A Season of Rendings

by Adam J Nicolai

  Iggy led, heading north, and the others followed. It wasn't a random decision.

  Last night—the first since the third Storm—a voice had called to him from the north. Speaker, it had said. Help us. Like the vision he'd had in Keldale that had eventually brought him to Veiling Green, the message had felt like his mother's call. It was no mere dream. Something had woken there, he was sure, and he meant to answer its cry for help.

  He shared none of this with the others, however. Seth and Helix were too raw right now to trust what he had to say, and truth be, he wasn't yet sure where he was going. He'd give everyone a few days to calm down.

  They didn't make the kind of speed he'd have liked. Helix had to constantly fuss with his cousin to make sure she didn't fall off, which slowed the whole group down. All the while, more moonlight shafts ignited behind them.

  "They're coming outside the gates now," Lyseira called from the rear of the line. "The moon shafts—they're expanding the search."

  Iggy didn't answer, but he did veer off the road, into the tall grass. Normally their horses would've left a clear trail, but he asked his mother to straighten the grass behind them, and she indulged him. The camouflage wasn't perfect, but it should cover their departure from the road.

  As they trotted through the plains in the dark, Chuckler said, Well, this is pretty stupid. And I've seen you do some really stupid things.

  You won't get hurt, Iggy assured him, then whispered back to the other two horses: It'll be all right.

  No, Chuckler said, it probably won't. Very easy to break a leg gallivanting through the plains blind.

  If it happens, I'll heal you. It won't cost your life.

  The animals grumbled and slowed their pace, but agreed to go on.

  Iggy inhaled the night air, steadying himself. He'd done everything he could. They don't know for sure that we're out of the city. They don't know we went north. They don't know we've left the road. And Chuckler was right—traveling through the open plain in the dead of night was madness. They'd expect any escapee with a brain in his head to stick to the road.

  That's it, then, he thought, steeling himself against further doubts. They'll either find us, or they won't.

  They didn't.

  A few hours later, one by one, the moon shafts faded. The crystal tower, still visible across the plain even after a night of hard travel, went dark last. Their pursuers had given up the search, at least until morning. There was no more need to risk the dangers of a dark plain.

  He called a halt for the night, explaining his reasoning as the others dismounted. Thankfully, no one argued. Seth took watch while the others tried to catch what sleep they could in the few hours remaining until dawn. The air was cool but thick, spring weather pregnant with summer's humidity. Gnats swarmed him; grass tickled at his ears. It bothered the others, but not him. The insects' buzzing relaxed him. The bed of cool earth beneath his head was heaven.

  When he found himself flying, he recognized the dream at once.

  The earth hurtled past just below him. He was a schooner, slicing through creeks and grasslands and villages like they were ocean waves. In the distance grew a sprawling sea of trees.

  Come, Speaker. An earnest voice. Frightened. We need you.

  He woke at dawn to Syntal screaming.

  The young woman lay curled on the ground, fingers tight as talons, until a spasm rocked her. Her body stiffened board-straight as she shrieked. Then she slowly curled into herself again.

  Lyseira scrambled to Syn's side and laid hands on her. While she prayed, Seth said, "She's hurting herself. We need to gag her."

  "What? We're not gagging her!" Helix said.

  Seth tore a strip of cloth from his shirt. "Look at her face." She had caught her lip in her last seizure. Now she mangled it between her teeth, her chin growing slick with blood. "Besides, the screams will carry on the plains." He knelt next to her to tie the cloth into her mouth, and Iggy blocked Helix from stopping him.

  "Helix. He's right." Iggy flashed a look at Angbar, but the other young man made no move to stop Seth. He stood like a statue a few feet away, eyes locked on Syntal's thrashing body, as pale as Iggy had ever seen him.

  "She didn't want to leave," Angbar mumbled. "I made her leave."

  "Forget it," Iggy said. "It's done."

  Lyseira yanked her hands away from Syn's head as if they'd burned her. "I . . . can't. It's there, I can feel it, but it's part of her. I can't reach it." She slapped at a gnat on her cheek; another on her lip. The air was thick with them.

  Syntal gave another anguished scream as a fresh round of pain wracked her. The gag barely muffled it.

  Iggy felt Angbar's chant before he heard it. He fought down the nausea, the sudden lurch of disgust he always felt, and let the spell finish.

  Syntal's eyes closed. Her fingers slowly unclenched.

  Angbar looked at Iggy, his cheeks streaked with tears. "I don't know how else to help her," he said. "Maybe I can keep her asleep until Lys―"

  Syntal's limbs jerked, her back arching with agony until she was practically balanced on her elbows and heels. A scream tore her throat, left her sobbing.

  "Oh, God!" Angbar face was a mask of horror. "We have to bring her back! Oh, God, she's dying, we have to get her back to Him!" He started toward her, and Seth stopped him.

  "No."

  "Look at her, Seth! I did this to her!" Angbar tried to shove past. Seth didn't let him.

  "We're not going back. We were lucky to escape once."

  "You call this lucky?" Helix roared.

  She thrashed again. By God, you could keep time by it, Iggy thought. Every twenty seconds. There was no scream this time—only an awful, powerless whimper.

  "Help me get her on the horse," Helix said to Lyseira. "I'm bringing her back." Seth turned to him, and Helix dropped a hand to his sword. "I swear to God, Seth, don't touch me."

  Angbar darted past Seth to take Syn's legs. "I've got her."

  "Wait," Iggy said.

  "No, you don't have to come, that's fine, but I have to bring her back," Angbar said as Helix grabbed her under the shoulders.

  "No, wait, I might be able to help her."

  Angbar paused, eyes wild, his head a tangled nest of black hair and grass.

  Iggy ran over. "Put her down." She had another spasm, jerking loose of Helix's grip and slapping her head to the ground. Iggy fished in his pouches. Crimson leaves. Green veins. I have to have some.

  He did—just a bit. "Dried ensilla," he said. "Dulls pain and forces sleep. Let me try it." He began to crush the leaves. "I need water." Seth handed him a skin.

  Lyseira knelt opposite him. "Suppress the pain," she said. "Good idea—that might work." She pressed her hands to Syntal again—one to her forehead and one to her clenched stomach—and prayed.

  Iggy mixed the medicine, hands trembling. Two leaves of ensilla in a full cup of water. Pinch of wurmroot. Please, Mother, let this work.

  The grass grows well here, the wind whispered. The earth is potent.

  He took a bit of the soil and mixed it in as Syntal stiffened in another spasm. She stared blankly at the sky, her breathing shallow and fevered. A low moan of anguish dribbled around the cloth in her mouth.

  When the spasm released her, he pulled the gag out and tipped the medicine down her throat. Lyseira finished her prayer at the same time.

  They waited. Fifteen, Iggy thought, sixteen, seventeen, eight—

  Syntal clenched her teeth, her fingers digging into the dirt. Her back arched. She panted like she was carrying a hot pan from the stove to the table.

  "Is it better?" Lyseira brushed the hair from Syntal's clammy forehead and caressed her temple.

  Syn didn't answer. She panted until the next wave of pain came, then clenched her teeth through it. "Angbar," she said when it passed.

  Angbar knelt, naked regret in his eyes.

  "Put me out again. Please. Put me out."

  He chanted. Syntal's body relaxed and she slumped into the gr
ass. All of them waited.

  Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one . . .

  "I think it worked," Iggy said. "Dulled the pain enough for her to sleep through it."

  Angbar dropped to an unceremonious seat in the grass, legs splayed. "I'm sorry."

  "You did what you had to," Seth said. "You couldn't leave her there. There's no telling what the Fatherlord would have done with her knowledge." He shook his head as he watched her sleep. "This wasn't your fault. She did it to herself."

  Angbar glowered. "No. The Fatherlord―"

  "She shouldn't have even seen Him. You two were supposed to be in Red, waiting for us. You should've been there when the attack first came. We all would've escaped. None of this would've happened."

  Angbar fell silent and looked away.

  "What actually happened?" Helix said. "We obviously knew the third Storm was coming, but how did―"

  "You knew?" Lyseira asked. "How?"

  "I sent Hops with a message," Iggy answered. He glanced at Helix, who looked as confused as she was. "You didn't get it?"

  Helix braced his jaw. "Syn. The response we got was from Syn. Remember? She kept it from them."

  A flush of anger came over Iggy. What in Hel is going on here? "All right," he said to Angbar. "We've got time—start at the beginning, and don't leave out anything."

  Ten. Iggy's head spun with the number.

  Ten.

  "You've known since the Safehold," Helix said in disbelief, "and neither of you told us?"

  "Syn was scared you wouldn't risk going to Tal'aden if you knew why she wanted to go," Angbar said.

  "That should've been my choice!"

  "I know." Angbar wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "I hated it. I'll never do it again."

  "We need to know what's in this new book," Lyseira said. "Everything that's in it—every chant, every instruction. Is there another clue in it, to a—I guess, to a fourth one?"

  "I don't know. Probably. Syntal was the one who looked at it, I—I haven't had a chance. I can barely grasp the chants in the second one, and I can't read First Tongue."

  "Well, I can." Lyseira sat near the sack and pulled out the third wardbook. It was as massive as the other two had been; even closed, it took up her entire lap. She flipped through the pages. "This will take some time," she admitted.

  "Say it's in there," Iggy said. "Say it talks about the fourth book." The fourth of ten? his mind crowed. Ten! "Then what?"

  "Then we burn it," Seth muttered, "and this madness stops."

  "No," Iggy said at once.

  "Why not?" Seth demanded.

  "Because―" Words failed him. How could he convince Seth the world could sing, that it exalted whenever one of these Seals fell? How could he explain that the earth beneath his feet yearned for a freedom none of them could ever have imagined? "This—what was it?" He looked at Angbar. "La-chool?"

  "Lar'atul."

  "Lar—Lar'atul. He did something to the world, and he made a way to undo it. And that's what—Syntal's undoing it. It wasn't always like this—it didn't start like this. It should be restored into what it was."

  "That's exactly the word she used," Angbar said. "'Restored.'"

  Helix was ashen. "No." He glanced from Iggy back to Angbar, then to Lyseira. "I mean, I don't want to burn the books, but you . . ." He looked back to Iggy, his eyes wild with incredulity. "This is bigger than us! We've got no business deciding—the King should decide this!"

  Chanting was a violation of everything natural. Iggy knew that in his bones—he had witnessed the Pulse's unmistakable anguish when Syn, Angbar, or Marlin did it. And yet, somehow, each broken Seal felt like salve on a wound. It made the world better, awakened it somehow—even as it enabled fresh atrocities in the form of new chants that hadn't existed before.

  It was a paradox. He didn't fully understand it. But he knew the joy that came with a new Storm. He knew that, at least, was right.

  "The King might decide wrong," he said. His naked audacity slapped Helix's mouth shut. While the others looked on, stunned, he spoke to Lyseira. "Are you going to burn the book?"

  "No," Lyseira said levelly, "I'm going to read the book. Or as much as I can, anyway."

  "All right." He began clearing what few signs of camp they'd left.

  "Where are we headed?" Helix asked. "We've made a mess of things in Tal'aden, and this is Church's country. We can't show our faces in any of the towns around here—that's where they'll be looking for us."

  "Then we stay out of them. Veiling Green got us through the winter. I've a feeling Ordlan Green will get us through the spring."

  "Ordlan Green?" Angbar said. "Are we that far north?"

  "Tal'aden's closer to it than you think." Iggy pointed west. "Straight across the plain. If the weather clears, we should see it in a few days." He tied his saddle bag closed and stopped. Enough secrets, he thought. Look where they've gotten us.

  He turned to the others. "Look. I'm going to try something new—honesty.

  "The third Storm was yesterday morning. Both nights since then, I've dreamt about Ordlan Green. You know it?"

  "It's the biggest wood in Darnoth," Angbar said. "Of course we know it."

  "Well, these aren't normal dreams. I had one like them before, back in Keldale, and―" He swallowed the words. He didn't need to share everything. "I won't go into the whole thing, but it was vivid. It was more than just a dream, and it was part of why I was so sure about going to Veiling Green, that we'd be safe there. Now, I feel like something is calling me from Ordlan Green, and I've heard it twice."

  Seth opened his mouth, but Iggy beat him to it. "I know. You don't like it. No, I have no idea what it is. It could be dangerous. It could be a trap. It could be sorcery. It could be evil. I'm going anyway. I have to. It's what makes sense to me." He caught his breath, steeled himself, and went on: "I'll go alone, if I have to. Just like Lyseira was willing to go to Tal'aden alone. But I did come with"—he looked at Lyseira—"for your hare-brained plan. It only seems fair that you come with for mine."

  He nodded at Syntal. "As for her, I don't have much ensilla left. In the northern climates I've heard it grows in Ordlan. So that's something. And I don't know what it is, exactly, that's calling me, but I think it woke when the third Seal broke, and I think—I think—that it might be strong enough to break a curse like this. So I think Syn should come, too." He spread his hands. "There. It's thin, but it's what I know. I told you everything." Another look at Syn. "That's what she should have done back in the Safehold."

  Helix sighed. "If there's a chance of something in the wood being able to help her, we have to try. She can't live like this."

  "Truth be," Angbar said, "the Safehold was the happiest I've been since Southlight. If there's a place in Ordlan Green where we can hide, like we did there . . . well, right now, I'd be happy to spend the rest of my days there." He shrugged. "It's not as if we have another choice anyway."

  "Yes we do," Seth said. "Back in the Safehold, my master gave us another suggestion. Prince Isaic, in Keswick." He looked at Lyseira. "I think we should go there. If the man is truly willing to stand against the Church, he's the only one who can still pardon any of us. If not, the only choice left is to escape Darnoth. Head north to Bahir, or sail for Borkalis."

  Lyseira closed Syntal's book and put it with the others. She looked haggard, her shoulders slumping. She had told Iggy a bit about what had happened in Tal'aden, when she and Seth had first gotten back to camp, but he began to wonder if he'd gotten the whole story. Whatever had happened there looked to have aged her a decade. "After," she finally said. "Those options aren't going anywhere. Iggy's right, though. I owe him." She sighed. "If there's anything there that can help Syntal, we should try to find it. I'd like her to wake up, because I've got some sehking questions."

  Iggy's jaw dropped. Helix and Angbar exchanged looks. Even Seth looked surprised. Having known her their whole lives, not a one of them had ever heard Lyseira use that word.

  She crossed to the horse she a
nd Seth shared, then looked back to him. "It's a long way. Are you coming?"

  ii. Lyseira

  They dismounted at dusk, as the first hints of the Scar came into view in the west. They'd seen no sign of pursuit during the day. They had a quiet dinner of manna and water; treated Syntal to a fresh round of medicine and prayers. Then Lyseira pulled away from the others, citing the need to study, and took Syntal's third wardbook with her.

  A third of the book's text was difficult, written in an old dialect that was arcane even by the standards of First Tongue. The rest was incomprehensible—a writhing script that seemed to drift around the page when she took her eyes off it.

  She tried to read the former and ignore the latter. Tried to tell herself it was important. Maybe it was. But in the quiet spaces between the words, Angna's smile swam up to her, earnest and innocent. As she directed her mind to chew on problems of syntax and grammar, it was instead reminded of Cosani's wondering determination to learn.

  She hadn't seen them the morning of the Dedication, and she'd been blind when she and Seth had escaped. Maybe they'd heard Seth's warnings. Someone had to have survived the Church's attack. But Iggy's birds had seen what happened that morning. The Tribunal had come in force—blockading the district's exit points and massacring the residents wholesale. They'd brought swords and crossbows and miracles, filled entire alleyways with ravenous flame.

  Yesterday, the urgent need for flight had driven everything else from her mind. Shock and old instincts had ruled her retreat across the plains.

  Tonight, she was at her horror's mercy.

  There's a chance they survived, she told herself. We shouted a warning. But these were only ideas—wishes, really—shattered beneath the hooves of charging horses and the merciless blades of swordsmen. She saw Angna's smile drenched in blood or blackened by fire; saw the wound she had healed in Chon's shoulder explode anew as they rent him in half. She imagined such atrocities that they had to be fictions, she told herself, they couldn't possibly be as bad as what had happened, and yet—