Reaping the Aurora

by Joshua Palmatier

  “Not a bad idea.”

  He raised his fingers to his lips. A piercing whistle and hand wave called Gaven and the two men released from the shard toward them, one of the men crouching down beside what Allan assumed was his wife, hugging her and the two children close as he broke into tears.

  The other man—the driver of the cart—stood over them, arms crossed, eyeing Bryce, Gaven, and the rest as they converged back on their own wagons.

  His gaze finally settled on Allan, mouth downturned with unease, tainted with suspicion. “Who are you people?”

  “Survivors of the Shattering . . . and the healing of the distortion.” Allan could tell the words meant little to him.

  “That man, Gaven, said we were trapped in the distortion. That you freed us.”

  “Yes. We would have freed you sooner, but we couldn’t with the Wolves attacking you. They were caught in the distortion as well. It’s taken us a few months to get back to you.”

  “Months.” The man fidgeted uncertainly, glancing around at the surrounding buildings, the cliffs, the ring of debris caused by the distortion not that far away, broken only by the section where Kara and the others had healed shards before it had started to collapse. “He said we were trapped in the distortion for over a year.”

  “Yes. A lot has happened since the distortion quickened.”

  “So it would seem.”

  The second man finally released his wife, although the woman still held both children close to her side.

  “Forgive my brother,” the man said, extending his hand. Allan hesitated, then shook it. “He’s always been untrusting. I want to thank you all for saving us from the Wolves.” He laughed, the sound shaky, as if he were barely holding on to sanity. “From our perspective, you simply appeared out of thin air. One moment we were alone, running for our lives, the next—there you were!”

  “Charles, hush,” the woman said, grabbing his arm to calm him. But she turned to Allan with a thin smile. “We are grateful, whatever has happened.”

  Charles’ brother suddenly tensed. He nodded toward one side of the square and said, “You have company.”

  Before Allan could turn, one of the enforcers cried out in alarm. Bryce’s men formed up around the wagons as a dozen men emerged from one of the streets on the far side of the square, creating a short wall between the buildings to either side. Archers trained arrows on them, but no one fired. Three men passed between the archers’ ranks, stepping out before them, then halted. Allan couldn’t tell who they were at this distance. The Tunnelers? Temerites? Another group?

  The fact that they hadn’t already attacked told him they weren’t Rats.

  “Get your family to the wagons,” Allan said, not bothering to look back to see if Charles and the rest were complying as he stalked toward where Bryce and the enforcers stood. Grant and his Wolves remained clustered to one side, their attention fixed on the newcomers.

  “That didn’t take long,” Bryce said as he approached.

  “Can you see who they are?”

  “Not at this distance.”

  “Stay here. It looks like they want to talk.”

  Bryce sucked in a breath to protest, but Allan was already walking across the square. He flicked orders to Grant with one hand, the pack leader nodding once in acknowledgment.

  Then he focused on the group ahead. As he drew closer, he relaxed slightly. The lead figure was obviously Temerite, the thin face and neatly trimmed beard a dead giveaway. Most of the others sported the same beards. They were dressed in the armor he’d seen the guards of the Temerite nobles who’d visited Erenthrall using, although then it had gleamed. Now the polish had worn off, the uniforms obviously blemished from hard use. Pieces had been replaced with whatever could be found at hand. Even the leader’s uniform—slightly more embellished but still practical—showed wear.

  Allan halted ten paces away from the leader, acutely aware that at least four of the arrows were trained on him.

  He and the Temerite eyed each other for a tense moment. Then the Temerite’s eyes flicked toward the rest of Allan’s group in the square. “That was impressive. We’ve been trying to figure out a way to release the family for months now.” His attention returned to Allan, his gaze hardening. “What group are you with and what are you doing here in our district?”

  Two

  ALLAN HESITATED, not letting his gaze waver from that of the Temerite’s. He knew that whatever he said next would determine the Temerite’s reaction. But he also knew that the Temerites must have an idea of who they were and where they came from, even if he did sense confusion in the Temerite leader.

  He cleared his throat and said carefully, “We’re from the Needle.”

  “The White Cloaks,” one of the betas behind the leader hissed, his hand snapping up, the archers behind him tensing, pulling back to fire with a creak of straining wood.

  But the leader shouted, “Halt! Don’t fire!”

  The beta glared at his back, but kept his arm raised. The archers remained ready.

  The leader lifted his chin. Allan noted a small scar along his cheek, nearly hidden by the cut of his beard. His hair was salted with gray as well and Allan adjusted his age upward, placing him closer to forty. “You claim you come from the Needle, yet I see no White Cloaks with you, although obviously you have a Wielder.”

  “There’s been a change in power at the Needle.”

  “A change in power,” the Temerite said. “The Father and his White Cloaks are no longer in control? Who succeeded them?”

  “Father Dalton still leads the people, but he is only a figurehead. The Wielders—led by Kara Tremain—have seized the node. She’s the one who healed the distortion here and stopped the quakes. She and Commander Ty run the Needle now.”

  This caused a few of the archers to stir.

  “He’s lying,” the beta behind him muttered. “No one person could have healed the distortion, let alone stopped the quakes.”

  “She didn’t do it alone,” Allan said. “She had the help of the other Wielders. And the node.”

  “Why are you here then, in Erenthrall, in our territory?”

  “The last time we were here, this wasn’t your territory, it was the Tunnelers’. What happened to them?”

  “You mean the Underearthers? The ley returned to most of the ley lines after the quakes. They were forced above ground. They’ve taken over the University. Those that survived.”

  “And the Rats?”

  The beta grinned, the expression unpleasant. “We drove them out.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” the leader said. Then, deliberately: “Why are you here?”

  Allan sighed. “We came to free the family from the shard and to see how Erenthrall has changed since the healing of the distortion. We also came to see if we could find any allies in the city.”

  All the Temerites stilled, even the beta.

  “Allies?” The leader’s voice was tentative.

  Allan spread his arms, palms out. “Why are we fighting? We’ve been watching you since the Shattering. We have the same enemies, the same goals. We both need food and supplies, all of which is harder to find when we have to watch our backs constantly.” Allan switched his attention to the beta. “My guess is that you may have pushed the Rats out, but they aren’t gone. They’re still here, somewhere, causing problems. And then there are the Gorrani, who’ve retreated to the southern cliffs. They’re still foraging in the city, aren’t they? Still a danger? There must be other groups as well, to the east, to the north.” He watched the leader carefully, saw the man shift his weight at mention of the north, confirming Allan’s suspicions that Haven hadn’t been eliminated as a threat. He hid his disappointment, even though he wasn’t surprised, and returned to his original point. “So why should we fight each other? Why not pool our resources and help each other survive?”


  The Temerite leader’s head lifted as he considered. Behind him, his beta said, “We don’t need them, Captain. We’ve been doing fine without them.”

  “That’s not for us to decide, Lieutenant.”

  The leader focused his attention on Allan, a muscle near the scar twitching. “You’ve shown good intentions by releasing the family from the shard. For that, I will grant you an audience with our Matriarch. She will decide whether we will risk an alliance with the Needle. I will escort you to her, along with your men. But your Wolves”—his gaze shifted toward Grant and the pack—“must stay behind. We will not let them inside our walls.”

  “Understood.”

  “Lieutenant Boskell, if you please.”

  The beta slowly lowered his arm, the archers lowering their bows at the same time. He bellowed an order in Temerese and the archers relaxed, stepping to either side as another group of Temerites poured forth from the buildings behind, these men bearing swords. They spread out across the buildings facing the square and Allan’s group, forming disciplined ranks. There were at least forty infantry, along with the archers. They made no threatening moves toward Allan’s group, but they eyed them and the Wolves warily.

  The captain stepped forward, right arm extended at shoulder height, a traditional Temerite greeting in place of a handshake, where men of equal rank grasped each other’s shoulders. Allan had seen it done at Baronial events, but had never participated.

  Aware that Lieutenant Boskell and the captain’s men were watching—as well as his own group—he reached out and gripped the captain’s shoulder, the gesture only slightly awkward.

  The captain smiled slightly. “Captain Lienta, seconded by Lieutenant Boskell, of the Temerite enclave that remains here in Erenthrall.”

  “Allan Garrett.”

  Lienta squeezed Allan’s shoulder, then let his hand drop. Allan did the same. “Why don’t you introduce me to your party.” Over his shoulder, he said, “Lieutenant, send someone to warn the enclave and the Matriarch, then remain here with the unit.”

  “Very well, Captain.”

  He motioned Allan forward, falling into step beside him as they crossed the square toward Bryce and the others. The Dog watched them approach, the enforcers behind tensing in uncertainty, everyone else huddled by the four wagons except for the Wolves near Grant off to one side.

  As they drew closer, Lienta said quietly, “You have an interesting collection of individuals, Allan Garrett. Wolves, Wielders, enforcers, and Dogs. I look forward to hearing how such a varied group came about. Assuming our Matriarch doesn’t order your deaths.”

  The casualness of the statement sent a shiver through Allan’s shoulders. He didn’t have a chance to respond, though, as Bryce stepped forward and asked, “What’s happening?” his voice guarded.

  “Bryce, Captain Lienta. He’s going to escort us to the Temerite wall so that we can speak to the Matriarch.”

  Lienta had stiffened formally at the introduction and nodded minutely. “We won’t require that you discard any weapons, although we will keep most of you in the outer yard. Only three of you may see the Matriarch.”

  Bryce asked, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  “It’s what Kara wanted.”

  Bryce’s look of annoyance spoke volumes, but he ordered the enforcers and the rest into position around the others. Allan waved Grant closer.

  “We’re going into the Temerite enclave, but they don’t want the Wolves inside.”

  “Nothing personal,” Lienta said, although his discomfort at having the half-transformed man this close was obvious. His gaze never left Grant’s face, his entire body rigid.

  Grant’s lips peeled back to expose a few too many teeth. His nostrils flared. “We will hunt in Grass and search for the Wolves who attacked you before the quickening. We will find you afterward, once the Temerites free you. And if they do no”—his eyes flared a feral yellow—“then we will hunt inside the Temerite enclave.”

  The broad-shouldered pack leader turned away, uttering a low growl to his Wolves, all of whom loped off into the side streets of the square, vanishing into the falling shadows of dusk.

  Lienta watched them silently, then looked up toward the darkening sky. “We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to reach the walls before nightfall.”

  “We’re ready,” Bryce said.

  “Then follow me.”

  They rolled across the square, the Temerites falling into ordered positions around them, cutting them off from a quick escape. As the shadows deepened, night descending, lights flickered on in the city around them—both firelight and ley light. The most prominent came from the Temerite walls where they were headed, but there were ley lights over the old University walls, one globe steady, the others flickering or completely out. Pockets of light dotted the landscape in all directions, few concentrated. Noises erupted from the darkness. Howls broke off to the south, startling everyone, and Allan wondered if they came from Grant and his pack, or from others. A short time before they reached the Temerite walls, frenetic ululations came from the northwest, obviously human, although wild and animalistic. At a questioning glance from Allan, Lienta said curtly, “Rats.”

  Then they were at the walls, multiple fires blazing on the rooftops overhead, the broad thoroughfare in front of the buildings that the Temerites had boarded up to create the main structure of the wall cleared of all debris. Anyone who tried to approach the Temerites would be exposed and within range of the archers lined up along the roofs’ edges. Men shouted down a question as they approached, Boskell shouting back, and a moment later the heavy wooden doors that had been built across a narrow street, connected to the buildings on either side, groaned outward. They’d obviously been pulled from a trading house or mercantile and moved to form the barricade, the wood reinforced with piecemeal sheets of metal. A few of the exposed wood sections were charred, as if someone had tried to burn their way through the doors at some point, and only after that did Allan notice that the buildings the Temerites had chosen for their walls were all made of stone.

  They passed into a courtyard crowded with people, nearly all of them Temerites, although there were a few others mixed in. On one side, a large group was engaged in training, men and women being drilled in swordsmanship, some practicing with shields. All were being directed by sharp commands from a score of Temerite military, in uniforms like those Lienta and his unit wore, with the bearing to match. Allan had not known there were that many Temerites of military standing in Erenthrall, but then he hadn’t paid attention that closely before the Shattering. The Temerites had never factored into his goals when he’d come before.

  The rest of those around the courtyard were busy working at more mundane tasks, such as repairing broken harness and cart wheels, patching clothes, or tanning hides. Across from the makeshift gate, at the opposite side of what had once been one of Erenthrall’s marketplaces, two carts loaded with stone debris trundled down the cross street, headed south. The entire plaza and the street beyond were lit with torches and fires; Allan saw no ley globes or any sign of the ley at all.

  “Your carts and the rest of your group can wait there,” Lienta said, motioning toward a corner of the square opposite those training but still near the front gate. He’d already dismissed Boskell and the rest of the unit, all of them moving off toward the training yard and the buildings beyond. “You and two others can accompany me to the Matriarch.”

  “Bryce and Dylan, come with me,” Allan said, the two stepping forward as he turned to Gaven and Bryce’s beta. “You two, keep watch and make certain everyone stays here and out of trouble. I don’t want anyone leaving this square.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Gaven said, as he eyed the work the Temerites were doing.

  Bryce’s beta kept his eyes on those training. “We’ll be waiting here,” the beta said, a cool gaze falling on Lienta, “when you return.�
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  Lienta ignored the underlying threat. “This way, then.”

  They crossed the square, another cart loaded with stone passing by in front of them. Allan followed it with his eyes, but said nothing as Lienta led them down a side street, past an old warehouse, an immaculate church to Bastion scarred by quake damage, and a walled park, before cutting through a section of tenements to another plaza. This one contained a fountain, its basin studded with four obelisks, one cracked and toppled, with a central stone statue of a hand thrust up out of the ground, clutching a giant ley globe. Moonlight cast the entire plaza in a silvery sheen.

  As they crossed the plaza, Dylan raised one hand as if to brush the surface of the ley globe as they passed. “Why is it not lit?” he asked, hand falling as they headed toward a series of three-story homes filling the block to one side, their windows glowing with candlelight. Allan hid a flicker of surprise. He’d thought the Matriarch would have housed herself in the much larger and grander mercantile house that reared up dark and foreboding behind the fountain. It had a palatial feel to it, far surpassing the less ornate architecture of the other homes.

  “After the Shattering, the ley no longer worked in this section of the city. That’s one of the reasons the Matriarch had us seize control of it. It helped that our embassy was already here, and that it was deemed a strategic location that, with some modifications, would be easy to defend.”

  “Modifications like using the buildings as a wall and blocking off the streets with gates?” Allan asked.

  “Yes. There was also the distortion to consider. We used it to our south as part of our wall. It proved extremely effective . . . until it collapsed.”

  “Buildings do not make structurally sound walls,” Bryce interjected. “They have a tendency to collapse as well.”

  “They don’t when they are filled with stone.”

  They’d reached the row of houses, the steps leading up to the brownstone near the center guarded by four Temerite watchmen. They said nothing as Lienta ascended, one of them reaching to open the door for them, warm light spilling out onto the steps.