Liberating Fight

by Melissa McShane

  They followed the curve of the street into a place where it widened into a plaza. A fountain several rikras tall stood at its center, water splashing placidly into the wide basin. The fountain resembled a miniature tower, complete with dome, atop which stood a robed female figure. Amaya still did not understand what meaning such constructions had for Europeans, whether they meant to memorialize someone or simply liked to celebrate the human form.

  She watched the fountain as they passed it and continued watching as it fell to the rear. Now she would never have the opportunity to explore Madrid. The idea made her unexpectedly melancholy. It was not as if this were her home, and she was no longer certain she wished to be Spanish. Her heart ached nonetheless.

  Elinor gasped. Amaya turned to look at her only to be shoved away from the window. From outside, Lord Enderleigh shouted, “Elinor!” And Amaya saw, arching toward their line of carriages, a ball of fire bigger across than her outstretched arms hurtling toward them out of the sky.

  In the next moment, the fire was gone, extinguished as if it had never been. Elinor awkwardly leaned out of the window and said, “We must find cover! He knows I am here!”

  Amaya did not understand what it meant that Valencia knew about Elinor. She could not comprehend how he had discovered them at all. But the carriage jerked, tilted in a sharp turn, and came to a halt. Elinor was outside before Amaya could react, her face turned to the sky. Amaya quickly joined her. Two more fireballs sailed toward them, casting the plaza into hellish relief. Without a gesture, Elinor extinguished those as well, though they came far closer than Amaya was comfortable with.

  “You must help the others seek shelter,” Elinor said without turning her attention from the sky. “El Encendedor approaches. I am pretending to be less capable than I am, to trick him into complacency, but that ruse will not work for long.”

  “Why does he come? Because I do not see why he wish to fight you.” Amaya found she could not stop staring at the sky, either, straining to see the next fiery missile.

  Elinor shook her head. “A line of carriages sneaking away to the west—he no doubt believes it is King Ferdinand, trying to make his escape. I have no idea what he makes of the fact that the king has an Extraordinary Scorcher in his train; did you tell him of my existence?”

  Amaya managed not to wince at this reminder of her captivity and her blithe confiding in Valencia. “He knows I was attendant upon you. But he should not believe you support the king.”

  “Even if he realizes his mistake, he cannot permit me to go free.” Elinor gestured at another pair of fireballs, though they did not immediately vanish. “I am more likely to be an ally of Spain than someone interested in simply being free of this conflict, as far as he is concerned. Now, go.” The air in front of Elinor shimmered, glowing hot, and a fiery missile burst into existence and shot away from her, sailing into the sky before being extinguished at the height of its arc.

  Amaya turned to see the carriages pulled up in an untidy group around hers and men emerging from them in disarray. Lord Enderleigh hovered above the group, surveying the plaza. “Free the horses, and come this way,” he commanded, Flying toward the northern side where a building with an ornamental façade faced the fountain. Stone curlicues ornamented its eaves and the sides of its broad double doors, and a latticed window positioned over the door caught the last light of the setting sun. A stone cross ornamented with smaller curlicues surmounted the peak of the roof.

  Lord Enderleigh dropped to land lightly on the doorstep and pushed on the door. It didn’t open. Grimacing, Lord Enderleigh hammered on the door with his fist, shouting, “Open this door immediately!”

  Amaya arrived at his side, pushing through the crowd of men, just as he set his shoulder to it. The door failed to shift more than a finger’s-breadth. “Barred, I believe,” he told Amaya.

  Amaya’s gaze fell on the frightened Peter Grimly, whose Shaped beauty seemed so out of place now. “You will help,” she told him. Grimly’s face paled to ash. Amaya grabbed him by the arm and towed him to stand in front of the door. “Build your Strength—your muscle and bone,” she said.

  “I have never—” Grimly began in a weak voice.

  “You will do it now because you have the talent.” There was no time for her to alter a non-Shaper without causing that person tremendous pain. She spoke to Grimly’s Strength sunqu and sent a command coursing through him. Grimly gasped as his muscles enlarged slightly. Then his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened in determination. Amaya watched long enough to know that he was building muscle before doing the same herself. Her body strained against her slightly too large shirt, but the power coursing through her felt like nothing else in the world.

  “We push on three,” she told Grimly, who had become even more muscular than she—well, it was typical of the young to think more was better, and so long as it gave him the strength to help her break the door down, she did not care about his absurdity. She set her shoulder against one half of the door, waited for Grimly to do the same, and counted off numbers.

  On three, they slammed into the door in unison. There was a still, breathless moment in which she feared they would need to strike again, and then the inner bar cracked and the door flew open. Amaya took a few stumbling steps before catching herself. Then the others pressed forward, pushing past her in their eagerness to reach safety. Amaya stood back and waited.

  “No, do not—we will all die!” said a tremulous voice that rose high above the clamor. “This is a house of God!”

  “My lord,” Amaya said, grabbing Lord Enderleigh by the sleeve as he neared her, “we have attacked a church. Surely that is wrong.”

  “Miss Salazar,” Lord Enderleigh said, “a church is a sanctuary, and should open its doors to all in need. Tell the priest he is in no danger. I must fetch Lady Enderleigh.” He pushed through the crowd and was gone.

  “Excuse me, ah…” Amaya could not immediately recall how Valencia had addressed her uncle Leocadio. “Excuse me, Father, but we need shelter. We will not hurt you.”

  “This is a house of God,” the elderly priest repeated. “You bring violence here.”

  “No, but…” Amaya did not know what else to say. He was correct that even though the ambassadorial party intended him no harm, the fighting would reach this far, and she was not certain everyone who fought in Madrid that night cared about sparing holy men. “We will defend you,” she said. “But you must permit us entrance. I promise you will not be hurt.” A rash promise, but the man was so terrified Amaya felt responsible for watching over him.

  The priest’s gaze shifted, and Amaya discovered he was looking at her clawed hands. “You should not fear me,” she said. “I do not turn my claws on the innocent.”

  The priest swallowed once, convulsively. Then he gestured. “We must bar the door again, as you have broken through. But we have no weapons.”

  “We do,” Amaya said. It was a brash statement; aside from the abilities of those with offensive talents and Edmund’s fists, they had only a handful of pistols that had originally been intended to defend the party against bandits while they traveled. It would have to be enough.

  Lord Enderleigh returned, hustling Elinor along with his arm around her shoulder. Elinor turned to look back once, then hurried through the door Amaya shut behind her. The shattered bar made Amaya feel slightly guilty, but if Lord Enderleigh was correct, the priest should have let them in to grant them sanctuary, and she and Grimly should not have had to break it down.

  “I need a window,” Elinor told the priest, who looked at her in mute incomprehension. Amaya repeated the request in Spanish, and the old man nodded and gestured to them to follow him.

  The narrow front hall opened almost immediately into a much larger room full of wooden benches. At the far end stood an ornate table beneath a tall arch, beyond which the wall was carved with images Amaya at first took for abstract designs. Another glance told her they were human figures engaged in activities she did not understand, their hands
clasped together and their heads tilted to stare at the ceiling. The room smelled of an unfamiliar incense, and she commanded her nose to stop itching so she would not sneeze.

  More arches lined the walls of the room, and the old priest led them through the second on the left to a staircase. It was unlit, and dark enough that Amaya needed to adjust her eyes to keep from falling. Elinor walked slowly, holding her gown high so as not to trip. The staircase let out on an equally dark hallway, but the priest moved as if he had a Shaper’s eyes, and shortly opened a door through which dim light streamed.

  This was the room wherein lay the window Amaya had seen, the latticed one over the door. An enormous ball of fire streaked toward them, and Elinor dismissed it before it could strike the damaged front door. “This will be enough,” she said. “You must make this place defensible against conventional attack, because I am certain El Encendedor will not be alone when he comes.”

  “El Encendedor?” the priest said, grasping the one part of Elinor’s speech he could understand. “You are also an Extraordinary Scorcher?”

  “She is,” Amaya said. “She will defend this place.” In English, she added, “I will remain with you in case something goes wrong.”

  Elinor nodded absently. She squeezed her husband’s hand and said, “I suppose we will learn to fight a land battle.”

  The earl chuckled. “How typical of you to see the best in a situation. Mr. Hanley, if you would translate for me, I will explain to this priest what we need.”

  Edmund looked at Amaya as if he wished he might speak with her privately. She smiled, and his features softened as if she had kissed him instead.

  When the men were gone, Elinor said, “I need you to smash this window. I can fight behind glass, but it is easier not to have any barriers between myself and the fire. And I did not like to do it where the priest could see. He has enough worries without seeing his church destroyed by those who would protect it.”

  Amaya nodded. With her elbow, she gave a sharp blow to the lattice, which splintered and shattered. She used her hands to snap off the remaining pieces and fling them into the street, then Shaped her bloody hands free of the few cuts the glass had given her and wiped them on her trousers. Elinor watched in silence.

  “This is like no battle I have ever fought in,” she said when Amaya finished.

  Amaya said, “I do not know what it is to fight like a rat in a cage. We are trapped here if Señor Valencia comes.”

  “I know,” Elinor replied. Another fireball vanished, and then she flung one of her own that was also extinguished. “For now, we must protect ourselves. I predict—” She pressed a hand to her lower back and grimaced. “I predict this will be a very long night.”

  Chapter 25

  In which the power and limits of Extraordinary Scorchers are revealed

  For a time, it did not feel like a battle at all. The occasional ball of fire came sailing out of the darkness, temporarily illuminating the empty plaza. The carriages huddled in front of the church in a random way that suggested their drivers had all been drunk when they stopped. Amaya wondered in passing where the horses had gone. She hoped they were somewhere safe.

  Elinor leaned on the window sill, watching the skies. After two or three of Valencia’s fiery missiles, she would fling one of her own. Hers were always extinguished more rapidly than she dismissed Valencia’s. “He is brash,” Elinor said abruptly. “You see how he shows off his distance? I am certain he believes me less capable than he, which will work to our advantage when the fighting is fiercest.”

  “What is distance? Can you tell how far away he is?”

  Another fireball shot toward them, and Elinor extinguished it when it reached the fountain. “There are four aspects to a Scorcher’s talent,” she said absently. “Distance is how far away a Scorcher can ignite a fire—or in an Extraordinary Scorcher’s case, extinguish one. There is range, which is how far one can make a fire such as these missiles travel before it goes out. Power is how large and hot a fire a Scorcher can ignite. And stamina is how long one may wield fire before becoming exhausted. Señor Valencia’s range is exceptional; I have been watching the place where the fireballs come from, and he is quite far away. But his distance is not as good. My missiles travel farther than his before they are extinguished.”

  “Then he does not approach.”

  Elinor shook her head. “He draws nearer every moment. I believe he intends to frighten us, or possibly me. He knows I will realize his stamina is great to permit him such an extravagant use of his talent. And he believes me much less powerful.” She laughed, a low chuckle that sent a chill down Amaya’s spine. “There are men who believe a female Scorcher is necessarily less powerful than a male. I intend to trade upon that misunderstanding in my dealings with Señor Valencia.”

  Amaya looked out at the now darkened plaza. “If I cared about him, I would fear for his fate.”

  Elinor laughed again. “I always feel exhilarated when I use my talent. It is like nothing else in the world, like pure life running through my veins. But perhaps you, as an Extraordinary, understand.”

  “I do.” Amaya ran her hands up and down her arms, though the night was warm. “When my body responds to my Shaping, it is like I can do anything.”

  “You have it exactly.” Elinor pressed a hand lightly to the base of her spine. “No, I am well,” she said when Amaya exclaimed. “It is how I feel my reserves are low, but I believe this is merely the usual ache of the child affecting my body.”

  “I will fetch a chair,” Amaya said.

  Finding a chair was harder than she anticipated. Most of the seating appeared to be the long benches in the central space of the church. Eventually Amaya found an armchair in a small salon off the central space and hauled it up the stairs, bumping against corners and wedging it through the door. Elinor laughed when she saw it.

  “I feel as if I am fighting from a throne,” she said, but she seated herself with alacrity. “Do you know, I am grateful not to have given birth yet? This would be dreadful if I had to fear for the safety of my child as well as everyone else.”

  “I suppose that is a way to see it,” Amaya said.

  She turned at the sound of footsteps to see Edmund entering the room. “We are prepared for a siege,” he said. “Though it is possible Señor Valencia’s people will be disinclined to attack a church.”

  “Then what is it we do?” Amaya asked. “It is not a battle if we face each other and cannot attack.”

  Edmund shrugged. His hair was disordered, giving him a rakish appearance Amaya found appealing. “That will depend on Señor Valencia. I assume your strategy, Lady Enderleigh, is to exhaust him to make him defenseless?”

  “You do me honor to assume I have a strategy,” Elinor said with a wry smile. Another fireball soared over the plaza and was extinguished. “At the moment, I intend only to prevent him doing damage to this building, and to keep our people safe. I dislike fighting a defensive battle, but as we do not know his intentions, a defensive battle is all we can manage at the moment.”

  “We are watching the plaza for any sign of conventional attack. Thus far, we have seen nothing.” Edmund looked out the window at the fountain. “Have you any idea how far away Señor Valencia is?”

  “A few streets, I believe.” Elinor cast a ball of fire into the sky; it was extinguished almost immediately. “He is very close.”

  “Then I will warn the others.” Edmund gripped Amaya’s shoulder briefly and left the room.

  Elinor settled back in her chair. “You and Mr. Hanley,” she said. “I confess to being surprised. He has many stellar qualities, but I did not believe one such as him to appeal to a warrior such as you.”

  Amaya could not reveal Edmund’s secret profession. “He likes to see—to show himself as lighthearted and not sensible, but that is not so. I see him fight, and he is strong. And I see him struggle, and he is strong.”

  Elinor nodded slowly. “I respect Mr. Hanley’s understanding of the political situ
ation. He cannot be entirely frivolous if he is so wise. But—no, I will not insult you.”

  “Insult me?”

  Elinor paused to aim another fireball out into the night. “I believed him to be uninterested in any sort of romantic commitment. But I know you are not the sort to wish for only temporary pleasure. Forgive me if that is crass.”

  Amaya did not understand what about Elinor’s words could be considered inappropriate. “He did not meet the right woman until now.”

  That made Elinor laugh. “Then I am happy for you both. And—” She stood, her words cutting off. “He is here.”

  Amaya moved past Elinor to stand by the side of the window where she could not easily be seen from outside. At first, the plaza looked as empty as before. The carriages formed an impromptu barrier in front of the damaged church door, their bodies black hulks in the moonless night. The water in the fountain flowed in an endless stream, making a rippling sound Amaya heard clearly despite the nearby shouts and the reports of gunfire. Nothing moved but the water, emerging from half a dozen spouts carved to look like swan’s mouths.

  Then the noise surged, and the shadows between the buildings shifted and vanished as torches rushed toward the plaza. Men wielding those torches ran toward the church and came up short as if some invisible barrier had stopped them. Their shouts were indecipherable as voices tangled with voices to make a sound that was nearly tangible. A few guns fired into the air, sending the scent of gunpowder wafting toward the broken window.

  Amaya realized Elinor had taken a position opposite her and was looking out the window. “I wonder,” Elinor said. “Do you believe these have been Coerced?”

  “I cannot say,” Amaya said. “Does it matter?”

  “It may, if the Coercion impels them to attack a house of the Lord regardless of their own feelings.” Elinor surveyed the crowd. “I understand the Spanish people are quite devout.”