by Keri Arthur
“Did any of the Adlin get inside the inner bailey?” I asked.
“No.” Ruma didn’t even glance at me. “The Adlin don’t appear to have possessed whatever device the kids used, and the flooded moat stopped them getting too close to the inner wall. They retreated rather quickly.”
The Adlin never retreated quickly; if they’d done so here, then there’d been a purpose behind it.
It was also rather obvious that kids hadn’t been carrying anything. Not in their hands, and not on their tiny bodies. Whatever they’d used must have come from within—from the power of the earth or the air. I opened my mouth to say as much, but closed it again at Trey’s sharp look. Once again, he seemed to know what I’d been thinking.
“How did those kids get in here?” he asked. “They’re not from Blacklake.”
“No.” Ruma hesitated. “We found them unconscious in the wasteland a day and a half ago and brought them in. Both were severely malnourished and dehydrated, but otherwise unharmed. We had them in the infirmary but not under guard.”
“Whereabouts in Tenterra did you find them?” I asked.
She gave me the coordinates and I glanced at Trey. “That’s close to where I initially found Saska, Commander.”
“I doubt that’s a coincidence.”
“No.” I hesitated. “Perhaps I should go interview Treace? She might be able to tell us a bit more about the two children.”
Trey glanced at his second. “Has the medical and healing staff been given the all clear?”
“Aye, Commander, but we’re only using the secondary medical facilities. The main hospital was severely damaged in the explosion.”
Trey nodded and returned his gaze to mine. “Return to the main hall when you finish. I’ll meet you back there.”
And be careful. He might not have said that, but the words whispered around me nevertheless.
I nodded, spun around, and left. My footsteps echoed in the silence as I clattered down the stairs. The guards watched me, but neither acknowledged my presence nor tried to stop me.
Most of the fires were now out, although the foul scent of the oil the Adlin had used still hung on the air. Most of the debris had also been cleared; only the smaller stones and metal particles remained to show anything untoward had happened here.
I walked across the inner courtyard and bounded up the steps to the smaller hospital. It was packed with the injured and those tending to them, and there was certainly more here than the twenty-seven Hansen had initially mentioned. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the sounds of pain, and I found myself hoping April hadn’t found himself in a similar situation back at Winterborne.
I paused in the doorway and scanned the room, looking for Treace, but not immediately seeing her. I did spot Mace Dien’s wild red hair, and made my way over. He was tending to a youngish man with a shattered arm, but glanced up as I approached.
“Neve March,” he said, surprise evident. “I thought you’d gone back to Winterborne?”
“I had, but I was assigned duty to the commander—”
“He’s back? Excellent.” He returned his gaze to his patient. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Treace—have you seen her?”
“She’s upstairs, in the recovery ward.”
“Thanks.” I headed for the exit and climbed up to the next floor. This area was less chaotic than the floor below, but the beds were all filled, and cots had been brought in to cater for the overflow of wounded being tended to. I scanned the room again and spotted Treace’s familiar figure heading out the door on the far side.
I made my way through the maze and then hurried after her. “Treace,” I said, as she disappeared through another doorway.
Her face reappeared. “Neve,” she said, with a smile that only barely lifted the stress so evident in her. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
“No.” I stopped. “Have you got time to answer a couple of questions?”
“Possibly not, but come along with me while I’m collecting the medicines.”
“Thanks.” I followed her into the apothecary. “I just wanted to ask about the two children who were found in Tenterra the other day.”
“Those poor wee waifs?” She shook her head. “It’s criminal what’s been done to them.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching as she began gathering various herbs, tablets, and other medicinal items into the basket she was carrying. “In what way?”
“They were little more than skin and bones, and the smell that was coming from them—it was a mix of urine and blue cheese, and totally foul.” Her nose wrinkled. “The poor souls couldn’t have seen water for years. Their reaction certainly seemed to indicate that—they were terrified.”
A smile touched my lips. “That’s not unusual for kids, is it? Many would rather be grimy than clean any day.”
“This was more than the usual reluctance. We ended up having to give them a calmative.” She shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “Not that it did them much good. The foul scent seemed entrenched in their skins.”
“Were you able to question them?”
“We tried, but the language that came out of their mouths certainly wasn’t one I’d ever heard before.”
“So you weren’t able to find out anything about them? Or why they might have been out in Tenterra?”
“No.” She half shrugged. “Miller—one of the nurses here that has some telepathy ability—did a reading on them at the lieutenant’s request, but apparently all he got was an incoherent mess.”
“Is Miller around?”
The sadness in her expression increased. “He got caught when the main hospital’s wall collapsed. I haven’t seen him come in, so I don’t think he survived.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Treace.”
She sniffed and looked away. “He was a good man.”
I hesitated, waiting several beats to both honor the dead and to give her time to collect herself, and then said, “I don’t suppose he told you anything he saw?”
“A little.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it didn’t make much sense. He said he saw earth, tunnels, and darkness, and an existence that was little more than pain and suffering. He saw women strapped to beds, and the raw, bloody remnants of perfect little babies. And he saw skeletal hands that were thin, taloned, and lavender colored.”
Horror stirred through me. Much of what Miller had seen in the children’s minds seemed to echo what I’d so briefly caught in Saska’s. Did that mean she was connected to them?
Could they, perhaps, even be her children?
They’d been found close to where I’d found Saska, after all, and it wasn’t impossible that they’d been with her when she escaped. And yet, if that had been the case, why hadn’t I spotted them? And why would she not mention them? Could any memory loss be so complete that she wouldn’t feel something terrible had happened, that some vital part of her was missing?
Or was that what she’d been trying to tell me when she’d said many answers would be found if I searched the area in which she’d been discovered?
“Can you describe the two of them to me?”
Treace hesitated. “They were very badly stained—much worse than you are, I’m afraid—but one of them had the looks of an air witch, and the other could have been of the earth. They were both wearing lovely silver bracelets, which was strange given their physical and mental state. I mean, if someone cared enough to gift them something like that, why were they in such a state?”
Why indeed. But it confirmed that at least one of them could have been Saska’s. Or maybe even Pyra’s, given she, too, had given birth before she’d returned to Winterborne. “Were either of them tested for magic?”
Treace raised her eyebrows. “Why would they be? With staining that bad, lass, there’s no possibility they could have held magic.”
That raised my eyebrows, given Trey’s daughter was both stained and capable of magic. I’d been under
the impression everyone at Blacklake was aware of her abilities, but Trey had obviously been a lot more circumspect than that. Which wasn’t really surprising since he’d given up his entire world—everything he’d ever known—to raise her himself.
“Do you know what’s happened to them?”
Guilt flashed across her face and she looked away. “Aye. They snuck out on me; I’m told they were likely killed in the attack.”
So she didn’t know that they were the reason the attack happened in the first place. Without their destruction of the wall, the Adlin wouldn’t have gotten into the outer bailey. I wasn’t about to tell her that, though. Not when she was already feeling so responsible. “You can’t be blamed for what happened, Treace. No one can. It’s just one of those unfortunate sequences of events.”
A smile ghosted her lips. “So Mace said.”
“Then believe him.” I pushed away from the wall. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
She nodded. “At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, given the wall fell. I never thought that was even possible. Makes life out here a little bit scarier now.”
“I’m sure your witches will ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Although the truth of the matter was, not even the strongest witch could defend this place—or Winterborne itself—against treachery. We had to find the people—be it the Irkallan or someone else—behind this plot and stop them.
Fast.
“I hope you’re right, lass. I really do.”
I gave her a smile and left her to it. Once back outside, I paused and looked around. I wanted—needed—to be doing something to help, but this wasn’t my home and Trey had given me orders to return to the main hall once I’d finished talking to Treace. After another moment, I reluctantly walked down the steps and headed across the yard toward the main hall. A bit of rubble skittered out from under my foot, and the sight of it had me pausing. It not only looked as if the very fabric of the stone had been stretched to breaking point, but it also had thin strands of metal entwined around it. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. If the walls here had been built along the same lines as the ones at Winterborne, then the inner portion would be stone over which the thick sheet of shiny black metal had been wrapped. For this stone to be a weird mix of the two, the very fabric of both had to have been altered. And while I had no doubt the strongest earth witch would be capable of such a deed, it had been two kids behind the destruction here. I could accept the possibility that between them they’d had enough power over the earth to bring down Blacklake’s defenses, but surely two kids wouldn’t be able to draw so much power that both stone and metal had fused? Especially given most witches, be they air or earth, didn’t come into their true power until puberty?
Except, I thought with a chill, that rule didn’t hold true for those of us who were stained and magic capable. I’d always been able to hear the wind, even if my ability to interact with her hadn’t come until puberty. I might not have ever had much control over her, but how much of that was a result of not having anyone to teach me? Or the fact I’d never done the bonding ceremony with either element? Trey had said his daughter had been able to hear the earth from a very young age, and he’d been teaching her as soon as she could walk and talk in order to stop accidental usage that could have revealed her abilities to the wrong persons.
Frowning, I spun around and headed for the gatehouse rather than the main hall. Something about this stone prickled at my instincts, and I wasn’t about to ignore it. The drawbridge was still lowered, and though water remained in the inner moat, the gentle current swirling toward the damaged main hospital suggested it was already being drained back to the lake. The soldiers guarding the inner gatehouse gave me a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t stop me from entering the outer bailey. Maybe they remembered me from my previous time here, or perhaps they’d been sent word to let me pass unchallenged.
The destruction in the outer bailey looked even worse here at ground level than it had from within the tower. The wall and gatehouse had blown apart in chunks that were as big as some troop carriers, and the remnants of the Adlin and the few soldiers who’d been caught on the walls during the initial explosion and subsequent attack lay scattered everywhere. There was a group of men currently inspecting the gatehouse remains, but instinct had me going right, toward the workhouses, kitchens, and mess hall. I jumped off the drawbridge and walked close to the inner wall’s skin, my fingers brushing the cool black metal. At first glance, it seemed the fighting hadn’t gotten this far, as there wasn’t even blood splatter let alone any sign the wall had been attacked. And yet the ground told a different story; there were a lot of footprints in the mud. Big heavy prints that were Adlin rather than human. They’d run along here, but for what purpose?
The wall swept around to the left, a gentle curve that soon had the gatehouse and the drawbridge out of immediate sight. The muddy footprints continued forward, and a foul smell began to taint the air. Unease prickled across my skin and I slowed. There was no sign of any damage to the wall, and no indication what the Adlin had intended when they’d come this way. The wall remained unbroken, but the gentle curve gave way to an oddly rough-looking section of wall that was a mix of both metal and stone—much the same as stone in my hand. I glanced down; in the glow of light coming over the top of the inner wall, it looked vaguely washed out—as if the explosion had not only not stretched its matter to breaking point, but also drained all color.
Not color, a voice whispered. But power. Energy.
That voice didn’t belong to the wind: it hadn’t come from the air, but rather from the ground. It vibrated across my flesh before finding its way into my thoughts. The earth—or rather, the collective consciousness of all those who now lived within it—had finally decided to speak to me.
I looked back at the odd section of wall. Just like the stone in my hand, it, too, seemed colorless.
I frowned and walked closer. The muddy ground under my boots grew heated, and with it came a sense of anger and defilement. Whatever was going on, the earth wasn’t happy about it.
I stopped in front of the odd section stone and splayed the fingers of my free hand against it. There was a weird chill to the metal and stone mix, and its surface was very definitely rougher than the section it met at a very slight angle. I shifted my fingers to that portion of the wall. The metal was also cool, but the earth’s anger vibrated through it, giving it life and a pulse. I returned my hand to the rougher section. No heartbeat, just a strange deadness.
I stepped back and glanced up. The roughness continued right to the very top of the wall, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything up there—which wasn’t surprising given most of Blacklake’s watch would be concentrating all efforts on protecting the breached area from the possibility of another Adlin attack.
I followed the rough wall to the point where it met the main curtain wall. The join here was again messy—it was almost as if it had been done in a rush.
Had the inner wall been breached at some point in the distant past? Technology these days made patching any defects or imperfections easy, but maybe that hadn’t always been the case, at least out here in the outposts. Or maybe they’d believed the main wall was strong enough to repel anything the Adlin might throw at it, so they simply hadn’t bothered repairing small imperfections on the inner wall.
I brushed my fingers along the join between the two walls and frowned. There were more than a few gaps between the two, and while they might not be any wider than my little finger, that was enough for an Adlin to wedge a claw in and perhaps gain a means to either climb the wall or even tear it open.
I shifted and pressed an eye against one of the wider gaps. There seemed to be movement in the darkness beyond this section of the wall, and it was accompanied by a soft thrumming sound. It was coming from the earth and was almost a strangled sound of protest—as if the power and the voices that resided within her didn’t want to be doing whatever task they were being set to do.
&nb
sp; But it was the air that slid through the tiny gap between the walls—air that was ripe with the scent of unwashed flesh, urine, and blue cheese—that gave me the answer as to what was happening in that darkness. It was the scent of the children. They weren’t dead. They were here, doing freedom only knew what.
I stepped back and sucked in a deep breath to try and wash the foul scent from my lungs. And though that sound wasn’t very loud, all movement stopped in the darkness beyond the wall. The silence that followed was full of fear, anticipation, and awareness.
I didn’t move. I barely even dared to breathe. I had no idea what was going on beyond this rough wall, or who else might be in there with the two children, but given the footprints, I certainly had suspicions—even if they made little sense. If there was one truth that had been indisputable up until now, it was the fact Adlin would never work alongside humans, be they adult or child. We were prey, a food source, not their allies.
After several more minutes, the noise resumed, and the beat of energy became quicker, harder, than before. I knelt and placed a hand against the earth. While I might have undergone the ceremony of Gaia with Trey, he hadn’t actually mentioned how I was supposed to use that power or even how to contact the voices within the earth. And while they might now have spoken to me, I needed more than that. I needed to see.
I closed my eyes and reached down to that part of me that had ever so briefly become one with the energy of the earth. She stirred within me, a pulse that was reluctant at first, but one that gradually grew until it matched the cadence coming from the earth under my fingertips.
Shapes twisted in the shadows behind my eyes. Shapes that were large and hairy, armed with sharp claws and wicked teeth. Not just one or two, but what looked to be a full sleuth. In front of them, standing with one hand against the wall, was a tall, dark-haired boy. On either side of him, each with one thin, lavender-gray hand wrapped around his arm and their bodies shaking and sweating, was a pale-haired girl and a dark-haired boy.
