“I hope you’re right, lass. I really do.”
I gave her a smile and left her to it. Once back outside, I paused and looked around. I wanted—needed—to be doing something to help, but this wasn’t my home and Trey had given me orders to return to the main hall once I’d finished talking to Treace. After another moment, I reluctantly walked down the steps and headed across the yard toward the main hall. A bit of rubble skittered out from under my foot, and the sight of it had me pausing. It not only looked as if the very fabric of the stone had been stretched to breaking point, but it also had thin strands of metal entwined around it. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. If the walls here had been built along the same lines as the ones at Winterborne, then the inner portion would be stone over which the thick sheet of shiny black metal had been wrapped. For this stone to be a weird mix of the two, the very fabric of both had to have been altered. And while I had no doubt the strongest earth witch would be capable of such a deed, it had been two kids behind the destruction here. I could accept the possibility that between them they’d had enough power over the earth to bring down Blacklake’s defenses, but surely two kids wouldn’t be able to draw so much power that both stone and metal had fused? Especially given most witches, be they air or earth, didn’t come into their true power until puberty?
Except, I thought with a chill, that rule didn’t hold true for those of us who were stained and magic capable. I’d always been able to hear the wind, even if my ability to interact with her hadn’t come until puberty. I might not have ever had much control over her, but how much of that was a result of not having anyone to teach me? Or the fact I’d never done the bonding ceremony with either element? Trey had said his daughter had been able to hear the earth from a very young age, and he’d been teaching her as soon as she could walk and talk in order to stop accidental usage that could have revealed her abilities to the wrong persons.
Frowning, I spun around and headed for the gatehouse rather than the main hall. Something about this stone prickled at my instincts, and I wasn’t about to ignore it. The drawbridge was still lowered, and though water remained in the inner moat, the gentle current swirling toward the damaged main hospital suggested it was already being drained back to the lake. The soldiers guarding the inner gatehouse gave me a nod of acknowledgment but didn’t stop me from entering the outer bailey. Maybe they remembered me from my previous time here, or perhaps they’d been sent word to let me pass unchallenged.
The destruction in the outer bailey looked even worse here at ground level than it had from within the tower. The wall and gatehouse had blown apart in chunks that were as big as some troop carriers, and the remnants of the Adlin and the few soldiers who’d been caught on the walls during the initial explosion and subsequent attack lay scattered everywhere. There was a group of men currently inspecting the gatehouse remains, but instinct had me going right, toward the workhouses, kitchens, and mess hall. I jumped off the drawbridge and walked close to the inner wall’s skin, my fingers brushing the cool black metal. At first glance, it seemed the fighting hadn’t gotten this far, as there wasn’t even blood splatter let alone any sign the wall had been attacked. And yet the ground told a different story; there were a lot of footprints in the mud. Big heavy prints that were Adlin rather than human. They’d run along here, but for what purpose?
The wall swept around to the left, a gentle curve that soon had the gatehouse and the drawbridge out of immediate sight. The muddy footprints continued forward, and a foul smell began to taint the air. Unease prickled across my skin and I slowed. There was no sign of any damage to the wall, and no indication what the Adlin had intended when they’d come this way. The wall remained unbroken, but the gentle curve gave way to an oddly rough-looking section of wall that was a mix of both metal and stone—much the same as stone in my hand. I glanced down; in the glow of light coming over the top of the inner wall, it looked vaguely washed out—as if the explosion had not only not stretched its matter to breaking point, but also drained all color.
Not color, a voice whispered. But power. Energy.
That voice didn’t belong to the wind: it hadn’t come from the air, but rather from the ground. It vibrated across my flesh before finding its way into my thoughts. The earth—or rather, the collective consciousness of all those who now lived within it—had finally decided to speak to me.
I looked back at the odd section of wall. Just like the stone in my hand, it, too, seemed colorless.
I frowned and walked closer. The muddy ground under my boots grew heated, and with it came a sense of anger and defilement. Whatever was going on, the earth wasn’t happy about it.
I stopped in front of the odd section stone and splayed the fingers of my free hand against it. There was a weird chill to the metal and stone mix, and its surface was very definitely rougher than the section it met at a very slight angle. I shifted my fingers to that portion of the wall. The metal was also cool, but the earth’s anger vibrated through it, giving it life and a pulse. I returned my hand to the rougher section. No heartbeat, just a strange deadness.
I stepped back and glanced up. The roughness continued right to the very top of the wall, but I couldn’t see anyone or anything up there—which wasn’t surprising given most of Blacklake’s watch would be concentrating all efforts on protecting the breached area from the possibility of another Adlin attack.
I followed the rough wall to the point where it met the main curtain wall. The join here was again messy—it was almost as if it had been done in a rush.
Had the inner wall been breached at some point in the distant past? Technology these days made patching any defects or imperfections easy, but maybe that hadn’t always been the case, at least out here in the outposts. Or maybe they’d believed the main wall was strong enough to repel anything the Adlin might throw at it, so they simply hadn’t bothered repairing small imperfections on the inner wall.
I brushed my fingers along the join between the two walls and frowned. There were more than a few gaps between the two, and while they might not be any wider than my little finger, that was enough for an Adlin to wedge a claw in and perhaps gain a means to either climb the wall or even tear it open.
I shifted and pressed an eye against one of the wider gaps. There seemed to be movement in the darkness beyond this section of the wall, and it was accompanied by a soft thrumming sound. It was coming from the earth and was almost a strangled sound of protest—as if the power and the voices that resided within her didn’t want to be doing whatever task they were being set to do.
But it was the air that slid through the tiny gap between the walls—air that was ripe with the scent of unwashed flesh, urine, and blue cheese—that gave me the answer as to what was happening in that darkness. It was the scent of the children. They weren’t dead. They were here, doing freedom only knew what.
I stepped back and sucked in a deep breath to try and wash the foul scent from my lungs. And though that sound wasn’t very loud, all movement stopped in the darkness beyond the wall. The silence that followed was full of fear, anticipation, and awareness.