Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(11)
He sobered. “Not yet, but soon. There are cracks in the Mantle. Places where people can slip through, either knowingly or accidentally. But a breach is coming. The Lagrimari think they’ve found a way to tear it down permanently.”
“Permanently?”
He nodded. “The True Father has never been able to cross during a breach, not while any part of the Mantle is intact. But without it . . .”
“Without it, he could cross. What would that mean?”
His grip on her hand tightened. “The end of Elsira.”
The True Father was the most powerful Earthsinger alive. He had ruled Lagrimar for five hundred years, stealing more and more of his peoples’ magic through the “tributes” to keep him alive and in power. But it had never been enough. Each breach had been an attempt for him to expand his influence.
Though her relationship with the land and its people was tenuous at best, Elsira was her home. She had no connection to its government; the Prince Regent, his laws, and the structures of society had never applied to her. But she couldn’t believe her isolated home would be forever immune to the fall of the country. “Could nothing stop it?”
“Are you a follower of the Queen?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“If She were awoken, they say Her power is great enough to stop the True Father.”
“Do you believe that?”
His expression turned guarded. “I don’t know. She has never visited my dreams. I’ve prayed to Her many times without response.”
“Papa dreamed of Her when he was younger,” she admitted. Both of her parents had been devout followers of the Queen Who Sleeps, the long-absent ruler of Elsira. A visit from Her was a blessing, as She dispensed Her wisdom through dreams. But those dreams were exceedingly rare; few people ever received them.
“Is there no hope then? She has slept for hundreds of years; there’s little chance She will awaken now.”
Jack shrugged. “We can fight. We can prepare. There is always hope.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But I must get back to alert the others. Lagrimar is already amassing their forces; the breach is likely only days away.”
A cloud passed over the moon darkening the porch.
“You can’t cross the mountain before the storm dies.” She released his hand and laid it down gently. So much of his body was still cracked and bruised. “It is too dangerous, and your wounds must heal more. I will do what I can to help you. I promise.” She rose and moved to the door. “Now get some sleep.”
She started to go inside, then turned back for one last look and found his gaze on her. The two sides she’d seen before—soulful Jack and warrior Jack—merged before her, giving a complete picture for the first time. She took in a jagged breath as a renewed surge of longing crashed into her.
I promise, she mouthed, and closed the door behind her.
Sleep was impossible, so Jasminda had spent the quiet, predawn hours in the garden picking herbs by lamplight. Her morning chores went by quickly. The goats, safely back where they belonged, had been milked and were now grazing, and the eggs were collected before even one of the soldiers awoke. She made a modest breakfast—so many mouths were taking a toll on her food stores—but she was sure to set aside a bowl for Jack.
The six soldiers crowded around the table, devouring what she put in front of them. Their favorite pastime seemed to be making fun of the youngest and smallest: bespectacled Wargi.
“This one is more coddled than an Elsiran brat,” Pymsyn said through a mouthful of eggs. “Came into the army straight from his mother’s skirts, he did.”
“Thinks he’s better than the rest of us because he’s not harem-born,” said Fahl. “Just because your mam didn’t have to spread her legs for the True Father doesn’t make you top shit.”
“And doesn’t make your mam any less of a whore than ours,” Ginko grunted. The table erupted in laughter.
Jasminda paid close attention to the men as she washed the dishes, not wanting to make any mistakes to cast suspicion on her Lagrimari identity. But she knew next to nothing of life in that land. Her father had been tight-lipped, and it wasn’t as if any of her books had information on their culture or practices. Aside from the breaches into Elsira over the years and very limited trade with Yaly, their neighbor to the east, Lagrimar was cut off from the rest of the world. Mountains surrounded the country on all sides, with only a small flat area a few hundred metres wide on the Elsiran border, where all the breaches had occurred.
As the men continued to mock Wargi, the young soldier just smiled and laughed, appearing to take it all in stride. But his eyes remained tense, and Jasminda almost felt sorry for the boy. His round face hadn’t yet lost its baby fat; he couldn’t be older than sixteen.
Soon enough, the sergeant called the table to order, issuing instructions for the men to split into pairs to explore the valley and monitor the progress of the storm. All the soldiers except Wargi and Tensyn himself headed out.
The sergeant turned his attention to Jasminda. “Is there anything my men can help you with, Miss Jasminda?” His stained smile verged on lecherous. She swallowed the bile that rose and forced herself to smile back.
“No, sir. Dishes are almost done. Once the spy gets his rations, I’ll be back to my chores.”