Enna Burning (22 page)

Enna wanted to respond, but speaking took too much energy. Everything was slowing down. Fahil spoke, his lips barely moving. His words sounded so strange to her, not like a human tongue at all, more akin to the creaking and moaning of old trees, and she wondered if she was hearing right. He paused and looked up. Enna followed his glance to the blazing sky and felt as though she were falling into the scorching blueness. She tried to grab Finn and stay attached to the earth, but blue changed to black.

.

Enna awoke off and on in a low bed. Often Isi was asleep in another cot, whether the small, high window spoke of night or day. Finn sat on the floor beside her whenever she opened her eyes, and he would proffer corn cakes and sweet water. When she was awake enough to listen, he explained how she had passed out and Isi had gone to bed soon after. Both had been resting for two days. Enna, her voice squeaking, said, “That’s all well and good, but as for resting, I don’t think I’m quite done.”

Another night and day blurred past, and eventually, both Enna and Isi found themselves awake at the same time.

“Sleep well?” said Enna.

Isi laughed.

All that day Enna stayed in bed, listening to the unintelligible conversations between Isi and Fahil that echoed in from the porch. Finn stayed by her side, but she had little energy to speak. Or will. Fahil came in to look at her, feel her face, then left again, frowning. The closer night approached, the more fear seized her. From the sounds of the conversation, something had been decided.

At full night, Isi returned. For a long, aching moment, she did not speak.

“What about learning the rain, and balance and everything?” asked Enna.

“Fahil says rain has never been taught,” said Isi. “And it takes years for the
tata-rook
to develop it naturally.”

“Oh,” said Enna. She could not imagine living in the
roga
for years. “Do you want to leave me here, Isi? Finn can go back with you to Bayern, and I can stay, and try. . . . ”

Isi exhaled softly. “Fahil doesn’t think you have the time to try . . . and I think he’s right.”

“Oh, well,” said Enna, “that was a lot to hope for, anyway, wasn’t it?” She tried to laugh, but it caught in her chest and sent a rip of pain down her spine. A fever chill shook her visibly. Finn wrapped his arms around her.

“Can you walk?” asked Isi. “Fahil says . . . he says you’re close to slipping away. He says if you sleep again, you might not wake. There are tales among his people that fire knowledge can be erased from a person who is consumed by it without ever learning the rain. It’s . . . tricky, I gather, and it’s never been attempted in his life, but we think we should do whatever we can now, tonight. They have a sacred place atop the hill, and he thought it would be a good place to try.”

Finn put Enna’s arm around his neck and helped her walk away from the building and up the rising hill. Enna felt weary everywhere. She was tired of feeling half-dead all the time, tired of illness making her powerless. But to lose the fire . . . If she survived, she feared the rest of her life would feel like those early weeks in Eylbold, imprisoned in the tent, the king’s-tongue deadening every sensation.

At the crest of the rising slope, Fahil waited. He asked Isi a question, and she shook her head.

“What did he say?” asked Enna.

“He wanted to know if I needed a donkey for the climb, and I said I was all right if I could take his arm.”

Enna frowned. “Why’s he worried, Isi? Are you sicker than you’re telling me?”

Isi smiled, bit her lip, and looked down. “He thought that, um, he said, maybe the climb would be easier on a donkey for an expectant mother.”

Enna stared blankly at Isi; then understanding rushed through her. “Oh, Isi. Mercy, Isi, I’m a fool. That’s the extra heat I was sensing.” She glanced at the bulge of Isi’s belly. Though her loose tunic hid it well, Enna had to wonder how she had missed it all those weeks.

“What do you think of that, Finn?”

Finn shrugged. “Well, I sort of guessed.”

“So, it’s just me who’s blind.” She grabbed Isi’s hand and kissed it. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Do you feel all right?”

Isi nodded. Her smile pushed her cheeks up. “Oh, I’ve felt better in my life, but I’m certainly happy about it. Geric and I have been wishing for this.”

“Geric’ll have my hair as it is for keeping you away from him all this time, especially— For pity’s sake, Isi, did you know about this when we left Bayern?”

Isi shook her head. “I wasn’t sure until we were well on the road. I guess I should’ve known since I was probably three months along when we left, but my mind was pretty well absorbed in other things.”

“So, how long, until—”

“Another three months, I think,” said Isi.

Three months. Enna considered how it took them over two months just to get to Yasid from Bayern’s capital. And Isi was carrying the future heir of Bayern’s throne. And Geric was likely frantic at home in her absence and had no idea she was pregnant. This quest was not all about her. Suddenly so much more was at stake. She felt a new weight pressing her to end it, and a new fear that she would fail. She could not fail Isi again.

It was a difficult climb in the dark, and Enna scraped her hands a couple of times after tripping on jagged rocks.

“Let me carry you,” said Finn.

“No.” She was through being a burden. Besides, the little pain from the scratches was pleasantly distracting her from the cold dread.

The hilltop was flat and paved with smooth stones. Benches surrounded a stone pillar the height of a woman. On top, a brazier blazed with fire.

“It’s their eternal flame,” said Isi. She spoke with Fahil to confirm. “This flame has been burning for over six hundred years.”

Another man had been standing beside the altar. He stepped back as Fahil moved forward. Fahil spoke, looking straight at Enna. His sharp, raspy words seemed to burn her even before she understood his meaning. Isi was slow to translate. Enna shivered, waiting for the sting.

“He says he’s been talking with the others, and they agree the best option is to try to burn the fire out of you, as quickly as possible.”

Enna looked at Fahil. His face was dark, his back to the fire. He was shadow against the light.

“Burn it out,” said Enna. “How will he do it?”

Fahil had a pair of metal tongs. He dipped them into the fire and pulled out a burning coal. The flames pulled inside, pulsing like a red heart within the blackness.

“He’ll place the coal against the tip of your tongue and then you are to squeeze it in your hands. He’ll burn the first word of fire from your tongue and burn away the acts of fire you performed. He believes that then the fire won’t remember you anymore.”

Enna winced. “But the fire is inside of me. . . . ”

“Fahil believes the symbol of this ceremony will cure you,” said Isi. Even in the darkness, Enna could see her face was pale. “Enna, I don’t think you should. We don’t even know if it’ll work.”

“I’m going to do it,” said Enna. “We’ve got to get you home. You’re carrying the heir to Bayern.”

Isi took a step toward her. “But if this does nothing but burn your tongue and hands . . . ”

“I want to do this, Isi,” said Enna. “I’m ready.” She did not know if she believed in this ceremony, and the thought of the pain made her queasy, but she wanted to show Isi that she was willing, that she would atone for what she had done. She had caused so much pain—it only felt right that she should have to sacrifice in return.

“Wait, Enna, don’t.” Finn took her by the shoulders, and she tried not to meet his eyes, afraid to be talked out of her decision. “We can take time, see if you heal on your own. We can.”

Enna felt her eyes prick and burn. Finn awoke some of the sadness inside her, and it choked against the dread lodged in her chest. “We’ve got to get Isi back before the baby comes. And I haven’t got time, Finn. I feel that now.”

“That fire, it’s like it makes you hopeless, Enna, but you can’t believe it. You’re not going to die.”

Enna opened her mouth to protest, then coughed against the rising heat inside her. Her frustration weakened her control, and it rushed through the cracked place in her chest. She wiped her brow and took an unsteady step.

“Isi,” she said.

A wind answered, pushing away the searing heat. When she could see clearly again, Fahil was wide-eyed and jabbering at Isi.

“What is it?” Enna asked.

Isi was listening, nodding, her brows high and her look hopeful. “He didn’t know until now that I knew the wind-speaking. And he says, wind erases things, like footsteps in the sand. He says, even an immense fire can be like a candle flame in the mouth of a great wind.”

“You want to try to blow out the fire in me?” asked Enna.

Isi nodded. “Fahil, he says he’d thought of that, wondered if somehow he could use the rain speech to work against your fire, but that it was too rushed and that he doesn’t know you. To work such things on another, he said, requires understanding and intimacy. Enna, I know you. I could try with wind.”

“It’ll be just like when you send wind to relieve the fever, but . . . ”

“But harder, yes,” said Isi, finishing Enna’s sentence. “Much harder. And different. He says, he’s telling me how I might do it. I have to—surrender in a way to the wind. I think I can, Enna. I’ve felt the temptation before but never knew what would happen.”

“Isi, please try,” said Finn.

Enna nodded. Hope made her tremble.

Finn let her go and withdrew. Enna and Isi stood facing each other, alone on the paved center of the hilltop. The wind started. At first it was like any of the breezes Isi used to cool the fever, but it swelled so that it tore at Enna’s own life heat around her body, pulling it loose and releasing it into the air.

Then it grew stronger.

Her headscarf came loose and her hair whipped around her face. She began to feel a tearing pain. She opened her mouth to scream, but she could not breathe, and the wind rushed into her throat and poured inside her, ripping through her cracked place, gushing through her body. It was taking something away. She felt fear with the pain, afraid that she was losing all of herself. She could not open her eyes, but she reached out and stumbled forward, her hands finding Isi’s. She gripped on to her friend, trying to anchor part of herself before the wind took it all.

Surrender
. She tried. But each time she began to release her carefully guarded control of the fire, pain burst from her chest.
If it leaves me, I’ll die
, she thought, and held on tighter. Her muscles ached and trembled, her chest gushed with heat. She fought and struggled, terrified of losing everything.

Enna became conscious of Isi’s hand trembling in hers. She let go and stumbled away, and the wind stopped short like a held breath. Enna gasped to fill her lungs and sat on the ground. Isi sat beside her.

“I’m sorry, Isi,” she said. “I can’t let it go. I tried. But it hurts, and it seems so wrong, and I’m so afraid there won’t be anything left.”

Isi took deep breaths, then spoke softly. “What do we do?”

Enna shook her head. She knew only that she did not want to surrender, not as she had with Sileph and not as she had on the battlefield. She glanced at Finn, and the look in his eyes struck her so hard, she felt her body reel. He trusted her. He had complete faith that if she thought the wind was not working, then it was so, and she would find another way.

“I don’t deserve you,” she said to him.

Surprisingly, he laughed in good humor. “Enna,” he said, as though she had told a good joke.

Fahil crouched beside Isi and together they spoke in the southern tongue. It sounded like a desperate conversation conveying little hope.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” said Enna. “It might’ve worked, but for me. Surrender. That’s what I’m supposed to do.” Her stomach seized at the thought, and she swayed. “I can’t surrender anymore. I’m so afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked.

“Dying?” She shook her head. “No, I guess not that. I’m afraid of being the person who let my friends down, of surrendering so that the fire is in charge, the fire that kills, or of surrendering to survive like I did in Eylbold when I was under Sileph’s control. Of losing myself again.”

Finn held her hand and looked at her palm thoughtfully. “I surrendered in Eylbold. They grabbed Razo. They said they’d cut his throat if I didn’t throw down my sword. So I did. That felt right to me.” He met her eyes. “Maybe there’s more than one kind of surrender.”

Another kind.
Finn had not given himself away in Eylbold. He had made a choice to save Razo. Fahil’s voice rose in concern, and Enna looked toward them. Isi was blinking a lot, and though she held herself straight, Enna could tell her friend was suffering under the heavy voice of the wind.

“Finn,” Enna said quietly, “Isi’s been bad all this trip, hasn’t she?”

Finn nodded.

“As bad as I am?”

“Well,” said Finn, looking at their friend, “she doesn’t have the fever. I haven’t been as worried, you know. But she’s not like she used to be. She’s been tired, and sad.”

Enna felt her cheeks burn hotter in humiliation. In these last months she had scarcely thought of Isi. Her attention was absorbed in herself, in her grand mission that would stop the war, but also in her gift, in the idea that it might make her as special as she hoped to be. And lately, she was taken up in her fever and in her fear of losing what marked her as extraordinary. All this time, why was she not worrying instead about poor, haunted Isi?