My fist came down on the table. “You mean, we can search out the best routes for our cowardly flight? What do we accomplish by running?” Finally, I’d discovered where my frustration had hidden.
“Kostan,” Sirez said, prompting a few shocked gasps at her use of my given name. I glared but held my tongue. “You may not wish to hear this, but Jaliss was already lost. The forces marching on the capital represent such a tremendous threat that it’s nearly unthinkable.”
Silence held for a moment while she spun her dagger on the table, eyes locked on mine. “But you have Stormshard among your allies now. We have decades of experience in facing a foe many times our strength, and the first lesson we learned was that we couldn’t meet the Empire head on. For a hundred years, we hid, striking at the edges of the Empire’s power. While it’s true that our victories were small, they were victories all the same. And perhaps more importantly, we survived.”
My clenched fist slipped beneath the table. The effort of squeezing only drained more life from my body, so I let my hand fall limp. “We’re not talking about a scattered renegade band. You were able to hide from the Empire and strike at our flanks because you were so few. How would you suggest I tuck away the population of Jaliss?” I sighed. “And for the rest of you, feel free to call me Kostan, too. I hope you won’t take the liberty in public, but at this point, I won’t pretend to rule over a vast Empire. You may resume calling me, ‘your eminence’ when my remaining subjects are no longer homeless with no promise of shelter ahead.”
“The promise of shelter is something we may be able to address,” the Prime said. “We chose the mountains for a reason, your—Kostan. The terrain allows for a strong defense, and there are…” She trailed off, looking to Sirez.
“Stormshard is aware of quite a few locations which might serve as strongholds. Our mountain Shards have long used ancient fortresses as—”
The door swung open, admitting a beam of brilliant sunlight. Sirez turned an annoyed look to the newcomer, but her expression quickly softened. “Good. They found you.”
A surge of warmth filled me when Savra stepped out of the glare. But when her gaze landed on mine, an expression of sadness fell over it. I understood immediately. She was afraid I’d be angry with her for the decisions she’d made in Jaliss. I planted my hands on the table and forced strength into my limbs. Even if I collapsed, she needed to know I understood why she’d done it.
She hurried forward and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kostan.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You did what you felt was necessary.”
“But it won’t be enough, will it?”
I swallowed. “I just don’t know, Savra.”
Chapter Sixteen
Savra
Westpass Garrison
IN THE AFTERNOON after Kostan woke, Sirez and Vaness tasked the garrison soldiers with preparations for the refugees’ arrival. Men and women hacked at the forest, felling trees to make room for tents. Up the road from the post, protectors started digging away landslide rubble that blocked the track. A pair of men with arms like pillars pried at some of the smaller boulders with polearms to lever them off the road.
The Prime Protector watched over Kostan like a nursery maid, forcing him to eat enough porridge for three men before escorting him back to his bedchamber. Though it no longer swirled in endless cycles, his aura was still watery. He needed to rest to recover. I stayed out of the Prime’s way, recognizing that she was far better than me at scolding him. Though I wasn’t much help compared to the soldiers who’d been raised in the logging camps of Guralan Province, I slipped from the garrison and joined the crew clearing timber. As a woman expertly stripped the limbs from fallen trees, she tossed me the branches which I dragged to a pile along the northern wall of the fort.
By dusk, a flattened area of about a hundred paces square had been cleared along the stream that paralleled the road. It had been three days since I’d slept well—I’d spent the previous night kneeling by Kostan’s bedside, head pillowed in the crook of my elbow. Just moving felt like I was trying to swim through icy water in a heavy cloak. I grabbed a hunk of bread from the supply cart and swallowed the small meal as I slipped into Kostan’s room.
An oil lamp burned low on a small table. I fetched my bedroll from the corner and laid it out beside Kostan’s cot. Last night, I hadn’t noticed any of the room’s details. Now, judging by the map nailed to the wall and the empty weapon and armor racks, I realized this must be the garrison commander’s room.
Before lying down, I watched Kostan sleep. He was dreaming, and a small wrinkle kept forming between his eyebrows. No doubt our situation tore at him even in his sleep. At least he’d cast off whatever ailment had struck him. With him leading our efforts, I was optimistic we’d find a way forward.
I settled into my bedroll, intent on practicing my aura manipulation. I’d accidentally left the black-iron rod behind and hoped I could discover how to pass the veil without it since I still believed I could find answers in the halls of the dead. With a deep breath, I focused on my aura-sight. Unfortunately, the moment I closed my eyes, sleep took me away.
I’d been awake for just a few minutes when Kostan yawned and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. His strength seemed to be returning, though his hands still trembled as he fought to buckle on his armor. Soon enough, we stepped outside into the chill light of morning.
“Do you know what happened to you?” I asked as we shuffled to the kitchen.
He ran his teeth across his lower lip. “I think so.”
“And?”
“I have a feeling I’ll hear that question a lot today.”
I smirked. “You don’t want to have to repeat yourself twenty times over. Got it.” Threading my hand into the crook of his elbow, I squeezed.
We sat on a pair of empty casks and ate the wedges of cheese the cook shoved into our hands as soon as we crossed into her territory. Kostan seemed lost in thought, mostly likely worrying about the days ahead.
“How long before the Riftspawn catch us?” he asked.
Footsteps crunched as someone approached from behind a rack hung with strips of smoked venison. “It depends on how the aurums fare,” the Prime said as she stepped into sight. “Best case, I figure we have a bit more than tenday before the Spawn arrive. Of course, the aurums may be more effective than we hope. The Spawn may decide to linger in Jaliss. In any case, we don’t want to remain here any longer than necessary. We need to get somewhere with defenses…” She cocked her head. This is more information than you were asking for right now, isn’t it?”
Kostan scrubbed his hands over his face. “I did just wake up. But I need to know all of it.”
The Prime scanned the perimeter of the garrison. “We’d hoped to convene midmorning, with your agreement.”
Kostan nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
“I have other news, your eminence. The first of the refugees arrived along the shortcut from the flats. Your friend Fishel has more wits than he admits. He gathered the fastest of his charges and sent them ahead with a small guard contingent to help us prepare for the bulk of the population.”
“Good. I’ll greet them while I wake up,” Kostan said.
“After you eat a solid breakfast, you mean.”
“You know, I was taken from my mother when I was too young to remember,” he said fondly. “But I suspect you do a reasonable impression.”
The Prime’s face darkened in embarrassment.
Kostan jumped up, eyes wide. “I’m only teasing. I’m beyond grateful for your help in the past days.”
The woman didn’t respond. She clasped her hands together before bowing awkwardly and scurrying off.
“I didn’t mean to offend her,” Kostan said. “I’ve come to think of her as a friend. Maybe I got too comfortable.”
“Give her a little time. I think that she’ll realize that.”
***
Around one
hundred Provs had arrived from Fishel’s group. Though Kostan had hoped to speak with them, by the time we stepped outside the garrison, they’d already been absorbed into the work crews. They limped doggedly about their tasks, favoring blistered feet and aching joints.
“If these were the fittest among them, I worry for the others,” Kostan said in a low voice.
A garrison soldier who happened to be walking by overheard and shook his head. “Indeed, your eminence. They say that the wagons on the grassland are overfull with people who can no longer walk.” The man paused and swallowed. “Many were weak before the march began. Some have succumbed.”
“They died?”
He nodded grimly. “Fishel has reserved a cart for the dead and a time for burials each evening.”
Storms. I shook my head. With all the fighting we’d faced lately, I’d thought I’d become hardened to news of death.
“Thank you, soldier,” Kostan said, dismissing the man. The soldier nodded and hurried off.
Kostan stared at the small mound of gear the newcomers had deposited in the area of cleared timber.
“We should prepare an infirmary,” I said.
His gaze was unfocused. “I don’t know how we’ll do it, Savra. How will we move the population of Jaliss through these mountains if they’re already dying on the grasslands? We don’t even have a destination. Ten days before the Spawn reach the garrison… It seems like a lot, but I don’t see how we’ll manage to reach safety before then.”
“Don’t give up hope. Sirez had her face stuck in a map the whole journey here.”
“And what if the Prime is wrong about the time? Yesterday, she told me we have scouts moving back and forth between the garrison and refugee train, but is anyone watching Jaliss?” Frustration over the uncertainty bled into his voice. I slipped an arm around his waist. Even with the leather armor stiffening his torso, I noticed the weight he’d lost in the last days.
I could only imagine how powerless he felt as ruler of a refugee people. We had no home and no safe haven. By retreating, we’d all but abandoned the provinces and the smaller settlements in the grasslands. And what did we gain by running? A few more months of survival if we were lucky?
Parveld had believed I would help our people through this. But the ability to take control of a handful of Riftspawn wouldn’t save us from an army of thousands, and I hadn’t been successful at prying answers from the dead.
Spirit walking held promise. If I could travel my aura across the Empire, maybe I find a defensible spot to move Jaliss’ population. I could scout the location of the Spawn army. I could even find Parveld. If he actually was behind the Riftspawns’ march, maybe I could defeat or cripple their forces by hunting and killing him.
Maybe I could find my family.
“I’m going to practice my spiritism until we meet to discuss plans,” I said.
As if dragged forcibly from his thoughts, Kostan nodded before leaning down to kiss me. “See you soon,” he said.
***
I focused on my aura-sight, casting my perception wide. I needed an anchor—a vessel—to pull my awareness forward, and I wanted someone distant enough to challenge my abilities, but not so far that I’d get myself into trouble.
To reach Westpass Garrison, we’d followed a snaking shortcut scarcely wide enough for Kostan’s mule-drawn cart. Fishel’s advanced group of refugees had taken the same path. Now, a handful of Stormsharders hid at intervals along the route, keeping watch for enemies and preparing to guide other small groups who needed it.
I shifted my seat on the boulder and cast my awareness down the side track. Sunlight was creeping into the valley, a golden line sinking through the trees. The aura of the nearest Sharder sentry was a faint blotch of alertness in the still of the morning. I focused harder on her spirit, willing my focus toward her while keeping tendril of perception wrapping my body. At first, nothing happened. But when I imagined my aura moving to join her, everything shifted.
At once, I was perched beside—inside?—the woman, tucked into the pine-smelling shadows of a low-boughed evergreen. A squirrel chattered in the branches overhead.
Savra, Lilik said, her voice coming as if through a distant tunnel. Tension ran through her words like a guy wire. Go slow. Keep your perception split so you don’t lose awareness of your body.
I heard her and was about to send reassurance when movement farther down the trail grabbed my attention. A small group of armed men advanced up the track. The Sharder woman snapped upright. She moved into a crouch and laid a hand on the crossbow which rested on a patch of moss beside her. Her aura went rigid with concern, nearly ejecting me from our gentle contact.
“Did you see that?” one of the approaching men asked. “Movement above the trail.”
The woman froze as the men’s hands fell on weapons.
Storms. These weren’t friends; if they were, they would have expected the Sharder sentry. The men must have come out of the woods somewhere nearby. A few weeks ago, I would have suspected they were Stormshard renegades with a nearby hideout. But I guessed these were outlaws with less noble goals.
“I don’t see anything,” someone else said.
Ever so slowly, the Sharder raised her crossbow. The weapon was cocked, a bolt loaded. She sucked in a breath as the group advanced, eyes scanning the surroundings.
“Might have been an animal,” the first man said. “Brun, head up there and flush it out. Could make us a nice dinner.”
The woman needed help. Fast. Panicked, I threw my awareness down-trail toward the next auras. A pair of sentries sat together, speaking in low tones. As I anchored my spirit to one, I forced a dagger of aura into each of their minds.
This is Savra. There are bandits up the trail. The sentry there needs your help.
I stayed long enough to feel them stiffen before tumbling even farther down the trail, reaching for the next nearest Sharder.
SAVRA! Lilik yelled, her voice distant. Stop!
She dragged at me, piercing my spirit with hundreds of needle-like claws. I shrieked and fought before understanding. I could scarcely sense my body. My heartbeat was a distant thud, my pulse a strange washing of liquid through foreign tunnels. Despite her warnings, I’d been too careless. Catching hold of her barbed hooks, I stretched toward the woman’s pull. Relief flooded our bond, nearly sweeping me free of her grasp. I bore down and began following the tendrils back.
My awareness slid along the trail, and I glimpsed the Sharder woman just as she fired her crossbow. The bolt took the man in the neck. He slapped at it as blood spurted. Spinning on the slope above the trail, he toppled.
My aura sped past as the remaining bandits shouted. In the trees above them, the woman was a blaze of cold concentration. Her hand was steady as she slipped another bolt onto her weapon.
Like a stone flung from a sling, I retreated so fast that I feared I’d overwhelm my body as my spirit slammed home. I couldn’t forget Falla’s insistence that I’d nearly died when my control of another’s soul had been suddenly severed, flinging tendrils of my aura back into my body.
Slow, I squeaked across my link with Lilik. I imagined spreading my spirit wide to resist the pull, digging in mental heels against her dragging force. As I flew toward the garrison, I steeled myself for the impact.
I whizzed over Kostan. He was headed for the gatehouse. His spirit was so strong, so blazing, that I could scarcely see the other auras filling the small fort. Yet there was something else… I hadn’t been fully immersed in my aura-sight since he’d awakened, and so I hadn’t examined his aura with my focused attention. Something was still off about the shape of it as if he carried someone on his back.
I nearly forgot my imminent collision and stared, baffled, as the shape shifted, a shadow detaching from his form. I lost sight of him as my aura whipped in a wide arc, rushing away from the garrison and up the hill toward my body.
As I shuddered, ready for the soul-shaking impact of s
lamming into my flesh, all motion ceased. Or rather, my motion ceased. My perception was locked on the scree slope below, and I couldn’t look away. My aura had crystallized.
No! Paono, don’t! As if echoed through a glacial cavern, Lilik’s voice bounced around my mind, fracturing and falling back over itself. Remember Devonii.
Lilik. I’m glad for the chance to hear you. Parveld’s voice pressed on me from all sides, cutting into my soul, shredding my awareness. I tried to scream, but no sound came. We were so wrong. I wish I could show you what I’ve learned. But I don’t think that will be possible until this is over.
Please don’t do it, Lilik begged.
Do what? What were they talking about? Frantic, I tried to shatter my paralysis. But every splinter of my awareness remained locked.
I’m sorry I can’t make you understand yet, my dear friend. The Bracer’s visions are clear. The only path to my defeat is walked by Savra and Kostan both. If one cannot work against me, the other’s effort is doomed. I had the young Emperor in my grasp, but he was stronger than I imagined. So I must revise my plan.
I watched you suffer over Devonii. You must remember. Somewhere, Paono still exists.
Oh, I remember the anguish I felt, but I was ignorant. We all were. Now I know better. And soon, so will you.
The pain came from all sides at once, ten thousand razors slicing into my aura-made-flesh. And then it was over. I was numb. No smell, no scent, no sensation, until finally, awareness bloomed.
I hung over the garrison, bodiless. The mountain breeze blew through me, and though I sensed the chill, it didn’t bother me. Footsteps crunched over the inner yard of the garrison as people converged on Kostan. The Emperor stood tall as the first kiss of sunlight sparked fire on the garrison’s outer walls.
Lilik? I said.
She can’t hear you, Parveld said, his voice no longer cutting, but rather entering my thoughts as it once had.
What happened?
Don’t fear. This is only temporary. Soon you will understand. But I can’t stay, dear Savra. Your Emperor has dealt me a firm blow. Remaining now steals from my strength like the cold ground draws heat from a sleeping body.
Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3) Page 12