After the Fire (After the Fire: Book the First) (3 page)

“It
must be him,” said Magda. “It must be. We have found him
after all this time. You must tell her to come. Does she know what
she is?”

“I
think she knows very little of anything,” said Fin. “She
was afraid I would come to her village. And I don't think she would have
hesitated in stopping me.”

“A
woman that knows her own power,” said Magda. “That bodes
well. It means she's not afraid of herself. It's so very common, you
know. With the new ones.”

“Aye,
I know,” said Fin. He rubbed his beard.

“Oh,
I forgot,” Magda laughed. “I forget you're not one of the
old ones, Alaunus.”

“Magda,
the village. There's something else. Something wrong about the
village.”

“What
is it?”

“She
didn't want me helping her,” he said. “She was carrying a
pig on her shoulder, and she looked about to fall over. After a
strago
she's lucky she was still breathing, and the damn girl
was carrying a boar. It was as if she was afraid someone from the
village would see me. She said I'd get someone killed if I followed
her. And then they locked her up in a great iron box. I don't
understand what is happening. I feel I should return. To try to help
her. To bring her back.”

“That
would no doubt be the wisest thing to do,” said Magda. “If
she is who you think she is, and things are as bad as you say, she
will be a target. If word spreads of her existence, alone in the
forest, it's like she is just baiting them.”

“I'll
leave Epona here. A horse would just draw attention. I'll sleep and
rest for a day before I go. It's been a long journey. And I've had
many hard truths since I saw you last.”

“I
know, dear boy,” said Magda. “You rest now. We have lost
loved ones, but it seems we may gain an ally.”

“I
hope you're right,” said Fin. He stood up, stretching. He was
sore and weary from his travels. He walked toward the tent Magda
always insisted they keep for him. He lay down on the thin, scratchy
cot. As he drifted off to sleep he thought of the sky of fire from
that day. They couldn't afford to be wrong. Without the girl, they
were already dead.

Chapter
Three

Eleni
woke when the hatch squealed open and flooded the box with light.
Someone stepped in and shut the door behind them. Eleni blinked and
rubbed her eyes. A lantern hovered in midair. It took a moment before
her eyes adjusted to see the man holding it.

“I
brought you some food,” said Alin, “but I see you've
already eaten.” He nudged the pile of rodent fur with his boot
and took a few limping steps toward her. He lowered himself stiffly
to the ground next to Eleni and sat, placing the lantern next to him.

“The
snows are coming,” she said, sitting up. “You always get
sore when the weather changes.”

“That
would explain it,” said Alin. “Are you well?”

“How
is my mother?” she said, ignoring his question.

Alin
looked at his hands. “She is well,” he said.

“Does
she ask about me?”

“Every
day,” said Alin sadly. “She asks after you every day.”

“I
want to see her,” said Eleni. “Please, Alin. I need to
see my mother.”

Alin
looked at her. “You know I cannot help you do that, child. I
would if I could. But Cosmin would kill my family.”

“I
could kill him,” said Eleni. “If I wanted to, I could
kill him and you wouldn't have to be afraid.”

“You
know it is not just Cosmin,” said Alin. “Who is to say
his friends would not kill your mother, my daughter, my son before
you ever got to them? Best to just comply.”

“I
grow tired of complying,” said Eleni. “I grow tired of
this life. I sleep in an iron box. I am a prisoner, a slave. They say
I am dangerous and it's true. I am more dangerous than they know. How
long will it be before I stop hunting for them? How long will it be
before I walk into that village and burn it to the ground?”

“Eleni,
you must not say such things. Your mother would be in grave danger if
you did this.” Alin looked away as he spoke.

“You
never look at me when I ask about my mother,” said Eleni. “What
do you know?” Eleni could smell his bitter sweat, she could
feel him fidgeting with his hands. He said nothing. He opened his
mouth and closed it again. He did not look at her. “You were a
friend to my mother,” said Eleni. “Once. You were a
friend to me as well. But now I think you are just like the rest of
them. You speak lies and half-truths. I do not think you came here to
bring me food. You know I hate swine. I think you came here to spy
for Cosmin.”

Alin
didn't respond. Just shook his head.

“If
you want something to tell Cosmin, tell him this: I can leave any
time I want to,” said Eleni. Alin looked quickly at her.

“How
can that be?” he said. These walls are as thick as my hand is
long. No one could escape.”

Eleni
looked at him defiantly. Without unlocking her pale eyes from his,
she placed her hand on the cool metal of the wall. Alin's mouth
dropped open as he watched. The metal under Eleni's hand grew quickly
red-hot. Within moments it began to sink into the softly melting
iron. Wisps of smoke rose from her hand. She pulled it away with a
wet slurping sound. The red heat of the wall quickly cooled, leaving
the imprint of her hand. Eleni held her palm out to him so the light
from the lantern shone on her skin.

“Not
a mark,” breathed Alin. “Why do you stay? Why do you not
flee?”

Eleni's
voice was cold when she spoke. “I want my mother,” she
said. “And I want her alive.”

Alin
looked at her face for a long moment. “What will you do?”
he said. He was sweating profusely.

“I
will bide my time,” said Eleni. “I will hunt for the
village. For now. But not because of Cosmin or you or anyone else.
For my mother. See that she is well-fed and I may be merciful when
the time is right.”

“Why
do you wait?” said Alin. “Why not just take her now?”

“Because
the time is not right,” she said.

“When
will the time be right?”

“If
I knew that,” said Eleni, “I would not tell you. First
snow is coming, though. I do not think she would survive in the wild
through the winter. I will wait until spring. So sleep easy, old man.
You could very well be dead by the time I come.” Eleni saw him
swallow heavily, as if trying to swallow his fear.

There
was no joy to be had in frightening him. He had been more kind to her
than anyone else. But she was tired of these games. It was time the
village knew who held their fate. They had no livestock after the
Reivers
came last full moon. Their crops had rotted. Without Eleni, everyone
in Krasna would die, either from starvation, invasion, or from the
predators that lurked in the forest.

Alin
stared at Eleni, his bushy eyebrows quivering, his lips moving,
trying to form words but failing. “I want you to go now,”
said Eleni. “Lock me up if you must, but know that it will do
no good.”

Alin
rose slowly, heavily. He lifted his lantern and turned to leave. He
banged on the hatch door three times.

“Alin,”
said Eleni. He turned to look at her, slow with shock. “Take
that plate with you,” she said pointing to the food he had left
on her pile of fresh carcasses. “The smell makes me sick.”

Alin
reached down and took the plate and when the door opened, lifted by
two men that Eleni recognized as Cosmin's friends, Alin walked slowly
out. The door closed behind him and in the darkness Eleni made a
fist. Lying in her cot she opened her hand and watched the flame
flicker, casting strange shadows on the wall of her prison. She
closed her fist and extinguished the flame. Then she rolled over and
slept.

The
hatch squealed open again what seemed to Eleni moments later. But
after getting her bearings, she realized it must be almost nightfall.
The light streaming in from the open door told her it was dusk. And
the hulking silhouette standing there looking at her could only be
one man.

“What
do you want, Cosmin?” she said, annoyance in her voice. He
stepped into the darkness of the metal room. He had lost his swagger,
and his movements were slow and uneasy. He crouched down just out of
arm's length from Eleni and rested on his haunches. He rubbed his
hands on his knees. Eleni looked past him. He had left the hatch door
open. He'd never done that before. He held a bundle which he tossed
to her. They landed softly on her cot.

“Clothes
for you,” said Cosmin. “Fabric is scarce now, so try not
to burn them.”

“Alin
has spoken to you,” said Eleni.

“Yes,”
said Cosmin. The smugness that usually permeated everything he said
had disappeared. It was very unlike him. Eleni sat up, her head foggy
from lack of sleep.

“How
is my mother?”

“I
cannot let you see her,” said Cosmin.

“Why
not?” said Eleni, her voice hard.

“I
cannot let you into my village,” said Cosmin. “You are a
danger to everyone beyond the wall. You must understand, I have to
look out for my people.”

“It's
my village, too,” said Eleni. “I was born there.”

“Your
mother was an outsider,” said Cosmin. His voice was quiet,
calm, but his body had become twitchy, as though he'd like to be
anywhere but here, speaking to her. Like he itched to be away. “We
still have no knowledge where she came from.”

“Then
ask her,” said Eleni.

“She
does not speak to us,” said Cosmin. “Not anymore.”

“Bring
her out, then,” said Eleni. “Bring her to me and I will
not have to come.”

Cosmin
was quiet for a time. He looked toward the open door. “I
cannot,” he said finally. “I fear the winter too much to
let her go.”

“You
are making plans for your own funeral, Cosmin,” Eleni said
quietly.

“If
you kill me now,” he said, a tremor in his voice, “Rastin
has instructions to slit her throat. He will not hesitate.”
Eleni knew this to be true. Of all Cosmin's friends, Rastin was the
most fearsome. He was smaller than the others, but there was a manic
look about his eyes that told her that he would do anything if he
could get away with it.

“If
this is the way of things,” said Eleni, “it will not end
well. For any of us.”

“The
way of things has not been well for a long time,” said Cosmin.
He shook his shaggy head. “There is no good left in this cruel
world. Kill us if you can, but we will continue to defend ourselves.
Continue to bring us game and your mother will be well-fed. We can
gather wild vegetation during the day, but we dare not go deep into
the wood. We are not strong enough, not like you. We cannot survive
without you, not after losing the crops and the sheep. But your
mother will not survive if you leave us. And she will die if you
murder any one of us.”

Eleni
glowered at the broken man. She leaned forward and held out her hand.
A flame sprang to life. Cosmin looked at it, his face illuminated in
the light, the darkened circles under his eyes, the lines deep in his
face. He was not much older than Eleni, yet he looked like an old
man. There was even white in his beard. “You will burn,”
said Eleni. “And you won't know it has happened until you smell
the flesh melting off your bones. If you treat me like an animal, I
will hunt you like prey.”

“I
will not let that happen,” said Cosmin. He rose slowly and took
the few steps to the open door. He stopped and turned to look at her.
“I am sorry,” he said.

“If
you did not know that I had the power to harm you, you would not be
sorry,” said Eleni.

Cosmin
nodded slowly. “No,” he said. “The gods will punish
me as they see fit.” He left, ducking through the doorway.
Eleni watched for a long time, putting out the flame in her palm. No
one came to close the door. She was no longer a physical prisoner.
Now she just had to bide her time until the moment was right.

She
put the clothes on, a simple rough-woven dress, worn through and
patched in several spots. She left the wool boots on her cot. Eleni
turned to leave, then crouched down and pulled the jacket Fin had
given her out of the corner. She smelled it. It smelled of smoke,
like her hair. She breathed in deeply. Under her own scent she
smelled something clean and cold. Like the wind. She put it on over
her dress and walked out the door.

It
was turning dark. She closed her eyes and felt the night rolling in
like a wave. Eleni looked up at the iron wall. It had taken the men
of Krasna years to finish it. All they had was iron and sheep after
the fire. Now they just had the iron. Eleni knew it wrapped all the
way around the village. It was little defense if something really
wanted to get in. It was two or three men high, but it could be
scaled. She supposed it gave people comfort to have the wall there.

“Move
along, Eleni,” called a voice. She smiled at Sabin who had an
arrow notched. He aimed at her shakily. “I like you, girl. But
I will follow orders.”

Eleni
followed the top of the wall with her eyes. Cosmin must have put
every man in the village on the wall. She smiled again. “You
cannot stay there forever, Sabin,” she said, walking away. She
would wait until spring to take her mother. She could be patient. But
best not to let them know. She would keep her plans secret.

The
wolf joined her as she reached the field. Crops used to grow here,
row upon row. But last spring nothing had sprouted but weeds. Now it
looked like any other field. Alin had said that the gods had
forgotten about them. She looked for Fin, even knowing he wouldn't be
there. Such a strange name. She wondered from where he had come. Or
where he was going. She followed the path she had seen him take,
following it to the edge of the wood, then lost the feel of him. It
wasn't a scent exactly, but she could usually trail something once
she had a bead on it. But it had been too long. She walked into the
forest anyway, though she was surprised not to see the marks of his
horse's hooves anywhere. Who was this man? This outsider that came
from the world that she had been told no longer existed. What else
was out there?