by Sarah Fine
The ground beneath me spins, and I sit down heavily. “The priests drink the blood of the acolytes. The supposedly cloistered acolytes.” I press my hands to my eyes, thinking of that lovely acolyte with the wide face, how she was going to be cloistered within days, how she’s probably dead now.
Sig starts to pace, his fingers straying to his back, rubbing at the scars. His face is contorted with disgust. “I wasn’t imagining it,” he mutters, his voice tight, almost like he’s about to cry. “It really happened.” He grimaces and scrapes at his shoulder blades. The air gets hotter, and Maarika grabs Freya by the shoulders and leads her away. Aira and Ismael sink to the floor, wilting in the heat.
“Sig,” Raimo says. “Calm yourself.”
“He drank my blood!” Sig roars, his eyes orange with rage. “When I was chained and bleeding from the lash, that elder licked it straight from my skin!”
Oskar curses quietly. Waves of cold roll from him, counteracting the heat that’s making sweat slide in shining drops down Sig’s body.
“Now you understand the evil,” Raimo says, staring at Oskar. “You see why you have to fight. Thousands of acolytes have been slaughtered, just to keep a few old men alive and in power long past their time.”
“But what about you?” I ask. “If you knew this was happening, why didn’t you try to stop it?”
The old man sags, his shoulders hunching. “With every drop of blood, they got stronger. The more powerful the wielder, the more powerful the blood, so no one was safe. The priests began to turn on one another. It was impossible to tell who was an ally and who wanted to drink your blood with his dinner.” Raimo cackles again, but it’s pure bitterness. “And a few rose above the rest. They couldn’t be stopped—because they were willing to do what no one else was.” His eyes snap to mine. “Why do you think the Valtias rarely live past three decades, when the first Valtia ruled for nearly a century?”
The memory of Sofia’s bandaged arms looms in my mind. “The elders drink from her.” I want to scream with rage.
“Not constantly, but even a little of her blood is enough to give them the advantage. You see how they control things,” Raimo says. “How they control her. How, as she comes into her own, as she starts to question what she’s been taught, as she realizes she has it within her to be a true ruler, maybe to change things for the better, they weaken her enough to take her down.”
I lower my hands to my sides, fighting the urge to sob. Sofia. She was meant to live a long, glorious life. All the Valtias were. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Raimo’s bushy white eyebrows rise. “What makes you think I didn’t? I tried to stir the few priests who had not corrupted themselves. I tried to build a coalition that could challenge the elders. But one by one, my allies were converted or killed. And the elders bribed the city council and the citizens until they were so soft and full and happy that they had no reason to question what was happening in the temple. I even went to the Valtia herself.” He rubs at his nose. “She listened. She was horrified. I thought she would help me.” He raises his head. “But then she sickened and died within the week, and the new Valtia trusted in the elders completely.”
“You could have fought them,” barks Sig. “You could have tried.”
“Do you have any idea how strong they are?” Raimo scoffs. “It wasn’t my power that had kept me alive to that point. I had to rely on my wits. So instead of committing noble, idiotic suicide by challenging them, I stole the knowledge they needed to take control forever, and I tucked it—and myself—away until the cosmos sent me the allies who could help me save Kupari.” He lifts the parchment from the box. “After all, it was my fault this knowledge existed, seeing as I’m the one who made the prophecy in the first place.”
“What did it say, exactly?” Oskar asks.
Raimo smiles, his entire face crinkling. “Ah, this is the interesting part. It depends on how you interpret it.” He runs his narrow fingertips over the runes on the parchment. “The Kupari used to read the stars. We used to believe. They used to guide us—not the elders, and not a naive belief that the Valtia was in charge. Our faith in the stars is in our very language—what do you pray to? What do you say when you’re surprised or frustrated? But which of you knows the first thing about them?”
Ismael combs his fingers through his beard. “My grandfather told me a few stories. About the celestial bear that moves the sun through the sky. About a great pack of wolves, commanded by the queen of the night and the king of the stars, that comes from on high to protect us from our enemies.”
Just like the carvings in the temple. Except I was told they symbolized the magic of the Valtia.
Aira looks over at Ismael. “You never told me those stories.”
Raimo nods. “And that’s how we forgot who we were, generation by generation. That’s how we came to worship our queen and our own power instead of the cosmos. But I knew how to read the stars. I put all my faith in them.” He flips over the parchment, revealing a portion of a star chart, concentric circles dotted with the inhabitants of the sky and all sorts of scribbled calculations. His fingertips tremble as he slides them over the dots. “Karhu, the bear, the creature who lives a thousand lives, the one who brings wisdom and balance,” he says, tapping one star before moving to another. “And Susi, the wolf, the implacable warrior. Together, they symbolize a mighty Valtia. They were aligned with the ringed planet, Mahtava—the portent of war. And right here”—he traces an invisible line to a cluster of dots—“is Vaaden, the steed. The myths say he aids the divine in their quests for magical artifacts. See how his spine creates this sharp angle with the alignment?”
He looks up at us, reads the blank looks on our faces, and rolls his eyes. “It told of a great power that would rise in a time of war,” he says. “The vessel would come into existence when Karhu and Susi aligned. This alignment was so rare. My calculations weren’t precise, but I knew it wouldn’t happen again for nearly three centuries.”
“And I happened to be born during that alignment,” I say quietly.
“And so was she. The Valtia,” says Raimo, looking down at the parchment again. “But that’s what the elders didn’t know. I had confided in a friend, my last supposed ally, but he told the elders of the prophecy, and they demanded to know what it foretold. I allowed them to read the part that I’d completed. When I saw the greed on their faces, I knew the time had come to take action. They wanted this power for themselves, not our people. That night, after staring through a lens of ice at the stars above, after completing the prophecy and realizing what it meant, I knew I couldn’t stay.” He runs his fingers down his beard. “My only goal became to survive long enough to see the prophecy come true, and to do my part to serve the will of the cosmos.”
“So what do you know that the elders don’t?” I ask.
“The elders thought this vessel would be a single person. And why wouldn’t they? It could be read that way. But as I completed the chart, I saw this.” He stabs his finger at a corner of the chart. “The planet Vieno in retrograde, right at the point of the alignment. Complicates everything. Always a sign of disunity. As soon as I saw that, I suspected it would be two—that the power and the balance would not inhabit the same vessel.”
“How did you know about me and Sig, though?” Oskar asks. “What does that prophecy say about us?”
“Do you want me to explain how I read the stars, or just to tell you what they said?”
“What they said,” Sig and Oskar say in unison.
Raimo lets out a huff of laughter. “The second part of the prophecy foretold the Suurin, who would rise only when nothing else could save us. But it also says they will stand with the Astia.” He rubs his thumb along a different part of the chart. “A triple conjunction of planets—Jatti, Vieno, and Kaunotar. They work together. Each one is needed for victory.”
Oskar glances at me. “But how do we know the prophecy isn’t just about the cuff, the magical artifact? Maybe we’re supposed to use
that. Not Elli.”
The old man pulls his patched cloak closer around his bony shoulders, even though he’s sitting not six feet from a fire. “The signs were different from the ones that portended the cuff. Yes, the presence of Vaaden indicates an artifact, but the aspect indicates opposition. Stress. Something pushing back. This on top of the indication that the mighty power would be split into two components, the power and the balance. This time, the stars foretold an Astia with a will.” He raises his head, and his pale eyes lock with mine.
A will. Frustration courses through me. Does will matter when it’s overwhelmed by the power of the wielders who use me?
Raimo gives me a sly look and drops the parchment back into his box. “So, here we are. The Suurin were born, just as the stars foretold, and now they’ve become men. The Astia has risen. I’d say all of this proves that I’m brilliant.”
Oskar crosses his arms over his chest. “Aren’t you forgetting something? This extraordinarily powerful Valtia who, unlike past Valtias, doesn’t have balance because Elli got all of it?”
Raimo sighs. “Only the stars know where she is, but at least the elders don’t have her. I’m actually shocked that she hasn’t revealed herself yet. If she wasn’t raised in the temple, she wouldn’t necessarily know what was happening to her. But we know she’s alive, because the Saadella hasn’t come into the power yet.” His brow furrows. “Correct? I feel like I’ve missed some important events.”
“No, the Saadella has no power,” I say quietly. “But the elders have her. She’s just a little girl.” One I want to gather in my arms. One I want to protect. The urge is powerful and instinctual, its own kind of magic.
“They found her?” Raimo curses. “That’s not good.”
Oskar lowers his dark, slashing brows. “Apart from the obvious, why?”
Raimo’s eyes glitter with ice. “Because if the Saadella dies, the magical line dies. Only the death of a Valtia can create a Saadella, and once she is made, there is no chance of making another until the next Valtia dies. Why do you think the priests are so frantic to find the new Saadella every time a Valtia perishes?” He jabs his finger at me. “Why do you think they lock her away in the temple and attend to her every need? Yes, they want to control her, to make sure she has no will or thoughts of her own. But also—her death means losing the magic, and that magic is what’s keeping them in power.”
“Then the girl should be in no danger,” says Sig. “Wouldn’t they protect her at all costs?”
Raimo mutters something under his breath and shakes his head. “Everything is different now.” His creaky voice is made of urgency. “The last of our copper is being mined, and who knows what will happen to the magic when it’s gone? The fire and ice could fade away—or they could turn on the very ones who bled the land of their source. The elders know this, and I don’t doubt they’ve been planning for it.”
My hands ball in my skirt. “They’ll want to ensure that when the time comes, they have all the power.”
Raimo nods. “We are truly standing on the precipice of disaster.”
Oskar stands up, looming over the three of us. “I’ve heard enough. I’m ready to fight.”
Sig grins. “It’s about time. This is going to be fun.”
Oskar smiles, walking toward him until they’re only a few feet apart. “I knew you’d say that.”
His fist arcs forward and catches Sig in the jaw, sending the Fire Suurin to the ground, his head lolling and his eyes unfocused. Oskar leans over Sig, his knuckles bleeding, menace oozing from every inch of him.
“Understand, though,” he says quietly. “Throw as much fire at me as you want. I don’t care. But if you ever harm someone I love again, you and I will be enemies forever. And I promise—you will die with ice in your veins.”
CHAPTER 23
Oskar stares down at Sig for a few long moments, then offers his hand. The entire cave goes still. No one breathes. The wielders look poised to defend themselves if Sig retaliates, their hands hovering flexed at their sides. Sig blinks a few times and moves his jaw from side to side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His dark eyes focus on Oskar’s face, and he lets out a pained chuckle. “Fair enough.” He accepts Oskar’s help in getting to his feet, and all of us let out a sigh of relief.
Oskar turns to Raimo. “What’s our plan?”
Raimo smirks. “We take back the Temple on the Rock and separate the elders from the source of their power—blood and copper. We save the Saadella and liberate the acolytes. But I’d feel more reassured if you’d been preparing for this for the past few years.”
Oskar’s nostrils flare as he draws in a breath. “Perhaps I would have, if you’d actually told me anything.”
“Amazing. I agree with Oskar,” says Sig, his voice molten, blood smeared on his chin and the back of his hand. “All these years, you kept this from us.”
“And what would you have done, eh?” Raimo lurches to his feet and pokes Sig’s sweaty chest. “Hot-tempered idiot. You’d have blundered straight into the elders’ clutches, and they would have drained you dry. You might be powerful, but you were both boys, and without the Astia, you’re not strong enough to face Tahvo and the others.”
My brow furrows. “Tahvo? There’s no elder by that name.”
Raimo rubs his grizzled cheek. “Crown. That’s what it means. Ironic, no? It’s possible he’s taken another name over the years.”
A jowly, thin-lipped face floats dark in my mind. “Aleksi. He’s the worst of them. He was always trying to tell the Valtia what to do. He seemed eager for my death.” I glance at Sig. “Would he have tried to drink my blood too?”
Raimo’s fingers twist in his long, stringy beard. “The blood of the Astia. Now there’s an interesting thought. He didn’t know what you are, so he might not have. But if he had . . . ? Hmm. I don’t know what would happen.” For a moment he looks like he’d like to find out. Would it steal the elder’s powers, or would it make him stronger, magnifying his own magic to untold levels?
The idea of Aleksi’s thin lips covered in my blood makes me shudder.
Oskar reaches for my hand, but I pull it away before his fingers close over mine. I won’t let him touch me now. He frowns as his arm falls to his side. “Do you really think Elder Aleksi is the same person?”
Raimo shrugs. “Dark? Round-bellied?”
“That describes the elder who . . .” Sig looks away, rubbing at his back again.
I grimace as I remember Aleksi’s hard smile while I suffered. “Is he really hundreds of years old?”
“If you have relatively balanced fire and ice,” says Raimo, “along with knowledge of how they work, you can find a way.”
I don’t miss the hollow looks Sig and Oskar exchange. They are the opposite of balance, uniquely powerful—and vulnerable. “Are all the elders that old and strong?” Sig asks.
“The one with copper hair was easy enough to kill,” Oskar says.
“That was Leevi,” I say. “I remember when he became an elder. He was the newest of the three.”
“Probably the weakest, too.” Raimo plants his walking stick in a crack in the stone and leans on it. He’s always been scrawny, but he looks shakier than he did when I first knew him. Leevi and the other priests caused the thaw that awakened him two months too soon—but just in time to help us. I only hope he’s strong enough to do it.
“The priests are a deceptive, dangerous group,” he says. “Not one of them trusts the others. And I haven’t been in the temple in centuries, so I don’t know the players. But I have no doubt that Tahvo is still there. By the time I fled, he was by far the most skilled and powerful of them. He was probably waiting for the ascension of this foretold Valtia—if he had her blood, he might be able to equal her in power. That’s why he’d be willing to kill the Saadella. He wouldn’t think he needs her, and he wouldn’t want anyone to rise to challenge him. With the cuff of Astia, he could rule Kupari.”
“For all we know, the cuff of Ast
ia is a melted mess of copper right now,” I say. Sig and I tell Raimo what happened in the city, how he brought the fire down on poor Mim, who was wearing the crown and the cuff as the flames devoured her.
Raimo shakes his head. “The cuff is like you, Elli. Immune to magic. It can’t be destroyed that way. And like you, it can magnify the magic of any wielder who’s touching it. Tahvo might use this crisis as an excuse to claim it—and the throne.”
“Unless the Soturi strike first,” says Sig. “The barbarian envoys were right there at the coronation. The elders were putting on quite a show for them.”
“And you revealed the lie.” In the most fiery, awful way. My voice breaks as I remember that I’ll never see Mim’s beautiful, kind face again.
“You helped,” Sig says drily.
I bow my head. He’s right. And despite the fact that I channeled all that power, I feel more powerless than ever. Oskar shifts so his big body is between me and Sig. “You used her.”
“And something tells me you did too,” Sig says with a laugh. “How else did you have the control to bring down enough ice to encase twenty men? You might have endless ice magic inside you, Oskar, but you’ve never learned to wield it. You never even wanted it.”
“But I have it, and I’ll wield it now,” Oskar says quietly.
“Only because you’re besotted with her.”
The temperature in the chamber drops so suddenly that Raimo shudders. “Does it matter why I’m doing it?” Oskar snaps. “You’ve wanted me to fight alongside you for years, and here I am.”
Heat rises to meet the cold. “Here you are.” Sig reaches around Oskar and grabs my arm. “And here’s the reason we’ll win. Did you feel the power of touching her, brother? We can bring down the temple with the elders inside. This is the war we’re meant to fight, with her beside us.”
