When Comes the Fire

by Lisa Cochrane

  "By the look on your face, I would venture a guess to say you know who my eyes tell you I am." He lifted a dark eyebrow, as if challenging her to contradict his word. "I'm here with a proposition for you."

  Feeling reckless and stupid and overwhelmed with emotions from what felt like the past several hours, even though the sun had barely moved in the sky since she'd arrived, she bore her teeth at the descendent of one of the most powerful family lines in all the four continents. Fate strike her down, she had no will left to bend to others' desires. She was done with being a tool. Her defeat of Kaska had marked her final journey under the rule of others, and she was not about to go back to how it was before.

  "I highly doubt there is any proposition you could offer me that I would even feel tempted to listen to," she snarled before whirling on her boot, fully prepared to walk away, and likely be struck with lightning for doing so. She couldn't say she was surprised when her feet froze in mid-step by no will of her own. Her body turned to face the mage, and she ground her teeth in annoyance. She had only ever had control over fire, which was powerful enough, but to have this sort of power running through one's veins? It was no wonder he seemed half-mad! The man must have become drunk on the power he had a long time ago. She wondered what would happen if he were to suddenly lose it. Would he be able to survive? She found herself wishing viciously that he would not.

  "And what if I told you that your father is alive?" She stopped breathing. "And that I knew where he was?"

  The very mention of her father set Namida’s blood boiling as she clenched her hand into a fist around the hilt of her scimitar. The man whose blood coursed through her veins, though he was no father to her. Not after what she had learned about him now. Of course he had escaped the hellfire she had unleashed on the camp, probably slipping off into one of his shadow portals to some unknown location upon foreseeing their imminent demise. What a coward. But he was a powerful coward, and one that needed to be put down. Kaska had been...surprisingly easy to defeat. It made her wonder if her father hadn’t been pulling his strings from the shadows, using Kaska’s name to spread fear while he used his dark magick to heighten his army’s powers.

  "I would say you are a liar," she said in a low, venomous tone, "and a poor one at that." She had no desire to deal with the mage. She knew the risk that working with someone so powerful and unpredictable would undoubtedly yield. In her experience, powerful people often did things on a whim just because they could...including the slaughter of others. And she wasn't about to risk her neck until she knew if Darwe was alive or not.

  The man bore his teeth at her in a snarl, and an invisible hand squeezed her throat in warning; not enough to crush her windpipe, but enough to make breathing a struggle. She didn't bother scraping at the force squeezing her throat, knowing it would be of no use. It didn't stop the grimace that crossed her face at the labored sensation of drawing a breath, though.

  "You will take your words back, or you will eat them," the mage hissed dangerously. "I had thought that you, of all people, would know a liar when you see one, thanks to all of the betrayers that have taken advantage of you in the past. First, your father," she snarled wordlessly at this, "then your friend Momal," she seethed at the man who had spied on all of them for years before she had discovered his treachery, "then your friend Kilish," a blind rage filled her at the thought of the woman, and how she had not only murdered her own uncle in cold blood and pinned the blame on Momal, but then had the gall to string her and Darwe along for the next three years until she tried to kill them both, "and now...the Queen."

  She stiffened. What did he mean, the Queen? The Queen had held true to her word, supplying her with the means to hone her magick and destroy Kaska and his elite. How had she betrayed her? Without a word, the mage reached out and plucked her sword from her hand with two fingers. The invisible hand unwound from around her neck, allowing her to take a deep, grateful breath, but her feet refused to unstick from the ground. She frowned, watching as the man pried the decorative firestone from the pommel of the blade, the firestone that Larani had claimed would help focus her flames, and a tiny, cracked device fell out of the hollow space hidden beneath.

  A magick mine.

  Fury poured through her, stronger than she had ever felt before, and she could feel the fire coursing through her veins, itching for a release; itching for her to make use of it in her rage.

  "If your powers were not as strong as they are, rather than cracking the mine, you would have activated it; essentially turning yourself into a bomb with the potential to wipe out an entire army." The mage did not mince words, but he was only stating what she already knew. She knew that the Queen had tricked her. The Queen had never trusted her to be strong enough to eradicate her enemies. She had never even asked Namida if she would carry such a device, which she would have, if the woman had only asked. She would have willingly risked sacrificing her own life in order to take the men responsible for the burning of her village with her into the Thereafter. But to not ask...now Gawela had signed her own death warrant. The woman was conniving and selfish, perhaps even more so than Kaska had been, if only because she hid it so well rather than being open about it. The mage grinned. "Now, what are you going to do about it, little warrior?"

  That was right. She was a warrior. And a damned good one, at that.

  "I'm going to end her false reign," she said quietly; dangerously. "I'm going to end her."

  The mage grinned, crumbling the magick mine to dust in his fist and sprinkling it on the cracked red dirt of the battlefield, stained as it was with rust and blood. He placed the firestone back in Sin-Seeker's pommel, the stone welding back to it with a brief red glow before he held it out to her. She stared at him, brow furrowed as she tried to figure out his motives. "Why...?" The question hung in the air even as her lone hand hovered over the hilt, itching to hold the blade in it once more. She felt incomplete without it; naked, even. Holding the blade in her hand kept her tethered, reminding her of her reason for living, for honing herself into the weapon that she had become.

  The mage's eyes were intense as they bore into her own. "Because I need warriors like you. Ones with power like your own. I know from the look on your face when you saw my eyes, you know who I am. You know my rightful claim to the Nath'Reen throne." His expression turned murderous. "But my throne, my birthright, was stolen from me; my country split in two, and divided between the two families that now claim they are the rightful rulers." He thrust Sin-Seeker into her hand, closing her fingers around the hilt. "I want you to help restore me to my rightful throne. And in return, I will help reunite you with your father."

  The thirst for revenge sprung up from within her once more, the one thing that had kept her going all of these years, renewed once again at the thought of destroying her father for his betrayal. Even so, she had the sinking feeling she was selling her soul as she grit her teeth and spat, "Fine." The mage's eyes gleamed as she added, "But first, I would see the Solan throne destroyed."

  o—O—o

  They had bided their time until nightfall, the Nath'Reen heir watching wordlessly as Namida scoured the battlefield for any sign of Darwe, only to come up empty. She clung to the desperate hope that this was a good sign, that it meant he was alive, that he had crawled away from the carnage and headed for safety and someplace he might find a healer. There was no sign of Nyago to be found, either, and she found herself hoping that the hound had done for Darwe as he had done for her the day Endothar had burned, carrying the man she loved to someone that might be able to help him recover from his mortal wound. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, attempting to meditate, but the mage's earlier words of all those that had betrayed her crept into her mind, the images of all the people he had mentioned flashing behind her eyelids. Her father...Momal...Kilish...the Queen.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  "It's time," the Nath'Reen heir said, as though sensing her silent rage. He stepped forward to stand beside her and placed a hand on
her stump arm, his lack of disgust or shock as he felt the empty sleeve surprising her, until she remembered how much he had known of her past. It was disturbing, to say the least, to have a stranger know so much about her. "Try not to throw up," were his only words of warning as the air disappeared and her vision turned black, a feeling of the universe squeezing and stretching her so much she felt she would die overwhelming all her senses. She might have screamed. She couldn't tell. And then there was suddenly solid ground under her feet, and she could feel her hand and feet again; knew that she existed once more. She could feel the mage's hand steadying her as her head spun and she trembled so violently she threatened to tip over, her stomach turning as it threatened to spill its contents. She swallowed thickly, forcing the bile back down as it rose into her throat.

  "Halt! Who goes there?"

  The mage didn't even remove his right hand from Namida's stump arm as he held out his left, clenching it into a fist. The resounding crack caused her to wince and look away, too late to miss the way the two soldiers' necks bent at unnatural angles. She heard them slump to the floor, their chainmail skittering against the stone. The mage next to her gave a soulless smile, and she wondered what exactly she had gotten herself into.

  "Shall we proceed?" he said, striding forward, and she trailed helplessly behind him, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve and readjusting her grip on Sin-Seeker as the mage burst through the sturdy wooden double doors before them and into what appeared to be the Queen's private chambers. They strode through the parlor and drawing room, past all of the lavish decorations. Bought with blood money, no doubt, Namida couldn't help but think bitterly as she admired the glittering tapestries woven with gold and silver thread; the chalices and vases made from hammered precious metals and wrought with sparkling jewels; citrine and firestone, rubies and diamonds.

  "Who...who's there?" The Queen sat in her bed, larger than the rooms at most of the inns Namida had stayed at throughout the years. She couldn't hide her look of disgust as the woman cowered under her silk sheets. The mage looked at her and nodded, motioning her forward. His silent gesture told her that he would not interfere; that this was her task to complete. She took the responsibility square on her shoulders, heavy as they were already with death and destruction. It was time to free Solus of the other main player in the war games that had ravished it for the past fifteen years. After all, the war was like a game of chess; and chess required two players to see it through to completion.

  They just never realized they had a knight on the board that didn't belong to either side.

  "Queen Gawela," Namida said coldly as she stepped forward, grabbing the woman by her hair. She ignored her screeches and her fingers as they scrambled against the hand knotted in her short, dark curls, her fingernails drawing thin lines of blood against Namida's callused skin. "It is time for your reign to end. You are a fool and a hypocrite, claiming to only want the best for your people, but using them as pawns for nothing other than to further your own selfish interests." She threw the woman forward onto her hands and knees and flashed Sin-Seeker in front of her face, making sure she saw the firestone gleaming in the pommel in the dim light of the bedside lamp, still lit as the Queen had not decided to go to sleep just yet. She could see the woman's fear in the reflection of her eyes in the large, smooth firestone.

  "Na...Namida," the Queen said shakily. "Why...why are you here?" She was trying to act pleasant and self-assured, but she could read the panic in her face as the woman dared to glance up at her, moving back so she was kneeling on her knees, more dignified and poised than sprawled on all fours like a common animal. Ever one for appearances, the Queen was, she thought as she smiled tightly at the woman she had once allied herself with for her cause.

  "Oh, you know," Namida said casually. "Just repaying your betrayal in kind," she said as her sword flashed, swinging down before the Queen could utter an apology or a scream. No matter what she might have said, Namida had no interest in the words of traitors.

  And so an era fell, with an arc of glinting steel.

  EPILOGUE

  Darwe was floating in a black abyss. He couldn't tell which way was up; if he was awake, or if he was dreaming. Was he even alive? Last he'd known, he had been bleeding out on the battlefield from a stab wound to the stomach. A sharp pain sliced through his belly at the thought. Ah, not painless then. Perhaps he was alive after all...

  "It is time to wake up, young one."

  The lyrical voice struck a chord within him, as though he should recognize it from somewhere. It carried something with it, something that spoke of ancient power. And the electric charge that filled the air at the sound of the voice—it could only mean one thing. Magick. Darwe's eyelids fluttered open, though they felt heavy and sluggish, as though someone had tied weights to them in order to try and keep them shut. He was greeted with the dusky colors of the fading twilight sky; pink and orange and gold blending seamlessly into the deepening violet-blue above. There was a snuffling next to his right ear and the sound of something scratching. He turned his head to view the source, and his brow furrowed at the unexpected sight.

  "Nyago?" he murmured, the hound peering down at him with those knowing yellow eyes as it sat on its haunches in the swaying grass. "Why aren't you with..." It hit him all at once, the realization pouring down on him like a landslide. "Namida," he breathed. She had been fighting Kaska when he...what had happened? All he remembered was being in pain, excruciating pain, thinking he was going to die as she raced towards her fate, and then... Nothing. Darwe struggled to try and sit up, grunting as pain sliced through his middle and he flopped helplessly to the ground once more, his arms spread out to the sides.

  "Come, now. We may have healed you, but there is only so much we could do with a killing blow such as you took." A male's voice, this time. He looked to his left to find a man and a woman standing there; the man with dark brown skin and hair, his eyes a deep amber; and the woman with long, silken black hair and pale skin, her hazel eyes dancing with merriment. Both of them were extraordinarily tall, and the way they seemed to shine despite the dim light from the sinking sun told him all he needed to know about who they were.

  "Ancients," he breathed, feeling as though it would not be appropriate for him to address them by name, although he could tell without their saying so that they were Korrin and Phan, the last two Ancients to be created by Fate. Phan gave him a gentle smile as she knelt next to him, and he realized belatedly that his shirt had been torn open, the useless chainmail he'd been wearing beneath removed. Honestly, what good had the damned thing done him in the end? His opponent's wicked sharp sword had plunged straight through it as though it had been butter left sitting on the windowsill all day. One thing was for sure, he was never trusting a merchant claiming to have a "steal of a deal" on armor ever again...

  Phan traced her fingers along the edges of the stab wound in his stomach, and the surrounding muscles contracted painfully in response. She pursed her lips. "I'm surprised you aren't panicking," she said casually. "Most mortals would."

  Darwe stared at her dumbly before he realized she expected him to respond. "Oh," he stammered. "Oh, well, um. I guess I hadn't really given it much thought. I mean, you did save my life, after all." He gave a nervous laugh. Fate, he felt like a little boy again, experiencing his first crush. "Although, um, now that you mention it...where are we, exactly?" There was no place he knew of in Solus that had tall, green grasses like this outside of the greenhouse at Master Dorozi's old complex, but that had been destroyed an age ago; and besides, he could tell from the crisp, clean scent in the air and the open sky that stretched above him that they were outside, not stashed in some stuffy facility.

  Phan gave him a knowing smile. "Why, I would have thought you'd have it already figured out. After all, we don't venture into mortal affairs unnecessarily."

  Darwe could practically feel the cogs turning in his head as it all clicked into place.

  "Fate's Landing?" It would explain the unmat
ched beauty in the colors of the scenery; the undeniable feeling of life flowing from the very earth beneath him. This was the oldest piece of land in the entire realm; the very piece that Phan, the last of the four Ancients, had been created from, and from which Fate had broken off the surrounding land into the four continents known to the mortals that dwelled within them. From then on, the four Ancients had helped Fate watch over their mortal brethren, bestowing favor to turn the tides of war or help crops grow in times of drought. But they never interfered without the mortals' asking, and never without good reason. Fate was a benevolent, nurturing force that guided them all in life, but would see them find their own way. Fate was like the bird that gently pushed its young out of the nest that they might learn how to spread their wings and soar. "But—Nyago, and me, and—why?" His head was spinning with all the questions that hesitated on the tip of his tongue; questions he wasn't sure if they would be willing to answer, even if he managed to summon the courage to ask. Nyago gave a snort, glaring at him as though he were stupid before padding over to Korrin's side. The hound bumped his boxy head against the tall Ancient's thigh, and he gave a small smile in response, reaching down to scratch Nyago behind the ears. The hound practically fell against the Ancient, its expression one of pure bliss.

  "I suppose I should enlighten you." Korrin's eyes sparked with mischief as he ran his hand over his face, moving from the chin up. As his palm crossed the skin, it changed; his face changed, leaving behind well-groomed facial hair and familiar features, and as he ran his hand over his scalp, his hair fell away to reveal a smooth-shaven head. Although it had happened before his very eyes, Darwe could hardly believe it.