Taming Fire (41 page)

"Oh, but you are quite the clever lad," he said. "You'll find a way. I've every faith in you. Come now, your flame unfolds."

I fell into my second sight and reached for the working that hovered over Isabelle's tent, but I could no more touch it than I could the one in the tent. I could grab the campfires, though. I could burn this whole encampment to the ground. I could open the earth and swallow Lareth's tent. But Isabelle would die. I might die, too, but then and there that didn't bother me too much. That had been almost inevitable since the moment I dove through Lareth's portal at Nathan's farm.

But Isabelle... she trusted me. She needed me. To save her home. To save her. I felt a frantic desperation clawing at the back of my breastbone. I forced my sight away, and turned my back upon Isabelle's soft little prison. In Lareth's tent, the portal waited. He raised an eyebrow at me, impatient.

I knew what Isabelle would want me to do. I had no doubt. She had already risked her life to save her lands and she hadn't hesitated to ask me to do the same. This was larger than either of us. Her choice was made. She would want me to bring the king's forces to end the rebel threat no matter what the cost. I took a step toward the portal and felt cold sweat between my shoulder blades.

Perhaps I could still find a way. Perhaps I could still save us all. But before the dawn? I frowned at that. The deadline made it harder. I'd thought I might have a week—a day, at least, to bring the cavalry from Tirah—but one night? I shivered and took another step.

Off to the side, the wizard laughed. "You've drama fit to fill the king's theater, child. Just go and get it done. I'll shower you with coin. I'll name you first lieutenant of the sword. I'll teach you everything the Masters won't. Just kill the king and end this war for all."

I stopped one pace from the portal and met his eyes. "I want the girl," I said. "I want Isabelle unharmed. For that—for that alone—I'll do this deed."

"It's yours," he said, impatience almost making it a growl. "Just go!"

I closed my eyes and stepped through to Tirah.

The largest of the Ardain's duchies, Tirah is only rivaled by the capitol itself. And like the proud city, its lords have long felt due a greater role. Lareth had called this war inevitable, and in a way it was. As long as I had known anything of the nation's politics, I'd known of the festering rebellion in Ardain. Even when I was a boy my father had spoken of it as an old and tired thing.

There was wealth on the continent. There was pride, and culture, and tradition. A thousand years and more these lands had owed their fealty to the FirstKing and his heirs. And yet, for just as long, they'd toyed with breaking free.

I found the clear reminder of that the moment I stepped out of Lareth's gate. I stood within a hall of quarried stone, and an eerie recognition settled down on me. I hurried ahead, to a wider crossing corridor, and looked left out into a courtyard bordered by a gold-wrought gate.

It wasn't the capitol palace. It stood upon a square as flat and low as everything else in central Ardain, but the layout was the same. The structure was the same. They'd made a copy of the royal palace here in old Tirah. I turned to the right, instead, to the great arching double doors that would have opened upon the king's throne room. Here, it could be just the same.

Lareth had done it. He had brought me to the very door of the king. A dozen guards stood at attention outside those closed doors, every eye fixed on me as I stepped into the corridor. Two of them wore the uniforms of the Green Eagles as well, and they stood apart. I had to pass between them to approach the guards at the door. Those guards raised pikes to block my way before I'd gotten halfway there, but I shook my head.

"No," I shouted. "I'm no threat to the king. I bring dire news. The wizard Lareth plans to kill him here! I must get word to him."

I saw a look of concern pass among some of them, but it did nothing to gain me passage. If anything it raised their suspicion. Two of the guards stepped out into the hall and leveled their pikes at my heart. I slammed to a stop, hands raised and empty.

"I'm not a threat," I said. "I am no threat at all. Do not admit me. I don't care. But take a message to the king. It's vital that he hear—"

A hand clamped hard upon my shoulder—hard enough to make me wince—and turned me from the guards to face a Green Eagle with fresh scars on his cheek and neck and hand. From the look of them, they might have been received at the morning's ambush.

I paled. "Please, sir," I said. "We must move quick—"

"We will," he said. His voice was low and harsh, like a spill of gravel. "But you will not. Come with me. Ellone, inform the Knight Captain. I will take this one to the barracks hall."

He never relaxed that grip upon my shoulder. He turned and left, and if I had resisted at all it would have snapped my collarbone. I went along, some flare of hope bright and hot within my chest. We went four paces and Ellone had barely moved from his position on the wall when suddenly the doors flew open behind us.

The Green Eagle who held my shoulder slowed just long enough to glance back, and I turned back, too. And there was the king. Ten paces away. He looked no different than he had the night he chased me from the City. Storm clouds raged in his eyes, and he stomped into the hall all full of fury. I tried to turn to him, to call out warning, to beg his aid, to end this war—

I'd barely moved at all when my escort sensed the motion and, without warning or even apparent effort, flung me to the floor. I landed hard and bounced. I rolled onto my back and tried to rise, but before I knew what was happening I felt the Green Eagle's sword against my throat, just below my jaw. "Hold fast," he said, and I froze.

The king whisked by without a glance in my direction. He grunted as he passed, "Well done, well done," and the soldier over me nodded his quiet thanks. Then Ellone, the other Eagle, resumed his place against the wall. I saw the king slipping away down the hall.

"Wait!" I screamed. "Your Highness, no! I have grave news!" I cut off short when the cold steel of the Eagle's blade pressed harder at my throat. The king flew on, altogether unconcerned.

I felt a flash of fury then. Torches lined the hall. Fire. Fire everywhere. I remembered what the wizard had said about the king's safeguards and wondered how many threads of flame I would need to catch the man's attention. I wondered how many it would take to burn him down to ash.

I knew it would take just one cold steel blade to end my life. It would take less than an inch, the work of the flick of a wrist. I swallowed delicately and held my tongue. I gained nothing by rousing their suspicion. Better to wait and convince them later. I held my place while the bodyguard on the king's heel stormed after him.

One among them paid me more attention than the king had. A Green Eagle in the full uniform, with extra bars of rank on his shoulders. He stopped to share a word with Ellone, and then another bit of praise to the soldier who had so handily silenced my outburst. And then he cast a glance down at me—

And I recognized him. He had advanced in rank but I knew the long, scarred face and the eyes so full of hate. He knew me, too. His eyebrows came down sharp and in a blur his sword, too, was at my throat. "Get him clear!" he bellowed to the guards who followed the king. "Now! Now! Ellone, to the king! We have a traitor here!" I heard the hustle of movement down the hall as the king's escort hurried him away.

I tried to shake my head, but I could barely move without opening my throat. My eyes strained wide. I showed my open hands and croaked up at him, "I mean no harm. I have come to warn you."

"You have come to die," Othin said. He pressed the blade harder, and I thought perhaps he meant to kill me then and there. He stopped just short of that and growled. "Where's my sword?"

I almost laughed as the answer came to mind. His sword was in a dragon's cave somewhere, or perhaps on the bottom of the ocean. He didn't truly care about the sword, though. He knew me. That was the point. He meant the question for a reminder of the dishonor I had done him.

"It is long gone," I said. "Everything between us is well and truly gone," I said more strongly. "Othin, please. Hear me. The king's life is at risk, as is his friend's. The baron Eliade—"

He kicked me, hard, just below the ribs. It shut me up. He grunted. "Get this one to the cells. I must secure the king, but I will be along for him soon enough. He may know some magic. If he does anything—anything at all—then run him through."

With that he left. I lay upon my back, staring up at the Green Eagle who had thrown me there. I met his gaze, trying to keep the bitter anger from my eyes. "The rebel wizard Lareth can open portals to the king," I said. "He was behind the assault on the Cara Road this morning."

I saw the soldier's eyes go wide at that, and I nodded carefully against the cool steel of his blade. "He has a force of several hundred gathered in one place, ripe for attack. They must be the bulk of the enemy's force, and Lareth himself is the gravest threat by far."

The Green Eagle narrowed his eyes, considering me, and I showed him my empty hands again. "I know their dispositions," I said. "Take me to the cells. Lock me up. I do not care. But bring me the king, or even the Knight-Captain, and I will tell him everything he needs to end this rebellion here and now."

His eyes narrowed as he considered me. Then he withdrew his blade and jerked his head. "On your feet." I scrambled up and he gestured with the naked blade. I started walking.

He turned me down a side hall, opposite the way the king had gone. We were soon alone, and for several slow paces I considered my options. I fell into my second sight and saw the flicking fires, saw the ponderous weight of the worked stone. I could have burned the guard alive or buried him in stone. But he was not my enemy. I could have trapped his feet and run, but what would I have gained? My only hope was meeting with the king, or sending word to him, and my only chance at that lay in patient obedience.

So I went quietly. The cells lay in a wide wing of the palace and looked nothing like I'd imagined. I had expected cramped little pens in a cold, musty dungeon. The room he threw me in was every bit as large at the one I'd had at the Academy and, after a cursory glance, it proved better appointed than that one, too.

Its inner wall was not of solid bars, but the worked stone gave way to a barred window from waist-high to crown which would have allowed a guard easy oversight of anything a prisoner might get up to. The outer wall offered a window, too, likewise covered in iron bars. I could see the stars pinpoint bright against the violet night without.

My escort left me there. I pleaded with him one last time to carry my word to the king, but he gave no response at all. He saw me in my room, summoned a guard to lock my door, and then he left. I tried the guard, too, but he paid me less attention even than the Eagle had.

But Othin had promised to come for me. It was little comfort. I'd met the man once, he'd tried to kill me, and I'd left him looking like a fool. I shivered at the memory, at the hate that had burned in his statue eyes, and it hadn't faded a shade in the year that had passed since then.

This was bigger than either of us, though. The man was Knight-Captain to a king deep in hostile territory now. That had to take precedence over any old insults. I took a deep breath and clung to that thought. He would listen. He would have to. I spent ten minutes planning what I would say, but no one came for me. I noticed the guard on duty pass by my window four times on slow patrol. I clenched my fists and reviewed everything I'd planned. My guard passed by again.

Half an hour passed. An hour. I cried out to my guard, but he ignored me. I tried to catch his sleeve as he passed, but he knocked my hand away with a violence that bruised my shoulder against the bars of my window.

I watched the moon rise outside my prison walls. I thought of Isabelle, of the wizard's light green flame prepared to turn the girl to ash. I thought of Lareth, happy and free, waiting for word of my success or failure. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes and ground my teeth in fury.

I could still do it. The king
was
an arrogant old fool, surrounded by terrible men. He'd branded me a traitor when I was nothing of the sort. I watched my guard patrol once more past my window and thought how easy it would be to pull the roof down on his head. I extended mystic senses to the stone blocks of my wall and felt the shape of earth within, the tiny beads pressed tight and hard, and saw how easy it would be to scatter them like sand and open a way I could step right through.

Midnight came and went, and still I sat alone and waited. I cursed the Eagle's name. A woman's life hung in the balance. The
king's
life did as well. If this strike failed, the wizard could send an army next. They'd have a harder time of it than I would have. They would certainly kill more people than I needed to. But they could win. If the king ignored my warning the wizard's men could take him unprepared.

I ground my teeth and stared out at the moon. The man was going to die anyway. I pounded a fist against the stone wall, which only bruised my fist. That was the worst part of it, though. Arrogant as he was, the king was going to die. The wizard would win, with or without my help. If I waited here Isabelle would die as well. And me. I closed my eyes and nodded. They thought me still a murderer. They had no plan to listen to my plea.