The Source (Creasan #1)

She gazed across the massive crowd and pulled her hat lower over her eyes, her lips curled in disgust. The crowd was happy and excited. Of course they were; they were handpicked by The Guard itself to be that way. Aestus forbid the king should see how his people really felt.

Her eyes scanned the heads of the people, searching for two persons in particular. There, just hidden behind a pillar, stood Merek. Though he wore a hat similar to hers—low enough to hide his face from prodding eyes—she’d been able to spot his large frame easily enough. She could just glimpse the smile beneath the brim and felt her own lips pull up similarly. He was ready.

Next, she found Carac standing among the crowd. He was a bit of a runt, and he knew it, which was why he wasn’t hidden behind a beam. He was facing the stage, but his back had straightened when her eyes had landed on him, as if he could feel them. Carac fidgeted a bit, pulling at his collar.

Not everyone in The Source was easily accustomed to their ways as Thea. Of course it had taken Thea time to learn and train, just as it would anyone else, but she had welcomed it. The twenty-three-year-old Merek had grown up around this sort of thing so he was also quick to adapt, but Carac was a new recruit. This was only his third go around, and he was not as quick to loose the arrow as the rest of them. Which was precisely why he was there today. The only way to learn was to do.

Thea pulled her coat tighter around herself as she stared hard at the stage. He was ten minutes late now. Rather rude, Thea thought, to keep his people waiting. But no matter. The three of them could wait there all day and all night if they must. Where she was situated, on the balcony of some clueless person’s home, was more comfortable than the bed she’d had at home.

Suddenly, trumpets blared and the crowd perked up eagerly. Ah, finally. Thea shifted to get a better view, training her eyes on the new arrivals.

The Guard marched in with flags raised high into the sky, their armor clanking loudly with each step. They visors were drawn so they looked like faceless clones following each other. Just behind them walked demure lords and ladies. Thea wondered if they had been instructed to stick their noses in the air, or if they were all simply entitled arseholes. Probably the latter.

Then behind the squadron of nobles, looking more regal and making Thea fume harder, was the king’s brother, Prince Fendrel. His arms swung at his side like that of a majestic hawk, and his hair fluttered in the chilled wind as if manufactured by Aestus himself. It made Thea want to be sick. Close behind him was Queen Anastas, but please, good people of Creasan, call her Ana. Thea rolled her eyes just looking at her. Her long curly brown hair was piled high atop her head and her blue gown dragged along the filthy ground behind her. Even from such a distance, Thea could see the gooseflesh lining the Queen’s arms. Had no one told Her Majesty that it was cold in Vuterra Village? Ha!

Then, of course, was the king’s son, Prince Althalos. Thea wondered how Fendrel and Ana must feel to know that they were outranked by an eight-year-old. She bet it curdled their insides. That brought a smile to Thea’s face.

Ah, and there he was. Walking several paces behind his wife and son, because Aestus forbid one thinks he was of equal status, was the king himself. King Favian glided toward the stage with his crown perched atop his bright red hair. The trumpets continued to screech into the air as his party of people spread out around him and he climbed the steps to the throne awaiting him. He snapped back the tails of his embroidered cloak and sat ceremoniously on the cushioned chair, his hands held up as if to say See what I have just done?

The crowd applauded loudly for him, complete with joyous shrieks and raucous claps. Thea clenched her jaw to keep from screaming in frustration.

The trumpets stopped abruptly and so did the applause. A haunting silence took up the air as everyone stared at the king and awaited his decree. But he simply gazed back, as if he were enjoying the suspense it brought. Thea wished she could slit his throat right then and there.

He raised his arms again and cried, “Good people of Creasan, I greet you with the utmost respect and humility at your generous welcome this morning.”

Thea saw Merek cover his mouth as he pretended to cough and knew he was masking a laugh at the ridiculous statement.

“It has been some time since I have been able to venture to Vuterra, and I have missed it more than I can voice.”

Queen Ana stood beside her husband, nodding, as if that validated his empty words.

“My son has just began his sword training,” the king continued, “and there is no better place for the Prince of Creasan’s sword to be created than the wonderful blacksmith town of Vuterra Village.”

Applause all around. Oh, yes, kind king, thank you for letting us make you something on threat of losing our heads. Thank you so very much.

King Favian held up his hand and the applause stopped. “But that is not the only reason I have come. You are all aware of the traitors who call themselves The Source.”

Jeers and signs of discontent erupted out of the crowd and Thea snorted.

“Now, now,” Favian said, as if he disapproved at all, “they are my subjects as much as any of you. We must treat them fairly and justly, as Aestus would want. However, I do believe they have become a threat to the whole of Creasan, so I am turning to you, my loyal followers, for help.” He tilted his chin up in the air. “Anyone with knowledge about The Source or information that might help us in finding its members will receive one hundred pounds of my best firewood as well as five thousand gold crowns.”

A murmur unlike any Thea had ever heard rippled through the crowd like wildfire. She smirked. If the king was willing to pay so much for a mere crumb of information, they must be doing something right.

Merek glanced up at her in question. She nodded and he grinned. Slowly, casually, Merek made his way into the crowd, pushing towards the front as subtly as possible. Carac tilted his head just the slightest to make eye contact with Merek.

“Keep in mind,” Favian was saying, “those who provide invented or unfounded information will have to be punished. It is very important that The Guard is not led on a wild goose chase. But I would appreciate any help you can provide. I know that if the people of Creasan stand together against these terrorists, they cannot—"

A loud battle cry rang out, echoing around the near-silent square. Merek charged forward, dagger in hand, and he flung it toward the stage before The Guard had a chance to react. The king’s eyes flew wide as the blade sailed his way. It lodged in the wood beside the king’s head. Thea saw more than heard Merek’s curse as he realized he’d just missed his target. The Guard responded swiftly, charging into the crowd like armored elephants in a stampede.

Precisely as they were meant to do.

Thea put thoughts of concern for Merek out of her head. She couldn’t afford concern right now. She had already loaded an arrow into her crossbow before the king’s arrival, and now she aimed it at Favian. The imbecile was still seated in his throne, too stunned by the events transpiring to move.

Three breaths, just as she had been taught. In through the nose, out through the mouth. She relaxed her grip on the bow. In and out. She poised her finger beside the trigger. In…

Carac moved in the crowd, and Thea’s breaths stuttered. What was he doing? This was not the plan! Thea lowered her bow and watched in horror and Carac sprinted toward the stage. No, no, no! Thea clutched at her hair, seeing what was to happen before it did and feeling helpless. The king was still sat in his throne, not noticing Carac in the chaos that had erupted. She could still take the shot. But Carac was approaching the throne rapidly and—

The Guard had infiltrated the crowd, and Thea could see them narrowing in on Merek. He had another dagger in his hand and looked ready for battle, but with that many Guards coming at him at once—

“Shit!” Thea took off at a run back the way she’d come, sliding over floors and leaping down steps. She burst onto the street, bow still clutched in her hand. She quickly searched for Carac and found him about to break the line of the crowd. She screamed his name but it was too loud to hear her.

Thea shoved through the panicked mass of people. From the corner of her eye, she saw a Guard grab an innocent man and slam his fist into his face. The Guard had no idea where exactly the attack had come from and they were going to take it out on anyone there. Thea cursed again and elbowed her way further into the crowd. “Carac!”

It was claustrophobic within the crowd. People she’d never met where pressed so close against her, she could smell each one. A rotting smell, the smell of a people dying. She nearly gagged as it enveloped her, but she pushed on, seeing Carac’s form between the bodies. “Carac!”

He stopped, glancing back at her voice. He couldn’t see her, even though she waved her hand in the air. Everyone’s arms was flailing as they tried to escape from The Guard. Just beside Thea, a Guard rammed his sword through a women’s throat. He looked up at Thea as the woman collapsed to the ground, and it was a horrifyingly blank stare. She couldn’t make out his eyes behind the visor of his armor; it was like looking into the eyes of Death itself.

The king’s voice rose above the cacophony. “Guards! Guards!”

Thea turned in time to see Carac charge forward, two daggers clasped in each of his hands, a shout of fury streaming from his mouth. The king had risen from his throne and had drawn a sword from his belt. Thea wasn’t entirely sure what sort of training the royals received, but she was willing to bet it would be enough to withstand the meager fight Carac would put up.

Letting out an angry growl, Thea cocked her bow again. There wasn’t time for three breaths. She drew one and pulled down on the trigger.

A body slammed into her at the last second, knocking her aim slightly off. The arrow sailed above the crowd and zipped straight into the king’s left shoulder. Damn it! Thea whirled around to see who had ruined her shot and found a Guard standing there. He’d seen the whole thing.

Thea held her crossbow like a sword, prepared to fight. A metal arm locked around her throat, cutting off her air. She bucked against the Guard, driving her crossbow back into his stomach, but it bounced off like a gong. Thea could feel her movements slowing as her vision began to fade and her eyes rolled around in her head as she tried to remain conscious.

Merek was being held in a very similar position not too far off. His face was bloodied and he favored one of his legs as The Guard converged on him. Carac was being held in place by Prince Fendrel as the king glowered at him.

Stars popped across Thea’s vision and she had one last thought before everything went black.

She had failed.