by Kyle West
“I understand,” I said. “What I must tell you might seem unbelievable, at first.”
Mayor Altham nodded, taking another sip from his mug. His face said that there was nothing that could shock him at this point.
“A swarm of Mindless dragons is about to set out from Hyperborea on a rampage through the Wild. We have reason to believe that they will target Northold first.”
Altham lowered his mug and even in the dim light of the inn, his face blanched. “A swarm? How many?”
“I didn’t get an exact count. As many as two hundred, and no less than a hundred.”
This was where the mayor nearly spat out his drink. When he collected himself, he looked from one of us to the other. Everyone solemnly nodded, confirming what I’d said.
A long silence stretched. Barlon, who was listening from the bar, shooed Jeb from the room. Jeb went, looking scared for his life.
“Two hundred,” Altham said. “How did you even see this?”
“We were there not three hours ago,” I said. “In our ship.”
Altham was having difficulty accepting these things, judging from the way his brow had scrunched up. People didn’t know just how fast a spaceship could go. According to the stories, the gods used spaceships during the Ragnarok War. People certainly didn’t expect to see one in real life.
“This ship . . . what is it? How do you have it? Is it some tool of the Seekers, or . . .?”
“I’ll explain that. In time. Let’s focus on these dragons for now. Is there any way Northold has the capability of defending itself?”
“Against two hundred dragons?” Altham laughed nervously. “We would be hard-pressed to hold off just two. All this time, we believed it was crawlers. Something for which walls and the Hill are useful.” He sighed. “Against two hundred dragons, our defenses are liabilities. We have ballistae, yes, and bolts. But nowhere near enough. Against that many dragons, we can do nothing but hide and hope they don’t breathe fire, like in the tales.”
“They cannot do that, at least,” I said.
But, of course, there’s nothing to stop them from knocking down your houses as if they were toys.
“The Mindless do not work together,” Altham said. “They never have. Not since the Mindless Wars.” He frowned. “Is it true, then? The Second Darkness is coming. It’s said the Mindless Wars will begin anew when the Second Darkness comes.”
“I don’t deny that,” I said. “I believe the Second Darkness is starting now. The mist that covers most of the north is starting to make its way south. Soon, all the north will be joining the reversion. If not the dragons, then that will make an end of things.”
“And you’ve seen these things with your own eyes?”
I nodded. “We all have.”
“I see. In such troubled times, it’s hard to believe there is yet more trouble on the horizon. And I’m afraid that if all you say is true, then there is nothing I can do. For the past few months, there have been more sightings of monsters in the northern woods. That’s the reason you see all the refugees here. The Watchers have sent birds almost every day reporting further sightings.”
“You’ve . . . heard from them?” Isandru asked.
Mayor Altham nodded. “Aye, that we have. No news is good, I’m afraid. They reported not last week that they believe the Forest Reversion is beyond their control. They’re preparing to abandon their posts, the final bastion against the untamed north. But you didn’t need me to tell you all that. Our food will be completely depleted in a month. We’re already rationing.”
The portly innkeeper nodded his agreement, though it didn’t look as if he was doing any rationing on his part.
“The city was designed to withstand a siege for a year, but the harvests have been poor, and we didn’t account for the refugees. There seems to be little option aside from abandoning the city . . .”
The mayor took another drink from his mug. His brown eyes looked haunted in the firelight. I was surprised that the Village Council had already discussed everything I thought would be impossible to convince them of.
“Laston is a two weeks’ march south,” Tellor said in his deep voice. “Longer with women, children, and wagons.”
Mayor Altham waved his hand in dismissal. “Laston is smaller than Northold. We could not stay there long. The Annajen and the Sanctum have done nothing for us, despite repeated calls for help.”
“When did you send for aid?” Isandru asked.
“It’s been a month. We received words of support, but nothing that counts.”
“I have not been to the Sanctum in a long while,” Tellor said. “Neither of us have.”
“I’d expected help, at least from them,” Mayor Altham said sadly. “It’s as if the world has forgotten we exist.”
“There may be trouble in the South,” Tellor said grimly. “I can think of no other reason for a delayed response. The Sanctum itself suffered an attack not long ago.”
“Of course, you’re right. Everyone is looking to save their own skins. The bonds I thought that held us all together . . . they’re fragmenting.”
Altham lowered his head.
“We’re here,” I said. “It’s not much, but we want to help. Is an evacuation possible?”
“It would be a death march. The weather is turning unseasonably cold. Though we are approaching early autumn, it’s as if it’s already come. The road is narrow, going through hills, forest, and mountains. A dangerous journey even without the prospect of monsters and dragons. With what stores we have left . . . it’s possible. And if the dragons are coming, as you say . . . they will harry us on the road until everyone is dead.” He shook his head. “No. I’m afraid that our wooden walls and buildings are our surest defense.”
“Not much of a defense,” Pallos said.
Altham looked at him. “No one is denying that.” The mayor’s shoulders sagged. “If my people are to die . . . let them die here, in their homes, not on some strange road far from what they know.” He sat straight and took another swig of his cider. “Until I know a place that would accept my people, I will not lead them anywhere. I wouldn’t force anyone to go who didn’t want to. Most of those with the means have left already.”
“Haven could support your people, should they reach that far . . . given the city had warning and time to receive them,” Isandru said. “If things continue as they are, the people of Northold will not be the only ones fleeing. Laston will fall not long after.”
“So, that is our plan?” Altham asked. “To run? I will never have that!”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IT WAS QUIET, SAVE FOR the crackle of the fire. The orange cat, sensing the lack of voices, woke from his nap and looked at us with bright, green eyes.
“Until we know how to defeat the swarm, then yes,” I said, “we run.” I met Altham’s gaze, even if it was angry. “The source of their power is in the city of Hyperborea, and we don’t know how to defeat that source of power yet. That’s what my crew and I will be focusing on over the coming days. Until then, all we can do is warn everyone in the swarm’s path of what’s coming.”
“To warn,” Altham said, “but not to help.”
“We will help all we can,” Isa said. “I am from the North, Mayor. I have also seen the dragons with my own eyes. I have seen . . .”
She paused. “My family is from here, Mayor. My mother. My cousins. My friends. If you give these people hope . . . if you tell them that there is a better life to the south . . . you might be surprised at how much they listen.”
“It is the Samalites’ sworn charge to defend the north,” Mayor Altham said, his face grim. “I will not abandon that charge now.”
“We have fulfilled it for generations,” Isa said. “We made a home of a harsh land that would kill anyone else. But I’m telling you, what’s coming is something that none of us can stand against. At least, not without the support of the other tribes and kingdoms.”
“Then we die here.” Altham drained his mug. “L
et the other tribes see the price of their complacency. Let them see what happens when our warnings go unanswered. For years, we have told them what is happening. For years, we have asked for help. And yet, there is no response. Far be it from the Annajen or the Makai to shed one drop of their precious blood when we shed rivers of ours.”
Mayor Altham’s face was fuming, but Isa’s continued all the same, “Mayor . . . you would let everyone die? Just to prove a point? The only point you would prove is that no one’s blood is worth it. The North will be lost, whether we stay or not. For most, running is easier than fighting. But for a Samalite, the opposite holds true. Running is fighting in this case, Mayor Altham. Staying here is the death sentence. Leaving . . . there is hope.”
“If the dragons are coming here, as you say, then there is no hope. We die within these walls, or we die without them. I don’t see how any of you can change that one bit.”
“The trees on the road south are thick,” Isandru said. “The dragons will have difficulty attacking there.”
“True,” Altham said. “Though who’s to stop them from knocking the trees down? Only a Silverwood with deep roots could withstand a dragon’s rage, I suspect.”
“It’s something,” I insisted. “The hill is open terrain and a dragon can knock a wooden house down just as easily.”
“Three dragons nearly destroyed Nava Village last spring,” Fiona said. “Nava, which sits at the feet of the Seekers’ Sanctum. Isolated as Northold is, what will two hundred Mindless dragons do? And if not the dragons, then the mist, which comes slowly but surely. Next year, there will be no harvest, Mayor, unless you count death as a harvest. Winter will be here soon, and you’ve said it yourself, you don’t have the stores to keep everyone fed.” Fiona looked at him matter-of-factly. “And what do you think will happen then, when the food runs out and the streets are full of desperate people who are already turning to crime?”
He sighed, knowing good sense when he heard it. “Something far worse than dragons.”
A silenced followed, broken only by the crackle of flames.
Mayor Altham cleared his throat. “You’ve made your point. I just . . . cannot accept that point right now. Never would I have thought that running was the answer. But, maybe . . .” He sighed. It looked as if he had more to say, but just couldn’t find the words.
“Mayor Altham,” Elder Isandru began, “I understand your mentality—at least in part. However, there is precious little time to mull things over.”
“You say there are dragons, and you say they are at Hyperborea. That cannot be far to fly.” Altham looked up from his hands and right at me. “Tell me, Captain Roshar. Why is there talk of evacuation when this town may not even survive into next week?”
“If those dragons are coming, we will do whatever we can to stop them. We still don’t know what the swarm is after. Northold may not be its first target. We only suspect it will be because it’s the closest population center.”
Wherever Isaru decided to lead his dragons, he was sure to leave death in his wake.
“We will not run, Captain Roshar. Not now. And if the town is destroyed, we will rebuild. We rebuilt as in the time of my great grandfather, after the Mindless Wars. Northold was nearly destroyed then, I will not disgrace my ancestors by fleeing the land they spilled their blood for.”
“Mayor Altham—” Isa began.
The old man looked at Isa, his wrinkled face softening as he did so. “If you want to save Northold, then tell the South of our need. We need reinforcements. If not for dragons, there are monsters in the night. The outlying settlements and farms are no longer safe from the crawlers, and if all you say is true about the dragons, then doubly so. Pikes, crossbows, and ballistae are all that can stop a dragon, but against so many—”
“We need something stronger,” I said. “Only, I don’t know what.”
The Shen might have something powerful enough to stop a dragon. Shen himself said that the whole purpose of his empire was to defeat the invading Radaskim. The only other option, other than finding a way to destroy the Hyperfold, was to meet the dragons head-on. With every dragon rider in the Red Wild, including the Seekers, there might be a chance of stopping them, assuming we also had the support of the Elder Dragons.
“We will do everything we can to help you,” I said. “The Elder Dragons who live north of Ragnarok Crater are flying south to join their brethren in Dragonspire. They will be having a meeting there, deciding what to do.”
“You’ve met the Elder Dragons, too?” Altham asked. “The surprises never end.”
“I assure you, even they are leaving the North,” I said. “If they are leaving, then there is no shame in your people running. If you only knew the forces you were against, Mayor, you would be preparing immediately.”
“You will travel south with them, then?” Mayor Altham asked. “To this . . . Dragonspire?”
“It’s as real as Hyperborea is,” I said. “Though I’ve never seen it with my own eyes, I trust the word of Askal and Quietus, the King and Queen of the dragons. They are going to muster their own forces to challenge the Mindless. The Second Darkness is almost here, Mayor Altham, but four hundred years ago, it had a different name—Xenofall.”
“Xenofall.” Altham swallowed. “I’ve read the name, of course, in some older documents, even if that word is mostly forgotten in the present age.”
“Everyone will know about it, soon enough,” I said. “Anna has returned.”
“Anna? You mean, Annara.”
“Anna is her true name. Why or how it changed over the years, I can’t say. But, as it has been written . . . she’s come back.”
“Where is she, then?” Mayor Altham asked. “I’ve heard no tale of her. Is she in the South?”
I went on, ignoring that question for now, “Her coming signals the Elder Dragons’ return . . . and the start of the Second Darkness.”
I folded my hands; clearly, he couldn’t see that I was talking about myself from his frown of puzzlement.
“Elders,” he said, turning his attention from me to them, “if this is known, then why am I now only hearing of it? If you know where she is, then please . . .”
“Ask yourself, Altham,” Elder Isandru said. “Why would the Elder Prophet and the Elder Champion let a young woman of no apparent rank speak for them?”
A look of utter befuddlement crossed the mayor’s face, and he looked back to me for help.
“Mayor, can’t you see?” Isa asked. “Anna is sitting right in front of you!”
Mayor Altham’s face blanched, while a mug was dropped from the bar where the innkeeper Barlon had been listening quietly. The orange cat shot awake from the disturbance, glaring angrily at the innkeeper.
“But . . . your name is Shanti Roshar, is it not? It’s how you introduced yourself to me.”
“Yes, that’s my given name. But I am also Anna. I don’t have all the memories from her life, but I have some. Hopefully, it is enough.”
“What she neglected to mention,” Fiona said, “is her power. She can do things no Seeker has been able to do for centuries. We have our Twelve Gifts . . . perhaps you’ve heard of them. Most Seekers are able to master one, or at most, a few, but she has the potential to master all twelve.”
“Not only that,” Tellor said, “her sword work is the best I’ve seen in one so young. She moves with that blade as if it’s a part of her. The blade she wields now was Anna’s, the very same kept in the Seekers’ Sanctum for four hundred years, awaiting her return. She has every right to it.”
Mayor Altham nodded. “Anna. I—I’m afraid I do not know how to address one of your stature. They say you’re a goddess, madam, but you seem to me like an ordinary human, flesh and blood. Why, you drank your cider along with the rest of us!”
“Anna was human, too,” I said. “She was . . . extraordinary. Her abilities go beyond what we think is possible. She has Gifts that we didn’t even know about, things that have been lost for centuries.
&nbs
p; “All this is beside the point. In short, as Anna reborn, my job is to make sure we’re ready for Xenofall. As it stands, we are far behind. There were complications with Anna’s return, the main one being that I was born without her memories. The Xenofold had to tell me directly who I was.” I smiled in memory. “I didn’t believe . . . not at first. Now, though, I do . . . after everything I’ve seen and done. I’ve revealed myself to the Seekers, but only Elder Isandru and Elder Tellor believe in me. Seeker Fiona was with me when I received my revelation. I have my own airship, the very same one piloted by Anna during the Ragnarok War. I’m doing all that I can to gather everyone so we can resist the Mindless, and not just the Mindless, but the invaders that will surely return—the Radaskim.” I waited, to make sure that sank in. “They are the true enemy, Mayor, the ancient enemy, and they will be here in less than two years.”
“Yes,” Mayor Altham said, swallowing. “If you are Annara . . . I apologize. Anna . . . you said yourself that her abilities are extraordinary. Is there some way you might defend the city?”
“Her abilities are extraordinary,” Elder Isandru said, “but she is not omnipotent. The best she can do is bring reinforcements. The best you can do, Mayor, is prepare a defense, post-haste, while gathering food and supplies for the road.”
Mayor Altham nodded. “Yes. There isn’t much time.”
“You believe me, then?” I asked.
The mayor nodded. “I fear I have no choice.” He looked over at Mr. Barlon. “Abel, we can wait no longer. Every man who can wield a pike or crossbow must be given one.”
“And the refugees?”
Mayor Altham sighed. “They must take cover, such as they can. I’m afraid—”
The door burst open, revealing a young man with long, blond hair panting heavily. “Sirs,” he said, bowing hastily, “crawlers have been spotted in the northern woods.”
“Crawlers.” Mayor Altham gave a bitter laugh. “Pray that is all there is, Tammin. Take your message to the captain of the guards. Tell him to report directly to me.”
