Fire Lines

by Cara Thurlbourn

  “I can’t find them, Amin,” she sobs, her cheeks grey from the smoke. “I can’t find them.” Blood trickles down her face. “They were here, and now I can’t find them…”

  Her voice fades and so does the landscape. I shove my hands over my eyes and hear myself whispering, “Please, make it stop. Make it stop.”

  I am still hunched in a ball, shaking, when Cai returns for me. He doesn’t say much, just helps me to my feet and takes me back to Kole and Rhea. Rhea offers me a flask of water but my hands are too unsteady to hold on to it, so she apologises and opens the door for us to leave.

  Back in the open, Kole tells me to sit down. I fold myself into a nook beneath the oak tree and take some deep breaths. He sits beside me. “I didn’t know they were going to do that,” he says.

  “I can’t stop seeing it. It was…”

  Kole nods, solemnly. “I imagine so.”

  “The Council told us he was born that way. Mahg – his wings.”

  “I see.”

  “He was just a boy.”

  “A boy who turned to darkness because he wanted to be like his peers,” replies Kole.

  “But how did he go from that, to—”

  Kole rises up and helps me to my feet. He starts walking back towards the Academy. “After the spell, he fled to the Islands. He stayed there for seventeen years, building an army. Then returned to capture the stone.”

  I am still shaky, struggling to keep up as Kole strides back through the long grass. “When he blew up the bridge?”

  “Indeed.”

  We break free of the grass and I step in line. I take hold of Kole’s arm and he stops. “I saw Tsam’s father and – I think it was his mother?”

  Kole’s forehead wrinkles. “You should talk to Tsam. I’ll take you to him now.”

  Thirteen

  We walk back along the cliff edge. As we draw closer, I find myself taking long, deep breaths and trying very hard to see what’s there now instead of the terror they showed me in that room. Just before we reach the bridge, Kole stops and turns to me.

  “The Elders wanted you to understand what Mahg is capable of. Do you see now?” His dark eyes search my face.

  “Yes. I see.” And I really do.

  In the sky above the lake, Tsam, Alyssa and Garrett are performing dips and whirls in the air. When Tsam spots me, he waves and the three of them glide gracefully down beside us. Before I even have time to speak, Tsam can see from my face that something has happened.

  “Émi? Are you alright?” He looks at Kole, then back at me. “Where have you been?”

  I shake my head. My curls have untucked themselves and are frizzing around my face. “I’ll tell you later.”

  I know Tsam wants to push for an answer, but he doesn’t, just narrows his eyes at Kole. After a long pause, he tells me that Rumah wants to see us all for dinner. Kole turns back towards the Academy, but Tsam adds, “All of us, Kole. You’re invited, too.”

  Kole hesitates, then replies. “Thank you.”

  Rumah is delighted that Tsam has brought us home. She hugs Alyssa and tells her she’s looking tired and mustn’t forget to eat, even if she is sick with nerves about the Ceremony. Garrett receives a hug too, and he blushes when Rumah tousles his hair. Kole, however, stands stiffly by the door, until Rumah notices his awkwardness and beckons him inside. “You must be Kole,” she says, pressing her hands together and bowing. “You’re famous, I believe.”

  I watch all of this from the doorway, trying to erase the image of Rumah with a broken arm and two broken wings, screaming for Tsam. The chaos, the dying. The calamity in my brain causes my knees to give way and I have to steady myself against the door frame. Kole moves to help me but, in a flash, Tsam is there and he’s lowering me into a chair.

  Rumah fetches some water and bobs down in front of me. “Émi?”

  I don’t know what to tell her.

  Tsam glares at Kole. “What happened back there? What did you do to her?”

  Everyone is staring at Kole now, waiting for an explanation. He tells them about Cai, and the room. And Tsam explodes. His face turns puce and he bangs his fist on the table so hard it causes my water to jump out of its glass.

  “They did what? You let them—”

  Kole allows him to shout, while Rumah strokes my arm and Alyssa and Garrett huddle together, clearly wondering whether they should leave. Finally, when Tsam is calm enough to sit down beside me, Kole starts to explain.

  “I had no choice.”

  Rumah hangs her head. “Tsam, I don’t agree with it either, but the Elders clearly felt Émi needed to know…” Her voice fades into a whisper. “What he did to us. What he could do again.”

  No longer trembling, I reach for Tsam’s hand. “It was awful,” I say, close to tears, “but I needed to see it.” I look around at the others. “I didn’t understand before. Not really. I thought I did. But being there, in the heart of it… I get it now.” Something deep in the basement of my stomach sets into a steely determination. “We have to find Ava. We have to stop Mahg.” I turn back to Tsam. “When I came with you, all I was thinking about was saving my friends, breaking down the wall and setting them free. But Nor was right, this is so much bigger. I’m so much bigger.”

  Alyssa is nodding. Garrett looks down at his feet. Kole unfolds his arms and tucks his hands behind his back. I think I see him blink at me, but I’m not sure. Rumah nods and thumps the table, but merrily, not the way Tsam did.

  “Right,” she declares. “If you’re going into battle, you need to eat!”

  The room softens. Garrett offers to help prepare the food, and Alyssa sets about lighting the fire while Rumah instructs Kole to open the roof. When he pulls on a lever by the fireplace, the chimney drops down and the ceiling splits open, revealing a blue-pink evening sky, peppered with leaves and branches.

  Rumah sings to herself, the way Amin does, as she busies around the kitchen. But Tsam doesn’t move from my side. Soon, though, with food in front of us, everyone relaxes – even Tsam, who rocks with laughter as Garrett acts out exaggerated impersonations of their professors at the Academy.

  We have almost finished eating and are beginning to sag backwards into our chairs with full stomachs and heavy eyelids, when Alyssa asks me about Nhatu. They have heard stories, she says, but no one except Tsam has ventured beyond the wall since it went up.

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Earlier,” I say, “after I saw Mahg’s attack on the bridge, I thought that perhaps the Council weren’t so bad after all. Maybe they were right that we were safer behind the walls. But then I remembered the endless Punishments, and the labour camps and the inspection. And it’s not safer. Not even a little bit. The danger is real. It’s just less violent, less explosive than Mahg’s. It’s slow, pervasive. It drips into every corner of the City and poisons it from the inside out.”

  The others are all staring at me, listening, so I explain about the Quarter system, how we are required to carry permits everywhere we go, the coloured sashes that tell everyone who you are and where you’re from. I tell them about the Cadets ripping through our houses, destroying our possessions, and the Punishments where young girls are forced to throw excrement at vulnerable women.

  When I finish speaking, the room is sombre and quiet, and I feel sorry for dragging the atmosphere back down. “I know Mahg’s threat is more immediate,” I say, “but I still intend to rescue my mother and my friends. After this is over, I will get them out of there.”

  No one speaks. Garrett and Alyssa rise from the table and say that they had better be getting home. Kole offers to walk with them and, almost instantly, it becomes just Tsam, Rumah and I.

  Rumah closes up the roof. “I’m going to bed. You two stay up as long as you like, but remember you have a big day tomorrow, Tsam.” She squeezes his arm as she speaks.

  Tsam nods. “We won’t be long.”

  And then it is just the two of us.

  We haven’t been significantly alone since the ferry
ride to the Red Quarter three nights ago and I find myself unsure what to say. Luckily, Tsam starts.

  “Are you sure you’re alright, Ém?”

  I nod and pick at a splinter that has loosened itself from the smooth wood of the tabletop. There are a million questions I could ask, but I don’t think it’s the right time to mention Inta, the woman I’m certain was Tsam’s mother. Instead, I settle on the most immediate question.

  “What do you think the Elders will decide?”

  Tsam breathes out a long sigh and folds his wings inwards so they’re hugging his arms. “I hope they will let us go with you. I can’t imagine staying behind and just letting you leave.” His voice is melancholy and I can’t decide whether it’s because he would be sad to miss the adventure or me.

  “I meant what I said, Tsam. I won’t go without you.”

  Tsam’s mouth crinkles into a smile but he doesn’t say anything. He glances up at the clock. It’s late and if we don’t go to bed now there’s a danger we’ll end up talking all night, so we extinguish the fire and head to our separate rooms. When we pause in the hallway, opposite my bedroom door, I think he’s going to hug me but, instead, he waves and mumbles an awkward, “Night, then,” and shuts himself away.

  With my bedroom door closed, I am cocooned in the silence of the treehouse. I strain my ears but all I can hear is the rustle of the leaves next to my window. Last night, I was so exhausted that, despite everything, I slept without any trouble. Tonight, the thunderous quiet allows thought after thought to flash across my mind and I can’t shake them loose.

  I see my mother in the Council’s putrid jail, petrified and alone. I used to wonder whether she had ever been strong, whether it was losing my father that broke her. But I think she has always been this way. He was her strength. He was her sun, her moon, her reason for breathing. When she lost him, she lost herself too.

  My treacherous mind tortures me, on and on. Swerving between my mother and Mahg, Nhatu and the bridge, the arrest and the explosion, until, eventually, when it feels like I have been lying here for an eternity, I decide to get up.

  In Nhatu, I could wander around in the middle of the night and still find my skin stinging with sweat. But, here in Abilene, a sultry coolness drifts in as soon as the sun goes down. I shrug my jacket on top of the nightdress that Rumah has lent me. Then I tiptoe out onto the boardwalk. Most of the treehouses are in darkness but small orange lanterns illuminate the walkway so I can follow it down to the ground. When I reach the purple flowers, the lanterns disappear. I’m not sure how I will find my way to the edge of the forest but I take off my boots, leave them where the carpet of flowers begins, and step forward, wiggling my bare toes into the silky petals. As I lift my foot, a host of fireflies wisps upwards, bobbing between the branches of the trees above. I follow their glow, and the distant chime of the bamboo at the forest’s edge, until I break out onto the cliff top.

  I walk to the edge, closer than Tsam would allow, and stretch out my arms. It is hard to imagine that something so terrible happened here. All around me, blinking constellations of stars decorate the night sky. I imagine I am flying again – for pleasure this time, not because I am fleeing or escaping. I move my arms up and down, beating them softly, letting the air cushion them. In the distance, the Academy glows white in the moonlight. Its reflection on the water is still as glass. But, in the center of the lake, something is glowing, like flames beneath the water. As I stare, my skin prickles.

  What is that?

  I lower my arms and climb down the steps to the beach where Mahg cast his spell. At the water’s edge, a breeze that wasn’t there before whispers. Émi… Émi.

  I know I shouldn’t go in. I know it will be cold and that I’ll ruin Rumah’s nightdress but I can’t stop. I shrug off my jacket and dip in my toes, paddling at first. Then I wade towards the glow. When the water is far enough past my ankles that it meets my pale legs, it begins to shimmer. Despite its icy temperature, my skin is alive with heat.

  I keep walking. The water is up to my knees now and the hem of my nightdress floats on the surface. When the water reaches my thighs, I stop. I lower my hands until my palms meet the ripples and, instantly, the glow becomes brighter – so bright that the cliffs around me are drenched in a blinding light.

  Clouds of smoke – no, not smoke – steam start to rise from the surface. My fingers are fizzing. I look down. Sparks are shooting like lightning rods from my fingertips, through the water, towards the centre of the lake. My vision begins to blur and I shake my head to clear it. Pushing through the clouds of steam, a figure appears. It’s the girl from my dreams, Ava. She is standing on the surface of the water. A black scarf is wound tightly around her face and neck and all I can see are her eyes, wild and pleading. The steam swirls up around her. It’s black now, like the mist that swallowed Mahg, like her scarf, wrapping itself tighter, squeezing the breath from her belly. She reaches out to me and I reach for her but the second my hands break contact with the water everything plunges into darkness. I whirl around, searching for her. I call her name, “Ava?” and the sound of my voice bounces off the cliffs. I begin to swim, out to where the water was glowing. But the glow is gone, Ava is gone.

  Something grips my elbow. I thrash out. It’s a person, pulling me towards them. They’re saying my name, holding my arms. “Émi, you’re alright.”

  I look up, panting, struggling to tread water.

  “Kole?”

  He holds on to me until I am calm enough to swim. He doesn’t offer to carry me, just waits until I am strong enough to carry myself, then leads the way back to the beach.

  At the shore, three angry-looking Watchers are waiting for us. One of them barks, “Kole, what happened here?”

  “My apologies. Émi is a visitor, she wasn’t aware of the rules.”

  “Swimming is only permitted on the night of the Ceremony.”

  Kole dips his head, “I should have informed her.”

  The Watchers observe me for a moment, then swoop silently into the sky and leave us.

  I am shivering and my teeth chatter. Kole retrieves my jacket and wraps it around my shoulders.

  “That’s it?” I ask.

  Kole frowns at me.

  “They didn’t ask about the light…” I stop speaking because I can tell he has no idea what I’m referring to. I cross my arms over my body, aware that I’m soaked to the skin and desperate to warm up. “What did you see?” I ask.

  “I saw you in trouble.”

  “That’s all?”

  Kole nods.

  I want to tell him. I want someone to know what happened. What I saw. But the way he is looking at me tells me it can’t be him.

  Kole walks with me all the way to the purple flowers and waits until I’ve stepped onto the boardwalk before turning back to the Academy. He doesn’t say that we’ll talk about it tomorrow, or tell me why he was there too, wandering around in the middle or the night. Just blinks his deep cavernous eyes at me and walks away.

  I’m aware that I’m paddling a trail of water behind me as I tiptoe back to my room. But I don’t have the energy to mop it up. I hang my nightdress on a branch outside my window, hoping it will dry a little by morning, and pull on my vest and jodhpurs.

  Back between the sheets, fingers of ice itch through my bones. Have I caught a chill? Or is it the memory of Ava, throttled by poisonous steam, that freezes my core?

  I still don’t sleep.

  I turn over and over. I pace up and down. I rub at the pimples on my arms. I shove my feet into three pairs of socks. I close the window. I open it again. Eventually, the leaves beyond the window begin to brighten. With the sun taking over from the moon, I gather my things.

  In the bathroom, I stand under the water, watching my skin blemish beneath its heat and, when I emerge, I am no longer chilled. Daylight is softening the memory of last night. The idea I might have dreamed it all comforts me, until I find Rumah scrubbing the kitchen floor.

  She looks up when she h
ears me and smiles. Sitting back on her heels, she gestures to her hard work. “Tsam says he knows nothing about it, but I’ll bet you all the fish in Abilene that he and Garrett were off making mischief last night.” She doesn’t sound angry, more amused, but I think of the damp nightdress that’s now hidden under my bed and a pang of guilt makes my cheeks flush.

  “Pfft, don’t mind me,” Rumah tuts, springing up and deftly setting a pot of water to boil. “Coffee?”

  I nod and take a seat at the table.

  “You look tired. Couldn’t you sleep?”

  I watch her, trying to figure out if she suspects it was me who left the wet footprints in her kitchen. But she is open and genuine. “Just restless,” I reply.

  Rumah hands me a mug. The coffee is just like Amin’s. I wonder whether he’s readying the cafe for the morning rush, or if it is closed and shuttered up. Deserted. Abandoned.

  “It must be difficult,” Rumah says, leaning her wings against the kitchen counter, “not knowing what happens next, worrying for your mother and your friends.”

  I consider telling her about last night. The way I told Amin about my sparks. But I can’t.

  “The Elders will make the right decision today. You must trust them, Émi. They know what’s best.”

  I feel like asking, “Best for who?” But I don’t.

  It’s not long before Tsam joins us. His hair is damp. He nudges me and says good morning as if we’ve been waking up in the same house for as long as there have been mornings to wake up to. He’s smiling, but his face sharpens when he notices me yawning.

  “You didn’t sleep?”

  I look at Rumah and she replies for me. “Émi’s just worrying, that’s all. About what the Elders will decide. I told her it will be fine.”

  Tsam rests his coffee on the worktop and takes hold of my elbows. He’s taller than me, by at least a foot. His feathers puff as he speaks. “Ém, stop fretting. There’s no way they’ll make us stay. Not after what you told them. If you say we have to go with you, then we have to. They know that.” Tsam turns to his aunt. “I don’t suppose… Have you heard anything?”