Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

Gerda held up a hand to wave Rozyl off. “Life in Lagrimar has become unbearable. That is why we’ve come. To seek better lives for these young ones.”

“Better lives like those in the settlements?” Jasminda scoffed. “There are no better lives for those who look like us here. Those who can sing. There will be no welcoming party for you. In fact, I would be surprised if they don’t send you right back the way you came.”

“They would not do that.” Jack’s voice was grim. “It is the Prince Regent’s duty to protect all within the borders of Elsira. He is honor bound.”

Jack had not suffered the stares and cutting remarks. The bad trades and cheating merchants. The young mother screaming. The insult
grol witch
uttered over and over.

Jasminda reached out for Gerda’s gnarled hand. “I do not think it will be a good place for the children. I do not think they will be safe there.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack’s jaw tighten, but he stayed quiet.

“You have never been to Lagrimar, have you, girl?” Gerda said.

Jasminda shook her head.

“Of course not, for you seem to believe they were safe back there.” Her voice was kind but stern. Admonishing her ignorance. Jasminda turned toward the gaunt and hollow expressions of the mothers, the wordless appeals in the eyes of the children. They clung to each other like lifelines in a raging storm.

Rozyl’s voice broke the silence. “Do you know what awaits these children? Slavery. It’s either the mines, the tribute camps, the harems, or the army.” She ticked the list off with her fingers. “In the mines, at least you get to keep your Song. Though you exhaust it every day chipping away at bits of rock, pulling precious jewels from the mountain, and filling your lungs with dust. The tribute camps are for the boys to have their Songs sucked away, then be sentenced to hard labor for the rest of their lives. Girls go to the harems to ‘bless’ the Father with sons for his army.”

“And the daughters?” she whispered.

“They never leave the harems,” Rozyl said, staring coldly.

Jasminda’s stomach churned violently.

“He . . .” Jack sputtered. “With his own daughters?”

“All the True Father’s children are sterile,” Lyngar hissed. “Not that it is any less disgusting.”

“The suffering is immense,” Gerda said. “There are many who cannot bear it. That is why we left.”

Jasminda brought her hands to cover her face, not wanting these people to see her cry, especially not after what they had all been through. She’d had no idea how terrible Lagrimar actually was. Her stomach churned as nausea threatened again.

“How do you know about the Keepers, boy?” Turwig asked Jack.

Beside her, Jack swallowed and cleared his throat. “After the Seventh Breach, I was stationed at the Eastern Base—”

“You’re a soldier?” Rozyl asked, her voice an octave higher than before. She rolled her eyes and pounded the wall of the cave.

Jack waited out her mini-tantrum before continuing. “When we transferred the POWs to the settlement, as per the terms of the treaty, I met a young man called Darvyn.” More than one person in the cave sucked in a breath. “You know him?”

Gerda silenced everyone with a glance. “Go on.”

A wariness crept into Jack’s expression. “We used to talk. We became friendly. He let me practice my Lagrimari with him. One day, a few months later, I went to the settlement, and he was gone. Disappeared. I called for a search, thinking something must have happened to him, but we found nothing.”

Jasminda listened, impressed that he had even tried to find a missing settler. It was more than most Elsirans would have done.

“Then, just over three weeks ago, he returned and called for me at the base. He wouldn’t tell me where he’d been, just that the Mantle was going to be destroyed and Elsira needed to be warned. I contacted the Council and the Prince Regent, but they wouldn’t take the word of a Lagrimari settler. But I believed him.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, his eyes growing faraway. His voice dropped as he told of the spell Darvyn had cast to make him appear Lagrimari, of hiding within Tensyn’s squad and discovering the terrible truth. “Not just cracks, not just a breach—the entire Mantle will fall. Soon. And the True Father will be unleashed on us all.”

Jasminda shivered. The faces of the Lagrimari were pensive.

“And the boy’s spell, just . . . failed?” Turwig asked. The old man had leaned forward, intent on every word of Jack’s story.

Jack nodded, his shoulders sagging with weariness. He needed to rest after the journey and the healing.

“The boy must be dead,” Lyngar said matter-of-factly.

“Or so badly injured he could not maintain the spell.” Gerda placed a comforting hand on Turwig as the man shuddered.

Jasminda wondered who he was to them. “You know this Darvyn?” she asked.

Turwig nodded. “Since he was a small child.”

Lyngar’s face was perpetually twisted, as if everything smelled bad to him. “You’ve got your proof now, boy. What will you do with it?”

“Make them listen. Prepare to fight,” Jack said.

Lyngar appeared dubious.

“You should rest, now,” Gerda said, echoing Jasminda’s thoughts. “You’re welcome to our fire—”

“No,” Rozyl broke in. “I don’t care how strong Osar’s Song is. They’ll sleep in one of the adjacent caves.” Her suspicion bored into Jasminda.

“Rozyl—”

“It’s fine, Gerda. We don’t want to be any trouble,” Jasminda said.

“We keep our weapons,” said Jack.

Rozyl sneered. “As will we.”

Jasminda was tired of the attitude. They’d done nothing to this woman, to any of them, to cause such distrust. Perhaps living in Lagrimar made one overly cautious, but the bitterness was undeserved.

Exhaustion seeped deep into her bones, as well. She would take sleep any way she could get it. Jack led the way back to the outer cave and to a smaller cavern a hundred metres away. It was cooler than the refugees’ camp, and Jasminda missed the warmth of the fire. The heat had dampened the anxiety of being inside the mountain, but now it was back full force, tightening her chest and constricting her airways. She focused on her breathing as Jack checked every inch of the cavern until he appeared satisfied it met his standards.

They hadn’t brought blankets or sleeping packs in their haste to escape the fire so they curled up on the ground next to each other, using the lumpy sack as a pillow.

The evasiveness of the Lagrimari, the lies told about her father, and Rozyl’s bitter hostility filled her mind.

“Why do you think they’ve really come?” Jasminda whispered. Jack lay with an arm behind his head. In the dim light, she could barely make out his profile.

“The women and children likely are seeking a better life.”

Jasminda sighed. “I guess better is relative.”

“But the Keepers,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Whatever their true purpose, at least we have the same goal. I hope we will be able to fight against the True Father together.”

Jack’s hope and determination were fueling him. He had something to fight for.

All she had now were ashes where a whole life used to be.

She closed her eyes and stopped just short of praying not to wake up again.

Jack’s arms were
wrapped around something warm and soft. As he opened his eyes, any hint of drowsiness fled as a spark tickled behind his ribs. Jasminda lay curled on her side, her back pressed against his chest. Her head was tucked just under his chin, and his heart sped as he watched the rise and fall of her gentle breaths.

He brushed her hair back, letting his fingers get caught in its tangled softness. Her scent was enticing, soothing, and he lay for a moment breathing it in. Once again, thoughts inappropriate to their current situation stole into his mind. The curve of her buttocks grazed his groin, and he inched backward so as not to scandalize her with his growing erection. The floor of a cave was a location even more devoid of romance than the army barracks, and yet he had a hard time reining in his mind.

Light footsteps echoed outside the cave entrance. He removed an arm from around Jasminda and palmed the pistol he’d left within easy reach, keeping it down by his side. Though he had trusted Darvyn, he could not be completely certain that
these
enemies of his enemy were, in fact, his friends. Especially not when the Lagrimari they’d met yesterday were Keepers in more ways than one. They may be followers of the Queen and wish to see her promise of return kept, but they held secrets, as well.

Lantern light brightened the entrance as a curly head appeared—a head much lower than he’d expected. Osar stood gripping the lantern shakily. Jack released his weapon. The boy’s huge eyes glittered, and he beckoned Jack forward with one hand.

“Jasminda.” He shook her gently, not letting go of her shoulder as she rolled over and stretched. “We have a visitor.” He nodded in the child’s direction, and Jasminda sat up yawning.

Osar motioned again for them to follow before disappearing down the hall. They gathered their things and joined the others in the larger cave. The fire had been put out, lanterns had been lit, and most people were packed and ready to go. The armed Keepers and elders stood in the center, and Gerda’s quiet tones carried over Rozyl’s hard voice and wild gesticulations.

“I know that was the plan, but it’s just not possible now,” Rozyl said.

Gerda shook her head. “We follow the course. That is what we agreed on.”

“That was before we discovered no one can sing in these blasted caves.”

“What’s going on?” Jack asked.

Rozyl rolled her eyes but, surprisingly, answered him. “I sent out scouts to determine the way through this maze of tunnels, but not one of us can use Earthsong in here. For some reason, the mountain seems to be blocking us.”

Jasminda came up next to him, a frown marring her face. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t. And it also makes no sense to travel down a tunnel we can’t feel or see the ending of. We could be lost inside this mountain for years if we take the wrong track. We must wait out the storm and take the path up top.”

“No.” Gerda’s voice was calm but her expression immobile.

“The instructions were clear,” Turwig said. The old man would not meet Jack’s eye, and he wondered if Turwig blamed him for whatever may have happened to Darvyn. “We must go through.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Rozyl asked.

“Try again,” said Turwig.

Rozyl’s face twisted, and she pushed past them, deliberately knocking into Jasminda. She wobbled but caught herself by slamming her palms on a knee-high boulder jutting out of the ground.

“Watch yourself,” Jack bit out to Rozyl’s retreating back. The woman grumbled out what must have been a Lagrimari curse he hadn’t heard before. He turned to Jasminda as she righted herself and brushed off her hands.

A fissure marred the polished surface of the boulder. It had sliced her palm, embedding a sliver of rock in her skin. Jack grabbed her hand to inspect the damage.

“It’s nothing,” she said, pulling away. His arm felt heavy, his hand strangely empty as she refused his help. But it
was
nothing. The bruise on her cheek was far worse, and she hadn’t even complained about it or bothered to heal it.

He clenched his fists and forced his feet to stay rooted, to not follow after the unpleasant Rozyl and give her a piece of his mind. He’d expected to see a mirror of his emotions in Jasminda. The murderous expression she'd had the night before as they’d disparaged her father had made Jack oddly proud of her. But now, her skin was ashen and she looked haunted.

“Wh-what happens when you try to sing?” Her voice was weak, breathy and light, not the full-bodied, sensual tone he’d grown used to in just these few days. Concern furrowed his brow.

Turwig spoke up. “They say their Song calls out but nothing’s there to answer it. Like the world has disappeared. Try it yourself if you like, child.”

Jasminda shot Jack a worried glance, then closed her eyes. Long, dark lashes brushed her cheeks and her face slackened. But instead of taking on the dreamy quality she’d worn when healing him, her face contorted in pain. Her scream tore through the air, endless and chilling. It froze his heart, but his arms reached out of their own accord to catch her when she collapsed.

The beating of
drums thunders along the walls, pulsing and jittering, almost louder than the pounding of my chest. The thrum thrum thrum beats in time to the chants of my name, called over and over again until it echoes deep in the recesses of every tunnel, every crack and crevice in the mountain.

It was my name Oval's deep voice called at the Choosing.

It is a great honor to be chosen.

So as I kneel on my hands and knees while Mother shears the hair from my scalp, why do I feel such betrayal?

She wraps me in the ceremonial coverings. Chatters on about how proud she is and what this will mean for the little ones, the sisters and brothers I will never see again. The one I will never meet still lodged in her belly.

My sacrifice will protect them from the dangers threatening our caves. Our family will be held in high esteem.

I am scrubbed raw in the hot springs. My newly uncovered head is tender and aching. Blood comes away on my fingers when I rub at my baldness.

Mother pierces me with a glance. You must not waste it, she says, eyes darting around to make sure no one else has seen.

Once your blood is chosen, it no longer belongs to you.

The drums and chanting only grow louder as I follow my family to the gathering. I wish my aching head would pound hard enough to tear it from my body.

Not
my
body. Not anymore.

Oval is there, his eyes pale with age, leached of the fiery color they held in his youth. My eyes will never lighten another shade. My skin will never grow loose and gather in bunches, showing proof of my wisdom. I will be fourteen summers forevermore.