Freed by Flame and Storm

by Becky Allen

  “If we topple the Highest, then we are the ones who rule. All of us, together—under you, of course,” Lenni said.

  “Of course,” Palma said, rolling her eyes.

  Shirrad shot a glance at Palma, but when she spoke, it was to Lenni. “You say under Jae—but your friend doesn’t seem eager to listen, let alone obey. Somehow it seems like when you all say we, you don’t mean all of us.”

  “Who should she mean, you?” Palma returned. “You’re here for the same reason I am—the Highest took away your estate. And you know we’re more fit to rule than…Be realistic. Who would say vows to a Closest?”

  “I would,” Shirrad snapped. “To Jae, in a heartbeat. And I’m not here because of what the Highest took away from me—it started out that way, but now I’m here because this is where I belong. The Closest at Aredann are my friends—my family. And I’d die to protect them. If you won’t do the same, you don’t belong here.”

  Shirrad’s fists were clenched, and the funny thing was, Jae recognized the look of rage from the days when Shirrad had ruled over her. Back then, Shirrad had been as much a tyrant as any Avowed—but she’d also been desperate, scared, and young. Trying to protect the people of Aredann inside a system of vows and obedience, and it was that same system that condemned the Closest.

  Shirrad hadn’t done anything to help them, but Tal had always thought she might, given the chance. Jae wished he could hear Shirrad protect them so fiercely now. The thought actually made her smile just a little.

  “Enough,” Jae said. “Lenni, there are people in your Order who are here because they want to see justice—but there are some who only wanted power the Highest wouldn’t give them. I know where you stand, but I think you may need to look at your friends and figure the rest of them out.”

  “I hate to admit it, but you’re right, Lady Mage,” Lenni said. “Palma, I think you’d best leave.”

  Palma’s mouth fell open. “And go where? I’m stuck here now—stuck with all of you!”

  “Then you’d better hope we win,” Karr said, with a little dark humor in his voice.

  Palma stood up sharply, glared at them all for just a moment, and then stomped out. Karr smiled, and it wasn’t very kind, but so did Jae.

  “Unfortunately, none of that”—Shirrad nodded toward the door—“solves the problem. What do we do when the Highest army arrives?”

  “I don’t know,” Jae said. “I decided too quickly about Danardae. I want to think about it more—hear more people’s thoughts.”

  “We’ll gather anyone you want to speak to,” Gali said, shifting so she’d be able to stand up quickly and follow Jae’s instructions.

  Jae considered it for a moment, then sighed and said, “Everyone. I want to spread the word to everyone, the full truth of the matter, that I might not be able to protect us. And anyone who wants to can come speak to me. Once I’ve got an idea of what people want, I’ll make up my mind. We have time before the army arrives. The least I can do is listen.”

  “And that’s why we’ll keep following you, Lady Mage,” Karr said. “Magic or no, until this is over. And after.”

  He stood to join Gali in spreading the word, and Jae couldn’t bring herself to say that no one, least of all her, had any idea if they’d even survive until after.

  The forced march toward Aredann was slow. Elan had made this trip before, but being surrounded by an army meant it all took three times as long. The infection and the wound itself had sapped much of the stamina and strength he’d built up over the past months, so just the daily grind of walking, walking, walking was exhausting.

  Walking with his arms shackled in front of him, four guards surrounding him, and what felt like half the army jeering and laughing when they saw him was harder. He understood it, in a sick way. Jae and her people were out of the Avowed’s reach for now, but here he was, and they hated him even more. As shocking as the Break had been to everyone, they already thought of the Closest as untrustworthy, nothing but carriers of traitorous bloodlines, so the fact that their freedom had started a war didn’t surprise anyone. Jae was an easy enemy.

  But Elan had turned his back on the people who now surrounded him. He’d broken ranks, broken vows, and willingly joined their enemy. It was an insult.

  So all he could do as they taunted him was keep walking forward, keep his head held high, and try not to stumble. When he inevitably did, he had to catch himself. When he couldn’t, he picked himself back up, even as the guards shouted at him, occasionally kicked him when he was on the ground, trying to get his breath.

  He remembered his life from before he’d been exiled to Aredann and summoned his ancient, disdainful mask, looked at everyone as if they were no more than mild irritations. But the mask felt wrong. He’d never realized how hard it was to maintain—not just now, but how hard it had always been. It had never suited him, which was part of the reason his father had never been interested in him. Elan simply wasn’t meant to be a politician who could play it cool, never let emotion rule him. He liked having feelings, and he liked helping people. He would even help the army who surrounded him now, if they’d let him.

  But they wouldn’t. They were going to fight the Closest, and once the Closest were dead, the Well would dry, and all these people…

  They wouldn’t listen to him.

  They’d been traveling for weeks, long enough that some of his stamina had returned, when Andra finally slipped into the tent where he was kept at night. It was a small, tattered affair, but it kept him separate from the rest of the army so he couldn’t talk to anyone—and no one could try to kill him before Erra was good and prepared to have him executed.

  Andra presented him with a bowl of bread and lentils, not much of a meal, but about what he’d had every night. He glanced at her.

  “Erra trusts me enough to let me near you,” she said. “She’s meeting with the other Highest, so she isn’t near enough to supervise.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and then ate, the chains on his wrists rattling. Erra hadn’t been in to see him, but he could often hear her through the flimsy tent fabric. She was usually somewhere nearby, keeping track of every single person who was allowed to see or speak to him. Except Andra, who was still her confidant. Except…“I don’t understand you. Whose side are you on?”

  Andra hesitated, tapping her fingers against the satchel she had over her shoulder. Her hair, usually pulled back into a cloud around her face by a headband, was contained in a large puff at the back of her head. “I don’t…don’t know. Yours. Jae’s, I mean. But I wasn’t at first. Lenni did blackmail me, but if she hadn’t, I’d never have seen the Highest’s hypocrisy. But I can’t…I’d help you if I could.”

  “I know,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t understand how you could love Erra and still betray her.”

  “I didn’t have a choice before. Now…I want to help the Closest, but there’s nothing I can do. I tried to make Erra see reason. I really did try,” she said. “But Erra won’t. I swear, she didn’t use to be like this. It’s like she’s gone mad.”

  It did feel that way, but Elan knew his sister too well to believe it. “She thinks this is what she has to do. What our father would have done.”

  “I miss her. How things used to be…,” Andra said softly, then cleared her throat. “Quickly, now, before she returns. I brought all this.” She pulled a sheaf of papers from her bag. “I know you won’t have time to read all of it before she returns, but I thought maybe if you could write out the translation key for me….”

  Elan nodded. It wasn’t as easy as a key, it was the way to rearrange the sentences, but he could jot down those instructions, too. He wiped his hand on his dirty pants and reached for one of the papers, reading to make sure he could still puzzle out the ancient script. It had been weeks since he’d last seen any of it. But he could, because he recognized the note scrawled at the top easily enough: Saize Pallara, journal—after the Curse?

  Someone from the Order, making notes, tryi
ng to make sense of the few remnants of papers that had survived the Highest’s purging. The fact that even one of the most revered Highest of all time had had most of his papers destroyed showed just how determined they were to erase everything they could.

  His gaze flitted down the page.

  …have feared magic since the Rise in the west. Eshara was right on that count. Even my own allies have never understood and now I must protect them from their own shortsightedness…

  Eshara—Janna’s surname. He glanced down another paragraph.

  Taesann was a greater mage than the cursed idiot who joined us, who wasn’t even smart enough to question his brother before killing him. This idiocy could have been avoided, but instead the demands I face are reactionary. I should refuse, but we’ve only just finally consolidated our power. I must serve the decisions we all reached, foolish though they are, but at least I can do this much.

  For whichever of my descendants reads this, I hope you are wise enough to use it. The very brand we seal our vows with also seals away our magic. There will be no more mages among the Highest or Avowed. This is to meet the demands of my foolish allies and their cowardly fear of another Rise—as if the mages who might arise from the ranks of the Twill wouldn’t pose a more immediate threat!

  Jae had guessed right. The vow ceremony didn’t just provide energy to the Curse, it did siphon away all the Highest’s potential mage powers.

  But I will protect my descendants, and curse what the other Highest think. And so, to whoever of our bloodlines reads this: the very brand that stole our magic can do the same to others. There will be one per generation who can wield it against mages to drain their power.

  Fire is my element; with fire, I seal it to our blood. As long as we hold this, we will never be truly powerless. But should our bloodlines be broken, no one else can yield it…

  Forged with fire, bound to the Highest bloodlines—and only one of them in each generation. Elan swallowed a wave of revulsion and he remembered the brand in Erra’s hand, perpetually hanging at her side. She’d been at the fight in Danardae. She was the one who would lead the charge against Jae—and with the brand, she’d succeed.

  But no one else could use it.

  Even after everything, it was too horrible to contemplate, but he had to get the message to her. “This explains how to stop the Highest from stealing Jae’s power. To ensure she’ll win.”

  “How?” Andra asked, eager.

  Elan couldn’t meet her eyes as he said, “She has to kill Erra. Either that or unbind the magic, but it’s sealed with fire—and Jae can’t touch fire, not at all. So it has to be Erra.”

  Andra opened her mouth, as if to speak, but shut it after a moment and shook her head.

  “It has to be,” Elan repeated. “I have to get word to her—”

  “No,” Andra said, firm. “You can’t…I won’t help with that. I can’t.”

  “Andra, we have to. If the Closest are defeated, they’ll be killed—slaughtered, all of them, if they don’t take their own lives. And without them, the Well itself will come unbound. The world will be doomed. I love Erra. Even now. But we can’t let that happen.”

  “But…” Andra shook her head again. “I can’t help you escape, anyway. Anyone in this army would recognize you and you’d never make it.”

  Elan hadn’t really expected her to do it. She wasn’t one for risks, that much was clear, and as twisted up as she was about everything, she still loved Erra. He understood that—he’d been honest when he said he did, too. Even though he thought she was wrong, dead wrong, and even though sending Jae this message would seal her death.

  It was awful to ask Andra to take part in that. But he had no other choice.

  “Then leave me here, and go yourself,” Elan said. “No one in the camp would stop you.”

  “I can’t,” she said, shrinking further. “Erra would notice my absence, and if she ever found out…”

  “Erra is the one who won’t listen or believe when we tell her the truth,” Elan said. “I’ve begged her a hundred times to listen to me—to stop this. But she won’t. And if the Highest continue this war…Getting this information to Jae could save thousands of lives. You have to do something, Andra, whether it’s freeing me or going yourself. Unless you want the Well to dry, you have to!”

  When Andra looked up, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “All right. I’ll go. I’ll…I’ll…”

  “Thank you,” he breathed.

  Andra gathered the papers and stood, though she had to hunch to avoid hitting the tent’s low roof. But as she opened the flap to step out, Elan saw that there were people outside.

  One of them said, “I told you, Highest. She’s a traitor, just like he is.”

  And Andra gasped, “Erra, no, please!”

  Erra stared at Andra, shock overcoming her need to appear untouchable. Andra couldn’t have—Andra would never—

  But it was just as Osann had said. They’d taken the cursed mason prisoner after the Break, and he hadn’t needed any convincing to tell them everything he knew. Then, in exchange for his life, he’d agreed to become a spy for them. To contact the few other members of the Order of the Elements he knew of and find out what they knew, spread misinformation. Do anything the Highest demanded of him.

  It had paid off more quickly than they’d hoped, when Osann had found Elan and learned about the Closest’s tunnel into Danardae. After that it had only been a matter of keeping it guarded. When the Closest had attacked, they’d been ready.

  Now, though, Osann had broken into a meeting of the Highest and begged them to come quickly. He said he’d finally gotten confirmation of an Order spy among their army—that they wouldn’t believe who it was. But if they’d only come listen to what was happening in the traitor’s tent…

  Erra stared at Andra. Andra, her lover, her most trusted friend. The one person who had always seen her for exactly who she was, not just as a member of the Highest, and who had cared and loved her anyway. Not like Halann, only worried about his own power, and not like Elan, who’d turned his back on her.

  It wasn’t possible.

  Before Erra could do more than clench a fist, Andra said, “It isn’t like you’re thinking. I’m not—I’d never betray you. I love you!”

  “We heard you,” Tarrir said, stepping forward when Erra couldn’t find any words through her anger. He raised his voice further, calling, “Guards! Bring shackles—”

  Osann burst toward Andra, grabbed her, and knocked her over. Andra shrieked and flailed, and a moment later, fire erupted next to her. It caught Osann’s robe and he shouted in surprise and pain as Andra rolled away and sprang to her feet. There were people pressing in around her now, but Erra was pushed toward her, Tarrir at one of her shoulders and Callad at her other.

  “It wasn’t like that, I had no choice,” Andra said, and she was looking directly at Erra. “I never wanted to betray you, but you have to listen to Elan, the binding of the Well—”

  “Enough!” Erra finally found her voice, and the word echoed above the noise of someone putting out the patch of flame. “Take her in chains.”

  “No!” Andra screamed. “Erra, listen to me, listen—”

  A guard grabbed her, but she whirled, and the guard—

  The guard caught fire. Andra backed up two steps, bumped into someone else, pressed a hand to that guard’s shoulder, and there it was again, flame, and the guard shouted and jumped back in surprise.

  Flame.

  Andra was—Andra could—

  “Erra, I’m sorry!” Andra shouted. “Stay back! Everyone stay back. I don’t want to hurt anyone! I never wanted to!”

  “You’re a mage,” Erra realized, even as fire lapped at the crowd, driving people back and away. Erra followed Andra, not caring about the flames that licked at her robe. She shed it as she moved. Andra glanced back, saw her, and stopped, pivoting to face her. A wall of fire sprang up around them, cutting off the rest of the guards and the other Highest. The sea
ring heat was only hand spans away, but the flames stayed steady under Andra’s control. People shouted from beyond it, but Erra didn’t care what they were yelling. “You’re a mage, you’re one of them!”

  “I didn’t want to be!” Andra backed up another few steps, the fire moving back with her, sending up another round of shrieking. The gulf between the two of them widened, and some of the flames behind Erra dwindled. A group of guards sprang into action, pouring sand onto the fire to put it out, but she ignored them to focus on Andra. “I love you—but—but the Order found me. They told me what the Highest do to mages and what you’d do to me if you found out. I had no choice!”

  What the Highest did to mages—they killed them. They had to. Magic was a danger to the world, and those who wielded it had to be stopped. That was why the brand existed. Erra reached for it now.

  “I didn’t want this—all I wanted was to be an artist, to make jewelry—I never wanted to be part of any of this! But everyone will die if you won’t listen!”

  Something struck Andra, coming through the fire that separated her from the crowd—an arrow. It hit her robe and tangled there but hadn’t caught her flesh. She shrieked anyway, and everything went up in flames.

  Erra screamed and hit the ground as the fire closed in, scrambling backward to where it had been contained. Smoke stung her eyes and she coughed, barely able to get a breath even when she was flat against the ground. She had to crawl as low as she could, trying to avoid the spreading flame, her skin blistering against the blazing sands.

  Finally she reached the edge of it, emerging from the heart of the chaos. She didn’t dare stand—there was too much smoke in the air, even here—but she wrapped her hand around the brand again and reached, tried to sense Andra and direct the awful visions toward her. But it was too late. She couldn’t feel Andra the way she’d felt the mage at Danardae.