I felt tossed in a storm, but stilled my thoughts and focused on my awareness of the man. Fight it, Parveld. Please! Remember how you asked me to hunt you. You knew the Hunger would corrupt you.
Shh. Be peaceful, and this will be finished very soon.
As his voice retreated, I tried to turn to follow it. My view of the mountains shifted. I waited for sudden vertigo from the motion, but none came, just as I had no sense of arms or legs or the faint heaviness of breakfast in my belly. Terrified all over again, I flung out tendrils of my awareness, seeking my connection to my body. Even when I’d been absorbed in my aura-sight, my flesh had always lingered in the corners of my mind. But now, there was only emptiness.
Lilik’s words echoed in my memory. You will become nothing. A drifting spirit.
Ever so slowly, I spun my viewpoint to face the slope I’d climbed after leaving Kostan to practice. My footprints were still there, damp indentations in the loose soil beneath the boulder.
I didn’t want to look, but I knew I must. As my gaze traveled up the boulder, a faint rustling sound broke the morning.
Atop the sun-drenched stone, my body crumpled.
Lifeless.
Chapter Seventeen
Kostan
Garrison gatehouse
SIREZ YAWNED AS she entered the gatehouse. She chose a chair across from me, dropped to a seat and pulled a rolled parchment from her satchel. As she unrolled the map, I couldn’t help smiling when I remembered Savra’s description of Sirez with her face all but stuck to the paper.
“What?” she asked, eyes piercing.
“Nothing. It was just something Savra said.”
The Shard leader glared at me suspiciously as she sucked her teeth. Around the table, most of the seats were already taken. My informal council looked weary but determined. I hoped I projected the same sort of strength.
“Where is Savra?” she asked.
I gestured vaguely toward the door. “She wanted to practice something related to spiritism. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”
As if prompted by my words, the door swung open, and Savra stepped into the relative darkness of the room. Her eyes immediately found mine. “I’m so sorry, Kostan.”
I shook my head. “It’s okay. We haven’t even started yet.”
Her gaze fell away. “It’s not that. I’m sorry for something much more difficult to accept. You see… I am not Savra.”
I blinked, utterly confused, and looked to the others for an explanation. They seemed just as bewildered by her words. Even the Prime’s face was clouded by lack of understanding.
I swayed in my chair as I turned back to her. “I don’t—”
“I’ve watched most of you for quite some time,” Savra said as she ran her eyes over the gathering. “But few of you were aware of it. Allow me to make a formal introduction. My name is Lilik Boket, and this is the first time I’ve felt fresh air on my skin in almost two hundred years.”
Everyone in the room turned to stone. This had to be a trick. But no… I couldn’t imagine Savra doing something like this.
“Where is she? Where’s Savra?” My voice trembled despite the strength I tried to put into it.
The Prime Protector’s brow furrowed. “You’re familiar with this… Lilik?” she asked.
I ran my hand through my hair. “I—yes. Well. Sort of. I’ll explain later.”
One of the Sharders slid a chair behind Savra. Lilik. Whoever it was. She cleared her throat then sat, laying a hand on my forearm. “I don’t know where Savra is now. She was spirit walking when Parveld somehow found her and severed her spirit from her body.”
The wind left my lungs. I pressed palms on the table to keep from falling. “Then she’s… Is she dead?” Clenching my jaw, I waited for the blow.
“Not as you would envision it. She hasn’t passed through the veil. Listen, Kostan, I know very little of this, but I’ve seen a similar thing once before.”
I felt the desperation in my voice as I turned to her. “And?”
“Long ago, Parveld had a student. Her name was Devonii. She became lost from her body.” Savra’s—Lilik’s lips twisted in consternation. “Perhaps this isn’t the most encouraging tale.”
I leaned forward, pressing the heels of my hands against my forehead. “She’s not dead, but she’s not here, either?”
“I wish I had a better answer for you,” Lilik said.
“Perhaps you could clarify something else then,” the Prime Protector said. “You said Parveld did this? The wine merchant is an ally, is he not? A powerful friend.”
I shook my head. “The corruption took him. He sacrificed much to save us from the Riftspawn, but it cost him his sanity.”
“You didn’t mention this before.” The Prime kept the judgment out of her voice. A good thing, because anger had crept in over my shock. I didn’t want to lose control of myself.
“We—Savra and I—hoped he’d avoided the Hunger’s grasp. We were wrong. Unfortunately. It seems Parveld is behind the Spawn army. He destroyed the Heartstone and kept me locked in a nightmare…” I scrubbed my face then sat up straight to face my allies. “He’s a monster with powers we scarcely understand. And now…” I swallowed, looking to the woman I’d come to cherish. Only she wasn’t there anymore.
Lilik spoke quietly. “Devonii’s story didn’t end well. I’m sorry to tell you that, Kostan. But I have more hope for Savra. In Devonii’s case, no spirit was able to give life to her form. It took a long time, but eventually, her body died. I’m here to keep Savra’s alive. She is clever and may find a way to fix this.”
I fought back the sting in my eyes and nodded.
Metal rubbed over wood, a light singing sound, as Sirez spun a dagger on the tabletop. “One more question, Lilik. How is it that you… took over her? Pardon my lack of trust, but how do we know you didn’t…” She circled her finger in the air. “How do we know you didn’t force her out?”
My throat caught. Why had I accepted the story so quickly? Savra had complained about Lilik’s strange behavior many times in the past days.
Lilik inclined her head. “A good question. It’s complicated, and I’m not sure how to ease your concern.”
“Try.” My voice was flat. “Savra was worried about how you were acting toward her.”
“I know.” Lilik’s eyes fell. “I was struggling with Parveld’s corruption. But Savra and I had reconciled... She hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”
Sirez picked up her dagger and balanced it on her finger. “So you say…”
Lilik’s hands were clutched in her lap. Her toes tapped the floor while she worked over her words.
“I believe her,” Falla said abruptly. “The details of their connection aren’t mine to tell. But I will say that Savra trusted this woman. And…” She cocked her head. “I don’t sense that Lilik is lying.”
As the Sharder spoke, Lilik chewed her lower lip. My heart felt hollow. Savra never did that.
“Savra and I shared a connection called a shadowbond,” Lilik said. “I didn’t expect our bond to grow so fast or so strong, but please believe me. I waited centuries to help her. I would never wish to hurt her. I’m grateful that I could animate her body and keep it alive, but only because I hope she can enter it again. Even if I didn’t care for her—which I do—I know we need her to defeat the Hunger.”
Around the table, people shifted at her use of the term. Some may never have heard it. We’d been so focused on recovering from the attacks on Jaliss that we hadn’t had time to discuss the greater threat.
I searched Lilik’s face. Her words had sounded sincere. And her explanation made sense.
Sirez sucked her teeth and stared Lilik up and down. “Okay, fair enough,” she said finally.
“Will you know if Savra is… Trying to find her way back?” My throat tightened around my voice.
A knock at the door broke the silence as Lilik considered her words. The door swung
wide, and a woman stumbled through. Her leather garb and the crossbow at her hip marked her as a Stormshard fighter.
“A group of outlaws came up the side track,” the woman said as she pushed sweat-damp hair off her forehead. A fresh cut on her cheek leaked blood. “There were six. We killed four and took two prisoner, but—” She swallowed. “We lost one. Deran.”
I clenched my fists, the rush of frustration so intense I could scarcely contain it.
Sirez stabbed the point of her dagger into the tabletop. “Rotten storms,” she cursed.
“I’ll send more protectors,” the Prime said.
“No,” Sirez argued. “You already said it. That track’s too hard to defend—we’re bringing the refugees up Westpass anyway. Better to double the guard at the shortcut’s exit and abandon the rest. But—” Her eyes skimmed the gathering. “We need to get organized. It’s more than two hours past dawn, and we’ve yet to make a single decision. The bulk of the refugees will start arriving tomorrow. How are we going to handle them?”
I took a deep breath. As raw as Savra’s loss made me feel, I was still the Emperor of Atal. My people needed me. As if stacking the blocks of my spine one atop the other, I straightened. Cramming my emotions into a knot of rage, I encased them with a hard shell of duty. I stared at my advisers one after the other. “The problems run much deeper than how to welcome the refugees. Before we leave this room, I need to know exactly how we’ll proceed. Simply fleeing gains us nothing. Where and how do we stand and fight? We must find a way to strike back at the Riftspawn. More, we must find a way to put them on the defensive.”
Resolve bled into my allies faces. As if bolstered by having a task to consume their energy, the leaders sat straighter.
Sirez turned her attention to the Sharder sentry. “Put the prisoners to questioning—my guess is they’re simple outlaws, but we should make sure. And please send runners to have our sentries repositioned along the Cut. We’ll send a rider to Fishel inform him we’re abandoning the side track.”
With a nod, the Sharder slipped out the door and shut it behind her. From beneath the table, Sirez produced rounded stones and placed them on the corners of the map to hold it flat. “The Icethorns are full of ruins from a long-gone people. Stormshard has worked on mapping the citadels we’ve found. The fortifications don’t compare to Steelhold, but with proper effort, I believe we could create an area that would protect a large population. I suggest we send scouts to these three first.”
I listened as she described the state of the ancient fortifications at each, as well as the lay of the terrain and possibility for hunting and foraging. “Good,” I said. “Vaness, can you work with Sirez to figure out how long our supplies will last? We should consider the settlements along our path as potential sources of food stores and weaponry. Offset that potential with the number of citizens we’ll add to our population at each stop.”
Vaness nodded and switched seats with one of the protectors.
The Prime stood and moved to the end of the table where her lieutenants and a pair of Sharders conferred over the potential safeholds. “We’ll organize a plan for defending the march routes and destinations, your eminence.”
Once the hum of focused conversation filled the room, I leaned toward Lilik. “Does your shadowbond let you feel her at all?”
With a sorrowful twist of her mouth, Lilik shook her head. “But I’ll keep trying.”
I ignored the pang of disappointment, shoving it down with the rest of my feelings. “What about the spiritists? Can you sense Savra, Falla?” I gestured to catch the woman’s attention.
The Sharder shook her head. “I’ve been searching Lilik’s mind since she walked in the door. There’s no trace of Savra.”
“I believe you’d need an Essence spiritist,” Lilik said. “Savra’s not dead, but she can’t be sensed by the Body or Mind domain.”
Why hadn’t she mentioned that in the first place? “Well?” I asked, looking expectantly at Falla. “Who has Essence magic?”
Falla sighed. “Your predecessors hunted spiritists mercilessly, you know. Most of those who survived didn’t wish to remain in the Empire.”
“So where did they go? The Aniselan ports?”
Falla glanced nervously at Sirez who was busy pointing at the map with the tip of her dagger.
Without looking up, Sirez shrugged. “Go ahead and tell him. Kostan means them no harm, and at this point, he couldn’t hurt them anyway. The roads are ruined… it would take weeks to reach the dunes. And that’s assuming no Riftspawn interfere.”
“Most spiritists live as nomads in the western steppes.” Falla pointed to a spot off the table near the bottom left of the map. “They stick to the edge of the Sandsea and melt away into the dunes if the protectors get near. But hardly anyone travels that far. I was already part of Stormshard when I discovered my talent, and they helped me make the journey to find a teacher.”
“So you’re saying the only Essence spiritists you know are five hundred leagues away?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Falla said with a shrug.
Storms. I slumped back in my chair and my head cracked the backrest. Wincing, I dragged my gaze back to the map.
“There,” I said, pointing to a tributary valley upriver from our location. “Scout this one first if we don’t have the resources to investigate them all.” A few boxes and jagged marks were drawn over the thinner line of the stream. The location was both the closest, and—judging by the scribbles—the spot with the most ruins which could serve as the foundation of our defense.
Chapter Eighteen
Savra
Floating bodiless
GRABBING MY FOCUS in a stranglehold, I forced it back to the map. I needed to stay abreast of this discussion, but it was so much harder without a body to anchor me.
But why stay focused? I thought aloud. What good will it do for me to know their plans? What help can I possibly offer?
Once again, I tried to shove my way into my body. Lilik’s spirit was like a suit of seamless iron. She filled my flesh, an impenetrable shell just beneath the surface of my skin.
Until she’d spoken after entering the room, I hadn’t known how or why my body had risen from the boulder. The shock of it still gripped me, clutching my spirit in cold talons. My body had clambered unsteadily from the boulder and descended the scree slope on legs stiff as stilts. Frantic, I’d tried again and again to dive back into myself. It was no use.
In my new form, my aura-sight had joined with my physical perception. Below me, Kostan listened to the deliberations. His aura was hard, a thick glass shell surrounding a compact core of rage, bewilderment, and grief. I wanted so desperately to reassure him.
I’m still here, I yelled yet again. Kostan? Lilik?
But it was no use. They couldn’t hear me. I’d been screaming and throwing myself against them since Lilik had entered the room.
One last time, I formed a tendril of aura and reached for Kostan. But unlike the slick wall that kept me out of my flesh, Kostan was as ethereal to me as I was to him. I grabbed for him and caught nothing but emptiness.
A twinge of suspicion pinched my soul. What if Lilik was the reason I couldn’t slip back into my flesh? Hadn’t she recently confessed that Parveld’s corruption meant she was trapped in the bracelet forever? My vacant body would present a temptation to anyone in that situation.
No. That was just paranoia. Falla had used her Mind sensing. She believed Lilik. And Lilik’s words had made sense. She’d waited for centuries to help me. No matter the circumstances, she wouldn’t betray everything for which she and Raav had sacrificed so much. It made no sense.
At once, I felt so completely alone that I couldn’t bear to listen to the discussions. With a gentle shift of my awareness, I slid out of the gatehouse and over the grounds. Outside the wall, a few Sharders were eating a late breakfast on the banks of the stream that paralleled the road. One threw rocks as he chewed, absently watchi
ng the splashes.
Despite the looming threat, the renegades still found enjoyment in relaxing by a stream. Everything was so ordinary for them. I doubted any of them stopped to think about how the cool morning air felt on their skin. How smooth a river-tumbled stone felt in their palm. They didn’t appreciate the damp of moss soaking through their trousers.
Closing my awareness to them, I whirled and fled. Up the hill to the boulder where I’d lost my body. I curled around myself and mourned.
***
Around midday, the leaders emerged from their council in the gatehouse. Kostan’s strength continued to return; he walked with an easy gait to the barracks and spoke to the guardsmen there. Afterward, he visited the makeshift kitchen, an extension of the smaller room where a single cook had kept the handful of garrison soldiers fed.
I moved closer, holding tight to the shield I’d built around my heart after spilling my grief. As I hovered nearby, I inspected his aura for signs of weakness. But, like his body, his spirit seemed to grow stronger by the hour. The shadow that had clung to it was gone… The more I considered this, the more certain I was that Parveld had somehow latched hold of Kostan. But he’d released his grasp to sever my connection to my body, and in the process, he’d lost his anchor in the garrison. We were free of him, for now.
Kostan spooned porridge into his mouth in an absent, repetitive motion like a farmer threshing the grain. It was a mechanical act, work that needed to be accomplished. Like me, he recognized that we couldn’t afford to indulge in our emotions.
Without my body, time flowed differently. Kostan’s meal felt neither short nor long. I remained beside him while he, like yesterday, finished enough porridge to feed three grown men. When he finished and set aside the bowl, I drifted upward. Under instruction from the leadership, work supervisors redoubled their efforts to keep soldiers and the newly arrived Provs on task. A burly Sharder pulled a hatchet and saw from a supply wagon. He hiked up the slope behind the garrison and started chopping at a tree. I didn’t realize how long my attention had been captured until five towering pines had been felled and their branches stripped.
Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3) Page 13