Blood of Empire

Chapter 48

It took the Adran Army longer than Vlora expected to crush the Dynize. Despite Nila’s flames raining down on them from above, they held their line against Vlora’s cuirassiers for the better part of the afternoon and well into the evening. It was dark by the time her dragoons managed to flank them and the Dynize finally fell apart beneath the two-sided onslaught. Weapons were thrown down, and Vlora’s infantry finally came over the hill to make camp, organize the prisoners, dispose of the dead, and secure the keelboats and the stone pedestal that had been the focus of all this effort.

Vlora slept fitfully that night and was up early, heading down to the river’s edge with Davd in tow. The ground still smoldered from Nila’s sorcery, but at least the corpses were cleaned up – one of her brigades had spent most of the night transporting the bodies downriver a mile and burning them all so that they wouldn’t spread disease as her own soldiers dug into the position.

“What’s this bridge called?” she asked Davd, leaving the riverbank and gaining the stone bridge, where early-rising infantry were in the midst of moving aside all of the engineering equipment so that they could use the whole span.

“Ferrymore, I believe,” Davd told her. “Sight of an old ferry. The bridge is relatively new.”

“And well made.” Vlora kicked a stone. No wonder Burt’s irregulars hadn’t destroyed it. They probably had no way of doing so. She walked across the bridge, returning salutes from her soldiers, and descended to the opposite bank, where she found that the keelboat containing their prize had been lashed to the opposite bank. She spotted Nila’s colorful dress moving around the side of the pedestal and Bo standing on the bank with a number of Dynize prisoners. Vlora joined him.

“Who are these?” she asked.

Bo took a step away from the prisoners. “Officers,” he reported. “Their general died in the melee, but we have a colonel and three majors. I’m trying to find out what the bloody pit this stone is for.”

“Burt thought it was a pedestal.”

“Yes, and he might be right. But… might also be wrong.”

“What else could it be used for?”

He shrugged. “Not a goddamned clue. Nila was up all night trying to get something out of it by lamplight.”

“Are these any help?” Vlora jerked her chin at the prisoners. Three men and a woman, all of them staring at their feet in dejection. They’d been disarmed but were not bound, though a rifleman with fixed bayonet had been assigned to watch each of them.

“Remember how Etepali told you that every army has their own orders?”

“Yes?”

“Seems that Sedial takes the old ‘Don’t let one hand know what the other is doing’ approach very seriously. Not only are the officers in the dark, but it turns out they didn’t even know where they were going until they got to Yellow Creek. Once there, they dug this thing out of the mountainside and were told to get it back to Landfall. No other information.”

“Who was giving the orders?”

“The Privileged that Burt’s irregulars killed in their ambush.”

“Ah.” Vlora made a sour face.

“Turns out that they did have a bone-eye with them, too, yesterday.”

Vlora stiffened. “Neither you nor the powder mages noticed?”

“Nope. He wasn’t very powerful, and apparently he killed himself rather than be taken prisoner.”

Vlora threw her arms up. “Have we just stumbled across Sedial’s most devoted blind followers?”

“We might have at that,” Bo said seriously.

“Pit on a stick. Where is Burt?”

“Probably still sleeping.”

“Have you been up all night, too?”

Bo nodded. “Baggage train is just arriving. We don’t even have our tent yet.”

“Well, see if you can get anything else out of them. Oh, and do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Make sure no one tells Delia a damned thing about this stone.”

“Done.”

“Thanks.” Vlora turned and, with a deep breath, boarded the keelboat with the pedestal. As she’d expected, she felt nothing from the stone. No dread, no sorcerous aura, not even a sense of preternatural foreboding. It was just a cut rock. She had been wrong about one thing – up this close, she could clearly see that the stone was covered in script and symbols that, unless her memory was playing tricks on her, matched quite well with those on the godstone.

She rounded the end of the stone and crossed to the other side, where she found Nila squatting beside some writing, her lips pressed into a firm line, eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t Prime Lektor be here?” Vlora asked.

“He was with the baggage train last night,” Nila answered without looking up. “I’ve sent someone to fetch him, and if he’s not here in an hour, I’ll go myself.”

Vlora snorted. Nila was wildly powerful, but the fact that she was so dismissive of one of the ancient Predeii pushed past amusing and bordered on madness. Was Nila stronger than even she let on? Or did Prime’s inactivity just bother her that much? “Anything yet?” Vlora asked.

“Not a bit.” Nila pressed her palm against the stone and shook her head. “I haven’t actually seen a complete godstone yet, but this piece here is entirely unlike the capstone we have with the fleet. They’re made of the same material and they’re covered with the same writing, but unlike the capstone, this is entirely inert. Not even an inkling of sorcery coming off it.”

“Burt claimed it was writhing with dark sorcery.”

“Perhaps. It might have gone dormant somehow. Or whoever had given him that report was overreacting. I won’t know for sure until I’ve had more time to study it.”

Vlora frowned, wondering if she’d made an enormous mistake. This quick march from the coast had cost them lives, time, positioning, and easy contact with her fleet. She had three field armies bearing down on her. Had she done all of this for a piece of rock that held, at the end of the day, no importance? She couldn’t believe it. No, Sedial had sent his soldiers to retrieve it for a reason. Now it was her task to find out why.

She watched Nila’s examination and was just about to head back across the river to check in with her general staff when she caught sight of Prime Lektor walking slowly over the bridge toward her. “Speak of him and he shall appear,” she muttered.

Nila snorted and still didn’t look up.

Prime paused on the bank just off the bridge, examining the pedestal with a sour look. He avoided Vlora’s gaze and seemed to be avoiding even looking at Nila. He was rooted in place, and even when Vlora gestured for him to join them, he didn’t respond. Irritated, Vlora left the keelboat and went to him.

“What is your problem?” she demanded.

The Predeii started. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you standing here with a constipated look on your face? Nila and Bo have been at this thing all night.”

“I’m sure they’re doing a fine job,” he said.

“And I’m sure the only reason we brought you with us is to figure out what the pit this is and why the Dynize want it.”

Prime turned his face toward Vlora, but his gaze remained locked on the stone slab. He didn’t answer.

“Why are you avoiding it?” she demanded.

His attention finally shifted to her, and his tone took on an imperious note that she associated more with that of an ancient sorcerer. “I would like to remind you who I am and that your friend Taniel is no longer here. I will not be bullied and disrespected.”

Vlora resisted the urge to back down. Prime was immensely powerful, it was true, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t afford to. Either he was a threat that could destroy them all, or he wasn’t. And she suspected that despite his willingness to kill her back at Yellow Creek, he didn’t have the nerve to make a move against four powder mages, two Privileged, and a whole field army. “Why are you afraid of Nila?” she asked.

Prime’s expression visibly tightened.

“Is she stronger than you?” Vlora pushed.

“No,” Prime said confidently. “She is not.”

“Then why are you afraid?”

“I’m not…” He trailed off, then gave a frustrated huff. “She doesn’t need gloves.”

“Is that scary?”

“No gloves to touch the Else. That is unheard of outside of the gods themselves. Combine that with her considerable strength, and yes, she is terrifying. But not personally. Not for the reasons you think.”

“Then for what reasons?”

Prime fixed her with a serious consideration. “Because it means that sorcery is continuing to evolve. It means that things are changing again. She might be an aberration, or she might be the beginning of a new pattern.”

“You mean that Privileged won’t need gloves in the future?” That was, Vlora admitted silently, a little terrifying. Their need for gloves was one of their biggest weaknesses.

“It won’t be immediate. I suspect that if this is an evolution, it will take hundreds of years.” Prime fell into a contemplative silence, then drew his own gloves out of his pockets and tugged them on. “Yes, I’ve been avoiding this. I don’t know what it is, and that also scares me. I sense nothing from it, but it very clearly matches the godstone. My lack of knowledge – as in the case of your friend Nila – terrifies me. But I’m here now, so I might as well get to it.” Once his gloves were on, he made a shooing gesture. “Let us work, Vlora. We’ll tell you what we can, when we can. In the meantime, I expect you have a very large battle to prepare for.”