Chapter Twenty-Six #2
The stream running along the path glistened in the soft light, giving her an idea.
Ione hiked her cloak and dress up to her knees and stepped into the water, her breath catching at the shocking cold seeping into her boots.
Her eyes on the dots of black far ahead, Ione widened her stance and shifted her weight back, waterspouts snaking around her as she raised one arm.
The current quickened, the water surging and carrying her down the mountain at breakneck speed. Ione held her breath, her eyes brimming with tears at the autumn wind on her face. Cairns and waypoints zoomed by in a blur, faster than she could identify them.
Soon she could make out the fuzzy shapes of the carriages, the shining white horses. She was close, but the stream was changing direction, lilting away from the path. Ione twisted, throwing one arm up, concentrating on the carriages until her head pounded.
The stream swelled, bursting, launching her into the air. So fast, too fast – her limbs flailed, the water slapping uselessly to the ground as her control slipped. She forgot to breathe as she saw the carriages racing towards her. And then beneath her.
Her stomach rose into her throat as she free-fell. The sky and ground blurred into one, her body tumbling, tumbling. And wouldn’t that be funny? To crash in a bloody splat, right before Saros’s carriage? He’d love that, a grisly cherry atop everything else he had done to her.
Absolutely not.
Ione gritted her teeth and kicked hard, summoning a thick trunk of water to spiral upwards, to fan out, a hand extending to the heavens. She plunged into it, icy bubbles flooding past her; she curled, her momentum slowing, and bade the water to carry her safely down to earth.
Her body hit something solid, rocky. The torrent collapsed and she heard horses screaming and rearing back, drivers shushing them and cursing her.
Ione heaved herself up onto her hands and knees, sopping wet, coughing.
She forced herself up, drawing the water out of her clothes and hair, willing herself to stand tall.
A door creaked open. “Ah, Ione.” A head of grey hair popped out of the middle carriage, Saros, stepping down onto the path and patting one of the horses as he came to stand before her.
He opened his arms, pristine robes fluttering in the gentle breeze.
“Welcome. I wondered when you’d arrive; it seemed unlike you to keep your nose where it belonged. ”
Ione could barely hear him over the nauseating dizziness. She blinked hard, searching. No Lina. She craned her neck then, glancing behind her at the coming army. Still a far way off, but creeping closer with every minute.
“Oh, yes.” Saros stood on tiptoe, peering out at the invading dawn of orange robes and red banners. “I suppose we’re near enough to our meeting place.”
Hatred flooded her, as comforting as her own heartbeat. “Where is she?”
Saros laughed, nearing a step, his movements casual. Behind him, the middle carriage’s door flew open again, slamming against the side.
“Saros.” Kai leapt out, wearing a cloak the colour of moonlight. After him, River, Hilo, and Etan stepped down onto the road. “Not a finger.”
Saros flitted aside with a gentlemanly bow. “You think I’d harm one of my own?”
“I don’t think it,” Kai said, shooting him a look as he muscled past him. “I know it. Now get back inside and stop fucking around.”
Another hearty laugh. “Who’s commanding who?”
“Ineen, for gods’ sakes.” Kai took her arms, his face pale and jaw tight. He sighed, not bothering to ask what she was doing here, and hauled her into a hug.
She felt River’s hand on her back, heard Mikau and Cynthia emerge from another carriage, their worried admonishments washing over her. Ione disentangled herself from Kai’s grasp and stared up at him, gripping the sleeves of his coat. “Where is she?”
Kai’s lips pursed. River lowered his eyes, and the other seleneschals shifted, their silence telling.
Her blood ran cold. “Kai, you didn’t – ”
“Good gods, don’t keep her in suspense,” Saros chided him. “Come on out,” he called behind him to the carriages. “Here is far enough.”
Ione’s arms slackened, falling from Kai’s as a team of soldiers and spellcasters filed out from the remaining carriages, swords and ice daggers gleaming in the light as they formed a half-circle around Ione and the others.
And finally, one last pair emerged: Lina, her head high and cloak ripped, and Nalu, one hand pinning Lina’s arms behind her and the other holding a knife to her neck.
Not one person spoke as Nalu walked Lina up to the front, keeping a wide berth from Kai, who had gone very still.
“It is a gamble, keeping the two of them so near,” Saros said mildly. “But I’m a gambler, it seems.” He folded his hands behind his back. “When a god crosses your path, naturally you wouldn’t waste the opportunity. Oh, Malia!”
A woman in a black cloak wove her way through the spellcasters, not lowering herself to look at any of them as she came to stand behind Kai.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, although I’m sorry to see you’re still looking so glum.
” Saros lifted his arms. “This is it!” he cried: “The end of our struggles, the birth of a new era. A new world, ushered in by your son.” He reached for her hand, seeming perfectly unbothered when she did not take it.
“Cheer up, Mam.” Nalu’s knife glinted as he angled it, forcing Lina to tilt her head back. “You always wanted this kind of glory. And there’s a lot of money in running the new world.”
Malia’s head snapped towards him. “If you think I want you to hold a knife to an innocent girl’s throat, then I have sorely failed you as a mother.”
Ione let them talk, the sound of Saros’s responding laughter grating on her as she edged closer to Lina and Nalu. Kai cast for her, but she whipped her arm back and slipped through the others.
“Don’t do anything hasty,” Nalu said genially as she approached. He jutted his chin and a row of ice spears burst out from the ground between them.
“Nalu,” she heard Kai caution, although he couldn’t get any closer to Lina without risking both of them losing control.
Ione melted the ice without a second thought. “You’re the one who should be worried,” she said, warmed when she heard Cynthia follow her. “You’re threatening a god.”
“Pointlessly, too,” Lina added, smiling as she gazed straight ahead. “I arrived of my own accord and intend to be very good.”
Nalu scoffed. “You think I’m stupid?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ione couldn’t help but smile. As hopeless as this all felt, that was Lina.
He pressed the knife into her neck, his mouth twisting into an ugly grin – until he nicked her skin, bringing about a flash of Sowelan’s healing magic bright enough to make him flinch.
“Careful,” Ione said, her heart lifting when Lina smiled. “You’ll incite Sowelan’s wrath.”
“And He has been very moody today,” Lina rejoined – and Nalu dug the knife harder against Lina’s skin, making her stifle a gasp.
Sizzling, the reek of burnt flesh. Cursing, Nalu flung the knife to the ground and fell back from Lina, gripping his wrist, his right hand singed and bleeding.
The knife, red-hot, melted into the gravel.
Lina rolled her shoulders and brushed her hair back. “I’d like a moment with my heliade, please.”
Breathing heavily, Nalu looked to Cynthia like she might help him. When she didn’t, he shoved past her, shouting for a healer.
“Have your moment,” Cynthia said as she turned her back to them, standing guard. “But please let it include a plan to avoid all of us dying.”
Unable to stop herself, especially when Lina cast her a self-satisfied smirk, Ione asked facetiously, “Do you have a plan at all?”
Lina made an affronted noise. “I’m following the whispers of the gods, and I expect my heliade not to question me.”
Ione matched her grin, her arms automatically wrapping around Lina’s waist. “You inspire such confidence.”
Lina delved her fingers into Ione’s hair and kissed her, and for just a moment, the world around them disappeared.
“Thank you for coming here,” she whispered before kissing her again, again.
“And – I know. I know.” She gazed skyward, searching for the words.
“I can’t explain it,” she finished softly.
“But I have to be here. I… I truly believe that.”
Ione held her face, studied the light in her eyes, the thrill, the fear. “I know,” she murmured. “And I’ll stand with you.”
“Stop,” Kai snapped behind them, startling them both. “I’m fine, Hilo, stop asking.” He groaned, his shoulders curling. He let River touch his arms, his back, rubbing his own head as he complained of the never-ending fucking pain.
Saros whirled, ignoring whatever Malia said to him. “Bear it, you infant,” he hissed. “Do not embarrass me.”
Kai straightened without complaint, arms falling stiffly. He let out a breath, clearly still in pain as he gritted, “Copy.”
Lina, too, blew out a breath, her hold on Ione’s arms tightening. She closed her eyes and shook her head, returning her focus to Ione. “Trust me,” she whispered. “You don’t have to trust Sowelan. But trust me.”
Ione wanted to. She really did. But it wasn’t just trusting Lina: it was trusting Kai, who quaked with the effort of keeping Menon at bay.
It was trusting Nalu, who cursed Lina while Mikau grudgingly healed his hand.
It was trusting the hydromancers and soldiers, their apprehension palpable; Rigel’s army, close enough now that Ione could hear the beat of their marching boots.
And Saros, who could never be trusted.
Someone made a noise, and the sun blazed through the thick clouds. As one, Ione and Lina and everyone else whirled around, their breaths collectively stopping.
It wasn’t the sun, but hundreds of fireballs swirling in the grey sky.
“Shield it,” Saros bellowed.