A Girl From Nowhere (The Firewall Trilogy #1) - James Maxwell Page 0,55

He looked up; high above he saw a thin strip of sky. While Griff sniffed at the air, Taimin scanned the area cautiously.

“The gorge keeps going,” Lars said when Taimin had caught up to him. “He said he lives alone. This way.”

“So why did you need Selena?” Taimin asked.

Lars snorted. “Lad, you still don’t realize, do you? That girl is infinitely more powerful than me. Her casting shines like Dex—I can see it, and it’s beautiful to behold—while my talent is more like a shard of glass. With my eyes closed, I can sense that you’re nearby . . . sometimes. That’s about it.”

“Yet everywhere Selena has gone people have feared her,” Taimin said. “If she’s so powerful, why didn’t she do something?”

“Because she’s wild . . . untrained and undisciplined. And because people have always tried to keep her potential from her. If you had a caged wyvern, and could convince the wyvern it’s a lizard, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

“What is it she’s capable of?”

“By the rains, it’s not like I know myself. But I’ll tell you this: she’s valuable to those skalen. And one more thing . . . if she ever gets instruction, I won’t go within a thousand leagues of her without protecting my mind.”

Lars glanced at Taimin and noticed his furrowed brow.

“Mystics have their abilities confused by aurelium,” the skinner explained. “Sometimes people with wealth wear a circle of aurelium shards around their neck. Remember that skalen—the group leader, Vail? They say it protects a mind from intrusion.”

The walls of the gorge soon parted to reveal a far wider area, with high cliffs on all sides. Taimin saw signs of habitation. The rows in the groves of lifegiver cactuses were too regular to be natural, and as he and Lars trudged between fields of razorgrass, he saw a workbench and some rough planks of blackwood. A cluster of basalt trees grew near a fire pit.

“Whoever lives here knows what he’s doing,” Taimin said. He conjured up an image of a tough, solitary settler; a male version of Abi.

“Still, one raid and it’s all gone,” Lars said.

“Which might never come.”

“Or might come tomorrow,” Lars said.

A squat house similar to the one Taimin grew up in dominated the center of the small valley, fenced on all sides at a height of twelve feet. Caves at the base of the cliffs gave the impression they were carved by an intelligent hand rather than nature.

Taimin’s gaze moved from one area to the next. A mystic had spoken to Lars, in the same way that the trapped mantorean had sought help from Selena. Lars was right: they needed help. But what if it was a trap? He sought comfort by reminding himself that he and Lars had nothing to take.

Spying movement, Taimin tensed. He saw a figure walking toward them, a smile on his face and his arms wide in welcome.

“Lars . . .” Taimin said uncertainly.

The mystic who had guided Lars was a skalen.

Far older than Vail, he had a bald head, stooped back, and walked with slow steps. Most skalen were toothsome, but his broad smile showed missing teeth. Nonetheless, he bore scars on his hands and a hunting knife at his waist; to have lived so long, he was clearly a survivor. In comparison to the skalen traveling with Vail, his leather trousers and vest were surprisingly close to what a human might wear.

Lars gave Taimin a stunned expression. “It was just a voice . . . I had no idea.”

“Please, you have nothing to fear,” the old skalen said. “My name is Syrus. Welcome to my homestead.”

“Why didn’t you say you were a skalen?” Lars asked.

“Would you have come?” Syrus asked. “You are two travelers in need, and you might have stayed away.”

Taimin’s shoulders began to relax, but he was still wary. Not so long ago, he had been held captive by skalen, and here he was, seeking help from another.

Syrus glanced from face to face. His almond eyes had depth and conveyed the wisdom of many years. “There was a time when I feared helping others, afraid I would be murdered in the night for what I have.” He chuckled. “But what I have is not much, and I miss conversation. Perhaps a sword would be a better way to go than to die alone in my sleep. Time will tell.”

“Skalen are supposed to live in mines and caves,” Taimin said cautiously.

“So we are.” Syrus smiled. He glanced over his shoulder. “I did not