Soul Fire (17 page)

The group turned as one and saw me emerging from the
marsh, my clothing torn, my hair and face muddy. But
most importantly, they saw the small boy I was carrying.

Petre turned, slowly, as though he didn’t believe what
he was hearing. He saw Sammy in my arms, straining
towards him, dirty, but alive.

“Sammy,” was all he said before lifting him out of my
arms. Both brothers clutched each other, and I couldn’t
stop the tears of relief that trickled down my face.

“I’m fine,” I said. I saw tears of happiness in Petre’s
eyes. “More than fine, actually.”
Dena hugged me out of relief, and I almost let myself
collapse; I was exhausted. My limbs trembled now that the
adrenaline had left them, and I felt hollow.
“Sky, I can’t even...” Petre broke off, kissing me fiercely
on the cheek instead.
“She killed it.” Sammy said from atop Petre’s hip.
Petre pulled back and looked at me, as though seeing
me in a whole new light.
“You will never, ever, cease to amaze me.”
We rode back in a whole new frame of mind than the
one we’d arrived with. We’d been expecting to have to kill
the Du’rangor and then find Sammy’s body so we could
put him to rest. Instead, Sammy was going to grow into a
strong, healthy boy, who could claim that he’d outlived
the Du’rangor that attacked him.
When we reached the manor house and Lord Hugh met
us in the entrance hall, I couldn’t hold back the tears again
as he saw the son he’d thought he’d lost. A door opened on
the side hall, and a woman emerged.
“What’s all the fuss about?” she asked, her face pale and
thin.
“Mother!” Sammy called, and the woman looked like
she was going to faint.
The family gathered around each other, and Dena and I
looked at each other, both thinking the same thing; we
should leave them to their reunion.
We nodded and moved swiftly up the stairs with Ispin
and the girls. When we reached the second floor, Theresa
and Yasmin wanted to know the whole story, but Rain
saved me.
“She’s exhausted,” she said, taking my arm to steady
me. “Come on, Sky.”
She led me to the bathroom we shared as the other girls
followed. For the next half an hour I was pampered, as
Rain carefully washed mud and bits of the marsh from my
hair. Dena set about drying it and then brushing it. I let
myself fall asleep, properly, for the first time in days.
When I woke I was in my bed. I sat up, confused,
wondering what had woken me. Another small tap
sounded at the door, and I quickly swung my legs out of
bed, noticing someone had dressed me in my pyjamas.
“Come in,” I called, trying to smooth down the thicket
that was my hair.
Petre’s mother entered just as I lit the candle next to
me.
“Sorry if I woke you,” she said.
“Not at all,” I replied, patting the bed next to me. “I
think I’ll be able to sleep better from now on anyway.”
She smiled, coming to sit next to me. In the light of the
candle, I could see her resemblance to Petre straight away.
“I’m Matilda; I’m sorry we haven’t met before now,”
she apologized. “I’ve been grieving for my youngest son.
But now, because of you, I don’t have to.”
I smiled uneasily; I wasn’t really sure what to say.
“Is there anything I can do to thank you?” she asked,
but I was shaking my head before she finished the
sentence.
“No. I wanted to help my friend, that’s all.”
We sat in silence.
“You’re an unusual mage, Sky,” she said finally. “Petre
tells me this is the second Du’rangor you’ve killed.”
“It was.”
“For any mage to claim to have killed one of the beasts
is impressive; two is verging on legendary. I find it curious
that before now we have not seen them in Lotheria at all,
and now two have been killed within months of each
other.”
For a second I wondered if she was accusing me of
importing them or something. But then I realised she was
just confused.
“I don’t know how they're getting into the country,” I
said quietly. “I’m from the human realm; I’ve never been
to Gannameade. The first time I saw a Du’rangor was
when it was trying to kill me when I was stuck in a tree.”
She fidgeted, her hands sitting on her stomach and I
noticed that she was pregnant, the bump just beginning to
show beneath her magenta night gown.
“I have a feeling that this isn’t going to be the end of
these dark occurrences,” she said finally. “I think it’s just
the beginning.”
She stood up to leave, but then turned back just as I was
beginning to slide back under my covers.
“I’m carrying a girl,” she said, patting her belly. “She’ll
be named Sky.”
She left before I could say anything. My emotions were
raging, and I wasn’t sure if for a second I was going to
break down and cry. Instead, I blew out the candle and
pulled my blankets up to my ears.
It was a long time before I fell back to sleep.
The next morning, the whole manor house seemed to
be buzzing. The elderly lady who had shown me to my
room brought me breakfast and a pot of tea, beaming at
me as she did so. As she left my room, I thought I caught
glimpses of other servants in the hall and I heard a snatch
of excited gibbering until my door was closed again. I ate
the steam buns – these ones had bits of apricots and
peaches in them – in thoughtful silence. I got dressed as I
drank my tea, dressing in the same breeches that had been
laundered, but pulling on a white shirt this time; my green
one was beyond repair, as part of the material was still out
in the marshes attached to the claws of the dead
Du’rangor. I left my hair down for once, impressed by the
soft shininess of it after Rain had washed it. It smelt like
fruits, and I made a mental note to ask her what shampoo
she used.
All mental notes fled my mind as I opened my door. It
seemed as though every servant that worked in the manor
had found an excuse to be cleaning something outside or
near my room, and when I opened my door they all
stared.
I avoided their gazes uneasily, trotting down the stairs
and praying that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face with
everyone watching. Still peckish, despite the rolls and tea,
I headed for the dining room, finding the others seated
around the enormous table which had been decorated
with a large bowl of red chrysanthemums. The others
were already eating, their chatter reaching my ears just as
the smell of bacon and eggs did.
“There she is,” Lord Hugh said, spying me in the
doorway. “Our hero.”
He swept over to me and kissed me on the cheek as
Petre had done.
“I’m not anyone’s hero,” I mumbled, embarrassed. “I
did what anyone at this table would do.”
“You did what we couldn’t,” Ispin said, fixing his
glasses on his nose. “None of us wanted to go off by
ourselves, even though we suspected you were right, that
the Du’rangor wouldn’t go after us as a group.”
“He’s right,” Rain said, echoing her soul mate. “Deny it
all you want, Sky, but the fact is that you have courage
that we just don’t.”
I couldn’t respond, so I just stood awkwardly, shuffling
from foot to foot. Dena rescued me by pulling an extra
plate towards her, beginning to load it up with toast,
bacon and eggs. Lord Hugh pulled out my chair for me
very gallantly, which just made me even more
embarrassed. I felt better as I started eating, though.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Yasmin advised. “Because I
don’t think it would be very wise to mention this when
we get home.”
I looked up from tearing a fruit roll in half. Had she
guessed that Iain and Netalia wouldn’t be pleased with us?
Her eyes glinted and I knew she had.
“I just don’t think Jett would be very pleased to know
that we came here to risk our lives,” she explained for
everyone else’s benefit.
“So only here we can call her the Du’rangor Slayer,”
Petre said, grinning widely in my direction.
I pointed a rasher of bacon at him very threateningly.
“Don’t you dare.” I replied darkly.
We were saved any more comments by Sammy’s arrival
in the dining hall. Despite his father and brother’s
presence, he came straight to me and crawled up into my
lap, completely at ease. He began eating some of my bacon
as Lord Hugh started the conversation again.
“Samlin will be going to the magic tester in a few days,”
he said proudly, the glow of fatherhood warm in his eyes.
“The day he turns five. Who knows, maybe we’ll have
another little mage in our midst.”
Sammy, completely unperturbed by this, finished the
rasher of bacon and leant forwards for half of the fruit roll
I picked up for him. I wondered if the little boy in my lap
would grow up to be a Petre; spoiled and lofty on the
outside, soft and caring on the inside. Now that I’d gotten
to know Petre, gotten to know what he truly held dear, I
couldn’t look down on him like I’d used to. I looked across
at Rain on a whim, and saw such a look in her eyes as she
looked at him that I felt embarrassed for a whole new
reason, like I’d been intruding on something private. I
looked down at Sammy in my lap instead. His golden hair
had been washed, and I could already see it beginning to
darken, so that he would have the same coloured hair as
Petre and his father, a hue not so far from my own dark
hair. The boy ate ravenously, and without prompting,
began to tell about his take on the day the Du’rangor had
stolen him.
He’d been playing in the gardens at the end of the
estate. His father had told him not to play there many
times, but that was the only place the stream flowed
through, and though it was a meagre flow, it still created
enough mud to make mud pies. As he’d been stretching
towards the trickle of water, he’d looked up to see large
red eyes in front of him. Immediately he began to scream
and wail in terror, but he’d been too far from the house for
anyone to hear.
Rather than clawing or biting him, the Du’rangor had
lifted him off the ground by grabbing his shirt in its
mouth. Carrying the wailing child, it had begun its slow
walk towards the marshland just as one of the dry electric
storms that so plagued the city began to build.
By the time the beast had reached the swamp, the
storm was in full swing. During one particularly loud
crack of thunder, Sammy’s shirt had torn and he’d fallen
to the ground and taken off running. The Du’rangor,
distracted by the lightning, hadn’t noticed him fall at first.
These seconds were crucial for Sammy, who’d flown
through the sparse undergrowth, trying to find a way out.
Instead he’d managed to stumble into the midst of the
marsh, and resorted to climbing a tree, the one I’d found
him in, and staying there as the thunder and lightning
clashed and the Du’rangor began its search for him.
For the next week he huddled in its branches, too afraid
to move. He could hear the hunting parties searching for
him, but he knew that the Du’rangor had to be close, and
so he daren’t make a sound.
When it rained, he’d drunk as much as he could catch,
the water filling his belly, but it was hollow succour for a
growing boy. He’d tried eating a few of the bitter leaves
from the tree he was hiding in, but they’d stung his mouth
so he’d spat them out. As it was, he spent a total of nine
nights in the tree, not moving, not making a sound.
He’d been asleep one morning when he’d woken up to
the sound of the Du’rangor very close. He’d watched it
stalk closer from under the brush, until it was right
beneath his tree. And then he’d glanced over, and seen me
almost face down in the mud.
“I didn’t think you were real, at first,” he admitted to
me. “I thought you were a goddess come to take me away.”
One of the servants bore him away as his eyelids began
to close, his small body drooping; he was exhausted after
telling his story. I made eye contact with Petre.
“Not a word,” I said sternly, knowing I would never be
able to live down being called a goddess, though I don’t
think many of them made a habit of crawling through
swamp mud.
Despite that, Sammy’s steadfast belief that I was going
to save him and his unquestioning acceptance of me had
melted my heart, and I knew I couldn’t think of myself in
the same way ever again. I was still Sky, who couldn’t
create objects or fire arrows accurately to save her life, but
I had saved the life of a small child, and I’d never be the
same again.

Once we’d finished eating, Petre brought up the bridge
to Nurmin.
“I thought we’d ride out and take a look,” he said.
“After all, a broken bridge shouldn’t be a match for the
Du’rangor Slayer.”
I sighed heavily, knowing I shouldn’t deprive him of
this joy that would be so short lived. The others agreed to
see the bridge, knowing that if we could repair it, we
would be well on the path to restoring Riverdoor to the
glory that Petre claimed it was.
Today was also the day we were supposed to be heading
back to the Academy. We sent a runner with our
apologies, explaining in our joint note that there was just
too much for us to explore in only a few short days. We
asked for a few extra days excusal, though we were
cheating a little bit; it would take the runner four days to
return with their reply, so odds were good that we’d be
allowed to stay.
The day was breaking bright by the time we set off. I
spied more servants around the stable as I was saddling
Echo, and as we rode off down the drive, I mentioned my
uneasiness to Petre.
“Do they always do that?” I asked him as the servants
who’d been gardening stopped what they were doing to
watch us pass.
“No, they don’t,” he replied. “They’re looking at you;
they know you saved Sammy, and they know you’ve now
killed two Du’rangors, the creatures they’d been brought
up to regard as mythical. In their eyes, you’re a living
legend.”
His explanation didn’t help. I flushed as every new pair
of eyes sought mine, keeping my gaze on Echo’s mane. It
was almost a relief to reach the gilded gates, turning out
onto the road that would take us to the Nurmin Bridge.
The road to it was rough and unkempt. It made sense;
when there was other work to be done in the city, why
bother maintaining a road that, for the current part, was
unusable?
We reached the bridge within an hour of setting out
from the manor. It had crumbled in the very centre, so
that only the beginning of the bridge still clung to each
side of the river. The heavy stones of the bridge had
dropped into the muddy, dilapidated river, and I was in no
mood to go and heave them out by hand.
“Who’s ready for some magic?” I asked eagerly,
dismounting.
The others certainly were. Together we began
levitating the stones out of the mud, bringing them up to
us on the Riverdoor side of the river. By midmorning we
were covered with sweat, but the pile of stones beside us
showed our effort and teamwork. I rubbed my sore
muscles as the others stopped for a drink. Lifting the
stones out by magic certainly didn’t grant us a rest from
manual labour; my bones were aching as though I’d lifted
them out by hand.
We ate our packed lunch quickly, and with full
stomachs and rested arms, we set about pulling the stones
into place against our side of the crumbled bridge, and two
would hold it in place while the others sealed in into the
main stone work. It was slow, hard work, and the sun was
setting as we completed half of the bridge. We headed
back to the manor exhausted, but feeling rather pleased
with ourselves. By tomorrow, we reckoned, we would’ve
reopened the road between the two sister cities of the
state.
“And then,” I said in between mouthfuls of roast beef.
“I want to look at the dam over the border.”
“We can’t though,” Rain said, looking shocked. “Like
you said, it’s over the border; we’re not allowed into
Orthandrell.”
“Who would know?” I asked her, winking. “Just a
covert mission. I’m sure no one would notice. And
wouldn’t it be terrible if the illegal dam happened to be
destroyed in some way. Oh!” I leant back in my chair with
my hand pressed against my forehead dramatically.
“Imagine! All of that water flowing into the droughtstricken state! What to do, what to do...”
The others laughed at my antics. Despite my grin
though, I was feeling apprehensive about setting foot into
Phoenix’s home state. After everything I’d heard about it,
the way Petre spoke of it, I was expecting a dank, awful
country absolutely crawling in uneducated, wild mages.
The next morning we woke bright and early, packing
our breakfast rather than eating it with the family. We
were all eager to get to work on the bridge; the sooner we
completed it, the better.
The portion of the bridge that we’d repaired had lasted
overnight, so, renewed in our faith that we could indeed
repair a bridge, we picked up the thread of yesterday with
the aims of completing it by midday.
It was a goal we achieved. Encouraged by the clear
skies, we set the last stone in place, and then gathered
over the other side, looking back at our horses and our
handiwork and feeling rather proud of ourselves.
“C’mon,” I said as we all threatened to stand about all
day patting ourselves on the backs. “Let’s get to work on
these supporting arches.”
We got down in the mud, having dressed appropriately.
Once Ispin, Petre and I had completed the base work, we
let the other girls work on the flair of the bridge, having
discovered that we had no artistic talent at all. Dena had
been working on the sides of the bridge, a task I’d been
banned from when I’d started placing stones higgledypiggledy about the place.
As the sun began to set, we stood on the river, admiring
the bridge that up until yesterday, had been unusable, a
blight on the countryside. Now, we could inform Lord
Hugh that the road to Nurmin was, in fact open again.
Those days were some of the happiest of my life. I was
discovering a feeling of acceptance unlike anything I’d
ever known in my life. I was the light of my friends’ eyes
and I have to admit to revelling in it. I’d certainly earned
it, but I was so unused to it that it still caught me by
surprise when they included me in on a joke, or we were
praised as a whole. The ‘legend’ thing that Petre kept
bringing up whenever he caught servants or townspeople
looking at me was something so unusual to me that I kept
forgetting about it, and as a result was shocked into silence
whenever someone did something that brought it to mind
again.
A few brave townsfolk had ventured into the marshes
to burn the body of the Du’rangor, something I’d been too
preoccupied to do when I first killed it. They came back
telling people that it had been three times as large as
they’d been told, something that embarrassed me to no
end because the adoration that had slowly falling by the
wayside, increased tenfold.
When Lord Hugh announced the road open again, it
was though clouds that had been casting a pall over the
city had cleared. Commerce and trading opened up
between the two cities again, with many travellers
commenting on the handy work on the bridge.
“By hand it would have taken us months,” Lord Hugh
said to us one night at dinner, not long after the road had
reopened. “You’ve saved us a lot of work.”
I accepted his compliments with a faraway mind. We
didn’t have long before we were going to be forced to
return to the Academy, and I desperately wanted to have a
look at this illegal dam.
One night, instead of going to bed like good little
lambs, we all met in the stables. We’d dressed in black,
though the odds of us being spotted weren’t high. We rode
from the estate quickly, hoping to put distance between it
and us so that the estate wouldn’t be connected to the
destruction of the dam.
We took one of the disused roads to the border.
Tension mounted as we closed in on it, and it was rather
anticlimactic when Petre stopped to open a gate.
“That’s all?” I asked in a hushed whisper.
“What were you expecting?” He hissed back. “Full
security detail? Just be thankful it’s not.”
We rode upstream, staying off of the roads. The night
was bristling with frost, and I had to keep wriggling my
fingers so they wouldn’t go stiff. There was no moon, and
as a result, Petre had to light our way with a magelight
close to the ground. Beside us, the river was almost dry,
with only a small trickle of water running through it.
“If we destroy this all in one go, won’t it flood
Riverdoor?” I heard Rain ask up ahead.
“The river widens just down from here,” Petre replied.
“It should slow it enough that it won’t break its banks.”
I found myself nodding subconsciously. I’d also been
worrying about accidentally flooding the river. I had no
doubt that our hero status would decrease significantly if
everyone woke up to find themselves floating away in
flood water.
The dam loomed up ahead. In the stark light of Petre’s
magic, it looked even bigger than I’d thought. We rode up
around it carefully; we weren’t sure how close we were to
civilization. Before us, the river glinted softly, soft waves
lapping at the muddy bank. I gulped; there was a lot more
water here than I’d thought.
What are they doing with it? I wondered. I glanced
about, though I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.
Petre and the others were dismounting by the bank and
I quickly followed suit. Echo, completely non plussed by
what we were doing, began to drink from the imprisoned
river.
“As soon as we weaken the base of it, it’ll all go,” Ispin
said, examining the logs by the light of his own magic.
“How about we start from the top?” Yasmin suggested.
“It’ll be a lot less work, and we might be able to maintain
some control over the water.”
I doubted it – the river looked about ready to go – but I
didn’t say anything.
And so, by the light of our magelights, we set about
removing the top logs the same way we’d brought the
bridge stones to us. Dena and I carefully managed to
dislodge the first log, and a sliver of water trickled down
the front of the dam, as though testing its freedom.
Encouraged even by this small breakthrough, we worked
steadily through the night, using our combined magic’s to
dismantle the dam built by unknown persons.
As we removed the whole top layer of logs, more and
more water began to trickle over the edge. Eventually,
there was a solid stream, hitting the hard mud of the river
with a soft splatting noise.
Rain and Yasmin were already working on their next
set of logs before any of us had returned to the dam after
piling our own aside. I turned back just in time to see
them remove one from the very centre.
“No!” I cried, my harsh call tearing through the night
silence.
It was too late. The water, sensing its freedom was
close, burst out of the gap like a fire hydrant. The dam,
weakened by our meddling and now stricken with
thousands of litres of water, burst.
I dove for higher ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I
saw Dena do the same, Theresa on her heels. As I hit the
ground, my magelight went out and I was plunged into
darkness. All I could hear was the gush of water and the
clunking of logs as they were carried downstream by the
flow. I kept crawling up the slope, finally managing to get
my feet under me. I slipped in the mud with a cry, flinging
my hand out for something, anything to grab a hold of.
My hand caught a rein, and I realised Echo was right in
front of me. She snorted as I pulled myself up, and then
began to guide me away from the river.
When the river had faded into a dull roar, I reignited
my magelight in my palm. Slowly, carefully, Echo and I
padded back towards it and I hoped desperately that no
one had been caught by the raging water.
I sent my magelight high over the area, risking getting
caught, but I needed to see properly. The light it shed fell
across the scene like moonlight, and I could see what we’d
done.
The dam had broken completely, and water was still
surging forwards, flowing towards Riverdoor. Dena and
Theresa were huddled near the bank, trying to peer over
the other side.
“Can you see anyone?” I asked as I drew closer,
dreading the answer.
“Petre was on the other bank for a little while, then he
shouted something to us but we couldn’t hear,” Theresa
answered, her voice strained with worry. “He and Ispin
have disappeared into the trees.”
“What about Yasmin and Rain?” I asked, but Dena
shook her head.
The noise the dam had made had been unbelievable,
like a roar of thunder. I could only hope that any
Orthandrellians that had heard had assumed it was just
that; thunder. The storms had been increasing in number
and ferocity as the seasons changed.
I could see no way across, but we’d passed a bridge on
the way to the dam. I mentioned it to Theresa and Dena,
who agreed to head in that direction. Hopefully the boys
had thought the same and we’re on their way to it as we
spoke.
We hitched the horses together and began to ride in
that direction. As we rode beside the newly re-birthed
river, I noticed I was searching its banks for two bodies.
Stop it! I chided myself angrily. They’ll be fine.
I hadn’t seen where they were when the dam had burst.
I could only hope that they’d been on the other side with
Petre and Ispin. But then why would Dena and Theresa
say they’d only seen the two boys on the opposite bank of
the river? I shoved the thought away uneasily.
We were nearing the bridge. I eyed the horizon with
concern; it was beginning to lighten as dawn approached.
We needed to be back over the border and safe in our beds
at the manor before anyone saw us.
I could see the bridge. But before we got any closer, my
eye was caught by something in the water.
I was off of Echo and sprinting towards the river before
I had time to think. I knew what I’d seen; Yasmin’s long
honey blonde hair bobbing along next to one of the logs
from the dam.
I hit the water and was immediately taken aback by
how fast it was flowing. I fought it angrily, striding out as
far as I could. As I felt the soft muddy bottom of the river
give way, I pushed off, gaining a little bit extra momentum
as I began to strike out towards Yasmin.
I fought the water straining around me. I fixed my
sights on her, determined to reach her.
I wilnot let you go!
As I slowly drew closer, the frigid water beginning to
numb my body, I saw that she was close to
unconsciousness; her arm draped loosely over the log was
the only thing keeping her above the surface.
“Hang on!” I shouted to her and managing to swallow a
lot of river water. “Don’t let go, Yasmin!”