Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 22

Energy coursed through my veins like lightning bolts. It was an unfamiliar sensation, like my body was vibrating. But I couldn't stop staring at my hands. I, who had sworn never to do so, had just taken a life. A human life. I had entered into a frenzied rage and killed a man with my gift.

I lurched backward, slamming against the hardened mud wall. All the anger was gone, replaced by shame.

I had betrayed myself.

I slid down the wall, wrapped my arms around my knees, and buried my face. Was I any better than Borga? Had I become a monster too? I couldn't tell if my body was shaking from too much energy or shuddering with sobs.

"Siena!"

Remi's voice cut through my self-loathing and I looked up. He was bent over an unconscious Galen, surrounded by three confused guards. Blood seeped from Galen's head where the club had smashed into his skull.

"He needs your help, hurry!"

I tamped down my revulsion and sprang to my feet. The startled guards looked from me to Borga's crumpled body and took a step back.

"I am not your enemy," I stated. "Please let me help this man."

They looked at each other, mystified about what to do next. I took a step toward Galen, and they took another step back, raising their weapons. I stepped again, careful not to make any threatening gestures. They watched as I crossed the room and knelt next to Galen's bleeding face. I cradled his head in my hands, and my energy practically sparked into him. The crushing blow vanished and he soon began to stir.

Galen sat up with a groan, touching the blood on his face, then running a hand over the site of the injury. "Thank you, Siena."

He surveyed the room, taking in Borga's rumpled body, the dead guard, and the three stupefied ones, who had lowered their weapons. "What happened here? How did you . . ." He peered at Borga's unmoving form and then back at me.

I looked away, unable to speak, shame once again crowding my senses.

"She drained him," Remi answered in my stead. "He was choking her, and she turned the tables on that animal."

Galen seemed stunned. "You can do that?"

"I don't want to be a life-taker," I whispered. "I don't want to turn into Borga."

Galen grabbed both my arms, forcing me to look at him. "You are the gentlest creature I have ever met. You could never be Borga."

I saw the sincerity in his eyes. I wanted so much for it to be true. My head involuntarily turned to look at the bodies on the floor again. Borga killed that man, and I killed Borga, and now the energy from both their lives coursed through me. It felt wrong.

"You did what you had to," Galen said firmly. "If you hadn't, we would all be dead. Foresthome would be burned to the ground. You know this."

I looked at Remi, who nodded in agreement. Then I looked at the dumbfounded guards, who offered no response. One of them had a swollen eye where someone had punched him, another was bleeding from his cheek where fingernails had raked across.

I pushed myself to my feet and turned to them. They stared at me, wide-eyed and undecided on whether to stay or run. I took careful, measured steps toward them, maintaining eye contact, hoping to ease their skittishness. My slight frame offered no threat, and I soon stood before them, looking up into their curious faces.

Slowly, I raised a hand to the first man's battered face. He was tall, broad, and muscular. He flinched at first, but did not raise his spear. My hand closed over his swollen eye and the other two guards looked on, wondering if I was going to give or take life.

When the swelling deflated and the bruise disappeared, I removed my hand. The guard touched his face, eyes filled with wonder. "She has the touch of a goddess," he said to the other two.

I turned to the second man, who allowed me to touch the gouges on his cheek. He, too, marveled over his newly healed face. I took the hand of the third man, whose knuckles had been scraped, and poured my warmth into it. His rapturous expression soon mirrored that of the other two. Then they looked to their fallen comrade.

I followed their gazes and swallowed. I wasn't sure anything could be done for him, but I knelt by him anyway, turning him over. His eyes were glassy and vacant. I pressed my hands into his chest and closed my eyes, but there was nothing to connect to, no energy at all left in the body. It was just a shell now.

I looked to the three guards with regret. "I'm so sorry. It's too late for this one." I turned back to the dead man and pulled his eyelids shut. "I can't bring him back."

The first guard crossed over to me and gently lifted me to my feet. "I despised Borga. You did what no one else dared."

I looked up at his kind eyes. "What happens now?"

"Borga killed the chieftain's entire family, leaving no heir," he said grimly. "The Krat are leaderless. There will be chaos. But for now, I will spread word about what you have done here, what you have done for us all."

The other two men nodded in agreement, and the three guards headed for the door. The second man paused and asked, "May I have your name?"

I stood there, nonplussed, not expecting such behavior from Plainsmen. "My name is Siena."

"It is an honor to know you, Siena," he said, then ducked out the door.

And I'd be honored if you clicked the vote button. Thank you for putting up with my incessant reminders!