Firestorm

by Lucy Hounsom

  Brégenne woke. She wished she hadn’t. She couldn’t open her eyes, but tears seeped from them, tears that stung scorched cheeks. Each breath was a gasp. Someone had written on her flesh in fiery ink; she could feel the letters’ downward strokes, their diminutive flicks and tails. Who would do this? Who had dared? She struggled, but pain was her only answer. She tried to speak, but her lips wouldn’t part except in a mewl she didn’t recognize as her own.

  Hold on, Brégenne.

  A male voice, a young man’s. It wasn’t in her ears, but echoing alone in the hollow of her head. She thought she knew it, but no name reached her. Who? she thought, Who?

  Hush. You held on to me, so I will hold on to you.

  ‘Hold on, Brégenne.’ Now it was a woman’s voice. She felt someone take her hand and the spike of pain that followed forced more tears down her cheeks, more stinging. ‘It’s Irilin,’ the voice said, ‘You’re going to be all right.’

  It couldn’t be anything but a lie. Brégenne held on to it as the only thing she had.

  The world had fallen away.

  That was what she remembered. First in light, then in darkness. There had been pain and there had been power. Perhaps they were one and the same. Voices. She remembered voices, one in her head; another outside it. Hello? she thought. Where are you?

  Brégenne? It was the young man’s voice and it carried surprise, pleasure. You’re awake.

  I don’t know …

  It’s me. Janus. I’m … better.

  He spoke across the bond. Memory crystallized along with disappointment. I thought you were someone else.

  Nediah, came the voice. That’s who you thought I was. You cried out many times.

  More memory, more pieces falling so terribly into place. What happened? Janus asked, but she ignored him, snatching at the pieces, slamming them into the frame. Nediah, blood, the Solar, fire –

  Her eyes flashed open.

  The first thing she saw was her own hand, pale with fading scars, closed on the coverlet. The second thing she saw was him.

  Sunlight filled the circular room. She was in a tower. Nediah sat in a chair beside her bed, shadows making pools of his closed eyes. Fear shot through her, but a moment later, she realized his chest rose and fell with the normal rhythm of sleep. She drank in his face, drawn as it was, chin dark with stubble. He’d been clean-shaven when she’d seen him last. How many days had she lain here?

  She must have made a sound because he twitched and woke. The sun caught on the gold in his eyes. He blinked and then he smiled. Widely, warmly. Brégenne found herself smiling too, though the action sent a twinge of pain through her jaw. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered.

  ‘So are you.’

  They looked at each other and began to laugh. Brégenne winced, but couldn’t seem to stop. She let the sound pour out: relief, joy, something else light and ineffable. When he touched her cheek, she realized she was crying. ‘Alive thanks to you,’ Nediah said, as he wiped away her tear. He seemed hesitant; she could almost hear the question that hung in the air between them. When she didn’t answer it, he sat back, picked up her hand instead, smoothing a finger over the white scars there. ‘I’ve healed Solar burns before,’ he said, ‘but never so many at once. Even Kyndra—’ Nediah broke off. ‘What happened?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Kyndra must have told you.’

  Nediah let go of her hand, leaning back in his chair as if suddenly weary. ‘She’s been busy with Hagdon. But what she said is impossible.’ He touched his chest with a grimace.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Brégenne said. ‘It was clumsy healing. I hope you’ve been able to sort it out.’

  ‘You saved my life, Brégenne.’

  She smiled. ‘Then all of this was worth it.’

  Nediah shook his head, perhaps to refute her words, perhaps in disbelief. ‘Kyndra claimed she made it possible for you to wield the Solar,’ he said.

  She knew what he wanted to see, but she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to the force that had almost killed her.

  Nediah noticed her hesitation. ‘It’s too soon, I understand.’

  ‘No, it’s just …’ Brégenne looked away. ‘I’m frightened.’

  He touched her chin, turned her head to face him again. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of. Kyndra said you’re fine.’ Nediah gave a short laugh. ‘What am I saying? You’re a Solar and a Lunar Wielder. That would frighten anyone.’

  ‘How can you stand it?’ Brégenne heard herself ask. ‘The heat, that roar?’

  Nediah summoned a flame, gazed into it. ‘It’s the only power I’ve known. I’ve nothing to compare it to. And walking the forest is always beautiful.’

  Brégenne felt the breath catch in her throat. ‘A golden forest? Golden trees, creatures?’

  ‘So you saw it.’ Nediah breathed out slowly. ‘The forest is a novice’s first experience of the Solar. It’s where I found myself during the test.’

  ‘And then the plain,’ Brégenne said, remembering the power of that burning sun, being overwhelmed in its light.

  Nediah bit his lip. ‘You saw the plain as well? I didn’t reach the plain until the Inferiate.’ He sat back. ‘She really threw you in at the deep end.’

  ‘I don’t think she had a choice. Kyndra said that once she stripped away the barrier, I would be alone. I’d have to master the Solar by myself.’ Brégenne eased into a new position, wincing as her muscles protested. She felt as if someone had beaten her all over.

  A pillow slipped from the bed and Nediah bent to retrieve it. ‘The pain will pass,’ he said, resettling it behind her head. ‘I did what I could for your burns. Your body will do the rest.’

  ‘I want to get up.’

  ‘In a day or two,’ Nediah said firmly.

  A piece of hair caught in her mouth. Brégenne took it out impatiently, but stopped, still holding it. She had a memory of her clothes burning, of her hair crisped to nothing. She raised her other hand, ran it over her head. Her hair stopped just below her jawline.

  ‘I couldn’t make it the same length as before,’ Nediah said quietly. ‘It grew when I healed the burns across your scalp.’ His mouth quirked. ‘It suits you.’

  Brégenne dropped her hands, awkward and wishing for a mirror. It’s hair, she told herself, stop fretting over it. ‘Did you know Janus has woken up?’ she said, changing the subject.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was talking to me across the bond. He knew something was wrong.’

  For the first time, Nediah looked worried. ‘Did you tell him what had happened?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I think it’s best if we keep this in Acre for now. I don’t know how the Council are going to react.’

  ‘Collective apoplexy, I suspect.’ They grinned at each other, though the action made Brégenne’s face ache.

  ‘Brégenne,’ Nediah said when silence returned. ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  Brégenne swallowed. His gaze was hot on her cheeks and she felt them flush. ‘I couldn’t … you were dying.’

  ‘But you almost died.’

  Her eyes prickled and Brégenne railed at them. She would not cry again. ‘I couldn’t lose you.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked fiercely.

  The quiet in the room grew to encompass the world. They gazed at each other. The prickle in Brégenne’s eyes travelled to her throat. The words were on her lips, but she couldn’t speak them. What if he didn’t say them back? What if he had another answer for her, one she dreaded, one he’d denied, one she still hadn’t been able to dismiss? And the secret she hadn’t told him coiled inside her; how could she say the words when that secret still stood between them? She’d never told anyone about the day she’d lost her sight … the day she’d returned to take her vengeance.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said and these words were the bitterest she’d ever tasted. Brégenne turned her face away. Coward.

  ‘I will let you
rest.’ She heard resignation in his voice. And sadness. She stared fixedly at the white woollen blanket until the door opened and closed and his footsteps receded.

  But Brégenne didn’t rest. She raised her eyes and looked at the door that separated them. It was heavy oak, banded with metal; a door worthy of a fortress. In the safety and silence of her mind, she let the words escape.

  Because I love you.

  28

  Hagdon

  ‘So all in all, our alliance with the aberrations is off to a great start.’

  Mercia’s sarcasm was justified, Hagdon thought. He’d been a fool to expect anything else from Parakat’s inmates.

  ‘But it has to be said,’ the lieutenant leaned back, one booted foot lodged on the edge of the table, ‘old Reuven’s far politer now.’

  Reuven could have been involved in Nediah’s attempted murder, but Hagdon didn’t think so. Cowie had shocked them all, even his fellow inmates, who’d gathered outside Nediah’s door, waiting for him to wake. The Wielder had healed most of them personally, including Cowie himself, which made the attack all the more irrational. Reuven was clearly horrified, even as he mourned a man who’d been his friend.

  Still, how could they now put such an unstable group in any position of power or trust? Hagdon rubbed his temples. ‘What a mess.’ From what he’d been told, they’d nearly lost Brégenne too. ‘How are the Wielders?’

  ‘Doing well, I hear.’ Mercia unsheathed her sword and began to polish the nicks out of the blade. ‘As soon as he was conscious, Nediah healed Brégenne. You should have seen her. Bald as a plucked bird and blistered head to toe.’ She shook her head. ‘If that’s what a Wielder’s power does to you, I’m glad I’m not one of them.’

  Hagdon agreed. As long as he and the aberrations shared the same ceiling, he couldn’t relax. Wielders set his teeth on edge. Except Irilin. He’d barely seen her these past few days and when he had, she’d glared at him before turning her back and stalking off. He supposed he deserved it, Hagdon thought, remembering how he’d run from her before. He dragged a hand across his face and wondered, not for the first time, whether he might be losing his mind.

  The door of the tower room was closed, but Kyndra walked through it as if it were smoke. Mercia jumped; her sword slid off her lap, clattered loudly to the floor. She cursed as she bent to retrieve it. ‘Most people knock.’

  Kyndra seemed unperturbed. ‘I need to return, Hagdon. Ma and I have to be ready to act on a moment’s notice.’

  ‘Can you not lend us your aid?’ he asked. ‘If we had your support, we wouldn’t have to wait on more men.’

  ‘I can’t,’ the Starborn said, though she looked momentarily conflicted, as if she’d much rather help him, Hagdon thought. ‘I can’t afford to miss the signs. More than the fate of Rairam hangs in the balance.’ She paused. ‘If I succeed in stopping the eldest, you’ll have my support.’

  Hagdon felt strangely dislocated. If he’d walked a different path, he might be the one leading the invasion of Rairam. Now his mind was filled with wondering how to defend a land he’d never seen.

  ‘You must call on the Wielders,’ Kyndra said. ‘Though I suspect they’ll need to be coaxed out to fight.’

  ‘That will be my job.’

  Brégenne stood in the doorway. Her hair was a good deal shorter, Hagdon saw, and the tails of white scars crept from beneath her sleeves. She held on to the frame, seemingly casual, but Hagdon noticed the strain in her wrist.

  Nediah appeared behind her. ‘You’re up,’ he said flatly.

  ‘Honestly, Nediah, you don’t have to sound so injured about it.’ Brégenne turned back to Kyndra. ‘I’ll take Nediah, Kait, Irilin and the inmates.’ A little tension entered her voice. ‘They need to get out of this place and soon. We’ll head to Naris.’ She let go of the doorframe, came further into the tower room. ‘The Wielders will see reason.’

  ‘I’m staying,’ Irilin said, now also pushing her way into the room. She didn’t look at Hagdon at all. ‘I’ve pledged to the Republic. They need a Wielder with them.’

  He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. Remembering the armoury, Hagdon thought it might be a bit of both.

  After a moment in which the two women seemed to engage in some sort of silent tussle, Brégenne sighed. ‘We’ll need to communicate. It makes sense for one of us to stay.’

  ‘How are you feeling, Brégenne?’

  It was the kind of question a concerned friend might ask. But from Kyndra, it sounded clinical, as if she enquired after the result of an interesting experiment. And Brégenne clearly knew it. Her eyes glittered as she regarded the Starborn. ‘I’m well,’ she said. ‘Thanks to Nediah.’ The tall Wielder put a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘And he’s well thanks to you,’ Kyndra said with some satisfaction. ‘Isa is impressed, Brégenne. So am I.’ She seemed to be the only one in the room unaware of the discomfort her words were causing.

  Nediah’s hand visibly tightened. ‘You could have killed her, Kyndra.’

  ‘Let it go, Nediah,’ Brégenne murmured. ‘She did it because I asked her to.’

  ‘Why are you defending her?’

  Kyndra was watching their argument with a small crease between her brows.

  ‘You would have died,’ Brégenne said.

  ‘And you could have.’

  ‘But we didn’t,’ she concluded firmly. ‘So let it lie.’ Brégenne turned back to Kyndra. ‘Will you tell me of your encounter with the eldest before you go?’

  Hearing about the House of Sartya – not yet the Sartyan Empire – both disturbed and fascinated Hagdon. Having grown up under imperial rule, he struggled to imagine Acre without an emperor. The swift picture Kyndra painted of the Heartland as a place of infighting and intrigue was difficult to imagine. And to think she’d seen Davaratch himself – the man who had given his name to every subsequent Sartyan ruler …

  ‘Wait.’ Brégenne held up a hand. ‘You lost your power?’

  ‘Essentially,’ the Starborn said, rare emotion dimming her face. ‘That era belongs to Kierik. The stars serve him. And I’m vulnerable in other ways.’ She glanced down, as if she found the thought embarrassing.

  They sat in chairs around the fire. The stack of wood had long been exhausted, so Nediah kept it alight with occasional gestures. Brégenne leaned in closer. ‘What other ways?’

  ‘I remember things,’ Kyndra said shortly. When no one spoke, she added, seemingly reluctant, ‘about Brenwym, about my parents. About you and Nediah and my time in Naris.’ She hesitated. ‘About Char.’

  In the ensuing silence, the fire popped, startling Hagdon. Kyndra looked up. ‘It’s dangerous for me,’ she said in a flat voice. ‘Feelings block my way to the stars. They’re a handicap I could do without. I can’t think clearly.’

  Brégenne evidently wanted to say something; Hagdon could almost see the words on her tongue. Instead she swallowed them, gesturing to Kyndra’s hand. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The eldest.’ Kyndra pulled back her sleeve and Brégenne visibly recoiled. Even Hagdon found himself eyeing her arm with horror. The skin hung slack from the bone, mottled and translucent. ‘Ma says it’s a curse, a tiny time trap,’ Kyndra told them dispassionately, turning her arm to the firelight. ‘She’s slowed its spread, but can’t stop it. And travelling backwards and forwards in time makes it worse.’ She pressed her lips together and, despite her tone, Hagdon thought he saw a hint of fear in the cold, starred face.

  ‘Perhaps I can help –’ Nediah began, but Kyndra pulled her sleeve down decisively.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘It can’t be healed away. It’s part of my pattern. Only the eldest’s death will end it. Just one more reason to stop him.’

  Though Hagdon did his best to be open-minded, it was a struggle. He accepted that the Khronostians could exert some control over time, but this … And talk of Kierik, the Starborn of legend, raised hairs all over his body. ‘What does this eldest want?’ he asked.

  �
�Initially, Sartya’s end,’ Kyndra said. ‘To undo the empire before it grew to power. But I’ve seen the eldest. He’s more creature than human.’

  Coming from a Starborn, Hagdon thought with a chill, that was saying something.

  ‘Ma believes this obsession has driven him to madness. None of his actions make sense any more. And he’s dragging the rest of Khronosta down with him, recklessly sacrificing his own people.’

  ‘And what of the Yadin? He still goes along with this?’

  Kyndra’s sigh sounded regretful. ‘It seems so. But he’s the weak link. Without Medavle, I wouldn’t have succeeded in stopping the eldest. He can’t see past his hatred for Kierik.’ She shook her head. ‘But the eldest won’t discard him. He’s the only anchor they have.’

  ‘How is our anchor?’

  ‘Shune? Bad-tempered but otherwise well.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed, then,’ Hagdon muttered. Despite himself, he found he missed the irascible old Relator … the man with whom he’d shared the emperor’s death. The memory bound them together; likely they’d each take it to their graves.

  ‘But this is my job,’ Kyndra said, breaking into his dark reverie. ‘The Republic has its own battles to fight.’

  ‘Although we’re growing in size,’ Mercia said, ‘it’s not fast enough. We need numbers to take on Iresonté.’

  ‘Have you heard from Gareth?’ Kyndra asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Brégenne shrugged deeper into her cloak. The fire could not completely kill the chill in the tower room. ‘He and Ümvast are the only ones standing between Iresonté and control of the north.’

  ‘I don’t know what he can do with those gauntlets,’ Kyndra said, a touch uncertainly. ‘Their power is bound to the earth, not the sky.’ She folded her arms. ‘I hate not knowing things.’

  ‘Join the club,’ Mercia said. ‘We’re too isolated up here,’ she added to Hagdon. ‘It’s all very well to have a fortress, but not if those sympathetic to our cause won’t be able to travel here until spring.’