by Rae Carson
“No fire!”
“It’s Elisa. We need to get her warm.”
Cosmé turns to me. “Is it the Godstone?”
I nod.
“Is someone approaching?” Belén asks.
“I—I don’t know. Don’t think so. Just getting colder. As we get closer.”
Cosmé closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “What if we can’t get her near the army?”
The others look at me in dismay. Even through my frosty fever I can read the thought in their eyes. What if we’ve dragged her all this way for nothing?
“Almost got a fire going,” Humberto says. “Another moment.”
We’ve come so far. The thought of returning to our village unsuccessful fills me with dread. And now my companions risk discovery, just to keep me warm.
I place my fingertips to the Godstone. The chill of it seeps through my robes. God, I pray silently. What should I do? As always, the stone responds with vibrating comfort. My belly begins to warm.
“Humberto!” I hiss. “Put out the fire!” I close my eyes and smile. Thank you, God. If I have to pray all night and all day tomorrow, that’s what I’ll do. Tendrils of warmth creep up my back, down my legs, into my arms and fingertips. I hear snapping branches as Humberto stomps out the fire.
I look up, feeling loose and relaxed. “I have to keep praying,” I explain. “I need each of you to wake me when you take watch, so I can warm myself.”
Humberto places his hand on my cheek again, under the guise of checking for warmth. “This Godstone is a strange thing,” he says, but I see the relief in his face. The others stare at me with a mix of awe and alarm.
After we flip out our bedrolls, Belén surprises us by pulling a loaf of bread from his pack. “Been saving it,” he says. “For our last night before reaching the army. Probably dry now.”
Humberto slaps him on the back. “You’re a good man, Belén.”
I pray over our meal, aloud, then continue praying in silence as we eat. The bread is indeed dry and squished, but rich with figs and nuts. I fall asleep asking God for courage and stealth, and thanking him for giving me one more chance to be truly and satisfyingly stuffed with dinner.
We sleep late again. After we roll up our beds, I pull Cosmé aside.
“If I don’t make it back,” I say, “and you do, will you promise to continue with our plan?”
She studies my face a moment, then nods once. “The Malficio will become a living thing. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“You think you’re going to die.”
I shrug with purposed nonchalance. “The Afflatus is unclear on that point. And all bearers die eventually.”
“Then why did you agree to come?”
So many reasons. Because I was done with being useless. Because I decided it was better to die, if that meant completing my service. Because Alodia or Ximena or Lord Hector wouldn’t hesitate in my place. Because it was time to grow up.
“It is the will of God,” I tell her. A weak answer, and a hypocritical one, for I am as lost as a lamb in a bramble when it comes to God’s will. But giving voice to the real reasons would be too hard.
Humberto tosses his pack over one shoulder as he approaches. “We should reach the cave today,” he says. “Jacián will move ahead and make sure it remains undiscovered. If not, I have another place in mind, but the cave would be ideal.”
He turns eastward, and as we move to follow, a stiffening chill slithers down the bones of my legs. I pray fast and fervently, until my muscles relax and walking becomes a natural, fluid motion. Father Alentín said I should pray through my doubts, and that’s exactly what I do. I chatter at God without ceasing, telling him about my fears, about the ache in the arches of my feet, even about the lizards that scuttle across my path and the hawks that scream overhead. I wonder if he laughs at my mindless prattle, or if he even cares. The Godstone continues to spread warmth, though, so long as I keep it up.
Moving with stealth while carrying on a perpetual one-sided conversation is not easy, especially for me. My mind is busy enough with the task that the afternoon slips away. I’m surprised to look up and see Jacián stopped ahead of us, an unlikely grin on his face. “The cave is clear,” he announces. “And the entrance is nicely overgrown.”
Humberto’s body loosens visibly. I hadn’t realized he was so concerned. He guides us into a narrow dry wash. It’s dusty and tight and overgrown with thorns, so I’m dismayed to learn we must wait here for dark. At my grimace, Humberto smiles and says, “And be sure to watch for vipers.”
I glare at him, then lean against the uneven wall and close my eyes. I tell God I long for a bath in the cavern pool of the village, followed by a meal of juicy lamb chops and stewed carrots.
We don’t wait long, for the sun disappears sooner in the hills than in the desert. The need for stealth is greater than ever, but in the red haze of fading light, I can’t see well enough to plant my feet. Every snap beneath my boots, every scuff against shale sends a vast echo of announcement. My desperate prayer leaks from my mind to my lips, and I find I’m muttering as we scurry along. Oddly, the others don’t shush me.
Night falls as we navigate through brambles and around boulders, switching back at increasingly higher levels. At last, the shadowy black of clumped juniper breaks wide to reveal deepest, star-pricked blue, smudged along the bottom edge with the orange-red glow of Invierne’s army. Jacián beckons us forward to the rim of a great cliff, and we look down, not nearly far enough, into an enormous valley. Campfires dot the rolling expanse like candle flames in velvet, as far north and south as I can see, and eastward to trickle up the slopes of the Sierra Sangre.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper.
Jacián leads us over the lip and down a narrow deer trail. We inch along sideways, our backs tight against the cliff face. In the dark, it is the most dangerous part of our journey. I hardly notice. All I can think about is the size of Invierne’s army and the strange, manic faith my companions must possess to bring someone like me across the continent to save them against such a thing. I hear rustling as Jacián pushes brush aside to reveal the cave opening; it’s small and deeper black than the darkness around us. One by one, we crawl inside. The air instantly cools and moistens my skin. I feel a hand in mine and recognize Humberto’s touch.
“Step carefully, Elisa,” he whispers as he pulls me forward and around a corner. I can see nothing, but I follow without question, my mind in a daze as icy creepers shoot through my abdomen. I’ve forgotten to pray.
The sonorous strike of flint and steel is near instantaneous, with a spark that blazes behind my eyes long after it fades to mere candlelight. Cosmé holds the candle aloft, revealing a high ceiling dripping stalactites. “I haven’t been here in years,” she says softly.
“We used to play here,” Humberto explains in my ear. “When we were little. In springtime, a shallow stream, perfect for splashing, runs through this chamber.”
“The candlelight?” I ask. “Is it safe?”
“It’s safe. In the next chamber over, we can even have a small fire.”
The chamber he speaks of is tiny and round, with a soft sand floor. More important, its entrance is camouflaged by an immense limestone pillar that juts from the ground. The entire cavern system is sprinkled with dead branches, whorled and worn smooth from spring’s flash flooding, so we have no trouble collecting enough wood for a cheery cook fire. We lay out our bedrolls, then sip pine-needle tea.
Belén takes the first watch at the cavern’s cliffside entrance. I pray warmth into my body before fading into uneasy sleep.
Morning brings dim light. Like in the bathing caverns behind our hideaway village, the sun finds its way even into the depths of the earth. Already I am alone in our tiny limestone chamber. After praying to warm my numb limbs, I rise to retrieve ink, hide, and quill from my pack. I’m eager to be done with this task.
Cosmé enters just as I stand to go. She holds a jackrabbit upside
down by its feet; long, veined ears trail in the sand. “Getting started already?” she asks, indicating the hide with a lift of her chin.
“I don’t care to linger here.”
Her eyes are bright, and there’s something remarkable about her easy, relaxed humor. A different kind of girl sparkles just beneath that perfect skin, a girl with a ready smile and kind eyes. Perhaps revisiting her childhood haunt brought it out. Or maybe she’s just glad we arrived safely. Whatever the reason, I realize that Cosmé, already lovely, could be stunningly beautiful if she chose.
She frowns. “What are you staring at?”
“Um . . . the rabbit. How did you . . . ?”
“Humberto got it with a sling. He’s always accommodating when I threaten to make soup for breakfast.”
I chuckle. “He’s very capable, isn’t he?”
“Like you, my brother appreciates food only if it can be served in large quantities.”
I choose to believe her teasing the friendly sort, and I grin right back. “Your brother is a wise boy.”
“He’s at the entrance on watch if you want to join him. I’ll bring you both breakfast when it’s ready.”
“Thank you.”
I retrace last night’s journey through the twisting cavern. It’s not difficult; all I do is follow the brightest path of sunlight. Humberto is there in silhouette, his back against the rim of the opening. A spiky tangle of mesquite obscures the view. When I step forward, I feel Humberto’s hand on my knee.
“No farther, Elisa,” he whispers. “Stay out of the sun. Morning lights the cliff face like a torch. You’ll observe in the afternoon, when the sun is behind us.”
I swallow hard at the reminder of the peril we’ve put ourselves in.
Our thighs brush as I settle next to him. I don’t move at all, perfectly happy to be so aware of his body next to mine, to listen to his soft breathing.
I see our enemy clearly through tiny breaks in the bramble. This cave is an excellent observation post. Though I can’t discern the layout of their camp, I can make out individuals as they scurry about at unknown tasks, clothed in leather and furs, barefoot, pale skinned, lively. The most striking thing is their hair. I see shades of black like mine, some with red tints like Alejandro’s. But others have hair the rich brown of coconut shells, or even lighter—the yellow-gold of honey or straw.
“They are strange looking,” I whisper. “So savage. So colorful.”
Humberto grunts. “Wait till you see an animagus.”
I pray to ward off the sudden chill beneath my breast. Then I change the subject. “Where are Belén and Jacián?”
“Belén hunts. We have a bet as to who can get a bigger rabbit. Jacián is exploring the area to see if anyone has passed by recently. They won’t be back until the afternoon. The sun is too high for them to slip down the cliff unnoticed.”
I shake my head, in awe of my companions. I can’t fathom leaving the sanctuary of our cavern. But I travel with people who move across the land the way a gull skims the water. They are so at home in this place, even with the enemy a stone’s throw away.
Humberto’s profile is golden in the glow of morning. The soft fuzz of his beard-to-come curls around his jawline, blending seamlessly into a mess of hair that waves down his back. Sitting next to him makes me feel less afraid, somehow.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
He whips his head around. I almost flinch as his steady gaze travels down my face to my lips, and even though no prayer fills my heart, the pit of my stomach buzzes with warmth. My lips part. I lean closer.
A movement catches my attention, and I gasp as the Godstone shoots cold fire through my veins. “Humberto,” I whisper, frantic. “Those Inviernos! Are they coming this way?”
He peeks at the group gathering below. His brow furrows with alarm, but he shakes his head. “They can’t possibly see us,” he mutters. But the Inviernos continue to mill about at the base of our cliff. A few look up in our direction. Humberto swears and turns a fierce gaze on me. “Run back, Elisa. Tell Cosmé to bury the fire. I’ll cover our tracks.”
Even more than the cold, I’m frozen by the sadness in his beautiful eyes, deep and true. He squeezes them closed a moment and breathes deeply through his nose. Then, with one swift movement, he cups the back of my neck with a strong hand, pulls my head forward, and presses his lips to mine. He wastes precious moments kissing me, his tongue gliding across my lips, darting at my teeth. I open my mouth and kiss back just as eagerly.
His other arm snakes around my waist and he stands, pulling me against his body, pulling me to my feet. Then he thrusts me away, but not before I see the wetness glistening in his eyes. “Go, Elisa! Run, now!”
I back into the cavern, away from him, my knees shaking and my lips barren. Then terror overtakes me, and I flee toward Cosmé.
Chapter 20
COSMÉ reacts instantly to my breathless exclamation by kicking sand onto the fire. She looks around our chamber.
“Jacián’s pack is still here,” she says in a clipped voice. “Bury it while I dump breakfast.”
I drop to my knees and scoop furiously, glad for something to do. This is it, I think, as I fling sand in all directions. What I feared. I dig and dig, mumbling senseless prayers, until I reach dampness.
Cosmé returns and tosses the pack into the hole. Together we cover it up, then Cosmé stomps around to level the area. A presence darkens the entry.
“They climb the cliff,” Humberto says in disbelief. “They know we’re here.”
Cosmé’s face is a stone. Humberto looks at the ground as though ashamed. They’ve been so strong since I’ve known them. So decisive. I suddenly feel lost and small.
“At least Belén is safe. And Jacián.” Cosmé whispers.
Safe. My mind begins to clear of fear-fog. “There is no other way out of the cave?” I ask.
“No,” Humberto says.
I would never scurry up the cliff quickly enough, and even if I did, there is no way I could avoid pursuers in a footrace through the hills.
“Could you two make it out and escape? I mean, without me?”
They say nothing. Which is answer enough.
“Show me the best place to hide. Leave me with food and water and get away from here.”
I see denial in Humberto’s eyes, acceptance in Cosmé’s.
“Look for me in a few days,” I add. “If I can escape the cave and head west, I will.” No such thing will happen, of course, but it might convince Humberto to go. “I bear the Godstone. If anyone has a chance to survive, it’s me. Now, go! Lead them away from me.”
Though Humberto continues to hesitate, Cosmé yanks me forward. “There is a place at the end of the other corridor,” she says as I hurry after her. “A wedge of sorts. It will be uncomfortable, but you will be out of sight.”
We’re there too soon. I wish the cavern was larger, easier to get lost in. Cosmé shows me a crevice. It inclines upward in a series of scallops and drips, a waterfall of sparkling limestone.
“Climb up,” Cosmé orders. “Once in the shadows, you’ll see an impression on your left. Crawl inside as far as you can fit.”
I comply quickly, using all fours to scramble up stone that is too smooth for purchase. I feel her hands on my rear, shoving me forward. The impression is dark on my left; I cannot tell how deeply it penetrates. I twist awkwardly and scoot inside, scraping my knees. It’s a cavern within a cavern, with a depressed area guarded by a lip of stone. I scoot as far back as I can, well into darkness.
“That will have to do,” Cosmé says. “Hold tight. I’ll bring food and water.”
It’s cooler here, almost chilly. Or maybe that’s the Godstone. Please keep me safe, somehow, I mouth. The floor is sandy and comfortable, but I have to hunch my head and shoulders and fold my legs tight to keep them in shadow.
Humberto’s head peeks into the opening. He tosses my pack inside, to land next to me in the sand. “I put all our food and water inside
. Also, your ink. I suggest smearing your face and all the light parts of your clothing with it. If there is a flash flood, the water will come through this chamber. Let it sweep you back into the cavern. The water will stay shallow there.”
Flash flood?
“Humberto!” It’s Cosmé’s voice, distant now. “I hear them!”
His eyes are huge and sad. Apologetic.
“Go, Humberto,” I say softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll come back for you. No matter what.”
“I know.”
He reaches inside, squeezes my ankle. And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the tight, chilly dark. A moment later, I hear shouting. They’ve been spotted leaving the cavern, and pursuit begins. I’m torn between hoping my enemy chases after my companions and wanting them to come after me instead, giving Humberto and Cosmé a chance to escape.
I listen closely, holding my body tight in painful stillness. The shouting fades. Perhaps they move away from me. I can’t decide whether or not to feel relieved.
Then I hear soft, sliding footsteps in the sand.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears. I’m afraid to breathe. Surely they will see this crevice. They will peer up its length and glare into my obvious hiding place. I think of the ink in my pack, wishing I’d had time to smear my face and clothes with its concealing black. But then maybe the smell would have given me away.
The smell . . . the cavern still reeks of sizzling rabbit meat. My eyes tear up. Humberto and Cosmé and I should be sharing a meal together right now. And then I think: What a strange thought to have when capture or even death looms so near.
The footsteps draw closer. Hushed male voices speak a language I don’t understand.
But suddenly I do understand. It’s similar to the Lengua Classica, though the syllables are more clipped and guttural than I’m used to. I’m so stunned that for a brief instant, I forget to be afraid. The people of Invierne speak the Lengua Classica?
“Né hay ninguno iqui,” someone says. There is no one here.