The Core

  But then, the ground began to shake.

  Yon spat. “Rock demons. Everyone into the camp! Bows around the perimeter! Now!”

  The Cutters moved with calm efficiency, but it did little to quell Elissa’s mounting fear. She dared another light ward and saw two fifteen-foot rock demons, their armor like granite. One held a pine tree in its talons like a club. Clumps of loose soil still clung to its roots, and broken branches jutted from its length. Behind them, scores of corelings gathered.

  The other held a stone the size of a rain barrel.

  Creator. The realization barely sank in before the demon’s long arm swung like a catapult, launching the stone at the camp.

  It arced high in the air, and Elissa watched, transfixed, for a long moment before remembering her stylus. She drew a hurried impact ward. With no time to calculate how much force it would take to stop the stone, Elissa opened the nib fully to power the symbol.

  The resulting blast shattered the stone, but the recoil knocked her from her horse. She hit the ground hard, stylus flying from nerveless fingers as dust and pebbles fell on the camp like sleet.

  “Elissa!” Ragen leapt from Twilight Dancer’s back, running to her side as she struggled into a sitting position.

  She waved him off. “I’m all right. See to the demons!”

  Derek took out his own stylus, drawing careful light wards in the air to illuminate the enemy. Cutters loosed crank bows at the rock demons, but the tiny bolts did little more than anger the corelings as they stalked in.

  “Gonna have to step off the wards to take ’em down.” Yon readied his axe. “Jase! Lary! You’re with me!”

  “Wait!” Ragen called. “There’s too many! Stay inside the wards!”

  “Wards ent gonna last with two rockies swingin’ trees and throwin’ stones!” Yon shouted back. “Let us do our business.”

  “Corespawn it.” Ragen ran to head the Cutters off. The rock demon carrying the tree drew it back for a swing at the wardposts. Ragen pulled out his own stylus, drawing a heat ward.

  There was a flash and a whump! as he powered the symbol, but the results were less than impressive. One side of the tree blackened and charred, a few embers flying, but it did not hinder the coreling.

  “Demonshit!” Ragen growled, trying again. This time he used too much power. The tree exploded in flames that engulfed the demon and lit up the night.

  The other rock demon had its clawed hands in front of its face as Cutters renewed crank bow fire, but then it laced its talons together and brought both stony fists down hard on the ground. Elissa stumbled as she tried to get back on her feet, and around the campsite she saw others off balance as well. Crank bow bolts flew wide of their targets.

  Elissa searched frantically in the dirt for her stylus. If the rocks managed to breach the wards, demons would swarm the camp. After a moment she found it, brushing the dust from the wards. She rushed to the wardposts and drew a careful impact ward, giving it moderate power. The recoil wasn’t as bad when she was prepared for it, and the ward flared to life, punching the ground-shaking demon in the chest.

  The demon was knocked onto its back, but seemed unharmed. Derek drew cold wards and fed them deeply with power. He hissed, dropping his stylus from numbed fingers, but the prone demon’s legs turned white with rime.

  Ragen drew a series of thick impact wards, hammering at the frozen limbs. With the third strike there was a great crack! and one of the demon’s legs shattered.

  The flames from the burning pine tree died away, leaving the immolated rock demon unharmed. It came at the wards, but Elissa, Ragen, and Derek were ready now, and drew wards in sync. Elissa knocked the demon down; Derek froze its chest. Superheated from the flames, the sudden shift cracked armor plates. Ragen followed quickly with another series of impact wards, caving in the demon’s chest and crushing its heart.

  The other demons retreated at that, drifting back beyond the edges of the wardlight.

  “Fightin’ smart.” Yon spat on the ground. “Demons shun’t know enough to use weapons unless a mind’s about, but new moon’s three days past.”

  “There’s still a lot we don’t know,” Elissa said. “Mistress Leesha said mimic demons could lead drones as well.”

  “Ay,” Yon agreed, “but if there’s a mimic about, ent willin’ to show itself.”

  “Perhaps,” Ragen said.

  “No more pushin’ our luck,” Yon agreed. “Now on we make camp a’fore dark, and keep guards all night.”

  “We’ve gotten more used to worrying about the Krasians than the corelings,” Elissa said.

  “Think it’s comin’ around again,” Yon said. “Night’s getting stronger.”

  —

  Ragen led them into Farmer’s Stump a few days later. None had slept well, but now that they were taking an hour each evening to reinforce the wards, the demons did not test them again. They stopped at Ragen’s favorite inn for supper and a full night’s rest, pressing on in the morning to reach Fort Angiers by lunchtime.

  The great wooden gates were mismatched, patched with fresh lumber where the Krasians broke through. There was scaffolding everywhere—the new duke making improvements along with repairs.

  “They’re thickening the walls,” Ragen said. “That’s a good sign.”

  “Against Krasians, maybe,” Yon said. “Get a few rock demons with stones to throw, those walls won’t last long.”

  Mountain Spears, clad in the familiar uniforms of Ragen’s homeland, patrolled the walls and guarded the gate. Their bayonets were wicked as any spear, but largely decorative. None would dare challenge them now that the destructive power of their flamework weapons was known. Angierian Wooden Soldiers, the fencing spears over their shoulders looking quaint by comparison, did the more menial work of questioning travelers and searching carts.

  “Name and business,” one of them said, coming up to Ragen at the head of the procession.

  “Ragen, master of the Milnese Warders’ Guild,” Ragen said, producing papers sealed by Euchor himself. The guard’s eyes widened, and he moved to consult his superior, one of the Mountain Spears.

  “Angierian soldiers answer to the Milnese, now?” Elissa asked.

  “Rhinebeck’s brother may have held the throne,” Ragen said, “but it seems Euchor is now the real power in Angiers.”

  “We’ll need to take care,” Elissa said. “There’s bound to be resentment at court.”

  By the time they made it through the gate, the captain general of the Mountain Spears was waiting for them atop a spotless white destrier. “Ragen!” His booming voice was a welcome sound. “I thought I smelled a foul wind blowing from the south!”

  “Bruz!” Ragen cried, dropping from his saddle as the man mirrored him. “I didn’t know it was your ugly face Euchor sent to Angiers!” They embraced roughly, breastplates striking each other as they laughed and slapped backs.

  “None other, to guard the princess.” Bruz was one of Euchor’s closest military advisors. Ragen had known the man for decades.

  Ragen tapped the epaulet on Bruz’s shoulder. “And a promotion, I see.”

  Bruz nodded. “After we broke the Krasian assault, Euchor sent another three thousand Mountain Spears south, along with the proclamation and a chest of gold that nearly broke the mule’s back.”

  “Impressive,” Ragen said.

  “No less than I can say of you!” Bruz said. “All the North owes you and Mother Elissa a debt for sending news from behind the Krasian lines. No doubt Euchor will reward you upon your return. In the meantime, you’ll take your ease at the palace. Stay as long as you like.”

  “Not long, I’m afraid,” Ragen said. “I’ve messages to deliver at court, but Elissa and I are eager to be back home with our children.”

  “Of course, of course,” Bruz said. He gave a whistle, and an escort of Mountain Spears began shouting and shoving to clear the road of traffic.

  “This isn’t necessary,” Elissa said as one guard pushed a vendor to the gr
ound when he did not clear the way quickly enough.

  “Nonsense,” Bruz said. “These woodbrains need to learn to move when the Mountain Spears whistle. They’d all be dead or Krasian slaves if not for us.”

  Ragen pressed his lips together and met Elissa’s eyes, shaking his head. Thankfully, she let the matter drop.

  “I’m here in a more official capacity,” Ragen said. “It’s been some time since I was a Royal Messenger, but Countess Leesha persuaded me to come out of retirement one last time to speak for the Hollow in Duke Pether’s court.”

  Bruz raised an eyebrow. “A Milnese guildmaster speaking for an Angierian countess? Is that not a conflict of interest?”

  Ragen shrugged. “Desperate times, my lord. One cannot blame her for not wishing to send Halfgrip’s successor to Angiers so soon after her master’s death.”

  “Euchor won’t like it,” Bruz noted.

  “It won’t be the first time His Grace was vexed with me,” Ragen said.

  Bruz laughed. “Ay, that’s undersaid!”

  They reached the palace, where another familiar face was waiting in the entrance hall.

  “Creator spare me,” Ragen muttered as Keerin, Euchor’s idiot herald, came rushing up to greet them.

  “Ragen!” Keerin called, arms wide as if to greet an old friend, though they were hardly that. The two men worked together on a single Messenger run fifteen years past, but there was no love lost between them. Most of Keerin’s fame was built off taking credit for Arlen’s deeds, and he once had his apprentices beat Arlen and his friend Jaik when Arlen dared protest in public.

  Keerin recovered smoothly as Ragen sidestepped to avoid his touch. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

  Ragen tightened his jaw. “What can I do for you, Keerin?”

  “I was hoping to find a place in your caravan back to Miln,” Keerin said.

  Ragen shook his head. “Euchor sent you here as his herald, and until such time as he requests and provides for your return, it’s not my place to get involved.”

  “Oh, by all means.” Bruz was struggling to keep the laugh from his voice. “Master Keerin’s duties have long since been fulfilled. We simply haven’t had resources to escort him home, and despite his legendary bravery, he’s been unwilling to make the trek alone.”

  Keerin swallowed at that, but he did not argue, lowering his voice for only Ragen to hear. “You heard him. I’m not wanted, and this court has a way of getting Jongleurs killed. First Jasin Goldentone and his apprentices slaughtered in the lower hall, then poor Master Halfgrip, slain in the South Tower. I don’t care if Euchor fires me. I want to go home.”

  Ragen glanced at Elissa. She was no fonder of Keerin than he was, but she put a hand on his arm. “I know what it’s like to be desperate to go home. Of course you can join us.”

  The Jongleur’s face lit up, and he took Elissa’s hand in both of his own, kissing it repeatedly. “Thank you, Mother. Creator bless you! I will start packing immediately.” He gave a yip of glee, doing a backflip in a flash of motley cloth as he ran down the hall.

  “We’re going to regret that,” Ragen said.

  “Perhaps,” Elissa said. “But after all these months, I won’t stand in the way of someone who wants only to go home.”

  A page appeared, and Bruz swept a hand his way. “You’ll forgive me, but I have matters to attend. Their Graces will receive you at evening court. In the meantime, the Little Minister will see to your needs.”

  “Little Minister?” Ragen asked.

  The boy bowed. “Pawl is my name. The captain general calls me that because my father was First Minister Janson.”

  “I hardly started the name, but it’s apt.” Bruz tousled the boy’s hair. “He’s the only one who can make anything of his father’s ledgers. We’d be lost without him.”

  —

  “This way.” Pawl led Elissa, Ragen, Derek, and Yon down a long hall. “Your chambers should be ready shortly. In the meantime, we’ve prepared a sitting room for you to refresh and take your ease.”

  “Know yur rich, when you have a room just for sittin’,” Yon said.

  The room was lavish, with a laden buffet and steaming tea service. There was water, wine, even a pitcher of ale. After days on the road, it looked so enticing it was a moment before Elissa noticed the old woman enjoying her tea by the couches.

  One glance at her jewels and silk, and Elissa dropped into a curtsy.

  She elbowed Ragen, who made a hurried leg. Yon and Derek, halfway to the buffet, froze awkwardly.

  The Duchess Mother gave an irritated wave. “Enough of that! I won’t keep hungry men from their food. On to it, boys.”

  “I know when I’m dismissed.” Ragen and the others gave quick bows and hurried to the meat and ale.

  “Come and let me have a look at you, dear,” the Duchess Mother said. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

  Elissa went over, resisting the urge to curtsy again as Araine got to her feet to receive her. “Your Grace.”

  “We can leave the titles at the door, Elissa,” Araine said. “I’ve been corresponding with your mother since before you were born. Countess Tresha and I are old friends. Surely she’s mentioned me.”

  The words caught Elissa off guard. Mention of her mother had a way of doing that. “The countess and I do not speak often.”

  Araine snorted. “That’s undersaid. Something to discuss over tea.” Pawl pulled a chair for Elissa, serving tea and a sampling of delicate sandwiches from the buffet.

  “I have a letter for you,” Elissa said when the page retreated to the wall.

  “Right to business,” Araine said. “You’ve more in common with your mother than you think.”

  The comment nettled Elissa, but she swallowed her retort, producing the envelope with Leesha’s message for Araine. The Duchess Mum popped the seal with a sharp fingernail, scanning the pages quickly.

  Araine sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t offer much more than advice.”

  Elissa blinked. “Leesha said you were the true power in Angiers.”

  “Once,” Araine said. “Before Janson was murdered. Before Euchor bought the ivy throne at the price of our lives. What little power Lorain hasn’t stolen from me, Pether has claimed for himself. All Angiers used to run through my embroidery room. Now it’s just a collection of unfinished hoops.”

  “That may be a problem,” Elissa said. “Lorain and I…”

  “Haven’t gotten along since that spat when you were children,” Araine said. “Young Lord Sament asked you to the Equinox Ball?”

  “Solstice,” Elissa said. “And I declined.”

  “Leaving the Duke of Miln’s daughter feeling second best.”

  “How do you know this?” Elissa said.

  “Tresha’s been telling tales of you since she fired your first wet nurse,” Araine said. “She’s quite proud of you.”

  This time Elissa could not resist. “If you think that, you don’t know my mother as well as you believe.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that, dear,” Araine said. “You caused quite a scandal, running away from Sunrise Hall to marry a Messenger. She only wanted the best for you.”

  “I don’t see how disowning me was wanting the best,” Elissa said. “Thankfully my sisters were more dutiful in marrying the barons Mother paraded through our gardens.”

  Araine waved a hand. “She’ll never admit it, but Tresha admired how you stood up to her. It was a feat your spineless sisters never managed. All you have to do is ask and she’ll have you back.”

  “Have me back.” Elissa ground her teeth. “As if marrying the best man I’ve ever known is some crime to atone for. I don’t want ‘back.’ My mother can keep her court politics and whispers.”

  Araine gave a bemused sniff. “You may not have much choice in that regard. You’ve seen and done too much to go back to sweeping the floor of a warding shop. I expect you’ll be called before the Council of Mothers on your return for a full account of your adve
ntures in the wetlands. I know that pack of mean old women well. Whatever your feelings about her, your mother leads the council. She’s a better ally than enemy.”

  Elissa swallowed. The Mothers’ Council of Miln was nearly as powerful as Duke Euchor, responsible for most of the day-to-day operations of the city. Much as she hated to admit it, if she and Ragen were to effect any change in the city before it was too late, she would need the council on her side.

  “You may be right. Thank you for your counsel.” The words were sour in her mouth, but she managed to deliver them with a polite smile.

  “Of course, we all know your mother isn’t the most interesting of your family issues.” Araine took a tiny sandwich from the table, eating it in two quick, efficient bites.

  “Oh?” Elissa asked.

  “I met young Mr. Bales last year,” Araine said, “before all that business with the demon of the desert. He was shorter than the tales tell, but he seemed a good boy. Idealistic, perhaps, but the young always wear that well.”

  “He was a good boy.” Elissa chose her words carefully.

  “A good boy who made Euchor look the fool,” Araine said. “Now that it’s known your young stray grew up to be the Warded Man, there are questions at court about what you knew and when you knew it. If you’re wise, you’ll ware your words and ensure you and your husband follow the same script.”

  “They can ask whatever they wish,” Elissa said. “We have nothing to hide.”

  “Of course.” Araine tapped Leesha’s letter against her teacup. “You believe this, girl? The demons are going to swarm?”

  “I do,” Elissa said. “The corelings are increasing in numbers, even as the Hollowers and Krasians kill them by the thousands. They were hunting us on the road.” She quickly explained about the rock demons striking at the wards.

  “A pair of demons testing the wards doesn’t prove the demons have some hidden agenda. We’ve seen no sign of a change in their behavior here. Perhaps this is what comes of the Hollow provoking them.”

  “Do you wish to take that chance?” Elissa asked.

  “The Krasians are the real enemy,” Araine said. “They killed three of my sons. Pether’s brothers. Lorain’s husband. And thousands of husbands, wives, and children throughout the Free Cities—more by far than the demons over the same time. Now deserters from the Battle of Angiers have formed into roving war bands, committing horrible atrocities. They castrate the men and boys, taking them as levies, and leave nothing but blood and ash in their wake. None of the eastern hamlets is safe.”