Enna Burning (10 page)

“All right,” she whispered.

In that moment, she felt her insides bend as though leaning toward something, and her careful grip on the desire of the fire twisted like a snake in her fist.

Her eyes rested on a stack of barrels. She pulled in the heat, smooth and slick as butter, felt it change inside her, and sent it flying into her target. There was a satisfying explosion as the contents blew into the air.

A chill shook her as the heat left and shouts buffeted the night. She scrambled away, still keeping close to the ground. As soon as she dipped down over the first rise, she stood and ran. Immediately she heard bootfalls behind her and then a voice, clear and commanding.

“Stop or I will put this spear in you.”

Enna stopped, her skin wincing in anticipation of the spear. She had expelled all her waiting heat at those barrels. She held no weapon. He came closer.

“You will surrender yourself,” he said.

She was not quite numb yet, but she had no more gathered heat to attack. If only he were closer . . .
No, no,
she argued with herself,
I can’t set fire to a person.

“I said, surrender,” he said.

But if I don’t, I die.
In that moment the maddening need to survive filled her, and she recognized in that need the same feeling the heat created when it pushed against her to be made into fire.
Just do it. Just burn him.
There seemed no other option. If only she were not alone.

Closer. She could feel him now. With a gasp she tugged at his body heat, what rose from his skin and circled around his head. Suddenly she knew she could get more, if she wished. She kept pulling and felt as though she tugged on a rope and someone on the other end tugged back, but she pulled harder and felt it give, freeing heat that was not loose, but what lived in his skin and beneath it. She heard him wheeze. She drew it in and sent it back at him again in its new and perfect form.

He screamed. Smoke rushed into her throat. Coughing, Enna turned and fled.

She did not look back, afraid to see him, afraid that if she looked, the image would burn itself in her eyes and she might never forget. Instead, what she did not see stayed with her, the orange flames thick in his tunic, licking his face, rising into his eyes. She shook her head and tried to focus on the moment—the darkness before her, the frozen grass crushed beneath her boot, the sensation that just behind her was something terrible and if she turned slightly, she would see.

At last she reached Merry and rode off to the northwest, holding close to the mare’s warm neck. She was numb from the fire making and from crawling on the cold ground and from fear, and she wanted the very real heat she could feel when she pressed her fingers into the horse’s fur.

As the mare galloped, Enna felt her insides rattle. She breathed in and out quickly, trying to clear her lungs, but the smell of smoke still clung like grease to her skin. She squinted into the cold wind and clutched the mare tighter. She had sworn never to set flame to a person, but she had failed. Her mind clung to Leifer and tried to avoid the pulsing thought of what she had just done. That sensation of something horrible just over her shoulder stayed with her on the long ride back.

She arrived in Ostekin well after dawn, dismounted west of the town, and walked the mare slowly to the stables.

“Come along, pudding,” she said, stroking her mane. “Come along, honeysuckle.”

The mare neighed sleepily, and Enna stopped to hold her neck and breathe into her mane. It felt so good to have a companion. And the horse was such a brave, patient creature to go out into the cold night world, risking the invisible drone of arrows and spears.

I’m brave, too
, Enna thought gently, feeling like a little girl in need of comfort.

Enna waved off the stable-hand and took the mare in herself, taking off the saddle, hanging up the tack, brushing her down with great care. Work felt like the only comfort just then. Burning Eylbold perimeter tents was not chasing Tira off Bayern land, and she had broken a promise, had actually set fire to a person. Her mission was failing.

When she led the mare back to her stall, she found Razo curled up in the corner on a pile of clean straw.

“Razo.” She rubbed her face in exhaustion.

He coughed in his sleep, then bolted upright and saw her. “Enna.”

“Razo, this mare is falling asleep as I stand here. Can she have her stall back?”

Razo scuttled to his feet and out of the stall. His upright hair supported even taller bits of straw, and they wobbled dangerously when he moved.

“Enna, you’re not a scout.”

“No, not officially.” She put the mare in the stall and rubbed her down again, not matching Razo’s gaze.

“I know that. I mean, I thought you might be, but Talone made me a scout and I asked him and he said, no, of course not.”

“No, of course not, you Forest yokel. They’d never make a Forest woman a spy for all of Bayern.”

“He would’ve made Isi one. He asked her.”

“Well, yes, of course.” Enna would want Isi by her side. What a companionship they would make, wind and fire. But her connection to her best friend felt sliced, the weight of the augury unbending and, after last night, her mission brutal and pointless. She sat down heavily on the hay. “I’m not a very good friend, Razo.”

“Enna.” His voice, worried and hopeful, made her look up. “There’s a scouting report from Eylbold. I heard last night. One of the villagers told our man that there’re fires again. It’s given them all a real fright.”

“Has it now.”

Razo looked at her meaningfully. “Talone, he thinks it’s just rumor, or maybe coincidence. But if he knew it was someone under his command, the stone face might actually pop a vein. He’d get fired up about sabotage during peace agreement, you know he would. But I think someone from our camp is sneaking a mount and riding out to burn Tiran tents.”

More than tents.
Enna’s stomach cramped as she thought of the sentry. “Yes, I know.” She pressed her lips together and weighed her two options: break a promise and tell Razo, or continue on her own and risk another encounter like the sentry last night. If Razo could help her avoid burning another person, would that be a promise worth breaking?

“You’re not really asking me, are you? You’ve already guessed.”

“No,” said Razo, feigning sincerity, “I’ve been waiting in every horse’s stall to ask them if they’ve been out burning Tiran camps.”

“Yes, yes, all right.” She gathered clean straw over her lap like a blanket and told him her story, of reading the vellum, of swearing never to burn, and then the augury.

“Do you remember those last moments of Finn’s fight?” she asked. “I do. I can still see that Tiran sword coming down toward Finn’s chest. I know the outcome of this war if I don’t play my part.”

Razo nodded. He had not spoken since she began, just listened and picked at a knot in the wood grain. Now, slowly, he said, “And you need my help.”

“I need another pair of eyes,” she said. “The fire, it’s strong, and I think I can fight it, I think I’m doing better than Leifer, but last night I had to . . . I almost lost control, or maybe I did, and then there was someone chasing me . . .” She took a breath. “I want someone not just to watch out for enemies, but to watch me, pull me back if I go too far.”

Razo frowned thoughtfully.

“I’m asking you because you’re nosy enough to’ve figured it out on your own,” said Enna, “and you’ve got good eyes, and being a scout, you might have a way to get us inside a taken town, where I can have a bigger effect.”

She bit her lip and waited for his reaction. At last he looked at her.

“What?” said Razo. “What’s that look you’re giving me? You’re not making fun of me, are you?”

“Razo, come on, I’m waiting for your answer.”

“You are? Well, you know that I will. We have to, of course. I was just thinking of how to explain to Talone, but since you’re so set on secrecy I guess I won’t. Anyway, I’m sure he’d agree it’s of more use than just scouting.” He smiled and crossed his heart with his fist. “We’ll do it, Enna. For the Forest. For Bayern! Though I should admit to you that my first thought was that if I became a hero, wouldn’t Bettin be sorry then that she picked Offo?”

“Ha.”

Razo’s eyes brightened at some thought, and he smiled excitedly. “And won’t we be proud when those white tents go fleeing back to Tira and all Bayern shouts our names and says, Hooray for the Forest dwellers! Hooray for Razo! And, uh, Enna, too!”

Enna shook her head. “And if they never chant our names?”

“No matter. We’ll feel like we’re living in a tale, like the ones Isi used to spin for us. It has to end well.”

“Hmm,” she said, “in my memory, not all her tales ended well.”

“Ours will,” he said confidently. “You’ll see.”

“In that case, Razo, if you become a hero, there’ll be plenty of girls besides Bettin. If we succeed, I might even be willing to wink at you.”

Razo made a gagging face, and Enna laughed and slugged him in the arm. A lightness in her chest felt like hope.

.

“Folcmar.” Razo pointed on the map to a town southeast of Eylbold. “Talone gave me the assignment this morning. I’m to report back in two days. Thought this might be our opportunity.”

Enna nodded. She had stayed in Ostekin for a week, waiting for Razo. She felt an itch on the inside of her skin. Heat accompanied her everywhere, like a gaggle of children promised a treat out of grandmother’s pocket. At last she could work again.

Enna met him that afternoon a league east of Ostekin. He waved when he saw her, then quickly returned his hands to the reins and eyed his moving mount suspiciously. She laughed at both of them, a couple of Forest cubs riding horses like nobles, sneaking around on hush-hush missions.

“You look like a rooster up there with your wobbling cock’s comb and arms flapping for balance.”

Razo glowered. “You’ve had more practice than I have.”

“I thought you’d love it. On a horse, you triple in height.”

“Yes, yes, let’s just go.”

Enna followed him east and then southeast. The low sun cast their shadows forward so that Enna felt she was running after herself, always a stride behind. It was a relief when the sun set and she felt herself in that familiar place again, hidden inside the night. At such times, the world seemed sad and depleted of light and heat, and aching to be set on fire.

It was a long ride to Folcmar, so Razo stopped in a ravine formed by a chain of low hills. They slept in a small gray tent meant to fit one man. Enna did not dare build a campfire in case Tiran scouts were near. That night, when her numb feet woke her, she sleepily gathered Razo’s lost heat, careful not to take any from his living body. She found she could pull little bits inside her, not to make fire, just to push them into her toes and fingers. They stung, then throbbed, then warmed so that she could sleep again. She closed her eyes, and swirling images of orange and red pulsed behind her lids.

In the morning, Razo showed Enna a Tiran blue coat and leather jerkin.

“I’ve got two complete outfits from the supply taken from captives. We’ll dance in there tomorrow and call the place home.”

“So easily?” asked Enna, remembering her failed entry into Eylbold and the sentry she burned.

“It’ll be a lot easier for us to get into their camp pretending to be Tiran than it would for a Tiran in Ostekin, or so Talone figures. Bayern hundred-bands all come from the same villages, so everyone knows everybody else. But the Tiran group their armies differently. A fellow from the north might share a tent with a fellow from the seacoast, so they could have a stranger at their fire and not think two things of it.”

They rode over the long, empty plains, then wove through woods until Enna could see the roofs of Folcmar beyond the clusters of white tents. If they were required to say more than a word or two, their Bayern accents—worse, their thick Forest accents—would break their disguise. And should anyone look at her too closely, even in leggings and leather helmet, Enna did not believe she would pass as a boy.

No one stopped them as they entered, their hands gripping the reins so hard that their fingers turned blue. Enna looked around the busy camp and caught sight of several captive town women. She noted that they all wore blue strips of cloth tied around their waists, tagged like cattle that belong to one herd.

Razo looked to be memorizing the layout of the camp and estimating the number of soldiers. His eyes darted frantically, his lips moved as though he counted under his breath. Enna swallowed against a shudder and felt her body tense, her blood run faster. She realized now that for days she had been holding off thoughts of fire, but now, so close to being able to burn, the heat whirled around her like pecking birds. Just looking for a target eased her discomfort and gave her a little thrill.

Up ahead, a wood rack supported dozens of spears. Beside it, stacks of leather armor. That was much better than a perimeter tent. Now she would start to make a difference.

They were getting quite close. Enna tried to figure how far she could send the fire-forging heat, how much heat would be lost over the distance, and if it would be enough to produce a fire big and hot enough to grab the leather, too. Just a little closer, she decided. She urged Merry faster. The mare seemed as anxious as she.

“Where are you going?” A fatherly looking soldier with a guard’s spear called to them. She and Razo exchanged looks, and Razo pointed up ahead.

The soldier squinted at them, and he frowned slightly. “What is your unit name?”

Caught
, thought Enna. How to get out? She had only one weapon. She saw Razo open his mouth as if to speak, make up a name.

“Look,” Enna said hurriedly, pointing straight ahead.

The Tiran soldier turned to see. It was easy for her to collect the heat around her body and find more with so many bodies, the sun shining, the cookfires sizzling. The burn as the fire entered her chest almost felt good now, a necessary pain like pulling a sore tooth. The release was better. Before the soldier turned completely, before his eyes rested on the rack of spears, it was blazing. The fire seized and blistered the leather armor. Men ran for water. Serving women stopped and watched.

Enna and Razo had to move away slowly so as not to draw attention. Enna knew this. But setting those weapons on fire sparked her desire to do more, and she was not numb yet to the heat. Here she was surrounded by enemy tents and supplies. Here she could make a difference now, speed the war to an end. But she had promised caution, and not to burn big as Leifer had. She became aware of pain in her hands from squeezing the reins so tightly. It took all her focus to ignore the fire, keep her eyes on the back of Razo’s head, and let Merry walk to the edge of camp.

Once clear of the white tents, they trotted, and when their trembling muscles could not hold back anymore, they kicked their mounts into a run. Enna found her chest hiccuping oddly as they rode, and after a moment she realized she was sobbing. She breathed deeply and smeared the wet from her cheeks. She pounded a fist against her chest and rode on harder. The wind helped ease away clinging heat, and the exercise of the ride helped her forget the unused fire.

They camped that night in the same ravine. She expected Razo to be jubilant after their successful entry and escape, but he seemed more sober than usual as he prepared their meal and set up camp. After a meal around the fire, he finally spoke.

“You seemed pretty upset on the ride back.”

Enna shrugged. “It was a little worse than normal, but I did all right.”

“You told me you were worried about it,” said Razo. “But I was so busy counting stuff and trying not to look like a boy in a stolen helmet that I didn’t even notice you, not until later.”

“It’s all right, I kept it under control.”

Razo nodded. “Still, I think we need someone to be a third. I’m not the best swordsman, and I can’t be guarding if I need to be scouting, so I’ll grab someone trustworthy next time we ride.”

Enna nearly argued, but she did not want Razo to think she was ignoring caution, so she just shrugged. “But he’d better be trustworthy.”

Enna kept herself busy for a week and two days. She washed clothes like a woman starved for work. When the washing water was too cold and nobody was near enough to hear the hiss, she set off a quiet bubble of submerged fire. It warmed her hands and gave her a little burst of pleasure. But both passed quickly. Compared to the danger and significance of their burning raids, everything else was mundane.

Sometimes to stretch her back she walked through camp, always hoping for sight of Razo, who might give her a nod, finally some indication that they could move forward.

“Patience,” she told herself, scratching her arms and refusing to acknowledge the pressing heat. But she could not ignore the knowledge of the Tiran camped just to the south. The awareness of their presence was constant now and felt like a splinter stinging her back, just out of reach.

She scanned one of the Forest band camps for Razo, then turned quickly, bumping into the chest of a soldier.

“Where’d you come from?” she said, then, “Oh,” when she saw it was Finn. She had never realized before that he was so tall, and his chest felt as solid as a Forest pine.

He took a step back, pushing his dark hair off his brow. “Sorry. My fault. I was too close. I like your . . . your apron. The yellow is nice.”

Enna ran a hand over her damp, stained apron and laughed a little. “Thanks, Finn. I dyed it myself.”

“Mmm.” He looked down. “I help my ma dye, in the summers.”

“Yes, I know. I stayed with you once and helped out, about a year ago, right?”

“Yes, you did.” He flashed a pleased smile, then looked back at his boots. He seemed to have nothing more to say.

“Well, I should get back to the house.”

“I’ll walk you back,” he said.

“Don’t bother, Finn,” said Enna, “Hesel isn’t there now.”

Enna gave him a smug grin as she walked away, but Finn did not laugh. She kept walking and thought that Finn needed some backbone if he could not even be teased about his little love affair.

At last Razo came with the word: Adelmund the day after next. It would be a three-day trip. She filled the Tiran-style, long-necked water skins, packed her bedroll, stashed dried venison, hard bread, some oats in case there was little for the mare to forage, and an oiled skin. Razo would have the tent and Tiran uniforms.

When she neared the spot where they had agreed to meet, about a league west of Ostekin, she saw two riders instead of one.

“It’s all right,” said Razo, “it’s just Finn.”

“Finn?” Enna strained to see the figure in the distance. A boy sat patiently on horseback, his spine straight, looking away as though he wished to give them privacy.

“You must’ve known I’d ask Finn,” Razo said with an acutely innocent expression. “You have to admit he’s the most trustworthy person we know, besides being a good soldier and good company. Why do you look all surprised?”

Enna shrugged. “I just didn’t expect him.”

“I didn’t tell him about you, if that’s what you’re worried about. So you can still send him home, if you like. But I think we need him, and I’ll be honest”—he leaned across his horse as though he were telling a secret—“now that he knows we go on scouts together, I don’t think he’ll leave easily. He about spitted me when he found out we’d been sharing a tent. Called me some name I didn’t know. He thought he had to defend your honor.” Razo looked dead serious, then laughed as though it were a great joke.

Enna glared at him, and Razo rolled his eyes.

“Oh, just talk to him so we can get moving.” Razo trotted his horse past Finn and made southwest as though intending to go whether or not she followed.

“Hello, Finn,” said Enna, and pulled up beside him. They began to walk their mounts toward Razo. “How’d you manage to get away from your commander? You’re not assigned scout duty.”

“They call me the champion,” he said. “It’s because of the augury match. No one seems to mind much where I go.” He turned in his saddle to better see her face. “Were you there?”

“Yes, I was.”

He inspected his reins. “I didn’t know if you’d seen it. I was thinking about you.”

“I was thinking about you, too. We all were,” she added quickly. “So, what did Razo say to convince you to come?”

Finn swallowed. “He said—you might need some protection.”

“Maybe I can defend myself.” She reached down and loosed a piece of straw from her bootstraps. “I’m going to show you something, but you can’t tell a soul, all right?” When he nodded, Enna sent heat at the tip of the straw. It blazed briefly, then smoked and glowed, before she dropped it.

“Just like Leifer.” Finn was clutching the hilt of his sword, but he slowly let it go. His brow creased, and he looked at her shrewdly. “Are you being careful, Enna?”

“Yes,” she said.

Finn tilted his head with an expression that was almost accusatory.

“I
am
,” said Enna. “You don’t need to be so snappish about it.”

“I saw him, you know, do that to you.” He glanced down at her ankles, and from the look in his eyes Enna thought he was seeing her on fire again. “It didn’t seem like Leifer to do that. I’ve wondered if it was him what did it, or if he couldn’t control the fire, or . . . ” He shrugged.

Enna looked at him straight on. “I can control it, Finn. And that’s why Razo’s here, and you, to help me make sure.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ll have a sword watching your back.”

“Come on, you two,” said Razo, slowing down to their pace. “If we want to reach a campsite before middle night, we need to give these animals some exercise.”

They found the spot long after dark. It was protected from a south view by a swell in the land and a line of river trees. The river still ran, and they watered their horses. The day had warmed the land, and the wild grasses did not break under their feet. Because of Finn, Razo had managed to come by a larger tent, but when he and Enna pulled their bedrolls inside, Finn remained outside.

“Come on, Finn,” said Razo, “it’s warmer with people around you.”

Finn refused, not meeting their looks. “It’s warm enough out here.”