Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3)

by Carrie Summers

  “Afraid, Parveld?” I asked. My voice was startling in the otherwise unbroken silence. “I’m waiting for you.”

  Still nothing.

  I jogged to the far side and squinted through the forest of pillars. When I nudged a toe off the circle of agate, the sword began to lose substance, fading in my grip. I quickly backstepped.

  Why hadn’t my enemies appeared? I was supposed to raise the shining warrior and strike down the Riftspawn like stalks of wheat. What did their absence mean? I was suddenly desperate to know what was happening outside the Heartstone’s cavern. Were my soldiers dying while I waited in an empty chamber? Had the refugees made it to safety?

  I ran my free hand through my hair while I made another slow turn, scanning the chamber. With my mind, I groped for the link that would lead me back to the physical realm. With a mental lunge, I latched hold of my connection to the snowy valley and tugged.

  “Hello, Kostan.” Parveld’s voice rolled through the chamber. I slapped away my link to the world beyond the cavern.

  “Are you ready to finish this?” I asked.

  “That depends on you. Does your eagerness for a conclusion mean you’re ready to surrender the seal?”

  “You won’t have this Heartstone. You can’t make me falter this time.” I held my sword high. The vitality of everyone in the valley poured into my spirit.

  “I don’t intend to weaken you again.”

  “Then where are your monsters? I’m ready for them.” I dropped into a deeper combat stance, free hand out for balance, blade defending my face and chest.

  “We should talk before this goes any farther, my friend.”

  “We were friends once. Not anymore. Not unless the man inside the beast can cast off the madness. Are you in there anywhere, Parveld?”

  “I want to spare you pain.” As he spoke, Parveld’s voice seemed to circle me. “Bloodshed is unnecessary.”

  “So it’s you who has decided to retreat?”

  “You know that’s impossible. Our fates were written long ago, but we can still be masters of the details. Lay down your weapons and welcome the Hunger. Cede me the Heartstones.”

  “And allow our world to be consumed?”

  “Not consumed. Joined in glorious communion.”

  “You’re delusional. Mad to the core.”

  Parveld sighed, a deep, reverberating tone. “You’re not ready for my truths, it seems. Very well. I’ll give you another choice.”

  My palms were starting to sweat. I gripped the sword’s hilt tighter.

  “You can’t fight my brothers and defend your people at the same time.”

  “I fighting to defend my people.” I planted a foot and pivoted around it, scanning the stone forest. I hated that Parveld was toying with me. But without an enemy to strike, I could only make sure I kept focus.

  Parveld chuckled. “I’m sorry. I can see how my statement could be confusing. But you see, when you failed in Jaliss and lost the first of the seal components, you opened the way for someone more worthy to claim its power. I’ve changed, Kostan. You’ll be surprised at what I can do now. Listen…”

  I did everything I could to close my ears to the sounds that abruptly penetrated my cavern. Men and women were screaming. Steel clashed against steel. That wasn’t right. Unless… had the Riftspawn taken up blades?

  “As I said, I wish to avoid bloodshed. I have no desire to hurt the lowly mortal sparks that gather around you. But I won’t risk my brother-selves unnecessarily. The Riftspawn will own this valley soon enough. For now, your soldiers are fighting a strange battle. Wait here in isolation, and eventually I’ll give you the monsters you’re so desperate to fight. But by then, I’m not sure what you’ll be fighting for.”

  The screams grew louder. The voices were hoarse, confused. I couldn’t stand it any longer, couldn’t stand the silence and inaction. Seizing hold of my link to the mortal realm, I yanked myself out of the Heartstone.

  Parveld called after me. “You are the focus of your people’s hopes. Don’t let them hurt.”

  ***

  My sodden clothing clung to my shivering form, the heavy leather of my chest armor slimy over my tunic. I shook off the disorientation from returning to my body and swept the wet hair from my eyes. My fingers were stiff with cold as I reached for the scimitar at my belt.

  When I stood, the screams struck me full force. The thickly falling snow hid our defenses from sight. As I started to run down to the battle, a roar erupted from the doorway leading down to the city.

  Steel hissed as I drew my sword. I squinted through the snow, trying to understand the mass of shoving bodies surrounding the entrance. I covered the distance in a few long strides but then stood shocked. The Provs were fighting amongst themselves. Some tried to shove their way up and out of the stairwell while others tumbled in the soaking-wet tundra throwing punches and kicks. They yelled at each other unintelligibly.

  “Stop! What are you doing?”

  The closest pair, an elderly woman who was tearing at hunks of her hair and a little boy who was slapping her above the kneecaps, cast me confused glances. Slow comprehension slid across their faces.

  The woman shook her head. “Your eminence? I—I was so confused… A voice in my head shrieked at me to… I was so enraged. I wanted to throttle this child and had to yank my own hair to resist.”

  I swallowed. Parveld had done this.

  “Stop!” I yelled again, shoving through the crowd. Some heeded me while others tussled with renewed vigor. I laid a hand on my pendant. It felt the coolest it had been since the morning I’d learned to gather my people’s loyalty.

  Clutching the stone in a tight fist, I willed these people to see me. I imagined our connections, the rays of love and loyalty that bound us. “Look to me, friends!” I yelled.

  The fighting slowed then stopped. A few low moans rose from the crowd. Murmurs of disbelief and shock followed.

  “This isn’t your fault,” I said just loudly enough for my voice to press through the snow. “Don’t dwell on your actions. I need you to continue your evacuation. Go down into the city and seek safety, just as we’ve planned. Your soldiers are here to defend you. I won’t let you be harmed today. But I need you to go and don’t, even for a moment, stop believing in me.”

  I caught hold of the elderly woman who’d been the first to awaken. “If you can bear the cold, please be my sentinel. Make sure they reach safety, and if the confusion comes again, send for me. Quickly.”

  The woman nodded, shoulders straight and face resolute. “I won’t let you down, your eminence.”

  As reassured as I could get, I dashed off for the defenses.

  Before I drew in sight, I knew what I would see. Still, the horror of the situation turned my mouth stale. Soldiers lay dead and wounded at the feet of their fellow protectors. Others fought on, meeting steel with steel and face with fist.

  This was what Parveld had meant. Only I could save my soldiers from destroying each other.

  “Soldiers of the Empire!” I yelled with every drop of power I possessed. “Your enemies lie on the other side of that wall. I’m here to help you meet them.”

  Weapons clattered to the ground when the fighters realized that they’d done. I shook my head, and closed my eyes, and forced them to feel my righteous anger and my conviction that we would win. Faces turned to me as I stepped through the ranks, picking up swords and handing them to soldiers who blinked and gaped and slowly nodded.

  On the archers’ towers, men and women took up bows they’d abandoned to trade blows. I climbed the central tower and stood where all could see me. Nearly lost in the snow on the other side, the Riftspawn were a wall of waiting darkness. From this vantage, the constant pounding of their stomping feet thumped against my eardrums.

  My courage faltered. Parveld had engineered this battle. I’d had no choice but to abandon the Heartstone. But if he thought he’d won so easily, he was wrong. The fight would be lo
ng and difficult. Every pace of ground they gained would be over the carcasses of their fallen brethren.

  With a sudden shriek, the Riftspawn attacked.

  “Fire!” I yelled. The first set of arrows felled half the Spawn’s front line as they clambered over the earthen mound and through the field of stakes.

  “Again!” I yelled as the first abominations reached the stone wall.

  Sections of the wall tumbled as the beasts sunk claws into the cracks between and tried to pull upward. Riftspawn were buried beneath heavy blocks of granite, but still more came. Again and again, I called for the archers. Dozens upon dozens of Spawn fell lifeless. Somewhere, I knew Parveld must be watching.

  “Do you see?” I yelled to the surrounding slopes. “Your monsters die as easily as men. You have not won this.”

  But soon, the last of the arrows were gone. With the archers, I turned and sprinted down the rickety stairs, heading for the first fallback positions. Shrieking beasts spilled through holes where the outer wall had toppled. As I dashed around the closest trench, crossing a narrow path of raised earth and ducking into the shelter of the low wall, a soldier passed me a black-iron short sword.

  The balance threw me off as I ran through a few practice swings. But before I’d had time to worry about it, Spawn tumbled through the ditch while others crowded the narrow path I’d taken to reach the wall.

  I stepped forward and met the first beast, a misshapen hunting cat, rear legs spindly like a songbird, a single horn sprouting from the side of its head. It roared and leaped at me, fangs exposed and dripping gray saliva. I screamed and plunged the sword between the thing’s ribs. Black blood splattered my arm. The weight of the monster pulled me forward as it fell, and I yanked my sword free in time to slice it across the face. Finally, I laid a boot on its shoulder and plunged my blade through its neck. The beast twitched once before a talon gripped my leather bracer and tore me away. A vulture-thing lashed at my face with its other talon, hatred in its too-human eyes. I yelled and struck, but my aim was off, and I hit its neck with the flat of my blade. The thing tumbled through the air and righted itself, flapped up high, shrieked and dove.

  At the last instant, I went down on one knee, gripped my sword’s hilt in both hands, and jabbed the weapon upward. The blade tore through the monster’s breastbone, hit resistance, then burst out beside the beast’s spine. The head whipped down, falling over my shoulder as the dead thing slumped against the guard on my sword.

  “Fall back!” a woman yelled. As I staggered to my feet, throwing off the vulture and pulling my blood-wet blade from its chest, I spotted the Prime with hands cupped around her mouth. After calling for retreat, she bent and lent her shoulder to a wounded soldier. Together they staggered for the next set of positions.

  I hesitated, torn between exposing my back and trying to run while facing the enemy. A Stormsharder spotted my indecision, shouldered into a humanoid spawn that had crouched to leap at me, sending it sprawling.

  “Don’t think! Run!” he said.

  I ran. We held the next line of defenses for longer. Half a dozen Spawn fell to my blade, but again we fell back to the third and last set of positions. I glanced at the Heartstone and its low wall. The Spawn were all around us now, circling to both flanks. If I could get my soldiers underground, force them to lay down their weapons so they couldn’t harm one another… Could I use the stone?

  Another glance at the terrain gave me my answer. The storm had slowed, and just a few lazy flakes filtered down from the low clouds that capped the valley. From one slope to the other, the Spawn were a writhing sea. Somehow, I still felt Parveld was toying with us. We’d killed hundreds of the beasts, yet thousands remained. We couldn’t hold against them on open ground, and even with the power of the Heartstone, I wouldn’t last long against so many.

  “Prime!” I yelled, pushing through the ranks and stopping to plunge my sword into the back of a dog-sized Spawn.

  She raised a longsword and yelled as she slashed down and across, her blade biting deep into the neck of a beast. As it crumpled, she turned to me.

  “We can’t hold,” I yelled.

  Her eyes roved the terrain before she nodded. “Down it is.”

  She ran behind the line of defenders, ordering the retreat. The rearguard stood firm against the onslaught, felling Spawn after Spawn as men and women reached the safety of the stairwell and dove into the darkness. I stood shoulder to shoulder with my soldiers until, finally, the Prime gripped my elbow and shoved me toward the stairs. Still, I waited inside the entrance until every soldier was within a few paces. At least a dozen men lay dead within view.

  I shook my head, turned and ran down the steps. At the entrance to the first large chamber, I nodded to the group of quarrymen who’d been tasked to wait for my command.

  “As soon as the Prime Protector confirms that our forces are inside, collapse the tunnel.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Savra

  On the wind

  DUSK HAD BEGUN to fall as Avill pulled us down. Orange hues suffused the sky around us. We sank through air that reminded me of cold fire and came to rest in grass stained red by the departing sun.

  I sank to my knees as I changed from wind to woman, gathering my awareness and pinning it back to solid flesh. As I blinked to orient, Avill plopped to a seat. Though she swayed, the pink in her cheeks was reassuring compared to the terrifying pallor that had blanched her skin after the last trip.

  Azar coughed. “Well, that was a little easier.”

  I rubbed Avill’s back until she turned to me and nodded as if to say she was okay. Then I stood and shaded my eyes as I scanned the area. The base of my spine tightened when I looked south.

  “Storms, Avill. I hope you knew where you were bringing us. Precisely, I mean.” Not five paces from where we’d flattened a circle of grass, the plateau fell away, dropping a dizzying height before reaching the sea of evergreens that were the famous forests of Guralan.

  “Huh?” she asked. “Oh, yeah. Of course I was careful. This is the closest place that’s out of sight of that town.”

  “Which town?” Azar asked.

  Sighing as if beleaguered, Avill pointed north. I scrambled up the low bluff that blocked the view in that direction and shook my head in surprise. Not fifty paces away stood the first outbuilding of a travelers’ waystation.

  We spent the evening in the guesthouse. After the experience with Beashi, I compromised my ideals and used tendrils of aura-manipulation to encourage the residents to trust us. By the time we bedded down, the waystation’s courier was hard at work copying my letter. The innkeeper, Nev, assured me that five riders would leave by midday to carry my message outward. Shortly after, the residents of the waystation would begin preparing to head south.

  After dawn, we shouldered our rucksacks and headed out of town, skirting the edge of the plateau as if searching for a safe way down. By the time we reached a dip in the terrain that hid us from sight, the morning sun heated my back.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just explain about the pendant?” Avill asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never tried to rally an Empire before.”

  Avill sighed as she snatched my hand. A few heartbeats later, we were drifting south over the escarpment.

  Without warning, the famous winds of Guralan slammed us.

  The gale was like nothing I’d ever felt. The currents scoured and ripped and tore at me. Here, the wind was vile. Tainted and sick and howling with corruption.

  Like a tattered banner, I flapped helplessly. Shreds of my spirit tore free. Worse, my thoughts began to twist. Darkness tainted my desires. I imagined myself as a powerful sorceress who bent people to her will. The ills that had befallen the Empire were due to the ignorance of our citizens. With my spiritism, I could command anyone. I could enlighten them.

  The yearnings swelled. I wanted others to fear me. I craved seeing them helpless before me. And with the p
owers I commanded, I could achieve my desires.

  Ever so slowly, threads of steel wove into my disintegrating form, forming a shield against the evil wormed into me.

  Hold on to me or the Maelstrom will have you. Avill was a howling portion of the wind. Her command came as a swirling thought, free of words but strong in meaning.

  I clung to my sister as she wove her net deeper and deeper into my being. Finally, we sank toward the earth, passing through treetops until finally, we hovered scarcely knee-height above the ground. With exquisite care, Avill reeled in my scattered portions until I felt complete. Sheltered by the trees, I still felt the howling ferocity, but it was muted. Survivable. Like a mist creeping over the ground at night, we flowed south. Trees blocked my passage, and I shifted like flotsam caught by the tide. A ghost.

  On and on we traveled, and eventually darkness fell. Still we journeyed until, abruptly, Avill dumped me from the air.

  I lay flat on a bed of pine needles, shivering. Thick branches made a tent overhead, while at my back, I sensed a solid trunk. All around, trees creaked and groaned under the strain of the gale. But here, the wind scarcely touched my skin.

  I sat up straight.” Avill?”

  Full night had fallen, and beneath the branches, the darkness was impenetrable. I pawed through the pine duff, desperate to know my sister was okay. Finally, my hand fell on warm but unmoving flesh. I patted my way up her arm, found Avill’s shoulder, and leaned my cheek close to her nose.

  I sighed with relief when I felt the warmth of her breath. From somewhere deeper into the shadows of the branches, Azar grunted as she came to.

  “Over here,” I said quietly.

  Needles crunched as she crawled her way toward us. Azar pulled a cloak from her rucksack, spread it over the top of Avill, and nestled in beside us without speaking. I wanted to stay awake and watch over my sister, but I simply couldn’t stay upright. Exhaustion pulled me into the bed of pine needles, and with the scent of my sister’s hair in my nose, I fell asleep.