Threading the Needle (4 page)

“Should we camp within the tree line, since there's only an hour or so before dusk?”

Allan stared out at the rolling edge of the plains. “We'll be traveling the grass for days. If there's someone out there, watching for us, they'll see us whether we move now or later.” He met the Dog's gaze. “Be on your guard.”

Glenn nodded, the gesture the sharp acknowledgment of a Dog to his superior, before retreating back into the woods to fetch the wagon and the others. Allan had been concerned the Dogs would assume Bryce's disdain for him and be insubordinate, but without Bryce here to goad them, they'd settled into the familiar framework that had existed in their packs before the Shattering. It was like the den before, with Hagger. Allan's old partner had been the instigator, gathering around him those that would follow his lead. But Bryce wasn't half as bad as Hagger had been.

He continued to scan the horizon as he heard the wagon trundling up from behind. Glenn and Adder appeared in his peripheral vision, and he motioned them out onto the plains, one to either side. They trotted up to the nearest rise, hands raised to shield their eyes from the sun, then signaled all clear.

Allan sought out Gaven, who was driving the wagon. “Everyone stay close to the wagon. We don't see anyone, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. Tim and Kent, form up behind. Glenn, Adder, and I will take the lead.”

Gaven snapped the reins, and the horses pulled the wagon out from the protection of the trees. Allan waited until Tim and Kent were settled a short distance behind the main group, then trotted forward to where Glenn and Adder were already ranging out into the distance.

An hour later, with the sun sinking into the horizon, he called a halt in a shallow depression that would provide them some cover. The group broke into action with a palpable sense of relief. The Hollowers and Dogs immediately began setting up the camp, unloading the few supplies they had and establishing a perimeter and guard positions. Gaven unhitched the horses, leading them off to be fed. The Wielders looked bewildered.

As Allan returned to the wagon, Kara stepped forward, the Wielders behind her.

“What can we do?”

He paused to consider, noting the Hollowers already clearing a space for the fire to one side. “Can you create a heating stone out here? I have us camped out of the line of sight of anyone on the plains, but a fire would still be risky.”

“We can try.”

“Do it. Otherwise, you can help with the cooking. We won't be using the tents tonight, only pallets.” He motioned toward the clear sky.

Kara turned to the others, already issuing orders. They broke up into groups, two heading toward where the Hollowers were trampling down grass in a rough circle, Kara and Artras toward where the grass had been cleared and a pit dug for the fire. They both hunkered down and closed their eyes, after ordering one of the younger Hollowers to search for a large stone.

When nothing happened for a long moment, except subtle shifts in their expressions, Allan shook his head and made the rounds of the camp, checking in on the Dogs.

By the time the sun had set in a blaze of blood red, the stars brittle overhead, half-moon to one side, Kara and Artras were holding their hands out to the glowing heating stone with smug grins on their faces and the Wielders and Hollowers were already setting up a tripod with a hook over it. A husk of corn was soaked and laid over the stone, cuts of venison spread out, filling the small depression with the scent of cooking meat.

Allan steered clear of the heating stone, knowing he'd disrupt it, and
drifted out to the edge of their camp, passing Glenn in the darkness. He settled down into the ankle-high grass on a knoll and stared into the distance, toward the bright dome of the distortion in Erenthrall. The varied lights from its shards appeared to pulse, as bright as the moon, although it was a pinkish orange color, striated with streaks of brighter greens and purples. Off to the right, low on the horizon, he could make out a faint star: the distortion hovering over Farrade. Farther to the west, he could see the much brighter white light of the distortion over Tumbor. It was only marginally closer than Farrade. The fact that it shown so much brighter meant that it was significantly more powerful than the one in its sister city. When it quickened . . .

Allan reached forward to pluck at the grass before him. He pulled a stalk and stuck it in his mouth, chewing on the tender end. A short time later, he heard someone approaching from behind, feet swishing through the grass. Kara settled down, cross-legged, beside him. There was just enough light from the moon and distortion to see her shadowed features.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Kara said.

“And deadly.”

“I know that, more than most. But it's still beautiful. I remember when I first saw one, there in Erenthrall, when I was younger. It bloomed in the air before me and Cory and—” Her voice caught. Then she continued: “It just appeared, in the middle of the street, no bigger than my fist. I wanted to reach out to touch it, to heal it, more instinct than anything else. I wasn't a Wielder yet. But the adults nearby stopped me.” A wry smile turned her lips. “We were running from the Dogs at the time.”

Allan looked toward her, eyebrows raised, and she burst into a laugh, shaking her head.

“It's not what you think. We were playing Thistles in the square when the Dogs came to raid a nearby flat. We ran, even though they weren't after us. We were kids.”

Allan wanted to ask her about the name she'd swallowed, but didn't. “If the Wielders knew about the distortions that early, why didn't they stop them?”

“I don't think they knew how. All we could do was heal them. Now the Primes . . . I don't know what they knew. Even if Prime Wielder Augustus knew what was causing them—and I'd guess that it had
something to do with the Nexus and the overuse of the ley system—do you really think Baron Arent would have allowed him to fix it if it threatened his hold on the ley and the other Barons?”

Allan thought about his few meetings with the Baron and the Prime Wielder. “No, he wouldn't. But Augustus was obsessed with the Nexus. If it were unstable, he would have attempted to repair it.”

“If he could have repaired it, he would have.”

“Maybe it wasn't the Wielders or the Primes. Maybe the Nexus didn't need to be fixed.”

Kara looked toward him, half of her face in shadow, her body tense. “You mean the Kormanley?”

“They certainly caused enough havoc before I left for the Hollow.”

Kara's hand tore viciously at the grass before her. He expected her to launch into a tirade about how destructive they'd been, but she surprised him.

She stopped shredding the grass and looked toward Erenthrall. “Do you think we deserved it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of those in the Hollow believe that the Shattering was a punishment, the vengeance of the gods, brought down upon us for our abuse of the ley.”

“It wasn't the act of a god. It was Prime Wielder Augustus' arrogance and Baron Arent's greed. I was in the Amber Tower. I saw it.”

“And some of them—not just the Hollowers, but a few of the refugees who came with us—believe that it's the Wielders' fault.”

“They're fools.”

“But we
were
misusing the ley. The distortions, the blackouts—they were all signs that we'd pushed the network too far. Yet we didn't stop. Nature tried to warn us and we didn't listen. Look what happened.”

She gestured out toward the plains, toward the distant glaring dome of the distortion. They sat in silence, the stillness of the plains interrupted from behind by those in the camp.

Then Allan said, “It's changed completely. And I don't mean just Erenthrall. On my excursions to the city before the Shattering, to gather supplies for the Hollow, I'd sit on the hilltops and look down at it from afar. Ley lines spread out from it in all directions, like a web stretching to the towns and villages that dotted the plains. The web is gone now. The plains are dark.”

Kara shifted her attention to the rest of the plains. There were a few spots of light scattered here and there outside the dome, close to the city; places where the ley system was intact, but obviously wild. White light flickered to the east, where Allan knew a plume of ley shot into the sky a hundred feet high. Almost directly on the path between the Hollow and the distortion, a large lake of ley had pooled in a low-lying area, what had once been a village. The spire of the town's stone meeting hall jutted out of the center of the lake, a few of the larger buildings' roofs visible as well. Besides pinpricks of white ley light in various other locations, they could make out a few outcroppings of firelight—again, all close to the city.

Kara pointed toward the brightest of the firelit sections. “What's that?”

“The Temerite's enclave. They were the most organized right after the Shattering. They seized hold of a few districts that hadn't been as severely damaged as the others and walled them in using the stone from collapsed buildings. The fire you see is actually dozens of bonfires set on the walls. They keep them lit so they can patrol and keep scavengers out. The smaller fire, farther to the south, is the Gorrani camp. There are rumors of an Archipelago compound on the far side of the distortion. And of course there are other encampments scattered between them all. But before the Shattering, there were ley lights three or four times that distance out into the plains, especially along the Tiana and Urate, and southward toward Farrade and Tumbor. All of those towns and villages are dark now.”

“The ley is still there, running through those towns. It's just not being augmented by the Nexus like it was before.”

“Is that what you intend to do if you can heal the distortion? Create a new network?”

“Not like what the Baron and Prime Wielder Augustus had,” Kara said harshly. “They abused the ley to retain their power. But the world needs somewhere safe to travel, somewhere the ley is stable and that can be easily protected. If we can heal the distortion, we can make Erenthrall a home again, without the Baron and the Dogs and the Primes controlling everything.”

“And you think we can do that, those of us in the Hollow.”

“Why not? We have you and the Dogs. We'll have resources, once the distortion is gone. And we have Wielders.”

Allan was going to point out that Erenthrall may have changed too much to be recovered when one of the guards shouted a warning.

He was moving, sword drawn, before Kara had even turned. He charged through the startled camp. Without thought, he noted who was frozen in shock and who was grabbing for weapons. Then he caught sight of Tim's shadowed form and slowed. “Report.”

“Something on the plains to the northeast.” Tim pointed toward the direction of Dunmara and the Reaches. “Looks like a fire of some kind.”

Allan picked the faint, flickering light out of the darkness, surprised Tim had noticed it at all. Muscles in his back and shoulders relaxed as he realized how distant the fire was, too far for whoever it was to have seen or heard them.

Gaven, Carter, and Artras appeared behind them, knives or swords readied.

“Is it the raiders?” Gaven demanded.

“No. At least, not near enough to threaten us.”

Gaven looked disappointed.

“What should we do?” Artras asked.

Allan sheathed his sword and the others lowered their weapons in response. He motioned to Kent and Adder. “We'll go check it out.”

“I'll come as well,” Gaven said, stepping forward.

Allan halted him with a hard grip on his shoulder. “I need you here, Gaven.” He looked the older wagon driver in the eye. “I know you want to hurt them for killing Terrim, but with three Dogs gone, and Jack and Cutter out hunting, you'll need to help guard the others.”

Gaven glared out at the faint fire, but nodded.

Allan, Kent, and Adder struck out across the grassland, moving at a steady, ground-eating pace. The camp fell behind, lost within a few hundred yards, the depression obscuring the glow of the heating stone. Allan focused on the dim firelight ahead, flickering low enough that occasionally it vanished. As they drew closer, it strengthened into a steady fire, larger than a campfire. Smoke billowed up toward the stars in a thick column, lit from beneath by angry red-orange flames. A gust of breeze brought the acrid reek of smoke and the stench of burning bodies. Allan swallowed against the smell, then gestured toward the two Dogs.

Kent and Adder angled toward Allan as he slowed. They edged forward cautiously, the wind shifting again, blowing the smoke away from them. All three dropped to the ground as they came up on the edge of
a knoll, inching forward on hands and knees, then stomachs, using the grass as a screen.

Ten wagons lined the wide wash of the creek bed below, a thin trickle running through its center now, but a much wider flood path carved out of the plains on either side. Four of the wagons were burning, the fire crackling and snapping as it ate at the wooden walls and roofs, billowing out from beneath miniature eaves. At least twenty men were tossing trunks and barrels into four of the remaining wagons through the small open doors at their backs, a few others dragging more supplies from the remaining two. Five others held twelve men, women, and children captive near the center of the camp, a few of the women sobbing, one screaming, held back by two others as she struggled toward a body lying not far distant. More bodies riddled the wash, most obviously belonging to men from the wagons, killed before they could mount a defense.

The group's leader suddenly spun. “Shut that bitch up.” When no one moved, he took two long strides toward the woman and slapped her hard across the face, flinging her back into the men holding her. They both lurched to their feet, fists clenched, but the five men guarding them leaped forward, swords bared, and they backed down.