Havialo’s eyes darted to me. Did he just now remember that I had ears? “Perhaps we should talk about this later,” he offered.
The woman stared at me for a moment. “I don’t see much purpose in inserting her via the scribe’s Function at this point,” she said.
I took an unwitting step back. Havialo sidestepped between the newcomers and me. He snatched the reins of the woman’s mount, holding them near the bridle. “Here, Venna, let me help you down,” he said as he held out a hand. “As I mentioned, I think we should discuss the particulars of the operation later.”
Venna’s mouth twisted in annoyance. “Avoiding the subject won’t make up for the failure.” Ignoring his offered hand, she swung her leg over and dropped to the grass. The armored man followed her lead.
“I brought some of that aged cheese from the Guralan coast,” Havialo said as he stepped to his hobbled mount and began rooting through the saddlebag. Meanwhile, Biallist dismounted, watching the woman as if waiting for a signal.
I continued to retreat. Whatever this was, I didn’t want to be part of it. When the backs of my legs brushed the tall grass at the edge of our trampled area, I glanced back to judge the distance to Breeze. My gelding was still hobbled. Unfastening the leather cuffs on his forelegs would slow me, but I might free him and ride off before they caught me.
Savra.
A bolt of ice shot through me. Though my name sounded as if it had been spoken aloud, I knew the voice had been inside my mind. Even so, I searched my surroundings for the speaker. Biallist and Venna continued to approach Havialo, forced courtesy hanging over their bodies like frozen clothing.
Please don’t be frightened, the voice said. Not of me.
Don’t be frightened of a voice suddenly echoing in my own skull? My fingernails dug into my thighs. Swallowing the sudden stone in my throat, I nearly coughed.
“Who?” I whispered, just a breath of air escaping my lips.
Don’t speak aloud. You must not alert the others.
Standing frozen, I ran my eyes over the area. Still, neither Havialo nor his friends seemed to have noticed someone else speaking. The guardsman stood a few paces back from the other pair, while Havialo pasted on a smile and handed over a wedge of wax-encased cheese.
“A thoughtful gift. But it doesn’t change the situation, Havialo,” Venna said. “Given the lack of results from the original plan, there are some who want to proceed with the alternative.”
Havialo’s spine stiffened. “Even considering the cost?”
“They believe some of the loss of life can be prevented.” Venna gestured toward me with her chin. “But that still leaves the problem of your new acquisition. Her value has dropped considerably in light of recent events. If she’s unwilling, at this point she’s more of a liability.”
Look uphill, the voice said.
I dragged my attention from the group and glanced up the slope. The shepherd had come within a hundred paces. When our eyes met, he nodded.
As Havialo turned to look at me, his face hardened. “She’ll obey.”
“Why is that?” Venna asked. “She looks ready to flee already.”
“Because my men hold her mother and sister hostage.” He cupped a hand around his mouth. “You hear that, Savra? There is no sanctuary. Your mother and sister are in a hidden location near the Crease. My men are keeping them secure and fed, and they’ll continue to do so as long as you cooperate.”
It felt as if my heart were shattering at the confirmation of my fears. Mother and Avill must be so frightened. If only I'd refused to go with the mage in the beginning.
“Wouldn’t you be just as content to see her… exterminated?” Venna asked. “I seem to remember you speaking of that.”
He shook his head. “Despite Evrain’s actions, I don’t wish to see his daughter die. Savra is innocent of her father’s sins, and she’s shown integrity during our travels.”
Die? Sins? My heart thumped harder. As if in answer, the storm winds lashed, flattening the grass around us.
You can’t outrun them, the shepherd said into my thoughts. And he’s lying about your mother and sister. At least partly. Anyway, you’ll do neither of them any good if you die here.
I shook my head, still wondering if his words were part of my imagination.
If you turn to flee, the thug will send a crossbow bolt through your back, he continued.
I stepped to the side to get a better view of the guard and saw that he did, in fact, have a small crossbow holstered at his belt.
Good. You’re starting to believe. A natural. When I first heard voices through the aether, it took days for me to acknowledge them as real.
Biallist curled his lip in disgust, skin sliding over the bones of his face. “I forgot this one was personal.”
“Evrain’s flawed views cost my daughter her life. “
“Wait,” I blurted. “I thought you said one of the Sharders betrayed you because of your Atal birth.”
The geognost turned to me, a wild look in his eyes. “And if I’d explained that your father was responsible, would you have believed me? You see, Savra, I’ve tried over and over to convince you of the proper choice. But you’re just as stubborn—and faithless—as your father. I never wanted to use your mother and sister against you. If you’d seen the righteousness of my cause, they’d have gone on to the sanctuary without you ever knowing. Now, you’ll need to be forcibly trained to accept our mission.”
“But my father asked you to rescue me… You’d forgiven one another for past quarrels…” The words sounded stupid, even to me. Of course my father hadn’t sent him. If he had, Mother and Avill would be safe. Most likely, I never would have been separated from them.
Havialo sneered. “I doubt your father remembers telling me about you. We were deep into our cups soon after he left Cosmal. He feared you might have the spiritist talent, you see, and had a foolish hope of joining the Sharders and ending the executions before you came of age. But like all dreams, that faded. He did send for you, though. Unfortunately, the courier tasked with escorting you away from Numintown was… waylaid. Evrain will never know why you failed to arrive—I doubt he remembers discussing your nightmares and aura-sight with me.”
My hand fell on the pocket where I’d kept the note since Havialo had given it to me.
The mage smirked when he noticed the motion. “You remember the ease with which my friend changed the ledger.”
The letter was a forgery—I should have known. A wave of disgust struck me. I’d been treasuring a piece of paper that had been nothing but a lie. The back of my tongue tasted like chalk as I pulled the letter out and dropped it on the grass before me.
“If it’s any consolation,” the geognost said, “I did hope to see you join the cause willingly. I never wanted this to happen.”
“Tell me how to find my mother and sister,” I said. “Maybe I’ll reconsider your offer.”
The woman, Venna, laughed. “She thinks she’s clever. Frankly, Havialo, I doubt this one can be bent to our cause. Easier to dispose of her than force her through the pain of a failed indoctrination. Even with the more... pliable young spiritists you’ve brought us, our success has been less than we’d hoped.”
“What she’s saying is we’ve had to kill half the young people you rescued,” Biallist said with an exaggerated sigh. “The stakes are too high to use anyone in whom we have less than absolute trust.”
As the man’s words sank in, the guard stepped forward. “Ready for your orders, Mistress Venna, Master Biallist.”
The woman stared at me as the first raindrops sliced down. Finally, she made a shooing gesture in my direction.
My breath froze as the guard raised his crossbow. Panic clamped my throat shut.
Abruptly the world faded, my aura-sight flaring to life. Spirits sprang into my vision, phantoms against a misty world. The guard had a subdued aura, drab like rain-soaked pine needles. Beside him, Venna was a swirli
ng mass of color, blue determination with just a hint of regret. Havialo was… a morass of wildly shifting emotions, while Biallist pulsed with orange greed.
I’m sorry for this, Savra. The shepherd’s voice cut through my mind, shattering my aura-sight like a hammer strike on a skim of ice. I staggered, only to feel as if my lungs were being sucked from my chest. I gagged, bending over.
Across the clearing, the others folded over their stomachs, groaning in agony.
“Impossible,” Havialo croaked. “She’s not trained. I’m certain—”
“Obviously, your certainty isn’t worth a piece of imperial tin scrip,” Venna said, her voice tight. “Shoot her, Krens.”
The crossbow snicked, but before the bolt struck me, an unseen force shoved me back. The bolt flew over the top of my head.
Once again, please accept my apologies for the rough treatment, the shepherd said as I landed on my rear.
“What is going on?” I yelled, turning my head toward the shepherd. Now about fifty paces above us and sidestepping down the slope, feet skidding, he waved my attention away.
“Savra,” Havialo said. “You must control your ability. You’re gathering energy from our spirits. If you wish to convince these people you aren’t dangerous, you must cease.”
“But I—” Suddenly, it started to make sense. The shepherd must be a spiritist. None of the others had noticed him, and Havialo was attributing the man’s power to me. “—why should I? This woman just tried to have her guard kill me.”
“A mistake I’m sure,” the mage said. Still hunched over his belly, he turned to Venna. “You’ve been hasty, old friend. You see, she’s more powerful than we expected. Imagine how it could help our cause.”
“Our cause?” Venna said, forcing out the words. “You may have cared at one point, but now you’re just a wounded animal. Lashing out in all directions.”
Havialo’s face went purple with rage. As the wind gusted down from the mountains, I winced, preparing to be struck dead by a bolt of lightning flung from the sky. But an instant later, the ground shuddered and shook. Earthen tongues rose from the land, tearing grass up by the roots, dribbling soil from their tips. Above, the storm weakened—the energy redirected for Havialo’s conjuring.
One of the dirt tentacles thickened at the end as rocks from the stalk rolled up and formed a stone fist. Venna eyes went wild with anger as she pinched the gold ring on her thumb. Like a whip slicing the air, she sprang, crossing the distance between her and Havialo in an eye blink. Her thumb jabbed the hollow of the geognost’s throat.
I truly hate violence, the shepherd said. The human tendency toward it is surely our greatest fault. Steel yourself, Savra. This will hurt.
I screamed as the burning pain in my lungs and heart became searing agony. I felt pulled, torn, turned inside out. It seemed like time froze, leaving nothing but endless hurt.
And then, with a thunderclap, the pain stopped.
I stared, disbelief numbing my tongue.
Where the three newcomers and Havialo had stood, there was nothing but flattened grass and plowed earth. Beyond, the horses snorted, eyes rolling.
I saw sparks at the edge of my vision—I’d been holding my breath for too long. Wheezing, I sucked in a lungful of air.
When I looked up, the shepherd stood before me, hand outstretched to help me to my feet.
“I’d hoped our first meeting would have gone more smoothly.”
Tentatively, I accepted his help. Once on my feet, I realized he didn’t look over twenty-five or thirty. When he’d spoken into my mind, I’d had the sense he was much older.
“I don’t understand what just happened,” I admitted.
“No, I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said. “And the things I have to tell you will likely just make you more confused.”
I blinked. “How did you know my name? How did you say it into my thoughts?”
The corner of his mouth turned up, a charming expression that was somewhat sheepish. “Just so we’re even, I’ll tell you mine. Parveld, though I wasn’t always known by that name. And to answer your questions, in some ways it seems like I’ve always known who you are. That’s not precisely true, of course. For the first seventeen years of my life, I had no idea we would meet. It’s just the two hundred years since are such a long time in comparison.”
I shook my head, unable to handle any more revelations. My knees wobbled.
“You’re pale,” Parveld said. “Why don’t you sit back down.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kostan
On a Sharder trail, Icethorn Mountains
WHEN WE REACHED the part of the return ride where two horses could travel abreast, Kei reined her mount back and rode beside me. The trail had dropped closer to the valley bottom, and the twisted evergreen trees gave the air a warm scent that invited calm.
“I get what you’re saying about the cuff,” Kei said. “Without it, you’d have a much more difficult time convincing a strange gate guard to allow you past. But would you really be comfortable knocking on one of Steelhold’s gates? People in the Hold tried to kill you, right?”
“Maybe not. But I don’t want to limit my options without more information. Did you hear anything else about the Hold?” I’d been thinking about the locked gates. What did it mean? More fighting within the walls? Were the conspirators trying to determine their next action?
She shook her head. “I didn’t linger long. The whole city is on edge—without the flow of scrip and information, people are hungry and afraid.”
I curled my lip. “The Emperor should have made provisions for something like this. Provs shouldn’t suffer when the palace endures an inner crisis.”
“Agreed. Though the Provs could try harder to solve things themselves. Even without the palace and elite paying out scrip, there’s no actual shortages—yet anyway. Why not barter amongst themselves to get what they need?”
Did she really not know? Or was she testing my opinions of imperial policies? “Because their Functions forbid it. Even I’ve seen what the protectors do to people who violate their writs.”
Kei snorted. “True, I suppose. It’s easy for me to forget life as a Prov slave. They’re more likely to take their anger out on each other than risk the protectors’ cudgels.”
“Where did you live before you joined Stormshard?” I asked. Her blue eyes and light hair made me think of Anisel Province, but I couldn’t be sure.
Her mouth twisted in amusement. “I’ll consider telling you my story once I know where your loyalties lie.” At that, she glanced pointedly at my ankle.
“The cuff won’t come off without the key. Or a hacksaw, I suppose.”
“Falla told me about your infection. You were a breath away from death. Is the risk worth keeping your options open?”
“I guess I still feel a sense of duty to the Empire. Not to the throne. To the people. What if I could change things? Give Provs the freedom Stormshard is fighting for?”
Her bright laugh tumbled through the forest. “I can only imagine how that would irk some of my fellow Sharders. Years of fighting only to have a Scion accomplish their goal.”
I tried not to flinch. “Would they still hate the idea if I struck down the Decree of Functions and abolished the Order of Protectors? There are better ways to lead the Atal Empire. I’m sure of it.”
“I like you, Kostan,” she said. “And I’m sorry to say this. But unfortunately, some Provs won’t be content until the Empire is obliterated. In their fantasies, the Atal are the servants for a few generations.”
A breeze pressed through the forest, stirring the hair around her face. Kei sat so easily in the saddle, her hips rocking with each step of her mount. A melancholy smile teased her lips.
“Anyway,” she said after a moment, “cuff or not, I don’t see how you’d undo centuries of Atal oppression single-handedly. You’re a fugitive existing on the goodwill of a Shard of mountain rebels. Meanwhile,
people inside Steelhold want to kill you, and your only trusted ally fell with the Chasm Span.”
“There’s one other person I could trust,” I blurted. “The man who helped me escape believed her to be loyal.”
I sat straighter, annoyed at myself. Maybe the time on horseback had stolen my wits. More likely, the presence of an attractive young woman had loosened my tongue.
The impulse to tell the Sharders my full story flared to life. At the rate I was messing up, it seemed likely to come out anyway. I clutched the saddle pommel as I remembered another detail from my conversation with the Emperor. He had warned me of a betrayal. Likely at the hands of a woman. Maybe Kei would be my downfall.
“Oh?” she asked, arching a delicate eyebrow.
I swallowed. Avoiding an explanation would just raise suspicion. “She’s a ferro mage. Azar. We were supposed to meet at an inn in Jaliss after we fled. I asked her to rescue my friend, Vaness. But then the Span fell.”
“Did Azar make it out?”
I shrugged. “Not across the Chasm Span. She was still within the walls.”
“Well, you won’t be traveling to Jaliss soon. You’re swaying in the saddle after just a couple hours. You should think hard about getting that cuff off.”
In truth, I was considering it. It would be so much easier to abandon my responsibility. I could live here with Stormshard. Patrol the area. Forget the throne. “Maybe. Or maybe your healer’s friends in Jaliss can find out what was in the salve that kept the wound healthy. I can handle the waiting and the aching foot a little longer.”
Kei rolled her eyes. It was charming. “Just like a man. Too tough for your own good. Anyway, I have a hacksaw when you’re ready to join us.”
At that, she clucked to her mount and trotted off, ponytail swinging. I stared at her retreating back, savoring the fantasy of starting a new life as an ordinary Sharder.
“Hey, scout that last exposed section for us, will you Kei?” Evrain called ahead. “I’d like to pass unnoticed.”
“Always making me work for my keep!” the woman called back, voice full of cheer. Clucking to her horse, she trotted from the forest, sunlight kissing her head and shoulders.
Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1) Page 16
