Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles Book 1)

by Penelope, L.

  Silence descended. Jasminda looked up to find the others staring at her and the blossom in her hand. She straightened her shoulders, looking at Rozyl and Lyngar as she spoke. “Osar will link with me.”

  Rozyl narrowed her eyes. Lyngar merely turned toward the exit, speaking over his shoulder. “Fine. Let’s get going. We’ve wasted far too much time as it is.”

  Jack kept to the rear of the party as they made their way through the tunnels. He did not like to be so far from Jasminda, who led the group with Osar at her side, but he also did not trust Rozyl or the other armed Keepers at his back. They seemed to feel the same about him, which left him walking side-by-side with a tall Lagrimari woman, Rozyl’s second-in-command, who never said a word to him.

  On the whole, they were not a talkative bunch. The only sounds they made were footsteps echoing against the oddly smooth cave walls and the soft babbling of the youngest of the children. They did not dawdle, either, deftly navigating the twisting path, which edged steeply downward, leveled off, then dipped low again.

  They took no breaks, and not even the smaller children walking on their own complained. Nor did the elders, who were remarkably spry for their ages. Strips of some unidentifiable food source, gray and brittle, were passed around and eaten while they walked. Hours passed like this, the silence companionable but complete.

  Jack focused on the back of Jasminda’s head, keeping her in sight at all times. Whatever reaction she’d had in the cave did not recur, but he was uneasy all the same. No one had any idea what had happened to her or why she was the only one who could sing inside the mountain.

  Her vision of the Cavefolk was disturbing, as well. Barbaric practices like human sacrifice were said to still be performed in Udland, their northern neighbors, but the thought of such things taking place in his land, even in ancient times, was unsettling. Jasminda had been so deeply shaken, he hadn’t questioned her tale for an instant. After having his entire body rendered unrecognizable to the point where his own mother would not have identified him, his threshold for belief in the unbelievable had nearly vanished.

  Not that his own mother was likely to recognize him anyway. He’d been only a child the last time he saw her.

  The woman next to him glanced over sharply before going back to ignoring him. He gave her a brilliant smile and tipped an imaginary hat.

  Slowly, the air began to change. The pathway leveled off again, and fresh, clean air filtered in. It was the way he’d always thought a mountain would smell. They extinguished their lanterns when light glowed softly up ahead. Over the thump of their footsteps, water trickled, insects whirred, birds called.

  Home.

  The tunnel ended abruptly, leaving them at the edge of a huge cavern, much like the one they’d entered on the other side with some key differences. Sunlight streamed in through openings in the rock far overhead. Before them stretched a vast forest; trees and vines and greenery filled the cave. A narrow and somewhat hidden path led down to the forest floor. Just beyond it, a stream of water flowed gently down, vanishing below. The view stole his breath.

  The group formed a queue as the path was only wide enough for one. Jasminda disappeared from view first. Not being able to see her made his palms itch. He was returning to civilization and, with it, all of his duties and responsibilities. With no home and family, Jasminda was now listed among those responsibilities, but he was glad of it. He hadn’t yet figured out what to do about her, though. Could he find her a farm near the Eastern Base? Possibly. But that would be too dangerous with a breach imminent. Could he keep her safe in the city, far away from the fighting? And then not see her for months or longer . . . The possibilities raced through his mind. All of them included seeing her again. As often as he could manage. Was that even something she would want?

  She had stolen into his life—his very complicated life—and he was in no hurry for her to leave. But the war on the horizon would make everything immeasurably harder. Anti-Lagrimari sentiments would kick into effect once again, and her Elsiran blood would not protect her from the ire of the people who saw only her skin. He could tell from the way she spoke, the haunted look in her eye when the refugees discussed Elsira, that it never had.

  The cold daylight of early afternoon greeted them at the end of the path, and they left the mountain behind, stepping back onto familiar territory.

  But all was not well.

  Acrid smoke assaulted his nostrils. The Keeper beside him clutched at her chest and sank to her knees. Alarmed, Jack searched out the other armed Keepers, all of whom looked equally affected. Their faraway expressions indicated they were using Earthsong.

  Anxious murmurs rippled through the Lagrimari. He offered aid to the collapsed woman, but she brushed him off. Unease gripped him as he rushed to Jasminda’s side.

  Seeing her eyes well with tears, he grabbed hold of her shoulder. “What’s happened?”

  She shook her head and pointed through the thicket of trees. Just a few hundred metres away stood the Lagrimari settlement of Baalingrove, where he’d first met Darvyn.

  Or at least that was where it used to stand. Thick smoke now billowed from that direction, and Jack’s gut filled with lead.

  “I can feel them dying,” Jasminda whispered, looking toward the smoke in horror.

  He tried to convince the elders to stay behind, near the caves, to let him and the armed Keepers investigate, but they wouldn’t be persuaded.

  “We go together,” Gerda told him simply, and would say no more.

  “People are dying. There is danger near,” he said.

  Turwig patted his arm. “There is danger everywhere, son. Who’s to say it won’t find us here, as well?”

  With a shake of his head, Jack led the way, two of the Keepers at his sides, their rifles drawn. An armed Lagrimari on Elsiran land would be trouble, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. He did have authority here, though these people did not know it, and the fact that he had no idea what they were dealing with set him on edge. Pistol drawn, he exited the thicket for his first glimpse of what remained of the settlement.

  He had last been to Baalingrove only a few weeks before. As always, he’d been struck by the living conditions of the settlers: makeshift wooden shacks with leaky tin roofs, tiny patches of garden, no running water, no electricity. The men survived mainly due to the kindness of the Sisterhood, a charity comprised of devoted followers of the Queen, who provided food and supplies. Neither the Prince Regent nor the Council saw fit to do any more, and the Elsirans as a whole preferred to pretend the settlers didn’t exist.

  If he’d been a betting man, he would have wagered the place couldn’t look worse than it had when he’d left, but he would have lost. Now, charred husks replaced the shacks. Gardens lay scorched with the white crystals of what he guessed to be salt coating the barren earth. More than one blackened body lay smoldering in the dirt. He looked back at the children, wishing they weren’t seeing this, but the mothers made no move to hide the eyes of the young ones. They took in the gruesome sight without comment.

  “What happened here?” Jasminda said from just behind him.

  He had only an inkling, but before he could respond, angry voices rent the air, shouting in Elsiran. He couldn’t make out the words but recognized the heavy borderlander accent. Gunshots rang out.

  “For Sovereign’s sake, get the children back!” he hissed.

  He shared a glance with Rozyl, who pursed her lips and made a hand signal to one of her crew. The man peeled off and helped direct the mothers and children to squat behind the wall of a mostly intact shack.

  Jack and the armed Keepers remained on the main path, along with Jasminda and the elders.

  “Go with them,” he told Jasminda. She merely rolled her eyes and cocked her pistol.

  The voices came from the edge of the settlement, on the other side of a grouping of smoldering lean-tos. As they approached, gunfire continued to pop and the shouting grew louder. Jack saw movement from the corner of his eye; a Lagrimari
woman was huddled with two children behind the wreckage of a building. She was not part of the group that came through the mountain with him. Her eyes grew wide when she saw him, confusion crossing her features as she took in his companions.

  Rozyl bent to speak with her. “What happened here?”

  “There was some trouble in the town, I think. A girl went missing. Her father got it in his head that one of the settlers took her, and a mob of farmers came here to search.” The woman’s eyes kept darting to Jack. He took a few steps back, aware that, to her, he must look like one of the men who attacked this place.

  “Are you injured? You should try to get to safety.” Rozyl’s voice was softer and kinder than he’d heard it before.

  “My boy’s back there. He wanted to fight with the men. I can’t leave him.” She pointed toward the battle.

  “Not even for the safety of these little ones?” Jasminda said. The solemn faces of two boys, each under five, stared up at them.

  “We made it out together. I won’t lose one of them now.”

  Jack’s heart stung for the woman. “Are you a refugee?” he asked. She shrank back at his voice, her face twisted in fear. Her gaze, full of questions, shot to Rozyl.

  “He’s—” Rozyl looked back at Jack and shrugged “—with us.”

  The mother’s expression was still rigid with suspicion. “We crossed with ten others three days ago, but I don’t know what became of them once the fighting started.”

  Jack broke away to investigate, only dimly aware of the others trailing behind him. A turn in the road revealed a makeshift barricade erected out of pieces of tin, planks and boards, wheels, furniture, and other miscellaneous items. It was flimsy but blocked the mouth of the dirt road.

  A half dozen Lagrimari crouched behind the barrier. Two were armed with hunting rifles, the others with pitchforks, machetes, and one man even held a sword. A boy of about twelve was among their number. He must be the woman’s son. Their backs were to Jack as they focused on the scene in front of them.

  A small band of Elsiran farmers was currently being pelted with icicles and dirt clods. They used their rifles to try to bat away the projectiles, every so often getting a shot off in the direction of the settlers. Jack hung back, letting the elders and the armed Keepers go on ahead of him; he didn’t want to be mistaken for a farmer.

  The way the boy knelt among the older men, looking slightly off to the side, his body alert but unmoving, made Jack believe it was he who was singing the spell to attack the farmers. The Elsirans were penned in a tight group. Any time one of them tried to break out of it toward the settlers, a chunk of mud or an icicle would hit him in the face, knocking him back. Two of them did manage to peel off and run away, back down the road toward the town.

  The settlers cheered, and one of the men finally noticed Rozyl and her group advancing on the barricade with their rifles drawn. The Keepers took up positions and began firing on the farmers. The ice-and-mud attack stopped as the boy looked up, startled. This gave the farmers a chance to dive for cover among the nearby trees. They began to return fire.

  The armed settlers must have been out of ammunition, for they didn’t fire, but Rozyl and her team were methodical, efficiently finding their targets and hitting them as man after man fell.

  He felt no sympathy for the farmers, though they were his countrymen. There had been incidents such as these over the years, when tensions between citizens and settlers had bubbled over, but this was the most destruction he’d yet seen.

  Jasminda came to crouch at his side. “I convinced the woman and her children to wait with the others.”

  The woman’s son was staring up in awe as the Keepers made short work of the remaining farmers. Those who hadn’t been shot were now beating a quick retreat. Would they go to lick their wounds or try to gather reinforcements and retaliate?

  “There were nearly one hundred men who lived here,” Jack mused. “I knew many of them.”

  “Now there are five.” Jasminda’s voice was husky and thick.

  He looked at her and wanted to apologize, though he’d had no hand in it—this was bigger than both of them. But he wished he could make up for the ignorance of his people, for the hatred and fear. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was really nothing he could say.

  Through the gaps in the trees lining the road ahead, thick wheels kicked up clouds of dust. When the vehicle approached, Jack’s tension flared, then quickly fled. An open-topped four-wheeler drove up bearing four Elsiran soldiers. On its heels were two transports, a dozen men to each if they were following protocol. Sure enough, twenty-four men hopped out of the trucks and dispersed strategically, forming a perimeter around the settlement. The soldiers in the four-wheeler exited, guns drawn, and advanced on the barrier.

  Jack stood ready to greet his men. Before he’d taken more than two steps, the soldiers opened fire. They gave no warning, no orders or instructions, just began shooting. Those at the barrier dove for cover, and Jack stood, dumbfounded, until Jasminda pulled him down again.

  What in Sovereign’s name?

  “Can you do the thing with the ice and mud?” he asked her. The idea of firing upon his own men was something he could not fathom at the moment, and he didn’t want the other Lagrimari to do so, either. He needed a distraction.

  “I think so,” Jasminda said, and closed her eyes.

  The firing stopped as a cloud of dust and dirt rose, blinding the soldiers. Jack ran to the barricade, passing the shocked Lagrimari gathered there, and hurdled across it, into the dust storm.

  “All right, Jasminda,” he called, breathing into the lapel of his coat. When the dust cleared, he stood face-to-face, pistol drawn on the lead officer, a captain Jack recognized, but had never personally spoken to before. From the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers nearby train their weapons on him.

  “Hold your fire!” the captain shouted, a dazed look coming over him.

  “Do you know who I am?” Jack said through clenched teeth.

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “Who am I then?” he pressed.

  “Commander Alliaseen.”

  Soldiers nearby gasped in shock.

  “I-I have to ask for your identification code, sir.”

  “Ylisum two five three zero nine.” Jack squeezed his hand around the butt of the pistol still pointed at the captain’s head, anger vibrating through his every fiber. “Verified?”

  “Verified.” A moment was all it took for the demeanor of the other soldiers to change radically. The guns were put away swiftly, and the men all stood at attention. Jack lowered his weapon, as well, and tried to control his breathing.

  “Commander, I am Captain Daveen Pillos. We had heard you’d been lost.”

  “I was found, Captain.” Jack took in another steadying breath and unclamped his jaw by sheer will. “On whose order were you firing upon these settlers?”

  Pillos’s gaze darted to the barricade and back. “No one’s order, sir. We were engaging combatants.”

  “When you engaged these combatants, were they firing upon you?”

  A tic jumped in the captain’s jaw. “No, sir. But reports said they had attacked some civilians.”

  “Under the rules of engagement, under what conditions is it permissible to fire upon residents of your own country when you are not under immediate threat of harm?”

  Pillos blinked rapidly as if trying to recall.

  Jack exhaled in exasperation. “Has martial law been declared, Captain?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then am I correct in stating there are no conditions under which it is permissible to fire upon residents of your own country when you are not under immediate threat of harm?”

  “Y-yes, sir. But, sir . . . they are settlers.”

  Jack took a step back and raised his voice so that all present could hear. “Yes, Captain. These are settlers. And as of the Treaty of the Seventh Breach, they have non-enemy status in Elsira. Unless they directly provoke you and
are not, as in this case, merely defending themselves against attack, it is our sworn duty as defenders of Elsira to protect them, as well. Is it not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jack took a deep breath, exhausted from the display of leadership. Pillos was doubtless no different than most of his men, than most of Elsira if he could stand to believe such a thing.

  “See if anyone needs medical attention and gather their weapons. But for Sovereign’s sake, don’t shoot anyone. And I need your radio, Captain. It’s urgent.”

  “Yes, sir. This way.” He gave the order then led Jack to the four-wheeler. He hopped into the driver’s seat and picked up the earpiece and transmitter, speaking his identification code into the microphone.

  “Connect me to the palace immediately.” The line was staticky while the call was patched through.

  “Jack?” a voice warbled down the line.

  “Usher? Is that you?”

  “Oh, Jack,” the man exhaled in obvious relief. “Thank the Queen you’re alive!”

  “Usher, I’m not sure how you got on this line, but I have urgent business. I need to speak to—”

  "Jack." The old man's voice cracked, weighed down with misery. “It's Alariq. Your brother is dead."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jasminda’s gaze tracked Jack as he dealt with the soldiers. After the initial incident, the men’s sudden change in attitude and obvious deference toward him piqued her curiosity. He only had to say a few words and they would hop into action.

  He directed several soldiers over to ask, somewhat hesitantly, for the weapons of the Lagrimari. The settlers understood the commands and translated for the others. Rozyl had scowled but added her rifle to the pile.

  Once the guns had all been put away, the other refugees were brought out from their hiding places, including nearly a dozen people she hadn’t seen before who’d hidden in the trees just beyond the settlement. They all gathered, seated behind the remains of the makeshift barrier, still wanting some distance between themselves and the Elsirans.