by M. R. Forbes
"I... uh... what?" Delia stood in front of the juggernaut, staring at it in amazement. "How?"
"I made it," Talon said, his heart thumping in his chest. "Of course I know how to stop it." He smiled, the memories surrounding the Carriers coming into acute clarity. There was a reason he was keeping them from away from Edgewater, away from him. "I know more than that. Go and check on Wilem, while I ensure that everyone else is dead. Then we head to the Refinery."
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Eryn
"Where in Heden are we?" Gesper said. He put his hands to his mouth, breathing into them to try to restore some of the warmth.
"It is this way," Oz said for what seemed to be the millionth time in the last two weeks. It motioned ahead. "It is close."
"Close to what?" Gesper asked. "Not anything approaching civilization."
They had been riding for close to two weeks, taking a near constant eastern heading, turning north occasionally as Oz insisted. They had passed out of Varrow and back into Portnis, and from Portnis began a trek into the foothills of the Killorn Mountains. His soldiers had been strangely scarce since the battle at Rubio's Bridge, and they had made the bulk of the journey uncontested. It certainly helped that they strayed far from the Empire's roads and were now firmly in the middle of nowhere, forging ahead in half a foot of snow.
"It is close," Oz said again. "It remembers."
Eryn shifted in her saddle, looking behind them. She had done it almost as many times as Oz had said 'it is this way', certain that General Spyne would appear at their backs at any moment. Each time, she had seen only Loshe riding behind her, and again, like all the other times, he smiled as her eyes crossed over him.
"I promise there's nothing back there, Eryn," Frieda said, bringing her horse up next to her. The time together had made the girl much more comfortable, and they had gotten along so well that Eryn felt like she almost had a sister in the young rebel.
Almost.
She looked over at Frieda. She was afraid to let herself think that she might have a friend. The actors in Elling had been her friends, and they were dead. Fehri had been her friend, and he was dead. Robar and Sena... dead. Even the Overlord.
"I ranged back four miles. Not even a hint of a soldier," Frieda continued. "It's just us and nature out here."
"And the bears," Wallace said, shivering in his saddle from the cold of the mountain.
How far had they travelled? How high had they climbed? Three days ago Oz brought them to a small ravine in the mountains that appeared to be wholly natural, and yet wholly unnatural. The path split the center of the mountain's slope, rising just a little too smoothly, a little too easily. It must have been created by magic, but when? How long ago?
"It is close," Oz said again. "It is close."
"I knew a boy, the son of one of my father's servants," Frieda said. "He repeated the same word, over and over and over again. It was the only word he knew. I don't think he could help himself."
"What was the word?" Eryn asked.
"Hodor."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know. It was the only noise he could make, I suppose."
"Did I ever tell you about the time I rode up the Empire Mountain with the daughter of the Constable of Inglot?" Trock asked.
"Yesterday," Gesper said.
"Three times," Wallace added.
"No one believes it, anyhow," Loshe shouted from the back of the line. They all laughed, trying to find some warmth in the humor.
If only we had time to stop. I could take more of the cure and keep us all warm.
Eryn patted the satchel that she kept over her shoulder. She had used one of the six vials when they had entered the mountains, after a lot of reassurance from Frieda that they weren't being followed. It had helped diminish more of the scaling on her skin and left her feeling stronger, but it had also brought her to unconsciousness for half the day. She had woken on Frieda's horse, the girl riding behind her and helping her stay mounted.
"It is there," Oz said, pointing ahead of them. Eryn didn't see anything new or different. Another sheer face of rock, when they were surrounded by sheer faces of rock.
"I don't see anything," Trock said.
"It is there." Oz started moving faster, running towards the wall. His heavy feet launched snow into the air, soon surrounding him in a haze of white powder.
"Oz," Eryn shouted. The juggernaut didn't respond. It kept running, moving further ahead of them. Eryn snapped the reins, and her horse moved from a trot to a cautious gallop, eager to follow the command, nervous about slipping on the snow. The others followed suit, and they all charged behind the metal man, the pounding of the hoofs dulled by the snow, but still echoing around them.
It was further away than it had looked, leaving them dashing wildly through the rock and snow for twenty minutes or more. As they got closer, Eryn could see that this particular cliff face was much taller than the others and much more jagged.
As they reached it, she realized that it was familiar to her.
The ruins of Genesia hadn't looked much different. Newer and warmer, perhaps, but beneath the ice and snow she could see the slagged ircidium of a reactor's outer shell.
"A reactor?" she said to Oz.
"It is here."
"Talon isn't in there," Trock said.
"First of Nine. It is here. It is here. It remembers." Oz stepped up to the stone and put its hand to it. "It must open."
"That's solid rock," Wallace said. "We can't get through that."
"It must open," Oz said again. It brought back its fist and threw it forward, smashing it against the stone in an echo of heavy metal. It repeated the process again, and again, and by the fourth time a small crack appeared in the rock.
Eryn watched the juggernaut. She had put her faith in Oz, let it lead them. It hadn't brought her to Talon, but to a buried reactor. Why?
She could tell by the expressions of the jailers, of Frieda and Loshe that their hope was breaking. They looked at one another, at Oz, and then at her. The juggernaut's pounding filled the air around them, drowning out most other sound.
"Going to cause an avalanche like that," Gesper said, glancing nervously up to the taller parts of the mountain. "Going to kill us all."
"Oz, stop," Eryn said.
"It must open."
It didn't stop.
"Oz, that's an order."
It still didn't stop.
"Oz!" Eryn slid off her horse, trudged over to the juggernaut and put her hand on its arm as it drew it back.
It was the only thing that stopped it, but its head turned and looked down at her, and she was sure there was anger and accusation in its eyes.
"Oz, there's too much stone. You can't get through it."
Oz's shoulders slumped, and a soft puff of steam escaped its grated mouth. "It must open," it said softly.
Everything was silent. Eryn stared at Oz. How could it be sad?
"It must open it," Oz said, still looking back at her. Its hand came up, and it used a finger to tap the satchel. "It must open it."
"Oz-" Eryn started to argue. It might take days, and most if not all of her cure to move enough of the stone to get into the reactor. Then what? It wouldn't bring them any closer to Talon. And what if there were Shifters inside, like in Genesia?
"Please."
Eryn felt her heart hammer at the word. The juggernaut had never spoken like that before. It was desperate, emotional. She took another step towards Oz, standing with her head tilted up, her face only a foot from its own. The juggernaut shifted its eyes so it could look at her.
"Who are you?" she asked.
It put its hand on her shoulder, gripping her so gently. "Please," it said again. The steam condensed on its mouth plate, running off its chin like a tear.
Eryn reached up and wiped it away, feeling her own eyes beginning to water. She had trusted the juggernaut this far.
She nodded, and then motioned for Oz to move back. It stepped away a
nd turned to the others.
"It must move away. It will open it."
"You heard it, get back," Trock said, waving his arms. They wheeled their horses and began to back away from the cliff.
"I don't know if I can do this," Eryn said, looking back at Oz.
"It can do it."
Eryn pulled in a long, slow breath. She closed her eyes. She brought the Curse to her, feeling the power of it growing, the tingle running down her back. She had no crystal to help her with this, no resonances to amplify the effect. It was her power, her strength, her force of will against countless tons of stone.
She raised her arms up and out towards the cliff face.
Amman, give me strength.
"Leva," she shouted, feeling the magic respond to the force of her voice. It continued to grow inside of her, tickling every part of her being. She concentrated on the stone, on lifting it up and away. On breaking and smashing and shaking it apart.
It began to rattle.
"Avalanche," Gesper cried.
Eryn lifted her head slowly. She saw it, the tons of snow that were being dislodged by the shaking. It rushed down the side of the mountain towards them. There was no way they could get out of its path.
She left one hand pointed towards the rock, and aimed the other into the sky.
"Obex," she said. She had never split the magic before, never asked it to do two different things at the same time. She felt the pressure of the effort, the tickling turning into hot pain.
The stone continued to shake ahead of her, the snow tumbling towards them from above.
Still the power came, wrapping itself around her, holding her tightly. Energy arced from her body, pooled into her eyes, and she began to rise into the air.
The stone started to break free with a sharp crack that was loud enough to overcome the deafening roar of the oncoming avalanche. It started to spread, tearing apart like a knife through flesh.
She heard the screams and shouts behind her as the falling mountain of snow finally reached them. Her hand still raised, the debris hit an invisible barrier above their heads, flowing onto and over it, past the ravine they were standing in and over to the other side.
The pain in her body subsided. It was replaced again with warmth and pleasure, a lightheadedness and feeling in her gut that she had never experienced before. She turned in the air, looking down at her companions, a smile growing on her face.
"Eryn," she heard Frieda shout. "Eryn, stop. Come down. It's over."
No. Not yet. She didn't want it to end. She closed her eyes again and threw her head back, the magic causing her body to convulse in ripples of thrilling heat. She had never felt so alive.
She didn't know how long it continued. Seconds, minutes, hours? The power began to wane, to fade. Her body lowered to the ground, and she found herself standing on snow stained red from her blood. She looked at Oz, at Frieda, at Trock and the others. She didn't recognize them. She wasn't sure she recognized herself. What had she just done? How could she have that much power? How could anyone?
"Oz," she said. The magic was fleeing quickly, and she was growing cold, so cold. "Help me." She started shaking again, and she fell to her knees and vomited. She tried to stand, but the effort made her head spin. "Oz."
"It is here." The juggernaut was at her side, holding her in its arm. "It must take it."
"The cure?"
"It must take it."
Frieda joined them on the other side.
"It must take it," Oz said to her.
Frieda grabbed the satchel and opened it, pulling out the lacquered box. Eryn tried to still herself, but the shaking was growing worse, and she was getting colder.
"It will be well," Frieda said. Eryn was grateful she had shown the girl how to use the injector.
She loaded it and put it to Eryn's neck.
"Did I do it? Did I open it?"
"It is open. It is pleased."
"Eryn, you need to rest now. You've lost so much blood. You did it. You tore open a mountain."
Eryn smiled weakly. She had done it. Somehow, she had done it.
She felt a sharp pinch and nothing else.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Talon
It hadn't ended after Ares'Nor.
That was the thought that bothered Talon during their entire journey from Gilspie, northwest towards the Refinery. The Three Six was the last model that had fought in the war against the Shifters. It wasn't the last he had constructed.
The memories came back after shutting down the Carriers, after feeling the slick ircidium switch inside their mouths. They were openings that only existed to make them look more human, and to allow those who maintained them access. They were different from all of the other juggernauts in that way. Made to stand the test of time, made to be modified and altered. Made for a purpose that had nothing to do with Shifters.
Was it a year after Ares'Nor? Two? It was some time after he had killed the child, something he was now sure he had done. He and his juggernauts and five of the Nine had traveled the Empire, 'scourging' the villages and towns. Cleansing them. Destroying every remnant of their past to create a new future, while Feng and Naille murdered wizards anywhere they could find them.
It was part of the promise.
Murderer.
The thought turned his stomach and the accusing voice that tormented his soul assaulted him with an intensity he had never known before. It echoed across every thought, overlaid with images of the girl he had murdered, the girl he had failed to save in Doovan, and of course, Eryn.
They had made the Carriers to travel between the city of Edgewater, not much larger than a small town at the time, to the Refinery. Of course, it wasn't the Refinery then. It was a place that had existed long before the war, though it had a different name and a different purpose.
Healing the sick.
The irony wasn't lost on him. At one time, people throughout the Empire had travelled to the place near the edge of the Empty Sea. They had gone there to be cured of disease by some of the most powerful wizards in the world, and none were ever turned away or denied. All were cared for, and all were brought back to health, or at least helped to a peaceful end.
There were some things that were beyond the power of magic to fix.
Now it was a secret, hidden place, the former glory of it shrouded in that same darkness that covered the rest of the Empire. The healing was for the select few, the cure carried by creatures of metal and magic, transported in silence for over a thousand years. The truth erased, as so much of it had been.
And he had helped make all of it, to keep a promise that he no longer understood. The Shifters were gone, defeated. If there were pockets remaining, he and his brothers could resolve their differences, hunt them down, and put an end to them once and for all. The Cursed could be cured. The Empire didn't need to go on this way. The magic, the life, the beauty could all be restored.
He would unmake it. He would restore it. With or without his brothers. Once he was dead.
"How much further?" Wilem asked.
When Talon had entered the farmhouse, he discovered that the Carriers had destroyed their supply of the cure when the attack had come. They had opened their precious boxes and shattered the contents, leaving a trail of glass and blood that seeped into the ground. It had left him in howling in anger, and it had left Wilem sick and weak.
The boy had been pale and sweaty since Gilspie, his use of the Curse weakening him to the point that he too had started to change. There was rough skin on his forearms, and a small patch at his neck. He slept more often and had fallen off his horse once before Delia had taken to riding behind him and helping hold him steady while he groaned and shifted in restless, uneasy slumber.
Talon looked ahead. The terrain had become more rolling here, more open. They had left most of the trees behind, replacing them with large boulders and mounds of stone that snaked through green and brown grass, leading them closer and closer to the shore.
The Ref
inery rested on a cliff that abutted the ocean, now named the Empty Sea, a suggestion that there was nothing of value out beyond its shores. From what Delia had said, Curio had sailed into the sea and discovered Dal and Abeleth on an island somewhere out there. Even so, according to Delia he had never seen the Refinery or anything along the shore that was out of the ordinary to him, and yet Talon was certain that shouldn't be so. There were no cities, towns, or villages within a hundred miles of here, though the terrain was suitable, and there was fresh water from a small river nearby. Had he razed them during the Scourge? The brush strokes of his memories were still too broad to know.
"I can hear the surf," Delia said. "It can't be far."
She was still mounted behind Wilem, her arm around his chest to help him stay upright. Little enough had been said between them due to Wilem's state, but Talon could tell by the way she fussed over him that her care was genuine, and her heart resolved in that at least.
"Five miles or so," Talon said. "There used to be a tower in the center, a tall tower that reached towards the sun. It was a landmark to help people find it, tipped in quartz and fed with magic so that it would sparkle and shine at all hours." He sighed and shook his head. "We should have seen it by now. I can only assume he destroyed it."
They discovered soon after that it was more than the tower that had been destroyed. Where Talon expected to find the Hospice, he found only a mountain of earth instead. It took the form of layers and layers of sand and silt and stone covered in sparse brush and sea grasses that made it look as though it had always been that way. He knew for sure it hadn't.
Magic, powerful magic, had brought the ocean floor up and over the Hospice, and the cliff down and around it, burying it underground and hiding it from the world.
"There's nothing here," Wilem said, his voice dry.
"It is here," Talon said. "Right under our feet."
They were standing on the false hilltop, which sloped gently away from where the cliff had once been until it vanished into the surf a short distance away. The Empty Sea stretched out ahead of them in a deep blue blanket of waves that dropped off into the horizon.