“I hope you enjoy my little surprise,” she whispered. I thought she’d meant the stabbing, but that wasn’t it—Cress had another trick up her sleeve. She knew what had happened at the Ovelgan estate and so she knew exactly where we would go next.
Maile was right when she said it was the predictable course to take.
“They’re burning all of it,” Søren says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “The mine and the stores and the slave camp—everything. Why would they do that?”
“Because she knew we were going to take it and she couldn’t get warriors there quickly enough to protect it,” I say. “And she would rather destroy it all than lose it to me.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn around and walk back toward our camp. Horror and fear duel in my mind, but I force myself to speak loudly enough to drown them out.
“I want everyone on the move now,” I say to the gathered men and women. “We need to get word to our other groups as well—especially the Fire and Water Guardians. We’ll extinguish and control the fire as best we can while the rest of our army fights off the guards—I’m sure many of them will still be lingering about, waiting to ambush us.”
“You can’t be serious,” Maile says, matching my pace. “It’s a trap; you must know that.”
“I do,” I say. “But there are people in there.”
“Good as dead already,” she replies. “What’s the point of losing more people in the process of trying to save them?”
I know she’s making sense, but I barely hear her. Blood pounds in my ears, pushing me forward, demanding action.
“You don’t have to take orders from me,” I tell her. “But that’s the order I’m giving my people, and given that most of them could have very easily found themselves in a burning mine, I can’t imagine anyone will decide to sit it out. You, however, are welcome to.”
For a beat, she doesn’t say anything, but then she quickens her pace and jogs ahead. “Like I’m going to let you take all of the glory,” she shouts over her shoulder. “I’ll get word to the eastern group.”
“Then I’ll take the west,” Blaise says before running off in that direction.
Heron catches up with me, Erik beside him. “There are Air Guardians in there,” Heron reminds me. “I should go in as well. If I can get to them, we might be able to coordinate enough wind to help extinguish the fire.”
“Or you’ll feed it,” I point out. “Stay outside. There will be injured slaves coming out, and they’ll need your help when they do.”
“And me?” Erik asks.
“Stay in the camp with Søren,” I tell him.
“Theo—” Søren says, coming up on my other side.
I shake my head, already anticipating his protests. “It’s dark and we don’t know what sort of trap we’re getting into. The last thing we need is you getting mistaken for a Kalovaxian guard. Stay here with Erik and keep watch. If you see anything new heading our way, get word to us.”
Søren doesn’t like being a lookout—I can see it in the twist of his mouth—but he nods.
“Go,” he tells me, and in the dim light I can see the worry outlined clearly on his face as he looks at me. “I don’t need to tell you to be careful, so I’ll just say to come back safe, all right?”
* * *
—
I know that Artemisia is riding as fast as she can, but as I stare at the flames blazing in the distance, it doesn’t feel fast enough. Screams whip through the air, raising goose bumps on my skin and sending my heart thundering. I don’t realize I’m holding Artemisia too tightly until she delivers a gentle but solid elbow to my side.
“Get a hold of yourself,” she shouts at me over her shoulder. “You aren’t good for anything if you’re a panicked mess.”
I know she’s right, but it’s hard to stay calm and collected when the dying screams of innocents are ringing in your ear.
We get as close to the camp as we can before the horse begins to panic, and we go the rest of the way on foot. I don’t look over my shoulder—all of my focus is on what’s left of the burning wall that surrounds the camp—but I know the others are behind me. Up close, the fire is even bigger than I expected; there doesn’t seem to be an inch of the camp left untouched.
Standing before the inferno, even Artemisia looks frightened.
“Where do we even begin?” she shouts to me.
I don’t know how to answer her. I feel frozen myself. But I steel my nerves and raise my hands. I focus, feeling Ampelio’s pendant warm against my heart.
I press my palms together, then pull them apart, throwing my arms wide. As I do, the flames of the camp part as well, mirroring the motion. It is barely a crack, barely enough to show the remnants of where the wall once stood, but it’s large enough to create a path into the camp, and that is all that matters.
“You and the other Water Guardians start from the outer edge and work your way in,” I shout to her. “The other Fire Guardians and I will make paths to get people out.”
Artemisia nods and lifts her arms, but I can’t stay and watch. I turn back to the path I made and start down it, careful to keep my concentration steady. Narrow as the path is, one slip and it could close in on me, and though fire has never burned me in small doses, I’m not about to test how much that protection can withstand.
The screams are louder now, so loud and piercing that the hairs on my arms rise. I follow the closest scream, widening the path ahead and letting it close behind me until I come to a break in the flames where one of the barracks stood, but now all that’s left is the skeleton of the structure. I step inside and lower my arms before bringing my sleeve to my nose and mouth to filter out the smoke thick in the air, along with a smell that I would rather not put a name to.
“Hello?” I call out in Astrean. It’s impossible to see anything through the curtain of smoke, but the screams are even louder, underscored by soft crying.
“Hello?” a voice calls back, frightened and hoarse.
I step toward it, stumbling over something on the ground that has the distinct feel of a lifeless body. I crouch down to see if it’s alive, but the voice stops me.
“Dead,” it says before I can reach out to touch the body. “Over here, please.”
My stomach twists and I straighten up. The voice is younger than I thought at first, speaking halting and uncertain Astrean.
“Are you alone?” I ask, but when no one responds, I ask again in Kalovaxian.