The Trinity worked silently as the Prime crossed the room to keep the vigil beside me. After maybe a quarter of an hour, a protector ducked her head into the room. “The soldiers still on the field are burning the Spawn’s bodies, Prime.”
“Good,” the Prime said. “Organize a system of patrols for the night. We need to make sure the city is secure.”
Nothing can make the city secure from what’s coming, Lilik said. You need to tell them.
I sucked in a deep breath. The woman was right. I’d been focused on Kostan, but now I needed to deal with the approaching situation. I’d hoped he would wake; this kind of decision needed the Emperor’s input. But the threat couldn’t wait.
“I need to speak with you and the other leaders,” I said. “It’s urgent.”
Briefly, I explained what I’d seen.
The Prime’s brows raised, but after a moment, she nodded. “I’ll call them together.”
***
I scanned the gathering and tried to ignore the skepticism on their faces. They’d listened to my story of the Spawn army without interruption, but that didn’t mean they accepted my evaluation of our chances.
The Prime Protector folded her arms as she, too, examined the others for a reaction. Fishel’s brow wrinkled as he considered my tale. He’d brought his Prov lieutenants as well as the palace servant, Lyrille, who had been blinded in service of the Scions. Argentmaster Yevinish represented his order while, prompting a few shocked whispers from onlookers, one of the Trinity members had separated from her companions to join us. The Prime’s messenger hadn’t been able to locate a representative from the ferro order. Representing Stormshard, Sirez and another leader, Charle, shuffled with arms crossed.
The silence held. From our vantage atop Steelhold’s stump, I could see Kostan’s legs through the building’s doorway. It took all my willpower to stay focused on this meeting.
“Do you have enough resources to organize an evacuation of the city, Fishel?” I asked, ignoring the fact that no one had yet agreed to my demand that we flee.
The man shifted his weight while clearly considering his words.
“Now, wait,” the Prime said. “Your report is concerning. But shouldn’t we discuss all options?” Her attention flicked to the outskirts of the city where four columns of greasy smoke rose from the battlefield. Her glance seemed to suggest that since we’d won today, why assume the coming army doomed us.
I recalled Lilik’s comment about my fear of conflict and raised my chin. “Indeed, we should discuss all options for the evacuation. But there is no question whether or not it’s necessary.”
“You must understand it’s difficult to accept,” the Prime said. Around the circle, others nodded agreement.
I sighed. “Yes, a call to evacuate the city may seem rash. But we simply must go. I don’t know how I can prove what I saw. There are many thousands more Riftspawn coming. We’ve got no chance against that.”
“And you saw them with your spiritist powers…” the woman from the Aurum Trinity said. “I understand the talent can be powerful, but to cast your awareness over such an incredible distance. Where did you say they are again?”
I hesitated. Was she questioning my honesty? “On the grasslands. Southeast about fifteen days on foot.”
Her body remained preternaturally motionless as she spoke. “Where, precisely? Show me.”
Clenching my jaw, I turned to point toward the spot. The woman narrowed her eyes as she followed the line of my finger. After a moment, she shook her head.
“If they’re out there, they aren’t within striking distance,” she said.
“I just said they were fifteen days away.”
The master aurum mage graced me with an annoyed look. “I was merely establishing the parameters of the discussion. You say our need to evacuate is urgent…”
I pressed fingernails into my palms. Storms, but I hated arguing. “We won’t make Jaliss safe in the space of a tenday and a half.”
Fishel cleared his throat. “We’d need to move people on foot. Tens of thousands of Provs who are already weakened by lack of food. They won’t be easy to organize or fast on the march. If we decide this is necessary, we’ll be glad for whatever days we have.”
Fishel glanced at his Prov leadership as if asking for their opinion. They cast nervous glances over the grasslands. They’d probably never expected to join a war council.
After a moment, the Prime Protector glanced toward Kostan’s shelter and gestured with her chin. The other two members of the Trinity were exiting the building. Gliding like phantoms they ascended the staircase to our perch. My heart thudded against my ribs—I was desperate to hear their report, but terrified of it, too.
The mages shook their heads in unison. “His problem does not lie in his body, though it has been greatly weakened. Argentmaster Yevinish, we suggest you examine his mind.”
I bit the inside of my lip. What could be wrong with Kostan’s mind? Fearing I’d break down if I looked at his motionless body, I kept my attention on the Prime. A faint hint of distrust crossed her features as she looked at the argentmaster, but after a moment she nodded assent. The leader of the argent order drew himself up and stalked to the stairs.
“Regardless of the approaching threat,” the Prime said, “what good would it do to flee? As few defensible locations as there are inside the city, the open grasslands would make us even more vulnerable.”
Footsteps smacked the entrance to the sheltered area below as Sirez burst into the ring. She spotted us and ran for the stairs, mounting them in just a handful of strides. Breathless, she ran her eyes over the gathering. “Stormshard received a runner from the south just after the Prime’s messenger visited us.” Her gaze landed on me. “What Savra said is true. The Spawn horde outnumbers us at least fifty to one. They’re marching as a unified force and heading straight for Jaliss. Settlements in the path have been razed, knocked flat as if they’d never existed. The conclave met briefly. Stormshard will be ready to move within the hour.”
“How did you get information from so far—” the Prime began before Sirez rolled her eyes and interrupted.
“We’re fighting on the same side now, but that doesn’t mean you’ve earned the right to all our secrets,” the Shard leader drawled.
The Prime’s nostril’s flared, but she dropped the matter. “Back to my point, what purpose is there in leaving? Jaliss’ defenses may be inadequate, but at least the city has defenses.”
“There must be an alternative,” I said firmly. “Even if we could hold a small number of defensible locations within the city, we could only protect a few hundred people. Tens of thousands of innocent citizens live inside Jaliss. I know I speak for Kostan when I say that it’s better to attempt an evacuation than to hunker behind walls while the rest of the city is slaughtered.”
Sirez looked about the group, disbelief on her face. “I can’t see how this is even a debate. Jaliss will be lost the moment that horde arrives.”
“But we have nowhere to go,” the Prime objected.
“Then find somewhere,” the servant girl, Lyrille, said. She’d been standing behind Fishel’s shoulder, but now she stepped in front of him. “You presume to make this decision for the city’s Provs, but how would they feel to learn you planned to hide while leaving them in their ruined neighborhoods like bait? You would accept the deaths of thousands because you fear to make the choice that might doom or save us all. I’m certain that if you went down into the Splits and asked any citizen whether they’d rather run from this army of monsters or wait to be set upon, there would be no hesitation in their answer.”
Behind the young woman, the other Prov leaders nodded. “Better to have a chance of escape than a certain massacre,” one said.
The Prime took a few deep breaths. Her jaw hardened as she nodded. “I suppose you’re right. We must try. Though I fear our chances are slim.”
“It’s not a hopeless proposition,�
� Sirez said. “We can head into the mountains. The quake damage there has been mild, and there are many valleys far more defensible than Jaliss just by virtue of their geography. If we arrive in time to fortify, even better.”
“We have little hope of that,” the Prime said. “Refugees will move at less than half an army’s march pace.”
The Trinity raised their hands in unison. Bowing their heads together, they spoke in tones so low that only their aurum-enhanced hearing could make out the words. After a moment, they inhaled together and spoke. “Only thirty-six of our order remain in this world. The aurums can’t beat this coming force, but we can delay them. Perhaps it will gain the time you need to secure another location.”
A dozen pairs of shocked eyes turned to the mages. The silence held while the Trinity’s words sank in.
“We are fast enough to defeat many of the Riftspawn before they overwhelm us. We can strike and retreat and harry their flanks, and unless they wish to sacrifice half their force, they’ll be forced to stop and deal with us.”
When no one spoke, Lyrille finally turned to the aurum masters. “I have nightmares almost every night. I wake, sweat-drenched, from memories of the pain and horror I suffered when the three of you removed my eyes. Though I’ve chosen not to waste energy on hating you, I never imagined you would make such a sacrifice.”
The Trinity’s faces were serene as they nodded acknowledgment of the girl’s words. “We cannot atone for the actions we took in service to the Ascension. We can, however, address other mistakes. Our hearing is rather acute. We have listened in on many conversations in the last weeks and have learned the truth about the Maelstrom-metals and the corruption they’ve brought to the world. The rise of the Hunger is partly our fault. We accept responsibility for our actions and offer this to make amends.”
The sun dipped below the western horizon as I swallowed a lump in my throat. “The Empire thanks you.”
“If there is an agreement regarding the evacuation, we will now leave you to prepare to defend your retreat.”
Lips pressed into a hard line, the Prime finally nodded. “If there are no other dissenters, I suggest we prepare to leave at dawn. Thank you, Trinity.”
The respectful silence held until the Trinity had glided down the stairs and slipped gracefully through the corridor leading from the area.
“Fishel?” I asked once they’d vanished from sight. “Do you think you can organize an evacuation by daybreak?”
He turned and met the eyes of his leadership. “Each of you will manage the areas you oversaw during our rebuilding efforts. Instruct the citizens to bring food, warm clothing, and supplies that will help them survive in the open. We’ll fill wagons with additional provisions and offer seats to those too infirm to march. Prepare to gather at the outer edge of Lowtown before the sun rises.” One by one, the Provs sketched small bows and dashed off down the stairs. As the last abandoned the group, Fishel touched the servant girl’s arm. “Lyrille, will you please join me?”
She adjusted her silk mask as she turned. “Of course, though I don’t know what help I can offer.”
Fishel heaved a sigh. “Someone needs to warn the Atal. But if we're to have any hope of convincing them, I believe we’ll need your power of persuasion.”
When she nodded, he offered her his arm, and they headed for the stairs, leaving me alone with the Prime.
“I’ll organize the soldiers to defend the refugees,” she said. Now that she’d been convinced, all hesitation had vanished from her tone. “We’ll send advance parties along our route to prepare the way.”
“And now we just have to hope the Emperor wakes up,” I said.
Chapter Ten
Evrain
At the edge of Arborhem
KNOWING THE ROADS were difficult, Evrain had planned a four-day journey from Bellows to Arborhem. When he spotted the first curl of smoke from a fire, it had been a full tenday. After the fifth, he could run no longer. His food and body were too depleted. More, a pair of travelers had warned him that many streams had turned poisonous, inflicting a fearful malady that brought lassitude followed by madness. The best way to assure his water wasn’t tainted was to take it directly from a spring. The search for a safe place to fill his skin every morning had added even more distance and time.
But the journey was finally over. For better or for worse, Arborhem lay just a few hundred paces distant.
As he drew near, Evrain felt his steps slow. It took him a few moments to understand his sudden reluctance. Answers lay within the tree-sheltered huddle of buildings ahead, and abruptly, he feared to learn them. He’d known all along that his hopes for finding his wife and daughter were as thin as high-mountain air, but the longer he’d traveled, the easier it had been to allow his fantasy to solidify. He dreaded its inevitable shattering.
And he could finally admit a truth he’d been avoiding. After seven long years, the prospect of finding his wife again frightened him. He’d been gone more than half the number of years that he and Marleina had been together. Time and Stormshard had changed him. No doubt Marleina was a different woman than she’d been when he left. And what of little Avill? She’d been just a wee thing when he last saw her. How old was she now? Twelve? On the cusp of womanhood already.
His reunion with Savra had been easier. By the time they’d found each other, she’d already learned why he’d abandoned the family. She’d had her own experiences with Stormshard, and they’d quickly bonded over the pressing issue of convincing the rebels to spare her life. Would his wife and younger daughter be so quick to understand his reasons for leaving? Should they understand? Over the years, Evrain had indulged plenty of doubts over whether he’d made the right choice to sneak away and join Stormshard. Quite likely Marleina would raise the same points.
But his deepest worry wasn’t whether she’d forgive him. He was terrified, after all these years, she simply wouldn’t care anymore.
When he realized that his feet had stopped moving entirely, Evrain gritted his teeth and shook his head. After facing down imperial protectors and Riftspawn abominations, he ought to be brave enough to face his wife. With a deep breath, he hiked his rucksack up on his shoulders and continued toward Arborhem.
Like Bellows, the settlement had fared better than most. The town wasn’t large; only a couple dozen buildings clustered around the central track. On the far side of town, a bridge spanned a fast-flowing river. A nearby waterwheel dipped paddles into the flow. Ponderous in its rotation, the wheel spun an axle that disappeared into the side of a sawmill. A rope had been strung along the riverbank and around the building. Red scraps of fabric dangled from the line. A warning? Was the river water befouled, too?
As if in answer, a group of chatting women emerged from the forest to his right. Each wore a wooden yoke over her shoulders. The buckets on the ends dangled and sloshed. No doubt an untainted spring hid in the woods nearby.
Down a shallow slope, a large wooden tub was being worked by two more women with long poles. Another laundress used iron tongs to bring hot rocks from a nearby firepit and drop them into the tub.
Evrain quickly took in the rest of town, a bustle of construction, canvas laid out for mending, and milling livestock. He ran a hand through his hair and started forward before a flash of hair the color of amber sunlight caught his eyes.
He’d been so focused on the women carrying water that Evrain hadn’t paid attention to the laundresses stirring the load of clothing. Now he wondered how he could have missed her. Though her back was turned, he had no doubt it was Marleina.
Her hair was a little longer than it had been during Evrain’s last evening at home. He remembered sitting at the small kitchen table and watching her correct Savra’s shaky handwriting. Already, his heart had been shredded as if run over a grater. He’d known he had to abandon them to save Savra, but he’d hated that he couldn’t confess his plan. Those hours had been agony. It had taken every drop of will he possessed not to adm
it the truth.
But that was over now.
He stood frozen for a handful of breaths, just watching his beloved work. When she turned, her face catching the afternoon sun, he marveled to see a streak of gray at her temple. The wind tore at her hair and pressed her dress against her body. She was thinner than she’d been, worn down by the events of recent weeks. But still breathtaking.
At once, Evrain’s fears flew up and away. He shrugged out of his rucksack, tossed it to the side of the road, and started for his wife with long strides. The woman working beside her noticed him first. She blinked, a look of concern furrowing her brow, and spoke a warning to Marleina. The wind pulled a strand of hair across her eyes as she turned. Grimacing, she tugged it away.
For a moment, Marleina was still as a Deepwinter frost. Her lips stood parted, exposing just the barest sliver of straight teeth. And suddenly, as if a hammer strike shattered the frozen calm, she threw her laundry pole aside, cried out, and ran to him.
Enfolding her in his arms was like snaring the afternoon sun. She was everything he’d yearned for all these long years. She and their daughters. Sighing deep, he breathed in the scent of her hair and pressed a kiss onto her head.
***
Marleina pushed back a canvas flap and led Evrain into a tent pitched against the leeward side of a building. Many of the wooden structures in the town had similar shelters fastened to their outer walls. After so many years in the Icethorns, the tents reminded him of snowdrifts that piled up behind ridges and stands of low-growing evergreens.
Glad to be out of the harsh wind, Evrain looked around the shelter. A twinge of worry pinched his chest. He’d seen from the outside how small of an area was bounded by the canvas walls. He’d expected the inside to be far more crowded. After all, Avill would no longer be the tumble of skinny arms and knobby knees he remembered. His wife and daughter wouldn’t be able to share a narrow cot without one being pushed off in the night.
Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3) Page 8
