Kingsbane (Empirium 2)

“I want to tell you our plan for tomorrow,” Patrik said, all humor gone from his voice. “Not because I trust you, but because I only have one other truly exemplary fighter here with me, and I’ll need you ready. The moment I catch a whiff of any trouble, I’ll shoot you without hesitation, and I won’t miss.”

Eliana nodded. “Is it Jessamyn? The other fighter?”

“Indeed. And if I’m dead by the time you decide to betray us, she’ll be the one to kill you.”

“Can you tell me one more time, please, what will happen if I betray you? I’m still unclear on that point.”

Patrik chuckled darkly. “As I said on the Streganna, most of the people in our care are from the city of Karlaine. The Empire presence is weak there. It’s a city of minimal strategic importance, not located on any major waterways or roadways. But a straight path to the city is blocked by the Nalora River, some ten miles away from Karlaine. There’s a small outpost there, on the west side of the river. The land is flat and open. Sentries could see for miles.

“Our goal is twofold: to provide a distraction while the refugees cross the river and flee to Karlaine. And to raid the outpost, freeing as many prisoners as possible. We’ll take the survivors to Karlaine, if we’re able, and if not, then we’ll trust that our refugees have made it to Karlaine and retreat with the survivors to a Red Crown safe house about thirty miles south of here. It’s not ideal. I doubt they’ll be in any condition to travel, but at least they’ll be out of that laboratory.”

Eliana turned to face him, suddenly alert. “What sort of laboratory? Fidelia?”

“Our intelligence was patchy, but yes, I believe so. This outpost exists to guard it.”

Then a thought occurred to Eliana, and with it came a warm rush of relief that soothed some of the chaos raging in her mind.

“What is it?” Patrik was watching her. “You’ve thought of something.”

“When Navi and I were held by Fidelia, she was experimented upon and tortured. By the time we fled, her body had begun to change. She suffered for weeks.”

Patrik closed his eyes. “I am sorry to hear this. A great pity that she was the one to suffer, and not you.”

“You are admirably consistent in your hatred.”

“Did she die?”

“No. Harkan and I found an antidote.”

Patrik sat up, his expression brightening. “Do you have more of this?”

“We do. He packed what was left in his bag before he… Before we left.”

“Will you share it with the survivors we liberate? To assuage what I hope is an all-consuming, ever-present guilt?”

“No,” she said lightly, “I thought I would toss it all into the river as we pass by.”

Patrik laughed a little, scrubbing his face. “I have had very few joys in this life, and even fewer since being separated from my Hob. Your news is one of them, and I thank you for it.”

“Have I improved your opinion of me?”

“Ever so marginally.”

“Ah. Progress.”

They sat quietly, watching the sea. Then Patrik spoke, his voice gentler.

“Were you separated from Remy during the invasion?” he asked. “Or did you leave him behind deliberately?”

A hot clutch of tears seized Eliana’s throat. For several seconds she physically could not answer him.

“Harkan took me,” she said at last, her voice a shadow of itself. “He wanted to get me away to safety. He drugged me and dragged me out of the city before the Empire could reach the palace. He was well intentioned, and utterly misguided, and I’ll never forgive him for it. I don’t know what’s happened to Remy. I don’t know if he survived the invasion.”

Patrik sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She laughed.

“Truly, I am. That was a grave error on Harkan’s part.”

“It’s probably better this way. Remy will live longer, the farther away from me he remains. I’m not safe.”

She sensed Patrik glancing at her hands. “What does that mean?”

“It means many things.”

He nodded, gazing out over the water. “And Simon? Was he well when last you saw him?”

“When last I saw him,” she said, her voice trailing off as she recalled the way he had looked at her that evening in her rooms. How his mouth had blazed a hot trail across her jaw, her neck.

How furious he must have been—and, perhaps, how frightened—when he’d realized she’d gone missing.

Now that I’ve known a life with you by my side, I’m not sure I could bear that kind of loneliness again.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her middle, against the chill of the sea. “He was well.”

• • •

They arrived at the Empire outpost after three days of travel. Caebris, it was called, according to Patrik. A series of squat black buildings huddled against the banks of the Nalora River. Surrounding them stood a high stone wall with slender, square towers at each of its corners.

Eliana scanned the outpost. Flat on her belly, hidden by the scrubby grasses of a low ridge, she waited for Patrik’s signal. Night had fallen. A western breeze slithered between the thin, dry stalks of grass that clustered across the flat riverlands.

She glanced once to her left. Several yards away, Harkan waited with Jessamyn and two Red Crown fighters—Dasha and Viri. Small bands of refugees hid in tussocks to her right, not half a mile down the riverbank, where a narrow bridge allowed passage across the river.

Looking at the bridge, Eliana tensed. It was a wide river; the bridge seemed to stretch for miles. Thirty-foot watchtowers stood at each bank. Patrik hoped the havoc they would wreak, once inside the walls, would urge any sentries from their posts, leaving the bridge clear for refugees to flee across. The boy Gerren, who was not made for close combat but was a prodigious marksman, waited near the closer watchtower with his rifle, ready to pick off adatrox from the ground.

A shift of light caught Eliana’s eye, drawing her attention back to the outpost. The main doors were opening, admitting a thin wash of torchlight from within. Dark figures moved through the light—some entering, some exiting. Horses being moved, supplies carried and dragged. A shift change.

From a few paces ahead of her, hidden in the grass, came the low call of a quail, followed by a second.

Patrik’s signal.

Eliana pushed herself to her feet and ran down the slight hill toward the river. She glanced to her left only once and saw the other attack parties echoing her progress, in groups of two or three. Rebels mostly, but also a few of the refugees who were strong enough to fight and itching for the chance. o;I want to tell you our plan for tomorrow,” Patrik said, all humor gone from his voice. “Not because I trust you, but because I only have one other truly exemplary fighter here with me, and I’ll need you ready. The moment I catch a whiff of any trouble, I’ll shoot you without hesitation, and I won’t miss.”

Eliana nodded. “Is it Jessamyn? The other fighter?”

“Indeed. And if I’m dead by the time you decide to betray us, she’ll be the one to kill you.”

“Can you tell me one more time, please, what will happen if I betray you? I’m still unclear on that point.”

Patrik chuckled darkly. “As I said on the Streganna, most of the people in our care are from the city of Karlaine. The Empire presence is weak there. It’s a city of minimal strategic importance, not located on any major waterways or roadways. But a straight path to the city is blocked by the Nalora River, some ten miles away from Karlaine. There’s a small outpost there, on the west side of the river. The land is flat and open. Sentries could see for miles.

“Our goal is twofold: to provide a distraction while the refugees cross the river and flee to Karlaine. And to raid the outpost, freeing as many prisoners as possible. We’ll take the survivors to Karlaine, if we’re able, and if not, then we’ll trust that our refugees have made it to Karlaine and retreat with the survivors to a Red Crown safe house about thirty miles south of here. It’s not ideal. I doubt they’ll be in any condition to travel, but at least they’ll be out of that laboratory.”

Eliana turned to face him, suddenly alert. “What sort of laboratory? Fidelia?”

“Our intelligence was patchy, but yes, I believe so. This outpost exists to guard it.”

Then a thought occurred to Eliana, and with it came a warm rush of relief that soothed some of the chaos raging in her mind.

“What is it?” Patrik was watching her. “You’ve thought of something.”

“When Navi and I were held by Fidelia, she was experimented upon and tortured. By the time we fled, her body had begun to change. She suffered for weeks.”

Patrik closed his eyes. “I am sorry to hear this. A great pity that she was the one to suffer, and not you.”

“You are admirably consistent in your hatred.”

“Did she die?”

“No. Harkan and I found an antidote.”

Patrik sat up, his expression brightening. “Do you have more of this?”

“We do. He packed what was left in his bag before he… Before we left.”

“Will you share it with the survivors we liberate? To assuage what I hope is an all-consuming, ever-present guilt?”

“No,” she said lightly, “I thought I would toss it all into the river as we pass by.”

Patrik laughed a little, scrubbing his face. “I have had very few joys in this life, and even fewer since being separated from my Hob. Your news is one of them, and I thank you for it.”

“Have I improved your opinion of me?”

“Ever so marginally.”

“Ah. Progress.”

They sat quietly, watching the sea. Then Patrik spoke, his voice gentler.

“Were you separated from Remy during the invasion?” he asked. “Or did you leave him behind deliberately?”

A hot clutch of tears seized Eliana’s throat. For several seconds she physically could not answer him.

“Harkan took me,” she said at last, her voice a shadow of itself. “He wanted to get me away to safety. He drugged me and dragged me out of the city before the Empire could reach the palace. He was well intentioned, and utterly misguided, and I’ll never forgive him for it. I don’t know what’s happened to Remy. I don’t know if he survived the invasion.”

Patrik sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

She laughed.

“Truly, I am. That was a grave error on Harkan’s part.”

“It’s probably better this way. Remy will live longer, the farther away from me he remains. I’m not safe.”

She sensed Patrik glancing at her hands. “What does that mean?”

“It means many things.”

He nodded, gazing out over the water. “And Simon? Was he well when last you saw him?”

“When last I saw him,” she said, her voice trailing off as she recalled the way he had looked at her that evening in her rooms. How his mouth had blazed a hot trail across her jaw, her neck.

How furious he must have been—and, perhaps, how frightened—when he’d realized she’d gone missing.

Now that I’ve known a life with you by my side, I’m not sure I could bear that kind of loneliness again.

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her middle, against the chill of the sea. “He was well.”

• • •

They arrived at the Empire outpost after three days of travel. Caebris, it was called, according to Patrik. A series of squat black buildings huddled against the banks of the Nalora River. Surrounding them stood a high stone wall with slender, square towers at each of its corners.

Eliana scanned the outpost. Flat on her belly, hidden by the scrubby grasses of a low ridge, she waited for Patrik’s signal. Night had fallen. A western breeze slithered between the thin, dry stalks of grass that clustered across the flat riverlands.

She glanced once to her left. Several yards away, Harkan waited with Jessamyn and two Red Crown fighters—Dasha and Viri. Small bands of refugees hid in tussocks to her right, not half a mile down the riverbank, where a narrow bridge allowed passage across the river.

Looking at the bridge, Eliana tensed. It was a wide river; the bridge seemed to stretch for miles. Thirty-foot watchtowers stood at each bank. Patrik hoped the havoc they would wreak, once inside the walls, would urge any sentries from their posts, leaving the bridge clear for refugees to flee across. The boy Gerren, who was not made for close combat but was a prodigious marksman, waited near the closer watchtower with his rifle, ready to pick off adatrox from the ground.

A shift of light caught Eliana’s eye, drawing her attention back to the outpost. The main doors were opening, admitting a thin wash of torchlight from within. Dark figures moved through the light—some entering, some exiting. Horses being moved, supplies carried and dragged. A shift change.

From a few paces ahead of her, hidden in the grass, came the low call of a quail, followed by a second.

Patrik’s signal.

Eliana pushed herself to her feet and ran down the slight hill toward the river. She glanced to her left only once and saw the other attack parties echoing her progress, in groups of two or three. Rebels mostly, but also a few of the refugees who were strong enough to fight and itching for the chance.