Rise of the Storm

by Carrie Summers

  Savra, Lilik said. Take from Havialo. You must use his strength.

  But how?

  Open yourself. Understand him. Align your spirit with his.

  I…

  “I can help you,” Cartilla said suddenly.

  I gasped as her light surged across the bond we’d created. As if guiding me by the hand, she pulled me into Havialo’s soul. I felt his anger and torment.

  And Havialo felt his daughter. More than her voice, he felt her spirit, the child he’d loved so desperately. His soul flared with unfathomable joy and bottomless regret.

  Cartilla, he whispered into our shared spirit.

  Help us stop this, Papa, she said.

  At once, I felt his guiding hand on my magic. The hanging scythe of stone fit within my mind. I understood where every boulder would shatter and every pebble would strike.

  Together we stopped the spire’s fall. Together, we hurled the crumbling mountain out over the plateau, a spray of destruction that mowed down the grasslands in a fan a league wide.

  The mage’s towers struck last like massive spears impaling Atal’s flesh.

  You did the right thing, Papa, Cartilla said. For a moment, I felt Havialo’s spirit sigh, finally at peace.

  But I can’t stay. Goodbye, Cartilla said as her spirit dissipated from our joined auras, leaving me alone with the link that kept Havialo under my thrall. Again, the physical world pressed against my senses. The smell of dust. The sun on my back. The blade in my hand as it slipped between Havialo’s ribs.

  I looked down in horror as the geognost’s lifeblood spilled over my hand. His heart, impaled by the blade, pumped against the dagger. Once. Twice. No more. His gnosty drained away, melding with the wind and the earth and the tiny clouds of raindrops forming over the grasslands.

  At first, the pull at my aura was a gentle tug, but it quickly became harder. Stronger. My heart slammed my ribs as I tried to withdraw from his spirit, Falla’s words echoing in my mind. The next time someone dies while you’re controlling them, I’m afraid you won’t survive.

  A bird trilled in the distance as my vision dwindled. My aura tendrils were lodged too deep. Wrapped too tight. I yanked but couldn’t free myself.

  My hands grew numb, followed by my feet. The sensation crept up my limbs. Once again, I noticed the warmth of the sun before it began to fade away.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Parveld

  The Atal grasslands

  THE ARMIES FOUGHT well together. That pleased Parveld. As he watched Sirez and Kostan guide their forces into retreat formations, he marveled at the irony of the timing. He’d waited for so long to see humans put aside generations of hatred to stand shoulder to shoulder. If he’d met these people earlier, would his life have been different? Would he have walked through it with a sense of hope rather than fearing the inevitable?

  It mattered little now. He’d had a good life. But he couldn’t cling to the experience much longer. The energy of the dawnweaving still vibrated in his soul, flooding his veins with joy, waiting for his next command. Another irony really, for as its energy flowed through him, the Hunger’s tentacles sank deeper. The weaving kept the ill effects at bay, but before he released his grasp on the lifelights of the corrupted Provs, he must warn Kostan and assure he was ready to act.

  He couldn’t allow the madness to get a grip, not after everything he’d seen it do.

  Every few minutes, another earthquake shook the ground. But the trembling felt increasingly muted, as fresh earthquakes happened farther and farther from the capital. Destruction was surging across the Empire. Parveld had seen it many times before.

  As for the threat at hand, the Riftspawn were more fearsome than he’d imagined, and he could imagine a lot. He Wanted to stop them, to send them back to the dark Hunger that had birthed them. But his weaving couldn’t accomplish it. No matter how he focused on unleashing the power, it seemed that the Hunger’s darkness was too much for one man to turn aside.

  At the front lines of the fight, brave soldiers hacked at the creatures, combatants dashing out for an attack then retreating behind the line of wardstone bearers. Only a handful of humans had fallen, while at least a dozen of the twisted beasts lay in pieces on the grassland behind the retreat. If they could reach Jaliss, they could funnel the Spawn into choke points for even better defense. Despite it all, Parveld believed that the people of Atal could win today.

  The young Emperor stepped up beside him, sword drawn. It took restraint, Parveld knew, for a young man to hold back from battle. But Kostan understood that he represented more for his Empire than a ready sword. He would defend himself, but he wouldn’t risk himself unnecessarily.

  Parveld was leaving the future in good hands. Speaking of, he should check with Savra. Casting his mind into the aether, he searched for her spark. He’d been keeping watch over her through the day’s events. Strangely, her light had flared a few minutes ago when Steelhold had crumpled—only to halt in midair then spray outward as if blown by an unimaginable wind.

  He looked forward to asking about that. Reaching to form a bond with her, he froze. Tides. Where moments ago, her spark had rivaled the sun, now it dwindled, shrinking rapidly toward nothing.

  I thought we had a deal, Parveld said into the aether as he snatched hold of her fading light.

  Her response was sluggish. Confused. What?

  You promised you wouldn’t vanish again today, he said. As he spoke, he pulled gently at her spark. Too hard, and he might tear her to bits. He sent comfort and confidence across their link. Did you think I wouldn’t hold you to that?

  I’m… I made a mistake, I think, Savra said. It’s hard to remember.

  By my guess, you saved the city, Parveld went on, continuing to pull against her aura. If that’s your idea of a mistake, I’m curious what would happen if you succeeded. You need to let go of whatever’s pulling you down, Savra.

  Let go? Savra said. Wait… Havialo. I remember.

  Heartbeat by heartbeat, resistance eased. Parveld grasped her tighter, bundling her spark to him as she rose like a sunken ship from the sea bottom.

  There we go, Parveld said when he sensed her full return. Safe and sound. And your betrothed fights bravely, too. I believe that we will win the day.

  Betrothed?

  Fishel told me of your engagement. Congratulations!

  Wait! she protested. That was only because he needed a place to say.

  If you say so, he teased. But enough of that.

  Parveld, she said. Havialo had people with him. Spiritists. I’d like to see if any are still alive.

  Please, he said. Do what you can.

  Thank you for saving me, Parveld. I was careless.

  Parveld chuckled. Don’t be too critical of yourself. Sometimes it’s hard to tell bravery and carelessness apart.

  The armies had retreated around half the distance between Pascar and the outskirts of Jaliss. It was growing difficult for Parveld to keep hold of the sparks in the town. As soon as he lost control, his weaving would collapse. There were things Kostan needed to know before they settled the final arrangements for Parveld’s death.

  “I can see you now, in the future,” Parveld said.

  Kostan turned to him. “A new vision?”

  Parveld shrugged. “Not exactly. Despite what I thought I knew about prophecy, the visions I once received have reordered themselves in my mind. It’s clear as a cloudless sky now. I see you and Savra together. That’s how the Empire is saved.”

  “Why would they change now?” Kostan asked.

  “Perhaps only an unlikely set of events could have allowed you both to survive. Maybe it was uncertain whether you’d be enemies or friends.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Or more.”

  The young man immediately flushed. “I—” he cleared his throat. “It will be interesting to see if the Bracer grants me visions of Savra.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the jagged stump where Steelhold
once stood. “If I recover the relic from the rubble, that is.”

  “Interesting indeed,” Parveld said. “Kostan, I need to release the weaving—”

  Parveld’s words were cut off by a cry from behind them. He spun, and his breath stuttered. Blocking the route to Jaliss, a wide chasm had opened in the ground—the tall grasses had hidden the rift from sight until now. And between the small army and the chasm, a horde approached on twisted limbs, shrieking and wailing. There were two Riftspawn for every soldier.

  The first beasts screamed and leaped. The slaughter began.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Savra

  A flat plain that was once Chasm Road

  FOUR OF THE spiritists who’d come with Havialo had survived. Only four. The bewildered young men and women reminded me of the innocent girl I’d been when Havialo had taken me away from Numintown. I pitied them, knowing far too well how it felt to learn who the geognost had really been.

  I crouched beside the first, a man of maybe twenty. As I laid a hand on his brow, I fought a wave of lightheadedness. My control over the thug still tugged at my awareness, draining my remaining energy. Strangely, though, the man had stopped fighting me. I swallowed, then directed my awareness toward him.

  May I release you? I asked. I’ll do so gladly, but if you attack me, I’ll just take you again.

  He didn’t fight, but he didn’t respond either. Maybe he didn’t know how. Cautiously, I pulled back my control, tendril by tendril. When I released the last strand, the man fell to his knees, gasping.

  “I…” He coughed, gathering himself. “I chose wrong before,” he said. “I won’t harm you.”

  “I’d feel safer if you left,” I said, gesturing toward the open expanse leading into the mountains. “I need to concentrate and don’t wish to worry that you’re lying.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the man trotted off. I watched him go then turned my attention to the spiritist sitting before me. His eyes were vacant, his face blank. Shocked, no doubt. I laid fingers against his neck and felt his pulse throbbing. His heart was strong. That was good. I peered into his eyes, wondering how to pull him back to awareness.

  Savra, Parveld burst into my thoughts.

  Just a moment, I said.

  No time. We are—Savra, I don’t think we’ll make it back. The Riftspawn…

  I jumped up, dashed to the edge of the chasm, and shaded my eyes. Where are you?

  West of the city.

  “Storms,” I muttered when I saw them. Kostan’s army was a small huddle on the grasslands. It looked as if soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, making a solid wall around the center. Outside that wall, the land boiled with dark figures. They struck at the human fighters again and again, avoiding just a few areas on the circle’s perimeter.

  Is Stormshard with you? They have wardstones.

  They’re here, Parveld said. It’s not enough. Even if we could make it to a defensible location within the city, we can’t hold back this many.

  Wait. What about…? My eyes snapped to the foot of the chasm and the ragged stump of Steelhold’s spire. A low ring of rubble surrounded the hollow space that I’d discovered just hours ago. And in the center, the huge dome of polished agate shone in the sunlight.

  Parveld, I said. You have to get to Jaliss. Steelhold was built atop a wardstone. I mean, a really big wardstone.

  A thread of hope tunneled across our link, but a moment later it was gone.

  We can’t, Parveld said. We won’t make it around the rift.

  Right, I thought as my eyes grazed the chasm now separating the army from the capital.

  Actually, Parveld said. My dawnweaving. It might be enough.

  What’s a dawnweaving?

  It doesn’t matter now. Savra, I need you to make me a promise. I’d asked Kostan to help me, but if I send him away…

  Whatever you need.

  What I’m about to do will drain the last energy from my weaving. When it collapses, I will change. Once you’ve secured Jaliss—if you secure Jaliss—I need you to find me.

  Where will you go?

  Let me restate, he said. When Jaliss is secure, I want you to hunt me. I want you to kill me. I’ve seen the Hunger’s effects many times. It doesn’t always turn its tools into crazed beasts. Some have been cold and calculating. Others have been masters at manipulation. No matter what I say to you, do not listen. It won’t be me speaking. The only way we can talk like this again will be when I am beyond the veil.

  Parveld, I don’t understand. My lower jaw trembled. I’d scarcely spoken to the man, but after the events of the last weeks, I felt I knew him. Lilik and Raav cared for him immensely. I’d been looking forward to growing our friendship.

  There’s little time, Savra. Please promise.

  I— yes of course. I promise. Whatever happens, I will find you and release you.

  Thank you, he said.

  The ground beneath Kostan’s army began to glow. I stared, mesmerized, as the light swelled, brighter and brighter until I could scarcely stand to look at it. Only when the thunderclap shook the air, did I glimpse the small circle of light beneath my own feet.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Kostan

  Amidst the rubble, former site of Steelhold's spire

  WE STOOD WITHIN a ring of crumbled stone, upon a polished surface the color of blood. I fell to my knees, dazed. What had happened?

  “… in Jaliss,” someone said nearby.

  I looked around. Was it true? Over the ring of rubble surrounding us, I spotted the gables of a Heights mansion. I blinked. Indeed, it seemed we were inside Jaliss. I recalled Parveld’s last words. He’d asked me to prepare for a shock and to take care of the future for him. He must have done this.

  A pair of small, scuffed shoes stepped up beside mine. My eyes traveled over shapely legs, a rather stained tunic, and past a wild tangle of red hair.

  “Savra?” I asked.

  Her cheeks were pink as she nodded.

  I looked down at her for a moment then couldn’t help myself. I pulled her into a hug, and she sank into the embrace.

  “Kostan?” she said, stepping back. “What are you wearing? I felt something… hard. It has power.”

  My face was abruptly so hot, I was sure she must have felt the warmth from where she stood. Savra placed her palm on my chest, covering the lump formed by the Heart of the Empire. Oh, that.

  I coughed. “It was given to me as part of my Ascension,” I said, pulling the pendant from beneath the cloth that covered my armor.

  She gasped when she saw it, her gaze flicking back and forth between the pendant and the red stone beneath her feet. I couldn’t help but notice the same resemblance. It was as if the relic and the ground beneath us had been cut from the same stone.

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  Too distracted by her discovery to be shy, she grabbed my hand. Light calluses roughened her palm, and the bones of her hand felt fragile in mine. The sensation was so distracting I could scarcely hear her words.

  “… wardstone,” she was saying excitedly. “The auras are connected. Steelhold’s heart calls to your necklace. Heartstone to Heartshard. I don’t know how I know their names, only that I’m certain they’re the truth.”

  I latched onto her words. Since receiving it, I’d imagined that the pendant was more than a polished gem. Instinct had told me it was needed for the fight ahead. The core of the Empire must remain strong. Hadn’t I felt many times that the Heart must remain on the throne?

  Savra tugged on my hand, urging me to my knees. She laid my palm on the smooth surface beneath us. “Do you feel anything?” she asked.

  I shook my head, but then concentrated harder. There was something after all. Just the faintest hum. “I don’t know what it means,” I said.

  Her delicate brow furrowed. Around us, soldiers milled in confusion. Savra looked through the crowd as if searching for someone. After a moment,
she jumped up and rushed over to Falla. I ducked my head. I hadn’t yet apologized to the woman for stealing her horse and abandoning her in the wilderness. Unfortunately for me, Savra grabbed Falla’s elbow and pointed at me.

  To Falla’s credit, she only glared for a moment. Together, the women approached.

  “I don’t see anything,” Falla said. “Whatever the connection, it’s not from the Mind domain.”

  They were referring to magic, no doubt. Speaking of… “Did Parveld come? He said strange things before…”

  Savra pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Later. I promised him I’d secure the city first.”

  Her casual assumption of responsibility for a city of nearly a hundred thousand made me smile. I covered my mouth so she wouldn’t think I was condescending. But her words brought me back to the situation at hand. The Riftspawn were coming. Savra was right; this wasn’t the time for questions or reunions. Standing, I trotted to the rubble hill and climbed. My heart sank.

  The chasm might have been a barrier for us, but the Spawn had been born there. Like a pool of oil, they spilled across the grasslands, poured down one side of the chasm, and sloshed back up the other. Already, their shrieks and wails filtered through the ruins of Lowtown. At the edge of the slums, a few Provs lived in shanties and tents that had been erected since the fires. The leading edge of the Riftspawn washed over them, overturning cook fires and setting fire to the ramshackle structures. The blaze quickly began nibbling at the edges of the city. Undeterred, the Spawn pressed on.

  “My best hope of setting a defense is from the Merchant’s Quarter,” Savra said, stepping up beside me. Somehow, she’d managed to convince someone to give her a sword.

  “Let me stand with you,” I said as I laid a hand on my weapon’s hilt. I carefully avoided suggesting she’d need protection. I didn’t know if she’d appreciate the comment.