A Reaper at the Gates

  But it cannot be. It cannot.

  "It is true, Laia," the Nightbringer says, and my very soul shudders, for I know he tells no lies. "Your mother lives. You know her. And now, you are free."

  XL: Elias

  How did someone get all the way to the jinn grove without me knowing?

  The border walls should have kept outsiders away. But not, I realize, if they're thin and weak. Ghosts push against one spot, far to the east, and I slow down. Do I shore up the wall? Move the ghosts? Their agitation is like nothing I've seen before, almost feral in its intensity.

  But if there is a human in the grove, skies only know what they might be suffering at the hands of the jinn.

  I head for the interloper, and Mauth pulls at me, his weight like an anvil chained to my legs. Ahead of me, ghosts attempt to block my path, a thick cloud that I can't see through.

  We have her, Elias. The jinn speak, and the ghosts stop their wailing. The sudden silence is unnerving. It's as if all the Forest listens.

  We have her, Elias, and we have torn her mind to shreds.

  "Who?" I drag myself away from the ghosts, ignoring their cries and Mauth's pull. "Who do you have?"

  Come and see, usurper.

  Did they somehow capture Mamie? Or Afya? Dread grows in me like a weed, speeding my windwalking. Their machinations have already led to the suffering of Aubarit's Tribe. To Afya and Gibran being possessed by ghosts. To Mamie losing her brother, and hundreds of Tribespeople dying. The Blood Shrike is too far away for them to hurt. Of all those I love, only the Shrike and one other have been spared their predations.

  But they cannot possibly have Laia. She is in Adisa, hunting for a way to stop the Nightbringer. Faster, Elias, faster. I battle Mauth's draw, tearing through the increasingly frenzied ghosts until I reach the jinn grove.

  At first, it looks as it always does. Then I see her, crumpled on the earth. I recognize the patchy gray cloak. I gave it to her long ago, on a night when I never could have imagined how much she'd one day mean to me.

  In the trees to the north, a shadow watches. Nightbringer! I leap for him, but he disappears, gone so fast that if not for his laugh on the wind, I'd have thought I'd imagined him.

  I am at Laia's side in two steps, hardly believing she is real. The earth shudders more violently than it ever has before. Mauth is angry. But it does not matter to me. What in ten bleeding hells have the jinn done to her?

  "Laia," I call to her, but when I look into her face, her gold eyes are faraway, her lips parted dully. "Laia?" I tip her head toward me. "Listen to me. Whatever the Nightbringer said to you, whatever he and his ilk are trying to convince you of, it's a trick. A lie--"

  We do not lie. We told her the truth, and the truth has freed her. She will never hope again.

  I need to get her mind out of their clutches.

  How can you, usurper, when you cannot lay your hands on the magic?

  "You tell me what the hells you've done to her!"

  As you wish. Seconds later, my body is as rooted to the grove as Laia's is, and the jinn show me her purpose in coming through the Waiting Place. She must get to Antium, to the Blood Shrike, to the ring. She must stop the Nightbringer.

  But her mission is forgotten as a fire rages in her mind, leaving her lost, wandering in a prison, forced to watch what happened to her family over and over.

  We show you her story so that you can suffer with her, Elias, the jinn say. Cry out your rage, won't you? Cry out your uselessness. The sound is so sweet.

  My scims will do nothing against this. Threats will do nothing. The jinn are in her head.

  A powerful yank from Mauth nearly knocks me to my knees, so sharp that I gasp from the pain. Something is happening out in the Waiting Place. I can feel it. Something is happening to the border.

  Leave her, then, Elias. Go and attend to your duty.

  "I will not leave her!"

  You have no choice--not if you wish the world of the living to survive.

  "I will not!" My voice is raw with rage and failure. "I will not let you torment her to death, even if stopping you tears my own body to shreds. All the world can burn, but I will not simply leave her to suffer."

  All things have a price, Elias Veturius. The price of saving her will haunt you for all your days. Will you pay it?

  "Just let her go. Please. I--I'm sorry for your pain, your hurt. But she did not cause it. It's not her fault. Mauth, help me." Why am I begging? Why, when I know it will do no good? Only mercilessness can help me. Only abandoning my humanity. Abandoning Laia.

  But I can't do it. I can't pretend that I don't love her.

  "Come back to me, Laia." Her body is heavy in my arms, hair tangled, and I push it back from her face. "Forget them and their lies. That's all they are. Come back."

  Yes, Elias, the jinn purr. Pour your love into her. Pour your heart into her.

  I wish they would shut the hells up. "Come back to the world. Wherever they have taken you, whatever memory they have locked you in doesn't matter as much as you coming back. Your people need you. Your brother needs you. I need you."

  As I speak, it's as if I can see into her thoughts. I can see the jinn clawing at her mind. They are strange, warped beings of smokeless flame that are nothing like the beautiful, graceful creatures I saw in the city. Laia tries to fight them, but she weakens.

  "You are strong, Laia. And you are needed here." Her cheek feels like ice. "You have much yet to do."

  Laia's eyes are glazed over, and I shudder. I hold her now. I call to her. But she will grow old and die, while I will live on. She is the blink of an eye. And I am an age.

  But I can accept that. I can survive long years without her if I know that at least she had a chance at life. I'd give up my time with her--I would--if only she would wake.

  Please. Please come back.

  Her body jerks once, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think she is dead.

  Then she opens her eyes, staring at me with bewilderment. Thank the bleeding skies. "They're gone, Laia," I say. "But we have to get you out of here." Her mind will be fragile after what the jinn just put her through. Any more pushing from the ghosts or the jinn would feel torturous.

  "I can't--can't walk. Could you--"

  "Put your arms around my neck," I say, and I windwalk out of the grove with Laia held close. Mauth yanks at me futilely, and the earth of the Waiting Place shakes and cracks. I reach out to the borders; the pressure is immense. The strain on them makes me break into a sweat. I need to get Laia out of here so I can corral the ghosts--get them away from the edges of the Waiting Place, lest they break free.

  "Elias," Laia whispers. "Are . . . are you real? Are you a trick too?"

  "No." I touch my forehead to hers. "No, love. I'm real. You're real."

  "What's wrong with this place?" She shivers. "It's so full, as if it's about to burst. I can feel it."

  "Just the ghosts," I say. "Nothing I can't handle." I hope. Flat patches of rolling grassland appear through the trees ahead: the Empire.

  The border feels even weaker now than it did when I first passed through it. Many of the ghosts have followed me, and they press against the glowing barrier, their cries rising eagerly as if they sense its weakness.

  I go well beyond the tree line and set Laia down. The trees sway back and forth behind me, a frantic dance. I must return. But for just this one moment, I let myself look at her. The messy cloud of her hair, her worn boots, the tiny cuts on her face from the Forest, the way her hands grip the dagger I gave her.

  "The jinn," she whispers. "They--they told me the truth. But the truth is . . ." She shakes her head.

  "The truth is ugly," I say. "The truth of our parents uglier still. But we are not them, Laia."

  "She's out there, Elias," Laia says, and I know she speaks of her mother. Of Cook. "Somewhere. I can't--I--" She slips back into the memory again, and though the Forest seethes behind me, it will have done me no good to get Laia out of there if she ends up in the grasp o
f the jinn again. I take her shoulders, stroke her face. I make her look at me.

  "Forgive her, if you can," I say. "Remember that fate is never what we think it will be. Your mother--my mother--we can never understand their torments. Their hurts. We may suffer the consequences of their mistakes and their sins, but we should not carry them on our hearts. We don't deserve that."

  "Will it always be chaos for us, Elias? Will things never be normal?"

  Her eyes clear as she looks at me, and she is released, for a moment, from what she saw in the Forest. "Will we ever take a walk by the moonlight, or spend an afternoon making jam or making . . ."

  Love. My body turns to fire just thinking about it.

  "I had dreams about you," she whispers. "We were together--"

  "It wasn't a dream." I pull her close. It kills me that she doesn't remember. I wish she could. I wish she could hold on to that day the way I do. "I was there, and you were there. And it was a perfect slice of time. It won't always be like this." I say it like I believe it. But within my own heart, something has shifted. I feel different. Colder. The change is great enough that I speak even more adamantly, hoping that by saying what I want to feel, I will bring it to life. "We will find a way, Laia. Somehow. But if . . . if I change . . . if I seem different, remember that I love you. No matter what happens to me. Say you'll remember, please--"

  "Your eyes . . ." She looks up at me, and my breath catches at the intensity in her gaze. "They--they're darker. Like Shaeva's."

  "I can't stay. I'm sorry. I have to go back. I have to attend to the ghosts. But I will see you again. I vow it. Hurry--get to Antium."

  "Wait." She stands, still unsteady on her feet. "Don't go. Please. Don't leave me here."

  "You're strong," I say. "You are Laia of Serra. You are not the Lioness. Her legacy--her sins--they don't belong to you any more than Keris's legacy belongs to me."

  "What did you say to me?" Laia asks. "That night before you left months ago, when we were headed to Kauf. I was sleeping in the wagon with Izzi. What did you say?"

  "I said, You are--"

  But Mauth has lost patience. I am wrested back to the Waiting Place, back to Mauth's side, with a force that rattles my bones.

  I will find you, Laia. I will find a way. This is not our end. I scream it in my mind. But as soon as I get into the Waiting Place, the thought is dashed from my consciousness. The borders are bending--breaking. I go to reinforce them, but I am a cork in the face of a dam breaking.

  All things have a price, Elias Veturius. The jinn speak again, an inexorable truth in their voice. We warned you.

  A roar cleaves the Waiting Place, a ripping that seems to come from the bowels of the earth. The ghosts scream, their high keen rising as they throw themselves against the border. I have to stop them. They're too close. They'll break free.

  Too late, usurper. Too late.

  A collective howl goes up, and the ghosts of the Waiting Place, the tortured souls who are my sworn duty, break free of the border and pour into the world of the living, their shrieks like living death carried on the wind.

  XLI: The Blood Shrike

  "I'm not going to the Augurs," I say to Marcus. I remember well what Cain told me just weeks ago. I will see you once more, before your end. "You don't understand, they--"

  "Grow a bleeding spine, Shrike." Marcus grabs my arm and begins to drag me from the throne room. "Those eerie bastards scare everyone. We have an invasion to worry about, and they can see the future. You're coming with me to their foul little cave. Unless you want to find out if you really can heal your sister's shattered kneecaps."

  "Damn you--"

  He backhands me and grimaces, grabbing his head. I wipe the blood from my mouth and look around as he mutters to himself. The throne room is empty, but there are still guards nearby.

  "Pull yourself together," I hiss. "We don't need Keris hearing about this."

  Marcus takes a steadying breath and glowers at me.

  "Shut it." The softness of his growl does nothing to lessen its menace. "And move."

  The pilgrims usually clogging the trail to Mount Videnns have fled, ordered back down to the city to prepare for Grimarr's approach. The path up to the Augurs' cave is empty but for Marcus, me, and the dozen Masks who serve as Marcus's personal guard. The entire way, I try to leash my rage. I must not act on it. As much as I hate them, they are the holy men of the Empire. Hurting one could lead to horrible consequences, and if something happens to me, then Livia and her son go unprotected.

  I curse myself. Even now, even when I loathe them, some part of me is still trained to respect them. The push and pull of it makes me sick to my stomach. Just get Marcus up there and let him do the talking. Don't engage. Don't ask questions. Don't let them say anything to you. Tell them you don't want to hear whatever it is they have to say.

  The storm that has raged all morning squats over the mountains, soaking us and turning the path to the Augurs' home into a treacherous, slippery death trap. By the time we make our way across the wide rock bowl that leads to the cave, we are covered in mud and cuts, which puts Marcus in an even fouler mood than usual.

  The Augurs' cave is dark, without a hint of life, and I briefly hold out hope that the seers will not allow us within. It is well-known that they can keep out whomever they wish to.

  But as we approach the mouth of the cave, blue light flares, and a shadow detaches from the rock, red eyes visible even at a distance. When we draw closer, the shadow speaks. It is the same Augur who let me in last time.

  "Emperor Marcus Farrar. Blood Shrike," she says. "You are welcome here. Your men, however, must remain behind."

  Like the last time I came here, the Augur walks me down a long tunnel that glows sapphire from blue-fire lamps. I grip my scims as I think back to that day. First you will be unmade. First you will be broken.

  I was still Helene Aquilla then. Now I am someone new. Though my mental shield didn't work against the Nightbringer, I use it anyway. If the red-eyed fiends want to root around in my head, they should at least know they aren't welcome.

  When we get deeper into the mountain, another Augur awaits us, one I cannot name. But from Marcus's sharp intake of breath, it's clear the Emperor knows her.

  "Artan." Marcus says the name the same way I snarl Cain's.

  "Long have the emperors of the Martials come to the Augurs in times of need," Artan says. "You seek counsel, Emperor Marcus. I am honor bound to offer it. Sit, please. I will speak with you." She gestures to a low bench before clearing her throat and glancing at me. "Alone."

  The same woman who escorted us in takes my arm and guides me away. She does not speak as we walk. Distantly, I hear the drip of water and then what sounds like the ping of steel. It echoes again and again, a strange and incongruent tattoo.

  We enter a circular cavern, black gems glimmering along its walls, and Cain steps from the shadows. Without thinking, I reach for my blade.

  "Nay, Shrike." Cain lifts a withered hand, and my own freezes. "There is no threat here."

  I force my hand away from my scim, casting about for something--anything--to distract me from my rage.

  "What's that sound?" I say of the strange ping-ping-ping. "It's irritating."

  "Just the caves singing their stories," Cain says. "A few are filled with crystal, others with water. Many are as tiny as houses, others are large enough to hold a city. But always, they sing. Some days we can hear the horns of the riverboats leaving Delphinium."

  "Delphinium is hundreds of miles away," I say. Bleeding hells. I knew there were caves and tunnels under the city, but I didn't know that the Augurs' caves were so extensive. The land to the west of here is solid rock, the only caves inhabited by bears and wildcats. I assumed the mountains to the east are the same.

  Cain watches me thoughtfully. "You are much changed, Blood Shrike. Your thoughts are closed."

  Satisfaction courses through me--I'll have to tell Harper.

  "Did the Meherya teach you, as he did the F
arrars?" At my mystified look, Cain clarifies. "You refer to him as the Nightbringer."

  "No," I snap, and then, "Why do you call him Meherya? Is that his name?"

  "His name, his history, his birthright, his curse. The truth of all creatures, man or jinn, lies in their name. The Nightbringer's name was his making. And it will be his unmaking." He tilts his head. "Did you come to ask about the Nightbringer, Blood Shrike?"

  "I have no desire to be here," I say. "Marcus ordered my presence."

  "Ah. Let us make civil conversation then. Your sister--she is well? Soon to be a mother, of course."

  "If the Commandant doesn't kill her first," I say. "If she survives childbirth." And even though I do not wish to, I seek the answer to those questions in his eyes. I find nothing.

  He paces around the cave, and unwillingly I fall into step with him.

  "The Tribespeople say that the heavens live under the feet of the mother," he says. "So great is their sacrifice. And indeed no one suffers in war more than the mother. This war will be no different."

  "Are you saying Livia is going to suffer?" I want to shake the answer from him. "She's safe now."

  Cain fixes me with his stare. "No one is safe. Have you not yet learned that lesson, Blood Shrike?" Though he sounds merely curious, I sense an insult in his words, and my fingers inch toward my war hammer.

  "You wish to cause me pain," Cain says. "But already, my every breath is torture. Long ago, I took something that did not belong to me. And I--and my kin--have spent every moment since paying for it."

  At my utter lack of sympathy, he sighs. "Soon enough, Blood Shrike," he says, "you will see my brethren and me brought low. And you shall need no hammer nor blade, for we shall undo ourselves. The time to atone for our sins approaches." His attention shifts to the hallway behind me. "As it does for your emperor."

  A moment later Marcus appears, face grim. I nod a curt goodbye to Cain. I hope I never bleeding see him again.

  As we walk out of the tunnel and down to our men, clustered between boulders to escape the lashing rain, Marcus looks over at me.

  "You will be in charge of the defense of the city," Marcus says. "I will tell the generals."

  "Most of them are far more seasoned than I am at dealing with marauding armies, my lord."