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    Chapter 25


    No Horns, No Shells


    “But they don’t have any horns,” Endrin grumbled.


    “I never said they did!” Femira retorted.


    “The Yarji have horns—like a stag. Everyone knows this,” Endrin argued.


    “He’s right,” Loreli added, “those just look like Keirans to me,” nodding to the group of seafarers loading crates onto the Yarji junkship.


    “What?!” Femira asked, incredulously, “you think they’re Keiran?! The skin tone is way off, and look at the red tattoos.”


    “Anyone can get a red tattoo,” Endrin replied, “doesn’t make ‘em a Yarji.”


    “No, obviously it doesn’t—If I were to wear stilts and bleach my skin could I call myself Reldoni?”


    “No horns. No deal,” Endrin grunted and turned to leave.


    “No way! You’re teaching me how to do that stoneshell,” Femira warned him, then strode purposefully towards the junkship.


    She had a flutter in her stomach as she marched, the Yarji were known for being reclusive and aggressive towards outsiders but she was a bloodshedder now. She was soulforged! What did she have to fear from them?


    “What are you doin—” Endrin started.


    “—Hey!” Femira called over the seafarers. One of them looked over at her, a handsome guy with hair the colour of burnt copper, “you’re Yarji, right?”


    “Doveksji malesh,” he replied in confusion.


    “Yarji,” she repeated, and pointed at him, nodding, “you are Yarji?” She tried in Keiran. His brows unknotted a bit at the familiar language. The Yarji weren’t part of the Keiran Empire technically, but the Empire claimed the mangrove forests where they lived even if it never enforced its rule there. Most Yarji wouldn’t be able to speak any Keiran at all but these were traders so they might have picked up some.


    “Yes, I am Yarji,” the man replied in a heavily accented Keiran, “my name Hurok.”


    “My name Vreth,” she replied, matching his style of speech and giving him a welcoming smile.


    “Vreth,” he mused, “like the vreth?” he flapped his hands in imitation of wings and bared his teeth in a mock snarl.


    “Yes,” she smiled again, “like the vreth.”


    “Your mother cruel,” he returned the smile but it looked wrong, like he was unaccustomed to the practice of it. Not cruel, just selfish.


    “My friend,” Femira said, pointing back to where Endrin and Loreli stood at the dock. She didn’t like calling Endrin her friend but she was trying to use basic terms to help the Yarji man understand, “can you tell him that you are Yarji?”


    “For the why?” the man replied.


    “He doesn’t think you’re real,” she replied, the man gave her a perplexed look, his nose wrinkling. “I am here, how not real?” he said, patting his chest.


    “He doesn’t think any Yarji are real… and he won’t believe me because you don’t have horns,” the man barked a deep and resonating laugh. It sounded like an unnatural human laugh, more akin to the snorting of a seal.


    “No, no, no. No horns, I am hakrami.”


    “Huk ranny?” she asked, testing the word.


    “Hakrami,” he smiled, it was a strange forced-looking smile on his handsome face, it looked like a grimace but Femira got the impression that he was trying to convey friendliness. Why do people think they are aggressive? This man is so friendly. He then repeated the word and did a swaying gesture with his hand on his chest that she didn’t understand. He seemed to catch on that she was struggling and he pointed to the junkship, “Hakrami,” he said firmly, then pointed at himself, “Hakrami… No horns. Horns in Katvak.”


    “Wait! You’re telling me that some Yarji really do have horns?”


    “Katvak, yes… Horns.” He opened both palms on his head to demonstrate the word.


    “Endrin!” She called and waved him over.


    “This is Hurok,” she introduced with a triumphant air, “he’s Yarji.”


    “Endrin,” she said to Hurok, gesturing to the bloodshedder, “he’s an idiot.” Hurok made the low seal barking noise again,


    “Nice meet, Endreen,” Hurok said in common tongue, his gravelly voice making him sound like he was growling. Maybe that’s why people think they’re so aggressive. Endrin inclined his head to Hurok, his eyes narrowing.


    “No horns,” Hurok said again, making the open palm gesturing on his head and baring his teeth in that awkward and frightening smile. Endrin was stoic but Femira noticed his face reddening a bit.


    Was he embarrassed?


    “You’ve made your point, Vreth,” Endrin said to her, “I’m leaving.”


    “Did I just beat you at something?” she grinned but he was already walking away from them. She smiled back at the confused Hurok and thanked him before chasing after Endrin.


    ***


    The trick to the stoneshell was so simple that Femira chastised herself for not realising it herself. She’d already noticed how rock was easier to shape when you were simply putting it back into its original form—meaning if you sucked in a wall then it was easier to reform it back to the exact shape it was before. It wasn’t like the stone had memory, it was more like a primal will to be something. The rock wasn’t conscious or sentient but it did have a distinct impression of self.


    “That’s your own projection,” Endrin scolded her, “the stone doesn’t want to be a shell any less than it wants to be a boulder… that’s your own mind getting in the way.”


    “So you’re saying I need to believe that the rock is a shell?”


    “More than that, you need to know that it is,” he continued, “as soulforged, we have an enhanced sense for the stone, that sense of being from it… but it’s not alive.”


    “Obviously,” she replied and he snarled at her, “do you want the lesson or not?” She shut her mouth and let him continue.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    “I think it’s because the eradite is now a part of us, we can feel more of the rock. What we’ve learned since some of us started becoming soulforged is that we are far more connected to it, and that allows more power and precision over it.”


    They were on the deck of the ferry crossing back to Epilas, Endrin instructed her to stand by the rail and then walked to the center of the deck.


    “I’m going to fire a projectile at you, and you’re going to summon the stoneshell,” he instructed her. “You’re going to know that it will be the shape of the shell.”


    “And if I don’t shape it fast enough?”


    “Then you’re going to get a rock to the face.”


    Femira felt Endrin’s edir whip into focus and conjure a small rock. It happened in an instant, and he fired it towards her. She reached internally, guiding the material held inside to form the stoneshell around her.


    Her vision swam and pain flared in her face.


    She was on the ground, her nose throbbing from the clod of earth that had hammered into her face. She leapt back to her feet and shot Endrin a death gaze, her eyes stinging and her teeth bared.


    “Getting angry won’t help,” he said, “again.”


    She felt the rush of his edir concentrating again and she reacted faster, she willed the stoneshell around her and felt it beginning to form.


    Pain.


    Choking.


    Blinded as another chunk of earth hurtled into her face. Her eyes watering, she jumped back up again. She could feel blood trickling from her nose. He gave her no warning this time, his edir already whipping into action.


    She grinned.


    ***


    “You’re lucky there’s a healer with us,” Jaz said, wincing as he looked at Femira. Her face felt like she’d taken a dozen punches… which wasn’t far off. The healer was a hawk-nosed Reldoni man that looked more like an executioner than a healer.


    “Reckless,” the healer tsk’d and mumbled as he worked. It wasn’t Femira’s first time being healed and she reckoned it wouldn’t be her last. It was a distasteful experience and not wholly unlike the sensations she’d felt when Garld had performed her soulforging ritual. Healers used bloodstone to repair injuries and minor wounds, more skilled healers could even tackle some diseases and viruses. Bloodstone required touch, the edir works as a preventative barrier to a bloodstone’s influence, Misandrei had taught her in her earliest lessons. It meant that someone with a bloodstone couldn’t just stop your heart dead from across the room, they had to at least touch you. And that means getting close enough to be jabbed in the face with a knife.


    Metal grinding against bone in an eye socket.


    She felt vomit rise in her throat. Shit. She panicked but it was too late, she spewed her lunch onto the healer’s uniform.


    “Ah,” he recoiled in disgust, “I asked you if healing makes you nauseous!” He pointed an accusatory finger at her. He had been half way through healing her broken nose and bruised eyes, it still felt itchy where the healing had been done but at least it wasn’t throbbing anymore.


    Jaz was cackling with laughter and Femira had to smother the sickness in her stomach. She actively tried not… to think about… She vomited again and the healer stormed off in a disgusted fury. He shouldn’t be surprised by a bit of vomit. Wasn’t that all part of his job?


    “You feeling ok, Vreth?” Jaz asked with a touch of concern in his voice, “that’s happened a few times since—”


    “—I’m fine,” she snapped, “just the ferry.” and strode away from a now confused Jaz.


    She wasn’t angry with him. But she didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to think about it… Why was this happening to her? She’d cut people before. People had died because of her and she’d seen plenty of people die in front of her. Why was this stupid dead stormguard refusing to leave her alone?


    She made her way back up to the deck of the ship in the hopes that the fresh sea breeze would settle her stomach and clear her head. It’s just sea sickness. He tried to convince herself even though she’d never had sea sickness before in her life.


    Endrin was now sparring with some of the other bloodshedders. She couldn’t deny that he had impressive skill… and he wasn’t as much of an ass as she’d thought. True to his promise, he had taught her his stoneshell technique, she needed to practice it a lot more before she could summon it as quickly as he could but the afternoon of having stones hurtled at her face had been a good incentive to learn quickly.


    “Hey,” Loreli said, approaching her with a purposeful stride.


    “Don’t start thinking that just because Endrin is mentoring you that we suddenly trust you,” she said.


    “Seriously, Loreli,” Femira rounded on the girl, “what’s your problem?!”


    “You know what my problem is… you don’t belong here,” Loreli snarled.


    “I’m not interested in your boyfriend if that’s what this is about,” Femira sighed, “he’s just helping me with a skill.”


    “The fact that you think that’s what my problem is just proves how naive you are,” Loreli said, “do you understand how hard some of us have worked to get here? The years of training it takes… and a silly girl who barely knows how to fight gets soulforged just like that because of who your parents were.”


    “You don’t know a fucking thing about me,” Femira snapped, then growled through bared teeth, “you think your life has been hard? You know fucking nothing.” She felt her heart pounding in her chest, the waves of her edir pulsing from her. She forced it back, trying to contain it but Loreli had already felt her emotion. The other girl took a step back, her expression rigid. Loreli’s mouth opened to retaliate but Femira cut her off, “I couldn’t give two shits if you trust me or not, it makes no difference to me but I’m not going anywhere so you better get used to it.”


    She stormed off to the front part of the ferry as far from the others as she could get. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. She still felt nauseous but that was probably just the ship… not the dead stormguard… she forced down another lurch in her stomach. It definitely had nothing to do with stupid fucking Loreli. It didn’t matter what the other bloodshedders thought of her. All that mattered was Garld and Missandrei’s assessments, they would be the ones to decide if she got to proceed on.


    But does that even matter now?


    She’d already become soulforged, along with more strength and knowledge that she could barely have imagined a few months before. So what was she still doing here? She should be looking for a way out, shouldn’t she? But there was always the promise of more…


    She watched the lapping waves in silence and was happy when she saw the city of Epilas looming on the horizon. The Pillar of Reldon standing tall on the skyline. She didn’t owe any loyalty to the Reldoni. Not Missandrei, not Garld, not Landryn.


    They had protected her though. And they’d given her what she wanted, power and promises of more of it… what was this she was feeling and why did Loreli’s words sting like that. She shouldn’t care what some highborn bitch thought of her. Was Loreli even highborn? She realised she didn’t know. Endrin wasn’t, it wasn’t so crazy to think that Loreli wasn’t either.


    ***


    The bloodshedders victory at Innish Head was common knowledge upon their return to Epilas. Word had spread ahead of them that it hadn’t been pirates but fully manned Altarean warships that had been raiding the villages along the Tidewall. The bloodshedder’s renown as the elite force in the Reldoni military was rising. When they rode through the streets of Epilas, people cheered and applauded to their glory.


    They’d killed hundreds of people. Hundreds. And people were applauding them. If a criminal killed one person, these same people would be shouting with anger and hatred. But they cheer for us. Her brothers hadn’t meant to kill that man, but they’d been executed for it without question or trial. Now she’d killed three people directly. And more as a result of her runewielding. But the people applauded her for it. There was something wrong in that, she thought sadly as the group returned to the barracks.


    She was happy to finally be back in her own room, her own bed. She thought about how funny it was that this room had begun to feel like home to her when it had only been a few months. She’d been in Lichtin’s crewhouse for years and that place had never felt like home.


    There was a letter waiting at her door when she’d arrived. She broke the wax seal and unfurled the scroll. It was written in common tongue but her lessons with Aden were paying off and she could more or less surmise the meaning as she read.


    <blockquote>


    Lady Annali Jahar,


    Stonebreaker of the Reldoni Royal Army, Bloodshedder Division.


    Your involvement in the recent mission has received commemoration from the Crown.


    King Abhran Tredain wishes to thank you for your exceptional service in his name. An invitation to a feast in the Pillar of Reldoni is being extended to all members of the excursion party tasked with locating and destroying the Altarean corsairs. The efforts involved in this undertaking have been deemed as extraordinary and is a testament to the strength of the bloodshedders and the Reldoni Royal Army.


    </blockquote>


    The rest of the letter went on with the details of the feast the following evening along with outlining the bonus compensation that all members of the mission were receiving.


    Fifty silver marks! It was more money than Femira had ever owned in her life. Some fucking bonus. She wondered how much of a bonus Missandrei or Garld would be getting, or were they so rich, did they even care about such things?


    Well if the promise of more power hadn’t been enough to secure her loyalty to them then this payment certainly was. She couldn’t help but smile looking at the paper. The name on it bothered her… would she always need to pretend? It was a silly question. She already knew she was too deep as Annali to turn back now. All of the nobility believed she was her, there wasn’t any shaking that off


    A feast at the Pillar would mean more nobility and more pretending… she thought idly if Landryn would be there too. The letter didn’t mention him, it was signed by King Abhran’s steward. Would the King himself be at the feast? She hadn’t met the man yet and she wasn’t sure how she’d react if she did.


    Her face was still bruised and cut from her training session with Endrin but that wouldn’t matter. She was a returning soldier after all, a few injuries only made her look more battle-hardened. They didn’t need to know it had been Endrin firing clumps of earth into her face. The healer had fixed her up mostly, but they always left a few of the superficial injuries. They claimed it was because they were conserving their energy for larger wounds but Femira suspected they left them as a lesson to be more careful in training and not to rely so heavily on being healed afterward.


    Putting the thoughts of the feast and her face aside, she rested her head into her pillow and breathed a satisfied sigh, content with finally getting the chance to rest.


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