Tale 2: War of the Seeker

Chapter 1

Hushed whispers circled the air around me. A gentle hum in my ears that slowly turned into words.

“Is she dead?”

“No doubt about it. Just look at her… Come on, guys, let’s dump her before she stains the walk.”

“Hey, I’m not touching her.”

“Come on, don’t be a little―”

“Why don’t you move her, if you’re so high and mighty?”

“Nobody’s going to move her! Let’s just wait for a guard to come and―”

“Are you guys serious? Why don’t you―Cade!”

I screeched as a burning pain surged through my abdomen―a finger poking me in the ribs. The next thing the owner of that finger saw was a very nice close-up of my fist.

I groaned and rolled over, every part of me in pain.

Fight it.

I bit down on my lip, bringing the pain in.

You have to fight it.

And then it was under control.

I moved to sit up but immediately fell back, pain shooting through my ribs and down to the fingertips of my left arm, to the toes of my left foot. “Mother of the sky…” I grumbled. Broken ribs. Definitely broken ribs.

“Woah there,” someone said. “I wouldn’t be moving just yet.”

I opened my eyes. Well, one eye seeing as my face was pressed flush against the sidewalk.

There was my hand next to me. And feet… not my feet.

I looked up. There was a hand being offered to me. And a kind, attractive face. “Hello.”

I stared at him. “Hello.” My throat was gravelly and sore.

He cocked his head. “Nice accent.”

I had a different accent?

That’s bad. Change it. Match them.

“What accent?” I groaned, exaggerating the stress of my vocal chords.

His eyebrows made a small dip before recovering. “Need some help?”

“Zeke,” another guy said warningly. “She’s trouble. Let’s just go.”

Zeke only stared at me… and then smiled. “No. I like her. She’s got a nice punch.”

“Hey!” the last guy said. He was the one holding his newly broken nose.

“Are you sure?” a girl asked. “I agree with Dex. I think she’s trouble.”

“What’s your name?” Zeke asked me.

I opened my mouth, and then stopped mid-breath.

What’s my name?

My eyebrows scrunched together. How do I not know my own name?

I racked my mind, kind of embarrassed in front of all of these eyes, to have forgotten my own name.

Then I realized, as I racked my brain for information… I didn’t know.

I didn’t know my name.

I didn’t know anythingabout myself.

I couldn’t find a shred of memory. Nothing. Not my name, not my age, not what happened to me…