Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (9 page)

…
And Elia felt a spark jump between her palms. All around her she heard exclamations of triumph as the other Acolytes conjured flames of various sizes. Out of the corner of her eye, Elia thought she saw Tressa frowning at her, and she realized that the spark had not made a flame.

“
Acolyte Elia?”
the Malcyte called.

She tried again, thrusting her arms skyward. Another spark, then two… and a fountain of white flame burst upward from her palms, lashing the hall’s high ceiling with dark soot and sending waves of heat down from above on the rest of the group.

“
Ahhh…” Elia gritted her teeth, trying to stem the flow. She hadn’t meant to do this… not exactly… and now it was all she could do not to let the flames break her grasp and burn her to death.

Curses sounded all ‘round, and the Acolytes near her all leaped from their platforms, letting their smaller flames die out in their haste to get away. All, that is, except Tressa, who kept her flame strong in her good hand, staring at Elia with a curious half-smile.

“
By the Goldenmount!”
shrieked the Malcyte, pointing at her with disbelief, his long black hair blowing wildly in the hot wind her fire was causing.
“A Fellspark! You… you’ve… made a Fellspark!”

With a difficulty beyond imagining, Elia forced herself to quench the power within, cutting off the flow of fire and squeezing her hands together, shutting off the white flame in a single, decisive motion. It burned her hands abominably, but she knew not what else to do.

“
If I have done wrong, O Teacher, I am sorry,” she said, doing her best to imitate the dialect and speech of the Kinn, and dropping awkwardly to one knee on her platform. The Malcyte just shook his head, smoothing his black robes and staring vacantly at her.

“
I… will consult the Spines,”
he said finally, and quickly jumped from his own platform, practically racing to get out of the room.

What have I done now?
Elia wondered. If that wasn’t enough to bring the Golden One down on her, she didn’t know what was. And why had he tolerated her, anyway, since he’d known she could do something like that from the start?

The Kinn Acolytes had all left their platforms, congregating in a tight group, shutting out the few Rain Cave nymphs, who in turn would not let Elia near. So she simply stayed where she was, sitting on her platform, staring into the gloom, wishing for the thousandth time that none of this had happened to her.

After a few ominous minutes, someone tapped Elia on the shoulder. She was so deep in thought that she almost jumped, and the sight of Tressa’s scarred visage staring at her from inches away didn’t help, either.

“
You could have killed me,” the Kinn said, expressionless. She was speaking in the commontongue again, and it took Elia a moment to think, and respond in kind.

“
I… I didn’t mean to. Sometimes it just…”

“
No. You could have killed me,
twice
,” Tressa said again, shaking her head as if Elia was a child too stupid to understand a concept.

What does she…? Oh. Oh… the Ringfight.
Elia was taken aback. It was true… she could’ve ended Tressa’s life, when she’d first had the chance. But she had won, and thought…

It hit her like a punch to the gut.
That’s what Gramling meant. I hadn’t learned… that you haven’t won until the enemy is dead. That you’re not safe unless you’re the only one left standing.
She met Tressa’s eyes, and saw only one thing there: confusion. So the Kinn did not understand why she would spare a defeated opponent, and now she wanted to know the answer.

“
Why do more?” Elia said in a low voice, half to Tressa, half to herself. “Why hurt someone more than I have to?”

Tressa looked even more confused, but as the girl opened her mouth to respond, the creaking of the hall door interrupted her. Elia shivered, slipping off the platform and standing stiffly to meet her judgment. Would it be a Spine? Another Pit Strider? One of the Agrivors she’d heard about?

The Malcyte had returned, sweeping in and trying to look as majestic as he could. It was obvious, though, that he was merely a herald: the figures behind him were far more imposing. Elia’s breath caught. One was Gramling, in black pants and boot, with an open black coat of leather studded with gold. His hair was its natural flaxen now… he must have stopped dying it. With the scars on his face and chest, and the curved blade at his side, he looked positively terrifying… but his companion was even worse.

It was a male Kinn, but unlike any she had seen before. His black skin was so light it almost seemed gray, and instead of the customary raven locks, his head was shaved bald. Like Gramling, he wore a gold-studded coat… but it was white leather, with blood-red lines running down it. Instead of a sword, he bore a tall iron staff that split into four prongs at the top, which wrapped themselves around a small bleached skull, the origin of which Elia didn’t want to consider.

The skull’s eyes glowed red.

“
Lordyte,” Tressa murmured in Elia’s ear. “Six of them rule the Institution. All Striding. They rule it. Sorry,” and then she was gone, shuffling back to the other Acolytes, who seemed determined to press against the far wall of the hall as hard as they could.

Elia knelt on one knee as the Lordyte drew near. His expression was impassive, but Gramling’s was one of sly amusement. Not good. Not good at all.

“
Prostrate,”
hissed the Malcyte, coming up to her. Elia was confused, until the junior Pit Strider turned and laid himself flat out on the floor of the chamber beside her.
Oh.
Gritting her teeth and quenching her pride, she did likewise. There was a silent pause, when all the world seemed to be listening to her breathing.

“
So,” began the Lordyte, in perfect Treele Nymphtongue, “We have here a prodigy, do we? It is dangerous to be skilled here, pretty nymph.”

Elia shivered, despite herself. The Kinn’s voice was like honey… thick and suffocating, hiding an angry barb of poison. Whispers interrupted the thought; it seemed Gramling was saying something quietly in the Lordyte’s ear. Elia shifted her face from the floor, hesitant, just as the tall Kinn spoke again.

“
You are… special, it seems, Elia Treele. Even more so than I had assumed. You are no longer to be trained under the Spines.”

What?
Was this punishment, or favor? She couldn’t decide which sounded worse. “Th… thank you, my Master,” she said, nodding her head as far as she could while lying flat on the floor.

“
Very good,” the Lordyte said. “You are not just more skilled than these scum… more polite, too.
Malcyte Trekno?”
The Malcyte beside her raised his head, eyes fearful.

“
Yes, my Master?”

“
You are to be commended for your instruction.”
The Lordyte was speaking the Kinn dialect now.

“
Th-thank you, my Master.”

“
Instruction for the day is ended,”
the Lordyte announced to the other Acolytes.
“Each of you shall spend the day as you see fit, going where you will, so long as you do not leave the Sepulcher. You are now dismissed.”
The Acolytes scrambled through the door at the far end of the hall.

“
Malcyte Trekno,”
said Gramling, speaking for the first time. The Kinn tongue sounded wrong on him, somehow.
“You are dismissed to attend to your other duties. Leave your… student… here with us.”

“
Yes, my Master,”
the Malcyte said, getting up and leaving quickly without even taking the time to brush himself off.

Elia lay where she was, heart beating faster. What was going on?

“
Elia,” Gramling said, speaking the commontongue, “get up.”

She did. Both Gramling and the Lordyte wore odd, half-amused expressions. “What will happen to me?” she asked, before she could lose her courage.

“
Nothing,” answered the Lordyte, using the commontongue now.
Odd.
“Agrivor Gramling has volunteered to take on the burden of your training. You will begin tomorrow.”

What?
“The… the Golden One is not angry with me? After all this?” Elia hadn’t meant to ask that out loud, but it was too late. It made no sense… why was she allowed all this?

The two Pit Striders shared a conspiratorial look. Gramling grinned in a way that reminded her painfully of Gribly.

“
He doesn’t know,” Gramling said finally.

Elia’s heart almost stopped in shock.

“
The Master is bound up in his duties,” the Lordyte explained. “Vastion has fallen, but Vast as a whole is still far from defeated. The Golden One plans day and night to finally crush them. He will do it, eventually. But something has drawn his dream-gaze away from you, for the moment, and he no longer cares as he once did.”

“
I’ve been snooping,” Gramling said with a sneer. “He’s suffered a setback of some kind… probably courtesy of my damnable brother. It’s got me thinking.”

“
He came to me,” the Lordyte said, “And I arranged most of the… advantages you have experienced. The Golden One is not a god, Elia… as I’m sure you know. He believes the other Lordytes and I to have you well in hand.”

“
This one’s a rebel,” Gramling said, a flicker passing in his eyes. Elia opened her mouth in surprise… the Golden Nation had rebels?

“
I have given Master Gramling the free run of this Sepulcher, while his own Master is occupied elsewhere,” the Lordyte responded, shrugging. “In return…”

“
I will wait a while before turning him in,” the younger man said, smiling coldly.

“
One day… I hope you will see the truth,” the Lordyte sighed, and Elia was shocked to find him glancing pointedly in her direction. Who was this Kinn? Did he actually expect her to turn Gramling against the Golden One? He’d nearly
tortured her to death!

“
You are dismissed,” Gramling told her, his face expressionless again. “I’ll come for you tomorrow. Be ready.”

Elia nodded, turning to go, her mind a mess of difficulties and confusion.

What had just happened? What was she to do?

Back in her quarters, Elia’s sleep was fitful. The closet-like chambers given to Acolytes were far from comfortable, and the day’s events lent nothing to her peace. The third time she woke from a nightmare, she simply could not go back to sleep.
Why can’t it just happen
now?
Then, whatever it is, it’d be over, and I’d know… whatever it is.
The sheer confusion she felt was part of the problem.

Something tapped on her door. Her eyes widened in the darkness, and she resisted the urge to crawl deeper under the thin blanket that covered her. Was it dawn already? Was Gramling coming for her? She opened her mouth, then shut it.
Wait one moment. If it was Gramling, he wouldn’t’ve knocked. Someone’s out there, trying to see if I’m awake.

That couldn’t be good. She almost said something aloud, but then thought better of it. She couldn’t run from this problem, whatever it was… and she had her suspicions. Better to wait and feign sleeping than to confront whoever was out there. Or
what
ever. She shivered, and closed her eyes to slits.

She could barely see in the dark of the room, but it seemed that something was wrong with the machine-lock on her door. All the Acolytes had them, those Golden Nation inventions, and never left them unlocked. Hers was moving… was someone fiddling with it on the other side? Her key hung on a nail beside her bed. How did they plan on…

…
then the metal plate and mechanism of the lock sagged, like dripping wax, slithering down the door and melting away.

Pit Striding. Blasted
good
Pit Striding. Just like Gramling’s.
Curse him, if that’s who this is,
she thought. Someone meant her hurt, or death… that much was obvious. Elia closed her eyes as sounds of shuffling and a muted thud came from beyond the heavy, blackwood door. She had to prepare the mental part of her summoned flame, before they broke in, so that she’d be able to…