The girl waved off my farewell. “Go ahead. I didn’t want to be rude, but I was hoping to dance.”
***
The walls of the snug Graybranch room muffled sounds from the streets, turning the shouts of workers and the march of protectors’ boots into a low, comforting din. I set the black-iron rod on the table and stood.
My satchel hung off a post on the bed’s footboard. I snaked a hand inside and pulled out the wardstone that Stormshard had loaned me.
The bedcovers were still rumpled. I smoothed them before flopping down. The polished agate cradled in my palm was neither warm nor cold. When viewed with my ordinary sight, it was a simple, lifeless stone. But when I brought my aura-sight forward, I sensed vitality from deep within it.
The stones magnify the nobility and truth inside us.
Tracing a finger over the concentric bands of color in the agate, I considered the message. If Cartilla was right, and the words had been meant for me, they must have been referring to the wardstones, the Heartstone, or both.
Did that mean the faint aura I sensed within the agate was a reflection of my inner quality?
As I strengthened my aura-sight, light bloomed in the depths of the wardstone. I placed the agate on the covers beside me, and the glow dimmed. Maybe the stone’s life was an extension of my own. But that didn’t explain the silvery beings that had sprung from the stones when Stormshard had chased away Riftspawn. When I’d called out to the glowing figures, one had turned to me.
Or maybe the explanation did make sense, after all. Maybe I hadn’t been speaking to separate spirits, but rather to manifestations of the Sharders’ nobility.
I tapped my fingers on the covers. If all of that were true, did it mean the glowing warrior Kostan had summoned from the Heartstone hadn’t been an ancient conjuring, but rather an amplified projection of his inner self?
Grabbing the stone again, I tried to will a portion of my aura into it. The results were disappointing. No glowing being rose from my palm. Maybe the wardstones only worked when the Riftspawn were near.
Well, I probably wasn’t going to solve the puzzle now. I leaned back on the stack of pillows piled against the headboard. As I did every few hours, I spread my aura-sight wider and called into the vastness.
Parveld?
I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. Either he wasn’t in the area, or he’d been right about the Hunger’s corruption taking him. I sighed and closed my eyes. My thoughts began to drift, and when a rapping came at the door, I started.
“It’s open,” I called.
The door swung open, revealing Meageld, a Sharder man who worked closely with the trackers I’d sent in search of Parveld.
I sat up straight. “Anything?”
Lips pressed together, he shook his head. “We thought we’d found signs of his passage. Footprints headed north from where the army disappeared. The marks shuffled as if the person’s toes were dragging. But they entered a trampled area where the Spawn had torn up the earth, and we couldn’t find anything beyond.”
I sighed. “Thank you for looking. There’s much to be done, and I understand your resources are thin.”
The man shrugged. “To tell the truth, there’s not much for the trackers to do right now. Just today, the Emperor asked us to help comb through the wreckage of Steelhold. Vaness suggested we search for a particular bracer while we’re out there. Before we received that assignment, half my trackers were pacing around the Sharder camp like caged hunting cats.”
“Speaking of hunting, I heard you were helping with that.”
“True. Sirez dispatches a few of us to track game each day. She thinks food will become a problem soon. In any case, your request didn’t tax us.”
I stared at the far wall, thinking. It did sound like those shuffling tracks could’ve belonged to Parveld, but they could as easily have been made by a wounded soldier who’d had the misfortune of stumbling into the Spawn horde.
“Well, if you don’t mind, ask the hunters to keep alert for human tracks. Maybe Parveld traveled faster than I’d expected.”
“Will do.” The man stepped to the door then hesitated with his hand on the latch. “Hey, Savra?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve taken another action which might interest you. With Joran gone, the conclave sees no reason to uphold your father’s exile. We’re attempting to make contact with our network of Stormshard sympathizers in the wider Empire. I don’t know if or when the message might find him, but I wanted you to know I sent word along with our reports. Your father is welcome back, both into the organization and the conclave itself.”
Warmth spread through my chest. Between Kostan’s and Stormshard’s efforts to contact my father, maybe I stood a chance of finding him after all. “Thank you, Meageld. It means more than you know.”
The man didn’t respond, but rather nodded and slipped out the door.
Chapter Four
Kostan
Merchant's Quarter, Jaliss
THE COBBLESTONE STREETS in the Merchant’s Quarter were still a jumbled mess. As I climbed with the Prime Protector from the Splits toward the center of the city, I couldn’t help stopping at times to fit a stone back into place. The Prime tolerated my delays, though not without a faint air of impatience. As for the guard detail that shadowed me whenever I left the Graybranch, they didn’t dare let their opinions show on their faces.
Rough edges grated as I worked another paver in between its neighbors. As I stood, I caught the eye of a small child who was crouching on the stoop of a cobbler's shop. The little girl spoke in a quiet voice to a bundle of rags with stitching that sketched a face. She sent her words out of the side of her mouth when giving her doll’s responses as if to throw her voice. When she caught me looking, she clutched her toy close.
I smiled at her, hoping my sadness didn’t show. I’d never had toys. If I’d been caught playing or pretending, I’d likely have been punished with blows from a leather strap. But I’d never suffered the hunger I saw in the girl’s too-large eyes and hollowed cheeks.
I stomped the cobblestone flat, pounding so hard the shock traveled up to my hip, then marched on. It was easy to think we’d won a great victory by successfully defending Jaliss. But for every few citizens who’d been saved, someone had been lost. Perhaps the outcome had been written in fate’s ledgers long before my birth, but I’d still failed to thwart destiny’s cruel plan. The coming times would be even more difficult according to the Bracer of Sight. This time, I would do everything I could to murder fate’s plans in their cradle.
“What have your runners found?” I asked, slowing my pace so the Prime and I walked side by side. Ever alert, she kept a hand on her long dagger, scanning alleys and rooftops as if a crazed Prov or rampaging Riftspawn could leap out at any moment.
“We’ve pushed our survey farther south and east. Around half a dozen townships are within easy reach, and the damage to the roads is minimal. I sent small detachments of soldiers to each, and we’re in contact with one protectors’ garrison along the eastern foothills. In general, the structures there fared no worse than Jaliss did in Havialo’s quakes.”
The news made it a bit easier to walk with my spine straight. After looking at the gash that had severed Jaliss from Pascar, adding an extra hour’s ride to reach the town, I’d worried about conditions farther afield.
“And they’ve been invited to the city?” We didn’t fully understand the extent of the Riftspawn threat, and it would be difficult to defend the scattered townships in the event of an attack. But Jaliss had the protection of the Heartstone, activated when I bonded to the massive red stone with my Heartshard pendant.
“I did. The reports aren’t promising. The Atal residents, of course, were quick to respond. They’re already within the Heights demanding lodging from their peers. But the Provs aren’t ready to trust an invitation from the throne. I’m sorry, your eminence.”
“It’s all ri
ght. I expect the struggle to last for a long time.”
The Prime slowed her steps, even halting to nudge a cobblestone into place. We’d entered a crossroads, and down the intersecting street, a group of masons worked to shore up an unstable wall. I fought the glow of pride in seeing repairs finally taking place. I had little to do with the progress--unless you counted my nomination of Fishel as a leader of the Prov population. In a few short days, he’d managed to organize more forward progress on rebuilding than I had accomplished in the long weeks since I ascended the throne. Either way, though, Jaliss was once again rising from the rubble.
“Unfortunately, the reports on the nearby towns are the good news, your eminence,” the Prime said as she began walking.
I should have known the worst was yet to come. My visions had predicted widespread destruction, an Empire in shambles. Compared to what I’d seen through the Bracer, the area around Jaliss had hardly suffered.
“Go on,” I said, keeping pace. We’d neared the Corridor of Ascent, the walled street that cut through the Heights to reach the point where a steep trail had once switchbacked up Steelhold’s spire. Mule-drawn carts lumbered up and down the Corridor, carrying away unusable rubble and bringing in square-cut stones and timbers suitable for our needs.
“As I’ve mentioned, we’ve expanded our survey. Unfortunately, while the quakes were minor here, the damage seems to increase the farther away we get. Especially to the south.”
“There’s no need to soften your report, Prime.”
Her nod was curt. “Apologies, your eminence. I suppose I was gentling the news as much for myself as for you. It’s bad, Emperor Kostan. The main road to Guralan is entirely impassable. A system of canyons has sliced it to pieces, and we have scouts attempting to find a safe way through. We’ve lost a few surveyors to collapses in the process. Some have drawn within sight of the far rim, only to be stopped with no way forward. It’s complicated. And, by the looks of what they’ve seen on the other side, the going won’t be much easier beyond. Where the land was flat, it’s now a mass of cliffs and ravines. We’ve kept an eye out for chimney smoke that might indicate how well the towns in the southern grasslands fared.”
“And?”
“There’s little to report.”
“How about to the east and west? Are the roads passable?”
“A little better. It’s difficult to make progress on horseback, but we’re sending soldiers and scouts on foot. One of our survey bands includes a hawk keeper. She sent word that the damage to structures gets much worse in the distant towns. Some settlements seem abandoned. Others have lost almost everyone who lived within.”
I was walking with my hands clasped behind my back. Now, I squeezed, knuckles cracking. So many dead… I found it hard to fathom.
As we stepped between the high walls of the Corridor, the Prime lowered her voice to keep it from echoing. “There are other pieces of information, but they come second- and third-hand. We’ve all hoped we faced down the majority of the Riftspawn, but Stormshard has heard rumors that hordes of them are roaming the grasslands. We know nothing from the provinces, but since the quake damage worsens to the south…”
“We must assume their numbers may be even greater elsewhere. Storms,” I cursed.
“Once we have the roads open, we’ll send soldiers and builders to help the towns fortify. I don’t know what else we can do.”
I shook my head. “Nor I. Even if we could get through, we don’t have enough soldiers to defend even a fraction of the towns from a threat like this.”
“We’re going to suggest that people stay inside. Board over the windows and lay in food and water as if preparing for a siege.”
I took a deep breath, wishing I could come up with a better plan. “Thank you. I think that’s the best help we can offer.”
“Of course, your eminence.”
Ahead, a cart had thrown a wheel, and the driver crouched on the street beside it. Other workers had handed off the reins for their mule teams and were helping unload the heavy stone from the cart bed so that the box could be righted. I considered offering assistance but decided it would only make the other helpers less comfortable. Despite the changes in the city, the Provs still regarded me with a sort of restrained acceptance.
“What progress has been made on the bridge over the new chasm?” Though most of the rebuilding was being done by the Prov population, I’d asked the protectors to span the rift between the city and Pascar. Some of my concern was that more Riftspawn might emerge from the gorge, but beyond that, the soldiers had the most experience with construction that could affect tactics. Key bridges could win or lose wars.
“Perhaps within the tenday. Though it won’t gain us much. Beyond Westpass Cut, the road deteriorates.” She sighed as she kicked aside a small stone. “Some of our most experienced builders believe it may be decades before we can move about the Empire as we once did.”
Decades. I shook my head. I couldn’t accept that estimate, not when we needed to pull together. “Perhaps the builders are thinking in terms of their former capabilities. The throne has never committed all the resources at our disposal. We’ll use the strength and speed of aurum mages—in fact, I’ll send Vaness to speak with them about it tomorrow. No doubt when the ferros show themselves, we’ll find more surprising advantages in their abilities. Please reassure any skeptics that the throne’s full power will help the Empire’s citizens through this.”
She inclined her head. “Of course, your eminence. And as for our temporary fortifications—” She gestured toward the massive ring of rubble-topped stone that was all that remained of Steelhold’s once-soaring spire. Where the Corridor of Ascent dead-ended against the low wall, a narrow gap had been cut. The gate would be installed soon, but for now, we passed unhindered through the rough-hewn stone hallway and into the central core of our new stronghold.
In the middle of the circle, the Heartstone gleamed blood-red under the mountain sun. Workers were clearing rubble out of the area and sorting it into piles of waste and reusable material. Walls had begun to rise against the inner arc of Steelhold’s stump. Some were to be barracks, others gatehouses. Atop the rim of stone, a walkway was being leveled, and an outer wall already stood knee-high in places. Eventually, it would stand tall enough to shield archers and spearmen who defended the area.
Compared to the impregnable fortress Steelhold had been, our work to protect the Heartstone looked like a child’s fort. But for now, it was the best we could do.
“I’ll be riding out with Savra in two or three days,” I said. “Just for the afternoon, most likely. I realize this won’t please you. I’m informing you so that you may choose your favored guardsman to accompany me.”
The Prime had started up a newly built staircase that accessed the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then continued upward, stomping more vigorously than before. “You’ve likely anticipated everything I will express as a reservation.”
“I shouldn’t risk myself. Leaving the safety of the city is foolish. Many Provs still consider me their enemy. The Atal aren’t much fonder of me. Yes, I think I have a handle on your objections.” As I reached the top of the stone ring, the sounds of the city once again reached my ears. Hammers rang against anvils. Cattle, freshly arrived from the nearby pastures, lowed in corrals on the eastern fringe of the city. Somewhere in the Heights, a man shouted for a servant.
“Then I’ll only ask you to be cautious,” the Prime said she stepped up next to me.
“I will. And I understand your concerns. But there’s something I need to see so that I can move forward with a clear conscience.”
“As you say, your eminence.”
Chapter Five
Evrain
A wagon track in the forests of Guralan
THE SPONGY FOREST floor gave gently under Evrain’s jogging stride, which was as much blessing as could be had recently. It felt like he’d been running for a tenday, though in truth, he’d set out
from Bellows, the informal capital of Guralan Province, just two days ago. The hope he chased was fleeting. A few words, fallen from a traveler’s mouth, of a honey-haired woman brazenly asking for information on Stormshard. His wife, Marleina’s, hair had always seemed spun from amber. It seemed such a narrow chance, but he’d had no choice but to take it.
The journey was a stupid one by anyone’s reckoning. Ever since the quake-storm had split the Empire’s crust like a rotted egg, Guralan’s constant wind had grown incomprehensibly ferocious. The forest bent under its force, and bone-shaking cracks of snapping trees boomed once for every few of Evrain’s panting breaths. Those evergreens that bore up under the gale’s punishment groaned and crackled as they swayed, loosing a constant patter of pinecones from their upper boughs.
Evrain had been in Bellows when the quakes hit, and he was grateful for it. The town, hunkering in a rare open area and scoured by incessant winds, was built for abuse. Over the decades, the gale had flattened those buildings too weak to withstand its punishing force. As a result, most of the surviving structures had remained standing when the Breaking shattered the land.
Due to news of difficult roads, he’d left his horse behind in Bellows, and with it, most of his supplies. As he trotted doggedly forward, the leather straps of his rucksack sawed at his shoulders. The contents, though meager, battered the small of his back with each bounce. At his hip, he wore a small hatchet, the handle rubbing his thigh. He’d left his short sword with a trusted friend, but kept a belt knife and dagger sheathed opposite the hatchet.
Ahead, a felled tree crossed the faint wagon trail. Evrain slowed to a walk as he approached and pulled the hatchet from his belt. The deadfall was of middling size, but the branches were thick, the needles clawing at his face as he shoved into their depths and laid a hand on the flaking bark of a branch. With a quick pair of blows from the hatchet, he severed the limb and pulled it free. Needles rained into his hair as he tossed the bough aside and grabbed the next. He worked quickly. Though the sap-scented gale was at his back, if he rested too much, his sweat would turn icy.
Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3) Page 4