The Unbound Empire

by Melissa Caruso

  Hells have mercy. They were under Ruven’s control. All of them.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I see where this is going,” Kathe murmured.

  He rose to his feet, and suddenly the air choked with the weight of his presence, as if he had swept aside the curtain with which he concealed the full force of his power.

  “Enough,” he said, and his voice echoed with the growling force of thunder.

  The soldiers swore, drawing weapons; but their horses bucked and reared, eyes rolling, blowing great clouds of steam as their hooves kicked up snow. Pistols and swords clattered to the ground; the colonel and her officers had to hang on for dear life.

  Kathe sat again, cloak spreading around him. The sleigh was already moving, our horses calmly turning around to head back down the spur road we’d taken to reach the fortress.

  “That’s unfortunate,” he sighed, his tone normal again.

  “Wait, stop!” the colonel called, clinging to her horse’s heaving back. Behind her, a commotion broke out on the battlements of the fortress. Our horses started pulling away, their ears turned back in annoyance.

  I gripped the bench, the full horrifying weight of what had just happened crushing me like a falling mountain. “They’re controlled,” I breathed. “Do you think Ruven just got the commanding officers, or—”

  “Oh, I’ll bet your fortune it’s the whole damned castle,” Zaira said. We picked up speed, hurtling down the mountain, snow flying beneath our horses’ hooves as their manes blew behind them. “You said they had alchemists, right? Once he got them, he wouldn’t have to worry about running out. He could just serve up his potion three meals a day to the whole cursed fortress, and with the courier lamps broken no one would even notice they were acting strangely.”

  A gunshot broke the stillness of the air, then another; wood chips flew off a tree as we passed it. I braced for a third shot, but it didn’t come. Soldiers poured out of the fortress gate behind us, some of them with muskets ready, but they milled in confusion as we sped too far ahead of them to catch. It felt deeply wrong to be fleeing from soldiers in the familiar blue and gold uniforms of the Serene Empire, which should have meant protection and safety.

  “And now there’s a small army of imperial soldiers about to march on Ardence.” I could hear my own voice rising and taking on an edge, but I couldn’t rein it in any more than I could have slowed down the breakneck pace of our sleigh. “And when they get there, Jerith and the others are going to have to kill our own people, while Ruven watches and laughs.”

  Kathe made a disgusted sound. “He’s got the common folk, too, from the farms and villages around here. My crows can see them mustering with the soldiers inside the castle. Old folk and children—anyone who can walk. He’s going to march them all at your city and force your friends to kill them, or be conquered.”

  “Like Hells he is.” Zaira looked half-ready to throw herself out of the sleigh and go storming after Ruven right now. “I don’t care if he’s immortal. I’ll cut him into pieces, roast the pieces separately, and then feed the roasted bits to my dog just so he can shit him out later.”

  “You see, Amalia?” Kathe flashed a sharp grin my way. “Lady Zaira understands the appeal of vengeance.”

  “You’re damned right I do.”

  We reached the bottom of the spur road with no sign of further pursuit; Ruven’s orders must not have extended to the eventuality of our escape. The sleigh swung out behind the horses as they swerved onto the main road that followed the River Arden through a valley pass, the great white-capped peaks of the Witchwall Mountains rising in glory against the sky on either side. I was all too aware of the artifice trap circles lying beneath the snow; if Ruven decided he wanted us dead, all he had to do was give the order, and the officers up at the fortress could activate them and kill us with a word.

  But then, if he wanted me dead, all he had to do was wait. And it would take a lot more than an artifice trap to kill Kathe.

  Zaira nudged me with a sharp elbow. “All right, we need to find you another alchemist. How much time do we have?”

  I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. “I normally would take my next elixir dose around midmorning. A couple of hours after that, my previous dose will wear off, and the Demon’s Tears will start working again.”

  Kathe gave me a strange look, his face still and wary instead of animated with its usual mischief. “And what does that mean? How does it work? I’ve tailored herbs to cure poisons and illnesses before.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” I tried to pretend it was a theoretical question a younger student had asked me at the University of Ardence, and not a matter of my own survival. “Demon’s Tears doesn’t work like other alchemical poisons. It binds itself permanently to your heart and lungs, then cycles its magical influence through your blood until it completely infiltrates your body. Only then does it begin its attack, so that by the time you have symptoms it’s too late for a true cure.”

  “And your uncle did that to you?” Zaira snorted. “Charming. Can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”

  Right now, I wasn’t about to disagree. “My elixir doesn’t fight the Demon’s Tears directly. It suppresses the poison’s ability to attack me. So unless you can make an herb that counteracts malign magical energy, I doubt you can help.”

  Kathe shook his head. “I’ve never wished I were an alchemist before.” His gaze fell to his hands, which curled into fists in his lap. I suspected he liked feeling helpless even less than I did. “How long before it’s too late?”

  “The good news is that it’s a lengthy and unpleasant death.” That startled a nervous laugh out of him; despite the seriousness of my situation, I mentally chalked up a point for myself and smiled back. I ran the math in my head, a grim calculation of how many hours I had remaining. “If I can’t get more elixir, I don’t think I’m likely to survive more than a couple of hours past sunset.”

  Unless I agreed to Ruven’s deal. Then he could cure me, restore Marcello, and save the thousands of lives even now preparing to march to their own deaths.

  “We can’t have that. It’d be no fun if you died now,” Kathe said, squeezing my hand tightly enough to belie his light tone. “Write a couple of notes with the recipe. I’ll send one crow back to Ardence, and one ahead to an alchemist of mine in Let. A crow can’t carry more than a small vial, but we can at least hope to buy time.”

  I nodded, giddy with relief, and pulled out paper, pen, and ink from my satchel. “That way I can tell Lucia to warn my mother about Greymarch, as well. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said grimly. “Crows aren’t courier lamps. It’ll be many hours yet before we have any chance of a response.”

  “How many is many?” Zaira demanded.

  Kathe shook his head. “We’ll find out.”

  It was a bleak ride to the border. We passed through a small town below Greymarch, and its empty streets seemed especially ominous knowing that everyone who lived there was mustering even now to march to their deaths: the woodcarver whose porch so proudly displayed dozens of whimsical sculpted animals, the family who had painted bright flowers above their windows, the children who had left tracks running dizzily through the snow.

  Unless we could kill Ruven in time to free them, no one would come home to the little cottage with a dried wedding posy hanging over the door, too bright to be more than a month old. No one would finish clearing the snow from the little shrine to the Grace of Love tucked up against an ancient tree in the town green. This place would stand empty forever, a monument to an abandoned moment, without even the peace of a grave.

  “That pus-rotted eel.” Zaira glared at a small wooden sled leaning against the wall of a cottage. “Why does he take the little brats and the old relics who can’t even fight?”

  The yellow rings in Kathe’s eyes burned with a fury I was glad wasn’t turned on me. “They’re just fuel to him,” he said. “And shields, to make your Empire’s
warlocks hesitate while he claims more land.”

  “Well, this warlock sure as Hells won’t hesitate to set his smug, pasty face on fire,” Zaira growled.

  The sun climbed up past the shadow-shrouded mountains looming in icy, forested splendor to the east. I watched it with dread, knowing too well what would begin when it reached its zenith. Zaira thumped my shoulder once or twice in sympathy, but didn’t say much, staring back broodingly toward Greymarch and the town beneath it even when it had disappeared from sight. Kathe frequently glanced my way, seemed on the verge of speaking, and then visibly stopped himself.

  The vulture chimera still soared above us, a hateful black smudge on the cold blue sky. Occasionally, it dipped down low enough to catch my eyes with its beady black ones, waiting, as if to say And will you take my master’s offer now?

  The sun was still on the rise when we got our first glimpse of Vaskandar. As our sleigh rounded a shoulder of Mount Whitecrown, the sprawling ancient forest spread out beneath us, pines dusted gray with snow. Open patches of crisp snowbound fields punctuated the rolling forest, with white puffs of smoke rising up from neat clustered villages. It was a far cry from the tangled, bloodthirsty forests of Sevaeth, or the rough brooding pines of Kazerath; but only a fool would think this orderly, rolling landscape any less dangerous. This was Atruin, the domain of the Lady of Eagles, one of the eldest and most powerful of the Witch Lords.

  I knew the moment we crossed the border, even though I didn’t spot the boundary stones. A prickling sense of magic coursed through my veins, and a surge of familiarity, like a homecoming. My blood knew this place. I was linked to this land, like it or not, as sure as the jess linked me to Zaira.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed the change at the border. A vast-winged shadow swooped out of the sun at the vulture chimera, talons extended; the chimera veered off and turned back toward Greymarch, crying in alarm. The eagle circled over the road, silent and proud, daring the interloper to return.

  There went my last chance of accepting Ruven’s bargain. Now I had to get more elixir by tonight or die.

  Great rough-trunked pines rose around us, blocking out the light and swallowing sound with their long, brooding silence. I could feel the Lady of Eagles’ magic and her presence everywhere, like the premonition of thunder in the air before a storm, refraining from killing us only so long as we stuck to the road and followed her rules.

  It was, perhaps, enough to make my heart race and my breath quicken. But I knew that wasn’t what was happening. The weakness stealing into my limbs wasn’t solely from exhaustion, nor was the wavering of my vision around the edges merely from staring at the snow too long.

  Kathe gave me an alarmed glance and tentatively settled an arm over my shoulders. When I didn’t object, he asked in a low voice, “You’re not well, are you.”

  “No,” I admitted.

  He stared off through the vast, gloomy hall created by the moss-decked columns of the towering pines. “When I was a child,” he said softly, “my mother laid a command on her domain to protect me. It was absolutely stifling.” He shook his head in frustration. “If I swam in the river, an overzealous bear might pull me out, thinking I was drowning. If I dared myself to climb a challenging tree, the tree would rearrange its branches to make it safe and easy for me. If I played stick swords with another child, they’d get bitten by angry squirrels or swarmed by bees—honestly, I’m lucky no one died.”

  “Your childhood was weird,” Zaira said fervently.

  “No,” I said, thinking of my own mother, “I understand.”

  “I imagine you might.” Kathe chuckled. “Anyway, before long I started sneaking across the border into other domains to play. And I did all manner of shockingly foolish things, because I had no sense of personal danger.”

  “This explains a lot. About you, and every Witch Lord I’ve met,” Zaira muttered.

  I considered my own current circumstances and laughed; my shortened breath left me dizzy.

  “When I was about ten years old, I finally managed to hurt myself badly enough to be laid up in bed for a week,” Kathe sighed.

  “How did you manage that, with all the life magic in you?” Zaira asked, sounding impressed. “I’ve seen how quickly the vivomancers at the Mews mend, even if you can’t outright heal yourselves. A brat broke her leg falling out of a tree in the garden once and was limping on it the next day.”

  “Oh, I started a fight with a pack of whiphounds.” Kathe grimaced. “Suffice to say I didn’t win, and it was messy. But my point is that while I was recovering, my mother would come and sit with me, to help keep me distracted.” He gave me a sidelong look, then, humor gleaming in his eyes.

  “Let me guess,” I said dryly. “You played a game.”

  “I’m not good at soothing noises, and trust me, you don’t want to hear my singing voice,” he apologized. “So I’m afraid it’s games or silence, whichever you find more comforting. You choose.”

  I reached up and squeezed his hand on my shoulder, a warm rush of gratitude softening the edge of the terrible knowledge that my life depended on a pair of crows, and might last no longer than the descending sun. “All right,” I said. “I’ll play.”

  The next few hours were among the strangest of my life. Apparently the game Kathe’s mother had played with him was a circle storytelling game; at first I could pretend I was merely weak and ill with laughter, as I struggled to keep the story plodding ahead in some sensible fashion on my turns while Kathe kept adding improbable twists and Zaira raunchy ones. It felt daring and nearly blasphemous to laugh with death creeping through my veins and the oppressive, watchful power of the Lady of Eagles lying deeper than the blanketing snow across the open fields, and gathering thicker than shadows beneath the ancient trees.

  But as my vision swam and narrowed, and the fog in my mind thickened, I ran out of the breath and wit to finish my sentences. I leaned my head on Kathe’s shoulder because I couldn’t hold it up anymore, struggling to listen as they continued the story without me because that was better than the sound of my own labored breath.

  Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the pulse of the land around me, in my own veins. Deer listened to my faltering heartbeat from the forest, their delicate ears tilting to follow me while the rest of them stood still as statues. Pines swayed in the wind, needles rubbing, whispering in time to the surge of blood in my ears. Birds watched the speck of me huddled under blankets in the back of the sleigh from far above, knowing I was dwindling like a candle flame drowning in its own pooled wax. But death was a part of the tapestry of life, woven through it in thick red ribbons; and while the land knew I was dying, it didn’t care.

  Something sharp jabbed my shoulder. “Hey. Hey, Cornaro.”

  My eyes flew open to find Zaira frowning at me. “Sorry. I was listening.”

  “No sneaking out early like this was a bad play, you hear me? I don’t want to have to get a new Falconer.”

  That was right. If I died, Zaira’s jess could kill her if she didn’t get a new one within a few days. “If you need one…” I sucked in a shallow breath. “I have a jess… in my satchel.”

  She shook my shoulder, her fingers digging in. “Idiot. That’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s true, not just anyone… could put up with you.” I managed a smile.

  Hells take it, I couldn’t die now. It wasn’t just her jess. Someone had to champion the mage-marked and see the Falcon Reserve Act through. I had confidence that Lucia would try, but without me, she wouldn’t have the necessary power.

  I pulled myself straighter in my seat, with a groan. “If I don’t survive… tell my mother that my last request was for her to see my Falcon law through.”

  “That’s low,” Zaira approved. “I like it. But here’s a better idea: don’t die.”

  “Yes, I’d rather spare you the need for deathbed emotional manipulation,” Kathe agreed. “You’re the only person in my life who I can talk to as an equal without needing to consta
ntly be on my guard, and I’d miss you.”

  That woke me up more than Zaira’s poking. He was staring out at the passing landscape as if he found it riveting, the warm light of the lowering sun gilding the planes of his face.

  Before I could find an answer to such an extraordinary statement, the cramps struck, twisting chimera claws into my middle. I doubled over, gasping.

  Graces have mercy. This was the final stage.

  “Amalia?” Kathe asked, alarm sharpening his voice.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed, forcing the words between my teeth.

  His arms went around me with a rustle of feathers. But another spasm ripped through me, and I could barely feel the warmth of them. He was saying something, his tone raw and urgent, but I was beyond understanding.

  For a time, I lost myself to pain.

  It couldn’t have been more than an hour, but it felt like days of suffering, trapped in the prison of my failing body as hoofbeats thudded in the snow and voices murmured tensely over my head. But I couldn’t let go, couldn’t surrender—I had too much to do. Defeat Ruven. Save Marcello. Protect the Falcons. Preserve the Empire. I had to live one moment longer, and another, and another, no matter how much it hurt.

  At last, Zaira burst out, “Took your time, you poxy sky-rat!” and jarred me back to awareness of the world around me.

  The sleigh had stopped in the middle of a snowbound field; the homey scent of woodsmoke from a nearby village tinged the air. The black silhouettes of bare branches speared the sun like a slice of blood orange to the west, and rosy gold light spilled across the sky from it. Kathe held a ruffled-looking crow, untying a gleaming vial from its leg with an inexplicably unsteady hand.

  I gulped the elixir down, the taste of anise as sweet on my tongue as the relief that coursed down my throat. I leaned against Kathe, utterly spent. The knot of pain in my gut began to untie itself, and all the world came pouring back in around me from where I’d shuttered it away to focus on the simple act of surviving.