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Chapter Twenty-Five

Rae took a deep, icy breath and stood up. The grim wreckage of the stonebinder’s body lay at his feet. A surge of nausea bubbled through Rae’s belly. He pressed his hands into his face.

“Rae?” Estev asked. “Do you have it under control?”

“I . . . I just . . .” Rae swallowed hard against the bile. “Yes. I have it.”

“Well, that’s a small relief,” Estev said. He tucked the pistol into his belt. “Come, help me with your sister and Mahk.”

“They’re alive?” Rae asked. He walked carefully around the dead mage. “I thought, with the accident . . . I was sure you were all dead.”

“The perks of traveling with a lifebinder,” Estev answered. He turned around and faced the far side of the wall, peering down at the wreckage beyond. Rae scrambled up the wall’s loose scree. The wagon was in pieces, but something else had taken its place.

A ball of bramble and thorn, larger than the wagon had been, lay at the foot of the wall. The thick hatch of its branches grew out of the wreckage of the wagon, wooden planks suspended in vines, a wheel dangling from one side. The shriveled bodies of the horses lay to one side, creepers bursting from their chests.

“What the hell happened to the horses?” Rae asked.

“They weren’t quite dead yet, and I valued my own life over theirs,” Estev said. “We weren’t going to be riding them anywhere soon.”

“And La? She’s inside that plant?”

“Yes. I assure you, she and Mahk are perfectly safe,” Estev said. He was looking down the road. “And our friend has decided we are not worth the trouble. Which is good. I don’t have much left in me.”

Rae looked up in time to see the masked dockworker fleeing down the road, barely hanging on to the horse as it galloped away. He turned back to the bramble.

“So, can you just open it?” Rae asked.

“Afraid not. It took too much to create. You will need to cut them out.”

“Don’t you have a spiritblade or something?” Rae asked. “All I have is this belt knife, and—”

“We will talk of spiritblades and wraiths and whatever the hell that was all about later,” Estev said, gesturing broadly in the direction of the dead stonebinder, lying still amid the wreckage of his golem. “But for now it is only steel and sweat. And Estev Cohn does not deal with sweat.”

The lifebinder turned and scrambled fastidiously down the wall.

“Quickly now. There’s no telling what friends that vagabond had, or when the demon will make its next appearance. I’d rather not face either of them presently.”

Rae looked from the knife to the brambles, then breathed a deep sigh and set to freeing his sister from the bush.


The bodies of the carriage driver and the team of horses lay along the side of the road, along with the broken wagon and its new brambles. Estev could do nothing about the wall. “The justicars will remove it,” he said. “Just pray that they chalk it up to the dead stonebinder and his bandits. Last thing we need is the Iron College getting curious about us.”

“Won’t that lawbinder talk about us?” La asked. “Seris, or whatever her name was?”

“Let us hope they have larger, more demon-shaped things to worry about,” was the only answer Estev would give.

Cutting La and Mahk free had been quite a chore. Rae found them near the heart of the bramble, arms twined together, sleeping the sleep of the dead. The pair spent the rest of their march in a daze. Again, something Estev could do nothing about.

“What happened back there?” La finally asked as they approached the border of Aervelling. “All I remember is crashing, and then a green light, and silence.”

“Estev saved you. Both of you,” Rae answered. Mahk lumbered on at his side. “So that’s twice he’s rescued us.”

“There was a stonebinder,” La said. “I remember that much.”

“Yes, and . . .” Rae hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened to him with the wraith. Estev had been silent on the subject. “We took care of it. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.”

“Sure,” La said. “I’m sure it is. My brother is so trustworthy.”

Mahk snorted, and Rae was about to answer when Estev cleared his throat.

“We’re here,” he said. “Let’s not give anyone a good reason to remember us. Try to not look like we just survived a crash, and say nothing about the bandits. Just . . . just try to be normal.”

“Not a problem,” Rae said.

“He means you shouldn’t manifest that creepy thing,” Mahk said. “That I remember. Somehow.”

Estev laid a hand on Rae’s shoulder before he could answer. And then they walked around a corner in the road, and Aervelling was before them.

It was nearly dusk, and they were road-weary to the bone. Rae hadn’t even noticed the approaching city. Aervelling was a larger town than Rae expected, nestled on both sides of a massive bridge that spanned a swiftly moving river. The bridge looked like a remnant of the days of the fae, when the voyagers from the world-trees had spread out into the mortal world, creating structures as beautiful as they were eternal. The span looked carved from a single piece of mahogany, its curved arches decorated in vines so intricate they could have been the real thing, if not for their glossy polish and the otherworldly grace of their leaves. Rae had seen a similar remnant in the gardens of Hadroy House. The baron kept bees, and the central hutch was a relic of the fae, as well. It had stood nearly ten feet tall, a near perfect imitation of a natural hive writ large. Carved bees crawled across its surface, each one the size of a plum, with veiny wings of wood shaved so thin that the light shone through them. It probably cost more than the whole of Hadroy House on its own.

The city of Aervelling had no walls, either mundane or elemental, and all the buildings had wide windows open to the breeze. Even the smaller cluster of houses on the near side of the bridge was larger than the whole of Hammerwall Bastion. They had the same half-timber and wattle construction of the farmhouse where Rae had stolen his clothes and gotten a bite to eat when they first fled into Aervelling from the justicar camp. The houses in Aervelling had chimneys of ornate masonry and clay-tiled roofs that stretched up from the river like a wave of pale crimson. Each house had a single stained glass window on the second story, over the door, depicting various scenes from history or legend. Rae gaped up at them, wondering what they did to protect the windows during stonestorms. When he asked Estev, the mage snorted.

“You have been in Hammerwall too long, young man. We don’t live under the constant threat of elemental instability in Anvilheim. The worst that happens in this steading is a heavy rain, and those are usually curated by the local stormbinder. Nothing to fear.” Estev patted him on the shoulder, as though he were a child. Rae blushed ferociously.

“You can’t let him bother you,” La said as the mage walked away. “He reminds me of some of our tutors, from the manor.”

“I hated my tutors,” Rae grumbled. “Always math, no stories.”

“I’m sure the feeling was mutual,” La said.

“Have you ever seen such a place?” Mahk asked. “Those windows . . . are they jewels? Aren’t there thieves in this place?”

A few of the passersby gave Mahk the side-eye for that. Rae took him by the elbow and pulled him out of the road.

“Hammerwall’s all you’ve known, yeah?” Rae asked. Mahk nodded sullenly. “Then this is only the beginning. If we get so far as Fulcrum, you simply won’t believe your eyes. A tree, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen, bigger than all of Hammerwall Steading, with a city in its branches and spiritbinders everywhere you look.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Mahk said. “Spiritbinders been nothing but trouble for us.”

“Maybe. But if we’re going to get out of this, Fulcrum may be the only place for us.”

“Don’t freak him out, Rae,” La said, smoothing Mahk’s sleeve. To Rae’s surprise, the big man didn’t pull away, or even look abashed. “Talking like you’ve even been to Fulcrum.”

“I’ve seen the woodcuts,” Rae said stubbornly. “And Father lived most of his life there. He told me all about it.”

“Pardon me,” Estev called from farther down the way. “I hate to interrupt what is doubtlessly a fascinating conversation, but we must keep moving. The inns will fill, and the streets around here are rough at night. I want a warm bed and a cold wine.”

“You can chill wine?” Rae asked. Estev met this statement with a blank stare.

“Vagabonds and infidels,” he muttered. “What have I done to be so cursed?”

Without a clear answer to that question, Estev led them into the city of Aervelling.


It was well past dark before they found a place to rest. The river cut the city into two parts, each side climbing away from the docks in steep switchbacks and beveled terraces, crowned by a ridgeline of spires that stole the sun long before it set. Estev led them through shadowed streets, choosing the near side of the river. The buildings here seemed shabbier, the streets lined with muck. Houses sagged downhill, their retaining walls bursting with vines, propped up with warped boards that looked ready to snap. Across the valley, the shining streets sparkled with lamplight, and the homes and towers that rose up from the river shone bright with candles and music.

“We’re not in the good part of Aervelling, are we?” Rae asked after a while.

“We can’t afford the good part of Aervelling,” Estev said with a sniff. “Or more accurately, I would be able to afford it, if I weren’t shackled to three penniless urchins who would probably burp at the wrong lady and get us thrown into the street.”

“Is it safe here?” La asked.

“Most certainly not. But it is available, and even the poor sleep in well-ordered beds in Aervelling. Simple comforts are better than no comforts at all. Here,” Estev said, pausing in front of an inn. The sign hanging over the entrance showed three doors—one open, one closed, one broken and hanging from a single hinge. “This place will suffice. I have walked far enough tonight.”

“I’m sure that sign has an interesting story behind it,” La noted.

“One that will remain a mystery, hopefully. I don’t want to be put off my dinner.”

The interior of the inn was well-kept, if plain. The landlady didn’t give a sniff about their clothes, or the money Estev waved under her nose for “your finest wine, and a bed to match,” or even the fact that Rae insisted all four of them stay in the same room. She just nodded at everything, took Estev’s money, and brought the same bland soup and thin ale the rest of the customers were eating. After the meal, they went upstairs to a bare room lined with straw mats and a single window that opened onto a brick wall five inches away.

“Hardly the Vivant,” Estev muttered, wiping his hands clean on his coat. “Well, it is more than mud and a shrub, so it will be an improvement. Lalette, I believe there is a washroom down the hall. Mahk, if you will go with her to ensure that none of the other guests disturb the dear girl while she cleans up . . .”

“I’d rather just get to sleep,” La said. “I imagine you’ll have us fleeing at the break of dawn, and—”

“Lalette? I need to speak to your brother,” Estev said, then turned his flat gaze to Mahk. “Alone.”

Mahk hesitated for a long moment, then shrugged and led La into the hallway. Estev waited until their footsteps had receded before he turned on Rae.

“Alright, young man. It’s time we decide what we’re going to do about you.”

“Do about me?” Rae asked.

“You. And that damnable spirit you’ve got hooked into your soul. I saw you forge a spiritblade out of nothing, for all the good it did you, and then I saw the thing living in your soul try to take over. Because whatever you say about a storm mote, and your father training you to become a stormbinder . . .” Estev said. He laid out that inlaid box on one of the mats, and carefully opened it. When he turned around, he was holding a stone as black as night. “That is not what is living in your soul, and that is not what you are.”

“Then what am I?” Rae asked.

Estev didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he secured the door to their room.

“Retrieve your father’s sword, Raelle,” he said. “Or whoever’s sword it is.”

“I . . . I . . .” Rae stammered. Estev cut him off with a shake of the head.

“Get the sword. We’ll need it, to draw out the spirit, so we can forge a proper spiritblade.”

Chastised, Rae unwrapped the sword and stood with it awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“How did you know it wasn’t my father’s blade?” Rae asked.

“Let’s say I had a hunch,” Estev said. “Now. Let’s see what’s under your skin.”

He lifted the stone, holding it between thumb and forefinger, and made a complicated gesture with his other hand. Rae’s blood turned to ice, and the world around him went dark.

They fell, together, into the shadows.


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