Broken Earth

by C M Blackwood

  “Will you never learn, Pesha, to hold your tongue?”

  She marched back to the table; raised her arm, and brought Pesha up to her feet.

  “You have no right,” hissed Pesha.

  “I haven’t?” said Zana. “You tell me I haven’t the right? Why do you not tell me all that I cannot do – and I shall make a lasting note of it!”

  She then lifted Pesha some feet up into the air, and let her dangle there a while, before she placed an unseen collar about her neck. This collar she tightened, a little more each moment, till Pesha’s breath became laboured.

  “I said nothing,” she choked.

  “It matters not what you said,” said Zana. “I heard your thought.”

  “My thoughts are my own! They are no business of yours.”

  “They very much are,” said Zana (tightening the collar round Pesha’s throat, and smiling as her breath began to abate), “when those thoughts are of me.”

  She considered, for a moment, tautening the collar till Pesha’s head separated from her very body – but she regained control of herself in the nick of time, and let the vile beast drop back down into her chair.

  The very second she was free of her bond, Pesha turned her face to Kroso, and began to plead with him, to do anything or say anything, please, to defend her from Zana’s madness. Kroso said nothing at all, but only went back to the food which was left upon his plate. It seemed he knew that, with the turning of Zana’s mind to her abhorrence of Pesha, she would say nothing more to him that night about his eating habits.

  “My thoughts are no other than those of the rest!” screamed Pesha. “What you do is vile, and despicable – and I may say it aloud! Your love for the witch sickens me! It sickens us all!”

  “Peace, Pesha!” cried Kroso. He threw down his knife, and broke his very plate in two.

  All heads (even those of the Narken) were turned down to the table. There was a furious sound of knives and claws against platters, as they turned their full attention to their eating, so that Zana might not find any cause to single them out for punishment. Biscayne, perhaps, was most pathetic of all; and Zana indeed was riddled with disgust, as she gave ear to the thoughts which at that moment filled his mind. It seemed that he asked himself, over and over, in a strain that had become most damaging to his own power and self-worth, a single question. He wanted to know, would Zana ever love him, as she loved the witch?

  Zana took to the air, and was free of the hall in an instant. Yet she encountered a group of troubled Narken in the corridor without, who had apparently only just managed to free themselves from a locked stairwell – into which, it seemed, Princess Lila Bier had locked them. They cried out to Zana, as to what they should do; but she only flew by them, without a word spoken. She passed through the fortress, and into her own quarters, in a single breath. She slammed the door of the chamber in her wake, and strode angrily to an armchair into which she flung herself. The Auren waked with the noise, and turned about with a fearful expression upon her face; at which Zana found a small amount of peace settle down into her heart, and therein found the strength to cool the heat of her blood, and still the mad shaking of her furious limbs.

  “Has the sickness improved?” she asked.

  The Auren nodded.

  “And what of the bones I mended?”

  “All are well.”

  “Would you care for something more to eat?”

  “I would.”

  ~

  When next Lila opened her eyes, she found the study all lit up with the brightness of morning, and rose from her seat with no little difficulty. Each time she moved, she felt a great pain shoot through the centre of her chest, and down through her stomach till even her legs were affected, and she stumbled as she walked. She kept her hand continually at her heart, and though the gesture did little to dull the pain, it made her feel at least that she might try in some way to keep herself afloat, and above the vast space what had opened up under her; and what seemed to follow her about as she moved, so that with one false step she would be lost.

  Yet she managed to get down the steps to the second floor, where she presented herself once again to the medicine man, and, falling down onto a sofa in his second room, explained with catching breath what ailed her.

  Even as she spoke, she was seized yet again by what felt an attack of the heart; and fell once more all the way down to the floor, where she was revived by the medicine man before the colour of her sight managed to fade; and before her body attempted to leave that place to which it should have been bound.

  The medicine man helped her back to the sofa, and laid her down with a cool cloth upon her head, which helped somewhat to ease the fever that seemed to be setting in.

  “What is the matter with me?” she asked, gasping for breath even as she uttered the question, each word coming as something which she paid a dear amount of pain to offer.

  Redda sat quiet for a long while, sitting in a chair opposite Lila, and watching her carefully. She would have repeated her question, or made some other trial in hope of eliciting some sort of response from him; but alas, she could speak no more, and she had only to wait silently in her place while he pondered.

  It occurred to her finally, that Redda was waiting for Lila’s pain to pass, before he tried at all to speak to her. It seemed that he wished to ask her some questions, and so could accomplish very little till she herself could speak, as well.

  “When first did the pains come, my dear?” said he, after a while.

  “Yesterday morning,” answered Lila, with a little more ease.

  “And has anything upset you, my dear?”

  Lila narrowed her eyes, and turned her head away slightly. “No,” she snapped. “Nothing has upset me.”

  Redda only nodded calmly; though his expression bespoke of a lack of belief. He went on to ask, “And has anything unusual happened?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Anything unusual, my dear. Has anything unusual, anything at all, happened since yesterday morning?”

  “A small sort of something, I suppose.”

  “At this point, my dear, everything is important; and there is no such thing as a small thing. Pray go on.”

  “I do not know how to explain.”

  “Do try!”

  Lila sat up on the sofa, and pressed her back against the cushions, so that she might not fall backwards. Then she shrugged out of the cloak that she had cast about her shoulders, as she made her way from the study. She rolled her sleeve, so that Redda might see the cuts on her arm; and pulled her collar somewhat away from her shoulder, so that he might see there the black burn.

  Redda clapped his hands, and hurried over to her. “Whatever happened to you, my dear?”

  “It seems that I – well, I suppose I fell asleep, you could say. I thought, at first, that I was only dreaming; but then I realised that my body had followed along behind me, and caught up with me after a little. I received these wounds shortly thereafter.”

  “But how, Lila?”

  “I somehow located Dain Aerca’s fortress.”

  Redda fell back from the sofa, and onto his haunches; and stared up at Lila in amazement and wonder, with eyes wide and round, and mouth partway open.

  For one of the considerably most cool and logical men whom Lila had ever met, it was quite an interesting reaction.

  “But how . . .?” said he, pressing his hands to his cheeks, and rising from the floor so that he might pace. “However did you manage it? All these years, Lila, and not even your mother could –”

  “She could have,” interrupted Lila. “She could have done anything, had she not done what she did.”

  Redda looked immediately apologetic; and started forward to take Lila’s hand in his own. “I am very sorry, my dear,” said he. “I am sure I was not thinking clearly. Of course, she could have done anything at all; but she gave you this gift, with pure and high intentions in mind. It was no accident, no whim. Whatever she could have done, now you
can do – and perhaps even more.”

  Lila only shook her head, and averted her eyes. “No, no,” she said, pulling her hand away. “I can do nothing she could.”

  Redda rose to his feet, and threw his arms towards the ceiling in wild gesticulation. “You are capable, Lila, of so much more than you believe! Do you not see what you have already done? You have located, in the space of a single day, what for years others have sought; and it is possible now, that this thing might finally end.”

  “And how is that, Tobias?”

  “You know full well, my dear,” said he, with face grave.

  Lila hunched forward, and put a hand to her throbbing head. “I cannot do this, Tobias,” she said. “I cannot do this all alone.”

  “But you are not alone, my dear! You have your own dear brother by your side, and my own self – however useless I may prove – to the last! You have a full Army at your disposal!” He paused, and stroked his chin as if in serious thought. “And you have also,” he added, “those new and wonderful friends of yours – especially one of whom, I believe, may prove indeterminately valuable.”

  “Of whom do you speak?”

  The medicine man sighed, and said, “Why do you ask me questions, dear girl, to which you already know the answers?”

  Lila sank back against the cushions, and replaced the cloth on her forehead.

  “Ah, well,” said Redda. “Stew upon it, and answer me later.”

  Though the pain in her chest was returning, and she was somewhat afraid that she would drift away to some unsafe place while she slept, Lila did close her eyes and manage to sleep for a little, before she rose once more and prepared to face the truth of impending dangers.

  XLIII: The Breath of War

  On the very same day of having risen from her call to the Sorceress’ hiding place, Lila began to order her thoughts, and went to Thomas Henry with a docket of them. He was the only one of her men whom she felt she could trust implicitly; and so she went to him, and shared with him all that had thus far befallen. She told him what she planned, and what she intended, and he listened carefully to the last. When he heard all she had to tell, a look of stark cold fear entered his face; but he continued on bravely, and assured her that not a man who claimed allegiance to him would fail her in this matter.

  After several days, Henry managed to bring Harn Fala round to his own view of the matter – and indeed, Fala did look upon Lila with more respect that he had allowed himself to bestow upon her in a great long while. His fear was no less eminent than the Captain’s, but he went on in spite of it, and refined over many long hours Lila’s plans. These meetings were attended only by himself, and Lila and Henry; for surely, none of the other men could be expected yet to understand. Fala assured Lila, that not a one of them would move, till they had been granted some sort of sign of Aerca’s lingering malevolence.

  “And what to do till then?” asked Lila. “Simply wait?”

  “Yes,” said Fala. “We simply wait.”

  “Aerca and her people are aware of your knowledge, Princess,” said Henry. “They will not let it lie for long. Only wait a while; and you will receive the opportunity for which you seek.”

  “It is my belief,” added Fala, “that once the time does come, you will find that you are less eager than you first believed.”

  Lila was very uneasy at this, and mainly at the waiting that ensued; and indeed, her discomfort daily grew into a sort of plague, which began as a mild itch and evolved into a burning rash. She watched as the cuts upon her arm healed, and kept her eye upon the black of her shoulder, which was slow to fade; and she fell asleep each night, fearful as ever that she would wake to find herself once more in the fortress of Dain Aerca.

  Yet she received no reprieve, as long as she sought, from the terrible pain that would start up several times a day in her breast. She returned to the medicine man with it, on more than one occasion; but he would only study her pale face, and ask her just as seriously each time as the one before it, whether anything was bothering her particularly.

  Tiring finally of these questions, she fell away from seeking his advice, and tried rather to cope with the pain herself. Many times, which were each horribly frightening to Lila, she drifted just a little ways outside of the castle; and then quickly, over the empty plains to the South. But she drew herself back, as if by a set of reins which she was learning to manage, on each occasion, and returned safe to her darkened chamber.

  She would have gone to the men herself, for sickness of waiting, but Henry and Fala urged her strongly against it. It seemed that their resentment had grown mighty strong, in those months where Lila failed to fulfill her duty to them – and though she could not say that she blamed them, she did grow exceedingly impatient. But her two men worked as well as they could among the ranks, drawing forth what honest men they found, and separating them into a group which came to understand their true danger; and which was not fooled by the white clouds and the yellow sun, that had managed to sate the rest of the city since the day of the siege. They laid up their arms, and saw to them carefully, in preparation for the day of war that was to come.

  When Lila approached Samson Trippe and Silas Perco, not with a full amount of information, but perhaps with a brief account of forthcoming events which were not so peaceful as what they had become accustomed to over past months, she found that neither of them was so heartily in her favour as he had been before. This is not to say, that they had gone so far as to convert to Jonathan Payton’s way of thinking – but they were not as conducive to conversation as Lila might have hoped, and all the while that they did talk, they seemed only to want to escape her.

  This in itself was very disheartening, but as is of course always the way of things, it was not by far the greatest worry on Lila’s mind. Though she knew that she should do so, and that it was the only right thing to have done, she could not commence herself to notify Heidi Bastian and her friends of the turn of events what had occurred. Yet it could not be long, she knew, till they learnt of it somehow; for her officers’ work was slow but steady, and showed much sign of bearing good fruit, by the time the harvest came.

  As turned out to be the case, however, it was not Lila who needed take the first step. She was come upon one day in the grounds by Dera Black, while she was out with Sonya. The woman came to her with almost a fierce expression, and spoke her only a little, before turning her own horse about and riding away.

  “I know what you saw,” she said. “And you know how Heidi awaits it. Show a bit of courage, why don’t you – and do what you ought.”

  “Why do you not tell her yourself?”

  The woman did not answer; but only took her leave. And so Lila was left for a long time to herself, to think and to doubt; and then to gain a resolve that, for a few moments, burnt high and bright; but which then fell quickly away, and was replaced again by her doubt.

  Yet it came to pass, after several days more, that Lila sought Heidi out at the setting of the sun. She came upon her as she was leaving the table of the night meal, and requested that she walk with her a moment, so that they might converse briefly. She agreed, though with some hesitation.

  “I need only tell you one thing,” said Lila. “I shall not keep you.”

  “It is not that I –”

  But Lila spoke again, very quickly, so that Heidi might say no more. “I have recently become aware,” she said, “of the Sorceress’ location. I am doing what I can for the situation – and it is my full intention to act upon what I have seen. If you wish to ride with us, when the time comes, you are more than welcome. Then, if you recover safely what you seek, you shall finally be free to return to your own home.”

  Heidi began to speak; but Lila turned away from her, and hurried out of the castle, into the darkness which she had designed to be present at the end of her errand.

  ~

  Dain Aerca sat within her fortress in nearly abject fear, all those days after Lila’s call upon her. She began to worry, more serious
ly than ever, that the Princess would prove impossible to turn; and that, even aside from this (which she had truly believed all along), she might indeed even manage to deliver her people completely from Dain’s influence.

  Dain did not hear, for a long while, from her Master; and she began greatly to fear his disappointment in her. She leaned more upon Zana each day, and looked more often to her for answers and solutions – which she gave readily, but not without a price. It seemed that, while Zana grew slowly stronger, Dain grew slowly weaker.

  She had, by this time, ceased altogether to think of the Auren within her own fortress. She was frightened, and she was unsure; and she could barely stand the way she was losing control over all she had worked so long to build. She was losing it all, every second – to the cunning and strength of Zana.

  She needed finally admit that there was to be no victory for herself at all. Whatever was won by the darkness, would fall only deeper into darkness, and would be lost sight of entirely. She looked all about, a little more anxiously each time, at the darkness of her quarters; and she wished for the sunlight; and she wished for her freedom. Yet she put these wishes away as best she could, and stood as tall in the presence of her servants as she could manage; for she could afford very little to lose anything more at all.

  ~

  To compare the efforts of either side of that conflict, and to hold them close beside one another for the sake of differentiation, it can be said without a doubt that there was much more accomplished on behalf of the Sorceress. Zana continued with her the work of raising the Narken; and though they could not manage to refill all eight fortresses, they did make a good show of five of them.

  Dain Aerca sent emissaries to the South, to deliver word of the goings-on at Grénha, and to prepare what loyal men she had there (which were many) for battle. These men, who had in months past begun somewhat to revert to their original ways, and indeed to scarcely think of the Sorceress, started again to feel the tuggings of evil. Without their even knowing it, Dain had placed them all in a sort of mode of readiness, wherein they were for the moment at hand able to carry out their daily tasks, but could be called to the gathering of Dain’s forces at a second’s notice.