Embers

by Ronie Kendig

  “Ah.” He wanted to laugh, but he had no memory of landing. Or bouncing. “Did you get hurt? From the fall, I mean?”

  “No,” she said, her voice soft. “Thanks to you.”

  “Hey, lovebirds!” Drracien hissed at them. “They’re back.”

  Thiel spun around, yelping as she twisted her leg.

  Haegan sat up, grinding his teeth. Whatever it was had nailed him squarely in the back, possibly saving their lives.

  “You won’t believe it,” Laertes said, his brown eyes wide with excitement. “There are hundreds—”

  “Possibly a thousand,” Praegur said.

  “—encamped all up the side of the mountain.” Laertes knelt in front of Thiel. “It’s a small city up in here what we can get lost.”

  “How are we supposed to get to the Falls?” Tokar growled. “All those people—”

  “Make the perfect cover, like the boy said,” Drracien replied.

  Haegan turned to Laertes. “Did you see Jujak?”

  Laertes frowned. “I just saw them people.”

  “Those people,” Haegan corrected, his mind on the crowds. On the ability to hide in a sea of bodies.

  “You think it’s safe?” Thiel asked him.

  “What are you asking him for?”

  “Because he has a good mind. He thinks things through.” Thiel held her leg as she guided it around Drracien and Tokar. “Unlike some of you.”

  “Right. Jumping off the side of the mountain after you is really thinking things through.” Tokar shook his head. “I don’t know—”

  “If he hadn’t come after me, I’d be dead.”

  Silence hung like a black void between them.

  “I heard ’em talking about soldiers, I did, when I was walking through the crowds. They was all in a bother.” Laertes shook his head. “But what made them say that, I can’t tell. I didn’t see no soldiers.”

  Haegan nodded. “If we can hide, so can the Jujak.”

  “Word has probably already spread about my confrontation with them,” Drracien said.

  “This is a string of right bad luck,” Laertes said mournfully. “This journey is cursed.”

  “No, Rigar is cursed. He’s the bad luck,” Tokar said.

  “Easy.” Thiel glanced again to Haegan, then Tokar and Drracien. “I think we should try the crowds. See if we can blend in. If we sense things are off, we can slip out.

  “At least they aren’t Dyrth’s Maereni or the Raeng.” One were part of Poired’s army, the other a band of assassins. Both merciless fighters.

  “Thankfully, neither venture this far west,” Thiel said. “Let’s get going. I want to make camp before dark.”

  • • •

  “There they are.”

  Trale Kath eased behind the trunk of a tree, chomping into a ripe cordi fruit as he monitored the group of six. They were a little younger than Astadia, the white-skinned teens closer to eighteen than her twenty years. But they were all more innocent. Less corrupted.

  The six had broken up before entering the camp, most likely to avoid drawing attention. But Trale had no trouble identifying them. It almost disappointed him how easily he and Astadia had followed them after leaving the city.

  First to enter the encampment of hopefuls were the Kerguli and the young boy, not more than ten cycles but as alert as they came. He wore his blond hair longer than Northlanders, but normal for Iteverians. Perhaps that was what made Trale admire the boy. Even now, his brown eyes came to Trale and lingered. He scowled, then looked away, muttering something to the Kergulian, whose gaze swung around the crowd but never rested on Trale for longer than the barest of seconds. More practiced at avoiding detection than most, Trale guessed. Good for him.

  It didn’t work, of course. Trale had no equal. No Iteverian on the plains of the Embers did. One only had to look around this encampment of hopefuls, crowding the forest for a chance at a fantasy—a chance for a miracle.

  Fools. Blinded by their selfishness. Nothing was ever enough, though they had more than he had, including their freedom. And gullible fools at that. Believing the lies of accelerants and politicians. Ruled by the vicious Fire King.

  The Kergulian kept walking, talking, and feigning casualness. But to trackers, to those who preyed on others, their nervousness was as obnoxious as if they had painted themselves red.

  Ah. Here. The girl who played boy with her chopped brown hair, trousers, and tunics. Despicable. And she limped—could she not handle herself in the wild? Then she should return to the halls of her people and continue their legacy with children. Aiding her was the one he did not like. Black hair shorn to his skull, tall and impetuous. He hooked an arm around the impish girl as she hobbled to a tree stump.

  “That’s him,” Astadia spoke from the shadows behind him. “With the accelerant.”

  Trale smiled at her prowess. She could smell an accelerant leagues away. Probably because she so desperately despised their master, Dyrth.

  But she wasn’t speaking about the accelerant. Trailing everyone by a dozen paces or more walked a moderately built man. Well, not quite a man. Not a boy either. Someday, he might be formidable. But for now he was a shaggy boy working too hard to blend in with the others flocking to this wetland. Long gold hair, nose in the air—nobility. Fool. He should know to crop that hair or those around him would guess his identity.

  But was he the reason the Jujak had scoured Hetaera and come so far north? “You’re sure?” Nobody in his party had paid the boy particular attention. In fact, the shorn-head blaggard seemed to hate him.

  Astadia crossed her arms. “He’s the prince.”

  Trale took another bite of the cordi, surreptitiously monitoring the Seultrian heir. “This should be enough to remove our shackles.” He could not think what Dyrth would do to this boy if he captured him. But that was not Trale’s concern. Freeing his sister was.

  At his side, Astadia touched his shoulder, her green eyes reflecting the desperate hope he sought but knew was out of reach. At least for him. He warred on. Tracked on. In the hope that some day, she could be free.

  After pitching the cordi core into the brush, he turned back into the camp. Swiped a hand over his mouth as he knelt and drew out a dagger. Holding it tightly, he returned to her. “You know what to do.”

  34

  Thiel’s scream raked through the din of the camp. Her hand crushed Haegan’s as he knelt at her side, his stomach roiling at the thought of the excruciating pain she experienced as the healer set her broken ankle. Trembling, she slumped against the cot and closed her eyes. The sight of her in such agony tore at him. He wanted to hold her. Reassure her.

  “There now,” the healer said. “That’s the worst of it. I’ll have it bound in no time.”

  Thiel’s head lolled to the side, and her amber eyes, still hooded in pain, brightened as she looked at him. A half smile worked its way into her lips. “You look worse than me.”

  “Have you seen yourself?”

  Releasing the knot she’d formed in the blanket, she weakly smacked his bicep.

  “It was poor of me,” he said with a laugh, “to make light of your discomfort.”

  “Discomfort?” Her eyes hinted at mirth, though she sounded indignant. Yet the pale sheen clung to her like an early morning mist. “Let me give you some discomfort, tunnel rat.”

  “There you go. Keep it elevated,” the healer said to Thiel, who brushed the sweat-soaked hair from her face. “I’ve bound it, but you’ll need to stay off the leg so it can heal.”

  Thiel rolled her eyes.

  The healer huffed, shaking her head that sported multiple braided buns sticking out all over the place, like knots on a tree. “Don’t you come complaining to me if you break it again or worse. I told you what you need to do. It’s up to you.” The healer turned to Haegan. “Keep her off that foot, even if she don’t want to listen to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said as Praegur passed her a pouch.

  Money? Or was he divesting for her
payment what little supplies they’d secured before leaving Luxlirien?

  “What about ’im?” Laertes thumbed to Haegan. “He got hurt, too.”

  “Oh?” A healer lives for the hurting, and this one seemed especially glad for the work.

  Haegan raised a hand. “Mercy. I’m fine.” When he bent to acknowledge and thank her, he jerked, pain catching his spine.

  “Your back, is it?”

  With a shake of his head, Haegan came to his feet. “It is of no bother. Truly.”

  She twirled her finger in the air. “Around, you. Let me have a look.”

  Spearing Laertes with a glare, Haegan tugged his tunic off as he turned.

  “O beneficent, merciful One!”

  Haegan frowned and glanced over his shoulder. “Is there concern?” The lad’s eyes were bugged, and the healer stood shaking her head, pale. “What?”

  “You’re—the whole of your back is covered in a monstrous bruise of some sort.”

  Haegan scowled. Jerked around, cringing and arching away in a vain attempt to see the mark. “No surprise,” he grunted out. “It hurts as if someone used me to beat out their clothes.”

  “Let me make sure nothing’s broken.” The healer’s firm hands moved over his spine, nearly buckling Haegan’s knees. “Mercy,” she whispered. “I think everything is where it’s supposed to be, but how you got such a wicked mark . . . I think”—she rifled through her bag—“ah, here. A salve. Apply it twice a day. It’ll help the ache and swelling.”

  Haegan took the small container. “Thanks.”

  The healer headed for the tent opening. “Find me if you need more help.”

  “I hope that won’t be necessary.” Haegan lifted his tunic and turned it around, straightening it to put it on.

  Tokar slipped beneath the tent flap as the older woman left. He hesitated, staring at Haegan, then Thiel. “What? A bare-chest contest?” He whipped off his tunic. “I have you beat, Twig.” He flexed his muscles. Real muscles. Not the muscles Haegan had, which were twice what he’d had as an invalid. But Tokar’s were toned and spoke of his strength and agility.

  Haegan’s gaze flicked to Thiel, who snickered. Humiliated, he stabbed his arms through the sleeves. Would he ever measure up? To anyone’s standards? “I beg your mercy.” He moved toward the tent opening.

  “Rigar,” Praegur called. “We must talk.”

  Hand on the tent flap, Haegan hesitated and slowly glanced at the foursome. “Of what?”

  “Do you know the ritual for entering the Falls?”

  A frown gave his answer.

  “It’s . . . it’s costly.” Praegur’s dark features were carved with concern. “I think we should just move on.”

  “How can you say that?” Haegan stalked into the middle of the tent. “I’ve worked for weeks to get here. I must enter the waterfall.”

  “Why?” Tokar joined the dispute, almost anxious to have an argument with Haegan. “Why must you do this? You seem healthy enough. It’s cost us everything. Thiel broke her ankle—”

  “And I risked my life to save her,” Haegan snapped. “Where were you?”

  Tokar lunged.

  “No!” Thiel shouted.

  But Tokar’s punch landed true and hard on Haegan’s jaw. Pain exploded through his face and neck as he fell backward. A fresh wave of pain—from his back this time—clawed his body. Blinking, he expected additional blows. When they did not come, he braved a glance at Tokar.

  Two arms hooked him from behind and held him—Drracien.

  Gritting his teeth, Haegan pulled himself off the ground. His lip was swelling, and a metallic taste glanced across his tongue. He spat blood.

  Thiel hobbled toward them, her injured leg held at an awkward angle. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded of Tokar, pushing him backward. “You know he does this for his sister. He has spoken of her since we first encountered him. We are here, and there is no reason to leave when he’s so close.” Then to Haegan. “Badly done, Rigar. That was uncalled for.”

  Chastised, he knew she was right but could not bring himself to speak or tear his gaze from Tokar.

  “Let go of me,” Tokar hissed at Drracien and wrenched free. He shrugged, straightening his tunic.

  Hauling himself out of his anger and frustration, Haegan forced his mind to Thiel. “The healer’s orders were explicit—you are to rest. Stay off your leg.”

  “And I would if you two would stop acting like children who need a mother!” She threw herself back on the cot, wincing as she lifted her leg back onto it.

  “I shall remove myself, so I am no longer a burden to you.” With a slight bow, he left the tent. Shaking his head, he reprimanded himself for lowering himself to the level of Tokar and taking the bait. For lashing out. He was not himself. Had not been for the last four weeks or so.

  “Might I show you something?”

  Haegan glanced back and found Drracien hiking up the hill after him. “I am in no mood for another remonstration. I am duly chided.”

  “Indeed.” Determination marked the man’s brow. “But no chiding or lecture.” He swept past without much of an effort. “I believe you will want to see this, prince.”

  Haegan stopped, irritated that the accelerant continued referring to him as such in public. With a sigh, Haegan followed him up the hillside, around a path that twisted and switchbacked until Haegan was certain they were lost. He searched for a marker to gain his bearings, but nothing was familiar. Even the trees were foreign. Why was he even trusting the accelerant?

  A niggling at the back of his mind wormed deeper and deeper into his brain. Drracien knew Haegan’s real identity. He’d already once admitted he’d tried to turn Haegan in to regain his position. What if this was another attempt to do that? Separating him from the others.

  “You tired?” Drracien pulled himself up onto a rock and through two narrowly set trees.

  “Mercy?”

  He slanted a glance back. “You’re slowing.”

  Am I?

  “Just a little farther.”

  “What are we—”

  “Shh.” Drracien dragged himself up on a large boulder and squatted behind a copse of trees with a bluish trunks. He motioned Haegan down into the same position.

  Heart thumping from the exertion and the anticipation of trouble, Haegan hunched into the small space, surprised to find a cleft jutting out before them, just beyond the reach of the tree limbs. A rush of cold swept over him at the thirty-foot drop. He’d already had a fall and would rather not repeat the unfortunate incident. It went straight down, right to a clearing just east of the Great Falls.

  But not just a clearing. A clearing that played host to—“Ignatieri.” Richly adorned, two rows of tents arced away from where the waterfall crashed into a large pool that fed the river. The far lip spilled the icy water down into the head river. A dozen accelerants lingered around a campfire. Another ten or so were off to the side setting up more shelter. With their red and black uniforms, they were a fierce sight.

  And yet—they somehow paled to the smaller, simpler tents going up along one flank. “Jujak.” The royal guard were still settling in, their movements precise and sharp. Haegan had longed to be among their ranks as a boy, and he could not deny the admiration still lingered. “There must be . . .” His heart crashed as violently against his ribs as the waterfall did against the pool. “Twenty. Maybe a few less.”

  So many? At a time like this? Why? These couldn’t be the Jujak that had dogged their steps since Luxlirien. Though they had clearly arrived just that day, they had already accomplished hours’ worth of work—on this rough terrain, even with horses, the group chasing Haegan never could have gotten so far ahead of them.

  Drracien studied him. “Why are they after you?”

  They blocked the route to the Great Falls. To reach the blessed waters, he’d have to get past both Jujak and Ignatieri. How? Going around would take too long, since the river above was thick and impassible with its violent rapids.
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  “On second thought,” Drracien said, “why? Why are you doing this? Why the Kindling?” He squinted. “You have your health.”

  “But she does not.” Haegan spoke quietly, Kaelyria’s sweet, beautiful face taunting him yet again.

  “Your sister.”

  “If I do not enter the waters, she will forever be captive by the ailments that once bound me.”

  Dark brows drew tight. Seconds of silence grew into minutes. “I do not understand. You stole your sister’s health?”

  Haegan sniffed. “I would not even begin to know how to steal it.” The memory still proved painful. “She had an accelerant assist her in the scheme.”

  “Impossible. If what are you saying is true, then they performed a transference. Those are forbidden!” Drracien’s hair hung over eyes aflame with indignation. “No accelerant worth his wielding would be caught performing such an act.”

  “Then maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he hasn’t been caught.”

  “Aye, I heard rumblings in the camp earlier that they’re still looking for the prince and the accomplice. Yet you claim innocence.”

  “Because it is truth!”

  Drracien expelled a frustrated breath. His gaze went back to the clearing. “Who was it?” Another shake of his head. “No, do not tell me. There is nothing I could do.”

  “I should not have relented when she pleaded with me. I only did it because she was so eager to change what I had accepted long ago—that the bed would be my existence until I died. She kept mentioning Ruadh and Manido . . .”

  “You and the princess were close?”

  An almost imperceptible nod acknowledged the truth and Haegan’s grief. “I would have given her the world had I but the tools. She is good and pure, not at all spoiled as most would expect.” He slumped against the tree. Leaves rustled and rattled.

  Hand up, Drracien snapped his gaze below, his eyes wide with alarm that they might be noticed. A few seconds went by. He leaned to one side, watching a detachment of Jujak, who trotted quickly out of view. But they returned almost as quick. “Drills.” Drracien eased onto the ground and drew a knee to his chest. “If you loved your sister so wholly, why did you allow this?”