In Solitude's Shadow: Empire of Ruin Book One

by David Green

  She had to credit Garet. His plans were shrewd. He’d led several Sparkers to collapse huge trenches of earth along Solitude’s walls to keep the Banished from storming the fortress. They would need siege weapons now and the building would delay their offensive perhaps for weeks.

  If there even is an offensive.

  Garet had split the two hundred Sparkers into squads of five and stationed them along the walls within line of sight. Reserve teams waited below to relieve their friends when needed. Zanna’s relief would come soon, but she appreciated the food from her apprentice. Arlo had taken to the task of message runner.

  “I’ve said it before, but the Banished sure like waiting, master,” Arlo said, cupping a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

  “They don’t want to waste lives,” Zanna replied. “You’re here in the heavens, staring down. Imagine their point of view; gazing up at towering walls filled with an army of sorcerers.”

  “But we don’t have an army.”

  “They don’t know that. They’re prudent, and like you said, they’re waiting for something,” Zanna said, biting into a chunk of bread. “Right now, that looks like nightfall. It follows the pattern.”

  The limited skirmishes had taken place at night, under cover of darkness. The Banished, apart from sending warriors to their rear, built their arsenal to break a siege—trebuchets, catapults, ladders. Once they’d realised what the Sparkers had done, they’d focused a volley of projectiles on specific parts of the shield wall, testing for weaknesses. No blood had spilled, but the Sparkers grew tired from the constant concentration. They knew the Banished would exploit even the smallest crack in their defence.

  Zanna gazed through the haze of dancing fire at the Banished. Estimates marked their number at five hundred thousand, though a third of that appeared to be non-combatants—children, elders and those with child.

  I was right, she thought. This is a migration. They want out of their prison. But their leaders value their lives; their reticence to attack proves that much. Many armies would throw their soldiers at the walls.

  Haltveldt would throw its soldiers at the walls. Men, women, children—whoever they could so long as they snatched victory.

  “I dreamt about them again last night,” Arlo murmured.

  Zanna’s attention snapped to her apprentice. The nights had been long of late; inky shadows circled his pinched, pasty skin. The boy stared toward the Banished, but his dull eyes gazed through them.

  “The singing?” Zanna asked. She felt a flicker in her section’s defences, a slight weakening. She focused her energy into the shield wall.

  “Yes,” he replied, in a monotone. “The lights up there too. They…tore again. Split across the sky, but the colours faded. A bright, white column rose up, touching the heavens, but behind it darkness waited. And…the picture we found, the rock with the tree. It calls to me.”

  Zanna gazed towards the horizon. Even in daylight and through the haze of shimmering, magical fire, she saw the heavens above the Peaks of Eternity writhing with a multitude of colours, a bruise on the sky high above the range. The Banished watched it too. Garet insisted they had caused the maelstrom, a signal of sorts. Zanna didn’t think so. When she watched them through her telescope, she recognised their fear.

  “I’m not so sure these are dreams anymore, Arlo,” she said, laying a hand on her apprentice’s shoulder. “You’re having the same dreams every night, and so vividly?”

  “I hear them singing right now,” he whispered, drawing his cloak closer around his thin body. “Or it.”

  Drok, Zanna thought. There’s something I’ve missed here.

  She considered his words, his behaviour since the Banished had appeared, even his advancing Spark, which made unmatched strides every day. Arlo had appeared shocked and frightened that first night, but the experience had lit a fire in him. He’d thrown himself into his research, which hadn’t surprised her as his love of books and study had shone through from the moment Zanna met him.

  Then he’d discovered Matrim the Mad’s journals and the dreams he’d mentioned since arriving at Solitude had only grown more intense. Arlo had withdrawn into himself even as his Spark bloomed.

  “Perhaps you should leave with the servants when they depart for Adhraas? You can help start the evacuation.”

  “No,” Arlo shouted, his body trembling as soon as the suggestion left Zanna’s lips. “I can’t. Don’t make me, Zanna.”

  The conviction startled her. The boy bunched his hands into fists by his side, pupils drowning out the blue of his eyes.

  Teeth of the gods. How have I let it come to this? I told myself to spend more time with him. I’ve been so worried about Calene and the Banished and the vote, I hadn’t even realised what was happening to him.

  “Sorry, Arlo,” she whispered, stooping and laying a hand on his cheek. Her black skin stood out against his too-pale face. “I’ve failed you. You’ll stay at Solitude, with me.”

  Arlo relaxed and sagged against her. The sudden change made ice run through her veins.

  “Thank you, master.”

  “Go and rest,” she said, “now. That’s an order.”

  Arlo nodded. Zanna watched him slink away, slumped and head down.

  Raas, and any other of you motherless gods listening, she prayed, turning back to the Banished, don’t dare let any harm befall that boy. Don’t let him pay for my mistakes.

  ###

  Zanna tossed and turned, drifting in and out of sleep. She’d trained her mind to focus its energies on the wall, even in slumber, but that wasn’t what made her rest fitful.

  Arlo’s state of mind worried her. Sparkers often experienced vivid dreams, and the Order’s histories mentioned some who’d suffered from premonitions and foresight in the past. A lost gift, though the chronicles had described it more like a burden. She considered the possibility that Arlo’s dreams were actually latent prophetic powers, but it could equally have been the proximity of the Banished and the Peaks of Eternity. He trembled at the mere thought of being sent away from Solitude.

  There’s a link there, Zanna thought, staring up at the ceiling. I wish I’d realised sooner.

  As ever, it wasn’t just Arlo on her mind. Calene dominated her thoughts. She couldn’t establish the Link with her without breaking her concentration on the shield wall. It pained her, but she couldn’t allow her focus to slip, even for a moment. For all Zanna knew, the Banished Calene had found had turned on her, but she put her abrupt departure in their last Link down to Zanna overstepping her boundaries too often. She didn’t want to consider the alternative.

  She hoped they’d reach Spring Haven and convince the Conclave to act.

  I can’t help but think of her, she mused, twisting the blankets between her fingers in frustration. I’d given up hope of reconnecting with her. Now I have, but under circumstances such as these… Calene, will I ever see you again?

  Zanna sighed. Lying in bed wouldn’t solve the conundrum of the Banished. It wouldn’t help Arlo’s situation, and she grew weary of pining over her daughter.

  I can do more, she thought, flinging the fur covers aside.

  Zanna removed her white shift, bare feet padding on the stone floor, and washed, before dressing in her favourite purple robes. The words she’d spoken to Garet returned to her, over and again, goading her.

  “Have you tried talking to them?”

  To Zanna, it seemed so simple. A way to avoid bloodshed before the inevitable happened. The Banished seemed intent on breaching Solitude and heading south. If she could discover why then perhaps no one would need to die. She inspected her reflection in the mirror. She could live for another two hundred years, at least.

  Could. Nothing’s ever certain.

  She nodded to herself, breathed deep and left.

  ###

  “Zanna, you’re not on duty,” Garet grunte
d, pulling her aside by the elbow as she ascended the steps to Solitude’s tallest rampart. She’d decided to approach her superior one last time, before she took matters into her own hands. “What brings you here?”

  She gazed downwards at the Banished front lines, three hundred paces from Solitude’s walls. The trench gaped between them, an unbridgeable rift.

  “I want to know why you won’t seek peace with them.”

  She expected anger and defiance. Instead, Garet shook his head and pursed his lips.

  “This isn’t a peaceful world,” he said, letting his stare wander across the Sparkers maintaining the shield wall. “We’ve often found ourselves at odds. Perhaps my exile, a century ago, reminds you too much of your own actions? Whatever you think of me, consider this. Solitude is my home.”

  “It’s mine too,” Zanna said.

  “For a decade. I’ve lived here a hundred years. These Sparkers are my people.” He pointed south, toward Adhraas. “You, that apprentice of yours and the simple folk who live beyond these walls are my responsibility. I’m the Protector of Solitude. That’s my title. My duty. And it remains my duty, no matter how the Conclave tie my hands more and more with each passing year. Now, they’ve finally granted us a boon. We can use our full potential, for the first time without fear of recrimination from the Council. I must deal with the facts as I see them. A nation of Banished are here, and they’ve made it clear they seek to pass, one way or another. I only want to protect my people, Zanna. Can’t you see that? I realise you may think me rash, arrogant, but I do what I see is right. For the greater good.”

  “Then find another way,” she replied, clasping her hands. “Talk to them.”

  “Do they look like they want to talk?” Garet snapped. He tossed his head towards the Banished. “Don’t the swords and spears and siege weapons spell it out for you? Don’t the unprovoked attacks make it plain? They’re invaders, and we must treat them as such.”

  She smiled at Garet. I pity you, she thought, staring into eyes that always held only anger. Calene, Arlo. I do this for you.

  Zanna turned on her heel, wind whipping around her as she strode across Solitude’s highest rampart. Her cloak billowed, grey-streaked hair streaming behind her. The other Sparkers on duty turned her way, surprise on their faces. Without pausing, she opened herself to the energies flowing around the fortress—life, fear, water, air and earth. The dying embers of hope. She let it build inside her until she trembled with the excess of power, more alive, more connected than ever before. Drawing it all in, she felt the limits of what she could hold straining. Only her daughter could exceed those boundaries. Energies of all kinds swirled around Solitude, and she felt it all, used it all. She’d need it.

  Climbing atop the rampart, Zanna stepped off.

  She wove her magic as she did, ignoring the gasps and cries of alarm from the Sparkers on the walls, and drove the maelstrom of energy building inside her outwards.

  Wind to support her, to push her through the shield wall. A barrier to protect her, like the one she’d created for Arlo’s experiments, from the conflagration swirling between Solitude and the Banished. She saw the warriors a hundred feet below pointing up in wonder as she glided through the air, heard the yells of her fellow Sparkers as she descended, but she ignored them.

  She scanned the ground, senses magnified as the Spark powered her, looking for the Banished leader who’d waited closest to the walls. She saw him, features standing out in exquisite detail—the pulse vibrating in his neck, the flecks of white in his yellow-fair hair, the worry lines eating into his noble face. He gazed back. As she drifted closer, she saw his wide, grey eyes fill with tears of astonishment.

  She understood. A mage appearing from the sky, alone, to face down an entire army. There had to be apprehension. But she noticed something else in his stare too. She felt it in the air.

  Hope.

  Zanna’s bare feet met the ground, for the first time in a decade. The sensation thrilled her, and she almost forgot herself as she wriggled her toes in the grass.

  I’ve deprived myself of simple pleasures for too long, she thought, watching the Banished leader, all because I’ve punished myself for protecting my daughter. I should have found another way, yes. But I’m wiser, and I’ll show everyone I’m no monster.

  She’d landed in the midst of an army. The thought struck her with its full consequence when she looked around at the hundreds of pale faces all around, and the thousands more beyond them. Still holding onto her Spark, she felt the energy build from the army. Fear, yes. Determination. Hope. It all called to her.

  As did something else. A distant curiosity. Watching. Waiting…

  It vanished, as if it knew it had been noticed. Zanna shook the distraction off and focused on the Banished.

  “How dare you?” Garet screamed from up high on the walls. His amplified voice carried over the wind. “You fool!”

  Zanna ignored him.

  The Banished leader stepped forward to meet her. Others tried to follow but he waved them back. He pointed at Zanna and uttered a few words in his language that she couldn’t understand. He approached and stopped just beyond arm’s reach.

  She studied him. He had a strength about him—not just physical, though he stood tall and appeared muscled beneath his armour. No, his power went deeper than that somehow. He appeared to have hit middle age, though she realised his ivory skin and near-colourless hair rendered him almost ageless. His eyes held the weight of wisdom, just as his features held the lines of age.

  She glanced at the sword he wore at his hip. The weapon glinted in the daylight, and she noticed a relief of Solitude engraved on its crossguard.

  Zanna turned and looked behind her, craning her neck to stare up at the towering walls, the tallest rampart one hundred feet above. She saw Sparkers leaning over, the glass of their telescopes reflecting the sunlight.

  An unnatural hush descended on the plains. Zanna could hear the rustle of chain mail and the whinny of horses, though cries from Solitude drifted to her from above.

  “I’ve never seen it from this side,” she said, smiling at the Banished before studying the fortress.

  It towered above them, a stone monstrosity with impassable, barred gates large enough to accommodate ten soldiers side-by-side, and the new trench like a chasm into the bowels of the earth. Intimidating enough, but the Peaks of Eternity dwarfed even them, sweeping behind the Banished, until they built to their highest point in the far distance. The mass of swirling colours still hovered above them. An ominous, unwelcoming view.

  She felt so small, so insignificant, staring up at the sheer fortress walls, the craggy mountains, but still she felt liberated. For the first time in a decade, Zanna had acted instead of hiding. An exile she might have been, but a Sparker too, and a servant of the gods.

  She laid a hand against her chest. “Zanna.”

  The Banished nodded and mimicked her gesture. “Kearn,” he replied, voice deep and musical.

  Zanna stared at him, then let her gaze drift to the people assembled behind him. She pointed at them.

  “Why?”

  Kearn turned and pointed to the summit of the Peaks of Eternity, and the maelstrom coalescing there. Zanna forced her eyes upwards and a moment of panic gripped her.

  Our fortress on one side, and those terrible mountains on the other, she thought, breathing to steady herself. Oppression no matter where they look.

  “Il Renuish,” Kearn said, facing her again. He crossed his wrists together, forming an X, then moved his palms in a straight line. “Solitude harran va liesh.”

  “Il Renuish?” Zanna asked, trying to duplicate his accent. She couldn’t tell if she succeeded or not.

  “Vah,” Kearn replied, nodding and smiling. He pointed to the top of Solitude. Zanna turned. She saw Garet standing there, robes and raven hair billowing in the wind. “Tilo? Bur pashea il Mui
r.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zanna said, shaking her head with a wry smile, “I’ve no idea what you’re saying.”

  Kearn laughed, a beautiful sound that made her heart soar. He pointed at her, then at himself, and raised a hand to his mouth.

  “Ret?”

  “Eat,” Zanna said, and smiled. “Yes, please.”

  Kearn turned and called to the Banished behind him. Several of them broke ranks.

  This is working, Zanna thought, hope blooming in her chest. There is more to this. They don’t want to fight!

  The Banished glanced back to her and the smile on his face disintegrated, eyes growing wide.

  “Sha!” he yelled, shoving Zanna backwards. As she crashed into the mud, she saw Garet, felt his magic as he stood upon the walls, arms raised in triumph.

  A fireball struck the ground where she’d been standing and erupted, searing shrapnel flying in all directions. Zanna scrambled away on all fours. Kearn lay dazed in the dirt. The projectile had hit the ground under him and tossed him into the air. At least, it had tossed his torso into the air. His legs were just…gone. His hands moved feebly for a moment, head twisting, trying to check on his people.

  She crawled to him and cradled his head. More dead, dying, burning bodies lay strewn in the mud behind him, and the cries of those still living ate into her soul. Embers danced in the air around them and a mist of blood and ash fogged the killing field.

  Those people were bringing me food. Food! Why, Garet? Why?

  Kearn gasped as she gazed into his eyes.

  “Il Renuish,” he breathed, reaching for her face. He grazed her cheeks. “Solitude…death.”

  His hand dropped as the light fled from his eyes.

  “Death…” Zanna repeated, tears stinging her eyes as sound exploded around her.

  The Banished, two hundred yards away, rattled their weapons and wailed. Maces, swords and spears glinted in the sunlight, and they cried as one for the death of those who sought peace, murdered by the Sparkers of Solitude.

  She felt it before she heard it. The air seemed to hold its breath around her as a hundred Sparkers drew from the world all at once. Then, it erupted.