Divided Fire

by Jennifer San Filippo

Kesia nodded, stunned.

  “Liviya,” she said, pointing to herself. “My sons, Cale and Arten.”

  “There’s a girl.” Miren pointed feebly toward the gondola. “Collar, chained up.”

  Kesia looked around, but Zuriel was already running toward the gondola, followed by Arten.

  “We need to go,” Liviya said.

  “What do we do?” Cale said. “Climb back up to the factory? We don’t know who’s up there. What if they called the peacers?”

  Zuriel jumped from the gondola, followed by a familiar small form who staggered down the stairs. Kesia waved, relieved, as Ayla ran straight to Kesia and embraced her.

  Ayla pulled away and signed, You came back? To save me?

  Kesia smiled and nodded.

  Ayla’s attention drifted behind her. Kesia turned to look. Bodies littered the entryway, some of them alive and frozen in place, most of them still on the ground. They couldn’t risk going back to the compound.

  Her eyes caught on the airship.

  She snapped for Ayla’s attention. Is the airship ready to fly? she signed.

  Ayla nodded. Furnace is still hot.

  And is there water in the boiler? Kesia asked.

  I don’t know.

  She turned to Davri. Can you be sure that engine has water in it? She pointed toward the back end of the ship near the port side propeller. Use the pump in the corner.

  Davri looked to her. Yes, but why?

  We’re taking the airship.

  His jaw dropped. We’re taking that?

  Miren can’t walk, and I don’t know another way out of here except back up toward the compound.

  He nodded and ran off.

  She glanced back at the bodies. Some workers, some guards. She noticed a blonde Air Singer unmoving on the ground, but the other three Singers were nowhere to be seen.

  Guilt flooded her. She wished she had asked for their names. Too many people had died tonight, and she couldn’t undo that. But at least the other Singers had escaped.

  “It really flies?” Arten said.

  Kesia nodded and gestured for them to board the gondola. Miren tried to climb the few steps, her knuckles white on the railing, but stopped. Kesia’s heart twisted.

  “I’ve got her.” Cale bent and scooped Miren up. Her head rocked back, and she cried out in pain. He sidestepped into the gondola and set her down against the far wall.

  Kesia climbed up last, making a quick head count—eight people aboard, including herself. She shouted a Song into the furnaces, and the room burst with heat and light that pushed against the engines, waiting.

  She looked to Zuriel. Last tether!

  He nodded and hummed a note. The tether released with a heavy clatter.

  The airship rose.

  The furnaces were still warm from Ayla’s earlier Song. The ship rose quickly, the dark interior of the hangar giving way to the darker expanse of the valley outside the window.

  At Kesia’s mark, Ayla Sang at the furnaces while Zuriel Sang coal into them. Zuriel stumbled in his Song, not accustomed to Singing against another Song; Kesia pointed to the shovel hanging in the corner.

  Arten and Davri stood at the panel of buttons and levers. The wheel started to move, and Arten grabbed it. “I don’t know how to do anything.”

  Kesia clapped for their attention, still Singing. This shows how high we are. That wheel steers us. That controls the propellers.

  “How do we land? Where are we going?” Arten said.

  Just go up, she signed.

  She wasn’t entirely sure how to steer, but that wasn’t her main goal. She wanted the city to see the ship. Once Amos Steel’s secrets were in the open, she would figure out their escape.

  The hills to the north slowly crept by, and the sprawling, lighted expanse of the city appeared. The streetlamps flickered like fiery stars. She thought she saw a crowd at the base of the hill outside Amos Steel.

  The airship was no longer a secret.

  Davri was staring at the gauge. We’re very high.

  She nodded, realizing she didn’t know how to land, or where they should go. Maybe they should head to the other side of the bay, then try to get away from Avi’or.

  Thunder crackled through the gondola, shaking them like stones in a jar. Everyone stumbled to the right as the craft tipped violently. Kesia caught herself against the wall, nearly falling into Cale, who held Miren upright.

  “What was that?” Liviya cried.

  Miren clutched her shoulder, her face tight with pain. “Cannon fire?”

  As soon as she said it, Kesia knew she was right.

  The airship began to fall.

  Kesia pulled herself back into the furnace room doorway. Zuriel was on the floor, lying on his stomach, clutching the doorway to avoid falling into the furnace.

  Kesia gulped a breath and continued her Song, but it hardly touched the furnaces—a pipe or something had broken and was now expelling all the air. There was no pressure, nothing there to fill with heat.

  But the air warmed anyway, and power filled the engines. She didn’t understand—she didn’t have the strength for this, but she noticed a soft doubling of her Voice and glanced at Ayla. She was braced against the wall, kneeling, but her lips moved in Song. She looked up and nodded, her brow knitted in concentration.

  Davri stepped around Kesia and shoved open the gondola door—cold night air roared in, leeching at the already paltry fires. He began to Sing.

  Kesia couldn’t see what he was doing, but she heard the intention: he was trying to pull the water of the bay upward to meet them, to soften their fall.

  They shared a glance. Their Voices were competing—it couldn’t be helped—but their Songs made a strange harmony.

  Zuriel crawled out of the furnace room on hands and knees. Kesia reached for him and pulled him the rest of the way. Sing! Slow us down, she signed sloppily with one hand.

  His eyes widened desperately—to Sing something this large was too much to ask, and too many Songs were already happening at once —but he opened his mouth and rumbled a note to slow the airship’s descent.

  Kesia renewed her effort in the furnaces. She couldn’t be sure—it might just be her own fatigue making her dizzy—but she thought she could feel the airship slowing.

  Arten released the steering wheel and moved to help Miren. “We have to jump!” he cried.

  He and Cale each took an arm and hoisted. Miren yelped in pain, but there was no time to be gentle. Kesia grabbed Zuriel’s arm, and he nodded.

  Davri stepped aside to give everyone room. Kesia and Zuriel came forward and clutched the side of the doorway. The dark expanse of water flew toward them.

  Kesia jumped.

  She heard Davri suck in a breath at the wrong moment in his Song.

  The water sped toward her. She tucked in her arms.

  For the second time, Kesia plunged into the bay.

  The pain of the impact shot through her, but she knew immediately that she wasn’t injured. Cold clutched at her, stinging her eyes as she pried them open. The water was black as it shoved and spun her around. She kicked and thrashed, her mouth shut tight, unsure if she was even swimming upward—

  Her head broke the surface. The airship hadn’t sunk yet, but it was starting to, the balloon slouching as air wheezed out of tears in the material. The metal frame was fractured or bent in places, but it was the engine that had been dealt the worst damage.

  A head popped up over the water, indistinguishable in the dark. Kesia swam over and thought she saw the outline of blond hair. Two more heads bobbed up a few paces away.

  “Is everyone up?” Arten called. “Cale?”

  “I’m here. Miren? Davri?”

  Davri Sang the water to push him and Kesia closer to the others.

  “Davri?” Cale called. “Is that Kesia with you? I can’t see.”

  “Where’s Mother?” Arten said. “And Miren?”

  Kesia’s stomach tightened with worry. She was exhausted, but she sucked
in a breath and Sang a fire over her head.

  Cale and Arten looked around in the new light. The balloon was almost completely submerged now, its sinking making a slight current Kesia had to fight against.

  Zuriel and Ayla splashed over, looking shaken but unharmed, followed by Liviya. Kesia gasped in a breath to continue her Song, the light flickering. Where was Miren?

  “There!” Cale called swimming away. “I think I see her!”

  Kesia moved her flame closer to him in time to see Miren’s head sink below the surface. Davri launched into a Song, and the water swirled around Miren and pushed her back up, her eyes fluttering as Cale came to support her.

  A boat was coming toward them. Kesia stopped Singing, struggling for breath—she was exhausted, and now she had to tread water while she Sang—but if she could cause a sail to catch fire, she could slow the vessel down.

  But it wasn’t a naval ship, and she saw figures waving at the bow, holding oil lamps. The Singers they had rescued, their melodies filling the sails, were heading in their direction.

  Forty-One

  Miren

  Pain thrust Miren in and out of consciousness. She was on the deck of a ship; people were hurrying about as Air Song filled the sails above her. Then she was in a small, wooden room while someone wrapped her shoulder, a thick paste stinging the wound like acid. Gentle hands gave her water and dabbed her forehead with a wet towel. A familiar Water Song cooled her wound. A hand held hers and squeezed.

  Kesia.

  She opened her eyes.

  She was in a small, dingy room with a circular window set in one of the wooden walls. She lay in a bunk, a faded orange blanket at her feet, as though she had kicked it away in her sleep. Her wound was bandaged, her right arm wrapped in a sling. She felt a light sway and realized that she was on a ship.

  She remembered a face hovering over her: hazel eyes, curled hair, a spattering of freckles.

  She got up, bracing herself against the wall, and left the room.

  The hallways were narrow but clear, the wooden floor fresh and smooth under her bare feet. Her head felt heavy; she braced her good arm against the wall to steady herself.

  “Kesia,” she called, but her voice came out cracked and hoarse, her mouth dry. She swallowed and turned to find a ladder. She climbed painfully, one-handed, and pushed open the latch above her head.

  A cool wind threatened her balance on the ladder. She pulled herself onto the deck.

  Three masts towered overhead, each with sails that billowed like clouds. The deck was crowded with Singers, most in rags. Some were huddled in small groups, while others signed, explaining how the sails worked. Three women Sang a chorus of wind into the sails, directing them due west. Davri and another man were standing at the bow, Singing as they signed about the best way to propel a ship this size.

  Kesia stood at the helm next to Liviya, smiling.

  Liviya spotted Miren, then gently nudged Kesia and pointed.

  Kesia’s mouth dropped in a soundless cry, then she hurried down the main deck. Miren smiled through her tears as Kesia nearly fell into her arms.

  Kesia Kesia Kesia.

  Davri grabbed them both in a bear hug, lifting them off their feet until Miren couldn’t take the pain in her shoulder anymore. “Ow! Ow! Down please!”

  Davri signed a sheepish apology.

  Cale and Arten and Liviya hurried over as well, asking how she felt.

  “I feel like I got shot,” Miren said wryly.

  They all exploded with laughter.

  “She’s fine,” Liviya said.

  Miren asked, “Where did this ship come from?”

  “Stolen,” Cale said cheerfully. “The Singers who escaped saw us fall just as they boarded it.” He indicated a few of the Singers gathered on deck. “I think some of them really are prisoners of war. They certainly know a thing or two about ships.”

  Miren noticed that Arten stood slightly apart from the rest of the group. She glanced around and realized that two people were missing.

  “Hana and Ori?” she asked.

  “Still in Peladah,” he said. “There was no time to double-back without risking everyone here.”

  Liviya and Cale shared grim looks. Miren suspected they had fought about it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  He shook his head. “It might be for the better. If they don’t connect her to us, then she should be all right. And it’s not as though Kaleo is exactly welcoming to escaped planters. I can blend though and send word that we’re safe.”

  Miren nodded, feeling that she should say more.

  Liviya said, “The city is going to be a lot more distracted dealing with the fact that Amos Steel’s secret is out now.”

  “Yes,” Cale said. “We’ve been talking. Hopefully all that chaos was enough to get peacers into Amos Steel to see the rest of the evidence. It might be enough to expose what Amos Steel has been doing to Singers.”

  That would be incredible, Davri signed.

  Unless the government knows about it anyway, Kesia signed.

  “Even so,” Liviya said. “They won’t be able to keep it a secret from the rest of the city. The people will know, and they won’t stand for it.”

  Miren wasn’t convinced. It seemed too easy, too neat. But one could always hope.

  The Earth Singer boy, Zuriel, came up to her and signed an apology, his chin ducked, his expression fighting tears.

  Miren studied him, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

  It was my job to take the guns from everyone, he replied. I must have missed one.

  Miren looked to Kesia for help, but she just smiled sadly.

  “Hey, listen,” she said. Miren waited until he looked up at her. “This is not your fault at all, understand? Unless you pulled the trigger, it’s not your fault.”

  He looked somewhat relieved, but not completely.

  Cale ruffled his hair. “Come on, help me furl this sail before the Air Singers break it.”

  Zuriel took the hint and followed Cale away. Liviya and Arten drifted back to the helm. It was just Miren and Kesia and Davri.

  Miren gave in to her shaky legs and took a seat against the wale. Kesia and Davri crouched in front of her.

  Miren asked, “What’s the plan?”

  Kesia and Davri glanced at each other. We’re going to Crescent Bay, Kesia signed. We’re going home.

  Miren wasn’t sure home was the right word; it no longer felt like a place. Home was right here. Home was away at war. “We may have some problems,” she said.

  I know, Kesia signed. Davri told me what happened. He thinks he can persuade his father to help these Singers.

  Miren frowned at Davri. “What about what happened at Rion’s estate?” Although Liviya had pulled the trigger, they were still partly responsible for Cheliem’s death.

  I don’t know. Cheliem has no heirs, so I’m not sure what will happen to his estate. Rion might seek compensation from my father for the fire and Cale’s escape. And considering the way I left . . . Davri grimaced. I don’t think he’ll be keen to do me any favors. We need to convince him that helping the Singers is in his best interest.

  “How will we do that?” Miren asked.

  I have some ideas, Davri signed. Still figuring it out.

  The Singers had nowhere else to go. Kaleo wasn’t safe for Singers, but neither was Avi’or. The best place for them would be as far from the conflict as possible, and Miren knew of no other place as isolated as Crescent Bay.

  Davri and Miren told Kesia what had happened on their journey. Of Cheliem and meeting Hana and sailing rapids. Much of it sounded implausible in the retelling, but Kesia seemed impressed.

  I . . . I don’t know what to say, Kesia signed. I’m so glad to see you. Thank you so much.

  “You should be,” Miren said, suddenly anxious to lighten the conversation. “I’ve been stuck with this one for how long? Three months? A year?”

  Davri rolled his eyes. Your sister snores.

  “I do not!” />
  She never believed me when I told her, Kesia signed.

  “I can’t believe this,” Miren said, but the two Singers were shaking with silent laughter.

  Miren watched as Davri caught Kesia’s gaze and held it. They were attentive to each other but careful, pining but uncertain. Miren felt . . . hopeful? Wary? She didn’t know, but she resolved not to push them. The whole possibility of a connection between them seemed very different now that she cared for both of them.

  Toward afternoon, Miren found herself sitting against the wale at the bow of the ship again. Kesia came and sat beside her.

  Miren took her hand. She began to hum, from memory, a song.

  Kesia smiled and joined in. A small fire appeared in the air in front of them, a flame without a candle. Their voices matched perfectly. Miren dipped underneath, adding harmony. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done this. She felt tears stream down her cheeks, but she would have to let go of Kesia’s hand to dry them, so she didn’t.

  They watched the sky darken, the sun taking its time to slip behind the Kaleon mountains. Gulls called loudly overhead. An Air Singer had started Singing the wind into the sails until Liviya called to her to stop. “We have a heading! You’re going to strain the mast.”

  They watched the Singers work, or pretend to work, or happily avoid work as they celebrated their freedom. Someone had found food supplies and cooking equipment. One Singer had taken charge of a large pot of stew. Another was lathering a thick coat of balm around other Singers’ necks, where the collars had been.

  Miren almost expected to wake up. Even the throbbing in her shoulder wasn’t enough to convince her that this was real. She kept glancing at Kesia, still unsure if this impossible journey was over, if everything really had turned out this well, if she and Kesia had managed to find each other.

  And then Kesia glanced at her and grinned, and suddenly Miren felt silly for questioning it.

  They had done it. They had really done it.

  Kesia signed, What do we do now?

  Miren knew what she meant. What would Crescent Bay be like? What would they do with the Singers? How would they convince Darius to keep them a secret? What were Davri’s plans, both about his father and Kesia? What about the horrors that trailed after them, the sights that would haunt them? What about their parents, still off fighting a war? What about them, sister and sister? They were different now than they had been before; how would things be between them?