“The whole palace is being torn apart,” said Gully. “I didn’t even have to worry about sneaking around – the guards were far too distracted by the chaos.” She glanced around the room where Fox now stood alone. “Where’s your god friend?”
“Doing his part in the city. Listen, things are about to get ... very strange.”
At this, Norda snorted. “The lady tells me that the gods Earthwalk with you as your companions, and you speak of strange?” She had a thick accent that Fox couldn’t place, from a faraway land he had not yet seen. She was also armed to the teeth, with several blades hanging from her hips and strapped to her legs, as well as a wickedly-pointed spear slung across her back. Fox had a sneaking suspicion that she also doubled as Gully’s bodyguard, and knew at once that the women would be perfectly safe.
“My life has been nothing but strange for quite some time now,” admitted Fox. “But even for me, things in this city are far beyond my idea of normal. In any case, we don’t have much time. So stay close, and keep alert.”
For the first time, the younger sister spoke up. “The wolf will chase us,” she said quietly. “He will hunt down the hunter unless he is caged.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gully, taking her sister by the hand. “She’s got a touch of Seer in her. Blessed by Phyrra.”
“It is why the gods never gave sight to her eyes,” said Norda. “She cannot see into the future if she is caught up in the present.”
Something floated to the front of Fox’s memory. A fact he’d read back in Thicca Valley, in a book he’d once purchased from Bartrum Bookmonger. It was a tome all about the gods, and their relationships with mortals. It was said that many who worshipped the Seer goddes Phyrra blinded themselves, either temporarily with cloths over their eyes, or more permanently. Occasionally, there were those born blind, and Blessed with Phyrra’s sight instead.
“How accurate is she?” Fox asked quickly.
“She doesn’t speak often,” admitted Gully, “but she’s always very close, if not exactly correct.”
Out of respect, Fox crouched down to Wendy’s level, though he knew she could not see his face. “Lady Wendy Gilvard,” he said. “Is your goddess speaking to you now?”
Wendy cocked her head to one side, as though listening to something the rest of them couldn’t hear. The palace shuddered once more, and a twisting root began to break through the ceiling, showering them in dust. Gully held her sister closer, and Norda drew one of her swords, glaring up at the ceiling, prepared for a fight.
Finally, Wendy answered, “She cannot see far. Too much is in flux here. But, moment to moment, she can help us.”
“Good,” said Fox, sending up a silent prayer of thanks to the seer god. “Then I task you with helping keep your party safe. I will drop you off with one of my allies in the city, but then I have other things to attend to. I am trusting you, and your sight, to protect them. Do you understand?”
“You’re the reason she can’t see,” Wendy said dreamily by way of response. “Too much changes with you, cartomancer. But yes, we will keep them safe.”
Ignoring that disquieting remark for the moment, Fox led them back out into the city streets of Calibas, where the wind whipped itself into a furious gale. The scents of smoke and brine were thick on the air, and the sky was alight with a green glow, punctuated by colorful bursts of magic as the Iron Order tried to fight back against the rising tide of rebellion.
And, somewhere on the air, Fox could hear the music beginning. The Shavid were on the move.
Chapter Nineteen
Midnight Chaos
Neil sat crouched in an alleyway with Darby, listening to the city fall apart around them. At his side, Darby was watching Fox’s map, monitoring everything they’d put in place. As the dwarf ran his hands across the parchment surface, Neil knew he could only see small shadows of what Fox might have been able to, but it was better than nothing, and quite enough for now. Their job was to make sure the riots remained controlled.
“They’ve split their forces,” said Darby. “Vol Tyrr has taken the northern riot. Lord Gilvard the south.” He rolled up the map, wincing in pain.
“Are you alright?”
“Blinding headache, to be honest,” said Darby. “I don’t think this aspect of Fox’s Blessing was tested thoroughly enough. He had to rush, and it’s definitely taking its toll. Not sure how long I can use it, without being completely incapacitated.”
Neil bit his tongue. He knew he couldn’t offer to take over, as much as he wanted to. The ultimate goal of these sorts of maps, Fox had told him, was for anyone to be able to use them. However, for now, all he could manage was something along the lines of letting others borrow a piece of his Blessing. And that meant the users themselves had to be gifted as well. Neil wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Swallowing his slight feeling of bitterness, Neil poked his head out from the alleyway, scanning the streets for any sign of the city guard.
Both timed explosions had gone off without a hitch. First Bartrum’s, at the southern end of the city. With the help of some over-eager city folk, they’d managed to target a royal granary that had caught fire spectacularly. Farran had used what little powers he’d regained to flood the surrounding area, so the flames were contained, and no undue damage was done to the city. Both riots were meant to be for show, and to represent support for the spirit of rebellion among the commoners. In the northern part of the city, where Darby and Neil had been stationed, they had razed an entire military training ground, and the citizens had started a celebratory tour of destruction around the area. They freed war horses from their stables, and hung training dummies from the rafters in protest. Chants rejecting Lord Gilvard’s tyranny filled the air, mingled with cries accusing Vol Tyrr of murder and treason.
And then, just after midnight, there was a great eruption of sound from the heart of the city. That, Neil was certain, was not planned. He and Darby looked at each other in confusion and worry, and Darby pulled the map out again, inspecting it with a furrowed brow. “It’s the palace. Something’s growing out of it,” he said. There’s a strange ... plant? It’s difficult to tell.”
Neil opened his mouth to ask if they should abandon their post and head that way, when a great tremor shook the ground. The stones beneath their feet began to crack and split, bright green spilling out of it and filling the air with specks of light. Forcing its way out through the stone was a massive, thick vine, or perhaps a root. “What in Spirit’s name is that?” asked Neil.
Darby thrust the map in his hands, and knelt beside the growth, closing his eyes and placing a hand gingerly on top of it. After a moment, his eyes snapped open again, and he stood, backing up in a panic. “By the gods above,” he said breathlessly. “It’s a World Seed.”
“It can’t be,” said Neil in awe, rolling up Fox’s map and crouching beside Darby to investigate. “There haven’t been any of these in our realm since ...” He struggled to recall any date from his reading.
“Since the last time they helped re-shape the world,” said Darby. “They called it The Overgrowth. The seeds got out of hand, trying to build cities and nations and entire spheres of life, all on top of each other. They grew too fast. Civilization couldn’t keep up, and when humanity tried to cut through it all, the plants that grew fought back, merely out of self defense.” Sorrow darkened the dwarf’s face. “This is what’s been hiding in Calibas. The last World Seed. Forgotten by all, and quietly building its own small world here. But now, it looks like it’s decided to spread.”
“What do we do?” asked Neil.
“We fight,” said Darby gravely, drawing his own sword. “We cut it down here, and burn every inch of vegetation into cinder and smoke.”
∞∞∞
Pandemonium ruled the city streets. Everywhere they turned, the organized riots were devolving into chaos. The previously-contained fires had begun to spread, and the rebellious citizens had turned their attention instead to fighting back against these strange new plant grow
ths bursting from the walls and ground. Neil and Darby cut their way through vine after vine, and around every corner they seemed to meet the Iron Order, newly invigorated by the appearance of the plants, which seemed to be on their side.
“The seed is protecting them!” shouted Darby, throwing a dagger at one of the war mages, only to have a wave of green light sweep the blade out of the way. He dodged a retaliatory burst of magic from the mage just in time, and Neil grabbed the dwarf and hauled him out of harm’s way.
“They’re closing in,” panted Neil, dragging Darby down a side street. A small brigade of citizen militia was following in their wake, their own swords drawn as well. They had been all-too eager to pair up with the Shavid, and now they looked to Darby for instruction.
“How do we stop those things?” one of them growled, dusting bits of twig from his coat. “They just keep growing!”
“I would say run,” another one suggested, “but nobody has been able to leave the city gates lately. It’s like they’re all trying to trap us here in Calibas.”
“Political machinations aside,” said Neil firmly, “our people are going to fight our way out. And if any of you like, you may join us, and escape by our side.”
He looked to Darby for confirmation, but the dwarf wasn’t listening. He was gazing off into the distance, a smile spreading across his face as a small gale whipped up around him. Neil thought he could hear whispers tucked away in the wind, and realized one of the Shavid was sending him a message.
“It’s Fox,” Darby said after a moment. “I hope everybody can climb.”
∞∞∞
It didn’t take long for Neil to lead their small group to the arboretum bridge, high above the city, where he used to meet Gully in secret. All around them as they went, they ran across other groups of Shavid doing the same, often accompanied by strangers and city folk. They scaled walls and climbed stairs to the rooftops, using the furiously-blowing wind to mask their ascent. Below, on the city streets, many of the Iron Order were pelted by flying debris, and by the time they could look skyward again, the Shavid and their companions had disappeared.
Neil watched it all from his bridge perch as Darby quickly began patching up the injuries of their gathered party. Many of the Iron Order had begun to climb, the growing plant life obediently providing steps or lifting them up in its tendrils. In response, the wind itself began to pluck these climbers from the wall, and hurl them back down to the streets. It seemed the entire city was locked in a battle of the elements. And, if Fox’s message was accurate, it sounded like water was about to enter the fray.
“It’s a clever plan,” said Darby, making his way to Neil’s own injuries. He had a shallow but lengthy cut running down one arm, as well as a split lip that Darby began to tend to expertly. “Land-locked city like this, I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the locals can’t swim. We get everyone that we can out of the streets, and overwhelm the Iron Order and General Vol Tyrr’s men with the floodwaters.”
“And what about those who can’t be saved?” asked Neil quietly, gazing out at the destruction below. “There are not enough Shavid to get every innocent bystander to safety.”
“And there never will be,” said Darby. “Try as we might, we will never be able to protect everyone. Oftentimes not even our own. But, you of all people should know that. You’re a child of civil war yourself.”
Neil did know. He knew better than to imagine that everyone dying tonight would be a villain, and that everyone who might survive would be a perfect hero. The intention behind his question, however, wasn’t truly about the people. It was about one person, who he’d fought all night not to think about. Would Fox be able to get her to safety in time, or would Gwendolyn Gilvard be just another casualty?
Someone had come out onto the bridge. Neil could hear Darby leave his side to greet them, but he didn’t turn his gaze from the city streets. Until a flash of red caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Rich, red curls, torn loose from their perfect braids, and tumbling across her shoulders. He thought, for one maddening moment, that his own fear for her safety had caused him to imagine Gully, now standing exactly where she used to when she escaped her family to see him. But then, with a cry of relief, Gully was running toward him, and he reached out to catch her just as she threw herself into his arms.
“Gods,” he whispered into her ear, digging his fingers into her hair, “I thought for sure I’d never see you again. That you’d be a slave to that monster forever.”
Gully didn’t answer with words, but instead pulled back and looked him in the eyes for a brief moment, her hands on either side of his face, before kissing him passionately.
“What,” said Fox jokingly from behind her, “no love for me? Good to know where I rank in your affections Neil.”
With a chuckle, Neil managed to tear himself free of Gully’s lips, and grin at his best friend. “What, jealous?”
“A bit,” Fox teased. “In any case, we haven’t got much time for this reunion, no matter how touching and romantic. Things are about to become very dangerous, very quickly, and I need you focused.”
It was then that Neil noticed Fox and Gully hadn’t arrived alone. The younger Gilvard sister was there as well, and Norda, the lady-in-waiting Neil had met in passing once before. He nodded to both of them, but kept his grip firm around Gully’s waist as Fox quickly filled everyone in on the situation at the palace, with the plant he called The Limbwalker.
“It’s born of an ancient World Seed,” said Darby. “A piece of the Earth Goddess, Shatza – the first born of the element children. The seeds were meant to be a gift to the mortals, helping them grow their farmlands and gardens, even building their homes for them out of the strongest of wood. But, they were left untended for too long. In their natural desire to grow, they spread too far and almost devastated the entire Known World. That was over a thousand years ago. No seed has been found in this realm since.”
“But they stopped it last time,” said Fox. “Do you know – do your borrowed memories stretch back that far? Can you recall how they did it?”
“It was a hard-won victory,” said Darby. As he spoke, a tremor shook the bridge, and they could hear more roots breaking their way through the stone far below them. “Men, dwarves, all mortal kind and ancient fae-folk who walked the earth joined together to fight back the Overgrowth. But, coupled with the armies of Fernaphia, and the powerful magic Gilvard’s Iron Order wields? The chances of anyone stopping it this time are —” He trailed off, but the message was clear.
“They said that it could change the world,” said Fox quietly.
“Aye,” said Darby with a solemn nod. “With the power they’ve amassed to aid it in its corrupted cause, this one seed could bring an end to this age of the Known World. We fight here, tonight, or there will be no corner of the land where we can hide.”
At Neil’s side, Gully clung to him a bit tighter as another quake vibrated through the bridge. Neil cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “So,” he said, “are we all meant to sacrifice ourselves here, in this final stand, or is there a version of a plan that gets anyone out alive?”
Chapter Twenty
The End of the World
Fox sat alone on the bridge, cross-legged, his eyes closed. He was listening to the wind, whistling excitedly in his ear. He could feel it growing anxious, as though it needed something from him. It wanted him to do something ... to try something. But he didn’t know what. He had the beginnings of a plan, which he’d shared with his friends before they departed. Wendy Gilvard had gone with Neil, Gully, and Norda, using her Sight to keep them as safe as she could on their way to the front gates. Darby had taken the civilians with him, and gone to ready the wagons.
It was lucky the Shavid were always prepared for strange travel circumstances. Fox hadn’t seen it himself, but Darby had assured him that the shunderings were quite capable of surviving the flooded streets if need be, and that the horses could swim. Now, Fox lost himself in
every sensation the eager wind brought to him, trying to be nothing short of exact with his timing. Wait too long to signal Farran, and the Iron Order might have turned the tide to their favor. But, begin the floods too early, and too many innocent lives might be lost. It was a delicate balance, one that Fox was trying to tread with echoes of Bartrum’s lessons dancing through his mind.
“There will be the hard choices,” the spymaster had said. “There will be the harder choices. And then, there will be the impossible ones. The choices you could never have imagined making, about which lives to save, and which to sacrifice for the greater good.” Fox remembered Bartrum taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Nobody tells you which storm to steer into, I’m afraid. You either live with the guilt, or live with the consequences.”
On the bridge, Fox listened and felt more carefully than he ever had before. Searching in the wind for hints of his friends. Listening to the cries of the city folk as they scrambled to safety. And running through all of it like a single thread was the Shavid music. Radda and his finest players had come out of hiding, and were marching on the front gates. Their tunes were somehow all different, and yet all intertwined, with each piece of song telling a different story. Aubrey, playing her violin with her newborn son swaddled against her back, played a melody that urged people to safety. Everyone who heard her began to climb, if they hadn’t been already. By her side, Otter’s song told the story of triumph, encouraging people to believe in their victory. And Radda, leading the group with his gittern, played his way through a series of illusions, hiding them from the Iron Order, even as they reached the gates themselves.
They had planned to flood the ramparts first, taking out the guards on the wall, before letting the water naturally run through the crenelation and begin to fill the city streets. That would give everyone enough time, wouldn’t it? Those who weren’t already hidden away in the upper levels of the city ... they would see the coming deluge and be able to flee, hopefully without too many of the Iron Order on their heels. When Fox had concocted the plan, it had seemed so simple. Now, however, waiting to give the order with his heart in his throat, Fox was second-guessing everything.
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