Fire Heart

by Dan Avera

  “How many of those do we have?” Will asked. “The cannons, I mean. I've only ever heard of them. Apparently they make quite a boom.”

  Firesand had been discovered in the Eastlands less than a century before, and the desert people zealously guarded their discovery from the Lower Kingdoms. Smugglers brave or stupid enough to risk the Kalifa's wrath could make a small fortune by selling firesand weapons to the Southlands and Westlands, but such people were few and far between. Fewer still were the ones who managed never to run afoul of the Kalifa's soldiers. Firesand weaponry, as a result, was exceedingly rare in the Lower Kingdoms. That Prado had even one cannon was a testament to its legendary bottomless wealth.

  Clare laughed. “All this time fighting and you've never seen a cannon? We used them often in Dahoto—took them off of dead Northlanders when a good runner wasn't around to sell. We even had a few shoulder-throwers as well. We called those shoulder-breakers.”

  “What are they?”

  “Basically a tiny cannon.” Clare pantomimed holding one, and it looked almost as though she were carrying a plank of wood on her shoulder. “You held it like this, and then there was a crescent moon-shaped piece right here that you held against your shoulder to steady it. The firing lever was back here, and when you squeezed it this little burning fuse hit a tiny dish of firesand. It made quite a bang, and the ball that flew out of the end of it either killed whatever it hit or scared the enemy so badly that they turned tail and ran. Of course, it almost dislocated your shoulder every time you fired it. That wasn't nearly as fun.”

  Will raised his eyebrows. “Sounds complicated...but effective.”

  She grinned back at him. “Wait until you see the cannons.”

  “How did the Northlands come by such things?”

  “They're allies with the Eastlands,” Clare replied. “It may not show so much down here, I suppose, but far to the north there's a city called Al'Dahib. It's basically one enormous fortress that doubles as a trading hub between the East and the North.”

  “Huh,” said Will. “I'd heard they never fought each other, but not that they were allies.”

  “Yes. Apparently it's been that way for centuries.”

  They lapsed into silence once again. A warm breeze blew by, tickling Will's skin. It gently stirred Clare's hair, which he noticed for the first time had the slightest hint of a wave at its ends. It reminded him of a dark river when the wind caught it.

  “Maybe they aren't coming tonight,” Clare murmured after some time had passed, startling Will from his daze. She yawned, attempting unsuccessfully to stifle it with her hand, and grinned sheepishly.

  “Don't fall asleep,” Will laughed. “I'll be defenseless!” Clare chuckled and turned from him to gaze out over the city, her face hidden behind her hair.

  Will stared at her, wanting to say more—anything to keep her talking—but nothing came to mind. He had always been able to talk to women with relative ease, and Clare was no different. So why not now? At times he could carry on a conversation as though he had known her from birth. And then, for no reason at all, the strangest feelings would twist in his gut when she looked at him, and when she spoke it was all he could do to keep his tongue from tying itself in knots. Maddening, he thought with annoyance.

  Finally admitting defeat when nothing came to mind, he turned away with a small sigh—and came face to face with Serah. He started in surprise, and his hand reached reflexively for his sword before he realized who it was. Lifting his arm so suddenly made it twinge in pain and he grimaced, lowering it slowly. He shook his hand like a rag in an unsuccessful attempt to banish the swarm of needle pricks that had attacked his palm and fingers.

  “How did you get over here so fast?” he asked.

  “I told you she shot lightning at the wall in the inn,” Clare said, and she moved up to stand at his side. “I'm sure she has some other tricks up her sleeve.”

  “You still do not believe me, do you?” Serah asked with a hint of exasperation, ignoring his question. She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were dark and unreadable. “Very well. All things in due time, I suppose. But please understand that I am speaking the truth. You are the one who must save us, Will. I only wish you had been reborn sooner.”

  Will stared at her in contemplation for a moment. “You really believe in this, don't you?” he said after a moment, and she cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to say more. “It's written all over your face. You certainly aren't lying.” He shook his head. “At least, I don't think you are. Maybe you're just really good at hiding the truth.”

  “Will,” Clare hissed, “remember the lightning.”

  Will stared at her.

  “Whatever she is,” she continued, “she's more than a normal human.”

  “Maybe she's a Siren,” he said with a shrug. “It still sounds ridiculous, but I'd believe it sooner than her being a Titan.”

  “There are very few Sirens left in the world,” Serah replied evenly, “and I am not one of them. I am a Titan. Your friend speaks the truth. Surely the concept cannot be so difficult for you to grasp.”

  Will bristled at the veiled insult. “Hmm,” he said, adopting a look of mock contemplation, “I wonder if perhaps it has anything to do with no one believing in the Titans for five hundred years. Disbelief follows a lack of evidence, after all.”

  “Disbelief in a fact does not disprove it.” Serah countered.

  “Then prove it.” Will raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

  “Very well,” Serah sighed. She stared at him. Time crawled by, but nothing happened.

  “So...” Will began, but she cut him off.

  “Look up.”

  The moon and stars were no longer visible. In their place a massive storm cloud had sprung into existence, an inky field devoid of color that blocked out the sky in all directions almost to the horizon. It vanished a moment later, dissipating quickly until the weak light from the stars and moon shone once again. Will whistled appreciatively.

  And then he felt something brush against his throat. He looked down into Serah's face, which was still as impassive as before. Her hair gusted in a sudden breeze, though Will could feel no wind; the muggy air was as still as it had been all night.

  “What—”

  There was a soft hiss, and a line of sharp pain bloomed across Will's cheek. His hand darted up to touch it, and his fingers came away wet with blood. “Hey!” he cried.

  “You told me to prove what I am,” Serah said, her voice even. There was no anger, no hint of emotion at all. “Davin saved me and raised me. He was my best friend, my mentor, and a father.” She took a step forward, and both Will and Clare shrank back. There was another hiss, and Will felt another cut open on his opposite cheek. He had no idea where the attacks were coming from; it was as though...

  It's as though she's using the air itself.

  “Stop it!” Clare cried, but Serah ignored her.

  “I owed Davin my life a thousand times over,” the desert woman continued, “and since he died five hundred years ago I have had an unfulfilled debt riding upon my shoulders. Now you are here.” With a tiny, crackling squeal, infinitesimal bolts of electricity arced through her hair and danced within the depths of her eyes. “If this is what it takes to convince you of your true self, then I will do what I must. I take no pleasure in hurting you, but perhaps this is the only way, yes? I will do what I can to keep you alive...Brother.”

  Suddenly anger flared within Will, and he drew his sword in a flash, ignoring the pain that lanced through his arm. Titan or not, the strange desert woman had succeeded in making him angry. “Cut me again,” he snarled, “and I swear I'll leave you to drown in a pool of your own blood.” She stared at him with an unreadable expression, and he was mildly surprised that her bodyguards, who he had not noticed standing only a few paces away until that moment, had made no move to stop him.

  His rage dissipated, however, when he saw her next reacti
on: she smiled, and then laughed. He lowered his sword in confusion.

  “Excellent,” Serah breathed. “For the briefest of moments I sensed the spark of your true self.” She cocked her head to one side. “How is it that you have not yet felt it? You have been angry before, yes? Of course you have.”

  Will stared at her. It had all been a ruse to get a rise out of him? She had gotten the better of him. He glared at her.

  “What should it feel like, then?” he asked, deciding to humor Serah if only to keep her from attacking him again. He sheathed his sword and folded his arms across his chest. Beside him, Clare breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

  “I do not know,” Serah replied. “For me, it feels like flying. I am at peace with the world.”

  Will looked down, thinking back to a few days ago when he had sat at the fire with Clare.

  “What is it?” Serah questioned.

  “Nothing.”

  She did not press him, and he was thankful for that. He did not want to have to evade questions that would inevitably lead to Clare—not with Clare standing right next to him, at any rate. He didn't want to risk upsetting her with whatever stupid nonsense stumbled out of his mouth.

  Finally, after a long silence had passed, Serah asked, “Do you believe in us now, Will?”

  Will waved his hand dismissively in the air. “I believe you're something more than human. I believe you might be a Siren, but I'm not sure. Stories of Sirens still crop up from time to time—stories of Titans don't, and I've never been a religious man anyway. But you're going to have to do a lot of convincing to get me to believe that I'm like you.” This was, of course, only a half-truth; he was beginning to have some suspicions of his own, but for the moment he put them out of his mind.

  “Very well,” Serah said quietly. She put her fingertips to her lips and whistled shrilly. Will looked at her in confusion, but a moment later he heard off in the distance an answering cry—something akin to a lion's roar and a hawk's scream. The sound was blood-chilling, and he shivered despite the oppressive heat.

  “What was—?” he began, but a sudden wind battered him, and he stumbled to the side and raised his arm defensively. When he regained his balance a moment later, his eyes widened in shock at the massive creature before him. Half-plains lion and half-eagle, it was now perched atop the city wall like an enormous gargoyle. So great was its body that it barely had enough room to stand, and its feet scrabbled for purchase on what, for it, was a narrow ledge of stone. Will heard startled cries all around him as his fellow soldiers spotted the creature.

  “Gefan save us, there's more of them!” he heard one man scream. He looked up and saw two more circling above them a short distance away, their claws and beaks glinting wickedly in the torchlight. Gryphons, he realized, his memory dredging up old childhood stories about mythical beasts and monsters that did not exist.

  Except these were very, very real. He blinked rapidly and pinched himself just to make sure, but there they were in all their glory, their brown feathers shimmering in the torchlight and the crescent moon and stars shining from their silver eyes.

  Serah ran her hand along the closest gryphon's beak and whispered something in its ear. It shook its head and cooed softly, almost like a baby, and Will stared in awe as it actually nuzzled her fingers with affection. In the blink of an eye it unfurled its great wings and, with a single stroke, lifted itself into the air. The force of the wind buffeted Will and Clare back once again, but Serah seemed strangely unaffected.

  “I am sending them to bring reinforcements from Falcos, my city,” Serah explained once the gryphons had disappeared into the night, her demeanor suggesting that the appearance of such animals was an everyday occurrence. “But it will take several days for my children to reach it, and several more for my warriors to arrive. Let us hope that the yaru do not attack before then.”

  Will barely heard her; he could only gape, dumbstruck, after the flying beasts.

  “You know I speak the truth,” Serah said after the awkward silence had reached its crescendo. “Look into your heart and you will see.” Then she, too, leaped into the air and disappeared.

  “Now that,” Will muttered under his breath, “was something else.”

  “Will? You're still bleeding.” Clare stood in front of him and reached for his face. He let her dab at the cuts with her sleeve. They were shallow and barely stung, but the blood was refusing to clot—an annoyance and an eyesore, all in one package.

  “Thank you,” he said when she pulled away, and he reached up to gingerly touch one of the wounds. It was sticky, the flow stymied.

  “That was remarkably stupid,” she admonished reproachfully. “What were you thinking, provoking her like that? I told you what she was capable of.” The anger on her face took Will aback.

  “I-I'm sorry,” he stammered, not knowing what else to say.”I just—”

  Her expression softened and she shook her head, eyes downcast. “For a tick there I really thought she was going to hurt you,” she muttered. “Scared me. You're the only friend I've got anymore, so don't do anything stupid.”

  Will was at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed like a fish.

  Clare smiled at him then. “Don't worry, I forgive you.” She smacked him lightly with the back of her hand. “Just don't go getting yourself into so much trouble. I can't protect you all the time, you know.”

  “My most sincere apologies,” Will said with an exaggerated flourish and a bow, able to find his tongue now that the mood had lightened. “I promise you it won't happen again...much.”

  Clare shook her head. “Men,” she muttered, though not unkindly. “There's nothing for it, I guess.” She looked at him pensively for a moment. “What are you thinking?” she finally asked. “About what Serah said, I mean.”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Will chuckled.

  “Well,” she answered slowly, “I'm thinking you might want to listen to what she has to say.” She looked away as though in preparation for an angry outburst from Will.

  “Do you think it's true?” he asked softly.

  “That you're the new Dragon King?”

  He nodded.

  “...I don't know. I've never even believed in the stories about Gefan, much less the ones about Titans.” She bit her lip. “But...after what I saw, I'm not sure anymore. I think if it was going to be anyone, of all the people I've met, you'd be the best candidate.”

  Will looked at her askance. “You've only known me for a few days. What makes you say that?”

  Clare shrugged. “I've heard the old stories, same as everyone else. The Dragon King was supposed to be strong, brave, heroic...” She trailed off and then blurted, “Beautiful.”

  Will's laugh was more awkward than humorous. “Oh,” he said in a small voice, and Clare looked away, avoiding his gaze again. Her cheeks had reddened in the torchlight. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, erm...thank you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I-I appreciate it.” He laughed again. “I don't know, though. You would think I'd feel like the Dragon King or something, wouldn't you?”

  But then the memory of that strange Other presence resurfaced, and he frowned. Could it be that what the desert woman said was true? It would explain a great deal. And the yaru leader...hadn't it said something similar? He wracked his brain, trying to remember, but everything was a jumbled mess. It seemed he had hit his head harder than he had realized.

  “Will?” Clare said softly, startling him from his reverie. Her hand was outstretched, hovering indecisively over his arm. “Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

  “What? Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” Before he realized what he was doing he had reached out and lightly taken hold of her hand. Her eyes widened for a fraction of an instant, and he abruptly took his hand away. Hers stayed in the air for a moment longer before falling quickly back to her side. She seemed about to say something, but then turned away, shutting her mouth with a snap.

 
“How do you think she did that?” Will asked in an attempt to move away from the realm of the awkward. “The whole...” he slashed his hand through the air, pantomiming a cutting motion, “you know, slicing my face trick.”

  Clare raised her hands in a gesture of defeat. “I have no idea. I once saw a man from the Western Isles who could cut candles in half without moving. He would just sit there with a blank stare, and the candles would fall apart one by one.” She shook her head. “All I know is that I've seen enough strangeness in the past eight months to last me a lifetime, and tonight was the final straw. I...bah, sometimes I wonder if I've gone mad, or if I'm dead and this is just some strange dream I'm having before I pass into the Void.”

  “I know what you mean,” Will groused. He was silent for a moment, and then, obviously still curious, he said, “Do you think she hardened the air or something? Spirits above, this is going to bother me now.”

  Clare shook her head, but otherwise did not answer.

  Will passed his gaze around the countryside. It was beautiful at night, when none of the day's gold and dusty green showed and the land was bathed in shadow. With only starlight and whatever glow the moon deigned fit to shed, everything seemed coated in silver. Such a change, he thought as a breeze tousled his hair. From gold to silver in a matter of belltolls. Of all the places Will had been in the Southlands, only Prado was not covered in endless plains of soft green grass or dark forest.

  “How many do you think there are?” he finally asked. “Yaru, I mean.” Soon the golden city will be ruby red.

  Clare shrugged. “I don't know. A lot. I don't think I've ever seen the main horde, but the packs I've come across are always at least twenty or thirty strong. The one that went after you was mostly lost to the fog, but it was still the biggest I've encountered.”

  “Do you think we can beat them?”

  Clare was silent for a moment. “I think it's a good thing we set up a defensive ring in the city center,” she said at last. “And I think it's a good thing that we have the majority of the civilians locked away in the keep with provisions.” She turned her gaze to Will, and he was surprised to see a flicker of fear in her gold-flecked eyes. “I've been hunting them for awhile now, and I've always been lucky. But this...I've only ever fought them on my terms, with the element of surprise on my side. I don't know if we can live through a fight with the whole horde.”