by Gwynn White
A dull rumble, then the clatter of failing rock, followed by the clink of the metal scrubber hitting the ground.
Lynx took a moment to steady her feet on the shaking ground. The Chenayans didn’t bother with gas these days. They used dynamite to blast their way into the mines.
Teeth gritted against her wildly beating heart, Lynx steadied her rifle, ready for her first military conflict against Chenayans since the day the guardsmen had ravaged the Norin camp prior to her wedding.
Cautiously, she peered out at the hole the Chenayans’ precision blast had left in the mountain.
Lit by the evening twilight, four guardsmen stormed through the opening. Their guns blazed wildly, a spray and pray instead of a tactical elimination of targets.
Lynx picked the two men closest to her bolt hole and fired back. Anna zeroed in on the other two. Their bullets struck. The men dropped like the rocks they had blasted from the tunnel roof.
Lynx grinned. Even if these wretches were no more responsible for the attack than the lichen on the wall brushing her shoulder, she wanted to revel in the sweet taste of revenge.
Before she could, more Chenayans appeared.
Screaming battle cries, weapons firing in the dark, they charged over the bodies of their comrades to get into the tunnel.
A cacophony of gunshots ricocheted off the stone walls. Lynx cringed. Never in all her existence had she heard such a bedlam of sound. This, after the dynamite, made her wonder if she’d ever hear properly again.
A hail of chipped rock shattered into her. Even with her padded uniform, it hurt. Swearing, she crouched down, garnering as much protection as she could from her bolt hole, and continued firing.
But for every Chenayan she and her platoon cut down, more guardsmen funneled into the opening. They fell over each other, their injured, and their dead in the race to occupy this tiny finger in the mountain.
Revulsion replaced her satisfaction. Sick to her stomach at the carnage, Lynx cursed Lukan for the pure insanity of the attack. Even as she drove shot after shot into that melee of charging men, her heart went out to gentle Stefan, who, day after day, sent his troops to die in reckless combat to fulfill Lukan’s orders to capture her. Just the previous evening, she and Axel had joined Stefan and Malika for the monthly family dinner.
But there seemed no stopping Lukan.
As Axel had said, Lukan had an almost inexhaustible supply of men to throw at this war. Nothing but Talon would stay his hand.
With relations with the monarchs so shaky, the alliance had to count their ammunition and men more carefully. She had almost run through her fourth band of bullets when a siren blasted above the roar.
The call to fall back. They were going to blow the roof.
Lynx slipped out into the tunnel, sighing in relief to be away from this slaughterhouse. Still the Chenayans fired their rifles.
Winds, keep me safe from stray bullets.
Keeping low, counting on the dark to hide her, she soundlessly darted to the command center. Bullets struck the ground at her feet and grazed off the walls around her.
A sliver of rock broke off, flying into her arm. She stifled a cry of pain and raced on.
She and Anna were the last to arrive at the rendezvous point beyond the control cave. The Trevenite captain waved them farther back into the mines, well away from the tunnel.
The gunfire ceased. As she scrambled to safety, the Chenayans cheered.
Poor bastards think they’ve won. They don’t know what’s about to hit them.
The captain quickly counted her and the rest of the platoon off. Seventeen alliance soldiers would have gone into the tunnel. Seventeen should have come out.
Anguish engulfed Lynx when the roll call revealed only nine of her comrades. Some of these soldiers hobbled or clutched wounds. It made the trickle of blood streaming down her arm, where the rock struck her, inconsequential.
As the sound of advancing Chenayans drew nearer, Lynx—everyone—waited to see if any more of their comrades would appear.
None.
The captain bowed his head and muttered, “May the spirits welcome them.”
And then he pulled a red lever mounted on the wall.
An explosion ripped the heart out of her tunnel. Lynx cowered, quietly thanking the Winds for the thrum in her ears and the rumble of falling rock that drowned out the screams of the dying.
She glanced over at Anna. The girl’s usually pale face was bleached white, her eyes wide.
Lynx squeezed her hand and, yelling over the roar in her ears, said, “Dance, Anna. Dance while you still can.”
Anna was silent as the two of them made their way through the mines, back to their quarters.
“Shower or food first?” Lynx asked her as the gleaming lights that indicated home came into view. Her arm had stopped bleeding, and hunger and thirst overrode the need to dress it. Stefan regularly targeted their food supply lines, but thanks to Felix’s One Bullet, One Weapon program, thus far, the alliance had managed to keep the flow of airships ferrying food to the mines coming.
“Food,” Anna said with forced brightness. “I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
“I couldn’t have put it better.” Lynx slowed down, forcing Anna to pause. “Anna, days like today . . . they happen.”
Anna looked at her through clear green eyes. “I know that. I also know those guardsmen have no control over their actions. But Treven is my home. My land. I’ll be back on duty tomorrow, ready to do it all again. And I’ll keep doing it until every last Chenayan is driven from my country.”
Lynx brushed the girl’s hair off her face; as usual, it had fallen loose from the band she usually wore. “And I will be right there at your side.”
They exchanged looks filled with understanding that only came through shared suffering and then headed together to the mess cave.
The total lack of sound stopped them both at the door. Although the trestle tables were jammed with off-duty soldiers eating their evening meal, no one spoke. In fact, Lynx could not have imagined a more somber mood if she tried.
Had more vents fallen? More casualties she didn’t know about?
She opened her mouth to ask, but Axel, standing near the door with Heron, held up his hand to silence her. Frowning, she and Anna slipped into the room. Lynx sidled over to join Axel and Heron, while Anna sneaked off to join her twin sister, Farith, at one of the tables.
And then Lynx heard it.
Drip.
Frozen to the spot, she listened as Talon’s desperate thoughts spilled out over the gathering. She didn’t need to look at the solemn faces of the diners to know she wasn’t the only one transported to her son’s prison.
Fury blasted through her. Axel had dared turn her son’s suffering into a spectacle! She could hardly believe it.
All thoughts of presenting a united front forgotten, Lynx turned on him and snarled, “I didn’t agree to this. I would never have let this happen.”
Implacable, Axel faced her. “That’s why I didn’t ask. Sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. This is one of them.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the privacy of the passage.
Heron followed.
While Lynx was considering whether to hit Axel with her rifle butt or her fists, Heron said, “Nicholas is a symbol, Lynx. He gives our soldiers real focus. Hopefully, enough of them will leave the mess tonight determined to push Lukan’s forces back because the war is no longer just a paycheck to them. They hear the Light-Bearer’s suffering, and they’ll know this is for real. We need them to believe that if they help free the Son of Prophecy, he will free them.”
Lynx clenched her fists. “Don’t call him the Light-Bearer, Heron. Or the Son of Prophecy. His name is Talon. He has feelings. He’s real. He’s a sixteen-year-old boy who loves his dog, honey, and climbing trees—”
“Precisely!” Heron said. “He’s a boy subjected to the cruelest punishment by a dictator we
all hate.”
Axel was letting Heron do his talking.
Infuriated, Lynx turned on Axel. “I’m going to kick your butt. You agreed that our boys are not assets.”
Unperturbed, Axel replied, “I have never tried to hide what I am, Lynx—a bandit warlord who plays politics very well. We are the underdogs. We always have been, and l will exploit whatever I have to increase our odds of success—and to buy us time to find our son.”
He was trying to guilt her into accepting this? It fanned her fury.
She almost yelled, “Don’t tell me you are doing this for Talon.”
Axel sighed, then leaned in close to whisper, “My Lynxie, Magridal is back from Tarach. Liatl is recruiting more Blades. He plans to attack the alliance.”
The air oomphed out of Lynx. She stared first at Axel and then at Heron. They both looked bleak.
Doubts assailed her. Tarach, where Liatl ruled, was a dry desert wasteland. Where would he find money to pay mercenaries?
“How can he afford to counter what we pay our troops?” she asked.
“Gold. Vast quantities of it have been found in the Gravels at Macli.” Axel pulled out a nugget and tossed it in the air. “Magridal brought this back as evidence.”
Liatl would not have to rely on taxes begrudgingly earned to fund his army.
Lynx slumped. “I guess that changes everything.”
“I guess it does.”
Lynx rubbed her arms with her hands. Anna’s words about Treven being her homeland echoed back to her. If the former Blades who had fought by her side knew their king offered well-paying jobs back home, would they not all pack up and leave?
That would create a devastating hole in the alliance’s defenses. Lukan would overrun these mines, claiming enough ice crystal to tag the whole empire. Maybe even the whole planet. All the curses in the world could not overthrow him if that happened.
And even if the Blades stayed, the alliance could not fight effectively on two fronts. Not with Lukan beating on the door to find her.
She grimaced. In all this, there was one key element: her.
How different would she be to Lukan if she wasn’t willing to share Dmitri’s Light-Bearer with the world? Perhaps nothing was more important right now than keeping the alliance together.
And perhaps it was time she acknowledged that Talon was more than just her son. He had a role to fill that was more encompassing, more crucial than climbing trees and eating honey. Being Talon’s mother and greatest defender would always be her main focus, but it was time to broaden her perspective.
She brushed her braids and feathers off her face. “Axel, tell the monarchs we have Talon. We’ll show them the Light-Bearer on our informas. Do whatever it takes to get them to Oldfort.”
Axel gave her a wicked smile. “It just so happens that we have a meeting set up tomorrow morning in Oldfort to finalize that very thing with Jerawin. Eat, shower, and then we leave.” He paused. “The other alliance leaders and I believe that the only way to rescue Nicholas is to attack Lukan. But we need the support of the other monarchs. That is what this meeting is about. Planning that conclave.”
“Stefan sent over a hundred guardsmen to my vent today. We killed dozens of them. Lost good people as well. The only way to stop this carnage is to kill Lukan.”
“I know. And only Nicholas can do that.” His voice dropped. “Will you support me—us—at this meeting?”
“Of course. Without hesitation.”
“Winds be thanked.” Axel’s shoulders sagged with relief. A smile quirked. “I have a surprise waiting for you at Oldfort.”
“A reward?” she asked dryly.
Axel cupped her face with his hands. “No. You would have gotten this gift whether you agreed with me or not.” His smile broadened. “Trust me, you are going to love it.”
Chapter 41
“Welcome to Oldfort.” The Lapisian chamberlain’s kaftan rustled as he bowed to Lynx and Axel.
Flying overhead in the Light-Bearer, it had become obvious to Lynx why Jerawin had managed to survive so long in Oldfort. The ancient town had been built in a caldera, the sides of which had been extended with a high stone wall. Taking the citadel from the ground was nigh on impossible. Artillery on the walls, coupled with Axel’s early warning system, made attacks from the air equally as treacherous.
On Lukan’s orders, Stefan had tried countless times to take the city from the sky, but the cost in airships had caused even Lukan and Felix to desist. It was an ideal venue to meet with the monarchs on the solstice, the date Axel had persuaded them all to gather.
Even Liatl would be amongst their number. Lynx hoped that after seeing Talon—the embodiment of the Dmitri Curse—Liatl would be brought back on their side.
Despite a slight knot in her stomach, Lynx had enjoyed the flight. In truth, it didn’t really matter what surprise Axel had arranged for her; just being out of the mines in the crisp air was bounty enough.
Snow decked the mountains, making everything white and pristine as far as the eye could see. She had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed the pink glow that heralded a new day. That pink glow gave her hope that, finally, things were moving forward. She smiled to herself, acknowledging that, in many ways, she had been a wedge in all of Axel’s well-oiled schemes. It felt infinitely better to be with him than against him.
The chamberlain’s blue-inked face with its array of tattooed stars crinkled into a smile as he waved them into an old stone building at the center of the small town. It was next to the square where the festival would be held. From the outside, only the Lapisian royal insignia, hanging limp on its flagpole in the still dawn air, indicated that this was the home of a king. Even more incongruous, a huge dome, built right in the middle of the squat dwelling, made each side seem as if the whole construction teetered on its foundations.
Axel returned the chamberlain’s smile. “Good to see you again, Simtal. The king . . . and my . . . friend are expecting us.”
Simtal smiled conspiratorially at Axel. “You are perhaps a little early?”
“We made better than expected time.”
Simtal smiled up at the Light-Bearer. “She is indeed a fine ship. The king has asked that you wait for him in the temple. He will join you and your friend forthwith.”
Lynx nudged Axel and laughed, remembering a breakfast long ago when she’d accused him of having no friends. “A friend, huh? Didn’t know you had any.”
He smiled self-deprecatingly. “Ah . . . you know how it is. I pay them to put up with me.”
“Right.” Lynx took his hand and pulled him close to her.
Her surprise at Jerawin’s palace grew as Simtal walked them through a narrow entrance hall, devoid of all furnishings other than a jewel-colored carpet and a fireplace glowing in one corner. He stopped at a plain wooden door at the end of the hall, no more lavish than the doors in Lynx’s cottage in the forest, and dropped to one knee. Head bowed, he whispered something in Lapisian, rather than the Chenayan he’d greeted Lynx with.
Fluent in his allies’ tongues, Axel mouthed to her. “Praying. And the only way into the palace is via the temple.”
She nodded, little the wiser.
Simtal rose and then opened the door for them.
Lynx gasped. Reverently, she stepped into a perfectly round orb, divided into a northern and southern hemisphere by the glass floor, which rippled like a blue-green ocean. Above her head, pinpricks of light in the black ceiling demarcated the stars and planets of the northern hemisphere she’d come to know since her marriage to Lukan.
But it was to the south, below the glass, that her eyes were drawn. She marveled at the sight of the vast array of long-missed constellations she’d grown up under as a girl in Norin. Each southern star glittered against the black dome, dug deep into the ground.
Here was the majesty missing from the rest of the palace. After a moment of quiet awe, she turned to Simtal. “This is incredible.”
“It is the worship of the stars, Emp
ress Lynx. In their majesty, they inspire such devotion.” Simtal bowed. “The king will call for drinks and breakfast when he meets with you.” A smile at Axel. “Your friend will join you then.” Again, he dropped to one knee, muttered his prayers, and then backed slowly out of the room.
Once the door closed, Lynx said quietly to Axel, “A true tragedy is that while Lukan wants to destroy this place, he would actually love it if he saw it. I can almost see him worshiping the stars along with Jerawin and Simtal. If only things had been different.”
“But they’re not different, and that’s his choice.”
Lynx shrugged; Axel was right, but the lost opportunity still saddened her. “Lukan should never have been emperor. He would have been a better man without that cursed crown. He might have found real love. He might even have been happy.”
Axel grabbed her hand. “I didn’t bring you here to talk about Lukan.”
She allowed him to pull her into his arms.
He glanced up at the stars. “If religion is about love, then I take it you won’t object if I kiss my woman?” Without waiting for a reply, he brushed her lips with his. “I’m proud of you.”
Lynx wrapped her arms around him. “Eventually even she-bears leave their caves.”
Axel chuckled. “And watch out, world, when they do.”
A creak made Lynx look up at a narrow wooden spiral staircase on one side of the orb. The northern portion stopped at a black door, almost at the pole. Wearing nothing but a pair of long, full pants caught in at the ankle, King Jerawin stepped out onto the landing. The tattooed stars and planets spangled across his torso disappeared under the cord holding his pants up. Even his arms were covered in stars. He stretched, yawned, and then nudged the door closed behind him.
“Keeping you up, are we?” Axel called.
Jerawin’s face split into a grin. “My friends! How delightful to have you here. And no, Axel, you are not keeping me up, although I will admit that I am still to see my bed.” He pointed to the closed door. “My telescope kept me busy.” He bowed to Lynx and then patted his naked chest. “Forgive my appearance, but the Smith is in ascendance. I have always felt a particular love for that constellation.” Feet clad in narrow slippers took the narrow stairs with practiced ease. “If I supplicate him well, he always manages to beat up something good for me in his forge. With all the monarchs coming to Oldfort, I felt in need of his blessings.”
