by Jordan Rivet
“You once told me you ran away because you believed your father’s actions were wrong,” Siv said. “He deceived thousands of men and betrayed your country to further his own ambitions. You tried to join the noble pen fighters in the Dance of Steel, but now you don’t even get to do that. Kres is counting on a reward for keeping you alive. He’ll never let you compete.” Siv knew it was risky to list Latch’s most sensitive points with a knife at his throat, but he had to use every weapon he possessed right now. “This is your chance to be noble, despite what your father has done. If we end the war, you can save your father, his men, and your country.”
“What makes you think we can end the war?”
“Dara,” Siv said. “It’s not just her power. Her father leads the Vertigonian Fireworkers.” Siv swallowed, the knife bobbing against his neck. “He’s . . . he’s the one who usurped me and killed my father.”
Latch’s stoic mask slipped a bit, his eyes widening. All their secrets were out in the open at last.
“Dara can stop her father,” Siv said. “She’s the only who can. And you can help to stop yours.”
Latch removed the blade from Siv’s neck to scratch at his chin with the tip, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Siv held his breath.
Then Latch said, “Fine. I’ll help you, you Vertigonian bastard.”
“Great.” Siv grinned, not quite managing to hide his utter relief. He rubbed at the spot on his throat where Latch’s knife had been. “What do you think about my plan?”
“I’ve heard worse,” Latch said. “You’re offering Wyla pretty much the only thing that could be as valuable to her as your girl: the knowledge of another magic wielder.”
“A unique magic wielder,” Siv said. “She doesn’t much care about Vine’s knowledge, even though she can do a bunch of Air things.”
“Yeah, Air is useless,” Latch said. “My father doesn’t value the Air Sensors either.”
Siv shook his head. The arrogance of these wielders never ceased to amaze him. Why were they all so convinced that theirs was the only power that truly mattered? He figured Wyla was onto something by trying to combine the magical substances. But even she wasn’t impressed by Air.
“So Dara has a unique ability, and I have a secret ability.” Latch met his eyes steadily. “You really think she’ll take the trade?”
“It’s the only idea I have at the moment.” Dara might be able to break the bond herself, but Siv would only risk that if he couldn’t get Wyla to release her. The attempt could kill her.
Latch turned his knife in his hands, considering. “And you want to do this tonight?”
“We have to act before Wyla finds out Dara was behind the explosion on the jetty.”
“We’d better wait until morning, then,” Latch said. “If you go tonight, she’ll know it’s connected to the explosion. We won’t have a chance.”
Siv didn’t want to wait another minute. He was already cursing the delay going to Khrillin had caused. But Latch was probably right. They only had one chance. And waiting until morning would give them time to pull together the final crucial elements of his plan.
“Okay, tomorrow it is. We’ll need to stage it just right, though. She’ll be suspicious of ambushes. There aren’t many places she’d be willing to meet us.”
“Where does Dara think we should do it?” Latch asked.
“Oh, Dara doesn’t know about any of this.”
“Say again?”
“I haven’t shared the plan with Dara,” Siv said. “There’s no time. Besides, if we take her by surprise, it’ll be easier for her to pull off the magic thing she needs to do. That’s how it worked, as far as I could tell. Something about being in the same mindset or emotional state.”
Latch stared at him as if he had gone insane. “So she hasn’t even said whether or not she thinks she can defeat Wyla?”
“I know she can, even if she doesn’t,” Siv said. “Tonight, she was surprised, under attack, and trying to protect me. I reckon that’s a pattern we can replicate.”
“You have a lot of faith in her.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Latch opened his mouth then closed it again.
“Anyway, are you sure you’re in?” Siv said impatiently. “Can we get on with the planning?”
“Tell me what you have in mind.”
Siv didn’t treat Latch’s involvement lightly. The man was taking a terrible risk with his family’s secret. But Latch had been itching to be useful for a while now. He would finally get his day in the arena.
30.
The Manor
PANIC shot through Dara when she saw Wyla waiting for her in the street. Should she make a break for it? How had Wyla gotten here so fast? She and Siln were supposed to be off in the western Boundary District. If Dara started running now . . . a brief shooting cold in her arm warned her to think better of it. Wyla beckoned for her to follow.
She knows.
The thought tumbled around in Dara’s head as they walked. Passersby ducked into shops and made sudden turns out of their path when they saw Wyla coming. Dara couldn’t blame them. Wyla strode through the streets as if she were a goddess reclaiming her dominion with thunder and fury. Every thud of her steel-toed boots was a death knell.
She knows it was me.
Dara wracked her brain for an explanation as they marched through the chaotic streets. It may not matter what she said. Wyla knew.
They pushed open the iron gates and entered the overgrown garden courtyard. The bushes had exploded with flowers over the past few weeks, some of which only bloomed after midnight. Wyla turned, her boots crunching on gravel, and skewered Dara with a cold stare.
What could she say? Had Wyla seen Siv? Could she know how entangled they had been during the attack? Perhaps she’d sent a spy to follow them while she was busy with Brendle in the Boundary District. Speaking of which . . .
“Where is Siln?” Dara asked. “Did the attack on—”
“Siln is dead,” Wyla snapped.
“What?” Dara felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. “How? I thought he was stronger than Brendle.” She had enjoyed the man’s company, even though he would have killed her without hesitation if Wyla ordered it.
“Brendle didn’t kill him,” Wyla said. “You did.”
Icy dread filled Dara’s stomach like a gallon of Watermight. Siln had been her friend. And he had been unmatched by any Watermight fighter in the city.
“I—”
“You figured it out,” Wyla said softly. “You bound the powers together. I knew it would be explosive. I knew you could do it.”
“But Siln—”
“What was it, child?” The gravel crunched as Wyla stepped closer. “Tell me quickly. The surprise? The fear? The method of the attack?”
Dara stared at her. Wyla’s face held no anger at all now. No disappointment that Dara had disobeyed her instructions to stay in the manor. No sadness at the loss of her longtime bodyguard and loyal ally.
“It was you,” Dara whispered. She felt as if a plug had been pulled, draining all the blood out of her body. “You attacked to get me to react with both of the powers.”
“Of course.” Wyla waved an impatient hand. “Or more accurately, Siln attacked you. He threw his very best at that tower tonight.”
Dara stared at her in horror. “He died when I defended myself.”
“You’ve made remarkable progress. We haven’t had as much time for our research lately, but I haven’t forgotten you.”
“But you made Siln take the backlash,” Dara said. “There was a risk I’d succeed, and you didn’t even have the strength to attack me yourself.” It occurred to Dara that Wyla hadn’t wielded Watermight against her since the day Dara lifted her into the air beside the basement whirlpool. “You’re a coward.”
“Berate me if you wish,” Wyla said. “But you must tell me more about what you experienced when you responded to the attack.”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“You are still beholden to me,” Wyla said. Icy pain shot through Dara’s arm, and this time, the sensation didn’t fade away. “Tell me. Was it the surprise? Or perhaps”—a cruel grin spread across Wyla’s face—“it was the presence of the man you love.”
Dara’s jaw went rigid with horror.
“I thought so,” Wyla said. “When I learned of your tryst, I wondered if this might be the breakthrough you needed.”
“You knew we were going out there?”
“Of course. Your light in the tower helped Siln direct his attack with better accuracy. He was going to flood the whole jetty. I wonder if the directness of the attack made your response more powerful. Hmm . . . I will have to devote more study to it.”
Dara’s brain felt as if it were packed with wool. The only thing lending clarity to the situation was the sharpness of the pain in her arm. “Aren’t you sorry for getting Siln killed?”
“Why would I be? He served me well. Besides, you are the one who killed him, not me.”
Dara stared at her, unable to hide the hatred radiating from her face. Wyla used people and discarded them, no matter how loyal they had been to her. Siln had served her despite his own strength. Dara had never learned what Wyla held over him—and now he was gone.
“Let’s go in,” Wyla said. “No need to stand in the garden like street urchins. It will rain soon.”
Dara didn’t move.
“Have it your way.” Wyla climbed the steps to the manor house. She stopped at the door. “Oh, I’ve decided how you will repay me for my assistance saving that fourth life months ago.”
Dara stayed rooted to the spot, knowing what was coming.
“You will bring your lover here,” Wyla said. “I have need of him and the power you can create in his presence.”
“No.”
“Refuse me if you like,” Wyla said. “Rant and rage. Try to kill me. But you will do this. Your debt compels you. Bring him to me, or I will have him dragged here.”
“What will you do to him?”
“I don’t care about him.” Wyla waved a wrinkled hand. “I care about what you can do with him. Aren’t you curious to see if you can replicate what you did tonight?”
“Not enough to bring him within a thousand feet of you.”
“Come now,” Wyla tutted. “You needn’t deny it. You are as intrigued by the power as I am.” She stood on her threshold, her white hair seeming to glow in the light from the torches. “We are alike, Dara. You want to know as much as I do. You’ve always wanted to be the best.”
Dara stared at her, mouth ajar. She did want to know. Hadn’t she pictured what it would be like to be the greatest magic wielder of them all? Hadn’t she been tempted by the possibility of victory unlike any other, a victory that Siv’s presence could bring within her grasp?
“You know it’s true,” Wyla said. “So, you will bring him to me, and we will see what else you can do.” She entered the manor house, not waiting to see if Dara followed.
A clap of thunder announced the onset of a storm. The wind picked up, and the torches on the walls flickered erratically. Dara’s arm still felt as if a blade of ice had replaced the bone. She had half a mind to run anyway. She needed her sword arm, but not as much as she needed to keep Siv safe.
But Vine was still inside the manor house. Rumy was likely on the grounds as well. Wyla wouldn’t hesitate to kill them both if Dara ran. She had to make sure her friends were safe. And, Firelord take her right to his realm, she was curious about what else she could do with her abilities. The explosive wave was just a hint. With that kind of power under her control, she could level cities and armies. She could return to her father as a force far stronger than his greatest imaginings. And she and Siv could work together to do it. He brought out the power in her somehow.
Rain began to fall, and Dara hurried into the manor house. Maybe Wyla was right. She could bring Siv here, keep him by her side while Wyla taught her to use the incredible strength in the unification of Watermight and Fire. There might be no limit to what she could do.
Vine was waiting up for her in their room.
“Are you all right?” Vine asked, hurrying to hug her. “When I heard that explosion, I feared . . . never mind. You’re safe. What happened?”
Dara changed into dry clothes as she told Vine everything, including the part about the intense passion she’d been feeling the moment the attack hit. She had to assume the desperate intensity of the kiss contributed to what she’d done, even if she wouldn’t tell Wyla that.
“I think it’s the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for,” she finished.
“Does Wyla know?”
“She suspects enough. The thing is, she’s probably right.” Dara drew her Savven blade and turned it in her hands, tracing the intricate metalwork on the night-black hilt. “My power has always been connected to Siv. My best Works have resulted from trying to help him.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Vine said. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her posture almost meditative. “You defended Rid, Rumy, and me back in Fork Town. That twirling statue was quite magnificent.”
“That was done with Fire alone,” Dara said. “I’d been practicing a lot by then. And I learned to Work from Zage Lorrid, who wasn’t the most passionate person around. It’s the link between Fire and Watermight that needed a catalyst.”
“And you intend to make use of this discovery?”
“You should have seen how powerful it was,” Dara said. “The explosion. If I could take back a fraction of that power, no one could keep us out of Vertigon. We’d be sure to win it back.”
“If there was even a Vertigon left to claim,” Vine said.
“I’ll learn to control it,” Dara said.
“And then what?” Vine’s position didn’t change, but her presence seemed to grow and intensify somehow. “You’ll teach more Fireworkers how to Wield Watermight and more Waterworkers how to Work the Fire? Some of them are bound to do both eventually.”
“I haven’t really thought—”
“You have to think that far, Dara. What you and Wyla have been doing is incredibly dangerous. Are you sure this is a door you’re willing to open?”
Vine had dropped her usual singsong tone entirely. She looked very grave, and for a moment, she reminded Dara of her sister. Renna would have been Vine’s age if she had lived. Dara had come to think of Vine as more than a friend. They’d been through more peril than most sisters by now. But she had never specifically felt like the younger sister before.
She sat down on the opposite bed, still clutching the warm hilt of her Savven blade, and faced her friend as lightning flashed through the room.
Vine leaned forward, meeting her eyes earnestly. “Dara, you have to answer the question. Not tonight, maybe, but before you take this power beyond the boundaries of Pendark.”
“Maybe we don’t have to worry about it,” Dara said. A crucial detail remained, one that would be an automatic check on any world-changing skills she developed. “The Watermight can’t be contained long enough to bring it all the way to Vertigon. It might not matter.”
Vine studied her for a long time, seeming to struggle with whether or not to reveal something.
“What is it?”
“I’ve learned some very interesting things in my meditations over the past day or so. Something has definitely changed in the Air.”
“Oh.” Dara almost chuckled. Since she’d begun Working with Wyla, she couldn’t help thinking all the hours Vine spent waiting for some hint of vibrations in the wind had been wasted. Air was nothing compared to the power of Fire and Watermight.
“You can scoff if you wish,” Vine said calmly. “But that tells me how unprepared you are.”
“Unprepared for what?”
“It’s possible there’s a way to transport Watermight,” Vine said at last. “I don’t know for sure how it works yet.”
Dara stared at her, flabbergasted. “You can preserve Watermight?”
/> “I said it’s possible.”
“Tell me what it is.” Before Dara knew it, she was on her feet. She couldn’t believe Vine was thinking of holding this back. Vine was supposed to be her friend. If Dara could transport Watermight as well as unite it with Fire, she would be unstoppable. “Tell me.”
“Dara Ruminor, look at yourself,” Vine said.
“What?”
“Look at what you’ve let the power do to you already,” Vine said. “You are better than this.”
Dara blinked, confused. Then she realized she still had the Savven blade in her hand. She had been brandishing it as she urged Vine to talk. The tip hovered mere feet from Vine’s face.
Dara dropped the sword on her bed at once as lightning flashed again, followed by a peal of thunder. She hadn’t meant to threaten Vine. She had forgotten she was holding the sword. Yet she still felt the urge to force Vine to tell her everything. She needed to win, to be the one to make this breakthrough first. And she had been angry—at least for a moment—that Vine had figured out the trick before her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling stunned and ashamed.
“It’s all right,” Vine said. “Actually, I’m less nervous to face you with a sword than I would have been a month ago. When was the last time you did footwork? Or went for a run? Or actually practiced dueling? You haven’t been yourself lately, Dara.”
Dara slumped onto her bed. She touched the blade sitting beside her, feeling the familiar heat in the metal, but she didn’t pick it up. Vine was right. She had never gone this long without practicing before. What was happening to her?
The wind picked up, driving rain against the windowpane and howling around the manor. She swore specks of Watermight appeared in the droplets sliding down the glass. Her eyes felt hot and scratchy, and she wished the window were open so the gale could cool her face.
When she didn’t speak, Vine unfolded her legs gracefully and came over to sit on Dara’s bed. “You’re hardly the first person to be driven off course by a taste of power.”