Rise of the Storm

by Carrie Summers

  My teachers had warned that those severe colds were among the biggest threats to the Empire. Without regular visits by Atal overseers, Provs in those isolated villages might forget the importance of adhering to their Function. They might even plot returns to their ancestral homelands in the Provinces. After the annexations, many Prov families had been relocated to Old Atal to make room for an upper-class Atal population in the larger Provincial cities while providing much-needed labor in Old Atal. Though it had been many generations since the redistribution of the population, most of those families still yearned to return to their former homes.

  Once I’d finally stabilized the Empire, I hoped to assist those who wanted to migrate. But that seemed a long way off at the moment.

  Grabbing an embroidered shirt and trousers of brushed wool, I dragged off my nightshirt and slipped the new garments over my underclothes. Overnight, I wore Azar’s charm pinned to the hem of the nightshirt. I unfastened it now and stabbed the pin through the collar of my new shirt. Lifting my heavy cape from its hook beside my chamber door, I stepped into the hallway and waited while five protectors formed a defensive wall around me.

  Escorted through my own home as if assassins lurked in every corner. I shook my head at the thought. But after the attack last night, I had no more grounding for my arguments against it. For the foreseeable future, this would be my existence. I could bemoan the situation, or I could accept reality.

  I chose to move forward. Straightening my shoulders, I strode for the palace exit.

  Few servants were about the Hold’s grounds this early, and if not for the circle of guards following my every move, I might have felt alone in the crisp air. I passed the courtyard’s central fountain, its black-iron sand hissing endlessly over cornices and spouts, and strode for the entrance of the Hall of Mages. Inside, I veered for the Aurum Tower. Rather than knocking, I pushed the door aside and stepped into the gold-crusted antechamber.

  “I’d like to see the boy,” I said to the apprentice who scurried to intercept me.

  She swallowed and whirled on her heels, leading me forward without a word. Unlike with the wings belonging to the argent and ferro orders, a long hallway separated the entrance chamber from the base of the tower proper. Small rooms opened off the corridor, chambers used for the healing arts. If a man or woman was brought to the aurums with grave injuries, they didn’t wish to delay treatment while they dragged the victim up endless flights of stairs. A practical choice, and it also increased the size of the aurum wing, a fact which I assumed rankled the other orders.

  We passed a handful of open doors before drawing near a chamber with both an aurum guard and a protector stationed outside. I assumed this was the boy’s room—a ridiculous amount of caution considering the child was no more than ten and recovering from an arrow shot besides—but the apprentice mage simply hurried past with just a quick nod at the guards. I paused, inspecting the pair, before continuing. The reason for their presence was a question for later.

  No guard stood outside the boy’s chamber, and when the apprentice opened the door, I understood why. Resting on a bed that could have held five similarly sized children, the boy had sunken eyes and lips faded to a sickly blue. Another aurum apprentice stood beside the boy, hands on his chest. Just two rings encircled her fingers. Was this why the child still ailed? Because the aurums had tasked a mere apprentice with his healing?

  “How is he?” I asked, containing my criticisms until I had the full story.

  The apprentice turned tired eyes my way. “We won’t know for some time,” she said.

  “Why?” As I spoke, I approached the bedside opposite her. As I reached for the boy’s wrist, she shook her head, violently. “Don’t—I mean—Beware, your eminence. There’s—the Trinity believes the arrow was poisoned. They’ve healed the physical damage, but the particular toxin is not something we’ve encountered before. It’s doubtful it would pass from his flesh to yours, but you shouldn’t risk contact until we know more.”

  “Then you’re not the only mage tasked with his care,” I said.

  Her mouth twitched in amused sadness. “The Trinity would never trust a situation this serious to a mere apprentice, your eminence. I’m only examining the arrow wound to make sure the repairs are holding. His lung was punctured, and if your return had taken even a few minutes more, only the ferro mages would have had a use for him.”

  Meaning that only those who trafficked with the realm of the dead would find utility in the boy’s departed soul. I pulled up a stool and took a seat.

  “What are his chances?”

  The apprentice shrugged, her eyes closed as she moved her palms higher on his chest. Her brow knit in concentration, and then she nodded and opened her eyes. She stood and smoothed her apprentice tunic. “I wish I had a clear answer for you, your eminence. Perhaps the Trinity can offer more wisdom.” Sketching a bow, she moved to the door.

  “It won’t harm him if I sit here a while, will it?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s wandering halls we can’t possibly enter right now, your eminence. But sometimes, voices help the sickest patients find the exit on their own.”

  After her departure, I glanced up at my guards. Two of the protectors had entered the room with me. “I’d like to be alone,” I said.

  The guards hesitated, but my pointed glance at the unconscious boy convinced them he wasn’t a threat. Nodding, both protectors stepped outside and allowed the door to swing shut.

  I took a shaky breath and examined the boy’s face.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t fast enough to protect you.”

  I laid a hand on the bedcover and stared at my knuckles, hardened by practice in bare-handed fighting. During those hours outside Steelhold’s armory, I’d felt like a true soldier as I’d slammed my fist into wooden posts and shields held by stone-faced protectors. But last night had shown how removed from true war those practices had been. I thought back to the merciless attack of the aurums, the wet sounds of flesh parting, the gasps as blacksmiths and hostlers tried to breathe through severed windpipes.

  I shook my head. My failing hadn’t been a lack of speed. I’d failed to protect the boy the moment I Ascended the throne.

  “I thought I could begin my rule and immediately put everything to rights,” I said, running my hand across the soft-spun blanket. “Such arrogance. But still, I try to imagine myself as something better. I search for nobility in the deep, deep darkness. How am I to do this? How can I convince your neighbors and parents that I mean to change things, but that we must hold together? We can’t give up now.”

  The boy’s breath was shallow, lifting the covers just a finger’s width with each inhalation. At his temple, a vein fluttered.

  “Last night, I had the notion that if I rescued you and saw you healed… I suppose I imagined it would be a symbol. A sign that I could turn aside from this course. But here you lie, and here I sit.”

  My head fell forward. I wanted so badly to recover the hope and determination that had led me to retake Steelhold. I wanted so badly to be different than the man I was rapidly becoming. More than both those things, I wanted the boy to open his eyes. Somehow still, I felt that if I could make him well, I could make the Provs believe in me.

  But as the minutes slipped past, and the child remained utterly still, it was as if a shroud fell over my hope.

  “Do I walk away then?” I asked. “If I declare the Atal Empire dissolved and the Provinces freed, would the people of Jaliss stop rioting and choose to rebuild instead? I’d like to do that. I don’t want the throne. But I saw the Bracer’s visions. The Empire must remain strong and united, or we all die. I feel as certain in that as Tovmeil did. So what do I do?”

  The door to the chamber opened, finding me staring at the boy, waiting for an answer.

  “Your eminence,” the Trinity said in greeting, three voices speaking as one.

  I gathered what remained of my spirit and stood
to greet them. Perhaps they saw despair swimming behind my mask. In any case, their faces showed more kindness than I expected from metalogists.

  “The child won’t die today,” one of the mages said, a woman. She separated from their triangle and stepped to the boy’s bedside. “Though he doesn’t look well, life flows strong in his veins. The poison…” She twisted her mouth, displaying surprisingly human consternation. “We have never encountered such effects, your eminence. It’s… we believe it’s entirely new.”

  A creeping thread of determination entered my body. I’d been feeling sorry for myself more often than not lately, indulging in pity where I ought to have channeled regret into action. If the boy could continue to fight against forces that defied the knowledge of the Aurum Trinity, the least I could do was forge onward.

  “New in what way? Unrelated to other toxins?”

  “We can’t sense the poison at all, though its effects are clear. The boy is healed, but he still suffers.”

  I stared down at the wan face. The child’s brow was dry, but his condition nonetheless reminded me of someone suffering a killing fever. “But you’re certain the arrow was poisoned?”

  The Trinity spoke in unison again. “If not the arrow, then the very substance of the mortal realm. Something infects him, but it’s beyond our understanding. We are doing our utmost to find answers, your eminence.”

  “Please devote all available effort to solving this, Trinity,” I said.

  As one, the mages nodded.

  “There’s another thing,” the woman said. “A bit of irony, considering. The would-be assassin that was sent to us for healing… The wine-merchant—”

  “Who?” I asked. I’d heard nothing of this.

  If the Trinity was surprised by my lack of knowledge, it didn’t show on their faces. “Apologies. The Prime Protector had a man brought to the tower. She believed he’d fallen sick from poisoned wine he’d tried to have delivered to your table. We were asked to keep him alive so that he could be questioned.”

  “And?” I asked, squashing the defeated feeling that swelled upon hearing of yet another attempt on my life.

  “It’s perplexing. Though the man acted as if he were poisoned, thrashing and convulsing while he was carried into the Hall, we can detect no toxin whatsoever. As far as we can tell, he’s in perfect health.”

  That explained the sentries posted outside the other room. “The guards down the hall. They’re standing watch over his chamber.”

  The Trinity nodded.

  “I will speak to this man,” I said, ordering my words so that no one dared object.

  ***

  The aurum guard followed me into the room where the wine merchant had been confined. After my time in the boy’s room, I expected to see another comfortable bed draped with combed wool blankets and lit by braces of softly glowing candles.

  Instead, the man sat on a table of polished marble. A heavy chain connected the shackle on his ankle to a metal rod embedded in the mortar of the floor, and cuffs of iron bound his wrists together. Despite the unforgiving bed and the harsh light channeled toward his perch by polished steel sheets laced with black iron, the man kept a relaxed demeanor.

  He smiled when I stepped to the foot of the table, inquisitive gray eyes peering from beneath a shock of hair. His skin was dusky. Foreign, though I didn’t know enough to guess his homeland.

  “I knew so much about these times,” he said in place of a greeting. “But out of dozens of visions, not a single one told me about you. How strange.”

  Visions? I laid fingertips on the cold marble of the table. The aurums acted as if this man’s behavior were some sort of mystery, but I already had a theory. He was likely mad. I felt a twinge of pity. It must have been a relatively new condition, or he’d never have traveled so far from his home without running afoul of bandits or others who might take advantage of him.

  “I understand you brought a sample of wine to the palace,” I said. The aurum apprentice had filled me in on his story before we entered the room. “You wished me to try it.”

  He shrugged. “A believable excuse. I’m looking for a dead girl.”

  “I see. Do you have any acquaintances nearby?” I asked. Given his apparent condition, I didn’t want to put him onto the streets alone once the aurums were satisfied.

  The man planted his hands on the table. He certainly wore garb that I imagined a wine merchant might. Finely tailored linen, but not too fine. At the very least, he had enough resources to take care of himself. His shoes were more worn that I would expect, but perhaps he’d spent a lot of time lately wandering lost in his hallucinations.

  He took a deep breath as sadness landed on his face, plain as day. “As I mentioned, she’s gone.” Shaking his head, he blinked and then his brow knit. “Forgive me, your eminence. I often have difficulty putting my thoughts in the proper order without preparation.”

  “Forgiven,” I said.

  “I came to Steelhold hoping to find news of someone dear to me. When I realized you had the information I sought, I feigned poison. It wasn’t the wisest choice, but I’ve never been a quick thinker.”

  He raised his shackled hands and gave an embarrassed smirk. In the doorway, the aurum guard mumbled something to one of the protectors. Most likely asking him to find a messenger to fetch either the Prime Protector or the Trinity.

  “And what information is that?”

  When the man leaned forward, inspecting my face with all the etiquette of a curious owl examining a piece of meat, a protector stepped forward and pushed him back.

  “I could start at the beginning,” he said. “Centuries ago. But you already think I’m mad. To be frank, now that I see you standing before me, I wonder how I could have failed to question my own mind. I foresaw Emperor Tovmeil’s murder, and though it followed that someone would replace him, somehow my mind ignored that fact. It’s as if you were a blind spot in everything I’ve come to believe.”

  The man unsettled me more than he should. Madness wasn’t entirely uncommon, even in Steelhold. Well, dementia was known to me, anyway. For all Tovmeil’s failings, he’d been kind to his staff, and as the servants aged past their usefulness, he’d allowed them to stay on and live out their last years in relative comfort. But this man’s eyes were so sharp. I felt as if he weren’t so much mad as so far beyond my intelligence that I just couldn’t follow his words. If that were the case, was I risking my authority or safety by continuing to listen?

  “You’re foreign,” I said.

  “From Ioene.”

  “That part of your story was true, then,” I said.

  “But I’m not a wine merchant. I lied, and rather poorly at that. But I didn’t know how else to gain entrance to the Hold. This was the last place I felt Savra’s spark, and I must know what happened to her.”

  Savra. I felt as if the air had been knocked from my lungs. Glancing behind me, I saw no reactions on the faces of the protectors or the aurum guard.

  “Is the Prime on her way?” I asked.

  The aurum nodded. “I thought she would be interested in what he’s saying.”

  “Ask her to unlock this man and escort him to the palace. He’ll be given a room near my chambers, under guard if the Prime insists. But he’s no poisoner.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Savra

  A trail between a circle of standing stones and an ancient keep

  I KEPT CONTROL of Joran as the conclave moved from discussing my fate to deciding the next steps for the Stormshard army. Shortly after the vote, Falla had pretended to unlock and remove my collar. Together, we’d left the circle of standing stones and now followed the path my father had taken toward the keep. Though I could sense the flow of conversation among the Shard leaders, I couldn’t focus on it. My father preceded us by only a few hundred paces, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off his back. My guilt was a deep pit sucking me down.

  The farther we got from the conclave, the hard
er I had to concentrate to keep hold of Joran.

  “I need to stop a moment,” I said to Falla.

  The older woman turned and nodded, unshed tears brimming in her eyes. Blinking, she swiped them away. She knew what I’d done, and the betrayal hurt.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” I said, stopping myself from making more excuses.

  She drew a deep breath, then fumbled at the ties of the sling holding her arm. I stared for a moment, confused.

  As Falla struggled to unfasten the knot with just one hand, I tentatively reached forward to help. If she wanted both arms free to fight me, I couldn’t blame her. In a way, I’d welcome the punishment.

  The knot finally released and the sling fell to the ground. Falla opened and closed her fingers, then bent and straightened her arm to work the stiffness from it. “Been more than three fortnights since the break,” she said in explanation. “My arm had likely healed weeks ago. But I kept it in the sling because I was a coward.”

  “I hardly think you’re a coward,” I said, picking up the sling. “Even if you’d had your arm free during the fight today, you wouldn’t have regained full strength yet.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I’m not afraid to fight. I left my arm in that sling for a different reason. Somehow, I hoped that if the break were still fresh, it meant that little time had passed since the cavern collapse. We never learned with certainty how many people were inside when the ceiling fell. My husband…”

  “He could have been away from the camp.”

  She nodded.

  I stepped closer, laying a hand on her forearm. “Then there’s still hope, whether you wear a splint or not. You left the area right after the quake.”

  “But we’ve sent enough scouts to know that no one returned to the site. If he’d lived, he’d have come back long enough to pick up our trail and follow us out of the mountains.”