Chosen by Fire

by Harriet Locksley

  “That’s alright,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

  She was the first to wake that morning. Mairi and Donnan were still deeply asleep, though Donnan made faint, unintelligible sounds, his head jerking slightly, his hand twitching. Hoping his dark dreams were not returning, she almost went over to wake him but then decided to let him sleep on. It was still early and he needed rest, as did Mairi. Her own dreams were past recall but she was left with the odd feeling of having dreamt them before. She got up, drawing a deep breath of fresh, dewy air which smelt of earth and green growing things.

  Goosebumps rose on her arms as she stepped out from the shelter. In the morning light, she recognised the rocks and the rise and fall of the land and knew she’d been here with her father. She remembered questioning her choices at that time. She thought of the stag she’d watched heading in the direction of Braddon. She recalled what she’d sensed here all that time ago and she felt it again now. Magic.

  Perhaps her increased skill with Fire magic meant she could better sense the energy which tingled against the skin of her hands and neck. Maybe her time living with Air magic had enabled her to hear it, a barely audible hum stretching through the air. It occurred to her that perhaps no one could feel it as she did, unless another had both Air and Fire as well. The feeling and sound of magic drew her on and, as she reached the crest of a hill, she saw it - the Crown of Dead Kings.

  A dozen towering, charcoal-grey stones rose up from the earth in a great circle. Four of them were shorter, the heights of tall men. These indicated north and south, east and west, though legend stated that they gave other kinds of direction. These stones were said to have been ancient kings once, leaders of the mightiest clanlands who had gathered to wage war against magical beings but the leader of magical beings had turned them to stone.

  ‘The King’s Footing’ was the name of the low rock in the centre. When a monarch stood there to be crowned, it was said that the spirits of the great kings of the past returned to witness their accession to power and, if they approved of them, to intercede between earth and the heavens to bless their rule. Or, if they disapproved of them, to curse it.

  When she was a child, Morwena had told her that, one day, Princess Rhona would stand there and be named Queen of Dalrath. The idea had thrilled her then but it was only when she was older that she thought about how Rhona would have to suffer the terrible loss of her father before she could achieve her great destiny. Yet now, at the age of twenty-three, Rhona had neither father nor kingdom. Perhaps she would be required to sacrifice more before she could claim the birthright fate had handed her. However, perhaps believing in destiny at all only led to disappointment.

  The magic she sensed was a barely audible song drawing her to the Crown of Dead Kings. Her skin prickled as she walked between two looming rocks. She had the feeling that they were watching her. Three whispers came to her mind, as the names of Fiadhain had before now.

  Air, she thought – and a wind swirled around her, cold cutting at her skin through the fabric of her clothes. She half expected to see an Annisith before her but there was no one else there. The wind died down until it only stirred feebly around a clump of long grass at the foot of one of the king stones.

  Earth – and her feet tingled with vibrations that shook through the ground, coming from the base of another of the king stones.

  She hesitated before reaching for the last name, then braced herself as she let it fill her mind. Fire – and she was pulled around to face a third king stone. She raised her arm, her hand held out towards the ground. A crackling bolt of light flashed between her palm and the earth. Whether it had come from her or the ground, she couldn’t tell, she simply stood there, motionless, her heart thundering in her chest.

  She was almost certain of what she’d discovered. From her belt, she pulled the witch hunter’s knife and walked to the place where the light had met the ground. She ran her palm over the scratchy grass, pausing when her skin grew hot. She snatched her hand away, then began to dig into the dirt with the knife.

  “I wouldn’t start there if I were you.” Tam sat cross-legged behind her.

  “Did you see—?”

  “I saw,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

  “The other elemental stones . . .”

  Tam nodded. “Start with the Earth stone. Then you can use its power to retrieve the other two.”

  She approached the rock which had a patch of lush, purple heather growing before it. It was hard work cutting away through the earth tangled with tough roots and prising away stones. After a few minutes, she tossed the knife onto the ground and dug with her hands.

  Eventually, she saw it. She flinched, drawing back her hand. “It looks a lot like elf-shot,” she said.

  Tam peered at it. “Smaller though and not as dark.”

  “So, you’re sure it’s safe to touch?”

  Tam shrugged.

  Kaetha rolled her eyes. In Meraud’s thoughts, she had worn what must have been the Water stone so that it touched her skin. The stones could give me the power I need to save Pa. I can’t have less courage than Meraud. She reached towards it, trying to keep her hand from trembling. As her fingertips brushed against its smooth surface, she froze.

  Tam smiled at her. “You’re not dead,” he said.

  “No,” she said, laughing. She held up the Earth stone in the sunlight so that she could clearly see the veins of green and rusty red across its pale grey surface. “I wonder how long it’s been since it has felt air and sun upon it.”

  “Who knows?” said Tam, looking out across the moors as if something were troubling him.

  “Tam?”

  “Hm?” He picked up the stone from Kaetha’s hand and turned it over. “It’s strange. I feel no power in it.”

  “So why should I? Perhaps the Calliack really does underestimate humans. If the story you told me is true, she took this power from those Fiadhain, making it impossible for a Fiadhain to sense it, thinking that meant that no one could.”

  “Well, now’s the time to test whether or not you can.”

  “How?”

  “You must learn to harness its powers for yourself, just as you have been doing with your gifts of Fire and Air.” He placed the stone back in her palm. “Baukans can move earth, rocks and growing things, manipulating them, changing their shapes.”

  “I’ve seen humans do that too, ones Chosen by Earth,” she said, feeling a pang of grief mixed with guilt as she thought of the Order.

  “Just try,” said Tam. “Draw on the stone’s power and focus. If Meraud can do it, why can’t you?”

  But she had an advantage over Meraud. In hearing the elemental names, she realised that she could form connections with the stones using her Air magic, as if each stone had a mind and thoughts of its own. Holding the Earth stone, she closed her eyes and searched for its power. Thoughts of mountains soaring into the clouds came to her mind and she knew their strength in her as if she was part of them. She felt a distant beating, a chaos of drums, vibrations coursing through the ground towards her. Not drums, hooves, she thought, realising she could feel the movements of a far off herd of deer. As she stretched out her mind, sensing the life growing up from the ground around her, she breathed in the scent of damp, earthy roots and the warmer fragrance of leaves, bark, grass and flowers, touched by the sun.

  “Alright,” she said to herself as she walked over to where she believed the Air stone to be buried. “Time to give this a try.” Stretching out her hand, she concentrated on the grass, earth and rock at the foot of the great, looming stone. For some time, nothing seemed to happen and she shot Tam a worried glance. Then the earth began to tremble and her hand shook. Several small stones twitched and then blades of grass bent like hair being flattened, the ground beneath it opening up. With a crumbling sound, the earth yawned open then grew still.

  A thrill shot through her as she reached for the second stone. It was the same size and had the same arrow-head shape as the Earth ston
e but this one was a little warmer to the touch and its colouring was different, a paler grey, almost white, with twists of clear crystal running through it. Tam grinned at her but before that, she thought she’d seen something else written on his face, an odd mixture of pride and fear. She wondered if the Air stone might help her see into his thoughts where her natural Air magic could not.

  “You’re good at finding hidden things,” said Tam.

  “First there was you,” she said.

  “Aye.” He smiled at her, a real smile that lit up his eyes. Just as Kaetha thought how she had never seen him look like that, his features settled back into their usual pensive frown.

  She went to where she sensed the last Fire stone, hovered her hand over the ground and, faster this time, the earth parted and retrieved the stone.

  “Oh,” she said in surprise.

  “What?”

  “This one feels hotter.”

  “That would make sense.”

  Kaetha inspected it. The charcoal grey stone was flecked with white, similar to elf-shot, only this stone was also marbled with strands of gold which glimmered bright in the sunlight, it looked burnt, ashy and fiery all at once. “Do you believe in destiny, Tam?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I feel that now I have some real chance of getting Pa back. I think that’s why the stones called to me. Why I found them. Do you think I should let myself hope?”

  “I think that you can do more than find your father. The use of these stones may be the only way of getting justice for those who’ve been persecuted, people just like you. With their power, you might take the Water stone back from Meraud, protect people from her.” There was a feverish intensity in his eyes before he looked away. “Stop the stone’s powers being misused.”

  “I wish I— Perhaps I won’t be able to. Her power may still be stronger than mine.”

  “You won’t know unless you—”

  “I don’t want to think about it. Not right now,” she said, turning from him. “What’s important is finding Pa – saving Pa. That’s what I’m meant to do.”

  “And what if someone else, someone without your noble intentions, gets hold of these stones?”

  She looked down at them nestled in the palm of her hand, hesitating before replying. “I won’t keep them. After I’ve done what I need to do, I’ll give them up. I’ll make sure no one else can use them.”

  Tam nodded. “Ultimately, they would be safest with the Calliack. The destruction Meraud has caused is like a grain of sand on a beach. You have no idea what might happen if all four fell into the wrong hands.” The muscles in his face tensed as if he was in pain.

  “Then maybe I shouldn’t even have these.” She held them out so he could take them.

  “You should,” he said.

  “Why do you think that?” She was frustrated that she couldn’t read his expression and that he gazed out over the hills instead of looking directly at her.

  “Because I trust you. You have a good heart. You won’t misuse them and I believe this is the only way.”

  Distant voices interrupted them, calling her name.

  “I’m here!” she shouted.

  “You should tell them,” said Tam, “about this power you have now, about the chance you have of saving your father.”

  She looked at the stones then curled her fingers over them. “Not yet.”

  “Kaetha!” they called again.

  She stood up on the rock at her feet so that they had a better chance of seeing her.

  “Over here!” she called. Then her face drained of colour. She had set her feet in the smooth, indented patch of rock where countless generations of monarchs had stood to be acknowledged as rulers. She leapt down, as if it had burned her feet.

  “The dead kings saw that,” he said with a sweeping glance across the dark stones. “They saw you claim your power. Now it’s your duty to wield it.”

  THIRTY TWO

  Loss

  The Air stone was smooth and warm in Kaetha’s palm and her eyes were fixed on Tam. A shadow had seemed to pass over his face, as though he were lost in memories of his past. Not for the first time, she wondered what kind of a past it was, what had led to the scars that streaked his face, what events had ended in the Calliack’s curses upon him. Certain that he would not tell her if she asked, she willed the power of the Air stone to show her his true name, to link his mind to hers so she could hear his thoughts.

  He turned to her, dark eyes flashing angrily.

  “You – you felt that?” she asked.

  “My thoughts are not yours pry into, Kaetha.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No.” He sighed, the fierce edge to his features softening. “It’s alright. You must understand, Baukans are more cautious than other Fiadhain. We value our privacy. I wasn’t honest with you before when I said that shape-shifting was the only Baukan skill I had left after the Calliack stripped me of other powers. Earth magic is, by nature, protective. Guarding thoughts and feelings from others is a power that runs deep in my kind.”

  “I wonder . . . Do you think that with this,” she said, holding up the Earth stone, “I could also do that? That is, protect myself from Meraud? Stop her manipulating my feelings?”

  “I don’t see why not. I think of it as building a wall around myself, if that helps at all. However, something you could practise with the Earth stone which might be more useful to you right now is manipulating matter. Why don’t you fashion something you can wear that carries the stones?”

  “Like Meraud’s gold wrist band.” She looked over her shoulder. The others were still a little way off, Donnan having slowed down to match Mairi’s pace. She drew the witch hunter’s knife with its elaborately crafted hilt. Holding the Earth stone, she passed her hand across the surface of the hilt, picturing a slice of the metal stripping away to give her something to work with. Nothing happened so she tried again. “I can’t do it.”

  “Looks like that hilt’s made of iron.”

  “So?”

  “Iron inhibits the powers of Fiadhain.”

  “Why should it?”

  “I believe that long ago, before humans discovered how to extract iron from the earth, the Calliack foresaw humanity’s future use of it to hunt, to tame the land and wage great wars. She didn’t want Baukans to help them use iron as they’d helped them hunt with spears, so she stretched her power through all the iron in this world so that only her magic could have power over it.” He touched the copper clasp on her cloak. “This on the other hand—”

  “It was my mother’s,” said Kaetha, clutching it. Pulling out the leather drawstring purse from her bag, she tipped the last six copper pennings they possessed into her palm, coins left over from the money the stranger in Neul Carraig had given them.

  “They would work,” said Tam. “Give me your arm.” Kaetha glanced at Mairi and Donnan who were busy talking, then stopped walking and pushed back her sleeve. Tam balanced the coins on her arm in three piles of two, then placed an elemental stone beside each. “There,” he said. “The copper should feel out its new shape as you guide it with the power of the Earth stone.”

  Around the coppers, her skin prickled into goose bumps. Then the coins started to scrape against one another, spinning until the royal thistles stamped on the coins blurred into nothing. Metal stretched like spinning wool, warming and twisting as it clasped hold of each stone, reaching around her arm in thin bands. When she was happy with it, the metal grew still and cooled. She touched the stones, secure in their copper settings, and traced the bands of metal, grooved like twine, to their rounded ends which almost met on the underside of her arm, and she couldn’t help grinning when she saw how pleased Tam was.

  “What are you up to?” asked Donnan.

  Kaetha pulled down her sleeve to cover the stones.

  “Nothing. Waiting for you to catch up.” She glanced at Tam who said nothing.

  A fluttering gripped Kaetha’s stomach as th
ey walked past the familiar oaks and birches of the woods near Feodail. She chewed her bottom lip, trying to imagine how she would feel when she saw Gwyn and what she would say to her.

  “God blind me, you grew up here?” said Donnan as the hall came into view through the trees. “That place is bigger than Kaernock Hall! Murdo would be apoplectic if he saw it.” He laughed, gawping at Kaetha.

  She ran her eyes over the hall. Now so used to the small house in Braddon, she understood how imposing a sight it might be, the building presiding over the village of Feodail with the majesty of an eagle eyeing a flock of sparrows.

  She stood motionless, gripping a branch as she looked upon her old home. It was here that she had lived a lie, deceived by her aunt that she was only their ward, unrelated to the Trylenn family. It was in this place that she had discovered the bitter truth, that she was secretly the object of her family’s shame. Yet, despite all this, realised that she had missed the place. Seeing it was like looking upon an old, familiar face and brought back happy, carefree memories too. It had been a place of laughter and song. But that time had long passed, never to return.

  “Mairi,” said Tam, a note of urgency in his voice. “Are you unwell?”

  Mairi’s brows were knitted in pain and she clutched her stomach. She sighed. “I’m fine,” she said. “Indigestion I suppose. It’s passed now.”

  “All that rich food you’ve been eating, I should think,” said Donnan. “All these days of pheasant pie, fried salmon, suckling pig roasted with Shamlakahn spices—”

  Kaetha laughed. “And all those honey cakes and custards and fruit pastries.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Donnan, “I’m just desperate for a scrap of damp bread and squashed cheese. Maybe even a mushy, bruised apple.”

  Before they emerged from the wood, they halted. A man rode up to the hall, Stroud took his white horse to the stables whilst he went indoors with a confident, proprietorial stride that was not like that of a guest. The others looked at Kaetha and she shrugged. She didn’t recognise him. A sickening apprehension stole over her. She feared that Gwyn might no longer live there.