Fireborn Page 7

  Now it wasn’t pain holding Kael silent. It was shock. He’d never seen his aunt so angry. Even when she first protested against him and Bree joining the Weshern Seraphim, she’d never been so adamant.

  “They’ve lost their home,” Kael said. Such a meager protest, but it was also the most blindingly obvious. “What else should we do?”

  “Let them live elsewhere,” Bethy said. “That, or drop them to the water, as God intended. Galen fell by their own hands. When a dog dies, you don’t rescue its fleas. Claiming the island’s fall was our fault is just further proof Speaker Marius’s heart doesn’t mirror God’s.”

  Kael’s eyes narrowed. That final thought sounded far too similar to what he’d heard many others claim before. The disciples of Johan had spread throughout all the islands, and Kael had a feeling that Galen’s fall opened many ears once closed to their rhetoric. Kael himself had spoken to two, frightening, determined men convinced of Center’s evil. Yet they had also insisted, long before Galen fell, that Marius would send troops over to occupy Weshern. They were the only voices that had cried warning, and Kael wished more had listened before they found themselves in such an awful predicament. Still, the disciples only preached against Marius Prakt’s rule over the minor islands. So far as Kael knew, Johan had not spoken out against the people of Galen. Of course, what anyone knew of Johan was incredibly limited. Appearances of him were rare, and never in public.

  “Me and Bree risked everything to save those fleas when the island was falling,” Kael said as Aunt Bethy pulled away to give him one more look over. “They’re just people, innocent people who were caught in our fight.”

  “Believe as you wish.”

  Kael hated it when she did that. A minor acknowledgment of his words, but no real thought. No real belief he could be right. She knew better. Of course she knew better. She was older, wiser, the one who understood how the world truly worked while he was the naïve youngster. Kael’s hand dipped inside his pocket, fingering the red cloth hidden there. People of Weshern had murdered a man in cold blood, then beaten Kael for refusing to commit the deed himself, yet it was the people of Galen who were sinners, who were fleas?

  Fleas. Parasites. The very words, the very idea of them, flooded Kael with anger, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying things he’d very much regret come morning. What would it matter? What could he possibly say to change a mind so steadfastly decided? The night was too late, his mind too tired, his body too sore. He just wanted to go to bed.

  “Your nose should heal without need of a splint or stitch,” his aunt said, wringing out the cloth onto the dormant fire while keeping her back to him. Her tone had changed suddenly, something about it off. She was being cautious. Tentative. “I expect you’ll be sore but fine.” She turned, facing him without looking at him. “So, will your sister be back before tomorrow night?”

  An odd question.

  “I don’t know,” Kael said, rising from the rocking chair. “Why tomorrow night?”

  She shook her head, quickly turning away.

  “No reason,” she said, continuing to wring out the cloth despite it being as dry as it could get without time in the sun. “I’d just feel better seeing her alive and well, that’s all.”

  Kael was certain she was lying. He’d spent more than enough years in her household to recognize that tone. Aunt Bethy was a lot of things, but a good liar was not one of them. Curiosity overriding his exhaustion, he crossed his arms and blocked her path from the fireplace.

  “Why tomorrow night?” he repeated.

  His expression must have made it clear he would not be fooled, so she relented, but only partially.

  “There’s...someone who wants to meet you and your sister,” she said.

  Not good enough.

  “Who?” he asked.

  Even in the light of the midnight fire, Kael could tell his aunt was flustered, her neck turning red.

  “I can’t say,” she said.

  Kael’s heartbeat increased as he thought on who it might be. Not a theotech or soldier of Center, not with his aunt’s anger. No one from Galen, either. It couldn’t be someone from the resistance, for Rebecca Waller would have surely informed him of such during his rapid debriefing. So who else would seek an audience with him and Bree?

  “Is it someone in the royal family?” he asked.

  Bethy didn’t even flinch. So not close then. Kael stepped closer, met her gaze.

  “Why won’t you tell me?” he asked.

  “For his own safety, I was sworn to secrecy,” she said. “But he wants to meet you, both of you, tomorrow night.”

  Kael’s throat suddenly felt very dry, and he feared that despite his awful exhaustion he’d find no sleep when he went to bed. He had one other guess, and he couldn’t decide if he hoped it true or not. Keeping close watch on his aunt, to see the truth in her eyes in case lies and deception came to her lips, he asked.

  “Is it Johan?”

  Her look was answer enough. The most wanted man alive. The man whose very name was a crime to speak. He was coming to their home.

  “It’s a great honor,” his aunt said breathlessly. “Even he sees the promise in you two.”

  Too much to process. Too much to decide. Kael closed his eyes and slumped against the wall. No more disciples. No more cultish worship and vague promises. Tomorrow night, he’d hear it from the man’s own lips.

  Johan, thought Kael. For good or ill, we’ll meet at last.

  CHAPTER

  5

  Bree awoke with every muscle in her body sore, particularly her back from when the giant knight had flung her into a tree. The thin reed cot she slept upon certainly helped matters none, and she let out a groan as she swung her legs over the side, fighting against the entangling blanket to free herself. Light shone through rips in the thick brown fabric of the tent. Clean light, she realized, not red. Morning, then. She rubbed her eyes, tried to regain her bearings.

  After the battle, she’d followed Argus across Weshern to a deep forest, eventually stumbling upon a sprawling camp built in the wide spaces between the trees. Camp Aquila, Argus had called it. It had been too dark for her to see, the leaves blocking much of the midnight fire, and the risk of detection preventing any torches or campfires down below. Argus had brought her to a tent, told her it was hers, and then promised to return in the morning.

  Bree tried to stand, felt her back twinge. She glared at the cot, and she briefly wondered if it would have been better to just sleep on the forest floor instead.

  “Bree?” a familiar voice shouted from outside her tent. “Hurry and wake up. I’ve waited about as long as I can, so indecent or not, I’m coming in there.”

  “Do and you’re dead!” Bree shouted back as she rose to her feet. “Think it’s worth the risk?”

  She opened the flap of the tent, squinted against the sudden light. Standing before her, a grin stretched from ear to ear, was Bradford Macon. Unlike the uniforms she’d seen him in since joining the academy, he wore the plain trousers and heavy white shirts of the fishermen. It somehow made him look bigger, friendlier. Or perhaps it was the dumb grin and the twinkle in his hazel eyes that did that.

  Bree’s hair was a mess from sleep, she wore the clothes from the night before, and she was certain her face sported a bruise or two from the battle, but she flung her arms around Brad and embraced him anyway. The big guy laughed as he hugged her.

  “You look terrible,” he said. “Rough night?”

  Bree pushed away, and she mussed his curly red hair as she did.

  “You know just what to say to a girl in the morning,” she said. “Care to tell me how I smell, too?”

  “Couldn’t say,” Brad said. “This whole damn place smells like trees and bird shit.”

  “And you smell like fish,” Bree said. “No wonder you find it all so offensive.”

  “Once it gets in the clothes, it never leaves,” Brad said, tugging on his trousers for emphasis. “Still, less likely to get no
ticed on the streets wearing this than a Seraphim uniform. So! Want something to eat? The morning mist is the only time Miss Waller feels it’s safe to light the cook fires.”

  “Miss Waller?” Bree asked as they weaved through the trees. By the looks of it, the camp was spread out across a huge area, with her tent on a far edge. By Bree’s best guess, having the tents scattered so far apart instead of concentrated together would reduce the likelihood of them being spotted through the leaves. Nearly every tent she saw was some shade of brown, barring a few with dark green woven into the fabric.

  “Camp Aquila is Rebecca’s baby,” Brad said. “You don’t piss somewhere unless you’re sure she’s approved it first. I think even Argus is scared to defy her. Shouldn’t be too surprising, really. She basically ran the academy as over-secretary. Everyone else just played along.”

  They arrived at the cook fires, and the smell of meat and smoke awoke Bree’s empty stomach. Dozens of men and women gathered around the two pits, ringed with stones and piled full with thick logs cut from the nearby trees. A single pig lay slaughtered between them, and four men worked together, carving out pieces and throwing them onto black metal pans, which they constantly turned at the edges of the fire. Brad and Bree took their place in the back of one of the lines.

  “So who else is here that I know?” Bree asked as they waited for their turn.

  “Couple people,” Brad said. “Randy Kime’s in charge of training the raw recruits. You should swing by and say hello sometime. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

  Bree had every intention of doing just that, for she’d be equally happy to see him.

  “Who else?” she asked. Their line shuffled forward a step.

  “From our class?” Brad thought a moment. “Saul’s been here for at least a few days. I think Ryan Keegan swung by for a bit, but didn’t stay. Must not have had the stomach for all this.”

  “Maybe they just didn’t need him?” Bree offered.

  “Wait until you see who Instructor Kime’s been working with,” he said. “Trust me, we needed him.”

  Their turn. One of the cooks handed Brad a thick white cloth, which he held open across his palms. Then came a single thick slab of meat, from which part of the pig Bree could only guess. Bree accepted a similar cloth, coupled with a piece not quite as big as Brad’s. The meat sizzled in her hands, but the cloth was thick, and protected her skin from the heat so long as she consistently shifted her grip.

  After thanking the cooks, the two looked for a place to eat.

  “Make sure you bring that cloth back to them to be cleaned,” Brad said as they sat down on a pair of logs. “I forgot the first day I was here, which earned me the privilege of being the one to wash every single dirty cloth in the entire camp. Not something I’d recommend.”

  Bree laughed, glad to be around Brad again. She’d forgotten how easily he brightened her mood.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. She shifted her grip on the slab of pork, fingers seeking a spot where the heat and grease hadn’t quite leaked all the way through. After blowing on it, she gestured to the camp, the tents, and the people about them. “So, how’d you become a part of all this?”

  Brad scarfed down a piece of the pork, wiped grease from his chin.

  “I’ve actually been here a few days,” he said. “Someone from Camp Aquila snuck a note through my bedroom window while I was asleep. Note landed on the floor, the idiot, and I never saw the stupid thing. My mom found it while she was sweeping.” Brad chuckled. “It was a good thing neither of my parents is too fond of Center right now, or they’d never have given it to me. The note requested I join up with the growing resistance, and gave a time and place to go if I wished to accept.”

  Brad took another bite.

  “You should have seen it,” he said. “I thought they were proud when I was accepted into the academy. This? This was something else. I’m not sure I could have said no even if I wanted to. They’d have probably dragged me to that meeting place, they were so honored.” He cleared his throat, then started to talk in a high-pitched tone. “My little boy’s going to fight against the corruption of Center,” he said. Then, deeper, “You’re not just a Seraph now, son. You’re a hero.”

  Bree smiled at his impressions.

  “Did you tell them you wouldn’t be fighting, just sitting here getting fat on pork while everyone else did all the work?”

  He grinned, proud as could be.

  “You kidding?” he said. “When all this is over, and I go back home, I’m going to steal your exploits and claim them as my own. I want every single Macon child for generations to wish they were half as awesome as me.”

  Bree finally took a bite of her meat, and she was surprised by the taste. It must have been salted at some point, for the flavor was strong, and immediately set her mouth to water. She wasn’t even finished chewing the first bite when she took two more, stomach now fully awake and demanding food.

  Brad raised an eyebrow as he watched her eat.

  “Good thing they won’t give you extra rations even if you ask,” Brad said. “You seem ready to eat an entire pig. Hoping to look like I did when first entering the academy?”

  Bree didn’t answer, only took another bite.

  When she was finished, and her cloth returned to a basket near the cook fires, Bree wiped the grease from her fingers on her pants the best she could, then pondered what to do.

  “So where is Randy?” she asked.

  “Training, I’d wager,” Brad said. “Follow me.”

  Brad led her toward the northern edge of the camp. Just beyond the limits of the scattered tents she found a small clearing made by cutting down a few trees. Light shone bright through the gaps in the leaves, glinting off a dozen sets of silver wings. At the start of the clearing, shouting out corrections and techniques, was Randy Kime.

  “I’ll leave you two be,” Brad said. “I’ve some business to attend to.”

  “Business?”

  Brad rolled his eyes, and he patted his full belly.

  “You know,” he said. “Business.”

  Bree blushed despite herself.

  “Oh. Right. Uh, hope it all goes well?”

  Brad shook his head as he laughed and walked away.

  “Great to see you again, Bree.”

  Bree turned her attention to Randy. His back was to her, so Bree stepped close, then called his name. The man whirled around, eyes widening the moment he saw her.

  “There’s the girl with the fiery swords,” Randy said, and he immediately flung his arms around her. Bree accepted the hug, trying hard not to act awkward.

  “Happy to see you, too,” she said.

  Randy pulled back, and he tapped the stump of his left hand into his right palm.

  “I always knew,” he said. “I kept saying you’d be amazing at fire, Bree, and now look at you. A legend in the making. I’d bet money on it, if I had any to bet, and anyone foolish enough to take me up on it.”

  Bree turned her attention to Randy’s “students.” They were all unmistakably fishermen, and they wore the stubby, clunky wings Bree had first trained in while growing up. She frowned, then tried to hide it, knowing many were watching the pair. Watching her, she realized. Damn it, she thought. Can’t people just pretend they don’t know who I am? Proud as she’d been when Argus gave her the nickname Phoenix, sometimes she’d wished he hadn’t worked so hard to spread tales of her prowess. With how loudly Randy had greeted her, she had zero chance of anonymity.

  “They’re wasting light element that could be best served in the hands of others,” Bree said, lowering her voice. “Last night we fought knights with trained Seraphim, and still we lost several. What hope do elementless fishers with stunted wings have?”

  Randy’s smile faded slightly, and he lowered his own voice so his students would not overhear.

  “As much chance as our resistance has of toppling the armies of Center,” he said. “But we’ll still try, won’t we? We’ll fight,
and train, and do all we can to better ourselves while hoping something magical happens to save our nation. Besides, the elements they use were allocated to them for fishing. Bellies will go hungry so they might train.”

  Bree blushed. It was the gentlest berating she’d ever received in her life, yet because it came from a man as kind as Randy, she still felt embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to dismiss them so easily.”

  Randy put a hand on her shoulder, and together they walked before the line of students, men and women rising and lowering in the exact same drills Adam Dohn had them performing in the earliest days at the academy.

  “You’re thinking only of engaging Center’s knights,” he said as he observed the practicing students. “But if war breaks out, there will be a hundred other engagements we must prepare for besides the grand battles most will remember. Marius has placed soldiers throughout the island, and those soldiers will need to be defeated. A man in a fisher suit armed only with a spear and a shield may not mean much to a knight, but they will pose a danger to any archer or foot soldier.”

  Bree nodded, realizing how much she had underestimated the scope of their conflict. Right now, they’d fought a single fight against a small force of knights and soldiers. If rebellion broke out in full, Marius would begin conquering towns, flooding streets with men in plate and archers eager to shoot down any last Weshern Seraphim. The idea was almost like a dream, something she couldn’t believe might actually happen, but the truth was naked before her. Those times were coming. They might even be a single day away.

  “You’re right,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, and I’d be glad to pitch in.”

  “You should actually meet with Argus about that,” Randy said. “He’s in charge of our Seraphim. We don’t want to be wasteful with our elements, but he also wants to ensure everyone flies as a cohesive unit. He might have a few sessions planned, quick ones just above the forest where we can keep an eye out for spies. When battling knights, there’s not much room for error, if any.”