The group turned south. He slowly let out his breath as he watched them disappear. They had been out of his sight for a few minutes when he stood. The grass and twigs got caught in the joints of his armor around the knees and elbows. He jerked the foliage off his armor, tossing it onto the ground, stamping his armored foot on the last clump and twisting it into the ground.
Motherfucking nature. I’ve always been right to hate you.
He turned and stalked back to camp, praying that someone had made a second batch of damn coffee.
“Hafi!” He barely heard Shara’s call before she was hugging him. “What happened to you?” She took his arm and guided him toward the campfire, still going in the middle of the camp even though the troops had already broken down the tents and loaded them into their packs. There was a pot of water boiling over the fire, and she made coffee as he sat on the log next to the fire.
“Xenai patrol. After they sat around looking at a map for a while, they got excited and then took off due south, which will drop them right into the Blight field.”
Shara looked at him, pausing as she poured the boiling water over the ground coffee in the press, “Why do they care about it?”
Hafi shrugged, “No idea, but it seemed like maybe we shouldn’t let them get into it. We have a few patrols in the mountain paths near the field, but probably not enough to keep a troop of Xenai out.”
Shara nodded, “Drink your coffee. Should I let everyone know we are taking a detour on the way to camp?”
Hafi noted her eagerness. So, you still want to play with the new source. Hafi was anything but excited to return to that foul swamp.
“Give me a few minutes to decide. Either way, they need to be ready to move out quickly,” he said.
She poured a cup for him and stood and left to speak to the clumps of men, lounging against trees and looking carefree. He smirked with dissatisfaction. Their lack of military instincts had resulted in them staying at the camp, which had likely saved their lives.
Enjoy it. Next time, it’ll be the reason you get killed.
He thought over what information Ayna had shared about the crystals, but it was all a jumble of thoughts that made little sense to him, let alone allow him to conclude why they might want them. They could know things that Prin hadn’t figured out about the damn crystals, as well. He should assume the worst about it: they knew how to use the crystals and the Pact needed to keep them away from the Blight field. But also worthy of consideration was that he was leading a troop with nearly no fighters. Even taking on six Xenai with their full deployment was dangerous. The Pact army could lose their commander and their best Source-caster in one bad skirmish. He could just let the patrols handle it and hope for the best.
Goddamnit.
He gulped the last few sips of the coffee even though it still burned on the way down and stood, waving the men to come near, “There is a patrol of Xenai heading towards the Blight field. We need to go back up the patrols guarding the field before we head to camp. Do whatever you need to do. We move out in ten.”
25
James
James walked along beside Shara at the rear of the group as Hafi led them all along. He flexed his forearm in his shield's strap. He still had a rough time pulling the shield out of the holster on his back and seating it properly on his arm, so wearing it made the most sense, but it made him feel off balance. Shara had slapped him twice when she caught him using the pointed bottom of the shield as if it was a walking stick when they had been climbing up the mountainside, jabbing it into the ground as he pulled himself forward.
“What? It helps!”
“If Hafi sees you doing that, he won’t be as gentle when he hits you.”
James had not seen the Blight field, only the leaked pictures of it once his father had downloaded them from the SatNet. The group had gone south for a few hours before the stench filled the air. Several of the men gagged and received an elbow from the anxious men near them.
They have no idea how loud they are when they walk. The Xenai will hear us moving and sense us long before they hear the gagging. James shook his head and hoped the troops they were going to join up with had more fighters in it than this group.
Hafi must have made a signal to stop, as half the men abruptly stopped ahead of them and the other men tripped over into their backs before coming to a stop. They were approaching the cliffs that ringed the Blight field. The men fanned out. Shara motioned for him to follow and spread out with the men, then she left his side, weaving in and out of the trees and heading back to the start of the line, where Hafi stood twenty feet back from an outcropping. James followed the men as their line curved around the cliffs. He took up a spot a few paces from the last man, staying within the trees and out of sight of the Xenai he assumed were in the field below.
Shara appeared from behind him, startling him when she placed a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in, “I’m reinforcing the north end. Pull together the swordsmen and put them in a group with the riflemen and casters. Six Xenai below. Hafi will signal when to attack. Keep range, stay up here and protect the casters and riflemen.”
He nodded, and she disappeared into the trees again. Returning to the tree line, he moved slowly to gather the men up again. He had waved the four other swordsmen to him, along with two riflemen and a Source-caster. They had formed into a small defensive group when a shrill whistle broke through the silence.
The group moved up behind him as he broke through the trees and approached the cliff. His first glimpse at the Blight Field was not shocking, the pictures had captured it well. From this distance, it looked like a swamp, just deep red rather than brown and green. He kneeled down and placed his shield in the crevice between two rocks, wishing he had practiced using the shield on various types of terrain. The rocky surface would not offer stability other than what he could provide it, and the stone would just grind down the edges of the shield if he tried to pivot the shield to catch Source casts. He kept his sword at his side, ready to place it into a slot in the shield, if needed. The other swordsmen fanned out around the group in case the Xenai flanked them. At least they are tolerable at following clear directions.
He looked around the shield and down into the field at the Xenai. They had also formed up around one of their troop members, but rather than preparing to cast Source or attack, they had formed a circle around him, swords drawn. A crust of thick congealed substance from the liquid of the red swamp clung to their legs, wrapping around them and collecting more of the thick scum layer as they maneuvered. James was glad they were up on the cliffs as he watched a Xenai kneel in the field's muck. It looked like it was hammering at something. It scooped up a piece from the bloody fluid.
They’re taking samples.
He was curious what they intended to do with the crystals. His father had taken a keen interest in the crystals, but he had not told James of anyone doing anything useful with the crystals, yet. No matter, if his father suspected they were powerful, that seemed like enough of a reason to keep the Xenai from taking samples. Preparing to take hits to his shield, he supported himself the best he could. The hair on his arms stood in response to the crackle of Source behind him. He noticed the way the sound flickered in and out, unlike the steady roar that grew when Shara prepared a cast. Even the Source casters are inexperienced. The knot in his stomach tightened as he heard the whir of the rifles, then the rifle bolts released with a deafening roar as the crackle of source passed over his head. The heat from the barrage flew past him and towards the clump of Xenai.
The Xenai didn’t flinch.
26
Ayna
Ayna waved to the lanky Illara as he stood from sitting at the bench across the pavilion. If the fountain behind him worked, he would have made a beautiful picture. Ayna had never seen water in the fountain, but the wear in the basin showed how high the water used to rise, even though it had been lifeless for many years before she was born. Still, Ayna could imagine the contrast in a painting of the l
ean form in his desaturated garb, backed by the spray of water and the fierce life of the short and round bushes and flower beds that ringed the pavilion. They were clinging to the last stretch of summer before the first snow while they sat under trees that had already given up their leaves.
It didn’t matter. The painting would never exist, and she was here to convince this man that the surrounding beauty didn’t matter. She had to convince him that his life didn’t matter in the face of all the unknown answers that she needed his sacrifice to find. She should have met him in one of the storage houses. It was easier to forget the beauty of the world and life when surrounded by rotting floors and dirty, tarp-covered containers with only a roof gaping open with its wounds from time above. She had let him set the place to meet, like letting a prisoner choose their last meal.
As she approached, he stepped forward and clasped her hand in both of his. Excited. Enthusiastic to achieve more in his lifetime. Oh, you will wish that you had never accomplished enough to be noticed after we are done. The echo of voice and screams flashed back in her mind as she remembered Shara playing with the Blight crystal. She pushed the memory away and reached out to place her hand in his, shaking it softly as she offered the lie of a bright smile. She sat on the bench and waited for him to join her.
“Kaiban, thanks for meeting me,” she said then looked around with a contented sigh. “I always loved this pavilion.”
She was stalling for time and trying to find the easy point of entry. There wasn’t one, so she just dove in, “I assume you have heard that we are building new labs up for a new project?”
“I have heard some rumors about it from the west side. I assume from your presence here that the rumors are true?” Kaiban asked.
She nodded, “I need a lead researcher — One accomplished with Source.”
He leaned back and looked over her face, “Your Artificer friends convince you to start this project?” His harsh tone gave away his distrust of the reformed faction.
Ayna smiled and shook her head, “No Artificers in this project.”
Kaiban let himself smile, “Tell me more.”
She explained the discoveries made by Hunt about the Blight crystals and the need for talented Source-casters, leaving out the details of Shara’s own experimentation with the crystal, “So, you see, we need someone willing to take the risks that come with adding to the Illaran history of exploring source.”
She prayed he was willing to look past the end of many of those tales, and to look to the glory and fame that came to each of the casters who had made history. The broken body of Merende, the father of Lifecasting, was the first story that came to her mind. He only succeeded in getting the use of diamonds banned. His lack of knowledge of Illara anatomy killed him as he experimented on himself. During his last few days alive, he gave his research to Kerai, his physician, and she was the one that figured out what had gone wrong. Even so, her use of the banned gem turned her into an exile for many years until she could prove that her methods were safe. It was a famous story because it illustrated the power of Source casting and the dangers of doing it without the right knowledge for the Source element on hand.
Kaiban furrowed his brow.
Apparently, he’s thinking about Merende, too.
“I was always partial to Harran, myself,” she said, hoping to turn his thoughts in the direction she needed. “It wasn’t the things he did with amber that impressed me so much. By the time I heard of him, the art of Ambercasting had developed and the things he did never seemed very impressive compared to what I saw and learned from our new world. But, Harran… He was creative and there isn’t a single other Source-caster that helped his world as much as he did. His contributions not only changed what it meant to be an Illara, but allowed his people to have shelter and safety wherever they were. My favorite memory as a young girl was when the Ambercasters grew the outer north gate. I remember standing there, in an empty field, watching the workers finish up relocating the iron posts from the city. They looked barren standing there with only the ripped up ground between them. Then, when I couldn’t have been more bored, the Guild Artificers stepped forward, placing down the metal pedestal that rose from the base in spirals, blooming into that beautiful piece of amber. The casters stepped up together, their robes embroidered with so many accomplishments, they seemed more embellishment than garment. As if that was not beautiful enough, they each placed a hand on the amber and suddenly, trees grew from from the open ground. Saplings just appearing then growing to full size trees within half an hour and I was just… mesmerized. When I learned of Harran, I learned who forged the path that would lead to one of my most cherished memories.”
Kaiban’s face reflected a less weighted set of thoughts as he listened to her. The tension fell, and his face relaxed. He smiled at the end of her story as she leaned on her girlish excitement from the decades before, letting it shine through her words.
“Harran— its hard not to like the tale of Harran,” he said. He ran a hand down his own robe, lightly embroidered in Illara fashion on one side. Embroiderers added more embellishment to the robes of accomplished casters. Ayna could nearly see him, envisioning what new embroidery he could have put on his robes.
“Will you at least think on it and let me know tomorrow?”
Kaiban nodded, “Of course.”
She stood, “Thank you, Kaiban. We are in your debt.”
He waved a hand, dismissing her gratitude with a thoughtful smile before resting his hand on his robe where it laid on the bench beside him, running his fingers on the velvet material.
She walked away with a smile. He will come around.
Ayna drew the curtain shut behind her as she slid into the table’s booth next to Jo. He shut off his LightTab and looked expectantly at her with a smile, leaning in to kiss her once she settled.
“And how is the political drama unfolding today?”
“I wish I had retired when we got married. The photos got leaked and someone stole my briefing to the council and put it on the feeds. I never thought I would miss cultists, but I do.”
Jo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward on the table, waiting for her to continue.
“The Bloodsmiths have lined up behind the little girl scientist. In return, the Bloodsmiths death rates have dramatically dropped from bad transfusions. Presumably, they are providing her with the blood that she needs for surgeries, because she announced moving into Terran testing.” She lowered her voice and leaned in toward Jo. “It is only a matter of time before they find a way into the Blight Field, but there was no evidence of it when I went to their lab.”
Jo sat back in surprise. “You went to their lab?”
She nodded to dismiss his concern, “Last week. My spies told me about their location. I had to rule out that they had anything to do with that… that field.” She swirled the glass around, watching the water reach the rim without spilling. “I have successfully ruled out that the field itself could be the work of the Bloodsmiths or the Artificers. But this new form of the Bloodsmiths… It’s dangerous, Jo. They were always so fringe and… well, crazy. But now they have large sections of the Underground, people who despised the Bloodsmiths, supporting them. I just… I’m scared of what might happen with them now. They aren’t just organized and centralized, they’re making progress. If they are able to use anything from the field… If they are the first ones to figure it out… We might not be able to stop them.”
Jo couldn’t help but be curious. He recalled Ayna’s concerned voice when she called and told him about her meeting with Hafi. “Do you have the photos with you?”
She nodded and waved her hand, “I finally got them transferred to the central server, but if you want to eat lunch, you can see them after we eat.”
He smiled, knowing his wife was not squeamish. He didn’t argue. “I take it no rare steak, today?”
She rolled her eyes in return. The argument between them about how she liked her meat had started at their second dinner togethe
r, their last dinner before getting married. He had made it a habit to give her his own steak whenever he cooked. He liked his cooked until crispy on the outside and brown all the way through. She quickly caught on, but humored him with horrified looks at the ‘ruined steak’ whenever he presented it to her before pulling out the plate with her own rare meat on it.
“It’s not like anywhere has steak these days, anyway,” she said quietly, settling down into a brooding state as she thought over all the supply lines the Xenai army and their far-reaching patrols had cut Prin off from. He placed his hand on top of hers, gave it a gentle squeeze. She brushed off the concern as her mind turned towards finding solutions.
As they finished their lunch and Jo sensed her mood lightening, he slid closer. “I got a strange call on the SatNat. To the old space station address.”
Ayna abruptly turned to look at him. “What? That station has received no comms in over 80 years. It must have been mis-routed or… a fake.”
“No. Not as far as I can tell, anyway. It looked real. I called in Matt to verify it. He couldn’t detect anything wrong about it either.”
Ayna was still and quiet, her last forkful of vegetables suspended in the air before she set it back on her plate. “What did it say?”
“It just said, ‘Supplies low. Is restock ship imminent? Please advise.’”
“I don’t know what that even means.”
Jo shook his head. “Neither do I. I started a query for all the data on the station from before the Sundering. It should be finished when I get back home and I’ll dig into it. But the line… Matt said it was still showing as complete. We can send a message back.”
“What? Did a satellite come back online after self-repair or something?”
“Matt is looking into that for me. But it is not just a single new satellite in the route. There are dozens. The route stopped at the atmospheric sat before. Now it has over thirty repaired hops. Thirty new sats showing up, as if from nowhere.”
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