by Keri Arthur
“The criminals sent here in the place of true soldiers cannot hear the whispers of the wind, Commander,” she cut in sharply. “Nor can they control her mood and whims. I’m no more inclined to believe a threat could exist in the dead zone than you, but neither am I willing to discount the wisdom of mages past and present. And, as the commander of a garrison that will face this threat if it exists, neither should you.”
“That doesn’t negate the fact that Lord Donal shouldn’t go out alone,” Gallego said. “This venture is a fool’s mission. Even with the help of the wind, there are too many unknowns between the Skaran and the heart of this so-called threat.”
“I won’t be going alone,” Donal said. “Princess Nyx will be accompanying me.”
Gallego snorted. “Then this is indeed a mission for fools.”
Donal crossed his arms on the table, a casual motion that belied the sudden anger in him. But before he could say anything, I stepped forward and pressed my fingers against the table. The stone warmed under my touch, a pulse that spoke of readiness.
“Why would you say that, Commander, when you have no idea of what I’m—”
“Come now, you’re a princess,” he cut in. “And Divona is not Mauvaissia—”
“No, it isn’t,” I cut in softly—angrily—even as I conjured the image of stone cuffs encasing his wrists in my mind. “And I’m not an ordinary Divonian princess.”
I raised a finger and unleashed the heat gathered underneath. That heat surged forward, raising the table’s stone into a wave that raced toward Gallego.
“What the fuck—?” His gaze went from the wave to me and then back again. “What the hell is that thing?”
“Proof that I can defend myself.”
“Okay, I believe. Just stop whatever it is—” He pushed up and away from the table.
But not fast enough. The wave reached the edge and splashed upward, catching his left hand and encasing it in hard stone.
“I warned you before we left Divona not to underestimate my abilities, Commander,” I said softly. “I may not have the gun skills of even the newest recruit, but I am a master of both sword and knife, and I can mold the earth and its elements to my will.”
“An impressive display, Princess,” Marttia all but drawled. “And a lesson learnt, I believe. But can you please release him so we can get down to the business of planning this journey?”
I drew the stone back to the table, released the remaining energy, and watched the wave roll back to solidity. Only then did I pull out the chair next to Donal and sit down.
And tried to ignore the slight ache forming in the back of my mind. There was always a price to be paid for using the elements—for bending earth, rock, and even metal to your will. For earth—and undoubtedly air—mages, that price was personal strength. And if you used too much—went too far—your body could be thrown into a state of shock that could take hours, if not days, to recover from.
It could even kill you.
The wave I’d created would have taken very little out of a mage used to controlling elements, but I was very much a novice given I’d had little time to build my mage “muscles” before the restraints had been placed on me. Maybe it wasn’t just my shooting skills I needed to work on.
For the next half hour, the three men and Marttia discussed the journey and made plans. I kept silent. I didn’t know these lands, didn’t know the Skaran, and certainly had little to say when it came to what we might or might not need. And it made me realize that no matter how much I might have studied the laws of the land and the procedures of the court, I still had a lot to learn. Though I did have one advantage—I certainly knew more about each lord or lady’s dreams and desires than the king or my brother ever would.
Of course, the time to worry about that sort of thing was when I was actually on the throne. It was pointless doing so now when I had six months and an unknown foe to first get past.
“Keep me informed of progress, Commander Gallego. Captain Marx, please retrieve whatever maps you have in the archives and give them to Lord Donal and Princess Nyx as soon as possible.” Marttia glanced at us. “And I would truly appreciate it if you both came back from this mission alive. I have no desire to explain your deaths in lands far beyond our own.”
“If death does find us, it won’t be in foreign lands,” Donal said. “It’ll be here, fighting for Rodestat’s freedom.”
Marttia’s gaze narrowed. “So says your mistress?”
“This time, no. It’s simply a gut feeling.”
She nodded and rose. The rest of us immediately did the same. “Hargon, please escort them to the outer court.”
The door opened and a big man wearing the loose red uniform of her personal guards stepped into the room. “This way, please.”
Without waiting, he turned and headed out. The four of us followed silently, Donal and I walking side by side behind Marx and Gallego. We were led down that long metal staircase then through a series of hallways until we reached a wide stone courtyard. Lights on long black metal poles lit some areas while leaving others to shadows and imagination. The air ran with the rich scents of breads and meats, and laughter rode the faint breeze. It brought back memories of the times my mother had taken me into the second tier, where the merchants, traders, and danseuse lived. It too had been filled with warmth and merriment, though I had to wonder if that was still the case after the brief glimpse I’d gotten of the area as we were leaving Divona.
We were led across to a simple metal carriage. Once our ride was underway, Captain Marx said, “We’ve assigned you both accommodation with the other unit leaders. While we need to mention this mission to them—especially given they’ll be patrolling while you two are gone, and should be on the lookout for behavioral changes from the Skaran—it would be better done once everything is in place and ready to go.”
I had no idea why that would make any difference, but perhaps Marx simply didn’t want to start any untoward gossip and speculation.
“Both your squads and the relief unit are already out on patrol with the outgoing team in order to learn their assigned sector,” he continued. “You’ll be joining them for the next two nights; I want recommendations from you both as to which of your team would make a good unit leader while you’re gone.”
I snorted. “You can sure as hell bet I won’t be recommending Dravan.”
“Discounting someone because you don’t like them is not how a good leader works,” Gallego said, voice cold.
I met his gaze evenly. “Neither is placing a totally inappropriate person into a team, Commander, but I guess we both know you had little choice in that. Just as we both know why Dravan is there.”
“I’m obviously missing something here.” Marx glanced at Gallego. “Exactly why was I ordered to place that man into Nyx’s team?”
“It was on the prince’s order, not mine.” He glanced at me. “But you’re wrong in saying I know why. Perhaps you’d care to enlighten us all?”
I smiled. “Let’s just say that if I have an unfortunate accident sometime in the next six months and Dravan is near or present when it happens, then it is no accident.”
Gallego frowned. “I cannot believe—”
“Commander, you know as little about court politics as I know about military actions, so please go no further with that statement.”
He stared at me for a second and then nodded. “I’ll have him transferred to another unit if you desire, and deal with whatever consequences might come once we return to Divona.”
An offer I certainly hadn’t been expecting. Maybe I’d been reading Gallego wrong—although I very much doubted I was misreading his discontent at my being here. “Thank you, but it’s always better to keep a gutter snake close rather than letting it attack from a distance.”
“Indeed.” His gaze switched to Donal. “Is this threat the reason you were assigned relief duty?”
The smile that touched Donal’s lips held little amusement. “No, but it nevertheless ac
hieved the desired result.”
“And you seriously believe Rodestat is in danger?”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise, Commander. Trust me when I say that your king could not have forced me into this unit had I wished otherwise.”
Amusement touched Gallego’s expression, but it was gone so quickly I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d imagined it. “Then we will do whatever we can to aid you.”
That raised my eyebrows. Given Marttia’s orders, I would have thought his helping us was a fait accompli. But obviously, the commander hadn’t. It made me wonder just what the setup was between the garrison and the city it protected—and who’d have the final word if the worst happened and the garrison fell. Could the commander override the queen when it came to something as desperate as a citywide evacuation?
Unease accompanied that particular thought; we hadn’t even yet sourced a threat, but my thoughts were already moving to evacuation procedures. I hoped it was my natural pessimism kicking in rather than a partial whisper of the future from the earth. I didn’t want to believe a city as mighty as Rodestat could fall, if only because it boded ill for Divona.
We soon arrived back in the garrison’s courtyard. Captain Marx showed us where the Base Exchange and armories were, and then took us over to supplies so we could get kitted up. The scout leaders’ accommodation, which was tucked into one corner on the third level, was just down from the bunkhouses that held the rest of the division. Our room did at least have privacy cubicles rather than simple rows of beds and footlockers, but the sides of those cubicles didn’t stretch to the ceiling, and they had no doors, just a partial partition at the front.
Donal and I were assigned the ones on either side of the door, as far away from the privy and bathroom facilities as you could get—a result of being the last to arrive, no doubt.
There was only one other person present—a golden-haired, golden-eyed man with the olive-brown skin of a Sifft.
“Tal is the sixth member of our team and leads ice unit,” Marx said. “All three Nightwatch teams have been assigned a half hour at the shooting range at 5:00 p.m., and I suggest you use it to sharpen your shooting abilities—you’re going to need them. We reconvene at six for dinner and a debrief with Daywatch.”
“And where does that happen?” I asked.
Marx smiled. “Mess hall. There’s a garrison map in your cubicle—the layout of this place can take a while to get used to.”
With that, he turned and left. I glanced at the two cubicles and then at Donal. “Have you a preference?”
“Ladies should always have first choice.” He paused, and then added with a twinkle in his eyes, “At least when the two options are virtually identical.”
I snorted and headed into the one on my right. It wasn’t a huge space—little more than a six-by-eight-foot rectangle—but there was a decent bed, a small metal upright locker and a footlocker, and a fold-down table and a chair to the left of the bed. After I’d stowed what little I had away, Tal offered to show us both the location of the dining area as well as where the unit table was located.
Celi and Merlyn joined us after the meal and the rest of the evening was spent quite pleasantly in the garrison alehouse, drinking and chatting. But as I went to bed, I couldn’t escape the notion the pleasantness wouldn’t last.
That, as of tomorrow, the darkness would begin to close in.
Maybe the feeling was little more than pessimism and the knowledge that I’d once again be dealing with Dravan.
Maybe it was the stirring earth, and her whispers that all was not right out in the dead lands.
Either way, sleep, when it finally did come, was uneasy.
Weapons practice went better than expected—I hit every target even if most of them wouldn’t have been classified as “killing” shots, and that was certainly better than spraying bullets across the walls or at the people around me. Dravan basically ignored me, although his hostility continued to stain the air. It might be a leashed force, but I had no doubt it would spill over sooner rather than later.
Dinner with Daywatch revealed there’d been signs that the Skaran were active in the Wild Lands, but no units had been attacked. I was introduced to Rennie, the outgoing unit leader for my watch zone and, in very little time, both his group and mine were kitted up and walking through the long exit tunnel. The Gateway Canyon beyond was a place filled with rocks, uplifted black stone and earth, and deep crevices—one of which split the canyon completely in half, separating the area immediately beyond the tunnel from the forested beginnings of the Wild Lands. A wide metal bridge spanned the crevice, and though I couldn’t see any means of either raising or withdrawing the bridge, I had no doubt it could be done. The Mauvaissians wouldn’t have built it without ensuring a means of destruction.
My patrol sector ran from the base of the Karva Mountains to the Quaih River—which divided the Wild Lands from the Skaran’s land—and then did a sweeping turn back to the garrison. It was just over eighteen miles in total, and I had no doubt I’d be wiped out by the end of it. I might be physically fit thanks to the years of using sword and knife in the practice yards, but that was very different to walking through broken terrain carrying a backpack, ammo clips, and weapons. Which was part of the reason why I’d decided to wear my old, worn-in boots rather than the new ones I’d been allocated. Given our incursion into the dead lands in three days’ time, blisters were the last things I needed. Thankfully, slow and steady was the aim for these patrols—or so Rennie informed me.
We were spread out in a wide, shallow V, with Rennie and me taking point. Three and a half hours had passed when I first felt it—the slight tremor in the earth. I touched my halo, ordered a halt, and then knelt and pressed my fingers against the ground. The vibration I’d barely felt through the soles of my feet jumped into sharper focus.
Footsteps, coming at speed.
I glanced up at Rennie. “Is there anyone out here other than the Skaran?”
“No. Why?”
“Then we have a party of six coming at us.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you can tell that by simply touching the earth?”
“I’m an earth mage. It’s a talent that runs in the family.”
Amusement briefly touched his expression. He raised his head and flared his nostrils, drawing in the crisp night air. “I can’t smell them.”
“They’re coming at us from the left, into the breeze.” I hesitated, splaying my fingers a little wider, trying to capture more information. “They’re still a couple of miles away.”
“Which isn’t far, given the speed at which they can run.” He pressed his ear circle. “Heads up, Balcor and Caracal units; there’s half a drift incoming. Stay alert.”
“A drift?” I asked.
He grimaced. “I know it’s a term meant for boars, but it suits the bastards. A full drift is a company of twelve, but thankfully, they aren’t often out in those sorts of numbers.”
He drew his blasters and cautiously continued on. I echoed his actions as silently as I could, every sense I had alert for the signs of danger I could feel in the earth. But my palms were sweaty, and my heart raced so badly it felt ready to tear out of my chest.
I hadn’t trained for this. I wasn’t ready for this sort of battle.
You are no longer restrained, a voice whispered through my mind. You no longer have to rely on only your own strength.
I briefly closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Not only was the earth right, but I wasn’t the only one here facing this enemy for the first time. I had four team members who’d undoubtedly be feeling the same—even if someone like Dravan was never likely to admit it.
Musk began to stain the air, a thick, sour scent that made me want to gag. It was so strong—so invasive—that it clung to my skin and clothes and forced me to breathe through my mouth. And as that scent got stronger, so too did the vibrations running through the earth.
“One mile away, Rennie,” I said.
He nodded and tou
ched the halo again. “Balcor and Caracal units, stand ready. At the first sign of movement, fire, and don’t stop, or the bastards will have you.”
His warning to our units had my fingers tightening on the grips of my blasters. Tension wound through my limbs, but I did my best to ignore it—to concentrate on the ever-increasing closeness of heavy steps on the ground.
Then they stopped.
But they were close—so damn close. I could feel the weight of them through the earth. Was practically drowning in their odorous scent.
So why weren’t they attacking?
I scanned the darkness, wondering if this was part of their methodology—a game they played with their prey to heighten tension and fear before they attacked.
Or had they perhaps realized we were ten rather than five and decided the odds were not in their favor? But if that were true, why were they not retreating? Why were they simply standing there?
“No movement, no sign,” a voice said into my ear. Sage, from the sound of it.
“If you can’t smell them,” Nash said, “you need your damn nose checked.”
I tapped the halo and said, “Caracal two and three, maintain silence unless necessary and remain at the ready. They’re two hundred yards away.”
“And this is not their usual behavior,” Rennie murmured.
“Perhaps our numbers are giving them pause.”
He snorted. “The Skaran welcome greater odds—the more, the better. It’s considered the mark of a great warrior to win such fights.”
Then why weren’t they attacking?
He’d barely finished when the earth screamed a warning—a sound that was all but drowned under an inhuman roar that shattered the silence and sent a chill down my spine.
I raised my guns in readiness.
I didn’t have to wait for long.
Something big, brown, and hairy came flying out of the trees, its monstrous form little more than a blur as it came straight at me.
