The cries from outside are so faint at first that I think I’m imagining them. The thunderous roar shaking the cabin tapers off, and the sound becomes more distinct. I look up in puzzlement as Jax meets my gaze.
“What is that?” I ask the same time as Tater’s, “Holy mother of the gods,” reaches my ears. I bolt from my chair, and Jax and I race to the front door, yanking it open to the sight of an orange tinted night sky. Fire.
“The fields,” Jax says in horror, and I understand his fear right away. Gray Valley cain’t lose its crops. Without the harvest to sustain them, they ain’t gonna survive the year.
“Ma. Fire,” Jax yells over his shoulder as he runs into the throng of people filing past. Some are already pushing water barrels toward the glowing fields. Vi sprints past me carrying an armful of sacks, and I follow behind knowing exactly what the plan is. Fire is every villager’s worst nightmare, and the plan to fight it is ingrained from a young age, but to actually win against the savage beast is another story.
By the time we reach the fields, the flames are shooting high toward the night sky. Mere minutes have passed since the lightning strike, but the dry grasses and crops provide perfect fuel. I watch in dismay as the fire jumps from cornstalk to cornstalk, and I swear I hear the silent screams of the withering crops as they fall prey to the hungry flames.
“Soak the sacks, try to keep the fire contained to the southern field. You lot, form a barrier along the field, keep it from reaching the next field.” Larius’s voice is calm as he gives the orders, but his face is etched with fear just like everyone else. “The rest of you on the road, keep the water barrels filled. Don't let them run dry, you hear?”
I reckon I'm on barricade duty since someone shoves a wet sack into my hands, and I rush toward the blazing field and the line of people already in battle. The heat from the flickering inferno hits me like a wall and sears my lungs. Pulling my wrapper over my nose, I slap at the ground frantically with the sack, trying my hardest to help beat back the hungry tendrils of fire, but for every flame I douse, another springs up to take its place.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
I beat at the ground. I don’t realize the exact moment Jax or Finn join my side, but I suddenly catch a glimpse of the redhead running by, and I grab the boy's arm in worry.
“Finn, you shouldn’t be here. Where’s Cat? She cain’t be here.”
“She’s back at the cabin. She’s okay but I gotta help.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I nod at him and let him go as he starts slapping the ground with the water-logged sack. We're gonna need every set of hands we can get.
“We're losing ground,” Larius shouts over the roar of the still echoing thunder. “We need to contain it to keep it from spreading. Don't let it grow any bigger. Save the crops.”
We fight, running back and forth with the sacks to the water barrels once they dry out from the tremendous heat. Over and over, beating down the flames, trying to force them back and extinguish their greedy grip.
I don’t know how long the battle rages. There ain’t no concept of time, only of the intense desire to douse the life-threatening blaze. But the fire keeps growing. Feels as if the skin on my face is burning off in places, and my eyes are roasting in my head. My lungs wheeze with every breath, and my throat is so raw I can barely swallow. I'm sure the others feel the same, but we keep fighting. Finn keeps falling to his knees, his scrawny body protesting the agonizing effort, but every time he gets back up, refusing to give in.
“Tara. Tara!” Jax grabs my arm, and I start in surprise. I’d forgotten he was even beside me. “The wind is changing. If it reaches the silo, the village will be next. Can you do anything? Can your Chi fight this?”
I stare back at him in frustration since I've been asking myself the same question for the past while and coming up with the same answer. “I cain't, Jax. What if I cain't control it? What if I only make it worse and send the fire spiralin' outta control or worse still, hurt somebody in the process? I'm too scared to try.” My last words come out as a whisper, and I wait for his look of disappointment.
Instead, he nods and says, “Okay, then. Let's head to the silo. We need to fight the fire there.”
I follow his arm pointing to the rounded, weather-beaten shed at the edge of the village. The traitorous wind has shifted, gusts of it edging the red and orange flames toward the village’s stockpile, crackling along the rows of corn. I nod, my throat too parched to utter the words of thanks for his understanding.
“Finn,” I manage to croak and point, and the boy understands right away. We move as one. I glance up at the night sky through the haze of smoke, hoping desperately for a rain cloud. Maybe I could aim my Chi at that? Start the rain? I know I'm reachin' at straws, but it don't matter none anyways. The storm has moved on and the clear sky taunts me with its blanket of sparkling stars and glowing moon. Not a cloud to be seen anymore. Nuthin' I can do about rain. I cain't perform a miracle.
Others have noticed the wind change as well, and we’re soon joined by people with blackened faces and charred hair. I recognize Belle, tears streaming through the soot on her face as she slaps the flames something fierce. I find Ben and Mack there too, side by side struggling with the residents of Gray Valley fighting for their very village.
The battle rages throughout the night. I lose track of how many sacks I go through. Of how many times a body falls from exhaustion, or a voice cries out in pain or fear. But finally, when the dark sky lightens to a washed out gray, the last flame is extinguished.
After hours of crackling flame and shouting and fervent prayers, the stillness is almost uncanny. Smoke still rises from the smoldering ruins, blending with the morning fog and dissipating into the air. We stand, a beaten and exhausted mass overlooking the once green field, now nothing but a charred, burnt corpse. The remaining corn not burnt to a crisp is scorched and singed, the heat warping it to unrecognizable shapes. It will surely die just like the rest. Gray Valley’s crops are lost.
A woman whose name I don’t know breaks the silence. She falls to her knees in exhaustion, her shrill cries echoing through the morning quiet. She is soon joined by others, and their cries of grief combine together as one.
“Please, don’t panic.” Larius’s voice is strong, silencing most of the cries. “We may have lost the harvest, but we saved our homes. And we saved the silo. All is not lost.”
“Most of the harvest is gone, Larius.” I recognize the speaker as one of the old folk from Larius’s cabin the night before. “What good is saving the homes when we will die from starvation?”
“We will not starve. Our harvest may be gone, but we will prevail. Just as we’ve always done. We still have the silo crops—”
“Which are our taxes and will be taken by the Army. They won't care if they leave us with nothing,” another bitter voice interrupts the old man. The comment incites a whole new round of crying and wails of despair. Finn moves closer to me, and I glance down at him. His face is covered in soot, and his red hair is dull and gray, weighed down by ash. His eyes are bloodshot and filled with sadness. I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him close.
“You okay?” I whisper to him as I kiss the top of his matted hair. He nods back. “You did good last night, boyo. I’m proud of ya.”
“Was all for naught, Tara. We didn’t save the crops.” His voice is hoarse and heavy with exhaustion.
“No, we didn’t. But it ain’t for naught. Like Larius said, nobody lost their home and nobody got hurt. Wish we coulda done more, but we did our best.”
I can tell there's more he wants to say. His brown eyes fill up with a look I recognize well. “Spit it out,” I say.
“Tara, you remember what Lily did with the flower back in Sanctuary? How she fed it your blood then she healed it? Maybe you could do the same for the corn? Ya think?”
“No.” My answer comes out a bit sharper than I intend, and I garner a few weird looks from those around me. I lower my voice. “No, Finn. That was a sing
le withered flower, not a field of burnt crops. Lily was a practiced healer. She knew what to do. I ain’t no healer.”
“You healed me,” he says and keeps staring at me with that hopeful expression.
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Cause it was.”
“How?”
“Finn, I cain’t do it.” The exhaustion is taking a toll on my patience, but I take a calming breath.
“You don’t know unless ya try,” he says simply. “I seen ya do some unbelievable stuff, Tara. I think you can do anythin’.”
“Finn…”
He raises a brow my way, and I sigh in resignation. Is he right? Can I do this? My powers have increased over the last few months. Ernst has taught me to do things I ain’t ever thought possible. But this? “What if I cain't do it? What if I raise these people’s hopes only to let 'em down? They'll never listen to reason after that, Finn. If I cain't do this, they'll never agree to help us against the Army—”
“You will do it,” he says, his words affirming his belief.
I look out over the dying field. The only thing keeping the village from starving are these crops. Can I save 'em? I reckon it cain’t hurt to try. I truly got nuthin’ to lose.
Making my way through the crying, hugging people, I approach the still smoldering corn. The burnt smell assaults my nose, and I place the wrapper over my face once again as I kneel in the mounds of ash. I ain't even aware I've been followed until movement makes me glance over my shoulder. My whole crew followed me. Jax gives me a hopeful smile while Mack nods his approval at my idea. Talbert and Beanie, Ben and Belle, Tater and Finn, all form a half circle at my back. Watching my back like always.
The cornstalks that ain't burned to ash are blackened and dried. Nuthin' but husks. The corn it protects ain't ripe yet, but with its connection to the earth dead, it, too, will die. I stare for a bit, trying to figure out how to do this. How do I go about doing the impossible? Everything else I'd done had happened in moments of extreme pressure. I hadn't even thought about it. But kneeling here among the dead and dying crops, I ain't quite sure if I'm being crazy or not.
Rubbing my hands together, I plant them firmly on the ground and call forth my Chi. The familiar heat in my stomach lurches right away and starts flowing through my body. I target it toward the earth, to the corn, willing it to fight and come back to life. I picture the healthy, growing corn in my head and urge it back to that state. My Chi hums and vibrates like unseen energy, but then just keeps humming. I don't feel the release of pressure I usually feel as it leaves my body. I don't feel anything other than it bouncing around in my body like contained lightning. The corn stays devoid of life.
I sigh and sit back on my haunches. “This ain't gonna work.”
“Try it again,” Finn urges over my shoulder.
“Finn—”
“Again,” he repeats more firmly.
I raise a brow his way. “You ordering me around, you little mule-turd?”
He kneels beside me, his face level with mine. “You can do it, Tara. You can do anythin' you set your mind to. That power inside of ya is amazin' and is just waitin' to do this. The only thing stoppin' it right now is you.”
I stare back at him, and I suddenly realize he ain't that scared little young'un I found abandoned months ago. That person was gone replaced by this brave, smart young boy. I also realize those stubborn brown eyes are telling me he ain't gonna let me give up. I reckon I cain't disappoint him then.
“Ya think?” I say.
“Aye,” he answers.
I sigh again and sink my hands back into the soil. “Here goes nuthin'.”
I reach deep, the earth settling under my nails and embracing my hands in its warm fold. Ignoring the whispering behind me, I clear my mind. The blackened cornfield I picture in my inner eye slowly changes to a thing of beauty. I imagine the dead stalks falling away, replaced by crisp green leaves with golden tips peeking outta the husks. The smoky residue hanging over our heads disappears into the blue sky. I picture the blackened soil and baked grass regaining its natural dull, brown coloring. I picture it the way it was. The way it should be.
The image stays crystal clear in my head as I now focus on the power flickering in my gut. It jumps around with impatience as if it's aware its release is soon coming. I draw on it, bringing it to the surface and giving it the command to repair the damaged crops. I open all channels, not even attempting to temper it down. For this crazy-ass idea to succeed, I need to let my Chi flow with all its got.
The flames of power leap through my veins, as greedy as the fire that swallowed the field. It moves real quick, up my arms and sizzling through my fingers buried in the soil. I swear I feel the ground jolt under my knees as the power bursts outta me. I can feel the earth's fear at the intrusion, joining with the pain suffered from the fire. But as more of my Chi—my very soul feels like—enters the ground, the fear falls away.
A wave of empathy washes over me. The suffering of the crops and the earth mixes with gratitude and relief as my energy soothes it. The pain ebbs away and is soon replaced with overwhelming joy like nuthin' I've ever experienced before. A cacophony of sound enters my head, not quite music like what comes from Tater's music box, but just as lyrical. More as if the earth and the crops—hell, even the damn bugs crawling through the dirt—are thankin' me for my offering all at the same time. The wave of acknowledgment crashes over me, suffocating me with its emotional intensity.
Tears fill my eyes and leave a hot trail down my cheeks as I dig my hands deeper, wanting to give more of myself. The pull becomes stronger, becoming a hunger for my Chi, and I keep giving it. Power is leeched outta me, but still I reach further, wanting to offer more. And though my eyes are still shut, I swear the ground is opening up, trying to pull me down into its embrace. I don't resist, and the feeling of falling mixes with the dizziness in my head.
“Tara.” The voice comes from far away, and I try to pull away from the grasp on my shoulder. I don't wanna be pulled back. I don't wanna lose my naked connection to the earth.
“Tara.” This time my name is almost a command, and I'm jerked back so hard I fall on my backside. My eyes are still closed, bereft at losing my link to nature. I breathe deep, trying to control my anger at whoever had pulled me away, even though a part of me was glad they did. The dizziness intensifies, and I keep sucking in air, trying to right my spinning head. Finally, the blood rushing my ears subsides, and I pry my eyes open expecting to see faces staring down at me, but there is only one. Jax holds his hand out to me, and I grab for it. At the same time, I realize the world around me is dead silent. Have I gone deaf?
“You okay?” he asks, pulling me to my feet, and I'm relieved to know I ain't deaf after all. But then a shocked, “Holy mother of gods,” reaches my ears, and the words fill me with instant terror. What did I just do? I showed them all what a freak I am. I stand slowly, expecting to be bombarded with looks of fear and disgust.
But nobody ain't looking at me at all. Everybody is staring at the field. The field that only a while ago had been a burnt mess of nuthin' good but was now back to rows of healthy cornstalks waving in the slight breeze. Some blackened patches punctuate the otherwise living field. Crops too far gone for me to help, I reckon. Even as much as my power is growing, I cain't create life. But anything that had an ounce of life still in it is pretty much right as rain.
“You did it!” Finn's shout echoes in the stillness, and I startle at the cry. “I knew you could.” He rushes at me, nearly knocking me back on my arse as he grabs me about the waist and hugs me tight. Out of instinct I hug back, but I'm too amazed by the sight in fronta me to do much else. I did this? I did this! Holy shizen.
My amazement is short lived; however, as another muttered comment hits me, “Is this witchcraft?”
More comments of discontent fill the air, and my crew tighten in a circle around me. Protecting me, but from what I ain't sure yet.
“Is she a wit
ch?” I look over at the question to see the same woman who had been lamenting the loss of crops earlier now glaring my way. So much for gratitude.
“Tara ain't no witch,” Finn yells, letting go of my waist and glaring back at the woman with a viciousness that woulda done Cat proud. “Ain't you got a lick of sense about anythin'? She's a New Blood, not a witch. Witches ain't real. They only exist in trader's stories, for cryin' out loud.”
Even as scared and dizzy as I am, I cain't help but grin at the boy. My fiercest protector.
His words don't seem to convince the unsure crowd as more utterances of “witch” get thrown about, and Jax growls beside me like some rabid dog.
“Stop this,” Larius's cry halts the murmuring. “What is the meaning of this? You all just witness a miracle, and you respond with accusation and superstitious nonsense? The boy is right. Do you not recognize one of the light? A true New Blood is among us and has brought us salvation. We owe her our heartfelt thanks.”
Larius moves my way, a grin spread across his soot-encrusted face. He stops in front of me, still grinning like he ain't quite sure what to say. Finally, he takes my dirty hand in his.
“I'm sorry I doubted you, girl. As long as I live, I will never be able to thank you for what you have done for us here today. We are all indebted to you, and I swear my oath to you and your people.”
Whatever I was expecting him to say, it ain't this. He couldn't wait to drive me outta the village last night, and now he's swearing his loyalty? I look over at Mack for some sort of guidance on how to handle this new development, but he's blocked by a young woman who joins Larius. Her face is covered in soot and her blonde curls laden with ash and dirt, but I recognize her. Sky smiles at me as she takes my other hand. “I swear my oath as well, New Blood.”
“As do I,” Vi calls out, inciting a few more to join in. Encouraged by the response, Vi continues, “This girl is our hope. Through her we will gain our freedom from the Prezedant and his regime once and for all. New Blood, we give you our fidelity.”
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