Stormfire

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by Jasmine Young


  Jaime’s chest rose and fell raggedly.

  The night the Archpriestess arrived, the elders whispered she knew black magic. It was how she was able to feel out if a boy had the powers of a Sage—by feeling out their avai, the energy burning in all living things, and invading it with her own.

  Cursed woman, they would whisper. She is no priest of our god. Evil spirits infect her.

  Her eyes split open.

  She yelled, “He hath not the blood of a Sage! Therefore, for belying His Holiness’s Royal Decree, thus committing high treason in earnest, by the grace of our true God of Fire, he is guilty of death!”

  Jaime stepped out, but Damias grabbed him.

  “What are you doing?” the young man hissed. “She’s baiting you!”

  He glanced at the square below him. The entire royal lochos surrounded it, spears ready, bows slung.

  Two soldiers dragged Hilaris to the stake, tossed his chains through the ring, fastened his arms above him.

  Hilaris breathed hard. Jaime recognized the shock in his eyes—the only thing keeping him silent.

  Strategos Reizo, on ground level, passed the Archpriestess the torch.

  Time slowed to one long, dragged out heartbeat. Soldiers shoved Lord Gaiyus at the front of the crowd, forcing him to watch. The old man’s eyes were closed, his lips moving in a low, useless prayer. His politicians stood behind him, togas ripped. And there was Nides, mounted and helmed, a smirk splattered wide across his face. The royal banners whipped at all corners of the pyre.

  Jaime glanced back at his mother.

  Her damp gray eyes reflected his rain-stained face—she saw what he was about to do. One of her sons would live, and the other would die.

  I love you, Mamá.

  And he turned back around.

  “Stop!” Jaime shouted.

  The torch paused over the wood of the pyre.

  Fingers gripping his breather, Jaime stepped into full light of the square. He took a breath.

  No air went in.

  “Let him go, and I’ll come with you. I’m the one you’re looking for.”

  Those milky eyes locked on his. An invisible draft froze his insides—and he saw it again, briefly. White mist leaching out of her body. But it had to be another trick of the flames.

  Every bow shifted, pointing at him.

  “Let him go, I said!”

  The Archpriestess shrieked with laughter. “Thou art in no position to command me, my cripple Prince.”

  The nearest soldiers moved in to seize him.

  The Archpriestess’s fingers released from the stave. The flaming bundle crashed onto the pyre, bouncing once.

  Jaime screamed.

  He wasn’t the only one. All of Townfold broke into crow-pitched cries.

  Jaime leapt towards the pyre to get to Hilaris. Soldiers gripped his arms tightly. Shoved him backwards. Despite the rainfall, oil licked up the flames eagerly.

  In seconds, the entire platform was alight.

  The skin between Hilaris’s brows creased. He struggled against his chains, but they held tight against the stake.

  “Jamie—”

  Black smoke rose over everyone’s heads, bending to the wrath of the storm.

  “Please, don’t let them—don’t—”

  Coughing swallowed up his words. Already, it was difficult to see Hilaris through the waves of heat.

  Jaime yanked against the soldiers, choking.

  “I won’t let them, Hilaris! I won’t—”

  But the soldiers wouldn’t let go. Heat flared up Jaime’s body. Every vein seethed, until his heart was trembling, his eyes were on fire, he could see nothing but the flames.

  Jaime let out a scream from the well of his body.

  A loose spear of fire devoured the air above the Archpriestess. She ducked in time, tumbled off the pyre’s edge.

  The soldiers released him.

  The next time Jaime could see, both men twisted on the ground, crying out. Their cone-shaped helmets glowed a furious red. Cooking their faces from the inside-out.

  All of Champion’s Square stared at him.

  I didn’t do that. I didn’t just raise a fire current. The King is—I’m not a Fire Sage—

  Hilaris’s shrieks broke his focus.

  Once, when Jaime was eight, Rimas Vulcas hamstrung a young goat and threw it into a cauldron. He lit flames under it, heating the water slowly. As the kid boiled alive, its screams mangled the morning silence—you could hear it from the other side the mountain.

  That was what Hilaris’s shrieks sounded like. Pitchless. A noise of nightmares that curdled every drop of his blood.

  Jaime’s mouth fell open.

  His brother was no longer visible. In his place, a glowing bull-shape of yellow kicked and thrashed inside the flames.

  He’s gone.

  Chapter Six

  Cassie appeared where the fallen soldiers were, leading a saddleless gelding by the reins. Hilaris’s horse. He looked at the mute boy numbly, not understanding.

  “Jaime!”

  Across the square, Julias Markus raised his spear.

  “Go! You must live—Duel the King and kill him! For us!”

  The Archpriestess’s shrieking voice clawed him awake. “Stop him! Stop him, stop him, you imbeciles—”

  Cassie mounted the gelding and tugged at his himation. Jaime wobbled on behind him.

  How does Cassie know how to ride?

  No matter. Nothing mattered, nothing was real anymore.

  As they broke into a gallop, the kingpines melted away into the rain. The gelding levelled the scraggly fields of wildflowers.

  Arrows flew over their heads.

  Strategos Reizo followed close behind them, a single-edged halberd with the New Jaypes pennant bleeding against the air.

  “Osei! Prince!”

  The roar of rapids gradually drowned the forest. The Estos River winded ahead of them.

  Downstream from that were the falls.

  “Please forgive, your brother has his honor now. But your life is of tantamount—eh, paramount? Of paramount importance! If I may please explain—”

  Cassie reined them parallel to the banks. Mud flew into Jaime’s eyes, spattered everywhere.

  Reizo’s destrier was catching up to them.

  Cassie glanced back at Jaime.

  The mute boy’s mouth opened—Jaime swore he heard a word come out. Sorry, perhaps? It was impossible to hear over the river and the storm—and he shoved Jaime off the saddle.

  The Strategos cursed in his native tongue as Jaime crashed into water.

  Cold zapped him awake.

  He paddled, fighting to get to the surface, but the rapids pulled him down. Jaime desperately kicked his feet. His left one made contact with rock. It sliced into his sole. He thrust upward. Burst back into open air.

  Jaime gasped for a breath.

  Two things happened before he reached the falls: Reizo grabbed Cassie, who also leapt into the water.

  And he saw the curve of the river, the steep drop into darkness that marked the end of beloved Mount Alairus.

  Everything he knew.

  Jaime never heard his own screams.

  He fell over the edge, and the dark of the world beyond swallowed him up.

  Part Two:

  Air

  Chapter Seven

  Something licked a cut on his forehead.

  Jaime opened his crusty eyes.

  His head bobbed against a mud bank. Gray daylight slumped through foreign pine branches. Thrushes and larks twittered above him.

  The Estos River brought him to a shallow ford.

  A golden shape hunched over him, watching him with big eyes.

  “Murrow?” it said.

  A tomcat.

&nbs
p; Only this one was the size of a young goat—the biggest cat he’d ever seen—and gods, its eyes. Otherworldly light glowed behind its retina, flickering like a lamp made of green flames.

  Jaime picked himself up, stumbling back onto shore.

  Sick skies.

  His head—heavier than a boulder, pounding like a thousand donkeys trampling over him. As he splashed, the cat darted back under the weedy brush. His legs felt like sticks of suet.

  I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming—

  He batted his cheeks.

  Wake up, Jaime. Wake UP!

  His feet touched the banks—and he stumbled into the grooves of mud. Landing on his chin. Pain whited out his vision.

  Mamá was never responsible for the soldiers that came to town. I was. I raised a fire current—gods, I am a Sage. I killed Hilaris.

  He reached into his pocket for his breather—

  Panic spiked up his chest.

  Nothing.

  He must have lost it somewhere in the river.

  His lungs heaved. He sounded like an old man, the way viscous air wheezed out of him. His panic swelled. His eyes watered. His asthma hadn’t been this bad for as long as he could remember.

  Jaime breathed in desperately. The coughing sobs burst free from his throat.

  “I’m sorry!” he screamed. “I’m sorry! I’m SORRY!”

  He couldn’t stop coughing. He couldn’t breathe.

  You can. Breathe deeply, Jaime.

  His mother’s voice.

  Jaime dragged himself upright and took deep, ragged breaths. One, two, three, four. Releasing.

  Gradually, the attack withdrew, leaving only his sobs behind.

  Jaime stared blankly at the marbled skies.

  I’m sorry, Hilaris. I shouldn’t have let my jealousy turn us into strangers. I shouldn’t have stood there while they burned you.

  I should’ve . . . I should’ve . . .

  What?

  What could he have done to stop the Archpriestess?

  Just before Cassie helped him escape, what did Julias Markus say?

  You must Duel the King and kill him! For us!

  He wheezed out a laugh.

  The Commander really believed he could challenge the King in a battle of the elements—and win. Even if the King was his father.

  No.

  The Air Alliance could deal with deposing the King. Jaime wanted nothing to do with Usheon Ottega.

  But his mother was still out there, and he would fight to protect her as long as she was alive. Family before the Kingdom.

  Even if it means the rest of the cursed Kingdom has to burn.

  The giant tomcat reemerged from the trees, rubbing against his ankles. Jaime wiped away his tears.

  “You’re not real.”

  He stepped back, but the cat curled around his leg. Purring. With a shaking hand, he reached down to pet its fur.

  Nothing happened.

  No bolt of energy zapping off his hand. No burst of fire from its green lantern eyes.

  The longer Jaime looked, the more it seemed to self-consciously shrink, shrink, shrink into a normal-sized cat, till the supernatural light was gone from its big, sad gaze.

  “Mew?”

  Dreaming.

  Jaime turned away. He was dreaming. He shook his head. “I’m going back home,” he declared.

  The cat blinked up at him.

  I still have the medallion. If I need to, I’ll bargain with the Archpriestess for Mamá’s life.

  He stripped off his wet himation and sagging exomis, squeezed the water from them. Threw them over his shoulder. Then he crawled onto his feet, stumbling up the slope to get to higher elevation. The trees cleared at the top. Jaime’s mouth dropped open.

  Forested mountains rolled into the horizon in every direction he could see.

  The Krete Forests.

  He’d heard from the elders that this was the largest expanse of forest in Jaypes.

  No sign of the cloud-covered Mount Alairus. He didn’t have any idea where he was, or how to get home.

  “Mew?”

  The cat bunted his ankle. Jaime bent down and rubbed its throat. A new set of purrs hummed against his skin.

  “Are you coming with me?”

  “Mew, mew.”

  “Okay,” Jaime stood, “let’s follow the river back to Townfold.”

  But before noon, the Estos split into two, and the rivulet he followed split into more tributaries. By twilight, he was completely lost.

  The stormy skies passed light and shadow over the pines so many times that Jaime lost track of the days. It rained off and on. Cold and dirt sapped his energy.

  Still, he forced himself to keep walking.

  At first, the constant climb across the mountains bloodied his knuckles, but over time, they grew shell-tough. The muscles in his thighs hardened. Jaime scaled across slopes that would have once knocked the breath out of his lungs. His exomis began to recede above his knees until it resembled an oversized shirt.

  Yet the further he trekked, the more the wild chestnuts, hazel, and eggs he foraged grew tasteless.

  He missed that wretched smell of incense that choked his lungs. He missed the songs of thrushes as his mother weaved outside at the vertical loom.

  The tomcat faithfully kept him company, but his spirit grew heavier with each passing day.

  I’m going to be trapped in these forests forever.

  And when the hour came that he could no longer bear the empty expanse, he collapsed on a mound of decayed leaves.

  “Help,” he croaked into them. “Someone, please help . . . ”

  As if in response, something rolled out of hiding. Nothing he could see—only feel. The hairs on his arms stood straight up.

  We help you.

  The high-pitched baby whispers tickled his ears. Jaime grappled the leaves, pulling himself upright.

  A finger of mist trickled over the surrounding spruces and pines. The crows fell dead silent. This looked like the same white mist that came out of the Archpriestess back at Champion’s Square.

  “Hello?” he shouted, hackles rising.

  Follow us.

  He struggled to his feet. His companion dozed on a log several steps away, ear twitching, a patch of gold against a screen of white. The cat didn’t seem to hear a thing. Jaime squinted through the trunks.

  Over here, Jaime. We can help you.

  Instinct warned him to move.

  Jaime took his first step. The dead leaves at his feet suddenly exploded, a frigid blast that nearly knocked him aside.

  Just a gust!

  He forced air down his throat, willed himself to calm down. His mind was a twister of emotions.

  Kuurjal hzajdi gûl . . .

  This new Voice was tens of octaves deeper. Even the baby whispers went silent. Its presence splintered him into raw fear.

  The cat suddenly snapped up its head, hissing. As Jaime took another step forward, it bounded ahead into the mist.

  He, too, broke into a run.

  No such thing as strange creatures. Hilaris never mentioned a thing. Or the elders.

  The mists grabbed at his ankles. He threw his head over his shoulder, holding back a scream.

  White patches raced ahead of him from the corners of his eyes. His lungs contracted. The whole forest roared from sudden winds, attacking him.

  Red spots appeared and blurred over his vision. The ground broke off into a steep ravine—Jaime skidded to a halt.

  Something breathed cold air onto his clammy neck.

  “Kuurjal hzajdi gûl, Jaime.”

  His blood turned to ice.

  Turn around, turn around. It’s behind you.

  Trembling, Jaime rolled his head over his shoulder.

  A plume of w
hite rose above him. The most toxic, putrid stink assaulted his nose—it smelled just like the night Hilaris’s flesh burned.

  His lips pulled back into a scream.

  The little tomcat suddenly bound into view, the fur on its back prickly straight. It squeezed itself in front of Jaime. Bared its teeth at the shapeless monster. The cat grew in size, grew till it was larger than a goat, larger than a mountain lion—

  “Gods!”

  Jaime lost his balance, staggered backwards—only for the layer of mists to clear. A sharp ravine appeared behind him. But it was too late.

  His heel slipped.

  The last thing he saw was the mist hissing at the cat before it rolled away, vanishing. Twigs dug into him as he rolled—and then he landed flat on his belly.

  Jaime gasped for breath.

  A cat just saved my life! From a mist-monster? But I don’t think that was a cat! What would that thing’ve done to me if I didn’t escape?

  His thoughts shut off when he saw the body next to him, lying face-down. Jaime bit down a shriek.

  A dead person!

  The ground muffled the man’s low mumbles.

  A living person!

  Jaime took a step forward to grab him, shake him, and swallowed another scream.

  Four round eyes stared at him from atop the man’s back. A little hairy spider the size of Jaime’s thumb.

  The body mumbled into the ground. “By gods, I’m gonna beat those Jaypan dummies silly . . . ”

  Mustering his courage, Jaime scrabbled for his medallion and threw a warning swing at the spider. But it stayed planted in place, blinking up at him. Jaime took a step closer and swiped again, this time for a killing blow.

  Get off, get off him!

  The Air Emblem glistened against the skylight. This time the spider leapt off, scurrying into the brush.

  Jaime shook the body, hysterics shaking his breath. “Hey! Wake up! You got to get out of here—”

  The body snapped upright and tackled him to the ground. “How’s this for a Kaipponese spy?”

  “Are you crazy?” Jaime wheezed under his weight. “Get off me!”

  As his vision refocused, he narrowed his eyes at the face looming above him. Not a man—a teenage boy, about his age. Shoulders hunched in. Body blubbery. His black, gibbous eyes opened to the size of pomegranates.

 

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