Divided Fire

by Jennifer San Filippo

  She knelt into position to lunge.

  “Miren, what if they—Miren.”

  She shot into a sprint.

  Footsteps thundered behind her. She sped up, expecting a pursuer, but Cale’s form raced past her. He was incredibly fast. Miren tripped twice in her haste to catch up, terrified of being seen or hearing more gunshots.

  Finally, they reached the hangar and crouched against the wall, just paces from the back door. If someone walked out of that door, they would be caught.

  “That was so stupid,” he said, panting.

  Miren fought to steady her breathing. “You didn’t have to come.”

  “You know, that’s how I was caught the first time I tried escaping Rion’s place.”

  Miren rubbed a stitch in her side. “You just ran?”

  He shrugged. “Thought I could surprise them.”

  She glanced past him. The doors were still closed. She stood up and walked around him.

  She reached for the door, her heart still pounding.

  Kesia might be inside.

  The handle gave way under her grip.

  She leaned forward to look.

  “Hey,” Cale warned, grabbing her shoulder.

  She shrugged off his grip and poked her head inside.

  The entire building was one large cavernous room. Metal beams arced high above along the bottom of the curved roof and down the walls. Set along the walls were a dozen or more work benches, all of them littered with tools and papers and fluttering oil lamps. Men in work clothes stomped around, barking orders, many of them with strange, bulbous lenses strapped over their eyes or perched on their foreheads. Most of the men’s attention was focused on the enormous structure in the center.

  For a moment, Miren believed it was a building within a building, an elongated ovoid structure with metal beams crisscrossing along it like a frame. The giant structure was, impossibly, balanced on a single, much smaller metal carriage of some kind attached to the bottom.

  She didn’t understand until she saw someone disembark from the carriage and the whole thing bobbed slightly.

  It was floating.

  Cale tugged her out of the doorway. “You’re going to be seen,” he whispered.

  She pointed. “They’re building something. I don’t—I have no idea—”

  Cale frowned and took her place by the door.

  “Skies,” he said softly. “It’s a balloon, I think, but I’ve never heard of anything this big.”

  “That thing—it’s supposed to fly?”

  “I think so,” he said. “This has to be Amos Steel’s operation, right? There’s a path from the factory that leads right here.”

  “But why?” Miren said.

  “Maybe they work for the military? Imagine them taking that thing to war.” Cale rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose that would be one way to get past Kilithis Bay.”

  Miren shook her head. A way to fly . . . her mind didn’t have room for such a revelation. How high could they go? High enough to see over the mountains?

  She remembered Kesia. “You said you heard Fire Singing? You think she’s on that . . . balloon? The carriage part?”

  Cale risked another glance. “I don’t see where else she could be.”

  Miren’s heart thumped. What if it was Kesia? And she was just a few paces away?

  She risked another peek. She saw no sign of anyone but workers.

  Kesia might be in that balloon thing. Kesia might be paces away from her.

  She had to see. She had to know.

  Kesia Kesia Kesia.

  She stepped through the doorway.

  “Wait, Miren!”

  She ran to the nearest workbench and ducked underneath it, then glanced back at the door where Cale still stood, watching her. He looked baffled and terrified, and she couldn’t help but sympathize. That had been stupid—very, very stupid.

  She risked a glance around the side of the workbench. The men were turned away, and she darted to the next bench, then the one after that, waiting for the inevitable shout or gunshot. She risked a glance back to the doorway, but Cale was no longer there.

  Finally, she reached the workbench nearest the door in the balloon’s carriage, which was still about twenty paces away.

  She could feel her heart pounding in her throat.

  She ran, her breath loud in her ears.

  The stairs were narrower than she expected. She tripped and barely caught herself on the railing before scrambling inside.

  The interior of the carriage was even more confusing than the outside. On the left was a curved metal desk littered with a slew of buttons and levers and little displays of numbers. Beyond that, a window pointed toward the front of the building.

  She glanced out the window. The workers were huddled around two men and some guards. She recognized the same two men from before, dressed in suits, smiling pleasantly as the workers looked on nervously.

  Miren stepped away from the window and turned.

  A door stood just in front of her, metallic and heavy-looking. It was cracked open; a dusty, dry heat emanated from the space.

  Fire Singer—

  “Kesia,” she called to the figure inside.

  Hair too dark, frame too small. Her arms were littered with scars and what looked like burn marks.

  It wasn’t Kesia. The Voice that Cale had heard hadn’t been Kesia’s.

  The girl stared, wide-eyed, her eyes sunken, her arms bruised, her clothing in tatters. She shifted upright, the chains on her wrists clinking as she moved, and signed. Who are you?

  Miren shook her head. It didn’t matter.

  But this girl needed help.

  She crept forward, feeling the heat from the furnaces. The girl flinched back.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Miren said. “I—I want to get you out of here.”

  The girl turned her wrists so Miren could see the keyholes in each cuff.

  Fire Song would take a long time to melt the metal chains, but Miren didn’t see any tools. “Can’t you Sing?” Miren asked.

  The girl pointed to her collar.

  A chill ran up Miren’s spine despite the heat. “All right.” They would need tools, then. Even if Kesia wasn’t here, she couldn’t let the whole trip be a failure. “I’m going to find something to get you out,” she said. “I’ll be back.”

  The girl’s eyes widened, but she didn’t sign.

  Miren crept toward the doorway to the carriage. The men were all congregated around the entrance to the building. Miren couldn’t see what they were looking at, but she gingerly took the stairs and ran to the nearest work bench.

  After a moment, the crowd at the front door parted to reveal two figures on their knees, their hands above their heads.

  Davri and Liviya.

  Miren muffled a gasp. She strained to hear what the man in the center was saying.

  “. . . much better for you if you answer my questions.”

  Davri and Liviya stared at the ground, both silent. The men must not have realized that Davri was a Singer or they would have gagged him.

  The man in charge gestured, and a guard smacked the butt of his rifle into Davri’s head.

  Miren bit back a squeal as he fell forward on the hard floor. The guards pulled him upright again. Even from this distance, Miren could see Liviya clench her jaw.

  “You’re a very strange pair for Kaleon spies,” the leader continued. He pointed to Liviya. “You especially. Is Kaleo running out of able bodies as well as Singers?”

  A few of the surrounding men chuckled, but Liviya’s expression remained cold.

  Miren fumbled for her pistol, but it felt clumsy and useless in her grip. Even if she had perfect aim, she’d never be able to shoot them all.

  What could she do? Was there a way to signal Cale? She looked back, but she couldn’t see the door from this angle.

  “Refusing to speak may lead me to believe you’re both Singers,” the leader said. “And I suspect you may know what we do to Sin
gers here.”

  She held the pistol in both hands, ready to jump from her hiding place.

  And then she heard a Voice of Fire.

  Forty

  Kesia

  Kesia led the group to the southern end of the compound, feeling unsteady on her feet as they wove through warehouses at a jog, but she didn’t slow. Even with just six Singers, she realized, it was possible they could take the men at the hangar and rescue Ayla.

  Oddly, Kesia didn’t see any of the guards she and Zuriel had spotted when they first arrived. Perhaps they had been dismissed? Or had something happened? Had they been called to the hangar for some reason?

  She spotted the gate that led to the hangar and looked at Zuriel. He hummed a few notes, and the lock clicked open.

  Outside, the moonlight highlighted the trees and path in a faint silver. Perhaps they should try to remain hidden, but Kesia didn’t feel the need. She Sang another small flame over her shoulder to light the path in front of them.

  The Water Singer came beside her. Won’t they see us this way? he signed.

  She nodded once, still Singing.

  He stared at her, his expression difficult to read under his wild beard.

  I will extinguish the flame when we get there.

  He nodded.

  Another Singer, an older man with a hunchback and a square jaw, signed, What is your plan?

  She glanced at Zuriel. We need to take their weapons away first, she signed. Water Singers can trap them in ice. Air Singers can throw them off-balance long enough for Zuriel to take their guns. They will be afraid. Once they stand down, Zuriel can go in and unlock Ayla’s collar.

  What if they don’t stand down? asked the younger Air Singer.

  I will take care of them, she signed. But without their weapons, they will fear us. Can you do that, Zuriel?

  Zuriel nodded, though he still looked worried.

  Kesia continued down the path, and the hangar came into view.

  She heard gasps from behind her at the sight of it. At night, the building looked like a great, hulking worm, with light pouring from the doorway like an open maw.

  A crowd of men were gathered in a loose circle inside the door, surrounding someone or something.

  She paused, uncertain, spotting at least three men with rifles on their backs.

  She snapped to get Zuriel’s attention. Can you reach them from here?

  He shook his head.

  Then we need to get closer. She turned to the Water Singers. I think we should split up. You two freeze the men in place as best you can. Air Singers, keep them unbalanced. Agreed?

  The blonde girl nodded, though she looked frightened. The darkhaired woman next to her looked grimly determined.

  The bearded Water Singer signed, What will you do?

  I will distract them, Kesia replied. She looked to Zuriel. I’m trusting you to take their guns away quickly.

  Zuriel stood tall. I’ll do it.

  Then let’s go.

  The other Singers split off, approaching the doors from either side. Kesia doused her small flame and took a deep breath, then marched forward.

  The crowd shifted, and she saw two figures on their knees. One was a sturdy woman with a dark rope of hair hanging down her back. The other was a younger blond man. Parviz stood over them, a pistol hanging casually in his hand.

  Kesia marched straight ahead, feeling a sudden fury. She realized how foolish it was to fear this man. Nadav had been one of the most impressive Singers she had ever seen, but Parviz relied on others for his power. Without the guns or collars or guards, he was just another man.

  But he was responsible for what he had put the Singers through. He would pay for his crimes.

  Kesia took a breath and Sang.

  Fire ignited the nearest man’s sleeve.

  His companion shouted, and the man patted frantically at his arm. Kesia Sang another man’s shirt alight, then a third man’s pant leg. Screams pierced the air.

  Parviz was the first to see her. His brow rose in surprise, and he lifted his gun.

  It flew from his hand. Kesia heard Zuriel’s Song fling it into the darkness before switching to the guards’ rifles.

  Two Voices of Air sang in unison, and a sweeping gale surrounded the men, kicking up dirt and making them stagger. High-pitched Water Song encased a few men’s feet in ice.

  A bang sounded to her right.

  She flinched, worried she had missed someone, but it was the hunched Water Singer. He no longer Sang but instead wielded a captured rifle that he aimed carefully.

  The two figures kneeling in the center jumped to their feet. The woman lunged for the nearest rifle. The other one, the young blond man, began Singing, a piercing falsetto that summoned ice around the nearest man’s legs, tripping him.

  Kesia knew that Voice.

  She remembered days on the beach, sitting on a shelf of rock as he built a small house of ice. They would sign to each other for so long that Kesia’s arms would feel tired afterward. She remembered a small boy with bright hair at Skyflame, Singing as swirling water in a pail froze in place.

  He turned and saw her. Blue, blue eyes. He looked slimmer than she remembered, his cheeks less round, his jawline more prominent, but it was him. Davri was here.

  He ran toward her. In the midst of violent winds and gunshots, Davri caught her hand and drew her into a fierce embrace. He had hardly touched her before, always so carefully polite, so reserved. She had struggled more than she cared to admit about whether he had been holding himself back, or if his feelings were simply not that strong.

  Now he pulled away. Whatever you’re planning, do it quickly, he signed.

  He launched into Song again, his Voice even stronger as he proceeded to finish encasing the man in front of them in ice. She instinctively reached for him as he walked away, anxious to keep him in sight, her mind full of questions.

  But Ayla still needed help.

  Kesia ran for the airship, feeling as though she had wings. She dashed past a man chipping at ice that encased his comrade and another struggling against an Air Song that pinned him to the ground. Her feet pounded on the hangar’s concrete floor; the airship loomed above her as she approached.

  A hand grabbed her and yanked her back hard. She opened her mouth to Sing, but another hand clamped over her mouth.

  “You are far more trouble than you’re worth,” Parviz’s voice rumbled in her ear. “I suggest you don’t struggle.”

  Kesia froze, feeling a knife pressing hard into her neck.

  “All right, break it up!” Parviz shouted over her shoulder, sounding calm despite the chaos. “Or I spill this little girl all over the floor.”

  Davri stopped Singing and held up his hands. Kesia struggled against Parviz’s grip in anguish. Davri didn’t know what he was doing—he didn’t know what would happen to him if he were caught. The older woman lowered her rifle slowly.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Parviz said. “The rest of my men are going to tie up all you little rebels. The Singers will be gagged. Then we’re going to march back up to the factory and introduce you to your new quarters. You there. Blonde one. Unfreeze my men, would you?”

  Davri stared at him, arms still up, his gaze flitting between Parviz and Kesia.

  Kesia signed, No, but the knife bit into her skin. She felt blood trickle down her neck.

  “Don’t make me say it again,” Parviz called.

  Davri slumped, looking defeated. He began to defrost the nearest guard.

  “Remember, little Singer?” Parviz whispered in her ear. “Remember when I promised you would die here? Remember that?”

  His whole body jerked from behind her.

  The blade disappeared from her throat.

  His grip on her mouth loosened and slid away. Kesia turned in time to see him fall sideways to the ground, blood spilling from a bullet wound to the head, his eyes wide and sightless.

  Kesia turned.

  Miren stood there, a pistol in he
r hand.

  Miren!

  Miren whispered, “Kesia?”

  Kesia raised her hands to sign but couldn’t think of words. She staggered forward.

  Miren’s gaze slid past her. She raised her gun.

  Bang.

  Miren staggered back. The gun fell from her hand and clattered loudly on the concrete floor. Bright red bloomed on her shirt.

  Kesia whirled.

  Katzil stood there, a rifle trained on Miren. Before the airship captain could turn it on Kesia, she Sang a fire at his hand. He cried out and dropped his gun.

  He staggered back. “You don’t—you have no idea,” he said. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

  Kesia marched toward him, pain and fear and fury and tears blurring her vision, her mind a roaring white inferno.

  More shots rang out, and Katzil’s body jerked with the bullets. He looked down, his face slack with surprise, and crumpled.

  The sturdy older woman stood a few paces away, a rifle in her hand.

  A light thump sounded behind Kesia.

  She turned and saw Miren on the ground, blood spilling between her fingers as she clutched her chest.

  Kesia and Davri ran to her and fell to their knees. Davri began a soft Song, trying to cool the skin around the wound and slow the bleeding.

  “Kesia,” Miren grunted, her voice tight with pain. “We found you. Kesia, Kesia—”

  Quiet, don’t speak, Kesia signed, her chest tight. Perhaps this was a dream. Perhaps her mind had finally broken, and she was still in the compound, pushing carts and heating rollers.

  Miren was here. Davri was here. They were here together. They had come for her.

  More footsteps approached behind. Kesia whirled, a Song ready, but Davri grabbed her arm. They are friends! he signed.

  Behind her was the woman who had shot Katzil, flanked by two younger men who might’ve been her sons.

  “What happened?” the woman said, dropping to a knee by Miren’s head.

  “What do you think?” Miren slurred.

  The woman took the end of her shirt and ripped off a long strip of cloth. “Cale, help me tie this.”

  “Yep,” he said, kneeling beside the woman.

  The woman glanced at Kesia. “You’re who we came here to find, aren’t you?”