by Amy Keeley
“Fire spell has already started, just where you left it.”
“You?”
“Can’t. Pipes are barely holding.”
“Dammit!” Crouching next to Krysilla, Hyaji watched Zhiv touch the second wheel which had already begun to slowly spin, drawing a spell on it. “I’ve got the fire, Daegan.”
“Do you need any help?” someone asked behind him. Hyaji turned to see two Dogs, one of them tall and with light blond hair, one shorter, older and more muscular, with white hair.
“Not yet,” the Ornic replied. “I may need you to watch the fire, Razev, if anything goes wrong.”
The taller Dog paled, while the older one looked up at his companion with not so much surprise as appraisal. “That’s not my name, and you know it,” the taller one said.
The Ornic waved away that statement with definite annoyance, concentrating fully now on the spell.
A loud thump echoed through the room. A loud hiss came from the wall opposite where they entered. A brilliant outline formed into the shape of a door, with cracks radiating toward its center, breaking apart the stone inside it, crumbling it away as if it were sand. Beyond it, though, only darkness.
“I’ll be,” the older Dog said. “The stories were true, after all.”
The taller Dog walked forward. “What do you want us to do, Zhiv?”
Obviously distracted by the spell, The Ornic turned his head only slightly, eyes closed. Raising his voice, he said, “I’ve almost set the location. I think it will put you near the sea.”
Now the older Dog cursed.
“It gets us away from Teranasin,” the one the Ornic had called Razev said. He turned to Nitty and the children. “You’ll follow me.”
“He’s not taking you to Vyomsi,” the Ornic called out over the hum just before there was a loud thunk, as if something had fallen into place. The room filled with the scent of the ocean, of fish, of salt, of a cool breeze. The cry of gulls brought a sharp pang of homesickness to Hyaji. He could almost taste the salt water.
“At least we know it’s above water now,” Daegan said, but this only brought a faint smile to the Ornic’s face. He was concentrating far more than Hyaji had ever expected from a lazy minstrel.
Hyaji knew men could be both good and evil. He’d seen it himself in his fishing village. Some of the best fathers were also the cruelest in business deals. He told himself this was how Krysilla had been deceived. He told himself this as the Ornic gave the signal, and the Dog led the children and Nitty to the portal. “You’d better not leave us like you did before!” she shouted just before she walked through.
Zhiv didn’t answer, though Hyaji noticed he watched them as best he could until they were through.
There was a sound at the entrance to the cavern, and the old Dog sent fire racing through it, a blast that seemed to go on and on. And then Hyaji realized he was diverting it. The Dogs had reached them.
“Daegan!” the Ornic called out over the growing cacophony, still trying to focus on the fire spell he’d claimed. “How long will the pipes hold after you let go of them?!”
“Not long!”
Zhiv nodded. “Sounds like our time is up!” He jerked his head toward the cave’s entrance, still focused on his task.
Daegan nodded, and, with a deep breath, let go and ran toward the portal.
“Aren’t you supposed to shut it down!” Hyaji shouted over the noise. The room had begun to feel stifling hot.
“It wouldn’t hold!” Zhiv put a hand on Krysilla’s shoulder. “Time to let go, goodwife!”
She didn’t move.
Hyaji watched the Ornic pale. No attack had done that.
And then he remembered how she’d looked when they’d first arrived. How weak. It had to be this. Strong as she was, this whole mechanism reeked of magic that had only been used by Ornic lords and ladies. Weak as she was, this time, it might kill her.
“Goodwife!” the Ornic shouted.
Hyaji looked at the older Dog, fighting against the rest of the pack, who knew why? And Hyaji had thought of how the younger one had spoken to the Ornic, as if they were friends. And from the look on Zhiv’s face now, it seemed he was ready to let go of the fire that powered this device, all to shake the goodwife free of it.
What good was preaching doctrines of kindness and forgiveness if you never applied them? “Let it go!” Hyaji shouted.
“Didn’t you swear an oath!” Zhiv sneered.
“You brought me here for this! Let me take over while you help Krysilla!”
For a moment, Zhiv’s eyes flashed. He drew something else on the wheel, a spell Hyaji didn’t recognize, but the fire began to fade, and along with it, the portal.
Reaching out, Hyaji drew the spell he’d learned watching his father at the blacksmith shop. As always, his fingers twisted it, moving more by instinct than by anything he’d seen his father do. The spell poured out of him, a strange aberration that snatched at the fire in the pipes and made it roar to life.
“Don’t overdo it!” Zhiv yelled. For the first time, when he looked at Hyaji, he looked afraid.
Hyaji smiled. Good. Let him.
***
Krysilla was aware of heat. The room had gotten hotter somehow. There was a shout from Zhiv, and she felt herself relax deeper into the spell. He was here. He’d be able to get the others to safety.
She focused on regulating the system, fully aware of when Daegan had let go of the spell. The pipes were old. She could see them weakening under the strain.
I don’t know how to fix them, she thought, near panic. It was all she could do to let the clockwork of the mechanism claim her, doing her best to keep the rhythm steady.
And then the fire in the pipes rushed forward, and Zhiv was yelling something about not overdoing it.
Someone else had taken over the fire spell. She had no idea who.
Zhiv’s hands wrapped round her head. His words sounded distant. “We must go,” he called out. “Let go, goodwife!”
It was too late. She knew this. Her body was weak enough as it was. If she tried to leave the system now, it would kill her as surely as if she’d ripped her own heart out. Or if the Dogs burned her.
“It’s ocean, goodwife!” Zhiv shouted. “I don’t imagine you’ve seen the ocean, have you!”
Go, she wanted to tell him. Hurry, before the Dogs catch you.
She felt something press against her ear, but heard nothing. All that existed was the thump, thump, thump of the mechanism.
One of the pipes began to crack.
She couldn’t tell him. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. But he could see it. Surely, he could see it.
And yet, he was still here.
“Let it go!” he yelled. “Please.” His voice was by her ear now, and she knew he was bending over her. “You must remember. I will not leave without you.”
Part of her felt her heart swell at the sound of those words. Part of her remembered that she was important to his future plans. That was all. This had nothing to do with anything that smacked of a romantic tale. She shook her head, unable to do anything more.
Just go, she silently begged. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.
“Do you want to know why I asked you to join us? Why I’ve wanted you to stay all this time?”
No, she silently begged. Don’t tell me.
“It’s because, of all the casters I’ve seen, you have the kindest heart. There’s strength in that. And I know right now you think you’re sacrificing yourself for your family and that it’s a marvelously good thing, but you’re wrong. It’s selfish. They need you. Tira needs you. Nitty needs you. And my nephews, for as long as you’re near them, need you as well. Let it go, Krysilla. Fight it! Come with us! Please!”
It wasn’t like in the tales, where the hero confesses to his dying love that he’s always adored her, and begs her to come back to him. It wasn’t romantic at all. And yet, the words were true. She felt it. And inside the words, she thought she might
be imagining it (she probably was) but she thought she could hear his own plea. He likes me, she remembered. She thought of all the people she’d met, all the people she’d done this for, and knew Zhiv was right. She needed to at least try.
Wrapping one arm around him, she leaned into Zhiv’s chest, trying to remember what a heartbeat sounded like.
I can do this, she told herself, in spite of the spell that seemed to want to obliterate her.
Faintly, she heard his heartbeat. It’s yours as well, she told herself, trying to remember. The rhythm may be faster or slower, but the basic rhythm is yours. Ka-thunk, ka-thunk, and yet it seemed so far removed from who she was.
No, she realized. It was too late for memories.
And then, a thought occurred to her. She hadn’t been the one to build this spell. The emotion only existed at the beginning. But perhaps she could find it. Maybe. And if she could, then she might be able to learn how the spell should be finished.
Reaching out, she nearly hit her hand on the wheel. Zhiv grabbed it. “It’s spinning, Krysilla.”
She was about to make some sign of protest when he moved it down lower, to the bottom wheel, which had remained stationary. She touched it, careful to keep her fingers below the wheel spinning above it, and a flood of memories rushed through.
Ignoring the ones that had to do with family, with wanting them to be safe, she saw the one she wanted, the one that would bring her back to her own growing family. And for one brief moment, she was the Ornic lady who had created this. She could feel the spell the woman had drawn to end it, and nearly laughed.
The spell was a simple cross on the lowest wheel. And then a single turn. Fear makes people stupid, her mother had once said. And she was right.
There was a shout from far away, and Krysilla knew, based on past experience, that it wasn’t far away at all. Moving quickly, she drew the spell and turned the wheel.
The spell that had held her captive unwrapped itself from her heart, coiling inside the still spinning wheels. Slowly, the bottom wheel clicked from one position to another, reminding her of a clock.
The portal held.
She slumped to the ground, barely able to lift her head. “It’s done,” she said. She felt Zhiv lift her, felt him throw her over his shoulders, and got to see the fight that had begun to spill into the cavern. Dogs crowded the entrance, held back by an older Dog, whose fire spells countered theirs and filled the room with a heat that was unbearable. Sweat poured from her cheek into her eyes, but she had no strength to wipe it away. Squeezing her eyes shut, she heard Zhiv shout, “Let’s go!” and then they were running toward the portal, which seemed to be filling in at the edges, as if someone were putting bits of rock in place, filling in the darkness.
Zhiv turned. “Hyaji! It’s closing!”
“I’ve got him!” another voice announced, and she blinked, forcing her eyes open to see what was happening.
Behind them, a Dog had Hyaji by the arm, pulling him after them. Her eyes met Hyaji’s briefly, and he forced himself to move faster, no longer being dragged. Further back, through the entrance to the wheel cavern, the Dogs poured through. Five of them held their staves in front of them, their faces obscured as they would for an execution. They became framed in darkness, and she knew they had entered the portal.
The Dogs were following them through.
Rock from the wall with the map burst out, steam pouring through it, slamming the Dogs out of her sight. The portal behind them closed, and she felt the spell begin to unravel. Ahead, the darkness swirled open until it formed another door, and on the other side, she could see solid rock, but the sound of water echoed through it, rhythmic and soothing.
Zhiv ran faster. The door began to look like it was moving upward and closer. Daegan’s silhouette briefly appeared in the doorway, before he moved aside. Zhiv rushed through, then stopped. Krysilla could feel the momentum of their run pulling them forward, his back bending to try to keep them from tumbling into the cove below. Krysilla gasped as she looked down at the water. I can’t swim, she thought frantically. I can’t—but then Zhiv was pulled to the side, and her along with him. Daegan and the other Dog rushed past them, and she could see them reaching down as the door began to close.
Hyaji and the older Dog. Why weren’t they through?
Krysilla couldn’t take her eyes away. The sun hit her, and she realized they’d been walking under a stone canopy. Zhiv laid her down on a smooth surface, then raced back to help Daegan.
Even though Tira, Syril and Rysil all surrounded her, hugging her, and telling her over and over how glad they were she was safe and that they missed her, she watched. First, Daegan and the taller Dog helped Hyaji through, while Zhiv was holding on to someone. Then, they both helped the other, older, Dog through just before the portal closed. She doubted it would open again.
She watched them, those four men, walk back to the group. All of them looked exhausted. Zhiv turned to the Dogs and said something that made the taller one laugh, and the older one shake his head. Soon, they were all, except Zhiv, staggering to the warm rock surface where Krysilla and the others were, all breathing heavily.
“There’s sand not far from here,” Zhiv said. He kept walking until he was next to Krysilla.
“I hate sand,” the taller Dog said, kneeling. “It gets in everything.” He lay down on his back, staring at the sky. Once again, his voice seemed familiar.
Daegan ran his fingers through his hair. “We’re safe?”
“For now.” She felt Zhiv’s hand brush against the sleeve of her blouse as he sat. Strands of his hair were plastered to his forehead and cheeks, and he seemed exhausted. When he looked at her, he didn’t smile. And for the first time, she couldn’t read him. Then, a faint smile appeared, both on his lips and in his eyes. Calm, though. And she couldn’t help but smile back, sincerely, without concern it would be misinterpreted. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, closing his eyes. “How are you?” he asked.
“Weak.”
But alive. She was alive. He was alive. Yes, they had two Dogs here, but no one was being executed. No one had even been restrained. Not yet.
And they were alive.
***
Lord Vyomsi Teranasin stepped out from the wreckage of the caverns, grateful he’d managed to make more than one portal, enough to transport a number of Dogs and volunteers for the rescue. The more eyes, the better.
He hopped down the makeshift scaffolding the Dogs had built to get to the cave. Several good things had come out of this. He’d learned he could make several smaller portals, let one of the Dogs carry them, and use them after they’d been placed. Coordinate using rings that warmed the band when the other side was ready and he had a beautiful threat against those nobles who thought they were safe in their rooms. He’d managed to bring twenty-five Dogs to this place in a few steps.
But only Ishia and two others had managed to get out. No one was sure exactly what had happened. The survivors, Ishia excepted, claimed Zhiv had cast a terrible spell as he left, causing the mountain itself to fight them.
After surveying the wreckage, he wasn’t so sure. There was magic there, but it wasn’t Zhiv’s. He’d touched it, yes, but there were others as well, and the spells had their origin outside the rubble.
However, if the Dogs wanted to believe Zhiv had killed a number of their own, who was he to argue?
He tried to hold to these thoughts. He tried to appear focused on the task at hand.
Ishia hadn’t spoken yet. She had rushed ahead of the two who had survived and ended up wounded enough that the healers refused to tell anyone her condition. He could imagine it. From the description the other two had given, she’d been blasted by the steam. She was likely burned on her face and at least one arm. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
All the way to the upper bedroom where Ishia rested, he tried to sort it out. Bits and pieces of the life Zhiv Mikailsin lived outside of the castle and Hurush assaulted him the whole way there:
book the Dogs had set aside as part of the evidence against him, a scrap of writing, a sketch of something he’d found during one of his journeys. Vyomsi had had Zhiv’s rooms in the castle examined, but everything belonged to the King. It was difficult to tell which the King had encouraged and which Zhiv had requested. And there were so many folios with nothing but music, stacks upon stacks of sheet music, until even Vyomsi began to wonder if that was all Zhiv truly cared about.
But here, in this house, there was no sheet music. Only books and bits of paper. And given Zhiv had had advance warning, Vyomsi doubted anything was left that might be truly valuable. Oh, there would be the stray volume, the damning evidence of spells no one should know, but the truly powerful, the truly important, that would have gone with Zhiv.
Or was burned with the rest of whatever had existed in the caverns. Smoke and steam, and twenty-five Dogs gone.
And Ishia wounded.
Vyomsi jogged up the stairs. He knocked lightly, afraid she might be sleeping, hoping he woke her if she were.
The would-be king inside him was furious. She let them go. She didn’t capture them. She’s lucky she’s still in the pack. He opened the door, and froze.
Her head moved toward the door, bandages covering her face, her neck, her arms. “Have you come to change the bandages again?” she asked, sounding exhausted.
He opened his mouth and couldn’t speak. It was one thing to imagine it. It was another to see it. He cleared his throat and he swore she gasped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Her beauty forever marred by an Ornic. He wanted to heal her so badly, the force of the emotion shocked him. Healing had never been something he’d wanted to learn. Quite the opposite. “How are you?”
“I should have been in front. I’m sorry.” This time it sounded like a whimper.
His jaw clenched. If she’d been in the front, she would have died. He shook his head, glaring at the floor. “It worked out well. Stop apologizing.” He still couldn’t look at her. If he did, he would lose what little control he still had.
He’d ordered Nitty to keep herself filthy. He’d enjoyed the agony in her eyes whenever he saw her, whenever he’d pointed out her degradation. The thought of Ishia scarred, of seeing agony in her eyes infuriated him. “Leave the hunt to the others for now. Zhiv Mikailsin and those with him—”