Heartland

by Lucy Hounsom

  One was a little bigger than the rest: the pack leader, he supposed. It moved closer, its muzzle mere inches from his face. Char gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t look away. But the mysha only sniffed him and then, as if in confirmation, drew back and sat on its haunches. The others followed suit.

  The fear had burned away some of the fog in his mind. He gazed at the dogs, disbelieving. Why hadn’t they attacked? He was a free meal. Char managed to sit back on his heels. It was a stiff, flinching movement – he fully expected to feel the crush of teeth – but the mysha sat quietly and their mood seemed one of curiosity rather than violence.

  Char knew this strange truce was not down to any Khronostian power he might possess. Messing with time couldn’t change animal nature. So what stopped the dogs attacking? A life lived in the Beaches had taught him that humans and mysha were enemies – a conclusion based on years of hearing about mysha attacks. Char had seen them often enough, tearing into a body thrown outside the walls of Na Sung Aro. These had the same razor teeth, the same malevolent yellow eyes …

  His vision was clouding over, but Char thought the pack leader lowered its muzzle to the sand before him. Then he felt himself slump sideways, his body limp and heavy as a corpse’s. As he lay beneath the chill stars, fighting to keep his eyes open, his last sight was of the mysha, finally moving in for the kill.

  14

  Skar, Acre

  Kyndra

  Tava flinched. He wasn’t the only one. Panic avalanched through the chamber and Kyndra wasn’t prepared for the terror she saw on every face.

  ‘This is your fault,’ Ségin snarled at her, at them all. ‘Hagdon’s here because of you.’

  He was right, Kyndra thought, a sickening guilt churning in her stomach. Hagdon knew they were from Rairam. He wouldn’t lose them to the Defiant, not if he had the means to take the rebels down.

  ‘If it’s us Hagdon wants, we’ll ride out to meet him,’ Nediah said, putting himself between Kyndra and Ségin. ‘No one needs to die.’

  Ségin hesitated. ‘You would give yourselves up?’

  ‘We would?’ Kait said.

  ‘Yes,’ Nediah answered them both. He looked at Kyndra. ‘We can’t let the Defiant pay for sheltering us.’

  ‘Didn’t you say the route to Skar was a secret?’ Kait asked, demonstrating her infallible ability to fan the flames. ‘How did Hagdon find his way here? There must be a traitor amongst you.’

  Ségin’s face flushed an ugly red. ‘You accuse one of my people of selling secrets to Sartya?’ Despite his anger, he swept a sharp gaze over all those in the chamber. Perhaps suspicion came naturally, a consequence of years of running and hiding.

  ‘Show us Hagdon’s army,’ Kyndra said, unable to keep a tremor out of her voice. Ségin set his jaw and gestured them curtly to follow, snatching a torch from the wall. They passed out of the lighted areas onto paths winding and steep, which climbed unsteadily up through the rock. Wind gusted down from some opening above. It reminded Kyndra of that last mad hike through the innards of Naris, following in Anohin’s wake. Perhaps Kait and Nediah were thinking the same; their faces were closed and distant.

  They found evening at the top of the cliff, stars already showing in the dusty sky. Starborn, Vestri hailed her. Kyndra ignored the greeting, trying to remember a time when the stars were simply part of the night. Once, she’d thought them beautiful … cold, but beautiful. Now she knew what they really were; she’d walked among them, felt the burn of power – too much for any mortal to wield.

  The lights of Hagdon’s army mirrored the star-decked sky. In the growing darkness, they were a terrifying sight; the twisting gullies that led to Skar were like rivers of fire. Hundreds of torches burned, stretching all the way back to the distant plain where hundreds more waited. The Defiant had been betrayed, Kyndra thought, gazing at the force arrayed against them. The gullies were a maze with the widest, most promising paths often leading to dead ends. Someone had shown Hagdon the correct route. Looking down upon the might of the Fist, it seemed Ségin had come to the same conclusion. His fists were clenched, arms stiff at his sides.

  From her vantage high on the cliff, Kyndra saw the flames glinting off a dozen metal monstrosities and she wondered if these were the siege weapons Kierik remembered. The Starborn’s memories told her that they spewed fire, that they could hurl flaming boulders a great distance. The walls of Solinaris had experienced their power first-hand and had eventually fallen to the ceaseless barrage. Watching two of them being trundled into position, pointing at the cliffs to ward off ambush, she knew she couldn’t let it come to that here.

  The sound of strenuous puffing behind her announced a man climbing out of the rock. ‘Dispatch,’ he said, handing Ségin a folded note. ‘From Hagdon.’

  The rebel leader frowned, cracked open the blood-red seal and read the few words printed there. Then he thrust the note at Nediah.

  The Wielder tilted it so that Kyndra and the others could see. Irilin came to stand beside them, a faint Lunar light falling from her hand onto the parchment.

  To Ségin, leader of the group that calls itself the Defiant: Release the Wielders into Sartyan custody. You have until midnight to comply.

  There was no ‘or else’, Kyndra noted with another glance at the siege weapons. The threat was implicit enough.

  ‘How does he know you’re Wielders?’ Ségin growled.

  ‘Not only does he know we’re Wielders,’ Kait said, ‘his timing makes me think he’s aware that Nediah and I are Solars. We can’t use our power at night.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Someone has betrayed you, betrayed us.’

  ‘We’ll go, Ségin,’ Kyndra said. ‘No one is going to die because of us.’

  ‘It’s too late.’ The rebel leader gave a hard shake of his head. ‘I know Hagdon. He’s not one to leave a thing unfinished. Once he has you, he’ll still destroy us.’

  Nediah’s face was pale in the Lunar glow welling from Irilin’s hand. ‘He would go back on his word?’

  ‘He has not given his word,’ Ségin snarled. He snatched the paper and crumpled it in his fist. ‘We are finished.’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ Kyndra said. She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart, the guilt she felt on bringing this down upon the people who’d rescued them. ‘There must be a way to get everyone out of these caves.’

  ‘There was,’ Ségin said, despair creeping into his voice, ‘but the passage recently collapsed. I’ve had men shifting the rock, but it’s a huge job. Olial isn’t strong enough to help and Tava tires quickly.’

  ‘Well,’ Irilin said, ‘Medavle and I can clear it.’ She glanced at the dark-eyed Yadin. ‘It’s still four hours till midnight.’

  ‘Once you have a way to get your people out, we’ll go to Hagdon,’ Kyndra said. ‘We’ll stall him as long as possible. If we can’t convince him to call off the attack, you’ll at least have the time you need to move everyone out of Skar.’

  Ségin eyed her, half wary, half curious. ‘You won’t convince him,’ he said. ‘And you can’t fight the whole army … unless you’ve some trick up your sleeve?’ When Kyndra didn’t reply, he let go an explosive breath. ‘Very well. If you fail, we won’t get far, but … I’ll take whatever you can give me.’

  ‘Show us the rockfall,’ Irilin said, rolling up her sleeves. Her face was hard, but more alive than Kyndra had ever seen it. She seemed fearless. They followed Ségin back down the twisting natural staircase and into the main chamber, where the rebel leader stopped to issue orders. Men and women, outfitted for battle, hurried to and fro, collecting weapons and equipment while others – those who couldn’t fight – gathered supplies. The atmosphere crackled with Hagdon’s threat, the shock of the army camped on their doorstep. Although the fire had gone out, the room was hot and stank of sweat and grease.

  Watching them prepare, Kyndra felt woefully underarmoured. If she found herself in a melee, the soft black leather of her clothes wasn’t going to keep out any stray arrows or sword strokes. She co
uld shield herself in Tyr, of course – its power was better than any mail, weightless, strong enough to turn the sharpest blade – but that meant letting the star inside her, where it would wreak its cold destruction.

  Those men still labouring at the site of the rockfall turned grimy, hopeless faces towards Ségin and one called out, ‘It’s endless. We might as well be digging our way to the centre of the earth. Every time we think we’re there, we find another bloody boulder.’ He wiped a battered hand across his forehead, leaving smears behind. ‘We won’t have it clear in time.’

  ‘Stand back,’ Irilin said, not waiting for Ségin to speak. The men took one look at her glowing hands and scrambled aside. Irilin drew a complex pattern in the air, which hovered before her, pulsing silver-white. When it was done, she slapped a hand to the middle of the rune and sent it spinning into the tumbled rocks. There was a boom and the next moment they were showered with stone chips.

  When the flash of silver light had faded, the men looked wonderingly at the cleared space. ‘It was Master Tava who reported the cave-in,’ one murmured, ‘and even he had trouble shifting it.’

  ‘Runic substantiation, eh?’ Nediah said admiringly. ‘I could never grasp it myself. Too fiddly.’

  ‘And healing isn’t?’ Irilin said with a hint of her old humour.

  ‘Don’t use so much force,’ Kait chided her. ‘You’re trying to clear the blockage, not bring down the rest of the ceiling.’

  Irilin glowered, but took the point. Her next strike wasn’t quite so powerful, but they were still showered with flying chips. ‘It would have taken a week,’ another rebel observed, ‘and more rock behind.’

  After Irilin’s third rune, a tremor ran through the stone at their feet. Kyndra glanced down at it uneasily. ‘I think I can see the path,’ Irilin called. Before she could venture any further down the tunnel she’d cleared, Medavle said, ‘Wait.’ He moved to inspect the walls, which bore many small, ominous cracks, forked like snakes’ tongues. ‘These aren’t safe. We’ll need supports.’

  ‘We don’t have the wood to spare,’ Ségin said.

  ‘I was thinking something more temporary.’ The Yadin retrieved the flute from his belt; Kyndra noticed it drew several perplexed glances.

  ‘Is there anything you can’t do with that flute?’ Kait said. ‘How did you come by it, anyway?’

  ‘I made it,’ Medavle said, ‘long ago.’ The flute stayed as a flute this time and he blew three chiming notes. Silver light grew about his left hand, gold about his right, brightening the sandstone tunnel as he moved along it, shoring up the stone. Kyndra had a fleeting impression of pillars, standing at even intervals, before the sight faded and the only clue that testified to their presence was a slight sheen on the walls.

  ‘It will hold tonight and tomorrow,’ Medavle said, ‘no longer.’

  Nediah shook his head. ‘Solar energy at night … I’ll never understand the Yadin.’

  ‘I do not channel it,’ Medavle said. ‘Whenever I draw on Solar or Lunar energy, I take it from my own veins.’

  ‘I remember Anohin saying the same,’ Kait murmured.

  Medavle’s face darkened at the name and Kyndra wished Kait hadn’t mentioned the other Yadin. Fanatically loyal to Kierik, Anohin had been a traitor to his people. And yet … the darkness in Medavle’s face wasn’t only anger, but grief for a brother lost.

  ‘Start moving people out immediately,’ Ségin ordered. ‘We go north to Lake Vordon.’

  ‘That’s a five-week journey,’ one of the rebels said. ‘Surely the Calmaracian base is nearer.’

  ‘The route leads too close to Cymenza,’ Ségin countered. ‘I don’t want the children anywhere near that city.’ His face flickered. ‘I’ll need to leave you for a time, but you follow Magda in my absence.’

  The men nodded, picked up their tools and hurried away.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ségin said to Medavle and Irilin. ‘You have given us a chance.’ He placed his hand against the sandstone wall, ran his fingers over the coarse rock. ‘Skar’s been my home for five years, a safe house. I imagined it would be so for many more. How strange to leave it behind.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kyndra said.

  ‘Our cause endures. It is all that matters.’

  Voices reached them as the first group of rebels arrived at the tunnel, Tava’s sister, Olial, at their head. She was twin to her brother with the same bronzed skin and amber eyes. The glow of Lunar energy surrounded her. ‘Ségin,’ she said. ‘I’ll lead each group through and come back for more. We’ll attract less attention that way. I can light the passage – it’ll be too dangerous to carry torches. Hagdon will likely have scouts in the area.’

  The rebel leader nodded. ‘Thank you, Olial. Where’s your brother?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ the girl said. She bit her lip. ‘He promised to help me get people moving, as soon as he fetched his crossbow. He hates it when he can’t use his power.’

  ‘We’ll find him.’

  Olial nodded and turned on her heel, calling to the group of people massing in the passage. ‘Two at a time. Try to keep the children quiet.’

  ‘She seems a lot older than fifteen,’ Irilin muttered when Olial had led the first group into the tunnel.

  ‘Her parents were killed in front of her by Sartyan soldiers,’ Ségin said. ‘They were trying to stop their children being taken to Parakat.’

  Hearing that, seeing the fearful, uncertain faces that filed past her, Kyndra couldn’t help but question her decision to seek a truce with Sartya. By aiding the rebels in their escape, she was setting herself up as Hagdon’s enemy. But she had promised Ségin she’d go to the general, to do what she could to avoid bloodshed.

  ‘I appreciate what you’re doing for us,’ Ségin said seriously. ‘If you can stall Hagdon long enough to get away, head for Cymenza.’ His cheeks were flushed, his hawk’s eyes fierce. ‘The Defiant have a friend there. If you wish to aid our cause, he will find you.’ Before Kyndra could question him further, someone called his name. It was Magda, holding tightly to Mura’s hand. ‘Remember, Cymenza,’ Ségin said. ‘I hope we’ll meet again.’

  ‘We could go with the Defiant,’ Kait said in a low voice when he’d moved away. ‘What’s to stop us?’

  Nediah looked at Kyndra and again Kyndra felt the weight of unwanted, unlooked-for responsibility. ‘We can’t,’ she said. ‘I promised Ségin I’d go to Hagdon.’ She hesitated. ‘I want to speak to him.’

  Kait threw up her hands. ‘You want to speak to the man who’s preparing to annihilate these people? They took us in, gave you your blasted maps – they rescued us!’

  ‘Hagdon’s here because of us, because of Rairam. If we go with the Defiant now, we automatically make ourselves his enemies.’

  Kait shook her head. ‘You’re going to get us killed.’

  Kyndra hardened her voice and said, ‘I’m not defenceless, Kait. If Hagdon does mean to harm me, he’ll soon wish otherwise. My power is not limited by the time of day.’

  ‘You don’t have to use it,’ Nediah said awkwardly. ‘That’s why we came, why I came. To make sure you’re safe. To watch over you.’

  ‘I should be watching over you,’ Kyndra replied, striving to keep her fear under control. Nediah thought he knew what touching the stars would do to her, but he didn’t understand, none of them did, save Medavle perhaps. How could she say that each time she called on their power, she sacrificed a little more humanity – the feel of her mother’s arms around her, the warm, woody scent of summer when the windows of The Nomos were flung wide, the bellyache she got after laughing too hard with Jhren. They were fading, these memories, the emotions they inspired. Not gone, but fading until they meant nothing to her.

  ‘How long do we have?’ she asked, hardening her voice.

  Irilin glanced upwards, as if to stare at the moon hidden behind the layers of rock. ‘Three hours.’

  ‘I hope that’s long enough for Ségin,’ Kyndra said.

  They rode out fro
m a near-emptied Skar. The passage through the cliffs took an hour or more to traverse, Ségin said, but most of the Defiant and their families were now walking it. According to Olial, Tava was still missing, and Kyndra wondered whether the boy had already slipped down the secret way. He didn’t seem the type to abandon his duty.

  The guilt in Kyndra’s stomach did not churn so much – she knew they’d done what they could to help the Defiant escape. The feel of Ségin’s calloused palm in hers as he shook her hand stayed with her and she wondered whether – after this night – they’d ever cross paths again. Trying to take some reassurance from the warm weight of the horse beneath her, she gazed at the endless torches of the enemy.

  Not the enemy, she thought, angry at Kierik’s intrusion. The Starborn’s memories told her the empire had committed terrible crimes in its journey to unify Acre. Someone had to answer for the thousands of men, women and children that lay dead, their homes burned, lives torn apart.

  Kyndra forced down the memories before they could overwhelm her. What’s past is past, she thought firmly. These are not the same soldiers.

  Still, those memories curdled her blood as she urged her horse forward. A small contingent of soldiers awaited them, but Kyndra knew hundreds of other eyes were upon her and her friends. She felt the proximity of those fiery weapons as a prickling on her skin.

  None of the Sartyans were mounted. There were ten in all – officers, by the looks of the braid on their cloaks. Four other soldiers held torches; their combined light was overly bright after the gloom of Skar. Kyndra dismounted and the rest of her companions hesitantly followed suit.

  One of the soldiers flipped back a cowl and stepped forward. Kyndra recognized General Hagdon. Now that she had leisure to look at him properly, she saw that he was younger than she’d thought, perhaps late thirties, his skin weathered through time spent outdoors. A scar barely missed his left eye, crept down his cheek and vanished into a short dark beard. It was a hard face, uncompromising. This was not a man to underestimate, she thought. The hilt of a sword stood up behind his shoulder, another hung at his side and his red plate glowed like embers.