by JA Andrews
Will felt along the netting of grass, trying to find what the rope was anchored to. He found nothing. It merely spread out and tangled with the blades growing out of the earth. Rass climbed nimbly out over the edge.
“Rass, how did you—?”
She grabbed at Will’s hand. “Hurry!”
“Wait. Where is the rift where the Morrow live?”
Rass pointed at the wall of flames. “Past the fire.”
He took a few steps toward it. In the chaos, could he get to Ilsa?
Rass pulled his hand. “The fire is coming fast. We need to run!”
Will paused another moment. “I have to go back.”
“After the fire!” Rass yanked at him. “You can’t go that way!”
The line of flames spread unbroken to the north and south. He’d never get past it. With a growl of frustration, he nodded. Pulling two shirts out of his bag, he tied one over his nose and mouth, and the other around Rass’s tiny head, then motioned her to lead the way.
The Hoarfrost Range sat to the north, close enough to touch. She ran toward a particularly jagged peak, far enough past the smoke that the snow on its peak glittered moon-white. Will ran after her, his bag bouncing against his back and his legs complaining before they had gone more than a dozen steps. The smoke whipped past them in fits, interspersed with cool night air and the fire rumbled like distant thunder.
He was utterly exhausted and the mountains seemed no closer when the wall of flame reached the nearest hillside, fingers of black and red thrashing wildly into the sky.
Rass stopped and whirled toward the flames. “It’s going to catch us.”
The flames flew toward them faster than they could hope to run. He spun around, but the fire was stretched out across the whole world to the west. There was no escape. Past the thick line of flames, the Sweep was black and charred. They’d be safe on the other side, but they’d be burned alive before the flames passed them.
Stepping forward, Rass closed her eyes and dropped her head down. Her hair fell over her face and she spread both her hands toward the grass between them and the approaching fire.
She was tiny and insubstantial in the face of the fire and the smoke.
“Rass!”
The flames crackled and roared like the rush of a huge waterfall, or a crashing surf. He took a step toward her and stretched out his hand, desperate to pull her away, but she flicked up her hand in a commanding gesture and he stopped.
His breath was hot and damp under the shirt, the sting of smoke burning his throat. There was no going back. The fire was already between them and the Grave. He waited a breath, then another.
A swirl of flame spun up from the grass in front of them, like a demon tearing out of the earth, showing Rass in stark relief. She clenched her hands into claws, rotated her palms up, and like a giant heaving a mountain, she hurled her hands toward the roiling sky.
The ground in front of them exploded.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dirt and grass thundered into the air. Will spun away, throwing his hands over his head and crashing to his knees. He grabbed Rass, pulling her back, leaning over to shield her from the earth crashing down around them.
When dirt stopped pelting him, he looked up.
A swath of turned earth cut through the leading edge of the fire. Strings of grass wafted down through thick, swirling dust.
The two of them sat in a gap of darkness. Flames blazed past on either side, driven east by the wind. A wave of heat rolled by, and they were behind the fireline, kneeling in a world of blackness and soot. All around them thin trails of smoke rose like wind whipped spirits.
Rass shifted, sinking back against his chest. Her eyes were closed and her shoulders heaved with thick, heavy breaths.
He cast out across the wasteland, but there was nothing left living but roots. No plants above the ground, no animals, no people as far as he could sense. The line of fire racing eastward was a gash of bright energy.
Rass’s shoulders slowly settled down into regular breathing and she pushed her dusty hair out of her face. She looked like a creature made of earth. The shirt around her face was caked with dirt, and the skin by her eyes was rough with more. Bits of grass stuck out of her hair.
Will pulled the shirt down off his face and stared at her.
“You’re not just a little girl.”
She pulled her own shirt down and quirked a curious smile at him. “I’m a pratorii.”
Will waited for her to say more.
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Pratorii. I am the grass.” She tilted her head as though considering the words. “Or the grass is mine.”
A memory triggered in Will’s mind.
What are the elves? he’d asked Ayda during the weeks he’d spent in the Lumen Greenwood.
We are the trees. She’d spun and thrown her arms out. The keepers of their souls.
Will touched a lock of Rass’s dirt-caked hair. It was thin and straight and stiff. Like grass. “You’re an elf?”
Rass considered this for a moment. “The tree elves are our cousins. They are silvii, we are pratorii.”
“So…a grass elf?”
Rass grinned up at him. “Yes.”
It seemed so obvious. She didn’t look like she was from Queensland. The wide eyes, the sharp chin, the cheekbones: she looked like a smaller, wilder version of a tree elf.
Will stared at her, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her smile faltered. “I thought you knew.”
“I didn’t even know grass elves existed.” He gestured to her little grey shift. “I thought you were just an odd little slave.”
“Roven slaves don’t live in the grass.”
“I know, that was part of what was so odd.” He frowned at the fabric she wore. “Don’t tell me that’s made of grass.”
She plucked at the edge of it. “The veins that run down the grass blades can be woven together into anything.”
Will shook his head and laughed. “It all makes perfect sense, now that you say it. Are there many grass elves here?”
She nodded. “There’s a lot of grass.”
“You know, I have spent a lot of time over the last few weeks imagining rescue scenarios. Never once did I include a grass elf.”
Rass puffed up a bit and gave him a proud smile.
Will looked at the long line of fire, a hundred questions circling in his mind. “Does the fire hurt you?”
She let out a small laugh. “Only if we’re foolish enough to be in its path. Fires are as good for the Sweep as rain and sunshine. It burns away the ghosts of the old grass and feeds the new shoots. But most fires are small, and easily avoided.”
The gap of flame that had passed around them had closed, and raced eastward unimpeded.
Will cast a sidelong glance at Rass. She was an elf. The idea was both shocking and utterly fitting.
“That was well done.” He pointed to the upturned earth.
Rass pushed herself up and shook her hair out, dislodging dirt clods and small bundles of grass. She set her fist on her chest and gave Will a small bow before breaking into peals of laughter. A swirl of smoke enveloped them and her laugh turned to a cough.
“We should keep going,” she said.
Will hesitated. “I need to go back. I need to get someone.”
Rass shook her head. “The entire clan will be on guard. If you need to go back, wait until the fire’s out. You’ll never get close without being caught again.”
Will knew she was right, but it was still frustrating to tug the shirt back over his face and follow her north. They’d find somewhere safe to regroup, then he’d figure out how to get back for Ilsa.
With the fire racing away, the world sank into blackness. His boots kicked up ash. All of the grass was gone. Will glanced down at Rass walking silent beside him. “Are you…alright?”
She looked up at him, her brow drawn down questioningly.
He waved his hand a
t the wasteland around them. “The grass,” he began, not knowing exactly what to ask.
“Last year’s grass was dead. The fire passed quickly and the roots are fine. New grass will grow soon.”
Question after question popped into his mind. “Can you talk to it?”
She considered the question for a moment. “The grass talks to me.”
When she didn’t continue, Will bit his lips closed to keep from laughing. “What does grass have to say?”
“It tells me about the weather and where the herds are. If the ground is wet enough. How hot the sun is. Where the Roven are.”
“How much of it can you hear?”
She looked at him as though the question made no sense.
“Can you hear the grass near your feet? The grass on an entire hill?”
“All the grass is one.”
Will stared at her. “The roots of each connects with the others, so the whole world is an endless living thing,” he quoted her from the first day they’d met.
Her eyes wrinkled in pleasure. “You remember.”
“It was very story-like.” He stared at this tiny girl, trooping along next to him, just as she had for days. “You can hear the entire Sweep?”
She shrugged. “The grass is one. But I can’t hear anything where it’s scorched. The roots never speak.”
The night dragged on endlessly, each step charred and crunchy. The fire continued off to their right, but all around them, as far as they could make out, there was nothing but burnt grass and ashes.
The thought of Ilsa haunted him. Would Killien punish her because Will had left? He almost turned back three times, but he couldn’t figure out what good it would do. Putting himself back at Killien’s mercy would change nothing. The book by Kachig the Bloodless sat in Will’s pack. It was a strong bargaining chip. Maybe he could find a way to trade it for Ilsa.
It wasn’t quite midnight when they reached the end of the burned grass. They continued north through the Sweep until the ground rose into the first slopes of the Hoarfrost Range. The sun was just rising and the wind had died. Far behind them where the Sweep had burned, lines of smoke rose up like thin grey reeds out of a black swamp.
“We need a place to hide before the sun rises.” Will headed uphill until the trees grew into a proper forest. The smell of evergreen filled the air, clean and fresh. It smelled like the woods at the Keeper’s Stronghold, and a sharp pang of homesickness hit him. Sunlight slanted through the trunks brightening patches of the trees and tufts of bright green grass. He breathed in the air, letting the height of the forest wrap around him. For the first time in a year he felt right. If it wasn’t for Ilsa, he would never step foot on the Sweep again.
Ilsa. He glanced back toward the Sweep. Killien wouldn’t do anything to her, would he? Maybe Will should have done something besides run. But even as he thought it, he knew there was no way he could have even found Ilsa in the chaos, never mind convinced her to come with him.
Rass walked along next to him, looking around at the thin sprinkling of grass with a slight pucker in her brow. The forest ended and the ground sloped up to their left across a bare patch of earth, toward a rock wall. Rass scuffed her way up the slope, her shoulders slumped, but he was struck again with how healthy she looked compared to when he’d first met her. It had been less than a fortnight.
The reason was so obvious he laughed. “You’re getting stronger because it’s spring, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I always get thin in the winter.”
“I thought it was my food.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I like the bread, and the avak. But the dry meat is too hard to chew.”
“You never actually lived with the Roven, did you?”
“I hadn’t been near them in ages. I only came the day I met you because I do love hearing the stories from the colored wagons.”
It was astonishing how many wrong ideas he’d had about her. “If you live in the grass, what do you eat?”
“Worms and grubs. But in the winter, those burrow lower than the roots of the grass, and I can’t find them. There are plenty around now, though, if you’re hungry.”
Will tried not to let his revulsion show on his face and dampen her offer. “No thank you.”
He was about to collapse with exhaustion when he saw a shadowed spot above two large boulders. He scrambled up and found a small cave. He spread out his bedroll and the two of them collapsed on the floor in a patch of warm sunlight. Using shirts for pillows, they both lay down. Will’s mind searched for ways to get back close to Ilsa, but he hadn’t thought of any before he sank into sleep.
He woke no less tired. He lifted his head to look outside, and the muscles in his neck cried out in protest. The woods were silent and empty in the afternoon light. He heaved himself up. The cave was high enough that he could see through the tops of the trees down to the grasslands. In the distance he could see a wide swath of blackened Sweep.
Rass came to his elbow, looking out across the Sweep, her face untroubled by the destruction.
A thought struck him. “Did you start the fire?”
“No. I wouldn’t have started it where it would try to kill us.”
“Good point.” Will thought for a moment. “Where did it start?”
“West of the rift where the Morrow live. There were people near it when it first flared up.”
Will’s gaze traveled over the endless black. “Who would start a fire like that?”
Something thumped in the cave behind them and Will spun around.
Two rabbits lay on the floor of the cave, and Sora climbed in after them.
“The first person most people blamed,” she said, “was you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Will stood caught between fear and relief. The smallest smile curled up the edge of Sora’s mouth. “I think this is only the second time I’ve made you speechless. It’s nice.” She leaned to the side so she could see Rass. “Are you hungry?”
Rass peeked out from behind Will. “Yes.”
Sora slung off her pack and pulled out some dried meat.
Rass wrinkled her nose. “I’m gonna find something for myself.” She scooted past Sora, giving her as wide a berth as she could.
Sora sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her. “This is one of my favorite caves. I’m mildly impressed that you found it.”
Will grabbed a piece of meat. “Are more rangers coming?”
“Not any time soon. I told them you’d run back toward Queensland as fast as your lumbering legs could carry you. We’ll rest until dusk. We need to find somewhere safer to hide, but it’ll be better to move after dark.”
Rass scrambled back in and scurried back over next to Will, offering him one of the four squirming grubs in her palm.
Sora peered into Rass’s hand. “The darkish blue ones are the best.”
Rass looked at her in surprise, then smiled. “They are.”
Will held up a piece of meat. “I’ve got plenty.”
Rass considered Sora for a moment before shyly offering her the grubs. At Sora’s refusal, Rass popped a thin, pink one into her mouth.
Sora watched the girl closely. “I expected you to be alone, Will.”
“Rass is the one who got me out of the rift,” Will said. “And saved me from the fire.”
Rass swallowed the last grub. “All we needed was a rope. And a little grass ripped up so the fire would go around us.”
Sora glanced between the two of them. “I saw the torn earth. I thought Will had done that.” She leaned closer to the little girl, taking in her wide eyes and her angular face. “How did you—” Her eyes widened. “You’re a pratorii.”
Rass elbowed Will. “She knows what pratorii are.”
“Yes. She’s very wise.”
Sora looked at her in wonder. “I’ve never met one before. I think I’ve caught glimpses of a couple, but was never sure. You look more human than I expected.” Her gaze flicked to Will. “Why are you
spending time with him?”
“Because I’m likable,” Will protested.
Sora ignored him and turned back to Rass. “I’ve never heard of a pratorii spending time with people.”
“Will isn’t a normal person.”
“Agreed.” Sora picked up one of the rabbits and began to dress it. She glanced at Will. “Someone should take first watch.”
Will nodded and started to rise, but Rass grabbed his hand. She cast a nervous glance at Sora. “I’ll do it.” Without waiting for an answer, she scooted out of the cave and settled into a little nook in the rocks.
“It’s a good thing she’s a pratorii.” Sora pitched her voice low. “Because unless you have some capable wife stashed somewhere, I can’t see how you’re going to take care of a little girl.”
“I would have done just fine. Besides, Keepers don’t marry.”
Sora looked up at him. “Ever?”
“Not often. We spend all our time studying and traveling. It doesn’t leave much time for a family. The last time one married was sixty years ago.”
“Hm,” she said in a tone impossible to read. “Can you hand me some pine needles?”
A thick layer of pine needles crowded along the edge of the cave floor. He ran his fingers along the floor and scooped up a jumble of needles, their dry tips jabbing into his fingers. “We don’t have wood for a fire.”
She fixed him with an annoyed look. “Why would I make a fire on a clear day while the entire Morrow Clan is looking for us?” She set half of the pine needles in a pile on the floor and pulled a heatstone out of her bag. “I just need a small flame. Be useful. I know you can start this with your finger.”
“Don’t you have anything to start a fire with?” Will asked. “If you’ve misplaced your tinder, you could just give it one of your flinty looks.”
“I like to save those for you. And I have several ways to start a fire. One of them is your magic finger. And since you don’t have much else to contribute…”
“Fine.” Will set his finger against the needles. He hesitated just a moment, at the fear that he wouldn’t be able to move the vitalle again. But Killien wasn’t here, and neither was whatever he’d done. The energy flowed easily out of Will’s finger and the needles lit.
