She stooped over the pit where the horse had been, and Kelan dug out the snow in melting handfuls.
“Can’t you heat blast it, or whatever?”
Kelan sat up. “Yes, I could. But I’d prefer not to. And it’s going to take me a long time to do this by myself.”
Sol tentatively started digging out the other side. “I thought demons always wanted to burn things.”
“Demons, yes. But I’m not a demon. My name is Kelan.”
“But you’re a Flameskin. You are a demon.”
Breathe. He sucked in a breath and let it out. “I haven’t been taken possession of yet. My pyra still obeys me and hasn’t taken over my body.”
Sol paused in her digging and Kelan looked up. “You’re like the Saints, then? They say they can’t be possessed, that they’ve overcome the taint of fire.”
He grimaced. “The Saints are something else. I don’t even think their powers are real.”
“They’re real. And they’re going to destroy the Flameskin Army.”
“That remains to be seen.” He was sick of hearing rumors about the women called the Saints.
“What happens to you when your pyra takes possession?”
Kelan tapped the button hanging around his neck. “All those things you hear about. They say a pyra is a piece of Maja’s soul, a piece of chaos. Once a Flameskin gives in, their pyra can possess their body at will, and it’ll destroy anything and everything it can.”
“But you haven’t been possessed yet?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“No.”
“But, why?”
Kelan sighed. “Why do people keep asking me that? Isn’t it obvious why I wouldn’t want my pyra to control me?”
Her face flushed. “No, I mean, I thought it was inevitable. That it happens to all Flameskins.”
“Maybe. But I’m going to fight it. That’s why I don’t use my fire. Using its power makes its hold on me stronger.”
“Oh.” She thought for a while before joining him in the digging once more. “You used your pyra last night.”
“Yesterday my pyra was weak, from the emberstone. And I couldn’t very well let you die. I wouldn’t have known where you hid the food.”
She frowned. “I forgot about dinner. I wasn’t in the mood to eat last night.”
Truth be told, neither was he.
Kelan glanced at her. “You have a family? Children?”
It was a foolish question to ask and he knew he shouldn’t, but his conscience wouldn’t stay quiet. He had to know. He had to steel himself for when she begged him to spare her for her children’s sakes.
“Yes,” she said. “Four mouths to feed. That’s why I’m here.”
He jerked upright. Four? She couldn’t be that old, could she? How early did the mountain folk marry?
“How—? How old are your children?” he asked quietly. When he blinked, he saw in his mind’s eye that mountain mother again, and that night with Markus that had been branded into his mind.
“Not my children. I have three younger sisters, and my mother.”
“Oh.” No children, then. That would make it easier.
They finally pulled out the horse’s remaining saddlebag, but it was a disappointing find: three bedrolls, a tin of lemon cake, a coil of rope, and seven pairs of lady’s shoes.
Sol sighed. “I let Isabella keep two bags of her own things. And we found both of them.”
“So, we have nothing to eat.”
“It’s better to stretch what you have over a few days, so you at least have something each night.”
So, he’d get one meal a day? And a small one at that. Ashes. “Let’s get going, then. I’d prefer we get to Baarka in four days instead of five.”
Sol had gathered up the strips of bridle and lead line she had found in the snow and stuffed those in the saddlebag, then threw the rope over her shoulder. Kelan trudged back to camp beside her with the tin in one hand and a bedroll under his other arm. At least with a bedroll he would be warmer at night, so his pyra wouldn’t have to work so hard. It exhausted him to be constantly fighting the cold.
“Are you sure we need the rope?” Kelan asked. “It’s heavy, and we can’t eat it.” And she was likely going to try to tie him up with it later if she got the chance.
“Rope is useful. Always bring rope. That’s what my pa said.”
“Did he tell you to always bring a Flameskin as well? I’m quite useful, too.”
She whirled around, her eyes fiery. “Don’t you ever talk about my pa. He would’ve slit your throat if he’d seen you.”
“Sounds like a nice fellow.”
She glared at him and turned on her heel. “Rabid dogs. That’s what he called Flameskins.”
He pushed away his pyra’s growing anger. His skin heated and the snow on his trousers melted and steamed. “Rabid dog? Am I even human to you?”
“No.”
Kelan swallowed a growl. “It’s no wonder people like you murder innocent child Flameskins.”
“Better to pull the weed out while it’s still young, before it grows roots and multiplies and chokes your fields.”
Breathe. Kelan clutched the cake tin to his chest and shoved his pyra away.
She’s a murderer. Destroy her.
“You think I’m the monster?” he asked, his voice hissing out from between clenched teeth. “I would never hurt an innocent. But you? You pile up Flameskin bodies in your streets, burn them after you’ve cut out their hearts. Women, children, infants, none of that matters to you. Your king slaughtered his own wife and daughter. We don’t have to do anything wrong, we just have to exist.”
She turned when they reached the fire and studied him with her cold, green eyes. “Better than letting them grow up and burn our cities to the ground.”
Chapter 13
Sol
Sol tugged on the cord, trying to get it as tight as possible. Both of her snowshoes had been lost in the avalanche, so she had had to build four new ones, each made of three straight sticks lashed together with strips of the horse’s bridle and lead line, with a bough of pine needles woven in. They would do, for now. Or at least until they got to Baarka.
She shivered as she strapped on her other snowshoe. Winter had laced silvery threads of ice through her body, and she was cold all the time now. Digging in the snow had made her sweaty, but hadn’t beaten back the chill, and now her wet clothes clung to her body. Exhaustion made her weary and numb, and they hadn’t even started hiking yet.
“Demon,” she said. “I need you to come try these on.”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up. He was sitting on the other side of the clearing, his face blank and turned toward the sun.
“Demon,” she shouted.
He jumped and turned.
“Stop being useless and come put these on.”
“I wasn’t being useless.”
“That’s what it looked like.”
“Do you want me to burst into flames?”
She stared at him.
“I was meditating. When you make me angry, I start losing control of my pyra.”
Sol frowned. Demon made it sound as though he could truly resist his pyra’s influence. Was that true? “Tie these onto your shoes,” she said, setting out the snowshoes. “You’ll travel easier with them on.”
As he strapped them onto his boots, she lifted her legging and peeled back the bandages around her calf. It made her lightheaded just looking at it. The wound was definitely infected now. It oozed and ached and burned. How was she supposed to walk on this? They had four days hard travel until they got to Baarka and she could get a poultice for this wound. She had nothing she could put on it now but snow.
She breathed in sharply as she rubbed it with ice, trying to clean away the infection. Ashes and cinders.
Demon peered over her shoulder. “I’m no expert, but that looks like it hurts.”
“I’m fine,” she growled and hurriedly wrapped it once more, concealing
it from his view.
“Can you even walk? Or am I going to have to carry you to Baarka?”
“Don’t you dare touch me with your demon hands,” she snapped. She stood too quickly, and her vision swirled. She threw her bag over her shoulder and faced north. “We’ll walk in a straight line. You’ll follow in my footsteps.”
“Bossy. What if I want to walk arm in arm? Side by side?”
“We’ll waste energy paving two trails through the snow. It’s easier to go one behind the other. Understand?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t try to shrink your underclothes when I dried them, but you might want to check and make sure they’re not pulled too tight before we leave.”
Sol curled her hands into fists at her side and muttered curses under her breath as she stomped down the trail.
The going was hard. The morning was mostly uphill, and they took only a short break at noon, where they each had a single bite of food. The afternoon was a steep uphill climb. Sol limped as she walked, and their pace grew slower and slower. She hated being so obviously weak, but she couldn’t walk any faster than she already was. A stabbing ache radiated through her leg each time she took a step. The climb made her sweat, but the snow and the wind were freezing. She wiped sweat from her brow as she shivered.
“It’s too bad you’re not a Flameskin. You would’ve been healed by now.”
Sol grit her teeth. “I’d never taint myself by using fire.”
She could almost hear him rolling his eyes ahead of her. Demon had taken the lead to make the going easier for her.
“I could make you a sling or something and drag you through the snow.”
“I said I was fine.”
“Well, you’re too slow. At this rate we’ll run out of food long before we get to Baarka.”
Sol hated that he was right.
They had reached a narrow pass along a cliff near the top of the peak, and she collapsed against the cliff face.
“I need a break for a few minutes,” she said, closing her eyes. Her limbs shook, and her body ached. She just needed more food and a few minutes’ rest, and then she’d be fine. She took a piece of venison out of her bag and allowed herself one bite, so there’d still be something left for dinner.
Demon squatted next to her and tightened one of the straps on his snowshoes. She’d already had to repair his left one twice. When she had some time tonight, she’d remake it, but right now all she could think about was sleep.
“Why don’t you tell me how to get to Baarka and I’ll wait for you there,” Demon said.
She scowled. “If you knew the way you’d burn me up and steal my food.”
“I wouldn’t attack you when you were helpless like this. I have honor.”
“No, you don’t. You’re a Flameskin.”
He glared at her, then stood and walked away.
“Where are you going?” she shouted, scrambling to her knees. If he left, she’d never get her ransom.
“To relieve myself, or is that not allowed?”
She sighed and lay back again. “Don’t go too close to the edge of the cliff.”
He waved a dismissive hand at her. “You’ve already told me that a dozen times.”
Sol closed her eyes, shutting out the glaring brightness of the white snow.
When Demon returned, he startled her out of a half doze. “Let’s go. We’re running out of daylight.”
Sol groaned as she tried to move, but her limbs were full of lead and ice.
Demon bent over and looked into her face. “I’ve never seen a girl so sweaty. And trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of sweaty girls.”
She scowled at him and forced herself up onto her hands and knees, then to a shaky standing position. The thought of taking another step made her want to cry, but she’d never give Demon the satisfaction of seeing that. She took a few limping steps forward.
He started up the trail, dragging his snowshoes through the deep drifts. “You’re the oldest of all your sisters, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
He turned and smirked at her. “I knew it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s why you’re so bossy and mean. I bet you’re used to ordering your little sisters around all day.”
Sol crushed the icy snow beneath her snowshoe. Demon didn’t know anything. Ma was grateful to have her around; Ma told her that every day. Now that Pa was gone, Sol had stepped up and taken his place. So what if she was bossy? She kept people alive. Or at least, she’d tried to.
Pa would’ve known about the avalanche. He wouldn’t have let them camp in such a dangerous spot. If he had been the guide on this journey, would all of them still be alive?
Demon waited for her several dozen paces ahead, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re never going to get off this blasted mountain with your leg like that.”
“Well then, you should’ve told your soldiers not to cut me up.”
“I would tell them, except that you killed them.” He stomped forward. “Those were my friends. My comrades.”
“They were rabid dogs.”
The air around him wavered with heat, and the snow at his feet melted.
“You see nothing but the lies you’ve been fed your whole life. You have no right to call me Demon, no right to call any Flameskin a demon.”
“That label is earned. Flameskins raided my village last summer. They burned half the houses and all our fields. My entire village is starving this winter because of you.”
“Were you there when they killed the Flameskins in your village?” Demon asked, his voice low. “Where you there when they piled the bodies in the streets? Did you help cut out their hearts? Did you watch them burn?”
Sol recoiled. She remembered that day. The smell of burning hair had tasted like sulfur, and the smoke had clung to her throat and made her eyes burn. When Pa had returned home that night, there had been blood on his shirt.
“Cleansed,” he had said, his green eyes dark. “The village has been cleansed.”
And Ma had explained how the Jensen family had left the village, and that they wouldn’t be returning. A euphemism to help an eight-year-old understand. But Sol had known. And she had bottled the horror of it inside her until she could comprehend why they had done it.
Sol stared at Demon. She feared neither his fire, nor the wavering heat around his body. She gripped the hilt of her knife. “I was a child when they did it, but I’m glad my village had the strength to rid itself of its Flameskin. Demons are a danger to us all.”
“The only danger is your ignorance.”
He turned from her, and the melted snow slid out from beneath his feet. Kelan yelped and threw out his arms to catch his balance, and landed hard on his shoulder. But his legs slid over the edge, and then he was gone.
Sol rushed as close to the edge of the cliff as she dared. “Kelan?”
There was silence. She got on shaking hands and knees and peered over the edge. Everything was white. Kelan’s fall had shaken the snow lose, and flurries of white drifted down, down, down to the bottom of the mountain.
“Kelan?”
Her heart plummeted in her chest, and she took a shuddering breath. He was dead. Not even a Flameskin could’ve survived that fall.
Something moved on a small landing about twenty feet below. Kelan shook the snow from his red coat and looked up. “You used my name.”
Sol growled and sat up. Fool demon. She had told him not to get so close to the edge.
“Sol? I think I need some help.”
She knew she should leave him there; that’s what Pa would’ve done. Kelan was dangerous. And aggravating.
“Sol?”
She stood.
Just walk away. She didn’t need him.
“Sol!” he said, his voice frantic. “This ledge is made of ice. Sol, please!”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. “Hold on!”
She yanked the rope out of her bag and knotted the end of it. A b
oulder sat half-buried in the snow a few paces away and she scraped snow and ice away to tie the rope around it. Her head ached and her hands shook as she worked, but she willed away the exhaustion.
“Kelan, talk to me. How much time do we have?” He didn’t answer. “Kelan?”
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice shaking. “Just concentrating.”
“Can you climb this rope?” she asked. “I can’t lift you. If we have a few minutes I can put knots in it.”
There was a pause. Sol dragged the rope over and was about to throw it to him when he spoke. “Go ahead and knot it.”
She sat and hurriedly tied knots at intervals. After a minute of tense silence, she finished and threw the rope over the edge of the cliff.
“Can you reach it?” she asked.
The rope went taut.
“If you burn the rope, Kelan, you’ll be stuck there.”
He didn’t answer. She peered over the edge of the cliff to watch Kelan climb slowly upward. When he reached the top, he sank his hands into the snow, seeking for purchase.
“Sol, help me.”
She stared at him. She couldn’t touch a demon, not his skin, but she could touch his clothes.
As weak as she was, she grabbed onto his arm and pulled. No heat came from his body. He scrambled up the side of the cliff and rolled onto the top, panting in the snow. The snow beneath him didn’t melt.
Chapter 14
Kelan
Kelan shivered. His veins coursed with ice, not fire.
A pyra fed on its hosts emotions; anger, joy, and grief all became fuel for the pyra’s flame. But a pyra couldn’t consume fear, and fear could quickly smother a pyra’s fire.
It was fear that had forced Kelan’s pyra and its flames to retreat when he stood on that ledge of ice. And it was fear of his pyra that kept it from possessing him.
But if it weren’t for his fear, Sol wouldn’t have captured him in the first place. Fear had forced his pyra to abandon Kelan when he needed it most.
Sol had rolled out her furs and lay on top of them, shivering and panting. “I told you rope was useful,” she murmured with her eyes closed.
Firefrost: A Flameskin Chronicles Novel Page 5