Season of Fire

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  He turned and fairly tossed me back to the two guards, who were looking both sheepish and furious that I’d made them appear incapable. We took a steep path down toward the river, and soon I could smell the water, we were so close. It made me both desperate for a drink and panicked that we’d reached a boat that might separate me from the rest of the Ailith in swift order. I prayed that Ronan would find us and somehow help me to escape.

  I prayed that the Aravanders would rise from the cattails and shoot all the Sheolites dead.

  I prayed that Sethos would stumble and fall off the narrow trail, his head cracking upon the rocks beneath us.

  But none of that happened.

  RONAN

  I knew she was gone before I reached the clearing.

  And as much as I wanted to go after her, I could not turn away from Tressa and Killian. Tressa reached for me, tears streaming down her face. “I know where you belong, Ronan,” she pleaded. “But I need you here. I cannot do this alone.”

  Stifling a mangled cry that gathered in my throat, I hurried over to them and crouched down by my brother. He looked ghastly. Gray skin, unresponsive. I lifted an eyelid. “Tressa …”

  “No,” she bit out. “Don’t say it, Ronan.” She caught herself, faltered, swallowed hard and reached for my hand. “Please. I need you with me in this. We’ve seen the Maker’s miracles unfold already. Those with the Cancer in Zanzibar. The goatherd’s foot in the desert. Please … He can heal Killian too. Can you …” She paused and took a deep breath, as if willing herself to do this task too. “Can you believe with me?”

  “I’m with you sister,” I said, covering her hand with my other one. I swallowed my desire to add Let’s do this fast …

  She began praying, closing her eyes. Her hands hovered inches over Killian’s wound as she begged the Maker to create anew what had been unmade. To save our brother. To bind his wound from the inside out. To steady his heart. To give him breath and blood to spare.

  Holding on to Killian’s arm, I repeated every word she said in a whisper, and then again, and then again. And as we prayed, my armband began to warm, the dreadful chill at last dispersing. I told myself it wasn’t that I was getting so far behind Dri and the Sheolites who chased her. It was because the Maker was present, doing as we pleaded with him to do, healing our brother. I opened my eyes and stared for several long seconds before I admitted to myself that it was truly happening.

  The hair on my head and neck and arms all stood on end. We were not alone. We were in the Presence. Here in this forgotten land, so recently trod by our enemies.

  While still praying, Tressa carefully pressed the ragged edges of skin together, her fingers and nails eerily red with her knight’s blood. But my eyes were on the wound itself; just as we’d watched the goatherd’s foot straighten, I saw Killian’s cut begin to seal together from one end to the other. Still red and angry. But together, as if knit together by the nimble fingers of unseen angels. Tears welled in my eyes as his skin began to turn from gray to his normal ruddy tone. Then his chest lifted and fell with deep breathing — ​not the shallow breaths that I’d feared would soon stop forever.

  Tressa laughed through her own tears and bowed her head to Killian’s chest, sobbing and thanking the Maker again and again.

  I laughed through my tears with her. But then I knew that we weren’t alone.

  I wrenched my head left, immediately on my feet, hand on the hilt of my sword. But when I saw who it was, I took a staggering step backward. “Niero! You spooked me, man.”

  “Well done, Remnant,” he said, passing me, looking solely at Tressa. He crouched and leaned down, touching Killian’s shoulder. And at that moment, my brother stirred and opened his eyes, looking confused.

  “He will be on his feet soon,” Niero said to me. “But now, I have need of you, Knight. Your own has been captured.”

  ANDRIANA

  Hands bound, the guard behind me prodding me with the tip of his sword, the one in front of me keeping enough distance to avoid any attempt to shove him off the trail, I felt despair swallowing me.

  Twenty paces away, Sethos reached the bottom of the trail just as a boat rounded the bend of the river. White steam billowed from a smokestack at its center. And at the rail was Keallach. The engine was idled and the boat slowed moving against the current, it soon came to a standstill. A soldier in gray tossed out a heavy anchor.

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. Keallach looked pensive. Sethos was coming toward me. I had to make my move.

  “Keallach!” I cried, pretending to greet him as my savior. “I’ll come to you!” And then I trudged toward the boat and dived into the water when I was only waist-deep, as if solely intent on reaching him. But instead of rising, I went as deep as I could, kicking hard until I was into the current, riding it downward.

  I let out my breath as slowly as I could, realizing it might give away my path, and yet battling to stay deep and not bob to the surface. There had been that patch of reeds along the bank. Could I reach it?

  My lungs screamed for air. Ached for it. But with the oxygen gone, I remained down on the muddy bottom. I didn’t have much time left. I’d either pass out and drown or survival instinct would kick in and I’d scramble for the surface. I grabbed hold of one mossy boulder, but couldn’t hold on for long. The next was more ragged, and my legs turned down-current. I let go of it and angled for another, and felt the blessed, welcome, slimy sensation of the first reed. Knowing I only had seconds remaining, I pushed my left leg against a rock, bent my knees, and then propelled myself deeper into the reeds.

  It was all I could do. I rose, as quietly as I could, but I knew my emergence would have made my trainer shake his head in disgust. I panted for breath, mouth open wide, praying that the sounds of the river’s rush would keep my presence a secret. But had they seen the reeds moving around me? What did it look like from the river bank?

  I dared to turn my head, slowly one way, and then the other. I could hear the shouts of the Sheolites as they searched for me, the sounds of men diving and rising, again and again. And then, moments later, utter silence. That spooked me more than anything.

  I couldn’t make sense of it. Had they … gone?

  And then there were arrows slicing through the air. Sheolites and Pacificans crying out, wounded. Sethos’s roar of rage, then urgent shouts of direction. Yes, I cheered inwardly. Yes.

  I dared to peek out higher, hoping that I wouldn’t be pierced by an Aravander arrow. Did they know I was here? Had they seen me being dragged toward the river boat?

  It was just at that moment that Sethos’s gaze swept about and passed over me. I thought he’d missed me, and I immediately ducked lower in the reeds, but then he paused and backtracked. His dark eyes rested squarely on me and his brows lifted.

  I rose and tried to run in the opposite direction, but the mud that made for such fertile growing ground for the reeds and cattails also created a horrifying trap for me. I struggled to lift each leg, losing my boots in the process, as well as precious seconds until I finally, finally made shore.

  I chanced a look back. He was almost upon me, terrifying with the robe flying behind him, face alight with rage, arrows missing him by inches.

  I continued to run, but the river rock dug into the arches and heels of my feet like demon children, slowing my pace nearly as much as the mud had. I steeled myself for the moment when Sethos’s wretched hand clamped down on my shoulder and mentally planned my response.

  When it happened, I fell back at once — ​deadweight hurtling toward him — ​hoping my skull would catch his chin or nose, but instead I hit his chest. He let out a low grunt, but I didn’t hesitate, gathering my feet beneath me and launching forward again. I felt the brush of his fingertips at my back. Heard his low curse.

  But again, the rocks proved my enemy. I tried to step toward bits of grass or sand, but missed here and there, wincing from the pain. And then, up ahead, near the woods that had beckoned me moments before, was somethi
ng that made me come to an abrupt stop.

  Wraiths.

  My breathing came in alarmed pants from my nostrils as I stood there, frozen, facing a smoke-like enemy that I hadn’t seen since I faced them alongside my brothers and sisters on that field near the Hoodites. It was only weeks ago, and yet it seemed like days …

  They swooped up and down, like light garments on the arms of dancers. They surrounded me in a swirl, sang to me like spirits of the deep. And I stood there, unable to move, until Sethos snapped his fingers and they made way for their dark prince.

  I whirled, but his hand was at my throat, driving me backward to the cliff. He rammed me against it and I gasped. But he only smiled, eyes narrowing, and lifted me higher to my tiptoes.

  “You think you are so clever, Remnant,” he said, easing closer to whisper into my ear. “You think you are my equal?”

  “No,” I said, waiting until he eased back to meet my gaze. “I am your superior.”

  He let out a breath that sounded like a sigh from hell, and that was when I realized he’d brought a knife to my neck. “Time for our acquaintance to end, Remnant.”

  His fingers tightened around the dagger.

  I steeled myself for the coming pain, only sorry that my battle would end now, before I could take this one down.

  “Sethos, stop.”

  The voice made us both freeze in surprise.

  Me with hope. Keallach.

  Sethos with deadly frustration.

  “Allow me to dispatch this one, Highness,” Sethos said, not lifting his eyes from me. “She is a distraction. There are other ways toward our goals.” His words were light, but his gaze upon me was sheer darkness.

  “No, Sethos. Step away from her. I shall see to her future.”

  Hatred seeped from my enemy and into me in a dark wave.

  And I returned it.

  He lifted his chin, and once more, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “She is all yours, Highness,” he said a breath too late for true respect. But as he pulled me around him to hand me off, he whispered, “But mark this moment, Remnant. Someday you shall be all mine.”

  RONAN

  We ran for a time, up one hill and down another. “Are the others all right?” I asked Niero.

  “They are well. I … sensed that you four were in trouble. So I set off to find you.”

  “And the child? Latonia’s child?”

  “With them as well?”

  His words came as a relief, and I thanked the Maker for sparing them all as well as bringing Niero to us. With him by our side, I felt stronger, more capable. As if — ​even though we Ailith were but five — ​we were more like fifty. Like the fight was fierce ahead, but we were not without ample weapons. His mere presence makes me bold, I decided.

  We reached the cliff — ​edging closer on our bellies — ​just in time to see Keallach lift a soaked Andriana aboard the ship and then escort her inside a cabin, just like when we were aboard the Far North.

  I opened my mouth to call to her, wanting her to know she wasn’t alone, but Raniero huffed a quick no, and put a firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me down.

  I frowned at him, wondering what his plan was. He gestured toward the boat with his chin and I looked again. A soldier had rounded the end, holding a machine gun. Had I taken off down the path, he would’ve simply cut me down. A second one appeared on the bow, and a third atop the roof of the steamship, just as plumes of white came billowing out the tube.

  “Niero …” I growled, watching in horror as a sailor hauled in the anchor and the ship turned to enter the central current of the river.

  “Stay where you are,” he said, reaching out to grasp my forearm when I moved to rise. “You do your Remnant no good by getting shot now.”

  “I do no good for her now,” I retorted, shaking off his hand and leaping to my feet, “watching her get carried off by Keallach.” I moved toward the path.

  Niero snaked his arm under my chin and hauled me backward until we were under a tree. I writhed and elbowed him, trying to get free, but he held me in a headlock until I glimpsed the rising steam of the boat in the distance — ​too far away to catch. Panting, I cried, “Why? Why? Why would you let them take her?”

  He tossed me aside. “I didn’t let them take her,” he said in disgust. “They already had her. I was saving you, so that one day you might rescue her.”

  “One day?” I ranted, pacing back and forth. “One day? After Keallach takes her back to his palace in Pacifica? Have you seen how he looks at Dri, Niero? It is hardly brotherly,” I spat, clenching and unclenching my hands, itching to take out all my fear and frustration on him. “Do you remember how Maximillian looked at her? What will become of her there, alone? Surrounded by them all?”

  “It is as the Maker has seen. He will sustain Andriana, just as he will sustain you.”

  “But he put us together as Knight and Remnant for a purpose.” I stepped toward him, until our noses were just an inch apart. “Why would he tear us apart now?”

  “He did not tear you apart,” Niero calmly said. “The enemy did. But that does not take either of you out of his reach.”

  I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head and lifting my hand in the direction the boat had gone. “If that ship reaches the sea, we shall never see Andriana again.”

  “You do not know that.”

  “No. But I do know I have to try and intercept it. If something happens to her …” I was already turning, digging my toe in to begin running. But as I stepped into my stride, Niero barreled into me, taking me down again. I let loose then, pummeling him with my fists, tearing away from his fierce grip, again and again. We rolled, and he was atop of me, straining to pin my arms and legs, and then we rolled again. I struck him across the face once, twice, before he managed to grab my head, twist it and roll with me. It took several long minutes for me to realize he wasn’t striking me back, only trying to contain me like some sort of aggravating octopus. Dragging me back. Dragging me deep. Dragging me away from Dri.

  But not trying to harm me.

  I let out a guttural cry of frustration, holding my head and slumping off of him, feeling grief swallow me.

  Niero rose slowly, hands on hips, head hung low. “I love her too,” he said softly. “Not as you do, brother. But I love her. And it pains me to let her slip away. But trust me, trust me. It’s the only way. Dri’s best chance is if you stay alive.” He moved over to me and crouched down, cradling the back of my head and pulling my forehead forward to meet his. “You shall see your Remnant again.”

  “Will I?” I asked, looking into his jet-black eyes, eyes that always felt so old to me.

  “Look at Kapriel! Free and with his fellow Remnants. Despite the odds.”

  “Kapriel,” I returned dully. “Our brother who languished in prison so many seasons before we freed him. Are you saying that Dri might be away from us that long?”

  Niero didn’t flinch under my angry gaze, but he released me and lifted his head. “I pray it will be days, not months or years of captivity for Andriana. Maybe the Maker has a task for Andriana within Keallach’s palace. Let us trust him — ​and her — ​to see it through. And wait for the opportune moment we need to free her.”

  “You’re saying that you would let her stay in Keallach’s care for multiple seasons?” I said. The idea of being apart from Dri more than a few days made me nearly frantic.

  “I’m saying I hope it will not be that long,” he said, rising, brushing his hands off against his pants. He paused and leaned toward me, shaking a finger. “But our mission has always been to see through the Call upon all our lives. I know it’s inborn for you, Ronan. To protect her. With your very life, if necessary. But right now, Knight, the Call upon your life is to serve where you find yourself, and serve that Call above your call to protect Dri. Understood?”

  I rose, feeling sick to my stomach. “Niero, she’s not strong enough …”

  Niero grabbed hold of my shirt in a savage grip a
nd pulled me close. “Never say that again. Never. She has learned much in these last months. The Maker will use those lessons to sustain her now. And he shall sustain her. Do not bring dishonor upon him or us now, Knight, with your distrust. Are you with me?”

  I hesitated.

  “Are you with me?” he demanded, his lips in a firm line.

  “I am with you,” I agreed reluctantly.

  CHAPTER

  15

  ANDRIANA

  When we reached the end of the river, Keallach led me to a small boat tied to the end of the steamship. Once we were on board, the soldier at the tiller roared the engine to life and we took off for the larger ship bobbing atop the ocean’s waves. I settled beneath Keallach’s arm, reassured that on this boat, despite what I’d done, he still seemed dedicated to the idea that I was his sister, and he my protective brother. It’s the Call, I thought. That familial pull we Ailith all felt between one another. The Maker had made a way for us, even when one had fallen so desperately off the path. Again, hope surged within me. Maybe this was all part of the plan. For me to save Keallach. Bring him back to the fold.

  Once onboard, Keallach took my hand through the narrow doorway and led me down the tight hall to a room on the far right. He opened the door and gestured for me to go in. Behind me, he whispered to a servant, waited, and then brought in a blanket, which he wrapped around me. Oddly, I felt the gesture protective, caring. Something Ronan might do. Then he knelt in front of me, taking my hands.

  “I pledge to you, Andriana of the Valley, that I, Keallach, shall never harm you. You are my sacred sister. And soon I hope that you will count me as friend, if not brother. I know that I’ve made decisions that you do not yet understand. But in time …” He paused, looked to the window and sighed. Then back to me. “In time, I hope you shall. Will you give me a chance?”

  “Do I have a choice in the matter?” I asked.

  He held my gaze and stiffened. “Yes. Since you’ve given me little choice.” His smile was back, then. “But it won’t be forever.”

  “You shall free me,” I said dully, disbelieving. “To leave Pacifica.”