Shortly after sunrise, we are ready to begin our trek. We leave the horses by the stream and, as I pat them goodbye, it occurs to me that when we return they will have an extra passenger: Ava. Maybe even two. Surely Søyen will come back to Abilene with us. If he was powerful enough to create twin baby girls from the Fire Stone, then he must be able to help us defeat Mahg. I decide, then, that I will convince him to come. No matter what.
Despite being wrapped up, it is not long before the cold begins to nip at my skin as we wind our way higher through the rocky landscape. The further up we go, the more breathless we become but, as my chest tightens, a flicker of energy ignites in my belly and propels me forwards, closer to Ava. For the first part of the morning, we climb an obvious, well-trodden path up the mountain. Then we come to a fork in the path. There are two routes we could take. One goes east, the other west.
“Which way?” asks Alyssa, pulling her cloak tighter against the cold.
Tsam turns to me. “Émi? Do you feel anything?”
I close my eyes and try to summon the image of Ava. I think of her as the girl in my dreams, the girl from Nhatu – running, playing and laughing. Not the girl on the lake who was consumed by black mist. I picture the swirling white from Silvana’s pendant, the snow and the ice. Then I hear Ava’s voice, like a distant echo, bouncing between the rocks to our right.
“West,” I tell them. “This way.”
We climb slowly now. Our hands are wrapped in fur-lined gloves, our cloaks tied tight. The Watchers wear their cloaks over the tops of their wings to protect their feathers. They look like three haggard hunchbacks, silhouetted against the sun.
To begin with, the snow appears in tiny little drifts, surviving only in the shade of the rocks. But, just past midday, the sky thickens with whiteness and I suggest that we should take shelter.
We find a crevice that opens into a small cave, just big enough to accommodate the five of us, and shuffle inside. We have only just finished sharing a pouch of dry oats between us, when the snow storm begins. It is sudden and violent, bleaching all colour from the mountains. The others huddle far back into the cave, but I position myself at the entrance. I have never seen snow fall before and I am desperate to touch it, but when I reach out my hand, the icy strength of the flakes feels like tiny bee stings on my palm.
Tsam calls to me. Reluctantly, I slink back into the cave. We have no way of lighting a fire and, even if we did, the smoke would be too much for our tiny hiding spot. So we huddle together, staring out at the blizzard, waiting for it to stop.
It doesn’t stop. It snows, and snows, and soon we are all shivering. My fingers twitch. At first I think it’s from the cold, but then they start to tingle and a thought occurs to me – if I can make sparks, maybe I can turn them into something bigger, something warm?
I don’t tell the others what I’m going to do. The pressure of them watching would be too much. Discreetly, I rub my palms together, as if I’m trying to warm them. I close my eyes, because concentrating is easier that way, and breathe deeply. There they are – the sparks – simmering somewhere between muscle and skin. I picture them flowing through me, from my stomach, into my lungs, down my arms.
When I open my eyes, the others are staring at me. I grin at them, holding out the white-hot ball of light that floats between my open palms. Tsam and Alyssa look concerned, as if the ball might suddenly explode, but Garrett says, “Amazing!” and folds his gangly frame down beside me, warming his face and hands.
I keep the ball alight as long as I can but, after a while, I feel overwhelmingly tired.
Tsam notices my eyelids drooping. “That’s enough now, Émi.”
I don’t argue with him. I just let the sparks die down and then I lean back against the cave wall.
“Looks like it’s going to stop soon,” Alyssa says. “Tsam, come with me and see?”
Garrett insists on going too, which leaves Kole on Émi-sitting duty.
He stands beside me. “You’re learning,” he says.
I smile weakly. “I’m trying. I think I need to learn a bit quicker though, don’t you?”
“Søyen will help you.”
I look up at him. “Kole, can I ask you something?”
He inclines his head.
“I keep thinking about Silvana, all alone. What happened to her husband?”
“He was killed in Mahg’s attack.”
I breathe out.
“When she came back to Tarynne, my parents looked after her. When they died, she looked after me. She’s a good woman.”
I’m steeling myself to ask about his parents, curious to know if what Garrett told me is true, but I lose my chance because the Watchers return and tell us the storm has died down. Tsam wants us to leave straight away, but Kole isn’t sure. He says it’s too close to nightfall and that we should stay here in case we can’t find shelter further on. They’re squaring up to one another when Alyssa steps between them. “For once,” she says, “I agree with Kole. If we keep going and get stuck out in another storm, we’ll be dead. No matter now many balls of light Émi can conjure.”
Reluctantly, Tsam concedes defeat.
We just manage to find enough dry kindling, hidden from the snow beneath rocks or under plants, to make a fire at the cave’s entrance. When it’s lit, we stretch ourselves out in a row. Tsam is beside me. I remember that night in the Red Quarter, after the Cadets, when we lay in the living room, restless in the oppressive heat. I was nervous then, nervous of his closeness, and it surprises me that the feeling has faded. I think of our moment, looking out across the treetops of Abilene. We were so nearly something. But perhaps it is gone. I shiver and Tsam moves closer to me. I think perhaps he will wrap his wings around me to keep me warm, but he doesn’t. He is already asleep.
The next morning, the snow is almost blinding. At least three metres deep, solid but crunchy underfoot. Walking is difficult, but the sun livens our spirits and we make steady progress. I am at the front of the group and every time I pause, the others look at me eagerly, wondering if we are almost there.
We’re not. We climb for an entire day, shelter again overnight, then climb some more. It is mid-afternoon of our third day on the mountain when I feel a short sharp prang in my stomach and stop walking.
“Here,” I whisper, out of breath and with my hands on my hips.
Tsam looks at me, then at our surroundings. “Here? Ém, there’s nothing here, it’s just rocks.”
Alyssa rubs at her temples, clearly wondering whether our entire climb has been a fool’s errand. Garrett rotates his ankle, still sore from the choking vine and now aggravated by the arduous journey. Then Kole points at something. At first, I don’t see what he’s seeing. From my lower vantage point, all I can see is snow and rock and the odd tuft of frozen grass. Then I notice two pairs of eyes, silently blinking at us, camouflaged against the rocks.
The eyes disappear.
“Quick,” whispers Alyssa, “after them!”
Exhausted, we chase after the figures, up a section of large sharp rocks. We are trying to hurry, but it is almost impossible to get a firm foothold so we have to tug and pull at one another.
When we finally haul our aching bodies over a jagged snow-covered ridge, we are greeted by a host of silent children, their faces wrapped tightly against the cold, their bodies padded in thick clothing. Two of them step forwards and I realise they’re not children but adults who are barely as tall as my waist. They come to stand either side of me and lead me through the crowd, still not speaking.
The others follow, and we are taken to a cluster of small round huts, balanced at varying heights on the rocky cliff face, each with a thatched roof and a door, but no windows. As we near the huts, my skin begins to prickle and I’m sure I hear the wind whispering a name. “Émi,” calls the voice, as it whips through the craggy mountainside.
Our escorts knock on the door of the first hut. It is answered by a man with a thick, grey beard peeking out from the bottom of the kerchie
f he wears over his face. He scowls, scrutinising us, one by one, and peering deep into our eyes as he shakes his head. When he reaches me, he takes a few strands of my hair between his fingers. Then he suddenly yanks and I wince as he tugs them loose from my scalp. He sniffs them, nods and shuffles back inside.
“What’s he doing?” whispers Garrett, but the others shush him.
We are beginning to shiver when the old man returns from his hut. He beckons for us to follow him and climbs up to a neighbouring hut. He doesn’t knock, just impatiently ushers us inside.
In the centre of the hut, a fire crackles beneath a suspended chimney and we hastily gather around it. On one side of the fire, a pile of rugs indicates a sleeping or sitting area, while the other side houses a low slatted worktop and a metal tub. The old man leaves. The moment he closes the door, every part of me, from the tip of my toes to the top of my head, begins to tingle and fizz.
Alyssa breathes out sharply. “Émi…”
They are all looking at me, their eyes wide. Tsam takes my arm and rolls up my sleeve.
“Émi,” he says, “you’re glowing.”
He’s right. My skin is sparkling. I remove my gloves and turn my hands over. They crackle like they’re made of lightning. I look up. A girl steps out of the shadows. She moves towards me and as she passes the fire its flames billow and whoosh upwards. Everyone steps back, but I am rooted to the spot. She stops, an arm’s length in front of me, and dips the upper half of her body into a bow.
“Ava,” I breathe. Not a question, because I know it’s her.
She nods.
“Do you know who I am?”
She nods again and takes my hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek. Her face and hair are wrapped in a thick grey scarf so I can’t feel her skin, or tell if she is glowing too. Only her eyes are truly visible, and they are just like mine. When she loosens the scarf, however, she isn’t glowing, and her hair isn’t red or curly. It is darker and straighter, and her cheeks are pinched. The skin around her eyes is grey and sallow and she looks as though she has been crying.
“Ava?” I ask again.
This time, she clears her throat and croaks, “Yes.”
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“We don’t—” Her voice is barely audible above the snapping flames.
Garrett steps forward then and reaches out his hand. Ava extends hers too and Garrett shakes it cheerfully.
“You don’t speak?” he asks.
Ava shakes her head. “The people here cannot use their voices.”
“Well, that makes sense,” says Alyssa. “No one would be able to tell Mahg she’s here, even if they wanted to.”
At the mention of Mahg’s name, Ava stiffens and pats at the scarf which now rests on her shoulders.
“It’s alright,” I tell her. “He doesn’t know where you are. We’re here to protect you – to make sure he doesn’t find you.”
Ava nods slowly. “You must be hungry?” she asks, her speech stilted and unsteady. Without waiting for an answer, she goes to the worktop in the corner and fetches some bowls. A pot in the middle of the fire is bubbling and Ava spoons us each a portion of clear tepid broth that tastes of absolutely nothing. I force it down and smile encouragingly when I notice her watching me.
“Mmm, delicious!” Garrett announces loudly. Alyssa sharply reminds him that Ava isn’t deaf and Garrett blushes, but Ava smiles and offers him some more.
When we have finished eating, Tsam gives me a meaningful look, so I nudge a little closer to Ava and rest my hand on her shoulder. I have stopped glowing now but when I touch her, the tiniest flicker of energy passes between us, like static.
“Ava, you know who I am?”
“You’re my sister,” she says, smiling.
“And you know who we are?”
She nods fervently. “Oh yes, Father told me. We’re special, you and me. We’re the most special.”
I glance at the others, then back at Ava.
“Made from fire, aren’t we?” She is still smiling.
“Yes, yes, we are. Your father, Søyen, he told you why he brought you here?”
“To keep me safe. But you couldn’t come,” she says, her expression faltering. “I was very sad about that.”
“Me too,” I say, because it doesn’t feel like the right time to explain to her that I had no idea who she was until a few days ago. Ava is still smiling at me. We are the same, two parts of one whole, and yet she feels younger, more fragile. “Your father,” I say, “Søyen? Is he here, Ava?”
“Our father,” she corrects me. “Oh yes. He is always here.”
Again, I glance at the others. “Will he be back soon?”
Ava frowns then, and wrings her hands together in her lap. She is wearing silky elbow-length gloves. “Oh, I shouldn’t have thought so,” she says. “But I can take you to him if you like?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Yes, we’d like that very much.”
Eighteen
Ava takes a long time readying herself to go outside. She wraps and re-wraps her head scarf, changes her boots at least three times, and paces up and down at the back of the hut, muttering. When she finally opens the main door, we are met by darkness.
“Oh,” she says, “I think we’re too late.”
Alyssa sighs and pulls off her boots.
“I’m sorry,” says Ava, her eyes watery. “I didn’t realise the time.”
“It’s alright,” I tell her. “You’ll take us to see Søyen in the morning?”
“Oh yes. Of course. Tomorrow morning.”
We don’t speak much after that. We are exhausted from our climb, and Ava seems preoccupied with her own thoughts. I feel oddly disappointed. We found Ava – I found her. And yet, something is off balance.
Later, when we’re almost asleep, I whisper to Alyssa, “Do you think she’s alright?”
Alyssa lies on her back, cushioned by her wings. At first, I don’t think she’s heard me but then she rolls over and says, “She’s odd. But it’s hardly surprising – growing up here.”
“Mm.”
“You think it’s more than that?” Her eyes are sharp now, assessing my response.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, Kole is the one who wakes me. He taps me, then Alyssa, and gestures urgently to the door. “We overslept. It’s mid-morning.”
I sit up too quickly, my head still fuzzy with sleep. Alyssa squints around the room and says, “Where’s Ava?”
Kole wakes Tsam and Garrett too and they are equally thick-headed, unaccustomed to so much rest.
“She’s gone,” says Kole.
“Gone?” Alyssa is jumping to her feet, pulling on her boots. “Well, we have to find her.”
“I’m sure she just went to fetch water,” I say, although I feel anxious too.
We are still lacing up our boots when Ava returns. She is smiling and holding out a basket of gnarly-looking vegetables. She places the basket on the worktop, then embraces me, tight.
“Good morning,” she sighs, as if she’s been waiting a lifetime to say that to me. I am stiff and awkward. I feel guilty for not returning her enthusiasm, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “I brought breakfast,” she says, gesturing to her basket. Then, to Garrett, “Would you like to help me prepare it?”
Alyssa steps in, more tactfully than I’d have anticipated. “Actually, Ava, perhaps we could meet Søyen first? Then all have breakfast together?”
Ava laughs. “He won’t want any breakfast, silly.”
Alyssa glances at me, losing her patience. “Well,” I say, “perhaps we could meet him first anyway? I’ve waited so long to see him…”
That seems to do the trick. Ava wrings her gloved hands and shakes her head. “Of course. So selfish of me. Of course you must see Father. Come… come.”
I expect Søyen to be nearby, but Ava hurries us past several huts, clambering higher with each one. She scrambles over the rocks with pract
iced ease, but we are clumsy and slow. When the huts peter out, we keep climbing, then come to a place where the rock sticks out and curves around, making a path that’s only just big enough to stand on. We shimmy around it, Kole and I more cautious than the Watchers, whose wings could save them if they fell, and arrive at a stop when the path becomes wider again. We gather around Ava.
“Surely Søyen doesn’t live up here?” Tsam whispers to me. I shake my head at him. It doesn’t seem possible. Ava’s hut is isolated enough, but living all the way up here? Why would he? Instead of being with her?
“There he is, the middle one,” says Ava, pointing.
She is gesturing almost straight into the sun so it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I gasp. There on the mountainside, dangling like morbid wooden fruit, is a row of rectangular boxes.
I look at the others. “Are those…?”
“Coffins,” replies Kole darkly.
Ava is smiling. “Father’s is the one in the middle. The very best. I painted it myself. See the clouds? He liked clouds.”
Any words abandon me. Søyen is dead. Sealed in a wooden box and hung from the side of a mountain.
“What happened to him?” asks Garrett, touching Ava’s elbow and causing her to twitch.
“He died,” she replies, as if we’re all very stupid. “He was scavenging for nettles, to make tea. He fell and banged his head. But he is at peace now.” She smiles. “Shall we have breakfast?”
When we return to Ava’s hut, Tsam discreetly whispers to Garrett to distract her. Garrett nods and begins to ask lots of questions about the vegetables she gathered and how best to chop them. My stomach is somersaulting uneasily.
“Søyen is dead,” I mutter, trying to make it sink in. “From a bang on the head?”
“Something doesn’t fit,” says Alyssa, glancing over at Ava.
“I agree, it’s odd,” says Tsam, “but the plan hasn’t changed. In fact, I’d say it’s even more urgent. We need to get her back to Abilene…”
“Get who back?” Ava’s mousy voice drifts across from the other side of the room and the look in her eyes tells me she has heard every word we’ve been saying. Too late I realise that, living in a commune where speech is rare, Ava must be attuned to every sound.
Fire Lines Page 18
