by Giles Carwyn
“Makes sense. Have you all withdrawn to the Citadel, then? Is there no one else in the city?”
Galliana shook her head. “There are only a few of us left. Maybe fifty Lightning Swords, most of them recruited after the crisis began. We’re doing our best to protect the few hundred citizens that haven’t been corrupted or fled the city. Our food stores ran out a couple of days ago, and we only leave the Citadel to forage for more. There’s not much to be found.”
“Sounds desperate.”
Galliana sighed. “We’re long past desperate, Shara. Long past.”
“Come,” Shara said. “Sit by me. Rest your feet for a moment.”
Galliana did. She slumped against the tunnel wall right next to her aunt. After a long sigh, she leaned over and placed her head on Shara’s shoulder.
“Geldis isn’t scouting ahead,” Galliana said. “He’s gone to discuss with the others whether they should kill Baedellin before allowing you to enter the Citadel.”
“I know,” Shara replied. “But they’ll make the right choice. All of them must have friends and family who have been twisted into weeping ones. If there is any hope of saving them, they’ll take the risk.”
“Is there really any hope of saving them?”
“We saved Brophy,” Shara said. “We’ll save them, too.” As she said it, Shara tried not to think about the fact that it was Arefaine who saved Brophy.
Galliana pulled back from Shara and looked at her carefully. “You’ve changed,” she said. “I used to feel sorry for you, how sad you were. But you’re not sad anymore.”
“No,” Shara said softly. “Not anymore.”
“What happened to you in the Summer Seas?”
“I met…someone. A man who taught me something about myself that I really needed to know.” Shara had a sudden image of that night with Jesheks when she finally broke down and admitted what she really wanted.
“What was that?”
Shara smiled, remembering a story that Brophy told her long ago about a stupid game he used to play with Trent. “He taught me how to stand still and get hit in the face with a rock.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime, when all this is over.”
Galliana was about to reply when they heard the creak of a distant door and hurried footsteps rushing down the stairs.
“Shara, do you have her? Is she there?” a frantic man nearly shouted above them.
Shara instantly recognized Faedellin’s voice, but had never heard the leader of the Lightning Swords sound so distraught. “She’s here,” she said, rising to her feet. “She’s alive.”
Baedellin’s father jumped the last few steps and ran over to Shara, trying to take his daughter from her arms. “Little Dell, it’s me, it’s Daddy,” he cried, trying to grab hold of the wriggling child. “What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong! Give her to me!” Faedellin fought with Shara, and the child’s wrist slipped from her grasp. Baedellin lashed out, raking her nails across her father’s face.
Faedellin leapt back, stumbling in the narrow passageway. He landed on the ground, his hand going to a pair of scratches running down his cheek. He stared at Shara, dumbfounded. Her heart went out to the man she’d always thought of as the best father she’d ever met. He looked twenty years older. His face was sallow and sunken, his bloodshot eyes looked dazed, unfocused.
Geldis and a few more Lightning Swords reached the bottom of the stairs and started at the sight of their commander sitting in a crumpled heap.
“Is she gone,” Faedellin whispered. “Is she already dead?”
“No,” Shara assured him. “She’s not gone. She’s still in there somewhere and I’ll find a way to bring her back.”
Chapter 7
Faedellin insisted on keeping a hand on his daughter all the way to the Citadel. Shara hated to see him like this. Baelandra’s husband had always carried himself with grace and dignity, but the loss of his family and his home had taken a severe toll on the man. Somehow he seemed frantic and resigned at the same time. He tried holding Baedellin once, but she was obviously too strong for him. And he reluctantly allowed Shara to carry his daughter for him.
A squad of ten Lightning Swords had arrived to escort them from the tunnel beneath the warehouse to the fortress on the hill. They kept staring at Baedellin until Commander Geldis reminded them to stay sharp.
Shara had entered the city at night and hadn’t realized how much it had changed. The lush roof gardens of the south shore mansions were withered and brown. Blackened bones of the dockside warehouses thrust at the sky, casualties of fire. Shop windows were boarded up. Broken carts and discarded belongings littered the streets. Waterlogged chunks of wood and garbage lapped against the stone quays. A single ship leaned against the docks of Stoneside, wounded and abandoned. Its ragged sails fluttered futilely in the light breeze. Even the birds seemed to have fled, and silence pervaded the once bustling city.
Several of the windmills atop the Windmill Wall had stopped turning, which meant the locks were closed down as well. The city that had always been so full of life felt like a desiccated corpse, as empty and lifeless as the weeping ones.
Geldis led them to the gates of the Citadel. The crude fortress was the first structure Donovan Morgeon had built after founding Ohndarien. It was the only major building in the city made from dark gray Physendrian sandstone rather then blue-white marble. The stronghold had withstood many attacks before Ohndarien’s famous walls were completed. The Citadel stood as a stark reminder that the garden city had been built atop a battlefield. Now it was a battlefield once again.
The outer doors of the fortress opened as they approached, and their little group walked into a narrow tunnel beneath the fortress walls. There were holes in the ceiling and Shara could smell the open barrels of whale oil above them. If invaders entered this room, they would be doused in oil and burned alive. As soon as they were all inside, an overhead winch creaked and the massive double doors closed behind them, plunging the tunnel into darkness. The only sounds in the darkness were the clink of metal and Baedellin’s ghastly panting. Shara had never felt frightened entering the Citadel before, but with Baedellin struggling in her arms, she had a momentary fear that they wouldn’t let a weeping one into their safe haven. But her fears were unfounded. The inner doors creaked open, and they crossed into the fortress’s main courtyard unchallenged.
The place was packed with people, many of them children, huddled under makeshift shelters. Geldis quickly removed his tunic and draped it over Baedellin. “They don’t need to see this,” he whispered.
Shara and the others hurried across the open space, but a crowd quickly converged on them. The sea of gaunt faces hit Shara harder than she expected. There were so many of them.
“Did you find any food?” asked a young woman nursing a baby. Shara could see desperation in her eyes. A gaunt little boy clung to the woman’s thigh. No one answered her.
Shara found it hard to keep her legs moving. Even if they found this puppet master, even if they somehow held the walls against Vinghelt’s fleet, how would she feed these people? How would she keep them safe?
Keeping her fears from her face, Shara pressed onward through the crowd. She spotted an elderly man who used to deliver fresh flowers to the Zelani school. She didn’t know his name, had only chatted with him a few times, but it was nice to see a face she recognized. He noticed her immediately.
“Shara-lani,” he breathed, his wrinkled lips curling into a smile. “You’re back. Shara-lani is back.”
The mood of the crowd suddenly changed as they drew closer to her. A few of them reached out to touch her on the arm. “Thank the Seasons,” the nursing mother said.
As they pressed closer, someone stepped on Geldis’s cloak. Baedellin jerked and the cloth fell from her head.
Everyone gasped and drew back. A rumble of dismay swept through the crowd. “She’s got one of them,” someone cried. “One of them!”
<
br /> “Quickly now,” Geldis said, urging the Lightning Swords forward.
“It’s all right,” Faedellin shouted to the crowd. “It’s my daughter. Shara-lani can cure her.”
The courtyard exploded into a sea of screaming voices. Shara was mobbed by grasping hands. “My husband!” a middle-aged woman with a freshly broken nose screamed in Shara’s ear. “Can you help him? Can you help him? I know he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”
Shara fought the crowd as the Lightning Swords formed a wedge around her with their shields. Faedellin did his best to protect his daughter with his own body as they forced their way through the desperate crowd to a set of double doors on the far side of the courtyard. Shara tumbled inside as the Lightning Swords pushed back the frantic mob and shut the doors.
“I’m sorry,” Faedellin panted. “That was probably unwise.”
Geldis gave his captain a withering look, but Faedellin didn’t notice.
“You can help her, can’t you?” Faedellin asked, practically begging as desperate fists pounded on the door behind them.
Shara took a deep breath, staring into the utterly black and empty eyes of the little girl writhing in her arms. “I’ll need hot water and fresh bandages,” she said. “And someone get me the strongest rope you’ve got and two sets of manacles small enough to fit her wrists.”
Faedellin stared at her in horror as Geldis snapped his fingers and two soldiers ran off to do her bidding.
Shara had never seen the Citadel so muted, so dead. Its tall arched hallways had always been alive with activity, Lightning Swords coming and going. But in every room she passed, the soldiers eyed her warily. Their courage was rimed with fear, and their hope hung by a thread.
But they’d kept the fires going. Soldiers still stood at their posts. Thin thread or not, they hung on.
Shara followed Faedellin to his personal chambers. They were a mess. The room smelled of stale sweat and vomit, and broken furniture lay scattered about the room as if destroyed in a fit of rage. Faedellin rushed to the rumpled bed and threw the blankets in a corner. “Put her here,” he said as he gathered fresh bedding from a chest and began to spread it across the mattress.
Galliana gave Shara a wary look and then inclined her head toward Faedellin. Shara nodded, knowing her thoughts. Faedellin was a broken man, lost and overwhelmed. Shara could only imagine what it must have been like serving under him for the past few weeks, desperately needing a leader and not finding one.
Shara leaned in close to her niece and whispered, “Gather the Lightning Swords, all those still able to fight. I’d like to talk to them as soon as I am done here.”
Galliana nodded and left the room as Faedellin finished preparing the bed.
“Set her down. Please, set her down,” he said, trying to stroke his daughter’s hair, but pulling back as she thrashed in Shara’s arms. “I’ve called for hot water. We’ll clean her up and—”
“Faedellin, we need to talk.”
He tentatively touched Baedellin again. “Why is she breathing so loud? Why can’t she catch her breath?”
“Faedellin.”
“She’s so small, so thin. Can you—”
“Faedellin!” Shara shouted, snapping the man back to his senses.
“I’m sorry, Shara. I’m sorry. I’ve lost my grip, haven’t I? I never realized how much I relied on my wife. Baelandra was my strength. Everything I did—”
“Faedellin!”
The commander shut up.
“I’m going to try and help her,” Shara said, returning to her normal tone of voice. The effort of restraining Baedellin was starting to wear on her temper. “It may not work—”
“Try. Anything, just try.”
Shara held up her hand for silence and continued. “If it doesn’t work—” He began to speak and she stopped him. “If it doesn’t work, I still need you. There is much to discuss. Plans must be made. We must bring the fight to whoever is controlling these people.”
Faedellin took a deep breath and looked at his daughter. “Bring her back to me,” he whispered. “Make her stop breathing like that. I can’t stand it.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and gathered her power. Faedellin knelt beside her. The Sword of Winter at his hip made kneeling difficult, so he unbuckled his scabbard and tossed it aside.
Shara concentrated on her breath, cycling through the five gates. She gathered her ani until it swirled through her like a storm. When she was ready, she turned her magical sight on Baedellin. Currents of ani swirled all around the girl, connecting her to all living things. Shara had been trained to see and connect with the fiercely glowing balls of ani that composed the mental and emotional body of all living things. But there was no such glowing ball in the center of Baedellin. She was still connected to everything around her, ani still flowed into and out of her, but those connections were very hard to see. Finding them was like looking for wisps of light in the dark places between blazing stars. Slowly, Shara began to see faint black tendrils flowing into Baedellin from all different directions. With great effort of will, she wrapped her own ani around the girl, cocooning her in a golden light. The emmeria fought Shara like a river fights being dammed, insensate and inexorable. She breathed slow and steady, forcing the black emmeria back with every exhalation.
Slowly the child’s flailing limbs relaxed. She hung limp in Shara’s arms like a dead fish. Her frantically beating heart began to slow.
Faedellin reached out and took the girl into his arms. “Thank the Seasons,” he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Shara squinted with the effort of maintaining the spell. The black emmeria fought her, struggling to regain its prize. She kept the mindless force at bay, but it was far more difficult than she had hoped, and Baedellin still wasn’t there. Her body was an empty shell, nothing more. Shara had cut the puppet strings, but Baedellin was still limp and lifeless.
“When will she wake?” Faedellin asked, rocking back and forth with his child in his arms.
Shara was about to tell him things were not that simple when a surge of magic flooded the room. Shara’s golden cocoon shattered, and Baedellin bolted upright. Her little hands latched onto Faedellin’s throat, thumbs digging into his windpipe.
“No!” Shara yelled, and grabbed Baedellin’s hands.
Shara fought the surge of energy, diving into the ani, trying to regain control of the child. This time someone fought her with a powerful will.
“You won’t take my pet that easily,” Baedellin said with an inhuman voice. Faedellin gasped for breath.
Shara pushed back with all her strength. Images rushed through her mind: swimming through the tunnels into the wet cells, Jesheks piercing her flesh with a red-hot steel rod, flying hand in hand with Brophy. She drew strength from her past, spinning the raw emotions into her power.
“I’ve waited a long time for this, pig butcher’s daughter,” Baedellin intoned. Her little thumbs pushed deep into her father’s windpipe. “You’re no longer mistress here.”
Shara gathered her power into one massive burst and threw it at the mind that was resisting her. The opposition shattered, and whoever was fighting her fled, disappeared down the currents of the black emmeria.
Baedellin went limp again, and Shara yanked her back. Faedellin fell to the floor, sucking in a desperate breath, his hand going to his bruised throat.
“What happened?” he gasped, struggling to speak.
Shara pulled Baedellin closer, restraining her again just to be sure. She sent her awareness outward, looking for whoever had attacked her. But that was useless. He could be anywhere.
“What did you do to her?” He rose to his knees and placed a tentative hand on his unconscious daughter’s chest.
“That was another mage,” Shara replied. “The one who is controlling them, probably the one who created them in the first place.”
“What mage?”
“I don’t know.” Shara kept breathing deeply, trying to regain her composure.
Shara knew of only two mages powerful enough to fight her like that: Jesheks and Arefaine. Shara doubted Jesheks was still alive. He’d never emerged from the sea after the burning of the Floating Palace. But even if he was alive, this did not feel like him. Jesheks would never stoop to petty insults like “pig butcher’s daughter.”
Could Arefaine have returned to Ohndarien in secret? Had she come back to make sure the Summermen reached the Great Ocean unopposed? Shara doubted it. As much as she feared Arefaine’s intentions, as much as she hated the idea of Brophy alone with the girl, the person she had fought did not feel or sound like Arefaine. It sounded like the black emmeria, the voice she heard whenever she worked with the vile stuff. That haunted voice that flattered and threatened by turns. Whoever was behind that voice was so insanely power-hungry that it kept offering Shara bargains that weren’t the slightest bit tempting. It seemed to know everything and understand nothing.
Was that voice the emmeria itself, as she had originally thought? Or was it someone using the emmeria as a tool? Whoever it was, it went wherever the emmeria went, which now meant it was whispering in Arefaine’s ear.
Shara pushed the thoughts from her head, concentrating on the task at hand. Baedellin hung limp in her arms. She was no longer thrashing, but her heart still beat out of control.
“Is that it?” Faedellin said. “Is she all right?”
“No,” Shara admitted. “She’s not all right. She’s just quiet for now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Faedellin, your daughter is still a slave of whoever did this to her. The puppet master has simply stopped pulling her strings for now.”
Baedellin’s father turned to her, his face a mask of anguish. “You said you could help her.”
“No, I said I would try. Your daughter is not dead. She’s still in there somewhere. But I don’t know how to reach her. Not yet.”
Faedellin stroked the girl’s hair, carefully avoiding the steaks of black emmeria on her cheeks. “You have to bring her back. I can’t stand her like this.”
