Skies (33 page)

“Yes, Honored Sister, I have been to Estrelar. I was raised there.” Her voice was timid and far more subdued than Lhaurel had ever heard before.

“And you served the last Sister of Honor?”

The priestess nodded and took a small sip of water. It seemed to steady her.

“Yes. She—” Josi hesitated and then shook her head. “I should not speak of it.”

Lhaurel sensed the hesitation and fear returning in the woman, saw it in the way her eyes went back to the floor.

“Speak,” Lhaurel said. “I command it.”

“I—I want to believe that you’re actually the Sister of Honor,” the woman said, voice barely above a whisper. “I really do. But the Sister I served was still alive when we left for the north. Then we found you and the other Sisters said my mistress was dead and I served you now. I believe in the Progressions, and the Iterations, but I do not understand how this is possible.”

“I don’t fully understand the reincarnation process myself.” Lhaurel said, pointedly choosing to ignore Elyana’s voice in the back of her mind. Part of her had gone cold at the mention of the previous Sister.

Be careful.

“That I do understand. That you do not terrifies me,” Josi said, hands shaking again. “What I cannot understand is how my previous mistress could have died. She was strong and young, full of a vibrancy and life that I loved. She
was
the embodiment of honor. I think . . .” she hesitated, biting her own lip. “I think perhaps she was killed to force an Incarnation into a life the other Sisters could manipulate.”

Inside Lhaurel’s mind, Elyana laughed. Lhaurel sat there, both stunned and—somehow—also unsurprised.
That
was the level of deceit and power she expected of the Seven Sisters.

“And now I have spoken too much again,” the girl whispered. “I have told you of my origin among the slaves and hinted at deceit and corruption within my very order. It is well that I will be killed in Estrelar.”

“What?” Lhaurel dropped out of her stunned stupor like a bolt of lightning from the sky.

“The punishment for speaking of one’s origin to those outside of the school where we are raised and trained is death. It is never to be mentioned. It is the one, hard truth every priestess learns.”

“What truth?”

The girl looked up at her, meeting Lhaurel’s eyes. There was fear, pain, and terror there, but also simple acceptance and, worst of all, defeat. She no longer cared. She had accepted her fate and would no longer do anything to fight it.

“The slave people can walk the Progression Path.” The girl’s voice was so soft Lhaurel had to lean in to hear it.

Lhaurel waited for a long moment, waiting to see if there was more coming. Josi didn’t speak any further, instead downing the rest of her water and staring down into the cup as if she were looking for hope at the bottom of it.

“That’s a secret?” Lhaurel tried to keep her voice neutral, but her disbelief and confusion shown through in her tone. She and Talha had spoken about this several times, hadn’t they? The priestesses were there, right? Lhaurel searched back through her memories and was surprised to realize that every time Lhaurel and Talha had had a serious conversation, no one else had been present.

The girl looked up, sharply, hair dancing on her shoulders. “Who are you?”

For a moment, Lhaurel hesitated. Elyana’s voice warned her not to speak, not to tell the girl the truth. But Lhaurel needed a friend. She
needed
someone she could talk to, someone to tell the entire truth to. Someone to share her burdens with. Someone to protect.

“I am one of the Rahuli from the Sharani Desert,” Lhaurel began. Then she told her everything.

“I don’t believe it,” Josi breathed, when Lhaurel had finished her story. Despite everything else, despite how desperately dangerous she knew it would be to tell this woman, Lhaurel felt somehow relieved at having shared it with someone other than Talha. It likely left her in a worse position politically and she was taking an enormous risk by defying the other Sisters—the earlier conversation with Talha was still fresh in her mind, especially considering how the girl was reacting, but it simply felt right.

“When the other Sisters brought you to the camp, I wondered,” the girl whispered, looking first up to Lhaurel and then down at her hands, and then back again. “But they told us not to ask. One does not question the Sisters.”

“I was unconscious.” Lhaurel said. “When they took my powers away from me, I wasn’t able to stay awake. I was weak already.”

“They took away your powers and still let your people live?” Josi asked, she looked up at Lhaurel, head tilted back. “That . . . that doesn’t sound like the Sisters I know. They wouldn’t leave anything behind to threaten their power.”

Lhaurel opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut again. She didn’t
know
the Sisters had spared the Rahuli. She’d only been told they had—
by the Sisters themselves
. No. She had to believe. Her people
were
alive.

“They’ll kill me now too, for certain,” Josi said. “Now that I know their secret.”

“I will not let them.”

The girl laughed, a high, piercing, almost desperate sound. “What are you going to do about it? They took your powers from you. They’ve beaten you. We’re both dead.”

“No,” Lhaurel said, so fiercely that the girl jumped. “I have not faced down the genesauri, battled armies, and surrendered myself to the will of the Sisters to give up now. I
will
protect you. And I will get my power back. That above all else.”

“How?”

“Neither of us will speak of what we know. When the Sisters come together, I will convince them that you were speaking under my direction. They will not punish me. They wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of finding me, of bringing armies and troops that far north, if they were just going to dispose of me. Talha has already said the Sisters will give me back my powers when we get to Estrelar. I
will
protect you.”

The girl nodded slowly, though Lhaurel could tell she didn’t believe her.

Lhaurel was surprised by her own vehemence and resolve, then looked down at the girl who was once again staring down into the bottom of her cup. She’d found someone else to protect.

“Is there, perhaps, some greater being or consciousness of which we are ignorant? Or are we forced to be ignorant, by our belief in the Path?”

—From the Discourses on Knowledge, Volume 19, Year 1259

Gavin lay on the cold, hard earth, body pressed up against the ground as closely as he could manage. Next to him, Evrouin crawled forward, carefully setting his unlit lantern atop a tall stone. A half dozen other men were busy placing lanterns at intervals along the same path. Two other groups did the same further back along the way, the pattern of lanterns stretching back for almost a mile. They worked in complete darkness, carefully watching the lights of the Orinai camp nearly half a mile away for movement.

They’d left their aevians with the group furthest away from the Orinai camp, more than a mile south of the nearest mountain. Just as dusk had fallen, Evrouin’s two squads, some of Tadeo’s men, and Gavin had flown their aevians high above and around the Orinai camp, landing far enough away that they hoped none of the Orinai scouts had been able to spot them. Gavin would have preferred to fly at night, but the aevians made that impossible. Their sight at night was, at best, equal to their human riders.

“Ready?” Gavin whispered to Evrouin. The man nodded, the motion barely perceptible in the blackness of night.

“Let’s go then.”

Gavin heard Evrouin make a small clicking noise with his tongue that was almost a perfect imitation of the night insects which buzzed around them, but in a much more specific pattern. It was the pre-arranged signal to the others with them. Gavin stood up, though remained partially crouched, as did Evrouin.

The plan was a simple one. One man would stay here to light the lamps while Gavin and Evrouin’s group, as the closest to the Orinai camp, would attack out of the night. They hoped the surprise of it would make their numbers seem larger and draw a large portion of the army after them. Once the man who stayed behind heard the sounds of battle, he’d light the lamps, which would signal the next group of men, only a few setting up lanterns about a half mile back from the first set, to be ready, who would begin lighting their lanterns as soon as they got the signal from the others and so on and so forth until they reached the last group. Gavin, Evrouin, and their men would have to stay ahead of their pursuers for long enough to get back to the aevians and escape to somewhere they wouldn’t be found for the night. The hope was the Orinai would continue to follow the pattern of lights in the direction they were laid for the next few days, making it impossible to trace back to the valley. The odds weren’t good, but it was a start, at least. If it didn’t work, they had other plans ready as backups.

Gavin checked his greatsword once as they crept forward in the darkness, walking as quickly as they dared. Their group consisted of fifteen other men, each armed with both a sword and spear and equipped with hard, leather armor. Gavin didn’t know them, though either Evrouin or Tadeo had vouched for each man.

Nearly half a mile lay between them and the main camp. Fires glowed on the horizon, marking its location relative to where they were. There was still a fair distance to go before they hit the camp itself, though Evrouin suspected they’d run into sentries well before then.

Gavin licked his lips nervously and shivered at the dry cold, half expecting his tongue to stick to the cold skin of his bottom lip. He wanted to draw his sword, or at least the long dagger he wore alongside it, but Tadeo had been clear they were not to carry bare steel with them until blood was about to be shed. Light reflected oddly off steel, especially at night, and they couldn’t afford to be given away early. Still, Gavin found his hands straying to the weapons at his belt more often than not as he crept forward, flinching each time he heard the smallest sound.

A cry of surprise shattered the night’s stillness.

Gavin jumped, spinning and drawing his greatsword in a hiss of leather. His heart raced, blood pounding in his ears. His eyes strained in the night, trying to pick up where the sound had come from. Several long, tense moments passed that seemed like an eternity, then Evrouin’s clicking insect noise sounded. After another moment, an answering clicking noise sounded in the distance, signaling that everything was clear, and Gavin felt himself relax somewhat. He eased his sword back into its sheath and wiped sweat from his forehead. He heard the man next to him, presumably Evrouin, continue forward and did the same.

They walked for what seemed an eternity, each noise becoming an immediate threat. Gavin expected to run into sentries at each step. The closer they got to the growing fires, the more anxiety flooded through him. Their plan hinged on being able to get in, cause a disturbance, and get back out again. If they got too close to the camp, it would be easy for the Orinai to sweep in on either side and surround them, cutting off their retreat. Where were the sentries?

They crept even closer. They were close enough that Gavin could make out the shape of the rows and rows of narrow tents laid out in neat rows. He saw the outline of men as they walked between him and the fire from whence the light originated.

Something was wrong. Gavin felt the hair on his arms stand on end a moment before someone screamed in pain. Something flashed in the darkness just ahead of him and Gavin reacted instinctively, ducking and drawing his knife. Something swished through the air above his head.

Light burst into existence around him, the sudden flare blinding him. He blinked rapidly as his eyes watered from the stinging light. Figures moved around him and Gavin lashed out with his knife, feeling it strike something and someone grunted in pain. He stumbled backward, some part of him realizing that he needed to escape, to retreat. His foot hit something soft on the ground and he tripped, falling backward. His knife flew out of his hand when he hit the ground, though he rolled and felt something dig into the ground where he’d been only a moment before. He leapt to his feet, eyes finally beginning to adjust to the light.

Figures in red armor, Orinai soldiers, were rushing toward him. Dozens of them, no, hundreds of them surged forward, spears held out before them. Gavin turned his head, hearing movement. More soldiers closed in from that direction. How had they gotten behind them?

Gavin drew his greatsword, noticing an opening in the line to his right. He tried looking for Evrouin and the other men, but was forced to deflect a spearhead and everything else got ignored. Gavin spun as another spear shot toward him. It went wide, but a soldier stepped forward and rammed a wooden shield into his shoulder, nearly knocking him down. Gavin kept his feet, however, and spun with the blow, ignoring the burning pain and numbness that was creeping down his sword arm. He looked forward for the gap he’d seen earlier. It was gone.

He spun, sword slicing a spear shaft in half. Two more spears hit his back, though they were glancing at best thanks to his armor. Still, they stung and only added to his growing panic. Gavin swung his sword wildly, trying to keep the soldiers at bay, though the spears’ reach exceeded his own. They slowly pressed forward, the points of their spears forming a circle around him.

Desperate, Gavin reached out for his powers. Energy
imploded
into him.

It came from the soldiers around him, from the metal spearheads striking against one another. It came from the red armor as it rubbed against itself and its wearer’s underclothes. He seized it and pulled more into himself, holding the power within himself as he gathered even more. Energy came from the ground and, most abundantly, from the air, the faint traces of it forming together into a cascade of sparks that erupted from both arms and lanced down his body. Gavin felt it surging through his body like he never had before, writhing and twisting about inside him. Like a storm, the power of the skies incarnate. A soft wind picked up, grabbing onto his cloak and tossing it out behind him where it flapped and fluttered in accompaniment to his crackling skin.

The soldiers hesitated, the circle of spears stopping in their inexorable march forward. The wind picked up, blowing with a cold, howling fury. Gavin nearly screamed with the joy of so much power raging through him. He let his greatsword drop to the ground. Energy burst from both his hands, exploding outward in great, crackling arcs. The bolts of pure energy hissed through the air, cutting down soldiers as if their armor were thinner than cloth. The energy arched as it passed through a body, continuing outward until it hit another soldier, who fell alongside their companion with a blackened hole in their chest. Soldiers fell by the dozens. For a moment, Gavin stood in the epicenter of an undulating, blinding lightning storm. He gloried in the power running through him, feeling it course through his veins, and grant him strength and power.

He felt it beginning to drain half an instant before the arcs of lightning simply disappeared, leaving faint afterimages across his vision. He nearly stumbled at the sudden release and he felt incredibly, terribly tired all of a sudden. Bodies lay all around him, a few tendrils of smoke still climbing through the air around him. Evrouin stood a few feet away, a look of stunned shock on his face, though his grip still looked firm on his sword. Gavin blinked a few times, wondering why Evrouin wouldn’t remain in focus.

No
. Gavin thought, finding himself on his knees. He felt so weak, so very tired. He’d just done something terrible, hadn’t he? He’d killed dozens of men. What was that smell? Was someone cooking? Someone shouted near him and Gavin heard the sound of a brief struggle.

Sheer will kept his eyes open. He tried drawing in more energy from around himself, but couldn’t even feel the barest traces of it. Shouldn’t he feel at least the remnants of what he’s just channeled? Something cold and wet hit him in the face. Was it
raining?

Someone moved right in front of him. Gavin brought his hands up defensively, though his movements were sluggish at best. He forced himself to focus and recognized the face that looked into his.

“Brisson?”

Brisson scowled and then someone grabbed Gavin from behind, pressing a cloth against his mouth and nose. Gavin struggled weakly, forcing himself to try and fight, though confusion clouded his mind. What was Brisson doing here? Had he secretly come on the raid? How had Gavin missed seeing him before? He struggled, focusing on Brisson’s face.
Why is everything so dark all of a sudden?
Gavin’s eyes slipped closed.

***

Back in the valley, Samsin leaned back against his favorite boulder, tossing another log onto the fire with his good hand. He looked up into the sky, sensing the clouds moving in front of the stars as much as he saw them. He smiled to himself. The stars had always been his favorite part of travelling at sea back in the Southern Dominion. At least, his favorite part outside of when the storms came. Storm Wards who never had the chance to witness the size of a true tempest didn’t understand what a real storm was. The winds alone were strong enough to make any of the storms Samsin had seen on land look like a spring mist carried on a light breeze.

He sighed, pushing aside the memories. He’d been a different man then, one interested in but a single thing, something he now found almost completely meaningless. Still, he mused, pursing his lips, he wouldn’t have minded a little wine right about now.

The clouds continued to drift across the sky.

Samsin idly wondered how Gavin and Tadeo were doing. He’d grown to respect Gavin more than he’d ever thought possible for one of the slave people. But Tadeo was a different beast entirely. Tadeo’s people were thought to be extinct, the old masters of this land up in the north. According to everything Samsin knew, they’d died out decades ago. Regardless, Samsin was grateful to the man for saving him and more than a little admiring of everything Nikanor had managed to create here. It was a shame it would eventually all be for naught. As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, Samsin knew better. The Seven Sisters were relentless. This little group of dissidents would be wiped out of existence, one way or another.

Something wet hit Samsin’s face.
Rain?

Samsin’s head snapped up. The clouds almost completely covered the sky. Rain splatted to the ground around him, hissing as it hit the warmed rocks around the fire. How had the storm come in so quickly without Samsin noticing it? He opened himself up to the storm, feeling the tendrils of power in the air which connected the ground to the storm. Were those . . . ?

“He can’t be . . .” Samsin said, trailing off. He tried to sit up, but pain lanced through him so intensely that he didn’t complete the move. “He’s a Storm Ward,” Samsin breathed. He recognized the boy’s power raging through the storm. Each magic user had a certain way they used their powers, a certain way of shaping a storm that left a clear sign. It was unmistakable.

Samsin reached out to the storm, pulling on the threads of power and energy, feeling the storm’s strength surge through him. He breathed in a deep, powerful breath. The energy built within him and he turned it back up toward the storm, leaving only a small portion of it swirling within himself to help maintain his own strength. He pushed the storm into a roiling mass of clouds and storm. He knew there would be consequences in other parts of the world, likely causing havoc and destruction in the weather system, but he didn’t care. This was his chance to atone for his mistakes. This was his chance to do something honorable. It was his chance to change his Path.