Reisil held her magic ready. She couldn’t let him drop an
ilgas
on her. If he did, she would be helpless, like meat on a golden platter. Infinitely worse, she’d lose her tie to Saljane. The prospect was unbearable. Never again would she let Tapit separate her from Saljane. Her fist knotted. How much she would love to drive it down his throat! But she didn’t dare. Not now. Too much was at stake and she couldn’t afford to lose it.
She eyed the scree. It wouldn’t hold him long. Tapit was relentless. He’d driven the fugitives from their river valley haven a week ago, and it seemed he never needed to rest. But his horse was as tired as Indigo, and it appeared the wizard had outstripped his companions. He was alone now. That might give Reisil the advantage she needed.
“Don’t stop running now. I was looking forward to a better fight than this,” Tapit called through the dusty haze left behind by the slide.
“You haven’t caught me yet. And don’t forget I destroyed your stronghold,” Reisil retorted.
“The stronghold still stands, with only a handful of us lost. But you shall see for yourself soon. The others are eager for your return.”
His words sent a tremor through Reisil. The stronghold still stood? It wasn’t possible. She’d seen . . .
She’d seen the valley cave in when she’d driven a spear of pure power deep into the mountain’s core. She’d seen rubble falling over the small group of defenders as the ground leaped and buckled. She’d assumed the stronghold had been crushed. But then again, she’d thought she’d killed Tapit, too. Fear slithered like a snake in her gut. What if he was telling the truth?
“You mistake me for a moon-eyed child,” she called back, refusing to let him see her doubt. “I am not foolish enough to believe you.”
“But foolish enough to run away from us, and taking such prizes with you.”
“Again you mistake me. It was the wisest thing I’ve ever done. Second only to becoming
ahalad-kaaslane
.”
Saljane’s fierce trill of pleasure rippled through Reisil.
“Your pet. Yes, that was a mistake. To be one of us, you must be rid of it.”
“To be one of you?” Reisil repeated incredulously. “How can you still think I would be? I killed a hundred of you at Vorshtar. I destroyed your stronghold.”
“You
tried
to destroy the stronghold,” Tapit corrected. “But your actions only affirm what you are. A true wizard. Soon you will know that.”
Reisil shook her head. “You’re mad.”
“We shall see soon enough.”
Anger flamed in Reisil and power crackled around her fingers. She caught herself. She wondered how far Yohuac had managed to get. The longer she drew this out, the safer he was. “How do you think you’ll catch me? I know about the
ilgas
. I won’t walk into that trap again.”
Tapit smiled. It was the first time Reisil could ever remember seeing such an expression cross his basalt features. Fear screwed through the marrow of her bones.
“Not
that
trap, no.”
Reisil recoiled, then a small smile stretched her lips. Tapit had revealed his weakness. He loved the hunt, the struggle.
Don’t stop running now. . . .
He wanted her to sweat, to fear, to fight against him. He relished it. And that meant he wasn’t going to even try to use his power against her in a head-on battle. That wasn’t sporting. He wanted to match wits, to finesse her, to play at strategy and tactics. And she was happy to oblige. It gained time until she could squash him like a mosquito.
And she’d begin right now.
~Baku?
The coal-drake’s awareness bubbled in her mind. His presence was muted, as if he had to push through a dense, fibrous mist to reach her. The effects of the magic leeching from Mysane Kosk. It was the reason he hadn’t been able to speak with their friends who camped near the destroyed city. He couldn’t tell Juhrnus they were coming, or ask for help. But it also meant that Tapit would have a harder time tracking them. He sniffed out their magic footprint somehow, and soon it would be smothered by the tide of magic rolling out of Mysane Kosk.
~I have an idea, but I need your help. Can you do it?
she asked Baku, picturing for him what she wanted him to do.
The coal-drake did not respond immediately. Reisil got the impression he was considering whether he
wanted
to help her. She held her breath. He had every right to resent her. If only she had learned faster; if only she could have saved him from the wizards sooner. But she hadn’t known what to do and instead she’d been forced to watch silently as Kvepi Debess tortured Baku, slowly draining his power. Sometimes she had even helped. It was the only way to discover the key to unlocking Kevepi Debess’s spells. It wasn’t until later that she could tell Baku, and by then their delicate trust was ruined.
~Can you do it?
she repeated gently.
~It will be difficult. The magic thickens here . . . I will try.
~Hurry.
Reisil waited, staring not at Tapit, but his leggy roan mare. The animal tossed her head, her ears twitching. Then suddenly she leaped into the air, twisting and bucking. Tapit gave a startled yell and fell onto the scree. The hillside began to roll again. The mare came down and exploded into a gallop, disappearing over the ridge in seconds. Reisil smiled, watching Tapit, who was rolling down the slope like a bundle of rags.
~She won’t soon trust him again,
came Baku’s smug voice.
~Well done,
Reisil said, clicking to Indigo and turning the dun gelding into the trees after Yohuac. The trick had worked better than she hoped. Tapit was too distracted with failing to bespell the mare to stop. By the time he did, he’d have a good walk to retrieve her, and then he’d have to catch her. Reisil doubted the mare would come willingly. It gave them a little breathing room.
“A very little,” Reisil murmured.
Yohuac was waiting just inside the trees. He smiled crookedly at her scowl. His scalp gleamed white through the stubble of his hair. Scars showed livid on his head and neck. There were plenty more hidden by his clothing.
“You shouldn’t have waited.”
“He means to have you,” he said darkly, his smile fading.
“Tapit means to have all of us. We’d better get going before he catches his horse.”
Reisil took the lead, angling down a steep ravine and following it up across a ridge. Clouds thickened above and as evening approached, a heavy, solid rain began to fall. She looked back at Yohuac. He had begun to list to the right, his hands clamped around the pommel, his shoulders bowed. He couldn’t go on much longer. Reisil scanned the wood slope, angling up along the ridge. They would have to stop and rest, and hope Tapit didn’t overtake them in the night.
As darkness fell, the two found a traveler’s pine and took shelter under its sweeping boughs, staking the horses out in a nearby clearing.
Reisil dug a hole and built a tiny fire. She set a pot over it and made a hearty soup of roots and dried meat, crumbling into it stale acorn cakes. “I can’t wait to eat some real bread,” Reisil said to Yohuac, who sat shivering beneath both their blankets. “And hot kohv. With nussa spice.”
“The bread I would like. But you may keep your kohv,” he said, accepting the cup of soup and wrapping both his hands around it.
“That’s right. You like that other stuff—what do you call it?”
“Xochil. It has . . . character.”
“Mmm. I don’t much care if my kohv has character.”
“Your kohv is like—it’s like the sun without heat, with fire. Xochil lights fire to the soul.”
“Sounds unsettling.”
“Someday you will try it and see.”
Reisil finished eating and scooted over next to him, curling close against his side. He put an arm around her shoulders and snuggled the blankets around her. Soon their shared warmth permeated them both. Yohuac’s hands began to slide over her. Reisil caught them.
“You’re too tired. This week of running has undone much of your healing.”
Yohuac’s dark eyes were like polished onyx. “I am well enough for this.” He bent and kissed her. Reisil kissed him back. She pushed aside his clothing, grappling him close against her, his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingers. There was an urgency to their lovemaking. They hadn’t lain together since Tapit had sent them fleeing; neither knew when they would have the chance again.
Time was running out.
Reisil nestled against Yohuac’s side, their legs tangled together. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. She stared up at the branches overhead. Time was running out, and she still had no solution to Mysane Kosk. She hadn’t even thought about it since escaping the wizards.
She sighed and sat up, tucking the blankets around Yohuac and pulling her clothes on. She crawled out from under the drooping branches of the great pine, needing to be out under the sky. The rain had settled into a soft drizzle. Mist wound through the trees. The pungent scent of pine, spruce and cedar filled her nose as she drew a cleansing breath. She closed her eyes, listening to the patter of the rain on the trees, the rush of the wind through the treetops, and the trickle of water across the ground.
She wondered if Tapit had caught his mare yet, and if he’d chosen to take shelter. Was he already pursuing them again? Her stomach tightened and she scanned the woods around her. Nothing. She turned and climbed up the slope to the top of the ridge. There was nothing to see. The mist filled the hollows and valleys in softly glowing gauze. Gray hid the stars. She sat down on a boulder, unmindful of the rain soaking her clothes.
What good is thinking about it if I can’t figure out what to do?
she thought to herself, and then flushed.
So do nothing? That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever come up with. You know better. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. Things will only get worse. That’s one of the first rules of healing.
She rubbed her aching forehead and thought of her predicament.
The biggest problem is Mysane Kosk. Its magic is still fueling the plague and killing Yohuac’s land. The
nokulas
inside used to be people and animals and so I can’t kill them, even though they are killing the rest of the people I’m supposed to protect. The wizards want to draw power from it, as no doubt do the Scallacian sorcerers, which hurts the
nokulas
. The Regent Aare wants to start a war with Patverseme again and he hates the
ahalad-kaaslane,
and they all hate me. I somehow have to stop the plague without killing the
nokulas
or destroying Mysane Kosk, or else the world will be unmade. Plus I have to figure out how to fix Yohuac’s world—oh, and also stop the war.
She sighed. “And do it all without the help of the
ahalad-kaaslane
, who will probably be fighting against me.”
“Sounds easy enough. When do we start?”
Reisil jumped, magic sparking from her fingers. She glared at Yohuac, who had stepped out of the mist to perch beside her. “Scaring me to death isn’t going to help.” She frowned. “You shouldn’t be out in the rain. You need rest. Why aren’t you asleep?”
He reached out and gently curled a long, damp tendril of her hair around his fingers. Reisil leaned into his touch. “You need rest as well. And I do not sleep well apart from you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to sleep well for a long time to come,” Reisil said. She stood. “Come on. You need to get dry.”
Under the traveler’s pine, she rekindled the fire and made more soup. While it cooked, she and Yohuac stripped and dressed in dry clothing from their packs. This time Reisil sat opposite Yohuac to avoid temptation. She wrapped her arms around her legs, fixing her gaze on him. Her heart ached at the weariness that made his shoulders droop and dulled the fire in his eyes. Worse were the scars that marked him from head to foot. She hardened herself.
Throughout the five weeks since their escape from the wizards, she’d been content to drift from moment to moment, speaking little, thinking even less. It had been a time of healing, a chance to rebuild their strength. But Tapit’s arrival had shattered their idyll and it was time to get back to work.
“Tell me about your magic. What you can do.”
Yohuac’s head jerked up, his expression shuttering. The soup bubbled and sizzled as drops spattered into the fire. Reisil rescued the pot and served them both. When each had scraped the bottom of the bowl, Reisil turned her attention back to Yohuac. He sat up straight, crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together. His mouth was pinched and his eyes looked haunted.
“Understand that I was never supposed to use my magic. I was meant to be a vessel—to win the
pahtia
and become
Ilhuicatl
’s son-in-the-flesh. In the year of celebration that would follow, every woman in Cemanahuatl would come to my bed. On each I would get a child. Even barren women. In this way, the nahuallis thought to revive the magic in the blood of our people.”
“You were to be their stud?” Reisil asked, smiling.
He shook his head. “Not
were
. I
am
to be their stud.” He flushed, avoiding her disbelieving gaze. “For many hundreds of years, magic has been dwindling amongst the nahuallis. There have been fewer and fewer of them, and each generation commands less power. It’s been a slow, gradual diminishing. The nahuallis could find no cause and no way to stop the decline or rejuvenate their power. They feared what would happen to our people when we no longer had magic to guide and guard us.”
“So they decided to breed power into a man and cross their fingers that he win the
pahtia
and impregnate the entire female population,” Reisil said sardonically. “Your nahuallis are gamblers.”
“It is highly unlikely we’ll succeed. More so now that I am here and the
pahtia
will begin in less than a year. I have been severely drained by my stay with the wizards, while my competitors continue to develop their skills and strength. Still it is our only hope, and—” He broke off, his cheeks blushing hotter. “The need to renew the magic of Cemanahuatl has only become greater with the terrible destruction caused by your Mysane Kosk,” he added finally.