Firewalk

by Anne Logston

  An image began to form in the flames, and Kayli closed her eyes; if she watched, she might inadvertently direct the vision. She heard a murmur of amazement from Terralt next to her, but ignored it as best she could, sharpening her focus on the firepit not in front of her, but within her, feeding the flames steadily, building them high, yet keeping them tightly confined. The fire within and without filled her body with a restless heat, but Kayli ignored it. She did not know what Terralt saw, but from time to time she heard startled exclamations, and once the sound of Terralt’s knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists hard.

  Kayli sustained the vision as long as she could, but when she felt the last of her strength fade, she released it. Better to lose the spell than for it to go awry.

  When she opened her eyes, Terralt had turned his back to the firepit; Kayli could see his shoulders shaking slightly. Wearily Kayli pushed herself to her feet and laid her hand on his shoulder; her energy was at such a low ebb that she felt only the slightest tingle pass between them.

  “I don’t know why,” Terralt said dully. “I don’t know why I had to watch her die again.” He forced his voice to steadiness. “I suppose to remind myself that once there was something, someone, that was really mine.”

  “There are four such people upstairs in the nursery,” Kayli said softly. “And it is their safety, their future, you must think of now.”

  Terralt stood where he was, shaking his head slowly. Suddenly he strode to the door, jerking it open; he dragged Ran-don back into the room by one arm, closing the door after him.

  “All right,” Terralt said, gazing steadily into Randon’s eyes. “I’ll make you one last offer. Take it or leave it”

  “What’s that?” Randon asked warily.

  Terralt sighed; then he gave Randon his old mocking grin.

  “The two of you go upstairs and take your thrones,” he said, chuckling wearily. “And I lead the army. North.”

  Randon raised one eyebrow.

  “Are you sure?” he said slowly.

  “I’m sure.” Terralt glanced at Kayli. “Very sure. I think this lady’s too much for me after all. Keep her and welcome.”

  “All right,” Randon said, clasping Terralt’s hand. “I can live with that.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you sure this is going to work?” Randon asked for the tenth time. For the tenth time Kayli said patiently, “I cannot know, Randon, until I try. And I cannot try until you let me concentrate.”

  “I thought you said it was too late for Terralt and me to learn magic,” Randon said, and Kayli bit back an impatient retort.

  “It is too late,” she said slowly, “and Terralt will not use magic. It is only a variation of the fire-scrying spell, something like the speaking crystal you have seen. But Terralt cannot use a speaking crystal, nor can he fire-scry, and so I will be the one contacting him. It will not be difficult; I am well acquainted with the feel of his energies—”

  Randon made an undefinable sound, and Kayli glanced over to see him grinning ruefully.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I know what you mean. Go on, and I’ll be quiet. We need to know what’s happening at the border.”

  Kayli sighed and began the painstaking task of building her scrying field one more time. She had practiced this spell variation a number of times with Randon over the past days, but she was far more comfortable with him—and, of course, he was not separated from her by leagues and leagues. She’d had little time to work with his brother, and there was Terralt’s distrust of magic to overcome. Still, she reminded herself, Terralt’s magical energies were far stronger than Randon’s, and his ability to concentrate was better.

  It was futile, she had decided, to attempt to visualize a path across Agrond to Terralt; first, she was unfamiliar with Agrond and could not easily picture it, and second, neither she nor Randon knew exactly where Terralt was now. According to the messages he had sent by messenger bird, he ranged over a large territory, directing smaller forces within the main army.

  So Kayli did not attempt to visualize the path to Terralt. Instead she pictured herself in a dark room, looking all around her for the glow of a particular fire. Sparks flickered here and there all around her—those were mages, she realized, or citizens with traces of the gift—but none of them bore any resemblance to Terralt’s rather hard, driving energies. She enlarged the radius of her search, stretched her awareness thinner and farther. At the very limit of her range she felt a pang of recognition, and she focused her attention on that particular spark.

  There you are, Terralt thought, and Kayli cringed at the intimacy of that touch. I admit I doubted this would work.

  “Can you maintain this focus?” Kayli asked.

  I’ll try. It makes my head hurt Kayli got the distinct impression of a chuckle. Well, Randon and I are used to these headaches. Here, I’ll show you what’s happening.

  Then there was nothing.

  “Terralt?”

  What? Can’t you see?

  “No.” Kayli sighed with disappointment. “I have not enough contact to see through your eyes.”

  “What’s happening?” Randon asked worriedly. Kayli raised a hand to silence him.

  All right, then. I’ve got six companies of foot soldiers at the front, and crossbowmen behind the tree line. They’ve stopped sending their horse archers out since we dug spiked pits all across the front. But my soldiers can’t advance a step either. They’re just too good with those bows. They’ve got supplies arriving, too, it looks like, at intervals. Not much magic so far, but my troops are spread very thin, and we’re taking heavy casualties. Ask Randon whether I shouldn’t pull my western companies back.

  Kayli relayed the message slowly, to make sure she repeated it correctly, and Randon shook his head.

  “No. They’re testing his line, looking for a weak spot,” he said. “If we let any of them get around from the west, they’ll attack from the rear.”

  I heard that, Terralt thought. But I can’t hold the men spread so thin for much longer. There’s no cover to the west, and they don’t want to be there, defending Bregondish territory. When can I have more troops here?

  “Not for another three days,” Randon said in reply to Kayli’s question. “They’re moving as quickly as they can.”

  Can’t Stevann just Gate them here, like he did me? Terralt thought, and Kayli could hear a note of desperation in his thoughts. I tell you, we can’t hold this much longer. If it weren’t for the cover of the trees, they’d have beaten through before now. Even our crossbows can’t get the range on those damned longbows, and they’ve got three men to our one. If we can’t—wait. There’s a message from the field.

  For a moment the contact wavered; then it vanished entirely. Kayli groped desperately for the lost thread, and at last she felt Terralt’s energies again. This time it was much more difficult to reach him, and she could feel the strength draining from her like water from a punctured waterskin.

  They’ve sighted another force approaching from the west, Terralt thought, and now his thoughts were leaden with despair. They‘re all mounted and advancing fast. I can see them now. There’s thousands of them. I don’t think we can even pull back fast enough to—

  “Wait!” Kayli said, her heart pounding. “Are their spear tips leaf-shaped or oval?”

  They’re still almost a mile away, Terralt thought irritably. I can’t see their spear tips.

  “A banner, then,” Kayli pressed. “Are they carrying a banner?”

  A moment’s pause, then: Yes. But I can’t make it out.

  “Do not fire on them!” Kayli said quickly. “You must tell your men not to fire! Sarkonds carry no banner. Those are Bregondish troops, your allies!”

  I think you’re right. Terralt’s thoughts took on an excited tone. Yes, they’re turning north, taking up positions along our western edge. Give me a moment—I’m going to give orders for our troops to fall back toward the east, get out of their way.

  “Wait!” Kayli s
aid, but it was too late; the contact was gone again as abruptly as before. She sagged forward against the stones of the forge, nearly exhausted.

  ”What happened?” Randon said insistently, laying his hand on her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  “I—I lost the contact between us,” Kayli panted. The room was starting to swim around her. “It is—-difficult to maintain. A great company of Bregondish troops arrived to join with him. He broke away from me to give orders.”

  “Can you reach him again?” Randon pressed. “I need to know what’s happening.”

  Kayli lay where she was on the hard stones of the forge floor, panting. She could feel the heat of the fire on the top of her head, the tips of her fingers, and that heat was a tiny but sweet pulse of energy flowing down through her body.

  “The fire,” Kayli whispered. “I need the fire.”

  “You need to be closer to the fire?” Randon stood, slid his hands under her arms, and pulled her closer to the edge of the firepit

  “No.” Kayli sighed. “I need to be in the fire.” She forced herself upright, her fingers fumbling with the ties of her robe. At last she gave up and simply hauled it over her head.

  “In the—” Randon knelt beside her. “Kayli, are you sure? You’re so tired. And you’re pregnant”

  Tired as she was, Kayli had to chuckle at Randon’s words.

  “After I tried to stop a grass fire by myself,” she said gently, “and after being Gated twice in as many days, now you are concerned about the effect of magic on our child? Do not fear. Stevann says our child’s life spark is strong and bright But mine, I fear, wants fuel.”

  Pushing her robe aside, Kayli slid the last few feet to the edge of the firepit As soon as her hand passed the edge and touched the glowing coals, a shock of pure power shot up her arm and into her body, as bracing as a drink of the coldest water at the height of summer heat. Then she rolled over onto the hot bed of coals, and the Flame surged up from the firepit and into her soul.

  Kayli dimly heard Randon’s cry of fear, but that no longer mattered. Her weariness washed away like a speck of dust in the river she had swum with Randon, and with it her own fear, her confusion. Flame filled her and buoyed her up more lightly than the water of the pond, sent power racing through her veins.

  And yet it was different than the Rite of Renewal. This was no unsure fumbling, no tentative opening to a new lover that quickly became abandonment. This was the welcoming home of an old and well-loved friend, a friend who nevertheless would neither ask nor presume too much. No, the Flame was no longer an outsider to be feared. It was part of Kayli, just as she was a part of the Flame, and in that instant she felt the both of them becoming together a part of something even larger, a great and powerful Order that took in both countries, the world, the universe.

  More power flooded into Kayli than she would have ever thought possible, but this time no fear rose with it. She could contain the magic, wield it as a part of her, for indeed that was exactly what it was, as she could feel it a part of the new life growing inside of her (a son, Kayli realized almost irrelevantly; Randon would be pleased to know that). She reached out almost effortlessly for that spark she recognized as Terralt, touched it, and without stopping to wonder how she did so, swept closer to that spark.

  There you are, Terralt thought to her relievedly. I thought you’d gone off to the privy or something. He paused. What are you doing? It’s like you’re standing here next to me.

  For Kayli the feeling was similar. Suddenly she looked through his eyes, gazing down from the wooden tower the troops had constructed, watching as three armies came together in a hot fusion of flesh and blood and metal and hatred.

  How fiercely Kairi’s warriors fight, Kayli thought admiringly (And once I would have called them “my people.”) Such anger—and yet, behind that anger, such love for this hard land they defend. Randon’s soldiers will never fight like that, for Agrond will never demand such love.

  What in the world are you talking about? Terralt demanded.

  Nothing. Nothing. The Sarkondish troops were slowly being forced backward now, Kayli was glad to see, but she was surprised that Terralt did not share her gratitude. What troubles you?

  So, what have we gained if we beat them back? Terralt thought They’ll only attack in sneaky voids like before. We need to crush their army completely, and it’s not happening. Even with both countries fighting together, it’s not happening.

  Then we will make it happen, Kayli told him. And for one moment I will give you a taste of magic. Instinctively protecting Terralt (How? Did she know? Did it matter?) Kayli poured her power through him and out, striking there where the Sarkondish soldiers clustered the most thickly. Light flared and fire sprang up, great hungry flames, and the Sarkondish warriors scattered with no thought of defense, running heedlessly onto Agrondish swords or into the fire of Agrondish crossbows. Another touch of Kayli’s power and Sarkondish ranks parted to admit a horde of Bregondish riders, firing their bows and howling with joy as they flung themselves into combat

  Then thunder crashed across the sky and lightning caressed the ground behind the Sarkondish line, and Kayli pulled back her power, momentarily startled.

  Are you doing that? Terralt thought, as startled as Kayli.

  Not I, but I believe my sister has seen the merit in my notion, Kayli thought. Reluctantly, she drew back from Terralt. I think I will leave this battle to you and to her, now that matters are well in—

  Abrupt cessation, as if the contact between Kayli and Randon—and her contact with the Flame, as well—had been cut off with the chop of a hatchet. Kayli plunged from light into darkness, screaming in shock as she fell.

  Cool stone under her body; warm arms holding her very tightly. Gone was her weariness; gone, too, was her ecstatic power, that wonderful sense of completeness within a greater order of things. Kayli allowed herself a small sigh of regret before she opened her eyes.

  She still lay on the floor of the forge, but now she was far from the firepit It was Randon, of course, who held her, but Kayli was horrified to see that his clothes were mostly charred, and the skin of his arms, legs, and face were reddened and even blistered in places. But his arms held her strongly, and the expression in his eyes warmed her soul as even the Flame could not.

  “What happened?” she said softly, touching his blackened tunic. Charred bits of cloth naked away under her fingers.

  “For a moment it seemed like—like you were on fire,” Randon admitted. “So I—well, I pulled you out.”

  “You pulled—” Kayli bolted upright, glancing over his shoulder at the firepit. A trail where the coals had been pushed aside, as if someone had been dragged, led from the very center of the firepit. “You went in after me?”

  Randon’s eyes widened slightly at her words, and he glanced back at the firepit, too, then down at his clothing. He grinned then, but the grin trembled slightly.

  “I suppose I did,” he said unsteadily. “I never actually thought about it, I just saw you burning and—”

  Kayli laughed, embracing him carefully so as not to hurt him.

  “I congratulate you, my husband,” she said. “For you have just made your first firewalk, and with great success, I would say, considering that you had neither training nor preparation.”

  “My first? My last, you mean,” Randon said firmly, glancing at the firepit again and shivering. “If there’s no more swimming for you, by the Bright Ones, there’ll be no more firepits for me, understand?”

  “Indeed.” Kayli stood and helped him gently to his feet, picking up her own robe. ”At least I did not require the services of a healer after my swim.

  “The battle was still proceeding when you pulled me from it, but I believe the Sarkondish warriors will be thoroughly routed,” she told him as she pulled her robe on over her sooty skin. “And I do not doubt that for many years to come, when Sarkondish warriors talk over their ale of the war with Agrond and Bregond, there will be fear in their voices.�
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  Randon nodded, taking Kayli’s hand.

  “We’ll never forget, either,” he said. “And after us, our child—”

  “Our son,” she said, smiling at Randon.

  Randon raised an eyebrow doubtfully, but smiled back.

  “All right, then. Our son will take up that vigil. But in the meantime—”

  “In the meantime?” Kayli asked as Randon opened the forge door.

  “In the meantime my advisers are waiting,” he said ruefully. “There’ll be a tax increase to pay for the war, titles and land grants to be given to the heroes, pacifying speeches to be made about the alliance, trade schedules to be drawn up with Bregondish merchants, perhaps the building of a proper road or two between the two countries, policies to be made about travel across the borders, and let’s not forget the slaves and—”

  Holding Randon’s hand, Kayli sighed, smiled, and walked out of the forge.

  And into the fire.

  About the Author

  Anne Logston was born February 15, 1962 in Indianapolis, Indiana and grew up there and in the country in southern Indiana. She started to write fiction as soon as she could put intelligible words on paper. She quickly learned to type so she could put intelligible and LEGIBLE words on paper. Anne graduated from the University of Indianapolis in 1984 with an Associate’s degree in computer sciences, for which she had no talent, and a Bachelor of Arts degree in English literature, for which she had no practical use.

  After college, Anne spent six years masquerading by day as a bad-tempered but sane legal secretary, then coming home at night to assume her secret identity as a bad-tempered and mildly demented writer. After significant bootsole-to-buttocks encouragement from her best friend, Mary Bischoff, she reluctantly sent off her first manuscript and was blessed with a remarkably short search for a publisher. Her first novel, Shadow, saw print in 1991, and two years later she abandoned my “normal” life and descended completely into fantasy.