by Keri Arthur
The Adlin roared and threw themselves at the walls with greater intensity. The earth’s writhing eased, but a different kind of rumbling began to grow. In the stark brightness of the spotlight stationed on the far right edge of the curtain wall, I spotted a foaming, glittering rush of water that was at least two-meters high. The Adlin saw it at the same time and began to run, but the water was far faster. It hit them, swallowed them, and swept them away to freedom only knew where.
A fierce cheer went up from those stationed on the wall and inside the command center, and everyone began to talk and relax.
“That,” I said to the man standing beside me, “was a rather awesome display of power.”
He pushed away from the sensor screens and glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve surely seen the earth respond in such a manner at Winterborne.”
“Yes, but not water.” I paused, glancing at the window again. The tide had once again become a trickle, but the few Adlin who were not caught by the first rush were on the run. “You have the Black River dammed?”
“It runs across our western flank, so it is easy enough to do. Ruma, you want to take over operations? Contact me if there’re any problems.”
A strong-looking black woman glanced up and said, “Will do, Commander.”
His gaze came back to mine and, in a clipped voice, he said, “Follow me.”
He brushed past me, and that troublesome, achy awareness stirred again. I frowned as I followed him down the metal stairs, our footsteps echoing in time through the shadows. I wished there was someone I could talk to, someone who might know what was going on, but I dared not ask. Dared not reveal the secret I’d been carrying since I’d come of age. To do that would be the end of my life as a Nightwatch officer—the end of everything I knew, and everything I held dear. If my ability to talk to the wind—however minor—was revealed, they’d either place me into one of the ruling houses, where I would serve as a “battery” to those of greater power, or I’d be taken as a mistress by one of the men in the hope that I would bear a child of greater ability. For someone stained as badly as me, there was little other option. Not unless I wanted to run and live life somewhere beyond the reach of the ruling Forum. And there weren’t many such places in Gallion or even Salysis these days.
The commander strode across the outer courtyard, briefly acknowledging those who were containing the fires still burning across the stones. The guards at the inner drawbridge nodded as he passed but there was no saluting or formal snap to attention. Unlike the primes at some of the other outposts, Trey Stone didn’t appear to stand on ceremony.
As we passed through the heavily fortified inner gatehouse, the raid alarm sounded again, this time in three short, sharp bursts.
“That’s the all clear,” the commander said over his shoulder. “It tells those in the shelters it’s safe to emerge.”
I caught up to him. “Do all the outposts have such shelters?”
“All those who have a civilian population, yes.” He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “Why the surprise? You have them in the outer bailey at Winterborne, do you not?”
“Yes, but as far as I’m aware, we haven’t needed to use them since the war.” I paused, briefly taking in the surrounding buildings and wondering where we were headed. “Was tonight’s attack usual for this area?”
“No, it was not.”
There was something in his voice that had my gaze snapping back to him. “In what way was it different?”
“They’ve never attacked in such numbers before, nor have they ever used assault weapons, however rudimentary they might have been.” He paused and nodded at the soldier who opened the door to a long, three-story stone and metal-clad building. “They were after something. Or someone.”
“Saska.” I blew out a breath. “But why?”
“I have no idea.”
The room we entered was a vast space filled with tables, chairs, and cushioned areas for lounging. Bright tapestries lined the walls and a huge fire dominated the far end of the long room. It seemed nothing more than an old-fashioned great hall built along the lines of castles of old, but a closer look revealed the presence of light switches and power connections. It might have been an outpost, but those living and working here were not expected to go without their creature comforts.
We didn’t stop in the hall, however, but continued past the great fire to a staircase all but hidden behind it. Two flights up we reached the antechamber for what I presumed was his private suite. And the fact we’d come here sent all sorts of alarms through me—but not because I thought he intended, in any way, to make a sexual overture.
Two comfortable-looking chairs sat in front of a smaller, but no less warm, open fire. He sat down and motioned me toward the other.
I hesitated. “I’d rather stand, Commander.”
“Yes, I know you would, but this is an informal chat rather than a formal one. So sit.”
As I reluctantly did so, he pressed a button on the table next to his chair. A few seconds later, a woman appeared. She was comely and young, with blonde hair and blue eyes—and wanted to be far more than just a handmaiden if the look she gave the commander was anything to go by.
“Mari, two glasses of red, please.”
She curtseyed and disappeared before I could protest. “What is going on, Commander? What do you want of me?”
“What do I want?” He pressed his fingers together and considered me. “The truth would be a good start.”
“The truth of what?”
“Of what really happened out there.”
I frowned. “I told the truth in the troop carrier. I’m not sure what else you want.”
“I want to know why those Adlin were so bloody determined to capture one or both of you.”
I half smiled. “I bear the scars of their determination to kill, Commander. It’s certainly not me they’re after.”
“Perhaps.”
It was the second time a man of power had said that, and it sat as uneasily with me this time as it had the first. I leaned forward and splayed my fingers wide to capture the fire’s heat, although I was far from cold. That heat came not just from the discomfort of questions I could not—dare not—answer, but from a fierce, raw wash of energy emanating from the man sitting entirely too close. It was both earthy and sexual, and it ensnared my senses and made them hunger.
I made a vague attempt to shake such thoughts and desires from my mind and said, “The questions that should be asked here is, how did a woman who has been missing for twelve years come to be alone and lost in the Tenterra wasteland? And why was she in possession of an Adlin beacon?”
“Oh, they’re questions that will undoubtedly be asked, and by more than me and you.” He crossed his legs, the movement casual and elegant. “But I very much suspect that there are other questions only you can answer.”
“Such as?”
Mari returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine. She poured us both a drink then said, “Is there anything else, my lord?”
“Not tonight, Mari. Thank you.”
She bowed and disappeared, but not before I’d caught the brief flash of annoyance she cast my way. My guess about her desires had been right.
I swirled the red around in the glass. It was rich in color and full in body, and teased my nostrils with the smell of blueberries and violets. But it could not overpower the raw scent of masculinity coming from the man in the other chair.
Whatever this awareness was, I wanted it gone. Quickly.
He was watching me, I knew, but not really in the way of a man who was attracted to a woman. It was more like hunter and prey. He wanted something from me, but that something wasn’t sex. I took a sip of wine and tried to ignore both my hyper-awareness of him and the growing uneasiness. The silence ran on. And on.
Whatever his reasons for me being here, he wasn’t in a hurry to reveal them.
“This wine,” I said eventually, “is far better than anything they serve at the base cante
en.”
He snorted. “It should be, given the price the merchants charge for the stuff. Tell me about that earth shelter, March.”
“Neve,” I said automatically, and then cursed inwardly. I didn’t need to be on intimate terms with this man, not even when it came to something as simple as being on a first-name basis. “And there’s really nothing much to tell.”
“Lady Saska is a woman of some power, but even the most powerful air witch alive has no authority over the earth. The wind couldn’t have dug that trench and cave for her.”
My gaze met his. “So Lord Kiro said. That does not alter the fact of what happened.”
“Lord Kiro happens to believe you are not telling the truth.”
And he would be right. I raised an eyebrow and hoped the inner agitation didn’t show. “And what lies does he think I’m telling?”
“He, like me, believes that it was you who dug the trench.”
I raised the wine to my lips and somehow resisted the urge to gulp it down and ask for more. I sipped it, licked the sweetness from my lips, and then said, “So he thinks I somehow snatched the ability to control the earth from some hereto unseen and unknown place that harbors such magic, and used it to save us?”
Amusement touched his expression, and it softened his aristocratic features. While he couldn’t be classified as captivatingly handsome—as so many of those in the ruling houses were—there was still something about this man’s features that drew the eye.
“There are no places of wild magic left in this misbegotten land,” he said. “So no, he does not think that.”
“He’s foolish to think anything else,” I replied bluntly. “I’m unlit, Commander, and that can never change.”
He drank some wine, the green of his gaze filled with shadows and questions. “The auditors have been known to get it wrong.”
My smile held little in the way of amusement. “But I’m also stained. Have you ever known—ever heard—of one such as I possessing such power?”
His gaze drifted to the stain on my cheek. I half expected a slither of distaste to appear, but again, he surprised me.
“No. Not the ability to command interaction between earth and air, at any rate.”
“Then I don’t know what else to say, Commander. I can only repeat the truth of what happened, and if that is not believed then—” I stopped and shrugged.
“Lord Kiro is arranging for Lady Saska to be re-audited once she’s back at Winterborne and recovered. I expect we’ll have our answers then.”
Those answers, I knew, would only lead to more questions—questions that would involve my part in doing the impossible. But even if the auditors were assigned to me and did detect the sliver of magic I now possessed, it wouldn’t provide them with answers. Although I had to wonder, if an air witch had no power or control over the earth itself, why had I been able to do just that? It was certainly the air I’d called for help, not the earth.
“I hope so, Commander.” I drained the rest of the wine, placed the glass on the small table between our chairs, and then rose. “If that’s all, I should return to the hospital ward.”
“Yes, I think perhaps you should.” He pressed a second button and then stood.
Though there was still a good five feet between us, something flared. Something that was once again earthy and base, sexual and yet not. It echoed not only through me, but the rough stone under my feet. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and it left me both breathless and frightened. Because whatever it was, it was not only powerful but also very dangerous.
And he felt it, even if it was only evident by the slight narrowing of his eyes.
I took a step back but the movement didn’t shatter the power of whatever that surge was.
“Rogers?” he said, his gaze not wavering from mine. “Can you escort March back to the hospital, please?”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I disagree.” His voice was mild even if his gaze was still too watchful, too wary. “And a guard will be placed on your door should you decide to go wandering again without clearance.”
“I’m not dangerous—”
“Oh, I think you are, Neve March.” The small smile that briefly tugged his lips did little to ease the darkness in his eyes. “Few others could do what you have done. Few others could even survive it.”
He wasn’t, I suspected, talking so much about our escape from the Adlin, but the means by which we’d done it. Trouble had indeed stepped into my path the minute I’d decided to meld with the wind, and it obviously wasn’t stepping away. “Then you misjudge the training and skill of the Nightwatch, Commander.”
“Perhaps.”
As footsteps warned of the approaching guard, I spun on my heel and walked across to the stairs. A brown-clad figure appeared down the bottom. I motioned him to stop, then glanced back at Stone.
“I hope you get your answers, Commander.”
“I intend to. Good night, March.”
I wasn’t sure whether his comment was a promise or a threat, and was just as unsure about the response it evoked within me. I nodded in reply and clattered down the stairs.
But I had a vague feeling I had not seen the last of Blacklake’s prime.
Treace clucked over me like a mother hen as I stripped off and climbed back into bed. She swung the nearby machine over me to check that I’d done no damage to either my hand or my leg, then reheated my meal and made I sure I ate it.
“You need to build your strength, young lady, not be wasting it willy-nilly,” she said at one point.
I smiled. “I’m fine—”
“Yes, I’m sure you are,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “Nevertheless, you will stay in this bed until Mace gets here, won’t you? Because I will tie you down if I have to.”
I grinned. “And how many of your patients have said ‘yes please’ after such a threat.”
She laughed. “Far too many, I tell you. Sleep tight, lass. We’re just outside if you need anything.”
And so were the guards—one on each door, in fact. Trey Stone was certainly determined that I would remain exactly where I was supposed to. As the lights dimmed in the room, I shuffled down into the bed and dragged the sheet over my shoulders. The strange awareness had finally begun to fade, even if my body still hummed like a fiddle too tightly strung. I closed my eyes, drew in the silence and peace of this place, and slept.
And if I dreamed of green eyes and earth, I had no clear memory of it.
Mace visited me the following morning. After checking my wounds, he muttered something about wishing he could harness the healing skills of the Sifft for the greater good of all, and ordered me to keep the brace on my finger for one more day. Treace then brought a hearty mid-morning meal, the news that I was cleared to leave Winterborne, and a demand from Saska that I come and see her immediately.
I showered and dressed, then clipped the bracelets onto my utilities belt and strapped on the blaster and gut busters. The rifle I slung over my shoulder. I wasn’t about to leave anything here—not when doing so would involve all manner of paperwork and deputations when I got home.
Last night’s guard had been replaced by a slender, dark-haired woman. She gave me a friendly enough nod, but didn’t say anything as she led me into the inner bailey and across to a long, sturdy-looking building I presumed were the State Apartments. It was interesting that the commander had his quarters over the great hall rather than here. Maybe he simply preferred to keep the apartments for visiting guests—Blacklake might be an outpost, but he was still a member of a ruling family and a male at that. I doubted he’d be left out of family events or decisions.
Saska’s quarters were on the second floor and were a vast, comfortable space that not only possessed a four-poster bed, but also several couches, a private eating area, and an open fire. There were no tapestries on the whitewashed walls here, but rather paintings depicting landscapes and farm buildings. I wondered if they were meant to represent Tenterra as
it had once been.
Saska sat near the fire, but turned as I entered. The look she gave me was remote and regal. The woman who’d sworn at me like a soldier had obviously been well and truly leashed.
“Neve,” she said, voice cool. “I’m glad you could make it before we were shipped out.”
It wasn’t like I really had an option but I merely stopped and did the required half bow. “I’m glad to see you appear to have recovered from your ordeal, Lady Saska.”
“Indeed.” She raised one eyebrow. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was in amusement or disdain. “Aside from the troublesome lack of memory of how I managed to get there, I’m surprisingly well.”
“Good.” I unclipped the bracelets and held them out to her. “These are yours.”
She didn’t take them. In fact, something close to fear or revulsion rolled across her face before she got her expression back under control.
“They were never mine. The first time I saw them was out in that desert.”
I frowned. “I thought you said the queen gifted—”
“I said no such thing.” Her cool tone hinted at anger. “And I will not have you spreading such lies, do you hear me?”
The wind that stirred around me contained a similar frosty bite, but also a warning for me to hold my tongue—that it wasn’t worth antagonizing her just yet. The wind rather unusually seemed to be on my side rather than hers right now.
“I hear.” Whether I obeyed was another matter entirely. Although, who would I tell? It wasn’t as if anyone would take my word over hers.
“Good.” She waved a hand dismissively. “You may do with them what you wish.”
“But—” I hesitated, my gaze falling to them. They were heavy in my hands and obviously pure silver. Selling them would go a long way to ensuring I had a good sum of money behind me come retirement—if I made retirement, that was. That wasn’t always a certainty in either the Night or Daywatch. But I couldn’t in good conscience accept them so readily. It wasn’t right—not when they might be some kind of family heirloom. Their design was certainly old enough. “You asked me to save them because of their value. This is far too much of a reward when I was only doing my job.”