“How?” Artras demanded.
“I may have an idea,” Hernande said carefully. “It will put your own watchmen under minimal risk, Matriarch, but will keep Dalton and Darius occupied and our infiltration will come from a direction they won’t suspect. However, it does carry an extremely significant risk.”
Lienta straightened. “What is it?”
Before Hernande could answer, a runner arrived and gave a whispered report to Lienta, then departed.
“The two groups made it outside of Dalton’s patrols without being seen. That’s all we know for now.”
A tension that had crept into Hernande’s shoulders eased. Both Marcus’ and Artras’ shoulders slumped, Artras bowing her head as if in prayer.
The Matriarch touched Janote’s hand. “Then we should return to the embassy. We can continue planning our insurgency tomorrow. We have three weeks to discuss every possibility, after all.”
Beneath their feet, the ground shuddered with a light tremor. They all shared a look, but no one said out loud what everyone was thinking:
The Tapestry could give way before Kara and the others were able to repair it.
Dalton stood over the massive table to one side of the orrery and stared down at its surface. He could see it clearly through the cataracts that hazed his eyes, but not as he’d been able to see it before the Shattering. Now, it was riddled with shifting colors, and occasionally he’d receive flashes of insight or visions. These flashes were extremely short and difficult to follow while he was awake, but when he slept, they played out in his mind like dreams, longer if not always as clear.
The map had been left untouched by Darius and the rest of the enforcers, the markers depicting the last known placements of the Gorrani and any other faction of note within range. But Dalton knew that some of the information was old. As he watched, a large black stone blurred and shifted closer to the Needle’s spire, smaller stones around it also edging closer. The convergence was clear, even though the pieces returned to their original positions when Dalton blinked. The entire table rippled with movement, blocks of wood and stone sliding left or right, up or down, some vanishing while others appeared out of nothing. The colors and movements were fluid and mesmerizing.
And revealed to Dalton so much of what was to come.
The doors to the orrery opened and Darius entered, his steps hard and angry as he headed toward Dalton and the table.
“What in hells are they doing?”
“They, who?” Dalton didn’t turn, didn’t even look up.
“The Temerites! They’re bombarding the western edge of the city near the chasm with catapult fire.”
Dalton squinted and leaned forward. At the edge of the Needle, two pebbles had appeared. Through his cataracts, the pebbles split, one heading northward, the other southeast, moving fast, but his vision faded before he could determine where they were going.
“I suspect it has something to do with the two groups that have left the Needle.”
“What two groups?” Darius halted next to the table. “We’ve closed the gates, and those on the walls and on patrol have reported nothing.”
Dalton straightened. “The bombardment is a distraction. The groups have already slipped out beyond your patrols.”
Darius swore and leaned onto the table, even though there was nothing there to see. “I need more men. Men I can trust. Should I send someone to intercept and stop them?”
Dalton considered, but his insights from the table were incomplete. Perhaps he’d learn more tonight while he slept. “No, not now. Perhaps later. The two groups are small, no more than ten in each. As you say, we have minimal enforcers we can trust. We need them here, preparing for the Gorrani and the dogs.”
“Devin’s army.” He motioned to the map. “These placements are old. Where are the Gorrani now?”
Dalton shifted the large black stone and some of the smaller ones near it. He reached for a small block of polished wood set off to one side and placed it on the map northeast of Erenthrall. “Devin left Erenthrall with his men four days ago.”
“How long until he arrives?”
“Difficult to say. At minimum, ten days, more likely longer.”
“The Gorrani are closer than that.”
“But they are moving slowly, cautiously. I’d say we have ten days before they appear on our horizon as well.”
Darius scanned the new placements on the map, then shoved back from the table. “We’ll be ready for them.”
The door to the orrery opened again as Dalton said, “Yes, we will.”
Iscivius entered, followed by a contingent of enforcers with the Wielders Dylan and Jenner in tow. Both were restrained, hands cinched behind their backs, but neither one of them struggled. They stepped forward reluctantly. Oddly, Dylan appeared more vibrant than Jenner, his body brighter and more blurred with potential. When he’d been brought before Dalton that first time, after being captured in Erenthrall, he’d carried fewer possibilities around him. But perhaps that was because Kara had outshone him.
“I brought the two Wielders as you requested.” Iscivius’ tone was curt and distracted. He hadn’t believed Dalton or the other Wielders that Marcus had killed his sister Irmona; refused to accept it, even though it had been verified by multiple observers within the pit. His obstinance irritated Dalton, but he could understand why Irmona’s death was hard to accept. There was no body, unlike Dierdre. “I fail to see why you need them. They’ve refused to help with the Nexus, and we cannot trust them.”
“We do need them,” Dalton answered, “more than you know.”
He drifted across the room, eyes locked on Dylan. The Wielder fidgeted, but held his gaze far longer than Dalton expected. But eventually he dropped it, as nearly everyone did, the cataracts and the intensity of Dalton’s look too difficult to withstand. Dalton halted before him, not even glancing toward Jenner. The potentials of the two told him that Dylan was the key. Jenner would follow Dylan’s lead.
“You aren’t cooperating with Iscivius.”
Dylan raised his head. “Why should we? He’s with the Kormanley.”
“Because all of our lives depend on it.” Dalton spun back toward the table, motioned the guards to bring Dylan and Jenner forward. Iscivius and Darius trailed behind.
Dalton pointed to the map and the icons that dotted it. “See those black stones? Those represent the Gorrani forces headed in our direction right now. They’re upset because we destroyed nearly all their forces the last time they attacked the Needle. They won’t care who’s in control here at the Needle. They’ll slaughter every last non-Gorrani inside these walls, whether you’re Kormanley or not.
“And this lacquered block represents Baron Devin’s forces, coming from Erenthrall, which is currently spewing ley hundreds of feet into the air, thanks to Kara Tremain’s failed attempt to heal the distortion over Tumbor. Even without the ley making Erenthrall unlivable, Devin has no love for you Hollowers. You killed Aurek and a significant portion of his men. Some might say you lured Aurek and his followers to their deaths here. I’m certain Devin believes that.
“Both these forces are coming here, to the Needle, as I foresaw. The serpents and the dogs. They will clash here, and unless we can protect ourselves—protect the Needle—they will destroy us all.”
“You have your Kormanley enforcers to protect you,” Dylan said.
“According to Darius, Allan Garrett claimed Devin had Hounds with him. Our enforcers would be no match against Hounds. They will find a way inside and open the gates, as they did with the Temerites in Erenthrall. We need something that the Hounds can’t circumvent.”
“And what would that be?” Jenner asked.
Iscivius answered. “The ley.”
Jenner still appeared confused, but Dylan understood. “He wants us to create another wall of ley, like Lecrucius did to stop the Gorrani. The Ho
unds won’t be able to penetrate it. But Lecrucius was a Prime.”
Dalton faced Iscivius. “Can you recreate Lecrucius’ wall?”
Iscivius drew himself up. “I can.” Then he glanced toward Dylan and Jenner and added grudgingly, “But not without support.”
“Which is why we need you,” Dalton said, stepping closer to Dylan, close enough they were nearly face-to-face. Dylan attempted to step back, but the enforcers halted him. “If you do not help, the Hounds will slip behind our walls within hours after Devin’s forces arrive. They will slaughter the guards on the gate and open it. Devin’s men will pour into the city. They will kill everyone they encounter, indiscriminately. The Needle will fall within a day. I have foreseen it.”
Dylan shot a look at Jenner, but the former White Cloak merely shrugged.
Clearly unnerved by Dalton’s nearness, Dylan exhaled harshly and said, “We’ll help, but only to protect the Needle. We won’t use the ley to kill the Hounds or Devin’s forces.”
Dalton backed off. “We won’t have the chance. The ley wall will have to be in place before Devin arrives, or we risk giving the Hounds the opportunity to slip inside ahead of time.” He shifted his attention to the enforcers. “Return them to their rooms. Release them, but place guards on their doors. They are not permitted to leave their chambers until we have need of them.”
Dalton, Darius, and Iscivius watched the two Wielders being escorted from the room in silence. As soon as the doors to the orrery closed, Iscivius said, “We still cannot trust them.”
“We must. It is the only way to stop the Hounds.”
A tremor shook the temple, the strongest one since the day before. Dalton steadied himself using the table, the pieces on its surface juddering in place. A few near the edges toppled to the floor.
After a few minutes, the shuddering ended.
“It will still require all of the Wielders here at the temple,” Iscivius said, as if nothing had happened.
“They will follow Dylan and Jenner.”
Iscivius appeared doubtful. “There’s another problem. The structure Lecrucius created for the wall was complex. I don’t understand all its intricacies. I won’t be able to modify it without being uncertain of the results.”
Dalton reached for the fallen pieces. “What is the issue?”
“The wall will encircle the entire Needle, including the section where the Temerites have seized control. They’ll be inside it, with us.”
Setting the pieces back on the table, Dalton turned to Darius. “Then we will have to be ready for an attack from the Temerites.”
Seventeen
“I THOUGHT YOU SAID we wouldn’t run into the Gorrani this close to the Needle,” Boskell said under his breath.
Hidden in a dry culvert behind Boskell and Okata, Morrell soothed the horses, which were picking up on the tension between Boskell, the two watchmen, and Okata. Drayden’s close presence wasn’t helping. Their nostrils flared as he paced back and forth between the narrow edges of the dry streambed, the nearest shying away from him and stamping its feet. Morrell moved among the animals carefully, muttering nonsense phrases beneath her breath as she strained to hear Boskell and Okata.
“There shouldn’t be,” Okata answered. Morrell glanced to where the two were lying on the ground at the edge of the culvert. The two other watchmen were stationed on the other side, watching for others approaching from their flanks. Okata held a small spyglass, peering through the screen of grass into the distance. “According to our last reports, the Gorrani were amassing south of here, still days distant from the Needle. The area between should have been empty. The Gorrani have been approaching with stealth. They would not want those at the Needle to be aware of their true location.”
“Then I’d say we’re unaware. How many of them are there?”
“A thousand, more or less. I see the markings of at least ten sects.”
Boskell swore, looked down at Morrell, then back into the distance. Morrell silently wished she could see what they were seeing, even though her heart was already beating faster than normal. They’d been riding hard for the past seven days, almost directly east. The initial excitement over leaving the Needle, of heading off into territory she’d never seen, of being part of a group with a mission like her father, had worn off within the first few days as the reality of what they were attempting sank in. Everyone was depending on her. What if she couldn’t rebuild the node? What if it was too much for her to handle?
She’d spent the last three days wallowing in self-doubt. Now she wondered if they’d even reach Tumbor.
“Where are they headed?” Boskell finally asked.
“West. They’re going to pass south of us. The closest they’ll be is perhaps a mile. We should be outside of their patrols.”
“Should? I don’t like the sound of that. I’d be more comfortable if we were farther away.”
“They’ll spot us as soon as we move. The plains are relatively flat here.”
A horse snorted, and Morrell shushed it before saying, “Can we follow the culvert?”
Both Okata and Boskell stared down at her, then each other, before Boskell motioned toward one of the watchmen. “Sesali, follow it. Find out where it leads and if it will continue to provide enough cover for us and the horses.”
The woman trotted down the dry streambed heading away from the Gorrani, careful of the sandy bottom, short bow at the ready. Boskell and Okata returned to watching the Gorrani’s movements, the other watchman—Hanter—shifting position to cover both his own and Sesali’s watch.
Morrell drifted away from the horses toward Drayden, who still paced back and forth. Every few minutes, he lifted his nose into the air and sniffed.
“What do you smell?” Morrell asked.
He eyed her, then flicked a hand behind her. “Mostly horses.” He hesitated, then added, “We are safe here for now. No one has been near here today.”
“Unless the Gorrani have sent out scouts.”
“You are nervous. I can smell it.”
“You aren’t?” she asked, incredulous.
He huffed a chuckle. “We are downwind of the Gorrani. I would smell their scouts before they arrived.”
Morrell rolled her eyes, kicked at the sandy bottom of the culvert. It didn’t appear to have had water recently. Now that she thought about it, all of the streambeds they’d passed since leaving the Needle had been dry. She recalled Hernande—or perhaps it was Cory—talking about how the quakes and distortions over Erenthrall and Tumbor had altered the shape of the land, diverting rivers into new paths. The entire region had gone dry, even the air tasting of dirt. The only relief had come from the rainstorms.
If it continued, this region would be a desert before long.
“If the Gorrani are here, where we weren’t expecting them, doesn’t that mean that the Needle is in trouble?”
“We cannot warn them. We have no one to send back.”
Morrell didn’t like it. Lienta and the Matriarch should know about the Gorrani. Hernande as well. But Drayden was right—they had no one to spare.
Sesali returned, short of breath and flushed. “The culvert runs mostly northeast. There are a few sections where we’d be partially visible, but it should suffice.”
“I’ll take it,” Boskell said, climbing down from his position with Okata, dislodging a shower of dirt and stone. “Lead the way. We’ll walk our mounts.”
Taking hold of their mounts’ reins, the group followed Sesali down the winding streambed. Okata and Hanter took up the rearguard, Okata halting every so often to check on the Gorrani. Over the course of the next half day, they were forced to run across areas where the banks of the stream were shorter, the bed wider, their heads and torsos visible above the surrounding dried grass. Okata watched for signs the Gorrani had seen them, but there was no reaction. Twice, the earth shook with quakes, the san
d-and-stone bed strangely fluid during the rumbling, Morrell’s feet half buried by the time the tremors ended. No one said anything. They simply pulled themselves from the sand and continued moving.
Only toward sunset did Okata and Boskell begin to relax, the Gorrani force now southwest of their position. As the sky began to darken to the east, Boskell ordered a halt and began to make camp for the night in the middle of the culvert.
“We’ll scan for the Gorrani in the morning,” he said. “If we can no longer see them through the spyglass, we’ll leave the protection of the culvert. It’s taken us off course, so we’ll have to make up some time, but I’d rather we go unnoticed.”
Everyone settled onto separate patches of the rocky bottom, Boskell setting up watches. As night fell, Drayden slipped out into the darkness to prowl around. Morrell suspected he was searching for something bloodier and rawer than the dried biscuits and salted jerky they’d had earlier, since they didn’t dare risk a fire.
She lay down on her pallet, squirmed around until the rocks had shifted to either side, then curled up, staring out at the shadowed forms of the others. But she couldn’t sleep, her thoughts churning around the Gorrani, worry over what had happened to Cory and the other mentors and students at the Needle, and where Kara and her father were and what they might encounter in Erenthrall.
After rolling over for the fifth time, she heard someone hissing. She shifted and found Okata motioning her up to the edge of the culvert where he stood watch. She glanced around to make certain he wasn’t looking for someone else, then abandoned her pallet and crawled up to Okata’s side. The earth felt cool beneath her, the night air smelling of Chaff and dust.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Okata asked.
“I’m worried about Cory and Hernande and Kara. My father. Everyone.”
“Understandable.” He motioned out beyond the culvert, to the southeast. “Look.”
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