Lorn lost interest in the girl after that. She hated to admit it, but she did need rest after using her powers for so long to warm the cave. She’d never tell Fia that, of course. Before lying down, Lorn let a few more sparks fall from her fingertips onto the meagre pile of logs she’d collected. What would the council say when they heard she’d injured Erebus? Did they already know?
She didn’t doubt her brother, Jerum, would have something to say about it. Or her other brother, the traitor. Perhaps he’d see the error of his ways and beg to come back to her. She might consider it. But this was what she’d been raised for, and now she had proof. Who else could harm Erebus but the fire mother? A smile tugged at Lorn’s lips as exhaustion washed over her. The fire mother. All of Ohinyan would be in her debt.
***
“I can’t trust her, but what choice do I have? She might be the only way for us to survive out here.” Fia’s whispers pulled Lorn from her slumber. “Evina still hasn’t woken up—I think she evanesced us too far—or too many times. Or maybe it was too much to take me and Lorn at the same time, I don’t know. And what if…” The girl was quiet for a moment, and Lorn could have sworn she was fussing over Evina again. “I should’ve stayed. I shouldn’t have kept quiet about Erebus. But so much had happened, you know?”
“Still praying to your God?” Lorn asked, pushing herself to an upright position. Fia shoved a copper ball into her pocket and tucked a piece of wayward hair behind her ear. “What does the copper ball symbolise?”
Fia bit at her lip, and Lorn couldn’t tell whether she was disguising a smile or still lost in her prayer. “It symbolises Earth,” Fia finally said.
Lorn didn’t buy it for one second. The girl was hiding something. Beside Fia, Evina began to stir. “She’s waking up,” Lorn said flatly.
“Evina, it’s Fia. Are you okay?” She gently helped Evina sit up, Evina’s eyes widening as she took in the cave. She wrapped a hand around Fia’s wrist, and Lorn could have sworn a silent communication passed between the two of them, but whatever it was, it was over almost as soon as it had begun. “We saved you some food,” Fia said. “I’ll go get you some snow.”
Lorn noticed Fia had found more wood at some point, too—little branches that she’d snapped into smaller pieces. Evina eyed her warily, and in response Lorn let herself be engulfed by her own flames. The cave was considerably colder than when she’d fallen asleep, and there was no use in collecting snow to drink if they used up more energy in the process—but seeing Evina’s wide-eyed reaction was worth it.
Fia said nothing as she returned with a snowball in each hand. She held one out for Lorn and passed the other to Evina.
“So she doesn’t speak, but she understands us?” Lorn asked, the snow already melted and consumed.
“I have no way of knowing if she speaks the common tongue; she has her own way of communicating,” Fia said, watching as Evina licked at the snow in her cupped palms.
“Do you know where we’re going?” Lorn asked. Evina simply hung her head to one side. Interesting. But it could have been a ruse—if she was in Erebus’s prison, she was important to him, somehow. “She only understands you,” Lorn said to Fia as the girl handed over the last of the meat. Fia seemed to agree, and Lorn felt a flicker of satisfaction at her meddling.
Evina shook her head.
“I’m sorry, it’s all we have. You need to eat something,” Fia said as Evina waved away the food. Stupid thing. Let her starve. It would be one less body to keep warm.
Evina tentatively took the meat from her and bit into it with a wince.
Refusing food in these conditions was foolish, Fia should have kept it for herself whilst she had the chance. Still, there was the matter of Fia’s powers—if both of them could produce flames, they’d stand more chance of travelling greater distances out in the snow. Lorn sighed. Mentor was not a title she’d ever thought she’d give herself. “You need to practise your magic.”
Fia’s face darkened. “I tried, whilst you were sleeping. I couldn’t do it.”
“Get up,” Lorn spat, pushing herself to her feet.
“What?” Fia stared up at her again, that ridiculous fish impression parting her lips in surprise.
Lorn rolled her eyes. “Get. Up. We’re going to practise.”
Fia was already on her feet, palms facing each other.
“Forget whatever Erebus told you. It clearly wasn’t working. I want you to think about whatever you were thinking back in that cell, when your flames were so bright they lit up the whole prison.” Lorn would teach Fia as her own tutor, Rada, had taught her.
“I was angry.” Fia glanced between Evina and Lorn, but Evina only stared back in silence, her silver adornments catching in the firelight. The girl was covered in them.
“At Erebus?” Lorn laughed. “Good. Get angry again.”
“I can’t.” Fia’s posture seemed to crumple at that, and Lorn resisted the urge to shake her.
“Why not? We’re here because of him.”
“Because... because you saw that prison. He was alone there, for thousands of years.” Fia gestured out into the snow.
Lorn laughed. “Mother above. Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.”
Fia stared back at her.
She really was going to hit her. Lorn gritted her teeth instead. “Fine. Get angry at me. For Alexander’s father. For that snow cat I fried after it saved you. For the countless others I’ve reduced to cinders. And I didn’t care about a single one.”
Fia’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists.
“Be angry that I’m the fire mother, and you’re nothing. Be angry that it won’t be you that rekindles the sun. It will be me.” It was true. Lorn just wanted to use Fia’s abilities to her advantage whilst she could.
At first, the girl’s right hand exploded into blue flame, but within seconds it was travelling up her arm.
“Fia, release it. The cave is too small and if you can’t control it, you’ll harm Evina.” In truth, Lorn had no idea what the blue flame could do to her either.
Fia held her palms out towards the snow and the flames roared from her fingertips, hissing as the snow melted and gave way to rock. The girl fell to her knees, sweat beading on her brow and her breathing heavy and broken. “You really don’t care that you killed them?” she asked between breaths.
Lorn schooled her expression, making sure it gave away nothing. “No.” It was the truth. None of her kills mattered to her. Not even the ones that should have.
“How could yo—”
Fia’s question was drowned out by a howl, a howl from something big. They looked at Evina, who shook her head, eyes wide. The howl rang out again, only to be silenced by other calls. The voices of men.
Chapter Eight
Fia
T he fire would have been like a beacon. First Lorn’s orange flame, then her own jet of blue. Fia silently chastised herself for not thinking it through.
Evina had pulled herself to her feet, but Fia positioned the girl behind her. Voices called out over the blizzard but were carried away in the wind, and Lorn caught Fia’s gaze, as if she hadn’t understood them.
“In the name of the king, state your purpose here,” another voice called out in the common tongue.
“That, I understood.” Lorn’s palms erupted with fire, a blade of flames shooting from each hand.
Shit. Fia hadn’t seen that trick before.
Lorn raised an eyebrow and smirked. “We need to make a good first impression, don’t we?”
“They might be friendly,” Fia hissed. And still, she found herself looking within for that spark of blue, hoping that it would answer if she called on it.
“Surrender and you will come to no harm,” the voice from before called out.
Lorn almost choked on her laugh. “Surrender and you will come to no harm,” she replied, before bursting out of the cave into the snow.
Fia followed after her—and felt a wave of magic pass through her, its edges
shimmering as it reached Lorn. It was Evina’s doing—a shield—Fia didn’t need to ask. There wasn’t time for that, anyway.
Through the snow, Fia could make out the silhouettes of three winged figures, lit up by Lorn’s flames as she slashed her way towards them. Her blades were about to connect with the nearest male when Lorn bounced back from an unseen force. They had shields of their own.
“Lorn, just wait a minute,” Fia said, reaching a hand to Lorn’s arm. The blades receded to nothing, just as Fia’s fingertips sparked with orange where her hand rested on the Makya. Lorn frowned but said nothing, shrugging her off.
“I’m sorry, my… my sister is rather protective,” Fia blurted as three angels stepped forward from the blizzard. Two males and a female, all dressed in the same black armour that looked like something between metal and leather—solid and skin-tight, leaving little of their toned physiques to imagination. “We’re travelling with our cousin,” Fia said, inclining her head to Evina, “and we got lost on our way home.”
“Your cousin.” The dark-haired male stared down at them all, the black feathers of his wings peppered with snow, his gaze steely cool. One eye was bright blue, the other an equally bright silver. He spoke in the common tongue, and Fia hoped her death stare at Lorn was enough for the Makya to keep her mouth shut. They could pass as sisters, sort of. Their hair was a close enough colour. “Perhaps your cousin would kindly drop her shield.”
“Drop yours first and we’ll comply,” Lorn seethed. Fia didn’t buy it. She didn’t think the angels did either.
“Rainn, it’s too wet and miserable for this shit,” the other male said. He spoke in another language, and Rainn shot him a glare that would have had even Maab backing away. But the second male didn’t flinch. Just tucked his sandy wings more tightly around himself and raked snow from his mousey hair. Fia was inclined to agree with him though. It took every inch of her self-restraint not to let her teeth audibly chatter against each other in front of the angels.
Rainn finally nodded at the female and Fia caught a shimmer as their shield fell away. Within an instant, she felt Evina pull back on hers too, felt the pulse of power as it moved over them.
“Now what?” Fia asked, glancing between them all and bracing herself for Lorn’s inevitable outburst.
“We’ll take you to our camp, where you’ll be held for questioning.” Rainn brushed snow off his shoulders as he spoke.
“We’re in a hurry to return home. Please, just let us go on our way.” Whatever way that was, Fia didn’t know. And something told her diplomacy and polite conversation would get her nowhere fast.
Rainn ignored her. “You travel light.” He took in Lorn’s torn clothing and likely noted how differently they were all dressed too.
Lorn made a disgusted sound, and out the corner of her eye Fia could see orange sparking to life at Lorn’s fingertips. A blanket of snow shot up from Lorn’s feet and fell unceremoniously onto her smouldering hands.
“There’s no need for violence,” the female angel said with a smirk, swiping her hand to one side, the snow following her silent command. Her wings were more like a bird’s than any other angel Fia had seen: all different shades of brown, the ends tipped in white. Her deep brown hair was scraped back tight, fastened behind her head in a bun, not a single piece out of place. She was devastatingly beautiful, as the males were—as every angel Fia had met had been. As she strode towards Lorn, Fia couldn’t help but notice an angry-looking scar creeping up from the neckline of the angel’s uniform, right up to her ear.
“Jax, you take the well-mannered one and her cousin. Aura, you’re with me and the fire-wielder. Shield up,” Rainn said in their own language.
“What? What are they saying?” Lorn asked. But Fia didn’t have time to reply. The mousey-haired male was beside her, an arm wrapped around Evina and another reaching for her and then—Shit. The world spun again. Only this time it wasn’t Evina doing the spinning, it was Jax.
Feathers and silver and snow spun into one, and Fia bit back at her nausea as it stretched on for far longer than Evina’s evanescing had. Silver hair and grey wings were the only things she could focus on, and for one terrifying second Fia thought Erebus had already found her.
She was certain she could take no more when they abruptly stopped, and Fia caught sight of a tent a few feet away and staggered towards it. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, she was right in front of it, collapsing to her knees and breathing through her nose, willing herself not to be sick.
“A warning next time, please,” she breathed as Jax appeared beside her a heartbeat later.
Jax grabbed her by the arm, his hazel eyes flaring wide. “How did—”
“Unhand me at once!” Lorn cried out.
“Watch the shoes there, Red.” Aura laughed as Lorn threw up again. Fia bit back a smile, catching Evina’s gaze to check she was unharmed. Evina nodded but didn’t hide her amusement at Lorn’s condition.
“Get them inside,” Rainn instructed.
It was a soldier’s camp, Fia realised. More angels walked by in the same uniform, barely paying them any attention. Some talked amongst themselves, others carried supplies or buckets of water. Fia couldn’t see far; nothing but mud and canvas tents in every direction she looked. And Erebus was nowhere to be seen. She pulled her arms around herself; it was him she had seen, though.
Two angels stopped talking as they walked past, and she forced a smile. Not all angels were to be trusted—Erebus hadn’t even been the first to teach her that lesson. If these angels served a king, as Rainn had said, there was no knowing what that king would have them do in his name. It could be Erebus. She cast the thought aside, patting the copper ball in her pocket to check it was still safe as Jax ushered them into the tent, relieved to find it still there.
Lorn wiped at her mouth as Aura guided her to a stool. “Sit here.”
“I am not a pet.” Lorn glared at the angel.
“Who are you, and what do you want with us? Do you bring all travellers into detention here?” Fia asked, spinning around to question Rainn before they could force her to sit too.
“You will be detained indefinitely until we deem you to not be a threat,” Rainn ground out, before striding out of the tent.
Indefinitely. There had to be a way out of this. Fia took in the tent. It was sparsely furnished: a few wooden stools and a table, bedrolls and furs. An array of weapons were scattered across the surfaces, none she could use. A bow or a staff suited her better than a blade, but she still had the dagger tucked into her boot. She couldn’t help but wonder if Erebus knew she had it.
She glanced back at Evina, her gaze drifting to where Evina gripped Jax’s arm, and the way his face paled almost imperceptibly.
“Of course,” he muttered quietly in that language the angels had spoken and stepped away from her.
Fia watched Evina closely for any hint of what she might have said to Jax to elicit his response. If she’d moved those rocks in the prison by herself, it was likely she had more power than she’d let on. Perhaps even enough to make a soldier fear her.
“Please,” he said, clearing his throat and pulling out a stool. “Have a seat.”
Fia frowned. Lorn hadn’t noticed the exchange, or Jax’s sudden change in demeanour. She was too busy trying not to throw up again, by the looks of her, which meant she wasn’t focused on how they were going to get out of the camp, or how they were even going to begin looking for a way back to Ohinyan.
One of us has to come up with a plan. The weapons were in reach, at least, but they were heavy swords, an axe, something with a metal ball on the end. All would need two hands, and Fia needed her speed if she was going to take the angels off guard. It would have to be her dagger.
Lorn caught her gaze for a moment. Finally the sheen of nausea seemed to be starting to fade, the Makya’s senses returning to her. It wouldn’t be her flames that would get them out of here though, that much Fia already knew. Aura’s shield would prevent any attack from
the Makya.
Whatever Lorn’s motivations were, at least she wanted to go back. At least, Fia thought she did. And until they knew which one of them was the fire mother, they both had to go back, whether they liked it or not. They could be too late… the sun could have already died, but she cast the thoughts aside before they could spiral. Her friends needed her. Ohinyan needed her. It was her home, now, too.
Jax left the tent as Fia turned her attention to Evina. She seemed calm and composed, her navy hood still pulled up around her hair, any previous signs of ailment all gone.
Aura poured water from a pitcher on the table into wooden cups. “You won’t get through my shield, no matter how hard you try.” She handed one to each of them and raised her wings from the floor as she sat on a stool. “How does one get lost in the Wastes?” She raised an eyebrow as she poured a cup of water for herself and then picked a moulting feather from a wing absentmindedly.
Fia felt the angel’s power washing over them all and realised Aura was the only one out of the three who could shield. It made sense not to leave Lorn unattended in a camp full of highly flammable wings. Unless these angels had yet more tricks—Aura had controlled the snow, after all. But not evanesced, Fia guessed; she’d gone with Rainn and Lorn, perhaps that was an ability she lacked.
Lorn had finally recomposed herself and took small sips from her water. Fia bit down on her lip to stop the smile that was threatening to spill over. The great fire mother. But what was it she wanted? What did Lorn stand to gain? As far as Fia knew, the woman loathed Ohinyan and its inhabitants. What interest did she have in saving it? But then nothing Lorn had done seemed logical to Fia. All the killing, the separating from the Makya Council, the destruction. They were the actions of a maniac. And she’d said as much herself—she didn’t care that she’d killed Enne, or Alexander’s father, or any of the others. So why did she care so much about being the fire mother?
A hand pushed aside the opening of the tent and Rainn stepped inside. “You first,” he said in the language they’d used among each other, pointing at Evina.
The First Dawn (Daughter of the Phoenix Book Three) Page 6
