“Marceline...” the lodestone lit up once more. Marceline stood from her spot. Came shoulder to shoulder with Ludovic, “...you've lived in Safrana recently...tell me, have you ever heard of an 'Ironking'? It is all the locals talk about. Seneschal Arthur Roux, the city guard call him.”
“Yes—he's a servant of the Coutures.” Marceline shook her head, “But he is unimportant—have you crossed the great bridge yet?”
“Alas, non.” she sighed. Thunderous chatter could be heard on her end. Screaming. Singing, “It is extremely slow going. I hear that the bridge guards are checking carriages, wagons, passes are being looked at with serious scrutiny...”
“Do you believe you'll make it across?” Ludovic cut her off, kneading his forehead as he spoke.
“...yes.” she finally said after some pause, “If our passes are revoked, I will find another way. Don't you worry.”
Ludovic nodded. Marceline watched him squirm.
“There is a line of people we must wade through, but I am sure—,”
The screaming turned to curses. Turned to feverish voices spouting nonsense at each other. Women cried out—begging them to stop.
And then, nothing. Silence as the lodestone darkened.
“Dammit.” Ludovic cursed. “Dammit—dammit!”
Marceline sighed, shaking her head. Clenching and unclenching her fists, “They'll make it across soon, Ludovic,” she reassured him. Speaking more for her own sanity, “I'm sure of it. Trust them.”
“It is that city I don't trust. The people—,” he hissed out a breath. Charged away.
THIS WAS TAKING LONGER than expected.
Ludovic leaned against the old trunk of a gnarled oak, the lodestone in his hand.
It lit up.
“I apologiz-z-z-z-z-e about the c-c-c-c-cut earlie-e-e-e-r. We're g-g-g-g-getting out o-of range. B-b-b-but we're c-c-close. Close to the b-b-b-bridge now. N-n-not—not much longer—”
Marceline's hands trembled. The leaves above her head shook frost and water from their faces. The oak seemed to moan, its roots moving.
Beneath them, the ground quaked.
But only for a moment.
The horses whinnied. Stood and flung their heads around, the beasts spooked. Ready to buck and run.
Marceline came to Ludovic's side, the two hovering over the lodestone desperately.
A storm of voices could be heard on Vidonia's side. Arguments laced with poison. Rushing feet and screaming horses.
Again, the earth shivered beneath them. Blades of grasses bowed.
“Lets go to the road.” Ludovic said, standing, “Maybe we'll hear her better there.”
They undid the horses reigns. Walked them out of the wood and to the dirt road.
The sounds from the lodestone became clearer then.
“Let us across!”
“They're trying to keep us here—make us starve to death!”
“Roux is no king here! We will never—,”
“Run—go!—,”
Thousands of footfalls. Boots crushing stone. Skulls hitting cobbles. Cracking. Children crying for their mothers. Hooves galloping on. Horses screaming. Hitting the ground, knocking their skulls against the cobbles. Carriages and wagons bouncing. Wood splintering. Exhausted commands lacing through the crowd, steel melding with skin and muscle. The telltale sound of swords squelching through body parts.
A stampede?
Why are they in such a hurry to leave the eastern citadel?
“Go, go, go! Dammit, girl, get the horses moving before we're crushed!” Vidonia's voice, “We're over—we're going over...”
Smoke rose on the horizon. Black and angry. Swirling from the eastern citadel. Climbing the blue sky.
“I'll establish a beacon immediately once we're acr...”
Marceline's horse bucked. Went flying down the dirt path.
The ground quaked violently. Flinging Marceline to the dirt. Swatting the lodestone from Ludovic's hand. It broke instantly. Shattering into a thousand glass pieces.
Beneath them, the earth itself moaned. Groaned and cried out. An earsplitting explosion resounded from the citadels. Massive clouds enveloping Safrana. Billowing away like tissue paper picked up by the wind. The blast blinded Marceline, and as the earth rolled and rocked beneath her she pressed her face into the dirt. Closed her eyes. Imagined this was all a dream.
It's not—it's not, dammit! And if you don't get up—!
The quake became a slow tremor. A slow rocking that created mountains and destroyed them. That crafted knolls and flattened them, the tide of dirt rising and falling like an ocean covered in storm.
Everything stilled. Smoke rose from the citadels. Painted the sky. Took out the sun.
Marceline forced herself to stand. To look.
The bridge.
No...
The bridge!
It was gone. A plume of smoke. A shadow of itself.
Gone.
“How...” Ludovic whispered behind her, “how could this...”
How could this happen?
Their plan—literally gone up in smoke.
How?
I can see the failure in your eyes...
Florent's words. They resounded in her head. Made her think back.
Everything you touch dies.
Her agents—her people...
Talon, Adelaide, Clara...
They can't be—they can't be...
Vidonia...
She barely knew her, but she still felt sorrow all the same. Her heart clenched tightly in her chest. Tears crested her eyelids.
How could this happen?
How?
One horse remained. This one looking around with panic striking its dark eyes. It met her gaze, seemed to plead to her—get on. Ride!
Marceline looked to Ludovic. He held his head. Shook it. Over and over.
She would need to be the strong one. It was her duty. Her calling.
Marceline approached the horse. Took its reigns and came to Ludovic. Shoved the reigns into his torso. He looked at her, eyes wild. Shocked.
“Get on.” she commanded.
THEY RODE HARD. THEIR travel a silent one. Peppered with disappointment.
They rode for the fort.
Marceline rode pinion, hugging Ludovic's waist. Muscles clenched beneath her grip and she buried her face in his back.
This was another time she would permit herself to cry. When her agents died. When the people she trained, strengthened and disciplined, died. Just like that.
As if they were worth...nothing.
I can see the failure in your eyes...
She shut them. Saw nothing.
...everything you touch dies.
She disguised her whimper. Choked on it.
Was this her fault?
How could the great bridge explode? Why would someone do such a thing? How?
How would she ever see Reine now? Validate the Master's words? Keep to her promise?
The girl is alive—but barely. We are charging you with her safety, the Master had told her.
And where is she? Who keeps her?
The old man huffed beneath his cowl, A djinn.
What?
It is your task to take her back before it tires of her. You will find her in Safrana, the western citadel. She remembered looking into his eyes. They were reptilian. Unblinking. The blood price stands...Agent.
And then he left her study. The fortress.
He left her with a price hanging over her head.
If she dies...how many lives will they take...?
The blood price still stands.
They wove their way up the mountain to the fortress. Stopped at the portcullis.
Ludovic slid from their mount. Cursed. Paced, “Open the portcullis!”
Marceline looked up. No one. Not a soul manned the guard towers.
What was going on?
Shattering earth answered her question. Threw her from the horse as an explosion within the fortress rocked the
world. She hit the ground sideways. Eating dirt.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Severin - Several Hours Earlier
Severin watched with a grating headache as morning quickly became midday, the sun rising. Hovering over the expanse of the sky like an all seeing eye. Quickly, clouds came. Covered the gold in gray. Brought winds with them. Fog.
“When will Lud be back, uncle?” the boy asked for the umpteenth time. Ludovic's boy.
Severin simply shrugged. Grunted his response and brought the child to Kiran.
He did not like children. Least of all little boys. Kiran had the patience of a mother, and the smile of one as well as he welcomed the young man into the council's meeting chambers and brought his attention to the handmade map stretched across the lengthy wooden table at the chamber's center.
“Can you name this part of the continent?” Severin heard Kiran whisper.
“The Landbridge?” Arthur responded tentatively. He was a smart child. Quick to pick up on things. Quick to leave bothered individuals alone.
“Correct!” Kiran laughed, “My home is somewhere in this forest.”
“What's it like there?”
And Severin sighed. Approached the table at a slow walk.
“Mildly humid,” Kiran said. Rolled his eyes and smiled, “boring. Much more boring than this place.”
“I would not like to go there.”
Kiran chuckled, “And I would not like to go back.”
The young man bristled as Severin tapped the table, muttering to himself. Murmuring an old village song he barely remembered. He hadn't been home in a while.
Kiran looked up, making eye contact. Severin shook his head, the two speaking silently with one and other. Kiran's thoughts passing through Severin's mind, becoming his own.
They should have been back by now.
Severin nodded. He knew.
The world seemed to moan, then. The ground grunting. Stones dislodging as a shower of pebbles rained down from above.
The ground beneath them trembled. Shook and rocked.
As a massive boom exploded north of them. Clapping out of existence as quickly as it had come.
Below, they heard screaming. Screeching as people ran for the fortress’s exits.
Severin snatched the boy up by his collar, dragged him to the men guarding the council chambers just as the two guards tumbled in. Alarm etched openly on their panic-stricken faces.
Severin clucked his tongue. Slammed the boy into the chest of the closest guard and hissed, “Take him to the Soliel's quarters and do not leave him. Protect him with your lives.” the men nodded. Fixed their faces and took the young man by the hand. Pulled him out of the room.
Arthur did not turn, refused to look back.
Severin smirked, admired the young man's tough demeanor.
Kiran threw him a passing glance before he too slid from the room.
With a heavy sigh, Severin followed.
CHAOS TOOK HOLD OUTSIDE, while Severin's men attempted to calm the panicked crowd. As Severin and Kiran ran the gauntlet of rushing people, many were led to the lower levels of the fortress while others fought to pinpoint the cause of the explosion. Curious men and women followed Kiran and Severin at a distance, while others rushed past. Looking for a less congested exit.
Slowing to a walk, they searched the northern parapet for a crack in the exterior. To Severin, an explosion only meant one outcome; a breach in the outer fortress walls.
What he truly saw shocked him. Made his skin crawl.
The familiar tick, tick, of sappers picking at the foundation of the fortress stopped him cold. He turned, eying the walls for danger. Saw none. Cursed beneath his breath.
Kiran's body went rigid. He pointed, his finger clearing the wall.
A massive hole gaped in the side of the mountain. Right beneath the wall. Stone sang, crumbled into the vast canyon surrounding their mountain, as sappers ticked away. Climbed from the hole and began to scale the wall.
“Shit.” Kiran breathed.
Severin held his head. Shook it, “Snakes—the lot of them!”
Kiran flattened his palms against the parapet. Kept staring down.
I've seen this before. I know what to do, Severin reassured himself. Pushing away thoughts of the possible aftermath of this. Of the fortress tipping down the mountain.
Severin turned, “Kiran—gather your best bowmen and meet me on the alchemist's tower—,”
Kiran snorted. Turned, wide-eyed, towards Severin, “They're inside a damned mountain, Severin! No one can shoot an arrow through dirt and stone!”
“Look—I've got an idea. Just...work with me, Kiran.”
The elf grimaced. Kneaded his shoulder and rolled his eyes with frustration, “You better not get my people killed, Severin. I know how much you value non-human life.”
At that, Severin winced. Had no words to say. No promises to make.
Looking him over, Kiran nodded and darted off.
Severin marched the other way. Shoved himself through the surging crowd of panicked civilians and made his way to the courtyard. He doubled back through the fortress, pushing and pulling his way into the barracks.
His men didn't barrage him with questions, only glances. Many went to attention. Stiffening before he released them with a word.
“Twenty of you—gather the civilians. Take them to the dining hall and fifteen of you stay with them. Five, go in search of stragglers. The rest,” he shifted his gaze, glanced around, “patrol the perimeter. You see anyone strange, kill them. No questions. No conversations. Am I clear?”
They responded with shocked glances. Agreed with stalwart voices.
“Go on, then.” and the first twenty left, the rest filing out. Some stopping as Severin picked out ten of his strongest looking men. Commanded them to follow him.
He made his chosen scatter. Sent them in search of rope.
Before long, Severin and his ten met Kiran on top of the alchemist's tower.
Kiran placed his hands upon his hips, “Now what?” he snapped.
Twelve elven women surrounded Kiran, all slender and svelte. Save for one. She seemed almost identical to Kiran in build, but not in the face. Quickly, Severin realized that she was actually a he.
Severin brought his gaze to the north wall. Grinned darkly as he watched the sappers painstakingly climb.
He picked up a rope. Threw the rest to his ten, “Tie 'em to your waists. Make sure they're tight over your hips.” his men did as instructed. Tying the ropes tight. Leaving long dangling ends. Severin turned to Kiran, “Have your people tie the ends to themselves. Same way. Just as tight.”
Kiran nodded. Changed his tone of voice as he spoke to his people. Used a strange language Severin did not understand. Sounded like song.
His people muttered, comprehending quickly, before tying the loose rope ends to themselves.
“Tell them to jump.”
Kiran's eyes widened, “And what?”
“Walk the walls.”
Kiran hesitated before grinning. Chuckled and commanded his people with a sharp gesture.
They ran to the edge of the tower. Jumped. Some whooped as they fell, Severin's men holding tight to the ropes around their waists as the rope lines were pulled taut.
Kiran came to the edge of the alchemist's tower and looked down. Placed his hands to his waist as he caught a glimpse of the sappers scuttling up the north wall. With a graceful hand, he pointed. Said a single word before arrows were pulled with a collective hiss and sprung free.
The first arrow landed, hitting its target as a sapper screamed. Broke his grip and plummeted.
They wouldn't hear him hit the bottom of the canyon, and Severin did not wait for the sound of crunching bone.
Kiran's bowmen easily picked off the sappers before they wised up and began climbing downward, back toward the hole they had created earlier.
Severin grinned. They were winning this with little effort. Whoever these people were, who chose to assault them, h
ad chosen the wrong target.
Suddenly, one of Severin's soldiers slipped.
On the alchemist's tower, a bow sang too early as an elven woman screamed.
Kiran bared his teeth. Turned his head to glare.
“Wait—I know her! Don't—,”
Severin yanked the man by the collar. Didn't speak. Followed the soldier's eyes.
The arrows stopped. Kiran spoke to his people and they climbed up.
“That's—that's—,”
Kiran's people kneeled upon the tower. Picked off the few stragglers as they rushed towards the hole in the mountain.
The soldier choked on his words.
Severin cursed. Thought of telling Kiran to wait.
Those are our people.
How could they have turned? How could they have gotten explosives into the fortress?
This explained how they had gotten onto the north side of the mountain—but why...?
“No.” Severin growled, “No mercy,” he told the man he held, “they certainly haven't shown it to us.”
And the man quieted. Swallowed. Nodded to his commander.
The last of the sappers scurried away.
“They're in the mountain.” Kiran called, “Should we finish them off?”
“They'll blow us to hell if we don't.”
Kiran nodded. Motioned for his people to stand.
Together, they left. Raced off towards the parapets of the north wall.
SEVERIN TIED THE ROPE tight around his waist. Winced as it bit into his hip. He looked below. Held his breath as his stomach lurched.
No fear, he told himself as Kiran and his twin began their descent down the mountain.
Severin followed. Bounding down. Flattening his boots against the mountain face before jumping away.
He landed beside Kiran, who shot him a smile. Waggled his eyebrows before descending further. Faster.
The elf's twin was already at the hole.
Kiran and Severin met the other elf, Kiran beside him, Severin on the opposite side of the hole.
Inside, they heard scraping. Low conversation. Severin could make out a couple of the voices. Guess the names of the people talking.
Damn...he shook his head. Slid his sword from the scabbard at his hip...how could they betray us like this?
Blade and Soul: A Dark Fantasy (Kindred Souls Book 2) Page 21