7. Henry #2
I shake my head. “I’m not. Are you ready?”
He nods, and we follow the small lane back toward the center of the city.
It’s been ten years since I’ve been here, and though the walls have expanded a bit wider, the layout of the city is the same as it was when we last visited before the fall.
Lunameade is split into four quadrants: Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, and Southwest. Each quadrant is sectioned off into three fallback points so that if the Drained ever infiltrate the city walls, there are strongholds to defend.
It would be easy to get lost here, having not visited in ten years, but once you understand the quadrant structure, it’s easy to find a path to lead you to the center of town and the Blood Well.
And for anyone too panicked or directionally challenged to remember, bright sunstone arrows are inlaid on the second story of most buildings in town, directing people toward the nearest fallback gate.
“How’s the wife-to-be?” Carter asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “Pretty. Feisty. Not quite what I expected, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Carter elbows me. “I never had any doubt, but I figured I’d ask because when we meet up with Bryce, his questions are sure to be more vulgar.”
I rub a hand down my face. I’m not looking forward to that. I don’t want to think about my soon-to-be wife’s perfect tits, or her lacy undergarments, or the sound she made when I bit her thigh. She is just a part of this revenge mission, and if she’s fun to take to bed, that’s merely a bonus.
I didn’t wait ten years to get distracted by a tempting woman.
People rush in and out of the businesses ahead of us, carrying bags full of produce and candles and carafes of ale. They certainly don’t seem like they’re struggling for resources. Of course, it’s the wealthier people who live near the center of town since it’s safer farther from the city gates.
When we finally step into the center circle of the maze of streets, it’s easy to spot Bryce. In the afternoon light, his copper hair is like a beacon. He leans against a flower cart, talking to the woman who runs it.
He spots us and smiles at the girl before sauntering up to greet us.
It’s not a surprise that he’s more at ease in the hectic city. While my friends are both trained huntsmen—warriors at home in the perils of the forest—Bryce has always been more invigorated by crowds, while Carter prefers to watch the action from the periphery.
“Eight ways into this Divine-damned city. Why are we even bothering to check it out from the inside? There’s no way they’re all so well guarded,” Bryce says.
We have no intention of laying siege to a city built to withstand it. If all goes well, we won’t need to.
“You tell me,” I say. “You’ve been following the patrols. What have you found?”
Bryce pauses at the window of a bakery, smiling at the shopgirl.
He orders something and then turns and nods at the high stone tower to the east. “They work in groups of three. Six-hour shifts, and they typically alternate between the same three posts for the same direction. So, if they cover the east side of the city, they might start their day at Northeast Hold, shift to East Hold after two hours, and then Southeast Hold two hours later. The problem is that every fifteen minutes, a soft bell chimes and they patrol the top of the wall. So, one man stays in the tower to watch the gate, and the other two walk in opposite directions down the wall until they meet their peer from the next tower. Then they turn around and walk back. Any attack would require a minimum of three guard casualties.”
The girl from the bakery returns to the window and hands Bryce a honey cake. He takes a bite and smiles at her appreciatively as he leads us around the perimeter of the center circle.
As we walk, Carter and Bryce bicker about sweets, but I tune them out and take in the city that’s changed so much in the ten years since I’ve visited. Some of the last good memories of Holly are here during the Dark Star Festival, the month before she died.
It used to be so much easier to travel the Drained Wood.
The forest was still dangerous then, but not so overrun.
We used to take quarterly visits to Lunameade in much larger groups.
Back then, the fort was a resting place for traveling tradesmen before the perils of the woods, and a place to regroup for anyone traveling from Lunameade after they survived the Drained. That seems like a distant fantasy now.
These days, we take only the strongest riders who are prepared to take the twenty-mile journey from Mountain Haven to Lunameade at an all-out gallop, on horses that are blessed by healers with magic from Divine Elvodeen, so that they’re in peak condition for the perilous journey.
What strikes me most about the city is that the nature is so perfectly curated.
In Mountain Haven, everything is wild, natural, and overgrown.
Here, the flowers are neatly contained in planters and window boxes and magically still in bloom even though the season is turning.
The trees are weak, removed from the outside and replanted in squares too small for them to really grow in.
“Any thoughts on how they manage to keep the lights on?” I ask, finally turning my attention back to Carter and Bryce’s bickering.
Bryce laughs. “About that. The streetlights and wall perimeter lighting are clearly an upgrade since the fort fell. It seems our sources were right. There are a lot of rolling blackouts, but we can’t figure out how they power all of this or how they have such an elaborate network.
It’s likely some blessing from Stellaria that allows them to channel light through a system of sunstones.
Safe to say your city girl is going to have to adjust to the candlelight at the Haven. ”
“The adjustment should be short-lived,” I grumble. “What about Rochelli?”
Bryce grins. “That part is more fun. Somehow, everyone seems to know someone who knows someone who met him. Not one has laid eyes on him.”
“Could be an alias,” I say.
Carter shrugs. “Could also be a group of people instead of just one man. Regardless, the consensus is that he’s the leader of this resistance in the city.”
I frown. Hard to believe that even behind these tall city walls, they can still find a reason to revolt. “What’s their issue?”
Bryce runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. He winks at a woman walking by. She smiles and watches him appreciatively as we pass.
“There have been as many breaches in the past six months as there were all of last year,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “They’re rattled at the lack of protection, but it’s more than that.”
Hearing that makes my blood run cold. It’s one thing for the Drained to be worse at the fort. We are a smaller and more isolated target. But if they’re also coming at the city this hard, that’s a very bad sign.
Bryce pauses and turns, pointing up at the building next to us as if admiring the architecture. “From what I can tell, they have the ‘unblessed’ pay blood tithes on a cycle. They have a book where they keep records of who is due on a particular day.”
I frown. “Does that work?”
Carter throws an arm around my shoulders. “You tell us. Your new in-laws are the most powerful magical family in Lunameade. I’d say it must do something.”
I shake my head. The Carrenwells aren’t just powerful because of their magic.
They’re powerful because they can see magic, and that has given them the advantage of always knowing what type of fight to be prepared for.
It’s the reason that no one will challenge them outright. Those who have tried have died.
“The shift is that they seem to have adjusted the blood tithe requirement from once every thirty days to once every fifteen days,” Bryce says. “No idea why they?—”
The soft din of the square is cleaved by shouting.
We turn toward the well to see what’s happening.
Two city watch guards drag a man toward the Blood Well.
The people in line watch with rapt interest, but the rest of the townsfolk milling about the square avert their eyes as if they’re used to this.
The man stumbles to his knees. He’s old—his body bent with age and hair white and sparse. He has to be pushing seventy.
“I don’t owe you blood. You’ve had it every month of my life since I was of age. And what do we have to show for it? A failing wall, dark nights, and an even darker future,” the man shouts.
“Sir, it’s your blood day—perhaps you’ve just forgotten,” a guard says, his voice calm and placating.
“I’m not senile! I’m just tired of the charade. The magic is failing.” The old man takes a swing at the guard.
The guard grabs his arm and twists it behind him. His partner grabs the old man’s other hand and slides his blade across the man’s palm. They drag him to the well, and the rest of the line watches in a mix of horror and resignation.
“Barbaric,” Carter mumbles as they force the old man’s hand over the well and dark blood drips down into the abyss. The guards mumble something as the blood pours down.
Finally, they let him go. He hobbles away and takes the piece of gauze offered by a young man beside the well.
The old man spits at the city guards’ feet. “Bleeding us all dry for power. You’re no better than the Drained.”
Bryce whistles, and I scowl at him.
“What?” Bryce shrugs. “He’s got a point. I don’t claim to understand the magic of the wells, but it does seem excessive for such an old man. I thought there used to be an age cap.”
“There did. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures,” Carter says.
“And desperate measures can be exploited,” I say.
This is the place where I can drive a wedge between the Carrenwells and the magicless people of Lunameade, and my future wife holds the key to their weaknesses. All I have to do is get her to reveal them.
The ten-year anniversary of the attack on Mountain Haven is imminent. For the first time, it feels like I’ll be able to ease this driving ache for vengeance that has lived in my chest ever since the wall fell.