Firesoul Read online

  I deserted him for nothing.

  "Fara." Kalun looked at his daughter, playing cat's cradle behind them. The girl had brought the palm wine, then settled onto one of the other benches in Kalun's talking room. My wife is careful, was all Kalun had said. "Fetch Linaria, and Morvius."

  The girl scampered out and the innkeeper turned back to Jiri. "I can't come. But I am a rich man now, partly thanks to Oza. I will pay my debt another way."

  There was a scrape of footsteps and two foreigners entered the room. The first was a tall man, pale and dark-haired, his broad shoulders heavy with muscle beneath his strange clothes. His face was handsome enough, for a northerner, but Jiri didn't like the way his green eyes casually moved over her. A woman who stood almost as tall him followed close behind. Her skin was even paler, though, so colorless that her veins showed through, sky-blue like her eyes. Her long white hair hung loose, but her thin face was smooth, untouched by age but strangely angled, and her ears were oddly pointed, almost animal-like. Whatever she was, she wasn't human, Jiri realized. Not entirely.

  "Kalun." The man smiled, his eyes shifting away from Jiri. "What can we do for you this fine sweaty day?"

  "Sit and listen." Kalun nodded to Jiri. "My friend has a story for you."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "A demon." Morvius shifted on his bench, the wood creaking. "Froggy-looking? Stinking?" He looked at his companion.

  "Swamp demon, probably. Nasty things." They both had accents, but while Morvius's words were rough as stone, Linaria's had a touch of something almost musical.

  "A swamp demon," Morvius said. "A cursed ruin, and a group of raiders."

  "The Aspis Consortium sent their people out the other day," Linaria said, thoughtful. "Amiro in the lead, but he had Patima with him. She has that charm, the one that can summon demons."

  "Fantastic," Morvius said. "I feel bad for the demon, if it's working for them." The northerner's eyes slid back to Kalun. "It sounds like quite a hornet's nest. So why in five hells do you think we would want to go poking at it?"

  "Because this is the kind of crap you people live for," Kalun said. The innkeeper pointed at the wine glass that hung almost empty in Morvius's hand. "And you owe me."

  "What, for some drinks and a few days' lodging?" Morvius protested.

  "No. For two months' lodging, and a lot of food and drink. But more than that, you owe me for your failure to finish the Ocota job."

  "You sent us within pissing distance of Usaro." Morvius said. "I wouldn't call getting that close to the worst place in this whole bloody jungle and making it back a failure."

  "It is when you spend a fortune on supplies, then lose them all while failing to find what I sent you out for."

  "Kalun, I told you what happened with those monkeys—"

  "Do this," Kalun said, cutting Morvius off, "and I will forgive all of your debts to me. Ocota included."

  "Not enough," Linaria said. "Not for a demon."

  Kalun frowned at her. Then he stood and stepped out of the room.

  Morvius glanced at Linaria, who shook her head. He shrugged and drained his cup, waiting.

  On her bench, Jiri watched them. Thirty Trees is in danger, and they sit here and bargain. Jiri scrubbed her hands over her eyes, wiping away tears hotter than blood. Oza, I hope you knew what you were doing sending me here. Because if these fools won't help us, then I don't know if I can keep myself from burning this whole place down.

  The door curtain swirled and Kalun stepped back in, a long, silk-wrapped bundle in his hands.

  "You want enough for a demon?" Kalun growled, and snapped the bundle open.

  The spear that rolled free of the silk smelled like blood. It looked like blood, too, the metal of its blade red and gleaming as if dipped in gore.

  "That's Scritch." Morvius stared at the spear. "You told me you sold it."

  "I lied. But I'll sell it now."

  "Done." Morvius reached for the weapon.

  "Great bargaining, Mor." Linaria sighed. She whispered and spread her hands over the spear. "It's potent."

  "Yes," Kalun said. The innkeeper's jaw knotted tight, watching Morvius test the spear's balance, and his empty fists clenched. "Do we have a bargain, Linaria? Slay this demon, save Oza if he still lives, and seal that ruin. For that, I grant forgiveness of all previous debts. And Scritch."

  "Yes," Morvius said, slowly shifting through a series of stances with the spear.

  Linaria ignored him. She folded her arms, fingers tapping on her elbows. "What if the demon's gone? The shaman dead, the ruin empty, the village destroyed?"

  "Then just bring the girl back safe," Kalun said. "I'm paying back a debt myself. Poorly, perhaps, but I have to do what I can. I owe Oza that."

  "Done." Linaria put out her hand, palm up, and Kalun dropped his onto it.

  "Done."

  Jiri jumped to her feet, barely noticing the way Morvius shifted the point of his new toy to track her movement. "We can get a dugout at the river." It would be faster this time, going downstream. The sun would have barely gone down by the time they reached Thirty Trees.

  "We'll hire one tomorrow," Linaria said.

  "Tomorrow!" Jiri almost shouted.

  "I know you're worried about your teacher," the pale-eyed woman said. "But if we rush into this fight, that demon will take us apart. We'll leave after I've prepared my magic, and after we've gotten some help."

  "Who are you thinking?" Morvius asked.

  "Gavin came back into town yesterday."

  "The mute archer?"

  "He's not mute. He just doesn't talk to fools." Linaria ignored her partner's snort. "Sera is with him."

  Morvius stopped moving the spear. "No."

  "Demon, Mor. She's a paladin of Iomedae. Very useful."

  "She broke my arm."

  "You asked her about a threesome with her and her goddess. Then slapped her backside."

  "I was drunk."

  "Stay sober."

  Jiri listened to their banter, not hearing.

  Jiri, go!

  The echo of Oza's voice trembled in her ears, the demon's laughter rumbling beneath it. She barely felt Kalun's hand on her arm, barely heard the old man's words as he led her out.

  "They'll help you, Jiri. They know what they're doing, and Linaria keeps her bargains." He led her upstairs and down a hall to a room that was almost twice the size of the house where she had grown up with Oza. "You can stay here, you know. They'll be able to find that Pyre of yours themselves, if you tell them where to go."

  Jiri looked up at him. You can trust him, Oza had told her. But she didn't. Not him, not his northerners, not Hadzi or Boro or...Her hands were hot, and she clenched them tight to keep the fire inside her. I'm not even sure I trust myself, but Oza needs me. And if he's gone, Thirty Trees needs me even more. "No."

  Kalun looked away from her, his face etched with sadness. "I know you feel responsible, girl. But the hunt you're starting..." He looked down at his hands, and for the first time Jiri noticed the scars that covered them. "It's a hard one."

  Her throat was thick, and her eyes were burning again, but Jiri pushed out another "No." She watched him nod, and for a moment, despite his dreadlocks and his rich clothes, he reminded her so much of Oza.

  "I'll send up food and a washbasin."

  He stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

  Jiri stared at the blank wood panel, then slowly sank to her knees.

  Oza.

  In spite of her desperation, there was time now for tears, and when they fell the soft rug beneath Jiri caught them and they vanished, like blood disappearing into dark water.

  Chapter Four

  Ash

  You can't contain evil."

  Jiri stopped, blocking the narrow trail that led from the river to Thirty Trees, and stared at the woman following her. Sera. One of the two other northerners Linaria had brought with her this morning. The other, Gavin, stood silent at the end of the line, his eyes searching the trees that surrounded
them. Gavin seemed sane.

  Sera?

  I'm not so sure.

  "This Pyre." Sera swiped a gauntlet over her scalp, scrubbing it through her short-cropped hair. Wrapped in leather and steel, the woman should have been sweating rivers, but her skin was preternaturally dry. A blessing from her goddess, and Jiri could feel the prickly touch of that great spirit when she stood close to the paladin. "It should be broken open. Cleansed."

  "No." Jiri stared up into the other woman's too-bright eyes.

  "What's wrong with cleaning the place out?" Morvius took a pull from his waterskin. There was no feeling of magic around him, and the broad-shouldered man was pouring sweat into his armor.

  Jiri's hands tightened on her spear. "The Pyre..." Jiri thought of dark rock, of heat twisting the air like flames. "Something's sealed away there. I was sent..."

  Jiri, go!

  "I was sent to see it sealed again."

  "Sure." Morvius gave her a smile, and for a moment he reminded Jiri of Hadzi, though the two men looked nothing alike. "But what's the harm in looking around a little?"

  "For you? Not so much," Jiri said. "Maybe just death. For me? I might loose something that will destroy my home and everyone I've ever loved. This is my world, Morvius. I won't risk destroying it so you can run back north with some coin."

  "Now—" Morvius started, but Linaria cut him off.

  "We were paid to kill a demon and shut a door." She pushed a sweat-damp lock of hair from her face, a long strand of white that had escaped the braid she wore. "That's what we'll do."

  Jiri nodded to the woman. Kalun had told her this morning that Linaria was a half-elf, while warning her about Sera.

  "Paladins." The old warrior had said the name like a curse. "The northern churches take their fanatics and arm them to the teeth. Then they send them far, far away." Kalun had spit into one of the fountains in his inn's courtyard. "Treat her like a spearpoint. Aim her at your enemy, and keep as far back from her as possible."

  In the jungle, in the green dim beneath the trees, Sera's eyes never left Jiri. "The Mwangi Expanse is full of shadows. Light must touch every corner of it. Otherwise the evil of those tainted places will keep leaking out, corrupting everything it touches."

  "Balls, Sera." Morvius laughed. "Isn't your family from devil-run Cheliax?"

  The paladin twitched, but she didn't turn away from Jiri. The shaman returned her stare, and the wood of her spear's shaft grew hot beneath her hands.

  Point her away.

  Her thought, but the voice in her head could have been Kalun's. Or Oza's.

  "Thirty Trees is this way," she said, and started walking.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  They had almost listened to her.

  Most of the village was gone. The old, the young, those with children. There was just a handful left, young men and women risking their lives for earthen-walled houses and mango trees. Jiri stared at Hadzi, facing her defiantly in front of the others, then dismissed him.

  "Boro. Have you heard anything of Oza?"

  "No." The young man glanced at his fuming brother, then looked back to Jiri. "The cookfires wouldn't start last night. Then they all blazed up at once, burning out in seconds. Some were burned, and we asked the ancestors for Oza, but..." He shook his head. "That's when they decided to go down the trail to Rough Ford."

  "They were smart," Jiri snapped. She went to the tiny house she shared with Oza and stepped in. Empty. She snatched up a couple of clay pots and stepped back out.

  "Ointment. For burns."

  Boro took the pot from her. "You're taking those northerners to the Pyre?"

  "Yes," Jiri said. Linaria and the rest stood nearby, their pale faces all flushed pink except Sera's. "Keep a close watch. Be ready to run. Understand?"

  Boro nodded. "Gods, spirits, and ancestors, may they watch, protect, and guide."

  Jiri nodded, then stepped to Hadzi, catching him in a sudden, fierce hug. "You're an idiot, Hadzi, but you made me happy sometimes. Listen to your brother for once."

  Before Hadzi could answer, she let him go and spun away, toward the mango grove and what lay beyond.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  "Medicine root. We put it in everything." Jiri broke the seal on the little clay pot, and the others stepped back as the smell hit them.

  "That clears your head out, doesn't it?" Morvius muttered.

  "It helps you breathe. More importantly, it's harmless and makes everything we put it in smell like good medicine." Jiri dipped her fingers into the pot and smeared the salve on her upper lip. Within seconds, her nose gave up on smelling anything. She passed the pot to Linaria.

  "For the swamp demon stench," the white-haired woman said. She smeared some on, wincing. "Are you still willing to do this?"

  "Yes," Jiri said.

  "Being demon bait—"

  "You and Sera need time to prepare your magic," Jiri said. "I'll get it for you.

  "Did you know it gets hotter near you, when you get mad?" Linaria asked.

  "Yes."

  "Hmm." The half-elf's hands dug through her pack. "Here." She held out a small green bag.

  "What is it?" Jiri asked.

  "Alchemical glue. We've found that it's good for slowing things down, if they're coming at you fast."

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Fast.

  Jiri stood at the edge of the pool that spread beneath the Pyre. The cracked black rock towered over her, the ash that crowned it still beneath its heat shimmer. The stone door that Oza's elemental had been trying to put back lay in the water again, the narrow portal it had covered an open wound.

  There was no sign of the demon.

  Or Oza.

  It doesn't mean—

  Jiri cut off that thought.

  It means it's just me. Me and those northerners hiding behind me.

  Jiri took a breath, trying to calm herself the way Oza had taught her, to forget her fear, her grief, her anger. She breathed, and finally she pulled herself together enough to reach out beyond the flame that danced behind her eyes and in her hands, to find earth, cool and solid and strong.

  She rasped out a call to the bones of the earth, and the muddy shore before her bubbled and heaved. It split open, and the elemental she had asked for pulled itself free from the dirt and stood before her. Wrought of stone and mud, it looked the same as her teacher's—just much smaller. With a wave of her hand, Jiri sent it toward the stone door, to see if it could even shift it.

  That's when the water before her began to bubble.

  The demon rose slowly out of the blank black mirror of the pool, a crude parody of a frog carved from filth. Gold eyes gleamed in scaled green pits, just above the rot-brown line of fangs that filled its wide mouth. The stench of the thing thickened the air, and Jiri could taste it like poison. The medicine root numbed her, though, and she didn't retch.

  Staring up at the demon, she clenched her spear in one hand and let her other hand fill with flame. "Where is he?"

  Tiny eyes blinked, hungry and amused. The demon turned for a moment to stare at her little elemental, vainly pushing on the boulder door, before looking back to her.

  Words filled Jiri's head. Hideous and grating, they dragged through her mind like poisonous knives, tearing at her thoughts.

  "A little morsel, but juicy. Sweeter, I think, than that old leather I chewed yesterday."

  "No!" Jiri shouted. Her spear dropped and she raised both her hands, fingers curling like claws as the air erupted before her with fire.

  The demon's laughter, hideous and mocking, poured from its throat as the flames danced across its wet hide.

  "You have some of that old one's heat, morsel. But not nearly enough. Maybe this will make you hotter."

  One claw rose and dug through the thicket of fangs that filled the demon's mouth. With a flick, it cast something out into the mud at Jiri's feet: a leather thong strung with animals, each carefully carved from bone.

  "No," Jiri said again, staring down at Oza's necklace, hardly
noticing as the demon raised its claws, spread them against the sky, and—

  "In her light shall you burn! Iomedae!"

  The battle cry snapped the demon's attention away from Jiri, and it glared past her to the figures sprinting toward it, focusing on the woman in the lead, her sword and shield raised high.

  "Godslave." The demon's voice rumbled through Jiri's mind, and it slammed past her to meet the paladin's charge.

  Jiri hit the mud and tumbled. With trembling hands she reached out and picked up the necklace, clutched the little carvings tight. Then she raised her burning eyes to stare at the battle raging before her.

  Sera crashed into the demon, punching her longsword deep into its belly. In return, the monster wrapped its claws around the paladin, plucked her up and brought her to its gnashing fangs. Twisting in the demon's grip, Sera shoved her shield into the thing's wide maw. Brown teeth grated on steel, and the paladin beat the demon's hideous face with the pommel of her sword.

  Morvius danced around them both, grinning like a fiend. Scritch blurred in his hands, impossibly fast, and every time its crimson blade bit slimy hide, gore poured out like sewage. Around those streaming wounds, bright flowers bloomed, the red-fletched ends of Gavin's arrows.

  Jiri could see the archer, standing calmly beyond the fight, pulling and shooting, shifting just enough to fire around Sera's thrashing form. Beside him, Linaria's face was tight with concentration, her lips moving, her empty hand lashing out at the demon. A bar of pale blue, like the sky made solid for an instant, arced from her hand and lanced into the demon's belly. A circle of white spread where it struck, and Jiri could feel the burning cold of the spell.

  The demon howled, and Jiri bared her teeth at it, vicious.

  Not laughing now, are you?

  Her hand tightened on the necklace she held, and she threw fire at the thing, not caring if it did nothing. The demon growled something through her head, spitting words like thorns in some terrible language Jiri didn't know. Ripping the paladin away from its face, it hurled Sera at Linaria, sending half-elf and human down in a clatter of armor and curses. It roared at them, and with a crack like thunder it vanished.

  Jiri heard the splash and spun, ignoring Morvius as he stood blinking alone in the churned mud. The demon was behind her, standing knee-deep in the dark water. It glared at them, its wounds streaming, and opened its mouth to speak.