The Mistress of Frogs was called to the bedside of an old woman who wanted to be assured of peace in the World After.
She said, Peace can be found only in memory. To seek it in the future is folly.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jack watched the transports carrying the refugees and settlers rumble away. Only he, Jasminda, and Benn, his assistant, remained. Jack had been grateful when Benn drove up an hour before. He’d embraced his old friend like a brother.
Jasminda’s expression was unreadable as the other Lagrimari were driven off. Jack didn’t have to explain himself to his men, but he’d noticed their questioning looks as Jasminda was held aside while the Lagrimari were gathered together.
Now Benn, the only person Jack trusted, was in the driver’s seat of a four-wheeler. He wouldn’t ask any difficult questions, and he would be discreet. Benn had known of Jack’s undercover mission—only the broad strokes—and had kept his every confidence.
“Where to?” Benn asked. He’d greeted Jasminda politely, palms out, without any questions, and for that Jack was grateful. The fact that she appeared surprised at the action gnawed at him.
“The Citadel. We need to take a look at the ruins.”
The Citadel had been built after the First Breach, just a few decades after the Mantle’s erection. The invading Lagrimari had taken over much of the eastern farmland. They’d built a wall to keep the Elsirans out and used their considerable power in the form of earthquakes, fires, storms, and floods to do battle.
Elsiran engineers responded by constructing a mighty battle ram that eventually tore down the wall. Their superior numbers pushed the Lagrimari back, and the tear in the Mantle closed again, without the Elsirans quite knowing how.
That’s when the Citadel was built—a walled city that could withstand a year-long siege. The Elsirans bolstered their army, making the city its headquarters. That long-ago Prince Regent knew it was just a matter of time before the True Father attacked again.
Their four-wheeler came to a stop at the edge of the ruins. A vast sea of tumbled rock and stone stretched out before them. Tough grasses and shrubbery pushed their way through gaps in the stones. Here and there an archway remained mostly intact. The foundations and first stories of many of the buildings had also lasted, though the formerly cobbled streets were just greenery now.
“Why was it never rebuilt, I wonder?” Benn asked.
“I don’t think we had the heart. A city of stone is no match for men who can cause it to crumble with a thought.” The Elsirans had underestimated the Earthsingers, and they had suffered for it. Jack exited the vehicle, wading through the somber atmosphere that had settled over them.
“But this city stood for hundreds of years,” Jasminda said, coming to his side.
“Because the True Father wanted to use it.” Jack snorted. “After all the work it took to build, the Lagrimari tunneled in during the Second Breach and took over. It changed hands throughout the years more than once.”
The rain had subsided for the moment, though the gray sky promised more. Jasminda turned in a circle, taking it all in. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her middle.
“Are you cold?”
Jack still wore her brother’s pants, but had changed his wet shirt for a dry one and donned a brown army jacket back at Baalingrove. The refugees had been issued blankets while waiting for transport, but Jasminda must have left hers behind.
He took off his jacket and handed it to her. She smiled, almost shyly, before accepting it.
“Thank you,” she whispered. It engulfed her, and she had to roll up the sleeves. Jack looked away. The jacket wasn’t even really his, but it sparked something possessive in him that was wholly inappropriate.
The Citadel sat slightly to the southwest of the only gap in the mountain range. This stretch of land was a few thousand paces wide and was the sole location from which you could see the country of Lagrimar.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Jasminda asked. “Breach Valley? I’ve never…” She looked visibly shaken.
The Mantle was invisible to the eye, but try to cross the gap and you would hit an impenetrable force. Well, mostly impenetrable.
Every breach had occurred right here. Every breach save for the current one.
“What does he want?” Jasminda asked. “Why invade this place again and again?”
“Farmland, food for his people. I suspect everyone is easier to control when they’re well fed.” Elsirans certainly were. The most unrest always happened in times of strife.
“But he has magic.”
Jack turned away from the valley, back to the ruins. “They say he hates to use it. Darvyn told me that the True Father’s power is tainted, so he himself cannot transform the land from desert to fertile. Apparently, he tried at the beginning and it only made the land worse. But he had already stolen the power from the strongest Earthsingers, so there were few left to terraform. So he set his sights on this side of the mountain.”
After the Citadel’s destruction, the Eastern Base became the hub of army operations. It was to the north of Breach Valley, just out of sight of the constant reminder of failure the destroyed city held.
Benn walked a bit farther out of earshot. “Do you recognize anything?” Jack asked Jasminda.
“This does seem to be the location of the colony I saw. But I don’t know.” She headed down an overgrown path that was once, no doubt, a vibrant city street. Every so often she would stop and squint. He wondered if she was using her Song to search for clues but didn’t pierce the quiet to ask.
The low hum of voices rose nearby. Jack grabbed his sidearm and moved in front of Jasminda, scanning the area.
His skin tightened with apprehension until a bugle trilled out. They turned a corner and found three dozen old men gathered before the remains of the clock tower. Though not much of the structure was left, it was still the tallest thing standing in the city.
Some of the old-timers were in military dress uniforms, some in suits and ties with sashes of honor covering their chests. They all stood at attention while a lone bugler played a plaintive melody. Two at the front of the group folded the Elsiran flag, its blue and gold symbols of the country’s crest disappearing into the folds.
Jack came to attention and saluted. When the bugle died, the men’s voices rose, singing the Elsiran national anthem.
“From sandy shores near oceans deep,
To mountains near and far,
Her memory, alive we keep
Elsira’s in our hearts
Shining brightly, coast to hill
Her beauty waning never,
Elsira lives on by our will
Elsira is forever.”
Quiet replaced the voices, and then the ceremony was done. The skies picked that point to open, dousing them in a cold drizzle.
Some of the men looked up, noticing Jasminda and Jack for the first time. Jack wore only the plain brown shirt, and none of his stripes were visible to indicate his rank, yet one of the men recognized him. The old-timer snapped to attention and saluted.
“High Commander Alliaseen. It’s a pleasure, sir.” The other men followed his lead.
Jack reciprocated, conscious of his intrusion upon them. “As you were,” he ordered.
By the age of the men present, he gathered they must be Fifth Breach veterans. Some tough old bastards. What he’d heard about those fights made his stomach sour.
“Jasminda?” one of the men called out, stepping forward. She grew rigid beside Jack before her expression morphed into a smile.
“Bindeen?” A graying figure approached and bowed slightly as she beamed. “What in Sovereign’s name are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same. Those what are left from our regiment get together this time every year to pay our respects. It’s the anniversary of our last stand here.”
“This is Master Bindeen, the blacksmith in town,” Jasminda said by way of introduction. Jack liked that she smiled fondly at the old man. He sensed there were not many who could claim her friendship.
Bindeen nodded at him. “Sir.”
Jack looked more closely at the uniforms of the men. “You say you shared a regiment?” Bindeen wore the patch of the 23rd Infantry, the Black Skulls, while the two who’d folded the flag were both from the 18th, the Stormwalkers. And over there was a fellow from the 49th.
Bindeen eyed the others with a sidelong glance, then grinned. “We share a regiment that no patch was ever made for, sir.” The old man peered at him meaningfully.
“The Phantoms?” Jack was incredulous.
“Aye.”
Jack viewed the man with renewed admiration. He bowed slightly. “It is an honor.”
Bindeen scoffed, his face reddening. “It was Qerwall over there who brought me in and watched our backs every day of that mission.” He motioned to a wiry man with a full head of gray hair still tinged with the red of his youth.
Jasminda looked back and forth between them. “What are the Phantoms?”
Bindeen’s mouth clamped shut, a guilty look crossing his face, but Jack grinned. “I think fifty years of being classified is long enough. What do you think, Sergeant?”
The man smiled. “Why don’t you step into our office? I’ll tell you all about it.”