The Skull Throne (35 page)

“Just tell me one thing,” Leesha said.

Renna crossed her arms, but she waited on the question.

“Did Arlen kill Ahmann?” Leesha asked. Her hand went to her belly as if to shield the child from the answer.

“He ent comin’ back, either,” was all Renna said. “Hollowers ent the only ones need to stand on their own.”

“That’s not an answer,” Leesha said.

“Told you to ask,” Renna said. “Din’t say I would answer.”

Insufferable woman. Leesha eyed her. “Why do you and Arlen have powers in the day, when no others do?”

“Eh?” Renna asked.

“In the count’s throne room, you defeated Enkido,” Leesha said. “His blow should have paralyzed you, but instead you forced him back and threw him across the room. No woman your size could do that without magic, but it was broad day. How? It’s more than just the blackstem, isn’t it?”

Renna paused, choosing her words with care. The delay answered Leesha’s second question if not her first.

Just as the woman was about to answer, the front door slammed open. “Mistress Leesha!” Wonda cried.

Leesha only took her eyes off Renna for an instant, but when she looked back, the woman was gone.

“Creator!” Rojer cried, leaping to his feet as he, too, noticed the disappearance.

Wonda burst into the room an instant later. “Mistress Leesha!” Her eyes were wild and terrified. “You need to come quick!”

“What is it?” Leesha asked.

“Krasians,” Wonda said. “Krasians attacked Lakton. Cutters found refugees on the road. They’re bringing them in as they can, but there’s wounded, and lots still out in the naked night.”

“Night,” Rojer said.

“Corespawn it,” Leesha growled. “Send runners to catch the Gatherers and have them meet us at the hospit. The Cutters will be mustering, and I want volunteers to go out with them. You and Darsy go with Gared.”

Wonda nodded and vanished out the door. Leesha felt a gentle breeze, and looked back. There was a fog along the floor, barely noticeable an instant ago, but now it was pooling together, growing bigger, solidifying.

And then Renna stood before them again. Leesha should have been startled to see her dissipate and reform like Arlen, but for some reason it was no surprise. There were bigger matters at hand.

“You said the Hollow needs to stand on its own,” she said. “Does that include the Laktonians, too?”

“Ent a monster,” Renna said. “Every second we waste talkin’ is a second I’m not looking out for those on the road. Send the Cutters out quick as you can. I’ll see those farthest away last until help arrives.”

Leesha nodded. “Creator watch over you.”

“And you,” Renna said, vaporizing right before their eyes.

Rojer and Leesha stood silent a long time before breaking the silence as one.

“I need to use the privy.”

CHAPTER 13

FOUL MEAT

333 AR AUTUMN

There was a loud sound and Renna’s sight distorted, shattering entirely as her eyes were broken down into billions of tiny particles.

Human senses had little meaning in the between-state. Here, magic, in its endless tides, was the only sense that mattered. She could feel the wards in Leesha’s cottage, gently tugging at her essence. The demon bones in the pockets of her apron. They were not on the Hollow greatward net, but she felt its contours as surely as running her hand along a wall. Its power was a beacon, its Draw a twister that threatened to pull her in and suck her dry.

Instead she reached out, seeking a path to the Core. There were a number of them out in the yard, all harnessed by wardnets like Ferd Miller’s waterwheel back in Tibbet’s Brook.

Like the woman herself, Leesha’s wardnets had a powerful pull, but were simple enough to resist once their strength was known. Renna slipped into one and down, deep beneath the surface.

Immediately, she heard the call of the Core. It was distant on the surface, like Beni banging on a pot to call them from the field for lunch. But the moment she touched the path it gripped her in its beautiful song, filled with the promise of infinite power and immortality.

Beautiful as the song was, though, Renna knew it told only a half-truth. When the demons attacked the Hollow on new moon, she had conducted magic to repel them—and even that small amount had nearly consumed her. The Core was infinitely stronger, the source of all the magic in the world. Her own magic, enough to make her one of the most powerful people in the world, was a candle held up to its sun. She could indeed become a part of the Core, but not while hoping to retain anything of herself. A raindrop falling on the great lake.

She went as far down as she dared, knowing the call would only get stronger, then reached out her senses, feeling for paths back to the surface. They ran in all directions, some great and others small, some touching ground nearby, and others meandering for miles before finally poking out onto the surface.

She had not intentionally left anything of herself on the path she had taken here, but it was marked nevertheless, as familiar as the smell of her own sweat. She followed it and the miles bled by in an instant. She materialized south of the Hollow, and searched again, finding the next path in her return journey the same way.

She skated across hundreds of miles in four quick hops, materializing in moments inside the tower. “Ay, anyone here?”

When there was no answer, she grit her teeth, stomping to the door and kicking it open. Arlen and Jardir were in the yard, checking the wards that held the prisoner.

“Ren?” Arlen asked. He and Jardir both saw her aura and stopped what they were doing, turning their full attention on her.

“Sons of the Core did it again!” Renna shouted.

“What—” Arlen began.

“Krasians took Docktown,” Renna cut him off, snapping an angry hand Jardir’s way. “Marchin’ on the hamlets as we speak. Killin’, burnin’, and drivin’ folk from their homes.”

“Not as we speak,” Jardir said. “My people do not fight Sharak Sun in the night.”

“Like it makes a difference to all the folk you’ve thrown to the demons!” Arlen shouted. “Did you know about this?”

Jardir nodded calmly. “It was planned months ago that we would strike Docktown on first snow, though I did not expect the attack to go forward without me.”

Arlen flew across the distance between them. Jardir reached for his spear, but Arlen batted the weapon across the yard and bulled forward, smashing Jardir into a goldwood tree. The trunk was five feet thick, but Renna heard the wood crack as they struck.

Arlen raised a fist, flaring bright with power as he Drew magic into the impact wards on his knuckles. “Do lives mean nothing to you?!”

Jardir looked at the fist, unafraid. “Do it, Par’chin. Strike. Kill me. Doom your own plan to failure. For if you do not, it is as much as admitting I was right.”

Arlen looked at him incredulously. “How’s that?”

Jardir flexed, breaking the hold and driving an open palm into Arlen’s chest so hard he was thrown back several feet before he caught himself. The glare he threw back was terrifying.

’Bout time Arlen stomped some humble into that son of the Core,
Renna thought, smirking.

Jardir seemed unconcerned, brushing himself off and straightening his robes. “You are right, Par’chin. Greenlanders, and no doubt more than a few
Sharum,
are dying at my command. But you are wrong if you believe their lives mean nothing to me. Every life lost is one less for Sharak Ka, and we are outnumbered already.”

“And yet you senselessly …” Arlen began.

“Not senselessly.” Jardir’s voice was still infuriatingly calm. Even his aura shone with righteousness. “The greenlanders are weak, Par’chin. You know it to be true. Weak and divided like stalks of wheat. Sharak Sun is the coming of the scythe, that a grander crop can follow. The coming generation will be spears, ready to stand fast in Sharak Ka. Those lives lost are the price we pay for unity, for in that unity is the strength to save Ala.”

Arlen spat on him. “You arrogant bastard, you don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that I will be what tips you to victory in the Core.” Jardir wiped the spittle away without comment, though it was clear his patience was thinning. “Yet you brought me here and healed my wounds despite what I’ve done. What I’m
doing.
Because a part of you knows there is more at stake than a few lives. It is the future of the human race, and we must hold every advantage.”

“What advantage does raping and killing and burning bring?” Arlen demanded. “Making folk bow to a different Creator? How does that make us stronger? Folk in the Hollow are every bit as strong as your
Sharum,
and I didn’t have to destroy their homes and families to get ’em there.”

“Because Nie did it for you,” Jardir said. “I know the tale of your coming, arriving just before the
alagai
took the tribe forever, like I once did for the Sharach.”

“Hollowers were just the beginning,” Arlen said. “Thousands have joined the Cutters since.”

“Refugees of my coming,” Jardir said. “How many of your
chin
would take up the spear had I not driven them from their illusion of safety? You told me when we first met that many of your men would not raise a hand against the
alagai
even when their families were threatened.”

He squinted, reading something on Arlen’s aura. Renna looked at him, but could not understand it as they did.

Yet.

“Your own father,” Jardir said, nodding as understanding came to him. “Shamed himself, watching as the
alagai
came for you and your mother.”

Renna might not understand the subtler aspects of auras, but even she could not miss the humiliation and anger that washed across Arlen’s.

Yet there was something in Jardir’s aura, too. Pride. Respect. Her senses sharp in the night, she saw the apple of his throat tighten with emotion as he continued to Know Arlen. “It was you who saved her. Barely old enough for
sharaj,
and you took to the field like a trained
Sharum.
”

“Wan’t enough,” Arlen said. “Still lost her. Just not as quick.”

“Do you regret standing in Nie’s path for her?” Jardir asked.

“Not for an instant,” Arlen said.

“This is what it means to be Shar’Dama Ka,” Jardir said. “To make the harsh decisions others cannot. The weak like your father must be shoved aside, that the strong might emerge.”

“Jeph Bales ent weak,” Renna said, drawing both men’s attention to her. “Took his lesson that same night, even if it was fifteen years before the test. When it was me out in his yard, bloody and with demons on my heel, he grabbed a tool and faced them down. Saved my life. You din’t do that, Krasian. Tibbet’s Brook stands tall now, and din’t need half the folk to die to make it happen.”

“
Inevera,
” Jardir said. “It matters not how people come to join in Sharak Ka, only that they come.” He looked to Arlen. “It was you, Par’chin, who said we were beyond such things now. The strike on Docktown was Abban’s plan, and Everam will deem whether he and Jayan or Lakton’s dockmasters will prove the stronger.”

“Never should have trusted that slimy camel-thief,” Arlen growled.

Jardir chuckled. “So I have said to myself many times over the years. The only thing anyone should trust Abban to do is be Abban. He follows his conscience only until there is profit in ignoring it.”

“Got half a mind to skate over to Docktown and knock him and your son on their asses,” Arlen said.

Jardir face darkened. “Do that, Par’chin, and our pact is broken. Do that, and I will return to the Skull Throne and leave you to your mad scheme.”

Arlen’s lip curled, and both men tensed, ready in an instant to resume fighting. They held the pose a moment, then Arlen shook his head. “We’ll see. Meantime, Ren and I need to see to the folk you’ve put out in the naked night.”

“That is not—” Jardir began.

“Shut it!” Arlen roared, so vehement even Jardir twitched. “It’s night, and I won’t see our brothers and sisters face it alone.”

Jardir nodded. “Of course there is no honor in that. I will summon Shanvah and Shanjat, and we—”

“Will stay right ripping here and guard the prisoner,” Arlen snapped.

“We are not your servants, Par’chin,” Jardir said, “to be ordered to gaol duty.”

“Ent no common gaol,” Arlen said. “You know what we’re holding.”

Jardir stiffened at that. “Alagai Ka.”

Arlen gave a curt nod. “I come back and find less than three of you here guarding, and our pact will indeed be broken.”

Jardir bowed. “Do not allow yourselves to be seen. Save your people in the night, but the Daylight War is no longer ours.”

Arlen scowled, but he nodded, turning to hold a hand out to Renna. She took it, holding tight to him even as they dissipated, as intimate as any connection of flesh. Linked, they slipped down a path to skate together.

Renna skated back to the tower, clumsily solidifying a few inches off the ground. Night after night of Drawing and skating had left her dizzy and drained of magic, insides weak and burning from conducting so much power.

The sudden drop twisted her ankle and sent her stumbling, but something caught her before she hit the ground. She tensed, ready to fight.

“Peace, sister,” Shanvah said. “It is only me.”

Renna shook her head, getting her feet under her and pushing away from the woman’s support. “Since when am I your sister?”

“Since we shed blood together in the tomb of Kaji,” Shanvah said. “We are spear sisters now.”

Her ankle throbbed painfully. Renna tried to heal it, but found she did not have the strength. She tried to Draw more power, but it made her whole body seem aflame. Easier to let the ankle throb.

Renna looked to the horizon. The sky was lightening, but dawn was still an hour away. She needed to feed before then, or she would be useless in the coming day. “That only till sunrise, when we go back to being enemies?”

Shanvah shrugged. “If the Shar’Dama Ka commands me to fight you, I will, Renna vah Harl, but it will not be as I would wish it. I see honor in you and the Par’chin, and I think Everam must have a plan for us.”

“Wish it was that simple,” Renna said.

“It is, and it isn’t,” Shanvah said. “Nothing on Ala is simple, or it would be as Heaven. Everam does not show his plan, but we know it is there.”

“Ay,” Renna agreed, though she did not agree at all. The woman was wasting time she needed to hunt, especially on a sore ankle. She drew her knife. “Gonna hunt a bit. Get my strength back.”

Shanvah nodded. “I will accompany you.”

“Core you will,” Renna snapped.

“You’re exhausted, sister,” Shanvah said. “There is safety in numbers.”

Renna shook her head. “Don’t need a sitter. You’d only slow me down.”

“But we …”

Shanvah’s aura blossomed with genuine hurt, and it made Renna angry. “We’re what? Spear sisters? You think that means a corespawned thing to me when I just spent a week trying to save lives you desert rats put out in the night?”

She grabbed at her vest, showing the deep crimson stains. “I’m covered in innocent blood because of your Shar’Dama Ka, Shanvah. Here, in the ripping night. So forgive me if I ent interested in having you at my back.”

She turned away sharply, storming off into the night without another word.

It was nearing dawn when Renna at last caught sight of her prey. The five of them had hunted the area around the tower down to nothing, and even as she ranged farther, many had already slipped back down to the Core’s embrace to shelter them from the sun.

She had been tracking this demon for several minutes, and saw she was just in time. The field demon had retreated into the shelter of deep grass for the moment of vulnerability when it began to dematerialize. Lesser drones could not do it as quickly as the elite demons—or she herself—and they might as well be asleep for all they could defend themselves when they were in the dissipation trance.