Golden Tide (Song of the Aura, Book Four) (16 page)

Anyway, it seemed as if no one was about yet. It was still early in the morning, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It was soft, and made no sound when Lauro walked on it. He needed to get away; to have time to think.

He climbed the lowest part of the rubble he could find. It was the only way in and out, and he still felt a little shaky when Sky Striding, after yesterday. When he dropped down on the grass outside the barricade, though, he almost fell over in surprise. Avarine was leaning against the wall, mere feet away from him: he could have landed on her.

“
I… didn’t know you were up,” he said hesitantly. She didn’t respond. Her head was tipped back against the wall, and her eyes were closed. Had she fallen asleep? Against his better judgment, he decided to keep speaking. “Are you all right? I know a lot has happened, Avarine…”

“
Don’t,” she said, cutting him off. He bit off his words, wondering whether to feel annoyed, or just pleased that she had spoken to him again. He settled for being impulsive.

“
Don’t what?”

“
Don’t try to soften me. Not yet.” She opened her eyes, but didn’t turn to look at him. Her arms were folded, either from anger or tiredness. He noticed that, and the exhausted way she held herself. Why wouldn’t she let him explain, and help? Her hair was tied loosely behind her head today… why did he notice that, of all things?

“
I only wanted to say…” he gulped as she turned her accusing brown eyes at him, “…that I’m sorry for what I did, and that I’m… If I had been thinking… If I had…” He couldn’t seem to form the words. Looking at her, seeing the hurt he had caused... his tongue wouldn’t work. His mind seemed frozen. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“
I’m leaving, Lauro Vale,” she said quietly. “Some of the rangers will come with me. We’re going to retake Mortenhine.”

“
Wh… what?” He could barely believe his ears.

She turned to look at him, brown eyes wide. “My father’s death showed me what I couldn’t see, with you, Lauro Vale. I have a duty to the Creator, just like you. That duty… is in Mortenhine. The Blackwood must change, and I’m the only one who can stand for it.” Was she crying?

“
But we…” he began to protest, taking a hesitant step toward her, then stopped. No. She wouldn’t want him, not now. What was he accomplishing here, other than to make a fool of himself? Grunting to stop the tears, Lauro turned to walk away from the camp, and away from
her
.

“
Lauro.” She had always called him by his full name. Why not now?

He turned. She wasn’t leaning any more. She was walking towards him, slowly, limping from that old wound he hadn’t been able to heal. “Yes?” he said softly.

Her anger was gone. She came to him, and stood close, just breathing. “My duty is with my people, so I will go. But Lauro… my heart is with you.”

Then she reached up and kissed him, hard, holding him as if she couldn’t bear to let go. He kissed her back, stroking her hair, holding her close.

And something
sparked
; something he could never after put a name to. It was Light, it was Storm, it was Sky, it was Spirit. It was an impossible possibility. It was her, it was him, it was
them
.

He pulled himself reluctantly away. She was looking at him now, smiling that same sad smile… and she was glowing again. Lightbringing.

“
You’re…” he said.

“
You, too,” she told him. He looked down, and saw that he
was!
Light like hers shone from his hands and, when he looked cross-eyed, his face, too. Not as bright as hers, but…

Avarine laughed, a light, good-hearted laugh. “I’ll never understand you, Lauro Vale.” There. His full name again.

“
And I, you,” he said, grinning. He couldn’t just see the emotion on her face… he could
feel
it; feel her joy, tinged with sadness, but not tainted by it. His mouth opened. “We’re…”

“…
Linked,” she finished for him. “I can feel it… I must have… well, I don’t know. But…” and she looked down, shifting her weight. “I don’t feel pain anymore.
Anywhere
. My leg is healed. I think… I think it wasn’t just me. It was
both
of us.”

“
Yes… I guess it was.” He felt her cheek. “And it always will be, from now on.”

He looked at her, and she looked back… and everything was as it should be again.

“
Ah… I don’t suppose you two are done yet?” A blue-hooded head popped up from behind the barricade, wincing merrily in mock disgust. “We have a bit of planning to do, you see…”

“
Mudlo!” Avarine shrieked. Lauro threw back his head, laughing. He couldn’t help it.

Vastion was being overrun. Very well. Today, that was not Karanel’s concern.

It had been some time since she had found herself again, found her sanity after the cataclysm that should have killed her. Now she had risen far, and changed much… but that was not her concern either. Not today, at least. Today, her only objective was to
learn
.

Manlyn had been one of the first Vastic cities to fall to the golems and Coalskins. It had not been the last, before King Larion’s army had halted the tide, breaking it for a few more precious weeks with the spearhead of the White Wind. Karanel had reached it easily enough, leaving her direhawk well to the South, and therefore coming toward the place from the direction its occupants would least expect a warrior of Vastion to come from. Now, as she neared the gates, she realized that
coming
would be the easiest part.

Manlyn was a city mobilized for war. Refugees from the surrounding areas poured in, but they were guarded by the invaders, ushered along by the invaders, even “protected” by the invaders. It was all so wrong that Karanel felt she would be sick… The invasion had been that fast. When the dalheims fell, all nearly at once, there had been no way to stop them, and now more came every day: iron beasts that belched fire, legions of Coalskins in gold or bronze armor, and even what looked like a small metal fortress that rolled along on spiked wheels, crossbow-wielding Coalskins peeping out at windows in its side.

Karanel pulled her hood farther forward as she joined the throng of refugees hastening to enter the city of their new rulers. She had dyed her hair and changed her clothes, disguising herself as a peasant. If it cost her the last hand she had, she would learn who these demons were, and why they had come. A legion from the underworld, in retribution for Vastion’s sins? She doubted it. The Creator would never allow such a thing. Then what
were
the Coalskins? Whatever or whoever, they certainly were far more advanced than Vastion, or the squabbling bandit lords, or even the fabled Sea Nymphs.

The former Windmaster allowed herself to be jostled and shoved as the rabble filed through Manlyn’s Southeastern gates. The Coalskins had guards on the walltop, but didn’t bother checking any of the peasants entering: the massive golem waiting idly outside the archway was terrifying enough that they obviously considered it unnecessary. Karanel frowned.
Pure arrogance
. But there was nothing she could do. Not now.

As the crowd oozed through the gate, giving the golem a wide berth, Karanel unconsciously tugged her hood a little farther, shrouding her face a little more, and hugged the stump of her right hand beneath her good arm. There was nothing she could do now, if she was seen and suspected to have been in the war.

Her desperate defense of the dalheim had not just claimed her hand. It had claimed her Striding, too.
That
was why she wanted to learn. She had lost the advantage Striding had given her, and it was up to her to make up for it. She couldn’t beat them with raw power, as she had thought back at the dalheim. She would beat them with her mind. With
knowledge
.

And with prayer. She’d met a cleric, during the horrible flight when her men had been caught and massacred, and she was left to wander aimlessly through the war-torn villages of her crumbling nation. He had helped her to see. Where strength failed them… that was the time to believe.

Anything that helps us beat these hellspawn to dust,
Karanel thought grimly.

The people around her were so caught in their own woes that they didn’t see her slip to the edge of the crowd and dart down a side alley between two tall pillared buildings. As the shadows hid her, she slowed, mind searching for the next logical step.

Time to learn.

~

Gribly paced the deck of the
Invincible
furiously. Why was his father delaying? Every minute, Elia grew farther away! And to top it all, they had been forced to wait almost twice as long as he’d wanted to before setting sail. The Lord of Rogues was
still
not on the warship, yet, and Gribly didn’t know what to think. Well, he could guess. Lord Danner had been giving trouble again, most likely. Gram had impulsively decided to come with them, and that sat not well at all with the Waterpike, who seemed strangely loyal to his master. Still, blast it all, Gram was
king
!

“
Can’t he just order them?” Gribly grumbled to himself. It was how the Dunelord would have done things, and that was the only ruler Gribly had met… well, besides the Raitharch, Varstis, not to mention Lauro himself…
Oh, forget it.

He spotted movement down below. Someone striding along the docks in a flapping black coat and yellow shirt.
Finally.

Gram came to stand on the edge of the pier, looking up with squinting eyes. He looked a bit winded. “Could’ve at least put down a gangplank,” the huge man said.

“
Oh!” Gribly had come up the night before, expecting promises to be kept and ship to be leaving immediately. He’d forgotten to have Berne leave it down. “I’ll get that in a moment…”

“
No need,” sighed Gram. Hefting his war hammer off one shoulder, he swung it in a wide upward arc. The air hummed, as if sensing the compressed weight and might of the hammer. Gram was lifted-
flung
was more like it- up into the air, as high as Gribly, coming to land on the deck in front of him with a heavy
thud
. The pirate king stumbled, cursing, and caught his balance. “Blast! I’ve been too long on the sea, Gramlen… the Stone just doesn’t come like it used to, though it’s been better lately. Haven’t Stoneflown in years, like that. Bloody death!”

Gribly just watched, stunned. “That was a Stone Striding power?”

“
Using the hammer, yes,” Gram replied.

“
The hammer…” Gribly mused, suddenly thoughtful, “Where’d you get it?”

Gram grinned wide, eyes twinkling in his flabby face. “Stole it. From the Red Aura.”

Gribly’s eyes bulged. “You…”

“
A lot’s changed since you were taken, Gramlen,” Gram sighed, strutting down the deck with an arm across Gribly’s shoulders. “But not our family. We’ll always be rogues, Gramlen.” His grin was roguish indeed, but Gribly still winced a little inside before returning it.
Gramlen
. He wasn’t sure he wanted the name.

“
Let’s go meet with Berne,” he told his father. “He says he’s got some way for us to catch Sheolus’s ship, even with the massive head start they’ve got.”

And we’re going to need it, now,
he wanted to say. Though he didn’t mention it, Gram frowned and seemed to hear the implication.

Everyone seemed to think their reunion perfect, Gribly knew. How wrong
that
was.

~

The invaders called themselves the Golden Nation. An obvious name in Karanel’s opinion, as nearly everything they made seemed to be made of gold or bronze or some shiny metal. She suspected most of it was fake, or conjured somehow. Gold and bronze were too soft to be reliable in battle. But who knew, with these invaders? If they could control Fire and Shadow themselves, who knew what else they were capable of?

No one… except Karanel. Her days here had taught her much… almost
too
much.

Turning a corner, she loped down the dark, dirty side-alley where she had set up something of a residence along with some of the city’s other beggars. There were many, and they were routinely ignored by those who now ruled Manlyn. It had given her the perfect opportunity to spy, and one thing at least had become hideously clear: the Golden Nation was not run entirely by Coalskins, as she had thought. The creatures were barely sentient, in her opinion, and she soon found that they had been aided on many fronts by traitors within the city… traitors who now ruled in the highest administrative posts, keeping order when the strangeness and cruelty of Coalskin ways grew unbearable.