“Run!” Trystaen yelled.
“Here! Get to me,” Averin shouted above the boiling water. “I’ll spirit us out.” He threw his hand out toward Stasha, his sapphire eyes beseeching her to hurry.
She yelped. Behind him, a wave of water and dead fish crested.
Joining him would be deadly.
The pond behind her roared. Spray, hot as boiling kettle water, hit the back of her head. She stumbled forward, just managing to keep her balance. If she toppled headfirst into the pond, she’d be boiled alive, if she didn’t drown first.
Trystaen grabbed her hand and jerked her off her feet. The world spun, and then she and Trystaen landed clumsily on Averin’s rock. Still clinging to her, Trystaen staggered for balance. Averin grabbed her and pulled her close while Eliezar clutched Trystaen.
Frea and Lukas teetered on the green slab. She guessed Lukas had spirited, just as she and Trystaen had.
“Hold my arms,” Averin shouted above the tumultuous water.
The wave crashed over them as Stasha’s hand landed on his arm. Scalding liquid washed across her face and hands and soaked through her leathers. She screamed.
And then she was flying again.
Stasha landed on one foot in a long trail of scree tossed down from the brooding white cliff above her. She stumbled to balance on trembling legs, failed, and collapsed to her knees next to Averin. The only difference was that he’d landed on both feet.
“Sorry, everyone,” Averin called. “I tried to get us into the temple, but—” A grimace. He dropped to his knees in front of her. “You okay?” His face was enflamed and swollen from the boiling water. He huffed a breath. “Your skin is blistered.”
That explained the sharp burning in her cheeks. He grabbed her hands, and she winced. Those were blistered too. In fact, her whole body, drenched in the boiling wave, ached. “I’m okay.” Her voice sounded hollow. She cleared her throat. “Really, I am. No worse than you. Nothing that fae healing won’t solve.” She gritted her teeth against unbearable stinging that ran up her body like a colony of biting ants. It was made worse by the icy wet leather clinging to her. “Burns to my back, stomach, and legs.” Her toes throbbed, as if to say, What about us?
Averin canted his head, dripping water into his eyes from his hair. His face had already begun to heal. “Only fire resistant, not heat resistant. Interesting.”
Not wanting to delve into her weird fae abilities, she glanced around. “Anyone else scalded?”
“As you say, nothing that won’t heal.” Boa had landed with the rest of the group, a few feet from her and Averin. Boa and Averin must have known to let go while landing, while she had clung to Averin as if her life depended on it.
Would she ever get used to spiriting? Everyone other than her and Averin started to gather together, clearly readying to leave.
“What happened back there?” she asked, anything to delay moving before her body was ready to cooperate.
“Frea’s foot slipped off her stone,” Boa said curtly. “She wasn’t in Ocea when the water was charmed, so it attacked her. And the rest of us. By now, the pools will be swarming with soldiers.”
Bow in hand, face pointed to the cliff, Frea showed no emotion at almost killing them.
“Can they track us here?” Stasha asked, dreading the answer.
“Depends on whether they have spiriting readers with them,” Averin said. At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Fae who can sense a spiriting path.” He pulled out his sword. “Boa and I won’t be much help if we need to throw magic around, but I can whip their asses with my blades.”
“We’ve got this,” Eliezar said with his usual quiet certainty. He flexed his hand, and a sharp breeze whipped up the stones around them. They would make deadly projectiles in a fight.
“Whatever happens,” Boa added, “defend Stasha. We cannot have her captured.”
“They’ll struggle to take me.” The fire sparking from her fingers matched her indignation.
“Trystaen, Lukas, and I won’t let them get close enough to try.” Eliezar glanced at Frea. “And I’m sure you’ll lend us the support of your water magic.”
“We need to get moving if we’re to reach the temple by nightfall,” Frea replied. “Inside the temple will be easier to defend than out here.”
The deep shadows confirmed the sun would not be long in setting. Already it was icy. Hypothermia would stalk on a night like this. She wasn’t human anymore, so hopefully hypothermia might not be such an issue, but she wasn’t keen to test that theory.
Averin held out his hand to her. When she took it, he whispered, “If you need help, ask. If you don’t want me helping you, Trystaen or Eliezar will do it with pleasure.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need special treatment.” She let him yank her to her feet. “Is there a path?”
“You’re standing on it.” Boa’s eyes flashed angrily as she looked around the barren scree. It was lined with stunted, burnt-out trees. “This used to be known as the Thousand Stairs. The first part of the pilgrim’s sacrifice to be worthy of meeting the gods. Piss Swill’s fae destroyed them when they sacked the temple. A double sacrilege given that this temple wasn’t only sacred to Ocea. Fae came from everywhere to worship here.”
Stasha studied the shale and cliff face more carefully. Scars on the mountainside suggested that once stairs could have been carved into it, stairs now lying in shattered ruins at the foot of its forbidding slope.
She swallowed. Scrambling up the cliff wasn’t going to be a picnic, especially with an enemy trailing them. Her scrawny frame took longer to heal than the others. Apart from wet clothes, they were already showing no signs of their injuries. Add her general physical weakness to that, and she would be the tail end of this climb, holding everyone back, as usual. She almost wished she could ask Averin to spirit her to the top to save everyone time, but if he’d had the magical strength left to do that, he would have offered. As it was, by his targeted spiriting, he had cut a day off their trip. She would be ever thankful to him for that.
Everyone waited for her.
She smiled pertly. “Race you to the top.”
“You’re on.” Averin’s bright eyes looked first at her and then at the rocky trail. “If you win, I’ll make you something to eat. If you win—” He chortled. “I’ll settle for a few handfuls of dried meat and nuts.”
She punched his arm, hating to admit he was wise in his assessment of her cooking skills.
“I’ll take that challenge, too.” Boa grunted. “I’d love to see the great Prince Averin don an apron and do some cooking.”
“Omelets for everyone.” Averin rolled his eyes as they all started walking. “Right. No eggs. You all lucked out.”
Only Frea showed no reaction to the banter. The surly fae set off at a brutal pace.
Stasha brushed her hair back from her face and tested her itching legs. The first step was tentative, but when the skin didn’t slough off her body, she increased her pace.
Instead of racing ahead, sword in hand, Averin and Boa flanked her. The threat of pursuit meant they walked faster than she, Averin, Trystaen, and Eliezar had before meeting up with the rebels. She dug deep into her energy wells to keep up with them.
Although Averin was watchful, true to his word, he didn’t offer to help her scramble over the rocks and boulders strewn in their path that he and the other fae sailed over as easily as breathing. It endeared him to her even more, for she would have hated to be singled out. Although she spent much of the hike looking over her shoulder, there was no sign of the Pyreack fae.
The higher they climbed over loose rocks and shifting soil, the thinner the air became, until she was wheezing. It was also punishingly cold. No birds nested here. No life existed among the treacherous slopes and crumbling rock faces. Not even insects chirped to greet the night closing in around them.
She considered coating her skin in a film of fire to warm her but decided against it. If they were being followed, it would draw unnecessary a
ttention. Also, she didn’t know what wells of magical power she had. Spiriting had taxed Boa, Averin, and Trystaen, and they were more powerful than she could imagine. Until she understood more about her magic, she didn’t want to waste an ounce of it before Klaus was safely out of Angharad.
She took her mind off her misery by practicing with her hidden blade. The first few times she triggered it, she almost cut her fingers off, but after an hour of climbing and flicking, the blade became less treacherous.
They reached a gap in the mountain. Like an axe, an earthquake must have cleaved the rock apart, making a clean cut straight through the glowing white marble and deep-gray stone. Through the cleft, the Sword constellation flecked the swiftly blackening sky with silver. A trail of purple and blue twinkled between the silver hilt and blade, like a river of gems. She had always loved that constellation. Now she had a sudden urge to fly up to the Sword, where it was quiet and peaceful, and no one was dead or dying. And no one hunted them.
“Almost there.” Boa’s step lightened, and she sped up.
Stasha pulled her attention from the sky to the mountain. Black and white faces, carved from marble the size of wagon wheels, ran the length of the cliff’s edge. Waterfalls poured from their gaping mouths and fell endlessly into the valley below. Stasha grimaced. “Fae worship the two-faced god?”
“He is one of our many deities.” Boa jumped over a gully. She landed perfectly on both feet. Her fae limbs were feline in their grace. “I’ve heard fae claim that the gods forsook us when the temple was sacked, but I’ve never believed it.” Boa smiled. “And now we have you. That’s a sure sign that the gods are listening.”
Stasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. How could Boa even suggest the gods cared after all that had happened to them? Hope was one thing, but this—
She burst out before she could stop herself. “I was almost burned at the stake to satisfy the Kňazer who worship the two-faced god. Trust me; the gods did nothing to rescue me. They don’t care if we live or die. If we’re slaves or kings. Human or fae.”
Boa’s eyes widened with something akin to shock. Before Boa could comment, Averin said, “Yet I arrived with Eliezar and Trystaen. We cut both you and Klaus free.”
Averin believed in the gods?
She couldn’t resist adding, “Yes. Just moments before Radomir arrived. We all know how well that turned out.”
Boa gripped her hand. “You talk of bringing us hope. Perhaps it’s time you believed in miracles.”
Stasha’s mouth opened and closed as she sought a comeback that didn’t utterly offend her allies.
“I think your Kňazer may have been in for a bit of a surprise if they’d tried to set you alight.” Averin bumped her shoulder. “I’ve visited this temple before, and I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.” He took her hand and broke into a trot, pulling her along with him. She tried not to pant like a dog on a hot day as they left Boa and the rest of the group behind.
A small slit appeared in the lattice of stone and darkness. Averin pulled her through it into a narrow tunnel. Her fae eyes adjusted to the thick blackness, and her nose scrunched at the reek of mildew and stale water. The stench deepened the farther they pushed into the darkness. No scent of human or fae mingled with the smell.
A bat swooped overhead, chattering as it rushed out into the night.
“Was holding my hand and dragging me in here your way of ensuring neither of us have to cook?” she whispered to Averin. “If so, I approve.” Her voice bounced and echoed through the tunnel.
Another bat squawked, flapping its leathery wings as it took flight past her ear. If anyone was hiding in the temple, they would have heard her for sure. She dropped her voice lower. “Is it safe here?”
“Keep your weapon handy,” Averin whispered. “And yes, it was a ploy to get us out of cooking.”
She stumbled over a rough patch of ground.
“Want to shed some light on the subject, pit princess? You know, use all that fire for something useful.”
Could she light up the tunnel? She guessed she could, so she lifted her hand and let it glow. Dust motes floated in the stale air around her. They rounded a bend only to have their path blocked by an old wrought-iron gate. Averin creaked it open just far enough for them to pass through in single file.
Golden light spilled out to greet them.
She extinguished her fire as she and Averin stepped into a wide stone cavern.
In a pool of bright magic towered a shining tree. She gasped. Not just at the living tree giving light in total darkness, but at the wave upon wave of fire magic pouring off it. Yet, when she searched for flames, there were none. Mouth gaping in wonder, she took a step closer.
Bearded with moss and ivy, its branches scraped against a mural on the domed ceiling. Roots burrowed beneath the marble floor, cracking and bowing it in places.
The tree had a vast girth. Even with their arms extended, their party could not have encircled its trunk—a trunk scarred with axe blows and scorch marks, which had nothing to do with the fire magic spilling from the majestic tree.
Deep-red amber clung to the wounds or ran like tears down the crevices and gnarls. Beneath her feet, crumbled jewels glittered. She gaped up at the dome. Soot and scorch marks blackened the gold-painted rock, rock pitted with holes, where the gems might once have gleamed. Now only a few glinted in the reflected light from the ancient tree.
“Wait here,” Averin hissed, “while I check that we don’t have company.”
She nodded lamely, transfixed by the tree.
Boa’s boots clipped across the dusty stone floor. “Lukas, Frea,” she called softly. “Secure the place while I watch Stasha.”
“I don’t need watching.”
“Not taking chances.” Stasha was about to flounce off after Averin when Boa added, “Piss Swill’s savages tried to destroy the tree, but the magic resisted them. Can you feel the fire calling to you?”
“Yes.” Something unfamiliar but powerful and insistent prickled her skin. She shivered. “But there’s something else. Something I don’t recognize.”
Boa rested her hand reverently on the bark. “Not surprising. You feel fire. I sense water. I bet Averin and Eliezar would tell you they feel air.”
“Earth for me.” Blades drawn, Trystaen joined them. “It’s indeed a sad thing that we have to come in here armed and expecting trouble. This temple used to be a sanctuary for us all.”
The strange, uncomfortable prickle faded. Stasha opened her arms, letting the fire magic embrace her. She closed her eyes and bowed her head in awe. To an outsider, she must have looked like the Martka kneeling at the feet of the two-faced god. “Where does the magic come from?” she whispered, not wanting to break the reverent stillness.
“No one knows. But this tree has grown here for a long time.”
Averin, Eliezar, Lukas, and Frea rejoined them.
“All clear. No one has been here for months,” Eliezar said.
Averin bumped her shoulder. “I told you it would be worth seeing.” He offered her his hand. “Care for a tour?”
Eliezar stiffened. Even Trystaen frowned. Perhaps they’d seen her attraction to Averin and didn’t approve of him encouraging it. That made sense, given that he was a prince and she—
Well, who knew what she was?
Or maybe it was simpler, and fae kept to their own magical type, and they didn’t want her getting ideas of mixing fire and air. Clearly, they didn’t understand that her heart—or at least most of it—still belonged to Tarik.
Averin wriggled his fingers. “Today. Because this is a one-time offer.”
She took his hand. “How can I resist such backhanded gallantry?”
Head held high as a snub to Eliezar and Trystaen, she let Averin lead her like a queen out of the tree’s glow and into the shadows on the far side of the cavern. He stopped at an unlit torch in a wall holder. “How about you fire that up for us, pit princess?”
She cupped a handful of fire and
was about to touch the cloth woven around the tip of the dried wood when the gentlest wind cooled her fingers. Mirroring her pulse, the flames leaped out of her hand and caught on the fabric. Heads almost touching, she and Averin watched the flames curl until the torch blazed.
“That’s how it starts, Stasha,” Averin whispered. “A small spark and a tiny breeze. Next, we have a blazing fire not even a hurricane can quell.”
Had he listened in to her conversation with Trystaen about sealing? Knowing busybody Averin, he had. Goose bumps burst over her skin. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know.” Averin’s mouth hovered so close, she could almost sense his skin on hers.
He closed the distance.
Warm, firm lips brushed hers. She gasped, and her lips parted. He smiled, opening his mouth to her. She clutched his tunic with both hands and pulled her body into his as his lips and tongue caressed hers with gentle strokes. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her knees shook. It took all her self-control not to burn with pleasure.
Tarik’s laughing face flashed before her.
Disgusted with herself, she started to tug away, but Averin pushed her first. His hand shot to his mouth. “Sorry, Stasha. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Legs trembling, she stepped back. “No. No. It was me. I shouldn’t have—” How dare she betray Tarik with a fae? She gnawed her lip—it still tingled with delight at Averin’s touch, his taste, his smell, his.… What had Trystaen said about falling in love? Chemistry and compatibility in the right proportions.
How could she even be thinking about liking Averin in that way?
Betrayer.
Never more conflicted, she yanked the torch from the holder and stomped away. “You were going to show me this place.”
Averin grabbed her arm and spun her to him. “This … thing.” Cool air wafted between them as his fingers flicked from him to her. “No matter what.…” Face haunted, he swallowed and sucked in a breath. “We can’t let it get in the way of our plans.”
The Fire Thief Page 20