30. Aldrin
W e march out of their crude fortress, between the great slabs of rock that jut from the ground at an angle and cast their shadows for leagues, and into Red Rose Grove.
We take a wide road that cuts through the sparse woods, sounding like a storm cracking with thunder as over five hundred sets of boots strike against the flagstones and crunch on the thin layer of ice coating them.
The racket we create, sending wildlife skittering, is as foreboding as our surroundings. It has been a long time since I have visited these parts, but they have never looked like this before.
The broad trunks of the ancient pines are sparse, yet their canopies are wide enough to filter the light, casting everything in an ominous blue glow.
Icicles cling to their branches like rows of teeth.
Wildrose bushes grow in all the spaces between the trees, crimson petals glittering with frozen droplets.
The further we walk, the thicker the ice becomes.
The ferns that normally carpet the floor have turned brown, burned by the snow dusted across them.
My breath mists before me and a shiver runs down my spine as I pull my cloak around me.
“It’s the fucking same everywhere we visit,” Silvan grumbles just behind me.
Hawthorne uses a small blade to cut a rose free from a vine growing close to the road and holds it up for me to inspect.
The entire thing is frozen solid in a thin crust of ice, its colors perfectly preserved.
He crumbles it to pieces in his hand. “No wonder it was so easy for Titania to blame the corruption of our lands on the Winter Court, when it always starts out as a change of seasons near their borders.”
“The same is true of our borders with the Summer Court,” I say.
“The corruption first drains the life from the lands by freezing or burning everything as the magic is drawn away, then it creates a desert, one of heat and sand or cold and ice. Either way, the lands become completely inhospitable before the voids appear. The only difference is that Titania cannot convince our people that Summer is performing acts of war against us. Not when they are known for being pacifists and we do not have a history of violence with them, unlike Winter.”
Silvan scoffs. “Summer fae are pacifists, until they are not. Then, they are fucking brutal, and I hope to the gods that we never need to fight them.”
“It is different in the Starlight Court.” Valentine breaks his usual brooding silence, and I glance back at him briefly, catching the ripple of pain that runs over his face.
“Our corruption materializes as the darkest of night, without even the stars for guidance. The kind of darkness that blinds even Nightmare fae who thrive in the shadows. It runs through the land in a web of cracks that can hardly be seen, blackness against blackness, like a living, hungry thing that can move and capture unsuspecting prey. And, of course, our darkness is bleeding into the Sun Court, making them accuse my people of tainting their land.”He shakes his head as we listen in horror.
“There is not much that we can do about it. Not even the raw magic of all the high fae left in our court is enough to counter the leaching of the magic where it is most severe. I believe that the courts who do not do their part are draining the magic from those that do. That my home cannot heal while this High Chancellor of yours still sits on Aldrin’s throne. ”
“It will take great change from all the courts,” I add. “My hope is that once I have a working system in mine, I can convince the others to follow.”
We continue the march through Red Rose Grove and I listen closely to the reactions of the foot soldiers behind us. There is so much anger dripping from their words and many curse Winter for their invasion, even those who were the most invested in my speech.
I motion for Commander Calypso to join me at my side. “Have none of your soldiers actually seen Red Rose Grove in its current state?”
She cringes. “Senator Ash did not like the soldiers leaving the fortress. He would inspect it with his selected inner circle whenever the urge arose within him, which was every few months, then he would return to berate us.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “Have you seen it?”
“Not in years. Not looking this severe.”
“Well, brace yourself. It is about to get a whole lot worse.” I dismiss her.
We pass through an abandoned town of treehouses that cling to trunks multiple stories above our heads.
Many of the ladders leading up from the ground and the rope bridges between buildings are snapped and hanging in disrepair.
The houses have missing roof tiles, broken slats and shattered leadlight windows that are frosted over with ice and grime.
High fae should be living here and nurturing these lands, but they are long gone. The tree and flower nymphs who are bonded to this place, however—they are still here, and scatter like wild beasts at our approach.
There is fear in their eyes.Ice clings to their bodies in chunks of crystals. The leaves and vines of their flesh are burned brown by the freeze. The rot is already upon them, wasting away their limbs and making them limp.
It breaks my fucking heart.
“These nymphs need to be evacuated,” Commander Calypso snarls beside me. “Why would Senator Ash leave them here?”
“Because they are killing nymphs that migrate to the city,” I snap, and she flinches.
“They are being targeted and blamed for the changing lands. For daring to speak out about them. The same is true in some of the large towns. Where would we bring them that is safe? Assuming they can even extract their heart-stones anymore with the degradation of their groves. Notice that they flee us, but not inside their trees. It means they can no longer join bodies with them. This is happening everywhere, and it is not Winter’s doing. ”
She tips her head at me. “Are you sure about that?”
“Wait and see.” A wave of fatigue rolls through me. I am so sick of having this same conversation over and over again, and I am just getting started.
Klara grabs me by the arm. “I can heal them. Let me try.”
It is a fool’s errand, but when I see the frozen tears on her cheeks, I nod despite myself, ordering a handful of soldiers to aid her. Maybe she can save a few.
The road takes us out of Red Rose Grove and into Greenwood Locket. The thicker forest hugs an immense lake depressed in a bowl in the ground, visible beneath us through gaps in the branches.
The entire body of water is frozen solid and corrupted.
I have never seen anything like it.
Narrow black cracks spread across the ice like a spider web, but the worst part is the thin streams of inky mist that billow from each one. I shudder as I realize the voids have stretched their tentacles this far inland, clearly reaching up from beneath the ground.
I share a look of pure horror with Cyprien, and am forced to take a moment to control my breathing as panic threatens me.
We are running out of time.
It is progressing faster than I was expecting.
I lead the entire regiment toward that lake.
I nearly lose the road multiple times, with the flagstones almost completely covered in snow.
Tree branches arch over the passage, creating a tunnel with foliage that sags with dark rot dripping from it.
We are forced to throw air shields above our heads so we are not covered in sludge.
The sickly-sweet scent of it gets stuck in my nose. The horrid taste curls on my tongue from the sheer amount of decay in the air.
Huge chunks fall sporadically from the trees and hit the road with a splat, creating a rhythmic song that is echoed throughout the forest. Amber runs down the trunks in wide channels, the golden liquid forming great globules that look like congealed blood.
We pass spriggan collapsed on the ground, moaning in pain, their huge bodies of many twisted woody limbs, spikes and antlers incapable of supporting their weight. One pitiful creature sits in a pile of ash, only stubs left of its four legs.
Distressed cries rise up from the soldiers behind me.
They still don’t understand what they are seeing.
Why our beasts are suffering such agony.
I send out orders to slaughter any dying spriggan as a mercy to the creatures, then push forward.
Past the lake, where the black veins ripple and throb on its surface, moving ever so slowly toward the life force it detects in this regiment, like it wants to suck us dry of magic.
I glance at Valentine. “Is this what you experienced in the court of your birth?”
“Yes.” His expression is stony. “It sucks the essence out of any fae it captures, leaving a hardened husk of rock behind.”
I force us on, beyond the lake, through the thickening snow and toward the desolation of the Dividing Cliffs. We pass an empty Watchtower Tree and another damned fortress without a single soul inside it. The sight sends a violent reaction rippling through the troops.
The trees here are piles of sludge and rotten, weeping branches hanging all too fluidly across the ground, only the stubs of the trunks still erect. Their forms dot the landscape, lessening in number until the powdery snow becomes knee-deep.
The white expanse of a featureless landscape spreads out around us, its only distinction the cliffs that hang over the border with Winter.
The wind howls with ferocity, freezing flesh and whipping ice particles painfully into exposed skin.
We craft warmed bubbles of air magic as our only protection.
I lead the soldiers right up to the view at the edge of a cliff, keeping my back to the desolation and taking a moment to examine their reactions.
Faces fall and eyes turn wide.
Tears form on cheeks and freeze immediately.
Many embrace as they stare down at our greatest enemy. It is no fae army. No foe we can defeat with a sword. It is a disaster of nature. One we will be lucky to survive.
When all those eyes settle upon me like a flock of lost cattle, filled with the hopelessness I have been grappling with for decades, I finally glance over my shoulder.
The desolation has gotten so much worse.
The flat plains that stretch on into the Winter Court as far as the eye can see are completely devoid of life. There are no wondering ice sprites, no burrowing beasts or colonies of pixies. Nothing moves except the ash.
Great rifts slice open the ground, like a colossal god has raked its claws through it in long slashes, churning up the ice into tall, jagged peaks around the voids.
There is pitch darkness within. Complete nothingness, like if a person tripped inside, they would fall through space for eternity.
Every muscle in my body tightens at how the quantity of those tears has vastly increased.
It is a wonder that the plains do not collapse in on themselves completely.
The corruption is getting out of hand.
I turn back to my people crowded around me and thread magic into my voice so every one of them can hear me over the wind.
“This is not the work of the Winter King. There is no technology that can do this, and why would they destroy their own lands along with ours? This is not a hostile takeover, simply converting Spring into Winter before an invasion. This is rot, decay and death. It is a corruption that is destroying our entire realm, devouring it piece by piece.”
“This…” I throw out a hand toward the devastation behind me.
“This is how Greenwood Locket and Red Rose Grove are going to look in a number of years if we don’t do something to stop it.
It affects every court in just the same way.
You have witnessed how the low fae are fading away because their magic is being sapped.
How the trees are turning to rot, the earth itself disappearing.
How long until it reaches the capital? How long until it affects the high fae and our bodies decay too? ”
One soldier breaks formation and calls out, “Why is the High Chancellor not doing anything about it?”
“How do we fight this?” another wails.
Commander Calypso rushes forward, stopping at my side. “You will keep your ranks and listen while your king speaks,” she barks.
I give her a sidelong look. Have I won her over already, or was that a slip of the tongue, to call me their king without negating the title by mentioning my exile?
I hold up a hand. “I want to hear what my people have to say. I will not silence them.”
Voices call out, all saying much the same, and I listen.
“You want to know how you can stop this?” I ask.
“Join me. Help me return order and peace to this court, starting with the City of Vertical Gardens. We can stop the High Chancellor from setting her Truth Templars onto whichever minority she wants to blame this natural disaster on at a whim. We can return to the people the food that she stole to create a false shortage to line her own pockets. Help me remove her from power and put her on trial for her crimes, the greatest one ignoring this. ” I gesture violently at the evidence of the corruption.
“You ask why Titania has done nothing about the corruption,” I continue, “but how can she, when she blindly refuses to acknowledge it? She has not traveled to the borders and doesn’t allow any of her senators to do so either.
She forbids all from witnessing it, like that will make the reality go away.
You ask why ? Because for Titania, it always comes down to her personal treasury, and acknowledging a natural disaster is bad for business.
Actually fighting it will cost more money than she is willing to spend.
So she pretends it isn’t happening. She crafts lies so intricate she has convinced herself.
Meanwhile, her people are dying and losing their homes. ”
I pause for effect, allowing those grim words to sink in.
“I am your only hope at fixing this!” I bellow as loud as I can.
“Follow me, not that tyrant, and live! Let us try for a peaceful transfer of power.” Even as I say those words, I know there will be fighting, battles and maybe even an outright civil war, but my hands are tied. At least I will try to keep the peace.
Cheers tear out to meet my words.
Fists curl and slam into chests.
Soldiers fall to their knees before me.
At my side, even Commander Calypso makes the display of her allegiance to me. Not a single soldier remains standing, despite the snow that reaches their knees. Over five hundred of Spring’s best warriors, pledged to me.
It is a start.