by Levi Jacobs
“You think it was the Councilate?” Marrem asked in low tones.
Tai rolled his shoulders. “Could be. Though this seems awfully small for them. If I had the men they did, I’d hit all the granaries at once. Really rob of us of food.”
“Maybe they don’t have many men here.”
Tai gently pulled a climber from the side of the granary. “Aelya seems to think they do. That every lighthair here is working for the Houses.”
“It could be a lighthair team. There are plenty of them without work, and we’re not giving any handouts.”
Tai sighed. “It could. Or it could be any of the Achuri men without work, or the people come from the villages, hearing of our victory, who didn’t bring anything with them. People are hungry.”
“Whoever it was,” Marrem said, looking at the streak of stone rubble and thatch, “they weren’t acting on impulse. This was a planned attack.”
“Which means they’ll probably do it again,” Tai said. “We need to watch the market, see if anyone has suddenly become rich in millet.”
They turned at a disturbance behind them to see a man with the sandy-blond hair of the Yersh pushing through the sea of children. “Tai?” he called in proper Yersh. “Tai Kulga?”
He carried no weapon and wore no red necklace. “I am,” Tai said. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, sir. Just come to report. There are rumors of bodies in the woods, of attacks on Ayugen. I wanted to tell you I’ve heard strange sounds coming from the woods to the south, screams and trees crashing.”
“Are you part of the militia?”
“No sir.”
“Well seek out Aelya or Weiland—you’ll likely find them training near the old prison camp. They’re in charge of city defenses.”
“Aye sir. Thank you sir.”
He pushed his way back into the children. Marrem watched him go a moment. “You got angry in council today.”
Tai stretched his shoulders. “I did. And I still think we made the wrong decision.”
“You’re going to have to learn to control that temper, if you ever want to lead.”
“I don’t want to lead.”
Marrem clucked her tongue. “Yes you do. And you’re good at it. There’s a reason that man came to you and not Aelya or Weiland. That’s good. The people need a strong leader right now. But if you’re going to do it, you need to understand that what you want can’t come before what the people need. And what we need is you here, making decisions, defending against attacks, not flying off to Gendrys.”
“Aye.”
She chuckled. “Still a stubborn fool, I see. Well that can be an asset too, if you learn to use it.”
A strange howl came over the hubbub of children and Eacham’s frustrated cries. Tai frowned. “Did you hear that?”
It came again and Marrem nodded. “A wolf howl, it sounds like.”
Down the street the man who had spoken to him earlier was running toward them, his fox howling like there was a full moon. “Or a fox.”
“What—”
Something slammed into the ground behind them, air bursting into resonance. Tai spun to see four bloodied, wild-eyed Councilate soldiers leaping from a fifth, swords out, uai shaking the ground.
Broken. Five of them.
They charged.
11
Tai struck resonance hard. “Marrem!” he shouted. “The kids!”
As one body the Broken leapt for him, shoving through kids, air crackling with uai.
Tai shot up as swords and axes skewered the place where he had been, one of the Broken smashing through the remnants of the granary wall. As one they looked up at him and screamed.
The yard below was a chaos of screaming kids. Tai fumbled at his belt, nothing there but a long dagger. Against five Broken. If they went for the kids, there was nothing he could do.
Instead they grabbed onto the Broken wafter, who shot toward him.
Good. That was good. Tai pushed higher, heart pounding in his chest, drawing them away from the merchant’s yard. The slate roofs and canals of Hightown sped by below. But where to go—the forest? The Broken wafter was slower than he was, weighted down by four bodies. Tai slowed to keep them close—they seemed to be targeting him for now. Which meant a whole lot of things about the Brokens’ ability to think and coordinate, but he didn’t have time for that right now. Keep them close, draw them out of the city.
And then what? Face all five of them alone in the forest? He’d barely handled one. Run them out of uai? What if he ran out first?
They sped south, past the edge of Hightown and over the old mine complexes, air a strange chord of resonances around him. First things first—protect the city. If they only had the one wafter, as long as he could get them far enough from Ayugen, the other four wouldn’t be able to reach it in time, before their uai ran out, or they self-destructed.
If they were going to self-destruct. The last one sure hadn’t.
As if they’d heard him, a second wafter split off from the first, wild-haired man on her back swinging a barbed poleax. These two were faster, forcing him to speed up and leave the other three behind. He glanced back to see the slower three circling back toward Ayugen.
“No!” He doubted he could take down five Broken, but he knew he couldn’t let them get back to the city. They would destroy everything.
Tai circled up over the poleax pair and struck his higher resonance, air seeming to thicken around him. He visualized a giant set of shears, made of air, and sliced it into the group of three Broken. They screamed in pain but kept on, sweeping up at him while the poleaxe pair swooped in from behind.
So strong. So coordinated.
Tai shoved himself down, rolling in air to try the shears again, aiming for their heads. In return he felt shears close on him.
He dodged wildly, looping around a towering leatherleaf, then shot straight up at the group of three, dodging another strike by the poleaxe pair. He had to get their numbers down, fast. His spine was already starting to ache—he hadn’t really recovered from facing the woman yesterday.
Tai tried a fist this time, smashing it down into the group of three, and one of them ripped free, a brawler maybe, plummeting the three or four hundredpace to the forest canopy.
“Yes!” he shouted, cutting under an attempted impaling by the poleaxe pair. Four was better. He struck with shears again, heart hammering in his chest, uai roaring. So long as they stayed out of the city. Maybe he could handle four.
Again as if they heard him, the slower two circled away and flew north, while the poleaxe pair came at him. Tai dodged, cursing, trying to hit them with air. He couldn’t let them get back to the city. Not while they still had uai.
He shot after the slower two, poleaxers harrying his tail, trying to smash air at them, scissor them, do whatever he could to stop them. Each time, they dodged just in time, swerving left and right in air.
Tai’s heart sank. There was no way they could know about his attacks, know he’d follow them back to the city, unless they had a mindseye. That meant they knew he would put himself before his people, knew they could force him to the ground, where they’d easily overpower him.
Tai forced his mind to silence, then broke it into a hundred arguing voices. They knew it, one voice in the corner whispered—unless he convinced them something was more precious to him than the people of his city.
12
Aelya leaned against the wood rail of the prison fortress catwalk, pulling at a pipeful of Lumo’s sage. It wasn’t good, not like a plug of dreamleaf or a draught of honeywine, but it was free, and she needed something to pass the time. Military drills were the worst.
“So you see,” Lumo was saying. “There should be no light hair. Why is red hair dark, and brownish Yersh hair light? It is all history, not anatomy.”
Unfortunately the pipe came with a philosophical discussion, which was typical for Lumo. She appreciated the hulking Minchu, but the man could learn a thing or two from Weiland abo
ut not wasting words.
Below in the prison camp’s square yard, blocks of soldiers practiced changing formations under Feynrick’s shouted orders. First a square, then an arrowhead, then a double-ring, back to a square. It was about as entertaining as watching mud dry.
Or talking philosophy.
Aelya blew smoke. “Red hairs like you are dark because your hair is thick, like mine.” She grabbed a tuft of the black hair sprouting from her head. “You’re from the south. We need it to stay warm.”
“Ah,” Lumo said. “But the Seinjial are called darkhairs too, and they live in the cold mountains, but their hair is thin as Ellumia’s.”
“It’s because their hair is dark, stupid.” Aelya pulled on the pipe again, hard.
“And if my hair was blue? What then?”
“I don’t know. Depends on if I liked you or not.”
Lumo pulled on his pipe, contemplating this as though it was wisdom, then his green eyes caught on something in the distance. He choked.
Aelya looked over, lazy, to see three specks in the air, the front one flying too fast to be anyone but Tai.
Tai in a hurry. With someone just as fast behind.
Aelya stood, but before she could so much as call out Tai slammed into the center of the fortress yard, shouting, air humming, then shot left.
Four Broken slammed into the place where he was, screaming, uai vibrating off them like a struck bell.
The courtyard erupted. More resonances sounded, those soldiers who could summoning their abilities. Two of the Broken blasted sideways, likely hit with Tai’s air. The other two smashed into the dissolving ranks of soldiers, blades a deadly blur.
Aelya struck resonance and leaped the rail, falling fifteen paces in air so full of uai it felt thick beneath her feet, the courtyard a dischordant roar of power. Tai was up again, sweating, bleeding from his arm, a Broken shooting for him in air. Aelya swung back her dead arm, her iron arm, and jumped, uai-fueled brawler strength propelling her seven paces up.
She swung, smashing the iron fist for the Broken’s face. It dodged but she still connected, the combined force sending them both spinning away in air.
She hit and saw stars, brawler’s resonance taking the edge off the impact. Aelya pushed up to see two brawler Broken like uncaged beasts in the yard, tearing through ranks of men. Tai could handle himself, but if they left these two Broken alone they wouldn’t have a militia to speak of.
Aelya sprinted in, grabbing a sword from a fallen militiaman cut nearly in two, tears of rage or fear blinding her. She wiped them away and leapt at the nearest Broken, screaming.
It backhanded her like a rolling boulder, bones crunching, but her blade bit deep into its arm. She spun away, uai fading, pain blossoming. Hit and skidded against the wall, losing her blade, the prison yard a chaos of shouts and screams and throbbing resonance.
She tried to push up and the pain made her gasp despite her uai. In the distance Weiland battled one of the Broken, his slip making him twice as fast as a regular human, but the brawler Broken so quick it almost kept up with his blows. Weiland. She smiled, ground lurching beneath her. She liked Weiland.
A second Broken swept down from above, poleaxe aimed for Weiland’s heart. Aelya blacked out.
13
Ella swam through air. She had heard shouts from the cave mouth, come out in time to see Tai flying over the city with something chasing him, to feel the power of their resonance even from the ground. Broken—it had to be. Here in the city.
Tamping down her fear she’d struck resonance hard and run after them, but even in slip she couldn’t keep up with wafters as fast as Tai. So she’d dropped out of slip in the market to alert the militiamen and some cultists, then pushed on at a dead run.
She felt the uai well before she was out of the trees, before she heard the slowed-down rumble of men shouting, before she saw Tai drifting in air, arms frozen exchanging blows with a mangled and bloodied form that could only be a Broken.
Thank the Ascending God the gates were open. Two Broken fought scores of men inside, one spraying blood from a dangling arm, another taking spear thrusts as Weiland fought it in something close to her version of time. The Broken were back-to-back, moves perfectly coordinated to keep off foes.
Ella slowed and took a breath, a clinically detached part of her marveling at the amount of uai vibrating all around her, like some strange music. She was no soldier, but she was twice as fast even as Weiland, and this battle was going badly. Even she could see that.
Ella pried a spear from the hands of a man with a gaping stomach wound and wove her way through near-frozen soldiers toward Weiland. Her spine was beginning to ache, but she had a minute left, maybe. A floating Broken was diving at Weiland, sweeping down at almost his speed, something like a child’s totter from her perspective. She ran in and thrust the spear up, watching the battle around her to avoid getting hit. The blade pierced the Broken’s eye like a dull knife into citrus, and she held it as the momentum of the descending Broken drove the spear back, until she could plant the butt end in the dirt.
She skipped out of the way and dampened uai, not wanting to waste her last bit. The battle lurched into motion around her, rumble of resonance slurring up to an all-powerful roar, brawler’s buzz and slip’s hum and wafter’s rattle like slapping waves against her skin, rattling her bones. The floating Broken smashed down into her spear, momentum carrying the blade through its head and out the other side.
In the sky Tai struck at a flying Broken and was struck in turn. He spun away, movements slowed by the resonance she still held. She waited for him to bounce back, to come at the Broken again.
Instead he bounced from the log walls and fell toward earth.
Ella gasped—he must have run out of uai. Not dead, no, he couldn’t be dead.
Who knew how much uai he’d used since the Broken first attacked? And when the bends hit him he’d be a sitting duck for the Broken.
As if on cue, the brawler Broken fighting back to back turned from their struggles and ran for Tai. They were coordinating then, somehow. And they were targeting Tai.
Too bad she could target too.
Ella restruck resonance, ache shooting up her spine, and ran. They couldn’t lose Tai. She couldn’t lose him—what would Ayugen be without the man that had saved her from Odril in the first place? Welcomed her to the rebellion? Then saved them all when the army came?
Ella pulled a sword from the loose grip of a dead man, battle nearly frozen around her. Other fighters in regular time had seen Tai fall, were rushing toward to defend him, some of them buzzing with their own resonance.
As she passed one—Sigwil, she thought his name was—the dischordant roar of uai around her seemed to harmonize, her resonance fitting with his to create, just for a moment, a sweet hum, like the last notes of the concertos her father used to hold in their courtyard in Worldsmouth.
Then she was past him, raising the blade, Tai tumbling into the ground, Broken just paces behind him. Spine burning Ella raised the sword, aiming for the neck as this Broken still wore a mangled Councilate faceplate. She sliced in, blood beginning to fountain straight out, but there was no time to get out of the way. Uai left her and the Broken smashed her into the dirt.
14
Tai dropped upward sideways and spinning into the dirt, world bent double with the bends. The Broken hit a moment later, driving him into the dirt. Curiously, he didn’t feel the man’s blade, and he heard a woman’s scream. The weight of the thing and the force of the landing knocked the air from his lungs, already hitching from the bends. Sounds of the battle came muffled through the body—bodies?—piled on him, but he knew this was the end. The Broken would kill him, and likely destroy most of the militia before they died.
A heavy thrum of uai hit the body on top of him, the ground beneath him. Get up. He had to get up. Fight off the last Broken.
Tai rolled out from the under the bodies, blood running hot and wet down his arm, and got to his knees. The be
nds twisted his vision like ripples on a pond, but a man was between him and the Broken. Fighting them. Smashing a log three times his length into the one Aelya had wounded, sending it spinning into the wall. Roaring and slamming it down on top of the other Broken, so hard Tai felt the impact through the earth.
Was this a fever dream? Tai got to his feet despite the nausea, shaking his head, trying to understand what was happening. The first Broken had bounced from the wall, attacked despite what looked like a broken back. The militiaman impaled it with his log, shoving the splintered end through the Broken body and into the palisade wall behind.
“What?” he gasped. That kind of strength was impossible. Was he dreaming? Already dead?
A shoulder pushed under his, an arm circling his back. “Lord Tai!” someone shouted, voice strangely distant. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he muttered, then shook himself. “I’m fine. What—”
“One of the men, sir!” the man holding him called. “He’s killing them. It’s a miracle! Is this your doing?”
A cultist then. It didn’t matter. The Broken were dead. Just five, and it had taken everything they had to stop them. He looked at the one at his feet and saw a spray of platinum hair extending from beneath it. His heart lurched. “Ella?”
He thought he had seen her earlier, when the first wafter got impaled, standing on the far side of the fort yard watching. Tai dropped and pulled at the Broken body, limbs still weak, fear battling with exhaustion for the strength to roll the body off. The cultist dropped and rolled the mangled Broken off.
It was Ella, her face driven into the dirt, blood smeared across her clothes. “No,” he whispered, rolling her over, shaking her. “Don’t be dead, you can’t be dead.”
Her eyes opened, deep and brown. “Tai,” she whispered. “You’re alive?”
“Apparently,” he said, relief flooding into him. A bloody sword lay just out of her reach, and he connected it to the impossible slice across the dead Broken’s jugular, oozing weak spurts of blood even now. “Thanks to you?”