Chapter 43—Terra

Kahn didn't eat dinner with us last night, because we didn't eat dinner together at all. Once the siege began, troops were required at all times to man the walls and defend against incursions by the thousands of Amun fighters who overran the evacuated city. Jesse brought food and we ate as we walked along the top of the wall. Sterling Castle itself and the surrounding courtyard was well built, with two-thirds of the circumference built right on the edge of the top of a very steep hill. As a result, protecting those areas uses few resources. In order to reach the top of the wall overlooking the drop-off, a man would need to climb up hundreds of feet of rock, and then scale the sheer face of a fifty-foot wall. They might Lift someone, so occasional guards are posted, but they wouldn't make easy inroads.

The remaining one-third of the wall shelters against Sterling City below. Maintaining that wall requires constant effort. Devlin's men haven't launched a full-scale assault yet, but every attempt has been focused on that segment. So far, Devlin’s testing the edge of our defenses like a snake flicking its tongue.

We're in the dining room going over the long-term strategy with all the Unit Leaders. “The problem is, we didn't have enough time.” Duncan slams his hand down on the table, and I watch as my eggs and biscuit jump into the air.

“We did what we could,” Jesse says. “At least we evacuated the city. That had to be our focus.”

“I hate that we didn't clear the city of all the supplies.” Duncan begins pacing. “Everything we left, every chicken, every bag of grain, goes straight into our enemy's belly.”

“I doubt that will make a difference, though, surely,” I say.

Jesse, Kahn, and Duncan look sharply in my direction, and several of the others cover their mouths to keep from laughing.

Kahn says, “Most wars are won or lost through the soldiers' bellies.”

I raise my eyebrows, but say nothing else. Clearly everyone here thinks I'm an idiot. And when it comes to warfare, they're probably right.

“Flynn and Stefan, you'll cover the daytime on the North Wall,” Duncan says. “Pratt will cover the night, and I’ll assist him as needed. Adaniel, you have the East Wall by day, and Francis, you have it by night. Seth will cover the West by day, Quincey by night. On the South Wall, I want Beren by day, Nathaniel by night. Jesse, you're in charge of the front gate. Kahn, you and Alora will fill in anywhere that needs help or where the team needs a break. As you all know, we did manage to bring our entire army inside these walls. That means we have thirteen thousand men at our disposal. Devlin is surrounding us with almost twenty thousand. We believe he will hold off on a full attack until his reinforcements arrive.”

“Don't we have more troops coming?” Kahn asks. “Ours should arrive first, since they don't have as far to travel, which would put us in a hammer and anvil situation, hopefully.”

“We should have troops on the way,” Duncan says, “but the surrounding cities are all dealing with the integration of the refugees from Sterling. The other Unit Leaders want to keep enough men to protect their own fortifications, and I can’t fault them for that. As you know, several of the Isis castles are farther from our capital than most of Amun’s outlying castles. Sterling Castle and Rochester Castle are both centrally located and not divided from one another by much distance.”

“Our plan is to what, then?” Stefan asks. “Just hold on and hope more of our troops arrive than theirs? What will the troops do when they do arrive?”

Jesse snorts. “Did you hear Kahn? Have you ever seen a hammer hit an anvil?”

“When our troops arrive, we’ll attack, then?” Stefan asks. “How will we coordinate that?”

Duncan raises one eyebrow. “Pigeons, unless you have a better idea.”

Stefan stands. “I do. Conway Castle will send troops soon, but we should strike now, when Amun’s followers aren't expecting it. Bring this battle to them immediately.”

“And in so doing, throw away our biggest advantage,” Kahn says. “We can whittle away more of their troops every day through arrow slits and from behind the safety of our walls. We can pick them off in consistent numbers while not losing any of our own men. We may not have cleared all the supplies, but we have enough for a prolonged siege and we hold the position of power right now, even outnumbered by more than seven thousand troops. You think we should throw that advantage away? Fling our gates open and just rush toward them with our swords drawn?”

Stefan sits back down and mumbles. “I hate doing nothing.”

“It's not in our nature to sit,” Duncan says. “But sometimes we all have to do things that are not in our nature.” He glances toward Jesse, who has laid his head down on the table.

“Are you alright, son?”

“I'm just tired,” Jesse says.

My head snaps toward him immediately. “Are you warm?” I reach out my hand and touch his forehead.

It's hot.

I want to break down and sob right here.

I close my eyes and think back to when I was only six years old. My mom was the one constant in my life. She worked hard, and I was frequently left to entertain myself, but she loved me, and she was there for me. Always. Until one day, she spiked a fever. She became progressively hotter over the next two days until on the third day, she died. Just like that.

Gone.

I force myself to look my brother in the eye. He can't have the Wasting. He can't. No one knows what causes it, and nothing can be done to stop it. Once you heat up, you die.

Simple.

Inexorable.

Unstoppable.

Except I’m older now, and I won't accept it.

I stand up. No one meets my eyes, not even Duncan. “Jesse and I need to see every Healer you have. Send them to his room.” I turn to Kahn. “I'll meet you at the front gate in an hour.”

No one objects as Jesse and I walk out of the meeting.

When we reach the hall, I ask, “Any chance this is a joke? You just stood too long in front of the fire and thought it would be a good way to get out of gate duty? Because I will totally trade with you. I’ll take all your shifts.”

Jesse smiles, but it's half-hearted. When we reach his room, Lansing and Lincoln are already there.

“Oh good,” I say. “You came quick. Jesse’s hot.”

Lansing and Lincoln look at each other and then glance at Jesse. They exchange a knowing glance and ice runs through my veins.

“Lie down for us, Jesse, and we'll conduct an examination.”

Jesse lies down on his bed and Lansing stands near his head, with Lincoln near his legs. Lansing places his hands on Jesse's head. Lincoln places his hands over Jesse's shins. They both close their eyes, but the light shines through anyway. They’re delving him.

They both step away at the same time. Lincoln looks at Lansing and then they look at me. After only a moment, they each drop their eyes. “Maybe it's best if we wait for the other Healers.”

“It's the Wasting,” Jesse says. “Pretending it isn't won't change anything. It's only going to get worse.”

I can’t help thinking about the little boy, Joshua, whose father wouldn’t see what was right in front of him. Even so, with that memory fresh in my mind, I can’t help myself. “There has to be something we can do, even if it is—” I gulp. “—the Wasting. Someone must have survived it at some point in the last thousand years, or there must be something we can try. Anything.”

The brothers’ faces are grim. “In several thousand years of records, no one has ever halted a confirmed case of the Wasting. If a patient exhibits a high fever, he or she dies.”

I think about their room full of books. I believe that they've combed through years and years of research, but that doesn't mean they know everything. I can’t give up. “Someone has to be the first. What’s the leading theory?”

Jesse stands up and walks over to me. He doesn't say a word. He just reaches out and hugs me tight. “It's going to be okay.”

I can’t prevent my tears. “How? How will this be okay?”

“Dad will keep you safe, and maybe that's why we needed to find you now. Now you two won't be alone. . .when I go.”

I shake my head so hard that Jesse pulls away. “No. I refuse to believe it.”

Two other Healers arrive then, evaluate him, and come to the same conclusion. And then two more.

When I find myself sobbing on Jesse's shoulder, I realize I've placed him in the horrible situation of having to comfort me, instead of being able to grieve himself. I take a few jerky breaths and force myself to stop crying. We have a war to fight, and a very bad man to kill. I can't sit in here and cry for three days while thirteen thousand men fight a war for me.