Eight Will Fall, page 6
Melay was hinting at a spy. Larkin watched Jacque’s and Tamsyn’s faces for any flicker of emotion, but she deciphered nothing. Damn this collar!
Then again, it didn’t matter if there was a spy among them. Ten thousand soldiers had failed at an impossible task, just like they would. And Garran would die.
We do know what always happens, he had told her. The worst possible outcome, every time.
Even with the luminite against her flesh, Larkin still searched for emotion. Anything she could use against Melay. She wanted the queen to suffer at her hand; she wanted to crush her heart and watch the life drain from her eyes.
“Seven.” Casseem’s voice cracked. “You said eight of us. Even with your soldier and your scholar, we’re only seven. Do you plan on accompanying us, my queen?”
Melay nodded toward her lieutenant. “Hathius, I’m sure you can take this from here.”
* * *
Hathius led them single file down a narrow dungeon stairwell, past the cellblock where Garran was still imprisoned. They spiraled deeper and deeper into the mountain.
As their surroundings darkened, panic ricocheted around Larkin’s rib cage.
Her eyes stung as the group stepped into a dim tunnel. They spread out, and Elfina and Larkin fell to the back of the group.
“This is where they keep the worst of us criminals,” whispered Elfina. “When luminite alone isn’t enough.”
“What is enough?” asked Larkin.
“Isolation.” Elfina’s voice trembled. “Worse than death.”
Hells, thought Larkin. If Melay thought Garran had a luminite resistance, she could move him down here. A life alone, in the dark … just like the soldiers sent into the Reach, if they were alive. And if she lost track of her party, the strangers she was supposed to depend on, she’d be alone. If they starved and she was the last to die, she’d be alone. If they found what was causing the destruction on the Surface but couldn’t make their way back up …
She braced herself against Elfina’s shoulder, suddenly lightheaded, and was grateful when Elfina didn’t shrug her hand away.
They reached a reinforced door at the tunnel’s end, protected by two guards. One opened the door with an iron key, and they all filed in. Larkin clung to the handrail in front of her for balance; beyond her, nothing but a curtain of darkness. They were standing at the edge of a black pit.
Hathius took a torch from the wall and threw it into the deep. It hit the stone floor and sparked, illuminating a filthy boy with a shaved head. The boy didn’t flinch, remaining in the center of the floor with his knees pulled to his chest. Larkin couldn’t see his face in the dim glow, but he looked around her age.
“Amias! Ready to be brought to the light of day?” Hathius laughed. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t be making that promise.”
Jacque dropped to her knees to peer beneath the bars of the railing. “Gods. Amias?”
“You know him?” Larkin asked.
In the dim light, Larkin could see the muscles of her face twitch. “We grew up together. In Eversown.”
Larkin started before crouching down beside Jacque. Amias of Eversown Farm? That meant the boy below was the infamous Empath who had decimated the entirety of Eversown at the age of twelve—a village turned to dust from his power of destruction, a fleet of soldiers murdered in the process.
“Melay made a declaration after what he did,” Jacque explained. “She said that he had been executed. I don’t understand.”
“The queen is merciful,” Hathius said. “She chose to keep him alive.”
Amias lifted his head. Dead eyes stared up at them from hollow sockets.
A shell in the dark.
Larkin remembered hearing rumors about this boy—around half a decade ago. Had he been in this prison since his arrest? She couldn’t fathom being alone for that length of time.
If Garran shared Amias’s fate … No.
Even as Larkin watched Amias warily, hope blossomed inside her. If something sinister truly was lurking within the Reach, they wouldn’t be sent in defenseless. Amias had been locked away because of his power. Because he was a weapon.
Now he would be their weapon.
* * *
The next morning, Larkin watched the cold dawn break through the barred window in her palace room.
The small hearth kept the room warm, and her plush bed was the nicest thing she’d ever rested on, yet sleep had evaded her all night.
When the sky was washed with light, a servant entered her room with a meal of bread and hard cheese. She set the tray on an end table and propped open the room’s wardrobe, leaving Larkin without a word.
Larkin got up and walked to the wardrobe. Armor clung to the stand within, similar to the set Jacque wore. How kind of Melay to outfit them for the Reach. As if it would make a difference.
This is punishment, thought Larkin. That’s all the mission was. Melay was sending them into the Reach like Ilona had exiled Kyran and his disciples. The queen’s prisons were predictable. Awful, but predictable. Even a swift execution was predictable.
But this …
Numbly, Larkin undressed and tugged on fresh undergarments, a tunic, and trousers.
She studied her armor. Metal plates were sewn into the leather of the cuirass to protect her shoulders. Her greaves and bracers were fashioned the same way, with plates for her knees and wrists.
She slid on her cuirass, buckling a dozen different straps.
“I’m doing this wrong,” Larkin muttered to herself, unbuckling and rebuckling all of them. Still wrong, but her hands were trembling too much to attempt again.
After fitting her utility belt, Larkin tied back her umber curls and turned to the room’s mirror. She gritted her teeth as the luminite around her neck sparkled.
She was used to her murky reflection in the kitchen basin, but here, with such clarity, Larkin looked just like her mother, sharp-boned and strong-jawed—handsome, her father once called her. And in a way, she did look ready for battle.
When her mother had broken her leg, all those years ago, and Larkin was getting ready for her first day in the mines, her mother had sensed Larkin’s nerves.
If you ever begin to panic in the caves, remember to sense those around you. There will be despair and anger, yes, but you will also find those lost in the thoughts of their families waiting at home.
Siphon from them, Larkin. Let the joy they cling to fill you up, and it will feel just like the sun.
She wished she could hear her mother speak those words aloud one more time. Her mother … If she only knew what Larkin was up against. Would she ever know, if Larkin never returned?
Larkin let out a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth, as if she could catch the fear and swallow it back down.
But fear, she knew, didn’t like being told what to do.
Sinking to the floor, she let it seize her.
EIGHT
Melay’s emeralds dimmed in comparison to the vale that stretched for miles.
Larkin and her companions rode on horseback down the trading route and toward the highland, each of them accompanied by a palace guard. Larkin never had the chance to speak to the others. Plenty of time to bond in the Reach, she thought grimly.
The wind rippled across the high grass and coaxed Larkin’s curls free from her tie. She was used to seeing the vale at a distance when leaving the mines, but trotting through it was something different. Patches of creamy wildflowers swirled through the grass, the scent intoxicating, so much so that she didn’t immediately notice the sinkholes pocketing the plains.
If the rumors were to be believed, Demurans had disappeared into those holes … Edric. Was he still alive? Were any of them?
Garran and the rest of her family weren’t safe from this strange destruction either. If they were—if all Empaths were—perhaps she’d be excited that magic had finally overpowered Melay. But it seemed the source of the destruction had no intention of sparing her kind.
And the granite-and-luminite city was as vulnerable to the destruction as everywhere else. If Empath rebels were causing the destruction, maybe the caverns were offering a way around the Surface’s luminite. Or the rebels were resistant, like her.
Even to Larkin it seemed far-fetched, but it didn’t matter. She had to trust that she and her companions would uncover the reason behind the magic. It was her family’s only chance at survival. Larkin clung to the thought as the group rode forward, narrowly avoiding a sinkhole in the middle of the road.
Occasionally, they’d pass farm villages brimming with thatched-roof cabins, but as they traveled farther east, villages transformed into heaps of rubble and splinters. Farmers shoveling away the destruction looked up as they passed, shielding their eyes.
They’re hoping we’re aid, thought Larkin, heartsick. To her left, Brielle curled over her saddle, squeezing her eyes shut. Larkin wanted to ask if this had been her farm but knew Brielle wouldn’t hear her over the drumbeat of hooves.
When they reached the cragged and pine-laced eastern hills, the sun was midway across the sky. The horses slowed, swallowed by a cloud of dust as they ascended the switchbacks, and Larkin looked back to an infinite sea of gold and muted green. The city’s peak was but a jutting outline against the backdrop of the sun.
Home. Already she missed the small, quiet box of the family kitchen, the smell of grease, and her mother’s bread. She’d give this entire world for one more day near the hearth. But as soon as her horse rounded a bend in the trail, all thoughts of home disappeared.
A narrow path emerged between two feldspar boulders, and Hathius, who took the lead with Jacque, guided them through. The ground leveled to a trodden, bustling outpost in front of a glittering recess in the mountain.
Blue flags rippled above erect tents, embellished with Demura’s seal: two swords crossed beneath a cut gemstone. Soldiers sparred and sharpened weapons, pausing as they rode up.
The horses circled and halted. Larkin’s guard hopped off the horse and helped her down, and she gritted her teeth as her feet hit the ground, her thigh muscles screaming in pain. The only one of them who wasn’t limping around and clutching their hips was Jacque. Amias squinted as he bent over and rubbed his legs, obviously spent by both the ride and the sun. If he’d experienced only darkness for years, she was impressed that he wasn’t completely blinded.
He caught her looking and stared back at her, blinking. When Larkin waved, he didn’t wave back. Maybe he was blinded.
Larkin was distracted when her guard handed her a pack. She quickly rifled through it, spotting a waterskin, a bedroll, and a week’s worth of food.
“They’re optimistic, aren’t they?” Devon asked. He sauntered over to her, as fearless as he’d been in the palace.
It was the first thing he’d said to her. Larkin raised an eyebrow. She noted his muscles, which meant that he hadn’t been wasting away in Melay’s prison long.
Devon peered into her open bag. “How long do you think we’d last with this much food?”
Larkin shrugged. “We wouldn’t die from starvation for at least a month after our supply ran out.”
“And you know that from experience?”
Didn’t he know from experience?
“Which mine did you work in?” she asked.
“The Vault.” He gripped his bag shut in one hand, his knuckles bone-white.
It was the mine her father worked in, the most lucrative one of all. With a little luck and skill, perhaps Devon truly didn’t know how long it took to starve, especially if he didn’t have a family relying on him.
“Little food means little hope,” he said. “If Melay isn’t expecting us to get far, why send us in at all?”
Without giving her time to answer, Devon trudged off to join the rest of the group.
She couldn’t shake the fact that Devon was right. If Melay wanted them to succeed, why not outfit them with more gear and reinforcements? Why not send in an army of Empaths, or at least a few guards for backup?
Slinging her pack over her shoulder, Larkin turned to see her party converging near the center of the outpost.
Beyond them, a wall of silky, iridescent luminite loomed over the camp, split in the center by a cleft in the mountain. The dark entrance was sealed by a portcullis.
The surrounding outpost soldiers ceased their sparring as they began hooting and whistling at the newcomers. Brielle flinched in surprise, but Elfina watched with mild curiously.
“Feed them to the beast!” hollered one, and the others cheered.
If we fail, you’re as good as dead, Larkin wanted to scream back, but the vengeful thought was little comfort as they kept moving forward.
“Traitor!” another shouted. Larkin realized the soldier was screaming at Jacque and wondered if she was from Jacque’s battalion. Casseem appeared amused as he watched for Jacque’s reaction, but the soldier remained indifferent. Larkin wondered how Jacque had gotten herself into such a mess. She seemed to be a traitor to everyone, Empaths and soldiers alike.
Jacque turned and spoke with Amias, her hand resting on his shoulder. From the looks of it, they’d been more than just village acquaintances. Perhaps they’d been friends, or childhood sweethearts. Larkin felt a stab of jealousy, wishing there was someone here who was more than just a stranger. She had never needed the companionship of anyone other than her family, not until now.
Amias’s dark, watering eyes found Larkin’s. His fawn-colored skin was sallow but not pallid or sickly. Something about his vacant face told her it used to be softer. She could see the ghost of that boy in the edges of his full lips and the apples of his cheeks, places his smile had once clung to.
Something that had once been there was gone.
Larkin studied him, as though she could unearth the darkness lurking within using only her mind. Years ago, he had siphoned enough rage or terror or grief to destroy an entire farm. Did the destruction change him? Did he feel guilt, or was the emptiness she saw within him an absence of all emotion? It chilled her to think of what violence he was capable of.
But she needed him.
She needed to learn what all her companions were capable of the moment they were free of the luminite, but Amias was the most important. She could only hope that isolation hadn’t made him even more unstable, especially when confronted by whatever lurked below.
Larkin flinched when Hathius hollered, “Open the gate!”
Soldiers hurried to a massive iron turnstile beyond the tents, taking to the spokes and working together to crank the wheel to the right. The iron screeched as the wheel began to rotate, and the portcullis lifted.
The jaws of the Reach opened to nothing but a glittering darkness. Above her, the sun shone brightly, the warmth deep and rich. Larkin always associated the feeling of love with sunshine. She closed her eyes and could feel Vania’s hair gliding through her fingers, the relief that flooded her when her father came home late from the Vault. Larkin tried blinking her memories away, her eyes darting around to her seven other party members as they watched the raising portcullis. They were statues, so still and yielding to what was happening.
A scream built inside her.
Before Larkin could release it, she noticed Tamsyn squirming out of the corner of her eye, breaking her spell of panic. He tugged compulsively on his cuirass, his gear flopping about as he did.
Tamsyn wouldn’t be able to sense her underground, but the other Empaths would.
Her companions would be relying on her as much as Garran did. Emotions were infectious, spreading from person to person like fire. If she wanted to sense courage from them, she needed to provide it in return.
Jacque squared her shoulders and walked to a nearby weapons rack. The others followed, including Larkin, and Jacque began passing around swords and throwing knives.
“You won’t need those.” Tamsyn fumbled with his twisted pack strap. “Luminite’s a Surface mineral. You’ll have full range of your magic once we enter the Reach.”
“I’m trained in swordplay, not magic.” Jacque tossed a sheathed blade to Larkin, and Larkin caught it ungracefully.
“Magic is the reason we have an advantage over the battalions. You need to trust your abilities,” argued Tamsyn.
“I’d think before informing us of our own abilities, if I were you,” said Larkin, resisting the sudden urge to push him over. His pack would probably send him tumbling headfirst.
“Save it, Arkwright.” Casseem held a sword up, examining it.
“Tamsyn is just fine,” the scholar muttered.
“Nonsense. Be proud of your surname. A privilege your queen deprived us of.” Casseem pulled his sword from its sheath. “And anyways, none of us have any advantage over the soldiers. Unless you’ve all been brushing up on your destruction magic.”
“Didn’t fancy getting cut down by a soldier,” Elfina said.
Brielle shook her head as she chewed her fingernail.
Casseem looked to Amias.
Amias tilted his head to the side and Larkin saw the slightest glint of anticipation behind his eyes, like he was waiting for Casseem to mention his past.
The moment passed in silence.
“That’s what I thought,” said Casseem.
Gods, she wanted inside their heads. Or their emotions, at the very least. Larkin tugged at her luminite collar. These people didn’t feel real to her yet. And they wouldn’t, not until she could sense.
Larkin was distracted as Hathius approached the party with two torches, handing one to Brielle, who stared at it, her expression horrified. Her eyes darted around to the others, as if she hoped one of them would take the torch from her.
No one volunteered.
Hathius led them forward. Reaching the cavern entrance, he stepped aside and pulled a small key from his pocket.
Casseem was the first, approaching Hathius to have his collar removed before entering the cavern, followed by Jacque. Brielle and her torch went next, then Elfina, Amias, and Tamsyn.
