by Keri Arthur
Freedom, help me… it was my kin involved in this plot, be it willingly or not.
I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get both the shock and my thoughts under control. This latest fact didn’t really change anything, even if it did add weight to my desire to see it all ended.
I pushed away from the wall and directed the air—and the child’s small body—forward. As I stepped over the Irkallan’s remains, I hesitated, then drew my knife and chopped off its head. Trey might be able to hear my thoughts—and therefore be well aware of everything I’d discovered down here—but others might need hard evidence before they could be convinced that the enemy we’d long thought in hibernation was instead actively plotting our downfall.
I grabbed the head by its two antennae, holding it away from my body as bits of fluid and who knew what else began to leak from it, and continued back down the tunnel. When I reached the end of the rope, I grabbed it with my free hand but didn’t immediately tie it on. There was time enough for that.
“Trey, you still up there?” I said, as I finally neared the shaft.
“Where else would I be?” His voice was heavy with anger. “Damn it, Neve, I told you not to risk—”
“That risk was worth it, trust me.” I paused, and frowned. “Have you been catching my thoughts?”
“Not since you released the rope. It would appear proximity is a factor.”
“Then I have a whole lot of bad news for you,” I said. “But first, I’m sending you up a body.”
“Whose body?”
“A child’s—a stained child’s. She should be buried in soil that holds the beat of life, not left in this sterile, empty darkness.”
“Are you sending her up via the rope?”
“No. The air.” I directed the wind to hold her vertically rather than horizontally, and then sent her up the shaft. “She’s on her way.”
Light flared down the length of the shaft, momentarily blinding me. I shielded my eyes against the glare and watched the child’s body rise. When the air had lifted her free of the entrance, I took off my jacket, placed the Irkallan’s head inside of it, and looped it around my utilities belt. Then I tied the rope back around my body and said, “Right, you can haul me up now.”
He did so, quickly and efficiently. The minute I was topside, he said, “That child could almost be yours.”
“I know.” I undid my coat and held it out. “But this is even worse.”
He quickly unwrapped the head, and his expression shifted from one of puzzlement to disbelief and horror.
“An Irkallan? It cannot be—”
“It explains the extensive staining on the three children who attacked Blacklake. It also explains why witches are being kidnapped—they’re forcibly impregnated to produce children capable of using magic, but whose actions can then be controlled via the bracelets.”
He swore and began to pace, his strides long and angry. “We’ve been monitoring the Blacksaw Mountains since the end of the war. There’s been no sign of movement in or around that place.”
“Well, there wouldn’t be, especially if they were going underground rather than over.”
“Even that doesn’t make sense. Young children, stained or not, wouldn’t have the strength to create such tunnels—it’d more than likely kill them. Besides, it was only thirty years ago that the disappearances started happening, and they’d need far more women to produce the number of children required to make such a vast undertaking viable.”
“You said the dead patches started appearing more than fifty years ago. What if witches have been disappearing far longer than we’ve presumed? What if this plot has been happening for centuries rather than years?”
He swore and thrust a hand through his dark hair. “We need to get back to Winterborne—urgently.”
“Not before we bury that child—”
He swung around and I saw the denial on his lips. But his gaze met mine and, after a moment, he gave a short, sharp nod. He strode across to the viable earth and, in little time and with very little effort, a deep grave had been dug.
I shifted the tiny body into it and gently placed her on the bottom. “Rest well, little one. May the earth grant you the peace and happiness that was not yours in life.”
“And may those that reside within the earth’s magic treat your soul with kindness, and guide it on to rebirth,” Trey added softly.
I watched the small body being covered with earth and tears trickled down my cheeks. It was irrational to feel so emotional about a child I’d never known, and maybe it was due in part to the link I seemed to have formed with Saska. Or maybe it was the fact she looked so like me that it wasn’t hard to imagine it was my child down there in the dirt. Either way, those tears kept falling.
Trey didn’t say anything. He simply tugged me into his arms and held me. “No child, whether they’re kin or not, deserves to die alone like that,” he said eventually. “We have to stop these bastards, Neve.”
“Yes.” I pulled away from him and quickly brushed the tears from my cheeks. “Winterborne needs to be warned.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to drive?”
I smiled, and wondered if it looked as forced as it felt. “A brief if irrational emotional outburst won’t stop me doing my job, Trey.”
“It’s hardly irrational.” He picked up the Irkallan’s head and swung into step beside me as I walked across to the speeder. “In fact, it’s a rather nice confirmation that you are capable of such depth. I was beginning to wonder if the Nightwatch training had beaten it all out of you.”
“If anything was capable of doing that, it wouldn’t be our training, but rather the fact of being born stained.” My voice once again held an edge of… maybe not bitterness, but certainly resentment. “I hope your daughter appreciates the gift you gave her, Trey, because she wouldn’t be the woman she is now if she’d been raised with the restrictions that come from being stained in Winterborne.”
“And yet you appear to have risen above them.”
“Because I was lucky enough to have Sifft blood, and was raised to become Nightwatch.” I met his gaze squarely. “Those born both unlit and stained may no longer be killed at birth, but we remain an underclass who have few opportunities and little say in what becomes of us. That needs to change, Trey. If the stained are declared unlit because we’re immune to magic, why couldn’t the same be true of the many who are unstained and unlit? Winterborne could in the future find itself under attack from within, from the very class of people they depend on for daily survival.”
“All that is true,” he said. “But such a change will never happen with any great speed. Remember, I was ostracized for my choice.”
“Yes, but any change made for the better always starts with one small step. Perhaps, in this case, it should be the recognition—and protection—of those stained who possess magic.”
“Such a ruling would have to come from the Forum—the very people who rely on those whose station you’re trying to raise.”
“I’m hardly trying to raise their station,” I snapped back. “All I’m suggesting is that we be given a voice—a choice—in what happens to us.”
“Even that will not be so easily achieved.”
I jumped into the speeder and reclaimed the driver seat. “It will never be achieved if it isn’t even considered.”
“Right now, we have greater concerns than the fate of the stained and unlit in Winterborne.” Trey climbed in behind me and shut the door. “Which isn’t to say that I don’t agree with you. But I’m hardly likely to be a harbinger of reform. I gave up my right to speak at the Forum. I’m Blacklake’s prime, a position that has no standing in there.”
I punched in Winterborne’s coordinates and then hit the accelerator. “Yet you’re the one Kiro called when he needed help with this investigation. And I certainly didn’t see much antagonism aimed your way during the masque.”
“You’re well aware of the reason Kiro called on me. And the ho
use of Stone is one of the most powerful in the Upper Reaches—even a son who’s been ostracized is given a certain amount of respect. But that respect doesn’t mean they’ll listen when it comes to changing centuries of tradition.”
I sighed. I knew the sense of what he was saying. Knew change probably wouldn’t happen in my lifetime, if ever, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating—and it certainly didn’t make tradition any less wrong.
But perhaps what was even more frustrating was the fact that it was only when I’d been taken out of that environment and shown a completely different way of life that I’d seen my life in a different light. Life as a Nightwatch was pretty damn good as far as things went for the unlit and the stained, but there were still many restrictions on what I could do and where I could go. My life wasn’t my own. I would always be ruled by the color of my skin and by what I’d been deemed to be when I was born, even if the title of unlit no longer applied.
I might have chaffed under some of the restrictions of my life beforehand, but it had never really held much sway in my thoughts. Now though… now I had to wonder just how easy it would be to step back into the shadows of my old life. To keep going as if nothing had ever changed—as if I hadn’t changed. But I guess the reality was, there was no other choice, and certainly nothing else I could do. No matter how strong my magic might prove to be, few would consider me partner material because of the staining and all the connotations that came with it—even if many of them were now untrue. And I certainly didn’t want to become a breeder in some Upper Reaches household.
Which, when I thought about it, was little better than what the Irkallan were apparently doing.
And if Trey heard that particular thought, he didn’t say anything. No surprise there.
As we got closer to Winterborne, I pressed the earwig and said, “Nightwatch eight-three inbound from Blacklake, approaching Winterborne with Commander Stone on board.”
“Got you, eight-three. Be careful coming in—we’ve repaired the gates but haven’t yet cleared all the debris.”
“Will do, Control.” I broke contact then glanced around at Trey. “Are we heading straight back to the Upper Reaches?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because I’d like to go visit April and see for myself how he is.”
He hesitated. “Will ten minutes do? Kiro wants us back at five to allow for situational updates and time is already tight.”
“Ten is fine.”
“Good. I’ll use that time to check for dead spots immediately outside the walls.”
“Surely the Winterborne earth witches would have noticed the lack of life in the soil if the Irkallan had gotten that close? Wouldn’t the fact that the earth’s voices had become muted or reluctant given them a warning that something was off?”
“It took those of us in the outposts years to notice, and we live in Tenterra. Most of the witches within Winterborne concentrate their efforts on either ensuring defenses remain pristine, or keeping a close watch on farm practices and the soil within Gallion so it might continue to sustain us in coming years.”
“Ten minutes isn’t going to give you much time to check, then. The wall is two miles long.”
“I don’t need to inspect its entire length to find the lifeless patches. The earth will tell me if they exist.”
“One of the benefits of being trained, I guess.”
“Yes.”
I returned my attention to driving, but I could feel his gaze on me. Could feel the uncertainty in him—about what I had no idea. And if the growing silence was any indication, it once again appeared he wasn’t about to enlighten me.
I contacted base again once we were close enough to see the wall, which meant the gate was open by the time we arrived. I eased the speeder onto the lift that would take it to the underground garage, and then shut everything down. Trey opened the door and climbed out, the rewrapped Irkallan head gripped in one hand.
“Captain November,” he said, as he climbed out. “Could you please order the gate to remain open—I need to inspect the ground beyond the walls.”
Mak immediately relayed the information to the gate staff, and then said, “Anything we should be concerned about?”
“That’s something I won’t know until I do the inspection.”
Mak grunted and glanced at me. His gaze, as ever, held a slight hint of disapproval. “Your secondment to the commander’s division has been approved, March. Your personal items have been placed in storage, and your bunk reassigned until either your return or you request them sent elsewhere.”
I frowned. “I hardly think that was necessary, Captain, given the secondment is only temporary.”
“It’s procedure, March.” Mak glanced at Trey. “Lord Kiro has requested you join him as soon as possible.”
“Inform him we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Trey glanced at me. “Meet me at the internal gates in ten.”
I nodded and, as he walked away, glanced back at the captain. “Do you know what ward Nightwatch April is in?”
“All Nightwatch casualties are being housed in Red-five. I’m sure you’re capable of finding him from there.”
I didn’t thank him. I simply saluted and got the hell away from him. April’s ward was on the fifth floor of the hospital, in the area reserved for serious but stable injuries. Nine others were in the ward with him, most of whom I knew. They all greeted me cheerfully, but my attention was mostly on April and my replies somewhat absent. His face was puffed and bruised, and there was a large gash down the left side of his face. His right arm and left leg were both immobilized, suggesting he’d broken them.
“You,” he said, a wide grin splitting his bruised features, “are a sight for sore eyes.”
“I’d like to say the same about you, but that would be a lie.” I picked up his good hand and squeezed it gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Probably as bad as I look, but I get the last lot of treatment from the healers tomorrow, and should be mobile by the beginning of next week.” He grimaced. “I’m mightily pissed that I’m missing all the damn fun in the Upper Reaches though.”
“Trust me, the Upper Reaches isn’t all it’s cracked up to be—especially when it’s nothing more than standing watch rather than getting involved in festivities.”
“While that might be true, it would still be a welcome change of scenery.” His gaze skimmed my length and he frowned. “Why are you wearing a Blacklake uniform?”
“I’ve been temporarily transferred to Commander Stone’s command. Listen, were you still on watch or celebrating when the attack happened?”
“I’d just finished my shift—why?”
“Did you actually see the Adlin approach this time? I mean, they’ve been howling for nights, but none of us could actually see them and they seemed to disappear every time we tried to attack.”
“Very true.” He frowned. “The command didn’t give any indication there was any sort of movement out in Tenterra until the last moment, which is damned unusual. As far as I’m aware, the sensors weren’t down.”
“Can you remember when—and where—they were first sighted?”
He hesitated. “We were doing quarter-shifts so that everyone had a chance to attend the harvest festivities; mine was from ten to two, so it would have been a few minutes before then that they were first spotted.”
“At the walls or further out?”
He snorted. “Nightwatch may have been running a skeleton crew, but there’s no way known the Adlin would have gotten that close without someone seeing them.”
They could have if they were using tunnels, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Where then?”
“Just over half a mile out from the wall.”
Meaning in the time since they’d first started howling, the tunnel—if indeed there was a tunnel—had gained roughly half a mile. “Did they all appear at the same location, or was there a couple of different streams of them.”
“One, according to command.�
�
Which hopefully meant that there was only one tunnel to find and shut down. “Did command pinpoint any particular location?”
He gave me the coordinates, which were slightly to the east of the main gate, and somewhere between April’s tower and mine. “So how come you managed to do so much damage to yourself?”
“Because, as I said, my shift had ended but I’d been ordered to the gatehouse to back up the crew there when the damn gate mechanics all but exploded. Don’t remember much after that, but they apparently found me under a mess of stone and metal.”
“Meaning you’re lucky to be alive.” I leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his lips. “And I’m totally glad that you are.”
He wrapped a hand around my neck to stop me from pulling away and then kissed me more thoroughly. “It’s just as well there’re some pretty nurses to occupy my time in this place,” he said eventually, “otherwise I’d be rather put out.”
I smiled. “You’re here to heal your broken body, not to seduce pretty nurses.”
“It’s only the unimportant bits that are broken. Everything else is in full working order.” He paused, his expression contemplative. “And there is one very pretty redhead who has, in fact, been very obliging. I wouldn’t mind spending a whole lot more time with her once I’m out of this place.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That’s sounding a bit more serious than a mere flirtation.”
“Hardly, given we’ve only just met.” His grin flashed. “And never fear, I will not deprive either you or Ava of the wonderment that is my body until seriousness does happen.”
I snorted and lightly slapped his good arm, even as sadness slipped through me. Things were indeed changing, and not just for me. While I’d always known the day would come when the relationship between the three of us would have to end, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready for that ending to happen so soon. Not that it was just yet, but still….
I forced the sadness away and released his hand. “I’ll catch you later, April.”
“You will. And be careful, Neve.”
