Liberating Fight

by Melissa McShane

  Just as the sun’s curve began to dip below the horizon, Valencia called a halt and gathered the riders around him. “My Seers believe Solano and his men to have taken shelter at his estate on the far side of these hills,” he said. “We will discover the truth, and then we will attack. Until then, rest and eat. We must not lose strength just as we need it most.”

  The men dismounted and spread out, some caring for horses, others bringing out short loaves of bread and hunks of pale yellow cheese. Amaya brought her horse close to Valencia, who sat as if he were waiting for her. “How will you learn if Solano is there?”

  “We will send scouts after the sun sets,” Valencia said. “Then we will use the darkness to cover our assault.”

  “I understand,” Amaya said. “I will go.”

  Valencia’s brow furrowed. “That is not necessary.”

  “I assure you I am far more experienced at moving silently in darkness than any of your men, however skilled they may be. And I am capable of seeing in very little light. You need only tell me what to look for, and I will find it.”

  Valencia regarded her with that steady, intent look for a long moment. “You should not go alone,” he finally said.

  “She will not,” Edmund said. “I will accompany her.”

  Valencia turned his intent look on Edmund, and his lips twitched as if he were containing a smile. “You, sir?”

  “Well should you laugh,” Edmund said. “I know what I appear to be. But my role within the government is not only that of translator. I have been a spy these last five years, and I am accomplished at concealing myself in the course of discovering information others would rather keep hidden. I will not impede Miss Salazar on this task.”

  Surprise nearly made Amaya lose her seat. Edmund, a spy? It explained so much about the discrepancy in his character, his moments of seriousness, his unexpected talent for observation. But even she knew spying was serious, secret business. “Edmund, surely you should not tell us this,” she said, feeling uncertain.

  “Concealment is the nature of being a spy, that is true. But in this company, we must all trust one another.” Edmund removed the cloth from around his neck and wiped his forehead, leaving a damp brownish smear from the dust. “And I wish to make my full skills available to Mr. Valencia and his cause.”

  “Very well,” Valencia said. “We must verify that Solano himself is present. It will do us no good to kill his men if we cannot also destroy him. You must not enter the house, as even you, Miss Salazar, cannot be invisible. Instead, you will look for his horse. She is a piebald mare whose pattern is quite distinctive. Her head and throat are black, and her front legs and chest and shoulders are white, with one large black patch on her left side near her withers. She will be the only piebald horse in the stables. Find her, and bring word.”

  Amaya nodded. “We will go when the sun sets.”

  Edmund helped her care for her horse and remove its tack. In a low voice, he said, “I apologize for keeping that secret, but I am certain you see the need for it.”

  “I do, which is why I am so astonished that you should have revealed it at all. Surely your superiors will be angry with you, because how can you go on spying when your identity is known?” Amaya rubbed the horse down with a soft cloth as he showed her.

  “I feel confident Mr. Valencia will not share it with anyone,” Edmund said, and such was the confidence that rang through his voice Amaya’s objections faded like the others. “Do you not feel it, that rightness and surety in this cause? It surges through me, and I know I can achieve anything.”

  Amaya nodded. “I have never felt so sure of anything. Returning to Madrid will feel dull by comparison.”

  Edmund turned away. “Perhaps we will not return to Madrid.”

  “Oh, but—I have a responsibility to Elinor.” But even as she said this, a twinge of anxiety touched Amaya’s heart at the idea of abandoning Valencia. There was so much good to be done, and Madrid must have many childbed attendants; it was not as if Elinor would be alone. “I believe she would understand,” she said, and the anxiety lessened.

  They ate standing up, hunks of bread that must have come from Graciela’s kitchen and fist-sized lumps of cheese. It all tasted as wonderful as food does when one eats it out of doors, seasoned by Amaya’s knowledge that soon she would do what she believed she had left behind forever. She watched the stars come out, prickling the dark blue sky. The moon would not rise for several hours. Conditions were ideal for concealment and swift, silent movement.

  As she watched, she gradually Shaped her eyes to take in what little light there was. She could not see as perfectly as in daylight, but nearby shapes were clear. Then she Shaped Edmund’s eyes as well. It was something she had done for her fellow jaguar warriors many times. For the first time, the memory was warm and pleasant, not a jagged pain in her chest. They were gone. She remained. And life went on.

  When the last glow of light had faded from the western sky, Amaya and Edmund set out toward the hills. They kept to the low ground as best they could at first, making as straight a line as possible through the rises. Life in the mountains of Peru had taught Amaya the foolishness of silhouetting oneself against the sky at the top of a hill, and she led the way, gesturing occasionally to Edmund to follow her path exactly.

  She slowly Shaped her muscles as they ran, building her arms and shoulders to more comfortably fill her oversized coat. Jaguar warriors depended more on speed than on muscular bulk to kill their prey, but she would not disdain any weapon in a fight where she did not know what to expect of her enemy. Guns, yes, but she intended to take the fight to them, and strength could not help but benefit her.

  It took some time to pass through the hills, but eventually the slopes flattened out, and Amaya and Edmund slowed to observe the ground ahead. In the distance, perhaps five hundred rikras away—Amaya still could not accurately assess distances in European measure—warm lights flickered, like fallen stars. The lights were too distant to shed illumination on their surroundings, but Edmund said, “That must be the estate. It is larger than I imagined.”

  “Now is when we must be stealthiest,” Amaya said. “There will be sentries posted.”

  Edmund nodded, his attention still on the distant lights. “We should pass to the left or right rather than approaching directly. That will permit us to see most of the estate without nearing it too closely.”

  “I agree. Stay close.”

  Amaya led the way again, hunched over to give any observers less of a profile to identify as human and therefore dangerous. Her heart beat steadily, the breath flowed in and out of her lungs just quickly enough, and she let the night breezes pass over her skin and listened to what news they might bring. Nothing. She might have been alone on the plains, because Edmund moved as silently as she did. A memory occurred to her of Edmund taking her by surprise, of how often he was able to approach her without her knowing, and she smiled. Now his skills made sense.

  She heard footsteps—heavy boots, crushing the dry grass underfoot, not trying to be stealthy—and signaled to Edmund to halt. Crouching on the balls of her feet, she scanned the distance, looking for the sentry. There, to the right. He walked back and forth, covering the distance of perhaps two rikras before returning to his starting point. He carried a musket and wore a pistol at his hip. Amaya considered subduing him, but decided against it. If the sentries maintained contact with one another, one of the sentries finding his companion unconscious or dead would alert the estate to the presence of enemies. She gestured to Edmund, and they worked their way around the sentry to the left.

  They saw no more watchers until the estate was visible as a poorly-lit building. Like the Salazar house, Solano’s residence was low to the ground, only one story. Lights glowed in a few of the windows as well as from lanterns tied to posts some short distance from the house. They revealed stone construction similar to that of Fernándo’s house, flat rocks embedded in thick white mortar, though without the vines that shrouded those walls
. This gave the house a naked look as well as making it appear smaller, though Amaya’s assessment of the proportions said the houses were almost the same size.

  Edmund gripped Amaya’s elbow to get her attention. He gestured to the left. Amaya nodded and headed in that direction. The night was so still and silent she could not believe no one had heard their breathing, though of course no one not a Shaper was capable of perceiving such faint sounds. Even the background shrill whine of a million insects such as Amaya had heard in her bedroom in Fernándo’s house was absent. There was only Amaya and Edmund and—but there was another sentry, this one stationary and positioned beneath one of the lantern posts.

  Now Amaya moved even more slowly. She was certain of her ability to silence the sentry, but the lantern cast a circle of light that would make her attack obvious were someone to look out of the house, or across the field, at the wrong time. She made a wide circuit around the house, staying well out of the light, until she and Edmund had left the sentry behind.

  She paused, surveying her surroundings. They had reached the side of the house, which had no windows, and beyond that, a rail fence extended from the house into darkness. Edmund had already moved on and was gesturing to her to advance. When she joined him, she saw the rail fence connected to another fence to enclose a yard lit by only one lantern. The smell of horses drifted toward her on the breeze. Amaya squinted, and saw movement in the dark confines of a long shed open along one side.

  Edmund made as if to advance again, and Amaya held up a hand, palm out, in a warding gesture. She sniffed the air. Horses, manure, and a fainter, sour smell of an unwashed human body. Yet she saw no one in the stable yard.

  She pressed her lips nearly to Edmund’s ear. “Someone is here,” she whispered, “follow slowly,” and crept, crouched nearly on her hands as well as her feet, toward the shed. The scent of unwashed male human grew stronger. Then she froze as a shadow detached from the depths of the shed and ambled across the stable yard. He was bulky, with a large stomach and sloping shoulders, and his thick beard obscured much of his face. He crossed to the rail fence and rested his elbows on it, leaning forward in a relaxed way.

  Amaya and Edmund exchanged frustrated glances. The one light did not extend into the shed where the horses were. They would have to enter the stable yard to learn if Solano’s horse was present. And as tempting as it was to remove this man permanently, without knowing whether his absence would be noted, they might simply be alerting Solano to the presence of an enemy.

  Amaya scanned her surroundings once more, then gestured to Edmund and crept closer to the shed. The man continued oblivious to their presence, but assuming he would stay that way was foolishness. When they reached the shed, and were as far from the man as they could get without losing sight of him, Amaya once more whispered in Edmund’s ear, “Watch him. I will look at the horses.”

  Edmund shook his head vigorously. “If you enter the stable, you may disturb them, and they will rouse the bandits,” he whispered back. “Stay here. I have an idea.” He vanished around the back of the shed before she could protest. Annoyed, she kept a close eye on the bandit, who seemed rooted to the spot. If only he would leave!

  She heard Edmund moving, very faintly, and then all was once more still. The bandit stood upright and stretched. Then he turned and walked back toward the shed.

  Slowly, so as not to make a motion that would draw attention to herself, Amaya pressed against the side of the shed and ducked her head to conceal the gleam of her eyes. The man moved without haste and without trying to be silent—of course for him there was no point, as he need not conceal himself from the horses. The noise of his feet on the packed earth obscured whatever noise Edmund was making, if any.

  The bandit noisily cleared his throat and spat a great gob of saliva into the darkness. It landed barely a handspan beyond Amaya’s foot. She held still. The bandit stopped, scratched himself in an intimate location, and then entered the shed. Amaya’s heart beat too fast, and she slowed it, though not much because she wanted her body to be ready to act. Her claws slid out, ready to attack. If this man saw her or Edmund, she would kill him and risk his body being discovered.

  Within the shed, a horse let out a sleepy murmur. “That’s right, be easy, little one,” the man said in a deep bass rumble. Amaya rolled her eyes. A horse lover. And one who might spend the entire night caring for their needs even though they were all asleep.

  Someone touched her elbow. Discipline kept her from shrieking in surprise, but she did let out one startled breath she hoped no one noticed. Edmund tugged on her elbow and indicated with a jerk of his head that she should follow him.

  They continued on the way they had been going, around the back of the shed and to the farthest point of the house. There, safely concealed by darkness, Edmund whispered, “The horse is there. I saw it clearly.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “There are gaps in the walls, some of them large enough for one to put one’s head through. Though I nearly gave myself away when that man returned and I was there, face exposed for anyone to see. It was fortunate he did not look beyond the horse he spoke to.”

  “Very well. I believe we should circle this place and see if we cannot get a sense of how many bandits there are. That knowledge will be useful.”

  They saw four more men standing sentry around the house, and heard the murmur of conversation punctuated by shouts for wine coming from beyond the open front door. Amaya made Edmund wait a full five minutes while she teased out individual voices, finally concluding there were at least fifteen men within the house. Then the two of them made their way back to the hills, where they ran.

  Edmund was panting by the time they left the hills behind and saw the fires indicating Valencia’s camp. They came to a stop by mutual unspoken agreement and watched the fires burn. “I envy you,” Edmund said, putting a hand on Amaya’s shoulder. “I believe you could run forever.”

  “Not forever,” Amaya said with a smile. Her breathing was only slightly more rapid than usual, and her arms and legs felt warm and comfortably loose. She put her hand over Edmund’s. At that moment, they were not just friends, but companions in battle, and the idea warmed her heart as well.

  Edmund’s face sobered. “Amaya,” he said, “I do not…”

  She waited for him to complete his sentence, but instead his hand gripped her shoulder more tightly. His nearness made her feel peculiar; it was not the discomfort she felt when Valencia looked at her, but something deeper and more satisfying, as if she were returning home after a long absence. She became aware of his hand beneath hers, how well-shaped and strong it was, and withdrew her hand, feeling shaken and uncertain as to why.

  Edmund shook his head. “We must report to Mr. Valencia,” he said, letting his hand fall to his side. “I find myself eager to return to Solano’s estate. I do not love bloodshed, but he must not be permitted to attack any more innocents.”

  Amaya glanced over her shoulder as if she could see through the hills to the distant house and the men surrounding it. “He will learn the folly of attacking a Salazar,” she said, and did not know if she meant Fernándo or herself.

  Chapter 14

  In which battle is joined

  Valencia was crouched beside one of the fires when they approached. He rose and came toward them with his hands outstretched. “You return,” he said. “With good news, I hope?”

  “Good news,” Amaya said. “Solano is there. We judge there to be at least twenty men in the house and surrounding it.”

  Valencia’s eyes widened. “More than I asked. Thank you. Everyone, prepare to travel,” he said, raising his voice so it carried to the far edges of the camp. “We will not ride, and a few of you will remain here to watch the horses and tend the fire.”

  As he spoke these words, three of the four large fires simply died out, extinguished as abruptly as if they had been mirages. Valencia had made no gesture, shown no sign that he had put out the fires. Amaya remembered watching E
linor manipulate fire and how she had behaved exactly the same, as if the fire were an extension of her and she thought no more of shaping it than another might think of lifting a hand to open a door. The memory of Elinor made her feel guilty for a moment, and then the guilty feeling left Amaya, and she remembered that Elinor would have many others on hand to assist her, and likely would not miss Amaya at all.

  Valencia led the way into the hills, striding as confidently as a king with Amaya and Edmund close behind. Now that she did not have to worry about remaining unseen, or Shaping her body to withstand an extended run, Amaya was able to appreciate things she had barely noticed before: the soft dusty scent of the dry earth; the feel of the night breezes against her face; the richness of the blue-black sky arching overhead. It was a beautiful night, one it seemed a shame to ruin with bloodshed. And yet that was their intent.

  When they came out of the hills, Valencia signaled a halt. “Half a mile to our destination,” he said. “Wait to engage the enemy until my signal. We wish to conceal our presence as long as possible.”

  “What signal, sir?” Edmund asked.

  Valencia smiled. “The signal only El Encendedor may give.”

  Now they ran, swiftly if not silently, though Amaya amused herself by stepping lightly so as to leave few tracks. The dark, hunched shape of the house loomed before them, as did another, shorter, narrower shape. Amaya saw the sentry before the others did and darted ahead, bearing the man to the ground and tearing out his throat before he could shout a warning.

  Then the house erupted in flames.

  Amaya rose, her fingers and claws bloody, and stared in astonishment. Elinor was reticent about the extent of her talent, and Amaya did not know how Valencia’s talent compared to that of other Extraordinary Scorchers, whether distance and intensity mattered. All she knew was that the entire roof was on fire, the whole span of it, and beneath the crackling and roaring of the flame she heard men’s screams of terror.