Shattering the Ley (56 page)

“This is what I foresaw! The destruction of the Nexus; the release of the ley. This is retribution for the Baron’s arrogance, for Augustus’ belief that we could control nature. The work of the Kormanley here is done.”

Then he stepped out into the edges of the fire. Heat burned his lungs, turned his skin waxy. Embers pelted him as hot ash rained down on all sides, the streets already covered in a thick layer of gray-black.

Without looking back to see who followed, Dalton pulled his hood up to protect his face and turned away from the ruins of Erenthrall, away from the fire, and headed southwest.

A moment later, he was lost in the smoke, only a faint trail remaining in the ash.

Kara woke with a start, blinking at the darkness of the room in the building the group had finally taken shelter in. She automatically reached to light a ley globe, then winced in regret; she’d left the one she’d found in the cells back at the tower and hadn’t seen an unbroken one since.

On the opposite side of the room, a window was limned with the ethereal white light of the distortion. A figure stood there, watching the street below.

They’d stumbled for two hours though the ruins of Erenthrall, the streets of Grass choked with the debris from the collapsed towers. The fire continued to burn to the south, spreading across the river, the wind shifting direction and carrying the ash out onto the plains to the southwest. Tremors still shook the earth at odd moments. Ley continued to spout from the ground in various locations, and the sheets of undulating light drifted over parts of the city at random. One had nearly swept over them as they crawled over the rubble at the edge of Grass, one of the Dogs calling out a warning a moment before it coruscated overhead. Kara had felt drawn to its shimmering dance, even as her stomach twisted in revulsion. Where it passed, the stone of the remaining buildings looked churned and warped.

They saw no one in the streets they traversed, but Kara swore that the shadows moved in some of the buildings as they passed, and once she heard someone’s voice calling out, the sound muffled before she could locate the cry. She knew that people were watching them; she could feel their eyes prickling the skin at the base of her neck. Allan confirmed it with a nod when she sent him a questioning look. She was relieved there were other survivors, more than she had initially thought based on the signs, but it still kept them from searching the houses for food or water. Farther out, beyond the radius of damage caused by the initial explosion, she could see others moving, in groups on the streets, or clustered on the roofs of buildings. The greatest number of deaths had obviously occurred near Grass.

At one point, Kara noticed that the Wielder who had held back earlier had vanished. She hadn’t even learned his name. She assumed he’d decided to head off on his own. Allan merely shrugged when she pointed out his absence.

When the earth shook again two hours later, the sun setting low on the horizon, the clouds above tainted a deep orange, Allan finally called a halt. The Dogs scattered at a word from their leader, Bryce. They’d checked the surrounding buildings, a shout drawing the group to the three-story building where they now slept.

Kara rubbed at her eyes and rose carefully, picking her way through the huddle of Wielders, Artras, the older woman, opening her eyes to watch her as she passed before settling back down. The Dogs had taken the perimeter, two on watch. Kara noted Morrell sleeping near the Wielders, but didn’t see Allan, realizing he must be one of those on watch. As soon as she was clear of those sleeping, she moved toward the window, Allan turning as she approached.

“What’s it like out there?” she asked, settling in beside him.

Allan shook his head. “Not good.”

The night was cold, colder than she’d expected. But then she realized that there was no ley to warm the flat they were using. Even the glass of the window had been blown out by the explosion. And it had been an explosion, centered at the Nexus. Kara had visited the roof of the building before the sun vanished completely. Even from that height she could see the pattern in the destruction of the city. The towers had fallen in radii from the Nexus, like the spokes from the center of a wheel. Debris had been blown outward from that center. Buildings had imploded, or crumbled in the quakes that had followed. At least a third of those they passed had been reduced to nothing but rubble. Some districts, like Stone, had fared better than others. Eastend looked completely demolished.

A search of their building had yielded little to no provisions. Everything organic this close to Grass—clothes, blankets, food—had been burned away. They’d scavenged what they could, seen to the wounded, Kara bandaging Allan’s torso with Artras’ help, and then most had collapsed in emotional exhaustion.

A series of howls rose into the night, so close Kara caught her breath. She thought maybe the howls were what had woken her.

“How close are they?” she asked.

“Close. Maybe five blocks away.”

The howls cut off and Allan stilled, listening. The sword he’d taken from the Dog in the tower rested across his lap. He kneaded the handle with one hand.

“They’re hunting,” he said.

Kara shifted closer to the window. “What?”

“People.” At Kara’s startled glance, he motioned with his free hand into the distance. “Look.”

Kara followed the direction of his arm and saw firelight in the distance. Not the ruddy red glow of a fire raging out of control, but the pinprick light of torches. As she watched, she realized they were moving, a group of people hurrying along a street, heading out of the city. She couldn’t make out individuals, but the torches spread out into a narrow line, a few trailing behind.

The howls rose again and the hairs on Kara’s arms prickled. The line of torches halted a moment, and then those in front began to bounce as their bearers began to run. She thought she heard vague shouts, a scream. The torches trailing behind suddenly gathered together, cut off from the rest, and a moment later the baying broke into vicious snarling.

The small group of torches left behind wavered . . . and then went out.

Kara shivered. “Shouldn’t we help them?”

“We’d only draw the . . . wolves to us.”

Kara didn’t like his hesitation. “They aren’t wolves?”

Allan stared at her a long moment in the pale light thrown by the forming distortion. “I grew up outside the city, have lived the last twelve years there with my daughter. I know the howl of a wolf. These creatures are not wolves. But I don’t know what else to call them.”

Kara didn’t know what to say, fear and horror locking her throat. So she said nothing.

They sat in silence, Kara watching the darkness, catching more signs of life like the torches. Most of those were moving away, leaving Erenthrall behind. But not many. Not as many as she expected. And those signs were all distant.

The howls continued, but sounded farther away.

Finally she stirred again, disturbed. “The city . . . it’s too dark. Even with the white light of the distortion highlighting everything, it’s too dark. There should be ley light everywhere. There should be ley globes in the streets, ley illuminating the towers, a shimmer of ley in the sky above from the sails of the ley barges. Without all of that it looks—it
feels
—so empty. Where are all the people? Especially here, closer to Grass?”

Allan hesitated, then said bluntly, “Dead.”

Kara’s breath halted, her chest tightening. In the back of her mind, she’d known they were dead, but she hadn’t wanted to accept it, still didn’t want to accept it. “What do you mean?” she said, forcing herself to breathe. Slowly. Inhale, exhale; inhale, exhale. But the tightness across her chest didn’t ease.

“They’re dead,” Allan said. “Whatever happened, it killed them.”

“But what about the bodies? Where are they? What about us? How did we survive if they didn’t?” She didn’t like how strained, how thin, her own voice sounded.

Allan shrugged. “You’re the Wielder. You tell me. Because whatever happened, I think it’s obvious it involved the Nexus and the ley.”

Kara’s brow creased in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a Prime. But I do know the ley wouldn’t destroy bodies—we submerge ourselves in the ley when we climb down into the pit.”

“That’s not true,” Allan said sharply. “I remember the ley killing people during the sowing of the Flyers’ Tower. I can still see the idiots on the balcony of one of the other towers when the ley splashed over them. They died, their bodies crumpling. I heard that those who were stupid enough to be out in the open, but were close to the base of the tower, simply vanished. Nothing was left behind except jewelry—brooches and clasps, buckles.”

Kara swallowed down bile. She’d noticed the scattered metal objects hidden beneath the layers of dust in the streets on their walk here, but she hadn’t really thought about them, only registered how odd the pieces were, lying in the streets. But now. . . .

She coughed at the acid burn at the back of her throat. “I didn’t realize.” Her voice was rough. “I knew that the ley could burn out our minds if we were caught inside the node during a particularly bad surge, but no one ever said that it could incinerate us as well. It must have been something you learned as a Prime.”

“I only ever heard of such deaths at the time of the sowing,” Allan said. “And we were told by Captain Daedallen to keep the deaths quiet.”

Kara considered this silently. Then: “It must be the amount of ley involved. To sow the Flyers’ Tower, the power would have been immense, much greater than that needed to run the nodes or the ley stations. Which means that whatever happened at the Nexus must have involved a massive amount of power, something that would annihilate everyone in the city.”

“Not everyone. We survived.”

“Because we were underground,” a new voice muttered.

Kara started, but she noticed Allan didn’t even flinch. She looked over her shoulder, picked out Artras from the darkness. The older Wielder shifted closer and stood behind them, gazing out the window.

“What do you mean?” Kara asked.

“We were in the cells beneath the Amber Tower. I think we were protected from the blast. Only those who were inside buildings—deep inside, where the ley couldn’t reach—or who were sheltered somehow from it, those are the people that survived. Eastend and Shadow were destroyed because the buildings there were old, made mostly of wood. The buildings here in Green and in Eld are old, but they’re mostly stone and mortar, solidly built. Those in Stone are newer, and created by molding the earth itself. Most of those who survived this close to the source are going to be from the older districts, or were somehow in the lee of the storm when it struck. Those farther away from the Nexus probably survived as well. I’m certain the power of the explosion dissipated with distance. I could see buildings in the outer districts still standing, when others closer in and in sturdier condition didn’t. The farther we travel, the more people we’ll run into.”

They contemplated her words in silence, until the Dog in position on the far side of the flat suddenly gave a startled bark, then turned. They could see his silhouette against the window as he whispered, “Look!”

“What?” Allan demanded quietly as the three of them skirted the sleeping figures to join the Dog at the window. He was the youngest in the group, barely twenty. He gestured frantically out the window.

“To the south, near the University. It’s a light!”

Kara gasped when she saw the beacon, made from ley light, not fire. For a moment she couldn’t place it, too used to the rest of the city lights being lit to orient herself, but then she realized it was one of the giant ley globes that rested on top of the walls of the University. It flickered and guttered for a moment, everyone at the window holding their breath, but then it caught and held.

“So someone’s alive at the University,” Allan said.

Kara’s heart stuttered. Cory? Hernande? It was possible. When she’d seen them last, they’d been in the practice rooms, deep inside the main keep, surrounded by walls of stone. If they had stayed there when the Dogs came for her, perhaps to work with the sand further. . . .

She cut off that line of thought, dared not let herself hope.

As if in response, another tremor shook the building, its rumble growing like thunder in the distance, then sweeping over them. Kara clutched the side of the window, and some of those sleeping jerked awake, flailing or crying out. But then the earth settled. Those now awake joined them at the window and exclaimed at the sight of the beacon.

“We should head there in the morning,” Artras said, voice hard, resisting argument.

Allan’s eyes narrowed in irritation, but he said nothing.