Page 24 of Of Blood and Fire
“Unfortunately, yes.” When the last of the tubes had been removed from the first forge, the two mages removed their hands, and the flames were snuffed out; a heartbeat later, a glittering mass of green shot upwards from the center of the kiln then rolled languidly across the base of the barrier before fading.
Inside the kiln, lying on a metal grid, were human bones. Horror rolled through me. The mages were using a sacrifice to fuel their magic, just as they had on Jakarra.
“What are they doing?” Kele asked
I swallowed heavily against the thick rise of bile. “I think they’re fortifying the tubes with their magic, and they’re using human sacrifices to do so.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” I replied grimly. “They tried to bring down the cavern Jakarran survivors were holed up in using blood magic. Thankfully, the earth mage there was able to stop them.”
She swore softly. “What are they using it here for, then?”
“I can’t be sure, but given I’ve blown up numerous tubes with fire, maybe they’re fortifying them against it.”
Which wouldn’t really help, given it was the acid that was so unstable, but maybe they were working on a means of protecting it, too.
“That would be right,” Kele grumbled. “Just as our drakkons gain fire and become an effective weapon, these bastards create a means of muting them.”
“Muting effectiveness against the tubes is a far cry from muting their effectiveness against flesh.”
“Yeah, but I’m thinking it might be the first step in a long-term plan.”
“Maybe.” I shifted focus. Down the very far end of the valley, well away from any of the buildings, were two semi-covered cages, each one sitting on the tray of a heavy haulage wagon. There were at least a dozen guards around each, meaningwhatever lay within had some value to either the Mareritt or the mages. I twisted the viewer, trying to sharpen the focus. It responded briefly, giving me a glimpse of the heavy metal bars lining each cage and the shadows that moved inside them, then went fuzzy again. I softly cursed the unstable nature of the damn things and tried to slow down.
“Patrol coming in from our left, three feet below the brambles,” Kele whispered.
Tension rolled through me, but I resisted the urge to reach for a weapon. The brambles were high enough—wide enough—that we should be concealed from a casual glance, but the slightest movement might have the guard looking a little too closely our way.
Stone crunched lightly under booted feet, and the scent of sulfur and musk stained the air. My nose twitched in distaste, and I switched to breathing through my mouth. It didn’t really help. The footsteps drew ever closer, then a pair of out-of-focus boots appeared in the long viewer’s eye screen. Thankfully, those boots didn’t stop, and the Mareritt continued on.
“Clear,” Kele said eventually, tension still evident in her body despite her even tone. “Let’s hope that’s the last one for a while.”
“Depends what sort of mood Túxn is in,” I muttered, and continued twisting the focus ring. Everything abruptly sharpened, and it was all I could do not to gasp in shock.
Because in each of those cages was a good dozen men.
Men whose coloring said they were of Arleeon origin and likely from the islands, if what remained of their clothing was anything to go by.
Something moved at the edge of the viewer’s sight. I pulled the long viewer back a bit then refocused; two Mareritten soldiers were hurrying toward the nearest wagon. The guards immediately turned and thrust long spears into the cage, forcing the chained men inside away from the locked door. It wasopened, a key produced to unlock one of the chains, and the man attached dragged out. Then other men lunged forward, in what I presumed was an attempt to stop him being taken, only to be driven back by the spears. More than one man was injured. Their captors laughed, locked the door, and dragged the man away.
Toward the mages, toward the kilns.
The tube briefly unfocused, then sharpened again.
That’s when I saw him.
Disbelief shot through me, and I briefly pulled my eye away, certain I had to be imagining things.
I wasn’t.
The man sitting near the front end of the wagon, desperately trying to staunch the blood pouring from a deep cut on his shoulder with the grimy remnants of his shirt, was none other than Garran Asli.
My missing cousin, and the true heir to Esan’s throne.
CHAPTER
FOUR
