by Keri Arthur
I touched the halo again. “I'm inside the barrier. The Skaran settlement has been destroyed.”
“What level of destruction are we talking about?” came the captain's voice.
“On first indication, it appears the Skaran have been annihilated. Buildings are untouched.”
Marx swore. “And the bipeds?”
“Other than their shield, there’s no sign of them. I'm going deeper.”
“Negative, Caracal One—”
“Captain, we need to know—”
“I understand that, Nyx, but you’re to hold position until Donal gets there.”
“But he’s injured—”
“And apparently as incapable of obeying orders as you.” Marx's voice was grim. “So damn well hold position until he arrives.”
“Will do, Cap.”
I crawled back through the barrier, pulled my knife free, and then swung my pack around and grabbed some trail rations. It was no substitute for bacon, eggs, and chunky bread, but it at least stopped my stomach from grumbling.
Dawn had given way to full sunshine by the time the wind picked up strength. I glanced up and saw Donal dropping rapidly toward the ground. He landed near the base of the long slope—which was probably as far as the wind could take him given that was pretty much where the earth’s pulse faded.
I pressed the halo. “Donal just arrived, Cap.”
“Good. Keep the halo open and describe what you see once you get back into that settlement.”
“Will do.”
I rose and watched the highlander walk toward me. His stride was long and strong, and though he was favoring his right leg a little, it obviously wasn’t bothering him too much. He had two pulse rifles strapped across his back, additional ammo clipped to his belt, and was holding a third rifle.
“You’ve come prepared for battle,” I commented. “Although I really wish you’d stayed at the garrison and let that wound fully heal.”
“You are not going into a Skaran settlement alone, Princess. Not when you're without your most dangerous weapon.”
I swung around and walked toward the barrier. “They’re hardly a threat when they’re all dead.”
“You can’t say that with absolute certainty given you’ve only seen this perimeter.” His voice was grim. “And given the wind’s whispers about your importance in the upcoming war, I’m not about to risk everything by letting you fall.”
I squinted up at him. “So it has moved from a threat to an all-out war now?”
“Yes.” He waved a hand toward the wall we couldn’t see. “But let’s concentrate on one thing at a time.”
I grunted and slashed open the barrier. Once we were both through, I rose and stood beside Donal, sweeping my gaze across the bloody and broken bodies that were absolutely everywhere. Having seen it once already, it shouldn’t have affected me as much this time, but it did.
“Fuck.” Donal's whisper was filled with the horror that ran through me. “I’ve seen a lot of destruction over the years of fighting Skaran, but never have I seen anything like this.”
“No.” I scanned the buildings up ahead. “Do we skirt the perimeter or go straight in?”
He hesitated. “Let's move toward the center. If there's anything alive here, that's where it'll probably be found.”
“I'm not sure we actually need to find survivors, especially given they're likely to be a little pissed off.”
He glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Do you honestly think we'll find anyone living here?”
“No, but the point remains.”
Donal raised his pulse rifle and moved forward cautiously. I sheathed my knife and pulled my rifle free. If other magic existed here, then the runes would sense it, whether or not the knife was in my hand.
But I couldn't help hoping it didn't sense anything.
As we moved deeper into the heart of the settlement, I started describing what we were seeing for the captain. I tried to keep my voice monotone, but it was a task that grew harder and harder. The sheer number of bodies meant it was next to impossible to avoid stepping on their broken, bloody remnants. Some of those remnants held weapons, but most did not. The Skaran really had been caught unawares, and that struck me as odd. They were warriors and wouldn’t have relied solely on the strength of their sword barrier to protect them. They would have had sentries, at the very least.
The knife began to pulse as we drew close to the center of the settlement and a T-intersection, and the trembling in the earth grew stronger.
Donal glanced at me. “The last time the earth reacted like this, we were approaching that spark-lit shaft. I can’t see anything like that here.”
“There may not be a shaft, but there’s definitely another source of magic here, because the knife is reacting.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my hip. “Can you use that reaction to find a location?”
“I don’t know.” I drew the knife and then turned slowly around. The flicker disappeared when I was facing the way we'd come but came back came to life as I continued around.
“That's handy,” Donal said, voice dry. “It's reacting equally to both the left and right paths.”
I frowned at the blade and wished there was some way to understand what the runes were trying to tell me. But all I had was the strength of its reaction. “I think whatever it's sensing either has some distance to it or lies underground.”
“Neither which is overly helpful right now.” He studied either direction for a minute, then shrugged and headed right.
I sheathed the knife again and followed. This section ran around the open area dominating the center of the encampment and was crammed with circular houses. We took the time to check each one, wanting to be sure there was nothing and no one lying in wait. All we found was more death—women and children, mostly. The bipeds had no boundaries when it came to their mutilations and certainly hadn’t shown any compassion, not even to babes. And while my sense of horror and anger continued to grow, I couldn't help but wonder how much kinder the forces of Cannamore might have been had an attack been ordered. Especially given that garrison troops collected tusks to sell and considered the Skaran to be more animal than human.
We continued to move around until we'd reached the opposite side of the open area and yet another intersection—this one four-way. I stopped and did the circling thing again—the knife glowed fiercer when pointed to both the right pathway and the one directly ahead.
I put it away again. “Checking up ahead would be the logical option.”
“I hear a 'but' in your tone.”
“That's because my gut is saying we need to go right first—even though it would make more sense to ensure there's no one left alive here to threaten us or the garrison.”
“It's only midmorning,” he said, “so there's plenty of time left to check this place later. Let's trust your gut.”
We moved past several large globs of rusted metal that would have once been the sword fence line and in very little time reached the barrier again. I pressed the knife’s point into it and created a circle large enough to peer through.
“Anything?” Donal asked.
“Nothing but empty grasslands.” And huge swaths of crushed grass.
“And yet the knife still pulses.”
That it did. Something was definitely out there; we just couldn't see it. “Should we continue?”
He raised an eyebrow. “We both know you have no intention of doing anything else, so why even ask?”
I half smiled. “I’m not the one with the broken butt.”
“My butt is just fine, but thanks for the concern.” He motioned toward the barrier. “Open her up fully, Princess.”
“I want you both back at the Skaran encampment by one,” the captain commented. “And on your way back to the garrison by four.”
“Sorry, Cap,” Donal said. “But until we’ve found whatever the knife is sensing, we’re not going anywhere.”
“The last thing we need is you two getting
yourselves injured or dead—especially when the pair of you could be the difference between this garrison standing or falling.”
“There are plenty of air mages in the Westal Mountains,” Donal replied.
“But how many earth mages are there?” Marx retorted. “I can’t actually envision the king or his heir racing here to help us.”
“That is a fact,” I muttered. “But I’m sure Gigurri would send help if asked.”
“And let's not forget,” Marx continued, either not hearing my comment or simply ignoring it, “that the Skaran appear to share some kind of mental connection. It's very likely the other settlements are aware of this destruction and will come to investigate. You don't want to be anywhere near that settlement if that happens.”
“No, we certainly don’t,” I said. Which wasn’t a confirmation that either of us would actually obey his order.
I cut another doorway through the barrier and once again followed Donal through. We continued along the wide road of crushed grass as quickly and quietly as we could, but there was no sign of the bipeds. If they’d gone underground to wait out the day, then they weren't doing so anywhere near here.
The sun tracked higher and the day grew warmer. Sweat trickled down my spine and the stink of it stung the air. Winter might be approaching fast, but autumn's warmth hadn’t finished with us yet. Donal’s limp had become noticeable, but he refused to stop or rest. When it came to stubborn determination, he’d obviously stood in line twice.
Still….
“Are you able to hear the wind's voice yet?” I wasn't able to hear the earth, but that wasn't entirely unexpected.
He glanced at me. “Yes—why?”
“Then ask her to carry you along—it might help prevent the wound getting any worse.”
“I'd much rather save my strength for an emergency dash out of here.” Amusement lurked around the corners of his eyes. “You seem awfully concerned about the state of my butt.”
“Well, it is a fine one, as far as these things go.”
The captain cleared his throat. “You are on an open line, remember.”
“Yes, but I'm positive the highlander won't in the least mind if everyone in comms knows how fine his posterior is.”
“Indeed,” Donal said, his amusement growing. “Although they should also know my magnificent butt—and everything that goes with it—will be unavailable for the foreseeable future.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Has the wound affected your sexual prowess?”
“Nothing short of death would affect that—we highlanders have a hearty reputation for good reason. No,” he added, rather loftily, “I have simply decided to save myself for the right woman.”
Laughter echoed down the halo’s line. Apparently I wasn't the only one who found that funny.
“Concentrate, people,” Marx said, his voice loud enough to suggest it was directed not only at us but at those around him. “If you must discuss Donal's attributes, Nyx, please do so in your own time.”
We continued in silence and the miles slipped by uneventfully, until it was way past time we should have turned back. But the earth's heartbeat was now pulsing through my shoes and the knife's golden glow was becoming stronger. We were finally close to the magic it was sensing.
What was interesting, however, was the fact that it had been able to detect it from such a distance when it had needed closer proximity up on the volcano. What had changed? The strength of the magic? Or was it perhaps a simple matter of the knife becoming more attuned to our world—and to me?
I really wished I knew.
Wish I could ask my mother. I blinked. She was part of the earth’s voice now, so while I might not be able to talk to her directly, her knowledge should be available to the greater consciousness.
But it was a question I could ask later. Right now, I needed to concentrate on what the knife was sensing rather than why. I knelt and pressed my fingers into the warm earth. Her response was swift.
The bipeds lie in front of you.
I scanned the empty horizon with a frown. Are they underground?
If they were, why was there no sign of it? Given the numbers that must have attacked the Skaran settlement, surely there should have at least been some evidence of digging somewhere. Unless, of course, they were using magic to hide their presence.
There is another shield ahead, which is why you cannot see them.
Meaning you don’t know what lies behind it?
They do not draw on the earth’s energy to power this shield. Their weight is vast—there are hundreds, at least.
Hundreds, not thousands.
Hundreds to defeat a settlement that had to be at least triple that number.
If we couldn't figure out a means of countering the magic of these bastards, we might end up as dead as the damn Skaran.
Do they sleep?
They do not move. Some have burrowed.
Can you kill them?
Yes, but to kill so many at once could be fatal. Taking life also drains life, and the knife you hold is not designed to counter that force being entirely taken from you.
Which was why I'd felt so weak the few times I'd used it as a buffer. Is the King’s Sword capable of such a feat?
We believe so.
Which was no doubt why the wind's whisperings were filled with dire warnings about the king bringing doom upon us all. He held the sword, but it was now useless in his hands.
I repeated what the earth had said about the bipeds to Donal and Marx, who immediately said, “Which means you have the information you were after and can now return.”
“Negative, Captain.” I pushed up and moved on. “These barriers are obviously portable, which means we need to confirm how they’re created if we’re to have any hope of destroying them.”
Marx didn't reply. Either he agreed or he simply knew the futility. Ten minutes later we reached the barrier. I sliced open a small section and peered through.
To be met by shadows.
The barrier that couldn't be seen by the eye blocked the sunlight—everything aside from the light streaming through the gap I’d created, that is. Thankfully, there weren’t any bipeds sleeping close to where we were standing.
In what I presumed was the middle of the thing was a raised platform. On this was an old stone table on which a body lay—a body that had been pierced by a metal staff topped with a black stone. Three bipeds with yellow-green head plates sat in a triangle formation around the body, but whether they were awake and monitoring it I couldn't say. They were simply too far away.
But this was exactly what we'd seen up in the volcano, so why had the earth lost its life both there and along that strip of land that was the tunnel, and not here?
As my eyes adjusted further to the darkness, I saw the rest of the bipeds. Or, rather, saw the mounds of earth that covered them. Beside each mound lay either a long sword-like weapon or the hollow tubes.
“What can you see, Princess?”
I stepped aside rather than answering. He peered through the gap for several seconds and then glanced at me. His expression was grim.
“If we take out the mages and destroy that staff,” he said, “the sunlight might just take care of the bipeds.”
“There's one major flaw in that theory, and that's the hundreds of bipeds that lie between us and that damn staff.” All it would take was one wrong move—one wrong sound—and the entire encampment would awaken. “It is a shame the garrison has no vehicle access through the Wild Lands. Handguns might have no impact on the barrier, but tank cannons might be a different matter.”
“Except tanks are made of metal, and the Skaran’s boundary fence proved just how susceptible metal is to the bipeds’ weapons.”
“I'm betting the tanks have a longer range than the biped's tubes. A few well-placed shots might make all the difference.”
“Given they were firing at us from the other side of the volcano, I wouldn't be entirely sure of that.”
I grunted and withd
rew the knife. “I really don't think we should or could do anything more here.”
“Then we at least need to check out the other bit of magic the knife was sensing.”
“With that, I agree—although I’m not entirely sure confirming they're capable of multiple types of magic is going to help our situation.”
And no matter how powerful the runes on either my knife or even the King’s Sword were, how could two weapons counter the might of multiple mages?
We needed answers—and we needed them fast.
Whether we'd have the time to find them was another matter entirely.
“Better to know than not,” Donal commented, falling into step beside me. “And we've got to go through the encampment anyway to get back to the garrison.”
It took us longer to go back, and not just because of Donal's wound but also because of my lack of fitness. The level of conditioning I'd acquired fighting against my brother in the yards was a very different level of fitness to this. The yards were short, sharp bursts of energy, with nothing more than your sword and knife. This needed both stamina and strength, especially with full battle gear on and the fact I’d now been on the move for something close to twenty hours.
It was nearing four by the time we reached the encampment, and the stench of death had increased tenfold thanks to the day's heat. I somehow managed to keep my stomach in check and once again used the pulse of the knife’s runes to guide us. Though the earth was again mute, she was trembling, and I still had no idea why. We followed the road that ran around the perimeter of the marketplace until we neared the far end of the oblong encampment. As red began to flicker through the gold, I stopped. While there were a number of grander round houses here, there was one building that towered above them all. Not only was it large but also rectangular—a meeting hall, perhaps. I couldn't hear anything moving around, and the stench of rotting meat was so damn strong it was unlikely I'd smell anything else, even if there were an entire battalion of bipeds here somewhere.
“Given there's no windows in that hall, I'm thinking it might be the perfect place to hide.” Donal glanced at me. “Shall we check?”
“You know the sane answer to that question would be no, don't you?”
