“Then why did she mark me?”
“As her protector. Like Taniel.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re one of the good ones.”
Styke almost laughed. He shook his head, looking at Celine’s earnest face. “I’m not one of the good ones, my girl. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. I’m no one’s protector.”
“But you protect Fatrasta.”
“That’s different. It’s a continent, an idea, not a person …” He trailed off. “I’m not going to argue semantics with you.”
Celine took his hand in hers. “You protect me. Back in the camps, and since. Sunin says that you would break a mountain over your shoulders to protect me, and I believe her.”
Styke’s eyes were suddenly misty. He dragged his sleeves across his face. “I would.”
“So? Ka-poel is alone. You are all that stands between her and the Dynize. She may be powerful, but she is fragile, too. Halt the sea. Break a mountain. Be her protector, too.” Celine leaned forward and kissed Styke on the cheek, then slid out of his lap and pulled on his hand in the direction of the camp.
Styke stared at the blade of his knife. “We should ride off. Tonight, when everyone is asleep. I can take you to the Nine and build us a house in the mountains and let you be a kid for a few years. This isn’t a place for you.”
“I know,” Celine said seriously. “We can do that when this is over. I want you to teach me about all the horses.”
“Shit,” Styke said, climbing to his feet. The hopelessness still weighed him down, clutching at his muscles like a punch to the gut. He walked hand in hand with Celine, gesturing to Ibana to follow and heading toward where the Riflejacks were in the middle of repacking their gear. Ka-poel stood next to Gustar, holding her slate and bit of chalk. The two glanced up at Styke as he approached. Styke pointed at Ka-poel. “I’m still pissed at you. But I made a promise, and I’ll damn well keep it. Gustar, the only place we’re going to find enough ships to get to Dynize is New Starlight. Tell your men to set up camp. We’ll need a lot of rest if we’re to assault the fortress.”
Chapter 58
“It’s almost ready.”
Vlora didn’t acknowledge Flerring, not immediately. She was watching the preparations around the godstone from a safe distance – the other side of Nighttime Vale. She resisted the urge to reply, It took you long enough. Three days had passed since the Riflejacks had arrived and Burt had given her his blessing. Three of the four days that it would take twenty-five thousand Dynize infantry to catch up with them. They had gone well past their threshold of “make a clean escape” and had fallen to “hope the Dynize are sufficiently confused by the destruction of the godstone that we can slip away in the chaos.”
Vlora finally turned her eyes to Flerring to find her vigorously scratching one arm.
“The thing makes my skin itch,” Flerring explained.
“Right. That’s why I’ve kept my distance. Is this going to work?”
“No reason it won’t,” Flerring replied.
“We packed its brother with enough powder to level a city without causing a scratch.”
Flerring snorted. “See, there’s your problem. You just cover it in black powder and light the damn thing, most of the explosive force will be lost going in every direction except toward the item itself. That’s like trying to knock down a wall by throwing the artillery piece at it.” She smiled across the valley toward the godstone, an expression that Vlora imagined had been on her face on more than one occasion while sizing up an enemy general. “No, we’ve used every ounce of blasting oil we had left. We turned it into a gel and applied it to the nooks and crannies. We’ve timed seven different explosions to occur in split-second intervals. This is top science, Vlora. God sorcery can eat my shit.”
“I would rather not invite that kind of hubris,” Vlora replied. Her soldiers were literally lined up outside of town, waiting for the order to head north double time if the godstone was destroyed. If the blasting oil had no effect, her second plan was also ready to be put into motion – all of her engineers standing by with the necessary equipment to lift the godstone onto a series of heavy-duty carts to drag it out of town.
And if that didn’t work? Prime Lektor would bring the mountain down on top of the godstone and then stick around to hide it from the approaching Dynize army.
She had planned for everything – she hoped – and in a few minutes she would know what needed to happen next.
A fear in the back of her head told her that something would go wrong. That the Dynize, whom Olem’s scouts had already spotted, would arrive twelve hours ahead of schedule. Or that the blasting oil would cause some sort of sorcerous backlash that would kill them all. Or that they’d be forced to run with the godstone and the Dynize would be upon them within days, slaughtering her outnumbered men.
“I don’t believe in hubris,” Flerring said, breaking the silence.
Vlora turned and looked at her, staring just long enough for Flerring to become visibly uncomfortable. “Please never say that again.”
Her attention was pulled away by the sight of a group coming up from Yellow Creek. She didn’t have to sniff powder to pick out the people in attendance: Taniel, Olem, Burt, Prime Lektor, and Julene, accompanied by several of Flerring’s assistants. They joined Vlora and Flerring within a few minutes, and it quickly became clear that they’d been arguing for some time.
“It won’t work,” Prime Lektor said with a huff. “The powder of the combined Predeii couldn’t crack one of those things two thousand years ago. Some damned gelled explosive won’t do it, either.”
Julene stood beside him, looking sullen and uninterested. She waved one of her bronze hands under Prime’s nose. “Four of you together couldn’t kill me, either. Then along came Kresimir and cut off my hands without breaking a sweat.”
“That’s different,” Prime insisted. “That’s powerful sorcery – the same kind of sorcery that’s involved here. It only proves my point.”
“And you’ve missed hers entirely,” Taniel said quietly, rolling his eyes, “which is that nothing can be taken for granted.”
Prime turned on Taniel, sizing him up for a moment in undignified silence. If anything, Taniel himself was living proof of that very statement. Vlora could see Prime swallow a pithy reply, and took more than a little amusement by the fact that Taniel could keep someone like Prime in check. “You think this is going to work?”
“I have no idea,” Taniel replied. “I can certainly hope.”
“Hope is worth nothing. We must plan –”
“We’ve planned,” Vlora finally cut in, “as much as we possibly can. All we need is for you to do your part if the moment calls for it. Can we trust you to do so?”
Prime drew himself up. “I will do my part.”
“The same way you stood up to Kresimir after he returned?” Julene scoffed.
Burt circled around the group and came up to Vlora’s side, giving the others a skeptical look. “You’re sure these are ancient sorcerers?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure,” Vlora replied.
“They’ve been complaining and squabbling like children since the moment I met them.”
“They’re just like that,” Taniel said, turning his back on Prime and Julene. “The more you get to know the most powerful people in the world, the more you realize they’re just that – powerful people. If it makes you feel any better, Kresimir was worse than either of them.”