Makarria pushed herself up from the small bunk and straightened her simple, blue dress. “The others?”
“Yes. Talitha, Siegbjorn, the new King of Sargoth, and my brother.”
Caile. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had used the scent-hounds to communicate. Taera had offered up her red speaking stone for Makarria to use during their voyage from Sol Valaróz, but Makarria had declined, choosing instead to wait until she could speak to Caile in person. She had no idea what she meant to say to him—so much had happened since she had sent him away she hardly knew what to think anymore—but she knew they needed to talk face to face.
“Would it be all right if I spoke with Caile privately before we enter the city?” Makarria asked. “Just for a minute. I won’t keep everyone waiting long.”
Taera smiled. “Of course. You stay here. I’ll fetch him for you.”
Taera stepped out of the small cabin, leaving Makarria to fidget where she sat on the thin mattress of the bunk. When Caile entered a few moments later, the two of them made eye contact for only a second, and then he kneeled before her and bowed his head to avert his eyes.
“Makarria…” he started to say, but then his words abandoned him.
“Get up, sit next to me,” she told him, not able to bear him prostrating himself before her.
He did as she said, but he still couldn’t look at her. “Makarria, I’m so sorry for what I did. And I failed you here in Col Sargoth. It was all Talitha’s doing that Thon was found and put on the throne. Even the houndkeeper did more than I…”
“Stop. You don’t need to be sorry for anything,” she told him. “You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who needs to apologize for sending you away so rashly, before thinking everything through and discovering what had really happened. There was a spy—a body-switching sorcerer—in our midst, Caile. It wasn’t you who assaulted me, but this sorcerer wearing your body. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for even thinking you could.”
Caile raised his head and stole a glance at her. “This sorcerer? Did it have something to do with Lorentz?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. He’s gone, Caile. He died in Khal-Aband, right before our eyes.”
A flicker of pain hardened his expression. “You tried warning me. I should have seen it. I should have believed you.”
“Neither one of us knew what we were up against,” Makarria told him, shaking her head. “And besides, it’s all behind us now. We need to move past it. I don’t know that things can ever be like they were between us before. I need time to make sense of everything still, but I know I trust you, and I can’t bear to lose you to guilt and blame. Not now. No more blaming ourselves.”
“Yes, you’re right,” he agreed, and it was as if a great weight was taken off his shoulders. He looked her in the face, finally. “You look different somehow, Makarria. Older, prettier. I’d feared the worst after hearing the rumors that you’d surrendered Valaróz, and that you had died.”
“I nearly did die,” she told him, the memory still as vivid as if it had just happened. “My body was ruined, and I’d been sent away on a ship, having lost Valaróz to the Old World. But amazingly, I was still able to use my power. I jumped into the ocean to save all these ships from the storm, and I got caught up in the power of it. I saved the ships with a wall of water, and I remade my body. In the ecstasy of the moment I thought I could make myself whole again, but all I could do was remake my body, what you see on the outside. The Makarria on the inside isn’t nearly as strong as what people think they’ve seen these last few days.”
Caile shook his head. “I don’t believe that for a moment, but I know what you mean.” He stood up and offered his hand. “Come. The others are waiting for us to attend to our unpleasant business. We can discuss everything afterward, on the voyage back to Sol Valaróz. If you’ll have me again as your advisor?”
“I’d like that very much,” Makarria told him, and she took his hand. Together they walked out of the cabin and down the gangplank to where everyone else stood waiting in the meadows outside the dark city of Col Sargoth.
• • •
Many hours later, Makarria watched alongside the other four monarchs and Caile as three men were executed by hanging: Ambassador Rives, the steam-engineer’s guildmaster, and the sorcerer’s guildmaster, all of them found guilty of treason. King Lorimer of Golier had nearly joined them on the gallows, coming within one vote of conviction in the meeting of monarchs. Thon and Taera had both voted for his execution. King Lorimer had voted against his own execution, of course, and pled for economic sanctions as his punishment. King Hanns had voted in Lorimer’s favor, leaving the final decision to Makarria. The thought of levying sanctions—essentially punishing the people of Golier for King Lorimer’s crimes—seemed vastly unfair, but at the same time, the last thing they needed was another one of the Five Kingdoms without a ruler. And so she had voted in favor of sparing Lorimer’s life and waiving the sanctions altogether, with the agreement that King Lorimer take on a new advisor to keep watch over him—an advisor whose greed and ambition would keep Lorimer’s own ambition in check: Natarios Rhodas. The others had agreed, as had Natarios Rhodas, and it was done. The conspirators who had been on the election council were sentenced to death, while King Lorimer and whatever Old World Senators he had dealt with—the true power players behind the entire coup—went unpunished. The injustice of it all burned inside of Makarria, but she quelled the fire behind a wall inside her and proceeded onward, just as she had since emerging from the turbulent Sol Sea the week prior. It was easier to endure now, at least, having Caile and the rest of her friends with her.
Hanging from his noose, Ambassador Rives abruptly twitched to a stop in a last spasm of death, and the scent of feces washed over the observing crowd, which included a host of Sargothian aristocrats, officials, and soldiers, as well as Talitha, Siegbjorn, Natarios Rhodas, Lady Hildreth, and Ambassador Mahalath.
King Thon grimaced at the grisly spectacle and stepped up onto the gallows platform to address the crowd. “Justice has been done this day, with all of you standing as witnesses. Please now, gather into the awaiting coaches and you’ll be taken to observe the last order of business for the day—one thankfully less grim.”
As the crowd dispersed toward the coaches, Caile hung back and offered his arm to lead Makarria to their coach. She smiled wanly and let him lead the way. With the two of them onboard, the procession of wagons made its way out of the courtyard into the streets of Col Sargoth, guarded by a full regiment of the cavalry. It was only a short ride from Lightbringer’s Keep to the war wagon factory, and within minutes they were all filing out of the coaches again to stand in front of the massive, squat building. Makarria stepped out in front of the crowd to regard the structure. Talitha joined her, along with a half dozen Sargothian sorcerers under the direction of their new guildmaster.
“Gentlemen, you know what to do,” Talitha said. “Join hands and open up your thauma. Let Makarria do the rest. We are just here to add to her strength and shield the bystanders.”
The men nodded and joined hands. Makarria took her place in the middle, flanked by Talitha on one side and the guildmaster on the other. She let her eyelids droop so that the factory before her blurred in her vision. She had given little thought as to what exactly she was going to do in this moment, but that had become her modus operandi since emerging from the sea—just react and follow your instincts. Thinking still hurts too much.
Turning the factory to stone, or even a hill of loose rubble would be too heavy, she knew. She had walked through the factory with King Thon and Ambassador Mahalath before the meeting of monarchs. The majority of the factory was subterranean and would collapse beneath the weight of earth above it. And situated so near the river, the entire thing could wash out. No, I need something with support… with roots. A picture came to Makarria’s mind, a drawing Natale had once shown her of a giant tree in the East Islands. A banyan tree he had called it, with a canopy the size of a pala
ce and a root system even larger. Yes, why negate destruction with more destruction, when I can create life? A tree to honor Natale and Fina and Lorentz…
Makarria pictured the tree in her mind. Then three trees, one each to replace the three mammoth smoke stacks. She drew upon the strength of those holding her hands. She pushed her consciousness into the brick walls of the factory, into the mortar and stone foundation, and over it she placed the image of the trees, massive and deep-reaching to entomb Guderian’s war wagons. The resistance was great, but she pushed through it, drawing upon the love she knew her fallen friends had for her. Natale, Fina, Lorentz… Grandfather.
The crowd gasped, then began to cheer, startling Makarria out of her trance. When she opened her eyes, the factory was gone, replaced by the banyan trees, each of them on their own larger than any building in the city except for Lightbringer’s Keep itself. A great weariness fell over Makarria.
“Well done, Makarria,” Talitha said, grabbing her in a warm embrace.
The other sorcerers, too, began clamoring and joined in to hug Makarria, caught up in the momentous occasion they had just participated in. Makarria smiled for them. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
“Queen Makarria,” Ambassador Mahalath said, “It is magnificent!”
Makarria separated herself from the sorcerers and went to him, waving the other monarchs and Caile over. “It is done,” she said when they were all gathered around. “The war wagons and the factory that created them are buried forever. The Five Kingdoms have lived up to their promise. It’s now up to the Old World Republic to do the same. We act on good faith from here on out.”
“It will be done,” Mahalath agreed, nodding gravely. “You have my word.”
“Good,” Makarria said, turning now to her fellow monarchs. “This is a different world than the one we inherited. The war wagons are buried forever, but the technology itself can never be buried. Steam power is here to stay, along with the ability to fly, and now we have the speaking stones to communicate with. All of this makes our world much smaller. If we work together, it can be to our benefit, but if we are driven by ambition and lies, it will be to our ruin, and I for one have seen enough ruin.”
“We all have,” Thon agreed.
“I’ll have your vow then,” Makarria said, and she looked into each and every one of their eyes as they swore to her their alliance to the Five Kingdoms.
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Souldrifter: The Dreamwielder Chronicles - Book Two Page 31