by Trudie Skies
Garr shot him a look. “Why do you hunt them?”
“The law, my lord.”
“What happens to them if you find them?”
The horseman raised an eyebrow.
She considered kicking Garr off his horse. “Forgive my friend. He is ignorant and still learning about our Code of Honor. Tell me what you know.”
“An old man, fifty years at least, ran from the temple in Nasiri. He took with him a boy no more than twelve, possibly his son. The old man bears markings, though he’s believed to be clothed. Named Youssef. The boy is unmarked. We have no known name for him. They’ve been looting and burning stables as they go.” The horseman snorted in disgust. “These are desperate runaways, High Priestess. I would advise caution and to leave this matter to us.”
“We, too, are travelling west. We’ll keep an eye open.”
“Safe travels, High Priestess.” He signaled his men and the three of them galloped away from the burning stable.
“You’re letting them go?” Garr said. “They’re hunting Fire Walkers. What happens when they catch them?”
“You’ve stayed in the temple long enough to understand the law.”
“So they’re going to murder them? An old man and a child?”
“That’s the law.”
“And you’re just going to let it happen? You’re going to let them be butchered?” His amber eyes flared.
“Of course I’m not.” Mina watched the horsemen disappear over a hill. “We give them a head start. And then begin our own hunt.”
27
THE HUNT
“Arl!” Alistar ran toward her. “Where are you going?”
“Hunting.”
“Stars, are you serious? They burned a whole stable!”
“They’re my responsibility.”
Alistar strode for his horse.
“Stay here,” she called. “Protect Raj.”
“I’m your sorran. I should—”
“This is Fire Walker business,” Garr said. “We’ll handle it.”
She didn’t wait for Alistar to argue further. With a hoyt, Luna galloped west. Garr’s horse did its best to keep up.
Where would a runaway Fire Walker hide? There were patches of woods across the plains, but little else to provide shelter or a hiding place. Had they stolen food and water from the stable before they burned it? Which direction would she run if she were on foot with only a few day’s supplies?
She didn’t know the land, but likely neither did they. So they couldn’t be headed for anything in particular. They’d just want to keep headed west, preferably taking the hardest path possible for horses to follow…
The river.
If it were her, she’d want to get across the river.
She signaled Garr and guided Lune south. Trusting Garr to ride with her was a risk, but if these Fire Walkers were dangerous, she’d need the Ash Maker to prove his skill with flame. And for all his complaints, he did seem to care about the Fire Walkers.
The grassy plains turned to rocky gravel as they approached the edge of a ravine. Blue waters shimmered below. The Giant’s Arm. The river ran larger here than the Giant’s Tail as it meandered through Khalbad.
She dismounted and pretended to dig for something from her saddlebags. With her back to Garr, she summoned a single flame in her palm. Tira watched expectantly.
“There are two Fire Walkers on the run,” Mina whispered. “Can you see them?”
Tira nodded and pointed west.
“Along the river?”
Tira shrugged. Yes and no. Close by it, at least.
Mina shook out her flame as Garr dismounted beside her.
“So what do we do when we find them?” he asked.
In truth, she didn’t know. If she turned them over to Salasar’s men with orders to deliver them safely to a temple, could she trust them to follow her command? Possibly.
Possibly not. The punishment for fleeing the temple was beheading. The only reason to leave them alive was if Salasar wanted them questioned—which might be worse than death.
She took Luna’s reins and gently led her horse over a rocky ridge down to the river. Garr followed in silence.
Then she spotted the worst thing possible—smoke rising into the bright sky.
This pillar was smaller and whiter than the last. It was barely more than a thin, twisting line. Not a stable, then. The Housemen might not even notice it if they were far enough away. Mina followed the river toward the smoke until she came to a small fishing shack.
Smoke twirled from the remains of a campfire, not the building itself. Broken crates, lanterns, and clothes littered the yard—as if the shack had been ransacked.
“Looks like our boys have been here,” Garr said.
“I can see that,” snapped Mina. “But why would they bother lighting a campfire if—”
Not a campfire.
It looked like something from a butcher’s counter, like a pig roasted to perfection, but as she edged closer, the shape revealed itself to be no animal. The wind carried the scent of a dead man.
She covered her mouth and crouched low, leaving Luna behind. Garr followed her lead, and they carefully picked their way across the yard.
A raggedy man was inspecting a net half-full of fish as a child shoved bread into his mouth. Mina straightened and approached with her palms up.
The old man noticed her first. Flames engulfed both fists and he moved into a brawler’s stance. Red swirls were inked around his neck, but the rest he’d hidden with a dirty kameez. “Don’t come any closer,” he said with a raspy voice. The child ran behind his legs.
The way he stood, the way the child hid… it was just like Dustan Hawker protecting her from Prince Ravel and his men back in Khalbad.
She signaled for Garr to stay put and smiled in the calm way Talin used to reassure someone. “You must be Youssef. I’m a friend. Look.” She rolled up a sleeve, exposing her own silver tattoos. “I’m one of you.”
The man didn’t flinch. Thin graying fuzz coated his head and chin, and his wrinkled face and sunken eyes told his tale. He’d come fresh from the Temple of Rahn and had likely spent most of his life there. “They’re not red. Who are you?”
“My name is Mina. I’m the High Priestess of Rahn—”
“I’m not going back.” The flames around his fists flared.
“There are horsemen searching for—”
“I’m not going back!” The man threw his fire at her. She skipped to one side, feeling the whoosh of heat as it flew past.
Garr raised his own fists.
“Stop! We’re not here to fight!” Gods, she didn’t even know how to fight with fire. It was far too late to draw Hawk without getting roasted to a crisp. This man wielded his fire like Jonan—like a trained warrior.
Which meant he’d likely fought in the last war.
“I’m not letting you take him!” he yelled. “Not to fight wars! He’s just a boy!”
The boy cowered behind a barrel. No more than twelve, they’d said. Younger than Kamran. “He’s yours?”
“My grandson. It was supposed to be our new beginning, you know? When the law changed. He started burning things when he was six. I took the blame for the fires and entered the temple to protect him. To protect him.” His voice broke with raw sorrow that Mina couldn’t mistake.
“There are horsemen searching for you. You’ll never make it across the plains alone.”
“We would if you gave us your horse.”
Give Luna?
The old man grimaced. “No. You won’t do that, will you.”
“Take mine,” Garr offered. “She’s a grumpy beast, but if you can handle her, she’s yours.”
“No,” she said a little too loudly. “They are trained soldiers who hunt you. Come with me and I’ll guarantee your safety—”
“And then what? You’ll lock us in your temple? March us to your wars? I’ve been there.
It doesn’t end well for us. I won’t subject him to that.”
The man’s fists trembled and sweat ran down his brow. She knew his fear, and the bravery it took to stand against a monster, a Houseman. She hated being on the other side of that world, hated that there was little she could do to make it easier.
“I won’t allow children in war.” She held out her hand. “I swear on my blood.”
“That’s not what House Nasbond said—”
“I’m not House Nasbond. Come with me and you’ll be safe.”
The man’s face contorted, as though torn between her promises and his own instincts. “I burned men.” His gaze darted to the smoldering corpse. “Housemen will never let us live after this.” Tears hissed down his cheeks. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I just wanted to keep my grandson safe.”
Garr stepped to her side. “We won’t judge you for protecting your boy. Everything you’ve done is to keep him safe. That’s why we’re here, too. We’re the only ones who can help your boy now.”
The man lowered his fists.
Hooves thudded the ground behind her. Mina whirled around. Alistar. He must have seen the smoke and followed her. He held his bow with an arrow nocked and pointed at the old man.
“You tricked me!” A wall of fire erupted around him and the child, loud and bright. The flames spread across the ground and licked the shack walls.
She ran for Alistar. “Don’t shoot!”
An arrow zipped past her and through the wall of fire. The flames disappeared in an instant. The arrow had impaled itself dead center in the man’s chest. He stared down at the shaft sticking out of his own flesh, his eyes wide in shock, and staggered back.
“No!” Garr yelled.
Alistar lowered his bow—the arrow still nocked. Another two arrows whizzed past him and slammed into the man’s abdomen and neck. He collapsed to the ground. Dead.
At last, Mina saw them. The three Sarabond Housemen on horseback. All three held bows, but only one still had his arrow nocked. The other two had found their mark.
“Granda!” the little boy shrieked and ran for the old man.
The third horseman readied his bow.
“Stop!” she screamed and raced toward him. His horse reared, and the shot flew wide.
Garr ran for the boy and skidded to a halt. As the child clung to his grandfather’s body, his skin began glowing bright red from head to foot.
The boy burst with flame.
A whoosh of heat knocked Garr off his feet. The boy and his grandfather lay in the middle of a raging ball of fire as though Rahn had fallen from the sky. Through the flames, she could just see the child’s clothes burning to nothing. And the old man’s body…
Dear gods.
“Don’t shoot him!” she yelled at the horsemen. “The child is under my protection!” She approached the flames as close as she could, then crouched beside him, a few feet away. “Listen to me. You need to calm your fire. It’s dangerous to burn so brightly. I know this is scary, but you could hurt yourself if you don’t.”
“They hurt Granda!” he cried, and his tears turned to steam.
“I know. And it’s not right. But your Granda doesn’t want you to be hurt. You need to calm down. You need—”
“No!”
Gods, what could she do? She knew nothing about children or how to calm them, but if he didn’t stop, he’d burn through his blood—if the horsemen didn’t unleash their arrows first.
She drew her mother’s dagger. She didn’t want to cut a child, but if it could save his life, she’d have no choice.
“Stand aside, Priestess,” the horseman called.
“I’m handling it!” She turned to the boy and held out her hand, hiding the dagger behind her back. A quick cut to his palm would end this. “Let me help you. Breathe. You are the master of your own self.”
The boy smacked her hand aside and screamed. The ball of flame erupted into a monstrous tower as Garr tackled her to the ground, knocking her clear of the expanding inferno. Even so, the flames scalded her bare arm, and for a heartbeat she panicked that her hair and clothes might have caught fire.
“God…” Garr whispered.
Slowly, they stood. Ash floated gently down around her and turned the grass white. Both the boy and his Granda were gone.
Burned to nothing but a black stain.
Garr stared at the ash collecting in his hands.
Mina snatched her dagger and stomped up to the men on horseback. “You murdered him!”
“We’re under orders from the Sword of Solus to subdue any out-of-control Fire Walkers.”
She wanted to laugh. “The Sword of Solus is a Fire Walker, you fools. Are you going to subdue him?”
The horsemen glanced at each other, visibly confused. Surely they knew Salasar was a Fire Walker? He’d demonstrated his own blood fire at the Solend when the King had been poisoned. Plenty of Salasar’s own men would have seen the fire burn from his flesh. But no. Salasar would have hidden it somehow, bribed those who saw or manipulated their words. Others, like the Prince, would have gained some bargain for their silence. Because that’s what Housemen did. One law for them, and another for everyone else.
May Rahn burn Salasar and his gods-damn House to dirt.
The horsemen still eyed her as though she were a threat. It didn’t matter to them if she was High Priestess—a Fire Walker was still a Fire Walker. She lowered her dagger and thrust her chin high. “Your hunt is over.”
The lead horseman looked her over one last time before shrugging and guiding their mounts back to the plains. Once they were out of earshot, she loosed a breath and turned to the glowing pile of ash. They’d passed to the next life. There were no bones left to burn. No lurrite to perform. Still, she approached them and bowed her head.
“Lune guide you back home to Rahn,” Mina whispered.
Two Fire Walkers had died on her watch. How many more would she allow?
28
A NIGHT ON THE PLAINS
They rode in silence. As Rahn’s golden glow deepened to orange, Alistar signaled for them to take shelter within a nearby gorge. The sharp cliff face cut down into the land, creating a natural outcrop to pitch their tents underneath. A thin stream curved between the gray rock walls, giving them ample water for their horses. There were only a few trees nearby, but Alistar declared this a good thing. Most travelers preferred to camp in the patches of woods, where there was plenty of firewood and the chance to hunt game. They’d be better off without any company, he said.
Mina stretched her legs as Alistar and Raj busied themselves unpacking the horses. Her thighs felt heavy and wooden from a hard day of riding. She pulled down her scarf. The northern breeze ruffled through the three inches of hair on her head, massaging the scalp. She was covered in dust from riding across gravel. So were the others.
Garr lingered by his horse. He hadn’t moved or made any attempt to unpack his saddlebags. Instead, he stared east to where clouds dotted the evening sky in puffs resembling flame. He hadn’t said a word either, which for him was unusual indeed.
“There’s a tent in your saddlebags,” she said. “If you want help—”
“Why did he burn?”
“The old man?”
“The child.”
Alistar and Raj stilled and glanced over to her.
“I’ve never…” Garr paused as though struggling to find the words. “I’ve never seen anyone burn like that.”
Were Ash Makers so skilled that they never lost control of their fire? “It happens to a Fire Walker who can’t control their power. And I’ve seen it happen to those who were poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“At the Solend. Surely you heard? Prince Ravel poisoned people at the tournament. Many Fire Walkers lost their lives. I’ve suffered its effects myself—it forces your fire to burn so quickly you can’t control it. You just… explode.”
“But you survived it?”
“Then—then the Hartnords could poison Fire Walkers and turn them against us.”
“Hartnords wouldn’t know how.” Gods, she hoped so, but they knew enough about poison to kill the Queen.
Alistar strolled over. “It wasn’t poison that killed the Hartnord king. A Fire Walker did that unprovoked.”
She scowled at him. “He paid for his actions with his life.”
“Um, can we discuss this later?” Raj waddled toward them with a sack in his hands. “We need to pitch the tents before it gets dark.”
Together, they pitched a small tent each. They’d keep out the bugs and pests, though not the cold. As Rahn kissed the horizon, a chilly wind swept through the gorge, cooler than any night in Solus.
Alistar pulled a bow and quiver out of his saddleback. “You start the campfire. I’m going to do a little hunting.”
“Why do you get all the fun?” Garr said, more his old self.
“Because I’m the only one sensible enough to bring tracking gear. And you’re the Fire Walker. Fire is your thing.”
Garr pulled a face.
Alistar made a rude gesture and headed for the trees. He didn’t need to hunt. They had enough dried meat and other food to last for days.
“I’m going with him,” Raj said. “I, um, I gave some of my herbs to the stable hands. I need to gather more before we reach Gaisland. You’ll thank me later.” He jogged after Alistar, leaving her alone with Garr.
Mina rubbed her forehead and sighed at the dirt that fell in flakes. “I’m going to wash. Get that fire lit.”
“Why do I have to light it?”
“Because you’re the greatest Fire Walker in all Sandair. And I’m your High Priestess.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m not your pet.”
“I’m not asking you to sit in my lap.” Her cheeks warmed at the mental image and she cursed herself for saying something so foolish. “Just—do what I say.”
She turned heel and strode for the stream before he could argue. It wasn’t just dirt she needed to scrub from her face, but ash—remnants of two Fire Walkers she’d failed.
