David Farland - Wizardborn

I am dead now, he thought. If my Dedicates die, I will die with them.

“Indeed, Enlightened One. The blight covers Kartish and Muyyatin as well. But last night the winds drove it into Dharmad and Aven. Soon it will swallow all of the Jewel Kingdoms. Every plant in them will be blasted by nightfall.”

Raj Ahten could not imagine the pepper trees at Aven lying blackened and twisted in their groves, or the passion fruit orchards of Dharmad with nothing but rot beneath their trees. The apiaries of Osmol would be devastated, along with the vineyards and jungles and the rice paddies at Bina.

The farms and orchards of southern Indhopal, of the jewel Kingdoms, were the richest in the world. With them gone, all of Indhopal would suffer famine this winter.

“All gone,” the kaif said. “All destroyed. The people are fleeing as fast as they can, but the blight spreads even at night. A common man, even on horse, cannot outrun it! To wait until it catches up with you is folly, for it means certain death.”

“And what of my warriors?”

“Armies are converging on the mines at Kartish,” someone yelled from the crowd. One of his soldiers was there, a man in a saffron surcoat with the three-headed wolf emblazoned in red. But he wore his surcoat hidden under a black cloak, so that Raj Ahten had not seen him from behind. “Aysalla Pusnabish leads the charge, with three million footmen and eighty thousand lancers—every able-bodied man in the Jewel Kingdoms.”

Pusnabish was Raj Ahten’s most trusted warlord—the captain who protected his Dedicates. He was marshaling every troop available, but nearly all of those three million men would be commoners, and it might take days for them to gather.

If the Lord of the Underworld led the reavers, if she uttered curses as the one had at Carris, the commoners would become as dross burning in a forge.

Raj Ahten asked, “Yesterday the reavers took Kartish?”

“Yes, O Wise One,” the soldier said.

“And Pusnabish is throwing every man against them?”

“As I have said,” the soldier agreed.

“And the blight still spreads?”

“Even as we speak,” the soldier said. “I raced north from the borders at dawn, and saw the decimation spread with my own eyes.”

It could mean only one thing. Pusnabish had failed to dislodge the reavers, failed to destroy the Seal of Desolation. Perhaps he had simply been unable to break the reavers’ defenses. Perhaps he did not know what needed to be done, or was still gathering his troops. But Raj Ahten suspected the worst: Pusnabish and all his millions might already be dead.

Raj Ahten could not reach Kartish before nightfall, not if his camel was to live through it. Once he hit the blasted lands, there would be no fodder for the beast.

And as the blasting spell spread, it would make it more and more difficult for anyone to reach Kartish, to mount an attack on the reavers lodged there.

There was a slim hope that Pusnabish and his men still lived, that Raj Ahten could marshal a charge against the reavers and break the Seal of Desolation there. A slim chance.

He prodded his camel through the streets of Maygassa, and as he did, he calculated quickly. If the Desolation spread, then by tomorrow at dawn it would swallow the Jewel Kingdoms and lead to a terrible famine in Indhopal. A day later, it would swallow Maygassa and begin taking the rich jungles to the north. Five days later, it would eat through the vast deserts of Indhopal, destroying all but Deyazz.

Within a week, it could devastate all of Indhopal. After that, the world.

Myrrima’s heart felt heavy as she prepared to leave Gaborn. Men had only begun to cart off the bodies of Jureem, Handy, and their attackers.

The assault on Iome had happened so quickly that Myrrima’s nerves still jangled. The reavers were brewing some new trouble on Mangan’s Rock, while Gaborn spoke of going to the Underworld to fight their master.

Langley rode out onto the plain to gather up several lords for a council. As the council prepared to convene, Gaborn gave Myrrima and Borenson a message case to carry to King Zandaros. “Be sure that this gets through,” Gaborn told them. “Algyer col Zandaros would be a powerful ally, and we cannot afford to have him as our foe.”

“It will get through,” Myrrima promised. “And I’ll take good care of Iome, so long as our roads lie together.”

“I know,” Gaborn said. “May the Earth protect you.” He drew close, hugged her to say goodbye. The act surprised her. Though she saw Iome as a friend, Gaborn was still “the King,” and therefore too high above her station for such a show of affection.

Myrrima went to Averan. The little girl’s eyes were glazed. She looked forlorn. Myrrima took her hand, “Little sister. I’m going to Inkarra, and I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” Averan said. “That means I’ll never see you again.”

“No,” Myrrima promised. “I’ll be back.”

But Averan shook her head. She said matter-of-factly, “No one comes back from Inkarra, and I’m going to the Underworld.”

Myrrima wanted badly to comfort the girl. “Have faith in yourself and your king. And have faith in me. I’m your big sister now.”

But Averan just shook her head. “Not really.”

She was right. Roland had never petitioned the duke to adopt Averan as far as anyone knew. Averan had never been made Borenson’s sister, and Roland’s promise was left unfulfilled. This girl had no one.

Myrrima’s own father had been taken at an early age. She’d had a mother and sisters to help care for her, and knew how vital their support had been in her life. Averan’s own loss seemed a small matter, easily corrected.

Myrrima turned to Gaborn. “Your Highness, Roland Borenson planned to petition Paldane to become Averan’s guardian. But he died before he could make his plea. I wonder now if you can grant Roland’s petition, my petition, now.”

Gaborn looked to Averan. “Would you want this? Would you take Myrrima as your sister?”

Averan appeared more thoughtful than excited. She nodded.

Gaborn glanced at Sir Borenson. “If I grant this, you become her brother indeed, and her guardian.”

Binnesman cut in. “She’s an Earth Warden. The Earth will clothe and feed her as it sees fit. And you may leave her training to me.”

Myrrima was taken aback by the wizard’s statement. “I’m sure you intend well,” she told Binnesman. “And you might train Averan in the ways of magic. But you’re not used to caring for children. Can you give her the love that she needs? And when she’s hungry, will you feed her, or merely let her grub around for roots and nuts?”

“I’m sure you mean well too,” Binnesman said. “But remember, dear lady, you are the one going to Inkarra. How well will you care for her?”

Myrrima argued, “Our estate in the Drewverry March is large enough to accommodate a child. She could stay with my mother and sisters, when she’s not training.”

Binnesman warned, “Wild birds like cages as much as she’d like a house, I think.”

Gaborn eyed them both. “The child can live in a house and eat at a table and still be an Earth Warden. I see no reason why Roland’s desires should not be granted. But I still haven’t heard from Sir Borenson.”

“My father made that choice already,” Borenson said.

Gaborn said softly, “So be it. Then Averan, I grant you into the care of family Borenson. Even if it be in name only, you have the right to call yourself Roland’s daughter.”