Firesoul Read online

  Locking her teeth against a startled cry, Jiri shifted her grip but held on to the kindi and stepped back. Off the burning floor, she made herself pull her pack back before looking down at the little figure.

  The spear. That had been the thing that burned her when she picked it up, that spike of hot metal. I almost cut myself on it, almost did what I was warning Sera and Linaria not to do. But she hadn't, and now she held the little wooden man and stared at him, wondering why he was here, sealed in with this thing. Who are you? she asked the little carving. Why did they leave you alone with this monster? And why do you look so familiar?

  "I feel it."

  Sera's growl interrupted the spiral of Jiri's thoughts. The paladin was still staring at the obsidian carving that towered over her, its wings stretching across the walls and around her like the promise of conflagration.

  "I can feel the taint this thing has left behind. I feel its evil." Sera spun to face Jiri, her boot heels smoking and her eyes shining. "I will find it and send it back to whatever hell claims it, and I will prove myself again. To Iomedae, and all those who serve her with doubt in their hearts."

  "We should go," Jiri said, the hand that held the kindi hidden in her pack. "We push our luck, staying..." She trailed off, her eyes rising. The obsidian above them was shifting. Not like heat shimmers, not wavering, but moving, and the diamonds that gleamed up there were moving, too. Moving in pairs, two of them together at all times, like—

  "Sera," Jiri warned, and she slung her pack over one shoulder, holding her spear. Above, stone hissed against stone, and a black shape fell from its spot high on one of the walls. It spread wings and dove at them, Jiri's light flashing across it. Something like a person, something like a bat, a swooping piece of obsidian with diamond eyes, whose hands carried sharp splinters of stone.

  "I see it," Sera said, and her sword swung through the air.

  The obsidian creature twisted in its dive, but not quite enough. Sera's sword edge crashed against a wingtip and sparks and stone fragments flew. The creature shrieked, a sound like grating stone, and hit the floor. Its wings scrabbled loudly over the symbols scribed there, then it flipped itself over and drove both of its blades into Sera's boot. The paladin didn't make a sound, just pulled back her foot and kicked the obsidian face, crushing it. The stone carving dropped its weapons, pulled in its wings, and exploded.

  Fire bloomed out of it, red and gold, and jagged fragments of obsidian clattered against the walls. Jiri felt a sting across her calf, looked down to see a line of blood drawn by one of the stone chips.

  "Shit," Sera said, her voice almost thoughtful. Her boot was shredded, and beneath its torn and charred leather Jiri could see blood. Over them, the movement increased, more and more of the things above waking, spreading wings, staring down with jewel-bright eyes.

  "Move," Jiri said, backing up. She hissed as her shoulder hit a wall carving and the sharp stone bit her, but she didn't take her eyes off the chamber in front of her, off Sera limping backward, her shield up, her armor scraping the carved walls. When she was clear of the obsidian walls of that narrow hall, Jiri stepped to the side. When Sera got within reach, Jiri reached out and caught the paladin's white tabard. Then she ducked the armored elbow that the woman threw back.

  "Careful girl," the paladin warned. "Don't touch me in battle."

  I don't want to be anywhere near you in battle, Jiri thought. "Start up. I can slow them down."

  Sera's eyes narrowed, but she sheathed her sword and slung her shield with only an instant of hesitation. "I hope you can."

  Jiri stepped in front of the obsidian passage and squared her shoulders. She reached out for the spirits, feeling the ones she wanted tangled in the hot wind that pushed at her. Behind her, she heard Sera whisper a prayer, the same words she had used when she had healed Jiri earlier. Then the paladin moved, the sound of her boots scraping against the stone as she scrambled up. Jiri listened, praying that the woman's ancestors were watching her and willing to help.

  Whether or not this works, I might need her healing again.

  The sounds of Sera's escape were drowned out by the clicking and grating of stone wings moving. Jiri could see the dark cloud of bat-winged creatures swirling at the end of the narrow tunnel, spinning around the circular chamber, faster, faster.

  And then, like a storm, they broke. They poured down the passage, wings clinking off each other and the walls, their tiny knives glinting in Jiri's light. Jiri felt the magic in her and wanted to let it out, to throw it at these creatures before they could get too close, but she held it. Held it until they had almost reached the end of the tunnel, then let it go, along with her breath.

  That little bit of air, released from her lungs, hit the wind that pushed its way out of the heart of the Pyre and mixed with it. Mixed and grew, swelling, quickening, taking over, and a new wind roared down the corridor, away from Jiri. The gale caught the little flying creatures, shoved them tumbling backward, colliding with one another and the walls, and then it started. First one, then another and another, a cascade of fire and deadly fragments filling the hall as the stone creatures shattered and burst. Jiri spun away, running, but she felt the fragments hit her, cutting her back, her legs, her scalp. She could still run, though, and deaf from the sound of their deaths, half-blind from sweat and heat and blood, she turned and began to scramble up the steep stone ramp that led back to her companions. Up and around the first curve, waiting for tiny hands to catch her, for little wings to smash around her as black stone knives rose and fell. That fear crushed everything else away, and she was halfway up the passage before she noticed the shaking.

  The trembling ran through the stone, up her hands and her feet. Jiri pulled herself up, the tunnel flat enough now to let her run, and she could see the haze of dust sifting down from the ceiling, the chunks of rock that were beginning to fall.

  The force of the explosions below had run ahead of her, and the Pyre was falling apart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Little Knowledge, Hard-Won

  Jiri ran.

  Her bare feet pounded over the shaking stone, through dust and gravel, the pain from her burned toes and cuts drowned beneath adrenaline. She tore down the corridor, away from the wings that were following her, away from death beneath tired, uncaring stone. She ran, and only slowed when she reached Sera.

  "Keep going," The paladin might have been trying to shout, but dust and heat and exertion had left her voice a dull croak. "Warn the others."

  Jiri didn't answer, just sped up and raced around the last bend. In front of her she could see Linaria through the arch of the door, her hand wreathed in a smoking white nimbus of light. The half-elf called out, "Jiri!" but didn't move, didn't release the cold magic she had caught in her fist. Jiri pelted past her and brought herself to a skittering stop on the stone fragments that covered the floor, the smashed chunks of statue now mixed with pieces of the wall and ceiling.

  "Sera. Coming!" Jiri flung the words out, fighting for air. She could see Morvius now, standing on the other side of the tunnel's entrance, Scritch held tight in his hand. Ready to skewer any foe that came out of the tunnel for Linaria. "Things. Following!"

  "Expand on ‘things'!" Morvius shouted, then cursed when a fist-sized chunk of stone fell from the cracked ceiling and bounced off his arm.

  Jiri moved back, away from the possibly collapsing tunnel, trying to raise her voice enough to be heard over the groaning stone. "Little flying statues. They shatter into fire when you break them!"

  Now it was Linaria's turn to curse. The sorcerer backed up and joined Jiri in the center of the room, where the cracks in the ceiling were thinner and only dust seeped down. Morvius moved with her, his spearpoint leveled at the door.

  "Should we keep going?"

  "We wait for Sera," Linaria snapped.

  "Just thought I'd ask," Morvius said. "I know how you hate being buried alive."

  "We're not—"

  Two cracks, sharp explosive pops that al
most overlapped, rang out from the tunnel that Sera was in , and with a groan the roof of that passage began to give way. Rocks rattled and dust bloomed, hiding everything and making it impossible to breathe. Jiri squinted, trying to make her dry eyes yield a few tears to wash away the dust, and stepped forward. There came a sharp rattle of stone against steel, and in front of her dust swirled around polished metal.

  Sera ducked through the archway, boots sliding on the loose pile of rubble that half filled it. The paladin's armor and tabard were as clean as ever, bright as the shield she held over her head. The grandeur of her image, the warrior striding through disaster, was only diminished by the ragged ruin of her left boot and the dust that caked her face. That dust turned to mud on her right cheek, where a slash spilled blood down to her chin.

  "There are more—" Sera cut off as a chunk of rock half the size of her head pulled loose from the ceiling and smashed off her shield with a dull boom. The shield caught the impact, but Sera couldn't keep the steel from collapsing under the blow and cracking into her head. "—coming," she finished, the word edged with anger and pain. "Why aren't you running?"

  "It was suggested," Morvius said. "Shall— Oh, Rovagug love me tonight."

  In the dusty air behind Sera a shadow moved, pulling itself through the dust: a small, black shape, stone wings flexing. Jiri raised her hand, and fire ran down it, flashing away to wrap around the obsidian monster. An instant later a bolt of white struck it, and with a sharp crack superheated stone suddenly froze. Shedding pieces of itself, the thing struck, swinging stone razors at Sera. The impact of Jiri's fire and Linaria's ice had slowed it, though, and its knives only scored the back of the paladin's neck, cutting skin but not driving in through muscle and veins.

  Sera snarled and spun, sword arm moving like a snake, but at the last moment she pulled her blow, made her sword miss and struck the thing instead with her shield. It shattered against the steel, blowing apart in a hail of stone and flames, staggering Sera. Her shield, though, caught most of the biting fragments.

  The little explosion shook the room, and Jiri could see the cracks in the ceiling widen and stretch.

  "Go!" she shouted, and it was all of them shouting at once. Then they were pelting through the dust. Linaria was in the lead, but she was heading the wrong way, turned around in the dust, and Jiri had to howl and point toward the door they had taken in. The half-elf stopped, confused, then turned to race the way Jiri was going, Morvius and Sera hard on her heels. Then the white-haired woman stopped, her strange blue eyes widening.

  Jiri risked a look over her shoulder and saw it. The arch Sera had just run through was almost totally gone, with only a narrow gap at the top still open to the passageway beyond. That gap was full now, though, crowded with black shining bodies, a sliding tide of stone wings and claws pulling themselves through, ready to leap into the air and follow.

  Too many. Oh Oza, I'm sorry, I tried but I couldn't. May you and all our ancestors forgive...

  Whatever Linaria said was lost in the sound of crumbling stone, but her hand moved and a handful of flashing darts leapt from it and slammed into the carved face of the first obsidian creature, smashing away Jiri's despair.

  Jiri whipped her eyes forward and ran as fast as she could. From behind her came the first pop. Then another and another, a rising cascade of explosions, their sharp snaps being drowned out by a steadily building roar as the ceiling gave way and began to fall, crunching down.

  She raced up the passage's curving path, the whole Pyre shaking beneath her. The stones here weren't falling, but they groaned with the stress of the collapse. Jiri could feel magic all around her, hissing over her skin like a million insect wings, itching and burning. All those charms, gutted by heat and time but still trying to hold the stone together, were finally breaking. Jiri staggered, trying to run but failing. The broken magic rolled over her like a scourge of fireweed and she stumbled, started to fall.

  A hand hit her, smashed into her belly and knocked her air out, folded her over an arm wrapped in leather and steel. Burning, gasping, Jiri barely noticed being jerked up over an armored shoulder, barely felt the bruising, jolting impact of the metal against her belly until she was surrounded by light, bright sunlight, and the hundred-thousand tiny knives of all those shattered spells stopped scratching across her.

  "Linaria!"

  Jiri could hear Morvius's voice, and picking up her head she saw him staggering out of the door that opened to the Pyre. Dust like smoke spewed out of that rough opening, and she could see that the rocky peak above had changed shape, broken and slid, the whole stone pile of the Pyre collapsing in on itself. Tearing her eyes away from that destruction, Jiri looked at Linaria, shaking in Morvius's arms.

  "Get her. Away," Jiri told him, voice shaking. "Farther better."

  Sera. She picked me up and carried me out.

  "Put me down," she said, and Sera let her go. Jiri slipped off her and splashed down into the water that surrounded the Pyre. It had been warm as her blood when they swam through it before, but it felt cool now against her overheated skin. She dipped her hands in it and splashed it across her face, washing dust out of her eyes. Something distracted her, though, some other distant worry. Watching a trickle of blood roll down her arm, she remembered.

  The swarm.

  Lifting her head, she could see it rising from the water, a buzzing cloud of wings and hunger.

  "Gods and crocodiles," she groaned, and tried to find her magic.

  Morvius had stopped beside her, Linaria still awkwardly cradled in his arms with his spear, and he cursed too. Linaria, still trembling from the shock of racing through all those breaking spells, opened one eye.

  "No," the sorcerer said, then raised her hand and spoke. The air chilled around her, and a flash of white flew from her hand and into the gathering swarm. It bloomed out into a great, seething ball of blue and white, and a cold wind rushed by. The ball faded, falling apart into water and steam, and most of the swarm now lay trapped in the circle of ice that coated the water's surface. A few buzzed weakly, trying to pull themselves free, until Linaria spoke again.

  Another flash of blue-white, and all the swarm was swallowed by cold, their corpses embedded in a steaming circle of ice.

  "We could have stayed in town, y'know, and earned as much coin chilling drinks as doing this," Morvius said.

  Linaria didn't say anything. She just pointed at the shore, and Morvius started to splash toward it, still carrying her.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "Hold still," Sera muttered, and Jiri gritted her teeth and tried. It was hard, though, since it felt like the northern woman was trying to dig all the way through her shoulder blade.

  Jiri lay on the packed dirt where Thirty Trees once stood, her thin blanket under her, stripped down to her loincloth. Sera was going over her back, digging out the tiny fragments of obsidian embedded in her skin.

  "How deep are you going?" Jiri asked, trying to look over her shoulder to see the sharp little knife that Sera had taken out of her healing kit.

  "No further than you went into the back of my neck." Sera flicked away another chip of obsidian. "Hold on. This last one is a bit deeper."

  "How deep?" Jiri asked before her teeth clenched shut. It felt like Sera was trying to carve out her kidney. Jiri's fingers and toes curled but she held still until Sera finally stopped digging and pulled something out of her back.

  "Huh. Lucky you." The paladin dropped something on the blanket in front of Jiri's face.

  Slowly recovering, Jiri stared at the bloody little lump without recognizing it. One part of it, not covered in her blood, flashed in the sunlight, and she understood.

  "One of the diamond eyes."

  "Diamond?" Morvius wandered over. "Not huge, but worth some coin."

  "Jiri's coin," Linaria said from the shade beneath the mango tree. "Your rule, as I recall, was that any treasure stabbed into someone belongs to them."

  "Hey, I earned that dagger," Morvius said. "And that was
stabbed. Not exploded."

  "Don't quibble."

  Morvius muttered and walked away, though he took the time to look over Jiri's backside first.

  Jiri rolled her eyes, and barely noticed Sera putting her palm on her back. Then light rushed through her, white and gold, sweeping away the pain in her back and in her feet, healing her and stunning her with the force of the great spirit that was its source.

  "Gods and...Gods," Jiri croaked. "Warn me before you do that."

  Something like a smile touched Sera's lips. "Here's your shirt," she said, dropping the tattered, bloody piece of mud cloth on Jiri.

  Jiri rolled over and pulled it on, moving easy. However else she felt about it, Sera's healing worked.

  And do I like feeling indebted to her and her goddess for it?

  No, I do not.

  "Kibwe?" she said, rising.

  "Is that where the trail lies?" Sera picked up her pack and shield.

  "The trail is..." Cold? Lost? "Scattered. We know more now, but not enough to find this thing. And there's nothing else for us to learn here."

  "And you think Kibwe will hold answers?" Sera asked.

  It holds Patima. And the thing she stole from the hands of that thing in the heart of the Pyre.

  "I think so."

  Linaria was looking at her, blue eyes sharp, but she didn't say anything. Not before Morvius spoke.

  "It holds wine, food, and a decent gods-damned bed at least." The fighter slung the bag holding Jiri's armor at her, then picked up his own pack. "Let's go."

  Sera tapped her fingers across her sword hilt. "All right."

  Jiri stuffed her blanket into the bag with her armor, then carefully cleaned the diamond with her shirt and dropped it into the little pack with her healing things, her water, and the little kindi she had taken from the pyre. "All right," she whispered, staring down at the little carved man. Then she closed the bag.