The Master of Monkeys came across a hunter caught in his own trap in the forest.
Will you free me? the hunter cried.
Nay, answered Monkey. However, in leaving you ensnared, I free your prey from your pursuit.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
Jack followed the others into a large tent erected just outside the ruins. Tankards of ale poured from fat barrels were shared liberally. The rain pattering against the tent’s fabric lent a steady soundtrack to the tale the old men spun.
Benn, Bindeen, and Qerwall sat together with Jack and Jasminda on folding camp chairs. The other soldiers sat in small groups nearby sharing memories and catching up.
“We’re honored to have you here, Commander,” Qerwall said. His steely eyes were so light they almost seemed leached of all color. Different from the amber shade of most Elsirans.
“I’m honored to be here. Will you tell us about the Phantoms?”
Qerwall eyed Jasminda with more curiosity than suspicion and launched into his story. “I had the dream of the Queen once when I was a lad, no more than three or four years old. I didn’t rightly know what I’d seen, but when I told my mama, she nearly fainted dead away. Got a lot of attention from that, I did, in our village. A group of Sisters came and questioned me for the Dream Record. But it wasn’t until years later, when we deployed during the Fifth, that I had another one.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and spread his gnarled fingers apart. “The Breach had been open going on sixty years, and at that point we were in a long standoff. They’d send a storm and then we’d bomb the living daylights out of them, and on and on. But when I got to the front line, things had just started turning ugly.
“The day before had been the first time we’d been hit with those bloody apple bombs they conjured.” He snorted at Jasminda’s questioning expression. “They didn’t whistle or hiss like normal shells. But if you smelled apples, you were in for it. Those blasted things eventually destroyed the Citadel.”
“Haven’t been able to eat an apple since,” Bindeen added.
Qerwall grunted in agreement. “But that first night I had the dream. I was transported to this dark place where I couldn’t see anything, not even myself. I heard Her voice. It flowed through me like lava in my veins. Never heard a sound like it before or since.
“She told me that there were others I had to find. Men I could trust, plus a few names She gave. Also, there were Lagrimari working against the True Father and we had to meet up with them. Said they’d found a weakness in the True Father’s plan and we had to be ready.”
“See there’s this fella called a Cantor,” Bindeen broke in. “The True Father’s second in command. I suppose they don’t last long, that madman kills people close to him after a while, but this one’s name was Morryn. He’s the one what made the apples. This Morryn had a son in secret. The True Father didn’t know about him, and Morryn wanted to keep it that way.”
“That was the weakness, see,” Qerwall continued smoothly. “These Lagrimari rebels had found it out and taken the son captive. They brought him to us, and we hid him in Elsira. Then got word to Morryn that we had his boy and if he didn’t stop shelling us with them apples, we couldn’t guarantee his son’s safety.”
“That’s when the tide turned in our favor,” Bindeen said. “We couldn’t do much against those bloody bombs, but once Morryn stopped creating them, we were able to mount an offensive.”
“That’s how we won the Fifth Breach.” Qerwall nodded and sat back, taking a long drink of his ale.
Jack took in Jasminda’s stunned expression. He had studied military history, and while there were no public records of the classified mission, when he’d taken over as Army High Commander, he’d been briefed on the broad strokes. But he had never actually met any of the men involved.
“What happened to Morryn and his son?” Jasminda asked.
Bindeen sobered. “The father wanted to defect. We had a plan to get him and the boy out of the country and on a ship headed for Raun. But…” He shook his head.
“The True Father found out. Killed the son. Drained the father’s Song.” Qerwall stared into his mug.
“But left Morryn alive?” she asked.
“For a time.” Qerwall nodded. “We got word from one of our contacts that the man escaped after his tribute. Don’t know what happened to him. Can’t imagine the True Father didn’t hunt him down and have him killed. After the breach closed, we were cut off from the rebels and heard nothing else about him.”
“It wouldn’t have been easy for him to hide with that hair of his,” Bindeen mused. “When we had him, we shaved his head so he wouldn’t stand out so much, but you could still see that mark he had.”
Jack looked up sharply from his ale. “What mark?”
“Birthmark. Shape of an S running from the front of his head to the back. A streak of white in his dark hair. All the way down to his scalp.”
A vise gripped Jack’s chest, making his breath short. “Describe him to me. How tall was he? How old then?”
Bindeen scratched his chin. “Average height for a Lagrimari. Thick build. Would have been in his fifties back then, I reckon. Why?”
Jack looked at Jasminda. “The old man I met, the one who gave me the map. He had a white streak in his hair just like that. The rest had turned a dark gray, but that streak was pure white.”
Jasminda stared at him, her eyes reflecting the foreboding he felt.
“But he would have to be going on one hundred years old now,” Bindeen said.
“You think it could have been this Morryn who gave you the map?” Jasminda’s voice was hushed. The conversation in the tent stayed at a low hum, but to Jack’s ears it was deafening.
He sat back in his seat, hands shaking. He pushed away the vision he’d seen during the quest to find the cornerstone. That had broken his heart, but this suspicion rising within him threatened to break his spirit.
“What if Morryn is still working for the True Father?” Jack asked. “What if giving me the map was a trick, a plot to find a way to destroy the cornerstone and keep their plans in motion?”
A growing dread unfolded as his thoughts continued. “You said the storm was magical, and after we revealed the cornerstone, the storm demolished it.” He met Jasminda’s gaze. “The current Cantor. She must have ordered Tensyn to let us go. Because she knew what I was going to do.”
Jasminda shook her head. “But you can’t know. We don’t…” She frowned, staring at the ground. “The fire at the cabin? The stone caused it. They were … manipulating us. Forcing us to leave.”
It was harder and harder to deny. The bottom dropped out of Jack’s stomach. “This is my fault. I believed Morryn. I didn’t ask enough questions, and I walked right into a trap.”
He recalled the first time he’d touched his blood to the stone and been taken into the map’s vision, seeing the cornerstone and knowing that he had a chance to avoid the war. It had consumed him, made him foolish.
“They knew who I was, and they used me to further weaken the Mantle.” He massaged his head as the truth struck him. “By pursuing the cornerstone, I brought about its destruction.”
“If this is true, the True Father destroyed the cornerstone, Jack. Not you.” Jasminda placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently.
“But remember the hooded woman in the vision? No one the True Father sent would have passed the test and found the cornerstone. He needed someone to lead him to it.” A pained expression crossed her face. “You said you felt like the storm was watching you. What if it was? I should have listened to you. It was bad magic.”
A crackle of static interrupted whatever she’d been about to say.
Benn sat up and grabbed the portable radio at his waist. He stepped outside to hear the caller, but ran back in almost immediately.
“Urgent call for you from the capital, sir.”
Jack stood, his whole body heavy as he walked out of the tent to take the call.
“Jack? Is that you?” a familiar voice warbled down the line.
“Usher? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Jack.” The man exhaled in relief. “Thank the Queen you’re alive!”
“What’s happened?”
“It’s Alariq.” The old man’s voice cracked, weighed down with misery. “Your brother is dead.”