Reaping the Aurora

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Reaping the Aurora Page 10

by Joshua Palmatier

Five

  “WHY HAVEN’T THEY ATTACKED the walls yet?” Bryce muttered, slapping his hands down on the lip of the rooftop that overlooked the eastern section of Erenthrall outside the Temerite enclosure. In the midmorning sunlit streets below, the Butcher’s rabble were visible, mingling with some of Baron Devin’s forces from Haven. They’d set up a line far enough away they couldn’t be targeted by the Temerite archers, but close enough and with enough men that if Lienta tried to open the gates, they’d be attacked almost instantly.

  Much farther east, still outside the city’s edge, an auroral storm washed across the horizon. Allan couldn’t determine where it was headed— it was too distant and had too many coruscating colors—but it was one of the largest storms he’d seen to date.

  “You sound as if you want them to attack,” Boskell said.

  “It’s been two days. They should have done something by now.”

  Allan and Lienta shared a long-suffering look. The two betas had been nipping at each other’s throats since the night they’d been forced to retreat behind the Temerite walls.

  But Bryce was right. Something should have happened by now.

  Allan crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping lightly at his upper arm. They’d completed a full circuit of the Temerite walls and found that they were all essentially the same. The Rats had settled into the west, the Butcher’s men to the east, with Baron Devin’s men covering the north and spread out to either side. He never would have expected the Rats to follow anyone else’s orders, let alone remain focused enough to cover a wall for two days without acting. Their perusal of the western walls showed that the Rats were becoming impatient, but Devin’s men were keeping them in line. The Butcher’s group below appeared content to sit and wait, most of them sharpening weapons as they sat around makeshift fires, roasting meat over the flames, or tossing dice for entertainment. At least, Allan assumed they were dice. He hadn’t taken the time for a closer look at the meat or the dice, afraid he’d find they were body parts and bones, after Lienta’s description of the Butcher. Devin’s contingent certainly kept their distance, huddling in their own little groups and keeping a wary eye on their supposed allies.

  There were no forces guarding the southern wall. Allan hadn’t understood why at first, until Lienta had explained that there were no gates in the southern wall; they hadn’t had time to incorporate any into it. It hadn’t even been a wall initially; the distortion had kept anyone from approaching from that direction. After its sudden collapse, the Temerites had scrambled to block the breach in their defenses, hastily filling in the exposed gaps in the streets with debris from what the distortion had destroyed near at hand, then working on filling in the buildings they’d chosen for their wall. They would have been overrun immediately if the other groups in the city hadn’t been reeling from the shock of the quakes, the collapse of the distortion, and the subsequent sinking of the city.

  However, Allan had to agree that the Temerites had chosen the placement of their fourth wall wisely, given how quickly they’d been forced to act. They’d pulled back from the edge of where the distortion had been, using the blocks with the largest buildings and the fewest cross streets. That meant they had the fewest gaps to fill in with debris. And the process still hadn’t been completed. Even now they were filling the interiors of the buildings with stone, carts running from some of the collapsed buildings inside the enclosure to the southern wall day and night.

  “They’re obviously waiting for something,” Allan said.

  “But what?” Lienta countered.

  “If I knew, I would have said something by now.”

  Bryce pushed away from the wall and turned toward them. “They haven’t used their Hound yet either. He’s still skulking around the northern gates, accompanying Devin.”

  “Hounds aren’t that useful in full-frontal assaults,” Allan said. “Unless you unleash them simply to cause wholesale chaos in the middle of the fight. They’re mostly useful for assassinations or infiltrations. They’re essentially spies.”

  “But Devin hasn’t even unleashed him for that,” Lienta muttered. “We can still see him at Devin’s side at the northern walls.”

  “We did see a contingent break off from the main group the afternoon after they appeared,” Boskell said, “heading south. They haven’t appeared at the southern walls yet. Maybe they went to the Underearthers or the Gorrani, to see if they were willing to join them. They might be waiting on a response.”

  “It’s possible. We agree they have barely enough men to overrun the walls if they went for a frontal assault now.”

  After a long silence, Lienta sighed. “It’s unlikely we’ll figure out what they’re up to simply standing here. Boskell, head back to the northern gate and keep an eye on this Baron Devin and his Hound. If they make any move at all, especially if that Hound of his disappears, inform me immediately.”

  “Of course.”

  “Bryce, go ahead and accompany him.”

  Bryce shot Allan a bitter, betrayed look, but followed Boskell, the two keeping a short distance apart, both refusing to speak to each other.

  “They’re like children,” Allan muttered.

  “Boskell has always been difficult. He’s still the best second I’ve ever had, both here in Erenthrall or back in Temer.”

  The two turned toward the stairs leading down to the interior street below, Lienta angling toward the Temerite embassy.

  “You don’t think they’re waiting for support from the Underearthers or Gorrani, do you?” Allan asked.

  “No. The Underearthers aren’t numerous enough to give them any kind of advantage over the forces they have now, and from what you said, the Gorrani who’ve taken up residence in the cliffs to the south won’t cooperate with them no matter what they offer.”

  “I agree. There’s something else going on here.” He rolled his shoulders with unease. “You mentioned plans to abandon the embassy. How do you intend to get beyond the walls and Devin’s forces?”

  Lienta didn’t answer at first, walking in silence. Then, abruptly: “The ley barge lines.”

  Allan halted in consternation. “There isn’t a ley station inside your walls.”

  “No, but one of the quakes immediately after the Shattering and the quickening of the distortion caused a collapse into the barge line that runs beneath the embassy. It wasn’t safe to use at first, since the ley was so erratic. Sometimes the line would be free and other times it would be flooded with ley. Since the distortion collapsed, it has remained free of ley. It runs from the Valor district to the northeast to the ley station in Eld.”

  A dagger of apprehension sank into Allan’s gut and he closed his eyes. “So you’re saying there’s a tunnel beneath the walls of your enclosure.”

  “A narrow tunnel, yes. It isn’t wide enough to admit a significant enough force, not with the guards we have placed on it.”

  Allan opened his eyes and grabbed Lienta’s arm, hauling him back into motion toward the embassy. “It might not be large enough for a decent-sized force, but you forgot about the Hound.”

  Lienta pulled out of Allan’s grip, but didn’t stop moving, Allan’s tension and anxiety seeping into his own step. “But we’ve kept an eye on the Hound. He’s still with Devin.”

  “What if there’s more than one Hound?”

  Lienta’s eyes widened at the possibility, and he increased his pace, almost breaking into a run. “I have over a dozen men stationed down there, on either side of the line.”

  “That may be enough.”

  Lienta swore.

  They raced toward the embassy, Allan suddenly wishing he hadn’t sent Bryce to the northern gate with Boskell. As they turned the corner into the square, Lienta shouted toward the guards placed outside the embassy’s door. They drew to attention.

  “When was the last report from the men in the tunnel?” Lienta asked as they tr
otted up the stairs.

  “Two hours ago,” one of the guards reported. “We’re expecting another check-in shortly.”

  Lienta relaxed slightly as they entered the main foyer. “I’ve had them reporting in every two hours,” he explained. “Two guards from each entrance, who rotate out their shifts when they return.”

  “Then maybe we’re overreacting.”

  “I’d still like to verify it.”

  “So would I. But if we’re going down into the ley tunnels, I’ll want my Wielder with me, and a few others.”

  “I’ll gather a small force of guards to accompany us.”

  Allan left the Temerite captain in the foyer, heading deeper into the embassy toward the guest rooms where he and the others in his group had been placed. He jogged up the stairs to the second floor, walking briskly down the hall, feeling slightly out of place as he passed artwork hung on the walls and side tables with fine sculptures and urns in niches to either side. The luxuries were at odds with the destruction and desperation of the city outside.

  But then he ran into Gaven, the wagon master, carrying a pitcher of water and a cloth in one hand. He startled as Allan grabbed his forearm and pulled him down the hall, but didn’t cry out.

  “What’s happening?” he asked without preamble, setting the cloth and pitcher on a stand next to a statue as they passed.

  “Maybe nothing,” Allan said. “Go rouse our enforcers. Tell the rest of our group to be ready to move, just in case. I’ll fetch Dylan.”

  Gaven nodded and ran ahead of Allan, who halted outside one of the rooms. He knocked—a quick rap—then opened the door. Dylan had already swung his legs over the edge of the bed where he’d been resting.

  “Come with me.”

  Dylan stood. “Have they attacked the walls?”

  “No, not yet. There’s another issue.”

  Dylan didn’t ask for clarification, merely followed him out into the hall, where Gaven had returned with the eight surviving enforcers, some of them still belting on swords or uniforms. One of them was gnawing on a piece of meat. Behind them, one of Gaven’s men tossed a satchel into the hall before ducking back into the room. Farther down, Charles’ suspicious brother—from the family group they’d rescued from the shard—came out into the hallway from their own room to watch, but didn’t approach.

  “What’s happening?” the enforcer gnawing on the bone asked.

  “Lienta told me how he intended to escape if Devin attacked. We need to make certain the route is still secure.”

  The new beta—or so Allan assumed—eyed him as if trying to decide whether he should wait for orders from Bryce, then tore a last chunk of meat off the bone and tossed it to the floor. “Then let’s go.”

  Allan frowned, not liking this new beta’s attitude—it reminded him forcibly of the Dogs who’d aligned with Hagger before the Shattering—but he didn’t have time to deal with it.

  To Gaven, he said, “Stay here, but keep your eyes open.”

  Gaven nodded.

  Allan motioned the rest of the enforcers and Dylan to follow him. Dylan stepped up to his side as they moved down the hall.

  “Why do you need me?”

  “Because Lienta’s proposed escape route is through the ley barge tunnels. He claims the line beneath their embassy has been free of ley since the collapse of the distortion, but I’d like you there to verify it.”

  They reached the stair, Lienta already waiting below in the foyer with a group of ten guardsmen. He glanced up as they appeared. “The two guardsmen from the northern end of the ley line have checked in with no sign of activity. We haven’t heard from those at the southern end of the line yet.”

  “We should head there first, then.”

  “I thought the same. Follow me.”

  He led them deeper into the embassy, into a section that none of those from the Needle had been allowed to roam over the last few days, passing rooms that had been emptied or abandoned. There was no pretense of normality here. Walls were cracked from the quakes, with dust, paint, and brick and mortar littering the floors. Tables and stands had toppled, urns and statues left broken where they fell. No attempts had been made to clean up the debris or to repair the damage. There weren’t even footprints in the dust in any of the rooms, only in the main corridors they traversed.

  They reached a back staircase, the stone steps leading down into the depths. Lienta grabbed torches stacked in a side alcove and lit them, handing off two of them as he descended into the lower level. These rooms had been used for storage and showed signs of more recent activity, numerous footprints and tracks in the dust leading up to the barrels and crates stacked inside. A few servants stepped aside as their contingent passed, turning down another corridor into a slightly wider central hallway. At its end, they found another set of steps, narrower than the first.

  Below, the rooms were more like vaults, the stone older, with low ceilings and shallow arches serving as entrances. Allan guessed they had once been used as wine cellars and further storage, although now they were empty. The ceilings had collapsed in many of the chambers, the walls crazed with cracks. He shuddered at the signs of instability and the realization that the embassy rested on top of these crumbling structures.

  Then, ahead, Lienta halted, holding his torch over a gaping crevice in the floor, the top of a ladder jutting up out of it. Coming up to the Temerite captain’s side, Allan stared down into the fissure, a torch below illuminating the familiar contours of a ley barge tunnel. The channel was lined with stone, arched at the top but square at the bottom. It appeared empty.

  “Dylan.”

  The Wielder stepped through the guards, halting between Allan and Lienta before going still, a sign Allan knew meant he was reaching for the ley.

  A moment later, he shook his head. “There’s no ley in the channel below. I followed it to the northern end. It’s been blocked there by someone. I didn’t sense any ley or a block in the southern direction.”

  “Ley did occasionally pass through here while the distortion covered the city,” Lienta said. “It flooded this lower level at least twice during that time.”

  “Then the block is new. Kara must have put it in place, to control the flow of the ley to the proper nodes.”

  “As long as it’s blocked and there’s no ley down there now,” Allan said. He shifted toward the ladder, but Lienta stopped him with a hand on his chest.

  “Allow me,” the Temerite captain said, then whistled sharply.

  The Temerite guardsmen slipped forward and down the ladder, spreading out and disappearing down both sides of the channel below. Allan heard commands echoing back and forth, then one of the guards reappeared at the base of the ladder.

  “All clear.”

  Lienta descended first, then Allan, Dylan, and the eight enforcers from the Needle. Below, the Temerites had spread out, guarding the channel in each direction. Lienta waited until they’d all reached the floor of the channel before saying, “We should have run into the two guards sent to report by now.” He turned to one of his men. “Lieutenant, take four men and check in with our group in the northern tunnel.”

  The Temerite man nodded, selecting four others with gestures and departing up the northern channel, their torchlight receding with distance.

  The rest of them proceeded southward, Lienta and his guards taking the lead, Allan and Dylan behind, with the enforcers at the rear. They moved swiftly, fanning out across the channel, some of the men drawing weapons. Allan suppressed a shudder as memories of being captured and dragged through the more complicated ley line system by the Tunnelers surfaced. But this was different. There were no junctions or branches that led deeper into the ley system here. This was simply a channel used by the barges to transport people from one section of the city to another.

  After what felt like an hour but had to have been less than half that, Lienta’s
men called out from ahead. Allan pushed forward, but they’d only reached a section where the ceiling had collapsed into the channel, the walls of either side broken and shattered for a long stretch.

  “We’re outside the compound now,” Lienta explained, waving toward the torn-up earth and the collapse. “This is where the distortion stood. And the damage it caused when it started to collapse. Our unit should be waiting a little farther ahead.”

  Allan knew something was wrong before the first body came into view; they should have seen the guards’ torchlight by now. When their own light fell across the crumpled corpse, a Temerite guard swearing and rushing forward, illuminating the remains of the five other guards stationed here, an odd calm settled over him. He held Dylan and the others back as Lienta and the rest of his guard verified that the watchers were all dead. Lienta rolled the nearest over onto his back, staring at the man’s face, his own jaw clenched. The man’s throat had been cut, the pale uniform stained nearly black with blood.

  Lienta reached down and dabbed his fingers in the pool that had gathered beneath the body, rubbed his fingers together, then glanced up at Allan. “It’s still damp, but has started to turn tacky. He’s been dead for at least an hour, possibly two.”

  “They were likely killed as soon as the two replacement guards arrived after the last report,” Allan said.

  Lienta stood, glancing over the rest of the dead before motioning toward a sword lying on the stone nearby. “A few of them managed to draw blades, but it appears they were taken by surprise.”

  “A Hound.”

  Lienta stiffened. “We passed no one on our way here.”

  “Which means the Hound is already inside your enclosure.”

  “But why? As you said, the Hounds are assassins. There’s—” His eyes shot wide. “The Matriarch!”

  He spun toward his guardsmen. “Remain here and secure the exit. Make certain it’s free from here to the ley station. Reinforcements will be sent immediately.” Then he turned on Allan, already moving as he spoke. “We must find the Matriarch. If she’s alive, we’ll put her under guard and begin a search of the embassy.”

 

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