Fire Walker

by Trudie Skies

  Mina’s eyes snapped open. The Queen’s Shadow grasped her sword hand and refused to let go.

  My baby, where’s my baby?

  A fierce, swirling wind scattered sand from the fountain and lashed at the crowd. Housemen cried out and covered their eyes. Mina stood in the heart of a whirlwind. The sand began pulling together in clumps, but there wasn’t enough to form a body, to become a complete wraith.

  “My Queen—Vida—listen to me! You need to stop. You’re scaring them!”

  She tried to pull herself free from the Shadow, but its cold grip only tightened, crushing down to the bone. How could a spirit possess such strength?

  Throughout the courtyard, the flower pots rocked over and crashed. Broken shards were swept up into the sandstorm and covered the half-formed wraith in a patchwork armor of ceramic and gemstones.

  Two thick rubies formed the wraith’s eyes.

  Lune help me.

  Salasar’s voice called out, not to her, but ordering the Housemen to flee. Talin was there, desperately trying to scramble through the funnel of wind and sand—Jonan, too—but neither could press through.

  It was just her and the Queen.

  With her sword hand trapped, Mina couldn’t draw Hawk or dance. Her mother had soothed the Shadow’s spirits by absolving them. It was the only plan she had. “Vida, you’re hurt and angry, I understand. Your baby was taken. It wasn’t your fault.”

  The wraith howled and its voice whispered in the wind.

  Where’s my baby?

  “He’s waiting for you, Vida. He’s waiting with Rahn. I can send you to him. Let me—”

  A flying shard slapped across her face and sliced down her forehead.

  Who took my baby?

  “I’ll find the man who did this to you, Vida, I swear it! But you need to let me go!”

  The sandstorm wavered for a heartbeat, allowing a figure to push through. Too small to be either Talin or Jonan.

  “Mama,” a soft voice called. The Princess. Princess Aniya strode right up to the pyre. “Mama, you’re scaring Dada. You’re hurting him.”

  The wraith’s ruby eyes turned to her daughter. How could Mina explain that the Queen wasn’t in her right mind, that her Shadow was lost and confused and didn’t mean to lash out?

  “Mama. Listen to the Priestess. She’s trying to help you.” Princess Aniya didn’t look afraid, though sand clung to her tear-stained cheeks.

  “Your daughter speaks true, Vida. Let me help. Let me send you to your baby.”

  A sigh passed through the wind. Take me to my baby.

  “I will. We will.”

  The ceramic shackle fell from Mina’s hand, allowing her to stagger back. She shook the stiffness away. It was bruised, but no bones were broken, thank the gods. She tried to snap her fingers and summon flame, but her bleed and the cut to her forehead wouldn’t yield. Nor was Jonan nearby to help.

  The storm blew faster, impatient and agitated.

  Only Rahn’s Breath would help now, as foolish as that was.

  She fumbled for the vial in her pocket. The wind snatched it from her grip and sent it crashing against the pyre. The glass smashed and joined the wraith’s body. Gods damn it!

  “What’s wrong?” the Princess asked.

  “I can’t summon my blood fire.” Mina cringed. Some priestess she made. “I need to get help.”

  A flicker of flame burst from the Princess’s hand. “Tell me what to do.”

  Mina gawked. The Princess was a Fire Walker? Could that mean her twin, Prince Rais, also possessed blood fire? “Are you sure? You risk draining your blood.” It would be her head if she got the gods-damn princess killed.

  The Princess’s amber eyes shone with a fierce determination. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Point your hand at the bod—at the Queen. She’ll draw it from you. Let it flow.”

  The Princess did as instructed. Flame poured from her palm with an orange glow as bright as Jonan’s. Mina took the Princess’s wrist and guided her fire. She burned effortlessly, and with better control than Mina could claim. Had someone trained her? Did Prince Ravel know?

  “Tell me when you start to feel weak. When it gets too much.”

  “Like when it hurts?”

  “Yes.” The last thing she wanted was the Princess collapsing from blood loss.

  “Too late, I think.”

  Her eyes rolled back into her head and her fire cut short. The Princess fell. Mina cursed and grabbed her waist before she hit the floor.

  Sand, gems, and ceramic shards collapsed into the charred fountain, revealing a fading Shadow. The wind stopped and dust fell over them like a sprinkling of dry rain. The Princess sank in Mina’s arms, her body heavy. Her eyelids fluttered.

  The King’s Left Arm was first at their side. Gareth kneeled among the broken ceramic and took the Princess. “She used too much blood,” he murmured.

  Mina stilled. “You saw what happened?”

  Gareth flashed a grim smile. “I trust you know how to keep a secret.”

  “Princess!” Salasar cried and ran toward them. “Rahn’s blood, what happened?”

  “The shock, it was too much for her,” Gareth said. “She needs rest, that’s all.”

  The two men carried the Princess out of the yard, flanked now by Alistar and Prince Rais, and followed by Salasar’s wife, a Green Hand, and several of the royal guards.

  Mina stood and surveyed the damage.

  The Housemen had fled, leaving only the King, Prince Ravel, Talin, and Jonan. The courtyard lay ruined. Broken ceramic, gemstones, sand, and flowers were scattered everywhere. And at the center were the still-smoldering ashes of the Queen.

  Her first lurrite as high priestess, and it had all gone wrong. It was her job to ease the Queen’s passing and comfort those still mourning. Instead, she’d made a wraith of the Queen’s Shadow, terrorized a grieving family, and left the Princess near death.

  Jonan approached her. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I failed.”

  “You burned the body.”

  “I failed.”

  She pushed past him and stomped into the hallway.

  Footsteps followed. She ignored them and kept walking.

  “High Priestess.” The words came from Prince Ravel with such spite that they stopped her dead. She turned around and a hand lunged for her neck.

  Prince Ravel shoved her against the wall.

  She choked and fumbled at his hand, trying to pry it away. He lifted her to tiptoes, cutting off her air and voice.

  “What chance does Sandair have when her High Priestess can’t manage a simple lurrite? You let my mother suffer. My mother. I heard her cries!”

  He’d heard his mother’s Shadow? But that wasn’t possible—only Lunei could speak to the dead. She tried to fight him off, but her head swam and her arms felt weak from breathlessness.

  “Do you honestly believe you have the strength for war, Lady Arlbond?” His face was inches away and his breath stank of wine. “The strength to lead your Fire Walkers into battle and watch them die? You’re a tiny girl meddling in the affairs of great men. You hold our kingdom back.”

  His grip lessened and she sucked in a breath. “I support my King,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “You support a dying past. You cannot deny me my future.”

  “I’ll deny it with every breath.”

  The Prince’s hand squeezed again, choking off her breath. “And for what, Tamina? My father’s body is failing. My brother is no contender for the throne. I am the only man who can lead us into war—a war made necessary by your precious Fire Walkers. I warned them all again and again. And now, here we are. But it’s not too late for Sandair. I will save her. Me!” His nails dug into her neck as he leaned closer. “One day soon, you’ll kneel and pledge your blood in my name.”

  She glared into those amber eyes, filled with flecks of fire and blood and death. “I will nev
er kneel before you. I’ll nev—”

  Prince Ravel pressed his lips to hers.

  His teeth sank into her lower lip and pulled at the skin. Her inner embers flared. Flame burst from her hands and she shoved him away with all her strength.

  He stumbled back and patted out his singed sleeve. “You dare burn me?”

  Her flames vanished as quickly as they appeared. She rubbed a smear of blood from her lip and spat the taste of him out. “Touch me again and I’ll burn every inch of you,” she seethed.

  She preferred him when she was Malik—when his games involved duels and insults, not whatever this had turned into. She couldn’t stand the way his amber eyes watched her now, the way they seemed to roam over her body as though trying to think of new ways to humiliate her. He wore a smirk that only Housemen possessed—a smirk that said she didn’t matter, that her existence didn’t matter, that her dignity didn’t matter, and she was little better than a rat in the street.

  “Look at how casually you declare treason.”

  “Treason? I’m sure your father and the Council would want to know if their Prince was attacking the High Priestess. You think your mother would be pleased?”

  “Don’t speak of my mother. And it’s your word against mine. Who would believe a woman?”

  “I would.” Alistar stood behind the Prince, arms crossed over his chest.

  The Prince sneered. “And what would your father say about that? He’s worked hard to place you in better company than Lady Arlbond and her pitiful House. You wouldn’t side with some Fire Walker over your own family now, would you?” He placed a friendly hand on Alistar’s shoulder and turned to her, smiling. “I’ll have to warn my brother she tastes like ash. But I’ll wager you already knew that.”

  19

  THE ASH MAKER

  New Fire Walkers arrived at the Temple of Rahn the next day.

  Most had been rounded up in the city—stragglers found and sent by the Sword of Solus and his guards. Others arrived from the temples outside of Solus. All came bearing questions and demands. Mina tried to explain everything that had happened—the attack on King Reinhart, Prince Wulfhart’s threats, the assassination of Queen Vida, the Council’s decision to go to war with her father in charge, her own decision to step up and replace Leila as high priestess. And Samira’s unjust imprisonment. They listened and understood the warning her words carried. The Fire Walkers were being punished and would be used as weapons. None of this came as a shock, but their reactions varied—confusion, betrayal, hurt, anger.

  A young Solander man broke free from the crowd and swaggered toward her. “This is the High Priestess?” He spoke with an odd accent she’d not heard before.

  She met his gaze and swallowed a scream. His eyes were startlingly amber. Prince Ravel’s eyes. For a heartbeat she thought it was the Prince, here to infiltrate the temple and ruin her life. But no. Although he looked the same age and carried himself with the same arrogant poise, his Solander skin was paler, his dark hair shaggier, and his beard looked more of a rough scruff. His amber eyes held mischief, not malice, and his baggy shalwar came from the lower city.

  “What are you?” she blurted out.

  He didn’t get a chance to answer. A group of angry Fire Walkers led by Dahn marched past them at that moment.

  “This is your fault!” Dahn yelled.

  Everyone turned their heads. He wasn’t shouting at Mina, to her surprise, but at Samira, who leaned against the wall beside the sanctum entrance. She wore a long beige robe, commoner style, and a thin layer of fuzz coated her head. She looked different in clothes. They hid her Fire Walker tattoos and the scars the guards had inflicted.

  Dahn thrust a finger in Samira’s face. “You and Saeed, you’re the reason we’re in here! The reason we’re going to war.”

  Mina pushed past him and drew her sword. “That’s enough. Samira had nothing to do with Saeed’s crime—”

  “You’re defending her? They murdered the Hartnord King—”

  “I was there, Dahn. I saw what happened. Samira’s innocent—”

  “And Saeed—”

  “Is dead.”

  Samira drew a sharp breath, the pain clear on her face. “What Saeed did… it came from fear. We all know it well. I’ll—I’ll never forgive what he’s done.” She lowered her head.

  Mina sheathed her sword. “Fighting each other isn’t going to bring back the Hartnord king and stop this war. If we hope to survive, we have to trust each other. That starts with you, Dahn.”

  Dahn grumbled and returned to the sanctum’s steps.

  “Is this how the High Priestess commands her people?” said the man with the amber eyes. He gave her an assessing stare. “By threatening us with a sword?”

  “It’s how I’ll protect them from fools.” She placed a hand back on her sword hilt.

  “Know how to use that, do you?”

  “Care for a demonstration?”

  The sanctum doors opened. Jonan entered. Mina wanted to demand answers from the man with the amber eyes, but Jonan marched straight for her.

  He frowned at the dispersing crowd. “Everything okay? You’re needed. Council meeting.”

  “So soon?”

  “We’re at war. Expect many.”

  “How am I supposed to protect the temple if I have to go to Council meetings?”

  “Council meetings are where you’ll protect the temple.”

  Samira approached and bowed to her with seemingly genuine respect, though the effort made her legs wobble. “You are High Priestess now. I cannot claim to understand the Council’s decision, but I accept it. Will you allow me to speak?”

  “Of course, Samira.”

  “You’re a gods-damn fool.”

  Well, some things didn’t change.

  “That is your High Priestess you speak of,” Jonan said with a growl. “She saved you from the dungeons.”

  Samira gave Jonan a look of disgust. “And you, too, I see, though why they’d let a Rhaesbond out when it was your name that caused this—”

  “My ancestors have not returned from the dead. And it was you who left Mina to bleed. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t repay that courtesy?”

  “I followed Leila’s command. Though you should know better than to use cursed blood magic.”

  Mina stepped between them. “Will you both stop? If we’re going to survive this war, we’ll need to work together. All of us.”

  “If you’re too lenient, you will incur the wrath of your fellow Housemen,” Samira said. “There are rules and regulations that even you will need to follow, High Priestess. Regardless of the reasons why Fire Walkers are imprisoned—to protect society, to protect themselves—it doesn’t matter. Housemen see Fire Walkers as lesser. As prisoners. They expect them to be treated as such. They certainly won’t pay to feed the mouths of Fire Walker families, especially not when war will squeeze them dry. Where do you expect to find the gold?”

  “My House will pay for any excess.”

  “That simple, is it?”

  “That simple. Unless you’re planning on running to the Keep to betray me?”

  Samira shuddered. “I don’t want to step foot outside here ever again. You—you know I had no idea what Saeed planned. We were both worried, and scared, but—”

  “You left me for dead.”

  “It was Saeed’s idea, you have to believe me! He—he and Leila. They met often behind my back and didn’t tell me everything. I’ll—I’ll tell you anything else you want to know. Just let me stay in the temple, I’m begging. This is my home. You can’t run it alone. You need me.”

  Mina rolled her eyes. She wasn’t planning on throwing Samira out, not after the torture she’d endured. “I have a Council meeting. You two are in charge, if you can survive each other.” She strode for the temple doors.

  Samira hobbled after her. “You’re going dressed like that?”

  “Is there something wrong with my clo
thes?”

  “You’re High Priestess. You’re supposed to wear robes and look the part. Don’t tell me you’re taking a sword? Gods forbid.”

  “Leila owned a sword—”

  “Only so she could carry out the law as necessary. Is that the message you want to send?”

  No, she didn’t want Fire Walkers to see her as their potential executor. She wanted them to see her as their defender. “I’m a Houseman. And the Sand Dancer. I’m not going to scrimp and bow because the Council expect me to be some weak woman in robes.”

  “Oh gods, you’re going to be the death of us all.” Samira sagged against the stone steps. “Don’t you understand yet? You have to follow procedure. If the Housemen catch any scent that the Fire Walkers are discontent, that they plan to rebel, you will be put down swiftly. That is what happened to Leila’s predecessor.” Her gaze shifted to Jonan. “Your mother was investigated because she broke her vow of celibacy and allowed her Fire Walkers the same freedom. It was unfortunate they discovered her Rhaesbond blood during their investigation. Then they moved in quickly for the kill.”

  Salasar was right. As High Priestess, she had power, but not the sort of power wielded by a queen. Casting aside too many rules and traditions too quickly would only rile the Housemen up against the temple and the people she’d sworn to protect. And wearing the sahn of House Arlbond would only exacerbate their fears. It was House Arlbond who’d pushed for Fire Walker freedom, who’d been harboring them freely in Arlent for twenty years.

  Prince Ravel knew this.

  One wrong step and he could blame her—and her House—for the crimes of any and every Fire Walker in Sandair, real or imagined. Always, he remained the true enemy. Not Hartnords, or mobs, or rogue Fire Walkers. Did no one else see that?

  Rahn curse all princes to a pitiless death and their bones to the farthest depths of the desert.

  “Sounds harsh,” said a rough voice. The young man with the eerie amber eyes. He leaned on the wall beside the entrance brazier. “You people walk around half naked and can’t even enjoy it? It’s the only reason I joined. I heard your women like it hot.”

  Jonan drew his sword and thrust the flat edge against the man’s chest. “Your kind are not welcome here.”