Freed by Flame and Storm

by Becky Allen

  Andra was gone.

  The fire had caught and spread. Erra finally got to her feet, fleeing back farther. A mass of people were swarming around her, trying to douse it with more sand and jugs of water. Tarrir was yelling orders, organizing them—only a few tents were beyond saving, and most of the camp could be protected if they moved quickly enough. Erra didn’t know what else to do, so she grabbed an open jug, scooped up as much sand as she could, and joined the fray.

  Slowly, the blaze was contained and put out. It hadn’t spread too far, but there was a clear path of smoking ruins out past the edge of the camp, into the desert. Andra had escaped, setting fires as she ran.

  Andra had been the very last person left who Erra had trusted fully, and she’d done all this. She’d never been trustworthy at all, had always kept a secret from Erra, had consorted with her enemies, and now…

  “Highest!” Desinn pushed his way to her side. “The others have gathered. You should join them.”

  Erra followed him farther away from the fire and the mass of people working to put it out. She tried to breathe deeply despite the thick, too-hot air. They headed for Lady Callad’s tent. Callad and Gesra were already inside, and Tarrir joined them a moment later. His robe was covered in soot, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

  “Your lover escaped,” Gesra said with no preamble. “You could have stopped her, but now she’s gone.”

  Erra shook her head. “I tried, but the fire…I couldn’t breathe.”

  “So you claim.” Gesra’s voice was like a stone, and Erra knew that tone too well. It sounded so much like her father—his harsh judgments of anything he deemed a failure. Erra shook her head again, trying to clear it a little, and wondered if Gesra was right. Erra had been furious, she had tried, but it was Andra. She should have tried harder, gone for the brand first thing, no matter how difficult it was. Now there was another mage out in the world, and even though Erra hadn’t let her escape intentionally, people might think she had. Because her lover, like her brother, was a traitor.

  “Curse her,” Erra said, voice shaking. She turned to one of the Avowed stewards who was hovering at the tent’s entrance. “Get Elan. We need to question him.”

  The steward scrambled to obey. A few minutes later, Elan was dragged in, barely able to get his feet under him, still coughing. The tent he’d been chained in had been at the heart of the chaos—either he was very lucky, or Andra had been careful to spare him. He collapsed in a heap almost at Erra’s feet, but a moment later he pushed himself to his hands and knees. He moved to get up and a guard shoved him back down. He glared up at her instead.

  “You did this,” she accused. “You turned her against me.”

  “No, you did that yourself,” Elan said. “The Highest slaughter mages, and they always have. She never wanted to betray you, but when she found that out, she had no choice.”

  Erra choked on her instinctive answer, that she would never have hurt Andra. Because Andra was a mage. That meant killing Andra was her duty.

  Elan actually laughed at her silence, an awful, choked noise, nothing of humor in it. “It didn’t have to be like this. I tried to help you. I tried to show you the truth—”

  Tarrir stepped forward and hit him, the back of his hand colliding with Elan’s jaw and knocking him to the ground. But Elan didn’t stop laughing, an edge of mania to it. “You see,” he said, and spat. Blood landed in the sand. “You see, truth is the one thing the Highest fear. You could have just listened to me. But you decided to be like Father.”

  “Don’t you dare talk about him,” Erra hissed, and knew they had to silence him. The more he yelled about truth, the more the Twill in the army would start to doubt the Highest.

  Before she could order the guard to gag him he clawed his way up to his knees. “Andra loved you and you drove her to this. I loved you, and now I don’t even want to look at you. You think I’m the traitor, but you sicken me. You won’t listen to anyone, even if it would save all your people’s lives, and yours, too.”

  Tarrir hit him again. This time he didn’t laugh, and could only rise to his hands and knees before collapsing again, one of his arms giving out. He gasped in pain and looked up at Erra, looking more like a stranger than ever. Before she could do anything—before Tarrir could, either, though another blow would probably knock him out—Gesra stepped forward, holding a slightly singed satchel. She wrenched it open and pulled out a few yellowed pages. “The mage dropped this. What is it?”

  Elan looked up. “It’s the truth—what little bit your ancestors never managed to destroy.”

  Gesra held one of the pages up and Erra could see the lines on it, but they didn’t say anything at all. “It’s gibberish.”

  “I can read it,” Elan said.

  Gesra glowered at him for a moment, then handed the bag and papers to the guard. “Burn it.”

  “You’re that afraid of it?” Elan mocked. “You’re that scared of even learning what your ancestors’ crimes were?”

  Erra grabbed the bag from the guard’s hand and threw it down in front of Elan. She pitched her voice loud enough for anyone listening from outside the tent to hear, because people were listening, and they would gossip. So let them gossip about this. “I’m not afraid of anything. Go ahead and read it all. There’s nothing in our history I fear, and history can’t change anything. You’re still going to be executed—and if I ever see Andra again, so will she.”

  She turned to stare at the other Highest, saw them watching her just as warily. She knew exactly how this would look to them, what they’d think. That her father had cost them everything at Aredann, that her brother had betrayed them, that her lover had manipulated and spied on her. That Erra had failed to bring her to justice for it. That the Danardaes might be the family that cost the Highest everything and let chaos consume the world.

  She was the only one who could stop that from happening now. She had to keep the world’s trust in her. So she squared her shoulders and said to the other Highest, “You don’t need to ask me anything else. I didn’t know about Andra, and I never told her anything about our plans. And there’s no one else in my life who was close enough to betray me. Not even Halann.”

  Gesra didn’t look at all mollified, and Tarrir gave a very brief nod. Callad even looked a little mournful, but Erra didn’t want that, either—she wanted their respect, not their pity. After everything this war had cost her, she deserved at least that.

  But she’d never have it. Not until this cursed war was done, and the people who’d betrayed her were dead, and the world was back the way it was supposed to be.

  “Jae!”

  Jae stood abruptly, jolted out of her morning attempt to coax the fields and the orchard to produce more. Gali was running toward her frantically. She blinked the glows of other-vision away and hurried to meet her.

  “Jae.” Gali started to speak, and paused to catch her breath. “Someone came up to the gate. She says she knows Elan, and that she has word from the army—from him. We didn’t let her in, none of us know who she is, but she says she has to talk to you. Her name is Andra.”

  Jae jolted with surprise. Andra—Elan had told her about Andra. A member of the Order, if grudgingly, and Erra’s mistress. But someone in the Order had betrayed them and given information to the Highest. Andra hadn’t been at their enclave outside the cities, though, so she couldn’t have known their plan. Unless it had been somehow passed to her.

  But if she had word from Elan, if Elan was alive…

  “Let her in. Bring her to the study. I’ll get Lenni and meet her there.”

  Gali nodded, shooting the below-the-waist wave that meant goodbye and good luck as she went, and they parted ways. Jae hurried inside, wiping her hands on her robe. She ignored the dirty footprints she tracked into the house, the lifetime of habit that made her feel like it was her responsibility to stop and clean, and hurried to find Lenni and Karr. They made it to the study only a few minutes before Gali escorted Andra in.

 
Andra looked wild, her clothing ragged, her hair a frizzy mess of curls that had escaped whatever style it was meant to be in. She also looked exhausted. Jae stood to pour her a mug of water, which she downed gratefully before collapsing onto a cushion.

  “Gali said you had word of Elan.”

  “And a lot more than that,” Andra said, and looked at Lenni. “Erra found out.”

  Jae frowned, not sure what that meant, but from Lenni’s gasp it had to be important.

  Andra cleared her throat and said, “I’m a mage. That’s how Lenni convinced me to join the Order. I hoped Erra would understand, I really think she might have, before all this, before Elan…”

  A mage. Andra was the other mage Lenni had mentioned so many weeks ago, and she’d been hidden right in front of the Highest’s faces.

  “Osann is a traitor to the Order,” Andra continued.

  “Osann,” Lenni repeated.

  Andra nodded. “He was trapped in the city after the Break, but when Elan came in to look for me, he found Osann instead—and Osann took whatever information he was given directly to the Highest. I didn’t know it was him until—until he told Erra about me….” She shook a little as she spoke, and reached up to wipe at her eyes. “Everyone knows, now.”

  Jae had a million questions for her, about magic and what she could do with it. About what it might mean for the upcoming battle. But there was one other thing, first: “Gali said you have word from Elan. I didn’t know if he was alive.”

  “He is,” Andra said. “He was wounded and infected but Erra insisted they try to help him survive. But only so…She wants to execute him. They want to use him to hurt you.”

  Jae’s world went cold and dark, as if enveloped in a sudden storm cloud. But it was just her mind, dark and stormy at the thought that Elan had survived, only to be killed now.

  She shut her eyes and sagged, an ache building behind her ribs. If it was only her life in danger, she would trade it for Elan’s without pause, beg the Highest to take her instead and spare him. But the world was so much larger than her desires, and she was responsible for so many other lives. All the Closest depended on her. They would die for her, and she had to live for them. As long as there was even a chance of ending this war alive, she had to.

  Even if it meant that the Highest would kill Elan.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gali murmured.

  Jae finally opened her eyes, nodded, and said to Andra, “Thank you. For telling me that he’s…for the warning.”

  “But he did have a message for you,” Andra continued. “We were trying to do more translation, but it’s all lost now. But…but…” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “He found out how the Highest have killed so many mages. They have a brand. It’s magic, I guess. One of them can always wield it to siphon away a mage’s powers. It’s bound with fire, so to unbind it…”

  “I can’t use fire,” Jae said. “I’d like to know what elements you can use.”

  It took Andra a moment to understand, but she said, “Fire. Yes. But I’m not a very strong mage, I can’t do the things you can. It’s just…it isn’t…” She trailed off for a moment. “Erra is probably the only one who can wield it. If she falls…”

  “Then the brand can’t be used,” Lenni said. “So to protect your magic, Lady Mage, we have to kill Erra.”

  Andra crumbled, finally reduced to exhausted tears. She shook her head. “Couldn’t you just disable her? Or separate her from it?”

  Jae considered it, but Karr spoke up first. “Maybe we could, but she’ll still be surrounded by the army, like at Danardae. I don’t know how much control we’ll have. They’ll throw as many Avowed around her as they can, do anything to get her close enough to neutralize your magic. When we attack, we’ll need to find her—target her immediately.” He paused and nodded to Andra. “However we can.”

  “That could cost hundreds of lives,” Jae said. “If they really use their whole army that way…once the fighting starts, I won’t be much use. Hundreds could die just so we can kill one person.”

  “Yes, but if it protects your magic, it will be worth it,” Karr said, and his voice rang with finality.

  Andra sniffled and wiped her eyes on the ragged remains of her robe. Jae studied Karr for a moment. His open, unafraid posture. The scar on his throat. He’d come so close to death, but here he was, ready to risk his life for hers—hers, and the rest of the Closests’. Because if they could remove the brand’s power, then one battle would be worth it, even if it was costly. If her magic held, Jae could defeat an entire army.

  —

  It was almost exactly a week later that Jae could sense the army, though it took another full day for them to be near enough for other people to see. The whole walled-in estate seemed to go still for the first time, as if admitting that all their preparation was over. Now, it was real. They simply waited while they were surrounded, because there wasn’t anything they could do to stop it.

  They were out of time. Everyone was as prepared as they could be, braced to fight. A large group had volunteered to try to force their way toward Erra to save Jae’s magic, but even if they failed—even if Jae lost her power again entirely—the Closest were ready. All their fury would be focused into the battle, and they’d either win or die, but if they died, it would be fighting.

  “Lady Mage,” Karr said, grabbing her attention as she paced. “They’ve sent an envoy to the gate.”

  Jae fell into step with him, heading out to see what had happened. Lenni joined them, though she said, “I hope you don’t plan to go out there. Jae, if they can get you with an arrow that easily…”

  “They won’t,” Jae said. “I’ll be able to tell if anyone is close enough for that, and if they are, I just…won’t go. But if I can, I have to.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” Lenni said. “There are four of them. Karr and Shirrad and I will accompany you.”

  Jae nodded, and they headed for the gate. They pushed the great door open, and she peered out. No, no one else from the army was close enough to harm her, and she didn’t sense the strange magical gap that meant the brand was nearby, either. So she stepped out, leading the way.

  She recognized the man in the embroidered robe who stood at the front of the envoy. Desinn Loerdan, formerly Elthis’s favorite lackey. He looked older than she remembered, gray shooting through his dark hair, and he actually fell back a step when he saw her. Then he gathered himself and stood up straight.

  She smiled a little. He was scared. That was something.

  “Jae Aredann, I’ve come to demand your surrender,” he said, his voice loud and steady, despite the fact that he looked like he might bolt at any moment. “We have Elan Danardae as our prisoner, and will trade his life for yours. If you will give yourself up, and your followers will surrender, the Highest have agreed to have mercy.”

  She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t budge. Elan was gone, and no amount of begging and wishing would bring him back.

  “I don’t think the Highest even know what mercy is,” she said, rejecting the Highest’s terms. “They’ve watched generations of Closest live and die under the Curse. Where was their mercy then?”

  “It was merciful that they didn’t slaughter your ancestors, when they should have,” Desinn said.

  “No, it was not mercy. It was necessary for your survival. They knew, back then, that the Well was tied to the Closest, and would dry up if we all died. That is still the case. Remind your masters of that. If they kill us, they kill themselves. And tell them my terms: that they abdicate their power, each and every one of them. That they release their followers from all vows. That they and their army throw down their arms, and surrender to us. If they will do that, we will be merciful.”

  When Jae had first broken free of the Curse and realized her magic was unfettered, she’d felt unstoppable, sure that she could rearrange the whole world. She hadn’t understood the consequences of her power yet, or how to use it responsibly. That had all come later, been har
der lessons to learn, and they tempered her outlook now. But she could still summon the memory of that feeling, and she tried to put that into her voice as she continued.

  “If the Highest do not surrender, then we will fight. If we win, they lose, and the Highest will die at our hands. And if they win, they still lose, because there is not a single Closest who hasn’t vowed to die rather than return to a life of slavery. Without us, the Well will dry, and what remains of the world will turn to dust.”

  “They said you’d say something like that,” Desinn said, but his voice was quaking. “They say that’s a lie.”

  “They are the liars. They’d rather risk your life—everyone’s lives—than admit it,” Jae said.

  Desinn flinched but continued, “If you refuse their offer, they will execute Elan. Right in sight of this wall.”

  Jae stared him down and squared her shoulders. And though she hated herself for it, she said, “Then so be it.”

  Erra knew from Desinn’s expression as he approached their camp what the answer had been. Not that it was a surprise. None of them—not the Highest, who were sitting in their enormous tent, or Elan, who was in chains but kept within their sight, or any of their Avowed advisors or guards—had expected a surrender. It was only a formality, so they could remind their followers, after, that they had had wanted to be compassionate. It was more than the Closest deserved, and now they had earned the upcoming slaughter.

  “Your terms were rejected, Highest,” he said, addressing the whole group. “It was as you said, she made claims about the future of the Well, but offered no proof. But she…” He shuffled a little, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “She didn’t seem desperate. Just prepared.”

  “Do you hear that, traitor?” Gesra asked, looking at Elan. Who couldn’t answer—he was gagged. “Your execution has been ordered. I suppose she didn’t care about you very much, after all.”