In the Ruins

“What of Queen Adelheid, Your Majesty?” demanded Burchard.

Sanglant laughed bitterly. “You and I both saw the ruins of Estriana. I think there are no survivors.”

“Should we send scouts into the town?”

“How can we tell when another wave may overtake any of our scouts who go down to search? If we wait for the sea to subside completely, we will suffer losses ourselves from thirst and starvation. Nay, I pray you, Burchard, we have no choice. Queen Adelheid is living, or she is dead. If she is dead, there is no help for her. If she lives, those who have survived with her will lead her to safety. Our situation is too desperate.”

Burchard bowed his head, but he did not protest. Liutgard nodded to show she approved.

“The Brinne Pass,” he continued. “It’s too late in the year to attempt the higher passes, but there’s a chance at least that we can cross into the marchlands and thence west to Wendar.”

“At last!” cried Liutgard. “Home!”

“Your Majesty,” objected Burchard. “What about Darre? What about Henry’s empire?”

“Without Wendar there is no empire. Imagine, if you will, how far the tide of this destruction may have spread. Look at it! We do not know how distantly the deadly winds have struck or what damage they leave in their wake. The people of Wendar have already suffered greatly. If there is no succor for them, they will turn to others who will offer them surety and order. We must secure what is ours first, our birthright. When that is safe, then we shall see if my father has an empire left to defend.”

They knelt to display their obedience, all except Liutgard and Burchard.

“What of Henry’s remains?” Liutgard asked.

“His bones and heart must go to Quedlinhame.”

She sighed. He recalled her as so young and bright and spirited when they had grown up together in the king’s schola. Now she looked as aged as he felt, scarred by Henry’s ill-fated expedition into Aosta and by the events of the last two days. But she was too strong of spirit to dwell on what could not be changed. She beckoned to her steward and they spoke together before the duchess turned back to her cousin. “My steward has been overseeing the boiling, Your Majesty. She’ll find a suitable chest, and a box for the heart.”

“So be it. We’ll camp here to tend our wounded and repair what we can in preparation for the journey to come. Drink sparingly. Fulk, send out scouts to search for water, and others to see if there is aught to be recovered from within the forest: wagons or armor, provisions, strays. Wounded. Anything. Bury the dead that you find, but we can leave them no monument and we can carry none of the dead home with us, none but my father. As soon as the king’s remains are fit to move, we will leave.”

As the rest dispersed to their night’s bivouac, Hathui came up beside him. “What of Liath, Your Majesty? If she reached Dalmiaka, as she hoped, then she is south and east of us. We’re leaving her behind.”

“We cannot act unless we know she lives and exactly where she is.”

“An expedition could be sent. I would go—”

“I haven’t strength or provisions enough to split my forces.”

“A small group only, Your Majesty. Ten or twelve at most surely—”

“To ride where?”

“We can guess where she might be. A scouting expedition only. I could find a dozen who would be brave enough—”

He gritted his teeth and she stammered to a halt, seeing his expression. “Do not pain me with these objections, Eagle. Liath is powerful enough to rescue herself.”

“If she is injured?”

“Then I am too far away to help her. For God’s sake, Hathui, do not forget my daughter! I have not! I do not know if Blessing lives, or is dead. If the Horse people kept their oath to us, or have killed her or enslaved her. I may never know. But we must march north. We must march now. I will not split up my army. No.”

She met his gaze. She was a bold woman, and for that he respected her. “It is a terrible choice, Your Majesty.”

“It is the choice that has to be made. We are two thousand here with at least a thousand horses, without enough water, feed, and food, in hostile country swept by untold damage, and with winter coming and mountains to be crossed. Our situation is dire. If we lose Wendar, we have lost everything. Liath will find us if she lives.”

“I will pray, Your Majesty.”

“So will we all.”

III
AWAITING THE FLOOD

1

SHE waited alone in a vast new world. For a long time she stood at the top of a ragged ridgeline, the earth smoking, hot in many places, and stared as the sun’s rising illuminated the changed landscape. Devastation surrounded her. The extent of the destruction was staggering. What remained of the old land had been stripped to rock by the force of the explosion, or vaporized by the heat, or scalded clean by the blast of a gale. West and northwest as the wind blew, a cloud of ash obscured the horizon. East and northeast the ash fall wasn’t as severe, but the ground had altered strangely, forming eerie ranks of hills one after the next, each with the same height and curve. In hollows, pools of muck stank like sulfur. Nothing moved. Nothing lived. Nothing that had once lived here existed even to decay. Right above her the sky had an odd look to it, which she recognized after long consideration as the natural blue sky.