Chaos Queen--Fear the Stars (Chaos Queen 4)

by Christopher Husberg

  Cinzia was uncomfortable with the most recent appointments. Astrid’s given name, she had recently found out, was Lucia, and Winter’s was Danica. The knowledge rubbed her the wrong way—even though it was common for people to name their children after the Disciples. But when she looked at the disciples Jane had chosen—good, dedicated Odenites, both of them—it felt as if something was out of place.

  The light of dawn broke over the eastern horizon, bathing the city in pale pink and orange light. It was a clear, crisp day, almost cloudless.

  “It is a beautiful morning, Jane. Perhaps it is worth stopping, just to watch the sunrise?”

  Jane looked over her shoulder toward the rising sun, and for a moment Cinzia thought her sister would ignore her suggestion. But Jane stopped, turning fully to face the dawn with a smile on her face. She looked particularly beautiful in the early morning light, her cheeks rosy with the morning chill.

  “You’re right, sister. We should take in the beauty of Canta’s creations when we can, of course.”

  They had left camp an hour ago. Jane had informed each of the disciples only last night that they would be journeying into Triah, for the first time, together. With the Denomination’s ban on Odenites entering the city lifted after Cinzia’s interaction with the Essera, Jane seemed to think it important that they enter the city immediately and “see what good needs doing.”

  Cinzia had originally been worried about all ten of them going into the city together, but Knot, her brother Eward, and a small contingent of the Prelates he led were following close behind. Cinzia could not help but feel they were all targets. Not so much from the Denomination—she actually believed the Essera when she said they wanted to use the Odenites as a tool—but the Essera’s plans were not widely known. A typical Cantic faithful would not have much reason to treat the Odenite leadership cordially, and Cinzia had seen enough of that treatment in Tinska to suspect that Triah could not possibly be any better. At least, Cinzia mused, Jane had not settled on any insignias or symbols that would make them stand out.

  And now here they were, traipsing about Triah, looking for whatever it was Jane thought they needed to accomplish here.

  Cinzia had some ideas. There had been rumors of large groups of people in Triah who supported the Odenites, but could not leave their homes, families, or occupations to join the new Church outside of the city. The disciples had been discussing ways to connect with these people for a few weeks now.

  But, in typical fashion, Jane refused to tell any of them where they were going, and they had to follow their prophetess blindly through the streets.

  Cinzia had not heard a word from Luceraf since she had woken up in her tent after the ritual. Now that she was free of the Daemon, Cinzia felt more at home with the other disciples. She had yet to try her hand at translating; she feared that, although Luceraf was gone, Cinzia’s connection with the Daemon would be unforgivable in Canta’s eyes—and in Jane’s eyes, too.

  Cinzia wore the gemstone, Canta’s Heart, in a pouch at her waist. She hoped eventually to tell Jane about it, and see if she could offer any insight into how to use it against the Nine when the time came, but she had felt more distant from Jane than ever, lately.

  She caught Knot’s face in the distance, looking at her quizzically. Why have we stopped? Cinzia nodded at the sunrise.

  Knot looked over his shoulder, then back at Cinzia. He shrugged, and continued his vigil, eyes moving slowly all around the near-empty streets. The throngs that crowded Triah’s streets would not be out for another hour or so—and Cinzia was enjoying having the streets to herself. Or, at least, to themselves. Sharing with the disciples would have to do.

  As the sun’s bright orb rose above the horizon, Knot walked quickly toward her and Jane. She had seen that look in his eye more times than she liked, now: at Jane’s assassination attempt in Tinska; when they had been attacked by Kamites; when Outsiders had appeared in the Odenite camp outside Kirlan. The expression was all business, and reminded her of the impression he’d made on her when they’d first met: dead eyes, with nothing behind them at all.

  “Move to the side,” Knot said. Eward and the other Prelates were already ushering the rest of the disciples away from the middle of the road.

  Cinzia immediately did as asked, and was grateful to see Jane do the same. While Cinzia had learned to recognize the look, and Jane likely had as well, half the time Jane refused to listen to reason.

  Just as Knot ushered Cinzia and Jane off the road, Cinzia heard it. A soft, rhythmic pounding, growing louder. The sound of many feet marching in unison. As she looked down the road, she saw, not far off, a group of soldiers marching toward them.

  Her heart froze, and Cinzia gripped Knot’s arm. Had the Essera betrayed them after all? Lured them into the city, only to have them captured? But that did not make sense; the armor, the gryphon insignias on their tabards and breastplates, the banners they carried with them did not belong to Sons of Canta. These were soldiers of the Khalic Legion.

  The first soldiers approached, but none of them looked at Cinzia, Jane, or any of the disciples standing at the roadside. They marched directly past, rank after rank, heading out of the city. The line of soldiers stretched out of sight.

  “What is this?” Cinzia asked Knot. She realized she still gripped his arm tightly, and forced herself to let go.

  “They’re going into battle,” Knot murmured.

  Cinzia followed his gaze, and realized he was looking to the cliffs. Worry creased his face, and Cinzia saw why. A trebuchet stood atop the cliffs, overlooking the city. Even from this distance it was immense. She wondered at how the tiellans could have built it seemingly overnight.

  “Winter,” Cinzia said softly. Knot had shared Winter’s location, atop the cliffs with the other tiellans, with her shortly after he had found out. She had asked if he wanted to go to her, unable or unwilling to tell him to do so, and he had expressed uncertainty, to her surprise. But now, she knew she could not keep him any longer. She could not do that to him.

  “Go to her,” Cinzia said to him.

  “I’m your Goddessguard,” he said. “I’ve sworn to protect you.”

  “You are her husband,” Cinzia said, each word grinding out a deep, painful hole within her. “That is more important.”

  For a moment Knot appeared to be frozen.

  “Go,” she told him. She could not hold it together much longer. “I will be safe here.” The disingenuous nature of the comment struck her immediately. There was no telling what the massive war machine atop the cliffs could do, or how wide it could reach.

  But Knot did not belong to her, or to anyone else. He needed to make his choice.

  Finally, blessedly, Knot nodded, and she wanted to hate him for it but knew she could not.

  “I’ll find you soon,” he said. Then, he turned and moved quickly away, avoiding the soldiers as he moved out of the city.

  Only then did Cinzia’s hand move to her mouth to prevent her sob from being heard by the others.

  The soldiers continued to march past, and a slow, overwhelming fear built in Cinzia’s chest.

  32

  TERRIS POLISHED ONE OF the Eye’s mirrors at the very top of the Eye, thinking how this would be yet another work-filled but terribly uninteresting day, when he heard the ruckus below.

  Terris looked to Hindra, one eyebrow raised.

  “Were we expecting visitors this morning?”

  Hindra, her long brown hair tied in loose ponytail, shook her head slowly. She had been inspecting the core of the Eye’s apparatus, a large system of interlocking metal cylinders that punched through the top level of the Eye and continued down through the building below, all the way into the Eye’s foundation, anchoring the apparatus as well as the tower itself. Hindra had been inspecting the large, rune-covered amber stone the core housed near the apparatus, but now she pushed her protective brass-rimmed goggles up onto her forehead.

  Terris sighed. “I’d best go see what that is about,
then.” He couldn’t help the excited fluttering in his chest. Perhaps Roden was attempting another attack on Triah; perhaps they would have the chance to use the Eye again. Terris had been cleaning, checking, testing, and retesting equipment for so long that until recently he had completely forgotten what it was like to actually operate the Eye at full power. His experience a few weeks ago as Roden attacked had felt like an awakening.

  And it was a glaringly clear day—perfect conditions for the Eye.

  Slowly, Terris stood, his tall frame hunching over to avoid smacking his head on the bottom of the brass frame suspended above him. He moved toward the stairwell as Hindra spoke.

  “Do you think Roden is attacking again?” she asked.

  Terris sucked air through his teeth. “It is possible,” he said, “but I don’t hear warning sirens, as of yet. It may be Carrieri has received some sort of advanced intel. Or, most likely, another group of bumbling bureaucrats.”

  Since the Eye’s success at the Harbor Battle, as people were calling it, all manner of senators, high-ranking Denomination clergy, generals, and even nobles and wealthy merchants had somehow procured permission to ascend the Eye and see the weapon that had wrought such destruction.

  Hindra sniffed at the thought, and Terris could not blame her. These people had not cared one whit for the Eye before; they had called it a relic, a gimmick, something better left to rot while resources were put toward more promising projects. Only Carrieri himself had kept Terris and Hindra’s jobs—along with those of the other few dozen mechanics and operators— intact for the past few years, insisting they keep the Eye ready should need ever arise.

  And, Oblivion, had need arisen.

  Looking over the railing, Terris saw faint movement down the spiral staircase. The corkscrew pattern of the stairs curling around and around seemed infinite at times, and the view still made him dizzy, even after all these years. But the purposeful march of boots on stairs told him this was a military visit. Straining his ears, he could only make out a few words, but those words sent a chill through his spine.

  The first was “Tiellans,” and the second was “attack.”

  Terris sucked air through his teeth. Perhaps it would be an interesting day, after all.

  * * *

  “Khalic forces approaching, Your Majesty,” Urstadt said.

  Winter nodded. Both of them looked up at the War Goddess. The sound of straining wood and rope filled the air around them as two Ranger teams on either side pulled on the ropes attached to the trebuchet’s arm. A system of pulleys made the task easier, but both Ranger teams—consisting of the strongest tiellans under Winter’s command—were still hard-pressed to pull the arm down. As the huge beam slowly lowered, a colossal counterweight rose.

  “We knew this would be their reaction,” Winter said, her eyes still on the War Goddess. “How many?”

  Urstadt glanced back at Triah. From where they stood, they could not quite see the force snaking east and then north toward the cliffs. “At last glance, at least twenty-five hundred soldiers,” Urstadt said. “I’d estimate closer to three thousand, all things considered. Perhaps more coming up from the city, but it should be some time before they arrive.”

  “Rorie!” Winter called.

  The tiellan rider approached quickly. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “You and Urstadt will lead the defense of the War Goddess. Take fifteen hundred riders, find the best ground you can, and prepare for the battle. Defend our position.”

  “Yes, Commander.” Rorie saluted.

  Urstadt, however, remained behind.

  “Is there something else, Urstadt?” Winter asked

  The Ranger teams had fully lowered the beam, now, and secured the massive arm of wood. Another team placed one of the three-hundred-pound boulders into the sling.

  Goddess, this is really going to happen.

  “Your Majesty, I don’t think the incoming regiment is Carrieri’s only tactic. He’ll send another team, much smaller, to take out the War Goddess itself, if they can. He might even send psimancers. I’d like to remain here, at your side, to protect you.”

  Winter’s eyes finally met Urstadt’s, and Urstadt resisted the immediate urge to look away.

  “You want to protect me?” Winter asked.

  Urstadt kept her face stone-like, with all the discipline she could muster.

  The engineers cleared a space around the trebuchet, moving tiellan Rangers—those Rorie had not already called to move for their defense—out of the way in a wide arc around the weapon.

  “Yes,” Urstadt finally said. “I do not agree with what you are doing here. I have made that clear. But… I am still with you.” For now. Those last two words, unsaid, nevertheless remained in the air between them, and Urstadt suspected Winter sensed them there, too.

  Slowly, Winter nodded. “Very well. Stay here. Protect me, and the War Goddess, from whatever other attacks Carrieri might be sending our way. Thank you, Urstadt.”

  She turned back to the War Goddess. “Ready?” she asked.

  Goddess, not so soon.

  “Ready, Your Majesty,” the chief engineer said.

  “Fire,” Winter said.

  “Fire!” the chief engineer ordered.

  A lone pin—the size of Urstadt’s arm, but a lone pin nonetheless—held the trebuchet’s beam down against the counterweight. Now a team pulled a rope attached to the pin, and the long metal trigger sprung out of the trebuchet’s beam.

  For a moment the trebuchet remained still, and Urstadt thought, with an overwhelming hope, that the entire project might have failed before it even began.

  The feeling was short-lived. The counterweight dropped with aching slowness at first, then it picked up speed and swung low with a whoomf. A deep crack sounded above her, and the sling flung wide, hurling the missile as it whooshed through the air toward Triah.

  * * *

  Cinzia was surprised at how quickly Jane found Odenite sympathizers in Triah.

  “You’d think she already knew exactly where she was going,” Eward muttered.

  “We should be used to such things by now, brother,” Cinzia said, trying to push aside her fears for Knot, and of the towering weapon atop the cliffs. They stood within the walls of a merchant’s estate. The grounds and mansion looked like they had once belonged to a family of noble birth, but the merchant had likely bought the estate a generation or two ago. It was an old-fashioned type of place to find in Triah; most nobles nowadays preferred tower-houses, building their wealth skywards rather than buying up large plots of land.

  Jane had led them to a crossroads, where the Radial Road met the Twenty-Fifth Circle, and there a nervous young man had stood waiting for them. When Jane had introduced herself, the man’s eyes lit up, and he led them excitedly to his family’s estate, where Jane, her disciples and Prelates, and about two dozen followers now gathered.

  The lad had told them that he had been inspired to wait on that street corner—he knew not what for at the time, but having found the famed Prophetess, the woman he and his family had already begun to venerate, he knew he’d been inspired by Canta.

  Or so he said. Cinzia had a difficult time believing such things, even after all she’d seen. Odenites continued to join their cause outside the walls, so it made sense that they had a large following within the city, as well. The pilgrims who found them often came out with such strange stories, tales of the supernatural circumstances that led them to find the Odenite camp.

  And yet she still could not believe them.

  “You are one of the Prophetess’s disciples?”

  Cinzia turned to see a woman of about her own age approaching.

  Smoothing her skirts, Cinzia nodded. The smile on her face felt fake, plastered there, as if it would crumble should she move it too much. “I am Disciple Cinzia,” she said.

  Priestess Cinzia, Disciple Cinzia. Is there even a difference?

  Would it matter if there was?

  The woman’s eyes widened. “You
are the Prophetess’s sister! I am so happy to meet you. I cannot imagine what it must be like to be so close to the Prophetess. Is she this amazing all of the time, or just when in public?” The woman had said that last part in jest, Cinzia could tell, but it was difficult to actually take it that way.

  “My sister is an incredible woman,” Cinzia said, the smile on her face unmoving. Goddess, she could not keep this up for long.

  “I am so sorry, where are my manners,” the woman blustered. “I am Cinzia Grinatan. My husband, Garand, owns this estate.”

  Cinzia curtsied, bowing her head. “Well met, Cinzia. I do like your name, wherever did you get it?”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, please. Call me Cin. Everyone else does, and with you around it’ll make things less confusing, anyway.”

  “Very well, Cin.” Cin was rather young to be the lady of such an estate. “Is the young man who brought us from the Radial Road your husband?”

  Cin laughed, the sound raucous and unhindered. “Oh, Goddess, no! That was my husband’s younger brother, Garald. My husband is over there.” Cin pointed at a man currently speaking with Ocrestia. Cinzia was relieved to see that he did not seem to have a problem with a tiellan in a place of power. Ocrestia was still the only tiellan woman who had been appointed to the disciples. Cinzia had asked Jane to appoint more, but Jane had shrugged, as if the matter were out of her hands. “Canta will call whom She will,” Jane had said. Cinzia did not see things that way. Appointing more tiellans would help their cause, help connect them with the tiellan people, and help the tiellans who had already flocked to the Odenites feel safer and represented. The thought made her glance back to the cliffs, and her heart froze. She did not know much about siege weaponry, but the arm of the weapon now swung back and forth, slowly settling into an equilibrium.