Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(85)
Within minutes, the number of Lagrimari soldiers more than doubled. According to Jack, almost all of Elsira’s fighting force had been gathered here.
Technology versus superior numbers and magic.
Jasminda fought against the building despair.
The brigadier marched forward, leading his men across the invisible barrier that no longer existed. An Elsiran general marched forward to meet him.
“There is no need for losing life this day. I will address my brethren,” Brigadier Joren said in broken Elsiran. The general stood aside as Joren approached.
“Please, listen close,” he said in Lagrimari. This seemed to be a cue for all the refugees to sit down. Jasminda settled on the muddy ground with the others. “I am happy to welcome you back to the open arms of the Fatherland. Your presence will help us usher in a great peace. But before your return, there is something His Majesty requires of you. One of you holds an artifact that has great significance to our blessed leader. A stone, smaller than my palm.” He raised his hand over his head. The Elsiran troops nearest him followed his movement with their rifles, but he paid them no mind.
“The stone must be returned before your homecoming may begin.”
Jasminda’s chest tightened. Though it must have been her imagination, the caldera in her pocket seemed to hum to life. She flexed her fingers, eager for a weapon of any kind, a way to fight through the terror and escape.
Brigadier Joren paced the length of the tightly gathered crowd of refugees. “To underscore the importance of compliance with any and all beneficent requests of His Majesty’s, I will return one of you to the World After every minute the artifact is not within my possession.”
He pulled his pistol from the holster at his hip and pulled back the hammer. The Elsiran soldiers tensed almost as one. The general closest to Joren pulled his sidearm, as well.
Brigadier Joren chuckled. “I will harm no Elsiran. This is between me and my countrymen,” he said in Elsiran. The general nodded but continued pointing his own pistol at the man.
The brigadier produced a pocket watch, and though Jasminda was at least a dozen metres away, she could feel each tick of the clock like a beat inside her chest.
The minute that passed felt like the longest of her life, until it ended and Joren grabbed a random refugee from the crowd. Gray hair, a stooped stature . . .
Gerda.
Jasminda barely stifled a gasp. When Joren lifted his pistol to the old woman’s head, Jasminda hurtled into motion. Her body acted without thought, but she struggled against an immovable object while trying to get closer to the woman. She looked down to find hands wrapped around her waist, squeezing painfully and holding her in place. Wrenching her neck around, she stared into Rozyl’s hard eyes. They were wet with unshed tears, but Rozyl’s face was implacable. Jasminda turned back to the front. Through the crowd, Gerda met her gaze and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Jasminda squeezed her eyes shut.
The shot rang out.
“No!” Jasminda’s scream echoed in the wake of the gunshot, reverberating off the mountain peaks. Many things could be healed with Earthsong, but a close-range shot to the head was not one of them.
Rozyl didn’t let go, tightening her embrace and forcing Jasminda’s head down.
“Someone has something to say? The location of the artifact perhaps?” Brigadier Joren’s voice was self-satisfied. Nausea swept over Jasminda. Her empty stomach heaved, but nothing came out. The Elsiran general looked horrified, but made no moves to stop the executions.
The clock continued to tick, and Jasminda couldn’t watch another person die. She couldn’t be responsible for the death of one more innocent.
This time Brigadier Joren pulled a young girl from the crowd, out of the arms of her shrieking mother. Jasminda slackened her body, and Rozyl’s hold weakened slightly. Taking advantage, Jasminda broke out of the woman’s arms and shot to her feet.
The brigadier’s gaze landed on her, and Jasminda opened her mouth to confess. Before she’d taken a breath, Rozyl shot up beside her.
Turwig was next, moving faster than a man of his age rightly should. One by one, the other Keepers she’d met in the cave and at the camp stood, and even Lyngar, a man she’d suspected of having no emotions whatsoever, had tears in his eyes as he looked at Gerda’s lifeless form sprawled on the ground.
Brigadier Joren was not impressed at the show of solidarity. “The artifact. Where is it?”
“I have it,” Rozyl called out, her voice strong and clear.
“I have it,” Lyngar said.
The statement was repeated by every Keeper standing.
“I have it,” Timmyn said, taking to his feet. Other refugees, children and mothers, the young and the elderly all stood, proclaiming to have the caldera. Most of them had no idea what they were even admitting to, but Jasminda was moved all the same. She had thought she’d known misery and heartache since the loss of her family, but she had nothing on these people. She’d also thought she truly understood love, but the actions of the other refugees humbled her.
Her hands shook, and she stuffed them into her pockets, brushing against the photo of her family. Fingering the smooth paper, she felt her family now extend to everyone here. They were all in this together. These people that she never thought she’d fit in with were acting as one with her. Standing together in the face of almost certain death. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she swiped them away.