Firebrand

by Kristen Britain

  “What are you doing?” Grandmother demanded.

  The girl glanced up, then grabbed a knitting needle and flung herself at Grandmother. Grandmother cried out and threw her arm up to block the dagger blows of her own knitting needle. The girl was quick and strong and desperate, and with the light shining in the whites of her eyes, insane.

  But Grandmother had not lived as long as she had, had not gone into Blackveil and survived, without having a certain amount of strength of her own, not to mention a good dose of common sense. She always carried her knife attached to her belt—even when she slept—and grabbed it now. She pulled it out from beneath the covers and stabbed up into the girl’s ribs. The girl made a throttled cry and rolled off onto the floor and curled into herself.

  On inspiration, Grandmother dragged herself off the pallet. She could not tell if the blood on her front was the girl’s, or her own from the shallow puncture wounds made by the knitting needle.

  The girl was still alive and writhed on the floor. Grandmother grabbed her spellwork from the basket and flung it over the girl like a blanket. She screamed for surely it must burn, even though the spellwork had not yet been primed. Grandmother had simply inured herself to it as she worked on it. She had woven enough spells into it that she could feel its receptivity, its hunger. She leaped onto the girl and stabbed through the yarn. She thrust the knife again and again, even after the screams died and the girl lay limp.

  By the time Birch and some of his guards burst into the cabin, Grandmother was standing over the girl, breathing hard. Her shift was saturated with blood.

  “Grandmother, what have you done to my slave?” Birch demanded.

  The undyed yarn of the spellwork greedily absorbed the girl’s blood. The fact that she’d been experiencing her first courses would imbue it with even more life energy, power. Spells were nearly living things, and they’d find the taste of her succulent.

  “Your slave,” Grandmother said, “has made herself useful.”

  ESTRAL’S DECISION

  “Are you telling me I should be listening to the voice of the world?” Karigan demanded. She was situated in the tent, wrapped in her blankets and using her saddlebags to support her upper body. It was easier on her chest that way. A bowl of steaming water was placed next to her.

  “All I am suggesting,” Enver said patiently from the tent opening, “is that you try the visualization. It might relax you, ease your lungs for a good night of sleep.”

  At this point she was almost willing to try anything. “You believe it will really work?”

  “I believe it will help.”

  She stared hard at him for a moment, then relented with a sigh. “All right. Let’s give it a try.”

  “Close your eyes,” he replied, “and imagine a clear blue sky . . .”

  He led her through calming visions of gently lapping waves along the shore, leaves rustling in the woods. She followed along, relaxing as he guided her down a forest path lined with ferns, and dappled with sunlight and shade. He told her to imagine the smoke and irritation leaving her lungs, that her lungs were as clear as the sky, that her breath moved as easily as the breeze through the trees.

  She lost track of where his images left off and her dreams carried on.

  “How bad is it?” Estral asked as Enver emerged from the tent.

  “All will be well with reasonable rest. The trespass of the smoke apparitions was not gentle.”

  “What is ‘reasonable’?” Estral did not think she was going to like the answer.

  “A week would be ideal.”

  “A week?”

  “Quietly, please, little cousin. Do not wake her. A week would be cautious and best, but we do not, I know, have that luxury. I suggest we let her rest tomorrow and see how she does. Had she not been so eager to leave the lumber camp, I would have preferred we stayed there another night, but alas, here we are. I will sing the healing. Will you join me?”

  Estral thumped down onto a rock beside the fire. “You had better handle it. I’m not up to it.”

  Enver nodded, and sitting before the fire, he began his song of healing, a song without words. It soothed her some, but she couldn’t help feeling desolate. Her father was likely dead or a captive of Second Empire. He could be very close, and she couldn’t seem to do a thing about it. The one person who could was not well.

  She gazed at the tent she shared with Karigan. As unreasonable as it was, she was angry at Karigan for being sick. She blamed Karigan for her inability to reach her father. She was angry that Karigan had become the focus of supernatural events. Was it true what Enver had said about Westrion? So strange. What had she become? Did Estral even know her anymore?

  She lowered her chin onto her hands and watched the flames flickering in the fire ring. Individual flames seemed to dance and bend with Enver’s music, and for a while she lost herself in it until she became aware of hot tears of frustration and guilt trailing down her cheeks. Guilt over her angry thoughts about Karigan. How could she be angry after all that Karigan had sacrificed for Sacoridia? And for being sick? Maybe what she was really mad about was her own inability to take action.

  • • •

  In the morning, Enver woke them both up. “How are you feeling, Galadheon? You were quieter during the night.”

  “All better,” she said in her hoarse voice; then she started coughing.

  “Hmm. I will make some tea.” He left them.

  “You don’t sound all better,” Estral said.

  “First thing in the morning is always hard. Ick. I keep coughing up soot.”

  Ick, indeed. It was clear to Estral that Karigan should not attempt her scouting mission, and it was in fact what Enver suggested when he returned with tea.

  “You should rest today,” he told Karigan.

  That she did not argue was telling.

  “I plan to do some scouting of my own today,” Enver said. Estral felt Karigan tense beside her to protest, but Enver continued before she could speak. “I intend to follow the ways to get a sense of where our path to the p’ehdrose may lead when we are done with the Lone Forest. Do not worry, I will be vigilant and keep well away from the forest itself. The two of you should stay here within the wards. They will conceal you.”

  “Damnation,” Karigan muttered when he was gone. “I’m sorry, Estral, but I can’t go into the Lone Forest hacking my head off. Maybe this afternoon . . .” She coughed again and spilled tea on herself. “Ow! Damnation. I’m not good for anything.”

  Estral’s guilt intensified after her uncharitable thoughts of the previous evening. Despite the many strange things that occurred to and around Karigan, she sounded very human at the moment.

  “Don’t worry,” Estral said. “Just rest and feel better. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  Karigan had set her cup aside and was already snuggling beneath her blankets. “You are my best friend,” she murmured.

  Feeling even worse, Estral crawled out of the tent to greet the day. Enver had already ridden off on Mist. He’d left a pot of water warming over the fire, and it appeared he’d fed and watered Coda, Condor, and Bane. Talk about not being good for anything! She hadn’t been this whole journey. She was just a problem for Karigan and Enver to drag along—excess baggage. The gray bleakness of the morning sky and landscape did not improve her frame of mind.

  She crawled up atop the higher rocks and looked out toward the Lone Forest. At this hour, it was a dark blotch on the horizon. How long would it take to reach on foot? Distances could be deceiving.

  She returned to the campfire and sat with her blanket wrapped around her. She winced at the sound of racking coughs coming from the tent.

  My father is my problem, she thought.

  She made herself some tea and settled in to consider her options.

  When Karigan awoke again, the cough wasn’t as bad. It felt good t
o just rest, to linger beneath the warmth of her blankets and not move. The Lone Forest, however, loomed large in her mind, and she thought she’d like to get her scouting mission over with.

  Tomorrow will be soon enough.

  She drowsed until the state of her bladder became unbearable. She pulled on her boots and stepped out of the tent, wrapped in her greatcoat. Their camp appeared to be deserted, their little fire cold. She approved of the dead campfire—if they could see the Lone Forest, the Lone Forest could see their smoke.

  “Estral,” she called. There was no reply. She took care of her need, then started looking around their campsite and called for Estral. When there was no sign of her friend, her heart started to pound in alarm.

  She gazed critically at their campsite. There were no signs of struggle, and she certainly had not been attacked as she slept peacefully. Perhaps Estral had just gone for a walk or something, but Enver had instructed them to stay within his wards. Then she noticed that not only was Mist gone, but so was Coda.

  “Oh, Estral,” Karigan murmured. Then to Condor she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me she was leaving?” He blinked at her with soulful eyes.

  She returned to their tent and discovered a note on Estral’s bedding. Please don’t follow me, it read. My father is my problem. I’ll be back before nightfall.

  “Damnation.” Estral didn’t know the first thing about scouting. And did Estral actually think she would just sit around and wait for her return? When had Estral left? To Karigan’s calculation, it was only mid-morning. Could she catch up? Their fire was cold, which meant Estral had been gone for a while.

  She hurriedly readied herself and, in doing so, discovered her saber was missing. She was more pleased than annoyed that Estral had thought to arm herself, though she was pretty sure Drent would remind her of her incompetence at protecting her weapons. In her own defense, she hadn’t expected her best friend to take her saber. She must have been deeply asleep to have been so unaware.

  She still had her longsword, and she strapped the bonewood across her back. She left a note for Enver, weighted with a rock, by the firepit, telling him she was hoping to intercept Estral. Then she tacked Condor. She hated to approach the Lone Forest on horseback because it would make her all the more visible, and surely Second Empire had sentries watching all approaches, but if she had any hope of catching up with Estral before she did anything stupid, she had to.

  She mounted up and coughed. Eyes watering, she looked to Bane. “Keep an eye on things here, will you?”

  He stomped a hoof in response. Karigan reined Condor around and rode toward the Lone Forest.

  • • •

  She tried to keep as close as possible to the copses of trees that made small islands of themselves on the rocky plain. She either trotted or cantered Condor in the spaces between, hoping speed would reduce the chance of watchers spying her approach. Of course, speed potentially made her more visible if watchers happened to be looking her way at just the right moment, but Estral had perhaps hours on her and she had to make up for it. If luck was with her, Estral had ridden at a much more sedate pace.

  In one copse, she spotted hoofprints in the thin, gravelly soil that had accumulated between rocks. She could not say for sure if they belonged to Coda, but they looked fresh. She also found a pile of fresh droppings.

  Her apprehension grew the closer she got to the forest. She tried to detect Estral ahead, but could not. It was when she reached a thicket of spruce and scrub within what she figured to be a half mile of the forest that she found Coda. He nickered at their approach. He was haltered and hobbled, his girth loosened, Estral nowhere in sight. She patted Coda’s neck. He seemed content enough, nibbling on sparse grasses.

  She could, she surmised, always ride to the edge of the wood. If Estral was on foot, she could maybe still catch up. Or, she could return to their campsite and wait for Enver; then the two of them could decide what to do. But she had come this far, and much could happen between then and now.

  Reluctantly, she haltered and hobbled Condor. She would walk into the Lone Forest, scout as she had intended originally, and return to their campsite whether or not she found Estral. When she did find Estral, she intended to give her a piece of her mind.

  “Be ready for my return,” she told Condor. “We may need to ride fast to get out of here.”

  He nibbled at her sleeve as though to hold her back. She kissed his nose, and left the cover of the thicket for whatever awaited her in the forest.

  THE LONE FOREST

  The stretch between the spruce thicket and the forest proper was more lush with thatches of tall, yellow grass and scraggy trees. Karigan ran, bent low, stopping now and then to hack and catch her breath. All the good her morning’s rest had done was quickly fading away.

  She splashed through a stream and clambered over boulders, and when at last she reached the edge of the forest, she threw herself to the ground gasping, and coughed into her arm in an attempt to muffle the sound. It would be a great way to announce herself to Second Empire. When the fit passed, she saw that a sooty residue speckled her sleeve. The next ghost who tried that again . . . Maybe, she thought, trying to keep positive, all the running would help expel the last of the smoke from her lungs.

  When she caught her breath, she sat up to take her bearing. Beneath the eaves of the forest, the light dimmed, the air felt closer, all sound muted. It had an age to it that rivaled the oldest parts of the Green Cloak. She peered into the shadows, past deadfalls, and through matted, low-hanging branches bearded with stringy lichens, but she saw no one. She glanced back the way she had come, across the gray land, back toward the thicket where Condor and Coda waited. It seemed so very far away.

  With a sigh, she stood, adjusted her swordbelt, and walked into the woods. It was dark enough that she could more than half fade if she needed to use her ability, and that provided a certain level of comfort.

  She hunted for any sign of Estral and soon found a partial footprint in deep moss. The woods were tangled enough with deadfalls and brush that she figured Estral would have taken the path of least resistance, and she was rewarded with another footprint. Farther along, she found a fresh gouge in a decaying log that lay on the forest floor. She guessed Estral had stepped on it to get to the other side, as she did now.

  She continued on her path and began to think it was all a little too easy. She recalled how following a deer path had once brought her face-to-face with a monster out of Blackveil. But what choice had she but to go forward if she wished to find Estral? The feeling of being funneled into the center of a spider’s web, however, was strong. She paused and drew the bonewood before continuing, looking warily around herself.

  She came to a clearing where there was still snow and found more footprints. She followed them through the clearing, squinting in the sudden light, until she was once more shadowed by overarching boughs. She made little rock cairns to mark her trail the deeper she went. She needed to be able to find her way out. It would be a dead giveaway to a Second Empire tracker, but she felt she had little choice in the matter.

  Something Captain Treman had warned her about began to niggle in the back of her mind about the dangers of the Lone Forest. Something about—

  “Karigan!”

  She looked up, startled, and there high above, balled up in a rope net strung from a tree, was Estral.

  “Estral?” She took a step forward.

  “No!” Estral cried. “Don’t—”

  SNAP!

  Steel clamped Karigan’s ankle and she fell from surprise and pain. It was a bear trap.

  “Fekking hells!” she cried. Traps. That was what Captain Treman had warned her about.

  The bear trap was bolted into a huge rock by a length of heavy chain. Fortunately, it wasn’t the kind with teeth, which would have pierced right through the leather of her boot and into her flesh. As it was, she was relieved it
hadn’t snapped bone.

  “Are you all right?” Estral asked.

  “Do I look all right?”

  Karigan searched for a mechanism that would release the trap, but couldn’t find one. Somehow it had been modified from what she knew of such contraptions.

  “I left a note telling you not to follow me,” Estral said.

  Karigan glanced up at her. “If that’s not like an invitation to me, I don’t know what is. What did you think I was going to do? Sip tea and eat Dragon Droppings by the fire until your return?”

  “Whose fault is that? At least I told you where I was going.”

  “Just like you did for Alton,” Karigan muttered.

  “Oh, as if you’d ever bother to pick up a pen to write me once in a while.”

  Karigan muttered an oath and jammed the bonewood into the trap beside her foot in an attempt to leverage it open, but it would not give. Those who had set it did not want their human quarry to escape.

  “I just wanted to find my father,” Estral said.

  “Next time, leave it to the professional.”

  “Oh, you mean the one stuck in a trap?”

  Karigan growled and tried to pull her foot out of her boot, but she could not get her ankle past the steel clamped above it, and her foot would not budge. Trying to force it was painful.

  “You can’t free your foot?” Estral asked quietly.

  “Maybe if I chop it off.” Animals were known to chew their paws off to escape such traps. A coughing spell sent her sprawling.

  “I’m sorry,” Estral said.

  “We can worry about that later. Can’t you cut yourself out of that net?”

  “I can’t move an inch. It’s got me bound up like swine in a corset.”

  “Swine in a—?” Karigan laughed despite herself and went back to work trying to release her foot. Whoever had contrived the traps had been clever. There had to be a way to free herself. Or maybe, those who had set the trap in fact expected to cut off the feet of the trespassers caught in it. It was not a comforting thought.