by Sarah Fine
Oskar. The name makes me think of sand, and racing, and joy, and it makes no sense because I’m going to kill that wielder, who helped Sig take Thyra . . . as soon as I can lift my arms again. Oskar the ice wielder flings blades of ice in the direction of the balding priest. He looks grim as he fights. But Sig, halfway across the clearing, is laughing as he makes two other priests run screaming from the wood with their robes and hair aflame. This is sport for him.
Until Kauko strides into the clearing, his hood thrown back.
“Kauko,” shouts Sig. The name is echoed in frightened tones among the hooded figures who were running alongside the traitorous fire wielder.
The elder walks forward, his white cheeks and pale brow lit up by the fire that swirls on his upturned left palm. On his right is a blizzard that looks as if it is contained in a bubble. Perfectly round, completely vicious. He appears calm as always. Calm as he comforts, as he cuts, as he kills. Calm as he drinks my blood, calm as he talks of inviting my magic into the body of the tiny girl who is mine, mine, mine.
A spark of fire ignites inside my chest.
“Ansa,” Kauko calls, his dark eyes searching the trees. He finds me and chuckles. “Naughty Valtia.”
Sig lunges from behind his tree, sending a rolling wave of fire at the elder, who repels it with ice.
“Are you working together, Ansa?” Kauko calls as he destroys Oskar’s next icy attack with flame. “Have you been waiting for them to rescue you?”
Sig strikes again, this time with a thin, serpentine whip of fire that he tries to coil around the elder, but Kauko merely laughs and waves his hands at the flames, dissipating them with bitterly frigid air. Sig calls out something to the dark one in Kupari, and then his eyes meet mine as he cowers behind a nearby tree. “Did he drink more of your blood?” he asks.
As if in answer, Kauko lights up the forest with flame. The cuff of Astia is revealed when he brings his arm up to lift the fire into the trees and set the leaves alight. He still looks serene, but there is a glint of savagery in his eye, one I know well—he would be happy to kill tonight.
Sig cries out in pain as a burning branch falls onto his hiding place, and when he runs into the open to escape it, Kauko blasts him with heat. He falls to his knees, but then Oskar and another lean, dark ice wielder step out from their hiding places and pour wickedly cold air into the clearing, blowing out the flames and making the air breathable again.
I still haven’t moved. I’m lying sprawled at the edge of this clearing, and I am shivering and sweating and unable to summon the strength to sit up, let alone protect myself. Then the forest is full of screams and cracking as the ground shakes again. The trees are burning and dark figures run hither and thither in the smoke. I am grabbed roughly and yanked up, and then someone flings me over the back of a horse. The hooded figures around me talk to each other in panic-laced Kupari. Someone mounts the horse and places a hand on my back. An unfamiliar male voice says something in that foreign tongue before kicking his horse’s flanks and sending us galloping into the woods. The wielder’s body is pressed hard over mine, and my arms and legs hang down and slap against the horse’s sides as it flees the heat and smoke and flame.
I am not entirely sure, but I think these wielders have just stolen me from the elder. From Jaspar. From my own execution.
But that does not mean they are my friends. They are allied with the impostor queen.
And they killed Thyra. I saw it happen. I held her as she died. No good deed will save them from my wrath.
When my magic returns to me, I am going to make their world burn.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elli
I stand at the edge of the fissure with a bar of copper in my hands. Livius and his exhausted crew gather around while Raimo hovers at my shoulder. He’s been irritable and shaky as the hours have passed, not that I can really blame him. I haven’t been able to gather more than a few minutes at a time in which to sit down, let alone sleep.
“The lads are ready to get the first load of bars onto the cart,” Livius says to me. “There was more rockfall than we expected, so it’s likely to take us the rest of the day and another night to bring it over to you.”
I turn to look at all the men on his work crew. Their faces are smeared with grime and sagging with fatigue. Their eyes are bleak as they watch me holding enough copper to buy a month’s worth of food for an entire family. “I’m grateful for your tireless work. We must all make sacrifices to save our land.”
Raimo mutters something under his breath, and I pretend like I don’t hear him at all.
Livius removes his cap and holds it with both hands. “We trust in your wisdom, Valtia.”
I pray to the stars that their trust isn’t misplaced. I don’t see how this could be wrong, though. With that thought, I turn and toss the bar into the fissure, and we listen to it thump against the ragged walls of dirt and stone in its plunge toward the red abyss below.
I don’t know when it hits. The earth is silent as it swallows down this tiny tribute. I hold to the marble that bounds the tear in the plaza and squint at the glowing thread of light deep in the pit. “It’s a start.”
“We’ll load up the first cart, then,” Livius says somberly. With a heavy sigh, he waves his men back toward the temple.
The sun is lighting the sky in the east even though it hasn’t yet shown its face. A faint trace of wood smoke hangs in the air. Kaisa walks into the plaza from the square, picking her way along amid upturned slabs of marble. She frowns as she approaches me and Raimo and pushes her hood away from her face, revealing her short blond hair.
“Have we found the Saadella?” I ask as she nears.
“No one has seen her or her family since the quake struck,” she says. “Also, we’ve ladled out our entire stock of broth. Many are still hungry.”
“Have you spoken to Oona, the butcher’s wife?” I ask. “She is responsible for buying meat from the farmers in the outlands and may be able to help us get more bones at least, if not meat. We can help prepare and distribute the food.”
“I can try,” says Kaisa, “but there is much resentment toward the temple in town. Some people were refusing our charity. A few spat on the ground and said they’d rather starve.”
My cheeks grow hot, as if I’ve been slapped. “Just because the Valtia hasn’t saved them from all hardship? When will they realize they’re not children?”
“That’s all they’ve ever known,” says Raimo. “You can’t expect them to change overnight.”
Frustration seizes me. “Then we’re all going to perish!” I say, my voice shrill. “Because the Soturi will not wait for us to grow up before they invade.” Weeks ago, we were headed toward a stronger place. Weapons were being forged and bows were being strung. But since the first quake, courage seems to have abandoned the Kupari people.
And I can’t protect them. I’m not enough. I can’t even protect one little girl. I bow my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to push away the despair that threatens to enclose me. I think the only thing keeping my own people from storming the temple to stone me is fear and catastrophe, not love, not loyalty. “They’ll see. When we stop the quakes, they’ll see,” I whisper.
Distant clanging brings my eyes open. “Are those the fire bells?”
“Look,” says Raimo. “To the south.”
A dark haze blocks out the morning light. That was the smoke I smelled. “Is that in the city?”
Raimo shakes his head. “It’s much farther away.”
“The north woods,” I say, glancing toward the road as my heart begins to match the pace of the clanging alarms. “Shouldn’t they be back by now?”
“It depends on what they encountered,” he tells me. “And whether they survived.”
“That’s unnecessarily dreary,” I snap.
“Oh, is it my job to cushion you from the reality of our situation? I’m so sorry.” He pats my shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine, Elli. I’m sure that if
you just take a nap, the world will be perfect and right when you wake up.”
I wrench myself away from him. “You know full well that’s not what I’m asking from anyone.” My throat is so tight that I can barely speak. “But would you prefer I dwell on the possibility of disaster and ruin instead of having at least a little hope to carry me along?”
“I’d prefer you face hard truths instead of turning your back on them.”
“And I’d prefer you not treat men’s lives as so completely disposable!”
He leans his forehead on the top of his walking stick. “I can’t advise you if you won’t listen to what I have to say.”
“I have always listened,” I shout. “But that doesn’t mean I must always obey blindly. I did that for my entire life until now, and all it did was make me a slave in the hands of evil men.”
Raimo raises his head. “Perhaps you’re still a slave—but this time, your emotions and desires are your masters.”
“Enough.” I cast poor Kaisa an apologetic glance. “Please go do whatever you can to assist in feeding our people. If we have any grain, have it ground to meal. If we have any meal, have it made into bread. If we have any bread, hand it out, but for star’s sake, help us be of service!”
Without a word, Kaisa jogs for the side of the temple, where the vaulted food stores have, by some miracle, been left largely undamaged.
“Valtia,” comes a cry from the broken gate to the plaza. “You are needed!”
“Ah, here we go,” says Raimo.
A constable stumbles into the plaza, panting and sweating. “There’s a massive fire in the woods just outside the gate, and the wind blows north! You must come!”
People have begun to gather behind him, looking between me in the plaza and the smoke that hangs in the southern sky. I wonder how many of these people watched my fiery escape from the courtyard of the council hall just before the last big quake hit. They must still think I hold the infinite magic inside my body.
“Can you help?” I ask Raimo.
He looks down at his gnarled hands. “I’m not sure. Despite your grand offering to the earth, I’m still feeling awfully shaky.” His tone is so peevish that I want to scream.
“I’ll go see what I can do without you, then.” I whirl around and walk toward the constable. “Fetch me a horse, please.”
“Fetch two,” Raimo says wearily.
I look over my shoulder at him. He shrugs.
The smoke on the air seems to be getting thicker by the minute. Somehow, I know, this fire is not natural. It is magical. It stinks of wielders clashing and dying. Though I am immune to its effects, it terrifies me far more than a fire that could melt my bones.
What if Lahja is out there, surrounded by flame? What if Oskar doesn’t have enough ice to protect himself? What if the fire only burns because he’s already been defeated?
Horses whinny as the constable leads a pair of them into the plaza until he can go no farther for fear of injuring the animals’ legs on the scramble of unsteady rocks and fractured slabs. I slowly make my way over to him and hear Raimo’s shuffling footsteps behind me.
The constable holds the horse’s bridle as I mount. “So used to seeing you high on the paarit with all your bearers,” he says with a sad smile.
“My bearers have more important work to do than to carry around a queen who is perfectly capable of sitting atop a mare.” I put them to work helping Livius’s stone crews.
He pats the side of the horse’s brown throat. “Well, the road’s tough going. Lots of fissures and rocks. But this one’s nimble and sure.”
I need to be the same. With Raimo weak and tremulous, I have only a few options for staving off a fiery disaster within the city, and none of them are good or sure. I look up at the gloomy sky and wish for rain. “We need water and buckets.”
“Won’t do any good,” the constable says. “Can’t you make us a thunderstorm like the old Valtia did when the Soturi came at us over the Motherlake?”
I almost laugh. “Let me see what I’m dealing with first.” I cluck my tongue, and my mare moves. Her ears twitch as the bells become louder. I wonder about the men and women ringing them—the bells are positioned along the walls of the city, some sections of which have crumbled in the quakes. For anyone to climb up there just to warn fellow citizens of oncoming danger takes courage and selflessness. I wish I could have a thousand more just like them.
“Do you have a plan?” asks Raimo as he guides his horse along behind mine. The road to the square is scattered with debris, but a narrow path has been cleared, wide enough for a single rider.
I rub at my eyes. “At this point, I’m not sure it matters. Disaster awaits at every single turn.” I cannot win. I know that now. But I will never allow myself to give up—especially as I reach the square and find hundreds of forlorn, beaten-down citizens waiting for me.
They hold out their hands to me and cry. “Save us, Valtia!”
Tears start in my eyes, but I hold my head high as we ride past them. I don’t have the strength to offer more empty reassurances. All I can offer is my straight back and the proud angle of my chin.
We ride along the Lantinen toward the southern part of the city, where thatched roofs have collapsed inward, some of them smoking as well. Here the buildings are not more than one floor, so I can see the wall up ahead—and the distant glow of flames behind the green trees that overhang this section of city wall, where the north wood caresses our city boundary.
Raimo curses. “It’s closer than I thought it would be.”
“It’s magical,” I murmur. “This was caused by a wielder.”
He curses again. “I suppose you would know.”
Our horses mince along carefully, bearing us closer to the smoke. Raimo coughs. I do not—I can smell the smoke, but it doesn’t hurt my throat. Up ahead is a door that leads directly through the wall and into the woods—I know this because Sig used it to drag me out of the city a few months ago after he killed Mim. “You can stay behind if you like,” I tell Raimo as he spits on the ground and then continues to hack.
We are a block or two from the wall, and between the constant clangs of the fire bells, there arises an insistent banging.
“Let us in,” a woman shouts from the other side.
“That’s Aira,” Raimo says in a flat voice.
I urge my horse forward, and when it doesn’t move fast enough, I hop from its back and lift my skirts, then jog my way along, past silent, frightened faces peeking out of partially collapsed homes, past men on the streets trying to dig possessions out from under timbers and thatch and slate. My heart is several steps ahead of me as we stumble toward the section of buildings that hide the door—that’s where Aira’s voice is coming from. A few citizens who must live in this area merely stare mutely toward the wall and watch the smoke billow toward us. They make no move to provide the help that’s so desperately needed right now.
“Raimo, please,” I say in a choked voice as we turn the corner and come face to face with a thick, bolted door. This time I don’t have Sig with me to pick the lock. “Can you open it?”
Raimo winces as we listen to a few hoarse cries on the other side. I put my hand to my chest as I feel a strange pull. I have to get to the other side of this wall. “Please,” I say again. “I can’t make it through on my own.”
Raimo hobbles forward, looking sickly and weak. “I’ll try.” He offers his hand, and I clasp it, feeling the sharp shocks of his magic as it flows from him to me.
I stretch my scarred fingers toward the copper lock on the door, and pray that by the time we make it to the other side, there are still wielders left to save.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ansa
The wielder who carried me through the wood on horseback sweats through his clothes and mine by the time we reach a high wall and can go no farther. I assume the Kupari city is on the other side, but the wall is too high to climb, and these idiots who have kidnapped me seem to have brought us to
a place that lacks the one thing we need—a gate.
Smoke is curling around us in a deadly, acrid haze and I can hear the crackling of flames a few hundred yards away. The small group of wielders slides off their horses, and some rush over to help the injured dismount. My captor, breathing hard and coughing, jumps off his horse and yanks me off, then sets me down with my back against the base of the wall.
Sig is laid next to me a moment later. He looks awful, but he’s awake, eyes open and on me. I glare my hatred at him.
“Kauko blows his fire this way,” says Sig, wheezing. “He could destroy the whole city.”
Fine with me. I say nothing.
“We didn’t kill Thyra, by the way.”
Liar.
A dark shape looms over us. It’s the big ice wielder, with his wild brown hair and broad shoulders and strange white hand that hangs limp from his side. He’s part dead man and about to become a whole one, along with the rest of us. He asks Sig a question, and I swear it includes my name.
Sig answers in Kupari, then turns to me. “Oskar here wants to know if I can open that door over there,” he says weakly, nodding toward a door about a dozen yards away, shielded by overhanging vines. “But it’s too hot for me to wield my own magic.”
“I won’t help you,” I tell him. I can barely lift my arms and my magic is just a smoldering pit inside me. Even if I could summon an inferno, I still wouldn’t raise a finger to save him.
“Save your cousin, then,” he says, gesturing at Oskar.
My gaze flicks to the dark ice wielder and our eyes meet. He offers me a hesitant smile, and suddenly memories of summer days and sand and racing a gangly boy up a dune while Mother laughs and laughs and laughs invade my mind, blocking out the burning forest and the smoke. Are those recollections real, or am I inventing this past of mine? I blink quickly and stare at Oskar again.
He’s a stranger. I’d never seen him before I watched him hurl ice at Thyra. My lip curls and I bare my teeth at him. Ice stirs inside me, slow but certain, like it knows the enemy.
