Title: Tapestry of Challenges
Chapter: 3 – Safety
Author: Kitty

"..." Talk
'...' Thought
italic Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or creatures from Tamora Pierce's books; however, I do own those I have made up for this story. I also own the plot. If you want to use names of my characters or any ideas based from my story, get permission first.

Summary: A new time is upon the kingdom of Tortall; a young woman who has gone against the rules of being a noble woman is in power with no suitor by her side. The age of darkness has begun to fade, but conspiracies are being born. Can Kalasin trust anyone but herself, or is everyone deceiving her?

"No. NO!" Kalasin cried out.

"Kalasin, listen to me! Did you really think a puny human like that pathetic excuse for a man could love you? He was the easiest to posses at times-"

"You used him," she whispered dangerously, her words cutting Mithros off, "Lerant was just a tool to you. A tool you used to get to me."

Grabbing her chin, Mithros forced her to look at him. "Kalasin, stop being so dramatic. All humans are tools to the gods. It's how the realms function. You may be a bit of a tool, but you are no normal human. You are my little goddess, my little warrior, and the mother of our child." He leaned in until his face was a mere inch away from hers. "Is it so hard to let me love you? I want us to be together, and we will, Kalasin. I own you, and I will have you by my side."

All the girl could do was stare at him and shiver as his warm breath hit her skin. "But," she whispered, "I loved him."

"You are too innocent to know what it is to love someone," Mithros said as he leaned it, letting his lips cover hers. His hand slid to cover her belly, his power leaking inside of her.

Kalasin's eyes fluttered shut, her lips tingling at the sensation of his own pressing against hers. Warmth grew deep inside her, spreading throughout her body until her cheeks flushed. Soon the pleasure turned to pain, starting in her lump of a stomach. She pulled away from the god, gritting her teeth.

As the girl opened her eyes, she found herself standing before a shabby looking inn. Mounted atop a horse standing beside her was Merric, his blue eyes blazing furiously at her.

"What do you think you are doing?" he cried out, and was about to scold her more, but he stopped himself when her eyes filled with tears. Merric watched as she fell to her knees, her gown covered in dirt and dark stains. Tears rolled down her cheeks as her cries shook her body. Looking around, he saw no sign of the sergeants he assigned to the girl. "Where are they?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Th-they got them," she managed to say after a few more minutes of weeping.

"Well, it seems you've gotten your wish." Leaning down, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to her feet before readjusting his grip on her and pulling her into the saddle. She's too light, he thought to himself, even if she's pregnant, it shouldn't be that easy to lift her up.

Letting her relax against him, he shook the horse's reins and rode off. The guards that were assigned to him were still at the inn; sleeping off the large amount of alcohol they consumed the previous night. Refusing to let his arrival be delayed, he had left them there. Glancing at Kalasin, who was now slumbering, he thought bitterly to himself, I should have left her there as well. She'll only be a burden to me.

Looking down at the sleeping female, a pain filled his chest. Even if she would be a burden to him, he would bring her along and protect her. He had promised his friend, and now deceased king, that he would do so no matter what. When he first encountered Cyril, and was threatened by that man, the promise he made had fled his memory until now.

"Don't worry, Kalasin. I vow I'll keep you safe, even if it does cost me my fief and my people's loyalty. I never go back on my word."

Wrapped in a tattered blanket, Roald followed his rescuers closely, aware that one carried a bundle in their arms that was his wife. Once the boat was tied up, he was led through a series of dirt roads; streets that ran off from a main road, their surroundings dark and unsettling.

After what felt like hours to Roald, the small group reached a clearing; fields of wheat and barley lining one after the other while shack-like homes cluttered together, the fields surrounding them on either side of a muddy road.

Roald was led to one of the last houses in the grouping, and one of the worse looking ones. The wood that the house was made of was decaying, a window on the side of the structure was broken, and remains of what use to be home-made pots lay scattered across a small rise of a porch.

The man who had spoken to Roald stepped onto the rickety porch, the boards creaking under his weight. With ease, the man slid the paper-like door open to reveal small rooms connected by a hallway. A wave of heat surged towards them as first all the men, and then Roald took off their shoes, leaving them at the door.

As he bent down to pull off his salt-crusted boot, Roald took note of the straw mats that covered the floor. As soon as he had his last boot off his foot, it was grabbed by one of the men who also held his other boot. In the man rushed, while another pulled Roald inside abruptly, and the door was shut.

With a few quick movements from the remaining men, Roald found himself stripped of his clothing, goose pimples forming on the surface of his skin. Before he could protest, as well as complain, a woman came into the room holding onto a pile of cloth.

At first glance, Roald noticed her black hair that was pulled back, a few strands of gray being revealed. Her skin was an olive tone, her eyes the shape of almonds. She appeared to be blind, but then he saw that unlike most Yamanis, her eyes were so pale a blue as to appear white and clouded.

She smiled up at Roald with thin lips. Her eyes seemed to pierce through him as she held out the cloth bundle in her arms. As he continued to stare at her, beads of perspiration forming on his body, he noticed that it was not gray hair that intertwined itself within the mass of black, but silver locks that seemed to gleam as if filled with power. Glancing back into her eyes, he gasped, feeling as if a blow was laid into his gut. Her eerie eyes twinkled amusingly, and after dropping the cloth in his hands, she walked away. Only before disappearing into a room did she stop, glancing back at Roald, and muttered, "He is true to the heart father. He can be trusted."

With a grunt, Roald let the others help him out as he numbly dressed in a typical Yamani outfit made for laboring in. It smelled of sandalwood and soil, dark streaks showing it was worn out in the fields.

The man who the girl had talked to, the same man who had given him orders when they were on the boat, turned towards Roald. Kindness radiated off of him like heat rolling off of the sun. Beckoning to him, the man led Roald and the others into a dimly lit room where a table sat low to the ground, small cups sitting atop it.

Roald watched the others sit cross-legged around the table and copied them. The position was uncomfortable to him, but he sat silent, unsure of himself. At last he opened his mouth to speak, his words slow and quiet. "Where is Shinkokami? Where is my wife?"

After a moment of silence, one man draining the contents of his cup, Roald was answered. "She has yet to wake," a man who had remained silent until now spoke. "King Roald, isn't it?"

Startled, Roald looked at the man, noting his hair was a dark brown rather than black. His features were sharp, and his eyes a dull brown. "Aye," he murmured. "Why is it that you have dressed me like your kind? What happened to my belongings?"

"They were burned," the young man said dully, continuing when he noticed the shocked expression on Roald's face. "You are fortunate that your soul is pure. My sister Sachi trusts you. She has seen your soul, your purity, and for that reason only are you still alive to hear what has happened to the Islands."

"She has the Gift?"

"I suppose that is what you would call it, but here we believe a spirit of power has been reborn into her. She can see when one lies, whom among us are cruel hearted or kind, whom we can trust." He paused a moment, seeing the question in Roald's eyes before he had the time to ask it. With a smile, he gave his answer, "I am Taro. My father was the one who spotted you within the waves."

Roald nodded, glancing at the elder man who sat to his left.

"As I was saying, our Islands are no longer what they were. When the whole world was thrown into Chaos' hands, we suffered greatly. Many villages have burned to the ground, few fields left that are prosperous, and the throne was overtaken, the whole royal family murdered, save for Queen Shinkokami.

We are farmers as well as fishers. It is how we survive in the changing world around us, but pirates and raiders have overtaken the seas. The pirates are the ones who have taken control of our homeland, doing as they please; killing innocents, raping our wives, sisters, mothers, it does not matter so long as it is a female. They take our belongings, burn our houses, and slaughter our animals…" Taro let his voice drift as his cheeks burned with angler, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"My point is this, King Roald," he said once his emotions were under his control again, "we need your help. With the Tortallan army, we will be sure to drive-"

"They think I am dead. My sister is in power there, and they have not the men to spare. As you know, Tortall is a vast kingdom, and each man that can be spared has been sent to help with repairs."

"Taro, the rebellion," muttered a man to Roald's right.

"What rebellion?" asked Roald curiously.

"We are organizing a rebellion against these pirate scum, Scanran filth," replied Taro.

"Scanrans?" Roald frowned, his fingers smoothing down his beard, "What if Shinko were to be put back into power? Would that unite enough Yamanis to be able to fight back amongst the Scanrans?"

"Perhaps. We too have heard of the death of Queen Shinkokami. Since her ship north was found in ruins, and corpses polluted the water, all assumed she was lost forever to the treacherous sea."

"The sight and knowledge that Shinko is alive would bring back lost hope to the people."

"Yes, but it will be hard to hide her, and you, from the brutes that roam our streets freely now. They often pay visits, demanding tax money, crops, anything we have. They will starve us to death by taking our resources from us, denying us coin and food."

"How many are involved in this rebellion of yours?"

"Too few to count."

Roald swore under his breath, his lively azure eyes glaring at his lap as he thought of the situation he was now in. He had to protect Shinko, and reunite her with her people at all costs. The Yamani islands would not perish under Scanran rule, or any rule so long as he had breath in his body.

Kalasin's head lolled back, a strangled cry escaping her chapped lips. Her eyes shot open, and she cried aloud again, startling the horse.

Merric swore as he struggled to gain control, barely noticing that Kalasin had slipped from the saddle and now lay on the dirt ground holding her belly, doing anything to keep from crying. When the horse was calm, he looked over his shoulders his hard expression softening as he saw her paling. Hurrying over to her, he hopped down and bent besides her, lifting her head up off the dirt. "What's wrong? You aren't having your baby are you?" he asked, his eyes showing panic and worry. He had no experience with babies, let alone helping in the birthing of one.

"S-something's wrong," she spat out, pain audible in her voice. Closing her eyes, she sent her power through her body to help ease her aches, and what she found made her breath catch in her throat. In her magical self, she could see the developing child radiating with power. Each kick was like a knife being thrust into her midsection. She had to stop it somehow, but her power was no match to what she saw inside her. Mithros was right, she thought bitterly, that bastard! He made me think I was loved, made me think I was wanted. I did what he wanted all along, giving myself to him, though I thought I was giving myself to the man I loved. After another failed attempt at using her power as a shield, a tiny voice inside her said to her maybe you did give yourself to the man you love. Maybe you knew it was not Lerant, but Mithros. "Damn the gods!" she shouted angrily, fisting her hands at her sides. "Help me up, Merric. I will not be brought down by a babe, let alone the one inside of me!"

Merric did as she said, saying nothing, though he nervously looked her over. He hadn't seen her this angry before, and it frightened him. He felt the fury that was her current emotion encircling itself around her. Shuddering at the spine-chilling air about her, and the suggestion of her being a spirit of some sort rather than human that his mind had come up with, Merric gulped audibly, helping the woman back into the saddle.

I will beat you in your game, Mithros, she thought savagely, I will not become a pawn of yours that you can do as you wish with. I will not play your game, nor allow my child to be apart of it. You may be a god, but I will not break under your pressure. I will rise above you, and at that time you will wish you hadn't bothered with me.

AN: Ah, the plot unfolds itself. Also, so everyone knows, Kalasin is not pregnant by her dad. I am sorry I made it sound that way. Mithros is not her dad, but a god "in love", or so he claims to be.

Lastly, my gerbils got into a fight; they fight to the death when they get into fights. I intervened and was attacked. I now have a very sore finger, and it makes it difficult to type, write, or do anything for that matter as it is on my dominant hand. The reason I am sharing this info is so you all are prepared for a little wait as my finger heals (gerbil had bit all the way through the tough skin next to the nail).