Girl of Fire

by Gabrielle Mathieu

  Elmina looked worried. Several times, she used their hand signal for goodbye.

  They would be let go? Hardly. She would be sad if that happened, but not look so worried.

  When Luca shrugged, letting her see his confusion, she pointed into the huddle of his sleeping men. Then she drew the side of her hand sharply across her throat and mimed falling.

  Ice crawled down Luca’s spine. Someone would be killed today. Or perhaps all of them. He grasped her hand in thanks, and that was when a guard hustled over, screaming at Elmina. It was the first time they’d taken notice of her, but her visit so early, without the pot to fetch water, had roused suspicion. She ran off as the guard continued shouting.

  The commotion roused several others, who joined Luca where he stood by the fence. The guards were awake now too, spears at ready.

  “Let’s rush them,” Revel suggested. Luca knew that several of his men would die in a bravado escape, and they had no idea where their supplies were kept. There were only three weatherbeaters remaining, so the survivors would have to flee on foot. They were weak and wouldn’t get far.

  When Revel urged breaking out a third time, Luca laid the facts out before his company. He couldn’t bear the responsibility of this himself. They would vote.

  The vote was predictable. Revel and the twins voted for fighting their way out. Yuvio, Mak, Luca, and Calio voted for not taking action.

  * * *

  When the Krill warriors came, they grabbed Danilo, who stayed quiet, lips pressed together, eyes accusing his Prime. Luca and the others milled around, asking questions, though it brought them nothing but clouts with the spear butts. The group marched him away to the building where their priest lived.

  They did not bring him back.

  Elmina took another route to get water, staying far away from the prisoners’ pen, and the passing women gave the Vendrisi suspicious looks.

  Luca and his men slept little that night, so at dawn they were all awake when loud screaming came from the temple, then suddenly stopped. The silence afterward was terrible.

  Aeran doubled over, sobbing, and the empty words of comfort stuck in Luca’s throat. He turned his head to hide his own tears, feeling sick at the thought of Danilo’s last moment. How would he feel if that happened to Calio, his own brother, whose wife waited anxiously for his return?

  When the men gathered around later that day, eyeing the guards and discussing how many of them might survive an escape attempt, Luca did not take part, but neither did he try to stop the angry muttering. Along with the anxious villagers, he watched big storm clouds amassing on the horizon. Women brought out cowhides and stitched them hastily together, while men erected a scaffolding of supple green branches, well over the reach of the fire.

  Luca still suspected that the Krill worshipped fire, though he hadn’t been able to explain the concept to Elmina well enough for her to confirm or refute it. Perhaps this fire was akin to a hearth fire, carried from camp to camp as a symbol of home for the nomadic tribe. While his men spoke in angry whispers and Aeran cursed, Luca considered how he could turn his observations to their advantage.

  A wind swept over the grasslands as the storm broke and the sky turned black. Gusts whistled through the fence, shaking it. It would have seemed like a good opportunity to escape were it not for the fact that the weather brought all the Krill out. Most of them, fifty or so, encircled the fire, tying cowhides to the tall scaffolding they’d erected. The chief and ten more guardsmen surrounded the corral.

  The Vendrisi huddled together at the far end of the compound, ready to rush the first Krill who entered the gate to fetch another prisoner. “Maybe the priest is thinking he picked the wrong one to sacrifice,” Mak said with a grimace. Yuvio moved closer to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  Luca would address their infatuation if they got out of this situation. No Vendrisi would object to an intimate attachment between two men or two women, but it could disrupt the cohesiveness of the group. Mak was the key to their success. Forming primary alliances with other members threatened that.

  The next gust of wind brought the first few drops of rain and then an onslaught. The rain didn’t last long, but it came down in a torrent, mirroring the unshed tears of Luca and his comrades. The wind pushed the flimsy shelter off the fire, which sizzled and popped as the rain pelted down. The chief left the pen, running to the guttering fire and gesturing in consternation.

  “What are they doing?” Luca asked Revel.

  “Stirring the coals, but it’s not getting them anywhere.”

  “Are those women bringing brush?”

  “Yes. They had it stored under some rocks, in a hollow. Probably dry.”

  If Luca waited too long, a residual spark might be discovered and the fire restarted by the Krill themselves. He would make his play now.

  Luca called out to the nearest guard, using the word he thought might mean “come.” The guard was surprised to be addressed in his language, but eventually he drew closer. Luca said “Emer,” and made a motion up to the fire until the guard understood Luca wanted to approach the chief. The guards spoke together, looking worried. Emer still stood on the hill, reprimanding the men charged with preserving the fire. His angry words were audible even in the prisoner pen.

  Luca persisted, making walking motions with his fingers. The guards muttered among themselves, looking confused and frightened. “Let’s go,” Luca told Mak. When they pushed through the gate, the guards spoke excitedly and waved their spears, but no one stopped them.

  Mak sighed and looked up at Luca. “I’m going to piss myself.”

  “You can do it,” Luca assured him. “You’re our genius.”

  * * *

  A short walk later, the two soaked, trembling men stood before the chief. Luca made a short bow and swept his arm out, hoping to convey that he was going to show something special.

  They’d agreed that Mak’s demonstration would have to be accompanied by some theatrics on Luca’s part. While Mak unwrapped the small pile of fire powder he’d secreted in his vest pocket, placing it on a nest of dried brush, Luca said a prayer to Saint Celia. Saint Celia, the patron of merchants, had nothing to do with sun worship, but Luca thought the sacramental nature of his voice might impress the chief. He accompanied his prayer with sweeping motions to the west, where the setting sun had emerged from the clouds as a lurid ball of red, choosing to support Luca’s performance.

  As he reached the final sequence, Luca commandingly clapped his hands. Mak struck the flint and tossed it into the pile of fire powder.

  Luca couldn’t have wished for a better spectacle. Orange and red flames shot up to the sky. He pointed to his own golden hair, an anomaly among the dark-haired Krill.

  Let them think he was a golden-haired god. Whatever got them out of here alive.

  The chief’s mouth fell open.

  Yes, there was definitely a time when one could use a bit of fire in one’s life.

  * * *

  Luca had gained stature through his revival of the fire. He was able to prevent the slaughter of the remaining weatherbeaters for the celebration that followed. He put on his haughtiest look when the Krill attempted to remove one from the pen and pushed them back.

  Act like a god and you will be treated like a god.

  Mak had no more fire powder left, but their goal had been achieved. Elmina was fetched for Luca, and she helped him talk to Emer, the chief. Luca demanded, and got, most of their supplies and weapons back in their own carrying bags, which enabled him to make a magnanimous gesture and give the chief a well-made hunting knife with a silver handle.

  Later in the evening, bathed and with a full belly, Luca gave in to Aeran’s pleas and asked if they could visit Danilo’s body. The old medicine man led them to a heap of ashes, looking worried. Luca had tried to imply a connection between the human sacrifice and the storm that had doused the sacred fire, and it looked like the Krill understood his threat. It was unlikely other travelers would b
e spared, but for now, Luca thought his own party was safe.

  Better not to tempt fate, though. He resolved to leave at dawn the next morning. King Gale was still waiting. Hopefully they would find a staunch ally in the woods of the Western Wilderness.

  * * *

  That night, the chief gave Luca a private hut and sent Elmina to Luca’s bed. She looked pleased and excited as she came in, handing Luca a bunch of flowers. So sweet; she had learned from him. Luca thought in a place like Vendrisi she would have done well for herself.

  This wasn’t Vendrisi, though, and he couldn’t take her with him. If for some reason his seed germinated in her, he would never see that baby. Look what he’d done to have access to his coming child—pledged himself to that manipulative little viper Illenn.

  Luca sighed. It wasn’t just the child. The fire powder would be a boon to Vendrisi, if the princess let them have it.

  He realized Elmina was staring at him, waiting for him to take her. He reached out, touched her long, dark hair, freshly washed. His body responded to the sight of the willing woman in front of him, but still he did not kiss her.

  She looked at him expectantly. Well, he would do something with her, even if he was not in the mood to make love. He took out a sharpened quill and a piece of vellum. Next he laid out the inkwell and showed her how to make the ink. He pointed at her, and then wrote out her name. Her brows rose. She reached for the pen.

  They practiced until they both fell asleep at some point in the night. The next morning Elmina helped the men load the remaining weatherbeaters with the metal suit and the few supplies still left to them, staring defiantly at the chief when he tried to motion her away.

  Luca kissed her on the cheek and took the beater’s reins in his hand. Perhaps she would leave her people someday and try to make her way into the world, inspired by the foreign prince she’d met and helped save.

  CHAPTER 32

  Berona

  The Month of Darkness sped by in a flurry of fencing, studying history and culture, and memorizing spells that I still could not get to work. We were coming up to the deepest days of winter, the five null days, which came after the twelve months of thirty days each. On the night of the fifth null, a new year began, and the country people built bonfires and danced. Even the Intercessors closed their eyes to what went on that night.

  Kendall was holding forth to her Reds: Moab, Kilgad, and me.

  “I have worked you so hard you stagger to your beds after supper.” She raised an eyebrow at Moab. “At least the two with some sense do.”

  Moab gave her a sheepish grin.

  “I wrestled Hirschi for the right to have the festival.” She put her hands on her hips and strutted about. “Of course, I won. It’s time to have some fun.”

  I’d seen the forlorn look that came over her face when she was near Hirschi. She hadn’t been close enough to wrestle with him. But somehow she’d gotten her way.

  I knew I’d see Kea and Ilse together. But my comrades’ enthusiasm was contagious. Maybe I could even talk Shandon into dancing with me. Surely as a former lord he must know how. I took out my mother’s green dress and asked Rheyna for some ointment to soften my calloused, blistered hands.

  * * *

  The day of the festival dawned cold and clear.

  I wandered over to Kendall to get my hair braided tight; it was too short for me to do it since I’d had it cut to travel as Oberin’s squire. Kendall shoved me away. “You’re an unmarried maiden, and it’s the Feast of Amur. You can wear your hair loose.”

  “Maybe I’ll shear it really short, like Shandon’s. I hate it falling in my face.”

  “You will not. In fact, I forbid it. I also forbid you to go near your sword today.” Kendall laughed.

  “Forbid me? Then I’ll have to steal yours.”

  Kendall became serious. “Today is a day for feasting, dancing, and singing, as well as for other, more private delights. A true warrior knows to take her pleasure when she can, for such moments are fleeting, and opportunity may not come a second time.” She glanced at Hirschi, surrounded by his coterie of Yellow acolytes.

  “I should concentrate on my training,” I blurted out. “I’m not nearly good enough.”

  “It will come.”

  I tensed, thinking of the Forest of Bones with its dangling soul snares and the Elementals, closing in on Yassin. “I have to be better. Fight harder. Learn more.”

  She traced the bulky muscles of my right shoulder. “We often think we should act a certain way to achieve certain things, only to find out our sacrifices were meaningless. Wouldn’t you like to be kissed? I know I would.”

  “There’s someone I want, but he doesn’t want me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  I set my chin stubbornly. “He hardly looks at me.”

  “Then you should either consider others or make peace with the one you want.”

  “He’s spoken for.”

  Kendall gave a fleeting, bitter smile. “As a warrior, you must be fair to any other warrior and declare your intentions. That’s our way. But most women aren’t like you or me. They’ve got no honor. They pretend to do the bidding of men, while hatching their schemes. You owe someone like that no consideration.”

  Maybe Kendall was right. Ilse snubbed me at every opportunity and avoided my friend Rheyna as well. Why should I let her deter me? This might be the only chance I had to enjoy myself before I had to confront the Demon’s weapon. Soon I might be crippled, even annihilated. I was a Mannite now, not a follower of Amur. I no longer believed that dying as a virgin would guarantee me a place in heaven.

  * * *

  It was a treat to wear a dress and give my aching body and overburdened mind a rest. I helped Moab and Rheyna gather wood for the bonfire, taking care to keep the silk clean. Kendall and Kilgad set up the tall dancing pole, a pine trunk denuded of side branches. The Green teacher, Namur, attached the long tethers of red ribbon. The Yellow acolytes were putting the final touches on a vat of mulled hot wine.

  We got done with our task first. I watched as Moab chased Rheyna around till they collapsed into a giggling heap on a patch of soft snow. Moab dragged Rheyna to the pole and tied her arm to it with the ribbon.

  “Look at the poor girl just standing there,” Kendall shouted. “We need music.” Alse took out his bettiharp, and Shandon surprised me by moving to the large drums that Kendall had lugged down.

  He caught my eye. “Bettiharp won’t be much to set up a dancing rhythm.”

  I sidled over to him. “Did I ever tell you how I love to dance? You could teach me some steps.”

  He laughed. “All you have to do here is skip around the pole. But I’m sorry. I can’t dance with you. My legs aren’t holding up well today.”

  I shrank back. I’d almost forgotten how the Demon’s snares damaged him. “Shall I bring you some mulled wine?”

  He nodded. “That would be nice. It’s so cold out here.”

  “Yes,” I said, though it was an unseasonably warm afternoon.

  “Someone come dance with me,” Rheyna pleaded.

  Moab had just moved out of earshot, and she happened to glance at Kilgad. He got up slowly and went to one of the spare ribbons, tying himself to the pole.

  I suppressed a smile when Kendall pressed a second smaller drum into Kilgad’s hands after a few rounds, gesturing him to sit and play. He had shambled to the music like a dancing bear.

  Ilse and Namur tasted the mulled wine several times, then called us over. Ilse ladled a serving into each person’s tin cup, avoiding my eyes when my turn came. After everyone was served, she walked over and tied herself to the dancing pole, no doubt hoping Kea would come and escort her. He kept talking to Moab, though.

  I hadn’t noted Hirschi’s absence, because I was so used to him avoiding us, but here he came, loping over to look at us having fun. Was he judging us, or did he just not know how to rest from his responsibilities? It was a pity he’d cast Kendall aside, but perhaps he’d grown t
ired of her wandering ways.

  Shandon waved him over. “Have a go at these drums, would you, Sidewinder? My arms are tiring.”

  Hirschi tapped in perfect rhythm, but his pale eyes were red and puffy, and he blinked often. He must have stayed up all night, checking the wisps to make sure we were still safe. I wondered if he’d received recent news of the Water Demon and was holding it back.

  Abruptly the drums stopped, leaving the dancers stumbling for a moment. “These things give me a pounding headache,” Hirschi said.

  “I’ll walk you back,” Kendall offered. “Have a lie down; you’ll feel better.”

  Soon she returned, mouth set, head hanging low. She’d been sent away, then. She caught sight of Ilse, who’d left the pole and sat next to Kea. “Ilse, your master is sick. Shouldn’t you be looking after him?”

  Ilse got up reluctantly, adjusting the loose neckline of her fine emerald-colored dress, which had slid down to reveal a sumptuous bosom. “Did he ask for me, Mistress Kendall?”

  “Hirschi asks for no one. But aren’t you his most devoted acolyte? If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be earning your living on your back.”

  Ilse looked at her coldly. “At least I had enough sense to get paid.”

  Kendall’s eyes turned into ice, and she hissed through her teeth. “Go, you little bitch, before I clout you one.”

  Ilse hurried away.

  * * *

  Kea didn’t follow her. Instead he ambled over to sit next to Moab again.

  They talked about setting snares for rabbits the next day. Kea stole glances at me now and then, and their voices got lower. I sensed a conspiracy in the works and took over tending the kettle with the mulled wine.

  Had Ilse really been a prostitute? Didn’t it bother Kea?