and peek at her from beneath my bangs. Compared to our surroundings, she is juxtaposed. Yet her soft, compassionate eyes show a flicker of reminiscence.

  “Povash cannot learn that I’m harboring someone with a bounty on their head or else I will lose this bookstore. It’s all I have.” My tone is a sharp whisper, and she nods before continuing her trail of inspection.

  Has she visited a bookstore before?

  The bookshelves reach above even the Garde’s head. The spines facing outward show off an array of colors, filling me with the warmth of home. We have many books to put away, stacked at the ends of the aisles. On top of said aisles are sale items we need to display. In two days’ time, we will host a sale on the famous book series by the Foenician writer, Ninatu Ostrom. The popular series follows a male and female who battle a great evil, while denying their growing romantic feelings for one another—which if admitted could spell their doom.

  No thank you. Adventures are never like that.

  Near our register, we sell trinkets like book stoppers for when you need mark your place in your reading. Most are made of metal, but some contain light magic while others are purely magic tokens.

  Not wanting to be discovered down here, I lead us to my lodging above the store. Povash doesn’t live here anymore but he requested I stay in case of intruders. We have a special spot for our weapons and keep them hidden at all costs. It’s best if no one knows about them, especially the thieves we see around the area. Most of the pilfering populace doesn’t mess with us; we have a reputation for being fair.

  Once upstairs in my kitchen, I turn around. “Do you want anything to drink?” Even to my own ears, I sound hesitant and awkward. I never have guests. The extra chair and couch are in case Povash ever gets too inebriated or his love interest of eight years throws him out again. I’ve lost count how many relapses of reconciliation there’s been.

  Lesanna nods. “If you please, some water would be kind. And if I may bother you for a shower and a way to wash my clothes? I can see your clothes need some attention too.” A quick head dip reminds me of my blood-stained clothes.

  Heat tinges my cheeks pink with a blush, and I motion down the hallway. “Leave your clothes outside the washroom, it’s the second door on the left. I’ll start a round of clothes.” The Garde trudges with exhaustion towards the entrance, pinging my heart with a twinge of empathy since her head nearly touches the ceiling and I know the shower won’t be any more accommodating. At the sound of the lock clicking, I undress. My tan skirt sits folded on the bottom to prevent the floor from getting any bloodier. Unfortunately, this only highlights the dirt.

  I put my shoes away and walk into my bedroom. It’s rather plain—dark wood furniture; a s
oft, yellow bedding set; and light yellow and orange sheer drapes. Going to my armoire, I retrieve some sleepwear with cute little verda on them. Verda have fluffy wool on the top portion of their bodies while their bottom half is only partially covered in a fine fur. Its color is determined by where it was born and it helps camouflage them against mahun, drakes, and all other sorts of predators. The fluff on top equally mimics the color of the leaves near their birthplace. The ones on my attire are all red tops like the verda from Entra Forest. I don a pair of slippers and grab the pile of clothes. With dirt still lurking in my mind, I fetch the broom and clean up. Its soothing in its simplicity; each sweep clears cluttered thoughts and allows me to process how I wound up in this situation.

  Once again, curiosity and your desire to learn landed you in trouble.

  If only I hadn’t chosen to watch the beautiful fight. I’ve always been taken by how skilled fighters battle with grace and fluidity fueled by pure instinct. One time, I was nearly struck by a cart because I was distracted by two men dueling in a contest. It didn’t help I had tried to rush forward to help the injured one. With a sigh, I finish my task and fill two glasses of cold water. While I despise many aspects of my city, some of Kæn Fila’s inventions are ingenious. Like this cooler. It keeps everything chilled thanks to the system running throughout the city.