Divided Fire

by Jennifer San Filippo

  The sky outside her window was nearly black now. Despite Davri’s insistence otherwise, Miren found that she didn’t trust Cheliem, but she would never convince Davri of that without more details. She needed to speak with the servant again.

  She stood, her stomach churning, and a faint light caught her eye.

  Outside the window, a fire was burning.

  She blinked and rushed to the window. A flicker of firelight was slowly growing around the far end of the cropland. She bolted for the door but paused, spotting her pack on the floor by the bed. Should she bring it? Had the servant told Miren to run north because she knew there would be a fire? Was this part of some larger plan? Nothing about being in this place felt safe. She stared at the pack. If she was wrong and they were caught sneaking from the estate, they would ruin their chance of getting help from Cheliem. But did he actually intend to assist them?

  It didn’t matter anymore. She threw her pack over her shoulder and ran next door.

  Davri was still seated in front of his food, his plates almost cleared.

  “Look outside.” Miren threw open his curtains. “The crops are on fire.”

  Davri frowned, as though considering whether she might be lying.

  “Look,” she repeated, gesturing at the window.

  He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and placed it carefully on the table. She held the curtain open and watched his expression fall.

  What’s happening?

  “I don’t know.”

  Do you think that servant set the fire?

  “I don’t know, but we need to leave now.” Miren reached for two of Davri’s packs and pushed them against his chest. As he fumbled to catch them, she grabbed a third pack and slung it over her other shoulder.

  Davri was lingering at the window, a crease in his brow.

  “Davri,” she snapped. “Are you listening?”

  I can put out the fire.

  “What? No. We need to go now.”

  I can sing water over it, he signed, not looking at her as he dropped the packs and pulled out a coat. I’ll be back.

  He marched out the door.

  Miren bit back a groan. She should let him go. She wanted to let him go. He was too naive to be helpful, with or without his noble status. She would be better off alone.

  But she could imagine too well Kesia’s protest. Please don’t leave him, she would sign, fighting tears.

  Miren groaned. Only for Kesia.

  She ripped open Davri’s packs. One held dress clothes, folded and rolled carefully. Another was packed with food wrapped in paper. The third held the map, some rope, and a jangling purse of what had to be coins. She stuffed as much food as she could into the third pack and took it with her.

  She ran down the hall and caught up with Davri, who was walking brusquely toward the front parlor.

  He glanced at her. Don’t bring the packs.

  “Don’t go out the front entrance! The servant said north.”

  What if Lord Cheliem sees you with that? He’ll think we’re trying to leave.

  They turned a corner, and Miren spotted the top of the stairs that led down to the main entrance. “You’re not listening to me,” she said. “Why would that servant lie?”

  Noblemen rely on each other, Davri signed. It’s a delicate power balance between the aristocracy and the Crown. We rely on—

  They came to the stairs and froze.

  At least eight Crown’s Guard were gathered at the foot of the curved staircase, distinct in their black uniforms with the royal insignia sewn in their shoulders: a four-pointed star set in a single white circle. Each guard wore a pistol at his hip.

  In front of them stood Cheliem.

  Miren’s heart jumped into her throat.

  The men fell silent as they noticed Miren and Davri. One guard signaled to Cheliem, who turned and glanced up at them.

  “Davri,” Cheliem greeted cheerfully. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Davri signed, Why are there Crown’s Guard here?

  Cheliem sighed. “Davri, we live in challenging times. This war has taken much from all of us. Avi’or is a difficult enemy. The only way we can keep up with them is through the service of Singers, and those are growing scarcer every year. Your father confided in me years ago that he would have liked you to join the war effort. Don’t you want to serve your country?”

  Davri’s hands were shaking, but the rest of him was stone-still. Miren willed him to sign something—anything, but he just stood there.

  Every muscle in Miren’s body begged her to run.

  “Lord Cheliem,” she blurted. “Your field is on fire!”

  “I beg your pardon?” Cheliem sounded amused.

  “We saw it from the windows.”

  The guards glanced at each other, but Cheliem remained motionless, his eyes trained on Miren. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, Miss Miren, but—”

  “Sir!” One of Cheliem’s own guards burst into the room. “Sir, the crops are burning!”

  Cheliem blinked. “What?”

  “Yes sir, the northern end of the field has caught fire.”

  Horror rippled across Cheliem’s features. He glared at Miren. “That’s—what—what did you do?”

  “I didn’t—” she started.

  “You lot!” He gestured to the Crown’s Guard. “Get water. My crops are on fire! Get to the well out back. Wake the servants, we have to—we need to—”

  Miren shoved Davri’s shoulder. “Come on.”

  He didn’t resist, and the two took off, sprinting back the way they had come.

  She dashed left, then right, looking for another flight of stairs. A hand grabbed at her, and she tore away. But it was Davri, trying to get her attention. This way, he signed, pointing down a hallway they had just passed.

  They ran, the lush carpet muffling their footfalls, both packs bouncing on Miren’s shoulders. She knew coming here had been a long shot for finding Kesia, but everything had gone wrong so quickly.

  A staircase appeared at the end of another hall. They thundered down into a large room with white walls and a huge table in the center—a kitchen. Miren launched herself at the opposite door.

  They were outside. The cool night air was heavy with the smell of smoke, with distant shouts of panic and flickers of light. Far to the left, she saw people hurrying between what looked like a well and the field where the fire was. She looked to the right and saw a hint of movement, a flash of something light-colored—hair?

  The figures—there were more than one, she thought—darted into a line of trees and disappeared from view.

  “There!” Miren ran after the figures in the trees, with Davri on her heels. She was certain now that the fire had something to do with the servant’s cryptic warning and that she and Davri were caught up in someone else’s plan. She didn’t know who they were, or what their plan was, but at least they had a plan. And it led away from the estate.

  She pushed through the brush under the trees and heard Davri do the same. They were finally out of view of the estate.

  “Hello?” Miren called softly.

  Two people huddled together in the small, dark clearing in front of them. One of them held a child in his arms. The other was the servant who had warned Miren to escape.

  “You—” Miren gasped.

  “Don’t move,” said a voice to their left.

  Miren and Davri whirled around. A figure stood about ten paces away, obscured in heavy shadows. A faint gleam of metal flashed as Miren heard the fateful click of a safety catch. A pistol.

  Ten

  Miren

  “Raise your hands.”

  Miren froze. The voice was a woman’s—husky, older perhaps. “Liviya,” the servant said. “You don’t need to—”

  “These two followed you,” the older woman said. The pistol flashed again as she gestured to Miren and Davri. “I told you to raise your hands. Arten, Hana, keep going. Get your hands up!” she barked at Davri. He was trying to sign,
but there wasn’t enough moonlight to see. He raised his hands over his shoulders.

  “We’re not chasing you,” Miren said. “We’re trying to escape too.”

  The blond woman—Hana, Miren assumed—stepped forward. “Liviya, I told them to leave. Cheliem was going to turn him in for—”

  “You told them?” Liviya snapped.

  “They were going to be arrested—”

  “Mother,” the man said in a deep voice. “We have to go.”

  A distant shout from the estate caught their attention.

  “Skies,” Liviya hissed. She glanced between Miren and Davri and stowed her weapon. “Don’t follow us.” She ducked into a run and left the clearing, the others close behind.

  Miren hesitated, but she and Davri didn’t know this area, and it seemed that Liviya did.

  “Come on,” she muttered to Davri as she bolted after the group. They dove back into the underbrush.

  As soon as they caught up, Liviya reached for her gun again. “I said don’t follow us.”

  “Liviya, please,” Hana said.

  Miren kept her tone level. “Or what, you’ll shoot us and draw their attention? We just want to escape.”

  “Mother, we have to go,” the man—Liviya had called him Arten—repeated.

  “They aren’t a threat,” Hana said.

  Liviya didn’t reply, but she took her hand from the weapon and kept running.

  Davri caught Miren’s arm, but she shrugged it off. “We don’t know where we are, and we have nowhere else to go,” she said. “These people have a plan and may know a place to hide.”

  The farther they ran, the thicker the woods became. The ground was rocky and uneven. The man took the lead, weaving through the trees and underbrush. Branches raked at Miren’s clothes and face like claws.

  They were heading north and perhaps slightly west, she thought, though it was hard to be sure when she couldn’t see the stars. She tried to recall Davri’s map. Were they moving farther from the coast?

  The woods abruptly gave way to sprawling grassland washed in deep blues from the moonlight. The land dipped and fell gradually. Faint flickers of firelight marked a distant town.

  A murmuring rose in volume in front of them, and Miren saw a river. Liviya turned left and ran along its bank.

  Now Miren hesitated. Heading west felt like running into a corner—even in the darkness, she could see the looming cliffs of the western Kaleon border silhouetted against the night sky. But no one else stopped, and Miren still had no alternative ideas, so she followed.

  The land rose as they ran, shielding them from anyone in pursuit from the south. A worn bridge of rope and wood swung high over the river, tethered on a slight rise on each side.

  Liviya disappeared behind the rise, just under the bridge. The others followed, Miren and Davri close behind them. Through the mound of brush, Miren saw a small opening, just large enough for someone to squeeze through. Liviya pushed back the brush, and Arten, still carrying the child, climbed through, followed by Hana.

  Miren looked at the woman, but Liviya just waved her inside. “Hurry!”

  Miren glanced back and saw Davri struggling to catch up. “Come on!”

  He lunged painfully up the hill, his chest heaving, and ducked into the alcove. Miren followed.

  Liviya entered last and pulled up brush to cover the opening. Miren sat, pressed uncomfortably against Davri’s sweaty form.

  For a time, all she could hear was the sound of panting as everyone tried to catch their breath. The air quickly grew thick and stale, and the rocky wall dug into Miren’s back. Her whole body trembled from fear and exertion, but her instincts were to keep running. Hiding felt like a dangerous gamble.

  Liviya whispered, “You didn’t take anything, did you?” Her voice seemed loud in the confined space. Miren thought she might be talking to her or Davri, but Arten answered, “No, we left everything.”

  “I mean everything. This has to look like a split-second decision.”

  “Everything, Mother.”

  Another, much younger voice said, “Even my favorite spinning top.”

  “Well done, Ori,” Liviya said firmly. “You did a very brave thing.”

  “What is your plan?” Miren asked.

  “Shhh,” Liviya hissed. “We wait.”

  They sat in silence a while longer. The presence of a child made Miren nervous. What would happen to these people if they were caught?

  Distant shouting sent a chill through Miren. It was too late to run now.

  The voices grew louder.

  Ori whimpered.

  “Shhh, it’s all right,” Hana whispered.

  Miren pressed against the cavern wall, holding the packs in front of her. Her revolver was still in her pack—she wouldn’t be able to dig for it in such a cramped space.

  The shouting continued, though it became more scattered. A sudden creak of wood—someone was above them, walking over the bridge. Miren ducked her forehead into her knees. Please don’t look here, don’t look here. If they were found, Cheliem would blame her for starting the fire, he would turn in Davri for the bounty, and Kesia would still be lost.

  The men’s voices grew faint, and silence again filled the night outside. Miren forced her shoulders to relax.

  Arten whispered, “Thank you for coming.”

  “Always,” Liviya whispered.

  “Hana told me about Father,” Arten said.

  “I told her not to,” Liviya said.

  “I’m sorry,” Hana said. “I couldn’t keep that a secret from him.”

  Liviya sighed. “I was careless. I should have planned his escape better.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mother,” Arten said.

  “I won’t make that mistake here,” Liviya insisted. “I promise you.”

  “Working for a local fisherman was a very clever idea,” Hana said, “though I think some of the kitchen staff grew suspicious when I kept coming back from the market with fish for dinner.”

  “Did you dig this space out yourself?” Arten asked.

  “Most of it was here already.”

  “You don’t think they’ll look here?” Hana asked.

  “They won’t find us,” Liviya said. “They’ll think we either took the river to the coast or kept going north.”

  Miren listened in silence and wondered if Liviya—clearly the mastermind behind tonight’s plan—was right.

  As the night drifted on, it seemed Liviya was right. The voices never returned, though no one suggested leaving their hiding place.

  “Shouldn’t we move on while it’s dark?” Miren whispered.

  “Not yet,” Liviya said.

  “What about the ship?” Arten asked. “Did you already pay?”

  “Shhh,” Liviya said. “Not here.”

  “You have a ship?” Miren said.

  “Shhh!” Liviya hissed again. “No, we don’t. The Crown’s Guard is on alert. That’s not an option.”

  “What options do we have?” Arten said.

  “Arten,” Hana warned.

  “Later,” Liviya whispered.

  Miren wondered if she should press the issue. If they could get on a ship, they could go . . . where? How could they find Kesia now?

  “Davri,” she said, then realized it was too dark to sign. “Never mind.”

  She heard him sigh quietly.

  The night marched on slowly. Miren’s back ached and her knees protested at being cramped for so long. The rushing water of the river was the only noise they heard.

  If they managed not to be caught here, where could they go? How would they find Kesia with the Crown’s Guard looking for them?

  “You,” Liviya said, at last. “Girl. What’s your name?”

  Miren considered not answering, but it seemed pointless—if Hana had known they were going to be arrested, it was likely she already knew their names as well. “Miren. This is Davri.”

  “He doesn’t talk much.”

  “He’s a Singer,” Han
a said.

  Liviya was silent for a moment. “What were you doing at Cheliem’s?”

  “We were trying to get his help. My sister was taken by pirates for the bounty, but she’s too frail to fight.”

  “Your sister is a Singer?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence. Miren wished for light so she could read the woman’s expression. “What about you?” Miren asked. “Why are you all running like this?”

  Liviya was silent again.

  Hana replied, “We’ve worked for Cheliem for years under contract—”

  “Hana,” Liviya growled.

  Miren waited, but no one else said anything. She tried again. “Where are you heading?”

  “You don’t need to know that,” Liviya said.

  “I’d like to.”

  More silence.

  “You can’t stop us from following you,” Miren said. “Not without shooting us, at least.”

  Another pause. “I’m not telling you anything,” Liviya said. “If you insist on following, then don’t do anything to get us caught.”

  Miren sat back. That was one problem solved, at least. She closed her eyes, hoping she might get some sleep.

  It might have been two hours or five, but eventually Liviya stirred. “I think we’re clear. Let’s go.”

  They pushed their way out of the cavern, and Miren gulped in the cool night air. The sky was still dark, with a smattering of stars, the western cliffs silhouetted darkly on their left. The river murmured, and a cold wind bit through Miren’s thin coat.

  Without a word, the group continued along the river at a jog, ignoring the bridge. The waxing moon had risen; Miren could better see the family in front of her. The boy clung to his father’s neck, staring at her. He couldn’t be more than five or six years old.

  The grassy land rose into low hills as they headed toward the western cliffs, flattening briefly to reveal a small farm beside a field. Liviya led the group around the outskirts toward a barn. Together, she and Arten pushed open the door.

  “Arten, light a fire,” she said. “A small one.”

  “Are you sure?”