Shattering the Ley (53 page)

“Most are probably dead,” Augustus said. “From the dome’s collapse.”

Temerius flinched.

Augustus ignored him, beginning to pace back and forth before the Nexus. The shiver disturbed him. He’d never felt anything like it on the ley before, and it had shot through the entire network, hitting every node, every locus in the outer reaches. It was as if the entire structure had been seized and shaken.

The image didn’t hearten him.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, but before Temerius could respond, he dove back into the ley, began methodically checking the integrity of the conduits. Not the ley itself, but the actual channels and corridors that the ley traversed, the stone and bedrock.

He felt the pulse while in East Forks. It roared through the massive conduit connecting Erenthrall to Tumbor without a sound, but it roared nonetheless. The river stone that had been used at this ancient node trembled, the earth quaking as the pulse approached, the pressure inside the conduit increasing exponentially with each passing heartbeat. Augustus had time to think that it felt like the approach of a storm, the ley receding in a sudden rush—

And then it hit. Augustus’ mind was incinerated in East Forks, his body collapsing in the Nexus as if it were a puppet whose strings had been cut, still breathing, heart still pounding, nothing but a husk. Temerius stared in confusion, the crystals above beginning to quake.

They shattered simultaneously, the shards of glass splintering and needling the Primes, those closest flayed instantly. The shards peppered Temerius’ skin and he gasped, but before he could truly sense the pain, the Nexus exploded.

Ley surged through the conduits, blossomed out through the dome, and expanded rapidly. The ground shook. The citizens of Erenthrall nearest the Nexus had a moment to turn, to gape, and then the ley burned them from existence. The towers of Grass snapped near their bases, debris flung toward the sky, pushed by the ley as it expanded. It consumed Grass, seared everything living and unprotected from existence, then swallowed the surrounding districts, rising higher, the radius of destruction increasing with every heartbeat. The buildings of Stone cracked and fractured. The water of the channels in Canal and the Tiana and Urate Rivers evaporated, and still it pushed on.

Then, when its edge began to reach the outermost districts, it began to slow. Its fury dissipated, the piercing white light of the ley fading into the air. Nothing exposed to the direct power near its heart remained alive, the streets and alleys, bridges and towers swept clean. Only those who had been protected by buildings that had not crumbled in the ley’s wake survived. Farther from its center, bodies littered the streets, the power of the ley enough to kill but not incinerate. Those farthest away lived, but were stunned, a few driven insane.

When the earth settled, the pulse continued on beyond Erenthrall. But when the roar of debris and destruction had faded, there wasn’t stunned silence, like a held breath.

Instead, there was a high-pitched whine that shivered in the bones of the earth, coming from directly over the remains of Grass.

K
ARA WOKE AND
moaned, her entire body aching. Her first breath was choked with stone dust and she gagged, coughing, making every ache worse. Her head pounded. Not the thud of a headache, but something deeper, as if her brain had been bruised at its core. She winced and tried to take a shallow breath, the dust tasting gritty and bitter in her mouth. She opened her eyes—

And saw nothing but darkness.

Her eyes widened, as if seeking more light, but there was none, and the grit in the air stung and made her tear up. Her other senses kicked in. Pebbles rattled against each other as something shifted in the darkness. Small stones rained down from above, striking her shoulders where she lay on the floor. Nearby, the sound muted, she thought she heard someone screaming, but she couldn’t tell. It was too faint. She smelled nothing but crushed rock, her nose already filled with grit. It covered her face, her arms, her entire body.

Clenching her teeth, she moved her arm, raising herself onto her elbow. She hissed at the pain, but as she shifted into a sitting position the aches began to work loose. She reached out to either side of the cell the Dogs had placed her in and felt the wall to one side, the wall that had been at her back when she’d sensed the hideous pulse of power descend on the city. The earth had heaved after that, a crack that shook the heavens flinging her to the floor, even as she felt the Tapestry around her convulse.

She hadn’t even had time to roll onto her back before she’d blacked out.

Raising one hand to her head she touched her temples, the throbbing intensifying for a moment. The convulsion must have knocked her out, and the headache was the result.

Tentatively, she tried to sense the Tapestry, her breath rushing out in relief when she could. She’d thought she’d been burned out by the wave of energy. But the Tapestry was there.

Except something was horribly wrong. The patterns were distorted, twisted . . .
off
.

Keeping one hand above her, she rose into a crouch, then stood and began feeling her way along the wall. The cell wasn’t large, but before she’d taken two steps her foot hit something hard on the floor. Reaching down, she found a huge chunk of stone. She felt all around her and discovered a rockfall and realized one of the walls of the cell had collapsed.

In horror, she scrambled around the edge of the fall, desperate to find the door, hoping it hadn’t been where the fall was. A puff of air pushed against her face a moment before her hands found a massive crack in the wall. Farther along, she found the door, cursing as splintered wood jabbed her hand. The door had folded near its center. Feeling upward, she realized why.

The ceiling was lower. She could touch it with her hand, her arm not even straightened. The Amber Tower had collapsed.

She suppressed a shudder and swallowed a dry sob, the weight of the building above suddenly pressing down on her. She forced herself to remain standing and felt around the edges of the door. A gap appeared where the lock had once been, the crack in the wall intersecting with the doorframe there, but when she tugged on the door it was lodged tight.

She moved on, exploring the rest of the cell in short order. The remaining walls were solid. The only way out was through the door.

Returning, she tugged on it harder and felt it give. But something above her groaned and a spill of debris cascaded onto her back. Her breath quickened, but the stone quieted, the spill reducing to a fall of silt.

Turning back to the door, her eyes narrowed. Placing one foot against the jamb, she gripped the upper part of the splintered wood—the part that had shifted—and heaved.

It came away with a screech of wood and another, larger rain of stone, releasing so sharply Kara fell backward, hitting the floor hard. But the groan of stone from above escalated, so she scrambled forward, ignoring the pain in her butt. As larger chunks of rock began to fall, hitting her shoulders, she thrust herself through the opening she’d made, kicking her legs out as she shoved with her arms. Wriggling, she slipped through a moment before something above her gave, the ceiling of her cell collapsing inward behind her with a horrendous crash of stone and another wall of choking debris. One arm raised to cover her mouth, she still couldn’t stifle her coughing, turning away from the unseen cloud even as it rushed over her. She hunched her shoulders, certain she’d feel the ceiling in the outer corridor caving in any moment.

But the groans of stressed stone faded.

“Hello? Is anyone out there?”

Kara turned and squinted into the darkness. There wasn’t any light here either, but the breeze she’d felt inside her cell earlier was stronger, coming from her left: the way out.

The voice she’d heard came from the right.

The sound she’d thought was a scream was louder here as well. Only it wasn’t a scream, she realized. It was too consistent, too even. A steady throbbing whine.

“Hello? Please? Is anyone there?”

This time, the voice wavered, breaking into low coughing at the end. It sounded young, although it was hard to tell.

Kara picked herself up and said loudly, “Where are you?”

A hesitant silence, and then: “Here! I’m here! The Dogs took me and captured my father and dragged us here and I haven’t seen him since! And then there was this crack and I think the tower collapsed, but the door’s still locked and I can’t see anything and . . . and . . .”

“It’s all right,” Kara said, feeling her way down the corridor toward the voice. Her feet kicked stones out in front of her, but the wall to her left was intact. A moment later, the girl’s voice breaking down into sobs, the stone ended and Kara’s fingers found the wood of another door.

Locked. She knocked on the door. “I’m right here. But I don’t have the key. I was in one of the cells as well. I’m going to find the key . . . or another way to get you out.”

“Wait! Wait, don’t leave!”

Kara pressed her hand against the door, bringing her face close enough she could smell the wood. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

She fumbled back in the direction of the draft, until she passed her own cell, then slowed, feeling her way with every step, cursing the darkness. She passed another door, knocked but heard nothing in response, so continued. Ten steps later her feet encountered another rockfall, half the corridor blocked. As she felt her way around it, her hands came upon something soft and sticky. She prodded it with a frown, until she encountered fingers and sucked in a harsh breath, staggering back a step, choking back bile. She scrubbed her hands against her breeches but couldn’t dispel the stickiness of what she assumed was blood. Trembling, she forced herself to reach forward and test for a pulse, even though she knew the person was dead; the flesh wouldn’t have been so cool when she’d first touched it. Then she steadied herself and searched the parts of the body that weren’t buried, looking for keys. It was definitely a Dog by the bulk of the body and the armor beneath the clothing, but she found no keys.

She gathered herself, drew in deep breaths of the clean, cool air gusting against her face, and continued, climbing over the edge of the fall, following the breeze. She stumbled upon two more bodies as she progressed, both Dogs by the feel, both killed by falling debris. After passing the collapse, she began to hear noises, moans and the sounds of someone weeping. She found the weeper behind another cell door and promised to return. The moaner was another Dog, legs trapped beneath stone, barely conscious. He didn’t respond to Kara, even when she slapped him lightly. But she couldn’t see his face, only felt the stubble of his beard and a few cuts along his jaw.

The next door had stove in, like her own, although the ceiling wasn’t raining debris. She called out, “Anyone in here?” She considered entering, but more noises came from farther down the corridor, a few muted voices, even the sound of someone stumbling about. The whine had increased as well.

Someone moaned in response, then bit back a curse. “Here.” The voice was weak. “Are you a Dog?”

Kara snorted in contempt. “I’m not a Dog,” she said, then shoved the crack in the broken door open further and slipped inside. “I’m a Wielder. Where are you?”

“Here. I’m tied down to a table in the center of the room.”

“Keep talking so I can find you.”

“It shouldn’t be that hard,” the man said, then coughed and groaned. “There’s not much else in the room.”

Kara’s hip hit the edge of something hard and she heard metal utensils jouncing against each other. She reached down and felt the edges of a table, the cool metal of many objects lined across its top, set on a fine piece of cloth, all now covered with dirt, stone chunks, and dust. For a moment, her mind flashed on the black cloth of her father’s worktable, the gears of the clocks laid out in careful precision. But these weren’t the innards of a clock, she realized, as one of the knives cut the pad of her questing finger.

She hissed and automatically brought the finger to her mouth, tasted the copper of her own blood.

“That’s the interrogator’s table,” the rough, grating voice said from the darkness. “Those are his tools.”

Kara shuddered at the snide casualness of the statement.

“Take one of the knives. You’ll need it to cut through the ropes.”

Kara picked up one of the knives automatically, then hesitated. “Why should I set you free? The Dogs had you for a reason.”

The man laughed, the sound harsh and derisive and threaded with pain. “No real reason,” he growled. “I was a Dog once, but I left. Before the Purge. They caught me.”

Kara sensed he held something back, but she shifted forward anyway. The noises outside were growing, more and more people moving around as they recovered. She wondered how many were dead, wondered what had happened in the first place, the persistent whine nagging at her.

Her legs bumped against another table and she halted, reaching forward. As her hand touched bloody flesh, the man hissed in pain and she felt him jerk beneath her fingers, the table shuddering.

“What did they do to you?”

“Interrogated . . . me,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

Kara swallowed. “Hold still.”

She ran her hands over his back, down his arms, and found his wrists tied beneath the table. His breath came in harsh gasps as she did so. But she didn’t free him. Instead, she returned to the top of the table and traced out his legs, found the cords that bound his lower body to the table as well.

Then she moved away, back toward the smaller table with the knives and other tools.

“Where are you going?” the man barked.

“I’m looking for keys,” she said. “And I can’t see you. I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

The man cursed in frustration and she heard him struggling against his bonds. She ignored him and felt along the table, looking for keys, the knife still clutched in her other hand. She frowned when she realized there was nothing on the table but knives and hammers, then began moving back toward the splintered door.

“Wait!” the man called out, his struggles halting. “Wait, I think there was a ley globe in here.”

Kara halted, one leg already through the opening. “What do you mean?”

“There was a ley globe hovering against the far wall. It might still be there. I don’t remember hearing it shatter, so maybe it didn’t fall during the blackout and what happened after. If you’re a Wielder, maybe you can make it work.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the chance of getting some light was too tempting. She shifted back into the room. “Where was the globe?”

“Against the wall opposite the door.”

Kara circled the room, her skin prickling as she sensed the man’s eyes on her. She couldn’t remain silent. There was too much debris on the floor, chunks of stone grinding beneath her feet with every step. She reached the far wall and stretched up to a globe’s usual height and found it. It was hovering just over her head, and the moment her fingers brushed it, she could sense its connection to the ley. She reached for the Tapestry and searched for the ley lines around her, again disturbed by their chaotic flows. Even as she tapped into them and the ley globe sprung into weak life, she realized why.

The ley network that she was familiar with, the structured lines all centered around the Nexus and branching outward from that source, were destroyed. All of the familiar touchpoints—the nodes, the ley stations, the channels—were gone. What remained was a chaotic jumble of what the system had once been . . . and what she guessed had been the natural lines of the ley before the Nexus had been created. The lines were still reshaping themselves, shifting and fluctuating as they sought out new paths.

But there was something keeping them in flux, something drawing on their power with hideous strength. Kara didn’t know what it was, but it felt vaguely familiar, like the incessant whine that prickled in her ears.

Even as she turned, that familiarity—the whine and the tug on the ley system—clicked, and she gasped and stilled.

“What is it?” the man asked, and she dropped her gaze to the table, flinching back from the sight.

The man had raised his head and looked up at her from a face caked in blood and grit and bruises. His back was a pattern of lacerations, the blood and sweat dried in trickles down his sides. The thick cords that bound his legs cut cruelly into his flesh, mitigated only by the cloth of his breeches. Nearly every square inch of his exposed back, arms, and sides were riddled with bruises.

“Why did you gasp?” the man demanded.

She focused on his eyes, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. She thought about the Kormanley priest she’d seen the Dogs drag off the public square when she was younger, thought of all of the people who had vanished during the Purge, and her stomach twisted, sourness burning at the back of her tongue. In the back of her mind, she’d known what had happened here beneath the Amber Tower, in the Dogs’ lair, but she had ignored it.

Looking at this man’s eyes, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Tell me why you gasped,” he said.