Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(29)

A half dozen Lagrimari crouched behind the barrier. Two were armed with hunting rifles, the others with pitchforks, machetes, and one man even held a sword. A boy of about twelve was among their number. He must be the woman’s son. Their backs were to Jack as they focused on the scene in front of them.

A small band of Elsiran farmers was currently being pelted with icicles and dirt clods. They used their rifles to try to bat away the projectiles, every so often getting a shot off in the direction of the settlers. Jack hung back, letting the elders and the armed Keepers go on ahead of him; he didn’t want to be mistaken for a farmer.

The way the boy knelt among the older men, looking slightly off to the side, his body alert but unmoving, made Jack believe it was he who was singing the spell to attack the farmers. The Elsirans were penned in a tight group. Any time one of them tried to break out of it toward the settlers, a chunk of mud or an icicle would hit him in the face, knocking him back. Two of them did manage to peel off and run away, back down the road toward the town.

The settlers cheered, and one of the men finally noticed Rozyl and her group advancing on the barricade with their rifles drawn. The Keepers took up positions and began firing on the farmers. The ice-and-mud attack stopped as the boy looked up, startled. This gave the farmers a chance to dive for cover among the nearby trees. They began to return fire.

The armed settlers must have been out of ammunition, for they didn’t fire, but Rozyl and her team were methodical, efficiently finding their targets and hitting them as man after man fell.

He felt no sympathy for the farmers, though they were his countrymen. There had been incidents such as these over the years, when tensions between citizens and settlers had bubbled over, but this was the most destruction he’d yet seen.

Jasminda came to crouch at his side. “I convinced the woman and her children to wait with the others.”

The woman’s son was staring up in awe as the Keepers made short work of the remaining farmers. Those who hadn’t been shot were now beating a quick retreat. Would they go to lick their wounds or try to gather reinforcements and retaliate?

“There were nearly one hundred men who lived here,” Jack mused. “I knew many of them.”

“Now there are five.” Jasminda’s voice was husky and thick.

He looked at her and wanted to apologize, though he’d had no hand in it—this was bigger than both of them. But he wished he could make up for the ignorance of his people, for the hatred and fear. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. There was really nothing he could say.

Through the gaps in the trees lining the road ahead, thick wheels kicked up clouds of dust. When the vehicle approached, Jack’s tension flared, then quickly fled. An open-topped four-wheeler drove up bearing four Elsiran soldiers. On its heels were two transports, a dozen men to each if they were following protocol. Sure enough, twenty-four men hopped out of the trucks and dispersed strategically, forming a perimeter around the settlement. The soldiers in the four-wheeler exited, guns drawn, and advanced on the barrier.

Jack stood ready to greet his men. Before he’d taken more than two steps, the soldiers opened fire. They gave no warning, no orders or instructions, just began shooting. Those at the barrier dove for cover, and Jack stood, dumbfounded, until Jasminda pulled him down again.

What in Sovereign’s name?

“Can you do the thing with the ice and mud?” he asked her. The idea of firing upon his own men was something he could not fathom at the moment, and he didn’t want the other Lagrimari to do so, either. He needed a distraction.

“I think so,” Jasminda said, and closed her eyes.

The firing stopped as a cloud of dust and dirt rose, blinding the soldiers. Jack ran to the barricade, passing the shocked Lagrimari gathered there, and hurdled across it, into the dust storm.

“All right, Jasminda,” he called, breathing into the lapel of his coat. When the dust cleared, he stood face-to-face, pistol drawn on the lead officer, a captain Jack recognized, but had never personally spoken to before. From the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers nearby train their weapons on him.

“Hold your fire!” the captain shouted, a dazed look coming over him.

“Do you know who I am?” Jack said through clenched teeth.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Who am I then?” he pressed.

“Commander Alliaseen.”

Soldiers nearby gasped in shock.

“I-I have to ask for your identification code, sir.”

“Ylisum two five three zero nine.” Jack squeezed his hand around the butt of the pistol still pointed at the captain’s head, anger vibrating through his every fiber. “Verified?”

“Verified.” A moment was all it took for the demeanor of the other soldiers to change radically. The guns were put away swiftly, and the men all stood at attention. Jack lowered his weapon, as well, and tried to control his breathing.

“Commander, I am Captain Daveen Pillos. We had heard you’d been lost.”

“I was found, Captain.” Jack took in another steadying breath and unclamped his jaw by sheer will. “On whose order were you firing upon these settlers?”

Pillos’s gaze darted to the barricade and back. “No one’s order, sir. We were engaging combatants.”

“When you engaged these combatants, were they firing upon you?”