Magra opened her hand to the sky. “Then Cirrus swept her hand into the vivid sunset and snatched a ray of light, which she trapped in a crystal. She shone the light onto two mountains, changing them into sentinels and putting them to sleep until called on to guard the Gate if it ever fell under attack. Finally, she called the fiery chieftain and the icy warrior woman and commanded them to mix their frost and fire to help her seal the Gate.”
“I bet they fought,” said one of the boys.
“No, they didn’t,” Magra said. “They worked together because that was what the goddess wanted. Exhausted from her labors, she fell to earth. A wisewoman called Sage took Cirrus to her mountain cave and fed her broth and meat and nursed her back to health. In gratitude, Cirrus put the last bit of sunset from the crystal into Sage’s wrist, turning her blood and hair to gold. After that, she could heal the sick and see danger before it happened. She is the third sentinel guarding the Gate of Light, and she won’t die until the last Minax is destroyed.”
“But the shadows are all trapped underground,” Kaitryn said.
“Ah. Some say Eurus kept two of his favorite creations on the earth by hiding them where no one would find them. So Sage must keep watch until they are destroyed as well.” Magra put her hands in her lap and sat back. “But the world has grown weary of stories now,” she said, slowing her voice to signal the end of the story. “And only children listen.”
Memory shuddered through me. My grandmother had always ended her origin story with the same phrase.
“I’ll always listen to the stories,” said Kaitryn. “And then I’ll tell them to others on my adventures across the sea, to the Fire Islands of Sudesia and to the west, where there are monsters, and then I’m going to get a sword and—”
“Mam says you’re too sick to travel,” said one of the boys. My eyes flicked to Kaitryn. She didn’t look ill, though her cheeks were a little flushed.
“I’m going to get better!” she said angrily. “I’m going to find somewhere with no soldiers and no bad people and a king who isn’t mad.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. The circle of listeners went silent. “Hush, child,” said a man in a low voice.
“I don’t care,” said Kaitryn, but more quietly. “His soldiers burned our homes.”
“They burned my village, too,” I said in a whisper so soft even I could barely hear it.
“It’s time for bed, you little ones,” said Kaitryn’s mother, taking the hand of each child. “We travel again tomorrow. In two days, we’ll reach the coast. You need your rest.”
So the coast was only two days away. Perhaps I could follow in their wake, stealing food at night and using their path to find my way safely down the mountain.
One by one, the fires were extinguished, and everyone shuffled off to the wagons. Unfortunately for my hopes of pilfering food, a tall, bearded man remained as sentry, leaning his back against a wagon as he took a swig from a flask.
After a while, another man joined the first. He wore a patch of dark fabric over one eye.
“Anything?” he asked, pulling his rumpled cloak more tightly around himself.
“Unlikely,” the bearded man answered. “The soldiers moved on. The Fireblood is halfway across the sea, if she has any sense. If not, they’ll run her to ground between here and the coast.”
I sucked in a breath as my heart took up an irregular beat. I wasn’t sure how many other Firebloods were out there, but I had to assume they were talking about me.
The man with the eye patch hacked and spit on the ground. “That’s what I think of that stinking Fireblood. She escapes from prison and we all suffer for it.”
I clamped my hand over my mouth.
“They say Firebloods are the dangerous ones. But I don’t see none of them burning down my house.”
“We’ll go back in the summer,” said the bearded man. “Though I wonder what’s the point of rebuilding when they can take it all away again. Only the injured and ill left to defend our homes.”
The other man scoffed. “No doubt they’ll soon decide we’re fit enough. Never mind this”—he pointed to his eye patch—“or your tree branch of a leg. Fat lot of good we were when they raided us.”
The bearded man sighed. “I still don’t sleep nights, thinking about a Fireblood wandering free with fire in her fingertips.”
I’m not a threat! I wanted to scream it so loudly that they would somehow believe that it was true. The Frostblood soldiers were the threat. That captain who killed my mother, cutting her down like she was nothing.
“The reward, though. Five thousand coin. Think of it.” The bearded man gestured with his flask, pointing to the right. “I could hire a ship bound east, buy some land on some empty island, build a house. Find a cure for Kaitryn.”
The man with the eye patch put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “The healer in Tevros will fix her up right enough. You’ll see.”
The bearded man handed over his flask. “Take the watch,” he said, limping stiffly to one of the wagons.
Five thousand… I moved deeper into the trees, struggling to muffle my gasping breaths. I would never be safe. The soldiers were so close, raiding the countryside in search of—it could only be me. If I followed the villagers to the coast and we hit a stretch of open ground, I’d be easily spotted. Then again, with the twisting, tree-lined mountain paths, there was usually somewhere to hide.