by Jae Waller
Ash streaked past like scorched leaves. The air shimmered as heat rolled over us. My hair twisted like seaweed caught in the tide. I waited, barely daring to hope—
The hollow reply came from the air itself, sweeping over the island.
Yes.
Tokoda gave me a piercing look. “From the blood of the aeldu, I swear as Okorebai-Iyo.” She raised a hand and strode into the black smoke. “Antayul! Fall back!”
The waves dissipated in midair. Searing wind rattled the island, bending trees until they cracked. I shielded my eyes as the blaze spiralled into a column. A salt spruce toppled onto the building. The second level collapsed with a groan.
Wotelem began directing everyone out of the grove. Two men helped Dunehein up and someone slung an arm around Rikuja. Tiernan and I stumbled after them.
We clustered on the stone archway. Tokoda and the antayul came soon after, thirty or so streaming through the haze, covered with soot and burns. Smoke billowed into the sky, casting a shadow over the island.
The air finally stilled. Flames stopped leaping toward the trees and settled into a steady blaze. The blackened husk crackled. Glowing embers drifted to the rocky ground.
“Everything was in there,” Rikuja said in a strangled voice. “The Iyo’s entire history — everything we’ve known for hundreds of years, gone—”
“Everything except us,” Dunehein said.
•
We gathered at a flagstone firepit on the mainland. Rikuja kept coughing, but the healers said it should pass within a few days. Dunehein’s knee was dislocated. His skin was brilliant red on his left arm, the kinaru and tiger lily tattoos almost unrecognizable under blisters.
“It ain’t nothing. Ladies like scars, don’t they?” He winked at Rikuja.
“I like you alive.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and stroked his long hair.
I ran my tongue across my teeth. I couldn’t get the taste of soot out of my mouth. It didn’t seem worth the effort to wash it off my skin. Whatever retribution the Iyo would inflict for entering their sacred ground, I doubted being clean would help. I mentally went through common punishments. Public shaming. Hard labour. Exile. Cutting off a finger — or worse, a person’s hair.
“Kateiko Rin. Tiernan Heilind,” a female voice said. Tokoda and Wotelem stood in front of us, a matched set of silvery hair and inked skin and serious faces. Neither carried weapons, but that wasn’t much comfort.
I struggled to my feet and raised a hand. “Okorebai-Iyo. Okoreni-Iyo. Hanekei.” Next to me, Tiernan repeated my gesture.
“How do a Rin and an itheran know so much about Suriel?” Tokoda asked.
“We’ve dealt with him before,” I said. “In Crieknaast.”
“I know what you are,” Wotelem said to Tiernan. “Only an Ingdanrad mage would know to look for one of Suriel’s runes.”
Tokoda folded her arms. “Suriel rarely leaves the mountains. The same can be said for itherans from Ingdanrad.”
“I have not lived there for nearly twelve years,” Tiernan said. “Caladheå lures Suriel west by provoking his anger. You are in the storm path.”
“The Iyo leave Suriel alone and he leaves us alone. That is our way.”
“Strange things are happening all over Eremur.” Tiernan’s voice was level. “Half a dozen of Suriel’s runes exist in the western Roannveldt alone. Perhaps you know what I mean.”
Tokoda’s grip tightened on her arms. “The walls of the world may be crumbling, but Toel Ginu stands strong as ever.”
“Not anymore,” I said, wondering if the pounding of my heart was visible. “I saw through the barrier last night in the shrine. It’s weakening.”
Her gaze flicked to me, the wrinkles on her face like lines etched in stone. “If there was ever a jouyen who would see the world fall to ruin, it would be the Rin.”
I bristled. “I left the Rin because I don’t agree with them. I would’ve sooner abandoned Aeti Ginu than gone to war with the Dona.”
“Yet you carry weapons onto another jouyen’s sacred land. What else has Behadul taught Rin children? Do saidu follow you everywhere?”
The protest died on my lips. Maybe Tiernan was wrong. If my water-calling damaged the barrier, and Suriel was searching for weak spots — I felt sick.
“It’s not Kateiko’s fault.” Airedain stepped forward and leaned against a stack of split logs. “I saw it, too. Yesterday morning, before they got here. A rock pillar collapsed into the ocean, but I swear for a second it was standing again.”
My eyes widened. So I wasn’t the only one.
Tokoda rounded on him. “You did not think to inform me?”
“Maybe if you mentioned it’d bring Suriel down on our heads, it’d have seemed more important,” Airedain said, hanging his thumbs off his belt.
Dunehein rose to his feet, leaning on Rikuja. “Kateiko and Tiernan saved our lives, Tokoda. You might as well blame me for the Storm Year because I was Rin once.”
Tokoda eyed him. Finally, she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “Never let it be said the Iyo do not appreciate those who aid us.”
She turned to me. “Kateiko Rin. You may stay in Toel Ginu. Dunehein is responsible for you until arrangements are made with the Rin-jouyen. If I see Behadul again, I will mention he could do with listening to the youth of his jouyen on occasion.”
“Itheran.” She pointed at Tiernan. “In light of your actions, I will overlook your trespass onto sacred ground. You are welcome here as long as I am okorebai. The Iyo-jouyen values its alliance with our Sverbian neighbours. I daresay we will need each other soon.”
Tokoda turned to leave, grey braid swishing, but paused and glanced at Airedain. “And you. Aeldu help me, boy. Just stay out of trouble.”
•
Tiernan pulled me aside that afternoon. We went to the cliffs where we couldn’t be overheard. Scraps of ash drifted past like seagulls in the black smoke. “I have to say goodbye, Kateiko.”
“What do you mean? I’m going back with you.”
“Not this time. You need to stay with your family.” He gazed at the horizon. The sky was still grey and flat. “You will be safer here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t get to decide where I go.”
“This is not a point to be argued. I have entangled you too much already.”
“What are you going to do? Lock me out? I’ll sit on your porch until you let me in.”
Tiernan turned away and slammed his fist into his palm. “Någvakt bøkkhem. Why must you always—”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I suspected Suriel was also looking for a rift into the shoirdryge all these years. Marking off sites as he found nothing. We must have come to the same conclusion — make a rift instead of finding one. That fire was nowhere near strong enough to tear through the barrier, but I cannot imagine why else he did it.”
I stared at him. “Suriel burned down the shrine just to . . .”
“That is what he has been doing near Dúnravn Pass. Experimenting with rift magic. He killed cragsmen investigating the strange weather, massacred the military expedition investigating their deaths, and drove off anyone from Crieknaast who got too close. All so we would not find out.”
“Then why come here?”
“Desperation. Clearly he had no luck in the mountains. The coast has been hit by severe storms these last few years. I did not realize how bad it was until Airedain mentioned the stone pillar collapsing. Suriel must have thought fire would do the rest.”
“But he had to know antayul would try to stop it—”
“He probably hoped they would not get there in time. I doubt he expected a fire mage to interfere.” Tiernan rubbed his temples, leaving streaks in the soot. “The question is how he found out so quickly the barrier is crumbling. Perhaps someone tipped him off.”
A cold feeling grew inside me. “It could’ve been anyone. There were over a thousand people here yesterday — itherans, Kowichelk and Nuthalha—”
“However Suriel found out, my work will draw his attention eventually. I defied him by holding back that fire. A second time will not go over well.”
“Who else knows about your research?” I grabbed his arms. “Tiernan, who else knows?”
“At least one person too many.”
I shoved him. “Will you just fucking tell me? I’m sick of you only telling me things when you think I need to know!”
“Kateiko. Stop.” Tiernan seized my wrists. His chest rose and fell unevenly. “It does not matter who. I will not take you into that storm with me.”
“I won’t let you face Suriel alone!”
“Listen. Yesterday was the first time I have seen you happy and at ease. You deserve a better life.”
I stared at him, my pulse beating against his skin. “You heard Tokoda. If I mess up, it’ll fall on Dunehein. I can’t do that to him when he has a child coming. It’d be different if I married into the Iyo, but I can’t stay here like this.”
Tiernan released my wrists. “You have that option.”
It took a moment to realize what he meant. “Tiernan—” I choked on his name. “I don’t want to marry anyone here. Please let me come back with you.”
Waves crashed against the rocks below. Smoke swirled past in the lingering breeze. Finally, finally, his shoulders slumped. “Then you should say farewell to your family.”
21.
IREN KOHAL
Tiernan didn’t go into the workshop the day after we returned. He finished the chores and lingered in the clearing until I hesitantly asked him to come hunting. He agreed just as hesitantly. He still read with me, but he was always distracted, like his mind was travelling the world without his body. Dunehein’s words echoed in my head. You’ve got a good man there, Kako, he’d whispered as he hugged me goodbye. Yet I wasn’t sure what I had at all.
A week after we returned, light flashed around the clearing and burned white against the trees. I dashed out of the stable. Tiernan burst from the cabin with his sword drawn. It was bright as day even though the sun had set.
“It is only me, Tiernan,” a voice called.
I squinted across the clearing. A man walked toward us, hands up to show they were empty. Long black hair, green cloak, bow on his back. Rhonos, Tiernan’s young ranger friend. He’d made it back from wintering in southern Eremur.
Tiernan lowered Hafelús. The warning runes faded. Darkness settled over us. “Gods’ sakes, I was starting to worry.”
The men fell into deep discussion in the kitchen. I set out mugs of tea and leaned against the wall to listen. Rhonos’s hair was matted, his jaw covered by a long beard, and his skin lined with dirt. His accent was definitely Ferish, so when he unfastened his cloak, I was surprised to see a Sverbian-style leather jerkin over a tunic and muddy trousers.
“The navy has given up Rutnaast,” Rhonos said. “None of the refugees want to return. The mines lie empty. Eremur will have metal shortages soon.”
“Ingdanrad will suffer too,” Tiernan said. “Do they plan to get involved?”
“No. They struck trade deals with mines in Nyhemur, but waiting out the war is a dangerous gamble. Suriel must know their mages could be his strongest threat.”
“They must feel safe while his Corvittai soldiers are occupied in the west.”
“It will not last.” Rhonos laced his fingers together and stretched out his arms. “We could use their aid. If anyone knows how to destroy an elemental, it would be them.”
“It’s impossible,” I said. “The wind dies a thousand deaths. The only thing that’s ever killed a saidu is another saidu.”
“Perhaps nobody else has tried.”
“Yeah, because we’re not fucking idiots—”
“Have you heard any news from nearby?” Tiernan interrupted.
“Plenty, but none good,” Rhonos said. “A company of soldiers was ambushed returning to Caladheå. People say it was viirelei retribution for some fire down the coast.”
The back of my neck prickled. “That can’t be true.”
“After viirelei assassinated a councillor, it would not surprise me.”
“The Colonnium guard has no idea who killed Montès! Besides, that happened because your people sentenced an innocent man to death!”
Rhonos fixed his gaze on me for the first time that evening. “My people suffer alongside yours. I have no love for anyone in the Council, but the only group more fond of violence than the Sverbian Rúonbattai is the viirelei.”
“You’re the one talking about murdering the wind.”
“The Iyo nation is not out for vengeance,” Tiernan said. “Suriel caused that fire. We witnessed it ourselves.”
Rhonos raised an eyebrow. “Why were you in a viirelei settlement?”
“He was with me,” I snapped.
“Why was Suriel in a viirelei settlement?”
“I have no bloody idea.” Tiernan swirled tea around his mug. “He was trying to burn a rift into the shoirdryge, but I cannot fathom why. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes.”
Rhonos and I exchanged a glance, realizing Tiernan had confided in both of us about his research. I caught a trace of surprise in his expression.
“Regardless, Suriel’s arm travels far and his eye reaches further,” Rhonos said. “You will cross paths with him again and again, Tiernan.”
“I am well aware. I just—” said Tiernan as he paced the room. “What am I meant to do, Rhonos?”
“You know the answer.” Rhonos watched him levelly. “Every day you search for this rift is a risk. You are locked between forces who will throw you and everyone around you under the cart to lighten their load.”
Tiernan ran a hand through his hair. “It is a lot to give up.”
Rhonos stood and placed a hand on Tiernan’s shoulder. “I trust you to make the right decision.”
•
I woke to grey light and the patter of rain. I climbed down from the loft and was about to light a fire when I realized Tiernan’s boots were missing. The clearing looked empty, but the workshop door was ajar. I crossed the field barefoot, the mud and grass squishing between my toes. The rain was cool on my skin. I crept into the workshop. “Tiernan?”
He stood in the centre of the room, staring at a soot-streaked window. Water dripped through the bark patch on the roof. I touched his shoulder.
“Kako.” It took a long time for him to focus on me.
“Have you slept?”
“No. I was . . . I had a lot of thinking to do.” He reached for my hand and then pulled back. “I made my decision. I will cease trying to open a rift into the shoirdryge.”
I looked into his eyes, hardly daring to breathe. “Tiernan . . . if you’re doing this because you’re afraid of Suriel, you’ll always regret it.”
“Fear was never enough to make me give up.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Hope. Joy. Love.” He ran his fingers along the iron brazier. “The Iyo lost their strongest link to the dead, yet life moves on. I must move on with it. You already knew what it took me half a lifetime to realize.”
I longed to reach out and stroke his hair, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I . . . Yes. Yes. I am sure.” Tiernan began collecting papers off the tables. He handed me a stack and gave a faint smile. “Together.”
Fire blazed up in the brazier. We held the papers over the flames and dropped them at the same time. They ignited and curled in on themselves, disintegrating into grey ash.
We gathered up years of work. Pages and pages of research and diagrams went into the fire. Tiernan set aside a few books and burned the rest. He erased th
e glowing symbols on the floor. Eventually all that was left was carpentry tools and the map on the wall. I didn’t know how to feel when it was all over. I’d dreamt of this day since Tiernan told me shoirdrygen existed, but his expression spoke more of endings than beginnings.
The flames went out. I took Tiernan by the elbow and led him to the cabin. He slumped by the cold hearth, stretching out his legs like the first night I’d ever really looked at him. I lit a fire and put the kettle on. Rain drummed on the roof and slid down the window.
“There is something else you should know,” Tiernan said.
“What’s that?” I pulled out clay mugs, then turned to him when he didn’t answer.
“I am sorry, Kako. I don’t know how else to tell you.” His head was bowed, hands pressed to his forehead. “I am going to ask Maika to marry me.”
A mug slipped from my hand and shattered. Tiernan flinched.
“It will not be the first time.” He gave a weak laugh, but his shoulders shook with what might’ve been tears. He pulled something from his breast pocket and placed it on the table. A golden ring, etched like knotwork.
“When did you—”
“Ten years ago. After she completed her apprenticeship. She said no.” Tiernan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I would not abandon my research. Maika was afraid I would leave and never return. She has no doubt given up on me, but I must try.”
“She’s been just down the creek the whole time and you—” I stuttered to a stop. “Tiernan, you’re a fucking idiot.”
“I know.”
I backed away, clay shards cutting my bare feet. My ribs felt too small for my thudding heart. “I’m sorry, I — need to go.”
•
I took Anwea and fled north. Away from Tiernan, Marijka, the creek, and Caladheå — everything that had been part of my life since I crossed the sky bridge. We made it to the Holmgar just before sundown. I slid off Anwea and collapsed at the edge of the canyon. The river ran high from melting snow. I listened to water churn far below and wished I could flow away with it.
Where did it all go wrong? Even as I asked myself that I knew the answer. I tried to pinch the setting sun between my finger and thumb. Tiernan had always been just out of reach. Nothing had gone wrong because I never had him, from the moment I glimpsed a shadow of him in another world to the moment he cut out of existence in the shrine. The burning man who glowed too hot for me to touch.
