by H. L. Burke
Gabrin fell back, eyes wide.
“You cannot defeat me.” The man raised a fist, his skin now gray as stone. “I serve a stronger force, a stronger god. Surrender the Water Speaker, and I will let the untainted among you live.”
“You can stop him. I can stop him with you.”
The man pulled a black coil of rope from under his shirt. He stepped around Gabrin as if he’d been a mere sapling blocking his path. Gabrin struck out again, but the dirt crumbled beneath him, bringing him to his knees before his blow could land.
“Stop, I don’t want to hurt you!” Quill shouted over the swell of the water within her.
“Ah, little one, you think I fear you?” The man clicked his tongue. “This bindmetal will cut you off from your demon masters.”
Quill’s mind raced. Gabrin stood. A rock flew from the path. It crashed into his chest, knocking him back with a moan.
I can’t let him hurt Eanan and Gabrin. You may have me, just this once.
Water beaded on her skin. Her ears throbbed from the pressure of a sea within her skull. Eanan pulled her back, squaring his shoulders so that she could no longer see the man approaching. It didn’t matter. She could feel him, moving through the water misting in the air. Each drop was an extension of herself. It would obey her. She stepped to the side. Her fingertips glowed blue, but it seemed natural somehow, more natural than anything else going on at that moment, anyway.
The water droplets in the air swelled to apple-sized spheres. She narrowed her eyes, and they flew together, barreling into the man and knocking him back several feet, past Gabrin.
Gabrin hurried to her and grabbed her hand. “Come on! Cross the bridge while he’s down.”
The ground shook. The man smiled as he stood.
“No, run!” Quill gasped. She fled up the path, dragging Gabrin and Eanan along. The path convulsed like a dying snake. She leapt onto the plateau and glanced back to see it crumble. The man shook his fist at her.
“We can end him!” The voice in her head pleaded with her.
“I will not kill,” she said through clenched teeth. She rushed into the forest to the north.
“Where are you going?” Gabrin shouted.
Twigs snatched at her. She stumbled, caught herself on the trunk of an oak, and kept going. Feet pounded behind her, Eanan and Gabrin, she hoped, but possibly their attacker.
Gabrin grabbed her by both arms and yanked her to a stop. Anger and confusion rose from his skin. She kicked out. Her body no longer shielded by the Elemental power, each blow sent dull pains through her muscles. She had to get free.
“Quill, settle down!” Gabrin hissed.
She wrenched around and stared into his eyes.
Eanan stopped beside them. He bent over, wheezing.
“We have to run. The broken path won’t hold him for long.” She glanced through the trees. The roar of the river no longer reached her, but they still hadn’t gone far enough.
“We can’t just run. That’s the only way across the canyon.” Eanan touched her cheek. Concern radiated off him, calming her. “I know you’re frightened, but if we are to get to the Mirror, we’ll have to go back.”
Her arms shook. “But he’ll stop us. He was going to hurt you.”
“You can fight him, though.” A smiled played over Gabrin’s lips. “The way you stood against him was amazing.”
She jerked away from him. “I won’t kill. I … I won’t.”
“Quill, if we leave that man alive, he could come after us.” Eanan’s voice was soft, but his words still pricked into her like needles.
“No!” She covered her ears. This was all a bad dream. The Water Folk came in dreams. Please let me wake up. “There has to be another way over.”
“Stop being a baby.” Gabrin’s eyebrows melted together. “None of us want to fight, but we’re willing. Being empathic didn’t stop you back there, and it shouldn’t stop you now. You’re not being merciful. You’re being childish.”
“Gabrin, that’s enough.” Eanan slipped his arm around her shoulders. “We need to move. I don’t want to face him again if Quill’s not ready. This isn’t something we can force her into.”
Gabrin’s nostrils flared. “I’m outnumbered then. All right. Let’s go.”
Quill sank into her grandfather’s chest, indulging in one quick sob. “I don’t want to change.”
“I don’t want you to either.” He brushed a hair from her face, his mouth quirking into a sad smile. “Your mother or grandmother would respond the same way. This is too much to ask of you. Come on. You're right; that landslide won’t hold him long. We need to find another way to cross.” He released her and hurried after Gabrin. The younger man crashed through the underbrush like an angry bear.
Perhaps he is right to be mad, but I can’t lose myself any further. I can’t let the water in again.
Chapter Fifteen
Karvir gazed across the canyon. Brode had found Quill’s tracks beside a stream a little ways from there. It was the first clear sign they’d seen in a while of Quill herself. Of course, he’d hoped the campfires and broken twigs indicated they were on the right track, but just recognizing the familiar worn tread of her boots filled him with relief.
We’ll get her home. Nothing else matters as long as we get her home.
The longer their journey stretched, the more Karvir's anger at Eanan faded. He just wanted to hold his little girl again.
He remembered being handed her for the first time, a tiny pink bundle. Since she was a child, she’d always tried to cheer him up, resting her perfect head upon his knee and staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Both his girls were precious, but Quill was so much like Willa, open and vulnerable. The urge to protect her overwhelmed him until the distance between them felt like a gaping wound.
Brode lay in the grass near the road, his eyes closed. None of them had been sleeping well. Trea had circles under her eyes. She chewed on blades of grass, staring into space.
Karvir approached them. “We should keep going.”
Brode sat up. He blinked several times, then nodded. He stretched his arms over his head. “When we get back, I’m sleeping for a week.”
Trea adjusted her pack. “They can’t be too far ahead. We’ve made good time.”
“I’m ready to head home, so I hope you’re right.” Brode smiled.
Karvir rubbed the back of his neck. She went with them willingly. I can’t force her to come home with us. That would make me as bad as Eanan. I promised Willa I’d listen. Still, whatever Quill chooses, I won’t let her go alone. I’ll be there to protect her.
They got back on the Highway. The easily marked road had made tracking effortless. Above them stretched a clear blue sky with only faint wisps of distant clouds. Good. Even with the lantern’s protection, a sudden rainstorm could prove deadly.
A bird trilled in the long grass off the path. Trea gave a short whistle, mimicking it, and the bird responded. She laughed.
“I’ve never heard that one before,” Brode commented.
“It’s a field warbler,” Karvir said. “This is the furthest north they range, and they’ve been rare since the valley burned. It’s encouraging that they’re still around at all. I haven’t heard one since I was younger than you.”
The twists in the landscape made the Highway difficult to track past the nearest bend. It seemed to follow the canyon northward now, but it could easily turn towards the water. He hoped they wouldn’t have to ford a river.
Around the bend, the road dipped, towards the river as he feared. Relief swept over him at the sight of the bridge, followed by confusion.
“What happened to the road?” Brode stopped and gazed down the steep grade. The path was twisted, and a large section of it had slid away into the canyon below.
“A landslide?” Trea said.
“It looks recent.” Brode pointed to a bush that was uprooted but still green. “There haven’t been any heavy rains.”
“It doesn’t look
like a washout, anyway.” Karvir faded. “Wait here. I’m going to check it out.”
“Be careful. You could fall into the river!” Trea cautioned.
He laughed. “I’m not a toddler, you know. I can walk without tripping over my own feet.”
Karvir hugged the cliff face. He could hover a bit above the ground in his gaseous form, but that didn’t make him immune to gravity. Managing his way around the missing section of road, he steadied himself on a flat spot to observe the bridge. There were a lot of prints, all mixed together, but the ground looked as if someone had turned it upside down and shaken it. It was almost impossible to track specific movements in the chaos. Quill had been here, though. Her prints shone like beacons to him.
He turned and shouted to Trea and Brode. “At least four distinct tracks. It looks as if they met with someone here.”
“They must’ve crossed the bridge,” Trea called back.
He scanned the ground and shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s the case … it looks as if they turned back. Almost as if …” He squinted at the earth. Scuff marks … someone had fallen … “I think there might’ve been a fight. I don’t see blood, though.”
A patch of earth had a funny look to it, as if someone had hastily smoothed it. Something was buried there.
He traced the edge of the smoothed area. It took up the entire path in front of the bridge, too wide to jump over. However, he could just float over it. Snares couldn't hold smoke. He eased forward, his faded form a few inches off the ground.
The cords swished. The snare tightened about his ankles and jerked him off his feet.
“What in the woods?” He struggled back to his feet. His form had solidified, against his will.
“Dad! Are you all right?” Trea climbed towards him.
“Be careful! There might be more than one trap.” He concentrated on fading again. His form didn’t obey. Clenching his jaw, he reached down and hovered his hand over the cords. He had yet to encounter a rope his inner-heat couldn’t burn through. Holding his fingers outstretched, he tried to bring his inner fire up through his limbs. It didn’t budge. It simmered in his core.
Karvir’s heart faltered.
Trea and Brode picked their way towards him.
She tilted her head to one side. “What is it? Why haven’t you faded out of it?”
“I can’t. Brode, get your knife out. This looks to be wire, not rope, but it’s not that thick.”
Brode unsheathed his hunting blade and knelt beside Karvir. His mouth quirked to one side. “There’s some sort of latch here, where it tightened. I’ve never seen a mechanism like this. It’s like a lock almost.” It was—a square lock with a small hole that hinted at the existence of a key.
“You can just cut through it above the lock,” Karvir said.
Brode nodded. He sawed, his mouth contorting further with each passing second. Pulling away, he huffed. “I’m getting nowhere. At this rate the knife will break before the wire.”
Brow furrowed, Trea traced the line to where it wrapped around a boulder. “I might be able to slip it off. Just hold on.”
She gripped the taut cable and pushed it upward. The ground heaved beneath her feet, knocking her back several feet towards the canyon. She skidded on her rump. Her fingers clawed the earth. The dirt rippled like water.
Brode dove for her. His hand gripped her wrist as her feet slipped over the edge. His arms encircled her. “I've got you.”
The ground convulsed. The bond around Karvir’s ankles constricted, sending sharp pains up his legs. Rocks skittered down the cliff behind him. He turned and saw a young, dark-haired man jump over the gap. The man stomped his foot, and the ground shook again.
The rocks beneath them shifted with a noise like grinding teeth. Brode yelped. The earth beneath him and Trea disintegrated and they were gone.
“Trea!” Her name tore through Karvir’s heart. There was no answer, only the roar of the river far below. He strained his neck but couldn’t see into the chasm.
She’s a strong swimmer. Brode’s with her. They’ll be all right. Creator, please let them be all right.
“You aren’t what I set my hook for, but you’re an intriguing catch.” The man strode forward, coming between Karvir and the bridge.
Karvir hesitated. The way the earth moved hadn’t been natural, but Karvir’s own abilities with fire weren’t natural. Did this man somehow control the earth the way Karvir had come to control the flames? And how was he preventing Karvir from fading?
The man glanced over the edge, then turned back to Karvir, head tilted. “I haven’t seen a Fire Demon since the war.”
Karvir narrowed his eyes. This fellow wasn’t much older than Brode. He would’ve been a child during the invasion.
His captor picked up a handful of dirt and sifted it through his hands. “How did you get into this world? Are there more of your kind nearby?”
“Why should I answer you?” Karvir tried again to fade. He needed to get free.
“I can make things unpleasant for you. The bindmetal shackle will thwart any attempt you make to access your foul powers. I set the trap for a Water Speaker, but it works just as well on Fire Folk.” The man drew a short blade, not icestone, but in Karvir’s current state, it didn’t need to be.
“I’ve faced down true monsters. I’m not intimidated by a kid with a pocket knife.”
“And what monsters were those? As I see it, you are the monster.”
Karvir’s heart pounded. The longer he was here, the further he was from Trea. Even if he were free, diving into the river to save her was impossible. Perhaps he needed this man’s help. After all, if he thought Karvir in league with the Fire Folk, the attack could be a misunderstanding.
“I know what I look like, but I’m just as human as you are. I wasn’t converted willingly. During the war the Fire Folk burned my body, but my mind is my own, and my fight is against them, not you. Let me free. I need to find my companions.”
The man shrugged. “Your friends are long drowned. Focus on your own life, or at least what’s left of it.”
“Look, I’m not your enemy, and I know my … my companions …” He barely stopped himself from identifying Trea as his daughter. Only what he absolutely needs to know or what you need to say to get him to trust you. “They could survive that drop. Let me go, and I’ll tell you what you want.”
“I’m not stupid. You’re going to tell me anyway.” The man drew a canteen from beneath his coat. He tipped it over into his palm, then splashed the contents onto Karvir’s legs.
Only a few drops hit his skin, but they sank through it like acid. He screamed.
The man sneered. “Drop by drop is a slow way to die. What are you doing out here?”
Karvir’s muscles tightened. The wounds in his leg oozed black ichor. “Let me go.”
The man refilled his palm. He brought it to his lips and sipped. A smile spread across his face. “Cold and refreshing. You say you were a man once? Do you remember the taste of water? The joy of it sliding over your parched tongue? How do you even live with yourself in this twisted form? And your companions? What sort of lost souls bind themselves to a burned-out corpse such as yourself? Now, again, I ask, why are you here?”
Karvir closed his eyes. He couldn’t help Trea … or Quill for that matter … if this idiot killed him. Just tell him something, half truths.
“A man kidnapped my daughter and dragged her into these woods. I’ve been following her trail for several days.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Daughter? You have a human daughter? What does she look like?”
Karvir’s mind scrambled over the strange tracks, the way this man had moved the ground beneath Trea’s feet … and he was lying in wait for someone. Quill …? Was Quill the Water Speaker he was after? Eanan had said empathics were more likely to have the ability.
“She's eighteen,” he said. “Long brown hair, tall for a girl.”
The man’s mouth hardened. “You may be more us
e to me alive. Arana will want to see you.” He reached into his pack and withdrew a lariat of the same wire that bound Karvir’s legs. He looped it over Karvir’s body, drawing his arms to his chest, then withdrew a key from his pocket and undid the snare on Karvir’s legs. He glared at Karvir. “Make this difficult and I toss you in the river.”
He pulled Karvir up and led him like a dog on a leash, across the bridge.
Book Three
Chapter Sixteen
The earth disintegrated beneath Brode. His hold tightened around Trea's arm. She shrieked. Water rushed towards them, and his breath escaped as they sank into the frigid, churning river. Trea struggled, kicking her legs.
He released her and swam for the surface. The water spun him. He broke into the air. One quick breath, and he was sucked under again.
His pack weighed like an anchor on his back. He wriggled out of it and tried to swim. His lungs ached, but light filtered through the water. Pushing upward, he managed another breath.
The water thrust him over a falls. For a moment he was airborne, spinning, dizzy, certain he’d set foot on dry ground for the last time. Then he crashed into a deep pool. The river broadened into a wide channel, and while the eddies still pushed him in a circle, he forced his arms through the water and powered out.
Somehow he’d made it.
“Trea!” he shouted. The water drowned out his voice. He swam towards the rocky western shore. His feet touched bottom, and he stumbled onto a sandy beach.
A faint cry echoed above the water’s roar. His heart leapt. Trea paddled towards him. He rushed to her and pulled her from the water. Arms around each other, they collapsed onto the beach. Brode’s pulse spiked in his ears. Trea trembled against him, her lips tinted blue. She’d managed to keep her pack, maybe because hers was lighter than his.
“I’m s … s … so c … cold.” Her teeth knocked together like a flock of woodpeckers going at hardwood. Brode picked himself up, and almost fell, his knees giving out beneath him.