Kinsa's Binds Read online

2

  Sanctuary

  LESANNA

  Kæn Fila, Vishtu

  The light filters through the deck windows. I groan in conjunction with my body when I sit up in the bed. It’s been ages since I’ve had to squeeze into a bed as small as this one. A pressure on my lower back reminds me of the cots we use in Povani’s Legion. I sharply twist to the right and left, taking pleasure in the succinct cracks each time. With a skyward stretch, I meander into the hallway in search of proper clothing. A sheet doesn’t even compare to my soft pants I adore.

  What an adventure yesterday was. Today will be more fruitful. Perhaps even end with a Lights Out special.

  I slip past the hanging lights, dodging them as I enter the laundry room. My clothes are clean, dry, and on hangers, so I yank them on then discard the sheet I had been provided. In a flash, I’m dressed minus my cloak which is draped over my arm. Being in my own clothes completes me.

  If only I had taken the proper precautions, I would have slept in my own bed and clothing instead of a sheet. Oh well.

  I strut back out to the den and nab the impressive technology Myrl called a controller. Unfortunately, I’ve picked up on rumors of where tech originates from: Imps. Vile creatures. Their city of Morn is Finao-vea, close to the Shadow Nest in the Vebrava Mountains. The dragons that frequent the area are a nasty piece of work, which leaves me surprised they’d allow Morn to stand. It’s possible the shadow dragons do not engage in anything aside from eating and mating, but I believe the Imp city’s weaponry and defenses are enough of a nuisance to deter them. Dragons do not interact with many races; if the Imps stay within their borders, the ancient creatures won’t have reason to engage in such a trivial hassle. After all, Morn is said to have walls tall enough to intimidate any being of Teyzao.

  My mind dwells on what else I’ve heard. According to the rumor mill, women and some older men have disappeared from their homes in Kæn Fila. It is not enough to garner shock from visitors, but it is enough that all my informants mentioned it. The possibility remains there is nothing more to it than people deserting and leaving for Bronaja. I’m not convinced. Their lives would be no better there than here, and at least in this city, they would have some security. One of my informants said the officials of Kæn Fila, including the Leader, are aware of this issue.

  The idea of the Leader abducting and using those who would not be missed for some nefarious plot does not surprise me. Whispers bring word of his underhandedness and spies he has sent to taint both Karnas and Diaza. While the notion of the council being influenced is alarming, it’s not nearly as disturbing as King Quosov being persuaded. The King is an honorable man who does his best to be kind and firm, but he is also a solo ruler, and his judgements are law. The amount of damage able to be inflicted by leaning into his ear would be catastrophic for the region of Karnas.

  A rumble from my stomach alerts me to my ignored hunger. Due to sleeping in and healing last night, I’ve missed my usual morning by several transitions. I am not familiar enough with Myrl to take from her cooler but waking her to find food shouldn’t be too much of a bother.

  My footfalls aren’t heavy thanks to years of practice but the wooden planks beneath my feet rebel and creak often. Reaching the door I assume is hers, I pause for a split-shade to listen for movement. Nothing. I knock once, my breath stilling. Yet again, nothing. I knock thrice more, louder this time. Grumbling permeates the wooden panel, and I grin then step back. But no footsteps sound. Instead, “GO AWAY POVASH!” thunders through the door.

  Chuckling, I realize she’s probably half asleep and forgot I stayed the night. “Um...Myrl...I am quite certain I am not Povash.”

  A loud thump rumbles the floor, and by the noise she’s making, I’d guess she’s having a fight with her bedding. The door swings open and her long, brown hair sticks out in every direction. I bite my lower lip but can’t help the snicker I release. Her red eyes widen, and she surmises her appearance is off. Those petite hands of hers straighten her clothes then attempt to smooth her hair until she huffs in defeat.

  “Wait here one split-shade!” The door closes with a ‘whoosh’ and I hear her shuffling to the washroom.

  The vacant wall behind me temporarily becomes a resting place for my back. Myrl emerges shortly from her bedroom, ready for the day. Her orange-cream dress is accented with a brown leather belt and her hair is tied—a bit messily—up and away from her face. Out of her dress pocket, drops a token into my hand. “In case you’d like to clean your teeth,” she offers sheepishly; her cheeks are tinged pink and eyes avoiding my own.

  “I cannot take this. These are expensive.” I try to hand the precious gift back, but she curls my hand gently around it with both of hers.

  “It’s not expensive for me,” she responds. I raise an eyebrow to prompt an explanation and she sighs. “Several years back, I entered a trivia contest. I saved up all my money for it. First prize was a scholarship into the school or some of the newest tech. Back then it was something that allowed you to travel from home to another door instantly. A portal, I believe the name is. Second place was attending a seminar or monetary prize. Third place was a lifetime supply of teeth cleaning tokens. I took third.” A grimace that attempts to be a smile reflects her own disappointment. The opportunity would’ve been one of a lifetime for her. With a shake of her head, her smile changes to genuine. “At least I never need to worry about my teeth.” She shrugs then walks down the hallway, and I follow.

  “Thank you.” I pour sincerity into my voice in hope she hears it. Taking my opening from an acknowledge brusque wave, I slip into the washroom. Immediately, I relieve myself in the facility then go over to the sink, washing my hands then staring at the tiny piece of magic resting in my palm.

  If I do anything, I need to ensure this girl suffers no repercussions for my presence.

  I crack the token open and watch it dissolve, then float into my mouth, tingling sensations skimming over every nerve. Each shiver-inducing zing reminds me of being a child. It is a fun memory for these kinds of advancements. Once finished, I rejoin Myrl who is sitting in the den.

  “So, are there any places where we can find first meal around here?” I ask quickly. Hunger for a Garde can reach gnawing rapidly. We eat bigger portions more often than a human.

  She turns her quizzical gaze skyward and pauses briefly. Her pink lips purse in thought and I can’t help but notice how cute this little one is. While she is far too petite for my preferences, I know many women who would be interested. However, my intuition tells me it’s not women she’s into.

  With exuberance and what I assume to be hunger, Myrl leaps from her spot and runs to door leading downstairs. “There’s one that’s not too far. I slept in so allow me to ensure everything is still locked up then we can head out, okay?”

  I forgot about the bookstore below. Povash is the owner, but it’s really Myrl’s shop if you get down to it, I suppose. Each loving glance at her books last night was enough of an indicator to show her stake in the shop. My muttered approval sends her disappearing through the doorway.

  I slide my weapons into place under my cloak. Suddenly, a jolt of foreboding zips down my spine. Nothing in the room gives reason for alarm so I slip out onto the small balcony. Scanning the road, nothing appears out of the ordinary, but the absence of chaos is not proof of tranquility. My nostrils flare with adrenaline while I observe the flow of traffic and note the faces of those coming and going.

  Perhaps I am being paranoid.

  Not once has my gut led me wrong. Every passing shade drains tension out of me until a cold realization forces it back. My head snaps to the stairs. Myrl should’ve returned by now.

  Has she gone to expose me? Perhaps she knows who to go see about the assassin.

  My insides twist at the traitorous thought, but truly I do not believe her character to be so duplicitous. That leaves one other option.

  On instinct, I listen for a beat longer and am left with continued silence. The Kæn Filan air greets me when I re-emerge on the balcony. Through tousled hair, I spot her being forced into a cart by a stout man. I recognize him as a fellow patron from the inn I’m staying at. His grip is tight on her and tears pool at the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill with every plea. It’s situations like these where my body’s naturally enhanced state doesn’t lend to a clear head. The full might of my thighs launches me into the air. It’s broad daylight, and this will create a scene, solidifying my image into any witnesses’ memories. With a booming crash, I land directly next to the cart and straighten to my full six-lenga-five height. My orange eyes harden and sear into his. The poor soul gasps, oblivious to the attention we’ve garnered and the unnerving silence following it.

  “Let her go. Now.” I sweep my cloak over my left shoulder, revealing the Diaza emblem. Fear rolls off him in waves, his shaking loosening his grip on the terrified Myrl. His eyes betray the decision he’s weighing of who’s scarier—his employer or me. A low growl frightens him to drop his dirty hand from Myrl’s arm as fast as if her skin burned him. Obviously, I’m the more immediate threat. I offer her a hand, and she latches onto me. With gentle guidance, she scurries behind me.

  “Who sent you?” By now, a small gathering of people watches in interest. They’re likely locals who heard Myrl’s pleas amid abduction and chose to ignore them.

  The man’s head turns on a swivel trying to find a shred of support. None show it, and his shoulders slump with defeat. “I-I-I was only following the order. A bounty was placed on her this morning. Claiming she’s a magic user. I-I...I’m sorry Myrl!”

  He knows her.

  She peers around me and squeaks out, “Estufa, you know I don’t have magic! You were there when they dragged me out at fifteen to test me. How could you?!” Prior tears finally escape thanks to her trembling body.

  This one is a real soft heart.

  “I know! But...if it is between turning in a non-user and reaping the reward versus not? I’ve gotta do it! I need this so my wife will take me back.” Whether he is remorseful or purely embarrassed with being caught, I don’t know. But his mention of a reward has people eyeing my small ward. A group of men to our right nod, malice in their eyes, then point to her. Anger turns my glance to a glare. A tall, skinny one notices, fleeing after mentioning it to the others.

  Vishka. She’s going to need to leave after this. Being nice and allowing her to choose won’t end well. I doubt this Povash character will protect her.

  I sigh, heavy with the knowledge of what I am about to do.

  Straightening again, I raise my voice to a yell. “This girl is obviously being deemed a magic user, something you who reside here know to be false. As a Warrior for Diaza, I will not stand by while you pursue this ludicrous bounty on an innocent. From this moment forward, I, Lesanna Vonev, am claiming her under my protection, and she is given sanctuary by Diaza.” Whispers twist into spreading gossip and I catch Myrl’s perplexed expression. I doubt she knows what my proclamation has done for her. We stand there for a shade, waiting for the crowd to thin.

  Estufa kneads his hands nervously and has the decency to act remorseful. “What about me Warrior Vonev?” He shivers, terror ever present in his tone.

  “I will let you go on the word you will not pursue Myrl ever again. Is that understood?” I’ve never seen a man nod his head so rapidly then hop into his cart, eager to get away with his life. Even while away from home, Warriors of any region are afforded leniency in matters of the law—including taking someone’s life. Myrl steadies her frantic breathing, so I turn to soothe her and offer her a hand. “Let us not dwell at your home for now okay? I think the food at the inn where I’m staying is more than adequate.”

  A barely audible ‘okay’ attests to her distracted demeanor. We weave through the city, occasionally having people step forward to make good on either her or my bounty, only to think twice with a scathing glower. Adding to the intimidation factor, my Diaza emblem is displayed prominently. To provide an extra layer of protection, I plan to give Myrl a sanctuary necklace: Diaza’s emblem on one side and the Povani Council’s symbol on the reverse. Safety may not be guaranteed, but it will dissuade majority of the populace.

  Perhaps I can hand it off to her during our evening meal. It is not smart to offer it where prying ears can easily hear. If someone were to steal it...they could do serious damage once they are in Diaza.

  We arrive at the rather sizeable inn twenty shades later. I enter, survey the dining room, then head up the stairs to my room. Myrl follows closely behind and slams into me when I stop dead in my tracks, a length away from my door. It’s cracked open. No noise comes from within, but regardless, I approach with caution. My petite ward freezes, doubtlessly terrified of more bounty hunters. I motion for her to stay put. Her face shifts into a mocking glare.

  The hilt of my dagger sits in my palm, my back plastered to the wall next to the door. I fling it open and take stock of the disaster that is my room. Everything from the mattress to the drawers are all turned out.

  Ransacked.

  Signs of the intruder have long gone cold, and I am thankful now for packing lightly. Kicking a few of the broken bed posts out of the way, I rifle through the debris with my foot. You never know the sort of evidence you may find. Along the way, I sort any of my belongings into piles, earning me several splinters as a gift.

  I guess not being completely without clothes can be considered a win.

  Whoever came here wasn’t here for Myrl or else they’d have stayed. They were looking for something specific...or specific intel. Feathers from pillows take flight, the mattress flips, and a lamp shatters to the floor in the search for my notes. They include informant testimonies.

  Thank Nuo I did not list their names. I do not know if I would be able to forgive myself for being so careless.

  My destruction doesn’t yield anything. They’re all gone. All the intel I gathered is purely in my head. The possibility of spies, the imps and their tech, the missing people—stolen. Those notes were blessed by the Arcane to keep the truth out of the shadows. It would be enough for war.

  How could I be so stupid?!

  A pit forms in my stomach, so I breathe in deeply through my nose. I have no way to piece together the info again. I used money and other information to bribe informants originally, and while I still have money, I am lacking in substantiated gossip to trade. A flash of anger gets the better of me, and I swing at the night stand, sending it flying, “VISHKA!” The roar reverberates down the hallway and Myrl’s quiet voice floats back, but I can’t discern any words over the pounding of my heart. I fume to the door. “What?!”

  Her red eyes snap wide and she takes a startled step back. “I-I’m sorry. I...just...uh...wondered if you were okay?”

  Immediately, I regret snapping at the small woman.

  Calm down. I simply need to reformulate my plan with a way to fix this.

  “Apologies.” I run a hand through my hair, letting loose a couple strands. “Someone looted my room, including the information I had collected. It was bound with light magic to ensure truthfulness. I have no idea how or if I can replicate that again without extra information to barter with.” My shoulders slump, and I let my hip lean against the drawerless dresser.

  I am usually so careful. How did I let this happen?

  Both our stomachs rumble, reminding us of our need to eat. I chuckle a little. At least the serious air lightens considerably. “Let us get some food. I do not think hunger is helping either of us at the moment.”

  Giving up on completely shutting my door, I lead Myrl downstairs. The innkeeper is my first stop, and I inform her of the break-in. Hopefully, she’ll be able to replace what was broken and perhaps, we’ll receive temporary rooms. Myrl slides into her chair, and I sit perpendicular to her, motion around before saying, “This place isn’t much but from what I hear, it serves a delectable roasted schvan.”

  She twiddles her thumbs without response. The pause seeps in for a moment so I quietly ask her, “Little nastra, what is going on in that head of yours?” Tears fill her eyes, and I’m taken aback slightly.

  I hope this wasn’t my fault.

  “I...I can’t go home.” Myrl’s voice trembles, her spirit breaking right in front of me. “I haven’t even fully explored this city and now, nowhere will be safe for me. Not with a bounty out on me. I was so careful. Always so careful…” Her brows pinch and mouth contorts into a frown.

  If I were younger, I may have put blame on myself for this turn of events. However, there is no changing the past, though, I may be able to help her future. I stroke her shoulder in a show of comradery and she flinches at the touch. To be honest, if she’s had much social interaction in her life, I’d be surprised. Most children who are bought don’t.

  “Listen, my offer still stands—you are more than welcome to come with me to Diaza. It is a bit of a journey, but it certainly can be done. I have asked for a room here on your behalf. Just in case the thought of going home is too much. I do not leave for another day or two, and I will be restocking supplies later today. If you would like, you may accompany me.”

  The barmaid swings by and we order our meals. I enjoy observing the comings and goings of the inn’s patrons. There are several tables of merchants—their clothes a dead giveaway—and not surprisingly, a couple of thieves spread out throughout the place. What does take me by surprise is spotting someone from Ledasa Island. The people there rarely venture this far inland. Their hair is similar to the merfolk of Foena—bright, vibrant, and amazingly soft. I’ve always been a bit jealous of it myself.

  This particular person has tan skin, sculpted arms, coral hair, and eyes so yellow, a flower would turn green in jealousy. Papers lie askew in front of him. His slim build would be the perfect cover for a bounty hunter. I’d imagine with the vast amount of papers though, he is piecing together information. As if sensing me watching him, we lock eyes, and a radiant smile plasters his face. It’s beautiful, full of warmth and kindness—a signature of the Ledasan people. In return, I flash a small smile, noting how he’s paying keen attention to Myrl. She is adorable, so it’s not surprising, but still my instincts are prodded with a nagging worry.