by Lucy Hounsom
‘The Parakat garrison isn’t all that large,’ Mercia said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her hand on her cloak. ‘But they could hold that fortress against an army twice the size of the Fist. We do not even have an army.’
‘Or men to waste in a fruitless siege,’ Hagdon added. He leaned forward, studying Mercia’s sketch. ‘Once that drawbridge goes up, we’re cut off. It’ll be down to whoever we send in to lower it for the rest of us.’ He looked at Mercia. ‘You won’t be able to take your whole unit inside. That would raise suspicion. So choose carefully.’
‘Varlan’s the most familiar with the layout of the fortress,’ she answered, indicating a man in his middle years who sat oiling a sword nearby. He looked up at his name, nodded. ‘He’s been assigned to the wagons multiple times,’ Mercia continued. ‘As for myself, I’ve visited once.’ Her expression darkened. ‘Only once. I was fortunate.’
No one said anything in the wake of her words, until Irilin spoke up. ‘If Mercia approaches Parakat without an aberration, it’ll look suspicious. I’ll go with her. Be her prisoner.’
‘No,’ Brégenne said at the same time as Hagdon. Irilin glared at them both. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ Brégenne continued when Hagdon didn’t speak further. ‘We don’t know what to expect.’ She hesitated, knowing Irilin wouldn’t appreciate being reminded. ‘You’re still a novice.’
Instead of retorting, Irilin said, ‘That’s why I won’t raise suspicion. I look younger than I am – why not use that to our advantage for once?’
‘If anyone’s to go in, it should be—’
‘Hear me out, Brégenne. No plan –’ she glanced at Hagdon – ‘survives first contact with the enemy. We can’t place all our hopes in the ruse working first time. There are too many variables.’
Hagdon’s mouth had twitched ever so briefly, but now his expression was serious as he regarded Irilin. ‘Go on.’
‘Mercia bluffing her way in is one thing. Escaping notice long enough to lower the drawbridge is quite another.’ Irilin jabbed her finger squarely in the middle of Mercia’s sketch. ‘What if she fails?’
When no one answered, she said, ‘You’ll need another way to get inside.’
‘There isn’t one,’ Mercia said with a definitive shake of her head. ‘Just the main gate. And the only method of reaching the gate is the drawbridge.’
Irilin’s eyes glittered. ‘In that case, we’ll need to build our own.’
Amidst the others’ confusion, Brégenne met Nediah’s eyes and saw her own realization dawning in them. She looked away before she saw anything else. ‘So that’s why you don’t want me to go into the fortress,’ she said to Irilin.
Mercia folded her arms. ‘Could someone explain?’
‘The Wielders’ citadel is also surrounded by a chasm,’ Brégenne said. ‘When the bridge that spanned it collapsed, I helped build another.’ She stood up, taking hold of the Lunar as she did so. It seemed her hours of practice had paid off; focusing moonlight into a solid platform no longer took all her concentration. A misty square appeared about three feet off the ground, pulsing slightly. She held out a hand. ‘Stand on it.’
‘You must be joking.’ Mercia eyed the ephemeral, glowing square with distrust. ‘I can see through it.’
With a small gesture, Brégenne turned the platform opaque, fog rather than mist. ‘Better?’
‘Not really,’ the lieutenant complained. ‘Can’t you make it lower?’
Brégenne lowered it until it was barely a foot off the ground. Mercia swallowed, but everyone was watching now, Sartyan and rebel alike. She raised her boot, hesitated, then stepped onto the platform. She swayed a little, eyes very wide, and Brégenne expanded it just in case.
‘It’s … it’s –’ Mercia lifted alternate feet, leaned down to touch the glowing square with her palm – ‘warm,’ she finished. And then she began to laugh giddily. A few moments passed while her men stared at her in surprise before her laughter spread. Even Hagdon smiled, Brégenne noticed, but his eyes were thoughtful, already slotting this new playing piece into position.
With a short word of warning, she dissolved the square Mercia had just abandoned. The Sartyan lieutenant watched it wink out, wearing the same thoughtful expression as Hagdon. ‘You can make it vanish instantly?’ she asked Brégenne.
‘At a moment’s notice.’
Mercia smiled. ‘I think I can find a use for such an ability,’ she said with the look of someone fondly imagining her enemies tumbling into an abyss.
‘Do you possess this particular power too?’ Hagdon asked Nediah and Kait.
Brégenne inwardly winced, watching Kait’s eyes harden into agates. ‘No, Commander,’ the tall woman said in an airy tone that belied her hostile expression.
‘Kait is an excellent duellist,’ Brégenne forced herself to say. It was worth it when the other woman’s mouth dropped open in surprise. ‘As I’m sure she’s demonstrated. Nediah is the greatest healer you’re ever likely to see. Out of us all, I’d consider his talents the most valuable. We’re at war.’
Nediah looked at her, his expression unreadable. How had he become so adept at hiding his thoughts? Years spent in my company, she concluded bitterly.
‘We do have a problem, however,’ Hagdon said into the prickly silence that followed Brégenne’s words. He nodded at her. ‘If we’re forced to resort to your bridge-building, it will only work at night, when your companions are powerless.’ He sighed, rubbed his chin. ‘This will take some planning. We’ll have to time the assault rather carefully.’
‘How many will we be facing?’ Nediah asked with a kind of weary apprehension. Brégenne could see it in his posture, in the way his hands were balled into fists; he dreaded the inevitable killing that was to come.
‘I won’t know exact numbers until I get in there,’ Mercia said, ‘but going by my last visit, about two hundred.’
‘Two hundred?’
‘Might be more.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Will they consider surrender?’
‘Only if we kill enough of them.’ The lieutenant gave a casual shrug. ‘Sartyans are very stubborn.’
Nediah’s stare was direct. ‘Including you?’
‘Especially me. We’re used to victory – no one’s won a battle against the soldiers of the Fist in hundreds of years.’ She tilted her head at Hagdon. ‘Right, General?’
‘Please don’t call me that.’
Mercia grinned. ‘Sorry.’ She returned her gaze to Nediah. ‘Don’t worry. Between the Republic and my own unit, we might only have eighty, but surely you and your companions count for a hundred each?’
Nediah looked dubious. Kait, however, returned Mercia’s grin with one of her own, fiercer and just a bit unstable. ‘When the sun comes up in that fortress, you’ll see for yourself,’ she promised.
17
Kyndra
‘On your feet,’ the soldier barked at her. ‘Hands where I can see them.’ His accent was strange, a little like Hagdon’s, but sharper.
Dazed, Kyndra complied. Through the slit in his helm, the soldier’s eyes were sweeping her person, clearly searching for weapons. Her apparent lack of them seemed to throw him off balance. He took in her shivering, her clothes – which, though plain, probably looked terribly out of place here. She should have thought of that, Kyndra chastised herself, but she hadn’t expected to land right in the middle of a military encampment. Or to be utterly defenceless. Why hadn’t the stars warned her? Why had they let her go alone?
‘Sartya?’ she managed finally.
‘If you mean are we allied to House Sartya, then yes,’ the soldier replied. He removed his helm, revealing a face stiff with suspicion. ‘How did you get here?’
Kyndra thought fast, took a chance. ‘I mistranslocated,’ she said. Translocation was one of the lost arts of Solinaris.
Immediately the soldier flinched, once more raising his sword between them. ‘You’re a Wielder?’
‘A novice,’ Kyndra said, hoping she
looked suitably unsure. ‘I was practising and I must have made a mistake.’
‘A serious mistake to come out here.’ The man’s frown deepened. ‘Solinaris is two hundred leagues away.’
Kyndra wished he’d lower the sword. The longer it pointed at her chest, the faster her heart beat. Fear prickled down her arms. They, too, were unmarked by the stars. What could Era have hoped to gain by hiding this vital fact from her? Had she known, she’d never have agreed to the plan.
That pulled her up short. Kyndra swallowed. Era had been evasive; perhaps it had known she wouldn’t agree. The star wanted her to be here. But how could she defeat the eldest without her power? She put her head in her hands, striving not to voice her despair.
‘Don’t worry, novice,’ the soldier said, evidently taking her silence for chagrin. ‘You’ll make a fine addition to Davaratch’s household.’ The next thing Kyndra knew, he’d clamped a pair of manacles on her wrists. They were more like bracelets, having no chain to connect them, and carried the familiar blue sheen of ambertrix. They prevent a Wielder touching his or her power, Kyndra guessed. Being neither a Solar nor a Lunar, they had no effect on her.
‘What’s wrong with your hand?’
The soldier was holding her wrist and gazing with some disgust at the bruised and mottled skin left by the eldest’s curse. So it had travelled with her. Kyndra’s heart sank even further. As she focused on it, she felt a spasm of weakness travel up her arm and bit her lip to keep from gasping. ‘An infection,’ she heard herself say.
The soldier dropped her hand as if it were a spitting snake, wiping his fingers furiously on his cloak. ‘If it’s contagious, it would be better to kill you now.’
‘It’s not,’ Kyndra said quickly. ‘Just the result of an experiment that went wrong.’ She made sure to inject a tremor into her voice. It wasn’t all subterfuge. What ill luck had landed her in this mess? Defenceless, she was at the mercy of the soldiers. And if she didn’t manage to escape, what would happen when they asked her to draw on the Solar or Lunar? She could no more touch those powers now than she could during the tests in Naris. The memory was an unwelcome reminder of her helplessness.
I’ve come full circle. She hadn’t thought she’d miss the stars and the chill that seeped into her veins, but she’d grown used to having people fear her; she’d begun to appreciate the comfort that came with power. The thought horrified her. What had she become? It was waiting for her in the future. As soon as she returned, if she returned, then Kyndra would revert to being no more than a name she wore for convenience.
She had to focus on the mission. Protect Davaratch. But how was she to do that without the stars?
The soldier was eyeing her, as if aware of her internal monologue. Kyndra drew a shaky breath. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘We’re ten leagues to the north of New Sartya and on our way home for the winter festivities.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You will be accompanying us.’
It sounded as if she was in the right place and time. Why not let the soldiers take her to the city? Kyndra thought. She glanced at the bands on her wrists. If they believed her power bound, they might not guard her so closely. She could escape – and then what? How will I face the eldest without my power?
I’ve coped without it most of my life, she told herself sternly. I will cope without it now. But the thought was a hollow one.
‘You won’t be taking me anywhere,’ she said, knowing it might look strange if she didn’t protest. ‘I am a Wielder of Solinaris and under its protection.’
‘You’re a novice,’ he retorted, ‘and under no one’s protection, least of all Solinaris.’
‘They’ll come for me,’ Kyndra threatened. ‘You don’t want to make an enemy of the Wielders.’
The soldier’s face darkened, but the suspicion had begun to fade from his eyes. ‘They don’t know where you are,’ he said, ‘and they’re unlikely to try to find you.’ His smile was nasty. ‘What use has Solinaris for a novice as inept as you?’
Kyndra hung her head and the soldier laughed. ‘Come,’ he seized her roughly by the arm – her good arm, she noted – and steered her towards the distant campfire.
‘What do you have there, Sergeant?’ a young man said. He had dark hair and pale eyes – the same colouring as Iresonté, Kyndra noted.
‘A stray pup from Solinaris,’ the sergeant replied, still holding Kyndra’s arm. ‘She’ll be coming with us. A present to celebrate the newest conquest, I think.’
‘Pretty hair,’ the younger man replied, getting to his feet. His gaze strayed to the ambertrix manacles around her wrists. ‘Why don’t you let us have a little fun with her first?’
Immediately Kyndra’s heart began to pound. Other men had turned to look; some with the same expression as the young soldier. Quite suddenly, she realized that there were no women among them. She’d become so used to seeing women in the Sartyan Fist that their absence was jarring.
‘We are not savages,’ the sergeant said firmly, ‘and she is not a whore. You’ll keep away from her.’
‘If you want her for yourself, just say so, Sergeant,’ the young man replied insouciantly, earning himself a glare.
‘I said you’ll keep away from her.’ The sergeant’s voice carried a dangerous note. ‘Any man I catch touching her loses his hands.’
There was angry muttering, but it went no further. Kyndra let out a breath, her heart still beating rapidly. She lowered her eyes.
‘You stay close to me,’ the sergeant said quietly. ‘Not all of them can be trusted.’
‘Would you really cut their hands off?’
‘Probably not,’ he replied, ‘or they’d be no use as soldiers. But there are other things I can cut off.’ His smile was grim.
She was thrust unceremoniously into a tent, the sergeant standing guard outside. The moment Kyndra found herself alone, she closed her eyes. Era, she thought, without much hope of an answer, can you hear me?
Nothing. Kyndra tried to feel out the edges of the void in her mind. Era!
Still nothing. She was about to give up when she touched … something. A surface, glassy and oddly familiar. Kyndra spread herself along it, searching for gaps, but there were none. It seemed impenetrable. And then, as if she really did press her hands against glass, she saw movement on the other side, as if a great eye had opened to stare back at her.
The realization came to Kyndra in a chill flash: the memory of pressure in her head, of a black wall, of the pain when she collided with it. The mind of a broken Starborn; the mind of Kierik.
The eye contracted. Who are you?
Kyndra pulled away with a terrified gasp, eyes flying open. Anohin had told her all those months ago: two Starborn cannot co-exist. This time, the Kierik who stood between her and the stars wasn’t mad, but in his full power. If he sensed her, if he found her –
With difficulty, Kyndra reined in her riotous thoughts. He can’t find me, she told herself, as long as I stay away from the stars. New despair dragged at her. She truly was alone. Even if she could contact the stars, they wouldn’t help her, not when Kierik was still alive and in control. Another thing Era had failed to mention. She vowed she would have words with the star if, by some miracle, she managed to return to her time, history intact.
Instead of the stars, Kyndra reached out to Ma, closing her eyes and calling the woman’s name over and over in the darkness of her mind.
Kyndra? Ma sounded surprised.
You have to bring me back. I can’t use my power! She realized she sounded desperate, but couldn’t stop herself. The sheer relief that Ma had answered threatened to spill out of her in a wild laugh.
Calm, came Ma’s answer. What has happened?
Kierik. She almost cried the name. Anohin told me, but I didn’t think, didn’t remember. Kierik’s the Starborn of this time. I can’t reach the stars while he’s alive.
She sensed Ma’s dismay. But – you can’t come back, the woman told her.
What? Why?
The eldest, she replied. I felt the fabric of time stretch near to breaking, was able to pinpoint its source. He is there somewhere, in the same time as you. And he has the Yadin with him.
Medavle? I thought anchors had to stay in the present?
They are supposed to, Ma said. She sounded angry. But this jump back is so great, the eldest must have realized he could not achieve it without keeping the Yadin with him. She paused. It has its drawbacks. It might be something you can exploit. The Yadin will not be able to stray more than a mandala’s width from the eldest, and there aren’t enough of my people to create one larger than ten metres across. Separate them and the eldest’s hold on that time will break. He will be forced to return home, the Yadin too.
So I have to stay, Kyndra said, her stomach churning. She had to see this through. Do you have any idea why the stars didn’t warn me? she asked Ma.
The other woman’s answer took a while to come. There is something deeper at work here, I feel it. An open loop that must be closed. If the stars are eternal, they may be able to see it. You, however, cannot and they must act through you. The smallest foreknowledge can cause the greatest harm.
Kyndra frowned. What are you saying?
That their decision not to tell you was an act of self-preservation, an attempt to avoid being caught in a paradox.
Kyndra was about to reply when Era’s earlier words returned to her in a flash of insight. Was it self-preservation, she wondered, or were the stars simply obeying her own command to keep silent? She couldn’t imagine herself ever giving such a command, not when she’d have known she’d be stripping her past self of defences.
Kyndra, Ma said, you must stop the eldest. By whatever means necessary.
If Era was right, this had happened before. She must somehow have stopped the assassination. Kyndra held fast to the thought. She’d found a way. She would find it again.
It took them two days to reach New Sartya. For Kyndra, the journey wasn’t a pleasant one. Snowstorms bogged them down, forcing everyone into close proximity, and despite the sergeant’s threat, she didn’t like the looks some of the men gave her. I could have burned them all. The thought brought sickness rather than satisfaction. Removed from the stars, but with the memory of how it felt to wield them, she was trapped between her old life and her new. She tried to keep her mind on her task, but other images began to intrude, memories the stars had smothered under their chill influence. One lingered above all: her mother, Reena, her face smudged with tears, wondering whether her daughter was alive.