by Jordan Rivet
Vine had reported tales of destruction so gruesome they made Dara’s stomach turn to think of them days later. The Fire Weapons sounded nightmarish, and they did more than burn. Some tore bodies to shreds. Others clung to their targets, consuming long after the pain forced their victims to beg for death, never mind surrender. The substance that could be used for so many Works of beauty, so many useful, even life-saving tasks, had been corrupted beyond recognition.
Dara feared her father had gone mad. She feared it—and at the same time, she hoped that was the explanation. She couldn’t believe the man who had raised her, the man she had once admired so much, could carry out such atrocities in his right mind. If he had truly been driven mad under the influence of too much power, she had some hope yet that she might be able to stop him—and give him a chance to heal. Maybe one day he could even atone for what he had done to the world.
And so she practiced. The Fire would add strength to the Watermight, and control would mean the difference between life and death. For her father, despite everything, she still wanted life.
Their long days on the road left them exhausted, but Dara refused to ease up on her other training. Siv dueled her each night and even began teaching her a few of the knife-fighting tricks he had learned in Pendark. He still had the ability to light up every space he occupied, even a temporary camp beside a desolate stretch of road.
“You’re keeping distance well,” he said one evening as they circled each other, knives in hand, “but if you never get close enough to attack, we’ll be here all night.”
“Don’t rush me.” Dara gritted her teeth, focusing on the curved hilt in her hand and the crunch of Siv’s boots on the rocks.
“I’m just saying you could try a more aggressive—”
“I’ll attack when I’m ready.”
“Sure, sure.” Siv chuckled. “Don’t mind me.”
They circled each other, Dara watching for exactly the right moment to strike. That blade was sharp, and Siv was physically stronger than her. She couldn’t engage until she was sure she’d succeed.
It was nice to forget their worries and dance around each other, the sparse light flickering on their knives. The image of when they’d danced at Khrillin’s party in Pendark flashed through Dara’s mind, when she’d worn a red dress and he’d looked at her as if he were the luckiest man in the world just to dance with her. That was the most anonymous they’d ever been—and probably ever would be. Most of their lives were dedicated to a different kind of dance. Still, Dara smiled at the memory.
Then Siv sat down in the dirt and balanced his blade on his knee.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you you’re not being aggressive enough,” Siv said, staying where he was on the ground. “I reckon I can still snatch up this blade and overpower you before you launch a proper attack.”
Dara glared at him. “I’m not going to fall for your taunts.”
Siv shrugged and picked up a few pebbles from the ground.
“If you start juggling those, I will stab you.”
Siv grinned. “I’d like to see you try.” He began tossing the pebbles from hand to hand.
“Siv.”
“Dara.”
She gave an exasperated sigh and set down her own knife in the gravel by his ankle.
“If you’re not going to take this seriously . . .”
“Come on, Dara, I didn’t mean—”
The second he snatched the pebbles out of the air to address her, Dara dove forward, grabbing Siv’s knife from his knee and knocking him flat on his back.
“What were you saying about aggression?” she asked sweetly as Siv froze, his own knife pressed to his throat.
“Nice one,” he croaked. His hands moved to her waist, tightening as if he wasn’t sure whether to push her off him or pull her closer. Dara’s breathing became shallow. Both of their bodies trembled with the unspoken tension. But the camp still bustled with activity around them. At last, Siv gave her a gentle squeeze and released her. “Now see if you can do it again.”
During the daylight hours, they drove themselves at a breakneck pace. A few dozens riders should be faster than a large army—especially one facing opposition on its way through Trure. Vertigonians weren’t known for their riding prowess. Even if they had commandeered every horse in Trure, Rafe’s army wouldn’t move as swiftly as Siv’s small, nimble cavalry. Or so they thought.
Dara was halfway through her hundred lunges when Siv summoned her to an emergency council meeting on their seventh night on the Coast Road. They had camped on a rocky bluff approximately two days out from Fort Brach. By now they had moved away from the sea and closer to the barren foothills of the southeastern Lindens. Most of the men had already rolled up in blankets and gone to sleep. Rumy had ignited a large campfire, and now he snoozed contentedly beside it. Light flickered over his scales and illuminated the faces of the men and women gathering for the meeting.
Dara sat on the ground, pushing her Savven blade out of the way as she folded her legs beneath her. Vine and Vex lounged on a low rock formation nearby. Vine leaned back against his chest and whispered to him as if it were the most comfortable thing in the world. Latch, Captain Lian, and Fiz shared a wineskin between them, heads already nodding toward sleep. They offered a drink to Dara, but she declined. Everyone was tired from their hard day on the road, eager to finish the meeting and get to bed.
Siv and Gull arrived at the fire last, and the bleak look on Siv’s face made everyone sit up straight and abandon any hopes for relaxation. Gull was covered in reddish dust, and she looked even more exhausted than the rest of them.
“We are too late,” Siv said without preamble. “Gull just returned from scouting ahead. The Fireworkers have reached the foothills above Fort Brach. She left Rid to keep an eye on them. Ruminor will launch his assault within the next few hours if he hasn’t already.”
Latch leapt to his feet, the wineskin spilling its contents in the dirt. “We have to ride at once.”
“And arrive too worn out to fight?” Fiz said. “Not wise, my friend.”
“I don’t like our odds if Ruminor is already inside those walls,” Siv said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Any chance the Brachs will hold him off for a few days?” Captain Lian asked.
Siv looked to Latch. “What do you think?”
“Unlikely.”
“Even with all their Watermight?” Siv pressed. “How many Waterworkers did you say are posted there now?”
“Just my cousin, Becham,” Latch said. “My younger siblings aren’t fully trained, and my father needed every man on the expedition. He didn’t think the fort required much protection.”
“I can’t see one Waterworker holding the fort against all my father’s Fireworkers,” Dara said. The nightmarish images of the Fire Weapons rose before her again, as real as if she had Worked them herself. They were too late.
“Let’s assume the fort will fall.” Siv met Dara’s eyes. “Temporarily.”
She grimaced. Why did he keep acting as if she could defeat every challenge? He had seen her fail in Pendark. And without the Brach Watermight, her powers were worse than useless.
“So . . . we lost already?” Lian said. “This journey was for nothing?”
“We haven’t lost yet,” Latch said.
“You have a plan?” Dara asked.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.” Latch paused. Sharing secrets didn’t come easily to him. “The Brach Watermight vent isn’t located within the walls of the fort.”
There was a hiss and a crack as a log fell in the bonfire.
“What now?” Fiz said.
“Of course it’s not.” Dara was annoyed this hadn’t occurred to her sooner. “Fort Brach is too far from the sea, isn’t it?”
“That’s correct,” Latch said.
“When were you planning to tell us that?” Siv asked through clenched teeth.
“When you needed to know.”
&nbs
p; Siv took a step toward Latch. The light from the bonfire played across his face, making him look especially grim. “You—”
“I say we go straight to the vent then,” Dara said before they could get into another argument. Their relationship had been far too tense ever since the announcement of the marriage alliance. “If we hurry, we might get control of it before my father finds out where it is.”
“I thought Ruminor couldn’t use Watermight?” Captain Lian said.
“He can’t, but he knows the Brachs fight with it by now,” Dara said. “He’ll want to cut off their power source.”
Fiz scratched the blond stubble on his chin. “But if it’s not at the fort . . .”
“That’s right,” Dara said. “We can slip past while he’s busy and use the power to throw him out of the fort. He doesn’t know we’re coming.” She stood and walked over to Siv, who was still staring daggers at Latch, and touched his arm. “What do you think, my king?”
He turned toward her with what looked like a great deal of effort, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“It may be our best chance to defeat him,” Dara said softly.
“That could work,” Siv said at last.
“Well, I like it,” Captain Lian announced. “We join whatever guards are at the vent and collect the power. Then you can use it to attack him directly.”
Siv looked at Latch again, his expression slowly smoothing out. Latch looked ready to dive out of the way of a knife throw, but there was more at stake than Siv’s annoyance at his secrets. Dara had to admire the dignity with which Siv mastered his irritation.
“If we have you with us,” he said, as politely as if they were sitting in a parlor, “can we secure the vent without the current guards thinking we’re trying to take the power for ourselves?”
“Aren’t you?”
Siv sighed. “We’re on your team, Latch. How many times do we have to tell you?”
“Then yes, I can assure the guards you want to help,” Latch said. “But does that mean you’ll just let Ruminor take the fort?”
“We’ll never get there in time to stop him,” Gull put in. “He’s probably melting down the gates right now.”
“It seems sensible to go to the vent first anyway, doesn’t it?” Vine said. She had been whispering with Vex, but she sat forward now. “The Lantern Maker will have to use up even more of his power to take the fort.”
“And that’ll make it easier for Dara to kill him,” added Vex. He caught Dara’s eye, a blatant challenge in his expression.
“Fine,” Latch said. “But don’t assume the Brachs will give you an endless supply of Watermight once you know where the vent is. Do what you need to do to stop the Lantern Maker, and then go back where you belong.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Siv said. “Dara too.”
Dara inclined her head, but she felt Vex’s gaze on her. She knew his ultimate aim was revenge against her father. He must still doubt that she would be able to deliver the final blow. She wished Siv’s goals weren’t so closely aligned with his.
“Well, the night isn’t getting any darker,” Fiz said. “Where’s this vent of yours? We have some planning to do.”
Siv, Latch, Fiz, and Lian knelt around a map of the continent to plan their route, Vine, Vex, and Gull looking over their shoulders. Dara suspended a lantern of Fire borrowed from Rumy’s bonfire above their heads. Fort Brach rested at the foot of the Linden Mountains, guarding the Granite River that served as a border between Soole and Trure. The vent was much farther down the river than Fort Brach, just twenty miles inland from the coast of the Ammlen Ocean. It was hidden within a village on the opposite side of the river, almost in the shadow of Cindral Forest itself, called Mirror Wells.
As Latch and Lian argued over the best place to cross the river to reach Mirror Wells, Siv drew Dara away from them.
“I need to know if you’re sure you can defeat your father,” he said.
“You’re asking now?”
“I’ve always believed you could,” Siv said, “but you get more subdued every time I mention it. These days, you seem about as confident as a zur-sparrow in a thunderbird roost. What’s up?”
Dara frowned, tracing her finger along the intricate hilt of her Savven blade. “After what happened in Pendark, I’ve been worried. It’s not easy to control the power.”
“You’ve never shied away from something just because it’s difficult,” Siv said. He put his hand under chin and tipped her face up gently. “That’s more my style. So you’re worried you’ll fail?”
“That’s part of it. I’ve only ever created these huge waves of force that blast everything out of my way. I . . . I don’t like the idea of using those against Vertigonians.”
“I understand,” Siv said. “I don’t want to kill my own people in order to get back on the throne. Well, except the Lantern Maker. Happy to kill him.”
Dara pulled away from his touch involuntarily. This was why she didn’t feel comfortable confiding her worries in Siv. How could she tell him she needed better control so that she could contain her father, not blast the life out of him, when he believed so firmly that her father deserved death?
“The important thing is that we’re preventing more deaths in the future.” Siv’s voice softened. Apparently, he’d noticed the effect his words had on her. “Maybe you can focus your attack on the Workers and spare the soldiers.” He moved closer to her, seeking eye contact in the flickering light. Their faces were mere inches apart. “Will you be able to kill him if necessary?”
Dara swallowed hard. “If I can neutralize—”
“I think we’re past that, don’t you?”
“Siv.”
“I’m serious, Dara. Your father has committed murder and treason of the worst possible kind. With his power, I can’t touch him, but if you do manage to subdue him, there will be consequences for what he has done.”
“I thought this wasn’t about revenge.”
“Maybe Vex has the right idea,” Siv said.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You can’t let me?” Siv’s eyes glittered. “Are you suggesting you’ll help me win my throne and then prevent me from exacting justice for what has been done to my family?”
Dara didn’t answer. She could feel his breath on her face, sense every inch of his body before hers. She wanted to fold herself into him, to press close and reassure him that she was with him utterly.
But the thought of her father burned in her mind. You are my flesh and blood and Fire. Could she turn him over to Siv, lead him to his own execution? She might as well deliver the killing blow herself.
“I’ll do what’s right,” Dara said.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else. I know you won’t fail.”
Siv brushed a kiss on her cheek and returned to the strategic discussion. Dara sighed. She felt as if the dark were pressing in closer than ever. They were too far from the sea now to detect the salt mixed in with the earthy, chalky smell of the desolate road. The night had become sweltering, and she knew the heat would become no more bearable before dawn.
Dara looked around for Vine, wanting to talk to her friend about her worries. Vine might have more sympathy for Dara’s reluctance to harm her father than Siv—or Vex—did. But there was no sign of Vine near the campfire. Dara wondered if she’d decided to sneak off for some alone time with Vex.
She searched the camp, using little fingers of Fire to illuminate faces and piles of belongings one by one. A sense of dread began to grow in her stomach, insidious as Firetears. She rushed to count the horses, and her worries were confirmed. Two of the animals had been untied from their leads and led into the darkness. The watch hadn’t heard so much as a footfall, but Vine and Vex were gone.
13.
Mirror Wells
THE disappearance of Vine Silltine and Vex Rollendar seemed like a bad omen as they made their way through the outskirts of Soole. Neither Dara nor anyone else missed the fact th
at they had disappeared the moment the location of the Brach Watermight vent was revealed.
“This is exactly why I didn’t say anything sooner,” Latch muttered to Dara.
“Let’s just hope they don’t have time to cause any problems,” she whispered back. “If that’s what they’re doing.”
Dara wanted to believe Vine had a good reason for leaving. She trusted her friend’s judgment, but it wasn’t like Vine to disappear without a word of explanation. She had to assume Vex was behind their hasty departure.
Vine’s absence meant they had no way to stay in touch with Selivia and Commander Brach as they snuck through the badlands around Fort Brach. Dara’s limited skills with the Air weren’t enough to facilitate communication all the way across the continent. They also couldn’t talk with Rid, whom Gull had left behind to monitor the Fireworkers’ movements, and Siv had to work harder than ever to keep the soldiers’ spirits up.
Northern Soole turned out to be a harsh land, full of rocky hills, tough plants, and gravel pits that threatened the ankles of unwary horses and soldiers alike. It was difficult to move quickly and quietly, but their plan required utmost secrecy. The Brach lands were far from the major Soolen coastal cities dotted around the peninsula. Still, they risked running into people from the mining villages and hardscrabble farms. The Brach territory may be rough, but it was among the richest on the continent thanks to the mines.
The arrival of the Fireworkers had thrown the region into chaos. People fled the town surrounding the fort, seeking refuge with the large mining communities. It was all Dara and her friends could do to keep from being seen by the many travelers as they made their way toward Mirror Wells. Tensions were running high by the time they reached a scrubby grove on the opposite side of the Granite River from the reclusive village.
