by Caitlin Seal
Naya flexed the fingers of her left hand. Aether sung in her bones. She concentrated the strength down to her legs, imagining the bottoms of her feet becoming hard and heavy as iron plates. With a shout she kicked the door. Wood splintered. She kicked again and felt something give.
The door crashed open and Naya stumbled into the burning embassy.
Smoke billowed around her and heat pressed against her. Flames licked along the wall farther down the hallway. Naya ran forward, fighting a strange sense of vertigo. She could smell the smoke, taste it on the back of her tongue. Her mind was screaming that she should be choking, that any minute the flames would char her skin black.
I don’t need to breathe. The fire can’t hurt me. She repeated the words again and again like a prayer. Iselia and Lestare headed up the stairs to check Celia’s room while Naya and Corten moved toward Valn’s office. The thickening smoke seemed to swallow them as they got deeper into the building, making it almost impossible to see. They crouched low, trying to escape the smoke and the heat rising toward the ceiling.
“Your skirt!” Corten shouted.
Naya looked down and saw a tongue of flame licking up the fabric. Her hands shook as she drew the kitchen knife and slashed away the burning section.
As they continued down the hall, it became obvious that this was where the fire had started. The air was black with smoke, and the flames rolled over the right wall in hypnotic patterns. Naya wondered how long the ceiling would hold. They might survive the heat for a little while, but she doubted any of them would live through being buried under piles of burning wood and plaster.
Valn’s office door was open. Something that might once have been a desk squatted near the back wall, flames licking off it and up to the ceiling and walls.
“We need to get out of here,” Corten shouted over the roar of the flames. “Anything in there is long gone.” Soot smeared his cheeks, and his clothes were scorched where embers had landed.
Naya shook her head. “This didn’t just happen. Someone set this fire.”
Corten grabbed her arm. “All the more reason for us to get out of here.”
“No, wait!” Naya’s eyes caught on something near the door, barely visible in the smoke. The carpet had been folded over in one corner, exposing the wood beneath. She pulled her arm free of Corten’s grasp and ran into the office. The heat inside was even more intense than it had been in the hallway. Naya felt it spreading in her bones. The pain grew by the second. She fell to her hands and knees and crawled toward the exposed floor, squinting against the smoke.
It hadn’t been her imagination. A thin crack ran where a three-foot section of flooring was raised a little above the rest. Naya dug her fingers into the opening. The section of floor swung up on hidden hinges to reveal a steep stairway like the one leading to Jalance’s vault. A wave of dizziness hit her. She had to get out of the heat before it charred her bones.
“Come on!” she called over her shoulder, before lunging through the opening. She half crawled, half fell down the stone steps and landed in a heap on the floor. She heard Corten follow a second later.
Naya lay against the cool stone and waited for the pain in her hand to fade. Trails of smoke wisped off her clothes. She sat up, pinching out a few still-smoldering spots along the hem of her skirt. Corten crouched beside her and stared up at the orange light. “We should close that before the fire spreads.” He’d managed to hold on to the heavy iron poker Iselia had given him. Naya looked around, realizing she must have dropped her kitchen knife somewhere up above.
“I don’t think anything down here will burn,” she said after taking a closer look at their surroundings. The tunnel was low and cramped, with walls of rough stone. Ten feet farther along the tunnel, an aether lamp glowed outside a heavy-looking door.
Corten followed her gaze. “Did you know this was here?”
Naya shook her head. “I saw the edge of the trapdoor and thought maybe Valn had hidden something here.” She walked to the door, resting her hand on the knob and closing her eyes. She couldn’t sense anyone on the other side. When she tried the knob she was surprised to find the door unlocked.
Beyond it was a narrow room containing a rumpled bed, a desk, and—judging from the smell—a chamber pot. There was another door on the far side, and a long metal chain was bolted to the floor next to the bed. Naya followed the length of the chain with her eyes until she found the heavy shackle at its end.
“They were keeping someone prisoner here,” she said.
“Why?” Corten asked. “Valn had access to the palace dungeons. Why would he need to keep someone here?”
Excitement ran down Naya’s back like a shiver. “Because it wasn’t someone he arrested. I think Delence might still be alive.” She ran to the door on the other side of the room. Locked. She fumbled through her pockets for her lock picks, but of course Valn’s guards had taken those when they’d captured her. The door looked heavy enough that she doubted she could smash it open. She let one hand slip through the wood, feeling around on the far side, but couldn’t find any way to turn the bolt without a key.
Naya took a step back and glared at the door. She didn’t want to risk going back up through the fire. And when she reached out into the aether, she sensed, or thought she sensed, a faint trail of emotions somewhere beyond the door.
She crouched to examine the lock. It was fashioned from ordinary metal and wood, and when she’d reached through the door she hadn’t felt the chill of even a thin salma wood plate. There had to be a way through.
“We could try breaking it,” Corten said, though he sounded uncertain as he hefted the metal poker.
Naya rapped her knuckles against the door, listening to the solid thunk. “Maybe.” The door outside had been weakened by fire, and out there she’d had the aether of the crowd to draw from. “I just need something that could fit in the lock. I wonder if…” She stared at her fingers pressed against the door. She could change the shape of her face. Why not do the same with her hands?
“What is it?” Corten asked.
“I have an idea.”
She let the fingers of her right hand turn a wispy blue, then pushed one into the lock. The cold pressure as her finger reluctantly solidified was uncomfortable in a way that reminded her of jamming her toe on a table leg. The part of her that still thought of her body as a physical thing insisted her finger was being crushed. But after a moment she felt the delicate pressure of the lock’s pins.
Naya clenched her jaw, ignoring the discomfort and trying to feel the subtle release of the pins sliding into place. She closed her eyes and felt one pin catch, then another. Seconds dragged by, and finally she found the sweet spot on the third. She twisted, again feeling a twinge as some part of her imagined her finger snapping from the strain. The lock clicked. Naya opened her eyes and flashed Corten a grin.
Beyond the door was a low hallway a little wider than the one on the other side of the room. “Where do you think it goes?” Corten asked.
“I don’t know.” Naya reached out through the aether. There wasn’t much in the tunnel, but she could just sense a trace of emotions somewhere up ahead. Maybe they weren’t too late after all. “There’s someone down there.”
Corten tightened his grip on the poker. “Delence?”
“I can’t tell.”
“Guess we’d better go find out.”
There was no light ahead, so Naya ducked back to retrieve an aether lamp from one of the wall hooks behind them. They moved forward cautiously. The air smelled of dust and old rot mixed with the smoky stench wafting from their burned clothes. The rough stone walls looked older than the room behind them, and there were strange marks carved into the stone every few paces. After about thirty feet, a smaller tunnel branched off to their left. A little ahead, the main tunnel curved to the right.
Naya closed her eyes and searched the aether, trying to pinp
oint the lingering mix of fear and anger. “This way,” she said, motioning the lamp toward the tunnel to the right.
The swinging lamp cast strange shadows against the walls as they ran. They passed two more junctions and Naya used the aether to guide her decision each time, praying she was right about its source. With every turn the sensations grew stronger, twining in a familiar mix that made her palms grow cold with fear. As they rounded the corner, she spotted three people up ahead. One of them was being dragged along by the others, and all of them wore lightweight coats with the hoods pulled up. “Stop!” Naya shouted.
The three turned. When Naya saw their faces, she froze. Her father’s beard looked scruffier than it had when she’d last seen him, and there was soot smeared under one of his eyes. A heavy sword hung sheathed on his belt. Beside him Celia stood holding a small aether lamp. Naya had seen their prisoner only once, but she recognized him immediately. It was Delence.
The old man’s gray hair was lank with grease, and dark bags shadowed his eyes. His wrists were bound in manacles. When he moved, it was with a careful stiffness that suggested great pain.
Her father’s eyes widened when he saw Naya and Corten. “Stay away!” He put a hand on his sword hilt and dragged Delence a few steps back.
“Go,” Celia said, handing him the aether lamp. “I’ll deal with this.”
Naya’s father snarled something, then dragged his prisoner farther down the tunnel. “Let me go!” Delence said. He struggled, but her father punched him hard in the gut and forced him to keep moving. The light of their lamp soon faded around the next corner.
“Turn back and I’ll let you leave,” Celia said. She shifted so she stood at the center of the tunnel, then drew a short club from inside her jacket.
Naya felt Corten tense beside her. Even if the fire didn’t block the path behind them, there was no way she would give up and let her father drag Delence off to who knew where. She took a step forward, letting her body fall into a fighting stance. Celia smiled, but Naya thought she sensed a thread of fear in the spy’s aether. “You were a better pupil than I expected. I’d rather not kill you, but I will if I have to.”
“Let us pass,” Naya said. “You have to see this plan is madness.”
Celia paused for the space of a breath, then her expression hardened. “No. Not all of us can abandon our loyalties so easily as you.”
“He’s getting away,” Corten said under his breath.
Naya glared at Celia. “Get out of my way or I’ll make you.”
In response Celia reached into her jacket with her free hand and drew out a slender knife. Runes ignited with aether as the blade slipped free of its sheath. Naya felt the tug of the wraith eater a second later and took an unconscious step back.
“What do we do?” Corten asked.
Naya watched as the glowing runes seemed to crawl along the blade. “Stay back,” she said. Then she gathered her aether and channeled it into the runes of Celia’s lantern, which flashed brightly before the runes cracked, plunging them into darkness. Naya rushed forward, focusing on the wisps of blue aether rushing off Celia and into the knife. In all their sparring matches, Celia had always been faster, always bested Naya before she could land more than a token blow.
This time would be different.
She kept her left hand tucked close to her body and her eyes on the knife. Celia stepped back, slashing sideways at chest level. Naya ducked under the blow, aiming for the narrow opening to Celia’s left. The knife tugged at her aether and her shoulder scraped stone as she threw herself into a clumsy roll.
Celia was already turning to face her when Naya came back up to her feet. She swung the club toward Naya’s head, but Naya let it pass through her. As she’d expected, Celia stabbed with the knife a half second later. Naya turned her body sideways to dodge the thrust. Then she concentrated aether into heat in her right hand and grabbed Celia’s wrist. The stink of burning leather rose from the sleeve of Celia’s jacket, but the spy managed to twist free, reversing her grip on the knife and stabbing downward. The tip of the blade slashed through Naya’s skirt and into her thigh. Naya screamed as the knife sucked at her energy. She stumbled back, but the pain made her knee collapse. As Celia stepped forward to slash again, Naya raised her hand, snatching at what little aether she could and again pooling it in her palm.
She turned her head away and released the energy as a flash of light. Celia cried out in surprise. Naya looked back and saw the spy take a step away, slashing wildly in front of her. Before Naya could get back to her feet, a faintly glowing figure stepped behind Celia. It raised its arms above its head, then swung down. Naya heard a muffled thud, and Celia collapsed like a puppet that’d had its strings cut.
“Looked like you could use some help,” the figure said. Naya recognized Corten’s voice. Squinting at his face, she thought she could just make out his features outlined in the blue glow of his aether. His hands were wrapped around something. After a moment Naya realized it was the iron poker.
“Thanks,” Naya said.
Her leg felt weak as she forced herself to her feet, and she could still feel the tug of the wraith eater from where it lay on the ground a few paces away. Celia groaned, her hands scraping feebly against the rough stone floor.
“What do we do with her?” Corten asked.
Naya hesitated. They didn’t have time to tie Celia up, and besides, they didn’t have any rope. Naya inched closer to Celia and reached carefully for the wraith eater. The blade’s hunger intensified as she grasped the hilt and twisted it the way she’d seen Celia do when she’d drawn the blade. The pulling sensation stopped and the knife’s runes went dark. Naya sighed with relief, then took the sheath from Celia’s belt and tucked it into her skirt pocket. She didn’t like the thought of keeping it close to her, but better that than to leave it with Celia.
“Come on. Let’s get going before she wakes up.” She placed one hand against the wall and sought out her father’s emotions in the aether. Her free hand found Corten’s and together they hurried on.
They felt their way through the dark, moving as fast as they could. After a while Naya began to imagine she could sense the outline of the space around her, something halfway between touch and sight guiding her every step. Light blossomed ahead as they neared the source of the aether. They rounded a bend in the tunnel, and the walls widened to form a small room. Her father stood on the far side, the lamp on the ground beside him as he struggled to drag Delence up a narrow flight of stairs. When he saw them, he shoved Delence back and grabbed the hilt of his sword.
Naya’s throat went tight, her legs shaky. She could feel her father’s fear and anger, a foul smoke billowing over the cold steel of his determination. “Father,” she said in a trembling voice.
He flinched from the word, stepping toward Delence. The old politician’s face was twisted in a grimace of pain. His eyes darted between Naya and her father, looking uncertain about what was going on.
Naya stepped forward. “It’s me,” she said, the words coming out stronger. “Please, I know how you feel, but you’re making a mistake. The necromancers aren’t evil. Valn’s just using them as an excuse to invade Ceramor.”
Her father shook his head, his expression hardening. “You’re not her.”
“I am. Please, listen. You don’t have to do this. This doesn’t have to end in war.”
Her father laughed, the sound bitter and echoing in the stone chamber. “My daughter would have known that war was the only way this could end. The corruption in Ceramor has spread too deep. The people here need a strong hand to guide them back into the light.”
“That’s the last thing we need,” Corten said, surprising Naya by taking a step forward. “Besides, your plan’s already failed. Give us Delence. It’s over.”
“No,” her father said. His sword seemed to slide from its sheath in slow motion. The air around it rippled as ae
ther rushed into the rune-scribed steel. Her father raised it above his head, then lunged for Corten. Corten’s eyes widened. He stumbled away from the clumsy swing, then struck back with the poker. The blow landed on her father’s knee, but even from a distance Naya could see there’d been little force behind the strike. Corten scrambled backward, tripping over Delence’s leg and barely avoiding her father’s next attack.
“Stop!” Naya rushed forward and grabbed her father’s sword arm, trying to give Corten a chance to move out of range. As her fingers touched his sleeve, she felt his aether envelop her. It was the same as what she’d felt when he’d ordered Valn to kill her, only now the last threads of his grief were drowned out by hate. Her father threw her off with a bellow, half turning to face her. “You,” he snarled. “How dare you steal my daughter’s face? How dare you defile her memory?”
“I am your daughter,” Naya said again, anger boosting the volume of her voice. “And maybe I wouldn’t have died if you had told me what was really going on. How could you work with Valn? How could you condone killing your own people?” Behind him she saw Corten inching forward.
Her father’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “Those men were sinners. They did more good in death than they ever did in life. But when this is over, Valn will answer for my daughter’s death.”
Naya backed away, terrified by the force of his rage. She knew she should gather aether for an attack, but her arms felt frozen in place. Corten inched toward her father, raising the poker to strike him as he had Celia. Her father noticed the shift in her attention. He turned at the last second, catching Corten’s blow on his forearm rather than his head. Metal hit flesh with a wet crunch. Her father snarled something, then plunged his sword into Corten’s gut and sliced upward.
Naya’s scream mingled with Corten’s shriek of pain. His body rippled and collapsed as the sword tore through him. Something snapped and aether flashed as her father pulled the sword free. Corten clutched his chest. His eyebrows furrowed in a look of confusion and he opened his mouth as though to say something. Before he could, his body dissolved, his aether sucked into the wraith eater like smoke drawn to a chimney.
