Fireblood

by Elly Blake

The form moved closer, a warm hand finding mine. “You’re not really awake, are you, Ruby? Come. I’ll take you back to your room.”

  With those words, I felt the dark presence shift, felt its reluctance as it flowed out of me, leaving me limp and shaking.

  FOURTEEN

  A WOODEN BRIDGE WITH ROPE CABLES spanned two cliff faces. Lava poured from one cliff like a waterfall, gathering in a wide pool under the bridge before flowing away in a thin river that cut through the narrow canyon, meandering out of sight toward the northern edge of the island. In the center of the bridge, missing boards left a gap a couple of yards wide. A large glass cube sat over the gap.

  I squinted, ignoring the elevated rush of my heart as I tried to figure out what it was and how it might relate to my second trial. I heard Kai swear under his breath and Master Dallr hiss at him to be silent.

  The glass had a bluish sheen and was too thick to see through. I’d never seen—

  I drew in a breath and stopped. Not glass. Ice.

  Only a Frostblood could create ice in this warm climate—shape and craft it so carefully. And I hadn’t seen any Frostbloods since coming here, aside from the queen’s servant. Had he made this on her orders?

  Kai appeared at my side, speaking quickly. “You can do this. You are ready. You just can’t let yourself—”

  “Silence,” said Master Dallr. “Remove your shoes and stockings.” I did so, dropping them beside the path. He motioned for me to approach the bridge.

  “You see the chamber of ice,” he said quietly.

  I swallowed convulsively and nodded.

  “The ice will hold if you remain still and calm. It’s a test of restraint and endurance, control over your mind and body. Vital qualities in a master.” He pulled a small hourglass from a pocket and held it up. “You must sit in the chamber for one hour, at which time, you will return here. If you move from that spot before I permit you to move, you will forfeit.”

  I turned to stare at the pool of lava below. My fingernails bit into my palms, frustration already raising my temperature. I had never been able to repress my heat under stressful conditions. Brother Thistle had warned me that I needed to learn. Why hadn’t I listened?

  “You may begin,” said the master.

  His face was a mask of indifference. How many young students had he watched die in tests like this? For a people with fire in their veins, it was such a cold way to measure its masters. And this trial in particular—a test of my ability to deny my very nature—seemed devoid of pity.

  I couldn’t afford to get angry, not now. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then started toward the bridge.

  “Stay calm,” Kai instructed, grabbing my arm as I went to pass him. “Don’t get upset, no matter what happens. Think only of controlling the beat of your heart, of keeping your skin cool. Deep breaths.”

  He pulled me tight against him. I had a moment, pressed to his chest, to ponder the irony of his advice. He counseled me not to grow warm, not to worry. Meanwhile, I could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against my cheek, his overheated skin, his heart thudding in my ear. His warm lips pressed hard against my forehead, and then he let go.

  I grasped the rope cables that ran like handles on both sides and stepped on the bridge. It was just wider than my shoulders but sturdy under my bare feet. I followed it until I reached the center. A small opening allowed access into the ice chamber. I climbed in and slowly sat, crossing my legs. I wouldn’t look down.

  Brother Thistle’s lessons in mental control had never been so vital. Breath after breath, beat after beat of my heart, I sought the word he’d taught me and returned to it, trying to clear my mind. Without the freedom to coat myself in extra layers of warmth, I started to shiver.

  Several minutes passed before I realized that my legs weren’t just cold; they were growing damp.

  The ice was melting.

  My heart stuttered and pumped faster. My fingers tingled with pings of heat. I took several shuddering breaths. Calm. Cold. Slow. Slow. I thought of Arcus, his cool skin, his command of his gift. His lessons on control. I struggled to master my responses, not to panic.

  Without deciding to, I looked down. Oh, Sud. Under the blur of ice, the orange of hot lava. How would this hold? How could it possibly—

  Stop. Focus. I squeezed my eyes shut and returned to the task at hand: slowing my heart, my breathing. Keeping the heat at bay, ignoring the biting discomfort of the cold.

  The minutes crawled.

  When next I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a groove in the ice. My leggings were soaked. Still, I focused on the word, on not letting panic rule. The ice was melting quite slowly. If I could just keep myself as cool as possible, this would all be over and I would pass the test. I could do this.

  That’s when I felt it: a vibration. On the bridge, small, dark blurs made a skittering sound.

  The miniscule spots rushed closer, growing in size.

  Mice? Rats? Spiders, perhaps.

  But no. Not spiders.

  I’d seen an illustration of this creature in a book. It had eight legs, but a segmented tail rose and curled forward over its back with a stinger on the end. Its front legs widened into hard pincers that could sever the body of an insect in half. They were bright orange and glowed with heat.

  My breath caught. Sudesian scorpions.

  They came with terrible speed, flowing forward over the ropes and boards of the bridge. When they reached the ice, they would have nowhere to go but inside, inside the tiny space where I sat, where any increase in temperature would mean melting and death.

  I started to struggle to my knees, then remembered Master Dallr’s instruction. I could not move. If I left the chamber, I would forfeit.

  Instead, I reached out, hoping this movement would not disqualify me, and sent bolts of fire at the shapes. When the first one burned, the nearby scorpions reared and changed direction. If anything, they moved faster now. I burned another, and another. Then realized my mistake. One of the rope cables caught fire.

  I swore. How was I supposed to defend myself?

  But of course I wasn’t. I was supposed to sit here calmly as these stinging beasts swarmed over me, helpless on a block of cruel ice that would melt if I allowed my fear to get out of control.

  “Sage,” I called desperately. But I didn’t hear her or see her. I was alone.

  Even the presence of the Minax wouldn’t be unwelcome now. I would use the darkness to burn those little creatures no matter where they ran, seeking out their tiny hearts with that warped but vivid certainty I always felt when I let the darkness rule. But there was nothing in my mind, no presence but my own.

  Frantically, I searched for some defense. Brother Thistle’s teachings… but I couldn’t calm myself in these conditions. I could barely remember the mental practice. What was the word? I couldn’t even remember the…

  Something touched my knee and I lashed out unthinkingly with my fist. I screamed as pain lashed my thigh. The first scorpion had wasted no time in sinking its stinger into my skin.

  I swore as another scorpion crawled up my back, hovering on my shoulder. I took a breath and tried to think. This was a test of self-control, so the test would be set up to punish me for movement and to reward stillness and calm. It stood to reason that if I remained still, they wouldn’t sting. I tried to focus on breathing, but my breath came in sobs. All I could do was concentrate on keeping my mouth closed. If, Sud forbid, one of them touched my mouth… I shuddered in disgust.

  More of the creatures poured into the space. They were small, not much bigger than my thumb, but they were fast and several of them grasped my skin experimentally in their razor-like pincers. I moaned, shaking with the effort of remaining still. The groove in the ice was deeper now. I was sitting in a puddle. How long before my movements, my fear and anguish, melted a hole that would drop me into the stew below?

  But even though that was the greater threat, it was the scorpions that tormented me. Inside me, the heat wa
s rising, my control slipping, my sanity unraveling. I was covered now. At least a dozen were in the chamber, scuttling and confused, crawling over me and over me in their desperation to find a way out. I breathed through my nose with shuddering breaths. When one attached itself to my neck, I jerked convulsively. They grew more agitated. Two more sank their stingers into my skin: one on my knee and another on my back.

  Tears slid down my cheeks and hissed as they landed in the cold puddle below. I closed my eyes. What a horrible way to die.

  I shook away the thought. The time had to be almost up. Just a few more minutes.

  Some of the scorpions crawled out again, heading back the way they came. The fire I’d started on the rope deterred passage that way, but some of them chose the other rope. Finding no exit in the ice, they started to finally leave.

  I allowed myself a sigh of relief.

  And then the ice gave way.

  The first sign was the puddle draining away into a tiny opening that let the water flow down and out, as if a cork had been removed from a stopper.

  As the hole grew larger, I braced myself against the sides of the chamber with my arms, kneeling and widening my legs. Another scorpion stung the back of my hand, panicked by my movement, and then it fell, legs and tail moving with ponderous surprise, toward the lava below. The remaining creatures scuttled out of the chamber. All but one, which stayed tangled in my hair, its pincers driving into my scalp.

  The hole widened. I used my fingers to carve handles into the sides of the chamber. I couldn’t sit any longer. The floor would soon be altogether gone. I watched as the opening widened, widened. It was hypnotic to see the ice turn to liquid and drip helplessly into the lava. If I dropped, I hoped it wouldn’t take me long to die. Since fire coursed through my veins, sinking into the lava would be like going home, in some way.

  That’s what I told myself.

  “Hang on, Ruby!” a voice called.

  Tears coursed down my face and dried instantly on my heated skin. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I wasn’t sure whom I spoke to. The masters, the queen, Kai, Arcus, Brother Thistle. One or all of them. I’d failed them.

  “Time!” a deep voice called. “Time!”

  My head jerked to the right. Master Dallr stood at the edge of the bridge, holding the hourglass aloft.

  I stared for a second. Disbelief, hope, elation. The hour was up.

  “Ruby, come on!” Kai screamed. “Now!”

  I gasped and flexed my arms, throwing myself through the gap in the misshapen, half-melted chamber. My feet hit the boards and I grabbed the rope on the unburnt side. I took a second to rip the last scorpion from my head, tearing out some of my hair with it, and threw it to the lava below. The fire on the rope had spread to the boards. The right side of the bridge was in flames.

  I didn’t fear the fire. I feared the supports would burn away before I reached the edge.

  My foot landed on a charred board and sank through, yanking my arm as I held on to the rope. I hauled myself up and continued on, choosing each step carefully.

  “Hurry,” Kai called, his voice low and urgent. “Hurry!”

  The bridge suddenly jerked and twisted. The whole right side detached from the cliff, the right-hand rope swinging uselessly. Only the rope on the left remained. I gripped tighter. I was still several yards from safety.

  “Come on,” Kai yelled.

  I balanced on the narrow left support, pulling myself hand over hand along the rope. When I was a foot or two away from Kai’s outstretched hand, the rope I was holding frayed and snapped. I pushed with my feet, vaulting toward him. As I reached the edge, he took my arm in a ruthless grip and threw himself backward. We landed on the flat cliff top, my feet dangling over the edge. Kai scrambled back farther and pulled me with him.

  We stayed there, Kai on his back, panting, me half on top of him in an ungainly heap until Master Dallr offered his hand. He looked me over as he pulled me up. “Are you unharmed?”

  I looked down at myself, gasping for breath. I was all in one piece. “Yes.”

  Kai stood, brushing bits of dirt and twigs off his clothes. I put my hands on my knees, my whole body trembling.

  “Then come. We must return to the school to confer.”

  In a minute, I was recovered enough to trudge along the cliff path.

  “A simple congratulations wouldn’t kill him, would it?” I muttered.

  Kai didn’t speak for a minute. Finally, he said, “They probably need to discuss whether you passed.”

  I turned on him. “Whether I passed? I’m alive, aren’t I? I didn’t leave the chamber.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “It’s mine. I helped you at the end. I grabbed your hand.”

  “If you hadn’t, I’d have fallen. You weren’t allowed?”

  He shook his head. “If they think you wouldn’t have made the edge on your own, they will consider it a failure.”

  My relief turned to horror. “So I might have failed?”

  As the reality of that sank in, I knew I was no longer doing this solely for access to the masters’ knowledge. I was doing this for me. Somewhere along the way, passing the trials had become a goal in its own right, a way to prove my strength and, in some way, my worth. I wanted this regardless of whatever else happened. I tried to push the feelings away, but there they were. Failure would not only devastate me with guilt because it would leave Tempesia at the mercy of the Minax, but the personal disappointment would cut me to my core.

  The scorpion stings began to throb. I focused on the pain rather than the fear that I might have missed my chance, and all that meant for me, for Arcus, and for Tempesia.

  We trudged down the hill in silence. The masters were far ahead on the lava fields now. When Kai and I neared the hill next to the school, I stumbled to a halt. The world spun and I found myself on my knees.

  “Kai?” I said, blinking stars from my eyes.

  “Mmm?” He was still walking away.

  “Is the sting from a Sudesian scorpion poisonous?”

  He halted abruptly. “Yes.”

  “Can you die of it?”

  He turned. “Only if you’re stung a number of times.”

  “How many times? Just for curiosity’s sake.” I closed my eyes against the spinning of the world.

  “How many times were you stung?” he shouted, rushing to grab me under the arms as I toppled to the side. “Master Dallr asked if you were unharmed and you said you were fine!”

  As he scooped me into his arms, my hand reached up to tug at his collar. The world was melting all around me, the sky blending with the land and swirling together like paints spilled onto parchment. I remembered an old song my mother used to sing when I was ill, and I sang a few bars as the colors behind my eyes blurred together and burst.

  The pungent scents of healing herbs were so familiar that for a moment I was home in my village in our little hut, my mother’s soft hand on my forehead. When I opened my eyes, she looked different than I remembered—her features heavier, her hair darker.

  No, it was the queen’s face, but blurred, as if seen through a fogged window. Still caught in the memory, I sang a few bars of the song. As I sank into sleep, I heard the next verse sung back to me in a soft alto.

  When I woke again, I was alone in my room in Queen Nalani’s castle, sunlight slanting through a gap in the curtains.

  I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I’d dreamed of her. Mother had held me in her arms and sang songs in Sudesian to soothe me. I’d all but forgotten those songs. She’d stopped singing them when I was very young, speaking only in Tempesian for as long as I could remember. But some part of my mind had held on to the memory of that music, triggered when I slept here in her homeland.

  Rising from bed made the scorpion bites throb angrily. My fingers and wrist were puffy and pink. Some sort of smelly unguent had been rubbed over the swollen skin, which must be the source of the strong herbal scents.

  I pulled on calfski
n boots and stood. A wave of dizziness hit. I was leaning awkwardly against the bed, wiping at a growing layer of sweat that beaded on my forehead and ran down my cheek, when the door opened.

  A familiar mocking voice drawled, “What a relief. I was worried you might not recover your usual stupidity.”

  I tried to lift my head to glare at him, but if I didn’t focus on balance, I might fall. I settled for making a shooing motion with one hand.

  “Thank Sud you’re just as foolish as ever,” Kai said, coming closer. “I would hate the poison to have stolen that adorable quality of always choosing the option that guarantees the most risk and pain.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “No? Then how do you explain the fact that you’re dressed in your training gear when you should be resting?”

  “The third trial?” I said. “Or were you so busy with your wardrobe that you forgot?”

  “The scorpions’ poison made its way to your tongue, I see. As if it weren’t acerbic enough already. Never fear, acerbity pleases the taste buds if it’s cut by sweetness. Fortunately, your rosy lips are sweet enough to balance the bitterness of your words.”

  “Will you stop talking nonsense and help me back into bed?”

  He raised his brows in mock surprise. “I hardly know which statement to address, the accusation that my compliments are nonsense, or the invitation into your bed.” He slid his arm behind my back and took one elbow, maneuvering me toward the spot where I’d thrown back the covers. “The first one wounds, while the second entices. Such contradictions seem common for you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you like to bite when you kiss.”

  His rambling set me on edge. I made sure to accidentally shove a hand against his face as I tumbled onto the mattress. He was almost too jovial, too teasing. As if he was trying to distract me by keeping up a steady patter.

  “What are you trying to hide?” I squeezed my eyes shut against the room, which was moving like a ship in choppy waters.

  It took him forever to answer. When he did, his voice was as somber as if someone had died. “I’m sorry, Ruby. They’re conferring now, but it doesn’t look good.”