Taming Fire (39 page)

And as they left, they took my only hope with them. Still sprinting down the hill, I watched them go, leaving nothing but furious rebels around me in all directions. I heard their frustrated wails, heard the whistle of arrows bent in my direction—mostly from above—and heard the orders raging openly now to take me down.

I scrambled for my second sight, but I could find no shred of calm. I tried to see my surroundings, to guess where I might hide, where I might run, but everywhere I looked I saw murderous faces bent on me. A dagger flew past my shoulder and buried itself in a tree as I flashed by. A sword flicked out into my path and caught my leg. It didn't bite deep, but it scored a painful track along my hip.

Down below me rebels crowded onto my path, waiting, but no force of will could have stopped my rush down the hillside then. Pain burst fire-bright behind my eyes as a thrown stone hit my shoulder from behind, and then another larger than a fist hit me in the small of the back and sent me tumbling head-first down the hill.

I slid to a stop at the feet of the group who had crowded into the path, and I saw among them the leader who had doused the fire back at the camp beside the river. His face twisted in a furious sneer. His leg went back. His boot flashed forward. The darkness fell.

I woke in pain bound in a wooden chair in the middle of a tent. Coarse, strong cords bit into my wrists behind my back. I could see nothing in the tent but this one chair. And the wizard Lareth.

He crouched before me, resting on the balls of his feet, staring up into my eyes. He grinned when I focused on him and showed me all his teeth. "Oh, it's you," he said, delighted. "I thought it was you. I thought it must be you. I had to see the eyes to know for sure, though."

I tried to answer, but my jaw wouldn't work. Pain stabbed through my head, and I winced against it. A groan escaped me, and Lareth chuckled.

"They were not kind to you," he said. "Just...not at all. And can you blame them? Really? After what you did?" He shook his head, admonishing.

I gained control enough to grunt, "I saved the king."

"You did at that," he said, with a grudging nod. "For now at least. It's far too bad. I had another plan for if this failed, but it's a tricky one. And harder for the way you spoiled the first. You gave the trick away, I think. They saw your magic, and mistook it for mine, I fear."

I tried to shrug, but the bindings were too tight. I glared down at him. "What do you want with me?"

"As it happens," the wizard said, "probably more than you'd suspect. I want your help."

"I'd rather die."

"You likely will," he said, without missing a beat. "But you're too good a chance to let slip by."

I closed my eyes, remembering the pain this one had inflicted when last he'd had me in his hands. "How?" I said. "What could you want from me?"

"Your power," he said. "Simple as that. I remember you, you know. I remember a time when all I had to do to steal your strength was stop you drawing your pretty little sword." I swallowed, remembering too.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me down his nose. "And then you went off to die. It worked, too. You died. Everyone says you did."

"Everyone is wrong."

He shook his head. "Archus died. Leotus died. A dozen students died." A fist of sudden grief clenched at my heart, but he rattled it off as though the lives were nothing. "And yet somehow you came through much stronger than before."

"Who died?" I said. He blinked at me, as though confused, and I had to clear my throat to ask again. "Who died? You said a dozen students. Was...was Themmichus among them?"

He frowned at me. "The Eliade? You know an Eliade." He laughed, short and sharp, and shook his head. "No. I think I would have heard. Your Eliade's alive."

I'd never known his family name. In all the time we'd spent together, he hadn't offered it and I'd never thought to ask. Eliade rang familiar, though. I frowned, trying to find the memory, but it washed away in a moment of relief and then a flood of weary fear.

The emotions must have shown on my face, because his grin wavered, then twitched back into place at the last. "Ah, there," he said. "And we return to the business at hand. Where did you gain your power?"

I shook my head. "I have no power." I fought to gain my second sight even as I said it, but the calm eluded me. For the first time in months I stepped consciously into the exercises I'd learned at the Academy, but they rattled beneath my fear and pain. My focus fell apart, and all it left behind was Lareth's cruel smile.

"I know your name," he said. "I know how much you cannot do. But I was also there. I saw, upon the hills. I saw you shape the earth. I know a half a dozen Masters who could not explain the thing I saw—because they are too arrogant to doubt the things they know—but I know what I saw. You...are a sorcerer."

I shook my head. "I will not help you. I'm loyal to the king."

"You're foolish then," he said, with pity in his voice. I looked up and found him shaking his head. "In earnest, boy. Why would you serve the king? It's he, not I, who stole your chance at fame. It's he, not I, who set you on that road. It's he, not I, who crippled Master Claighan and set bounties on your head."

"But he is king," I said. "This is his land. It's not about me. Your rebellion costs more lives—"

"It isn't mine," the wizard said. "It's mine to end. I want what you want, Daven. I came to speak with Brant, to end his defiance, and saw that words would not do it. And, worse, I saw the king's army wouldn't do it either. This war would have stretched out for years. It's
been
brewing for years. The only end is ending that king's life."

I sneered at him. "Clever words—"

He raised a hand and cut me off. "Now listen, boy. I know you're practically a shepherd still, but hear me out. Just think. The war is real, for good or bad. Rebellion's here. You have a choice between two sides, but in the end it's all just politics. I cannot fathom what you'd find to love in that fat king's defense. But here, to me, it matters not at all. I've made your choice much simpler by far."

I took a slow breath and met his eyes. "What is my choice?"

"Join me," Lareth said. "Or die."

"Should I forget the things you've done?" I said, incredulous, but he nodded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course you should," he said. "Deal with the world as it is, not as you would have it be. The things I've done are done. But here and now you have a chance—"

"You wouldn't..." I said, and trailed off. I shook my head. "You couldn't trust me."

His lips pulled back to show his teeth. "I could in time," he said. "Not here and now. But give it time, and you will find a bit of everything your heart desires."

I shook my head. "You do not know my heart."

"I know every man's heart," he said. "You long for power. You long for admiration and respect. You long for liberty. Perhaps you long for friends." Every line struck me like a blow to the gut, but I fought to keep it from my face. He grinned anyway and spread his hands wide. "We have that here. For you, there's that and more."

"You're murderers," I said.

"We're soldiers," he replied. "That's what you wanted, no? To join the Royal Guard? Forget the Guard. Their pay is low and they promote by blood. But we...." He chuckled again, and waved a hand at me. "But we promote by power."

I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat. I'd tried. I'd dreamed. I'd longed to join the Guard for all the reasons that he said. I saw these men as murderers, cruel and cold, but then I'd seen the same from a Green Eagle on the hills above Sachaerrich. I'd seen the same from a garrison of Guards in Gath-upon-Brennes, where they had put a bolt through Claighan's back.

The Guards had done that. Not Lareth. The king had called us traitors, when I had done nothing at all. I took another long, slow breath, and searched the wizard's eyes. He couldn't really be offering me this. I felt my lip curl, felt the cruelty of his deceit, and shook my head.

"You don't mean it," I said. "This is just another torture."

He sighed, and though he still smiled I saw sadness in his eyes. He shook his head. "I'm not prepared to cut you free and offer you a sword," he said. "I'm not so mad as that. But I believe you've got the strength we need, and if you only see you'll join our cause."

I held his eyes for a long time, searching. My heart pounded, my shoulders ached. I shook my head. "What would I do?"

"You'd kill the king," he said. He held my gaze for a heartbeat then nodded, as serious as I had ever seen him. "In one move you'd right the wrong you've done, you'd earn your place among our ranks." And I would burn to ash my hopes for any other life. I'd bind myself to the rebels in a way I could not break. He didn't say it, but I could see it in his eyes. He nodded.

I asked him, "How?"

"With fire," he said, and his smile came back. "You may not know, but he's enshrouded in more magic than this world has ever seen. One man, defended from the sling and stone, defended from the wizard or the wolf. We might have caught him in our trap, but I could not have burned him down. I needed time and clever care to break the spells. But you...."

He shook his head, and then at last I understood his smile. It wasn't madness—or not entirely madness. It was genuine joy. Hope. I believed him, then. Believed his promise, his offer.

"But not pure fire," I said. "They didn't protect him from that?"

"But not from living flame. Not sorcery," he said. "I'll send you through to him. A traveling. I'll send you to his court, in Tirah's heart, and you can beg an audience. Then bury him in fire." I shivered in horror at the thought. He shivered in anticipation.

"I cannot kill—"

"You can, my boy," he said, and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. He held my eyes. "It's bleak, I know, but one man's death can buy an end to war. One sacrifice in flame could save us all."

Some of the fanatical gleam faded from his eyes, and he seemed to focus more clearly on me. He swallowed and dropped his gaze. He rose. "You'd save us
all
," he said again and nodded toward me. "This is your chance. The king will reach Tirah by even bell. I'll give you until then to make your choice."

I closed my eyes. I felt considerably steadier now. I nodded, as though in acquiescence, but behind my eyes I stepped once more into the wizards' calming techniques. I'd see how well Lareth could defend himself from the magic that could kill the king. I reached toward my second sight—

And pain lanced through my head. I screamed. I thrashed so hard I toppled the chair onto its side, while the burning cold of ice seared the backs of my eyes and blinding fire flared within my mind. Somehow I heard the wizard's sigh through all the pain and heard him cluck his tongue.

"The king is not protected from your power," he said. "But I am no such fool." I dimly felt the flash of light as the tent flap lifted. "Till even bell," he said, and he was gone.

Someone came and cut me from the chair. The agony faded back, slow as a falling tide, but I had no strength to resist the hands that took me from the ground and carried me away. I felt the heat of noonday sun, and heard the rustle of a busy camp. My porters moved with a quick efficiency, carried me a couple dozen paces at once, and then heaved me like a heavy sack of grain into the darkness of another tent.

I spilled across the floor, rolling until I bumped up against something soft and yielding. Something warm that jerked and cried out in surprise. Something that smelled like sweat and fear...and a summer sunset.

I shifted my shoulders despite the pain until I slipped back off her and rested flat on my back. I twisted at the waist to get my legs stretched out straight and then took several slow breaths while I searched the myriad aches and pains for anything that might represent a serious injury. The worst of it was still the pain in my head, though, and that was fading.

I opened my eyes and found myself staring up into a fall of dark hair, and eyes the gray of slate. With just a touch of blue. She frowned down at me, equal parts confusion and concern, and I heard myself laugh. It was barely more than a cough, but I shook my head and stared up at her.

"I know you," she said. "I... I met you at the palace."

I laughed again, though this one didn't come out much better. "You're the Eliade," I said at last. "I know your brother."

She shook her head. "It's impossible. It can't be you."

I smiled, lips pressed tight, and used a shoulder to lift myself up off the ground. It was awkward with my hands tied in the small of my back, but I got halfway up, and then she overcame her shock enough to help me the rest of the way.

She held my gaze for a long time after that, then she shook her head again. "You're... you're really him, aren't you? The shepherd from the palace. And Themmy's little hero. And a soldier. And a wizard." The words came fast, breathless, and I remembered Themm telling me long ago that he'd written home about me. I saw confusion pinch the girl's brows. "But he said that you were dead."

I felt my gaze drawn back toward the wizard's tent. "Not yet," I said. I frowned as well and turned back to her. "What are you doing here? Are you one of them?"