Fire Dancer

by Catherine Jones Payne

  “They’ll throw you out,” he whispered.

  “Then that’s their decision. And it will make my path clear.”

  He threaded his fingers through mine. “You’re sure you want to do this? So soon after you’ve won Phoenix?”

  I nodded fiercely. “I want to dance as the Phoenix. But I don’t want that to be the pinnacle of my life.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Alright, then,” he said. “I’ll teach you everything I know.”

  “We have two months,” I said. “The council has elected to stay in Orivesi a little longer.” Though why, I couldn’t imagine. We’d already been here longer than normal, and festival attendance was dwindling. But that didn’t matter. It meant I got to spend more time with Nolan.

  He swallowed and rubbed his face. “I’ll teach you everything I know in . . . two months.” He stood up. “Come on. Let’s go down to the old mill, on the other side of the lake. We’re too close to the encampment for this to be entirely safe.”

  “Oh, none of this is entirely safe,” I said with a wink. “But that’s what makes it fun.”

  The old millhouse rose up from the ground like a solitary tower of an abandoned castle. Behind it, the lake plummeted like a waterfall over a manmade edifice of stone. The earth wizards had fashioned the mill a hundred years ago, with the help of the water witches, and abandoned it when I was a child. Here, the noise of the rushing water would cover our voices, and the trees would mostly hide the smoke until it dissipated.

  We hoped.

  “Alright,” said Nolan. “We work until last light.”

  We ran through the magecraft I already knew: creating a flame out of nothing, suspending an orb of fire in the air, shaping smoke, extinguishing flames, forming ashes.

  Concept after concept after concept.

  “Can’t we get to something new?” I asked.

  “We will,” said Nolan. “But you’re the only person I’ve ever taught this to. I’m trying to teach you like Papa taught me. I don’t know what could happen if we skip too many steps. And he always focused on repetition, to make sure I was working from solid principles of magecraft.”

  “We don’t have time for all that repetition. We only have two months before the festival moves on.”

  “You’re only going to Kuhmo.”

  “So maybe I’ll be able to see you on my days off, but not every day after practice. We need to do this now.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Focus on the fire. On what it looks like in your mind.”

  I closed my eyes and summoned an image of the eternal flame that we always kept burning, even while we traveled.

  “Are you in the maze?” he asked.

  I looked around with my mind’s eye. I still felt the gentle sunlight falling over me, and somehow, in the distance, I heard the tumult of the waterfall. But I didn’t see the mill or the trees. Instead, I saw a strange white wall in front of me.

  I looked to the left and to the right. I was in some kind of corridor. The stark-white walls stretched twenty feet in each direction. To my right was a short, squat white pillar, and above the pillar hovered a ball of orange flame. Further to the right stood another white pillar, empty. To my left, I saw two more pillars: one was empty, and one supported a writhing mass of smoke that shifted from shape to shape.

  I was in the maze. Not looking down on it as if it were a map unrolled on a table before me. I was standing inside it, and with my eyes closed, this place was as real and vivid as the physical world.

  When I thought of my eyes, I could sense them, sealing me into this strange, new realm. But they felt heavy, like I was half asleep, like I couldn’t force them open without a struggle.

  “I’m here, Nolan,” I said.

  There was a long pause. “Of course you’re here.” It was as if he were speaking through water.

  “I’m in the labyrinth.” I turned my head left and then right again. “I see it all around me.”

  Another long pause. “You . . . what?”

  “I’m inside it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a pillar in front of me. And to the left and right. The walls are white. On top of the pillars are . . . manifestations of the magecraft elements. The elements are moving, like they’re alive.”

  “That . . . can’t be right.”

  But Nolan was wrong. It was as real to me as the daylight. In the past, he and I had always described the maze the same way—as something we looked down at from above—but somehow now I’d entered it differently. I turned and walked briskly to the right.

  “Am I moving?” I asked.

  “You’re standing perfectly still.”

  All the better. Won’t accidentally walk into the waterfall that way. Or run into a tree.

  I reached the end of the corridor and stopped. Another white hallway stretched out in either direction. The same short, white pillars were interspersed about every ten feet. In this corridor, three of the pillars were empty. Over the fourth, a cluster of sparks danced as if they were flying out of a wand and then floating down to the ground.

  A tingle ran through me. Here, in this maze, was the memory of every act of magecraft I’d ever learned.

  Even though I could still hear the outside world, inside the maze it was deadlier quiet than anywhere I’d been in my whole life. My footfalls were loud but didn’t echo as I walked down the hall.

  “What do I need to find?” I asked.

  “Remember when you learned to make an orb of fire hover in midair?”

  I frowned. That was behind me, where I’d started. I walked back down the hall and then turned left. There it was. Two pillars away.

  “I see it,” I said.

  “Is there space next to it?”

  “Aye.” I walked up to the empty pillar. “Right beside it.”

  “Good. Now summon the energy that you used to suspend fire in midair, but don’t use the proper word for it.”

  I focused on the concept of fire suspension, and a bolt of lightning shot from the fire-suspension pillar to the empty pillar in front of me. I jumped back, but when I looked up at the pillar, an identical orb of fire hovered over it.

  A thrill shot through me again, stronger this time, like the lightning was inside of me. “I have it.”

  “Good,” he said. “Um . . . normally I’d tell you to look at the bush that’s to your right, but you can’t see it, can you?”

  I tried to remember the foliage around the mill and lighted on it after a moment. “A rhododendron, right? As tall as my waist?”

  “That’s the one.”

  An image of the rhododendron in miniature appeared above the pillar, just beneath the orb of fire.

  “Next instruction,” I said.

  “Now, weave the fire in and among the bush, but don’t let it touch any of the leaves or branches, and say, ‘Moscaí.’”

  I whispered, “Moscaí,” and focused on the image of the bush. Bringing the orb down, I wove strand after strand of fire through the branches until it appeared to blaze. But it didn’t catch flame.

  A grin tugged at the corners of my lips.

  “Open your eyes,” said Nolan. “If you can.”

  I fought through the heavy feeling in my physical body, and my eyes flashed open. I turned to look at the rhododendron. Just like in the maze, flames flickered in the bush. But it wasn’t on fire.

  Excitement filled me. So what if I do know magecraft, Shayla?

  A moment later, one of the leaves began curling in on itself, smoke dancing into the air above it. I jumped back, falling into the dirt, and the bush exploded in flame.

  Nolan rushed toward it, his hands stretched out. I scrambled to my feet and followed him, one hand in the air, tugging on the thick, heavy threads of the quelling magic, bringing pressure to bear on the fire. “Brú. Bás.”

  It grew smaller, the plant cringing beneath the weight of the quelling. And then, all at once, the fire winked out.
<
br />   I glanced up at the sky and saw the last tendrils of smoke beginning to drift apart in the breeze.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I stared at the smoke, my stomach uneasy.

  “I . . . can’t believe it,” Nolan said.

  Swallowing, I murmured, “I’m sorry I set the bush on fire again.”

  When I managed a glance up at Nolan, he was running a hand through his sandy hair. “Nay, I mean . . . you did it, though. On your first try.”

  “Second try, technically. And I still set the bush on fire.”

  “What happened? In the labyrinth?”

  I scuffed my feet in the dirt. “I wasn’t looking down at a map anymore. It was like I said—I was in the maze. Everything was white. The skills were still represented by symbols, but the symbols were alive, like real flames. They hovered over these short white pillars.”

  Nolan sank down to sit in the dirt, and I sat beside him.

  “Some of the pillars were empty,” I continued. “I think they represent magecraft skills I’ve yet to learn.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that before,” he said.

  “Neither have I.”

  “What did you do? How did you get in?”

  I stared at the waterfall, watching the current run over the smooth stones like the most graceful of dancers. “I wish I knew. I was just there.”

  “And you’ve never had anything like this happen before?”

  “Never. It’s always just been like I was looking down on the maze from up above. A white maze on a black background. But inside the maze, everything is white. Except for the symbols. Those are in full, vivid color.”

  “Can you go back in?”

  “I . . . think so.”

  He stood up, brushing the dirt off his pants. “Let’s use this bush,” he said, pointing to another rhododendron a few feet from the one I’d accidentally set on fire. “Go back in. We’re going to try again. This time, focus on maintaining your control.”

  A soft breeze ruffled the trees as I clambered to my feet and followed him past the poor, unfortunate bush and to the next one. A deep breath filled my lungs. I could do this.

  I closed my eyes and tugged at the magic. And I was there again, in the maze. Excitement flooded my limbs. It felt familiar. As if the labyrinth had been calling to me my whole life and I’d finally come home. “I’m here.”

  “Good.” Nolan’s reassuring voice filled my mind. “Now, do it again.”

  I focused on the pillar in front of me and the symbol above it—a bush and a flame fused together. Then I brought to mind the new rhododendron and wove the flames into it. It felt so natural.

  When I passed my mage test, Shayla would really be jealous.

  A murmuring whisper sounded from somewhere deep in the maze, echoing off the walls in a language I didn’t understand. I tilted my head to listen but didn’t let the voice break my concentration.

  The magic was working—I could see the flame melding with the bush in my mind’s eye. But something was wrong.

  Behind the pillar, cracks appeared in the white wall, fracturing the smooth surface from the floor to the vaulted ceiling. The fissures spread outward like shattering glass.

  “Kyla, stop!” called Nolan.

  I struggled to open my eyes, but they were too heavy. A cumbersome, throbbing panic settled into my limbs. What was happening?

  “Kyla!”

  I forced my eyes open, catapulting my consciousness out of the maze and back into the physical world. Flames were shooting upward from the bush, at least thirty feet high. I scrabbled backward, away from the heat that seemed to sear my skin. But then I stopped, and my stomach clenched.

  We had to quell it. And fast.

  I shoved down every fear and insecurity and pulled the quelling magic from deep within me, pushing it onto the fire. I would bury these flames deeper than Shayla wanted to bury me.

  The cloying, choking smoke was thick and black, not like natural woodsmoke. My eyes burned.

  What the blazes was happening?

  Beside me, Nolan worked, his hands pointed at the fire, his jaw tight, a vein bulging in his forehead.

  The flames danced higher, licking upward.

  “Die,” I muttered, forcing the quelling magic to press against the tops of the flames.

  The fire was shrinking. I pushed harder.

  And then, all at once, the flames vanished, leaving a blackened ruin where the once-green bush had stood. Ash rained down around us like snow. A few flecks gathered in Nolan’s hair.

  Nolan stepped back, sweat rolling down his face. “Let’s . . . not try that again today.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  The smoke was still curling into the sky, blending with the first hints of evening.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, my voice shaking. “The quellers surely saw all that smoke. They’ll be coming.”

  He bit down hard on his lip and nodded, walking around the whole plant—or what was left of it—to check for stray sparks.

  “It’s dead,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  We took off jogging along the lakeshore. “We don’t want to be seen,” I said. “And the quellers will likely come on this path.” I nodded to the forest on our right. “I think we should pick our way back through the trees.”

  He hesitated. “It’s nearly dark.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Besides, we can move back onto the road once the quellers have passed us.”

  He considered this and then nodded. A mourning dove cooed in the distance as we stepped off the road and picked our way into the woods. Once we moved beyond the first row of trees, I blinked, willing my eyes to adjust to the dimness. It felt like I was about to walk into a spiderweb—or worse.

  “Let’s not go too deep,” Nolan said, confirming my own instincts. “We don’t know what’s in here.”

  I didn’t know what I was afraid of. Sure, there were wildcats and bears in Orivesi, but they weren’t aggressive. Perhaps they’d be dangerous to a small child wandering alone, but not two full-grown people walking together.

  “Papa says there are dragonbeasts in the woods,” Nolan said.

  I laughed, but my voice shook. “Those are bedtime stories.”

  “Had to come from somewhere, didn’t they?”

  “From the old days. They died out hundreds of years ago.” But his words sent another shiver down my spine, and I vowed to be extra careful. Dragonbeasts might not be alive anymore, but wildcats were.

  And I supposed even a wildcat could be aggressive if it was hungry enough. Out of the corner of my eye, I detected movement. A tiny animal skittered up a tree trunk.

  Just a squirrel.

  This was a living forest. Animals abounded. As Nolan and I pressed forward, staying parallel to the path but forging deep enough in the woods that we were unlikely to be noticed, I forced my heart to still every time the crunch of foliage to my left or right shattered the stillness.

  Not that the forest was particularly still to begin with. Neither Nolan nor I possessed the gentle magic that bound earth wizards to the land, and we sounded like dragonbeasts as we tromped through the undergrowth.

  The trees loomed up around us like shadows, and the plant life along the forest floor reached out, thorns tearing at our clothes, fallen logs rising up to trip our feet.

  Cold sweat trickled down my back.

  Just keep moving.

  In the distance, I heard the sound of hoofbeats.

  “The quellers,” I whispered. “Get down.”

  Nolan and I ducked toward a pair of close-set, thick cedars, and each of us crouched behind one of the trunks. The quellers wouldn’t be searching for us yet—they’d be focused on finding the source of the smoke—but once they realized that there was no fire to put out . . .

  They might think we’re the arsonists.

  Even though I was sure no one would be looking into the trees, I willed myself to stay perfectly still, to not allow even
a flash of movement to hint of our presence.

  The hoofbeats grew louder, and I could hear the groaning of the wagon wheels. I held my breath.

  In a thunder of noise, the quellers’ wagon passed by, not hesitating as it clattered down the path toward the old mill.

  I waited three, four, five heartbeats and then nodded at Nolan. We crashed through the bushes toward the path that ran along the lake.

  When we reached the edge of the road, I bent over, hands on my knees, huffing in great breaths of air. Stay calm. Stay calm. Nolan stood in front of me, gazing back into the woods. His eyes widened.

  My heart hitched. “What is it?”

  “Wolves,” he whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I slowly turned to gaze back into the forest. Sure enough, eight wolves stood within the trees, teeth bared. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow.

  Wolves? This time of year? They passed through the county sometimes but rarely stayed. There weren’t enough deer here to keep a pack well fed.

  My eyes traced their shaggy coats. These wolves were too thin. They’d been hunting here a while. And hadn’t been successful.

  And now they were hunting us.

  “Blazes,” said Nolan. “Can wolves swim?”

  The lake stretched out behind us, but I didn’t dare look at it. “Better than I can, I suspect,” I murmured.

  “If we run, they’ll give chase.”

  The largest wolf stepped forward, growling. We were out of time. My eyes flitted to the forest. We might be able to climb a tree, but I didn’t think we could get high enough before the pack reached us. We could try to brave the lake. I didn’t think I could stay afloat long enough to survive, but at least Nolan stood a chance.

  My fingers tingled. We had to fend the wolves off with magecraft. It was the only way. But the quellers were so close that we were likely to be caught.

  My throat felt tight. I’d rather explain my actions to the council than be torn apart.

  I raised my hands. “We have to fight them off.”

  There was a long pause, and then Nolan replied, “Let’s do it.”

  The largest wolf leaped forward, and I closed my eyes, finding myself standing in front of a white pillar. Over the pillar floated a stream of fire, spinning in circles. I’d executed this concept once before. That would have to be enough.