Shattered Past

by Lindsay Buroker

  “It was a good marriage,” she said quietly, following Kaika around a bend in the passage. They walked under a power source that had burned out, but more lit the way up ahead. “We were both academics. Friends first. A good match. I never thought I’d look for anyone else. I thought we’d both have brilliant careers, children eventually...” Her throat tightened. She had thought she had come to terms with the passing of that dream, but five years wasn’t as long ago as she sometimes thought. Funny how when she’d been younger, five years had seemed an eternity, but these days, some of those memories still seemed so fresh. Like yesterday.

  She shook her head, done sharing, at least for now. All he had asked was if she was married. He hadn’t wondered about the quality of that marriage or if her husband’s death had left her with any crushed dreams.

  “I always thought I’d have children,” Vann said. “My youngest brother has three. They’re noisier than a pack of agitated coyotes, but tolerable if you wear them out.”

  Lilah imagined Vann ushering toddlers through some military obstacle course, then ordering them to give him twenty push-ups.

  “I let them swing from my arms and ride on my shoulders. They seem to like that.” He shrugged. “I can’t imagine myself being a very good father, but as odd as it seems, given the way of my own father’s demise, I’m the heir to the family title and the estate. I didn’t even know we had property anywhere until a lawyer found me when I was in my twenties, reported that my great uncle had died without heirs and that since my father was dead, I was the next in line. That’s when I found out I had a crypt full of dead relatives, along with this sword.” He tilted his thumb toward the hilt. “There was a lot of history that I’d known nothing of as a boy, since my father hadn’t cared to share it with us. One of my brothers lives out there now. He’s trying to turn it into a blueberry farm if you can believe it. But the land would be mine if I ever wanted it, or had someone to share it with.” He glanced at her. “I’ve only been out there a few times. It’s not really home.”

  Lilah didn’t get the feeling that he was giving her the information to impress her, though there was the suggestion that he wouldn’t mind getting married someday. Was it strange that he was talking to her of such things? When they had known each other such a short time? Maybe he had been lonely out here, an outpost commander with nobody of his rank to speak plainly to, and nobody from the civilian world that he might converse with, either. Loneliness did have a way of making one ponder if one would ever find someone, as did reaching a certain age.

  The voices of the two soldiers trailing them drifted toward her, two young men making jokes about the shapes of the power crystals.

  She snorted softly and shook her head. Perhaps this wasn’t the time for sharing stories or thinking of futures. She offered Vann a smile, so he would know she was acknowledging his words, even if she doubted she could imagine herself living on some rural estate, miles and miles from the nearest university. Nor could she see spending significant time up here in this remote outpost. Or following a soldier around from duty station to duty station, her life and livelihood depending on him. She loved her career. It was nonnegotiable. Vann’s attention was flattering, but there wasn’t any hope for a future for them, not practically speaking, and she didn’t do the impractical. She never had.

  A low whistle came from up ahead. Kaika had stopped at the mouth of a tunnel, the walls opening into a larger space.

  Distracted by Vann’s words, Lilah hadn’t been paying much attention to their surroundings—that was surprising, since she was excited to explore. She hurried ahead now, eager to see what awaited them.

  Vann trailed behind more slowly, and she wondered if he had sensed a rejection in her silence.

  “Not sure what I was expecting,” Kaika said, “but that wasn’t it.”

  She pointed to old bones scattered around a chamber made of the same smooth gray stone. The chewed remains of a faded carpet formed a circle in the middle. Lilah crouched next to a skull with teeth marks around the eyeholes. A leg bone lay nearby, snapped in half, the marrow licked out by some predator. She shivered, wondering what animals larger than rats might be in here and how they would have gotten in.

  Vann walked the circumference of the chamber, his rifle in his hands now. Three other tunnels opened up at what Lilah thought might be the cardinal directions. Two stood dark, and one was lit by power crystals.

  “It was a man,” Lilah said, lifting the skull to see if any cracks might have accounted for a killing blow. Had this been a Referatu sorcerer? Someone who had been down here when the tunnels had collapsed? She frowned. But these tunnels hadn’t collapsed.

  Something clinked inside of the skull and fell out onto the floor at the same time as she spotted a small hole in the back. The object rolled several feet before coming to rest against the edge of the carpet. Vann reached it first, squatting to pick it up.

  “Musket ball?” Lilah asked, having glimpsed it rolling.

  “Musket ball with an old Iskandian Guard stamp on it.” Vann held it between his fingers. “0.75 caliber. Big.”

  “A good size for hunting sorcerers?” Lilah stared at the lead ball.

  “I haven’t seen a bullet hit a sorceress yet. They make shields around themselves. The dragons do too.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that fellow was a sorcerer,” Kaika said from across the chamber. She picked up a dusty jacket, mostly intact despite its age. She spread it out and showed it to them.

  “That’s from an old army uniform,” Vann said.

  Something clanked to the floor as Kaika shook the dust out of it. At first, Lilah thought it might be another musket ball, but it was something flat.

  “Tags.” Vann walked over to join Kaika.

  She picked them up and squinted at the old metal. The round disks had probably been hand engraved back then. “Captain Troyar Molisak.”

  “Molisak?” Vann asked.

  “That’s a noble family,” Lilah said, also recognizing the name. “I guess that makes sense. Back then, all officers came out of the nobility.”

  “And being noble actually meant something,” Vann said.

  “I wonder if his family ever had any idea what happened to him,” Lilah said.

  “What did happen to him?” Kaika rifled through a pocket. “There’s something poky in here.”

  “He was shot,” Vann said.

  “But by whom?” Lilah wondered.

  “The witches defending this place, obviously.”

  “Uh, is it obvious?” Kaika asked. “Witches with muskets? I’ve never seen Sardelle use a firearm.”

  “Because she’s got a sword that can melt a man’s balls off.”

  The words prompted Lilah to glance at Vann’s crotch, though she quickly averted her eyes.

  He must have noticed because he firmly said, “My balls are intact.”

  “Smooth, sir,” Kaika said. “If the professor wasn’t interested before, she’s sure to be now.”

  Vann glowered at her. “I know better than to manhandle a witch.”

  “Your wisdom only grows with the years.”

  His glower deepened. “What does Angulus see in you?”

  She grinned. “I’m the only one around him who doesn’t fire with the safety on.”

  “What a treat.”

  Kaika unbuttoned one of the pockets in the dusty jacket and extracted a small leather-bound journal. “Here’s the poky thing.”

  “Poky thing?” Vann asked.

  “In the academic world, we call those books,” Lilah said.

  Vann gave her an appreciative grin that made her flush for some reason, as if it were the rarest and most delightful of compliments.

  “Right. I knew it was a big fancy vocabulary word, but I couldn’t place it.” Kaika handed the journal to Lilah. “I’ll let you keep it for your bedtime reading, Professor.”

  Bedtime? Lilah flipped it open immediately. “If this was Captain Molisak’s journal, I’m sure the family will appr
eciate having it returned.” After she perused it thoroughly, of course. The officers might be enthused by finding a pile of power crystals, but who knew what treasures lay within this tome? It might hold the answer to the question of what had truly happened to the Referatu all those years ago. Was Sardelle’s story, as relayed by Bosmont, correct? Or had there been a disease that only affected those with dragon blood?

  “Anyone else feel a draft?” Vann asked.

  “I thought I did,” Kaika said. “From over there.”

  Lilah barely heard them. She had flipped to the last page of the journal with text on it. Even if the officer’s body had been torn apart by some scavenger, the book was in remarkably good shape. She had no trouble reading the ink of the captain’s neat hand, though the last few pages were more sloppily penned than the first. Hastily, she decided, skimming the words. A name jumped out at her and made her stomach lurch with unease.

  I have learned that Major Therrik does not, as he claimed, have orders from high command for this assignment, an assignment that has filled me with trepidation from the beginning. I am a soldier, and it is my duty to follow my superiors without question, but as the king’s man and as a loyal follower of Deago, the first God, I also feel it is my duty to act with honor. The words that I overheard the major speaking to the Referatu assistant president have confirmed my suspicions, but what do I do? Do I confront Therrik? The major is known for his temper, and I am but an engineer, not a warrior of great martial prowess.

  Lilah swallowed, her heart racing as she read the words. Major Therrik? Known for his temper?

  If the pages hadn’t been so brittle, the ink so faded, she would have believed some soldier had been writing this about Colonel Therrik, perhaps before his last promotion. She hurried to read on, worrying that she would be caught learning this information, feeling as if she were intruding upon some terrible secret. Maybe she was.

  It could be argued that the assistant president is to blame, and Therrik is simply obeying the wishes of someone with far greater rank in society than either he or I have, but she is not our commander, and she is certainly not our king. Though this mountain lies within Iskandian borders, the Referatu are a separate people, with a separate governing body. They cannot command our soldiers any more than we command their sorcerers. And what these two are planning is a betrayal to both societies. Worse, I am not certain Therrik is being honest with her—or with us. The explosives we carry have a great deal of power, more than would be needed for the small incursion we were told to plan for. I knew to be concerned when I was given the order to requisition them. Was that order even real? Or was it a forgery? Our party carries the power to blow up the entire capital. Or perhaps this entire mountain. Why would the assistant president target her own leader? And put her own people in jeopardy? I do not know, unless she plots against her president in the hope of earning the position. I am quite positive that she will not be within these tunnels when the bombs go off. But why risk killing so many? What is a king without subjects? Or does she have no idea of what Therrik plans? Is he acting on his own, turning a political skirmish into an opportunity for... much more?

  “Lilah?” Vann asked.

  She jumped, nearly dropping the book. Kaika was hanging from another light fixture, and the two soldiers who had caught up with them were working on a third. Vann pointed to a tunnel.

  “Will you come with me to check out this draft?” he asked. “Your bodyguard is distracted.”

  Kaika cursed as she repeatedly jammed her dagger into the rock above the fixture, trying to dislodge it.

  “Uh.” Lilah looked from Vann to Kaika and back, suddenly uncertain about wandering off alone with Vann. Just because his ancestor might have been involved in something shady didn’t mean that he knew anything about it, but what if she had stumbled onto some dark family secret that he wouldn’t want shared? That he might protect, no matter what?

  Seven gods, she had planned to write a paper about all of this. What if Captain Molisak had confronted Major Therrik, and Therrik had shot the man? What if the truth had never come out all of those years ago and she now held it in her hands? Could Therrik be punished for the actions of an ancestor three hundred years in the past? It had been a less sophisticated time back then, but murdering a fellow noble had been forbidden, the same as it was today. Could Vann’s lands be revoked for a crime committed centuries earlier? His title? Even if he spoke indifferently about his noble ranking, it had to matter to him, or he wouldn’t have brought it up at all.

  “You can bring the book,” Vann said, a furrow to his brow. Lilah gulped. She could only imagine what expression she wore. “Are you all right?” he added. “Anything interesting?”

  She snapped it shut. “I haven’t had time to determine the interest level.”

  She was proud of her voice for not coming out overly squeaky or distressed, but her mind whirled as she walked over to join Vann. She didn’t want to lie to him, but she had no idea how he would react. Would he be ashamed of the actions of his ancestor? Or would he condone those actions, since it had been a plot against the Referatu? Perhaps the plot that had destroyed their civilization? The very witches that, for whatever reason, he utterly and completely loathed.

  A howl sounded in the distance, and she almost dropped the book for the second time in two minutes.

  Vann’s head turned toward the tunnel opposite the one through which they had entered. Normally, the wails of a wolf or coyote out in the forest wouldn’t distress Lilah, especially if she had her hunting rifle at hand, but she didn’t have her rifle, and that howl hadn’t come from the forest. What kind of wolves roamed about in mountain tunnels? And what would a wolf find to eat in here, anyway?

  Her gaze drifted to the skull of the long-lost officer. No, whatever had feasted on his bones had done so centuries ago. There couldn’t be anything left in here for a predator. She didn’t think.

  “Was that a wolf?” Kaika asked.

  “No,” Vann said.

  “Coyote?”

  He shook his head.

  “Then what was it?” Kaika asked. “After all those tracking and survival classes you taught, I assumed you could identify anything in these mountains.”

  “I should be able to, but that was more deeply pitched than a wolf’s or coyote’s howl.” Vann shrugged. “It’s possible I’m mistaken. The tunnels could be distorting the noise.”

  “Maybe it’s the curse,” one of the soldiers whispered. Lilah hadn’t learned his name yet. She wished Boxcar had come along. He seemed steady.

  “Curses don’t howl,” Vann growled. “Finish up with the crystals and take them out to Bosmont. Kaika, you come join us when you’re done. We might need something else blown up.”

  “Like some wolves?”

  “We’ll see.” Vann handed Lilah his rifle. “Here. I’ll use the sword if I need it.”

  She accepted the weapon, though she was more worried about what lay in the book and about what he would think about it if she shared it. A hollow sense of unease swam in the pit of her stomach as she followed him.

  Chapter 9

  Professor Lilah Zirkander was acting oddly.

  Vann studied her as they walked down one of the four passages that had exited from the chamber, intermittent ceiling lamps providing enough light for him to observe the worried glances she sent in his direction. She kept wiping her hands on her trousers, and she clenched that book as if it were a life preserver on a rough sea. He shouldn’t have admitted he was relieved her husband was dead. At the least, that had been uncouth. Worse, it must have offended her. Or even worried her. What had she thought when he’d spoken of his family land? Why had he even brought it up? She probably thought he wanted to marry her. Who spoke of such things after three days? They hadn’t even had sex. He had thought about it a great deal, but that was hardly the same.

  The scent of pine trees and snow reached Vann’s nose. Up ahead, next to a ceiling lamp that had fallen dark over the centuries, a hole gaped in the s
ide of the tunnel. Debris littered the stone floor in front of it. Vann strode ahead and bent to pick up some shards of iron. They were thin, partially blackened by soot. He spotted some writing on the outside of one curved piece, but he couldn’t guess at what the partial letters had said.

  “Looks like shrapnel,” he muttered.

  “From black powder explosives,” Lilah said. “That’s what they would have had access to back then. Dynamite is relatively new, historically speaking.”

  “Yes.” Vann tossed the metal shard aside and peered into the tunnel. It was even rougher and uglier than the one the thieves had drilled, and he wasn’t sure if he could fit through it. He considered Lilah’s smaller form, but rejected the idea of asking her to go in there alone, especially when some animal was roaming around the tunnels. Some hungry animal, likely. He couldn’t imagine that the hunting was good.

  “Want me to go first?” she asked.

  “I was debating whether we should go at all.” Vann sniffed the air. “I think this is where the draft is coming from. It’s probably just another route to the outside. One that comes out above the one we opened up. We’ve been climbing slightly since we entered the witch tunnels.”

  “I’ll just take a quick look.” Lilah slid the rifle off her shoulder, keeping it in her hand, and headed into the rough passage, having to dip under low-hanging rock right away.

  He frowned as she disappeared. He doubted she would run into any trouble in the fifty feet or so that he estimated the passage would be before coming out over the cliff, but he hated the idea of letting her out of his sight. He dropped to his knees. If the deceased Captain Molisak had come in this way, and if it hadn’t changed over the years, maybe he could make it too. Of course, coming out again could be problematic.

  “Vann?” Lilah asked, her voice soft and muffled. Also a touch concerned.

  “Yes?”