Duskfall (16 page)

“How…” Winter looked up at Kali.

“Nash is a telenic,” Kali replied. “One of the most skilled in the Sfaera.”

Winter slumped in her saddle. She was trembling. What she had just seen
was
impossible.

But she had seen it, hadn’t she?

“Nash,” Kali continued, spurring her horse forward after him, “is what we call an actual. He possesses the innate ability to use his mind to manipulate objects. Born with it, you could say. Another class of psimancers exists, but… they are a bit more manufactured.”

“Winter, come on,” Lian said. Winter realized she had been sitting there, Nynessa fidgeting in the middle of the road, while everyone else had continued onward. She spurred the horse forward.

“Before I tell you about the other two specialties of psimancy,” Kali continued, “I should point out another distinction between actuals and variants. Actuals, like Nash, have the ability within themselves. But variants require something external to bring out their talents.”

Kali paused, perhaps waiting for one of them to ask what this “something” was. Winter said nothing. She was still reeling from what she had seen Nash do.

“It’s a narcotic of sorts. A substance not unlike what you know as grit, or devil’s dust.”

“So people can just take this… drug, and they can use magic?” Lian asked.

“It’s really more of a science,” Kali said, frowning. “Not just anyone can take the drug and discover these abilities within themselves. A very small percentage possesses this proficiency. But yes, when they take the narcotic, their ability is temporarily accessible.”

“So why don’t they take the drug all the time?” Lian asked.

Winter’s mind felt like it was moving at a fraction of its normal speed, refusing to process what she had just seen. This—all of it—was impossible.

“The drug—
faltira
, technically, although most who use it refer to it as frost—can be addictive.”

“
Faltira
,” Winter repeated.

“It means ‘frostfire’ in Old Khalic,” Kali said.

“What about the other forms of psimancy?” Winter interjected. She felt curious now, even if she still could hardly believe what she’d seen.

“Acumency,” Kali said. “While not as outwardly apparent as telesis, it can be just as powerful. Acumens delve into the minds of others, discerning thoughts. You can think of telesis as the external form of psimancy, and acumency as the internal. While the distinction isn’t technical, it can be helpful when learning.”

Winter frowned. As much as the idea of people controlling objects with their minds alarmed her, the idea of someone digging around in her brain was even worse.

“As I said, there is a third form of psimancy, but it is less clear-cut than either telesis or acumency. And less reliable. Best to leave that discussion for another day.”

Part of Winter was suspicious of Kali keeping the third form from them, but another part was grateful. She felt a strange longing to see Nash use the power again; she was already doubting whether she had seen it in the first place. Moving objects? Reading minds? It was outrageous.

And yet she
had
seen it. Something had taken her necklace, and put it back on again. She didn’t know how they could have faked that.

“Why haven’t I heard about these abilities before?” Winter asked.

Kali smiled wearily. “Because of your own government and the Cantic religion. But, these abilities only started manifesting themselves a few decades ago. The few psimancers who do emerge are voraciously sought by the nobility, the government, and the Denomination. None of them want such knowledge in the hands of the public. Instead they spread rumors of ‘magic’ and ‘sorcery.’ In reality, no such things exist.”

“Not anymore,” Lian said.

Both Kali and Winter turned to look at him.

“What was that?” Kali asked.

“Not anymore,” Lian repeated. “Magic and sorcery don’t exist
anymore
. But they did, once, during the Age of Marvels.”

“The Age of Marvels is a topic of much debate,” Kali said.

Winter had no interest in the Age of Marvels. “If this is supposed to be a secret, why are you telling us?”

“Because we’re going to test you,” Kali said. “We want to find out whether either of you can access the abilities. They are… uncommon, in the tiellan race. Far less common than in humans. But I have a nose for these sorts of things, and I’ve sensed something about the two of you. Nash and I want to discover if my instincts are correct.”

“You’re an acumen?” Winter asked.

Kali smiled, genuinely this time. “I am.”

The woman looked at Nash. Winter followed her gaze, squinting in the sun. She was surprised to see it was past noon already.

“Nash,” Kali called, “how long until we set up camp?”

“Another few hours,” Nash called over his shoulder. “Five at most.”

“Be sure we have some daylight left when we do,” Kali said. She looked at Winter, then at Lian. “We’re going to test them tonight.”

J
UST BEFORE SUNSET, THE
girl ambushed him.

They’d been discussing when to choose a campsite. Astrid wanted to stop soon, while Knot wanted to continue on for a spell. Knot hadn’t even turned his back on the girl—he’d been careful
not
to, especially since the conversation he’d overheard a few nights earlier. But when he looked up, she was gone.

Then she’d slammed into him from his left, and now Knot was fighting for his life.

He narrowly dodged as she swiped at him. Knot wasn’t keen on finding out how claw-like her fingers could really be. He wove to the side, gripping his staff loosely. Anger filled him. He should have known. Should have confronted her about what he’d overheard, should have tried to escape instead of waiting for the right moment.

Knot swung at the girl, but it cut cleanly through nothing. Astrid snarled, darting around him, and before Knot could move he felt a thumping pain on his back as the girl slammed into him. He stumbled, the air rushing out of his lungs. She was
strong
. He gasped for air, and felt the girl leap onto his back. His blood boiled at the thought that he’d actually begun to
trust
her.

Astrid wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing. Knot’s head grew heavy. He fell to his knees, turning his head sideways to get as much air as possible, his hands pulling against hers. They were a disturbingly even match.

He dropped to the ground, twisting in the air as he did so, and slammed her against the packed snow. Knot cried out; he’d hit her with his bad shoulder. Astrid grunted underneath him, and her grip loosened for a fraction of a second. Knot felt it and jabbed his elbow into her ribs. He rolled away, sucking in air.

One instinct told him to back away, but another—the one he’d learned to trust, and to fear—told him to press the attack. He pounced, dagger drawn. She caught it with both hands, but even her strength couldn’t stop the downward motion of the dagger as it pierced her neck.

The girl laughed, the sound eerie and morbid, gurgling through her punctured throat.

“Won’t kill me,” she whispered.

Knot withdrew the dagger and attempted to press the blade flat against her neck. If stabbing her wouldn’t do it, perhaps cutting her Goddess-damned head off would.

Astrid was too fast. She deflected him before he could press the blade against her, and before Knot knew what was happening, they were rolling. His shoulder slammed against a tree. Snow showered down on them. Somehow Astrid had reversed their positions.

The girl knelt above him, holding his own dagger at his throat.

She smiled at him, her hair and face covered in snow and her own blood.

“Not bad,” she said, shaking the snow from her head. Knot wanted to whisper something along the lines of “go ahead” or “finish it.”
Might be nice to go out with bold words
. But, honestly, he wanted to
live
, even if his life had gone to Oblivion.

Astrid stood, tossing the dagger aside. “Not bad at all,” she said, hefting her pack and moving off away from the road. “This means we’re setting up camp now, by the way. I won, fair and square.”

Knot stared at the girl. She had just tried to kill him. Hadn’t she?

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Please. Don’t tell me you were scared for your life just now.”

Knot stared at her.

“Oh, Goddess,” the girl murmured. “You
were
scared for your life.” She grinned. “That’s adorable!”

Knot stood. He couldn’t take her craziness. Not after what she just did.

“You need to level with me,” he said, walking towards her. Vampire or not, he needed to know. “The other night, in Brynne. I heard you talking with someone, right before I came into our room. You were talking about
me
. Who were you talking to?”

The girl looked at him, the humor gone from her face.

“Look, I’m sorry if I caught you off guard. I just wanted to see what these fighting skills you’re always talking about were like firsthand. No need to get in a knot about it.” Her grin returned. “Ha! Get it? Your—”

He grabbed her collar, lifting the girl up to eye-level. Pain seared through his shoulder, but he ignored it. She was strong, but still light. He lifted her easily.

“
Who were you talking to?
” he asked again.

“Get
off
me.” She broke his grip and he dropped her to the ground. She pushed him,
hard
, and Knot stumbled back a few paces.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Astrid said, glaring at him. She dusted herself off, although the gesture seemed ridiculous. “In Brynne? I wasn’t talking with
anyone
. It was just the two of us. You saw when you came in, I was the only one in the room.”

“I… I heard you,” Knot said. He realized he was sitting in the snow. When had he sat down? “Talking with someone. You were talking with someone about me.”

The girl smiled tentatively. “Sorry to burst your bubble, nomad, but you’re not much to talk about. Not sure why I would tell anyone about you in the first place.” Her smile faded. “And, honestly, I don’t have anyone to tell.”

Knot didn’t know what to say to that. Was she lying? She had to be.

But, just like that, Knot began to doubt.

Had there been a second voice? Suddenly, Knot wasn’t sure. He’d heard Astrid speaking, but had there really been anyone else? Or had he, Knot, the man who had severe memory issues to begin with, imagined the whole thing?

Knot pushed himself up and spat into the snow. How could he trust this girl—or anyone, for that matter—when he couldn’t trust himself?

Astrid had made it clear she was accompanying him; not much he could do about that. And the girl had her uses. Perhaps he was better off dropping the whole thing. Wasn’t much of a choice anyway. He could try to escape her, and fail. Or he could let her accompany him, and risk her betraying him. The girl’s motives would reveal themselves eventually. If she had any.

Knot walked over to his pack and took out their blankets. There were enough trees nearby that they could probably have a fire tonight. Fuel, and relative cover for the flames. It would be good to feel warm again.

When he had set up his sleeping area, he looked back at Astrid.

“If that’s what you’re like before the sun has set,” he said, “don’t
ever
blindside me after twilight.”

“Try not to piss me off, and I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a grin. She had recovered surprisingly well. The wound at her throat was almost fully healed, although a smear of blood remained. She lounged in the snow, her back against a rock, reading a small, leather-bound book.

“In fact,” Knot said, “let’s just settle for not doing that again at all.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t fight for entertainment.” The truth was, he hated every minute of a fight. Every reflex, every movement, only reminded him how much he craved it.

“Could have fooled me,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “A man who can nearly best a vampire has to take fighting seriously.”

Knot shrugged. “It just ain’t who I was, anymore. Ain’t that person.”

“Ain’t ain’t a word.”

Knot barely resisted a smile. “Ain’t my business what is a word and what isn’t. Or what ain’t.”

“You know better. You’re educated. Why do you say it? You even
sound
like a nomad, from the east plains.”

“You mean I sound like a tiellan?” Nomads were infamous for taking on the lilting drawl of the tiellan—they thought it made them sound tougher.

Knot supposed it had something to do with being raised, essentially, by tiellans for the past year. He’d picked up the accent after waking in Pranna. “I just say what feels right,” he said. “‘Ain’t,’ for me, happens to be right sometimes.”

Astrid shrugged, and went back to her book. Knot finally thought he had a moment to himself when she looked up at him again.

“You said you’re not that person anymore. Isn’t that who we’re looking for in Roden? Why are we looking for someone you don’t want to be?”

Knot didn’t answer. Having heard what he heard—or might have heard—in Brynne, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to Roden at all.

Anger crawled beneath Knot’s skin, threatening to burst. He could blame it on Astrid’s attack, on the fact that he had no way of knowing whether she was being honest with him. He could blame it on his frustration with his memory, his doubts. He could blame it on a lot of things, but the truth was he’d never felt this angry in Pranna. He’d never felt so fragile.

Had leaving been the right decision?

“We aren’t looking for
him
,” he said. “We’re just trying to find out why I am this way. If I do that… maybe I can find some peace.”

Astrid shrugged. “Whatever you say. But if you ask me, that’s who you are whether you like it or not. Might as well embrace it.”

Knot shook his head. “I don’t want to do the things he did. The nightmares are enough to last me an eternity.”

“You don’t have to do exactly what he did,” she said. Her tone was serious, a rare occurrence. “But you can use what he knows to change yourself. You can help people, protect them. You don’t have to do whatever it was you did before. Or whatever it was you
think
you did.” She looked down again at her book. “And don’t whine to me about eternity.” Knot thought he saw her expression change from its normal, amused look to something darker. Haunted. “When your thoughts have been tormenting you for three hundred years, then, maybe, we can talk.” She stood, setting her book aside, and walked into the surrounding forest.