Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3)

by Carrie Summers

  But a narrow cot was the only furniture in the shelter.

  He swallowed the knot that abruptly stuck in his throat. Licking his lips, he tried to ask the question, but no sound came from his throat.

  Marleina turned, and sudden understanding softened her face. “Avill’s not—I mean, I don’t know for sure… Avill and I escaped separately, Evrain. But I have every reason to believe she is okay.”

  Evrain hunched over the tightness in his belly and pawed for the top of the cot. He dropped to a seat before his knees gave out. A heartbeat later, Marleina sat beside him, clutching his roughened hand in hers. Calluses ridged her palms, no doubt from her work on the town’s laundry. But her fingertips were soft as she traced the back of his hand.

  “Where?” Evrain finally managed.

  “I don’t know. Truly, I don’t. It’s a complicated story, and one I fear may diminish me in your eyes.”

  Evrain spun and cupped her cheek. “I know about Havialo’s men and your capture. Whatever you had to do to secure her release… I would never judge you for it.”

  She shook her head. “My honor survived intact, as did Avill’s.” Her lips thinned as she released Evrain’s hand, dropping hers to her lap. “I kept a secret from you for all the years we were married. I didn’t wish to, but it was a promise I made long before we met. And it was for your own protection.”

  Evrain took a breath. The words stung, but he forced away the emotion. After all, he’d used the same justification to abandon his family without warning.

  “I forgive you,” he said.

  “Then I’ll tell it quickly because we have many more years to fill in. A few generations ago, a pendant washed up from the Maelstrom. My family has kept it hidden all these years. We call it the Wind’s Gift.”

  “And?”

  “I always planned to pass it along to Savra, but after she vanished…” Marleina’s voice cracked.

  “Wait,” Evrain said, snatching her hand and squeezing it. “You don’t know… I’m so sorry. I should have told you first thing. Savra is alive.”

  Marleina turned to him, a look of wonder on her face. “There was a fire. We saw the smoke shortly after the men took us. I was sure that the Empire had set it to cover her murder.”

  He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. A tear spilled and salted his upper lip. “I’ve spent weeks with her. She’s well. No, more than that. She is amazing, Marleina. The very thing Stormshard has needed all these decades. But as you said, there are years to fill in. Tell me about the Wind’s Gift.”

  “Cosmali have always assumed the Atal valued the Maelstrom-relics because they are rare. But judging by the Wind’s Gift, it’s something else entirely. The pendant has powerful magic—with practice, it’s owner can become one with the wind. Eventually, she can even bend the gale and force it to carry her where she wishes. We were trapped. I didn’t think both of us could escape, so I taught Avill its use.”

  “So she…” Evrain’s brows drew together as he tried to understand. “She became one with the wind? I’m not sure I grasp your meaning.”

  After spending so much time around Jaliss and the congregation of palace mages, not to mention the tricks worked by Falla and her mind reading, he was far more accustomed to magic than he’d been when he left Numintown. His eldest daughter was a spiritist, even. But he’d never imagined his wife keeping such a powerful secret.

  A smile teased her lips. “She joined the wind, vanished into the swirling air. Clever girl. When I gave her the charm, I had the faint hope she’d be able to use it to escape. I didn’t expect her to cause such a distraction that I was able to slip away, too.”

  “If you both escaped, why didn’t she rejoin you once it was safe?”

  Marleina’s smile turned melancholy. “If we’d had more time, it would have been an easy matter, I’m sure. She was so quick to learn the pendant’s power. But using the wind and mastering it are quite different. Even after years of practice, my control was poor.” She shook her head. “The storm blowing off one of Anisel’s harbors whisked Avill to safety, but I can’t guess where it decided to release her. She could be anywhere from the Aniselan coast to the northern ice.”

  Evrain looked down at his open palms. “Anywhere… then how can you be so sure she’s alive? The events of the last weeks… I wouldn’t be surprised if half the Provs in the Empire have died.”

  “Because I can feel her through our shared bond with the relic,” Marleina said, pressing her hand to her breastbone. “Life flows strong through her. Avill is brave and far cleverer than I once believed. She’ll survive this, Evrain. We all will.”

  He sat silently for a while, considering her words. After a long few minutes, Marleina laid a hand on his cheek. Her eyes, gray-blue like the Maelstrom, stared up at him. Like a receding tide, Evrain’s worries slowly drained away. He shook his head, marveling. After all these years apart, he believed every word this woman spoke. Their daughters were alive. They were fighters. Someday, they’d all be reunited.

  Closing his eyes, Evrain leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. Everything else vanished, the wind and the quakes, the Riftspawn and Stormshard. In that moment, there was only Marleina.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kostan

  Unknown locations

  “…ORGANIZE SO THE strong carry more.”

  Voices came to me as if through thick walls. The clamor in my head covered most of the words, my mind echoing with the screams of shadows, the grating as pillars shifted. And at the end of each cycle, the teeth-rattling snap tunneling deep into my spine. Over and over, the sounds repeated as if in a nightmare.

  “Too vulnerable. Put them in the middle.”

  “…argents are refusing… forget… only what we can.”

  “…mountains…least damaged. Ancient-built...”

  “Fishel says we’re ready. Is he…?”

  Strong hands fastened my wrists and ankles, and I was lifted from the earth. My head lolled. Someone cursed as the screaming shadows pulled me back into darkness.

  “…hours until sundown,” someone said. “Won’t reach until…”

  My body rocked back and forth. With each sway of my… my what? It felt like I was in some sort of sling. I struggled to move but could only twitch my fingertips. My eyes felt as if they’d been sewn shut. I struggled to understand what was happening. The swaying… was I being carried? Why? Where? I vaguely remembered voices. And before that, I’d been speaking to Parveld inside the Heartstone’s cavern. My sword had been so heavy. Then what? It was so hard to think while the shadows shrieked and the earth collapsed.

  “…so many. We’re strung from here to Lowtown still.”

  I tried to turn my head when I heard Fishel’s voice, but the effort sent stabbing pain down my spine. My awareness dwindled to a pinprick then faded.

  Later, I couldn’t say how long, the smell of horses and dust filled my nose. My face felt filmed with grit.

  “We’ll arrive tonight…others five…later. Maybe more.”

  …wish I’d been thinking more clearly…ferro’s rod is still in the Graybranch.”

  Savra’s voice entered my mind like a breeze. When I coughed, her delicate hand fell on my forehead.

  “I think he’s waking.”

  “You shouldn’t need the rod anymore,” someone else said. Falla? “And storms! Doesn’t the man know when to rest? Open his mouth.”

  “Are you sure it won’t make him weaker? …aura is so dim already.”

  “Argell says it’s best. The tonic only allows him to rest. It doesn’t harm him. If we allow him to wake… spend too much energy…won’t agree to lie in a cart while everyone else marches.”

  We were marching? Where to? I tried to speak, but my tongue was too heavy, pressing against the back of my throat like a stone. Inside my skull, the shadows screamed and struck at me.

  Fingers gentle as feathers touched my lips, parting them ever so slightly. The
hardness of cold metal pressed down on my lower lip followed by a spill of frigid, bitter liquid. I tried to shake my head. I didn’t want to swallow. But the sedative slipped down my throat.

  “Do you know anything about how I could see so far, Falla?

  “…body spiritists can sharpen their vision to see details...”

  “But you can’t… expand your awareness?”

  “With my spiritism? …must be near someone to peer into their thoughts.”

  “…strange… the Spawn came, I could reach…with Lilik’s help…scared me. And there was something else she wanted to do.”

  The tonic they’d spooned into my mouth was already making me lightheaded. I struggled to keep my focus on the women’s conversation. Savra’s voice reminded me of warm waters of lapping against my ears. Washing against the clamor inside my head.

  “…travel?”

  “…don’t see why it would be impossible.” Falla’s voice came in scraps of sound. “… some sort of Essence talent.”

  “Even so, her tone worried me.”

  “…different century. Different abilities.”

  “Even farther…” Savra’s voice was a whisper against the roar. I tried to breathe deeply, in hopes the fresh air would pull me away from the screams and the shadows. But still, I sank deeper, my awareness swamped by the heavy sound of collapse. “… find Parveld. My father.”

  “…dangerous.” Falla’s last words echoed in my skull as a reverberating crack plunged me into unconsciousness.

  Metal squealed. Something banged like the rear gate of a wagon bed slamming shut. A horse snorted. My body jolted as the surface beneath me lurched into motion.

  With a groan, I managed to crack my eyelids open. Overhead, a half moon illuminated scraps of clouds. Black against the starry sky, jagged mountain ridges cut the heavens. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t lift my shoulders. I rolled my head and saw that I had indeed been placed inside a wagon. Canvas sacks piled against the sides of the bed. A heavy wool blanket covered my body, but frosty air bit my cheeks and nose.

  I opened my mouth to speak. No sound came. The wailing shadows rose again in my thoughts. Dust sifted down as pillars cracked.

  Thumping hooves drew even with the side of the wagon. A pair of riders trotted forward, their cloaks draping their mounts’ hindquarters.

  “How much farther?” A rider’s voice pierced the night air.

  “Look,” the other said. “He’s awake…” The screams drowned the rest of his words. My eyes slid shut.

  “…stubborn. The healers say we can’t give him any more evenshade.”

  “Where…” The whisper fell from my lips, but I couldn’t hear it over the roar in my head. The end was coming again, the bone-rattling snap that would shatter my skull and start the cycle over.

  “…rest, your eminence,” a woman said.

  But I didn’t want to rest. The darkness brought more screams. The snap like a thighbone breaking. I wanted to escape.

  “Please” I might have whispered.

  “…side track that intersects Westpass Cut…make the Westpass protectors’ garrison tonight.”

  I shoved all my strength into my eyelids, willing them to open. The darkness remained.

  A shout penetrated the roar in my head. “An hour at least, Sirez.”

  As the wagon—it was a wagon, right?—jolted, fatigue latched hold of me, cold fingers clawing into my mind. The echoing shrieks grew louder, more frenzied, a wailing that made my eyes ache. The reverberating crack shot through me. Silence followed. I felt sick. Blackness closed from the edges, and, ever so softly, the shadows advanced again. I shoved with all my will, forcing my mind toward the surface.

  Dark ropes cut into my flesh, dragging me down. I couldn’t fight it any longer. The wagon’s wheels bumped over stones and ruts, a funeral carriage rocking me to sleep. I sank into nightmare.

  Chapter Twelve

  Savra

  A small room in Westpass Garrison

  I WANTED KOSTAN to live. I needed him to live. The Body spiritists hoped rest would bring him back. The aurums had believed the problem was in his mind. Argentmaster Yevinish—the mage most likely to heal Kostan’s mind, if the problem lay inside it—had thrown up his hands in disgust before leaving Jaliss with the other argent mages. In a different direction from the refugees, no less. All I could tell was that Kostan’s aura was extremely weak. It had been so dim since the Heartstone had shattered. Translucent and sluggish, his spirit swirled in an endless whirlpool of gray, each rotation swallowing the last. What had happened? Why had the shining warrior toppled? Was it related to Parveld and that filthy web that had blanketed the Spawn?

  Dawn was breaking over the Icethorns. The sun hadn’t yet penetrated the deep valley where Westpass Garrison guarded the mountain track, but pale light flooded the chamber where Kostan rested. We’d arrived in the night after two days of hard travel, and I felt as if I hadn’t slept in weeks. Bleary-eyed, I sat in a straight-backed chair at his bedside, hands clutched tight. As I waited, I watched his face. Even with the slow-swirling turmoil of his aura, he wore a peaceful expression, untroubled by the burdens he carried while awake. I ran a finger along his cheekbone, tracing its strong line.

  Tentatively, I extended a tendril of aura to strengthen his, but the moment it touched his swirling spirit, it whipped away as if thrown. I blinked away tears of exhaustion and fear. Would my time with him end so quickly? And what would happen to the Empire if its leader fell?

  As desperate as I was for him to wake, a small part of me dreaded his reaction to the new circumstances. How would he feel about what I’d convinced his allies to do? We’d abandoned the Empire’s capital to the Spawn. Fishel and his helpers had done a tremendous job organizing the evacuation, but how many people had chosen to remain in their homes? How many citizens of the Empire had we left behind? And what would Kostan think of us when he learned we’d left the refugees back on the grasslands, striking out on horseback to bring our ailing leader to the protection of the garrison?

  Staying would have gained nothing, Lilik said. Here, you can prepare for the refugees’ arrival.

  A flash of anger heated my face at the proof that she could hear my thoughts. My emotions were too raw for this. The last days had been a blur of marching through endless grasses, the sun a searing circle overhead. By night, the grasslands had been a dark sea full of monsters. Even with my aura-sight detecting nothing but blackness in the vast tracts beyond our group, I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that we’d soon be attacked. Behind us, Jaliss was a shattered and abandoned wreck. For centuries, the city had stood as the unbreakable core of the Empire. Fleeing it had been a bitter blow.

  We were each of us fugitives now. On the run from a force too powerful to resist. What would happen next? Where would we go? Certainly, a mountain stronghold would be easier to defend than a wide-sprawled city. But to what end? Would we hold out a little longer only to drown beneath a rising sea of Riftspawn? And what of the provinces? Quite possibly everyone in them would soon be dead, ravaged by Riftspawn or dragged into freshly opened chasms.

  That included my family. If they still lived, they were out there, somewhere.

  Altogether, it was just too much. At another time, I might have ignored Lilik’s comments. But now, I was sick of the deceit.

  I know you can hear my thoughts, I said.

  Only some of them, Lilik admitted. And I don’t mean to. It just happens.

  Why did you lie to me before? Why claim your insights came because you’d faced similar situations?

  Because it was true, Savra. Things have changed, though. It’s—the nature of our bond is complicated, and I’ve never been on this end of the connection before. The longer we’re together, the more closely aligned our spirits become.

  And you, Raav? Can you overhear what I’m thinking, too?

  The man sent a small wave of comfort across our link. I don’t mean to imply that I don�
��t care, he began.

  What he’s trying to say is that he has no idea what you’re thinking.

  It’s true, the man said. I’m terrible at guessing others’ feelings. I never understood how Lilik seemed to read my thoughts—even without magic—while I bumbled about ignorant to hers.

  But his intentions were good, Lilik said, so I kept him around.

  I wasn’t in the mood for their teasing. Aside from her intrusions into my thoughts, Lilik’s words after we’d inspected the Riftspawn kept returning to me. She’d been contemplating doing something to make me argue for the evacuation.

  I wasn’t so certain they were my friends right now, and I didn’t want to act as if we were close.

  I need to know what you planned to do to me.

  What do you mean? Lilik asked.

  Do I really need to answer that? You just admitted to understanding my thoughts.

  Some, but not all. The woman hesitated. I think I know what you’re referring to, though. What we saw when we looked at the Riftspawn scared me. It’s difficult to convey the extent of Parveld’s power.

  I understand some of what he’s capable of. I saw him relocate a whole army with just a thought.

  The woman sighed. I suppose that’s true. You have a notion of his power. But we don’t have any concept of how the Hunger’s influence will change his abilities. We won’t understand what he can do—specifically what he can Want to do—for some time.

  Clarify for me… with a dawnweaving, he pulls energy from other people’s auras and then?

  The dawnweaving’s magic fulfills his deepest Want. Before, his desires were limited by his conscience. Now…

  I shuddered at the tone of her voice.

  Back to what you intended with me…

  I shouldn’t have considered it, Lilik said. But when there is a strong bond--a shadowbond--between a nightforged object and the person who bears it, the object’s spirit can join with the soul of the bearer. Usually, this is to help the person—like when I strengthened your ability to see the distant Riftspawn.