by Claire Frank
The path turned and the land opened, revealing a wide slope covered in rolling waves of snow. Trees dotted the hillside, their branches heavy with snow, but much of the terrain was wide open. At the top, two peaks rose with a narrow gap between them.
“Up,” Rhis said, pointing to the gap. “We need to get through there.”
Rickson nodded and they plowed forward through the deep snow. Rhis veered them toward the first stand of trees, hoping to take cover. Dragging her legs through the drifts, Rhis felt her feet go numb, and the cold bit into her skin. “Just keep moving,” she said, to herself as much as to Rickson and Asher. Her breath came in gasps; it felt as if she couldn’t get enough air.
A crossbow bolt whizzed by, sticking into the thick trunk as they reached the first trees. Rhis pushed Asher behind the trunk and ducked, rolling through the snow to get out of sight. Looking uphill, they saw another small group of trees. Without a word, they ran, making for cover.
Behind the next set of trees, Rhis pulled out her short bow and readied an arrow. “Go,” she said and took up her position while Rickson and Asher made for the next stand of trees.
Athon and his men trudged up the hill, spreading out with weapons drawn. Rhis let loose her arrow and ducked back behind the tree. Several arrows flew back in answer, sinking into the trunk and swishing into the snow around her. With a deep breath, she burst around the tree and shot again. She didn’t wait to see if she’d hit her target, but struggled uphill as fast as she could push her legs, toward the next tree.
Another arrow flew past as she reached Rickson and Asher. She stumbled, pitching forward in the snow. Rickson grabbed her hands and pulled her across the ground, sending a drift of snow sliding down the mountain. Her feet slipped as she tried to stand. She clutched at Rickson while cracks snaked out in the top layer of snow and a low rumble of sound echoed off the peaks.
The ground seemed to settle and Rickson pulled Rhis to her feet. They struggled to get behind the trees, where Asher stood waiting, his eyes wide with fear.
Powder drifted in the air and bits of ice tumbled down the mountain, like pieces of crumbling rock. Uphill, the slope grew steeper and there was only one more stand of trees. The rest was nothing but windblown ripples of white. Nowhere to hide.
Athon and his men dragged themselves up the slope, moving closer every second.
Rhis whipped her head around to Rickson. “An avalanche.”
“What?”
“The snow’s already breaking apart. I need to help it along.”
“Are you crazy—?”
“Yes,” she said before he could finish. She pulled the rope from her belt and quickly tied it around her waist, then handed it to Rickson. “Tie this on and climb as fast as you can. Make for those last trees.”
Rickson’s face twisted with dread, but he tied the rope around his waist. She handed him her short bow and supply of arrows. Rhis pulled her staff from her pack and twisted, pulling the two sides apart. She whipped the two pieces around, blades at both ends, and locked the other ends together, making one long weapon. “Ready? Go.”
After letting Rickson and Asher get a short distance ahead, Rhis pushed through the deep snow, following their trail. The snow was nearly waist deep, the thick new layer sitting atop a crunching shell of ice. Dragging her legs with each step, Rhis slammed her staff onto the snow, first on one side, then the other, trying to dislodge the top layer.
An arrow whizzed by and she ducked. With her chest heaving from the effort of getting enough air, she hauled herself higher. Her legs burned; her lungs screamed. The rope stretched taut and she glanced uphill. Rickson had reached the last of the trees.
With a thwack, she hit the snow again. Voices carried over the white, someone calling her name. Rickson’s trail through the snow collapsed in front of her, sending a flurry of powder into the air. The rope tugged, hauling her into the crumbling snow. Twisting, she slammed her staff down again.
A deep crack echoed from the peaks, like a rumble of thunder. The snow around Rhis seemed to shiver and her feet slipped. She pitched forward. Grabbing the rope, she struggled to keep her feet. The noise grew, as if a storm raged overhead, and a powdery cloud rose all around her.
The rope at her waist dragged her uphill and the ground felt as if it had turned to water. Snow slid beneath her feet and smashed into her, filling her mouth with ice. She spat, gagging for air, and scrambled to find footing. Grasping the rope hand over hand, she hauled herself upward. The avalanche built behind her, roaring down the mountainside in a great mass of white. Her feet found purchase, and she struggled through the drifts, clinging to the rope.
In moments, it was over. Rhis climbed to the trees where Rickson had circled the trunk twice, securing them both. His face was ashen, but he pulled on the rope, helping her the rest of the way up.
Her breath came in ragged gasps and her head swam. Downhill, the mountainside was barren, covered in a layer of rugged chunks of snow, like a sheet of white gravel. Powder hung heavy in the air and Rhis squinted, looking for any sign of Athon and his men. They were gone.
Asher grabbed her arm and tugged her behind the tree. She rested her back against the solid trunk, relief washing over her.
Rickson untied the rope at her waist and wound it around his arm. “That could have been very bad.”
Rhis gave him a weak smile, still trying to catch her breath. “I know.” She cast a wary glance down the slope, half-expecting to see a metal arm shoot up from the snow pack.
“We need to get off this slope and find shelter,” Rickson said, pointing toward the gap in the rock at the top.
Rhis nodded and looked at Asher. “Can you keep going?”
Asher nodded. “I’m okay.”
“I tell you what, kid,” Rickson said. “I think you were made for the cold.”
Asher shrugged while Rhis took another look at the slope below. There was no sign of life as the powder in the air settled, no indication of where the men had gone.
Rickson passed the stone to Rhis and she took it, feeling its warmth seep into her frozen hands. “Thanks,” she said. “Let’s see if we can get to the top.”
“Be careful,” Rickson said. “I hear this area is prone to avalanches.”
TWENTY-EIGHT: SENLAS
They struggled up the slope, pulling themselves slowly through the deep snow. Rhis’s legs were numb to her thighs and she was surprised she could keep walking. They climbed on in silence, breathing hard, until the land leveled off at the top. Rhis cast wary glances behind as they made their way up, but saw no sign of Athon or his men.
Between the fingers of rock, a clear path emerged, relatively flat as far as they could see. Rhis looked up and down the sides, wondering if the breach was natural. Could someone have carved that deep into the rock? Inside, the wind whistled through, blowing most of the powder so the path was only covered in shin deep snow. Although they made better time, Rhis began to wonder where they would spend the night. Whether the pathway was natural or man-made, its sheer sides offered no possibility of protection from the bitter cold.
“We’re close,” Asher said as they walked.
Rhis didn’t bother to ask how he knew. She only hoped he was somehow right.
The path turned and the rock walls abruptly ended, opening onto a wide plateau. Rickson held out a hand and they paused, peering into the clearing.
Stone buildings spread out before them. Rather than being built in straight lines, the spaces between them seemed to flow, as if there was an order Rhis couldn’t quite see. Hardy trees, bent in the direction of the wind, rose above the landscape, drifts of snow piled against their trunks. A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the occasional call of a bird, flying somewhere unseen.
Rhis walked slowly into the settlement, the snow crunching beneath her boots. It was large, extending well past her line of vision, but the sense that it was deserted was pervasive. No paths cut through the snow, no footprints marred the perfect whiteness.
> “Where is everyone?” Asher asked, his voice a whisper as if he were afraid to break the oppressive silence.
“I don’t know,” Rhis said. “We should search the area and see what we can find.”
Dread swirled in her gut as they spread out, searching the buildings. Even through the snow, Rhis could see the structures were beautifully crafted, with arched doorways and shining facades of black rock. But there were no signs of habitation.
Rhis stomped through a drift to reach a door. As she pushed, it opened and a tumble of snow followed her inside. Her breath misted, the air inside the building no warmer than outside. The furnishings were simple: a cooking stove, a large wooden table and chairs, various chests and cabinets. Everything was covered in a thick layer of frozen dust, sparkling in the light that came in through the windows. It felt like a tomb. No one had lived here for a long time.
Outside, she wandered through the maze of buildings. Some doors were frozen shut and the rest of the buildings were vacant. One even had a pitcher and stone bowl sitting on a table, as if the inhabitant had left suddenly, expecting to return.
Farther in, a tree had collapsed across one of the buildings, leaving it with a wide gouge of crumbling stone. Wind had blown away some of the snow and Rhis peered closer at the edge of the side wall. Something stuck out of the snow, poking up from the white. Rhis crouched next to it and brushed away the layer of snow, her chest tight. She knew what it was before she cleared the snow away. A desiccated body, mummified by the snow, its clothing mostly rotted away. What was left of its skin was flaking and gray, the bones showing beneath the frozen flesh. Its face was sunken, the lips curled back to reveal its teeth. As she dug out the rest of the body, she found an arrow through its chest, the shaft frozen into the withered corpse.
Dragging her feet through the snow in wide arcs, Rhis uncovered more bodies in various states of grisly preservation. Some were little more than bones, others shriveled remains, the ice and snow creating shrunken parodies of the people they had been in life. Many of the bodies were long, indicating people who were much taller than the average in Attalon. Still others were small and slight, nothing but children. The arrow wounds and broken skulls indicated the manner of their death. A battle had been fought in these streets, and Rhis had a feeling she knew who had been the victor.
She ran into Rickson behind another building. “Did you see the bodies?”
He rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “Hard to miss them once you realize what’s there. This place is covered in them. Some are armored, like Imperial soldiers. The rest…”
“Did Asher see?”
Rickson shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s searching around, so he’s bound to find them.”
Rhis walked around to the front of the building and picked her way through the snow to what appeared to be a central square. A tall shaft of stone rose in the center, its surface smooth and gleaming with a sheen of ice.
“There’s writing inside the buildings,” Asher said as he ran up the street, kicking up puffs of snow.
Rhis and Rickson shared a look. “Is there?” Rickson asked.
Asher stopped in front of them, breathing hard. The lines of his jaw had hardened since Rhis met him, and his cheekbones stood out. “Writing like in the cave, and on the stone. It isn’t sad here, though. Some of it is, I suppose, but mostly it feels … I don’t know, like it’s telling a story.”
Rhis tried to smile. “It’s too bad we can’t read it.”
“I know,” Asher said. He looked around the square and furrowed his brow as if a thought had just come to him. “I still haven’t found any people. Where is everyone?”
“I…” Rhis didn’t know what to say. “I don’t think there’s anyone here.”
Asher’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought…”
“I know,” Rhis said. “I thought we’d find people, too.”
“I’ll keep searching,” Asher said. “Maybe we can find out where they went.”
Rhis nodded. When Asher was out of earshot, she turned to Rickson. “There’s no one left.”
He shook his head slowly. “Archivist Hector thought they would be here. Maybe they fled and abandoned this place.”
“I don’t think so,” Rhis said. “I think their bodies are all beneath the snow.”
“And a fair number of Imperial soldiers met their end here too,” Rickson said.
Her stomach felt hollow as she looked at the bleak landscape. She could almost see the carnage as it happened. The heavily-armored men lying in wait, raining arrows down on the unsuspecting people. The slaughter as they ripped through the city, killing indiscriminately—men, women, children. The Emperor had not come to this place to conquer; he had come here to massacre. Could that be why he wanted Asher dead so badly?
“The Emperor murdered everyone,” Rhis said. “This wasn’t a military campaign; it was a slaughter. Obviously some few got away, and now we have Asher.”
“Is that it, then? The Emperor wants Asher dead because he wiped out his people a century ago?”
“I think that’s exactly why,” Rhis said. “Look at him. He’s too tall for his age, and he has those eyes. I’ve only seen those eyes on Imarans. Maybe there were people like them here, like the Imarans, and the Emperor wanted them all dead.”
“But why?” Rickson asked, his brows drawn down as he scanned the square.
“They must have been Wielders,” Rhis said. “The Imarans where I come from aren’t called Wielders, but they all have some sort of magic. They’re a powerful people. The Thayans practically worship them like gods. If these people were like the Imarans, they would have threatened everything the Emperor believes in. He hates magic. Imagine a city full of it. He didn’t want to conquer them. He wanted to wipe them from existence. So he came here and slaughtered everyone. Then he forced the Archivists to erase any trace of them.”
“He thought he’d killed them all, but word got back to Altia that there was a boy like Asher, living out in Harmoth….” Rickson trailed off.
“Exactly,” Rhis said. “Can you imagine the resources and time it must have taken to bring an army up here? The Emperor wanted them destroyed, badly. He thought he had killed them all, but obviously some got away. For all we know, Asher could be the last of his kind. And think about it—it isn’t just Asher’s eyes that make him strange. He can see things we can’t. Who knows what sort of power he has hidden inside? Whatever he is, the Emperor sees it as a threat. He wanted Asher’s entire people destroyed forever, and he discovered there was one left.” Rhis paused as a lump rose in her throat. “A child doesn’t need an army to go after him. Just one. Just me.”
Rickson stepped closer and placed a hand on her arm. “But you did the right thing.”
Rhis swallowed hard. “I suppose.”
“How did the Emperor know Asher existed in the first place? That’s what I haven’t been able to figure out. He was just a farm boy in the middle of nowhere, right? How does the Emperor, all the way in Altia, hear about some child?”
“The Guild,” Rhis said, shaking her head as realization dawned on her. Rickson looked at her with confusion. “No, not our Gray Cloak friends. Before I met Asher, someone in Harmoth had reported him on suspicion of Wielding. The local Guild members came and took him in for testing. He passed, and they sent him home, but I’m sure they make regular reports. The Guild goes all the way to the Emperor himself. All it would have taken was a word about silver eyes for the Emperor to know. Then a contract is drawn, and the job offered to someone like me.”
“Well, in this case, it’s good it was offered to you,” Rickson said. “Anyone else would have finished the job.”
Rhis tried to laugh at Rickson’s jest, but she felt too deflated. They’d come all this way, looking for answers. Senlas was dead.
“Archivist Hector is going to be disappointed. I think he liked the notion that there was a secret city in the mountains.” Rickson adjusted the wrap around his face. “What are we going to
do now? Obviously Ash can’t stay here.”
“No, he can’t,” Rhis said. Reality settled over her like a death shroud. The Emperor would never let Asher go.
Rhis closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Since leaving Thaya so many years before, she had kept people out, erecting walls so thick no one could break through. She’d been devastated by the loss of the man she loved, been maimed and left for dead by the man she was supposed to marry. Letting people in could only lead to more anguish and grief. Her stony exterior allowed her to do her job. The Reaper’s Bride didn’t care.
But like a root growing through a crack in the stone, Asher had broken her defenses. He’d made her feel; he’d made her care. Watching him walk back toward them, his strange eyes gleaming, Rhis crumbled. Asher needed her. With a tightening chest, she bit her lip, tears burning her eyes. She couldn’t let him die. She would burn down the world and kill everyone in her path before she would allow someone to take Asher’s life.
“Asher can’t stay in Attalon,” Rhis said. “He’ll never be safe.”
Rickson crossed his arms and nodded. “True enough. I figured that would be the case, if this little trip didn’t work out the way we’d hoped.”
“Can the Maiden cross the Carthian Sea?”
“She could,” Rickson said. “It’s a long voyage, but I could take on a sailor or two who’d made the crossing to better our chances. Why? You thinking about going home?”
“No,” Rhis said. “Thaya isn’t home anyway.”
“Halthas?” Rickson asked. “If you believe the stories, everyone is a Wielder in Halthas. And those Imarans you mentioned might be willing to take Asher in.”
Rhis shook her head. “The Emperor’s army is bound for Halthas. It will be part of Attalon soon. Besides, I can’t go to Halthas.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Both.”
Rickson chuckled. “That’s fair. I won’t ask. But I don’t think we need to go all the way across the sea to find a place to stash him.”
