Firestorm

by Lucy Hounsom

  And encountered nothing. Kyndra hurled herself at the void, but there was no void and no countless stars to fill it. The soldier’s helmeted head stared down at her; she saw herself reflected in the shining metal. Her eyes were round with fear, set in a face that was pale and unmarked. As the chill reality dawned, panic took her: panic which convinced her more than the silent sky.

  The stars had betrayed her. She was just Kyndra again, and she was alone.

  PART TWO

  16

  Brégenne

  ‘Something’s not right about Gareth,’ Brégenne said after they’d made camp for the night. She stood with Hagdon, Irilin and Kul’Das, firelight licking over their faces – they all wore the same uneasy expression.

  ‘I know,’ Irilin said. ‘He’s changed. Different. What was he like before he went into Ben-haugr, Brégenne?’

  ‘Not his normal self,’ she answered, double-checking that the subject of their discussion wasn’t in earshot. ‘Sometimes he spoke in a strange language and mentioned a man called Serjo. But more often he was just Gareth.’

  ‘Did you see his face when I told him about Shika?’ Irilin bit her lip. ‘It looked like – like he didn’t care.’

  No one knew how to answer her, Brégenne included. ‘I thought uniting the gauntlets would make him better,’ she said eventually. ‘They’ve restored him to life, but not to the Gareth we know.’ She briefly closed her eyes. ‘This is my fault. I let him go in there alone.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Irilin said, her tone surprisingly harsh. ‘It’s the fault of the gauntlet. You said it pulled him through the wall, led him to whatever he found inside Ben-haugr.’

  ‘Kul’Das,’ Brégenne said suddenly, taking the blond woman’s arm. ‘You will be all right, won’t you? Travelling alone with Gareth?’

  ‘Concern? For me?’ Kul’Das smiled as she reclaimed her arm. ‘I do not believe Kul’Gareth will harm me.’

  ‘Even so, he’s not himself.’ Brégenne shot another cautious look over her shoulder. ‘I don’t think he ever will be again.’

  ‘I’m going to speak to him,’ Irilin said, ‘while I still have a chance.’ She marched off into the darkness and though her steps were sure, she hunched her shoulders, as if talking to Gareth was actually the last thing she wanted to do. Hagdon watched her go, his dark troubled eyes on her back. He excused himself, citing needing a word with Mercia, but Brégenne noticed he veered off in the same direction Irilin had taken.

  ‘I had better repack if Kul’Gareth and I are to depart in the morning,’ Kul’Das said and she left Brégenne alone.

  They were camped at the foot of a shallow escarpment, studded with rounded boulders. Perhaps the sea had bellowed here once upon a distant time, nature’s sculptor smoothing sharp edges from the rock. With the recent addition of Mercia’s men, their group now numbered eighty – not, Brégenne reflected, much of a force to be reckoned with. They will need my help. The thought wasn’t driven by pride, but pragmatism. Storming a fortress was the job of armies, not motley groups of rebels. At Hagdon’s request, she’d sent an envoi to Taske, his second in command, asking for support. She’d rather have asked Kyndra, but the Starborn had her own, more perilous task.

  A tent flap lifted and Nediah emerged, followed by Kait. The buttons of his shirt were half undone; he was swiftly fastening them. Brégenne’s breath caught, a sick feeling uncurling in her chest.

  ‘Not now,’ she heard Nediah say. ‘We’ve talked about this.’

  Kait spotted Brégenne; the colour in her cheeks grew brighter. ‘Ned.’ She caught his arm and he turned. Kait leaned in to whisper something, her lips brushing his ear. She drew back with a secret smile and flicked her eyes in Brégenne’s direction.

  Nediah followed her gaze and saw Brégenne watching. His own eyes widened.

  She turned away, her insides churning with hurt. All she could see was Kait and her smile, her lips on Nediah’s skin. She felt tears prick her eyes. She would not cry.

  ‘Brégenne!’

  She walked faster, but he caught her arm, pulled her to a stop. ‘Wait,’ he said. For a moment Brégenne just stood there, gazing into the dark, feeling the warmth of his fingers curled around her wrist. Then she turned, yanking her arm free.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Nediah ran a hand through his hair; for a moment the familiar gesture made her want to reach up and push it out of his eyes. Brégenne swallowed the urge, holding fast to her anger.

  ‘I … we …’ Nediah stuttered to a halt, a flush spreading across his cheeks. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk.’

  When she didn’t reply, his hands sought the pockets of his coat and the silence stretched, stinging her with the memory of how easy they’d once been in each other’s company. Brégenne yearned for that casualness just as she yearned for something more. The something that had woken her in the middle of the night, heart aching with loneliness.

  He’d said he loved her. Now this.

  ‘Brégenne,’ he began.

  ‘No,’ she said sharply. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

  Nediah frowned. ‘Hear what? I was—’

  ‘I said no.’ Because now another image had risen in Brégenne’s mind: Nediah gently covering up the scars on Kait’s back; the memory of that gesture and the other woman’s pleased smile made her blood boil.

  Nediah stared at her. ‘I was going to say I missed you.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’ She glanced over his shoulder to see Kait watching them. Brégenne wasn’t sure whether they were out of earshot and suddenly she didn’t care. All that time she’d spent missing him … She felt herself stiffen. ‘It didn’t take you long.’

  ‘What didn’t?’

  She clenched her fists. ‘Stop pretending. I’ve seen you both together.’

  Nediah glanced back too. ‘So this is about Kait.’

  Brégenne’s heart pounded sickly. She turned away, but Nediah caught her arm again. ‘Why are you so upset?’

  She twisted out of his grip. ‘How can you ask me that? You’ve been here with her—’

  ‘No, Brégenne.’ He lowered his voice, made to touch her cheek. ‘It’s not like that. You have it all wrong.’

  ‘Do I?’ she almost hissed. ‘I know what she was to you. Didn’t I spend months picking up the pieces when she left for the Deep? Well, now she’s back and you’ve got what you wanted.’

  The flush had begun to fade from Nediah’s cheeks. ‘That’s unfair, Brégenne. You’re not listening.’

  Tears pricked her eyes. She wouldn’t let him see. ‘You’re quite welcome to each other,’ she snarled before whirling round and stalking off into the night. Brégenne bit her lip, trying to swallow the hurt and the shame. She’d carried around the fear of those words for months, never truly imagining that she’d have to speak them.

  ‘Brégenne!’

  She kept on walking. If he cares, she thought stubbornly, he’ll come after me. Despite herself, she slowed just a little, but no footsteps followed her. Then it was too much and Brégenne found herself fleeing into the darkness. She made it another ten steps before she sank down behind a boulder, out of sight of the camp, and buried her face in her hands.

  She must have fallen asleep because she dreamed of them, as she hadn’t done in years.

  Waking up under the bold Acrean moon, Brégenne lay very still, shocked at her pounding heart, at her aching heels which felt as if they really had just drummed upon the ground, her legs pinned down by her cousins all those decades ago. Her aunt had held her arms, the scent of her rose perfume heavy in Brégenne’s nostrils. She’d always hated the cloying scent of rose.

  Her mind wouldn’t stop showing her pictures: her uncle pushing her head to the sweet summer earth. His chiding voice: It’ll be over soon, Genne, don’t fight us, as if he were not about to burn out her eyes, attempting to stem the powers she’d demonstrated as a child. His rough fingers as they’d all but ripped open her eyelids. Her desperate screams, and then th
e first scalding agony, her vision blurring, hiding their faces, their pity. Hiding colour, hiding sunlight, until Nediah came and gave it all back to her.

  Brégenne whimpered. She realized she was curled into a ball, her eyes tightly closed.

  ‘Brégenne?’

  Through the paralysing fear, she forced herself to move. It’s over. They’re gone. But then why had they risen so suddenly from their graves, where they had lain for decades?

  The graves you put them in.

  ‘Brégenne, are you all right?’ Irilin crouched over her, still slumped against the boulder where she’d cried herself out.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She sat up stiffly. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’

  The moonlight illumined Irilin’s uncertain face. ‘You were moaning,’ she said. ‘I heard you.’

  ‘Bad dream.’ Brégenne strived to sound nonchalant, but her voice was too thin and her hands shook too badly. She hid them under her cloak.

  ‘I’ve had plenty of those,’ Irilin murmured in sympathy. ‘I dream of Shika’s death. I dream of Kyndra when she was the star, standing among the burned soldiers, telling us that she wanted to destroy the world.’ She paused. ‘I dream of the battle at Khronosta, of feeling like a child, watching my friends fighting for their lives and being unable to help them.’

  Brégenne didn’t offer words of comfort. Irilin’s distant face told her she didn’t need or want any. ‘Some times we’re living through,’ she said instead, a little ruefully, trying for a smile.

  ‘Some times,’ Irilin agreed, returning it. She held out a small, surprisingly strong hand and helped Brégenne to her feet. ‘What were you doing back here anyway?’

  ‘Thinking,’ Brégenne lied. ‘I feel like I’m abandoning Rairam and my responsibilities to Naris. But we need reinforcements. If we help those in Parakat, perhaps they will agree to join us.’

  ‘And perhaps they’ll be too damaged or scared,’ Irilin said darkly. ‘I heard Hagdon describe the place. It’s monstrous. Aberrations are tortured, forced to work day and night on no rations. When one dies, their body is simply flung into the chasm.’

  ‘He told you that?’

  ‘I asked him to tell me,’ Irilin said, a touch defiantly.

  Brégenne studied the young woman. ‘You do realize that he looks out for you?’

  ‘He looks out for everyone. We’re all on the same side now.’

  ‘Irilin, he looks out for you.’

  She dropped her gaze. ‘I didn’t ask him to.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Brégenne replied, ‘you should be careful around him.’

  Irilin stiffened. She looked up, her eyes flashing. ‘I don’t need a lecture. I’m quite old enough to make my own decisions.’

  There was nothing of the novice Brégenne remembered in her voice. Taken aback, she stared at her. Irilin’s hair, almost as pale as her own, was bound up messily, as if she’d needed it away from her face in a hurry. Dirt smudged one of her cheeks and her chewed lips looked as if they’d borne the brunt of her fear and uncertainty over the last few weeks.

  ‘Sorry,’ Irilin said after a few moments. ‘I didn’t mean to snap.’

  ‘I’m sorry too.’ Brégenne shook her head. ‘I haven’t shared your troubles. I shouldn’t have presumed.’

  They made their way back to the now-silent camp. There was no sign of Nediah or Kait and Brégenne was grateful. She felt drained, hollowed out by the nightmare. ‘I saved you some dinner,’ Irilin said, handing her a bowl of something dark. ‘It’s a bit cool now. Hu made it. He may be one of Hagdon’s adjutants, but he’s also the best cook.’ She paused. ‘That’s what I like about the Republic. Rank doesn’t define people here as it does in an army. Everyone pitches in.’

  Brégenne took the bowl and the bread inside it with a word of thanks. A few minutes ago, stomach curdled with the dream, she couldn’t have eaten a thing. Now she devoured the stew in a few mouthfuls, using the tough bread to soak up the last of the gravy.

  ‘Well. Goodnight,’ Irilin said a little awkwardly. Instead of going to her tent, she went to sit on a rock at the boundary of their camp where, after a moment, the silhouette of a man made room for her.

  The next day began with farewells.

  ‘The Kanaran border’s watched,’ Avery told Hagdon. Sent to scout ahead, the auburn-haired rebel had returned with the dawn. ‘Iresonté must have guessed we’d come this way.’

  Hagdon’s forehead gained another few lines. ‘She can’t know our true target, or they’d have intercepted us before now. Plenty of good ambush spots along the Deadwood road.’ With a glance at Kait and Nediah, he added, ‘And she may be wary of our Wielders. She witnessed their abilities at Khronosta.’

  ‘We can avoid the border,’ Mercia said, coming up beside them. The lieutenant had swapped her plate armour for leather better suited to travel. ‘But Kul’Gareth cannot accompany us further. North of here, the eastern mountain passes dry up. The only one open will be Sartyan-held Angyar. Unless you can turn yourself invisible –’ she raised a dubious eyebrow – ‘slipping past unnoticed will be difficult.’

  ‘Then Kul’Das and I will leave you,’ Gareth said and Brégenne felt a pang of worry. Despite his change, she couldn’t forget the weeks they’d travelled together, watching his struggle with the gauntlet, his gradually shrinking frame, the dark circles that made wells of his eyes.

  None of that showed now. He was healthy and strong, and the colour had returned to his cheeks. That should have reassured Brégenne; instead it unnerved her. Nevertheless, she moved towards him, grasped his arm, careful not to touch the gauntlets. ‘Take care, Gareth. I’m sure I needn’t tell you not to underestimate Ümvast.’

  Gareth’s smile was that of the novice of Naris and she was glad to see it. ‘Don’t worry about me, Brégenne. She might be Ümvast, but she’s also my mother. I know her. I can deal with her.’

  There it was; between one sentence and the next, Gareth’s tone changed and Brégenne was suddenly more concerned for Ümvast.

  ‘Gareth.’ Irilin came forward, hesitating only once before embracing him. After a moment, he hugged her back. Irilin looked into his face. ‘Remember Shika,’ she said.

  Brégenne was watching Gareth closely, but even she almost missed the flash in his eyes, so swiftly did it come and go. Perhaps Irilin caught it too because she stepped back, dropping her own gaze, as if she’d seen something there to frighten her.

  Without saying anything further, Gareth swung into his saddle and Kul’Das copied him, far less gracefully. If she was honest with herself, Brégenne wouldn’t be too sorry to see the woman go.

  ‘Remember to send envois,’ she called, as Gareth turned his horse east. ‘I need to know what’s going on in Rairam.’ She tried to quash the trepidation she felt as Gareth and Kul’Das disappeared behind the curve of a hill. What had she unleashed on her homeland?

  ‘Strike camp,’ Hagdon called. ‘And make sure the horses are not overburdened. We’re taking the Yrsat ravine.’

  Brégenne rode next to Irilin, trying not to dwell on last night’s confrontation. Nediah was a little ahead of her; she caught several stifled glances her way and cursed herself for saying so much. Kait rode beside Nediah and Brégenne didn’t need to see her face to know she was in high spirits. How much of their argument had she overheard? Quite enough, Brégenne thought darkly. Why had she let her tongue run away with her like that? She sighed. Things had been simpler when she and Nediah had been apart.

  That depressing thought plagued her all day, so she was glad when finally they called a halt. The afternoon had dragged through an unchanging landscape of granite-grey rock and strangled trees. ‘These ravines once led to Yrsat,’ Hagdon said, as they dismounted. ‘A secret city interred in stone. Treachery did for it and Sartyans fired these passages. Many burned alive, caught in their own trap.’ His dark eyes drifted overhead, to the carvings still visible beneath the weathered stone. ‘We have much for which to answer,’ he added softly. Brégenne noticed the nea
rest rebels watching him closely. Perhaps the fate of this ancient city drew attention to their differences. Not a good thing, she thought, when we need to stand united.

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t stay here,’ she called, ignoring her own reluctance to remount and ride on. Despite the years that separated them from this disaster, she made out a dark patina on the skin of the rock: the scars left by fire.

  Hagdon shook his head. ‘The ruins stretch for a league yet. This is considered the safest spot. The ledges are not so stable up ahead.’

  ‘Aren’t we sitting ducks here?’ Kait said, gesturing at the narrow trail. ‘What’s to stop Iresonté’s forces coming at us from both sides?’

  ‘I doubt she knows where we are,’ Mercia answered. ‘And our small numbers work to our advantage. The Republic’s own forces are so few that she wouldn’t expect us to divide them.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to reassure me,’ Kait muttered. The lieutenant flashed her a sharp smile.

  As she helped with the horses, Brégenne felt distinctly watched. She found herself peering upwards and over her shoulder, convinced she was the object of some nameless scrutiny. Perhaps it was merely the granite’s sombre hue, the silence in a place that once buzzed with life, but the ruins of Yrsat raised the hairs on the back of her neck. How many other cities, great and small, had been crushed beneath the heel of Sartya? Were ruins like these and Kalast echoed elsewhere in Acre? Beside plains and seas, straddling lowlands – cities which fought and fell, now reclaimed by nature.

  The Lunar was a grasp away. Brégenne didn’t believe in ghosts, but she kept it close all the same.

  ‘Subterfuge really is the only option,’ Mercia said once they were camped. She started drawing in the deep char that carpeted the ravine. Brégenne tried not to think about what it might once have been. Instead she watched with growing alarm as Parakat began to take shape beneath Mercia’s sketching finger. The prison was a fortress, protected by an inner and outer wall, buttressed along its length, with a single portcullis gate in the south. Towers stood sentinel at each corner; a chasm served as a moat, oddly reminiscent of Naris.