Heart of the Empire (The Broken Lands Book 1)

by Carrie Summers

  Chapter Thirty

  Savra

  Amongst toppled buildings in the outskirts of Jaliss

  A MAN WEARING ragged clothing and a desperate snarl leaped for Breeze’s bridle. My gelding squealed and lashed out with his front hoof, striking the man in the thigh. Clinging with my knees, I leaned hard over the saddle as we trotted down another ruined street.

  Jaliss was in shambles.

  Shadows filled the buildings. Silence gathered in the streets—those who’d been out when the quake struck had quickly melted away. I was in a warehouse district; the wood frames of the structures had fared well, but many stone chimneys had toppled.

  Evening had descended, and despite the gloom beneath Jaliss’s pall of smoke, few lamps and torches had been lit. Distant shouts peppered the air, and far away, beyond the immense shadow cast by Steelhold’s spire, angry tongues of fire licked the air. Steam billowed from the fire’s heart; by the looks of it, it wouldn’t be long before the flames were doused.

  After putting the desperate man well behind me, I paused and stroked Breeze’s neck. I was hopelessly lost. Somewhere, a street should lead away from the city. I’d come in from the east. With luck, I'd find a way back to familiar territory.

  But would the open grasslands be any safer? Parveld’s words echoed in my mind. The Graybranch Inn was a haven. It had to be a safer bet than aimlessly wandering or pitching a tent just outside a devastated city.

  What about leaving the city and riding through the night? To where? I might distance myself from the immediate danger, but I’d face another difficult choice in the morning.

  While I was here, I should at least attempt to find this Graybranch Inn. In the morning, the worst of the danger would have passed—I would think, anyway. I could take my time in making my decision, choose the best course rather than react in a panic.

  Nudging Breeze with my heels, I turned him toward the center of the city. No doubt someone would give me directions to the Graybranch.

  Deeper into Jaliss, cobblestone pavement replaced the earthen streets. Unfortunately, the stones had been tossed like beans in a skillet and were a jumbled puzzle, making footing treacherous. I dismounted to allow Breeze to pick his way forward.

  I kept the hood of my cloak pulled over my hair, my face turned down. More people were out in this area, many with dust-streaked faces and scratched skin. When I reached another cross street and looked up, my throat caught.

  Built of stone rather than wood, many walls had collapsed, baring the insides of buildings for all to see. Families huddled outside their homes, clutching injured limbs, eyes wide with shock. Glancing up and down the streets, I spotted protectors moving in small knots, torches high against the falling night.

  I kept close to my gelding’s side, eyes alert. The western horizon still glowed, but full night would soon fall. At least here, the crowds provided some defense against attackers. Better than moving alone through the darkness of the outskirts.

  At the next street corner, I spotted a mother and her daughter huddled beside a still-standing building.

  “Excuse me,” I asked. “Can you give me directions to the Splits?”

  The woman shook her head and pushed her little girl behind her.

  I swallowed and walked on, my nostrils filling with smoke. Ahead, the stonework on the buildings changed from the native granite to deeply veined marble. Massive slate blocks paved the streets, too large for even an earthquake to shift. A line of protectors two deep stood shoulder to shoulder, defending the district. I tugged on Breeze’s reins, steering him away from what I assumed were the homes or businesses of elite-class Atalans.

  Deeper into the city, people screamed. Glass shattered as fire leaped into the darkening sky. I glanced back at the protectors guarding the wealthy district, expecting some might run to help with the fire. Jaws set, eyes locked directly ahead, not one moved.

  As I started forward again, muffled thumps emerged from an alleyway ahead. I hesitated, scanning the fronts of nearby buildings. Fewer walls had crumbled here. Most doors were shut and padlocked, and wooden shutters covered the windows. Placards hung over entrances, advertising tailors and clothiers.

  Nudging Breeze, I crossed the street to the side opposite the alley mouth.

  As I hurried past, I heard a shout. “Hey!”

  I quickened my pace.

  “Girl! I’m trying to talk to you!”

  It took all my willpower not to glance back over my shoulder.

  Something whistled over my head. The cobblestone smashed the front of the building beside me. Breeze started, tossing his head. My heart sledged against my ribs as I broke into a run, hoping Breeze could keep his footing.

  When a pair of men stepped into my path, I stumbled. One grinned, exposing straight teeth with a hint of staining from the tobacco favored by Atal elite. He wore an expertly tailored waistcoat with silver buttons. His companion, another Atal, twirled a broken chair leg.

  “I believe my friend back there asked to speak to you,” the leader said, running a hand over hair slicked down by wax. When he pushed back the sleeve of his waistcoat, muscles rippled in his forearms. This man might be a privileged Atal, but he shared their obsession with strength. “You’re lost, aren’t you? A stranger here, perhaps. Don’t you know the Heights and Merchant’s Quarter are off limits to Provs without a writ stating your business.” He held out his hand as if waiting for my document.

  “I came to the city to receive my writ,” I said, raising my chin. Behind me, I heard the others advance. I guessed there were at least two more, but I couldn’t risk taking my eyes off the men in front of me.

  The leader raised an eyebrow. “Interesting, considering you stink of Cosmal.”

  “If I’m not allowed here, maybe you can give me directions to the Provincial areas.” While I spoke, I passed Breeze’s reins to my other hand and stepped back alongside the saddle. My standing leg tensed as I unweighted the foot I’d need to jab through the stirrup’s iron ring to mount.

  “We’d better give you an escort,” he said, covering my body with a leering gaze. Behind him, his friend sneered, raising the chair leg.

  I moved, shoving my foot into the stirrup, but it was too late. Hands fell on me from behind, grabbing me around the ribs. As the scream rose in my throat, the world receded.

  No. Not now.

  Despite my mental protests, my aura-sight flared to life. At once, I saw their spirits. Lechery pulsed, a deep reddish-purple, through their thoughts. I had no doubt what they intended, nor that they’d probably leave me dead afterward to protect their reputations. Not that they needed to worry about an accusation from a Provincial girl who hadn’t a single friend in the city.

  As more hands fell on me, pulling me away from Breeze, their voices entered my mind. I stiffened, revolted and terrified. Like the night whispers that sometimes seeped into my thoughts, the men’s desires babbled in my thoughts.

  Somewhere in the midst of my panic, resistance sparked. I couldn’t let them do this. I wouldn’t let them do it.

  With all my focus, I reached my awareness for their spirits and voices. Grabbing handfuls of their auras, I yanked and twisted, yelling into their thoughts.

  NO!

  At once, the world snapped back into place. Jagged cobblestones bludgeoned my hip and elbow as I crashed down. The men stepped back, wide-eyed in terror, bent over their bellies as if pained.

  Scrambling over the uneven terrain, I snatched Breeze’s reins and took off at a sprint. Snorting and blowing, he followed, sturdy legs finding safe points for his hooves.

  As we hurried away, I glanced over my shoulder. What had I just done?

  A few blocks on, the buildings became dingier. I stopped and leaned forward over Breeze’s mane.

  Where was I going to go?

  As if carried on a warm, Highsummer wind, the words entered my mind along with a sensation of someone near.

  Hurry to Fishel’s, Savra. The
Splits. You’re nearly there.

  “Parveld?” I asked. But the voice and presence had vanished.

  I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. A block to my right, a fire burned in an immense iron basket. A man wearing the crier’s crest stood near, calling through a speaking horn.

  “By order of the Emperor, Jaliss is under curfew. Please return to your homes and await direction from Steelhold!”

  Beyond him, someone yelled. A man staggered from an alley carrying an injured woman in his arms. Blood streamed from her forehead, and her eyes stared blankly. She might already be dead. The man paused long enough to kick a stone toward the crier.

  “To the Gray Gorge with your precious Emperor,” he yelled.

  Unfortunately for the man, he hadn’t noticed the pair of protectors farther down the street. The Emperor’s soldiers marched forward and stripped the body of the woman from the man’s arms. I looked away as a series of thumps ended with a loud crack. When I balled my fists and lifted my eyes, the protectors were dragging the man between them. His head lolled as they dragged him around the corner and out of sight.

  I tugged Breeze toward the crier, drawn by his official-looking uniform.

  “I need to get to the Splits,” I said.

  He looked at me as if I were a piece of garbage. “The Splits?” he said, lip twitching. “If you value your virtue, I’d stay clear.”

  Despite his words, he jabbed his thumb toward a street that descended toward the right. Squinting into the torch-lit smoke, I saw ramshackle buildings huddled together. “Is the Graybranch Inn down there?” I asked.

  The man spat on the ruined pavement. “If the protectors haven’t razed it as a breeding ground for rats and revolutionaries.” He scanned me up and down. “Come to think of it, you have an unseemly look about you. Sharder?”

  I stepped back, shaking my head. “Just a weary traveler. I should move on.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Or maybe you should stay here until my protector friends get back to ask you some questions.”

  I shook my head again and stepped away. I’d been foolish to name my destination. But as I started down the street, I heard him laugh to himself. He’d just been trying to scare me.

  I hoped.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kostan

  Beneath the shelter of tree branches, Icethorn foothills

  THE HAMMER STRUCK the chisel with a ringing blow that sent agony up my leg.

  “Sorry,” Evrain muttered. “Just hold as still as you can.”

  As he set the chisel again, laying it against the padding that protected my shin and sliding the tip into the groove the first blows had etched in my cuff, I bit down hard on the stick Falla had shoved between my lips.

  With the next hammer strike, black fluttered at the edges of my vision. Above, the overhanging boughs of a pine reached down like claws. The lone Sharder who’d survived the cavern collapse patted my cheek to keep me from passing out.

  “It’s okay, Shaw,” Evrain said. “If he blacks out, this will be easier anyway.”

  “As you say.” Shaw clapped my shoulder then stepped aside. He’d been out front of the cavern when the quake struck, working on some tool repairs at the anvil. A rock had struck his head right after the shaking began, and when he woke, the cave was gone. He’d spent the time between his recovery and our arrival digging. But it was no use. Not a sound came from within the collapsed hideout. With no food or water, we couldn’t remain out in the elements. We’d begun a slow, hobbling descent out of the mountains—Stormshard had a refuge somewhere near the border with the plateau.

  “All right, Kostan,” Evrain said. “Another few blows. You sure this is what you want?”

  I gritted my teeth and nodded. During the march away from the destroyed cavern, Falla had been stoic despite her broken arm and lost husband whereas I’d been forced to ride the horse like a weakling. Once I’d seen the chisel among Shaw’s supplies, I’d made up my mind. I’d fled Steelhold under the threat of murder. I had the Heart hanging around my neck. Wearing a gold cuff under my trousers would make little difference. And besides, I couldn’t stay dependent on Stormshard to tend my wound. I couldn’t even stay with Stormshard.

  Not anymore.

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  The leader gave a curt nod before resetting the chisel. He struck again, and the bite stick fell from my lips. My head spun. Everything went black.

  ***

  The moon was up, a ghostly orb casting wan light through the pine branches overhead. Beside me, the three Sharders lay close together, conserving warmth. I took a moment to realize they’d piled everything warm on top of me as insulation. Squinting in the dimness, I spotted Shaw’s rucksack and canvas tool holder, Evrain’s tunic, and a saddle blanket recovered from outside the cavern.

  Guilt tightened my chest as I stood and crept from beneath the tree. Beyond the spread of its boughs, the silver light was bright enough to see clearly, and I scanned the trail ahead. Only once I’d taken a couple of steps did I realize: my foot hardly hurt.

  Immediately, I dropped to the ground and propped my ankle on my knee. I wiggled a finger through the folds of the bandage and probed the wound. The flesh was still raw and sensitive, but the area around the gashes was no longer swollen. I’d believed Falla’s theory about the cuff, but I hadn’t realized how quickly its removal would cure me.

  Unfortunately, I had no second boot. I glanced back at the tree then shook my head. Bad enough that I planned to steal their only horse. I couldn’t bring myself to take one of their boots, too.

  Besides, I doubted I could get it off without waking one of them.

  In the grass beside the trail, a rodent dug at the earth. When I stepped toward it, little black eyes stared up at me. Walking on just the ball of my injured foot to keep the bandage clean, I moved past the small creature. The horse grazed on tough mountain grass a few paces down the trail. Scratching between his ears to soothe the animal, I unwound the reins from a tree branch then led him downhill.

  When I’d passed out of sight of the drooping branches where the Stormsharders slept, I turned and whispered an apology. Maybe I’d meet them again someday. With good fortune, I’d be able to prove that an emperor could be both strong and noble. At the very least, I hoped for the chance to beg forgiveness.

  For now, I’d just have to live with my guilt. They were resilient people, and I had no doubt they’d arrive at their shelter safely.

  Well, very little doubt anyway. But a would-be leader needed to make hard choices, especially when lives were at stake. As I grabbed the horse’s mane and awkwardly mounted, prompting a stamping of feet and rolling of eyes, I thought of Kei’s ponytail.

  Maybe that’s what Emperor Tovmeil had prophesied. A woman would betray me. Kei had made me believe, just for a moment, that I could be someone else. A Sharder and free man. But then she’d died and reminded me of everything I could never have.

  Settling the reins in my hand and shifting my weight over the horse’s bare back, I swallowed and squeezed my heels to his ribs.

  I had an Empire to win.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Savra

  Outside the Graybranch Inn

  THE GRAYBRANCH INN had survived the quake intact. Unlike most of the surrounding buildings, the siding had few splinters and fewer gaps. A wide porch ran the length of the front of the building, and though the foundation was stone, the mortar looked to have survived the shake.

  Unfortunately, the door was barred with a curtain drawn across the small glass window beside it. No light came from the upper windows either.

  As I stood on the packed-earth street, holding my gelding's reins and stroking his mane, I trembled. A few hours ago, I’d imagined starting a new life. Finding my father or rescuing my mother and sister or simply taking up the scribe’s Function.

  Now I wondered if I’d survive the night.

  As I’d followed the winding streets
to the Graybranch, more criers had started calling out the curfew. The city grew emptier and emptier as its citizens drained away into whatever refuge they could find. I’d glanced at many promising heaps of rubble or ruined buildings. But I’d moved on every time, encouraged by Parveld’s promise of safety.

  But the Graybranch offered no refuge. The inn was deserted. As if to kick the last hope from my heart, my stomach rumbled. The inside of my mouth was tacky with thirst. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I’d last drank while waiting for Havialo’s friends. Soon enough, hunger and thirst would become as big a problem as the curfew and bands of protectors enforcing it.

  “What do you think, Breeze? Can we escape the city after all?”

  Glancing along the edge of the porch, I spotted a trough. Despite the violent quake, water stood a few knuckles deep in the bottom of the wooden box. Though the smell of the water turned my stomach, I knelt and prepared to drink after Breeze finished.

  “Are you trying to get tossed in the lockup, Prov? Curfew went into effect half an hour ago.”

  The gruff voice sent ice down my spine. Swallowing, I turned.

  With a smirk, the man stuck out a meaty hand. “Name’s Fishel. And you are?”

  ***

  “He’ll be secure in here,” Fishel said as he latched and locked the stable door. When the man gestured toward the rear door of the inn, I hesitated, glancing over my shoulder at the wooden building we’d just left. Breeze was secure in a clean stall, a tin water pail hanging in the corner, but I hated to leave my only friend. Nonetheless, I followed the innkeeper into the main building, squinting in the near dark.

  “A moment,” he said. Flint struck steel, and sparks flared in the air. After a couple tries, he coaxed a flame from a small kerosene lamp then fitted the glass chimney over the base. “Few guests tonight, but they’ve all received the same instructions. No fires until we know the ground has stilled,” he explained. “After we settle you into a room, you’ll do the same.”