by Keri Arthur
“Your dad is a wise man.”
“He is. Most of the time, anyway.” She grinned. “Will you come back and visit me sometime? I’ve really enjoyed talking to someone who’s stained like me.”
“If I can get time off from my duties, and with your father’s permission, of course I will.”
“Good. And don’t worry about Dad—he won’t say no. He’s not as fierce and as ungiving as he makes out.”
“Only, I suspect, when it comes to you.”
“You could be right.” With a bright, cheerful laugh, she waved goodbye and all but bounced out of the room.
Leaving me to silence and some rather unsettling wisps of envy.
I pushed the tray table back to the wall and idly wondered how long it would take me to get used to the solitude of being Nightwatch again. As harrowing and as dangerous as the last few days had been, they’d also shown me another side of life. I might have felt ill at ease and out of place for the most part, but there’d still been many bright moments of enjoyment.
And it wasn’t as if the experience had ended. I still had a couple of nights to enjoy, and it really didn’t matter if I’d be spending most of that time helping to track down those connected with the plot. Two days was certainly enough time to store up some pleasant memories for the years ahead.
A sharp knock at the door interrupted my reverie, but before I could say anything, the door opened and Mace appeared.
“Ah good, you’re awake.” His gaze scanned me critically but unlike before, when Trey had done the very same thing, there was little in the way of internal reaction. “How are you feeling?”
“Absolutely perfect, thank you.”
He smiled. “You should be dead, you know that don’t you?”
“Luck does seem to be favoring me right now.”
“If that isn’t the understatement of the year, I don’t know what is.”
He motioned me to remove the towel and lie down. Once I had, he placed one hand on my forehead and another on my chest, just above my heart, and closed his eyes. Warmth radiated from the epicenter of his touch in gentle waves, but again, there was nothing sexual about it. It was, in fact, weirdly impersonal.
After a few minutes of silence, he pulled his hands away. “You, young lady, are amazingly resilient.”
“Meaning I pass the physical?”
“Very much so.” He flicked the towel back over my torso. “Although I highly recommend you avoid another encounter with the Adlin if you can. It might be a case of third time unlucky.”
I snorted. “I’m Nightwatch. It’s not like I have much choice about who I do and don’t fight.”
“Under normal circumstances that might be true, but it seems to me you’ve gone out of your way to cross their path of late.”
“It wasn’t by choice, trust me.” I hesitated. “Did you do a similar hands-on physical with the two children when they were here?”
“Yes—why?”
“Was there anything unusual about either of them?”
He frowned. “Not really—again, why?”
I hesitated. “I saw an Adlin with human eyes, and I just wondered, given these children didn’t—according to Treace—appear to speak or even understand us, whether they might somehow have been related.”
“An Adlin with human eyes? Surely you’re mistaken—it was dark, after all.”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to start any untoward rumors either. Kiro was keeping the problems at Winterborne close to his chest, so I imagined he wouldn’t appreciate me letting the cat out of the proverbial bag, even out here in an outpost. “So there was nothing unusual about the two kids?”
He hesitated. “Their skin reminded me a little of the exoskeletons I’ve seen on some insects, but I have no doubt it was probably a result of both their severe aversion to water and malnutrition.”
“Could there be any other reason?”
He wrinkled his nose. “There are some known diseases—like scleroderma—that causes a thickening of the skin, but I could find no trace of such in either of the children.”
Which meant we’d hit another dead end—and that was damn frustrating. “Treace also mentioned a smell—did you notice that?”
He half smiled. “Even those with the dimmest olfactory senses couldn’t fail to notice it. It was so entrenched that I fear it might be a part of their physiology.”
“Have you ever come across anything like that before?”
“No.” He paused. “But I have to admit, your questions have piqued my curiosity. I’ll check the medical library and consult with some of my fellows in Winterborne. They might provide some clarity.”
“Could you let me know if you do uncover anything?”
“I will. In the meantime, you’d best get dressed. The commander will be waiting downstairs for you at one.” He glanced at his watch. “You have half an hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
He nodded and left.
Silence, I thought, as it closed in around me again, sucked.
I thrust to my feet, found my clothes—which once again consisted of a new Blacklake uniform rather than my own—and got dressed. Once I’d reclaimed my knife and my sword, I headed downstairs to wait for Trey. Watching the noise and motion of daily life here in Blacklake was far better than the solitude of my room.
Especially when that room was one of Trey’s rather than a more impersonal hospital or bunkhouse.
I walked across to the waiting speeder. The door was open, and the engine was already primed and ready to go. A nearby guard gave me a nod in greeting then spun around and walked away. I sat on the step-up and waited.
Trey must have seen me, because a few minutes later, he came out of the tower and strode toward me. I rose. “Commander, do you mind if we make a slight detour on the way back to Winterborne?”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, but why?”
“Because I want to reexamine the area where I found Saska.”
“There’s nothing there.” He tossed a small pack into the speeder and then offered me his hand. “We’ve already checked it out.”
I placed my hand in his and allowed him to help me into the speeder. His fingers held mine just a shade longer than was necessary, but this time, only a tiny flicker of that odd energy stirred. Perhaps it had been tightly leashed—at least on his side. It wasn’t like I had any great control over it—or anything, really. “Saska told me answers could be found there if we look in the right places. I don’t want to chance ignoring it.”
“She’s part of this plot. She might just be sending you on into another trap.”
“I don’t think so.” I slid into the driver seat. “I actually think she’s doing her best to help us.”
He climbed in behind me then pressed the door-close button. “I’ll have to trust your instincts on this one, because Kiro’s certainly not getting much out of her.”
“Maybe his sort of talent just doesn’t work on an unstable mind.”
I punched in the coordinates and then carefully guided the speeder through the inner gatehouse and across to the remnants of the main one. Even though a little less than ten hours had passed since the attack, the outer wall was already half rebuilt. But it would be days before the outpost was fully secure again. Trey obviously put a lot of trust in his people—there could be no other reason for leaving now. Not when he was also leaving his daughter in their care—although I rather suspected Eluria was more than capable of looking after herself.
Once we were free of Blacklake, I punched the accelerate button and kept the vehicle on an even keel as she rapidly gained speed. As the dust began to plume behind us, I said, “Your daughter came to see me this morning.”
“Did she now?” There was amusement in his tone. “What did she want?”
“To talk to someone else who was stained. Which surprised me—I’d have thought that with so many people living and working at Blacklake, there’d be others who are stained.”
“Th
ere are at least a dozen that I know of,” he said. “But it was probably the draw of someone new that had her running to your side against orders.”
I frowned and glanced around at him. “You didn’t want her talking to me?”
“Oh, I’m all for her becoming acquainted with you, but not when she’s skipping lessons to do so.” His expression was amused. “If she wishes to follow in my footsteps and become commander of Blacklake, she has to learn to obey orders. Especially if she wants to give them herself one day.”
I grinned. “I suspect following commands is always going to be difficult for her. She has her father’s determination and strength of self-belief.”
“That she has.” He was silent for a moment, and then said, in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation, “Did Saska give any clue as to what we might find?”
“All she said was answers,” I replied. “Did you take the bracelet from Eluria?”
“Yes. The outpost will be safer if that thing isn’t held at Blacklake.”
“Winterborne won’t be any safer—not after the success of the recent attack.”
“But Winterborne has far more resources it can call on.” He paused. “Did you press Saska for more information?”
“Yes, but she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—say anything more.”
He grunted. “That really doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“Which seems to be something of a theme in this quest of ours.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He fell silent. I returned my attention to the controls and the miles rolled quickly by. When the sensors indicated we were nearing our destination, I slowed the speeder down and did a sweep of the area. As Trey had said, there was nothing there.
I returned to the point where I’d found Saska unconscious and stopped. Trey hit the door-open button and then climbed out, one hand on his blaster as he scanned our immediate surrounds. There was nothing and no one out there according to the sensors, and yet that odd sense of presence once again hit me as I stepped onto the sandy soil.
I stopped beside Trey and raised a hand to shield my eyes against the bright glare of the sunshine. “This really is a godforsaken land.”
“Not so much godforsaken as almost totally drained of life,” he replied. “It’ll be centuries yet before it’ll recover enough to become farmland again.”
I glanced at him. “I was under the impression it would never recover?”
“That was the initial thought, but the success of the regeneration projects at the outposts has proved otherwise.”
“I’m guessing the Adlin would love to see this entire area repopulated. There isn’t much more than Wildebeests and the occasional patrol for them to hunt here at the moment.” I took a couple of steps forward, and that weird sensation of something or someone being near began to fade. I swung around and returned to the spot where Saska had lain. The feeling reasserted itself.
“What is it?” Trey said.
“I don’t know.” I bent and splayed my fingers against the soil. The earth was warm against my skin, well heated by the day’s sunshine. But there was very little in the way of life and energy—not even the faintest echo.
I walked forward several yards, and then repeated the process. Though faint, this time there was definitely the glimmer of power. It pulsed across my skin like a distant heartbeat, warm and welcoming.
I glanced up at Trey. “I can feel the faint pulse of the earth magic here, but there’s nothing where you’re standing. It’s empty.”
“Which isn’t unusual. When the earth witches of old drew on the power of this place, they did so in waves rather than as a complete whole. There will be patches of life—places where the well of magic has already started to refuel.”
“Yes, but there’s something in that emptiness. A presence of some kind, but one that has no beat of life.”
His expression gave little away, but I nevertheless sensed his doubt. “How can there be emptiness and life at the same time?”
“I have no idea. I’m only telling you what I’m sensing.”
He grunted and splayed his fingers wide, reaching for the earth magic without actually touching the ground, as I generally did. His frown deepened and, after a few seconds, he swore and shook his head. “There is a barrier in place. I can’t reach the earth.”
“Is that barrier a result of this area being drained in the war? Or is it a new development?”
“It’s new in this area, but not in others. It almost appears as if the earth’s voice is being deliberately muted.”
“And yet you and the other witches seemed to be having no trouble reconstructing the walls.”
“Because not all of Tenterra is affected.” He walked over to where I stood. “I can feel the beat of earth here, for instance.”
“Are any of the dead areas near the outposts or Winterborne?”
“To be honest, we haven’t tested the land near Winterborne, but perhaps we should.” He frowned. “There is one patch that sits between Far Springs and ourselves that’s a good one hundred feet wide and rather worrisome, if only because it’s a more recent development.”
I raised my eyebrows. “How recent?”
“It’s happened in the last fifty years and runs from the banks of the Black River to the heart of Tenterra. It can almost be described as a highway of deadness.”
“Have you ordered the area to be excavated to see if there’s an underlying reason for it?”
“Yes, with the help of a couple of diggers from Winterborne. We went twenty feet down in various spots, but there was nothing except earth devoid of life and energy.”
“Perhaps we need to go deeper. There is something here—I’m sure of it.”
“Dead earth won’t respond to my commands. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Then maybe we should jointly try? I know you said it’s generally impossible, but the three kids were doing it. I can’t see why it won’t work for us.”
A smile touched his lips, but there was only wariness in his eyes. “Given you’re constantly achieving the impossible, it’s worth trying.”
He held out his hand. Once I’d placed mine in his, we walked across to the dead patch. He flared the fingers of his free hand wide; energy shimmered through the air, and throbbed through the connection of our hands. The earth beyond the dead spot stirred, rolling away from us in gentle waves, but earth in dead zone remained stubbornly inert.
“That,” Trey said, as the energy flowing between us eased, but didn’t entirely disappear, “is rather annoying even if not unexpected. I’ll order the diggers out from Blacklake, but in the meantime, we should—”
“Let’s try one more thing first.” I released my grip on his hand and then tugged off my boots and socks.
“I hardly think now is the time or place for such pursuits.” His expression was amused.
“It would seem to me that—according to you—there’s never a good time or place for such pursuits. At least with me.” I couldn’t help the slight bite in my voice. Frustration obviously hadn’t entirely left me, despite the shower episode. “But never fear, I’m not intending to seduce you, Trey. It would appear my ability to call on the earth is dependent on an actual flesh to earth connection, so maybe I simply need a stronger connection here.”
Something flickered through his eyes—frustration, perhaps, or maybe even annoyance. But all he said was, “That’s an interesting restriction, and one Eluria doesn’t have.”
“But she’s been trained, and I haven’t. And perhaps that lack is, in this case, more of an advantage, given I’m finding my own ways to power, and I’m not restricted by what should and should not work.” I held out my hand. “Shall we try again?”
We did. Unfortunately, the result was the same—nothing.
He released my hand. “Again, another not unexpected result. We should get moving if we’re to make it back to Winterborne before—”
“I’ve one final thing to try.”
He rais
ed his eyebrows and motioned me to go ahead. I took a deep breath and reached, not for the earth but rather the air. It answered my call with a fierceness that knocked me back several steps and tore a gasp from my lips. Trey immediately grabbed me, bracing me as I directed the air at the earth. She hit it so strongly that dust and small shards of stone immediately pummeled the air, surrounding us in a halo of dead brown soil. She kept digging down, until the hole was far deeper than I was tall, and I could no longer see the bottom of it. And just as it seemed we would again find nothing, a tremor of exhalation ran through the wind and echoed through me.
The dead earth had given way to emptiness, and in the process revealed her secret.
There was a goddamn tunnel under our feet.
I released the air, but the minute I did, dizziness hit. I would have fallen had Trey not already been bracing me. I turned and rested my forehead against his chest, sucking in air and fighting the weakness that washed through me.
“Damn,” I muttered after a few minutes. “That’s never happened before.”
“It’s doubtful you’ve called forth that sort of power before now,” he said. “It was a pretty damn impressive display.”
I pulled away slightly and met his gaze. “Is the weakness a result of not having done the committal ceremony to the air?”
“No. All magic has its costs, even for those who have committed to our elements. Weakness is but one of those.” He raised a hand and gently brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my eyes. “The fact is, you shouldn’t have been able to call that much power, let alone exhibit such a degree of control.”
I frowned. “But Kiro said it was not unknown for the stained—”
“Yes, but they have to learn the means of control first, just like every other witch. You seem to have skipped that particular point, at least when it comes to the air.”
“Well, you did say I kept doing things I shouldn’t be able to.” I stepped back from his touch—even though part of me wanted to do the very opposite—and walked over to the shaft I’d excavated. It was a long pit of darkness.
He stopped beside me. “How deep is it?”
“It’s just over fifty feet—and at the very bottom of it lies a tunnel.”
