Reaping the Aurora

by Joshua Palmatier

  “The eastern gate is open. Our forces to the north and west have been pushed back from the walls nearly five blocks in both directions. They’ve hit the residential buildings. Most of our people are already here, but there are a few stragglers. They’re being overrun.”

  Lienta grimaced, tension pulling the corners of his eyes taut. “We don’t have the men to spare to save them. They’re on their own. Signal Boskell and the rest of our forces. Let them know they can fall back to the embassy.”

  “Captain, there’s also movement to the south.”

  Everyone tensed.

  “The Gorrani?”

  “It would appear so. They’ve left their cliff and appear to be heading in this direction.”

  Lienta swore, then waved a hand in dismissal.

  As the lieutenant vanished, returning to the roof, Lienta scanned the room. The press of people had subsided, the Temerite guards pushing the last of the commoners outside toward the embassy doors. A horn sounded, muted by the building. Allan could hear the fighting more clearly now, and through the large windows to either side of the door could see a dark, thick plume of smoke rising over the buildings on the far side of the square.

  “Something is on fire,” he said.

  Lienta barely reacted. “The Rats are inordinately fond of setting our buildings aflame. Perhaps it will keep them distracted long enough for us to escape.”

  He didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

  Outside, the last of the Temerite refugees were shoved inside the embassy and the lieutenant in charge of them called out, “That’s it! That’s the last of those who were with us.”

  “Very well. Send your men down to the tunnel. Make certain everyone heads toward the Eld ley station. Move them along as quickly as possible.”

  The man motioned his men into action, the entire group withdrawing into the building as Lienta shifted forward, stepping out onto the short steps of the embassy, facing the square. Allan, Bryce, and two Temerites who had obviously been given orders to stay with Lienta followed.

  The clash of the fighting doubled as soon as they left the shelter of the building, along with a crackling roar as the fire started toward the west began to spread, the black plume widening against the early evening horizon. Allan’s stomach growled as he suddenly realized that hours had passed since they’d done the rounds of the walls that morning and that none of them had eaten. Except Kurtch. He’d forgotten one of the cardinal rules of the Dogs—eat and sleep whenever and wherever you can.

  They stood silently, the fighting getting closer, Lienta taut with unexpressed emotions, like the strings of a fiddle. Allan could feel him vibrating. The square before them was oddly vacant and peaceful.

  When the Temerite captain finally spoke, the conflict now no more than a few blocks distant, Allan suppressed a startled flinch.

  “We carved this place out of the remains of Erenthrall after the Shattering,” he said, his voice raw. “Temer . . . Temer is likely gone. At least, we’ve heard no word from them. Perhaps they are simply too preoccupied with their own troubles to be concerned with us. This was home.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Where shall we go from here?”

  “The Needle.”

  Lienta faced him. “The new overseers of the Needle would take us in?”

  “Yes.”

  The captain considered this, returning his gaze to the square. Finally, he said, “We will have to escape Erenthrall first.”

  As he spoke, the first of the retreating Temerite guard spilled out onto the square from the north, followed a moment later by others from the west. Lienta straightened, and one of the guards left behind cleared his throat.

  “Captain, we should retreat into the tunnels.”

  Lienta’s hand fell to the sword at his waist, still sheathed. His grip tightened on the handle, but then he let it fall, with a sharp nod.

  They fell back through the hallway, down the stairs, through to the lower vaults at a trot. As they descended the ladder into the tunnel, numerous Temerite guards waiting both above and below, the unmistakable sound of swords echoed down from the far corridor. The retreat had reached the embassy. Then they were in the tunnel, Lienta’s men pulling back with him as they ran down the ley channel, climbing the collapsed ceiling where the distortion had been, past where the guards had been killed by the Hounds.

  The tunnel beyond felt as if it went on forever, lit by the occasional torch jammed into cracks in the wall, some of them already threatening to gutter out. A wave of exhaustion hit Allan as the day’s activities and lack of food caught up with him, but he fought it back. They could hear fighting in the tunnel now, edging closer.

  Then the ley station appeared ahead, men on the edge of the barge platform shouting as they caught sight of them, urging them toward the edge where ladders had been erected. Guards began climbing, a few of them jumping, arms outstretched as they were caught and hauled up by those on the platform. Allan followed Lienta up a ladder, the captain ushered immediately toward the far end where a corridor led up to the station proper above.

  Allan moved to follow when Bryce grabbed his arm and pointed toward Dylan, the Wielder rushing toward them.

  “They’re close,” Allan snapped, even as he heard Lienta shouting orders, the Temerite guardsmen forming up at the end of the platform, swords drawn, ready to hold the Baron’s men back. “We don’t have much time.”

  “I know, but I can stop them all, at least from attacking through the tunnel.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can release the block at the northern end. Once I do that, the entire channel will flood with ley. It’s strong enough that anyone in the channel will be killed.”

  Allan halted, the implications obvious. “You’d be able to do that?”

  Dylan swallowed, a stricken look crossing his face. He knew Allan wasn’t asking about whether it was possible. But then he stiffened defiantly. “It’s similar to what was done to the Gorrani at the Needle, yes. But I don’t see that we have any other choice.”

  “It’s not exactly the same,” Bryce muttered. “At the Needle, Commander Ty could have held the Gorrani at bay. We don’t have a chance of keeping the Baron’s men contained. That hope died the moment they breached the enclave’s walls.”

  Beneath the platform, more of Lienta’s men began pouring out of the ley channel, the rear of Boskell’s force, Allan assumed. Men began hauling them up, making room for others, the platform becoming crowded.

  Allan drew in a deep breath, then exhaled heavily. “We’ll let Lienta decide.” He spun and shouted, then began shoving his way through the Temerites to Lienta’s side. The captain ordered them to be let through and a moment later Allan explained Dylan’s plan to release the ley into the channel.

  “It won’t flood this chamber?” Lienta asked doubtfully.

  “The channel isn’t blocked south of here. It will run through as it did before the Shattering, to whatever the next junction is, and flow from there. I’ve already checked.”

  Lienta considered, brow creased in furious concentration. “We’ll have to risk it. As soon as my men are clear, release the ley.”

  He began pressing toward the edge of the platform, Allan, Dylan, and Bryce a few steps behind. Orders were passed to get everyone up and out of the channel, to hold the line at its edge, met with consternation and confusion, but the Temerites reorganized swiftly as men continued to emerge from the opening to the north.

  Then the clash of swords grew, the Baron’s forces suddenly surging from the opening, the battle echoing in the domed ceiling overhead with the clatter of metal, with shouts and curses, with screams and groans as bodies fell to the side. Caught in the crush of guards near the edge, Allan saw Boskell swinging with grim determination, his sword and Temerite uniform already coated with blood, his face smeared with it. His line fell back to the wall of the channel beneath the platf
orm, still fighting, the attackers pushing outward down the length of the opening. The Temerites hauled them up while keeping the attackers at bay.

  Allan turned to Dylan. “Release the ley.”

  Dylan’s face was sheened with sweat, yet pale. “Already done.”

  Allan spun around in time to see Lienta reach down and grasp Boskell by the back of his uniform. He heaved, but the Temerite watchman was too heavy. Lienta lost his balance and fell into the barge line.

  Without thought, Allan ran and leaped in after him. He crashed into the crowd of bodies, grasping at Boskell’s shoulder. The Temerite watchman caught him and shouted, “What in bloody hells are you doing?” as they both reached for Lienta.

  A breath later, ley light flashed through the mouth of the channel, slamming through the conduit with a blinding flare. The ley globes still intact around the platform sizzled, lighting briefly before exploding. Everyone on the platform ducked, arms thrown upward to ward off the bright lights, crying out.

  In the channel, Allan staggered as the ley shoved him from one side, surging around him, its current nearly ripping him from his feet. Both he and Boskell thrust Lienta up over the lip of the channel. Then they both turned.

  The ley coursed through the channel fifteen feet away in every direction, parting around Allan’s position as if he were a stone in a river. All the men within those fifteen feet, both Temerite and those of Devin’s men close enough, were protected from its killing white light. Those outside had already been consumed. Parts of those who’d been caught at the edge lay inside the sphere of protection—an arm, a foot—blood seeping from the severed stumps.

  “Stop staring and get the hells up here!” Lienta bellowed, his voice shaky.

  The men still in the channel backed away from the ley, Lienta’s men reaching down to haul them to safety. Neither Boskell nor Allan moved.

  “What’s happening?” Boskell asked.

  “It’s me,” Allan said. “I somehow counteract the ley. Although it’s never been tested like this before.” He considered the distance to the ley. “Normally, I start affecting it at about thirty feet. It must be shorter here because of the concentration of the ley.”

  Boskell didn’t respond, stunned into silence.

  Lienta tapped them both on the shoulder. “Everyone else is out.”

  Allan motioned to Boskell. “You’d better go first.”

  “Right.” He grabbed hold of Lienta’s offered arm and climbed out.

  Then it was Allan’s turn. Bryce and Dylan hauled him up. As he was lifted free of the channel, the sphere of protection shifted and the ley filled it completely, smooth and undisturbed. All of those who’d been in the channel aside from those near Allan—Devin’s men and a few of Lienta’s—were gone, burned by the ley from existence. The only sounds on the platform were the gasping of the men who’d a moment before been fighting for their lives and the crackling of the destroyed ley globes.

  “Well,” Dylan said into the strained silence, “that was interesting.”

  The alpha Hound stood back from the fissure beneath the Temerite embassy, watching Baron Devin stare down into the harsh white light of the ley as it coursed through the tunnel beneath. His two fellow Hounds waited a short distance down the corridor near one of the wine cellars, with some of Devin’s men. When they’d emerged from their den beneath the Amber Tower into this altered world, they’d been lost, confused and uncertain. A Hound needed a master, someone who gave orders and dealt out punishment, like the captain of the Dogs or the Baron himself, someone in control, powerful, confident. When they’d run across Devin and his men within the decimated streets of Erenthrall, the alpha had thought they’d found their master. After all, he was a Baron. He controlled men who acted like Dogs: hard, dangerous, vicious.

  But as he watched Devin glaring down into the tunnel filled with ley, he felt a niggling worm of doubt. He drew in a deep breath through his nose in unease, scented the Baron’s fear sweat, tainted with rage, with weakness.

  Devin faced him, the muscles in his jaw clenching. Through gritted teeth, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me there were tunnels beneath their enclave? We could have used them to gain access to the embassy. We could have cut off their only retreat!”

  The alpha frowned in consternation. “You ordered us to find a way to open the gates. Nothing more.”

  Devin took a single step forward and punched him, the blow driving him to his knees. He could have side-stepped with ease, could have drawn his dagger and stabbed the Baron in at least three fatal places before his fist landed, but he merely spat out blood and stood, his entire face throbbing. He’d committed some transgression. He didn’t understand what—he’d followed his orders precisely—but his master was obviously displeased.

  Devin shook his hand, glancing back toward the crack in the stone floor. “We’ll have to cut them off from above ground now. Where does the tunnel emerge?”

  “Eld station.”

  Devin swore. “Right where the Gorrani are headed.”

  He stalked toward his men, calling out orders, everyone scrambling back down the hall and into the building above.

  The alpha hesitated, then trailed after.

  “What did we do wrong?” the youngest of his brethren asked, falling into step behind him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We did nothing wrong,” his beta said. “He should not have punished you.”

  “He is the Baron. He is our master.”

  “He reeks of weakness. Not like the captain of the Dogs before. Not like the previous Baron.”

  The alpha didn’t respond, the scent of his own blood overpowering even the rankness drifting back from Devin and his men ahead. He touched his lip where it had split, let the pain drive away his doubts.

  “He is the Baron,” he repeated, nostrils flaring. “That is all that matters.”

  Although he was beginning to ask himself, the Baron of what?

  Six

  “THEY WON’T BE FOLLOWING US through the tunnel,” Boskell muttered. He was still trembling, the aftereffects of his close call with the resurgence of the ley and the exhausting retreat from the breached gates.

  Allan felt a little shaken himself. He hadn’t known he’d be protected from the ley. When he’d seen Lienta fall into the channel, he’d reacted on instinct. “Not unless they manage to find some ley barges.”

  The irritable Temerite lieutenant halted a vain attempt to brush off his uniform to stare at Allan. “Could they find them somewhere?”

  “It’s unlikely,” Dylan said. The Wielder looked as ragged as Boskell. He’d just killed an untold number of people with the ley.

  “Why?” Boskell asked.

  “Because the ley barges were in the ley channels when the pulse that caused the Shattering hit. They were made mostly of wood. The surge would have annihilated them, as it did anyone and anything organic too close to the center of the explosion.”

  Boskell merely grunted. He didn’t look completely recovered yet, but he turned to search for Lienta. The Temerite captain had ordered his guards up into the mezzanine above, now that the ley channel was secure. “We still haven’t escaped the city yet.”

  “We haven’t even escaped this attack,” Bryce said. “They can come at us through the city, and there’s still the Gorrani to contend with.”

  “The Gorrani?”

  “Just before abandoning the embassy, we noticed they’d left their southern cliffs and were headed in this direction,” Allan explained.

  Boskell visibly gathered together the shreds of his strength and will and headed toward Lienta.

  The others followed, Allan falling back to walk next to Dylan. He reached up and gripped the Wielder’s shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. “You did what you had to do. They would have overrun us.”

  Dylan made a strangled noise. “It was so . . . so easy
. All I had to do was unlock the block at the northern junction. Just reach out and twist.” He mimicked the action, as if he were turning a key. He shook his head. “It’s too easy. I don’t think the Wielders understand what kind of power they actually wield. It’s not like before the Shattering. Then, we simply worked with the ley. There was no need to use it to harm . . . to kill. We never even considered it. The ley was simply there. Now . . . now, after what happened to the Gorrani at the Needle, after this.” He waved back toward the platform. “We’re too powerful. We need to be controlled.”

  Allan raised an eyebrow. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Troubled, Allan let his hand drop from the Wielder’s shoulder. They’d reached the back of the group funneling up through the corridor to the mezzanine, Lienta, Boskell, and Bryce a few paces ahead of them. Others closed in behind as they jostled up through the narrow passage and spilled out onto the grand floor of the main ley station. The columns interspersed around the wide-open floor arched out overhead, carved in the shape of branches, the ceiling like a canopy of leaves. Much of the glass in the windows looking out onto the streets was broken, fading sunlight lancing in at a sharp angle as the sun neared sunset. A large group of Temerites were clustered around the Matriarch, who’d been loaded into the front of a cart, her wheeled chair in the bed behind her surrounded by many of the packs the servants had carried from the embassy. A half dozen other carts were loaded down as well. Lienta and Boskell immediately moved toward the Matriarch with an entourage of guards. Gaven, Kurtch, and the others stood uncertainly around one of the tree-like columns to one side.

  “Bryce, go check in with the others.”

  The Dog trotted off. Allan headed toward Lienta.

  “Look,” Dylan said and gestured toward the northeastern edge of the building.

  Allan halted, squinting through the streams of sunlight.

  Tendrils of aurora flickered over the tops of the buildings outside the station, drifting slowly southward.