by Lucy Hounsom
‘Carn would have been her first victim,’ Taske countered forcefully, gripping Hagdon’s arm. ‘She’d have begun by eliminating all those loyal to you. A clean slate.’
Hagdon stood looking into the night before sighing and rubbing his forehead. ‘A clean slate. I suppose you’re right.’
‘I’ve offered you the same.’
‘And I’m grateful, Taske. For the offer and for my life. But I’ve seen the way some look at me. I’ve had a long career with the Fist and resentments run deep.’
‘We leave our old selves behind when we join the Republic,’ Taske said, folding muscled arms across his chest, ‘and count nearly as many Sartyans amongst our number as other folk. If we want to break the banner of the empire and give Acre back to its people, we need to show that we can work together now – or what hope is there of working together once Sartya is overthrown?’
‘If only we’d found you when we first arrived in Acre,’ one of Kyndra’s companions said ruefully. Hagdon recognized her and the man beside her from their last encounter. She was a tall woman with almond eyes and long brown hair. She stood like a warrior; Hagdon made a note to keep her at a distance. Those eyes had an odd light in them.
Instead of the Yadin, on whose kidnapping he’d been briefed, there were two strangers, a young man and a woman, both dressed in the clothes of the desert. Kali sticks hung from their belts and the sight brought back memories of Khronosta, its great orange pillars carved with sinuous forms, the courtyard piled with Sartyan dead. Hagdon found himself tensing. ‘You two,’ he said. ‘Tell me who you are.’
‘They are my allies,’ Kyndra said, stepping in. She glanced at them. ‘Char and Ma Lesko. Ma is … familiar with the Khronostians. She’s leading us to their temple.’
Hagdon sensed there was more. Ma was perhaps a bit younger than he, her dark eyes assessing him as he assessed her. If she was Khronostian, she didn’t look it – at least, she didn’t possess the terrible features of the dualakat. Hagdon switched his gaze to the young man – he didn’t look Khronostian either; neither did he look like Ma. It was hard to tell in the low light, but there was something unusual about his skin and his yellow eyes were discomfiting; they seemed to glow.
Hagdon scratched his chin, feeling the rough growth of beard he hadn’t bothered to shave. He hadn’t bothered over many such things in the last two weeks and could almost hear Carn’s voice berating him for neglecting his appearance.
‘Why would you want a Sartyan officer as your commander?’ he’d said to Taske when the former commandant explained his plan.
Taske’s reply was sober. ‘Who better to marshal our forces against the Fist than the Fist’s own general?’
‘And you don’t care about the things I have done – the people I’ve killed in the emperor’s name?’
‘We care,’ Taske said softly, ‘but the Republic must look to its future. Although more join every day, our numbers cannot equal the Fist’s. Nor are we as well trained and equipped. Militarily, we’re at a disadvantage.’ He looked Hagdon in the eye. ‘With odds like ours, we need the best.’
‘If I was the best, I’d still be general.’
‘No.’ Taske’s gloved hand was heavy on Hagdon’s shoulder. ‘Change is coming. A Starborn walks Acre once more, Rairam has returned and Khronosta – so Rogan reports – seeks the power to rewrite history. Ambertrix and the days of the empire’s strength are spent.’ Taske’s hard face was flushed; Hagdon had never seen him so vehement. ‘Either we seize the chance change offers, or we allow ourselves to be swept aside.’ Taske removed his hand. ‘You never struck me as a man who would tolerate being swept aside. Not by the Fist, not by the emperor.’
‘Now might be the time to discuss our plans,’ a voice said, bringing Hagdon back to the present. The man standing beside the almond-eyed woman held out his hand. ‘I’m Nediah,’ he said, ‘and this is Kait. You already know that we’re Wielders.’ There was a hint of reticence in the way he said it that brought the spectre of Tava to hover between them. ‘If you are leading this mission to Khronosta, you should be aware that we can only use our abilities during daylight.’
Hagdon gave a cool nod, despite the fact that his insides were tying themselves in knots. He still dreamed of the last mission he’d led to Khronosta – the shock of Iresonté’s treachery, the horror of stumbling over hundreds of his own dead, the face of the dualakat woman, all wrong, lying among the splinters of the gate. The whole foreign beauty of the temple with its orange stone and carvings … beautiful, yes, but terrible – he’d felt the unnaturalness of the place in his blood.
‘You have seen it,’ the woman called Ma said. Her gaze was sharp, knowing. ‘You have seen Khronosta.’
Hagdon frowned. ‘How do you know?’
‘It is written in your face.’
‘I led a raid,’ he admitted, ‘several weeks ago. It was a disaster.’
Ma nodded as if it could never have been otherwise. ‘Brave,’ she said, ‘to take the fight to them, but foolish too. The temple is their ground and will be well warded.’ She turned to gaze west. ‘We should not venture inside it. I do not know what power the stone holds.’
Familiar with the Khronostians. ‘It sounds as if you’re more than familiar,’ Hagdon said suspiciously.
‘I was raised there.’
‘You –’ For a moment he could only gape at her. ‘You’re one of them?’
‘I was,’ Ma said softly. She wore elbow-length gloves and fiddled with them as she spoke. ‘Long ago. But I … disagreed with the eldest and he frightened me. He had dark ambitions. The power of the Khronostians is not supposed to be used to bend the world to their will.’ Her eyes held a light that was somehow both dangerous and sad. ‘I left my people. Now I fear the power the eldest has gathered in the years I’ve been gone.’
‘How do you propose to rescue Medavle?’ the Wielder called Nediah asked. ‘If these dualakat are stronger in the temple, how will we lure them out to fight?’
Ma glanced at the young man standing beside her. ‘With something they desperately want.’
‘But you said I wasn’t the Kala,’ Char protested.
‘They do not know that.’ She touched his face. ‘Their belief blinds them.’
Hagdon remembered the Khronostian Iresonté had dragged into his tent, bruised and bleeding. Hadn’t he mentioned something about a ‘Kala’? ‘What aren’t you?’ he asked the young man.
‘Their leader,’ Char said bitterly. ‘Prophesied to return to them.’ He ran a hand through the ashen tangle of his hair. ‘They seem convinced.’
Hagdon scratched at his beard again; it would have to go. Was this what Iresonté had meant by leverage? ‘Iresonté is searching for you,’ he said to Char. ‘She had a Khronostian prisoner who told her about the Kala.’ A prickle ran down his neck. ‘She also claimed to have Khronosta’s next location. It could be we’ll have company.’
‘Perfect,’ Irilin muttered. Hagdon glanced at her, abashed now he remembered their fight. But she’d been a different being then, all ice and silver, her blond hair full of moonlight. He looked quickly away.
‘I will deal with Iresonté.’ Kyndra had been quiet until now, Hagdon realized. For a moment, her eyes were frighteningly empty. ‘If it comes to it,’ she added and expression returned to her face. Hagdon recognized the look; he’d worn it often enough on the eve of battle, part fear, part resolution. Despite the fact that she wasn’t his enemy, he remembered the reports of the night he’d been shot – the graphic descriptions of fire and ruin – and didn’t feel entirely reassured.
33
The Badlands, Acre
Kyndra
Kyndra had to admit she felt better with the feathered body of the Republic around her. They rode west, scouts ranging ahead of them, a great murder of crows, ears always to the ground, listening for signs of Iresonté. After an uneventful ten days, the land began to change, the hills growing steeper, more mountainous, the pale green of the vineyards darkening to a
poisonous kind of emerald. A dark stain appeared on the southern horizon.
‘The Lotys Jungle,’ Hagdon said when she pointed it out. ‘It was one of our – I mean, Sartya’s – first territories to fall.’ He glanced down at his horse’s reins in his lap. ‘The lotys people are the only ones who can live there. Almost everything’s out to kill you.’
‘They’re barely people from what I’ve heard,’ Char said. ‘They’ve lived there so long, they’re almost part-forest themselves.’
‘So they have no contact with the outside world?’ Kyndra asked him.
‘They do trade for some things,’ Char answered. ‘The jungle’s the only place where you can grow lotys stems. That drug basically built Na Sung Aro.’
‘What does it do?’
‘It’s a hallucinogen.’ Char flashed sharp teeth at her. ‘Only the most expensive ithum parlours can provide it, as it’s so rare and valuable.’
‘And so illegal,’ Hagdon added. ‘If the mysha hadn’t overrun the Beaches, the emperor would have torn down Na Sung Aro years ago.’
‘No doubt,’ Char said. ‘I for one wouldn’t miss it. But why risk lives for a wasteland on the edge of the world?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Hagdon agreed. Kyndra caught him eyeing Char’s tattooed arms. If he knew Char had been a slaver, he didn’t say anything.
‘Did you try it?’ Kyndra asked.
Char shook his head. ‘Chewing the stems leaves you a drooling wreck for hours. Total surrender,’ he added softly.
Kyndra heard what he really meant. He needed to be in control, never letting his guard down for a moment in case the force he called the rage rose up to claim him. He was looking at her, his eyes secret. Her face felt hot; she pulled her gaze away, but she sensed he still watched her.
‘Tell me about the emperor,’ she said to distract herself. ‘And ambertrix.’
‘The emperor,’ Hagdon said expressionlessly. He seemed to draw into himself. ‘He’s a man who inherited a dying empire. He’s a man who carries the weight of history on his shoulders.’
‘It sounds like you’re defending him,’ Irilin said with a frown.
Hagdon glanced at her. ‘Once I thought I understood the reason why he is as he is – trying desperately to hold a bust seam together, to strengthen his grip on lands long held by his ancestors. I couldn’t like him, couldn’t admire him, but I respected him.’ He looked away from her. ‘My respect died the day he killed my nephew. I had given years to the Fist, to the cause. I’d sworn oaths of fealty, taken countless lives. It meant nothing to him. My family is one of the oldest in Sartya. The empire’s in my blood –’
Hagdon stopped abruptly, as if shocked by the torrent of his own words.
‘Sorry about your nephew,’ Irilin muttered.
Hagdon briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said, ‘He and Paasa, my sister, they were the price I paid for my loyalty.’
None of them asked what had happened to his sister; it was clear Hagdon didn’t want to speak of her. ‘What about ambertrix?’ Kyndra asked, hoping to nudge the conversation away from Hagdon’s family. ‘Surely you know what it is and where it comes from?’
To her consternation, the ex-general shook his head. ‘Only the emperor knows and his technicians in Thabarat College – where they study ambertrix. Its very nature is a secret passed verbally from one emperor to the next. It isn’t written anywhere.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ Nediah said. Riding on Kyndra’s other side, he was leaning over, his eyes bright with interest. She remembered how fascinated he’d been when they’d found the rusted contraption outside the Baioran village. ‘What if the emperor is assassinated, or someone infiltrates this Thabarat?’
‘Thabarat is well protected. So much so that the building’s set to destroy itself should it become compromised.’
Nediah shook his head. ‘Why go to such extremes to keep it secret?’
‘I have a theory,’ Hagdon said to him. ‘If ambertrix wasn’t developed in Thabarat, but was instead being supplied by an outside source, how else would the original Davaratch have stopped others from approaching the same source? He constructed a veritable fortress of a secret around it.’
‘If so, what deal did he strike with the source?’
Hagdon shrugged. ‘It’s only speculation.’
Thoughts of ambertrix and the empire kept Kyndra occupied most of the afternoon. It wasn’t until evening fell and Ma said that they would likely reach the site of Khronosta tomorrow that the nervous dread she’d tried to suppress came crawling back. When they made camp, she again found herself seeking solitude – it was a habit she indulged more and more frequently. Whenever she was around the others, she felt their eyes upon her, judging, perhaps remembering the terrible things she’d done as Sigel. What if it happened again tomorrow? What if she gave in to the star, let it usurp her will? She might not be able to regain control this time.
Stop fighting them, a voice whispered. Kyndra didn’t know whether it belonged to the stars or to her own subconscious. If she stopped fighting, it would be a different kind of surrender – she would take the stars into herself; she would become a true Starborn. Sigel would not be able to use her again.
But she wouldn’t be Kyndra any more.
‘There you are.’
She whirled around, heart jumping in her chest, to see Char coming towards her, kali sticks in hand. ‘You scared the life out of me.’
‘You look perfectly alive to me,’ he said, grinning. He proffered the sticks. ‘I thought you might like a lesson – take your mind off tomorrow?’
‘What’s the point?’ she said. ‘I’m hopeless and you know it. I’ve just been fooling myself.’
Char was silent. The gentle rushing of water reached Kyndra and she turned to follow it to the bank of a stream, clear and pebbly, flowing out of the crowded foliage that hid the crest of the hill. She made a cup of her hand and scooped some up. It was cold and tasted of leaves.
A twig crunched behind her and she turned. Char was leaning against the bole of a tree. They looked at each other. ‘You know what I am,’ Kyndra said quietly. ‘I know what I am. I should stop pretending.’
Char stooped to pick up a stone, began tossing it from hand to hand. ‘It’s hard to stop,’ he murmured, ‘when the truth is waiting for you.’
Kyndra didn’t reply. She watched the leap of fading sun in the water.
‘I’ve done … awful things,’ Char said and Kyndra had to look at him. One of his hands was clenched around the stone. ‘I could have chosen not to, but I’m a coward. I had power. They didn’t. It was easier just to go on, to look the other way.’
‘You’re not a slaver any more.’
Char hurled the pebble at the stream. It splashed, settled. ‘Only because of Khronosta,’ he said savagely. ‘Dualakat came and I ran. I left Ma behind.’ His voice dropped. ‘I left her behind, the only person I ever cared about.’
‘You were injured though,’ Kyndra said, ‘your arm—’
He moved fast, caught her wrist. ‘Don’t make excuses for me. I’ve made enough for myself.’
They were standing very close. Kyndra could smell the sharp scent of the grass they’d crushed beneath their feet, the mineral rush of the stream. She could feel the unusual heat coming from Char’s body as if a fire burned inside him. His hand was still around her wrist. ‘Why did you follow me?’ she whispered.
He kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, but rough, hungry, and it made Kyndra’s heart pound. When he drew back, she felt light-headed, her legs wanted to tremble beneath her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, letting her go, looking away. His breathing sounded as ragged as her own. ‘That was stupid.’
‘Why?’
He met her eyes. ‘Because –’ He made a sound in his throat, almost a growl, and pulled her back to him. His hand against her cheek was hot; she slid her own up to his shoulders, holding him tighter. When she kissed him back, only a very small part wondered whether it was a good id
ea. The rest of her wanted to feel. He was everything the stars were not – all passion and motion. His lips touched her neck, sent a ripple of hot and cold through her and she found her hands slipping under his tunic. When she pressed her palms to his chest, he groaned and pulled her down with him. They knelt amidst the trees. Kyndra let him lift the hem of her shirt and it was a sweet shock to feel his hands on her bare skin. He breathed her name. When he brought his lips back to hers and kissed them, they were full of intent.
‘Well,’ a voice said. ‘Right.’
They sprang apart, Kyndra furiously tugging her shirt down. She stumbled to her feet and saw Kait watching her. The woman’s expression was even colder than usual.
‘How long have you been there?’ Kyndra demanded.
‘I’m no voyeur,’ Kait replied coolly. ‘I merely came to find you. The others seem to value your opinion.’ Her eyes flickered over Char. ‘But I see you have more important things to attend to.’
‘Mind your own business,’ he said, his yellow eyes guarded.
‘I will,’ Kait answered, ‘if she minds hers.’
Kyndra scowled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
All Kait’s casualness dropped away. Her look was so hostile that Kyndra almost took a step back. ‘It means,’ she said, ‘that you keep your poison to yourself. You want to turn him against me. What did you tell him?’
‘This is about Nediah?’ Kyndra shook her head. ‘He’s old enough to make his own decisions, Kait.’
‘He listens to you,’ she snarled. ‘He trusts you. What did you say about me?’
‘I told him the truth.’
‘The truth?’
‘I told him Brégenne loves him,’ Kyndra said and Kait flinched. ‘I told him he shouldn’t have left her.’
Except for the high spots of colour in Kait’s cheeks, her face was very pale. ‘Brégenne,’ she said. ‘It’s always Brégenne. She’s not the only one who –’ Kait stopped speaking abruptly. She turned her back.
