by Keri Arthur
“Which still doesn’t explain why they don’t use their own smiths,” I said. “I would have thought bladesmiths would be the one trade they wouldn’t allow to roam the countryside willy-nilly.”
“One man—or even a hundred—armed with a sword and knife isn’t going to do much damage to a foe armed with guns.” He shrugged. “The Mareritt are skilled workers of stone, and their mages can manipulate earth with their magic and cause the air to freeze, but they’ve never shown any capacity for smithing silver or metal.”
“And yet they have tanks and guns, so they’re not totally unfamiliar with the substance.”
“The tanks and—for the most part—the guns are imported, not made.”
My gaze briefly dropped to the muscular arms that had held me so gently last night. “Can you actually smith?”
“I’m proficient enough for the purposes of this identity.”
“Is that identity the reason why your people at Break Point risked getting you out?”
He nodded. “While my fake ID holds up under normal scrutiny, full interrogation would have revealed the truth. Kai Jenkins has been too useful to waste him in such a manner.”
“And yet by getting you out, haven’t they all but destroyed that identity anyway?”
“No, because they never scanned for IDs before they placed us into the prison pod.”
“That makes no sense.”
“As I said, the Mareritt do a lot of things that make no sense.” He shrugged. “A lot of it comes from the confidence of ruling over a foe that has shown little more than a fading spark of fight.”
I reached for another slab of bread and cheese. “I gather you spend a lot of time in Esan, so how do you explain your alter ego going missing for long periods of time?”
“The Mareritt only check IDs coming in and out of official gateways. We have a few nonofficial ones we use.”
“They don’t perform random ID checks of the local population?”
He shook his head. “They couldn’t care less about our movements within the towns—not as long as we’re obeying the local rules.”
“So what’s our next port of call?”
“Husk.” He must have seen my frown, because he added, “It’s a small town that’s been built around the fish farming complexes. It sits on the border between Argon and Nyssia.”
“Even if they fear the sea, they control the ports, don’t they? Why wouldn’t they use Arleeon labor to run sea boats rather than set up new fishing avenues inland? Isn’t that a waste of resources and time?”
“Not from the Mareritt point of view.” He gathered the rest of the bread and cheese and then rose. “Their fear of the sea has for centuries forced them to import fish.”
“Which doesn’t explain why they simply didn’t set up farms in their own land.” Or why they didn’t even try trading with us rather than go the conquering route.
“That is a question I can’t answer. We depart in ten.”
It didn’t take us that long to clean up and leave. The drakkon, I noted, was back on her perch. Her scales were afire in the daylight, and her gaze was centered on something distant rather than the movement beneath her. But her tail flicked back and forth, suggesting agitation even if there was no sign of it in her expression or eyes.
Again, the urge to reach out rose, and again I battered it down. She wore the same silver band as Oma; until it was removed, or until Kaiden’s people found a way of disrupting the signal between her Mareritt controller and that band, there was little point.
We were stopped at the exit on the opposite side of the city. Kaiden advised them of our destination, was signed out, and was told he had to be in Husk by nightfall. Once the Mareritt stepped aside, Kaiden gunned the skid and we headed out, following a road that cut through the barren countryside in a long, straight line.
Once we were far enough away from Renton, I leaned forward and said, “Why have they never asked for my ID?”
“Because we listed you as my spouse.”
“Meaning what? That as a spouse, I neither provide a threat nor have need of an identity?”
“If you had Arleeon coloring, you’d be both registered and checked. But even with your hair stained black, you obviously have Mareritt in your background.” He half shrugged. “As I said, half-bloods and, to a lesser extent, those with a quarter or less Mareritt blood, are not well tolerated by either race.”
“So if I wasn’t accompanied by you...”
“You most likely would have been arrested.”
“And after that?”
He hesitated. “It would depend on the mood of the magistrate, but many are forced to spy on their own people.”
Which was why he’d thought me one of them. “And those who don’t or won’t agree?”
He shrugged. “Most are shipped off to the manufacturing units, but there are a rare few who are sterilized to serve as trulls to the Mareritt hierarchy.”
“Why would they bother, given what you said about them hating half-bloods?” I asked. “They rule a good portion of Arleeon—why wouldn’t they just bring their own women here?”
“Because none have acclimatized. Most spend three months here and are rotated back.”
“After two hundred years of occupation, at least some of them should have become used to our warmer clime. Mareritten does have a three-month season of summer, so heat isn’t unknown to them.”
“Their summers are nowhere near as warm as ours.”
“We’re still talking about two hundred years. Surely that’s more than enough time—”
“If they were so inclined. They are not.”
“What of the women in the pod? If Arleeon women so disgust them, why were they raped?”
“For the same reason the men were beaten—it’s a means of both cowing and punishing them.”
Which only inflamed the fires of rage anew and made me even more determined to free Arleeon from the murderous grip of the Mareritt.
“And Arleeon’s trading partners?” I asked. “Were they ever asked for help?”
Though I couldn’t see the grimness of his smile, I felt it. It stabbed through me as sharp as any knife, and it made me wonder yet again why we seemed so in tune despite the fact we were strangers.
And strangers from two very different times, at that.
“Yes, but those who traded with us also traded with Mareritten. They don’t care who they deal with, as long as the supply lines are kept open.”
“But surely if you explained the situation...” My voice faded. If anyone were going to come to Arleeon’s aid, they would have done so in those first few vital months after Zephrine had fallen. But I knew enough about both Cannamore’s kings and our other trading partners to understand they wouldn’t interfere in what they’d see as the internal conflicts of another continent.
“We’re on our own in this fight,” he said. “And it is one we are slowly losing.”
“Maybe that’s why I’ve suddenly appeared. Maybe I’m meant to be the fairy godmother that grants your wish for freedom.” It was lightly said and something I didn't really believe. Whatever might be happening, it was something more than the gods of earth and air suddenly feeling sorry for the plight of Arleeons.
He laughed, a sound that ran over the noise of the skid and warmed me deep inside. “You’re too young to be a fairy godmother.”
“Well, technically I’m not, given I’m over two hundred years old.”
“True.” He paused and then added, with a hint of huskiness that echoed the desire I’d felt last night, “Although the body I snuggled into did not feel that old.”
“I bet you wouldn’t have snuggled so close if it had.”
“A truth I cannot deny.”
“Does this mean that double beds are likely to remain a fixture in our journey?”
“Sadly for you, yes. Requesting separate beds when we are supposed to be married would only raise suspicions.”
“Not necessarily. Couples do fight, after al
l.”
“Not when one partner holds Mareritt heritage.” His voice lost much of its amusement. “Those who survive into adulthood have generally learned to keep their heads down and make no waves. Any form of fire from you—emotional or physical—would not only be unexpected but also have the Mareritt looking at you more closely.”
“I hate what Arleeon has become, Kaiden.”
“So do we,” he said grimly. “So do we.”
Silence fell after that. The miles and the hours ran on, and the barren fields gave way to trees and then a broken landscape filled with stone. We stopped midafternoon to stretch our legs and grab something to eat.
After unwrapping and then slicing bread, cheese, and hard meats, he said, “Silva.”
I glanced at him. “What?”
“You asked me what my last name was. It’s Silva.”
Silva was one of the first ancestor’s descendant lines, and in my time, Silva women had led three of Esan’s five graces. A smile teased my lips. “Does imparting that information mean your distrust has faded?”
He hesitated. “Lindale is one of our strongest readers. She found no lie in your words; I trust that.”
“But?” Because there obviously was one.
“I also fear what she couldn’t find—the barrier she couldn’t cross—and what you can’t remember.”
“So do I.”
He studied me for a second, blue eyes giving little away and the tenuous link developing between us still. “Tell me about your life in Zephrine. Or what you remember of it, at least.”
I perched on a rock and then helped myself to the food. “Why?”
“Aside from curiosity, talking about your past might just shake something loose.”
I doubted it, but I guessed it was worth a try. So I told him what I remembered—about Zephrine, about Sorrel’s daring raid into the heart of Mareritten to rescue fallen kin, and then, finally, about Emri.
“So just how deep is the bond between drakkon and rider?” he asked.
“It’s not just a bond—it’s a merging of mind and soul. She knew my thoughts, my hopes and my dreams, and I knew hers.” A smile twisted my lips. “I can’t tell you how many times she either comforted or chastised me over a breakup with a lover.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. There’s no such thing as privacy when you share life with a drakkon.”
Just for an instant, I heard the rumble of her voice, telling me in no uncertain terms that Jak wasn’t worth my time or tears, and that what I needed was a good damn flight. We’d flown high that night—high and long. By the time we returned, the heartache had eased. She’d been right—but then, she usually was.
“So if she was dead,” Kaiden said softly, “you’d know?”
“If she was dead, I’d more than likely be the same.”
“Because of that bond?”
I nodded. “If a kin loses her drakkon, she loses half her mind and her soul. Few have the strength to survive it.”
“But some obviously have.”
“Some. Not many.”
He studied me for a second. “Then why can’t you feel her?”
“I don’t know.”
Perhaps the inner turmoil echoed in that brief reply, because he leaned forward and clasped my hand. His face—his lips—were close to mine, and for one brief—undoubtedly insane—second, I thought he was going to kiss me. He didn’t, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“If you survived,” he said softly, “surely Emri did as well.”
“Logically, I know that, but it doesn’t stop me worrying.” Didn’t stop the fear.
“All the more reason to get to West Laminium as soon as possible.”
“Then you’d better release me so we can get moving again.”
He glanced down at our still-clasped hands, an indefinable emotion flickering through his expression. Then he released me and rose. We packed up the remains of our meal, then got back onto the skid and continued on, but the tension of distrust and disbelief that had been so evident only a few hours ago had definitely eased.
As dusk was just beginning to stain the sky, drifting lines of smoke appeared on the horizon.
“Where’s all that coming from?” I asked.
“Probably from the smokers.”
“Smokers?”
“The Mareritt salt and then smoke much of their meat and fish to make it keep over the winter months. Husk is a major production zone, thanks to its proximity to the fish farms.”
“Which we haven’t yet sighted.”
“They lie on the other side of the city. You’ll see them when we leave tomorrow.”
I eyed the smoke-stained sky somewhat dubiously. “The air quality must be pretty bad inside the walls.”
“It’s generally blown away on the breeze, but today has been abnormally still.” He shrugged. “It’s the smell of drying fish that you’ll notice more than the smoke.”
“Something to look forward to, to be sure.” I studied the buildings growing ever more visible. “There are no watchtowers here.”
“No. They do keep a military presence, but for the most part, the citizens here are better off than many and cause few problems.”
“How can they be better off when they’re kept from moving about freely and are under constant guard?”
“Compared to many other cities that contain manufacturing sites, their work is relatively easy.” Again I felt his grimness. “The conditions in the mining developments, for instance, are extreme.”
“I’m gathering that means a high turnover rate, which is why the men in our pod were destined for the mines?”
“Yes. The Mareritt seek the glimmer stone veins that lie deep within the Blue Steel Mountains.”
Glimmer stones were a black rock that sucked in light and shone like a star at night. “I take it most of the stone is shipped back to Mareritten?”
“Almost 90 percent of it is, though what use it would be during their long winters is anyone’s guess.” He shrugged. “The rest is distributed for Mareritt use here.”
“They really are treating us like second-class citizens, aren’t they?”
“That’s because, in their eyes, we are.”
Because of our skin color. Because of our lack of that extra digit on each hand. Both were the reason behind their relentless attacks even back in my day—they couldn’t abide the fact that beings they saw as less worthy held a land far richer in resources than their own.
The closer we got to the city, the stronger the scent of smoke became. It was a mix of mesquite and bloodwood—two scents I normally didn’t mind—but underneath them both ran a very strong fishy aroma. A shudder ran through me, and my stomach stirred uneasily. I’d never been a huge fan of fish, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to get through the night without losing the contents of my stomach if that smell got any stronger.
“It won’t be as bad within the walls,” Kaiden commented, obviously feeling my shudder. “They’ve planted a lot of orange clamberers and mint sprays, which combats the worst of the stench.”
“Are we staying in another safe house here?”
“No, though the manager of the tavern we’re staying in is not unsympathetic to our cause.”
I snorted. “Which suggests he’d hand us over in a heartbeat should a problem arise.”
“Perhaps, but you’re forgetting there’s now been at least two generations born and raised under Mareritt rule.” Kaiden’s voice held an edge. “Many do chafe under the yoke of servitude, but they also prefer that than to risk death or being shipped off to somewhere less salubrious. You can’t really blame them either, given how little success we’ve had at ousting the Mareritt.”
Which was a rather sad but true statement. Had I been born into this way of life, would I have thought any differently to those within Husk or any of Arleeon’s other cities?
Probably not.
“Would any of that change if Esan started driving the Mareritt from these
lands?”
“I think for the majority to be rousted, we’d first have to prove ourselves worthy of them risking it all.”
“And how would you do that?”
“The only way I can see is by destroying the heart of Mareritt occupation here in Arleeon—the White Zone.”
“Which you’ve already said is an impossible task.”
“Not for kin and drakkon,” he said. “Which is why I’m not about to let you out of my sight, Red. Even if no other drakkon or kin survived the coruscations, you’re here, and you can converse with the drakkons of this time. If we can free them, the advantage switches to us.”
“Your drakkons can be killed far easier than mine, Kaiden. Oma is evidence enough of that.”
“Yes, but it took three guns and a number of rounds to bring her down. It takes a hell of a lot more to kill one.”
“Speaking from experience, I take it?”
I couldn’t help the flat edge in my voice. The drakkons in this time had as little freedom or choice as Arleeon’s human population, and part of me just couldn’t understand why anyone who came from Esan and who probably had the blood of kin running through their veins wouldn’t at least try to uncover the reason behind their allegiance switch.
“Yes and no.”
He glanced over his shoulder; his blue eyes gleamed with not only understanding but also determination. He wasn’t about to apologize for his or anyone else’s actions, and I could accept that, even if grudgingly. I might not like what had happened to the drakkons or the generations of kin that had come after us, but the reality was, they were fighting for survival in a world that had turned upside down in a matter of days.
“I’m sure we’ve mortally wounded more than a few drakkons,” he continued, “but we’ve never recovered the body of one. We believe they’re programmed to fly back into the White Zone if they’re injured or near death.”
“Which at least partly explains why you weren’t aware the drakkons were controlled by that band.”
“Yes.” He paused. “You have no idea of the chaos that resulted after the disappearance of the graces and the failure to recapture Zephrine, Red. To be honest, I suspect the only reason the Mareritt were held at the Grand Alkan River was because the wave of ice that accompanied their forces had finally faded.”