The Fire Thief

by Erin St Pierre

  Averin pushed her roughly. “Keep moving.”

  She stumbled forward. As she regained her footing, she hissed, “Where in all the darkness is Section H?”

  “Read the signs.”

  She looked up. The walkway had opened into a huge amphitheater carved out of the reddish-gold mountains. On each level, dark tunnels yawned in the rock face—entrances to the mines, she assumed. Each had a faded white sign marked with a letter of the alphabet pinned to the wall.

  At least the Pyreack believed in order.

  Her boots gritted against red sand as Averin shoved her between piles of golden rock dumped next to a line of handcarts. A string of fae males shoveled the rocks into the carts.

  A whip cracked, and someone screamed.

  She turned her head. An overseer loomed over a fae female. The prisoner lay on the ground next to her abandoned shovel. Hunched and bleeding, she had schorl chains manacled to her ankles.

  “Get up!” The whip cracked again. It sliced into the fae’s back.

  She groaned and tried to force herself up, but her skinny arms buckled, and she slumped back down. Every bone in her body jutted at painful angles through her thin clothes.

  “I said get up!” The guard lashed down with his whip. Blood sprayed, splattering his already blood-soiled uniform.

  The fae didn’t move.

  The whip struck again.

  Still no whimper escaped the fae’s cracked lips.

  The guard kicked her over. Her head lolled back, sightless eyes staring into space. He swore. “Someone clean this mess up.”

  Stasha vomited on her boots.

  Averin hurried her past as three other slaves dropped their shovels. They lumbered to the fae, picked her up, and carried her to a hole in the ground, at least twenty feet wide. They tossed her in as if she were rubbish and then plodded back to their shovels. Crows burst out of the hole, cawed, then vanished back into the open grave to continue feasting.

  Bile rose in her throat again. She pressed her scarred palm to her mouth. Eliezar had been right. All she wanted was to let the fire boiling under her skin explode out to destroy every Pyreack soldier in this camp. And then she’d hunt down King Darien Pyreaxos and burn him too.

  “Time enough for all that,” Averin muttered as they headed down a winding track to Section H.

  How well he knew her if he’d guessed her thoughts.

  Averin propelled her through a rock opening marked H. She almost fell down a flight of steep steps carved into the rock. He grabbed her arm to steady her. “Manacles, pit princess,” he whispered. “Now would be a good time to ditch them.”

  She fumbled for the key, and he helped her unlock them. While she rubbed her sore wrists, he laid the manacles gently on the floor to stop them rattling. She grabbed his tunic, pulled him close, and whispered, “How do we know this is where Klaus is?”

  “We don’t. But they think you’re human, and they’ve sent you here. Good chance he’s here too.”

  “I guess,” she grumbled as she followed him down the stairs. The deeper they sank, the hotter the stifling air became. She longed to throw off her cloak but resisted the urge to do more than flick back her hood. Even then, sweat coursed down her temples and dripped on her chest.

  They stopped in a circle of torchlight on the landing, which was nothing more than a long, wooden platform held up on iron hooks and chains.

  Ten or so rickety rope ladders cascaded down into a cavern lit with hundreds of burning torches. They merely added to the oppressive heat. Carved from the rock, narrow walkways circled the walls, spiraling down until they vanished far below. Each walkway was connected at intervals by similar wooden platforms and rope ladders.

  Ropes tethered to buckets hung like vines off each platform. In some, human slaves balanced precariously as they chiseled away at the rock. Swarms of others crawled like ants along the winding walkways, carting full buckets of rock to the handcarts. Whips at the ready, guards patrolled. She craned her neck, looking for Klaus, but from her height, it was impossible to make out details on people’s faces.

  Footsteps clattered on the stairs above her and Averin.

  “We can’t wait here,” Averin whispered. “We’ll draw attention.”

  They had just started for the nearest rope ladder when a guard exited the stairs and joined them on the platform. “Hey, she’s fae. Wrong section, you idiot.”

  Mouth bone dry, Stasha froze, now furious with herself for not just enduring the discomfort of her hood. Hand waving, Averin spun to face the guard. A strangled gurgling made her turn.

  Face puce, the guard had fallen to his knees and was clutching his throat. Another gurgle, and he tumbled over and rolled onto his back. Stasha didn’t need to check his pulse to know he was dead.

  “You—you killed him? How?”

  “I ripped the air out of his lungs.” Averin’s face was as hard as his voice.

  That answered the question about whether his weapons had been vaporized. He scooped his hands under the guard’s arms and dragged him into the shadows. She hurried over to help him. Averin waved her away. “I’ve got this. Start climbing. I’m right behind you.”

  She stumbled to the closest ladder and gulped. It was a long way down to the next platform. The ladder, wooden slats lashed together with frayed rope, didn’t inspire confidence.

  But if Klaus was down in that terrible place, she’d climb a thousand such ladders to reach him. She knelt, backed to the edge of the drop-off, and gripped the top of the ladder with both hands. Her feet dangled over the edge, fumbling to find the treads. They connected just as Averin crawled over to join her.

  “Today, pit princess,” he coaxed.

  She started to climb. By the time she landed on the next wooden platform, the rock face had grazed the skin off her knuckles. She wiped the oozing blood onto her grimy cloak. Averin hopped down next to her. As silently as any captor and prisoner, they walked together along the narrow walkway.

  It teemed with slaves. Some hefted baskets of rock into carts, while others dragged full carts away. Coated in a layer of dust, and slick with sweat from toiling, their clothes hung in strips on their scarred, emaciated bodies. Chained in long lines, the manacles had rubbed the skin off their ankles.

  A few looked up as they passed, but their eyes were empty. Mere pits of darkness, which gave no place even for despair. They barely flinched when guards cracked whips across their backs.

  Fire blazed through Stasha’s skin, but she kept it hidden under her cloak and hood.

  With Averin leading, she plodded down the spiraling walkway. There was no sign of Klaus or anyone else from Askavol. She was beginning to despair of finding him when they finally reached the bottom of the cavern. Unlike the rest of the space, it was only lit with a few torches.

  A sharp voice rang out of a side tunnel. “When one of you human filth step out of line, you all get punished.” A whip cracked.

  Stasha and Averin loped to the tunnel opening. They stopped in the shadows.

  “Step out of line again, and I won’t kill you,” the voice barked. “It’ll be them that die while you watch. Then you’ll bathe in their blood.”

  Heart pounding so hard it gave her a headache, she slipped around Averin and padded deeper into the tunnel to see who the guard was shouting at. Averin followed her so silently that if it wasn’t for the brush of his hand on her shoulder, she wouldn’t have known he was there.

  Through the flickering torchlight and dust clouding the air, she glimpsed a burly fae standing with his back to her, a whip curled in his hand. A young woman knelt before him. He grabbed her neck and pulled her head up.

  Stasha’s stomach dropped.

  Acolyte Inna.

  Tears streamed down Inna’s face, leaving trails of dirt over the fresh wounds from her recent scarification. Her robes were tattered and bloody.

  The impulse to rescue Inna almost made Stasha break cover. Instead, writhing with fury, she stood still and assessed the situation.
/>   Two more guards watched over a crowd of slaves huddled against the far rock wall. The slaves’ hair hung in their dirty faces, and some of them had bloodied mouths. While she recognized some of them, she couldn’t see Klaus in the throng.

  They each held a pickaxe. Why they didn’t attack the two guards, she couldn’t imagine—until she remembered how terrified she’d been of Averin that far-off night when her old world had ended.

  “I’ve got this,” Averin whispered. A breeze fluttered the stifling air. He stepped into the light. “Hey, you with the whip. How about beating up on someone your own size?”

  “Who the—” The guard spun.

  Stasha’s flaming hand shot up to fling fire at him, but she stopped herself at the last second. If she was to convince the humans to help her, they couldn’t see her as a threat. Better to let Averin deal with the swine.

  Averin twitched his fingers to say come hither.

  The guard swore and tossed down his whip. His other hand shot out a tongue of flame. The fae gagged, and the flame spluttered. He dropped to his knees and clutched his throat. Averin must have ripped out his oxygen, as he had with the other guard. Face blue, the soldier slumped to the ground.

  “Pit princess,” Averin said languidly, “are you just going stand there gaping, or are you going to find Klaus?”

  She spun just as a second overseer broke away from the prisoners and lunged for Averin, fire blazing from his fingers.

  A gust scooped up a rock and crashed it against the guard’s temple. The momentum threw him at the wall. He hit his head with a crunch and folded to the ground.

  That left one guard. Hands raised defensively, he backed into the crowd of prisoners. “Touch me, and I swear, I’ll burn them all.”

  She—and Averin—paused.

  “Hurt them, and I’ll boil your blood.” Stasha tossed back her hood so he could see her fae ears. In deference to the humans, she kept her fire hidden.

  The guard blinked, then frowned. “Why should I worry about you? I could kill you with a snap of my fingers.”

  “Don’t even think about it!” a familiar voice yelled. The cry was followed by a sickening thud. The guard stumbled forward and fell face-first on a pile of rocks. He had a pickaxe embedded in his skull.

  Stasha’s stomach knotted, and she swallowed yet more bile. Her eyes darted from the guard to his attacker.

  Klaus faced her. His new clothes were filthy and ragged, his face caked with blood. “You came.” He spoke earnestly, as if he hadn’t doubted that for a second.

  “I did.” She broke into a run.

  He stumbled to her, dragging his damaged leg. His twisted ankle was manacled to his other leg on a short stretch of chain, which rattled as he lurched.

  They connected with a thump. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. A sob threatened to break from her as she hugged him. Tight. Against all odds, he had survived. Boa had been right. Miracles were possible.

  He flinched. Her fingers had pressed into something warm and wet. Blood.

  The fire she’d suppressed since entering Section H burst through her skin.

  Klaus yelped. He let go of her and staggered back. His feet tangled in his chains, and he tumbled to the ground. Eyes wide, he gaped, then snapped his mouth closed. “You—you’re on fire.”

  She dove to help him up.

  Averin got there first. His strong hands closed around Klaus’s thin biceps and hoisted him back onto his feet.

  “She’s one of them,” one of the prisoners shouted. She recognized the voice: Ivan from the fighting pits.

  Still supported by Averin, Klaus swung around on his good foot. “No, she isn’t! This is Stasha. The same girl we all grew up with. Just … different. Powerful.” His eyes flashed at Averin. “And she’s brought help, to get us out of here.”

  Averin bowed from the waist. “Name’s Prince Averin Trysael of Zephyr. So very honored to make your acquaintance, Klaus.”

  Klaus blushed, brightening his deathly pallor. “Um … you too. I guess.”

  Feral Fox, Ivan, and Goul pushed their way to the front of the prisoners. Blood trickled down the side of Goul’s face.

  Eyes smarting with tears, Stasha barked a laugh of relief to see them alive. “Never thought I’d be so pleased to see you all.” She shot a special smile to Feral Fox.

  Goul blinked warily, his pupils dilating unevenly.

  Ivan scanned her up and down. She’d quelled her flames. “So you really are fae.”

  She gave a curt nod. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  No one moved in the oppressive silence. If she didn’t know better, she’d have assumed Averin had sucked all the air from the chamber. “I’m working with a group of rebels fighting against the Pyreack. We’re here to get you out.”

  Ivan snorted. “You expect us to trust you, fae? You spent years lying to us. Why would we believe a word you say now?”

  She balled her fists. “And you spent years being as thick as sheep droppings! Ivan, for once, please use your head for something more than keeping your skin together. I had no idea what I was. Now I do. And I’m here to help. So choose. Fight with me or rot in here.”

  Feral Fox stepped forward. “Tell me what to do,” he said in his unfailingly calm voice. His sheepskin jacket had gone, but its loss did nothing to improve his smell.

  Ivan glanced at Feral Fox, and his lips thinned. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing deep. On his exhale, he said, “I’m in. What Feral Fox said. Tell us what to do.”

  “Let’s get rid of the manacles.” Averin held out his hand for Feral Fox’s pickaxe. “Everyone who wants in, line up, and I’ll bust your chains.”

  Feral Fox thrust his axe at Averin. A shuffling line formed with Klaus at the head. Vlad was next. While it warmed her heart that he’d survived, she bounced on her toes impatiently while she waited for Klaus to be freed.

  “Pit princess, how about you guard the entrance.” Averin spoke dryly. “Last thing we want is Pyreack company.”

  “On it.” Her face burned with embarrassment as she flitted to the tunnel entrance.

  On the other side of the cavern, watched by Pyreack guards, humans hacked gleaming rocks out of the walls.

  Klaus’s gentle fingers touched her back. “I knew you’d come.” He shuffled next to her. “What’s the plan?” His voice was muffled by the sound of chipping pickaxes.

  “It’s very simple. Averin and I are going to open the portcullises to let in a small army.”

  Klaus blinked twice. He laughed hollowly. “That sounds like something you’d cook up. How can I help?”

  She grabbed him. “By finding a place to hide and staying there until it’s safe to come out.”

  “No.” Klaus hefted an axe. “I’m done being protected, Stasha. I might have a bad leg, but I’m not helpless.”

  She bit her lip, then gushed, “I can’t risk you.”

  “And I can’t remain in your shadow. For once, just let me be a man.” His anguish brought tears to her eyes. She brushed them away. How could she deny him something that meant so much to him? But how could she expose him to danger?

  Footsteps in the tunnel told her that Averin must have finished hacking chains. She didn’t have long to decide.

  Klaus leaned in close. “Please, Stasha. See me for what I am, not what I was.”

  A sob hitched in her throat. What was the use of saving Klaus only to condemn him to a life that demeaned him? It was why she’d wanted him to flee Askavol with her—to free him from a life of slavery. If she refused him, he would be little more than a slave to her will. She swallowed her tears and hugged him. “Don’t take unnecessary risks. Promise me that you’ll meet me at the gate when we open it.”

  Klaus hugged her back. “Promise.”

  Trailed by a dozen prisoners, Averin joined her. The look he shot her suggested he’d listened into her and Klaus’s conversation and approved of her decision.

  She mouthed, “Busybody.”

  Averin
flicked one of his pointed ears and shrugged, like he had no control of his superb fae hearing. Then, all businesslike, he spoke softly to everyone. “Your job is to free as many prisoners as you can while Stasha and I get on with our mission.”

  “Why?” Klaus demanded. “I thought we’d be fighting with you.”

  Averin canted his head and appraised Klaus. As much as she longed to know his thoughts, his expression betrayed nothing. His brilliant eyes swept the rest of the crowd. “Stasha and I have to open the two portcullises. We’re counting on you and your army of prisoners to create a diversion in here to give us the space we need to move freely above ground.”

  Goul swallowed. “You want us to draw more guards in here?” He threw up his hands. “That’s insane.”

  Stasha appreciated his concern. She spoke quickly. “Relax. We have soldiers releasing the fae. They’ll fight the Pyreack above ground. Just keep the guards in here busy so they don’t join the fun up top.”

  “We can do that.” Klaus looked at the other humans with such confidence, it made her beam with pride for him.

  A few of them nodded.

  Averin continued. “You’ll be tempted to go for the weakest to help them. Don’t. Pick the strongest you can find.”

  A few of the humans shuffled, as if they were about to protest.

  Averin held up his hand. “Cruel, maybe, but the weak will slow you down. And they’re easy targets for the guards. Pick the most agile to help you wreck this place.” He gestured to Stasha. “We’ll come back with an army to rescue you all.”

  “What about the guards?” Goul whispered. “They shoot fire. Or haven’t you noticed?”

  Goul showing such blatant fear? It was unheard of. Stasha ached with sorrow for him.

  Averin wagged a firm finger. “You’re not to fight fae head on. You won’t stand a chance. But nothing stops you using stealth to take them down.” He pointed into the cavern at one of the guards. Eyes closed, the brute slouched against the wall. “Look for idiots like that. Move quickly and silently. And aim for killing blows. Fae heal fast, and they get mighty angry when humans attack them.” He smiled, showing a mouthful of pointed teeth.