The Blade Bearers (Blade and Bone Book 6), page 19
“Go,” Jal said to her.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
“Go. Return to the people. Warn them. We need the song. Let the berahn guide you.”
She looked at him. “I’m not leaving you here.”
“You aren’t leaving me. I’m choosing.”
And as he said it, Jal realized there was only going to be one way for him to understand what he needed to.
He turned to her, still focusing on the song he heard around him—that of the berahn, that of his past, the future, and everything that cried out to him—and he tried to embrace that sound. He tried to let that energy fill him in a way it never had, but he was afraid.
“Go,” he said to her again.
“I’m not leaving.”
He needed for her to go. Jal could not keep her here. If she were to stay, she would fight until she died. And he needed her to get to her people.
The Juut needed to fight.
It would be difficult, especially as he’d seen that they didn’t want to be part of any fight where their families were involved, but perhaps now he could change their mind. Or Wular could.
“Get to your people. Tell them we need them—and the song.”
“Jal—”
He shifted his own song, knowing it was a risk. He called out, using it to reach the berahn.
He let the song carry. As it did, he began to flow, going off into the distance, off toward the berahn. One came bounding over. Through the song, and through what he felt of it, he directed the berahn. He wanted them to know where they needed to go and to feel when they needed to, and he wanted them to protect Wular.
The berahn leaped between her and the other man. Then another bounded forward. Then another. Three berahn in total. They pushed her back, guiding her toward the forest, leaving Jal alone with this man.
Jal continued to focus on his own song, adding layers of it to the berahn’s song, which steadily built around him. He could no longer carry it himself.
But he never had.
There had always been someone else as part of it. Even now.
He turned to face the man, feeling the shifting of the song, and then stopped singing. The man’s song began to grow stronger. It was powerful. Potent. All around him, Jal was aware of the berahn’s cries, the steady braying that created their song. He recognized Wular’s screams as she tried to add her own element to it, but he did not fight. He let the buildup of energy work through him.
Jal listened. He had no choice but to do so.
It weighed down on him. But it was different than that. It was not just a pressure that was building. There was some other aspect to it that was within the song, calling to him. He tried to make sense of what he was feeling, but it was too much for him. It had always been too much for him.
Everything became dark around him. And the song became all.
Chapter Nineteen
FINN
They had to be getting close to Vur now. The road had widened, and their caravan had swollen to at least a thousand people, which was far more than Finn thought they could supply. But the people had proven resourceful, and the hegen, whose numbers had grown as well, had shown that they were masters of organization. That, along with Morgan’s experience leading, had made it almost easy for them to keep everybody coordinated, all working toward the same goal.
There had been a few other instances of lawlessness that Finn had been forced to handle, but after word began to spread about what he had done with Riven—and Finn had intended for word to spread—the more severe instances had not recurred. He was thankful for that. Given the numbers they now traveled with, it would only take one bad actor for everyone to suffer. And though he understood that he would have to take action if such a thing were necessary, he certainly didn’t want to have to do so.
They now had two contingents of supply mules, as they had been nicknamed: one in the front of the caravan, and one in the back, both under guard from Archers. They were people who were usually tied to fighting, stealing, or general aggression. By forcing them to work, Finn made sure they served the common good. He didn’t hold them for as long as they would’ve been held had they been sentenced in Verendal because he felt that manual labor, combined with public shame, should help most of them.
They had dealt with one man in particular who had been a nuisance. He’d been warned that if he kept it up, Finn would have little choice but to take a more definitive approach with him, though short of execution, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Banishment was an option in Verendal, but out here on the road, it really wasn’t feasible. He had been thinking about it, and hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Still, he knew that preparation was far superior to prayer when it came to things like that.
“It looks like the forest is starting to ease back,” Morgan said.
They had been traveling through a sparse forest for a significant portion of the journey, and it had been thinning for the most part, though there were still quite a few trees that surrounded them. That helped with the hunting. They didn’t hurt for deer, rabbits, and even a few random goats that had been hunted and harvested. Combined with berries that they’d managed to collect and some dry goods that were scavenged from the few empty villages they’d come across, they had more supplies than when they’d set out.
“I think we’re getting close,” Finn said.
“What do you intend to do once we get there?”
“Leave these people. Once I make sure they’re set up and established, I think it’s reasonable that we—or I—leave them behind and head back to Verendal. It’s long past time that I return.”
“How many of the people do you think are going to come with you?” Morgan asked.
He looked over and started to smile. She studied him with an intensity, and Finn realized that she had asked it sincerely.
“I don’t know that any of them are going to stay with me. They aren’t following me.”
“I don’t know,” she said, now returning his smile. “You might be surprised.
“And why is that?”
“I’ve heard them talk about you. I knew you had a reputation throughout Reyand, but most of these people knew that already. What’s different, I think, is that very few of them had had an opportunity to see it, much like me. And there’s something to be said about a man who is committed to fairness. We may not always agree with your view of justice, but there is no doubting that you are fair. As someone who has seen leadership firsthand, I can attest to how uncommon that can be.”
“I’m not trying to lead,” Finn said.
“Perhaps you’re not trying to, and yet you are.” She looked back. “As I said, I suspect you’re going to find that quite a few people will want to venture on with you to Verendal. Not all, perhaps, but enough that you should at least consider what you might need to do to replenish supplies before we finish the journey.”
Finn wondered if she was right or not, but he wasn’t sure whether it even mattered. If people came with him, did he care? He wanted them to find safety, and at this point, he felt as if he could help with that.
They kept making their way forward, and the caravan moved slowly. The forest gradually widened, and Finn knew they would eventually reach the massive city of Vur, which was larger than Verendal and one of the king’s strongholds in this part of the kingdom. It would be safe. There were no ports, no way for the invaders to reach it, yet he had not seen any sign of traffic heading toward the capital in their journey here. Maybe that was because most people had realized that there were dangers on the road… But what if there was another reason?
Morgan had a frown on her face.
“What is it?” Finn asked.
She shielded her eyes from the bright sun as she looked out into the distance. Her other hand moved in a pattern that seemed to trace lines of writing that only she could see. “I can feel something,” she said. “It’s strange, though. Unusual. Not what I was expecting.”
“More Alainsith power?”
“Probably? Again, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to use the Alainsith connection periodically as we travel. I figured it would help me know if there was any danger coming to us, but I had not found anything. Now I’m starting to feel something else, though.”
“What?” he asked.
“The same sense I had when we were making our way toward the capital the first time,” she said. She looked over to him, and he saw the worry in her eyes.
It was late in the day by the time they cleared the forest, and Vur came into view. He didn’t need to see Morgan’s expression to know what had happened here. He could feel it. There had been an attack. The city had once been beautiful, with towering spires and enormous cathedrals all set along the hillside. Now those structures had crumbled. Everything stunk of ash, and on top of it was something darker, though Finn couldn’t quite place what it was. The entire city had been destroyed.
There would be no safety in Vur.
What did that mean for Verendal?
Chapter Twenty
HENRY MEYER
It was midnight, or there about, when a knock came at his door.
Meyer was getting tired of being awoken so late. All he wanted was a good night’s sleep, but ever since he had taken over for Finn, sleep had been a difficult thing to come by. Some of it came from the fact that he simply could not rest, his mind working through all the different things he felt like he needed to be doing, but part of it came from interruptions like these. Meyer didn’t have as many people coming to his door as he once had, but more than he liked. Finn had done a good job of ensuring that was not the case.
He dragged himself down the stairs, looking toward the kitchen and then to his office, where he had left a lantern glowing. He should’ve put that out.
Meyer froze.
He had put that out.
He clenched his cane—he had taken to using that up and down the stairs, especially in his own home, as there was no point in hiding his weakness from himself. Having the cane gave him better balance, anyway. He squeezed it, and when he did, he felt a reassuring tingle wash over him. He liked to think that it was some benefit of what Esmerelda had placed into the cane, some hegen magic that helped strengthen him, but he didn’t really know if that was the case or not. He wouldn’t put it past her to leave something in it that would make him feel as if there was some power within. They both knew that aging was a part of the world, and a part of life’s journey. And they both knew that she could do little to stop him from growing older.
The knocking persisted on his door.
“I’ll be right there,” Meyer shouted.
The knocking eased.
He turned to his office and pushed the door open with his cane.
The lanky man sitting at his desk looked up as he entered. He was sorting through a stack of papers. They were nothing official, though Oscar wouldn’t know that. All those papers were documents on healing that he and Lena had traded.
“Can I help you find anything?” Meyer asked.
Oscar sat up, and he rested his hands on the desk. “Seeing as how you decided to come and interfere at my place of business, I thought it only fair I come here and interfere at yours.”
“Well, seeing as how you’ve interfered in my place of business before,” Meyer said, tapping his cane on the floor, “I think it’s only fair that I reciprocate yet again.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“No? I seem to recall a certain priest that broke into Declan Prison all those years ago—at least, someone masquerading as a priest—and reaching a prisoner who should have been left alone.”
Oscar frowned. “You’ve been holding on to that all these years, old man?”
“I hold on to everything,” Meyer said. He glanced back toward the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I would let you know what I’ve been doing. You made it quite apparent that you had some expectations about an arrangement we were to have, and I wanted to make sure we were clear. I didn’t think we could do that at the Wenderwolf, and I wasn’t exactly certain how to find you any other way.”
“So you decided to sneak in during the middle of the night—while I was sleeping, I might add—and rifle through my correspondence with Lena Jagger.”
Oscar looked down at the papers again and pursed his lips. “These are from Lena?”
There was a softness in his voice when he talked about both Lena and Finn. Almost a tenderness. It was part of the reason that Meyer felt like he could trust Oscar, even when every other instinct within him told him he shouldn’t.
“Lena and I correspond about many things,” Meyer said. “She’s quite brilliant.”
“I’ve heard stories about her.”
Meyer arched a brow. “More than stories. I know that you’ve gone and visited with her.”
“She wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
“Did you really think Lena would keep anything from me?”
Oscar got to his feet, glanced down at the papers, then made his way over toward the door. “No. I suppose Lena sees you as the father she lost all those years ago. Others of us were willing to take on that mantle—”
“If you were willing to take that on, then you wouldn’t have left her to suffer in the streets.”
“I never let her suffer,” Oscar growled. He took a deep breath and seemed to settle his emotions.
Meyer smiled to himself. He had wanted to antagonize Oscar, if only to try to get a sense of what would trigger him. Lena did, it seemed. He suspected that Finn would as well, but he had not had the opportunity to test that quite as much.
“You need to get the door?” Oscar asked.
“I suppose I should. I want to make sure I’m not going to be jumped in my own home, but seeing as how it’s just you, I suppose I’m perfectly safe, aren’t I?”
Oscar tipped his head slightly.
Meyer turned and made his way down the hall. He could practically feel Oscar’s gaze on his back, and Meyer wished that he didn’t have the cane with him. He hadn’t needed it when he had gone to see Oscar before, but he felt it was better to keep it with him in the home. Besides, it was a weapon. If nothing else, he had that to keep in mind.
When he reached the door, he found a lovely blonde-haired young woman with a pale yellow dress standing on the other side. A leather satchel hung around her neck, down to her waist, and she was drumming her fingers across the leather. The other hand twisted the fabric of her dress.
“Master Meyer?”
“And you are?”
He knew she was hegen from her dress, but he didn’t know who she was.
“My name is Kezia. I work with Esmerelda, and she told me to come to you if I encountered anything unusual in her absence.”
Meyer had heard the name before, though he didn’t know her well. “Is that right?”
“Well, I’ve been trying to avoid coming to you, mostly because I know how busy you’ve been. The city has been quite chaotic lately.” She glanced past him, and her hand stiffened on her satchel. “Are you okay?”
Meyer glanced over his shoulder. “I’m fine. This is my friend Oscar Richter. Esmerelda and Finn know him as the Hand.”
Kezia flashed a tight smile and nodded, but her hand remained on her satchel. Meyer suspected that she had been placed in this role by Esmerelda herself, which meant that Kezia probably had aspects of the hegen art that were similar to Esmerelda’s. She might even have access to the cards the way Esmerelda did.
If she did, what would she see?
“They mentioned him,” she said, turning her attention back to him. “Mostly Finn. He likes to talk about the old days, as he usually called them.”
Meyer smiled. “Men often do as they get older. We remember our youth fondly, even if it’s not always as positive as we like to think it was.”
Kezia chuckled. “Anyway, I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, and I would’ve let it wait, but…”
She pulled something out of her pocket—a stack of cards. It was not nearly as thick a stack as what he had seen Esmerelda use. She tended to use dozens of cards and would flip through them until she found the information she wanted. Kezia had only a couple, and she flipped one over, before holding it out to Meyer. The golden ink on it had solidified, and all Meyer saw were trees, but there was also something between the trees.
“I’m afraid that I don’t understand what you’re trying to show me,” he said.
“No. It has been difficult lately. The cards haven’t been as clear as they once were. But tonight they were. It’s almost like something within the cards changed. And they told me that I needed to look.” She turned the card back to herself and stared at it for a long moment. “There’s something here. The forest. I recognize one of these trees,” she said, setting the card back in the stack and flipping them over from one to the next. “This one. The tree here is distinct and unique. Those of us who spent time in the forest have come to know it.”
She pointed at one of the trees on the card, and Meyer didn’t recognize anything unique about it, but he believed that she did.
“Anyway, when I saw what came up on the cards, it brought me into the forest, where… Well, I think you need to see this, Master Meyer. I’m not sure what it is, but Esmerelda did tell me to find you if there was anything strange.”
Meyer nodded, and he stepped back into his home and grabbed his cloak from the closet, which he draped over his shoulder. The sword in his closet was not the one he had held most days during his service to the kingdom. Finn had Justice with him, and Meyer wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It was Finn’s sword now, though that wasn’t what bothered him. It was that he used Justice against magic.
But Meyer didn’t need a sword. Not out in the city. He was an executioner, nothing more than that.
As he stepped outside, Oscar slipped out the door and stood on the step. He glanced over to Meyer. “I’ll come with you.”
