Shadow & Flame

by Mindee Arnett

  Kate grimaced. She’d done a lot more than fall. Cort had only cut the stirrup partway, but as she’d leaned into the turn toward the second lane, the leather had ripped completely. Without the support to brace against, the thrust of the horse’s turn had launched Kate off its side like a pebble in a slingshot. She’d crashed through the fence, breaking two of the three boards. Afterward, Signe had overheard Cort bragging about what he’d done.

  “Cort was such a fool,” Kate said. “I won’t ever forget his face when you got him back for me.” Somehow, Signe had managed to make his practice sword and all the arrows in his quiver so dull that none were capable of taking down a target when Cort ran his own trial the next day.

  A grin broke out across Signe’s face. “It was one of my more brilliant moments, I’ll admit. The fit he pitched would have been unbecoming for even the most spoiled child in Rime.”

  Kate snorted a laugh, remembering the way Cort had stomped his feet, shouting obscenities, before finally hurling his sword toward the grandstands as if someone had broken his favorite toy. That vengeance, small as it had been, was a sweet victory she relished even to this day, and only one of a thousand reasons why she loved Signe. “You never did tell me how you managed to make all his arrows dull like that.”

  Signe shrugged. “Magic.”

  For a second, the response brought Kate up short as she recalled the strange exchange between Signe and her mother, something about kaiolah, but then Kate remembered that this was Signe, who had never told a true story about herself in her life. Kate smiled. “Well, I’m glad you did. You’ve always guarded my back. I never would’ve gotten through half of the crazy things we’ve gotten ourselves into without you.” Kate hesitated, once again searching for the right words, but not finding any. “And I’m sorry about what happened at the Hellgate. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Signe’s expression, warm a moment before, turned cold once again. “It’s not a matter of forgiveness, Kate. It’s about understanding that what you did was wrong.” She sighed and folded her arms over her waist. “Even now, it’s not your actions you’re sorry for, but my response to those actions. You still believe that what you did was right.”

  “If you mean making sure you were safe, then yes, I do believe it was right. How can I not? You matter more to me than anyone.”

  Signe’s eyes narrowed. “If I truly mattered to you, you would never have forced me against my will. Never.”

  Kate’s anger rushed up inside her, and she clambered to her feet, unable to stay sitting any longer. “That’s not fair. If I’d let you come, you’d probably be dead now. You’d never have been able to keep up during the escape.”

  “So that’s it, huh? Signe’s nostrils flared. “You believe because I have a limp, I deserve to have my choices taken away from me?”

  Kate inwardly cursed. She knew she’d made a mistake, but she had no idea how to get out of the mire now that she’d stepped in it. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Signe climbed to her feet and stood before Kate as straight and unbending as a spear. “No one deserves to have their will taken away like that. It’s a violation, no matter what good you think you might be doing.”

  Kate huffed. “That’s ridiculous. Am I supposed to just stand by and let bad things happen when I can stop it? If you walked in front of a runaway carriage should I merely hope you’ll save yourself?”

  “I’m not talking about accidents, Kate. I’m talking about choice. You’re not a god, and you don’t get to make decisions for someone else. To do so makes you the worst sort of—.”

  She stopped abruptly, but Kate could finish the sentence on her own. “Monster? That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” Signe didn’t deny it, and Kate’s hurt mixed with anger, turning it toxic. “And what are you then, but a liar. The runaway daughter of the Furen Mag pretending to be less than you actually are and—”

  “How dare you.” Signe raised a hand, finger pointed like a knife. “Get out. You don’t get to talk about my mother. By all the gods in all the lands, what’s happened to you? It’s no wonder even Corwin can’t stand the sight of you anymore.”

  All the air evacuated from Kate’s lungs, as if Signe’s words had been a physical blow against her chest. Without a sound, she had turned and fled the cave, Signe’s accusations chasing her all the way back to her room. Afterward, she’d tried to forget them, tried to tell herself that Signe was just upset over her mother’s death. Goddess knew she understood how the loss of a parent was like having a hole punched through your chest, one that throbbed with every beat, the pain making you want to lash out anytime someone so much as brushed it.

  But in the days that followed, Kate hadn’t been able to forget Signe’s words. They set in so deeply that she soon realized there was no denying this truth. Kate remembered with absolute clarity the hatred she’d felt in Corwin’s mind that day when she’d tried to force Gavril’s magic out of his head. She’d thought it had been hatred of Gavril, but Signe’s accusation shifted it into a brand-new light, painful and clear. If Corwin’s hatred had been for Gavril alone, then why hadn’t he come to her afterward, once he’d set himself free? Why had he avoided touching her, looking at her, even speaking to her ever since?

  There were only two explanations. Either Signe was right, and he did despise her for what she was and what she had done. Or he was in love with his Sevan princess. Or perhaps both were right.

  The possibilities ate away at her like acid poured on her heart. She didn’t know how much longer she could take it. For a short while, the new arrivals had provided some distraction from her misery, but it was quickly waning. Instead the constant roar of human interactions only emphasized her isolation. She was a wrecked ship, adrift in a sea of strangers and former friends.

  Having stood all she could of being in the main hall, Kate slipped away from the bustle, looking for a quiet refuge farther in the caves. She considered retreating to her own room, then decided against it. She’d been sharing the space with Tira, and there was no telling when she might come in. Kate wandered aimlessly at first, then paused when she heard a familiar voice. For a moment Bonner sounded like his old self, his voice a low rumble like the playful growl of a bear.

  Without thinking about it, Kate turned toward the sound, and a moment later arrived at the entrance to the small cave where Bonner had been sleeping. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as she realized he wasn’t alone. Of course he wasn’t—it was foolish of her not to have guessed it. He’d obviously been speaking to someone. She started to turn away, but stopped as Nadira called after her.

  “You may come in, Kate, if you’d like.”

  With lips pursed, Kate stepped inside. Her blush deepened when she saw Bonner sitting on the makeshift bed wearing only breeches. Nadira was fully dressed, yet there was something intimate in the way she moved about the space, straightening the belongings set in haphazard piles across the floor. Bonner nodded his head at Kate in acknowledgment, but his gaze followed Nadira across the room, lovingly, Kate thought.

  A smile as painful as it was pleased lifted the edges of Kate’s lips. She was happy for him. He’d finally found someone who stirred the deeper parts of his heart. But it did surprise her to find him content so soon after losing his magic. She had expected him to finally shatter as he’d seemed be on the verge of doing since his father’s death, like steel hardened to the point that it becomes brittle.

  At last, Bonner pulled his gaze away from Nadira and let it settle on Kate. He motioned to the spread of blankets in front of him. “What’s on your mind?”

  Kate took him up on the offer, settling down across from him as he reached for his sword lying next to his saddlebags on the floor nearby. With practiced ease, he pulled it from its scabbard and set it across his lap, while Nadira handed him a whetstone. Again, there was an intimacy to their interaction that made warmth blossom over Kate’s skin. But it left her cold beneath it.

  She hadn’t meant to c
ome here at all, much less to talk about anything, but watching as he sharpened his sword, she found herself saying, “Whether or not Corwin is successful in uniting the Rimish forces, we still have no solution for killing Rendborne that doesn’t involve unleashing more of the Ruin.”

  Bonner nodded grimly. “He’ll never give up until Rime has fallen. And it’s only a matter of time before he finds himself another wilder like Gavril to do his bidding.”

  A shiver slid down Kate’s back at his certainty. She supposed it was true. Rare as sway was, there was surely another out there with the ability, perhaps hiding in one of the cities. She wished she didn’t understand the appeal of serving Rendborne, but she did. The Nameless One could offer power to the powerless and freedom to the persecuted, as the wilders of Rime had been for too long.

  “There is a solution, though,” Bonner said, his eyes following the motion of his hand as he ran the whetstone down the blade in a steady rhythm. He paused and looked up. “We use the Hellsteel anyway.”

  Kate frowned, certain he must be joking. “How can you say that? It destroys magic, and if we use it to kill someone as powerful as Rendborne, it might destroy all magic throughout all of Rime.”

  She quickly summarized the conclusion she’d drawn with Corwin and Tira the day the Farhold wilders had arrived. Bonner listened without comment, remaining silent long after she’d finished. Nadira continued her slow meander through the room, but Kate could tell she was paying careful attention to every word.

  “So, no, using the Hellsteel isn’t an option,” Kate finally said. “Even if Rendborne’s magic isn’t strong enough to affect all of Rime, it would still be devastating.”

  Bonner pinned her with a look. “If we don’t use it, Rendborne will.”

  Kate gaped at him. “How can you be so . . . so indifferent? Don’t you miss your magic?”

  “I did at first.” Bonner set down the sword and dropped his hands, giving her his full attention. “I was devastated, yes. But now, it’s mostly a relief.”

  His admission stung Kate. Their magic had been a bond, the shared secret of it what had brought them together as friends in the first place.

  “I know you might find that hard to believe, but it’s true,” Bonner continued, oblivious to her churning emotions. “It’s only ever brought me trouble. All my life I’ve had to live in fear and hiding. Once I believed I could do good with my magic and prove to the world that wilders weren’t dangerous. And what did I do instead? Created a weapon capable of killing easy, fast, and indiscriminately.”

  Kate glared at him, despising such narrow thinking. “The revolvers you created were made to kill drakes, not people.”

  “You think that makes a difference?” His brows drew together in a scowl. “Because intentions don’t matter, only results. But it’s not just the revolvers. When Gavril captured me, he twisted my magic to his will. He made me use it to kill and torture, to do things no person should ever have to do.”

  With guilt burning in her gut, Kate tore her gaze off him. Signe’s accusations rang in her head, made worse as she realized she’d been forced to use her magic once, too. It wasn’t in the same way as Gavril had done to Bonner, but it didn’t matter. She’d been forced just the same. And yet she’d turned around and done the same to others. How many times?

  Monster, monster, monster.

  Kate shook her head, trying to dislodge these thoughts but failing. Then she caught sight of Nadira out of the corner of her eye and turned to her. “What about Nadira’s magic? It’s used to heal people.”

  “Not always,” Nadira said, her voice sharp and her gaze even sharper.

  Kate swallowed, not wanting to imagine what the healer had been forced to do. She shook her head again, refusing to condemn all magic. “The magists, then? Without their magic, we’d have no way to keep the drakes from overrunning us at night.” Neither of them could argue the danger of that. It was too high a price to pay even for defeating Rendborne.

  Nadira crossed the room until she stood just behind Bonner. She placed a hand on his shoulder, gaze fixed on Kate. “The Ruin will kill the drakes same as it kills our magic.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true,” Bonner said. “In the blighted everweep fields, Nadira found several dead drakes as well.”

  “I went out to restock the plants and herbs I use in some of my healings the day after we returned to the caves.” Nadira gestured to the table, where such lay scattered across the stone surface. “There was nearly half a pack lying dead among the everweeps with no wounds on their bodies.”

  Kate couldn’t fathom it. A world without drakes? She pictured the ruins they’d stayed in the night they’d fled the Hellgate. That structure had been a stone cottage once. People had lived there, right on the edge of the woods, surrounded by flowers and trees and wildlife and beneath a clear night sky full of stars and the silvery moon with its glittering ring. A world without walls.

  And no magic.

  Including her own. Panic, like a flock of hummingbirds, fluttered in her chest at the thought. Who was she without her magic? Just Kate. She was who she’d always been, wasn’t she?

  Yes. No. I don’t know.

  She rubbed her temple with her fingers, trying to ease the growing ache there. “Have you told anyone about the drakes?”

  “No, not yet,” Bonner said carefully.

  “Good. Leave it to me. I’ll discuss it with Corwin once—” Kate broke off at the sound of pounding steps drawing near.

  Harue appeared in the doorway a moment later, her wild hair matching the look on her face, an expression of panic and something else Kate couldn’t name.

  “Nadira,” Harue said, “you’ve got to come.”

  Brow furrowing, Nadira hurried to the door. “What is it?”

  “It’s Valora. She’s . . . been set aflame.”

  26

  Kate

  AS KATE, HARUE, NADIRA, and Bonner rushed toward Valora’s room, Harue’s declaration was only more confusing. Kate didn’t sense any reason to believe that there had been a fire at all. There was no stench, no smoke. In fact, the air was fragrant with a sweet smell like everweeps in high summer or dew-drenched leaves in the spring.

  And yet, as they entered her chamber, one look at Valora told Kate something terrible had happened. The woman was lying on her back in the middle of the floor, unmoving. Her eyes were neither opened nor closed. They were gone—burned away. At least, the marks on her face looked appeared to be burns. But they looked like old scars, a spiderweb of raised white lines that radiated out from the empty pits of her eye sockets.

  “Sweet Noralah, what did this?” Nadira put her fingers to her mouth. Such astonishment from the seemingly unflappable woman would’ve surprised Kate if she weren’t so astonished herself.

  “Magic,” Harue said, hand lingering over her mouth as if she too were still reeling from shock. “At least I think it was. She was reading the Invocarium.”

  The Goddess Codex. Kate pulled her gaze off the former high priestess and examined the rest of the room. She couldn’t tell if any of the disarray was the result of whatever had happened to her. This was Harue’s room, after all. When they’d first arrived Bonner had transformed one entire wall of the cave into a table to hold all her books. Kate didn’t see the Invocarium anywhere.

  Nadira knelt beside Valora, taking hold of her wrist. That’s when Kate noticed the shallow rise and fall of the woman’s chest. Alive, then.

  “Tell me what happened,” Nadira said.

  “Just what I said. She decided to read the Invocarium.” Harue tapped a foot, arms folded over her middle. “We’ve been debating for days whether or not we ought to. I told her it was too dangerous, but she refused to listen.”

  Kate arched one eyebrow as far as it would go. “You argued against reading a book?”

  Harue looked pained, the admission no doubt sacrilege. “It was necessary. There were warnings all over the cover, about the sacrifices involved in reading, restrict
ions about who, when, how. I hadn’t even begun analyzing it all when Valora just snatched it and opened it.”

  “Harue,” Nadira said with palpable impatience, “what happened after she started reading it?”

  Harue bit her lip. “I don’t know how well I can describe it. Maybe if I had a quill and parchment and a day or two to list it out and then check it and—”

  Kate snapped her fingers. “Focus, please. Just tell us what you saw. Keep it simple.”

  Movement at the door caught Kate’s eye, and she turned to see Corwin step into the room along with Genet and Yaron. Signe and Dal appeared just behind them, making the large space suddenly feel small. It seemed Harue’s frantic call for help had drawn attention.

  “What happened?” Corwin said, surveying the room. Kate tensed at his presence, Signe’s words echoing through her mind as they’d done for days now.

  Ignoring him, Harue walked over to Valora and stooped to retrieve a book lying facedown beside the woman. Kate frowned. It couldn’t be the Invocarium. The cover was plain black, with no trace of the silver markings, and yet Harue held the book away from her, as if afraid it might do her harm.

  “When she first started reading it nothing happened,” Harue said. “But then the inscriptions on the cover began to glow like white fire. I tried to stop her, but she went into some kind of trance. No matter how much I shouted, she wouldn’t stop reading. Before long the words on the page started to vanish, and the pages themselves began to glow like the cover had done.”

  Harue turned the book in her hand and held it open toward the others. All the pages were blank. But they hadn’t been before; Kate had briefly flipped through the book that night at the ruins, but she hadn’t been able to read a word of it, or even recognize a single character. Valora said she believed the language was some dialect of Aeos, the language of the gods, though she’d claimed it was one she’d never seen before.

  Harue closed the book once more. “The light kept getting brighter and finally it erupted into something like a pillar of light. But it had physical force. When I tried to shut the book, it knocked me down, and I must’ve been unconscious for a moment.” She touched the back of her head as if feeling for a wound. “When I came to, Valora’s whole body was aflame with that white light. I went to get Nadira then, and don’t know what happened next.”