Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(95)

Shanti stared at her food, her stomach churning. “And these stories—they involve a man?”

The bartender looked around again, shuffling closer until he was right up at the edge of the table. His tone was low and words nearly a whisper. “The man that woman was traveling with, yes, ma’am. Not sure if she still is—haven’t heard. But this man--word is, he attracted the attention of that army I hear all kinds of stories about. Wiped out one of them cities those Inkna took over. Like I said—a couple people got out. Rode through here—nearly killed the horse with exhaustion. Way I hear it, Inkna were interested in his city—and you know what happens, then…they move in. No one stands in their way. Well. It’s said someone did. He held his ground, then he shows up at the Inkna city and wipes them out? Him and a violet eyed woman?” The man tilted his head in a telling sort of way. “That kinda thing calls attention, make no mistake. I reckon the Inkna’ll have more interest now. And they have backing. The Inkna don’t like to lose. People are saying that man might be able to stand in the way of that ol’ Being Supreme…”

The man’s voice hitched and he glanced around hurriedly, as if saying the name would call attention to himself. Not able to help spreading gossip, though, and probably happy to have a listening ear who hadn’t already heard the information, he continued on in the same deathly quiet voice. “They say if anyone, you know…could stand in the way, it’d probably be that man. Him and that violet-eyed girl. Word is, they tore through that Inkna town. Tore right through it. Took down all that mind-power. Now, I don’t know—this is all tall tales. But I do know that no one has done that before. No one I’ve heard of, anyway. Got them all nervous.”

The bartender backed off a bit and grabbed his rag. “Now, like I said, I don’t know. These are just things I heard. I only know what comes through these doors. Tall tales, usually, like I said. But a lone woman is the worst kinda thing, regardless. She’ll get nabbed, sure as I’m standing here. You best stick to your room, and then find someone to travel with.”

Shanti tilted her head in thanks, her throat closed up with suppressed emotion. Of course, it had been silly to think they’d killed everyone in that battle. Stupid to think no witnesses could’ve escaped. Inkna were cowards. Most of the people the Graygual commanded were—that was the thing about fighting because you were forced to; you didn’t stick around if you didn’t have to. And glowing eyes were the telltale sign of the Gift, no matter the potency. Cayan would’ve been noticed before he even made it into the stronghold. Plus, no one person could’ve held her own against that many Sarshers. Not even her.

Shanti’s heart sank as the bartender moved away quietly. A release of power here would paint a big target on her location, and it still wouldn’t help Cayan. If the Graygual didn’t move in for his power, the Inkna would move in for his riches. It was only a matter of time.

But to help him, she had to get the Shadow People to her side.

Guilt settled into her stomach as she pulled her plate to her. She should’ve better trained him when she had the time. She’d been afraid of his might. Of what he could become. Also, she’d been wary of how her power acted with his, and how she felt when it did. She’d backed away, ever the coward, and now it left him vulnerable.

The roast mutton tasted like sand in her mouth. She forced the food down, needing to keep her strength up. Regardless of her failings to Cayan, tomorrow she would have to continue her journey, hoping Cayan started building his forces; hoping that would buy him time. Buy her time. The prophecies said that the true Chosen needed to lead the Shadow People out of the Land of Mists. That only the true Chosen could grant the world’s salvation. She needed to fulfill her duty.

She needed to continue her journey as planned.

Refusing to sigh, or to feel the pang of discomfort from her decision, she pushed the haze away and honed back in on her surroundings. It wasn’t a time for remorse—she was without protection again. Without Cayan at her side and his men at her back. Alone meant surviving.

A group of three men entered the common room together, having a glance around. Travel stained like everyone else, these men had hard bodies and shifty eyes. One with a beard glanced at her, his brow furrowing. He did a sweep of the rest of the room, before following his mates in her general direction. Another of the men, a barrel chested man with dirt on his cheek and killing in his eyes, sighted her before glancing to the table next to her. The third man glanced at her as well and then to the empty tables in her area.

She must’ve been in their usual seat, and though she felt wariness from them as another person might scream-sing their favorite song, they didn’t count her as a threat. In fact, they took the table next to hers along the wall, probably happy to be next to the dirty woman hunkering in the shadows instead of any of the other rough looking individuals carrying an array of weapons.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. They saw him again,” the man with a beard was saying in a low tone as he took the seat closest to Shanti. He didn’t bother sparing her a second glance. None of his party did, in fact. Which was a good sign. They were worried about their own troubles, and didn’t want anyone else’s.

“Who? That fella calling himself the Chosen?” the barrel chested man asked.

All other noise in the room ceased to exist as Shanti honed in.