Fate of the Drowned (The Broken Lands Book 3)

by Carrie Summers

  “A vague one,” I answered. “But I think it will work.”

  She snorted in faint amusement. “Perhaps your ideas will solidify before they decide to murder us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Kostan

  Upper end of a high valley

  VIEWED FROM THE upper valley, the system of ruins proved to be far more expansive than I’d judged the day before. I jogged through the springy tangle of ankle-high shrubs along the vale’s western slope, hoping to get a vantage that revealed all parts of the site. Vaness had said the ruins had been thoroughly searched. But hadn’t we lived in the fortress atop Steelhold for centuries without ever knowing what lay inside the spire?

  Judging by the lay of the foundations, this had been a small city. Something like the geognosts’ monastery, perhaps. A rather large area to search, but I ignored that. Just like I ignored the fact that the structures didn’t appear to have been constructed for war. There was no central keep, no area where the walls had been thicker. But there had been an organization to the site. Many of the walls radiated from a central area as if narrow alleys had once converged in the middle of the ruins. In fact, when viewed from above, the area of smooth stone blocks that I thought had tiled a courtyard seemed more like the floor of a central hall. Avill had said the seal had been forged by mages. Maybe this central building had been their guildhall.

  Or maybe I was just deluding myself.

  My body felt heavy with the lack of sleep as I trotted down the slope, turning sideways in places to move faster and spare my knees the shock. Still, the flood of anticipation kept the blood pumping through my veins, and I patted my cheeks to bring life to my mind.

  I vaulted a portion of the wall that guarded the building I thought of as the guildhall and stood in the middle of its gleaming stone, wondering what to do next. Pry up blocks the size of a small room to look underneath them? I fell to my knees and laid hands on the floor, brushing away grit and lichen. I cocked my head and closed my eyes, alert to any changing sensation from the Heartshard.

  Nothing.

  “That’s an interesting pose,” Sirez said as she stalked through an opening in the ruined wall.

  I stood, brushing my hands on my pants. “Vaness said you wouldn’t arrive until midday.”

  “I intended to stay back, but when Fishel got tired of me trotting back and forth along the column like a puppy, he suggested I hurry on and help with the fortifications.”

  “If it’s heavy labor you’ve come for,” I said. “Feel like lifting stone blocks three times your weight?”

  “It’s nice to see you able to joke again.” She clamped her lips shut for a moment as if regretting reminding me of my loss. “Sometimes it’s the only way to avoid despair, yeah?” she finished quietly.

  I inclined my head. “I’m doing all right, considering. But I mean it about the work. Perhaps not quite so heavy as I suggested at first, but we may have some rubble to move. Are you up for it?”

  She cast me a skeptical glance. “Depends.”

  “I know your Sharder scouts searched the area thoroughly, but—”

  “But you still think there’s a Heartstone here?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “It’s here. I know it.” My firm words—or maybe my belief—seemed to awaken new power within the pendant. I laid my hand over the Heartshard, chasing the sensation. A connection existed. It was faint, a gossamer thread, and I couldn’t tell the direction. But I knew for certain that the Heartstone was near.

  “Kostan?” Sirez asked.

  “I have a strange request,” I said. “I’m going to close my eyes and I’d like you to lead me around the area.”

  “Just… around? No destination in particular?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. I’ll tell you.”

  “Well, I suppose you are the Emperor.”

  “And since you’re such a loyal subject, you won’t declare me a madman.”

  “More or less,” she said, taking my elbow.

  Despite her teasing, Sirez took her job seriously, walking cautiously and warning me of stones I might trip over.

  “You’re using that necklace, aren’t you?” she asked.

  I nodded, concentrating hard. The last ten paces seemed to have strengthened the connection. “Turn a square corner here if we can. To the right.”

  “Uh…”

  She sounded very uncertain. Did that mean I’d asked her to walk me into a wall?

  “What’s the problem?” I asked as I opened my eyes. “Oh.”

  I sighed. Before us lay the largest jumble of stone in the valley. From above, I’d marked this area as the possible ruins of an apprentice dormitory. Or maybe a storehouse divided into dozens of small rooms. Nothing with great significance. Still, I couldn’t ignore the feeling of connection between the heap and me.

  “Gather everyone who is strong enough to work today,” I said. “We’ll take this stone down to the bulwarks so the labor isn’t wasted if I’m wrong. But I don’t think I’m wrong.”

  ***

  Mid-afternoon, the first glimpse of red agate peeked from beneath the pile of granite, we stopped carting the stone to the foot of the valley and instead began to build a wall around the area. Down inside, I knew this defense would do as little as the fortifications we’d constructed around the Heartstone in Jaliss, but it felt wrong to cart away the walls that the ancients had built around their creation. Better to honor their work.

  I crouched on the edge of the stone, palms against the slick agate. With eyes unfocused, I could almost sense the illusory cavern, those pillars of stone where I’d confronted Parveld. But without a threat near, I couldn’t fall into the vast chamber.

  I stood reluctantly, doubts swirling. It seemed ignorant to assume I’d fare better against Parveld next time. But what choice did I have? Better to try, though we’d likely just prolong the end. We still had no plan to close the rift at its source. According to Avill, without managing that, a final victory was impossible.

  “Kostan,” Falla said, arriving on the scene.

  I turned toward her, surprised to realize I hadn’t seen her since I’d arrived in the valley. I gestured to the exposed sliver of Heartstone and smiled. “Maybe we have a chance after all.”

  Interest flickered on her face, but it quickly vanished, displaced by furrows of concern.

  “Falla?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “But I wanted to speak—”

  Her words were cut off when someone nearby shouted in excitement. “It’s a door!”

  A door? I trotted over, dodging the beginnings of the dry-stacked stone wall, to where a Sharder was clearing rubble from the far side of the mound. Lichen and moss and a millennium of soil had nearly turned this half of the rubble pile into an ordinary hill. But as the Sharder plunged a pickaxe in, prying away sections of earth, I saw what he meant. A black passage opened into the low hill, and the shaft of light that penetrated fell on hewn stone. My breath quickened.

  The Lethin built beneath the earth as well as above.

  We wouldn’t know without exploring, but somehow I believed there would be space for the refugees underground. No more exposure to the freezing night air. When the Riftspawn came, the citizens of Jaliss would have sturdy walls to protect them. I closed my eyes. If only Avill had lived to see what her words had won us.

  The Prime insisted that soldiers precede me down the stairs. I tried to argue, but she fixed me with a stare that suggested I shouldn’t brave her wrath. With torches raised, the protectors descended. And descended. And descended.

  By the time a shout echoed up the staircase, I’d begun to wonder whether the staircase had a bottom.

  “It’s safe, Prime.”

  With a nod, the Prime fell in beside me. Even after her soldiers had checked the area, she wasn’t taking chances. The smell of pine resin from the soldiers’ torches curled up the stairs, joined with the smoke from
our blazing branches, and swirled up to the entrance. As we descended, the air warmed and grew more humid. Memories of the cavern collapse that had wiped out Evrain’s Shard rose, but I swallowed back that fear, telling myself that a thousand years hadn’t brought this passage down. It was unlikely to fall now.

  When we neared the bottom of the staircase, I was surprised to notice that the pool of light from the soldiers’ torches hadn’t advanced. As I set foot on the cavern’s floor, I realized it wasn’t caution that had stopped their progress.

  It was awe.

  The chamber before us was so immense, I could scarcely comprehend the scale. The ceiling arched up and away, the peaked vaults just hints in the darkness. Tile mosaics colored the lowest sections of the vaults, the barest glimpse of the majesty that surely hung above us. The walls themselves were intricate, covered with relief sculptures, pocked with countless alcoves and niches. Diamonds of red and purple and yellow tiled the chamber floor, the colors only hinted at in the glow of our feeble torches.

  My footfalls echoed and echoed again as I stepped into the center of the hall. As I advanced, the Prime called up the stairs, “We need lanterns down here. Right away!”

  I turned a slow circle, taking in the unbelievable architecture. Five hallways opened off this first room, shadowed promises for more wonders ahead. At least a quarter of the refugees could fit in this chamber alone. I guessed there’d be no problems with space once we explored the extents. It was more than I could’ve hoped for. I sat on the floor crosslegged and held my torch high.

  This was something we could defend.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Savra

  Locked in a root cellar

  AT SOME POINT, huddled in the corner of the cellar with Avill leaning on one of my shoulders and Azar on the other, I fell asleep. When I woke with a start, the motion caused the earthen wall to dribble soil into my hair. Gently, I extracted myself from beneath my sleeping companions, laying Avill across Azar’s lap and nudging the mage until her body slumped against a sack of potatoes on her opposite side.

  A thin stripe of moonlight fell across the floor to a set of bare shelves. Edging along the wall, I ran my hands over roots and soil and a few barrels and half-full sacks. Out of curiosity, I rocked the barrels. Most were empty. As prisoners, I doubted we’d be fed regular meals. Or any meals at all.

  I sat on the bottom step and stuck my wrist into the light. The bracelet holding Lilik’s and Raav’s spirits glinted, traces of the moon glowing on the etched lines of their long-ago island home, Ioene.

  You said you had explaining to do, I said across our bond.

  From outside, I heard the chitter of a late-season grasshopper. Avill snored softly. Lilik held her silence for a long while.

  I do. But to tell the truth, I’m not sure what to say. I’m ashamed, I guess.

  So it’s true, I said. You held onto my body on purpose. All those times I tried to return, you prevented it.

  The woman sent a trace of remorse curling into me. Yes, I suppose I did.

  Then tell me why I shouldn’t just leave you here in the cellar?

  Because I couldn’t sense your attempts. I felt nothing—consciously, anyway—until you and Azar… Until the two of you assaulted me.

  Assaulted? It took all my willpower not to rip the bracelet off my wrist.

  Yes, to me it felt like an assault. It hurt. I felt like—like I was trapped between a ship and the dock when the waves came.

  At least it worked.

  Yes, we can be glad for that.

  Can we? I asked. You just admitted that you were trying to keep me out.

  I was. I realize that now. But I didn’t know then, Savra. Not until Azar bludgeoned me with your spirit. At first, I couldn’t understand what was happening. There was just pain. I was terrified. Finally, I realized and could force myself to let go…

  Strange. To me it felt like you accidentally let go when the rattling earth distracted you.

  I don’t have a good way to prove what I’m claiming. But I am being honest with you. I was both horrified and shocked to learn what I’d done.

  The splintered wood of the step wasn’t very comfortable. I scooted forward onto the packed earth of the floor. Sighing, I rubbed my forehead while trying to think. Lilik’s claims didn’t make sense. I just don’t get it. How could you not know you were keeping me out?

  Have you figured out why you can’t cross the veil without the ferros’ rod?

  No. But I don’t see how that’s related.

  When you were first exploring your Essence magic, you discovered an inner resistance to hearing the voices of the dead. As a child, you’d shut them out because you feared to learn that your father was dead. Actually, I think you’re still afraid. The rod was a tool. It helped you get around the barrier you built. But the resistance is still there.

  And?

  The woman sighed. I didn’t know I was resisting you in the same way you can’t consciously feel the barrier you’ve put between yourself and part of your spiritism.

  I chewed the inside of my lip. As much as I wanted to strike back with an argument, the truth in her statement struck too deep. No matter how hard I tried to control my emotions, some were beyond my power to leash. After hundreds of years of imprisonment, Lilik had suddenly been given a flesh-and-blood body. If it had been me, could I claim that there would have been no hidden resistance to the idea of giving up life again?

  Once you felt Azar trying to push me back, you still resisted.

  As I said, I didn’t know what was happening at first. Perhaps if you’d warned me…

  I pulled my knees to my chest. I didn’t want to tell her that I’d asked Azar to take her by surprise because I was worried she would fight us.

  Ah, Lilik said. I see.

  I’d forgotten she’d become so adept at reading my thoughts.

  But I was right to worry, I said in my defense.

  Yes, but I didn’t cross centuries to help you just so that I could steal your body. I didn’t know, Savra.

  Tell me this, I said. If I have to spirit walk again, do I need to be afraid that you’ll shove me out?

  I can’t. Not while you keep a link to your flesh. But if Parveld were to sever your connection again, yes, I would take hold. And tides willing, I’d remember myself next time. If I can recognize the resistance, I can defeat it.

  I sighed. I guess I should have asked Azar to warn you.

  And I should have been more vigilant about my selfish cravings. Can we move forward from here, though? Can you trust me?

  Could I? I’d like to think so. As I considered my answer, I heard a faint scuffing noise from outside the cellar. I sat up straight, cocking my ear.

  Focus on your situation, Lilik said. We’ll talk later.

  Metal clicked against metal, and—one slow link at a time—the chain slid free of the door handles. My chest felt cold. There were two reasons someone might open the cellar in the middle of the night. We were either being rescued or eliminated.

  I scrambled across the floor and shook my sister and Azar awake. As they sat up, disoriented, the cellar door swung open. The sudden square of moonlight felt blinding after the darkness. I pressed my back against the wall as I fell into my aura-sight.

  Hatred and fear swam in the aura of the person descending the stairs.

  ***

  Avill squeaked when the newcomers came near. All three wore dark cloaks that hid their features.

  “Make another noise and we put daggers through your eyes right now,” Beashi hissed as she slid aside the shutter on a lantern and bathed the area in flickering light. Exposed by the glow, her henchmen stepped back. They each held blades. I didn’t doubt they intended to use them.

  I raised my chin and stared pointedly at each of them. The hints of shame in their auras, purple-black tendrils, deepened. Beashi’s spirit, on the other hand, seethed with hatred. I’d rarely seen such anger. If we had no other
choice, I’d take control of her first—I doubted anything would sway her opinion on the Empire.

  “Well?” Beashi hissed, glaring at her henchmen. “Gag them and bind their wrists.”

  The men scuttled forward, but before they drew within a pace of us, Beashi snatched their shoulders. “Fools,” she whispered before pulling something from her pocket. “Do you want to spend the rest of your lives as her mindless slaves?”

  My spine went stiff when I glimpsed the dark luster of black iron. I should have realized she’d bring the storms-cursed fish. As a tool to contain Azar, it would be useless. But I remembered all too well the rigid iron collar I’d worn while imprisoned by Stormshard. My spiritism had been useless.

  As the lead henchman approached, the fish’s ruby eye winking in the lantern light, I slid away from Azar, nudging Avill as I went.

  “Bind them together,” Beashi said. “Wrist to wrist. It will be easier to manage them.”

  The second henchman sidled forward to force Avill and me toward the ferro mage. Azar shot me a glance, begging me to act. I didn’t know what else to do. I formed an aura-lance, pierced Beashi’s spirit, and took control.

  “On second thought,” I forced her to say.

  Too late. A shove from the man sent me sprawling. My heel caught and I stumbled. My arm brushed the fish statuette. The momentary contact with black-iron severed my link, sent my aura whipping back into my skull. I swayed, dizzied, as darkness fringed my vision. Consciousness retreated to the corners of my mind.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  Beashi coughed. “Never mind. Get this over with. Now.”

  A rough hand on my arm jarred me back to awareness. The man dragged me upright, growling as he lashed my wrist to both of Azar’s then dropped the fish statue into a deep pocket in her tunic. Next, he dragged Avill over and bound her wrist to my other arm. A filthy gag pressed between my lips. I reached for my aura-sight. Nothing. The negation must have traveled through Azar’s body to impact my ability.