She turned away from the seascape to see that several villagers stood near the entrance, watching Mykel. Lina and her mother were among them. Nara began to watch Mykel as well. One by one, he would reach his arms around a tree and lift, tearing it from the soil below, then drop it with a crash. He then broke away the roots by hand, eventually dragging the tree off to a pile on one side, then returning to pull the roots from their home in the soil. It was violent, and even with his magic, Mykel seemed to strain with the effort, skin reddening and muscles taut with the effort.
It took over two hours, the trees and brush now cleared away, but the earth was profoundly disturbed from Mykel’s efforts, piles of dirt and broken branches scattered about. More villagers came, and a dozen stood together, watching in amazement.
His work complete, Mykel walked over to Nara, shoulders slumped, his shirt and skin dirty and scratched, eyes tired, exhaustion apparent on his face.
“Good job,” she said.
He said nothing, instead moving to the cliff’s edge where he sat and stared out at the ocean.
It was her turn, now.
She moved to the center of the clearing, sat cross-legged, and placed her hands on the ground. Closing her eyes, she summoned the earth rune, the soil seeming to come alive in her mind. She told it what she wanted, and it moved to obey, swallowing the debris, smoothing out the rough patches, and forming nineteen individual graves. She summoned up a pile of soft dirt next to each of them, ready for the villagers to cover their loved ones. To say goodbye.
Headstones rose from the earth, each with slightly different shapes. The faces were blank, and Nara imagined someone would chip names into the stones. Too many names.
Cobblestone paths soon wound through the graveyard, small, multicolored stones set closely together to guide those who would come to visit. Large lumps of disturbed earth transformed into stone benches, simple but strong enough to last many years. Two raised basins appeared, each with room to hold rainwater for birds to drink. Or perhaps for visitors. One was lower and could be reached by small children, while the other was taller. A single stone arch rose at the entrance to the area. Simple. Strong. A symbol to those who would enter, reminding them that this was a different sort of place.
That was enough for now. Maybe someday she would come back, plant trees or flowers and lots of grass. Or maybe the villagers would do that for her. She suspected that once she left Dimmitt again, she wouldn’t be back for a very long time.
Nara rose and walked over to the group of villagers.
“It’s beautiful,” Lina’s mother said through tears and hugged Nara. “Thank you.”
“You’re both gifted,” Mr. Tibbins said. “But what I’ve seen today, I, uh . . . I’ve never heard of anything like it. Gifted don’t do this.”
She understood what he was saying. Gifted go to war. They destroy. They don’t create. When Mykel cleared the area, Nara wondered at the wisdom of showing their magic openly, old habits of hiding the truth coming to mind. Habits that served no purpose here.
“No more secrets,” she said.
“Are they going to come after you?” Mr. Tibbins asked, his eyes shifting to Mykel, who was still looking out over the sea.
“Probably.”
“What will you do?”
“We’ll fight,” Nara said.
“You will need more people.”
“Yes. We will need an army.”
12
A New Plan
It was cold in the castle today, and as the minister approached her on the throne, Kayna wrapped the fur stole around her shoulders more tightly.
“Your Majesty, we have a concern,” he said. It was Jayho something—she couldn’t remember his last name, nor did she care. He was nothing but a bureaucratic fool who spent his days shuffling parchment, counting numbers, and dwelling on uninteresting things. Oh, how Papa had loved to agonize over such minutia. She loathed it all.
“Things aren’t going well,” he continued. The man’s voice sounded weak. Submissive. An appropriate tone for one who was failing so miserably.
Kayna raised an eyebrow.
“Um . . . the people. I’m talking about the people. They aren’t paying their taxes as they should. Or delivering goods on time. Even the indentured ones seem to be slow in fulfilling their normal duties.”
“Well, you’re the minister of lands, are you not? If they aren’t paying their leases or fulfilling their contracts, wouldn’t that be your fault?”
“Yes, perhaps. Perhaps you’re right. I mean, of course you are right. But there are rumors. Children missing. Villages destroyed. It has them quite upset, and I . . . um . . .”
“Spit it out, Jayho.”
“Would it be possible for you to interact with the people more? I mean, go to them, be visible, provide a sense of security or something? If they saw you, perhaps they–”
“You want me to hang out with peasants?” Her harsh tone hung in the air, and he faltered.
“Um, no, not really that. I would never presume. But since the unfortunate death of your father, they have seen little of their monarch. With all these rumors there just doesn’t seem to be much incentive for them. To obey, I mean.”
She had indeed been reclusive since taking the throne, and the people saw little of her. Perhaps a big show would jolt them into action; it would not do for the royal coffers to run out of coins.
“Very well. Get with my steward and plan a ceremony. One week from today. Invite the people to visit their queen, and I will receive them with open arms.”
Oh, how revolting to be near those people. Some worked in stables or pig yards and didn’t even bathe! Yet she could just crack a peasant’s skull and that wonderful, tasty life energy would leave their bodies and find its home in her own spirit. An enigma of grand proportions, for sure. It mattered not at all if they were children or old people, criminals or clergy. They all tasted delicious.
Which reminded her of Ennis’ ongoing research into the manufacture of a cursed. Perhaps a visit to his rooms down below the castle was in order. He was a detestable creature himself, with his sores and such. But he was brilliant, and, thankfully, he didn’t smell like dung.
It didn’t take long to return to her spacious chambers, get into something more comfortable, and make her way down to the damp, cold dungeon halls. The screams that welcomed her made it clear that Ennis was hard at work.
“Any luck today?” she asked. Ennis looked up from the subject he was working on: an adult male, spread-eagled, both hands and a forearm bleeding profusely. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving.
“Fainted?”
“Yes,” Ennis said. “It happens a lot. The pain, you know.”
“Of course. So?”
Ennis clicked his tongue as he shuffled over to a shelf and placed the bloody ceppit in a tin container. “Not so much success here, but I have worked out the details of our plan.”
“Go on.”
“Well, the compound is nearly complete.”
“That was quick.”
“I made sure that the construction crews were well motivated.”
“Good work.”
“A central large building serves as the initial receiving area, quarters for the guards and staff, as well as administrative offices. We have four project buildings, each with cells in an area below, where the real work happens. We can progress with four simultaneous trials.”
“And the process?”
Ennis cleared his throat. “It will be as with all the others, but much slower. Less damage, I’m hoping. Or controlled damage, perhaps.” He shuffled back over to the unconscious subject on his table, gesturing over the young man like he was a prop. “We still require you to stretch the container, creating flaws in the shell that let the magic seep out. They will suffer as before. There is no other way. If we slow down, however, we will manage it better.”
“How will we prevent them from hating me? Causing all that pain when they know I’m the one doing it?
They need to have someone to hate, you said.”
“Yes, of course. But you won’t be you, Your Majesty. You’ll be someone entirely different.”
“And who is that?”
“You’ll be her.”
It took a moment to sink in. “Oh, that’s good,” she said in a flat tone. “They will be driven by both hatred and loyalty. Turn the process around. Make the flaw work in our favor.”
He smiled. “There is only one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Some from the latest group came from Dimmitt. Quite a few, actually.”
“Yes, I heard. Finally. That town needed to learn its lesson, but—” She paused. “Oh. Curses. They know her.”
“I think it will still be okay. We start the grooming and take advantage of the first level of damage.”
“Amnesia.”
“Yes.”
“Then you play the role.”
She nodded. This man might look like a troll, but he possessed the practiced strategy of a field tactician. “You would have done well in the army. Or politics.”
“I’m happy to serve right here, Your Majesty.”
Part Two
The sounds of creation are a mournful thing, voices of beauty that rise and ring.
From bird to beast, from child to stone, every pretty thing fears being alone.
Poems of the Ages, Lady Bess Amwater, 565 PB
13
First Strike
It wasn’t dark yet, but twilight neared as they looked upon Junn’s walled fort and its soldiers milling about. It had taken little time to find this outpost on the outskirts of town, and they now lay quietly in the woods atop a small rise, looking down upon the fortification. A constant rain found its way through the trees, dripping from the leaves and branches above. Nara and Mykel hid in the wet foliage, prone, elbows propped as they surveyed the fortification ahead. Nara’s bare feet dug into the muddy soil, toes fidgeting in anticipation of what she and Mykel were planning.
“Shift change, I think,” Mykel said.
Some soldiers were leaving, several were talking with one another, and only a couple appeared to be serious about guarding the place.
“What do they keep in there?” Nara asked.
“Who knows? Armor. Weapons, probably. Maybe some horses.”
“Cages on wagons, I’d wager.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe some kidnapped kids?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “Probably sent those north right away.”
“We’ll know soon.”
There were several buildings in the middle of the outpost, including one very large one, and a tall tower with a single guard in it. The guard was sitting, eating something. From this perspective, it looked like no one was working.
“At night we’ll have the advantage,” Mykel said. “They can’t see much.”
They would have even more of an advantage with no light at all. “The torches,” Nara said. “I’ll take care of the ones on the outside first.”
“Yes. But there will still be a lot of them. Some soldiers are leaving, but I bet they’ll still have plenty. When they wake—”
“Don’t kill them if you don’t have to.”
“Yup.” He didn’t sound convincing.
“Is it stupid to attack them, then hope they’ll join us?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
Nara shrugged. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
If they held any hope of getting these men to follow her, to be part of an effort to resist Kayna, killing them would not be a great move. But some would probably die. Junn was close to Dimmitt, and some of these very soldiers could have been responsible for Sammy’s death. Mykel wanted justice, and so did she. It was a new feeling for her, this bitterness. It was at once sweet and foul. It disturbed her, but not enough to change her mind. This outpost would fall, regardless of the cost.
“Leave the gifted to me, if there are any,” she said. “If we’re going to build an army to stand against my sister, we will need more than bullies with swords.”
She’d changed her tune, talking like this. Accepting that there would be deaths was a big shift for her. Mykel hadn’t commented on her change of heart. Not on the boat ride from Dimmitt, nor as he stole backpacks from an outfitter’s shop and bread from a bakery. They would need to break the rules to keep going, and Nara had not stopped him. Too much had happened. So much that it was hard to talk about, even with the person who was closest to her in the whole world. She wanted to say something kind, to comfort him, or maybe just to reach out and ask him to hold her, but she didn’t know how to start. Instead, she lay on the forest floor and waited, watching.
Two hours later, the sun finally disappeared over the horizon and many soldiers dispersed, heading inside one of the larger buildings. A barracks, then. No surprise.
“You ready?” Mykel asked, standing and gripping the ivory staff at his side.
Nara nodded, getting to her feet to join him. She hung her pack on a tree branch above her and stepped out of the damp foliage. A breeze brought a chill to her skin, and she balled her hands into fists, clenching them.
“How do you want to play this?” he asked.
Nara thought about the question as she looked around. There might be something she could do to make it easier for these soldiers to switch allegiances.
“Stay here,” she said.
“Where are you going?” The concern in his voice was clear.
She put her palm on his chest, pushing gently, hoping to better make her point. “Stay here. Please. I mean it. I want to make them an offer.”
“What kind of offer?”
“I want to give them a chance to give up. Do the right thing.”
“Not alone you don’t.”
“Trust me,” she said, holding up her hand.
She turned toward the high walls of the outpost, then walked down the slope of wet weeds and bushes. The ground became irregular as she descended, uneven, with divots and mounds where trees had been removed, probably when they cleared this area, years before. At the bottom, she came to a large flat area with spotty patches of grass, and a packed-dirt road that led to the main gate. Rain fell in increasing frequency upon the ground as she walked. The sun was long gone, but the road grew brighter as she approached the gate, lit up by the many torches on the wall, each set in a sconce with a lid to prevent water from extinguishing the flame.
“Ho, there!” someone called from on the wall above the gate.
“Hello,” she answered. “Open up, please.”
“Nobody enters. This is an outpost of the Queen’s army. Piss off, child.”
“I am not a child,” she said. She cleared her throat. “I bring a message of warning. And of invitation.”
The soldier laughed, and a couple more appeared on the wall, looking down.
“What’s this, Derg?”
“Some idiot girl who has let the water seep into her skull,” said the first.
“My name is Nara Dall, of Dimmitt. I am the Queen's enemy, and I bring you a message. Surrender. All of you. Join me right now against the witch who holds the throne, and I will spare you. I’ll see that you get fed. And that you no longer have to do her bidding. No kidnapping of children. No murdering of innocents. One chance. Right here. Throw open your gates.”
The laughter from atop the wall was delayed, but when it came, it was raucous. She wasn’t surprised. A moment later, after their guffaws ran out of steam, one spoke. “How about I make you a counteroffer, Neera. I open the gate, and you give us all a good time for a few hours. I have ale and a warm fire, and we know ways to keep young ladies entertained.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I gave you a chance,” she said, then turned and walked away.
A few moments later, she was back with Mykel near their hiding place atop the rise.
“That was foolish of you.”
“We’ll see. Now they know I am not unreasonable. Nobody willingl
y follows a tyrant. I will be different from her, Mykel.”
They stood for a moment, looking at the scene.
“It would be nice not to have to fight them all at once,” he said.
“That might be hard to do. Once we’re inside, it will be chaos. We won’t even know where they are all coming from. There will be the one in the tower and those on the walls, but once the soldiers in the barracks come out, we’ll be in the middle, surrounded.”
“I could take twenty myself. More, probably. But I’d rather they came a few at a time.”
“Unless something goes wrong. They may have gifted,” Nara said. She engaged her vision to look for sources of magic, cepps or gifted who were using their talents. She saw nothing. “I’ll take care of the torches. Once it’s dark, we go in.”
“Over the gate or through it?”
She smiled. Yes, Mykel could bash that gate in, and probably wanted to, but that would give the entire outpost warning and such overconfidence was probably unwise in battle planning. She remembered Anne’s words on the matter. 'Be efficient with your energy, girl. When you run out, you die. Or someone else does.'
That advice should apply to Mykel as well.
“We go over,” Nara said. “Surprise is safer. We are two against many, and we must be smart about it.”
Nara made her way down quietly to the front left edge of the outpost wall, avoiding the brightly lit areas near the torches. She peeked out from behind a large rock, focusing on the closest torch. Closing her eyes, she summoned the motion rune, then held it in her vision as she concentrated on the sconce. Feeding it just a breath of energy, she pushed on the lid of the sconce, deforming it, bending it out of the way so it no longer protected the torch from the steady rain.
She stepped back from the wall, hiding behind a fairly large rock, and looked at the torch. She could hear the sizzle of rainwater as it spattered the flames and evaporated. The torch was dimming. Her plan was working. She moved around the left side of the wall and saw several more torches. A sentry walked the top of the wall but didn’t seem very attentive, looking mostly at the inside of the outpost. She disabled the sconces on the two torches she could see, then skulked her way through the rocks and mounds until she reached the torches on the back side. In this way, she encircled the entire outpost, never getting so close to the wall that she could be seen, but close enough to disable their exterior lighting. It wouldn’t take them long to notice.
Finding Kai Page 8