Aurek paused, Devin taking a few more steps before realizing he’d stopped. Aurek didn’t answer his beta’s questioning look, merely moved to stand before Verrent. His nose wrinkled at the reek of shit and piss, with an overlying sweetness of rot.
“Why are you here?”
Verrent tried to look up, but could only tilt his head enough to catch Aurek out of one eye. “Because I led my men into an ambush.” His voice was a husky, dry croak.
“That was the result of your actions. That’s not why you’re here.”
Verrent sagged forward. The temporary fence he was tied to creaked with his weight. “I should never have attacked them.”
“Why not?”
Verrent rocked back slightly, a few of the flies rising to hover, disturbed, before settling again. Aurek noted a few of the whip marks had begun to fester. “Because I should have interrogated the prisoner longer, found out more, before I attacked.”
Aurek sank to one knee, caught Verrent’s chin in one hand, and raised his face so he could look him in the eye. The man sucked in a breath through his teeth at the pain.
“You had the resource at hand, and in your haste to gain my favor you reacted too quickly, trusted your prisoner, and didn’t stop to consider the consequences. If you intend to remain one of my alphas, remember this the next time you find yourself acting on your own.”
“Yes, Lord Baron.”
Aurek searched Verrent’s eyes, saw humility, shame, but no fear. Anger, but focused internally, on himself, not outward, toward Aurek or Devin.
Aurek released him. Devin had come up behind him.
“Cut him down and clean him up. Make certain those cuts are seen to by our healers.”
“Yes, Lord Baron. What should we do with him after that?”
“Return him to his men.”
Devin called a few of the nearer men over and gave them orders before trotting to catch up to Aurek.
His second simmered for twenty steps before finally breaking. “He let over twenty men die!”
“He attacked before he was ready. Would you have done any different when I first sent you out?”
“I wouldn’t have attacked at night in the middle of a storm without any idea of who I was facing.”
“You would have done the same as he did with half the men. You forget that I’ve known you since you were a brash youth in my guard, much like myself. We both would have attacked back then, especially if we knew my father was waiting back home. I doubt we would have asked the prisoner any more than Verrent did. He was cocksure and he’s been punished for it, harshly. He’s learned his lesson.”
“Perhaps.”
“Isn’t this how the Dogs in Erenthrall were trained? Mistakes held brutal consequences. Every Dog I ever saw in the city before the Shattering bore the marks.”
“He should still be watched.”
“Oh, he will be.”
They’d reached the tent where the prisoner Verrent had captured was kept. Devin held back the flap as Aurek ducked inside, then followed.
Aurek was struck immediately by the scent of blood, shit, and terror. It clung to the air like a mist, so heavy and thick his eyes watered. Aurek stood for a moment to allow himself to adjust, blinking at the dimness after the brightness of the sun outside. At the far back of the tent, the prisoner lay spread-eagled on the ground, hands and feet bound with rope to stakes set into the grass. Two tables, one to either side, bore instruments of torture—hammers and knives mostly.
As Aurek stepped forward, he noted the instruments were still slick with blood not yet dried. The grass beneath the body was stained dark. He knelt down carefully, sitting back onto his heels, and scanned the man’s body. He’d been stripped naked. His upper torso was covered in thin cuts, bruises, and burns. His legs were covered in blood. Two of his fingers were mangled and pointing in odd directions.
Aurek looked into the man’s eyes. His face was surprisingly normal, left intact so that he could talk. His gaze shot back and forth between Aurek and Devin.
“He held out longer than I expected. He broke only when we began snapping his fingers. His name is—”
Aurek held up a hand. He leaned forward. “What’s your name?”
“J-Joss.”
Aurek had already known that from Verrent’s initial report, but it was good to know Joss hadn’t lied. “And where did you come from?”
Joss’ gaze flicked toward Devin, then back again. “The Hollow.”
“I’ve never heard of the Hollow.” Joss’ eyes widened in terror, as if he expected more torture because Aurek didn’t believe him. “Do you know who I am?”
Joss shook his head.
“Before the Shattering, I was a lord, keeper of a small section of land around Haven, on an offshoot of the main ley line between Erenthrall and Dunmara. Baron Arent would likely not have even known my name, though I attended most of the events in the Amber Tower. I was there for the sowing of the Flyers’ Tower, and its activation. I was there for the last Baronial Meeting, when the Kormanley attacked. But thankfully, I was at home when the Nexus shattered. I saw the pulse of ley as it traveled down the ley line from Erenthrall to Dunmara, witnessed the explosion of light over the Reaches from my window when it hit, and stumbled through all of the aftershocks. I knew every village of consequence on the plains and the surrounding lands. And yet, I’ve never heard of the Hollow.
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s just a village.” Joss licked his lips. They were cracked and dry. “Just a village. We only wanted to be left alone, free from the Baron, free from the ley. We wanted nothing to do with any of it. I was just a shepherd. All I wanted to do was tend sheep. But then the Nexus shattered and the refugees came.”
“Refugees?” Aurek reached out to slap Joss’ cheeks, to keep him focused. “What refugees?”
“From Erenthrall. Survivors of the explosion. Allan brought them. Dogs, men from the University, people they collected in the streets, Wielders.”
“Wielders?” Aurek glanced up toward Devin. His second had bristled, hand falling to the sword hanging at his waist. “How many?”
“I don’t know. Seven. Eight. From the city.” His voice had thickened, began to slur. “I just wanted to herd sheep,” he muttered to himself. “I didn’t want to scout.” The shepherd’s eyes grew unfocused and his head tilted to one side.
Aurek considered forcing him to talk more, to tell him about the layout of the village, how many people were in it, what its defenses were, but he’d obviously slipped away. Devin could gather those details from him later, if he hadn’t already.
He stood and motioned for Devin to follow him.
“He didn’t mention Wielders before. And I swear he knows nothing of the White Cloaks.”
Aurek waved Devin’s concern aside. “I don’t think these Wielders are White Cloaks. There aren’t enough of them. I was considering heading back to Haven. The reports coming from the east say there are plenty of towns and villages ready to be raided, minimal defenses, multiple types of supplies. But we’ll have to alter those plans.
“Find out as much as you can from our shepherd—about this Hollow, its people, its defenses, and these Wielders. We’ll take the entire camp with us.”
“The objective?”
“The Wielders nearly destroyed us once with the ley. We can’t let them do it again. We’re going to attack this Hollow, root them out, and kill them all.”
Twelve
“NO, NO,” Sovaan snapped, waving Cory back from the edge of the rough field of rock and scrabble before them. “Like this.”
Keeping himself focused on the Tapestry, Cory concentrated as Sovaan took his place. To either side of him, he felt Jerrain and Jasom’s presences, with three other undergraduate students at the University at the time of the Shattering behind them, hovering a good distance away. Based on wha
t had happened so far with their experiments, Cory didn’t blame them. But he’d been a graduate student, and he’d be damned if he’d show how nervous he was with Sovaan’s attempts so far.
The Tapestry flexed beneath Sovaan’s pressure on a spot about twenty paces across the rock-strewn slope.
“There, see? See how I twisted the fabric? That’s what we need to do if we want to hurt these people.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to—” Jerrain began.
Sovaan released the tension with a triumphant look, which might have been appropriate if something more than a sharp pop of sound had come from his knot.
Jerrain was at least a decade older than Sovaan, half the pompous University mentor’s size, and spindly. Cory had assumed he was frail as well, but the elderly mentor was surprisingly spry.
“As I was saying, I don’t see how that’s going to do what you want.”
“It should have cracked and sundered the earth!”
Jerrain muttered something under his breath about administrators that Cory didn’t quite catch, then stepped forward. “Let me try.”
“You haven’t practiced with the Tapestry since you retired, but by all means, have at it!”
Sovaan stomped out of Jerrain’s way, the older mentor shuffling forward and raising one hand. He cocked his head, squinted one eye, and Cory felt the Tapestry twitch, tuck, fold, then release—
Twenty paces out, earth exploded upward in a fanned spume with a clap of thunder. The undergraduates yelped as rock debris rained down. Cory ducked, ears ringing, one arm raised to protect his head, while Jerrain cackled and pranced, oblivious to the hail. Behind him, dust from the explosion drifted off to the right, chunks of larger stone settling near a small pit.
Sovaan lay flat against the ground where he’d thrown himself. Jerrain halted his dancing and pointed at him. “That’s how you cause an explosion, boy.”
“You could have killed us!”
“But I didn’t. I think that showed surprising restraint.”
Cory stood and brushed himself off as the patter of pebbles from above stopped. “How did you do it? You twisted the Tapestry so fast I couldn’t see.”
“It’s all in the twist. And you have to tie the knot beneath the ground, not above it. That way when you release the tension, it’s fighting against something more solid than air. That’s what creates the explosion.”
“But I still don’t know what kind of knot you formed,” one of the undergraduates said carefully. Of the three, Cory thought she had the most potential.
Jerrain waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s just a Cormaven cincture, with a Jervollan gnarl inside.”
All three undergraduates looked confused, one mouthing, “Cormaven cincture?” to another, who shrugged.
Cory ignored them, concentrating on what Jerrain had said. “So the gnarl is in the center and you cinch it. Then, when you release the cinch—”
“The gnarl snaps open, yes. It’s trivial.”
“I wonder if any gnarl will work. Or even a coil. A coil might be more controlled.”
Jerrain’s eyes lit up. “Let’s find out!”
“Wait!” Sovaan held out a hand to halt the mentor. He’d dragged himself up off the ground. “We should find better cover before you try anything else.”
“Better cover before he tries what?”
All of them turned at the new voice. Hernande and Bryce were picking their way up through the trees.
Bryce was in the lead, sword drawn, eyes scanning the clearing. “Where did that thunder come from?”
“Not thunder. A knot.”
Hernande halted near Cory. “A knot caused that noise?”
“A Cormaven cincture, with a Jervollan gnarl wrapped inside it.” Jerrain rubbed his hands together. “We were just about to try a coil instead of a gnarl. What do you think? Should we try a Klein or an Alexander? I think the Klein would have more oomph.”
“You’re not trying anything at the moment,” Sovaan said sternly.
Bryce had lowered his sword. “I’d like to see this knot.”
Sovaan heaved a sigh. “At least place the knot farther away this time.”
Hernande and Bryce moved to stand near Jerrain, the elderly mentor talking rapidly to Hernande, who nodded occasionally as he chewed on the end of his beard. Bryce listened in, but kept quiet, his sword now sheathed.
Sovaan herded Cory and the others farther back among the trees so they could use the nearest boles as a screen. The mentor kept up a running dialogue to himself about the folly of his brethren.
Ahead, Bryce said something and pointed to the scattering of rock. Jerrain raised his hand—
And thunder clapped, dirt and stone thrown up into the air at least a hundred paces out in the direction Bryce had pointed. The Dog looked impressed, hands on hips, as Hernande and Jerrain spoke again. Cory itched to know what they were discussing.
Then Hernande turned and motioned to him. Cory trotted forward. He heard one of the other students swearing behind him.
“What do you need?”
“Jerrain is going to do his gnarl again, but I want to compare it with the Klein and Alexander coils. I’ll do the Klein. You do the Alexander. We’ll space them apart across the ground beneath the ledge there. See it?”
Cory tried frantically to recall the Alexander coil. He didn’t have much time, since Jerrain and Hernande were already forming their knots along the base of the ledge.
Reaching out, he pulled the Tapestry taut, coiled it in what he hoped was the appropriate form, then wrapped the cincture around it. He had to concentrate to hold the tension. These forms were more complicated than the base form he’d used to punch into the bandit on the ridge. That had been desperation and instinct, more brute force than anything else. This was delicate and subtle. Not to mention that all three mentors were probably judging his technique. He didn’t care what Sovaan’s opinion might be, but what Hernande thought of him mattered more than anyone else except Kara.
The thought of Kara nearly made him lose his hold on the knot. He wondered where she was, what had happened to her, whether he’d ever see her again.
Hernande glanced to one side as if sensing the tremor in his hold. “Ready? Release on my mark. Three, two, one, mark.”
Cory let the cincture go, felt it snap open and the coil inside release. He felt the ripples on the Tapestry from the other two knots at the same time. Ahead, the earth fountained upward in three distinct showers of dirt. The thunderclap shuddered on the air, accompanied by two smaller cracks, the three blending almost like a chord strummed on a fiddle, although far more discordant. The three plumes were different as well. Jerrain’s was the most violent, rising twice as high as Hernande’s. Cory’s was the shortest.
Jerrain let out a whoop of delight.
Hernande stroked his beard. “The knots reacted as expected, the Alexander the weakest, the gnarl the strongest. I expected the Klein to produce a larger plume.”
“The one on the left—”
“Cory’s.”
“Cory’s then—it may have been the weakest, but it covered more area.”
“Bryce is right,” Jerrain said.
Hernande waved toward the ledge. “Let’s see.”
They climbed up the slope, to where three small craters pocked the ground. Bryce knelt down, pointed with one hand as he spoke.
“See the differences? Cory’s is much wider, covers more ground. These two are only half the size. If we’re going to use this against the bandits, we’ll likely want the explosions to go wider, so that it can kill or maim more of the attackers. We’ll want to stop them before they reach us.”
Jerrain suddenly sobered. “I won’t use this to kill someone.”
Bryce stood. “This isn’t an experiment. This isn’t research. If the raiders attack, the people of the Hollow will
need you to help stop them, or we’ll all die. We aren’t protected by stone walls, isolated so that we can read books and talk ourselves to death over theories and made-up problems. This is the real world, and you’d better start living in it.”
He stalked away, across the stone slope and into the trees, Sovaan and the undergraduates stepping out of his way.
No one spoke, staring after him.
Cory shifted uncomfortably. “He’s right.” Both Hernande and Jerrain looked toward him. “The raiders won’t hesitate to kill us. They didn’t on the ridge.”
“And we should stoop to their level?” Jerrain gestured toward the cratered ground. “We’re scholars, not fighters.”
“If I’d hesitated on the ridge, I’d be dead now.”
“So you’re willing to use the Tapestry to kill? Look at what we’ve done with some simple knots tucked into the ground. What if we put them into something living, like a tree? What if we stuck one inside one of these bandits? What do you think that would look like?”
Hernande’s hand fell gently onto Cory’s back. “You weren’t there, Jerrain. Who knows what you would have done? Don’t judge someone until you’ve suffered through their circumstances yourself.”
“The fact remains that we aren’t fighters.”
Cory shrugged Hernande’s hand off. “We weren’t fighters, back at the University. But out here? We have to fight back.”
“And you’ll use your talents to do it? You’ll use the Tapestry?”
“I’ll be more useful using the Tapestry than a sword.”
Jerrain’s gaze shifted toward Hernande. “And you?”
Cory’s mentor straightened. “There is a difference between killing and fighting for survival. I will fight to keep us alive.”
“You are perverting the Tapestry, just as the Primes perverted the ley. Look what came of that.”
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