“Will you help or not, Emlee?”
Emlee turned out her kit of vials and potions and took out a small jar usually filled with balm. “There’s not much,” Emlee said. “It was a routine check I did on the child, and Rhin was close the whole time. Had to say she slipped. She was not happy about it, and nor was Meyna, later.”
Lilia stuffed the jar into her pack. “Thank you, Emlee.”
“Whatever you’re searching for, I hope you find it,” Emlee said.
When Harina and Mihina returned, Lilia joined them, and Namia followed. But Tasia, alerted from the front room, ran after her.
“Where are you going, Mother Lilia?”
“Hush, I have an errand. I’ll be back in a few days.”
“Namia is going! Why can’t I go?”
“It may be dangerous.”
“Then it’s dangerous for Namia too.”
“She’s older than you.”
“I’m just as tough.”
Lilia stroked the girl’s hair from her face. “I know. But I need someone to look after Emlee. Can you do that for me?”
Tasia pushed out her chest. “I know you’re just saying that because you don’t want me to go.”
Lilia considered how many times her own mother had told her that, and she had completely believed her. Simpler times. “You know I’ll come back.”
“Everyone says that, but it isn’t true.”
Lilia could not kneel, as it would be painful. But she bent low and kissed the girl’s forehead. “I know it isn’t fair,” Lilia said, “but you must stay with the others and hide, like a snapping violet.”
It was only as Lilia turned away and shuffled down the corridor with Namia, Tasia snuffling behind them, that Lilia realized those were the last words her own mother had said to her before she lost her forever.
But Lilia did not look back. She could not look back anymore. Only forward.
She made her way through the underground camp with Namia, sticking to little-used passages. They went through the emergency route, the long, snaking tunnel that came up in a great stand of willowthorn trees well out of sight of the aboveground staging area.
The other two members of the group waited there: Avosta, arms folded, chest puffed out, and Salifa, who had the drawn look of someone who had either recently vomited or was going to very soon.
“Let’s proceed,” Lilia said as Avosta passed over the lead of a lean dog for her to ride. Dogs were faster than bears, though bears tended to do better in the woodland. Lilia needed speed, now.
“We go southeast,” Lilia said, “following the Fire River, to Tira’s temple. Everyone is comfortable with the plan?”
A few nods. Avosta’s was the most enthusiastic.
“I’m just… I’m still worried about you going,” Salifa said.
“Then it’s a good thing you are coming with me,” Lilia said. “I promise you, we will blend in. No one will notice us. Those temples are crowded.”
“And warded, though,” Salifa said.
“Elaiko, and her people there, will take care of that,” Lilia said. “Trust that we have worked this out, Salifa.”
Salifa gave a little nod. “It’s just an awful lot of Tira’s power I’m going to have to draw. It could alert them.”
“It’s far enough away from the temple proper,” Lilia said. “Elaiko tested it. Come, now, Salifa. We are going to do a very brave thing.”
They camped that night just above the Fire River in a wet glade that smelled of everpine and loamy soil. Lilia slept fitfully, and woke even more tired than the day before. A break in the trees let her sit and gaze at Oma, blinking there in the sunrise, its sister satellites glowing just as brightly.
“Are you all right?” Avosta asked. He had the last watch of the evening, and came over to her from his perch at the edge of camp. A snarl of vines caught at his boot, and he used a small knife to pry it off before it tried to sink its hungry tendrils through his boot and into his flesh.
“Just trouble sleeping,” Lilia said. She pointed at Oma. “What if someone told you that the satellites used to be one thing. One object? And it was split apart?”
“I would say that whatever did that was very powerful.”
“Where would such a thing have come from?”
Avosta shrugged his large shoulders. “Perhaps it was constructed by jistas. Or by the gods, by Oma itself.”
“Oma creating itself?”
“People create other people, don’t they?”
Lilia hugged her knees to her chest. “I like puzzles,” she said. “The sky is the biggest puzzle of all, though, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think about it much,” Avosta said. “There’s no point in agonizing over something you can’t control.”
“I’d like to control it,” Lilia said. “I’d like to have control over far more than I do.”
“You have an impact on many of us,” Avosta said softly.
Lilia leaned away from him and struggled to her feet, leaning on her walking stick. Namia, beside her, wiggled in her sleep and let out a soft sigh. “Thank you for coming, Avosta,” Lilia said. “I know it’s a very dangerous endeavor.”
“So is being alive,” he said.
Salifa woke and yawned. “You two are very loud,” she said. “Let’s eat.”
When the party had eaten and struck camp, they continued on through the woodland, following an old game trail littered with dozens of different species of carnivorous plants. Biting hydraflowers and snaplillies sought out their flesh; the bears flicked their enormous forked tongues and ate the furious flora as they went on.
Lilia knew they were near to the temple when she saw a swarm of dragonflies moving parallel to them; the cloud was so large that the light dazzled Lilia’s eyes, reflected from their many wings.
She paused to watch them, entranced.
The ground rumbled. Lilia tensed. Insects dropped from the trees and pattered to the forest floor.
“What was–” Salifa began as they halted their dogs.
A great cracking sound filled the sky. It echoed across the woodland. Startled birds took to the air.
When the trees stilled, Lilia let out of her breath. The dragonfly swarm broke apart and flew higher into the canopy until they were lost from view.
“An earthquake?” Avosta murmured.
The bears snarled and snuffled.
“I don’t know,” Lilia said, casting her gaze to the treetops that hid the sky. “They don’t usually make sounds do they?”
“I don’t like this,” Salifa said.
Mihina and Harina shared a look, and rolled their eyes.
“Let’s keep on,” Lilia said. “We’re close.” If the heavens fell on them, she didn’t want to be caught sitting here gawking. She would rather die doing something.
Tira’s Temple came into view through a startling break in the trees. A slant of sunlight blinded Lilia briefly. She squinted and raised her hand. Perched atop a cliff in the river valley below, the temple appeared to bloom from a snarl of rock wrapped in flowering vines and great sprays of early spring petals. The temple proper was immune from the encroaching woodland. The green-black fist of the temple shimmered. Its foundation spanned two branches of the river, and water gushed mightily beneath it. The gardens around the temple teemed with life – delicate green shoots and gnarled branches fuzzy with new growth. Unlike Oma’s Temple, there was no army camped here, though some force had burned out a great deal of the woodland along the main road that led into the Dhai valley, and had clearly been camping on a blistered black patch of ground not long before.
“I heard it fell quickly,” Avosta said, bringing his dog up beside Lilia’s. His greasy hair lay knotted against his scalp. “Most of the Oras were called to Kuallina,” he continued, rubbing absently at his pocked face. “It’s said Elder Ora Soruza and a handful of novices were all they left to defend it.”
“A terrible business.”
“Did you live in Tira’s Temple?” he asked.
The others were still coming up the low hill. Salifa was singing to the biting bugs, teasing little carnivorous plants into snapping up the pesky insects.
“No,” Lilia said, “just Oma’s Temple.”
“Did you have people there you cared about?”
Lilia shifted uncomfortably. It could be an innocent question, but Avosta always tried to get too close. “A few, yes.”
“I lost many,” he said. “Was there… a lover?”
Here it is, Lilia thought. She turned over her answer carefully. “Once,” she said. “Her name was Gian.” Both of them were Gian, she wanted to add, but that would overly complicate things, and he would want more answers. It had been some time since she said Gian’s name aloud.
“Did she perish?”
“Yes,” Lilia said. “I… made a mistake. A miscalculation. She suffered for it. I live with that each day.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Lilia waved biting insects away from her face. She turned in her seat to see how close the others were. Nearly there. “In any case,” she said, quickly, “they kept a few of the drudges and jistas, but warded them.”
Avosta grimaced. “Dirty people.”
“They are,” Lilia said.
“Well, show me where the crossing is,” Salifa said.
“We need to distract the Tai Mora patrols first,” Lilia said. “Namia is going to round up the patrols. Mihina, you’ll be waiting above that valley choke, there, as we discussed.” She pointed to a narrow way between two steep hills just below them. “When the patrols are cornered there, you’ll set a fire behind them, trapping them in the valley. Harina, you will accompany Avosta and me up into the temple.”
“And Namia? How is she going to escape those patrols once she gets them into the choke?” Harina asked.
“Namia will go up that tree,” Lilia pointed to a tangle of vines around a slender sapling. “With all their armor on, they won’t be able to follow. Namia and I went through this with Caisa the day before we left. She knows what’s expected.”
Namia signed at her, “Death.”
“Hush,” Lilia said, rubbing her shoulder, “not yours.”
“They will see you are gifted, Lilia,” Avosta said. “You and Harina. They can spot jistas immediately.”
“It’s all right,” Lilia said. “There’s a way to mark us as gifted, but warded to the Empress. Salifa, you’ll need to train a vine up across the river that carries us up the back side of the temple.”
“I got that,” Salifa said. “Just show me where. I’m going to need to focus Tira’s breath at the base, make it harder for anyone inside to notice it.”
“Good,” Lilia said. “Once we are in the garden, Elaiko or one of her people will have proper clothes. We will change and proceed to the belly of the temple.”
“You’re certain of this contact?” Harina said, exchanging a look with Mihina, who shrugged.
“As certain as I am of all of you,” Lilia said. “Elaiko has been providing us with information from Tira’s Temple for months now. Salifa, I’ll want you to maintain your position at the base of the cliff. We’ll need your help to go back out that same way.”
“What if I’m found?”
“My hope is they’ll be concentrating on the fires that Mihina will be manipulating out here in the woods,” Lilia said. “If they aren’t, do your best to maintain the vines and save yourself. We’ll slide our way down if we have to.”
Lilia said, “Namia will start rounding them up now. She knows to bring them here once the evening snaplillies open and release their scent. That’s when we will begin our climb, so we need to be in position before then.”
“This requires a lot of luck,” Salifa said.
“Not at all,” Lilia said, “it just requires all of us to follow the steps exactly. No mistakes.”
Lilia told her mount to sit, and reached out to hug Namia. “You’ll do well,” Lilia told her.
Namia signed, “Victory.”
“That’s right,” Lilia said.
Namia scampered off through the trees, her form looking small and frail against the monstrous trees and massive tangled vines and shrubs.
“Good luck,” Lilia said to Mihina. “Remember, you want to draw the patrols, but don’t burn down the wood.”
“I’m ready,” Mihina said. “I was going to be the one to do far worse to the Tai Mora during Tira’s Festival, remember?”
“You may, still,” Lilia said. She urged her bear back up and pointed toward the sound of the river. “Let’s keep on. It’s getting hot.”
Avosta kept pace with her, and Harina followed with Salifa at the very back, the four of them keeping to a single-file line in an attempt to disguise their numbers. They stopped twice at the sound of patrols in the far distance, and kept low and silent until they passed.
As they came down the rocky ridge that descended to the rear of the temple, Lilia had them tie-off and muzzle the bears. Going down the steep trail was hard on Lilia’s leg, so Avosta carried her. She did not complain. She had a very long way to go yet, and tiring herself out this early wasn’t going to help any of them.
Dusk helped mask their approach. Lilia caught the smell of the snaplilies before the others. She hoped Namia did, too.
A gushing branch of the Fire River separated them from the cliff on which Tira’s Temple perched. Salifa kicked the rocks and muddy tendrils around them.
“It’s going to be very obvious,” Salifa said, squinting across the river in the dying light. “Anyone who looks down will see a great tangled vine bridge.”
“Our hope is they don’t look down,” Lilia said.
Salifa chewed her lip. “Lots of hope seems to be required in this entire plan. Li, are you sure–”
“I’m sure,” Lilia said. “For me, Salifa. Please. I need to see what they have uncovered. I must see it myself.”
Salifa sighed. The air thickened. She closed her eyes.
All around them, tremulous new shoots sprang from the soil. They tangled together and began moving across the water, growing thicker and darker as they met the cliff on the other side and began to tease their way up.
“Start across now,” Salifa said, gaze intent on her creation. “I’m going to lower it into the water behind you to mask it. Lilia, here, take hold.”
Lilia grabbed the leafy tine of the vine with her good hand. It wrapped around her waist and over one shoulder and scooped her up, out and over the bridge. Lilia let out a little gasp. The others were snarled up into the plant’s arms behind her. Lilia was passed from one tendril to another across the whole span of the blue-black water. The plant dumped her into the mud on the other side. She lost her breath a moment, and worked hard to regain control of her breathing. She lifted her head, and stared up and up at the vast distance they still had to travel up the side of the cliff.
Avosta and Harina arrived, and they began the ascent as the bridge of vines behind them sank just beneath the water. The curling tendrils along the cliff clung to their arms and waists and legs, offering handholds and braces, and a little bit of extra help to climb.
Still, Lilia was gasping by the time she was halfway, and had to stop to take a swig from a mahuan-laced water bulb at her hip.
The others slowed to wait for her, but she waved them onward. It was almost full dark now. The lights of the temple were a beacon.
Lilia knew she was close when the lights from above finally illuminated her handholds as the gentle insistence of the vines continued to propel her upward.
Avosta, already at the top with the others, held out his hand and pulled her up the rest of the way. Lilia leaned against him, trying to catch her breath.
A great bone fence, twice as high as they were tall, confronted them.
“What now?” said Harina. A slight drizzle began to fall. Lilia worried about the rain and the fire that Mihina needed to keep kindled, but an overcast sky would further protect their approach and escape.
Lilia wished for Namia up her
e, in the dark, as Lilia’s night vision was not excellent. Namia could have guided them by sound and smell alone.
“We should see a break in the fence here,” Lilia said. “Let’s look for it.”
They tramped around in the dirt until Harina found a broken, out-of-place bone that they could push out of the way.
“I’ll go first,” Avosta said. When he indicated it was clear, the rest of them followed.
Lilia led them through a great maze of bones to a long-dead bone tree at the center. Lilia had been to Tira’s Temple only a few times, but Elaiko had given good directions. The paths were lit with blue phosphorescent lichen that sent up little puffs of spores as they trod across them.
At the base of the dead bone tree, a little Dhai woman Lilia recognized as Elaiko stood hunched, seeking shelter from the rain. Elaiko hugged her arms to her chest. When she caught sight of Lilia, she darted forward. Like the other Dhai who had been made slaves, she wore some kind of collar, and drab gray clothes, like a scullery drudge.
“You’re here?” Elaiko whispered. “All of you? I could only get three outfits. Only two collars. Oh, wait, there are fewer of you than I expected.”
Lilia frowned. “Yes, we had to leave very quickly. Avosta, stay here and guard our retreat. Harina, you’ll come with me.”
“I’m Elaiko,” the woman said, by way of greeting, to the others. “I’d so love to offer you tea, but the circumstances–”
“That’s quite all right,” Lilia said, as she began to shed her clothes. The cold bit into her bare skin. She rucked on the too-big drudge clothes, already damp, as quickly as she could.
“I should go with you,” Avosta said.
“We need that break in the fence kept clear,” Lilia said. She did not look at him, but was keenly aware that he was staring at her as she dressed.
“Quickly, quickly,” Elaiko said.
Lilia didn’t hear anything, but Elaiko kept looking toward the temple. “Is everything in place?” Lilia asked.
“Yes,” Elaiko said, “but you must put on the collars, quickly.”
Lilia handed one of the collars to Harina, and took the other herself.
Harina wrinkled her nose, but she took the collar. “These aren’t live, are they?”
The Broken Heavens Page 17
