Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3)

by Carrie Summers

  “Armen,” the woman beside me called. One of the men stopped short and turned around. He nodded when the woman gestured at me, stomped over, and stooped to lift Avill off my lap.

  I clutched my sister tight, prompting a look of confusion.

  “Oh, you poor things,” the woman said, laying a hand on my arm. “Clearly these two have been through a lot, and I believe I see a family resemblance. We won’t hurt your sister, child. Whatever that nasty Atal mage did to you, we won’t let it happen anymore.”

  Understanding clicked into place like the tumblers in a lock. Of course. In Jaliss, Atal and Prov had been forced to come together to fight the Riftspawn. Even if the old hatreds still simmered, survivors from the capital understood we had a greater enemy than each other. But out here in the grasslands and surely in the provinces, too, there’d been no such reconciliation.

  “The mage— she didn’t harm us. She saved my life…” I trailed off when my words only deepened the pitying looks on the Provs faces.

  The woman shook her head and flicked her gaze to Azar’s retreating back. “Still afraid she’ll find a way to punish you for speaking against her. I’m so sorry. We’ll see what we can do about it though.”

  With a grunt, the man, Armen, lifted my sister and started for the town. The woman clasped me under the elbow and helped me stand.

  A fence of sharpened stakes encircled the town’s perimeter. On the far edge of the settlement, ashes and debris surrounded the burned-out husk of a building. Elsewhere, planks had been nailed over windows. In front of many buildings, patches of bare earth stood out conspicuously amongst the stubble of freshly grazed grass. Apparently, the porches had been torn up, their wood repurposed for the fence of stakes or to reinforce doors and window openings.

  Suspicious eyes peered from open doorways, and as we followed Azar’s captors toward a large building near the center of the settlement, more glowering townspeople joined our escort. Most clutched makeshift clubs or rust-speckled blades.

  Avill had passed out, and her head lolled. I kept my eyes off her pale face, afraid that my worry for her would get the best of me.

  At the center of the settlement, a square of trampled earth surrounded the town’s well. I stopped short when I saw the posts planted at the end of the street leaving the western side of town. Nailed high on the thick wooden stakes, corpses in tattered clothing drew flies.

  Five dead men and women hung at the town’s edge. Two had been stripped to their underclothes while the others wore shredded finery.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  The woman curled her lip as she looked up at the bodies. “Too many beasts outside the town for us to keep monsters in our midst. A few weeks ago, we were attacked by nightmares. The Atal lord and his sons hid in their mansion. Meanwhile, the protectors forced us out of our homes and made us fight those things. But when it was done and we’d buried our dead, we made things right.”

  I swallowed, sickened. “The building on the edge of town? The one that burned?”

  “When we grabbed the lord and his sons, the mother and daughter locked themselves in their home.”

  “You burned them alive?” My voice sounded too loud in the morning air.

  The woman shook her head. “Truth be told, we tried to save them. Was the men who’d been cruel to us all these years. The father and his boys both. But the women were kind in their own way. A lamp must have overturned. So much silk and velvet in the drapes. Fine, softwood wall paneling. Went up too quick for any of us to make a difference.”

  I swallowed, too shocked to know what to say.

  “What do we do now, Beashi?” one of the crossbow wielders asked, addressing the woman.

  “About the mage?” she asked. When he nodded, she scratched the back of her head. “The cellar for now. We can be rid of her once we’re sure we’ve cleansed the innocents of her influence.” With her final words, she stared pointedly down the street toward the corpses.

  My heart stuttered. Oh, storms.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Kostan

  Deeper into the Icethorns

  ICICLES DRIPPED FROM willow branches that bent over the tumbling stream. I broke one free and bit off the end, pressed the cold sharpness against the roof of my mouth. In my fist, the rest of the frigid dagger began to melt as I squeezed. Water leaked between my fingers while I clenched my jaw and inhaled. My hand ached from the cold. I welcomed the pain for the focus it brought.

  I jumped when Vaness shoved through the thicket, knocking the ice free in a tinkling clatter. I hadn’t heard her approaching footsteps over the rushing water. As I stood from my crouch, I tossed the remaining sliver of icicle into the splashing rapids and wiped my hand dry on my trousers.

  “Your eminence,” Vaness said, sketching a bow.

  “Good morning, Vaness.” I tried to keep my expression bland. It was better than showing how desperate I felt inside. Savra… gone forever. I couldn’t even think about it. “What’s the morning’s report?”

  We’d been marching for three days since Derinow, the geognost boy, had brought down the mountain and saved us from certain obliteration. Three days of aching feet and numb hearts for those we’d lost. Three days of watching over our shoulders and wondering when the next wave of Spawn would arrive.

  “The scouts have reached and returned from the valleys we identified as possible locations for the remaining Heartstones. Both held ruins. But no signs of another Heartstone. I’m sorry.”

  I clasped my hands behind my back. If I’d allowed myself to hope we’d find salvation so easily, I might have been disappointed. “Is either of them defensible?”

  “I didn’t see them for myself, of course. The Sharder scouts say the closer option is as secure a location as we’re likely to find within striking distance. Just the one entrance—the surrounding peaks are impassable, at least by a large force.” She shrugged. “If you’d like my personal opinion, I’d say we have no choice but to commit to the closer location. Make our stand.”

  “I always value your opinion, Vaness. You know that.”

  She swallowed, eyes sliding to the side at the praise. “Thank you, your eminence.”

  “What have you heard regarding the search for a forge?”

  “Sirez says a village two days up Westpass has a smithy. We sent Stormshard representatives ahead with a load of black iron. However, there’s concern that the villagers won’t be amenable to aiding the Empire, even if Stormshard does the asking. We can commandeer the forge by force, but I wasn’t sure if you…” She trailed off, the question obvious in her voice.

  I drew a deep breath. Did I wish to make war against my own citizens? Finally, I sighed. “After every option for negotiation is exhausted, I will allow the taking of prisoners from among the dissenters. No one will be killed.”

  “Fair enough,” she said.

  From upstream, I heard shouts and splashing. I leaned over the creek, stepping a boot onto an ice-slicked hump of rock that broke the water’s surface. Sunlight glinted off the spray. A hundred paces uphill, the stream turned so that the trees on the bank hid what was happening from my sight.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Vaness said. “The drovers were preparing to send the first wagon through the ford before I left to find you. A few of the mules are balking.”

  Of course. Ahead, the road crossed the creek to travel along the opposite side of the valley. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed while I’d been lost in thought beside the stream.

  My boot slipped as I pushed off from the icy stone, and my toe came down in the edge of the water. Glacial melt seeped through the boot threads, and I grimaced. Vaness hid her smirk a little too late. The faint urge to smile at my clumsiness faded before it surfaced on my face. How could I smile after… I swallowed.

  Don’t think about it, Kostan.

  “How is the road between here and the closer valley? Can the wagons make it?” I asked, reinforcing my me
ntal armor with a focus on details. Logistics. If I could just keep my thoughts on my duty, I wouldn’t have to remember those last moments before the landslide had crushed the garrison.

  “Uncertain. It depends on how surefooted the mule teams prove to be.” Vaness paused, choosing her next words with caution. “How is the boy? His talents would be useful.”

  “Falla has been with him. She’s— she has a knack for helping someone understand the burdens of magic.”

  After stopping the Riftspawn army and burying the garrison, Derinow had slid his attention to the landslides that had barred our path. He’d marched forward as if called by an inner voice, sending refugees sprinting away when they realized his intent. He’d pushed aside the debris, mounding it up in heaps to either side of the road. And then, as soon as the work was finished, the child had sat down beside the road, knees curled to his chest, eyes staring. As far as I knew, he hadn’t spoken since.

  “Should I speak with her about it?” Vaness asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ll speak with her if we have no other choice. But it’s not right to force a child to repeat an act that killed dozens.”

  “Even though it saved—”

  “Yes, even though it saved thousands.”

  “Understood, your eminence.”

  Vaness pushed aside a clump of branches as she prepared to leave but then hesitated. “You said you always welcomed my opinion.”

  “And I meant it. What is it, Vaness?”

  “I can only imagine what you’re going through, your emin—Kostan. No matter how bad it hurts, you need to take care of yourself. You’ve lost weight, and you hardly seem to sleep.” She rubbed her fingertips against her palm, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood.

  I sighed and stepped through the path between the willows. “Thank you for your honesty. I’ll do my best.”

  As I led the way along a faint trail back to the road, the Prime stepped forward to meet us.

  “You’ve heard the report from the scouts, I assume,” she said.

  “I just filled him in,” Vaness said.

  “We’ll make for the closer valley and hope for the best. Please recall the groups moving toward the second option.”

  She inclined her head. “As you wish. And with your permission, I’ll send a detachment of protectors to begin preparing defenses. We’ll construct a set of walls and trenches at the valley’s entrance then lay out areas for the encampment.”

  “Please ask them to search for likely locations for a Heartstone. Avill...” My throat caught on the dead girl’s name. “Avill suggested that we should look for passages leading below the earth.”

  “Of course. I hadn’t realized that would be likely.”

  “I apologize,” I said, my glance taking in both women. “Both of you. I’ve been… keeping my own counsel the past few days.”

  “I understand, your eminence,” the Prime said. “You are bereaved.”

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Prime. And please maintain the rear guard. I can’t say why we’ve escaped another attack these past days, but let’s not count on the luck holding.”

  I stepped onto the road and started for the ford. Indeed, the wagons were now lined up and rolling forward, the teams of horses and mules clopping through the stream where it grew wider and shallow. Though the animals snorted and tossed their heads as the chill penetrated their coats, the wagons made their creaking way across. On either bank, refugees watched the operation as they chewed on cold breakfasts.

  I strode forward, nodding at the drovers and hostlers. Another day of marching. My feet ached just thinking of it. Maybe Vaness was right, and I should take better care of myself. On the near bank, one of Fishel’s deputies was passing out strips of dried meat and—to the children—a few wrinkled apples. I stepped toward her, but my feet seemed to stop of their own accord. My stomach clenched at the notion of food weighing it down. The midday soup might be more appetizing.

  And anyway, why should I eat when my people would soon go hungry? How could I eat when I’d never see Savra again?

  ***

  A day later, Vaness pulled me aside as I shuffled along the edge of the road, toes dragging through the last patches of Highsummer wildflowers now gone to seed, their leaves shriveled and yellow. “Either you eat or you ride,” she said. “You’re slowing us down.” Her voice was as uncompromising as it had been during our years as Scions. During our youth, she’d projected a heart of stone and a mind of iron. We all had, back then. We hadn’t had a choice.

  She must’ve known I’d recognize the tone. In her own way, she was reminding me of the person I’d once been. Scion Kostan had commanded the ability to see nothing but duty. He’d been cold. Unfeeling.

  But that young man was dead. Killed by a flame-haired woman with a heart full of sunshine.

  “Would Savra be proud to see you like this?” Vaness asked.

  I shrugged. What did it matter? Savra wasn’t here.

  “Well, if you won’t care for yourself…” She motioned to a Prov leading a horse. The man trudged forward, lead rope clasped lightly in his grip. Perched in the saddle, a young child clutched the pommel and yawned. When he spied Vaness’ beckoning gesture, he tugged the horse toward us.

  The man sketched a bow. “Your eminence,” he said, touching his brow.

  Storms. She was really going to make the child dismount and give the saddle to me. I clenched weak fists.

  “The Emperor needs—”

  “How do you fare, sire?” I asked, interrupting Vaness as I pinned my gaze to the man.

  “I—Well enough, your eminence. Thank you. Is there—how may I help you?”

  “It’s nothing. I only wished to check in.”

  The man’s gaze slid away when he looked at my face. He couldn’t hide the concern that furrowed his brow. I swallowed, realizing how terrible I must look. If I kept on like this, I’d have no strength left. The refugees would have no Emperor to lead them. I’d fail, and it would be due to my selfish grief.

  But Vaness had reminded me that it didn’t need to happen this way. My upbringing had taught me how to live without emotions—I’d been trained to become an uncaring tyrant for most of nineteen years.

  “If you need nothing, we’ll continue on, your eminence. My son… he’s fortunate to have a place on horseback, but he tires all the same. I’d like to make camp before dark.”

  I raised my chin and fixed him with a commanding stare. “Be well, sire.”

  As the pair moved off, I turned to Vaness. “Very clever. I assume you’ve brought a meal that you’ve deemed adequate for my needs.”

  Wearing the expressionless mask I remembered from her Scion days—and therefore hiding any pride over having finally reached me—she lowered her rucksack from her shoulder.

  My head spun from exhaustion and thin mountain air as I took a seat on a low stone beside the track. Our march had brought us near treeline already, and though it was near midday, a crust of frost still lined the shadows. I turned my face to the sun, its rays as weak as I felt.

  Vaness handed me hard bread, cheese, a flask of honeyed apple juice. I distanced myself from the taste. To enjoy the flavor would chance a return to the fragile, emotional creature I’d become once freed from my Scion’s prison.

  When the meal was finished, Vaness stood, stone-faced, and gestured for me to continue marching. I checked that my mask and emotional shroud were firmly in place and stepped onto the road.

  Ignoring everything but duty, I marched for the valley.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Savra

  A one-room cottage

  AZAR WAS LOCKED in a cellar. My sister lay on a straw-ticked mattress, pale as the moon. The sun was sinking in the west, and I still didn’t know what to do. I feared to leave Avill’s side, and I was terrified of what might happen to Azar. No one had spoken to me since a young woman with guarded eyes had brought a loaf of hard bread and a pitcher of stale wa
ter around midday.

  I planted my elbows on my knees and rested my forehead on my hands. From outside the small cottage where the woman, Beashi, had left my sister and me, I heard the baas of sheep returning to the village for the evening. I stood from the small three-legged stool beside Avill’s cot and swung open the window shutter.

  The warm smells of wool and livestock drifted into the room. A river of dirty fleece flowed in front of the window, chased by adolescent boys and girls. The animals’ coats were patchy, their eyes dull. Visible even beneath their wool, their hip bones stuck sharply from their rumps. The herders cast nervous glances back toward the grasslands. There were far worse enemies than wolves and hunting cats on the plateau now.

  Farther into town, the tenders nudged the animals with switches, sending the sheep toward the corrals in the southern half of the village. Finally free of their duties, they hurried back to homes and disappeared inside. No games would be played in the streets this evening.

  I glanced again at Avill, her thin body motionless beneath a threadbare wool blanket. After laying a hand on her shin, I tiptoed to the door. Judging by Beashi’s words, they wouldn’t hurt—kill—Azar today, but I couldn’t leave her in that cellar overnight. I needed make the townspeople understand that the Empire had changed.

  Already, the low angle of the sun had brought a chill to the air. I hesitated in the doorway, worried about Avill. A second blanket was folded across the foot of her bed. I stepped back to the cot and spread the quilt over her.

  “Such a shame,” a woman said from the doorway. I jerked and my knee knocked the bed’s rickety footboard. Avill mumbled something, her head rolling the other direction. I contained irritation as I turned to face the newcomer.

  Beashi looked down at my sister’s sleeping form with pity. “The Atal have no decency. She’s just a child…”

  “I need you to listen to me,” I said. “Azar didn’t do this.”

  The woman sighed and shook her head. As she stepped through the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder and motioned a pair of men forward. They wore simple clothing and dull expressions. One had a piece of dark metal clutched in his hand. I leaned around Beashi for a better look. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was holding something made from black iron.