Freed by Flame and Storm

by Becky Allen

  The threat to her magic was gone.

  Jae sagged in place, exhausted and dizzy. She tried to hold herself up but crumpled, Andra barely managing to catch her and guide her down to her hands and knees on top of the wall. Jae looked out at the chaos below—the giant, jagged chasms, the fire, the knots of fighting and the bodies on the ground—and realized nothing had changed.

  Though she was exhausted, she still had her magic and could still use it to save her people—except for those who had gone to try to save Erra and Elan. She wouldn’t let the Highest’s forces breach the wall, and the army outside was fighting itself. If enough of the Twill turned on the Highest, they might give the Closest an advantage in numbers, but even with numbers and magic and truth on their side, there was still so much fighting. Nothing she could do would settle this; there was no other power to link to that would ever bring about peace—

  Except, wait, the link, the binding, the Well. Jae’s head was spinning but she pushed back up to her feet. She looked through her exhausted other-vision, needing to stop the chaos to ensure that everyone would hear, to save as many lives as she could. She’d only done this once before, on a much smaller scale. It was imperfect at best, but she had no choice.

  She needed more mud, and for that, water. She reached for the power of air and water, mingled together in the ever-present clouds overhead, and pulled. The rain hit hard and suddenly, dousing the flames that still lapped at the battlefield, turning the bloodied ground into a mudpit. She did the rest on her own, deepening it, then raising it, until it gripped everyone she could sense up almost to the knee. People screamed but stilled, not able to drag their limbs free, and thunder rumbled overhead.

  Jae took a breath to steady herself, then another, gathered herself up, and used the same trick she had to project Erra’s voice to project her own. “This ends now. There is no magic powerful enough to stop me, and I will not take any more lives than I’m forced to. I will have peace, and so I will offer you new terms. Throw down your arms, and I will give you the Well.”

  A hush descended over the battlefield, and for a moment there was only the sound of the rain. Elan stared up at the wall in shock, but he couldn’t do anything else. He’d barely been able to move, even before the mud had surged upward and wrapped itself around his legs, miring him, and everyone else, in place. He was still leaning against Erra, as he had been, but now they were trapped side by side, Karr only a few hand spans away.

  Jae’s voice continued, echoing above the rain splatters and muted groans from the injured people who were now lying in mud, half covered and in pain.

  “The Highest will surrender, and free their followers from their vows,” Jae repeated. “They will abdicate all the power they hold, and they—and their Avowed—will acknowledge that they will never rule over the Closest again.

  “In return, I offer this. The Well is bound to the Closest’s blood, to our bloodlines. As we die, it weakens. It is weaker now than ever, and another drought would surely end the world. But we can stop that weakening. I will allow any who wish to, to join us. Twill, Avowed, even Highest, should you choose to. When you join the binding, you become one of us; any evil done to the Closest will affect you. But you will share power over the Well, and responsibility for it, too. It will belong to any of us who choose it.

  “Surrender now, and you may choose to join us. We will seek only justice for the crimes committed against us—not vengeance. We will have mercy. If you surrender. Now.”

  Elan wiped mud and rain from his face, his heart racing. He’d thought it was madness, only moments ago, but now that Jae had announced her whole plan, it was nothing short of brilliant.

  The first war had been fought over the Well, over who had the right to possess it. Every lie and cruelty since then had been for the same reason. The Highest had used their supposed control over the Well to maintain control over the world. And as long as only a select group had power over the Well, there would always be fear, and jealousy, and fighting to control it. But to turn that into a shared burden, to make the Well something that truly belonged to everyone, and that everyone together had to protect…

  It wouldn’t heal the wound in the world immediately. It didn’t even mean there would never be war again. But it would bind the people on this battlefield together with those behind the walls, and begin to give them a way forward, a chance for peace.

  Erra dropped her sword and raised her hands, her palms open. Elan doubted she knew the Closest signal of safety, but it was a strikingly similar gesture.

  “I have already given my surrender and abdication,” she said, voice pitched loud. It didn’t carry as it had before, but enough people could hear it to make a difference. “I will join you.”

  Elan twisted, staring at the stuck, drenched, confused crowd. Finally he could make out a figure that had to be Lady Callad, toward the back of the crowd that had been fighting its way to the gate. Her voice, too, carried far enough: “Yes, yes, curse you. I surrender, and I abdicate.”

  There was a long pause and finally someone shouted, “Lord Tarrir is barely conscious—he surrenders. And…” A longer pause, then, “Gesra Caenn is fallen. Her daughter isn’t among the army. We surrender.”

  It must have been one of Gesra’s closest advisors who was shouting, or else whoever it was just didn’t care. Either way, the crowd seemed to accept it—accept the fact that with another Highest gone, and the rest surrendered, the war was over.

  Elan was shaking where he stood, overwhelmed, barely able to comprehend it. All around him, Avowed were dropping their weapons and raising their arms, following the Highest into surrender. But those nearest to him had already chosen their side before Jae’s decree—many of them, like Erra, had bleeding wounds on their chests, where they’d once been branded. Broken vows meant the brand would turn fresh and raw and bloody, as his had. All the Avowed now seemed willing to bow to Jae, but these ones had decided before her decree. They had come to their senses in the midst of battle, and done what was right.

  Erra was trembling, too, still stuck in the mud, bleeding not just at the brand but from other battle wounds. There were tears streaming down her face, though it was hard to tell them from the rain that still fell.

  As Elan looked up at Jae, she raised her hand, and the wind with it. The clouds that had been overhead were swept away, the storm moving off with them, revealing the sun above. It was hard to believe it had been there all along, but there it was, still shining, warming them all, as Jae looked down at them and they all stood, waiting, ready.

  Finally someone behind Elan, well out of sight, started to cheer. It was one of the Closest who’d fought, but the noise was picked up by others on both sides of the wall, a ridiculous cheer of joy and relief in the midst of the mud that still trapped them. Elan felt a laugh bubble up inside him, reached out to clasp Karr’s shoulder, and said, “We won.”

  It took a full day to dig everyone out of the mud. Jae joined the Closest work groups that had agreed to help and used her power to loosen the mud, which had practically turned to rock as it had dried around people. They started with the wounded, moving through the whole army to find those who were hurt the worst and rescue them, tend to them as much as they could, before they started the long, difficult work of freeing the others.

  The army’s camp was in chaos. Most of its supplies had been rendered unusable by the mud or the storm; tents had been blown away or ripped apart, wagons of supplies overturned and lost. Aredann was already flooded with people, thousands more than the small estate town could support, and this nearly doubled that number again.

  They’d make do.

  It was a dangerous decision, but Jae brought the wall back down. Both sides were nervous about it, the peace so tentative that it would only take a few angry words or a single person’s rogue action to start the battle again. It might have been wiser to keep the two groups apart, with the Closest safe in the town and the army outside.

  But when Jae had offered her enemies a cha
nce to join her people, she’d meant it, and she knew she’d have to prove it—immediately. With the wall lowered, they could share resources more easily. Closest handed out food and water and clothes to those who needed them. They helped mend tents and erect shelters for those that didn’t have any.

  No one was happy about it, no one enjoyed it or developed a sudden feeling of camaraderie. But no one fought against it, either, and she accepted that this was all she could do. The rest would take time, and trust, and couldn’t be rushed.

  Every day for a week, they shared supplies and resources, the former Highest and Avowed sending messengers back with news to the rest of the world. Jae spent every waking moment trying to ensure that everyone had food and clothes and shelter, meeting with the impromptu council that was meant to represent everyone, and working. She barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone speak to anyone about anything other than how the peace would work.

  Not even Elan, though she saw him in the council room every day. He always sat with Erra, and he always smiled when Jae came in, but they hadn’t had a moment alone, and Jae hadn’t tried to find one. Not that she didn’t want to—she did, badly. But maintaining the tentative truce required her full focus, and besides, she had no idea what she’d say.

  Yes, Elan had survived the battle—thanks more to Erra than to her. When it had been a choice between his life or risking thousands of her people, she’d known what was right. But now, seeing his smile and lifted spirits as he rebuilt his relationship with his sister, she didn’t know how to tell him that. How she’d make him believe that even though she’d been willing to sacrifice his life, it had been like sacrificing her own heart. That she knew now that she cared for him, the way he said he cared for her.

  If he still did, knowing she’d been prepared to watch him die.

  Instead, she worked and slept and only remembered to eat when Karr or Gali pushed her into a seat in the kitchen and put food in front of her. She spoke with anyone who asked for her ear, she heard the news from messengers as they arrived from across the world, carrying word back and forth from Aredann to every other estate.

  Jae let the work of maintaining the peace consume her, and realized it would be her work for the rest of her life. She’d spend the remainder of her days trying to sew together the worlds of the Closest and the former Avowed and Highest, carefully elevating the Closest’s status while not letting anyone else’s resentment bring back the discord and war. Even though it meant smiling when she didn’t want to, and being lenient and merciful with those who’d once held power over her, because she needed their help. The Highest had given up their power, officially; but in truth, it would be years, maybe generations, before the ingrained obedience of separate castes faded away.

  Jae doubted she’d live to see a time when no one really thought of the four Highest families as rulers anymore. But she could at least lay down stones that would begin that path, and hope that those who followed her continued to build it.

  A week after the surrender, she realized what her next step would have to be, and fell in with Karr to meet the others in the larger study—the small one wouldn’t fit the whole group. As they walked, she said, “I have a question, if you’ll forgive it.”

  “Of course, Lady Mage,” he said.

  “Are you…are other Closest angry with me?” She hated that she had to ask it, but she knew even her own people stood in awe of her and weren’t likely to seek her out with dissent.

  Karr considered it as they walked, and finally said, “Some are. Some of us wanted to see the Avowed dead for their cruelty. I did—I thought I did. But you promised mercy in exchange for peace, so we accept it.”

  “They will work off their crimes,” Jae said, a promise she’d made her people and intended to keep. It was only a scant idea now, one she still had to figure out fully and follow through on. Every Avowed was guilty, in a way; they’d all prospered thanks to the Curse. But not every Avowed had been actively cruel to the Closest, and—with the Council’s agreement—she would sort out those, the worst of the lot.

  There were lost estates out in the desert, long abandoned. There was a map to find them at the Well, in the same strange room as the mosaic memorial to Janna Eshara. Jae would send the worst of the lot out to find them, and to begin the hard work of restoring them. Most were so ancient there would be almost nothing left, she suspected; the work of rebuilding would require a lifetime. They wouldn’t be left to do it on their own, but it would keep them mostly separate from the people they’d once tormented, and the labor would keep them busy.

  She’d only mentioned the idea in passing, knowing it wasn’t a perfect solution, but to her surprise Palma of all people had volunteered to lead the first group—as soon as those who’d chosen to do so had joined in the Well’s binding. She was working to convince other Avowed to go with her by choice, since the first estate restored would be her own. Only a few Avowed seemed interested, but Jae would select the others who’d join them eventually—the ones she wanted out of the way. Sadly, that group couldn’t contain the former Highest—even though she wished it could. On bad days, she considered it a kinder fate than they deserved.

  But it would keep her promise to Tal. And compromises, as much as they rankled, still let her take step after step forward.

  They reached the study and she looked around it, taking in the sight of so many different people who’d all come together. There were Elan and Erra, of course, together, with Shirrad and a few others who’d come to refer to themselves as the Burned Avowed—their brands had burned when they’d broken their vows, switching sides rather than following the Highest once they knew the truth. It was a point of pride for them.

  There were the other former Highest, still looking far too wealthy and powerful. Tarrir was recovering slowly from burn wounds, and Gesra Caenn’s daughter had arrived at last to surrender officially. All the former Highest except Erra were constantly surrounded by toadies from the former Avowed. There were also members of the Order, Twill and Avowed alike—Lenni, of course, who had picked the young Casinn as her right hand, replacing Palma.

  Osann had fled, too, more dramatically, almost the moment he’d been freed from the mud. He was wanted, reviled by both sides. He’d betrayed the Highest by joining the Order in the first place, and then betrayed the Order, too. No one trusted him, and when Jae found him, he would be placed among the exiles.

  There were other Twill among the council—Andra and a handful more who’d been pushed to lead by their fellows. And, of course, there were the Closest. Gali and Karr were the ones Jae knew best, but several others who’d come from enclaves scattered around the world had joined. Some had been with Jae almost since the Break, but others were newer, had joined them as they’d retreated. One, an elderly woman named Sanna, had arrived only after the peace, bringing with her what was almost another small army. The Closest she’d gathered, on the other side of the cities, hadn’t managed to find their way to Jae’s group during the retreat to Aredann, but had followed as soon as they’d heard.

  Jae sat on one of the empty cushions in the room, knowing there would be the usual onslaught of questions and concerns, so she held up her hands to ward them off. “Sorry I’m late. I was thinking, and I’ve come to an important decision—for all of us.”

  Already the former Highest were frowning. Jae hadn’t made many edicts since they’d surrendered, and she was loath to make declarations now. She knew the Closest would follow her, but if the former Highest and their followers didn’t, it could erupt back into fighting. She didn’t want that, so she consulted them whenever possible, tried to enlist their aid. Even when she didn’t want to. But this was her decision alone.

  “According to the texts Elan translated, the brand that sealed your vows also sealed your magic away,” Jae said. “With it gone, and your vows dissolved, you all must realize that there will be mages in the world again, among those who used to be Avowed.

  “The Twill have always had mages. The difference is that
now they’ll be able to live without fearing for their lives.” She glanced at Andra. “And as for the Closest—our magic was taken from us for generations, too, hidden away and preserved. I hold it now, all of it. More of it than is fair.

  “I’m going to release my power back to the Closest. I will still hold some—I don’t know how much is really mine, but I know that most of it isn’t. Which means I will still be a mage, but I won’t be capable of great works anymore—at least, not alone. No more walls or earthquakes. There will be other Closest mages, and I will no longer have that kind of power.”

  It took a moment for everyone to understand, and it was Shirrad who said, “I don’t know if that’s wise. With the peace as tenuous as it is…” She cast a glance at the former Highest. “Your magic may be needed to enforce it.”

  Jae had already considered that. The fact of the matter was, Shirrad was correct. It was the threat of Jae’s magic that had really scared the Highest into accepting her terms, with the offer of the Well to soften that blow. But that was why Jae had to do this.

  “If my magic is all that keeps this peace alive, then it will die with me, someday,” Jae said. “We need it to last beyond our own lives. And in the end, the world will be safer if more people hold power, not fewer.”

  “And you aren’t worried about…” Shirrad looked around again. “About the short term?”

  “Of course I am,” Jae said. “But I have to believe that we’ll get through it as best as we can, and build for the future. Not just tomorrow, but the day after, the year after, ten years after. You all need to know that I believe that’s what we’re doing. That’s why I offered to bring you into the Well’s binding. I will do anything to make this peace stronger.”

  That got murmurs of agreement, first from the former Highest and their supporters—Jae had known they’d agree with anything that would weaken her—and finally from her own allies.