Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(84)
“This is beautifully made, Your Grace. It’s an honor to be able to fly it. Just a few more calculations, and we’ll be ready to go.”
Jack nodded, tamping down his impatience. “How bad is the storm?”
She turned in her seat to face him. “I’m not going to lie and say it’s a stroll through a straw garden. This will probably be the toughest flight I’ve ever made. But I’m game. When it’s time to face the fiddler, best do it with your dancing shoes on.” She smiled at Vanesse, who beamed back at her. Though Jasminda and her aunt didn’t really resemble one another, something about Vanesse’s smile made Jack’s heart lurch. He recognized adoration when he saw it and sensed there was more to these two women’s relationship than friendship.
Usher remained under the awning, watching them solemnly, but gave a supportive nod when Jack caught his eye.
Then the engine whirred to life. “Are you ready, Your Grace?” Clove shouted.
He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to the Queen Who Sleeps that he live long enough to save the woman he loved. “The only way to the other side is through it!”
“That’s the spirit!” Clove said as the ship lurched into the air.
The refugees traveled on foot, abandoning the wrecked buses. The rain ended shortly before dawn and the cool morning air left Jasminda’s clothes damp and chilled. Guards from the buses formed a perimeter around the group, weapons in hand.
Tension between the guards and the refugees still crackled, though once Jasminda had translated that Osar was only trying to heal the soldier, things had calmed somewhat. The Elsirans, so fearful of magic, had been uninterested in being aided by an Earthsinger, and Jasminda had warned the children off their natural, helpful instincts.
The paved road ended at the Eastern Base at the bottom of the foothills. The border loomed just beyond, deceptive in its ordinariness. Her last time here, she had not even registered the proximity of the base to Lagrimar proper. There was no visible line, no wall, just the grass of the foothills giving way to a stretch of rocky dirt about a thousand metres wide. The hills on either side veered up sharply, transforming into jagged mountains towering overhead. This small stretch of flatland was not only the sole break in the mountain range separating the two countries but it was the location of all seven Mantle breaches.
The only other visible indication that one country ended and another began were the hundreds of Elsiran troops and vehicles gathered with weapons drawn pointing toward an equal number of Lagrimari troops on the other side. Bullets could not pierce the Mantle until it was breached, but the Elsirans showed no signs of backing down from their standoff.
The sun shone overhead, lighting the bleak landscape of sandy soil and sparse, tough vegetation. The refugees had been quiet since leaving the buses, but now at the end of their journey, their silence was a shroud. Osar stood on one side of Jasminda, Rozyl on the other. The only words the woman had spoken had been to ask whether Jasminda had the caldera on her. After she’d affirmed it, Rozyl had not left her side.
Jasminda’s fingers itched for her lost shotgun. Rozyl’s hands curled into fists, probably wanting the same thing. Across the border, rows of Lagrimari stood at attention. At the front of the line, an older man with a world-weary face stepped forward.
“By order of His Majesty the True Father of the Republic of Lagrimar, I, Brigadier Joren ol-Tarikor do hereby declare this a day of peace. My brothers and sisters, I welcome you home.”
He held both hands over his head and paused dramatically before clapping them together. An earsplitting crack rent the air. The ground shuddered, rolling and shaking, throwing everyone off-balance. From the direction of the army base, an alarm sounded.
“Breach!” shouted an Elsrian.
“Breach!”
“Breach!”
The word was repeated, the message passed along, as the Elsiran soldiers tensed almost in unison.
The armies were evenly matched in numbers, though the Lagrimari weaponry was visibly old. The men bore muzzle-loaded, single-shot rifles that were at least fifty years out-of-date. Many had bayonets or swords, as well. Jasminda eyed the Elsiran soldiers nearest her, noting the far more advanced automatic rifles with coils of ammunition at the ready. Tanks were spaced evenly along the border with smaller armored four-wheelers bearing giant rifles and larger weapons that looked like cannons or grenade launchers. The Lagrimari had no vehicles, but the barrels of huge wheeled cannons sat on the front lines. Elsira’s superior economic power and technology was unquestionable. But the Lagrimari had one advantage the Elsirans couldn’t buy.
The wind grew from a gentle breeze to a gale within the blink of an eye. Jasminda’s hair whipped back, the force of the wind stinging her eyes. It died down after a few breaths. But thick clouds exploded into existence over those on the Elsiran side. They swirled and raged unnaturally, then shuddered as deadly sharp icicles shot down. The ice stopped in midair a hand’s breadth from their heads, then crackled and fell apart, dusting the Elsirans and refugees in a layer of snow.
The army’s Earthsingers were taunting them.
Movement at the top of the lower foothills drew Jasminda’s attention. Lines of additional Lagrimari troops came into view from behind the hilltops on either side of the flatland of the breach area. They marched over the hills, descending across the border between the lands.
“They’ve done it,” she whispered. “They’ve destroyed the whole thing. The Mantle is gone.”