Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  Moments later, a violent tremor roared from the mountain’s belly. The quake hurled me from the saddle, torquing my bound foot until the knot slipped free.

  As I slammed into the earth, I heard Kei scream.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Savra

  A circle of upturned earth, Atal grasslands

  IN THE CENTER of the trampled area, mounds of loose earth were strewn with uprooted grass and small stones. The devastation proved that I hadn’t imagined Havialo’s conjuring. Nor had I imagined the three people who had arrived to meet him. They’d been here, solid and real, and now they were gone. Vanished in a thunderclap.

  Were they dead? My lip trembled. Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  “They’re alive,” the man, Parveld said. After gesturing to a low hummock of earth where I could sit, he’d backed off a few paces, moving slowly as if I were a spooked rabbit. “Even after all these decades, I can’t Want to kill someone, no matter what terrible things they’ve done. I can’t help seeing the true nature of their sparks. Almost everybody believes their actions to be righteous.”

  The horses were still pawing at the ground and blowing, eyes white rimmed. Clucking his tongue, Parveld approached the small herd and raised a hand toward Havialo’s mare. She shied away.

  The man shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Maybe in another century I’ll learn the trick of horses.”

  “Do you read thoughts?” I asked. “How did you know I was worried you killed them?”

  All the horses had sidled away from him now. With a last shrug in their direction, he strode to another grassy hummock and sat. Near me but not too near.

  “I can read thoughts, yes. But I prefer not to. Everyone has a right to their privacy. Just now, I simply thought of the first question I’d ask if four people suddenly vanished. I’d want to know what happened to them. And the answer is, I sent them away. They're at an oasis a day’s walk into the Sandsea.”

  “You can look into peoples’ minds, but you’re not an argent.”

  He held up his hands to show his fingers were bare of rings. “Not an argent or any kind of metalogist.”

  “Havialo thought I was using my magic. Are you a spiritist?”

  He inclined his head. “I’ve traveled to many lands. Magic is slightly different everywhere. Talents go by different names. But yes, my abilities are close to spiritism. To yours.”

  “I still don’t understand how you know so much about me.” The more I thought about it, the more my nerves prickled at the situation. Sure, this man had rescued me. But so had Havialo. I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself tight. If only I could go back to that last morning with Avill. I’d run away before the boy summoned me to the registrar.

  He sighed. “I speak in riddles—I’m sorry. And I forget as many things as I remember. Both are effects of living far longer than anyone should. Long, long ago, I learned of you through a vision. But I can also sense your power. Spiritist to spiritist. You are a bonfire.”

  “This vision told you I was coming to Jaliss? Did you expect Havialo to betray me?”

  “Nothing so specific. I couldn’t even be certain you existed until I felt your spark.”

  “Spark?”

  “Your spirit… it glows in the aether.”

  I glanced at Breeze. Still hobbled, he’d calmed enough to begin grazing again. Good. I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay here much longer, but I didn’t want to ride a spooked mount.

  Overhead, the storm continued to break apart. Silver lined the edges of the tattered clouds. As I looked up at the vast sky, my vision went blurry. What was I going to do? Here I was, talking to a strange man many weeks’ travel from the only home I’d known. I’d learned much in my journey with Havialo: how to set camp, where to fill water skins, the geognost’s opinion on imperial politics. But I had no idea what to do next. Try to find Stormshard and my father? Follow the road all the way back to Cosmal Province and—assuming I made it safely—attempt to find my mother and sister.

  For that matter, why should I even believe they were still alive?

  I bit my lip. Hard. I would not cry. Not now, in front of a stranger who—for all I knew—just wanted to manipulate me into serving him instead.

  “Thank you for saving me,” I said, for lack of other words to fill the silence.

  “I’d like to do more. I’d like to help you. Teach you.”

  “You just rescued me from the last person who said that.”

  “I know. And I can’t offer anything besides my word.”

  And this, he continued in my head. As he spoke, emotions joined his words. Reassurance. Hope. Resolve. Kindness.

  It was too much. A tear spilled down my cheek.

  “Why?” I said. “What’s so important about me?”

  “Terrible things are coming to Atal and the Provinces. I’m afraid we can’t stop that. But without you, the suffering will be immeasurable. Inconceivable.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m just a Prov from Cosmal Province.”

  He shook his head, eyes seeming to plead. “I don’t know, Savra. I wish I did, but all I had were glimpses.”

  I hugged my knees tighter. “Havialo was bringing me here to be a scribe.”

  Parveld’s face lit. “I knew it! I saw you with a quill.”

  Of course he did... I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Well, that opportunity is gone now…” Except it wasn’t. Maybe I should just follow through. I had the ledger.

  “You were heading into Jaliss?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Havialo had a plan to get me my Function writ.”

  “It’s the right path,” Parveld whispered, almost to himself. He jumped to his feet and started pacing. “You should continue.”

  Just ride into Jaliss with the scroll tube and hope it worked out? What about the unrest with Steelhold’s closure? I ducked my head and ran my hands through my hair, frustrated and wrung out.

  When I looked up, Parveld had snared Breeze’s reins. Though my poor gelding rolled his eyes at the strange man, he followed reluctantly.

  “The Graybranch Inn. I have an account with the proprietor, Fishel,” he said, setting the reins on my lap. Giving a quick glance at Breeze’s hobbles, he seemed to think better of stooping to unfasten them. “In my visions, your writings moved the Empire. Even more than your magic.”

  “People said the city is dangerous right now.”

  “A sickness that quickly spreads across the Empire. Soon, nowhere will be safe. The Graybranch is a haven. There are few others.”

  I grabbed the reins and stroked Breeze’s front leg, stopping at the buckle for the hobbles. My gelding snuffled at my hair then nudged my head with his nose.

  Even before Havialo had admitted to kidnapping my family, I hadn’t been sure I wanted to be a scribe. I appreciated Parveld’s kindness, and he obviously worried about my future. But all I really cared about was my family.

  I glanced at the sun. It would be dark in a few hours. I needed to choose: stay here and spend the night exposed, or look for shelter in the city. Regardless of the unrest in the capital, a door with a lock would be safer than a tent in the grasslands. In the morning, I could consider my predicament with a fresh mind.

  “One question. If I’m so important, why aren’t you insisting I stay up there where you can protect me?” I gestured up at the shepherd’s hut.

  “Every instinct screams at me to do just that,” Parveld said. “But it’s not time. Not the right path.”

  I finished removing the leather cuffs from Breeze’s forelegs. When I stood, the horse laid his neck over my shoulder. At least I’d made one true friend on this journey. Scratching his withers, I lifted a foot to the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. I didn’t meet the man’s eyes—the whole situation made me uncomfortable.

  I’d heard stories of strange magic in distant lands. The notion that he’d seen me in a vision, even centuries in the past, didn’t seem
impossible. I’d heard the monks in the Jalakyrisi Spicelands lived for thousands of years. And some Provs claimed to have visions of the future. But even if I believed Parveld, I wasn’t ready to put my fate in someone else’s hands.

  “I won’t beg you to trust me,” Parveld said, once again seeming to read my mind. “You’re clever enough to make your own decisions. But I do think you should take these.”

  I blushed when he held up Havialo’s saddlebags—including the scroll holder containing my ledger. Money. Supplies. Havialo hadn’t even trusted me with a waterskin, yet I’d planned to ride off into a strange city with the meager contents in my panniers. I wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “Thank you. And I’ll think about what you said about training.” I laid the saddlebags over my lap. It would be easier to ride if I sorted through them and took what I needed, but I wanted to get going.

  Parveld tucked his hands into his pockets. “The Graybranch sits on the border between the Splits and the Merchants’ Quarter. Fishel keeps a stable, a difficult find in the city.”

  I took up the reins and settled my weight in the saddle. After weeks of riding, it felt as comfortable as any other seat. “Graybranch near the Splits. Got it.” I’d consider it, anyway.

  “I’ll stay here until Chilltide deepens,” he said. “After that, I’ll leave a note with directions to a warmer shelter. Come find me when you’re ready.”

  Nodding, I pressed my heels to Breeze’s sides. I felt Parveld’s eyes on my back as I rode away.

  The sun hung a few fingers off the horizon when I passed the capital’s first outskirts. I kept Breeze to a light trot, not wanting to waste time. As I passed into the bustle of the city’s inner districts, I slowed to keep from trampling the foot traffic clogging the streets. Careful to avoid looking like a wide-eyed Prov, I pulled my cloak’s hood over my hair and tried to sit casually, eyes examining the signs for inns or guesthouses.

  When the ground trembled, I stiffened. The rumble grew. Around, people dropped to crouches.

  Breeze tossed his head, wild-eyed, as the quake swelled to a violent rocking. Moments later, the earth heaved and sent him down on one knee. One of us screamed as I flew from the saddle.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kostan

  During a catastrophic earthquake, Icethorn Mountains

  THE MOUNTAIN ROLLED beneath me, throwing stones into the air. Trees toppled, crashing down, roots tearing from the earth with a roar. Rocks bounced down the hillside, careening across the trail ahead.

  I couldn’t see the others, but I heard Evrain yelling. The horses were gone, bolted or fallen down the slope. A few paces downhill, a flying boulder smacked a tree, snapping the crown from the trunk.

  I couldn’t hear my own scream as I crawled forward.

  One elbow and then the other, knees against the shuddering earth, I made for the open area ahead. The place Kei had ridden ahead to scout.

  The source of her scream.

  Somewhere high above, a dust cloud billowed as a section of cliff gave way. I couldn’t see the slide, could only hear its growl and thunder.

  Hands grabbed me under the armpits, dragging me upright. Dust and grit blurred my vision. Blinking, I spotted Falla to one side of me. Evrain stepped to the other. The Sharders draped my arms over their shoulders. We staggered forward together.

  When we reached the open slope, my companions stopped short. From the morning’s ride, I remembered a solid mountainside dotted with brush, stones, even wildflowers. Now, a moving river of soil raged before us. Boulders floated in the torrent, and trees tumbled roots over branches.

  Dry-mouthed, I staggered backward with the others, then let them steer me downhill, through the crumbling forest toward the valley bottom.

  We slipped and slid. No matter their efforts, my brand hit the ground again and again, sending agony streaking up my leg. Trees leaned and fell, roots tearing from the slope. I felt certain we wouldn’t survive. Yet somehow, as we reached the steep ravine where the mountain slopes converged, the trembling began to subside. I huddled between the Sharders, still waiting for the valley walls to roar down and crush us.

  Eventually, the rumbles ebbed then ceased. Somewhere in the ragged forest above, a lone bird chirped. A few paces from us, a small stream burbled.

  Falla shifted, a moan from her throat quickly stifled.

  “Falla?” Evrain asked. The big man hurried around me to her side.

  I uncurled from my awkward crouch, accidentally knocking my injured foot against a fallen branch. Pain shot from the wound, traveling up my bones and setting my spine shivering. Beside me, Falla breathed through gritted teeth.

  “Broken,” she whispered.

  Her right arm hung limply at her side, the fabric of her sleeve torn. A livid bruise had already bloomed, purpling her flesh from elbow to shoulder. Her left hand hovered protectively over the injury.

  “What happened?” Evrain asked.

  “Rock. Came down early on. Right after Kei screamed.”

  I blinked in surprise. Even injured, she’d still carried half my weight down the slope. Then her other words struck me.

  Kei...

  Evrain must have had the same thought; he jumped up and scrambled downstream, peering. After a moment, he returned and crouched beside us, face grim.

  “Well?” Falla asked, voice tight.

  Evrain shook his head.

  What did that mean? Had he seen her body? I licked my lips to ask when a branch snapped behind us. A horse plodded out of the forest. His head was low, reins dragging. Bleeding scratches covered his neck and chest. As for the saddle, nothing remained.

  A smile touched Falla’s lips. “Always said Chaser was the most stubborn among us. Hey, old friend.”

  Slowly, Evrain stood. He clucked to the animal as he approached and gathered the reins. After allowing the horse to smell his hand, he stroked Chaser’s neck. “I don’t know who’s more stubborn, you or your mistress.” The Stormshard leader stood with the animal for a moment, forehead pressed against the sorrel-furred cheek before turning to us.

  “We’ll splint Falla’s arm. Kostan can ride. Agreed?”

  I pushed away the urge to protest. My pride could suffer for now. Instead, I nodded and clambered to my feet. Falla pulled out her belt knife, and after a moment’s hesitation, she held it out.

  “You try to stab me with that, I’ll tear out your windpipe with my teeth,” she said, attempting a smile. “I need you to cut fabric strips for the splint.”

  “You've nothing to fear from me. I forgot I was supposed to be your enemy,” I said, accepting the blade.

  Between the three of us, we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. With Falla’s fresh injury, she’d need any warmth we could provide. My tunic then. As I started to untuck it from my trousers, Evrain laid a hand on my shoulder. He’d already removed his shirt, baring a muscled chest with a thin furring of gray hair and the scars to match his years as a Sharder.

  Falla smirked. “Can’t resist a chance to show up the strapping young lad, eh, Evrain?”

  The leader rolled his eyes at her as he handed over his shirt. I slipped the knife into the stitching and cut away a sleeve. As I tore strips from it, Evrain gathered sticks to hold the injury rigid.

  Falla hissed when we cinched the splint to her arm but otherwise bore it stoically. Afterward, she swallowed, eyes turning downstream. The joking must have been her way of avoiding thoughts of what lay ahead.

  A mountain had come down on Kei’s head. No one could survive that.

  ***

  The landslide had created an earthen dam across the narrow valley. At its lowest, the berm was deeper than the height of two men. Already, the stream that tumbled down the ravine had begun to pool. In a few days, a small lake would fill the valley bottom.

  Falla’s stalwart horse huffed as he struggled up the loose soil and rocks, and I patted his silky coat to reassure him. Ahead, Evrain trudged with head dow
n, reins held loosely in his hand. Behind, Falla marched with lips pressed together, breathing heavily through her nose.

  Coldness filled my chest, slowing my heart. Somewhere beneath our feet, Kei's body lay in an early grave. So much hope and joy snuffed in an instant.

  I laid my palm over the Heart of the Empire, felt the hard metal and stone against my breastbone. If the Breaking continued, Kei's spirit would be joined by thousands killed by the land's wrath.

  And Emperor Tovmeil had believed only I could stop it.

  Beyond the landslide, the trail resumed, damaged but usable. We moved in a slow procession over the uneven surface, scarcely speaking. I couldn't get Kei's smile out of my head.

  "At least she died free," Falla said after a while.

  "Indeed," Evrain agreed. "And someday, no Prov will have to bow to the Atal Empire."

  "I hope it comes to pass," I said. "I would like to see an Empire that treated Provs and Atal equally."

  In response, Falla spat. "No offense, Kostan, but I'd advise you to avoid statements like that. Half the Sharders in the band would slit your throat for suggesting it. As far as they're concerned, death is better than being part of Atal."

  I winced. It seemed Kei hadn’t been alone in her appraisal of her fellow Sharders. "Thanks for the warning, I guess."

  She smiled, but it lacked any real joy. "Seen enough death for today, my friend."

  At the reminder, silence once again cloaked us. I stared at the trail ahead, frustrated and wondering what would become of us all. We were a somber group as we approached the final turn before Stormshard's home cavern.

  When we rounded the bend and saw the piles of rubble where the cavern had collapsed, Evrain fell to his knees. His gaze flew to Falla. Had her husband been inside?

  "Anyone here?" Falla yelled, a desperate edge to her voice.

  From behind a boulder, a single figure emerged. Staggering and bleeding, the man limped to us. His eyes were hollow, grief-stricken. He shook his head.