The Core

by Peter V. Brett

  The trees blurred as they ran, magic granting them inhuman speed. Renna had spent a fair bit of time in the wood, but Stela knew it intimately, like the common room of her own home. In minutes, Renna could see the knot of brightness in her wardsight and knew the camp was close.

  She caught Stela’s arm, pulling her up short. “Hold out your arms.”

  Stela’s aura was confused, but she did not hesitate, and Renna traced wards of unsight on her limbs and breast, imparting a bit of power to them. She energized her own wards, and the two of them faded into the night. She reached out and took Stela’s hand before she became too difficult to see, and the two moved forward at a slower pace.

  The Children were not on guard as they entered the camp, clustered around a podium, eyes on Brother Franq as he paced back and forth, shouting. Half a dozen young Siblings clustered before the pulpit, steely glares scanning the crowd.

  The Holy Man was very different from the stiff Child Renna remembered from previous meetings. His neatly trimmed beard and hair had grown wild, fine robes exchanged for a rural Tender’s homespun brown, dirty with the sleeves cut away to reveal his tattoos. They glowed with power, and his aura was bright. Brighter than any single other out of the dozens standing around the platform.

  “Do we let this stand?” Franq demanded. “Let them hold our brother and sister in chains for nothing more than wanting to run free in the naked night?”

  “No!” the Siblings shouted on cue, and many in the crowd joined them, auras red with anger. It was easy enough for Renna to pick out the Wardskins, their auras almost as bright with power as Franq’s, and the Bones, with their demon bone weapons. They had lost their leaders and boiled with rage. Images floated above them, Children storming Leesha’s keep and kicking in the doors. Considering the power massed in those groups, Renna thought they might well manage it.

  But not all were convinced. The Sharum stood apart, Jarit and her granddaughter at their forefront, auras calm as they watched the crowd. They didn’t seem likely to be swayed, but neither were they inclined to intervene.

  The Pumps, however, looked like they might be convinced. Callen Cutter stood at their forefront with Jas Fisher, arms crossed. They were angry, too, but not so far gone as the others, having tasted less of the magic than the other groups. They did not join in the shouting.

  “Brother Callen!” Franq called, knowing who he must convince. “You doubt our righteous course?”

  “Want Stela and Keet back much as any,” Callen said. “But that don’t mean I’m ready to kick in Mistress Leesha’s door.”

  “There are times men and women of conviction must stand against injustice,” Franq shouted. “I was there when Arlen Bales himself told Inquisitor Hayes, You stake a fornicator, and I’ll break the stake over my knee and shove half through your door and the other half through the count’s. It was the Deliverer’s way of telling us those who stand against the night are not subject to the laws of men.”

  Renna remembered the words. Arlen had spoken them in anger, part of an argument that began, ironically, with Franq mocking her lack of refinement as he served fine wine in crystal stemware. Now he was the unrefined one, pacing like an animal as he attempted to incite the crowd to violence in her husband’s name.

  Enough, she thought, cutting the power to her wards of unsight.

  “I was there, too!” Renna shouted as she strode into the crowd. Faces turned to her, eyes widening. The Children fell back, stumbling over those behind as they made room for her to approach the podium.

  “Renna Bales,” folk whispered all around her, but Renna ignored them, eyes locked on Franq.

  “Behold!” Franq gestured to her with a Jongleur’s flourish. “Renna Bales, Bride of the Deliverer, returns to lead us on our righteous path!”

  “Ent nothin’ righteous in attackin’ the Hollow!” Renna barked back.

  Franq hesitated, but only for a moment. “Do you deny the Deliverer’s own words? You’ve been taking liberties, he said, and need to know where the wards end.”

  Renna misted, materializing an instant later on the podium beside Franq. She gripped his robes and twisted, throwing him from the platform to land on his back at the center of a widening ring of onlookers.

  “Wards end with you tellin’ me what my own husband meant!” Renna said. “Usin’ words from a fight you started!”

  She moved to the steps, eyes angrily locked on Franq, but his young acolytes barred her way. Confusion roiled in their auras. They had been taught to worship her, but it was Franq who knew them, trained them, commanded their loyalty. It was Franq who had given them power.

  They would need to be dealt with, and perhaps others, too, but first things first. She drew an impact ward in the air, scattering them from her path as she stalked their leader like a nightwolf.

  Brother Franq had risen to a crouch. He was unhurt, his ample magic strengthening his body, his aura seething with rage.

  Good. Renna dropped her guard as she approached, inviting attack. Franq took the bait, springing forward in a rush to try to tackle her. She sidestepped easily, catching his arm and turning a circuit to use his own momentum against him as she threw him across the ring.

  Franq remained unhurt, but that give little concern. Much as she wanted to deliver a beating to the man, the show was more important. The onlookers needed to see a fair fight, and to see her dominate.

  Franq’s aura was bright with magic, and he outweighed her by close to a hundred pounds, but his sharusahk was still rudimentary. Renna had fought like him once, trusting in sheer ferocity to power through. Against mindless demon drones, it was often enough.

  But Renna’s training with Shanvah had broken her of that. The Sharum’ting had humiliated her in much the same way until she had learned respect for defense and the mind of her foe. More, she had taught Renna about convergences, the places where the lines of energy in a body met and branched. It was the secret to dama’ting sharusahk, and Renna, with her wardsight, could see the bright points in Franq’s aura like stars in a night sky.

  His rage doubled, Franq came at her again. His guard was up now, but his punches caught only air as Renna bent her torso back and heel-kicked the convergence in his hip. He folded like paper as Renna snaked an arm over his right biceps and back under his arm, twisting it behind his back. A kick to the back of his knee brought him down as she torqued the arm up until it broke with an audible snap.

  Franq roared in pain, but she could see in his aura the fight wasn’t over. He shoved hard against the ground enough to get a foot under him, and with his arm broken, much of Renna’s advantage was gone. Sharusahk relied on the weight and leverage of the combatants, but with the magic Franq was holding, Renna weighed little more than a doll.

  She let him go, putting her hands on her hips and smirking as he crouched and grit his teeth, pulling his arm straight for the magic to heal. In moments he would be back to combat-readiness.

  Renna moved to finish him before that could happen, but there was a shout, and the Siblings charged her. Their surprise was over, and they moved like a pack of drones to protect their mind.

  Renna took a deep breath, finding her center as she focused on the convergences in their auras. One young woman tried a kick, and Renna caught it, punching two knuckles into her thigh, collapsing the leg. Another swung a fist and found himself flying through the air. She dropped as she continued the circuit, spinning to hook the leg of a boy she was sure she had seen mucking stables in town.

  The last was a young Krasian man who fought with more skill than the others, but he wasn’t nearly as fast. Renna backed up two steps, blocking his punches and kicks, until he was in position, then shattered his pelvis, removing him from the fight.

  And then once more there was a clear path to Franq, now recovered. His aura was burning with anger, but he knew better than to try hand combat now. Instead, he raised a hand, drawing a glowing impact ward in the air. His control was rudimentary at best, and he powered it with more than was ne
eded.

  Renna collapsed into mist as the concussive force hit, blasting through her to fling one of Franq’s own acolytes to the ground, a twisted ruin.

  That’s torn it.

  Like a gust of wind, she blew across the ring. Franq flinched, punching wildly through the mist, but he might as well have struck air. She materialized behind him, an arm around his throat and the other up under his armpit, locking her wrist.

  In a normal fight she might have choked him, but Franq was too strong, and it was not the message she wanted to send. Instead she reached out through the wards on her skin, connecting with those on Franq’s. But she did not feed magic into him, as she had with Stela. Rather, she Drew hard, sucking the power from him.

  Franq’s muscles seized, bucking as if he’d been spat on by a lightning demon. Renna kept control and held tight, increasing the pull. The wards on her skin began to glow, then flare until she could feel the heat of them. Her eyes, throat, and nasal passages dried out, burning. Still she pulled, watching Franq’s aura as it dimmed. The pain increased, until she felt like her entire body was aflame, but she held until his aura was about to wink out.

  Renna let the man go with a kick to his backside, and he collapsed limply to the ground. The pain was unbearable now, and she threw as much magic skyward as she could, drawing a light ward that turned night into day.

  Still bursting with power, she misted over to the Krasian acolyte whose pelvis she had broken, looking into his aura as she pulled the bones straight and imparted a portion of her magic to fuse them back together. She flitted to the young acolyte struck by Franq’s impact ward, but he was dead, his aura snuffed like a candle.

  Corespawn it.

  She played another of Arlen’s tricks then, misting only partially as she leapt skyward, floating above the awestruck Children, backlit by her light ward. They squinted and put hands before their eyes, trying to look at her in the glare.

  Night, she thought. They’re all so young.

  “Arlen Bales din’t say nothin’ about robbin’ folk!” Renna sketched wards to amplify her voice until it shook the trees. “About bustin’ criminals out of prison! He demanded respect, ay, but he gave it first!

  “And he trusted in Mistress Leesha! More than any, she’s stood by the Hollow in its time of need. More than any, she’s led the way. Arlen knew it, I know it, and it’s time you knew it, too. Anyone here don’t hop to her word is gonna get a spankin’ that makes what I did to Franq look like a pat on the bum!”

  There was a stunned silence as dozens of faces looked up at her, illuminated in the wardlight.

  “If you hear me, say ay!” she barked.

  “Ay!” they shouted. “Ay! Ay! Ay!”

  Renna pointed, drawing a smaller ward to illuminate Stela, who entered the circle to help Franq to his feet. “Stela Inn, say ay!”

  Another quick ward, and Stela’s “Ay!” sounded louder than any other.

  Renna made a fist, the wards on her hand burning with power. “Brother Franq, say ay!”

  Franq looked up at her, his dim aura cowed at last. “Ay,” he croaked, but Renna made sure his word was clear to all.

  She slowly drifted down to the ground, softening her voice as she let the light behind her dim. “Know what you’re feelin’. Magic makes it hard to think. Makes your every emotion into a storm. Been there. Arlen, too.”

  Her feet touched the ground. She turned slowly as she spoke, meeting the eyes all around her. “But now more’n ever, can’t forget you’re human. The Core’s about to rise up again, and you need to be ready to fight, not just for Hollow County, but for the entire human race. Ent gonna get another shot at this.”

  She caught Jarit’s eye. “Sharak Ka ent comin’ anymore. It’s here.”

  She spread her hands. “You got powers now, but ent one of you got a clue how to control ’em. Things get bad,” she gestured to the crumpled body of the acolyte, “when you can’t. I can help, but in the end you need to help yourselves.”

  —

  Renna could see Leesha’s aura, relaxed at first, tense when she saw it was Renna, not Arlen, materializing in her office.

  Good. Don’t want her gettin’ too comfortable.

  The two women eyed each other for a moment, but Leesha was quick to break the stare. “Thank you for coming. Tea?”

  “Ay, thanks,” Renna said. “Can’t stay long. Need to skate back to Arlen before sunup.” She flopped in one of the countess’ fine chairs, putting her feet on the table. Leesha’s eyes flicked to them, but she said nothing as Wonda poured the tea.

  “Did you see them?” Leesha asked.

  “Ay,” Renna said.

  “And?” Leesha prompted, when she was not forthcoming.

  “Stela was right,” Renna said. “They were ready to march into the Hollow and kick your gate in.”

  “Night,” Wonda said. “How many? When?” Images floated above her, the walls of Leesha’s keep lined with women aiming crank bows.

  Renna waved for her to calm. “Settled ’em down like I promised.” She turned back to Leesha. “Still be a headache, but that’s on you.”

  “What did you do, if I may ask?” Leesha looked like she had eaten a lemon. Renna didn’t smirk, but no doubt Leesha could see the feeling on her aura, and that was all right.

  “Franq was the biggest rabble-rouser,” Renna said. “Delusions of grandeur. Turnin’ Arlen’s words to his own ends. Took him to the woodshed, and let the others watch. Put the fear of the Creator into ’em. Can’t promise they’ll stay pliant, but they’ll fight for the Hollow when night comes, and the raids will stop.”

  “What can we do to ensure it stays that way?” Leesha asked. “Do they have demands?”

  Renna shook her head. “Still changin’ their shorts after my little display, but that ent gonna last. Aim to visit a few more times, try’n make things stick. Be a sign of good faith, you release Keet in the morning. Gonna want to break the Pack up if you can. Find places for the Pumps and Bones with the Cutters, maybe get Franq a seat on Jona’s new Council of Tenders.”

  “Ya just said he was the one stirrin’ things up!” Wonda said.

  But Leesha nodded. “All the more reason to keep him somewhere we can see him. I’ll speak to Jona, and ask that the council meet under the sun.”

  “Smart,” Renna agreed. “Wardskins are going to be a problem no matter where you put ’em. Keep ’em in sight, but I wouldn’t want them inside your walls.”

  “We’ll think of something,” Leesha said.

  “Not sure what you can do with the Sharum,” Renna went on. “Could ask Jardir for his thoughts before he leaves to see his wife.”

  Leesha flinched at the words, and Renna cursed her own stupidity. There was a time she might have thrown them as a purposeful barb, but…

  “Sorry,” she said. “Din’t mean…”

  “It is what it is,” Leesha said. She put a hand in one of the many pockets of her gown, pulling forth a sealed letter. “Will you give this to him, when you see him? If he’s to learn of the babe, I’d rather it be from me.”

  Renna nodded, taking the envelope. “Course.”

  “Thank you, Renna,” Leesha said. “I know we haven’t always…”

  Renna smacked the air. “Tired of you slingin’ that line, Leesha. You ent fond o’ me and I ent fond o’ you. Don’t mean we’re not on the same side. Not gonna get in the way of you doin’ right by your child.”

  Reflexively, Renna brushed her fingers over her still-flat belly, thinking of the life growing there.

  “Fair and true,” Leesha said, but her head tilted suddenly, studying Renna’s aura. It went on a little longer than Renna liked, until she felt her skin begin to crawl.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Wonda, dear,” Leesha said. “Will you excuse us, please?”

  “Ay, mistress,” Wonda said, taking her bow off the wall and heading for the door.

  The moment it closed behind her, Leesha activated the wards of silence around
the room, and Renna got to her feet, unable to stand sitting a moment longer. “What?!”

  “You’re pregnant,” Leesha said.

  Renna went cold. She Drew her aura in tight, breathing to remain calm. Should she deny it? Argue? Tell Leesha it was none of her corespawned business?

  It wasn’t, but neither was Leesha’s child, yet half a year ago Renna had been happy to rub Leesha’s indiscretion in her face.

  She blew out a breath. “Married woman, Leesha. Don’t owe you any explanations.”

  “You don’t.” Leesha got to her feet, coming over to her. Her hands were spread, eyes calm, voice soothing. Her aura was tense, worried. “But using magic while I was pregnant affected my child. Please, for the sake of the baby, let me examine you.”

  Renna felt her muscles tighten. Her hands clenched into fists, and it was a sheer act of will to straighten the fingers again. She’d just finished preaching to the Warded Children, but now the magic in her blood was screaming, amplifying her own emotions, telling her to flee, or to attack Leesha, silencing her before she could tell anyone else. It was all she could do just to stand there, breathing.

  Leesha no doubt saw much of it, no matter how hard Renna tried to hide her aura, but she weathered it calmly, keeping still and saying nothing.

  “Ay,” Renna said at last. “Think that’s a good idea.”

  —

  “How’d it go?” Arlen asked as Renna materialized in the kitchen of their tower. He, Jardir, and Shanvah sat at the table having breakfast.

  “Broke a few bones and did a little flamework display,” Renna said. “Put the fear o’ the Creator back in them and got ’em on track, but they need lessons, they want to be in control when the swarm comes. Goin’ back a few more times before we leave.”

  She looked to Jardir. “There’s Krasians among them. Widows and children of Leesha’s escort. They’re painting their skin with blackstem and ent eaten demon that I seen, but they’re lost, Ahmann. Hollow’s their home, but they don’t fit in.”

  “I don’t imagine they would,” Jardir said. “But neither are they likely to leave the ground their husbands and fathers hallowed with their blood.”