Chapter 167: Cracked

Chapter 167: Cracked

Somewhere on the road between Essed and Fel Sadanis, an armored figure walked unhurriedly through the increasingly bizarre landscape. Ameliah had her bow hooked through her arm, disguised by its upgraded enchantments to look and feel like it had been fashioned from wood, rather than adamant. She wore quivers on both hips, having moved the one she’d been wearing on her back to accommodate her cloak. The placement was growing on her, she’d found. The right-hand quiver was full of finely crafted wooden arrows, which had proven sufficient so far. Tallheart’s arrows were housed in the other quiver, which wasn’t really a quiver at all, but rather a sealed metal case, offering some measure of security. Getting Endless Quiver to accept it as a valid place to store arrows had required some mental acrobatics, but she’d managed it in the end.

Popping a honeyed almond into her mouth, Ameliah chewed contentedly. Rain had packed her lunch. She’d been expecting a sandwich or something, but when she’d opened the cloth-wrapped box, she’d discovered an entire chicken pie from the Half-Pint Bakers—who had been safe in Vestvall the whole time, it turned out—and a thermos of coffee, enchanted to remain hot. And the packet of honeyed nuts, of course. Where Rain had found those, she had no idea. Such luxuries were growing exceptionally scarce. The fact that he’d tracked them down for her wasn’t even the most touching gesture. That had been the coffee. He’d sweetened it just the way she liked, even though doing so must have physically hurt him.

Popping the last almond into her mouth, Ameliah looked down at the empty paper packet, marked with the tiny red symbol Rain claimed was a heart. Smiling, she folded it neatly, then tucked it into a pocket. She wasn’t being sentimental—well, maybe a little—it was just that she wasn’t a big fan of littering. Not that it would have made much of a difference.

Sucking the lingering honey from her armored fingers, Ameliah looked around with a sigh. The corrupted landscape really wasn’t pleasant to look at, which had made it difficult to enjoy her meal, exceptional as it had been. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, but she knew she had to be approaching the city now, simply by the mushrooms. The surrounding forest was being rapidly consumed, shelf-like fungus protruding every-which-way from the rotting trunks of dead trees. The pines looked particularly odd, husks of themselves after losing their needles. Those had clearly been appreciated by the toxic moss, which carpeted the forest floor like a thick, disgusting rug, with yet more mushrooms poking through it here and there.

Fortunately for Ameliah, the road was more or less clear, the hard-packed dirt and gravel somehow resisting the growth. That wouldn’t last, she was sure, not as winter faded into spring. Here and there, there was an occasional patch of dirty snow, but for the most part it had all melted.

It won’t be long now.

A gust of wind ruffled Ameliah’s cloak, and she wrinkled her nose, then closed her visor. The air was heavy with the scent of rot, and increasingly, a slight odor of char. She assumed the latter was just the Watch fighting back against the corruption with cleansing fire. That’s what she’d have done if she were them. It wasn’t like there were any animals to worry about. The forest was deathly silent, and with the clouds that had been steadily rolling in, quite oppressive, really.

Gods, I miss Purify. I should have taken it before I left. I’ll swap it in once I get to the city, I guess. Actually, I’d better do that before I need to figure out how to open this armor...or how to go at all. It’s been...a while.

...

Maybe I shouldn’t have had all that coffee.

Blinking, Ameliah sped back up to an urgent jog, but she didn’t make it more than a dozen steps before a whisper of sound from the road ahead made her come to a stop. Silently, she slipped an arrow from her quiver and nocked it. She didn’t draw, however. It was probably just a monster, but now that she was nearing the city, there was a chance that it was a Watch patrol. If that was the case, it would be best to avoid any misunderstandings. In the wilds, people tended to get a little jumpy—as in ‘Fireball first, hello later’ jumpy. As she waited, the sound came again, gradually resolving itself into approaching footsteps.

Ameliah wasn’t quite sure why she decided to leave the road. Perhaps it was an accumulation of little things that put her on edge. Something off about the hurried cadence of the footsteps, maybe. It could also have been some lingering unease from passing through Essed. Seeing the graves again had affected her more strongly than she’d expected. Whatever the reason, she was feeling slightly foolish as she scurried back a little way to duck behind a patch of brambles that was mostly free of corruption.

The footsteps gradually grew clearer, along with the faint clink of armor.

Ameliah grimaced. What am I doing? It’s just the Watch on a patrol. What is my plan here, exactly? Jump out at them and say ‘boo’?

Moments from standing, Ameliah’s breath caught. A figure had rounded the bend. Through the brambles, she could see that it was a warrior, wearing full plate and bearing a rectangular tower shield. Both his armor and shield were gray, and emblazoned upon the shield was a symbol. Two vertical lines. Black. Styled like nails.

The Empire!

Ameliah’s grip tightened on her bow as her heart attempted to climb into her throat. Had the weapon been made of wood as it seemed to be, it would have splintered from the force. Not daring to move, not even to breathe, she watched as more figures came around the bend. First came a second shield-bearer, then a man wearing loose half-plate, with a ludicrously oversized sword propped against his shoulder. A man with a bow wearing gray leather was next, his eyes scanning the forest from beneath an armored cap. Behind him was another man in similar armor but with no apparent weapons. Last came three women in gray robes, two of which carried crystal-tipped staffs. Mages. Eight people in total, soldiers, all in imperial gray. A full party.

What are they doing here?

As Ameliah’s blood pounded in her ears, the soldiers drew steadily nearer. From their alert gazes and steady pace, it didn’t strike her that this was a random occurrence. They were clearly looking for something. No. For someone. They were looking for her.

Fuck! They must have a Diviner!

Suddenly, the man with the bow stopped. “Got something,” he said, kneeling to touch the ground.

“Halt!” the Swordsman shouted, and the others immediately took defensive positions. He hefted his ridiculous sword, adjusting its position against his chest, then turned to face the archer. “What is it?”

“Tracks, sir,” replied the first man, looking up the road in the direction Ameliah had come. “Armored boots. They’re close.”

Shit!

Time seemed to slow. The dirt road was frozen too hard to take a bootprint, which meant the archer was actually a Tracker. Even if Ameliah had trusted her flimsy cover to shield her from regular eyes, his would pick her out easily. She had only an instant, and in that instant, she had to make a choice.

Sorry, but I don’t have the time to be stalled.

Ameliah lowered her bow, listening hard as silence fell but for the crackling of flames. After glancing over the bodies to make sure none had survived, she looked down the road, then up at the sky. She knew she had to risk taking a look over the trees, but doing so here would be idiotic.

She cursed, thinking as she darted off into the trees. She had no doubt that the Watch wouldn’t just let the Empire skulk around. That meant either they didn’t know they were here, or that they did and couldn’t do anything about it.

If it’s the first one, this might not be so bad. If I can get past them to the city, I can get help, and then the Watch can drive them off.

Thoroughly lost in the trees at this point and spattered with filth from plowing through the corrupted underbrush, Ameliah slowed, judging the distance sufficient. She leapt into the air, and with a few steps, made it to a high branch of an ancient-looking tree. The rotting wood creaked beneath her feet, but held. Turning, she searched for the city through the skeletal branches.

She almost fell when she saw it, or rather, what was left of it.

Not a single structure remained in Fel Sadanis, including the citadel the Watch had been building. Everything had been flattened as if swatted by an enormous hand, and then the rubble burned almost beyond recognition. The scent of char came even stronger to Ameliah’s nose now that she was less sheltered from the wind, but she barely even noticed. The devastation that had been wrought upon the city was mild compared to what had been done to the surrounding land.

The shattered corpse of Fel Sadanis now sat on a perfectly circular mesa, marking where the barrier had once ended. Surrounding the mesa was a crater. There was no sign of the stone outcrop that had once leaned against the barrier. It had been obliterated, as had the others raised by the Geomancer Citizen in the battle against the Empire. The very hills had been blasted apart, the dirt gouged away down to shattered bedrock. The Sadanis river was pooling at the bottom of the crater around the mesa’s base, promising one day to be an enormous lake with an island at its center.

Ameliah reached out to steady herself against the trunk of the tree, finding that she couldn’t breathe. Destruction like this simply couldn’t happen. The world didn’t allow it.

A few moments passed while she simply stared, a cold certainty falling over her. As the spell began to break, she took a ragged breath, then, though it was unwise, raised her visor. Squinting, she could just barely make out the tiny black threads, spreading like frozen lightning from the sky. Not threads. Cracks. Cracks in reality. She’d never seen their like, but she’d heard them described. The world hadn’t allowed this. The damage had simply been done anyway.

Ameliah tightened her grip on the tree, bark splintering beneath her fingers. Fecht. Fecht did this. He caused the earthquake.

A flash of light from the corner of her eye sent a spike of terror through Ameliah’s mind, bringing her attention back to her present situation. She turned her head sharply, the bottom dropping out of her stomach all over again.

There, at the southern edge of the crater, was an army. Thousands strong. Rank after rank of gray-armored soldiers, distorted behind a many-layered barrier of magic. Carefully nudging aside a branch to get a better view, Ameliah took in the details. The army was far from her position, but it was clear enough that they were readying themselves for an assault. Another bubble of force sprang up around them as she watched, adding another layer to their defenses and making it even harder to make out individual soldiers.

They’re turtling up. I must have got the Mentalist in time, then. They must think I’m a Citizen or something. That won’t last. Eventually, they’ll realize— Ameliah squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly clinging to the tree trunk for support. I left tracks. They’ll follow them....

Wait, I can still fix this! With Mask Trail, I could—

Ameliah stopped, then took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, sealing away the nonsense ramblings of her panicked mind.

There’s no time. It wouldn’t even help. They already know I came from the east. All they’d need to do would be to follow the road.

She closed her eyes.

I can’t fix this.

With wooden fingers, she reached up, then closed her visor. She held out her hand. A metal plate appeared, then vanished. The message was sent.

Letting herself fall from the tree, Ameliah landed heavily. And then she ran.

Gravel crunched as Dominus Alarus dismounted. Passing the reins to an attendant, he turned, then walked past the ranks of scouts standing stiffly at attention. Stopping before the mostly-intact body of a Shield Defender, he knelt and extended two fingers to touch a hole that had been punched through the man’s shield. He pushed them deeper, feeling around the edges and stopping only when he felt cooling flesh on the other side. Retracting his fingers, he idly rubbed at the blood with his thumb, little warmth remaining in the sticky liquid. The arrow that had made the hole was gone, of course, having been a construct, but the scouts had found this place before it had been too late.

Wordlessly, the Dominus raised his hand over his shoulder. There was a clomp of boots as a soldier stepped smartly forward, then placed a scrap of paper into his waiting hand. Bringing it before his eyes, he moved his thumb, leaving a crimson smear on the sketch. The shape of the arrowhead could have been a coincidence, but the old wound in his shoulder ached in recognition. There were also a few lines of text, noting the material and the details of the spent enchantment. He glanced over these briefly, certainty forming in his mind as he connected them to dozens of reports, stretching back for years.

The slaughtered Mentalist hadn’t mentioned the antlers before she’d been silenced, but the Dominus knew. He knew the evil that she had faced. He had faced it himself, emerging victorious even though he’d yet to be Called. Back when he’d been the nothing commander of a nothing garrison along the frontier.

Standing, Alarus let the scrap of paper flutter to the ground, his eyes following the road to the east. “So. They are back.”