Embrace the Fire (20 page)

“What's the Ice-Touch?” Kinna asked.

Lincoln rubbed his hands together over the coals. “Mind if I hold your fiery hands tonight, Ayden? Mine are cold.”

Ayden snorted without deigning to answer.

“The Ice-Touch is a myth,” Iolar spoke from beneath the tree. “When the ancient Seer Fey wove their magic in the mountains of Lismaria, myths and legends said that the Ancients could command the elements of nature to pass into living beings, and so command their destiny. An Ice-Touch was one tradition. Others have said a Fire-Touch emerged, and still others, an Ash-Touch. Some boasted of a Healing-Touch. All of these were tales told by fisher-wives as they wove their husbands' nets on the shores of the North Sea and passed the stories down to their children.”

Kinna's gaze darted to Ayden, who stumbled to his feet. Loaded silence fell over the gathering.

“What did I say?” Iolar asked, breaking the tense silence.

“The Touches are not a myth,” Ayden said quietly. “The Amulet of the Ancients has the power to do those things. I've found many mentions of it in the Clan libraries in recent months.”

All of them stared at Ayden. “What?” Iolar's whisper eked out. His skin had turned an even whiter shade in the darkening air. Lincoln fidgeted.

“Aye, it's true. Helga gave me the Amulet to break my Ash-Touch curse, but in so doing she also ran the risk of inflicting me with one of the other Touches.”

“She didn't say anything about it,” Kinna murmured.

“No.” Ayden turned his bleak silver gaze on her. “I doubt she knew for sure, and she wouldn't have wanted to plant false hope where there was none.” He dropped his gaze. “The only hope there is for me, then, is to find the Amulet.”

Lincoln looked up.

“Find it—and destroy it,” Ayden finished. “I will never be free of it until I do. I must seek out Sebastian.”

Lincoln shook his head. “Look, mate—”

But Ayden didn't stay to hear his words. He brushed past Kinna and into the darkness.

“Ayden, wait,” Kinna called, but he didn't stop. She hurried after him. “Ayden.” She grabbed his arm when she caught up with him, and he yanked it free.

His hands curled into fists at his side. “Kinna, the scrolls are beginning to make sense. The Fire-Touch and the Ice-Touch are two halves of the same thing. If I have the Fire-Touch, then it must be Sebastian who has the Ice-Touch, the other half of this Amulet curse. And if Sebastian has the Ice-Touch, he's the one who killed the Siren. Kinna, Sebastian is using the Amulet that
I
gave him to kill more creatures. It didn't break my curse; it redirected it, and it handed the power of life and death to both Sebastian and me. Don't you see, Kinna? This is
my
fault. If I hadn't tried to break my Ash-Touch—”
“Sebastian would
still
have the power of life and death. Ayden, please, can't you understand? Just because he wields an Ice-Touch doesn't mean that he's any more deadly than he was before. He still killed before. He still separated families before. His position on the throne gives him the power of life and death, not this new ability. It is
not
your fault, Ayden.”

He was silent as he stared at her. She reached for his hand that was so hot with inner flame. “Besides, if you think about it, fire melts ice.” She held up his hand between them, spreading her palm against his, and flames enveloped their joined skin in the darkness. The heat sank into her bones, tracing her arm, igniting a fire throughout her body.

Ayden reached with his other hand for her face, his thumb lightly brushing over her cheekbone. “Fire melts ice,” he whispered, “but it cannot break stone.”

He dropped his hand and strode away, disappearing into the night. His cryptic comment lingered in Kinna's ears long after he left. She wrapped her arms around her chest.

He was wrong. His fire had shattered her stone fortress. But Julian's hope limped through the remains. And fear for her father kept her from betraying the crumbling walls.

W
hen Kinna awoke
the next morning, her back ached from the root on which she'd slept most of the night. Ayden's horse grazed nearby, and Lincoln still rested near the ashes of the fire. Iolar's head nodded on his chest where he still leaned against his tree, his face creased with the memory of pain.

Kinna stretched, searching for Ayden. He wasn't nearby; he must have gone for wood. She dusted off her breeches and pulled her long braid over her shoulder, digging the twigs and bits of grass from it. She needed a bath. Many times over the last four months, she'd gone longer than she wished without one; finding privacy and water at the same time was nearly impossible. Lincoln was good about leaving her alone long enough to wash herself and her clothing, but when her courses came upon her once a month, it was rough. Then, she lived from stream to stream, washing the spare bits of linen she'd torn from her clothes as often as she could. Fortunately, her courses never lasted longer than a few days.

Disturbance lit her mind. Chennuh was awake. He sat some lengths down the hill, facing away from her. His wings trembled across his back, and his thoughts spiraled in black fury and howling sadness.

Luasa was gone.

“Chennuh?” Kinna whispered. She ran down the slope toward him. “Where are they?” she asked, placing her hand on Chennuh's hot neck.

Gone
. It didn't have to be spoken language for Kinna to understand Chennuh's thoughts. Ayden and Luasa had left before anyone else was up that morning, flying over the flat Forgotten Plains toward the Channel of Lise.

Everything in Chennuh raged to follow his mate, but his
psuche
connection to Kinna kept his talons anchored to the ground.

Kinna whirled, running back to the others. She shook Lincoln's shoulder. “Up, get up, Linc.”

He blinked sleepy eyes at her, the confusion of sleep rapidly giving way to a wary keenness. He jumped to his feet. “What's the matter?”

“Ayden's gone to Lismaria already. Let's follow.”

“What? Why?”

Kinna flushed. Ayden had spoken of the Amulet, but she was fairly certain it was more than that. He needed distance; he must have hated it when she rebuffed him because of her betrothal to Julian. Suddenly, she wasn't able to draw in enough air into her lungs.

Lincoln's wise gaze stilled on her red cheeks. “I see.” He kicked the few ash-laden logs from the fire ring, spreading the pieces apart. “I'm gonna kill him next time I see him.”

Kinna leaned over Iolar, ready to touch his shoulder, but turned at Lincoln's words. “Why?”

“He made you fall in love with him, and then he left. Again! He's daft.”

“I—did not. That's—ridiculous, Linc. You—have the nerve to say—”

“I have the nerve to say what I said, and your saying it's not true doesn't make it so. Iolar, wake up and shake your lazy bones,” he called loudly.

The Elf blinked awake.

“We're leaving for Lismaria, and you're not well enough to stay here by yourself, so we're packing you up to take with us.”

“Good thing for you, arrogant scamp,” Iolar muttered. He glanced around the clearing. “I can see farther than I could yesterday.”

Kinna studied him critically. “Yes, your eyes look more normal today.”

Iolar sighed before straightening against the tree. “Is it your wish for me to travel with you, Your Grace? I will slow you down.”

Kinna's thoughts raced. “Your wound needs more help than I can give. If we can get you to the medic tents with Sebastian's army, we can leave you there, and I will continue my search for my brother.”

The Elf studied her for a moment before nodding. “As you command.”

Kinna shook her head. “I don't command, Iolar. It is an idea, that's all. If you prefer to stay here with those of your Clan who remain on West Ashwynd's soil, then we can take you there.”

The Elf pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the tree, his face a dull, pale shade. “Nay, I wish to go with you.”

“You'll never make it under your own power,” Lincoln muttered.

“I can do it, Pixie,” Iolar replied sharply, as he released the tree and swayed where he stood.

Lincoln rolled his eyes. “If you insist.” He brushed by Kinna, wrapped Iolar's arm over his neck, and supported the Elf down the hill toward Chennuh. “But now I get to tell everyone that an Elf had to have a Pixie's help to get to Lismaria. Your loss, Elf. Kinna,” he called, “come make sure your Dragon behaves.”

Kinna stripped Ayden's horse of its reins and saddle, tossing the tack beneath the tree. She swatted the animal on the rump and watched as he galloped north along the treeline. “Best of luck, friend,” Kinna whispered. She glanced once more around the campsite before following the other two.

T
he Channel of Lise
spread a vivid blue ribbon below them as Chennuh's wide wings rode the wind far above it. Lismaria lay like a great, gray blanket, peaks, folds, and valleys rippling the terrain. Across the white, pebbled shoreline, tents dotted the beaches where portions of Sebastian's armies still camped. The woods hid most of the armies, making it difficult to decide where to direct Chennuh.

The Dragon took matters into his own talons as he banked to the north, passing invisibly over the spread-out army, and came to rest about a fieldspan north of the tents. When he lurched to a stop on the rocky beach, Lincoln vaulted from the Dragon's back, splashing into the surf, shuddering.

Kinna rolled her eyes and held Iolar's arms as the Elf slowly lowered himself to the uneven ground, hissing as his wounded leg brushed Chennuh's scales. He hobbled to a boulder that rested beneath the treeline and relaxed against it.

Kinna leaped lightly to the ground. “All right, if we head south a fieldspan, we can find help for Iolar, and then move inland while we search for Cedric. I want to use your Pixie magic, Linc, to try to get some information on where he's gone.”

“At your service, as always, m'lady. What do we do with him?” Lincoln nodded at Chennuh. “Can't very well take him with us into the camp.”

“I don't see why not. Sebastian has all sorts of creatures he brought along.”

“But a Mirage? Kinna, do you remember the lengths he's gone to to try to capture a Mirage? The prize of prizes, in his mind, at least.”

“Then we'll make him invisible.”

“That's still a large Dragon to keep from knocking against anyone.”

“It'll be fine.” Kinna raised her hand, and Chennuh lowered his head accommodatingly. She brushed her fingers across his sensitive snout before twisting the fin at the top of his neck. He vanished, but his warm breath huffed across her face, and Kinna turned to the woods. “Let's go. Chennuh, we'll stay in the treeline; it's less open. You meet us there. The first tent you reach, stop and wait for us.”

Fire rolled from thin air, warming Kinna's face. “And don't do that, not around anyone else.” She turned for the woods. “Linc, help Iolar, please.”

Lincoln scowled but did as she asked, hefting the Elf into the woods.

Kinna stepped lightly, searching for signs of movement in the trees. The only life she found was a squirrel who scolded them from a treetop and a fox who dashed away at the first sight of them, his white bottle-brush tail waving behind him.

She stalked carefully, Lincoln and Iolar behind her. The Elf's grunts of pain sounded loud in the mulch-quiet shade. If there were such a thing as a Healing-Touch, she wished she had it.

“Kinna, stop!” Lincoln's voice hissed behind her.

Kinna turned to glance at the Pixie. His orange, spiked hair glowed brilliantly in the green depths of the woods, and his eyes lit with ... fear?

Something crunched underfoot two spans to Kinna's left, and then a loud howl sounded from her right.

Bodies of beast and man plowed pell-mell through the trees, and Kinna, Lincoln, and Iolar were caught in the middle of an onslaught between two colliding forces. Sebastian's crest decorated the cloaks of the soldiers on one side, Erlane's blue with a pattern of white stars on the other.

Swords met shields, and roars of Ogres and Dragons shook the ground. The keening wail of a Pixie's song wrapped the woods in enchantment, but a Direwolf's howl drowned it out and the enchantment faded.

Kinna grabbed the knife she carried in her boot with a silk-smooth motion, grateful for the hours of practice she'd put into knife-throwing in the Rues the previous winter. Still, she did wish for Ayden and his sword.

Lincoln had stumbled out of the way with Iolar, struggling to deposit the wounded Elf beyond the perimeter of the fight, but his panicked face rounded to her.

“Go,” she yelled. “Get him to safety.” She knew he wouldn't; his responsibility was her safety, and she knew he took that responsibility seriously.

He hesitated.

She ducked a spear that swept past her head and lodged into the tree behind her. “Go, Linc! Get him safe! That's an order.”

To her utter surprise, he actually obeyed, turning and half-lifting, half-dragging the Elf into the woods beyond the tumult.

A Phoenixdimn directed his creature directly over her head to crash into a wall of Dryads, and the entire row of them burst into flame. The poor bird twirled in a fall of ashes, slamming against a tree. Kinna could no longer see the rocky shoreline, and she had no awareness of Chennuh's presence. A heavy weight slammed into her, sending her airborne.

She slid into a tree trunk, a frisson of pain lancing her side and her spine. Her vision hazed and light exploded behind her eyelids. When they cleared, a Valkyrie advanced on her, one of Nicholas Erlane's; her cloak was a brilliant navy with the triad of stars sprinkled across one shoulder. Her helmet sat low on a fierce forehead, and her wings curled over her back.

The Valkyrie's spear rose. Kinna rolled toward the creature's feet, the spear missing her shoulder by less than half an orlach. The Valkyrie yanked her spear free and raised it to slam it downward again, but Kinna's dagger sliced deep into the seam between the creature's mail and her armpit, burying itself into the Valkyrie's chest. The Valkyrie shrieked as she sank to the ground.