Rise of the Storm

by Carrie Summers

  But done was done. And over the past weeks, Havialo had come to appreciate the Ministry’s failure. For a long time, he’d believed that any plot which led to the demise the Atal Empire would satisfy his need to avenge his daughter. Now he knew the truth.

  The destruction of Atal must come by his hand alone.

  “I’m well, Master,” Reashel said, grinning. “The last shipment had apricots! Where did you manage to find those?”

  Havialo raised his eyebrows. Apricots, huh? In truth, he rarely thought about the system he’d set up to have provisions delivered to the sanctuary. A buyer in Jaliss collected whatever goods were available and turned them over to a string of carters who made regular trips into the mountains. The last delivery always happened at a crossroads, never at this hidden refuge. But the spiritists knew how important it was to be careful when fetching the supplies. No one must see them slip from the folds of the terrain to gather the delivery. Especially when just one of the young women could carry a crate weighing double her body thanks to her spiritism.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “A fruit-seller came all the way from Anisel—a wonder the apricots hadn’t gone bad.”

  “Well, you know how grateful we are,” she said, dipping a curtsey.

  Havialo nodded as he scanned the chamber. Around the room, young men and women slipped from branching corridors and nodded greetings.

  Turning his eyes back to Reashel, Havialo composed his features into a serious expression. “How has the training been going, Reashel?”

  A faint blush rose to her cheeks. “I think you’ll be pleased,” she said. “All but three of us are ready to offer our strength. And I have another surprise.”

  “Indeed?”

  “The shielding you were hoping for. Vivea—she’s Essence domain—has managed the trick of walling off her abilities. Or, a more practical use, of walling us off from each other. None of us can get past a shield she builds.”

  Havialo’s brows raised—if his theories about the relationship between spiritism and metalogy were correct, Vivea’s protections would defend him from attacks by the palace metalogists. Altogether, this was far more progress than he’d hoped for. Minus the three who were still learning, Reashel had managed to train twenty spiritists to refill his gnosty. Using them would be like standing on the nexus of regeneration. The process drained the spiritist, of course. He’d learned that early on with Reashel. Her first attempts had left her bedridden for a week each time. But she’d persevered, knowing how much Havialo had sacrificed to rescue her. Or at least, she’d believed the claims he’d carefully crafted.

  Over time, he and Reashel had learned to identify when a spiritist was too exhausted to continue safely. At that point, Havialo could clamp down on his inner font to signal the spiritist to sever the bond. But with twenty spiritists, he’d have little need for such caution. If one burned out, perhaps even died, he had plenty more to power him.

  “Wonderful news,” he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “And I have good news for you, too. I’ve been in touch with a renegade band.”

  “Stormshard?” Reashel asked, clearly excited.

  He nodded. “We’ve agreed to join forces—they’ve given us a task that will aid the cause. We’re finally going to end the Empire’s tyranny. No more spiritists will be hunted or executed. You’ll be safe to go home.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Savra

  A humble tavern in a mountain settlement

  “WATCH HIS AURA. If you fear deceit, signal me,” Falla whispered as we followed Sirez and a small cluster of Shard leaders into the village’s tavern. I’d been surprised when Sirez suggested I join them; Falla should have been able to sense if the man was lying. Maybe the Jalisswoman thought I might see something Falla couldn’t. Or maybe she was thinking of her and Falla’s promise to my father. They’d vowed to protect me. Leaving me outside with an army of Sharders, many of whom hadn’t yet forgiven me, wasn’t the best way to keep me safe. Then again, my greatest enemy was right here in the tavern.

  “Is there a barkeep?” Joran asked loudly as he pulled out a chair. He slapped the table before him, raising a cloud of dust.

  “Afraid not, sire,” the villager who’d greeted us said. “He’s gone with the rest of them. I might manage to tap you an ale if I can find the keg.”

  Joran perked up. “Please—”

  “Thank you, friend,” Sirez cut in. “But we have no need for drinks. Given your caution earlier, I’d rather hear your tale with a sharp mind.”

  Joran’s cheeks purpled, and he glowered at her from below lowered brows, but he said nothing. I chose a table on the opposite side of the room from the big man.

  The villager smiled a bit shakily as he rubbed a hand over his bald pate. “Just as well,” he said. “Otherwise I’d be tempted to pour one for myself, and that would not please my wife. Especially considering the situation. She wants me to go after them. Her sister’s daughter was among those hauled away, from what we understand.”

  “It sounds as if your troubles have been legion,” Sirez said. “Sit.”

  Nodding, the man pulled out a chair. “I’m not used to speaking for a group,” he said. “Actually, I’m a bit unused speaking at all. I’m the town’s scout, and I spend most of my time alone.”

  The man didn’t strike me as a scout, but then again, I didn’t have the strong build suited to shoveling gravel into sluices along Cosmal’s coast. None of us had chosen our Function. We just did what the Empire demanded.

  “Your name, my friend?” Sirez asked. Around ten Sharders had entered the tavern and taken seats. Most sat in respectful silence. Meanwhile, Joran busied himself drawing stick figures in the dust.

  “Tendal,” the man said, touching his brow. “Apologies for not offering it sooner. Anyway, I wasn’t here when things went bad, so I’ve asked a lad to join us after he sees to his younger sister’s midday meal. Until then…”

  “Perhaps you could begin the tale,” Sirez prompted. “Were you on patrol?”

  Tendal shook his head. “It happened about a tenday past, now. I’d just come in from a patrol the evening before. There was a shake in the dark hours of the night. Just a small one, but it changed the stream bed above a village in the next valley over. The land above the village got waterlogged, and a mudslide buried part of the town. Around half of us left near dawn to help.”

  “Good of you to do,” Sirez said.

  The man shrugged. “This far into the mountains, we have to support each other. A consequence of isolation, I suppose.”

  I found myself nodding. Numintowners were much the same. Even if it meant forsaking our Functions and coming up short on quotas, we wouldn’t hesitate to help Agartown or any other Cosmali settlement in an emergency.

  “As I mentioned, we were a town of about two hundred. Around one hundred men and women left to help dig, leaving mostly children and the elderly behind.”

  While the man was speaking, a shaft of light swept across the room as the door to the tavern opened. A boy slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. Once my eyes adjusted, I scanned his face and judged him to be about fifteen, lanky with a thatch of hair that stuck up from his forehead. He nodded at the man.

  “And here’s Serl, come to tell the rest of it,” Tendal said as he gestured at the boy.

  As all eyes in the room turned to him, the boy dry-washed his hands. After a moment, he rubbed his palms on his thighs and nervously searched for a seat.

  “Here,” Sirez said, nudging a chair away from her table with her foot. “And take your time.”

  “Thank you,” the boy whispered. He cleared his throat to recover his voice, then sat. “I was helping Edwoll and Challi bring in their sheep when the protectors came. The minute I saw them, I knew there’d be trouble, so I sent those two back into the hills.”

  “You did well,” Tendal said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.

  “They’d come to see Cerrold,�
� Serl said, his eyes turning fierce as he spoke. “We all know—knew he was a snitch, but no one much cared. We’re far from Jaliss and wool isn’t all that valuable. As long as we meet quota, the Empire doesn’t bother us. Plus, Cerrold sometimes shared the extra flour he got from the local snitch master.

  “Anyway, the snitch master came in person this time, which was something we’re not used to. Brought around two dozen protectors with him. They grabbed Cerrold and his family. Dragged him to the square and started asking questions.”

  At this point, the boy raised his eyes to the group. I peered at his aura and was shocked to realize he was angry with us. I leaned over to Falla and told her as much.

  “He asked about Stormshard,” the boy said. “That’s why this happened. They were looking for you. We were living here peacefully, and now my grandmother’s gone, and my younger brother with her.”

  “Why would they look for Stormshard here?” Sirez asked. “We’ve always been careful to operate from places where Provs won’t be blamed if we’re caught.”

  Muscles in the boy’s jaw worked as he controlled his anger. “It’s the new Emperor. He ordered this.”

  My breath stilled. Kostan had sent the protectors here? That couldn’t be right.

  “He’s specifically asking for Stormshard?” Sirez asked.

  “The protectors said he’ll imprison anyone who so much as thinks a nasty thought about the Empire. And as for those who speak openly against him, or worse, join up with groups like you?” The boy shook his head. “The protectors had already hung nooses from the tree branches by the time I crept close enough to watch.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Joran said in mock horror. He grinned at me as he spoke. “Emperor Kostan is a good man! He would never kill innocent Provs. This must be one of Tovmeil’s orders.”

  The man smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. I pressed fingernails into my palms. He could mock me all he wanted, but I knew my actions in Steelhold had been right. Or at least… I hoped they’d been right. In truth, I’d become increasingly worried as we marched. Amongst hundreds of Stormsharders, I was the only one who’d even consider Kostan’s innocence. And it wasn’t because I was the only one who’d met him. My father and Falla had spent time with him, too. And he’d betrayed them. Maybe I was blind, refusing to see the truth in the situation because it would make me the ally of a tyrant.

  The boy fixed Joran with a flat stare. “I don’t know the new Emperor’s name. But I’m sure it was his choice. Before the snitch master came, we got a message passed along from the settlements between here and Jaliss. What happened here might be bad, but it’s worse there.” As he spoke, he looked toward the scout as if to ask whether he should continue.

  “I heard it from the messenger myself,” Tendal said. “I don’t know exactly when this happened, but not long ago. The Emperor marched into the city with a whole army of protectors plus a group of aurum mages who could kill you before you drew breath to scream. They went straight into the Splits, not caring when the Provs gathered around and begged for relief from the suffering. Half the city’s either burned or toppled or so befouled where the old sewage trenches have been blocked, and there’s nowhere for people to go. Anyway, the Emperor ignored them. It seems the whole expedition was a ploy to prove his power. When they were deep in the Splits, his army turned on the mob that was trailing them. Killed three or four dozen innocent people.”

  I blinked, hoping to banish the words as if they were unshed tears. There must be another explanation. Even in a town the size of Numintown, rumors spread and changed so much that when a story got back to the original teller, it was hardly recognizable. The Sharders had to know that. But as I scanned the room and took in the disgusted expressions on the faces of the Shard leaders, I realized they believed every word the man was saying. They’d already decided that Kostan was a monster, and these stories only proved how right they’d been.

  “And then they just marched back to the Hold?” Sirez asked.

  Tendal’s upper lip twitched as he shook his head. “After the slaughter was when the Emperor did his worst. He killed a boy no older than ten. Or rather, he was getting ready to when one of his guards shot the child with an arrow. Right in front of his mother, too. And instead of leaving her the body to grieve over, he took the boy’s remains back to Steelhold.”

  I tugged at my collar, the room suddenly stifling. These things couldn’t be true. I knew they couldn’t.

  Unless I had been wrong all along.

  Falla must have sensed my distress because I felt her gloved hand slip into mine. She squeezed to reassure me, but I didn’t want to be reassured. I wanted to know the truth. If Kostan was the sort of man who killed children to prove a point, how could I ever forgive myself for ruining Stormshard’s chance to eliminate him?

  I’m not saying ignore this information, Lilik said into my mind. But don’t turn into a puddle of self-pity.

  Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? Raav responded.

  No, I said. She’s right. If it’s my fault there’s a tyrant on the throne, it’s my responsibility to fix it.

  I squeezed Falla’s hand then released it. If Kostan had done those awful things, I owed it to every man, woman, and child in the Empire to fix the mistake I’d made in sparing his life. And if he hadn’t, if this was some confused rumor swollen by ingrained hatred and decades of imperial evil, I owed it to Kostan to help heal the rift. More than a few Sharder eyes had turned to me as the villagers continued their tale. Thanks to Joran’s mocking, the conclave had just been reminded that they’d voted to forgive me even despite my lack of repentance. They wanted to know what I thought of the man I’d saved after hearing the awful truth of what he’d done.

  An expectant silence had fallen over the room as even Sirez turned to face me.

  “The tales are troubling,” I said, as evenly as I could manage. “I’ve seen this Emperor, and he didn’t seem the type. But we know too well how power corrupts those who sit on Steelhold’s throne.”

  It seemed to satisfy the conclave, for now at least. One by one, the Sharders turned their attention back to Tendal and Serl.

  Joran snorted. “Go on with your story, then.”

  As if the minutes during which he’d escaped attention had dispelled any confidence he’d gained earlier, the boy swallowed. His eyes remained on the table as he continued his description. “As I said, they dragged Cerrold and his family down to the square. They had nooses hung from the big fir, and that was enough to put the fear into Cerrold. When they asked about Stormshard, at first, he said he didn’t know anyone with ties to the group. And that’s true, of course. We pretty much mind our own business here. But when they stuck his daughter up on a barrel and put a noose around her neck, he started naming names.

  “I’ll say this for Cerrold,” Serl continued. “He might have been a snitch and a betrayer, but he tried to protect us. Every man and woman he named was unmarried. No wife or husband or children to leave behind when the protectors laid down their punishment. The problem was, none of those people were home because they’d all gone to help with the mudslide.”

  “Why were Cerrold and his wife home?” Sirez asked.

  The boy twitched his shoulders in what I assumed was a shrug. “Just because he chose names that would hurt the fewest people didn’t make him a good man. His sons weren’t so bad. Even helped my grandmother when her roof needed new thatch. But Cerrold was as lazy as he was selfish. Anyway, when they couldn’t find the people Cerrold named, the first thing they did was kick the barrel out from under his little girl’s feet.”

  I felt sick. I didn’t want to stay in the tavern any longer. But I had to. Whatever lure Kostan had sunk into my heart, I needed to cut it free. If he had ordered this, I would use every drop of spiritist power I held to defeat him.

  “After that, Cerrold started gibbering. He called out name after name. Young and old. Anyone he thought might still be i
n town. I think that some crazed part of his mind thought he could bring his daughter back by giving answers the protectors wanted to hear. Didn’t matter though. The snitch master and his soldiers were done with Cerrold and his family. They were cutting their throats when I ran to get help.”

  “Serl must have made half a day’s walk in an hour of hard running,” Tendal said. “But by the time we got back, Cerrold’s family was dead, and everyone else was either taken or hiding. Anyone under thirteen they didn’t bother with, thank the clear skies. We found most of the children hiding in haystacks and sheep paddocks, and we’ve sent them into the hills for now, just to be safe. But the elderly and the adolescents who were the future of this village are gone.”

  “Where were they taken?” Sirez asked. “Why?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe the snitch master promised results, and when he didn’t get them from Cerrold, he decided to pass off innocent Provs as the rebels the Emperor was seeking. You asked earlier about our able-bodied men and women. And the truth is, they can’t meet with you here—unless you count the few left behind to defend our homes and babies. But if you want to speak with the others, I suggest you finish watering your horses and start marching. They left three days ago to hunt down those protectors—skies defend them. They’ll probably die before they free a single captive, but we made the decision together. No more bowing to an Emperor who would kill innocent children. We’ll take our freedom, or we’ll die.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. After a moment, Sirez scooted her chair back and stood. “How many did you say are chasing after the protectors?” she asked.