The Tattered Lands

by Barbara Ann Wright

  She turned to Faelyn. “Let’s get to work.”

  At first it seemed impossible. The pylon was huge. Vandra couldn’t break it down, perform her formula on each piece, then glue it back together. Maybe she could transform it one piece at a time while it was whole? The best place to start was the top.

  Faelyn and Pietyr climbed without hesitation, though Pietyr insisted on tying a rope around Faelyn’s midsection and looping that through a metal rung in the pylon’s side. As Vandra watched him tenderly tie the rope, she couldn’t help a smile. Pietyr had always been careful with anyone who needed his help. As good as he was at his job, he had a tender heart, but there was something more in the particular way he cared for Faelyn. It might have been Faelyn’s sorry state or all the people they had to worry about at that moment—like the entire human race—but Vandra saw something else, a subtle darkening of Pietyr’s cheeks. To Vandra’s knowledge, Pietyr had never been romantically interested in anyone, unlike his sister, who gave her heart as freely as water. Vandra didn’t dare ask. If Fieta saw Pietyr’s tender looks, she’d tease him enough for everyone.

  And if Faelyn noticed past his concussion, Vandra couldn’t tell. He chuckled when Pietyr asked him for the fifth time if he felt secure. “With you here, how could I not?”

  Pietyr turned away, but Vandra noticed his small smile.

  Faelyn sat at Vandra’s side. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just be here.” She filled him in on the experiment she’d done with Burani, adding that her formula hadn’t worked since the first time she’d tried it. He frowned, but if he had specific thoughts about whether a seelie had been present then, he kept them to himself.

  Vandra mixed her ingredients, but the problem was how to heat a large portion of the pylon at one time. She could knap a small chunk and turn that back to syndrium, but when she tried to glue it in place or turn it into a rough paste and add it back to the whole, the rest of the pylon stayed dark.

  Faelyn sat cross-legged, staring at her eagerly while Pietyr watched the surrounding countryside. “I need heat,” Vandra said, talking to herself as much as anyone else. “A blast of heat to complete the transformation.”

  Faelyn nodded. “Could you apply part of the mixture to the pylon’s surface then use a flame as you go? A torch, perhaps?”

  She blinked, not expecting that he’d have any ideas, but he was a teacher and an advisor to royalty, so he had to be smart. “Anyone walking along the pylon taking a torch to it would be in danger of burning themselves.”

  “A pity you can’t light it all on fire at once,” he said.

  She flashed back to the burnt soil Fieta had showed her near their campsite. “Light all of it at once,” she muttered, looking around. Sprinkle her formula over the entire pylon then spread a flammable component? Would Faelyn’s proximity be enough to change the entire thing?

  It would have to be. She couldn’t very well have him standing in the flames. She knocked another chunk from the pylon. “I need to do another experiment.”

  “If you keep taking pieces, there won’t be any left,” Pietyr said.

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  He snorted a laugh. They helped each other down, and Vandra tried her experiment, covering the pylon piece with her formula, sprinkling a small amount of flammable powder on top, and dropping a match.

  The burst of flame was so large, they leapt back before Pietyr rushed in and stomped out the fire in the grass. Vandra and Faelyn joined him, though Faelyn looked a little woozy by the end. Pietyr helped him sit while Vandra investigated her pylon chunk.

  A perfect piece of syndrium. She grinned and looked to the pylon again. Now, did she have enough flammable powder to coat the whole thing? Not in her pack. She glanced around the countryside, focusing on the brown grass from the edge of the tattered lands. She lifted a patch with her shoe: brittle, with the soil underneath soft and spongy. The grass came up in a sheet, almost as if the land was covered with a blanket instead of roots. It reminded Vandra of peat, though she’d only heard of that growing in wet climates.

  Despite the moisture, peat was flammable.

  She grinned. Perhaps the moisture-rich, fog-shrouded tattered lands had given her a gift after all.

  * * *

  The tattered seelie lounged around their tower as if they weren’t bent on destroying the world. Those who bothered to meet Lilani’s eyes didn’t smile or sneer or display any emotion except mild curiosity. She’d never met any of them, and that alone was enough to make her head spin. She’d known all her people since birth.

  If Burani had known these seelie, others at the Court knew them, too. Were they the rest of the island seelie? Did their kin know they were alive? She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter at the moment. There were probably more humans and seelie in the tattered lands, huddling in places like this, trapped in the corruption. Why live here instead of fleeing? Perhaps the corruption inside them was as afraid of the sun as normal people were afraid of the tattered lands.

  Lilani passed Maruk on the stairs. He read from a book as he climbed, not looking at her. Maybe alchemists always had their noses in books. The thought reminded her too much of Vandra and everything they’d been through, and she fought the urge to push Maruk down the stairs. Vandra had to be alive. Lilani wouldn’t accept anything else.

  No one waited at the bottom of the tower. The exit stood barred from the inside, but Lilani could easily unbar it and flee. And how would she find her way? She’d never see the pylons through the fog. She fought temptation and turned for the door Lucian had gone through.

  Should she knock? What would she say if someone answered? Rebellious at the very idea of having to ask to see her friend, she pushed the latch and opened the door, ready to stare down any guards who stood in her way.

  When no one accosted her, she nearly slumped in relief no matter her rebellious thoughts. Lucian lay on a straw pallet, one wrist bound in an iron manacle with a chain that led to a ring in the wall. His eyes were closed, and a bruise darkened one side of his face.

  Lilani closed the door and hurried to his side. A pitcher sat next to his head. She sniffed its contents. Water, with the slightly greasy odor of everything in the tattered lands. She rolled up the sleeve of her coat, wet her shirt cuff, and tried to clean Lucian’s face so she could better see his injuries. The bandage around his chest had stayed put, and that wound didn’t seem worse. His lips twitched, and she leaned forward to hear.

  “Are they watching?” he asked.

  She tried to look natural as she sat back. So, he wasn’t as wounded as he seemed. She glanced around, looking for spy holes. Nothing, and she didn’t feel the conspicuous aura of dread that surrounded the tattered seelie. “No.”

  He opened his eyes and gave her a brave smile. She wanted to throw her arms around him and weep, but she kept that inside. She was the daughter of the empress, and she would act like it.

  “I’m going to stay still,” he said, “in case any of them come in. Act worried.”

  She wanted to fall down and laugh hysterically. “That won’t be a problem.” Quickly, she told him everything she’d seen and heard, not knowing how much he’d caught while being carried around like a slain deer. She skirted around the reason Camilla had kept him alive, but when she finished, he said:

  “They want to use me against you.” When she didn’t answer, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “You know what I’m going to say.”

  “That I shouldn’t worry about you, the same thing Faelyn would say.”

  “But you’ll worry about me all the same.”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her levelly, and she knew that if they were on a cliff’s edge, he would be tempted to jump so she wouldn’t have to consider his safety. But that would also leave her alone in the hands of their captors.

  He squeezed her hand. “We will survive this.”

  She smiled. “I’m so happy you included both of us in that statement.”

  “Loo
k around,” he said. “Note everything. Look for the keys to this.” He pulled at the chain. “Or something I can use to force it. Arm yourself if possible.”

  She nodded. She should have thought of all that instead of letting herself sink into anger or despair. She’d read enough books about people escaping from impossible situations. She had to have learned something from them.

  Lucian stayed still as she stood. Lilani looked back before leaving, but he’d shut his eyes again. In the entryway, the door into the ruin looked promising, but she couldn’t go exploring, not without freeing Lucian first. To do that, she needed tools.

  A few tattered seelie lingered in the common room on the second floor, eating and drinking. As before, they paid her little mind except to fall silent. The lack of noise felt as great as a deafening bell, and Lilani swallowed, imagining everyone could hear the sound. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to come closer to the barrels and boxes lining the room, to peer into the cauldron that hung over the fireplace. The cauldron stood empty, but one open box held roughly shaped lumps of oats. Lilani took one and bit in, tasting honey, oats, and fruit. Hard to chew, but it would do for the moment. She put another in her pocket for Lucian.

  Conversation still hadn’t resumed when she climbed to the next floor, and she shivered when she was out of sight. She didn’t want to go poking through the rooms, not knowing who might be where. One seelie left a room on the third floor, and she noted which one, not knowing what might be important later.

  The next floor stood abandoned, so Lilani sat between the doors, listening. She used her damp sleeve to wash her face and hands as best she could, but she was stuck with her ruined coat, stained and ripped shirt, and filthy trousers. Her earrings were long gone, but a few pins clung to her hair. She took it down, fighting through the tangles before pinning it back, trying to keep it as still as possible. She chuckled as she imagined trying to make sense of the rat’s nest later. She could count herself lucky if that was her biggest problem.

  After another deep breath, she climbed to the top of the tower. If there was anything useful lying around, it would be amongst the alchemical equipment.

  Camilla was no longer there, and both doors stood closed. Lilani crept past the tables, looking over strangely shaped glass containers, mortars and pestles, bundles of herbs, and rows of jars filled with multi-colored powders. Several metal tools lay strewn about. Any of them might help free Lucian, but they were too large to hide. Between two clay vessels, she spotted a length of metal as long as her hand and as wide as one finger. It tapered to a point on one end and crooked at the other. After a quick glance around, she snatched it up and hid it in her sleeve.

  She forced herself to breathe when no outcry sounded, and no horde of tattered seelie descended upon her. She moved to the next table when the door on the opposite side of the room opened, and Maruk stepped out.

  His eyes widened before he put on a smirk. “So, Camilla’s letting you wander about, eh? Did she warn you not to touch my equipment?”

  The piece of metal in Lilani’s sleeve seemed to burn like a brand, her overactive imagination at work. She curled her fingers to keep it in place. “Nothing of yours holds any interest for me.” She tried to sound bored as she turned to look at the mist. With so many windows, she could see in every direction, but she didn’t know which would lead her home to Vandra.

  Maruk muttered and fussed amongst his equipment. From what she’d seen, he was proud. He probably wouldn’t answer any questions, but maybe she could get him to admit something by feigning disinterest or disgust.

  She caught something snide about showing her people and the world enough to interest them for the rest of their lives. She snorted. “I doubt it.”

  “What?”

  She didn’t bother to look at him. “Nothing about you is even the slightest bit interesting, like most humans.” When Maruk stomped over to glare at her, she knew there was some rift between the tattered seelie and their ally, or at least a fear of inadequacy.

  “Is that so?” he asked.

  She shrugged.

  “Listen, you little…” He stopped, finger in the air, and smiled. “I know what you’re doing. I saw you quaking in your boots when we brought you here, and I now see your little manipulations for what they are.” He looked her up and down, sneering. “I’m not telling you shit.”

  She tried to remain bored, inwardly cursing, and shrugged again.

  He barked a laugh. “Try all your tricks. None of them will work. You have no power here.”

  Lilani tried to summon up every memory of her mother staring someone down. She lifted an eyebrow. “Or so you think.”

  He frowned. She had no idea where she was going with the words, but she had to sow whatever doubts she could. He rolled his eyes, but as he began to turn away, a bloom of fire came from outside, far in the distance. It lit the fog of the tattered lands like a beacon.

  Lilani’s mouth fell open, but she closed it quickly. Maybe Vandra’s gods were granting her a boon.

  When Maruk glanced at her, his mouth open, too, she inclined her head toward the fire. The glow had faded a little, but whatever it had been, she was taking credit for it. “See?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Well,” Pietyr said, shading his eyes from the glare. “We lit the pylon on fire. Now what?”

  It had ignited faster than Vandra expected. When Pietyr had thrown the torch onto the peat-covered pylon, Vandra had ducked and cried out, Faelyn beside her. Pietyr leapt away and rolled. Luckily, he hadn’t been burned, though his hair looked singed.

  Now, seeing the pylon lit like a beacon, Vandra grinned. Finally, something had gone according to plan. The fire burned away some of the lingering morning mist, but the tattered lands seemed as close as ever. Vandra frowned. That wasn’t quite according to plan.

  Bits of flaming peat rained from the pylon. “Shit!” Pietyr dashed forward and stomped a fire out. “Van, Faelyn, hurry!”

  Vandra joined him, not wanting to set the countryside on fire. Would it spread through the tattered lands and burn the taint away? More likely, the rest of the world would burn, and only the tattered lands would be left.

  With Lilani inside.

  Vandra shuddered and kept stomping. When the fires burned down, and the rain of peat ceased, Vandra took a deep breath. Time to see just how lucky they were. She opened her pack and found the syndrium detector. After another breath, she calibrated and pointed it in the pylon’s direction. The detector zeroed in right away, and Vandra let out a whoop of joy.

  Faelyn peered over her shoulder. “Good news?”

  “Better than good.” With elation coursing through her, she grabbed his hand and shook it, then threw her arms around Pietyr. Finally, something had gone right! Could rescuing Lilani be far behind? She only had to invent a device to protect her inside the tattered lands.

  Easy.

  As she stared at the mist, her smile faded. The turbulent wall of gray should have been receding if the pylon was working.

  “What’s wrong?” Faelyn asked.

  Pietyr shushed him. “Give her a moment.”

  Vandra took another reading. Syndrium, without a doubt. She edged closer to the pylon, wincing at the heat that radiated from the silvery-blue surface. A telltale glow coated the entire pylon, enough to pull the detector. Could it be that she’d transformed the outside, but the inside was still rock? She peered up. The top of the pylon seemed duller than the bottom; it had been farther away from Faelyn’s magical field. Maybe she would need an entire team of seelie? Standing on top of it as it was engulfed in flames? Suicidal.

  She turned to Faelyn. “Do you know how the seelie helped create the original pylons?”

  He shook his head. “Awith, a cousin of Lilani’s, wrote about helping the humans, but I’m afraid she was sparse on details. She didn’t have time to write when the pylons were actually going up. I know that aiding in the construction cost her life.”

  Vandra gnawed on her lip. “We
don’t have to resort to killing you just yet.”

  Pietyr gawked, but Faelyn chuckled. “So glad to hear it. And I don’t know how she died or if her death was…necessary somehow. I always assumed the tattered lands killed her.”

  “At this pylon?” Vandra asked. “If she died here, how did she help construct the others? Unless other seelie helped, too?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “By that time, relations between the humans and the seelie were very strained. Many of my people blame yours for the creation of the tattered lands, and when our peoples met while fleeing the spread of the taint, well, it wasn’t always happy.”

  “People aren’t on their best behavior while running for their lives,” Pietyr said.

  Faelyn chuckled. “True.”

  Vandra kept her frown. From what she’d read of the history of Parbeh, seelie-human relations had already been muddy when other humans started flowing into Citran. There’d been several disputes over land and trading, and there’d been some horrible misunderstanding where the seelie leader died. If Lilani was the daughter of the current empress, that meant the leader who’d died was who? Her father? No, she’d been born long after he’d died. Her grandfather?

  Vandra sighed, mourning for her. Such a long-lived race could have huge, unbroken chains of family members, generations able to share stories and memories. But Lilani hadn’t known her own grandfather. When Vandra’s grandparents died, they’d been great-grandparents, and she had fond memories of them.

  Well, she couldn’t get caught up in embarrassment for her own race again. Especially when it seemed like the current troubles were because of a group of seelie. Faelyn wasn’t wasting time being embarrassed.

  Pietyr squinted at the forest and put his hand to his sword. “Someone’s coming.” Before Vandra could even see who he was talking about, he said, “It’s Fieta.”