by Stina Leicht
Where is Jami?
“Have the opponents made ready?” the judge asked. Her voice was firm, businesslike.
Suvi returned her attention to the duel and responded as she’d been coached. “I have inspected the site. The initiator is ready.” The truth was, Dylan had done the inspection. She hadn’t known what to look for, but he’d said it was more important that the inspection was completed and that he officially stated approval through her. With that, she listened to her heart hammering against her breastbone while Kester responded with his own rehearsed script. Dylan seemed calm, but Suvi sensed the anxiety in the set of his shoulders and jaw. Gazing across the dueling pool, she once again studied Dylan’s opponent.
Isak was much the same size and muscular build as Dylan. Suvi would’ve thought him handsome were it not for the scowl. His jaw was square, granting his frown a belligerent edge. His eyes were dark in the lamplight. His left ear was pierced with a gold ring. Like Dylan, he wore spirit knots, but his were shorter—shoulder length—and he didn’t have nearly the same number of tokens.
The judge spoke again. “I must ask one more time if an apology and forgiveness can be extended in place of this duel.”
Isak spat. “Absolutely not!” His voice was deep.
Nodding, the judge said, “Very well. The bell will be the signal to begin. Good luck, gentlemen and lady.” And with that, she waded to the pool’s edge and stepped out of the water.
The judge’s wet feet slapped the smooth white stone tiles as she made her way to the judge’s chair. Suvi focused on returning Kester’s stare. Her heart drummed against her chest with all its might. She’d never seen anyone die before. She was sure she didn’t want to. Worse, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to stand it if it were Dylan. Her palms grew slick with sweat, and her breath came short. She could smell the seawater in the pool. Nervous, she risked a glance at Isak’s face and then Dylan’s. She dreaded what was to come, yet at the same time, felt an unreasonable impatience to get the matter over with. She thought of a prayer she’d been taught as a child.
Great Mother Stjarrna, Queen of Earth and Sky, watch over us. Grant us your wisdom, and protect us from harm. Give us food, warmth, and shelter. Keep us from winter’s cold, and send away those that walk in darkness. So let it be. She was so intent on her prayer that she almost missed the hollow, low bell-ring signaling the duel’s start.
Kester stepped into the water, following Isak and Dylan. For her part, Suvi inched closer to the pool but remained outside it. There was no rule stating that she had to be in the water, only that she had to be within the ring. The space remaining was small but it was enough in which to stand, if she were careful. Rough brick abraded her bare toes as she curled and uncurled them on the pool’s sharp edge. She expected a flurry of action from Dylan and Isak—some sign of a fight. Instead, they both gracefully assumed a ceremonial pose with their bare feet wide, elbows bent, and hands tucked near their armpits with both palms up. After settling into the stance, they froze in position. Isak glared from across the pool at Dylan, but Dylan closed his eyes as if in intense concentration. That worried her a little, but since no one else seemed to have a problem with it, she waited for some other signal of distress.
The arena grew deadly quiet. No one moved. The audience seemed to hold their breath. When nothing dire happened after what felt like an eternity, Suvi relaxed a little and switched her focus to Kester. He didn’t appear to be doing anything either. Sensing her confusion, he gave her a slow, malicious grin. She rolled her eyes in return. Checking on Dylan, she saw that he was fine—at least, so far. She wondered how long they’d stand in the water doing nothing. She recalled Nels’s dueling stories. Usually, fights to the death were resolved as rapidly as possible and in as few moves as could be managed. Dueling was exhausting—or so Nels had said—dragging it out left the result to endurance rather than skill. One didn’t toy with lives, and dueling was serious business.
Perhaps the Waterborne feel differently? Or maybe Dylan has decided not to fight after all?
She was beginning to wonder if something was wrong when she noticed the wisps of steam drifting up off the pool. Looking closer, she saw the water at Dylan’s end of the dueling circle had grown cloudy. A fuzzy white line formed at his feet and was gradually creeping along the pool’s bottom toward Isak.
Is that ice? She blinked. The only times she’d witnessed Dylan use magic had been associated with weather—calling up wind for the sails in a dead calm, dispersing fog, or predicting the path of terrible storms. He was powerful. As an outsider living among Eledoreans, he had to be in order to garner respect from the Northern Star’s crew as well as the Otter’s. However, power didn’t mean diversity of skill. In her experience, it usually didn’t.
The cloudy water thickened into patches of slush and spread outward in a three-foot radius. The underwater ice line stretched toward Isak, stopping just two feet away from his toes. Meanwhile at Isak’s end of the pool, the steam grew increasingly dense and spread out over the top of the water. At the edge, Suvi had the disorienting sensation of feeling the heat with the toes of her right foot and the cold with her left. The temperature difference between one end of the pool and the other was already wide enough that it gave off a fierce hiss as cold fought heat for domination. Salty steam rising from the pool transformed into a swirling thick, chest-high mist. Suvi found it increasingly difficult to see. At the pool’s edge, she’d had an advantage in height, but soon even that was lost as the mist rose higher. She sensed shadows where Dylan and Isak stood, but that was all. More importantly, Kester was still in view, but she didn’t know how long that would be the case.
From across the pool, Kester made an obscene gesture, and then, just as she’d feared, he ducked into the fog.
I can’t see him! What if he can’t hear? In a panic, she shouted. “Kester Whitewave!” She put every bit of power she could muster into his name. “Hear the sound of my voice!” There was no response. I can’t do anything to help.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy with so much static that Suvi could sense it clinging to her hair and clothes. Small flashes appeared in the mist above the pool.
I must do something. I can’t leave Dylan to— She blinked. Above the pool. The mist is above the pool. The implications began to form options. She glanced at the audience. Dylan’s family sat nearby. It wouldn’t be right to bring one of them into it. Particularly not against their will. That was when she spied Jet. Suvi wasn’t sure it would work, but it was better than doing nothing. Dylan’s sister Moira held the dog’s collar. She appeared to be scanning the mist for some sign of Dylan.
“Jet,” Suvi said, lacing the name with command. “Come here.”
Jet whined, struggling against Moira’s grip.
Suvi tried a second time. “Jet. Come.”
Moira released Jet, and the dog sprang to Suvi’s feet.
Kneeling, Suvi spoke quietly but kept the power behind her words. “Jet. Pull Kester from the water.” She wasn’t sure the dog would comprehend who she meant. So, she stared into the dog’s black eyes and visualized her intent. “Your friend, Dylan, is in danger. Protect Dylan from the stranger. Pull the stranger out of the pool.” Ultimately, it didn’t matter which as long as Jet didn’t target Dylan. “Understand?”
Jet let out a woof as if in acknowledgment.
“Good girl.” Suvi pointed at the pool. “Go.”
The dog leapt into the water and was lost in the now thick mist at once. Suvi held her breath. Exclamations came from the crowd mixing with Jet’s splashing and playful barking.
Kester’s muffled voice erupted from the fog. “What the—” The sound of cracking ice cut him off.
“Shit!” The word was followed with a long string of cursing from several sources—Suvi couldn’t tell who in the chaos.
A number of nervous onlookers chuckled. Others protested to the judge. Squinting into the fog, Suvi searched for a sign. The pool was now smothered in mist. There came another serie
s of loud splashes, thumps, and a grunt. The wind freshened. It didn’t disperse the fog, only moved it around. Jet finally appeared at the pool’s edge, dragging Kester by the collar. He was soaking wet and covered in ice chunks. Kester slapped at the dog, but Jet was relentless. Each time Kester was able to push her away, the dog selected a new target.
“Get away! Let go, drown you! Shoo!” Kester scrambled to his feet.
Jet yanked at Kester’s trouser leg, ripping the cloth. Kester cursed, stumbled, and fell into the water again. A loud crack split the air. Two flashes danced in the mist like lightning jumping from cloud to cloud, leaving behind a fresh storm scent. More popping noises followed, and she heard someone other than Kester cry out. Then came another big splash. Warm water washed up onto her toes. She thought to call to Dylan but knew better than to distract him. Jet’s barking took on a more urgent tone. In the audience, other dogs joined the chorus. One of them let out a yelp of pain. For a moment, Suvi wondered if it was something she’d done until the warning barks became snarls. Someone behind Suvi shouted. The heavy sound of a body hitting the ground made Suvi turn around. There came another scream—this time it was filled with agony and not merely fear. She turned toward the sound.
The creature from the dungeon crouched over a member of the audience, obviously feeding. One dog’s body lay nearby. Two more dogs attacked the monster. Confused screams and shouts erupted as people fled the dueling arena and panic took the reins. The soulbane stood up. Dark liquid oozed from its misshapen mouth as it howled. The cry seemed one part keen and another part low shuddering wail. In response, terror and revulsion shivered up every one of Suvi’s nerves. She and several others clutched their ears. Her blood froze. A marine charged the creature, swinging his sword. He missed and was batted into the benches. The soulbane fell upon him in an instant.
Command magic flowed into the word before Suvi even thought about it. “Stop! Don’t you touch him!”
The creature paused and then turned to look up at her. She felt a crawling sensation inside her mind as its flat eyes stared into hers. Once again, it changed forms into Major Ander Lahtela.
“You’re just like the others,” the fake Lahtela said with a strange lisp the real Lahtela never possessed. The creature sniffed the air. “Use us and then throw us away at the first opportunity.”
I didn’t was her immediate thought. I’m not.
The fake Lahtela lurched toward her on uneven legs. “You are like your father. Tyrant. Despot. A true Ilmari.”
I’m not, she thought. Her cheeks were burning.
“Like your uncle,” the fake Lahtela said. “You don’t have the courage for poison. You have your assassin do your killing for you.” It shuffled several more steps in her direction. Its stride held an awkward grace like a misshapen spider’s—all at once wrong and yet nimble.
“Shut up!” She realized it was only a few feet away now and poised to leap upon her. “Stop!” In her panic, she used twice the amount of magic in the word as she had earlier.
The creature halted. Suvi understood she had a hold on it, but the feel of that control was tenuous, slippery. Just as it had been at the World’s Pillar. It’s fighting me, she thought. And I don’t know how long I can hold it.
Another gust of wind swept through the arena. Mist from the pool had eased out of the dueling circle. It swirled around her feet. A long series of even brighter flashes went off behind her. She heard ice shatter. A cold, fat raindrop pelted her cheek. Another slapped her on the arm, and another, her nose. Lightning flashed in the sky, and thunder boomed. Again she felt it vibrate the ground. Then the storm let loose. Sleet gushed down upon them, pounding the top of Suvi’s head so hard it hurt. She lost concentration. It was only for an instant, but an instant was all it needed. The creature jumped, knocking her to the ground. Its clawed feet and hands jabbed into her chest and hip as it landed on top of her. The back of her head smacked onto stone. Something punched her in the stomach. Stunned, she gasped for air. The creature’s prickly touch slid up her leg, and then it tore at her limb with its cold clawlike hands and bit down. A sharp pain ripped a scream out of her throat. Time slowed. Her left leg grew numb.
Suddenly Jami was there. Another of the marines arrived. Both had swords drawn and were trying to force the thing off of her, but it was stronger than it looked.
You don’t have long, she thought. She stared at the monster intent on her leg and focused her will. “Stand up. Do it now.” Her voice sounded distant and fuzzy in her own ears.
She had time enough to be relieved when the creature followed her instructions before it slipped from her control a second time. It was enough. Jami’s sword took the monster’s head off at the neck in one swift stroke. Foul gore gushed everywhere. The stench of the creature’s blood was worse than anything Suvi had ever smelled before.
“Are you all right, Highness?” Jami asked.
“I can’t move,” Suvi said, not liking the panic in her voice.
The marine asked, “It bit you?”
Suvi nodded. It was getting difficult to keep her eyes open. “So tired.”
The marine backed up, and Jami shifted closer.
“Where is Private Almar?” the marine asked. “How did that thing get loose?”
“Don’t go to sleep,” Jami said. “You’ve been poisoned. Hopefully someone here knows what to do.”
Suvi licked her lips. Her face felt strange. “My lips are numb.” She closed her eyes, but someone shook her.
“Wake up, drown you!” This time it was Dylan. He was bleeding from a cut high on his forehead. A worried-looking Darius was crouched next to him.
Dylan is alive. He must have won. She tried to tell them that she was fine and to leave her alone, but the words came out in a senseless mumble. A part of her knew that she was in trouble. The rest of her didn’t care.
“It didn’t latch onto her completely.” The voice was a woman’s. “It only got one poison fang into her.”
It took Suvi a moment to recognize the face. Dylan’s sister. Her name is … Moira. Yes, Moira.
Jami said. “Is it too late?”
“I don’t think so,” Moira said. “If we can keep her breathing for the next hour or so, the venom will wear off.”
“You’re certain of this?” Jami asked.
“Fairly certain,” Moira said. “Get out of my way. Please. I need to slow the bleeding and clean the wound of poison.”
Suvi felt a tug, and then a hot bolt of agony shot up her leg. Someone shrieked.
“Suvi, I need you to look at me,” Moira said. “Open your eyes. Suvi?”
They were open, Suvi thought, feeling petulant. She stared at Moira.
“That’s a good girl,” Moira said.
“P-p-princess,” Suvi said. The word was strangely difficult to pronounce. Still, she was happy to have been able to force it past her numb lips. “Not g-girl.”
Moira smiled. “You’re going to be all right,” she said. She was holding a surgeon’s knife. “Don’t worry. Just stay with me. Okay?”
“Don’t.” Suvi shook her head. It seemed to go on moving back and forth even though she knew it should stop. It felt odd, as if she were drunk. “Don’t take my leg.” I can’t dance in the rigging on one leg.
“Your leg will be fine.” Moira’s smile didn’t instill much confidence. “I need to cut the wound to get the poison out.”
Staring up at the sky, Suvi attempted to focus on the clouds and not the pain and fear. There wasn’t much to see. The sky was a thick haze of gray backlit by a full moon. Someone brought a quilt, and she felt a little better. The next few minutes passed in a warm haze of alternating numbness and searing agony. It was hard to breathe, but every time she stopped, someone shook her until she choked out another breath.
“That’s as much as I can do here. Let’s get her somewhere where I can see what I’m doing,” Moira said. “Darius, get Ivar. He knows more about this than I.”
Suvi concentrated on preventing th
e weight on her chest from smothering her. When she was lifted, gentle as they were, the pain was terrific. She said a quick prayer to Mother Stjarrna and then passed out.
NELS
ONE
Colonel Pesola is going to have my skin. Why haven’t the damned cannon reached camp yet? Nels urged Loimuta up the mountain in the downpour and cursed the day his infantry company drew artillery escort duty. If there was an unpleasant task on the roster, his company was certain to get the assignment. Nels knew the source for that directive wasn’t Major Lindström. Viktor had been right. It was Colonel Pesola. Unfortunately, it was too late to heed Viktor’s warning. Nels’s only regret was that now his company paid the price of Pesola’s grudge too. It was clear that this would be the way of things until Pesola decided otherwise, and Pesola wasn’t about to decide otherwise for the foreseeable future.
And this was only the beginning. The Seventh regiment had only progressed as far as the mountains southeast of Herraskariano.
The weather only added to Nels’s misery. This was the fourth day in a row of nonstop rain, and after the vanguard’s passing, the narrow tree-lined path resembled a swamp more than it did a road. Under ideal conditions, an army could travel twenty to twenty-five miles a day. With the weather as it was, they were lucky to get half that. The artillery was two days behind and likely to be a third by the look of things.
And still it rained.
Having checked on the progress at the front of the artillery line, he’d turned around to make sure of the rest. It wasn’t long before he noticed the gap and went to discover what the problem was. He reached the top of the ridge and spied the draft horses straining in the mire. A corporal tugged at the lead mare’s headstall. Personnel circled the cannon like panicked bees around an upended hive. Unable to circumvent the obstruction without risking pitching into a ravine, ordnance, baggage wagons, and the remaining troops clogged the road beyond. Nels sighed, gave Loimuta a gentle kick, and plunged into the chaos.
