by L. Penelope
Ani and Roshon should be back in Elsira by tomorrow evening. Perhaps her daughter’s presence and finally meeting her future son-in-law would soften the woman, but Jasminda doubted it.
Jasminda’s attention was also split by the impending vote on separation. Nadette’s latest report on the work of the secret public relations campaign they were waging was disappointing. Their progress was achingly slow. The Dominionist/Reaper rhetoric had caught fire as if it had been doused with gasoline, but their more logical and humanitarian arguments were still slower in spreading.
Jasminda trusted Nadette, but she still wanted to be involved in how the messages were being shaped. Perhaps the tone they were using was not impassioned enough. The uncertainty was maddening.
She hoped at least that Papa and Varten were having a smooth time of it up north with the refugees. Someone should be. She made a mental note to call her father and check in.
In the meeting room, Calladeen drummed long fingers on the table. “I sense that King Pia is stalling these talks for some reason. She’s notoriously difficult, but her tactic of changing the subject, especially when we come close to finding common ground … Something else may be going on. Perhaps this afternoon’s meeting will shed some light.”
Pia had requested their next session that day be down on the docks, so she could inspect Elsira’s trading center in person. Jasminda had been so frustrated, she’d agreed immediately. Being outside and out of the stuffy room would at least make things more tenable.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, truly hoping he was.
But her tiny spark of optimism was doused several hours later as she and Pia walked along the cobblestones of the port side by side. They were followed by Royal Guardsmen, Elsiran Councillors and staff, along with the Raunian entourage—Jasminda could never tell who among them were bureaucrats and diplomats and who were guards, or maybe all were both? Raunian men tended to be large, their women small, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating any of them.
The docks were sparsely populated an hour from sunset, with the bulk of the work down here beginning at sunrise. A few sailors saw to the maintenance needs of their vessels. A handful of ships were loading or unloading goods, but traffic was light.
A colony of seagulls had spread themselves out over several empty piers, chattering to one another and defecating on the splintering wood. Pia noted the birds with distaste, making Jasminda wondered how they dealt with the pests in Raun.
They walked on in a silence that soon became discouraging. There truly wasn’t much to see here, which underscored the grievous state of Elsira’s economy.
“What is it you really want?” Jasminda finally asked. “I know this all started with an insult by Alariq, but he is dead. I’m sorry he can’t issue an apology from the grave, but we don’t yet know how to do that in Elsira.”
Pia’s lips turned down. “His insult was the catalyst that started me looking in on the trade practices here, and I did not like what I saw. We don’t generally involve ourselves in the internal affairs of other states, but the situation in Elsira is quite remarkable. Your policies have been exclusionary for so long. You want the goods from other countries but share so little. Many of the workers in your docks are barred from citizenship. They’re prevented from holding the basic rights that all humans should share.”
Jasminda blinked at the passion in her voice. “I-I agree. Many Elsiran policies are archaic and need to change. As I’m sure you can see, they are a detriment to me personally, as well. I have felt the force of Elsiran intolerance my whole life.
“But my husband and I are making changes, trying to steer this ship. However, it’s enormous. And there’s so much to do. It would be infinitely easier if jobs weren’t drying up, if food stores weren’t nearly empty. These piers should be packed.” She waved an arm, indicating all the empty space around them. “The fact that they’re not, and all of the effects that ripple out from that, are crippling us.”
Pia’s expression remained dour as she observed what little activity there was on the docks. She looked up at Jasminda, eyes narrowed against the glare of the setting sun, her skin bronze in its full glow. “This action was not undertaken lightly, I assure you,” she said. “And it is not just me who has concerns. For years, I have heard from international trading partners who take issue with Elsiran policy, but were making too much money to risk speaking up. I am not afraid of risk.”
Jasminda swallowed at the harshness of her tone.
“You and your husband are both young, untested leaders. We need a good-faith example of change in this land in order to trust you.”
Inwardly, Jasminda groaned. Pia held up a hand to stop her when she began to speak. “I like what I’m hearing about this curfew. That shows real backbone.” A hint of a smile broke through the coldness of her gaze.
“I’m paying for that in the press,” Jasminda muttered. Though by now, she was used to being savaged by the news media.
The other woman smiled viciously. “Yes, it cannot be helped. You must learn to read between the lines in the newspapers. It will make your spine stronger.”
Jasminda considered what this meant, unsure how to respond, when a horrible clanging noise rang out and the sky, painted in the oranges, pinks, and purples of the setting sun, darkened ominously. Clouds formed out of nowhere, a black, billowing, stormy shroud churning overhead.
Around them, people began to shout. Jasminda gathered Earthsong to her as the sky tore apart. A plume of black smoke detached itself from the swirling mass in the sky and shot like a projectile toward the ground. Then another and another did the same, falling out of sight, somewhere in the city. Jasminda’s heart seized at the number of spirits pouring from the portal—this one so much larger and more furious-looking than the one in the Council Room. That had been exactly a week ago—it seemed that the True Father had used that time effectively.
A spirit dropped down and entered a dockworker one hundred paces from Jasminda. The burly dark-haired man shook and twisted and then transformed. His body morphed, changing size and color until he was a taller, thinner, younger man with wispy blond hair and a hooklike nose.
Next to her, Pia let out what sounded like a Raunian curse. “What dark magic is this?”
Jasminda tried in vain to arrest the progress of the spirits emerging from the portal. Oola had said She’d trapped them in a cage of pure life energy, but they were moving so fast and Jasminda didn’t even manage to catch one.
Shaking off their shock, her Guardsmen tightened around her. But there was nothing the men could do to protect her. They were all just potential victims.
“We need to get you back to the vehicles,” Captain Bareen, her lead Guardsman, said.
Pia’s people formed a knot around her to protect their king. But as they all hurried down the cobblestones, one of Jasminda’s Guardsmen was speared by a column of black smoke and transformed into a large woman with strange markings on her neck.
The woman didn’t speak, she didn’t attack. She merely stopped walking and stood there, staring into space. The wraith inhabiting the body of the dockworker was the same. They stood locked in place as if waiting for something.
Guardsmen pulled Jasminda away and back toward the street. But Captain Bareen paused; his reluctance to leave one of his men behind flowed to her via Earthsong.
“Captain!” she cried. He shook off his reticence and returned to her side.
“If they can be saved, we will do so,” she said, as they hustled up the ramp leading to the street.
As people screamed and ran for safety, those who had been transformed were rigid as statues. If they were indeed awaiting orders, she certainly did not want to be here when they came through.
Finally, the bombinating swarm in the sky cleared. How many spirits had come down to overtake people and find hosts? A hundred, perhaps more? Jasminda and her entourage were almost to the line of vehicles waiting on the main street when a loud screech rang out, vibrating her
bones.
The conspicuously motionless people within her field of view had apparently received their instructions. As one they started moving. Fast.
The woman who’d entered the Guardsman’s body raced up the ramp at superhuman speed and grabbed a retreating soldier. She easily picked up the man off his feet—he must have been double her weight—and tossed him away like a sack of trash.
Jasminda’s other Guards and Pia’s people grabbed their weapons. A Raunian woman gripped a pistol and let loose the first shots that ripped through the spirit woman’s body, but the bullets did not slow her one whit. Captain Bareen cursed.
Jasminda shook off the Guardsman who clutched her arm and steadied herself, focusing her power. She pushed a blast of wind at the wraith to knock her off her feet. When the woman got up again, Jasminda hardened the air around her, locking the creature in place.
Her attention turned to others around her, fighting off attacking spirits, and to screams in the distance from people she could not see. But the wraith woman struggled against the invisible bands holding her in place and broke through. Jasminda spun around just in time to catch her as she targeted another guard. An Earthsong fireball didn’t stop the creature, who showed no sign of damage from the flames. Jasminda used wind to pick her up and toss her away, but the wraith scrambled onto her feet again and charged.
Finally, Jasminda opened up a hole beneath the creature’s feet, causing her to fall in. Then she quickly refilled it with dirt. She could sense the wraith clawing through the dirt, making her way back to the surface, and dug the hole even deeper, sinking her farther.
Across the street, a sandy-haired teenage boy was smashing the window of a butcher shop with unnatural strength. Its frightened owner stood inside, two long knives in his grip. Jasminda tried to hold the boy in place as she had the woman, but he fought the invisible bonds. She tightened them, pressing the air around him tightly until they finally held.
Down the street, bullets rang out ineffectually as a constable tried to defend himself against an attacker. The wraith didn’t appear to feel them, perhaps because he was already dead. But it was the fate of the ones whose bodies had been overtaken that Jasminda worried about.
One thing at a time though. She worked to disable and trap all those who’d overtaken bodies within her field of vision, but it was too few, as she well knew. Fighting each one was a strain on her Song.
Screams sounded to her right and she turned, scared that King Pia would be overrun and she would have an international assassination on her hands. The king’s people had pulled her farther away; Jasminda was shocked to find Pia holding her own against the wraiths. A group of five had converged on the Raunian entourage, who were successfully fighting them.
Raunian weapons were just as ineffectual as Elsiran guns, but the men and women themselves were able to take on the super-strong wraiths hand to hand. Pia got in a good punch on a man easily twice her size, who went down hard. Within moments, only the Raunians were left standing with an assortment of unconscious wraiths at their feet.
The Guardsmen hustled an amazed Jasminda into her vehicle and Pia and her crew fell into theirs. Captain Bareen slid into the passenger seat. “We’ll get you back to the palace as quickly as possible, Your Majesty.”
“No, we need to drive through the streets. I can help.” The look on his face was troubled. “I’ll be safer in the car than out there, but I can’t hide away. Not when no one can defend themselves.” No one except the Raunians, apparently.
He shook his head and let out a breath, but commanded the driver to take them down Bishop Street. A voice on the radio announced the rest of their party was headed back to the palace, and Jasminda was grateful, hopeful they’d make it there safely.
The first street was quiet, but when they turned the corner, a melee was in progress. With her Song, the wraiths felt different, she couldn’t sense them as she could normal people. They were quieter somehow. No emotion came from them, not even rage. However, they did have a spark of life energy left, possibly from the host, and she used that to distinguish who was alive and who was a wraith.
She restrained the spirits she encountered as best she could, holding them in place or burying them under layers of dirt, cobblestone, or cement—she could think of no other way to stop them. But soon, the weight of all the spells began to wear on her. The strength of her targets beat against her strength and she wished she was better at wielding the power Oola had given her.
Darvyn’s lessons came to mind and she struggled to manage and distribute her power in so many places the way he’d taught her. Though she was tiring, she wanted to do more, but if she was incapacitated, all her spells would fail and the wraiths she held under her power would be free to continue wreaking havoc.
The intersection up ahead was blocked by a crash, and fires had sprung up on several blocks. Everywhere she looked there were injured people, those she could not spare much energy to heal as well as keep the wraiths in place.
“It looks like the attack is centered in Portside, Your Majesty,” Bareen said, tapping the radio. “There were minimal sightings of those … things, east of Earl Place.”
She sagged against the town car’s seat, fearing her Song was nearly tapped out. She’d tried her best, but could do no more. Then the wraiths she held immobile with spells began to shudder and convulse.
“Stop the car!”
The driver complied and she focused within. She could feel the wraiths under her power tearing themselves away from their hosts. The amount of Earthsong within the people rose dramatically and that feeling of distance and wrongness faded.
“They’re leaving!” Bareen shouted. Dozens of pillars of black smoke were retreating into the sky, forming a writhing mass there. The churning, dark cloud hovered until all the spirits had joined, and then it was gone, winked out like a dying star.
She took a few deep breaths and opened the door of the vehicle, standing on wobbly legs. Guardsmen were at her side in seconds. She closed her eyes and unburied all of the people who were now suffocating underground. They would all need healing and she had precious little Song left with which to do it.
The streets were suddenly quiet, except for moans of pain. The wonder and apprehension of the men surrounding her pulsed through her.
“We’ll need to triage the victims,” she said to Bareen. “Round up any Earthsinger with a Song left. Get a message on the radio, gather the Lagrimari translators. Those in the city with Songs will likely be Keepers and children.”
The captain began issuing instructions. Jasminda tilted her head up toward the sky, once again beautifully painted with the sun’s dying light.
A dark figure in silhouette up above made her tense, then she recognized Oola. Thank the Sovereign. The Goddess swooped down from the sky and descended a few blocks away. There would be many to heal and Her help would be vital.
The day they’d been fearing had come at last, and one thing was clear—they were severely outmatched.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
A bridle may restrain
and shackles may retain
but the freedom patience provides
cannot be trained.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
Zeli stood in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Cool damp air chafed her skin and she shivered. Overhead, the sky was visible in a perfect circle. Remi’s head popped into view, but he was backlit, so she couldn’t see his face. She waved, hoping his childish curiosity wouldn’t impel him to try to follow.
The sound of trickling water echoed softly, and she could make out a tunnel of stone, which curved subtly outward. The space down here was larger than she’d imagined, about twenty paces wide, and tall enough for two of her, if she could stand on her own shoulders. A trench ran down the center of the tunnel. She couldn’t get a feel for how deep it was in the gloom, though the odor wafting up made her crinkle her nose. The smell wasn’t as putrid as she’d feared, though. Honestly, she’d been subjected to fa
r worse back when she was locked up with dozens of children and only a bucket to relieve themselves. The aroma down here was delightful in comparison.
She could only move forward or back on the narrow walkway, and the Archives was in front of her and to the right, about two hundred paces away. Zeli started walking, lighting a match to get her bearings. Stepping carefully and afraid of slipping into the foul water, she grazed the wall with her fingertips, shuddering in revulsion at the occasional slick spots. She couldn’t focus on what that might be.
The match burned out and her footsteps echoed eerily through the space. She steeled her nerves, reminding herself of her purpose even as the creepy atmosphere made her a bit dizzy. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the darkness was splintered by flickering light up ahead. Her pace quickened. Torches were lit down a corridor to the right. This was about where she thought she should turn to get to the pyramid.
Her steps grew more cautious as she peered into the opening in the tunnel. This new passage was narrow. The trench disappeared and the rough stone of the ground and walls was replaced by smoothly honed limestone, the same material as the bottom layer of the Archives’ exterior. Only fifty paces ahead, an iron gate blocked the way; metal between its unadorned bars obstructed the view to the other side. The metal wasn’t rusted or corroded from being down here in all this dampness; by all appearances it could have been brand-new.
Where the latch should be there was a knob that looked like it was made of dark glass. Multifaceted and irregular, though generally spherical. She reached for it, but paused. Though it wasn’t bloodred in color, it reminded her of a caldera.
The only calderas she was familiar with were the king stone—the heavy, oblong thing that now stored all the Songs stolen from the True Father, and the death stone—a smaller caldera that had been retrieved from deep in the ocean by Queen Jasminda’s family several years ago. Zeli had given the death stone to the Poison Flame on the Goddess’s instruction. And the king stone had been stored in the vault in the Elsiran palace, under lock and key since the True Father’s capture. At least that’s where it was supposed to be.
