Chapter 27 #2
I found what might be the key to overcoming the scourge sorcerers… but Ivy’s the one who’ll have to put my theory into action. One more burden weighing down on her.
But if it’s the last burden she’ll have to shoulder, won’t that be worth it? Isn’t that exactly what I was searching for?
I lift my gaze to meet hers, watching for any sign of discomfort.
“Tonight when the Order of the Wild is making camp, you could conjure a wall of fire that moves as if to consume them. If the actual scourge sorcerers among the ‘Wildings’ have the same mentality as those before, you won’t need to take it any farther than that—you won’t have to actually hurt anyone.
They’ll lose their resolve, and their dedication to their mission will fall apart. ”
“You could burn up some of the daimon to free them as well,” Rheave suggests.
Ivy frowns, but it’s more of a thoughtful expression than an unsettled one.
“If I make a wall big enough to terrify them, I’m not sure I should try to stretch my control even farther.
But just a big mass of flames moving in one direction shouldn’t be that difficult.
I’ll have to freeze a lot of trees to balance things out. ” She lets out a short laugh.
“It seems overly simple,” Stavros says. “And if the trick doesn’t shatter their conviction, they’ll know someone was working magic against them. They’ll search us out.”
Ivy shrugs. “If it comes to that, I can stop them from finding us. None of our smaller attempts have had a real impact—we need to do something big.”
Another spark of inspiration lights in my head. “Perhaps you could shape the flames just a bit, make the impression of a face in the fire. Give them the sense that it’s a warning from the gods rather than a magical attack.”
Casimir smiles crookedly. “That might frighten anyone into giving up a quest, scourge sorcerer or not.”
“Perfect.” Ivy squares her shoulders, and just for an instant, I think I see her jaw flex with tension she quickly masters. The ache in my chest expands.
I could tell her to forget it. That we’ll find another way that doesn’t require her tapping into the magic she avoided for so long even more than she already has.
But I honestly can’t imagine what that other way could be. This one move could be the end of our struggle. We leave the scourge sorcerers shaken and demoralized, and they’ll either scatter back to their homes or be so much easier for us to finish picking them apart.
And we can return to King Konram not just victorious but with a proven strategy for snuffing out the rest of the conspiracy that threatens him and his family.
“We have plenty of time to think over the best approach while we’re still marching after them,” I say. “We’d better keep going before they get too much of a lead.”
Ivy makes a sound of scoffing amusement. “I can follow their trail anywhere.”
By the time Ivy senses that the march has stopped, it’s fully dark other than the moonlight that casts an eerie glow over the landscape. I suppose we should be glad even that’s not swallowed up by clouds tonight.
To our benefit, the Order of the Wild seems to prefer to make their camps with a border of woodland around them, presumably to keep them even more hidden from afar if there’s a brief faltering of their concealing magic.
That makes it easy for us to find a sheltered spot nearby to set up our own camp.
Tonight, Stavros doesn’t bother building a fire or unpacking the blankets. We find a clump of bushes with leaves the horses are happy to strip, and Ivy gulps down a quick meal of pilfered dried venison and bread to fortify herself.
My stomach has clenched too tightly for me to think about eating before we set my plan in motion. When she tugs her cloak closer around her and looks toward the Order camp as if ready to set off, I clear my throat. “I’m coming with you.”
Ivy jerks around to stare at me. “What?”
I hate that she’s so startled by the declaration. That it never even occurred to her I might stand by her in this.
I draw myself up to look as confident as possible. “It was my idea. You should have someone with you who can keep an eye on everything that’s going on while you concentrate completely on your magic.”
Rheave steps forward. “I can come too.”
Stavros clears his throat. “If anyone’s going to watch out for Ivy, I should—”
“Men.” Casimir’s soft voice is firm enough to cut through Stavros’s words. He aims one of his fond smiles at Ivy. “We all want to protect Ivy. But the more people go with her, the more she has to worry about keeping hidden. Let’s not strain her with our desire to prove ourselves?”
Rheave deflates with a guilty expression. He looks at Ivy. “I don’t want to make it harder for you.”
Stavros sighs. “There should still be someone with her.”
“And that should be Alek,” Ivy says before he can go on, holding out her hand to me. “He has the best understanding of what we’re trying to accomplish. The rest of you, be ready in case we need to retreat quickly.”
As her fingers close around mine, there’s no more argument from the others. Even through our gloves, the feel of her touch reminds me of the first time I removed my mask for her, the brush of her hand across my scarred cheek where the breeze grazes it now.
Out of all the people in the world, she’s the only one I’m sure has never seen me as a lesser man for my flaws.
We walk to the edge of the Order camp in careful silence. Ivy gives my hand a light squeeze in warning that we’re about to step through.
It’s still a shock when the sprawl of tents and wagons appears out of nothing in front of us. I come to a stop next to Ivy with a hitch of breath.
I knew more people had gathered since the first time we stumbled on the camp, but I wasn’t totally prepared to see the whole vast sprawl of it. All at once, I feel incredibly small.
Ivy releases my hand, her face already tensing with concentration. I can’t imagine what it’s like trying to hold everything she’s doing in her mind all at once, wrangling the threads of her magic when it always wants her to give it free rein.
The Order of the Wild members don’t appear to be worried about anything unusual befalling them. They’re circulating around the camp, readying their dinner and prepping the tents.
The hum of conversation feels unnervingly companionable, as if they think they’re off on a leisurely jaunt across the country, not a mission to slaughter the royal family and throw our entire country into upheaval.
Next to me, Ivy inhales with a faint rasp. That’s my only warning that she’s about to begin.
With a warbling roar, a wave of fire some twenty paces wide and twice as tall as any man surges up at the edge of the camp. Even though she’s conjured it at a safe distance from the two of us, the heat wafts through the air to where I’m standing.
The scars on my face tingle with the sudden warmth. I haven’t worn a mask since I lost my usual one in our hasty flight from our apartment in Pima.
The conspirators scramble away from the flames with a chorus of gasps and shouts. I scan their faces, trying to make out which are the scourge sorcerers and which merely their dupes.
Is anyone cowering in terror of their mortality already?
Someone points at the wall of fire, and I flick my gaze toward it long enough to make out the shapes of eyes and a mouth curved into a sneer amid the flames.
Ivy’s really pulling it off. This is worth a whole forest of frozen trees.
“Back to the other side of camp!” someone yells in an authoritative tone. “Pull whichever wagons you can reach.”
Some of the figures simply race to the far end of the camp area, but just as many leap to the wagons and start hauling them. They’re obviously scared, but no one seems to be falling apart the way I hoped.
I turn to Ivy to suggest she push the fire closer and show that it’s coming for them. My voice snags in my throat.
Her face has turned wan, the whites of her eyes gleaming as if she’s as worried as the people she’s threatening.
All at once, the flames shoot higher and farther. They lash out, licking across the nearest tents.
Ivy’s lips move with a hushed muttering I can’t decipher, but there’s no mistaking the urgency of her tone. Her hands twitch at her sides.
Another burst of flames smacks into the side of an abandoned wagon.
“Can’t let him…” I think I hear her say before her words muddle again.
The face has vanished. The Order members are still retreating in the wake of the fiery destruction, but no one’s cowering or pleading for forgiveness for their sins.
My gut plummets. It didn’t work. And Ivy—
She trembles next to me. I reach for her but hesitate, not sure if distracting her would make things better or worse.
Before I can decide, she sucks in a breath, her stance going rigid. There’s a whoosh as the entire wall of flame snuffs out as swiftly as it rose up.
She sways, and I catch her arm to restore her balance. Her gaze is fixed on the blackened swath of camp.
“I had to—I had to stop…” she mumbles.
A holler reverberates from the far side of the field. “Wildings, prepare a search! The traitors who want to prop up their false king are here!”
Great God smite me, one of them’s already seen through our trick. They barely appear shaken, and Ivy—Ivy teeters as she spins around.
Guilt clamps around my innards from throat to belly. All I can do is throw my arm around her back to hold her steady as we race back to the others.
Is she in any condition to even keep us hidden much longer?
I thought I understood—I wanted to believe I’d found the answer so badly. Gods, how I’ve fucked up.
And my mistake could be the ruin of us all.