Freed by Flame and Storm

by Becky Allen

  From there, the meeting turned to more practical matters: the resources it would take to move so many people safely through the desert to the Well, where they would conduct a series of ceremonies to bring more people into the binding. Jae listened and gave advice and let others begin most of the preparations.

  That night, she stood alone in the overgrown courtyard garden, her hands placed on the rim of the fountain Janna Eshara had built. She could still feel the flicker of Janna’s power in it, still binding it, and wondered what Janna would think of the work she’d done. Of the ways the Well had been abused, and the changes that would happen now.

  She shut her eyes, pulled herself into other-vision, and could sense the Closest clearly through the binding. She looked inward, saw her own vast well of power, and with a breath, she released it. It dwindled like an untended fire in the night, from a full blaze to a few embers. But she could see glowing embers throughout the Closest, too; could see people who’d been born with the potential to be mages but had never been able to access their power, who would rise tomorrow with new senses.

  She reached out in other-vision and found she was now limited. She could sense the earth under her, the water in the reservoir, still bright and easily reached. She could even touch the air, feel its familiar, jarring buzz, though it was harder to command it. Fire once again escaped her. And none of the elements were as strong as they once had been.

  No, she wouldn’t be able to shake the ground ever again. But she gripped the fountain, and concentrated, and when she opened her eyes, flowers had come to bloom in a ring around it.

  She smiled and went inside to rest. Tomorrow, they would finally start the trek to the Well.

  Erra had thought the orchard that grew above the Well was impressive, until she’d seen the Well itself. Nothing looked impressive next to that. All that water, a glittering, vast oasis, and as she’d stared at it, she’d thought of the thousands upon thousands of people who’d died for it—during the War and under the Curse. All the unforgivable acts her ancestors had committed over this incredible, beautiful sight.

  She’d raised her hand to the healing brand on her chest, and made herself look away from the Well’s splendor. There was work to be done.

  Aredann hadn’t been able to sustain so many people, even with magic encouraging the crops and reservoir, but the Well could. Its orchard was so vast that no one among the hundreds and hundreds who’d crossed the desert would go hungry.

  The first days after they arrived had been spent working to erect shelters, gather food, and organize people. Erra had never realized just how much of her stewards’ time had gone into logistics, when all she’d had to do was give orders and let others obey them. Now, she worked every day; she refused to ask anyone to do work she herself wouldn’t.

  It was hard. But it was, slowly, earning her the respect of the Twill, and even some grudging Closest. Elan was the one who’d gently suggested she set an example of willingness to work, reinforcing the decision she’d made on the battlefield. He was right, of course. He had been right about everything.

  But, as she gathered fruit and roots into a giant basket that she’d bring back for others to cook, she couldn’t mind too much that it was her little brother who always knew what to do. Because, even though she wasn’t sure she deserved it, Elan had forgiven her. And now she could see him as he was, not just as the younger brother she’d spent their youth trying to protect.

  Elan was strong, and brave, and more than anything, Elan was compassionate. He’d always wanted to help everyone he met; now, he always seemed to know how. She’d seen Closest children come to him with skinned knees, she’d seen terrified former Avowed confide fears in him, she’d seen members of the Order of the Elements talk to him about strategy and peace. Elan had found a place, and a purpose, and he thrived.

  Erra had lost so much of her own purpose, but she was still proud of him.

  “Erra?”

  She dropped the fruit she’d plucked into her basket and turned. Andra had stepped into view. She had on a deep blue robe, and a delicate silver band twined around her forearm. She’d probably made it—maybe just out of a scrap she’d found somewhere. In the midst of everything, Andra had confessed that she’d only ever used her magic to make jewelry, heating the strands of silver and gold she spun together with more delicacy than any forge could ever manage.

  No wonder everything she made had always been so splendid. She could do things that, literally, no other jeweler could. Erra’s breath caught at the sight as she remembered, unbidden, a dozen moments when Andra had placed a necklace around her throat, so gentle and careful, so close and intimate. It all felt like so long ago, and Erra could barely bring herself to look up at Andra.

  But she did, and cleared her throat, and said, “I thought you’d be with the mages. Training.”

  “I was,” Andra said. Mages had started appearing among the Closest, just as Jae said they would—but they’d also appeared among the Avowed, and even one other Twill, who had always seen strange things but had never known why until now. “But using magic is exhausting. I’ve never done it so often before. So we’re done for the day.”

  “Ah.” It was hard to tell through the orchard’s canopy, but it was late in the afternoon.

  “So I wanted to come find you, and heard you were gathering food.” She stepped closer, reached past Erra to pluck a yellow fruit from the tree, and dropped it into the basket. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Erra swallowed, and confessed, “I wanted to talk to you, too, but…I was also avoiding it.”

  “I know,” Andra said, with something almost like a smile. “I do know you pretty well. I just wanted to…to say that the secrets I kept—”

  “I know,” Erra interrupted. “You had to. I wouldn’t have understood, and the poison the other Highest believed…if they’d found out, or my father had…”

  It had been hard to admit to herself, but if her father had found out Andra was a mage, he would have had her killed. Erra would have protested—but now she had to wonder if she’d have been successful, or if she’d have gone silent when threatened with disavowal. If she’d have let herself believe her father’s lies about mages being too dangerous to live. If, without having been pushed to the point where she had a blade at her own brother’s throat, she would have changed at all.

  She wished she knew. Now she’d never be sure.

  “I hated every moment I lied to you. But I had no choice, and I really did think the Order was going to help. That we’d find a way to show you the truth and bring you to our side,” Andra said. “That was the only reason I ever really helped them, told them anything. Because I wanted you to reach a point where you could know and it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Because you had faith that it could happen,” Erra said. “You and Elan both. But I didn’t deserve it.”

  “You made the right choice in the end.”

  “It was nearly too late,” Erra said. She’d come so close to killing her own brother.

  “But it wasn’t too late.” Andra met Erra’s gaze. “You can…you can ask me anything you want to know, now, and I won’t lie.”

  Because they both knew there was one question left. Erra dreaded finding out the truth, but made herself ask, “Did you really love me? Or were you only ever a spy?”

  “I really loved you,” Andra said immediately, and Erra felt a rush of relief that left her knees weak. “I begged to be allowed to make deliveries to you, when I was an apprentice. Just so I could see you.”

  Erra smiled. “I really only kept buying things from your shop so you’d come deliver them.”

  Andra gave a quiet laugh at that, but continued, “I used to have headaches, see strange things, but no one knew why. It wasn’t until after we were together that Lenni found me and explained what it all meant. She helped me learn what I could do. It was exhilarating, but terrifying, and when I found out what the Highest did to mages…”

  Erra looked away. “I truly didn’t kno
w. I didn’t know mages existed at all, but…the other Highest did. I’d have been told when my father got a little older, when I was closer to inheriting. And they’d have tested me with the brand and…and made it my duty to kill any mages they found.”

  Andra looked away from her, and Erra hated herself. Because a dark, terrible part of her thought that she would have accepted that burden, and turned against Andra. Elan didn’t think she would have—he’d always believed in her—but she really was too much like her father. She’d have to spend the rest of her life working against those instincts. Trying to be the woman Elan saw her as, not the one her father had raised.

  “I was so scared,” Andra said. “So I did the best I could, I let Lenni force me to spy. I…I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes, plucking fruit, standing so close that Andra’s shoulder jostled Erra’s with every movement. Erra wanted to beg her for forgiveness—forgiveness and more—but she didn’t know how to ask. She could order and command, but asking…

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t hold any power anymore.”

  “You have influence,” Andra said.

  “Yes, but…but Halann didn’t marry me for mere influence,” Erra said. Halann hadn’t joined the army that had marched to Aredann. He’d stayed in Danardae with their children. Like most of the former Avowed, he wanted to join the Well’s binding and secure his place in power—but he couldn’t leave Danardae until Erra returned to be with their children. “My title was the only reason he agreed to marry me, and the reason I had to agree to marry him. And now that reason is gone. I think it’s safe to say that if I ask him to put me aside, he will. And I certainly will for him.”

  “Oh.” Andra blinked, and turned to face Erra. They were very close together now. “That’s…”

  “I never loved him. The children, yes, but…Halann and I weren’t even friends. I never trusted him. But I always trusted you.” Erra danced around the question, hoping Andra would answer it without her having to come out and plead.

  “And I lied to you.”

  “You had reason,” Erra said. “So the blame is mine, and…” Andra still didn’t volunteer anything. Which meant that even though Erra wasn’t sure she was worthy, she made herself keep talking. “And I miss you. I’d like to be with you again, if you’d like that. And I’d like to think we can learn to trust each other—entirely, this time. That if Jae can rebuild the whole world, we can at least rebuild…rebuild this. If you want to.”

  Andra was silent and still for a heartbeat, and then another. Erra’s cheeks went hot. She had once thought she understood everything about Andra, but now knew she had no idea. Maybe she never really had.

  But then Andra smiled, and it was the familiar, beautiful smile Erra had always known, and Erra trusted it, trusted her, and leaned in to kiss Andra gently and take her hand. She’d lost plenty in the Break, but she’d gained this, and that was worth plenty, too.

  Jae treasured her few stolen moments alone more than water. She’d somehow grown accustomed to having people always seek her out in a crowd, having eyes on her all the time. She’d gotten used to not just speaking up, but doing it loudly, sometimes shouting down a whole room of people. None of it came naturally, and she was sure she disappointed everyone who sought her out, looking for someone brave or noble to follow.

  She did the best she could. She accepted that she needed to always be visible, accessible, that she belonged to the whole world now. Somehow, giving her power back to the Closest—or more precisely, giving the Closest’s own power back to them—had made her more of a symbol of the peace. Her presence alone could quell fights, soothe egos. Even among the former Avowed.

  So the moments she did manage to steal away from the rest of the world and spend by herself were precious. Today was the first day she’d claimed more than a few minutes for that cause.

  They’d been camped up by the orchard for weeks, living off the food her ancestors had so wisely planted. They’d cut into it quite a bit, though, not just eating it away but actually felling trees and using them to build up shelters. There was a full town now, with stone buildings she’d worked with the fledgling mages to raise, a few wooden structures, and a whole vast dune of tents.

  Tomorrow, they’d begin the process of adding people to the binding of the Well. Because the binding was already in place, it wouldn’t require a life to be sacrificed, as it had when she, Tal, and Elan had first come here, alone. When she’d lost Tal. But it would require a lot of magic, a lot of energy, a lot of time.

  So today she had decided to take some time for herself to prepare. Disentangling herself had taken the whole morning, but finally she’d fled to the slippery, weathered staircase that wound downward to the Well itself.

  She hadn’t climbed all the way down, though, just stopped on a slightly widened landing and sat. She could look down at the Well from here, or up at the cliffside. She was alone, and she could finally breathe.

  There was peace. It was real. It was still difficult, as if she was the fulcrum balancing a dozen different weights, and a single shift would send the whole thing askew again. But there was peace and her people were free.

  As she stared out at the waves, she thought of Tal. She’d promised him she’d have mercy, and, she thought, she had. She hadn’t given in to the anger that still often thrummed inside her. She hadn’t let the Closest loose that anger, either, though she wondered if she should have. If they deserved their vengeance.

  But vengeance wouldn’t move anyone forward. It wouldn’t help the peace last.

  Footfalls echoed down the steps and she braced herself, waiting, but it was only Elan. He stood still on the stairs, and then took a tentative step toward her. He held up one hand, open, because he was alone and it was safe to talk.

  Not that she knew what to say.

  “I’d like to sit, if you don’t mind,” he said, pointing to the rocky outcrop she’d perched on. She nodded and shifted over so he could join her. “I’m impressed you finally managed to get away from everyone for a little bit.”

  “Me too. Tomorrow will be tiring, though. I needed…”

  “I know,” he said. “It must be exhausting for you, having all these people who need you.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re doing an incredible job,” he said. “You’re exactly what they all need. What we all need.”

  “I’m trying,” she said.

  “He’d be proud, you know,” Elan said. “Tal, I mean.”

  She glanced over at him. She’d known who he meant. It was impossible to sit like this, watching the Well, and not think of him. He’d sacrificed his life to make this possible—the Break and the peace both.

  “I’ve been trying to find a moment to talk to you for days,” Elan continued. “Because I finally translated the last of those pages. Good thing Erra didn’t toss them in the fire after all. I’ve passed them off to the mages now, to learn to read—if you’re sure you don’t want to join them….”

  “I don’t have time to learn anything like that,” Jae said, an edge of bitterness in her voice. Maybe someday she’d be able to, but for now, when people wrote out and signed promises, she could only scribble something she’d been told was her name. She never felt more like an ignorant, barefoot Closest than when that happened.

  “Of course,” Elan said. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I think I pieced it all together, finally. What that Rise was, why everyone was so afraid to use magic.”

  She glanced at him, surprised, but asking still wasn’t an instinct for her. He continued anyway, as if she had.

  “From what I can tell…when our ancestors’ ancestors first found this land, it was a paradise. Not a desert. There was war after war to control it, because it was fertile and beautiful, and to control it was to hold power.”

  “That sounds familiar,” Jae said, staring at the sun’s rays glistening across the Well.

  “Eventually one group—ancesto
rs to the Closest and Highest both, and everyone else—decided to take control by keeping everyone else out. A bunch of mages worked together, concentrated all their power, and raised a chain of mountains that were impassable. That was the Rise.”

  Jae stared sharply into the distance. With her other-vision weakened, she couldn’t feel the horrible pull of the jagged peaks she knew were out there. The last time she’d been at the Well she’d been able to sense them, and they’d terrified her. They had been so dark and wrong and twisted. The memory tugged at her mind.

  Elan started to continue, but she shook her head, and he fell silent. She shuddered at the memory of the mountains’ power, bizarre and twisted as it was, and then, yes, she knew where else she’d felt it.

  “The knife,” Jae said. “It was so powerful because it was made of stone from the mountains. That’s why it was so hard for me to destroy, too.”

  “Oh.” Elan sounded a little surprised. “That’s…I wonder why they did that, why Janna would have carried a knife like that.”

  Jae shrugged. All she knew was that it was ceremonial, and it had been passed down through Janna’s family for generations.

  Elan continued, “The Rise turned out to be a huge mistake. It interrupted the energy of the elements all around, but there was no way to fix it. And worse, the whole world began to change. Whatever the mountains did to the magical world, they did to the physical world, too. Because what had been a paradise died, and over generations it became…this.” He gestured at the world around them. The desert.

  “So when Janna Eshara suggested creating the Well to preserve what little water they had left, to ensure that they wouldn’t all die of drought, people were scared. They knew they needed to do something, but the idea of such a huge work of magic was terrifying, too. Because what if it went wrong?”

  “Ah.” Jae nodded.