Chased By Fire (Book 1) Page 11

  Tan started down, moving carefully in the water, trying to keep his profile low. The farther he climbed, the more he realized it was unnecessary. The rocky slope quickly grew steeper and the stream moved through larger and larger boulders. Tan no longer worried about being seen but rather about being ambushed and caught unaware.

  Though he moved as quietly as he could, the howling of the hounds filled the night. Tan stayed hidden along the rocks as he crept lower, slowly moving his way toward the town.

  What kind of distraction should he expect from Roine? There hadn’t been time to discuss. How would he know when it was safe to move?

  Tan hunched behind smaller rocks. The braying sounded louder here. Tan kept himself tight against the rocks as he moved, inching his feet forward, fearing a rockslide with each step.

  Peering over the nearest stone, he was high enough that he stared down into town. Nothing moved along the streets. He saw no sign of the hounds. Or, more importantly, the lisincend.

  This close, the heat they radiated was a dry heat, powerful and caustic. His lungs ached as he breathed it in. What sort of distraction would be enough to draw them away?

  The distant howling intensified, as if cornering its prey. Then the ground started to shake.

  The rumbling started far up the slope, a slow shaking of the ground such that Tan had to steady himself on the nearest rock, and gradually intensified. A deep rumble came with it, vibrating his body. Tan had only once before experienced something like this and that during a rockslide long ago. A few small rocks slid toward him from up the slope, but nothing larger.

  The shaking knocked Tan off of his feet.

  He tucked his head to his chest, trying to protect it during the fall, and rolled. When he stopped, he jumped to his feet. The baying hounds cried painfully before falling silent.

  Now Tan saw the lisincend clearly, as if the shaking ground disrupted the veil.

  It looked around, sniffing the air carefully. The men within Velminth cowered toward the protection of the buildings. A few looked ready to run, staring at the lisincend as if waiting for an opportunity. Finally the lisincend looked down the slope, toward the south, and slid down the road and out of sight. Toward Cobin and Bal. He hoped they would be fine.

  Tan moved down the rest of the slope, trying to use the still-sliding rocks as camouflage for any noise he might make. Then he reached the soft ground at the base of the rock.

  Tan followed the stream as it wound toward the Destin. The stink of sulfur and heat filled his nose. Breathing through his mouth didn’t help much. As he reached one of the town’s streets, he snuck quickly along the muddy road, hurrying to a nearby building. The structure was squat and built of huge logs, and Tan pressed his back into the wood, hoping to blend into the shadows.

  Already he worried that he had been discovered. His heart pounded wildly and he strained to control his breathing. Any loud sound would give him away.

  But nothing moved in the night.

  Down in the town, the distance to the pen at the center of town seemed so far away. He moved from building to building, pressing against each as he passed. Constant fear of hounds and lisincend worked through him.

  Moving through the town seemed to take an eternity. Buildings that had seemed small now loomed large and imposing. Streets that had looked like straight conduits through town were no longer as certain.

  And then he saw the square. It was small, more of a grassy opening, a place for the weekly market and somewhere for the townsfolk to gather and conduct meetings, yet on this night and with the strange shadows over everything, it appeared immense.

  The cage stood at the center of the square. There was nothing exotic about it; it constructed of simple stripped lumber and it did not look as large as it had from above. People cowered toward the middle of the cage, fearful of getting too close to the open slats. The door opened on this side.

  The challenge now was getting to the cage.

  Two men made their way around the square, pacing with muted steps. Occasionally, they cast glances at the other or at the cage and the prisoners within. What would it take for someone to work with the lisincend? Fear would drive someone, he knew. But could there really be any sort of reward?

  Tan needed his own diversion. Any distraction would do, something to take the men out of the square. Roine couldn’t have planned for this, which meant he’d have to do it on his own.

  A sudden crack of lightning sizzled through the air so close it could have been over his shoulder. A clap of thunder followed, a deep rumbling that shook the building where he hid. The men standing within the square looked at each other nervously a moment then the man closest to Tan walked across the square to the other.

  “It could be them,” one said. It was the man that had been closest to Tan. He was shorter than the other and his voice was pitched low.

  The other shook his head. “They left to check on the hounds.”

  “Not them.”

  “You think more?” His voice rose in a moment of fear.

  The shorter man shrugged. “Let’s pray it’s not. Perhaps they simply return.”

  “Great Mother!” He looked up the street in the direction of the last lightning strike. “We probably should check.”

  The men took off at a jog up the street. Tan waited until he couldn’t hear them before peeling away from the building to peer around the square, looking around and searching for signs of men, hounds, or worse—the lisincend.

  Nothing moved in town. More importantly, no heat radiated toward him.

  So he ran.

  Sprinting across the square, he looked around him, keeping his head low. Clouds had shifted, covering the moon and leaving everything in strange, twisting shadows. The run felt like it went forever, but it could not have been more than a few seconds until he reached the cage.

  Someone inside cried out and was quickly shushed. Tan looked between the slats at the people within and saw no more than ten, each wearing the bright colors of the Aeta. Their clothing was stained and covered with ash and mud, yet still unmistakable.

  He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment. No survivors from Nor.

  “I’m here to help,” he whispered.

  “Who are you?”

  The voice carried more strength than Tan would have been able to muster under the same circumstances. “I’m Tan Minden, from Nor.”

  “Son of Ephra?”

  He recognized the voice and the authority it carried. The Mother still lived. Could Amia as well? “Is this all of you?”

  “All that are left,” the Mother answered.

  Tan shivered with the connotation, remembering the caravan of Aeta that had ridden into Nor only a few nights before. So many now lost. Fewer than lost in Nor, but lost just the same.

  A heavy iron lock hung on the door, but the rest of the cage and the door were wooden. If he could cut through the wood, he could free the captives. If only he had Cobin’s axe.

  The only thing he could find was a large rock laying half buried. He struck at the wood around the lock. He dented it, but the door suffered little other damage.

  There were cries within the cage and someone urged him to hurry. He struck harder upon the wood to no avail.

  Another crackle of lightning split the sky, briefly blinding him. Clouds seemed to have thickened. Rain would come next. Pressure began building behind his ears again, as it had several times throughout the day. Tan ignored it, focusing on the door. Yet the pressure built to a painful level, getting worse with each strike on the wood.

  Still he did not stop. He could not stop.

  With a sudden explosion, the wood around the door shattered. Lightning burst in the distance and the pressure in his head was gone. Tan pulled the broken door open, leaving the lock in place. The Aeta stumbled out.

  “Ten?” he asked, counting the Aeta as they left the cage. Amia was among them. She eyed him as she came through the door. “That is all that remain? Where are the rest of your p
eople?”

  The Mother shook her head, a pained expression upon her face that quickly passed, replaced with a steely resolve. “Gone. As should we be.”

  There was no time to waste. If they made their way back toward the stream and up, they might hide their departure as long as possible. As they reached the edge of the square, a voice in the shadows stopped him.

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  Tan skidded to a stop. His heart beat rapidly.

  A dark shadow stepped forward from the street and Tan felt his stomach drop. His hand went for his hunting knife. He paused, the knife forgotten, as he recognized the person blocking his way.

  Lins Alles stood before him. Rain and muck slicked his black hair from his head. A heavy cloak hung over his shoulders. He held an unsheathed sword casually in his hand. In spite of that, a nervous twitch pulled at his eyes and they flicked around him, searching the darkness.

  “Lins,” Tan said, completely surprised. After seeing only the Aeta within the cage and no signs of anyone from Nor, he had not expected to see anyone he knew, least of all Lins Alles. Yet here he stood, blocking his way. “What are you doing here?”

  Lins sneered at him. “I would ask you the same.” He flickered a glance at the Aeta and a half-smile turned his mouth. “I’d tell you to leave the food alone, but the hounds will only capture them again anyway.”

  The Aeta cowered away from him. “What are you doing?” Tan asked, confused. “You are working with them?”

  Lins shrugged. “Incendin will come one way or another,” he answered, his eyes growing distant. “My father did not understand,” he continued, closing his eyes briefly. “I brought it to him first but he didn’t believe me. Said Incendin’s time had passed. Now…now I’ll rule much more than a manor house.”

  Tan didn’t think Lins would live long enough to see that time, but didn’t tell Lins that. “What happened in Nor?”

  Lins shook his head and his eyes snapped back into focus. “Does it matter?”

  Tan shook his head, unable to wrap his head around what he heard. Lins had betrayed the people of Nor. His friends. His mother. Everyone he had ever known.

  “Are you the reason the lisincend crossed the barrier? The reason they destroyed Nor?”

  Lins just blinked.

  Rage worked through him. The arm holding the knife shook. “Are you, Lins?”

  Lins’s face went blank. “Back in the cage. All of you.” He waved his sword.

  Amia stepped between them. The rage within him simply vanished. Tan looked at Lins and saw an expression of sadness and regret, mixed with fear.

  “Go. Now.” She spoke with power and authority. Energy seemed to sizzle in the air.

  “The lisincend,” Lins stammered. “I didn’t know. It was only to be Incendin shapers. No hounds. No lisincend. No one was to be hurt.” He shook his head and his eyes bulged, as if surprised by his admission. “I didn’t know.”

  Amia frowned, tilting her head as she considered him a moment longer. “No,” she said, agreeing. “I sense that you did not.” She sighed and fixed him with a firm gaze. “Go. You will not forget what you did.” The words rang with command.

  Lins started whimpering. Tears streamed down his face. Looking to Tan with terror, he dropped his sword before running from the square. Tan watched him leave, uncertain of what had just happened.

  “What was that?” he asked Amia.

  She shook her head. “We should go.”

  He nodded and led them through Velminth toward the stream at the northern edge of town, hugging the shadows of the buildings as much as they could. The muddy streets slowed them. Tan had them step carefully, praying for silence each time the mud sucked his foot into the ground. Finally, the stream was visible.

  As they neared the rocks, a terrible sound, like that of hot coals exploding in a fire, came from behind them. Heat rolled over him, enveloping him.

  A surge of fear stole through him.

  He did not turn, knowing without looking what he’d find.

  The lisincend had returned.

  CHAPTER 18

  An Impossible Request

  Heat blasted them. Tan ducked, but it made no difference. “Hurry!”

  When they were about halfway across the clearing, the temperature of the air doubled. As a dizzying sense of movement spun around him, the pressure of heat forced him to stop.

  “Hand me the girl.” The words were like a crackling fire.

  Tan turned. One of the lisincend stood behind them, blocking the road. A shimmer of heat surrounded him, creating a hazy veil.

  “I will not.” The Mother stepped forward, straightening her back as she faced the lisincend.

  It laughed, the sound like steam hissing. “You have no choice in this.”

  The Mother pushed Amia behind Tan, stepping backward as she did. Her eyes darted to the side and fixed briefly on the small stream. “Why do you do this?”

  She tried to buy time. There was nothing they could do against the lisincend other than buy time. But for what? No one was coming to help them.

  “You are not to question why, Aeta.”

  “My people have been nothing but peaceful with Incendin,” the Mother answered.

  Another laugh. “Peace is no longer enough. The lost are nothing, will be nothing. Give me the girl.”

  The Mother shook her head. “You know I cannot. Why not let us go? You can report that you never found us.” She pressed back a step as she spoke. The rest of the Aeta all moved with her, taking the slow and cautious step deeper into the shadows.

  “Report?” the lisincend growled.

  There was a sudden flare of heat, scorching. Tan’s throat went dry. His skin felt like it blistered, as if standing in an open flame. He wished for nothing more than the rain to return.

  The Mother smiled. “I mean no offense.” She took a slow step to her left. “I assumed Fur commanded the lisincend. If that has changed—”

  The creature only laughed again with the strange hissing way that it did. “You cannot play me like you seduce these villagers, Mother of the lost.”

  There was a strange click in its throat.

  The Aeta closest to the lisincend burst into flames. Fire engulfed her quickly, burning as if from inside, ripping through her flesh and clothes. Everyone took a step back. Someone cried.

  The woman’s scream, a horrible cry splitting the night, ended abruptly as she crumpled to the ground in a pile of char and ash.

  Tan struggled not to vomit. How was such a thing even a thing even possible?

  Pushing Amia before him, he tried to move away, but there was nowhere for them to go.

  One of the hounds sat not far from them, blocking escape to the stream. Bright eyes stared at him. Tan almost imagined a hungry smile across its lips. He stopped, turning to see another hound watching them near the edge of town. As if waiting for him to run.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Amia.

  She looked up at him, wide eyes softening. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Tan. You did what you could.”

  In any other time, he would have melted at the way she said his name. Worse than being unable to do anything, he’d probably hastened her death. He felt shame and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “This is my fault.”

  She reached a hand up to his face and forced him to meet her eyes. She laughed softly. The sound surprised him, so out of place with the terror he felt. “The fault lies with Incendin. You give us the hope of freedom.”

  A knot formed in his throat. Tan couldn’t look away from her.

  “Where is the girl?” the lisincend asked again.

  The Mother breathed heavily as she looked deliberately at the fallen Aeta. “There is no girl such as you seek.” She took another careful step toward the stream.

  The lisincend flared heat again. It was angry. Was that part of the Mother’s plan?

  There was another click, followed by a slow hiss. Another Aeta burst into flames.

&nbs
p; They screamed and the rest took a quick back, trying to move across the dark jumble of weeds at the edge of Velminth toward the stream.

  The unnatural fire of the immolated Aeta briefly illuminated the night. She writhed in pain until stopping, moving no more.

  “How many more of your people will you sacrifice for her?”

  “How much longer will you defy the accords?” One foot touched the stream, barely sinking into the water.

  The lisincend laughed again. “How much longer will you cling to them? The day soon comes when the world will see the last of the Lost.” It clicked again. Another of the Aeta shrieked as flames engulfed him.

  The lisincend let the fire linger, reveling in his torture of the Aeta, slowly burning the man to a char. The heat around it faded, clearing the haze and the veil. A smile could almost be imagined tugging its lips.

  Only three Aeta remained.

  “You will leave this town.”

  Amia spoke behind him, startling him with the intensity and command in the words. A beautiful anger hung about her. She blazed with energy.

  “You will leave these lands.”

  Power to her words thrummed through him, past him, and directed at the horrible creature. The lisincend did not answer.

  “You will honor the accords.”

  Amia hammered each word in such a way that Tan felt them tear through him. He could not imagine defying her request.

  “Get out of my head!” The lisincend flared heat and disappeared behind the shimmering veil.

  Another Aeta vanished in a flash of flame and smoke, dying without a word, leaving only the Mother and Amia. Amia flinched behind him and he felt her stagger, nearly falling. He turned to help keep her on her feet.

  She stared past him, toward the lisincend. Her eyes flashed fury at the creature. Her forehead was reddened, almost as if slapped, and her hair smelled like it had been singed, as well. Amia took his hand. Tan held it, too afraid to run.

  The lisincend turned its rage on the Mother. Heat rose around her. The veil around the lisincend parted, splitting like a curtain in the shimmering haze, and the creature stepped forward, grabbing the Mother and lifting her chin. Her face sizzled and smoked as it touched her. Somehow, she did not flinch. The scent of burnt flesh hung pungent in the air.