Instead, he'd done nothing.
When he'd heard about the Tribunal arresting Helix, it was like waking to find his worst nightmare was real. It was the thing he'd feared every day since he'd first heard the wind. The only saving grace was that it wasn't happening to him.
He'd always thought he was a better person than that.
Get up, he told himself the evening of the trial. He was sitting inside, whittling a birdhouse, while his parents waited at the inn with the Smiths for word. Your eyes are normal. There's no way for them to know. Go up there. You at least owe it to him to see what happens.
He went out to the stable to check on the horses, then to the well for water. The litany of recriminations chased him. Are you going to spend your whole life this way? Hiding from the Church? Pathetic.
Snowflakes pricked at his cheek. It was dark, and getting cold. He made his way back to the house, staring at the bucket sloshing in his hands, and the wind whispered, Fire.
Startled, he glanced up. Behind the houses just across the road, the horizon was glowing.
The inn!
He dropped the bucket and ran, his lassitude finally broken. Too late. Dread reared in his chest. It was the inn. He was sure of it. His parents were burning and somehow, it was his fault for not being there.
But it wasn't the inn. It was the temple.
A crowd churned in the road. Some were craning their heads; some were weeping; some were running for water. A handful of mounted soldiers kept them all at bay. Beyond them, the hill was a conflagration.
He fought his way to the front of the crowd. The prison tent was gone, the broken bones of the jail wagon wreathed in fire. Between the darting silhouettes of soldiers with water buckets, he saw a blackened body in the flames.
Helix's mother was screaming.
Iggy was too late after all.
~ ~
The soldiers relented before long, allowing help from the villagers, who ran in with their own buckets. Iggy helped, charging back and forth from Mellerson's well. They got the wagon put out first. As the fight against the flames spread outward, Bishop Marcus and his two Preservers swept into the ruins of the wagon and toward the body.
Iggy backed away, his eyes locked to the ground. He didn't want to look any of them in the eye. Just in case.
"Insignia," one of the Preservers said. He plucked a charred piece of metal from the body. "It's a soldier."
"Where's the boy?" Marcus demanded.
Iggy's gaze darted around the site, his heart suddenly pounding. There were other bodies, but none anywhere near the wagon.
"Not here," the other Preserver said after a second search. His face was streaked with ash.
"Galen!" Marcus snapped. A Justicar rode up. "The fire's nearly out. Get everyone who's not still working on it over here. Fan out and search the village. The boy is gone. The fire was a distraction."
The knight nodded. "Goreth and Bennett just returned from the girl's house. Her mother says she didn't come home." He pulled a bugle from his belt and gave a single, sharp blast.
"Find her," Marcus ordered, "and bring her mother to me." He scowled. "And get these people out of here."
"Loyalmen!" Galen shouted. "The prisoner's escaped. He's probably with the girl from the trial, the one with the long hair. They can't have gotten far. Check every room at the inn and fan through the village until you find them. Someone is probably hiding them.
"If you're not wearing a uniform, get to the camp. There is still fire to be fought!"
He wheeled away, then launched into the village.
Lyseira? Iggy backed away further still. He glanced toward the inn. Are they in there?
A Preserver grabbed his arm. "To the camp, boy," he said. "You heard the man."
No! he nearly shouted. Get your hand off me! But that would be madness, so instead, he obeyed.
Only a few pockets of fire still burned in the camp; it took a little more than an hour to put them out. When he returned, the soldiers had a trio of hounds in the road.
His heart leapt. They must not have found Helix and Lyseira yet, if they were resorting to hounds. But by the same token, if they were using hounds, they'd find them soon.
A man crouched in the road, a shirt in his hands. The hounds shoved their faces into it, eager and wild, then fanned out along the road. One of them started baying.
Found it! she shouted. She was thrilled to be the one. Northeast! Northeast!
"She has him," the man said.
No! Iggy called through the wind. The bitch snapped her head up.
"They actually ran," one of the soldiers marveled.
"They won't get far," Galen said from horseback. "Go."
Iggy reached for the wind. Help me. Move the scent. He closed his eyes, his heart pounding. They'll see me. Hurry.
Northeast! the bitch shouted again. She was straining at her leash, her master fighting to keep up.
Iggy felt the wind shift as it answered him.
West! a second hound shouted, and then the last one echoed him: West!
The bitch pulled up short, sniffing in circles.
"Wait," the hound master said. The bitch threw her head back and howled.
West!
Then they were away, dragging the hunting party behind them.
iv. Lyseira
They broke out of the trees and found themselves in an open field. Seth drove them onward, toward another copse of trees to the north, and another beyond that. They took short breaks only when they had to, and forced themselves to move on. Finally they came to another large wood, and Seth pulled them in.
The hours stretched past. The moon dragged itself west, blinking at Lyseira from between the clouds and the tree branches.
She was nearly numb with exhaustion. She had barely slept the night before Helix's trial—a night that felt now like it had happened in another lifetime, to another person—and she had been on the run for hours. They had all settled into a clumsy rhythm: slower than before, but faster than a walk. Is it really faster than a walk? She looked at her legs, chasing the path her brother had left, and felt utterly incapable of judging their speed. They weren't even hers.
At least they had left behind the baying of hounds, and hadn't heard anything else from their pursuers. She thanked God for that, and then something asked her, Why? Why thank God for that?
Because He was protecting them. Guiding them. He approved of saving Helix; that was the only reason they were getting away.
Bishop Marcus is the one who works miracles. Bishop Elmoor is the holy judge. Galen Wick, the murderer, is a Justicar. They're the holy men.
God is on their side.
Her eyes played a trick on her in the dark, and a low-hanging branch slapped into her forehead.
"Well?" Helix grunted from somewhere. He'd probably meant, Are you well? He sounded too exhausted to get all the words out.
"Yeah," she answered. Her tongue was heavy.
And that couldn't be right. God wasn't on Marcus and Elmoor's side. They were killers and liars, just like Helix had said. Slay not thy fellow man. It was the second Sacred Principle. It applied to them too.
Just rotten eggs, that's what they were. The Fatherlord didn't know what they were doing. He was Akir incarnate, God granted flesh. When He found out, He would be furious. He would rein them in.
If He's God granted flesh, why doesn't He already know?
She staggered and opened her eyes. She'd nearly tripped over a log. But when had she closed her eyes? Was she sleeping on her feet?
She glanced behind her, then ahead. The shadows of her friends were gone.
"Seth?" There was more panic in the call than she'd expected.
His voice came back. "I'm here." He clapped. She turned toward the sound and saw the shapes of Helix and Syntal lurching through the wood ahead of her. Syntal was leaning on her cousin.
Lyseira put one foot in front of the other.
Maybe He did already know. Maybe He would mete out punishment on
His own. But either way, they had to go to Him. He was the only one who could commute Helix's death sentence.
And besides, the Chronicle was filled with stories of people who acted on faith and were rewarded. Akir knew what they were doing or what they needed; that wasn't the point. The point was that they acted on faith. They proved themselves worthy. And when the time came, God rewarded them.
But Marcus and Elmoor aren't worthy. Why does He still let them work miracles?
She had worked every day of her life for Akir. She had helped The Abbot when no one else could; she had dedicated herself to the cause of God.
But she'd had lustful thoughts, too. She'd lied. She'd regretted the hours in the temple, sometimes. There hadn't always been joy in her heart. If she was honest with herself, there had been far less joy in her heart the last few years.
Yes, because none of it counted for anything! All that work, and God never granted me a miracle!
So that meant she hadn't done it for the right reasons. She'd only worked at the temple, only helped The Abbot, because she expected something in return. She was broken. Selfish.
Not true! I loved The Abbot! He was like a father to me! And if that's the worst I've done, it's still not murder! It's still not faking a trial! It's not faking the word of God!
Bishop Marcus had tried to bribe her.
She shoved through a wall of branches and stumbled on to sudden, hard-packed dirt. They were on a worn forest path, nearly wide enough for a wagon. The trees arching overhead were the walls of a cathedral. Thin moonlight sifted through their branches like the sun through stained glass.
"I thought... we were... stay off the roads," Lyseira panted.
"Where are we?" Helix said as he and Syntal emerged.
Seth took in the path. "I don't recognize it," he admitted. Even he was starting to sound winded. "We must've gotten... turned around. I don't know this area." He squinted upward, searching for the moon.
Angbar broke through the trees in a crackle of snapping twigs. "Why... stopping?"
"Lost," Lyseira answered.
"Lost?" he aped. "That matters... now?" He pushed on to the road, weaving like a drunkard. "Keep going. Lanterns."
"What?" Helix breathed.
"Lanterns... behind us." Angbar reached the trees on the far side and turned back. He grabbed his knees, panting. "An hour. Two. Thought that's... why... not stopping."
Lyseira turned back. She saw nothing, at first. Then there were two pale smears of light, bobbing through the trees.
God is on their side.
"What... doing?" Angbar managed. "Have to... go!"
"No," Seth said. "We should make a stand... here." He unslung both packs—his and Lyseira's—and rolled his shoulders.
"What?" Angbar boggled.
The lantern light was gone, but Lyseira could hear something in the brush.
"They'll kill us!" Helix protested.
The noise was louder. Lyseira searched the woods with her eyes. Still nothing.
Syntal, draped over her cousin's shoulder, staggered to an independent stand. She was wobbling on her feet.
"Get into the woods," Seth said. "I'll take them here... catch up after."
Then Lyseira saw them again, just off the road, but they weren't lanterns at all.
They were eyes.
Something massive leapt from the trees and slammed Helix to the ground, its empty gaze smearing a white glow across the darkness. It ripped into Helix's neck. Syntal and Angbar screamed. Lyseira screamed with them.
Seth darted in and lashed at the thing's face—Wolf, Lyseira thought, but it wasn't, it couldn't be, it was too big and it had no eyes—and it reared back, snapping. Black strings swung crazily from its jaws in the moonlight.
Helix wasn't moving.
"Run!" Seth screamed. He leapt on the thing's back, fighting to get ahold of its jaws. It caught his hand and nearly tore it off. Seth howled. The monster shook itself like a dog, hurling Seth to the road. Its rear claws scrabbled once. Then it leapt at Angbar, spraying frozen dirt behind it.
Angbar swung his travel sack with a scream, smashing the monster in the jaw with an explosion of cheese and jerky and bottled beets. Then he was gone, buried in dirty fur and snapping jaws.
God! Lyseira screamed. GOD! She was rooted with terror, forced to watch as they all died.
The road flickered with light, brilliant as a lightning strike. It hurled the beast into the road. Syntal advanced on it, pointing her finger.
"Ves!" she snapped.
A flash from her finger. The thing rocked backwards, scrabbling for purchase.
"Ves!"
The light caught it under the jaw, twisting it sideways. Then it leapt for her.
"Ves!"
The flash caught it in mid-leap, flinging it backwards. In the nauseating light of the thing's eyes, Lyseira caught a glimpse of blood running from Syntal's nose.
The beast whimpered.
"Ves!" Syntal screamed, shaking.
The light tore into the thing's haunch, spinning it like a kicked rock. The glow in its eyes died. The road plunged back into darkness.
Syntal clutched her head, sobbing. Then she collapsed.
~ ~
Arc hound, some calm, rational part of Lyseira's mind said. Big wolf. Glowing eyes. Created by the Tribunal. They're everywhere in the Chronicle.
Ahead of her Seth rolled in the dirt, moaning and clutching at his ruined hand. Somewhere to her right, Angbar sounded like he was choking on his own blood.
Helix was silent.
No one outruns the Tribunal. They have God on their side.
She could just make out his body on the ground. "Helix?" The scream was raw and horrified, the stuff of nightmares; it took her a second to realize it was hers.
I brought them here. This was my idea.
She stumbled to him and fell to her knees. The ruin of his neck was pumping blood into the snow; it formed a puddle of black shadow in the moonlight. He grabbed her wrist.
Abbot Forthin had taught her prayers of invocation, to help her focus while praying for a miracle. She fumbled for one of them, tried to mutter what she could remember.
"Besh... ket," she whispered. Was it besh-ket? Or besk-tat? "Ben-tas... tíngala." The words were heavy and clumsy on her tongue. She hadn't spoken them in years.
They didn't work then. They won't work now.
She grabbed at his neck, trying to stop the blood. It was futile.
A trick of the moonlight made Akir appear at the road's edge, hooded and dour, watching in judgment.
"No!" she screamed. Her hands were covered in blood. "No! You don't get to just stand there! I've done everything for you! Everything!"
The blood was slowing. Helix's hand slipped from her arm.
"What did you want me to do?" she demanded. "Let them kill him? They are liars! You call them your servants? What kind of God are you?"
The clouds shifted, and Akir disappeared.
"Helix," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry... please... ah, God! I've done everything for you!" The scream raked her throat like daggers. "You do something for me!"
Then fire seized her.
It was the fury of the sun, the crippling rush of deep love, the raging of floods. It was thunder and lightning; sex and climax; the dawn of creation. It was God, speaking.
Her blood turned to flame. Her hands were His hands; her voice, His voice. She was nothing before Him, but she would not back down.
He had made Helix's flesh.
Now, He restored it.
Chapter 10
i. Iggy
Sometime after midnight, he finally turned for home. During his time at the camp site, the village had changed behind him.
The inn's door hung open, its light still spilling into the dead street. Willis Mellerson was gone, taken up to the temple for questioning, but there were still soldiers inside. Iggy started to wonder what they were looking for, then put it out of his mind.
Beyond the
inn, the village looked like Iggy imagined it ever did in the middle of the night. Except the doors seemed to be closed tighter somehow, the homes practically huddled into themselves. It was just his imagination, he thought, but then he saw Minda Fletchins' house laid open, the soldiers' lanterns bobbing inside. A few houses down, Silla Tevington's home was getting the same treatment. Minda had been sweet on Helix—the whole village knew it—but Silla? All she did was work with him.
He should've gone straight home, but something made him veer toward the Smith place.
Stupid. Go home. If the soldiers are anywhere, they're there. Don't tempt fate. He'd already gotten away with talking to the wind not twenty feet away from a bishop of the Tribunal tonight. His heart was still pounding; he still half-expected to feel a Preserver grab his shoulder any minute and demand that he come to the temple for questioning. Isn't that enough for one night?
It wasn't.
The Smith house was crawling with soldiers and initiates. Light blared from the windows. Inside, as far as he could tell, everything had been destroyed. Across the street, the Rulano place was much the same. It only looked less damaged because the Rulanos had so much less to ruin.
He searched the crowds for Lyseira's or Helix's parents. For Syntal, or Seth. They weren't there. He remembered the bishop asking to have Lyseira's mother brought to him, and felt a sudden chill.
What is happening at the temple right now? he wondered, and then, with a twist of nausea: Are they doing this at my house too?
What an irony it would be to survive the night at the temple—to work sorcery right in front of a bishop! —and return home to find they'd actually been looking for him all night.
He turned away, giving the scene a wide berth as he made his way back toward his house. He found the door closed, a single light burning on the front step—probably left by his mother for him.
No soldiers, then. No holy men. But for how long? He was friends with Helix. All the kids in the village had practically grown up together. They'll realize the hounds are going the wrong way, or that false scent trail will end—it has to sometime. That bishop will think back and remember me standing there with my eyes closed. He'll put two and two together.
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