Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3)

by Carrie Summers

  “The first sign of the coming darkness was the earthquakes,” Sheshik said, her gaze distant. “So many lately… If we’re feeling them here, I assume it’s worse in the Empire.”

  “We’ve always had them in Cosmal, but my parents—my mother said they’d become more frequent lately.”

  Sheshik scooted to the edge of her bunk and worked at the buckle closing her trunk. Once it was freed, she tossed the lid back. Avill leaned forward. To her surprise, the trunk was nearly empty. From its depths, Sheshik extracted a leather pouch. The drawstring had stiffened with age, and the woman’s lips twisted in annoyance as she worked at it. “Need to replace this,” she muttered.

  Once the drawstring was freed, she upended the pouch and shook out a polished yellow stone the size of a chicken’s egg. Sheshik cradled the stone in her hand, then crawled her fingers over it.

  “What’s is it?”

  “History,” Sheshik said. “When I was very young, my father was not only head of our band, but also the highest authority on the Free Council. It’s the position I hold now, which is why the stone passed to me. The First Tribe gave us a story to remember. Warning signs that needed our eternal vigilance. But the ancestors knew how difficult it would be to keep the history alive. It’s been nearly a thousand years. So with the story came the stone. It helps us remember. Take it.”

  Sheshik held out the stone, and Avill shied away. “I—it’s yours. It came from your ancestors.”

  A kind smile crinkled the corners of Sheshik’s eyes. Rising from the bed, she swiveled and then sank into the nest of furs beside Avill. She supported Avill’s hand from beneath, gently forced Avill’s fingers open, and laid the stone in her palm. “We can argue over it later. But for now, hold it tight. It will take days for me to teach you everything. Far longer if you don’t have the stone to help.”

  Avill squeezed, and the stone warmed under her grip. “Is it supposed to heat up?”

  “Bless the sun,” Sheshik said. “I was afraid it wouldn’t work. Yes, it’s supposed to get warm. Now, as long as I recall everything properly and you can convince that pendant to carry you back to the Empire, perhaps we can stop the flood.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by a flood.”

  “As I said, the tale is long. But I believe it will answer many questions for you. Are you ready to begin?”

  Avill licked her lips. “I—I suppose so.”

  Sheshik nodded and closed her eyes. When she began to hum, the oil lanterns flared and smells grew stronger. The stone in Avill’s hand warmed even more, banishing the chill much like Sheshik’s fish broth did.

  “Our people weren’t always nomads,” Sheshik began. “We haven’t always wandered the tundra. Long, long ago, we climbed down from the rocky Icethorns and settled here. We’d done something very wrong, and only barely managed to fix it. Those who survived—the First Tribe—dedicated themselves to keeping the memory alive. We were afraid that others would repeat our mistakes or that our feeble repairs wouldn’t hold back the flood forever. Unfortunately, as judged by the signs, both these events are coming to pass.”

  Chapter One

  Teppo

  Dukket Waystation, Cosmal Province

  INCOMPREHENSION FOGGED THE refugees’ faces. The events of the last days had been too much. In time, Teppo knew, the men and women from the Cosmal Peninsula would pull these memories from the dark waters of their minds. They would sort through what had happened, the homes and neighbors they’d lost in the days that the Maelstrom swallowed Cosmal Province. But for now, they could only trudge forward, children’s hands clutched in their own, small knapsacks holding all that remained of their lives.

  Teppo lifted his rucksack from the dust and laid a hand on the splintered wood of Dukket Waystation’s stables. It was time to say goodbye to the only home he’d ever known. Beneath his feet, the ground trembled, the low growl of the province being eaten alive. The tremors hadn’t stopped since the morning the Maelstrom had roared to life. In a few days, the waves would reach the base of the Cosmal Crease. No doubt the shaking would continue until nothing remained of the Cosmali homeland.

  Slinging his rucksack over his shoulder, Teppo set out on the Imperial Crossing, the only maintained road through the rugged Crease. Most refugees would leave in the morning, but he saw no reason to wait. The evening air blew cool against the sweat that dampened his hairline as he trudged up the first slope. At the crest of the hill, he looked back over the Waystation and the remains of Cosmal beyond. Within a league of the Crease, hungry waves slammed against the land again and again. Devouring. Furious.

  Lifting fingers in a wave of goodbye, he turned and continued forward. The road was a jumble of raw earth and dark gashes. Every few hundred paces, a wooden post marked the track. Ordinarily sturdy and vertical, they now tilted at wild angles like drunken sentries. Teppo kicked one as he passed.

  The earth shuddered as a larger quake passed through its flesh. Teppo slowed and bent his knees to wait for it to pass. As the rumble increased, a new rift cracked the road in front of him. Teppo backpedaled, thoughts flashing to stories of travelers swallowed by sudden chasms. After a moment, though, the trembling stilled.

  The damp smell of freshly-exposed earth filled the evening air. Teppo advanced slowly, testing each footstep. When he reached the edge of the crack, he planted the heel of his boot and shoved. The ground held, and he committed weight to his foot. As he stepped forward, he noticed a new scent in the air.

  He’d smelled it before, this odor of rotten fruit tinged with metal, but he couldn’t quite place the source. Shrugging, he stepped over the dark rift and continued forward.

  The scent grew stronger. Teppo swallowed, abruptly uneasy. Around him, the landscape was darkening with the coming of dusk. Maybe he should have stayed at the Waystation one more night, but what good would that have done? The moon was full; even with the clouds, it would light the way through the Crease. Daylight would do nothing to stabilize the road.

  In the back of his mind, though, he feared the shifting earth wasn’t the only danger out here. Teppo walked with ears alert, eyes darting back and forth. His hand strayed to the dagger buckled at his waist. More of a long knife, really. A finer weapon in the possession of a stablehand would have attracted the protectors’ interest. Regardless, Teppo knew how to use the blade. His years with Stormshard had taught him that much.

  The first crunch on the road behind him sent a chill down his spine. Focusing his mind, he squeezed the hilt and pulled his knife free in a smooth motion. A sense of calm flooded him. He turned to face whoever approached.

  A nightmare crouched before him. Low to the ground on furred legs that bent like a lizard’s, the creature bared gleaming teeth. Its face was a mix of human and boar, upturned nose, long slits for nostrils. The beast reeked of rot, and in a few places, strips of flesh hung from its unnatural limbs. It wore a moldering tunic over the patchy fur on its torso.

  Teppo was still frozen in shock when the monster sprang. He reacted too late, and though his knife struck the monster in the neck, the beast’s claws pierced Teppo’s chest, splintering ribs. Teppo’s scream gurgled while two more abominations crawled from the gash in the earth.

  He fell beneath the first monster’s attack, head cracking against a stone. Stars filled his vision, the first he’d seen since the clouds had covered the sky.

  A distant, animal part of him struggled beneath the monster’s weight, squirming in the dust. He was already dead—he knew that much. But still he fought.

  The pain is regrettable, a sudden voice said into his mind. But it’s the only way to reach the peace beyond the veil. You’ll be grateful for your freedom soon enough. Relax if you can.

  Teppo tried to scream as the beast’s claw tore free, opening a hole in his chest. His life receded. He turned his head, hoping for a last glimpse of Cosmal. His home.

  He saw more monsters. At least a dozen had climbed from the gash. They marched in strict
formation, and he had only a moment to be grateful that they were advancing north, away from the Waystation and the Provs sheltering there.

  Teeth closed around Teppo’s windpipe. They pierced the fragile skin of his neck. He knew no more.

  Chapter Two

  Kostan

  Common room, Graybranch Inn

  “THE MAGES ARE gathering in a few of the larger homes in the Heights,” Vaness said as she read from a small, leather-bound ledger. She ran a hand over the top of her head, smoothing her dark hair as she spoke. “Or rather, the argents and aurums are gathering. I believe many ferros survived, but the rumors among the mages claim that something has shaken their order. The Aurum Trinity believes they’re organizing in secret.”

  “To what purpose?”

  She shrugged. “It’s always been difficult to understand ferro motives. I’ll do my best to find out more. As for the other two orders, the mages who were with your army suffered far fewer casualties than the ordinary soldiers.”

  “How about those who were still in Steelhold when Havialo struck?”

  My friend pressed her lips together. I could tell she didn’t want to answer.

  “Give me the numbers, please. How many have we lost?” I didn’t expect the news to be good; our preliminary counts showed that at least half the people in Steelhold had lost their lives when Havialo had demolished the spire atop which the fortress had stood. Without Savra, of course, everyone would have died. But still, the scope of the losses struck me hard every time I considered it.

  “Almost half the argents. A third of the aurums,” Vaness said, apologizing with her eyes as if the numbers were somehow her fault.

  Fishel, the proprietor of the Graybranch Inn, cupped large hands around a mug of steaming tea. He shook his head in dismay, briefly scanning the common room as if explanations for the tragedy might be standing against the walls. So many people had died. But we couldn’t afford to focus on our losses. It had been seven days since Havialo had unleashed the Breaking, and we’d scarcely begun to take stock of the new problems. Without my friends, though, I’d be nowhere. Vaness worked tirelessly to help me organize the throne’s power structure, while Fishel had the enormous task of overseeing the rebuilding and aid efforts in the Prov districts.

  “Have you found Azar?” I asked Vaness. The ferro mage apprentice was another of my stolid allies, and I hoped she could help me in the days ahead.

  Vaness nodded, and a bit of tension left my shoulders. Before marching to meet Stormshard in battle, I’d warned Vaness, Azar, and my friend, Lyrille, to leave the Hold. I’d had visions of its collapse, and the prophecies had seemed inescapable.

  “She’s gone in search of the ferros,” Vaness said. “We’re meeting later today. Should I tell her to come see you?”

  “Let her keep searching,” I said. Right now, Azar would serve me best by finding her order and strengthening her ties to them.

  “You’ve heard the numbers from the protectors’ order already,” Vaness said, running her finger down the ledger. “Though I double-checked the Prime’s report for you. Would you like me to go over them again?”

  I shook my head. The Prime Protector had tallied the losses and injuries among our soldiers within three days of the attack. The numbers were seared into my memory. We’d lost fifty men and women in the battle for Pascar, another nine while retreating toward Jaliss, five defending the streets from the Riftspawn horde, and, most tragically, every guard who’d stayed behind to defend the Hold. Duty had come first for the Empire’s soldiers, and when the inhabitants of Steelhold had fled in a panic, the protectors had remained at the gates. My chest tightened at the thought. I wished I’d told them to abandon their posts if the situation became dire.

  “Still, though,” Vaness said, “the majority of your forces are intact. Around half of the injured from the Prime’s report have now recovered and resumed duty. We expect more soldiers to arrive from the closest garrisons, though as the Prime is likely to report, she’s troubled by delays in their arrival.”

  “We still don’t know what the roads are like beyond the area we’ve surveyed,” I said. I didn’t need to add that it was easy to guess their condition based on what we’d seen thus far. “I should hear more about that today.”

  “I hope the information is good,” she said.

  “As do I.” I sighed before asking my next question. “What of the Atal, Vaness? Any progress? Have they agreed to help with rebuilding?”

  She curled her lip. “Many in the merchant-class have offered goods—after receiving assurance of repayment, of course. As for the elite, a scattered few said they’d donate steel coin, but only if the work focused first on the boundary wall between the Heights and the other districts.”

  I pushed the tip of my index finger against the table until the knuckle blanched white. Storms blast the Atal. What use was coin in a ruined city? And why would we even consider shoring up their boundary wall when half the city’s population was homeless? I’d hoped that the attacks on Jaliss might have slapped sense into the elite, but clearly they still clung to their arrogance and prejudices.

  “Well, continue as you have been with them. Eventually, their cellars and pantries will empty, and they’ll be forced to leave their mansions to seek out suppliers. It will be a shock for them to learn no one wants their coin. They’ll have to work and barter like everyone else.”

  Vaness nodded and continued scanning her ledger. “That covers the tasks you’d assigned me. There’s one more thing, though…”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I put in an order for a new Emperor’s cloak, seeing as yours was lost when the Hold fell. There’s a tailor on Crescent Street who has a large bolt of purple brocade and plenty of exotic weasel fur for the trim. I was thinking amethyst for the gems on the clasp.”

  I laid a palm on the table, pressing it flat to keep my composure. “Vaness, I—”

  She couldn’t keep a straight face. A faint twitch of her lip gave her away.

  “You’re joking,” I said.

  Fishel’s booming laugh confirmed it.

  “So which one of you came up with the idea?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

  Fishel snorted. “As if we’d tell you our secrets. In any case, would you like to hear where the recovery in the Splits stands? It’s a slight improvement, though the difficult conditions still hamper us.” Unlike Vaness, Fishel kept the information he reported tucked neatly in his mind. I’d been skeptical at first, but after he’d rattled off a tally of craftsman in twelve different specialties, detailing the blocks and districts to which he recommended assigning each type, I no longer questioned his methods. Though it did make me wonder why he still insisted on marking Savra’s and my room in his massive ledger every night. I think he enjoyed embarrassing us.

  And speaking of Savra… “I would like to hear, my friend,” I said. “But it won’t be long before the Prime and half a dozen others arrived to say their piece for the morning. Even the astrologers have requested a meeting. I suspect I’ll be in discussions for hours.”

  “I prepared you a tray for her,” Fishel said with a knowing smile. He gestured with his chin. “It’s on the counter behind the bar.”

  I shook my head as I stood. I’d thought my years of Scion training made me better at hiding my emotions.

  “If you can delay a minute more,” Vaness said. “I’d like to get to work and need some direction first.”

  I stopped part way across the room. Though I wished she’d take some time to rest, maybe even to mourn the loss of our childhood home and many of the people we’d known, that wasn’t Vaness’ way. She needed to be busy right now. Almost since birth, she’d been trained for the possibility that she might lead an Empire someday. Now, stripped of all the responsibilities the old traditions had pressed on her, she needed somewhere to channel that conditioning.

  “Check with the Prime to see if you can help facilitate the scouting. We need to know more about w
hat’s happening outside Jaliss. And if Fishel can spare the workers, I think we should start sifting through the rubble of the Hold. We must bury the dead and we should scavenge what we can, whether that’s building materials or clothing to help the Provs weather the nights outside their homes. Check with the protectors to make sure the patrols can be widened to cover the area, and then send out crews that you and Fishel both trust.”

  “Of course, your eminence,” she said as she stood.

  I stopped myself from asking her to use my given name. She needed the separation, or she wouldn’t have abandoned using it. Vaness and I had never expected a future together, but the change in our relationship had hardened her. Though she seemed to accept my bond with Savra, she hadn’t made her own new friends, and she certainly hadn’t met any men. I knew too well how difficult it was to cast off the isolation we Scions had been expected to endure. In time, though, I hoped she’d accept a life where friendships weren’t taboo and love was not forbidden.

  Vaness was already slipping out the front door when I climbed the first of the inn’s stairs with Savra’s breakfast tray in hand. Fishel began busying himself around the common room, preparing meals for the other guests, around a dozen Provs he’d recruited to help him manage the city’s rebuilding.

  I smirked, realizing how easily I’d vanished from their minds. In truth, though, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Taking a deep breath to rid myself of worries, I mounted the stairs. The best hour of my day awaited me.

  ***

  The room I shared with Savra was smaller than a closet in the Emperor’s chambers. A wardrobe stood against one wall. Opposite it was a bed barely wide enough for two, and completing the furnishings, two straight-backed chairs bracketed a simple table. Savra sat in one, eyes closed, hands resting lightly on the table.