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Chapter no 13

Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #3)

IN THE END,ย everyone stayed. Even Zoya, though she kept up a steady stream of complaints all the way to Dva Stolba.

Weโ€™d agreed to split into two groups. Tamar, Nadia, and Adrik would travel with David, Genya, and Misha. Theyโ€™d secure lodgings in one of the settlements at the southeast edge of the valley. Genya would have to keep her face hidden, but she didnโ€™t seem to mind. Sheโ€™d wrapped her shawl around her head and declared, โ€œI shall be a woman of mystery.โ€ I reminded her not to beย tooย intriguing.

Mal and I would travel into the Sikurzoi with Zoya, Harshaw, and Tolya. Because we were so close to the border, we knew we might be facing an increased military presence, but we hoped we could blend in with the refugees trying to get through the Sikurzoi before the first snows came.

If we werenโ€™t back from the mountains in two weeks, Tamar would meet with any forces the Apparat might send to Caryeva. I didnโ€™t like the idea of sending her and Nadia alone, but Mal and I couldnโ€™t cut our group down any further. Shu raiders were known to pick off Ravkan travelers near the border, and we wanted to be prepared for trouble. Tamar at least knew the Soldat Sol, and I tried to reassure myself that she and Nadia were both experienced fighters.

I also wasnโ€™t sure what Iโ€™d do with any soldiers who did show up, but the message had been sent, and I had to believe that weโ€™d figure out something. Maybe by then Iโ€™d have the firebird and the beginnings of a plan. I couldnโ€™t think too far ahead. Every time I did, I felt panic tugging at me. It was like being underground again, no air to breathe, waiting for the world to come down around me.

Our team left at sunrise, leaving the others sleeping in the shade of the overhang. Only Misha was awake, watching us with accusatory eyes as he pelted the side of theย Bitternย with pebbles.

โ€œCome here,โ€ Mal said, waving him over. I thought Misha might not budge, but then he shuffled to us, his chin jutting out in a sulk. โ€œDo you have the pin Alina gave you?โ€

Misha nodded once.

โ€œYou know what that means, donโ€™t you? Youโ€™re a soldier. Soldiers donโ€™t get to go where they want to. They go where theyโ€™re needed.โ€

โ€œYou just donโ€™t want me with you.โ€

โ€œNo, we need you here to take care of the others. You know David is hopeless, and Adrik is going to need help too, even if he doesnโ€™t want to admit it. Youโ€™ll have to be careful with that one, help him without letting him know youโ€™re helping. Can you manage that?โ€

Misha shrugged.

โ€œWe need you to take care of them the way you took care of Baghra.โ€ โ€œBut I didnโ€™t take care of her.โ€

โ€œYes you did. You watched over her, and you made her comfortable, and you let her go when she needed you to. You did what had to be done, even though it hurt you. Thatโ€™s what soldiers do.โ€

Misha looked at him sharply, as if considering this. โ€œI should have stopped her,โ€ he said, his voice breaking.

โ€œIf you had, none of us would be here. Weโ€™re grateful that you did the hard thing.โ€

Misha frowned. โ€œDavidย isย kind of a mess.โ€ โ€œTrue,โ€ Mal agreed. โ€œSo can we trust you?โ€

Misha looked away. His expression was still troubled, but he shrugged again.

โ€œThank you,โ€ Mal said. โ€œYou can start by getting water boiling for breakfast.โ€

Misha nodded once, then jogged back through the gravel to get the water on.

Mal glanced at me as he rose and shouldered his pack. โ€œWhat?โ€ โ€œNothing. That was just โ€ฆ really well done.โ€

โ€œSame way Ana Kuya got me to stop begging her to keep a lantern lit at

night.โ€

โ€œReally?โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ he said starting the climb. โ€œTold me I had to be brave for you, that if I was scared, youโ€™d be scared.โ€

โ€œWell, she told me I had to eat my parsnips to set a good example for you, but I still refused to do it.โ€

โ€œAnd you wonder why you were always getting the switch.โ€ โ€œI have principles.โ€

โ€œThat means, โ€˜If I can be difficult, I will.โ€™โ€ โ€œUnfair.โ€

โ€œHey!โ€ Zoya shouted over the edge of the crater above. โ€œIf youโ€™re not up here before I count to ten, Iโ€™m going back to sleep and you can carry me to Dva Stolba.โ€

โ€œMal,โ€ I sighed. โ€œIf I murder her in the Sikurzoi, will you hold me accountable?โ€

โ€œYes,โ€ he said. Then added, โ€œThat means, โ€˜Letโ€™s make it look like an accident.โ€™โ€

* * *

DVA STOLBA TOOK ME by surprise. Iโ€™d somehow expected that the little valley would be like a graveyard, a grim wasteland of phantoms and abandoned places. Instead, the settlements were bustling. The landscape was dotted with burned-out hulks and empty fields of ash, but new homes and businesses had sprung up right beside them.

There were taverns and hostelries, a storefront advertising watch repair, and what looked like a shop that lent books by the week. Everything felt oddly impermanent. Broken windows had simply been boarded over. Many of the houses had canvas roofs or holes in the walls that had been covered with wool blankets or woven mats.ย Who knows how long weโ€™ll be here?ย they seemed to say.ย Letโ€™s make do with what we have.

Had it always been this way? The settlements were constantly being destroyed and rebuilt, governed by the Shu Han or Ravka, depending on how the borders had been drawn at the end of a particular war. Was this how my parents had lived? It was strange to picture them this way, but I didnโ€™t mind the idea. They might have been soldiers or merchants. They might have been

happy here. And maybe one of them had been harboring a power, the latent legacy of Morozovaโ€™s youngest daughter. There were legends of Sun Summoners before me. Most people thought they were hoaxes or empty stories, wishful thinking born of the misery wrought by the Fold. But there might be more to it than that. Or maybe I was clinging to some dream of a heritage I had no real claim to.

We passed through a market square crowded with people, their wares displayed on makeshift tables: tin pans, hunting knives, furs for the trek over the mountains. We saw jars of goose fat, dried figs sold in bunches, fine saddles, and flimsy-looking guns. Strings of freshly plucked ducks, their skin pink and dimpled, hung above one stall. Mal kept his bow and repeating rifle bundled in his pack. The weapons were too finely made not to draw attention. Children played in the dirt. A squat man in a sleeveless vest was smoking some kind of meat in a big metal drum. I watched him toss a juniper branch inside it, sending up a fragrant, bluish cloud. Zoya scrunched up her nose, but

Tolya and Harshaw couldnโ€™t dig out their coins fast enough.

This was where Malโ€™s family and mine had met death. Somehow the wild, cheerful atmosphere seemed almost unfair. It certainly didnโ€™t match my mood.

I was relieved when Mal said, โ€œI thought it would be more grim.โ€

โ€œDid you see how small the graveyard was?โ€ I asked under my breath. He nodded. In most of Ravka, the cemeteries were bigger than the towns, but when the Shu had burned these settlements, there had been no one left to mourn the dead.

Though weโ€™d been well provisioned from the stocks at the Spinning Wheel, Mal wanted to buy a map made by a local. We needed to know which trails might be blocked by landslides or where the bridges had been washed out.

A woman with white braids peeking from beneath her orange wool hat sat on a low, painted stool, humming to herself and beating a cowbell to catch the attention of passersby. She hadnโ€™t bothered with a table, but had laid a rug displaying her stockโ€”canteens, saddlebags, maps, and stacks of metal prayer ringsโ€”directly on the ground. A mule stood behind her, its long ears twitching off flies, and occasionally, she would reach back and offer it a pat on the nose.

โ€œSnowโ€™s coming soon,โ€ she said, squinting up at the sky as we poked

through the maps. โ€œNeed blankets for the journey?โ€ โ€œWeโ€™re set,โ€ I said. โ€œThank you.โ€

โ€œLot of people headed over the border.โ€ โ€œBut not you?โ€

โ€œToo old to go now. Shu, Fjerdans, Foldโ€ฆโ€ She shrugged. โ€œYou sit still, trouble passes you by.โ€

Or it smacks right into you, then comes back for seconds, I thought bleakly.

Mal held up one of the maps. โ€œIโ€™m not seeing the eastern mountains, only the west.โ€

โ€œBetter off keeping west,โ€ she said. โ€œYou trying for the coast?โ€ โ€œYes,โ€ Mal lied smoothly, โ€œthen on to Novyi Zem. Butโ€”โ€ โ€œStay west. People donโ€™t come back from the east.โ€

โ€œJu weh,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œEy ye bat eโ€™yuan.โ€

The woman answered back, and they looked over a map together, conversing in Shu while we waited patiently.

Finally, Tolya handed a different map to Mal. โ€œEast,โ€ he said.

The woman jabbed her cowbell at Tolya and asked me, โ€œWhat are you going to feed that one in the hills? Better make sure he doesnโ€™t putย youย on a spit.โ€

Tolya frowned, but the woman laughed so hard she nearly fell off her stool. Mal added some prayer rings to the maps and gave over his coins.

โ€œHad a brother who went to Novyi Zem,โ€ the woman said, still chuckling as she returned Malโ€™s change. โ€œProbably rich now. Itโ€™s a good place to start a new life.โ€

Zoya snorted. โ€œCompared to what?โ€ โ€œItโ€™s really not bad,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œDirt and more dirt.โ€

โ€œThereย areย cities,โ€ Tolya grumbled as we walked away.

โ€œWhat did that woman have to say about the eastern mountains?โ€ I asked. โ€œTheyโ€™re sacred,โ€ said Tolya, โ€œand apparently haunted. She claims the

Cera Huo is guarded by ghosts.โ€

A shiver ran up my spine. โ€œWhatโ€™s the Cera Huo?โ€ Tolyaโ€™s golden eyes glinted. โ€œThe Firefalls.โ€

* * *

I DIDNโ€™T EVEN NOTICE the ruins until we were almost directly beneath them. They were that nondescriptโ€”two worn and weather-beaten spires of rock that flanked the road leading southeast out of the valley. They might have once been an arch. Or an aqueduct. Or two mills, as their name indicated. Or just two pointy bits of rock. What had I expected? Ilya Morozova by the side of the road in a golden halo, holding up a sign that read โ€œYou were right, Alina. This way to the firebirdโ€?

But the angles seemed correct. Iโ€™d scrutinized the illustration of Sankt Ilya in Chains so often that the image was branded in my mind. The view of the Sikurzoi beyond the spindles matched up to my memory of the page. Had Morozova drawn it himself? Was he responsible for the map left behind in that illustration or had someone else pieced together his story? I might never know.

This is the place, I told myself.ย It has to be.

โ€œAnything familiar?โ€ I asked Mal.

He shook his head. โ€œI guess I hopedโ€ฆโ€ He shrugged. He didnโ€™t have to say more than that. Iโ€™d been carrying the same hope lodged in my heart, that once I was on this road, in this valley, more of my past might suddenly become clear. But all I had was my same worn set of memories: a dish of beets, a broad pair of shoulders, the sway of ox tails ahead of me.

We spotted a few refugeesโ€”a woman with a baby at her breast riding in a pony cart while her husband walked alongside, a group of people our age who I assumed were First Army deserters. But the road beneath the ruins was not crowded. The most popular places to try to enter the Shu Han were farther west, where the mountains were less steep and travel to the coast was easier.

The beauty of the Sikurzoi came on me suddenly. The only mountains Iโ€™d known were the icy peaks of the far north and the Petrazoiโ€”jagged, gray, and forbidding. But these mountains were gentle, rolling, their soft slopes covered in tall grasses, the valleys between them crossed with slow-moving rivers that flashed blue and then gold in the sun. Even the sky felt welcoming, a prairie of infinite blue, thick white clouds stacked heavy on the horizon, the snowcapped peaks of the southern range visible in the distance.

I knew this was no-manโ€™s-land, the dangerous boundary that marked the end of Ravka and the beginning of enemy territory, but it didnโ€™t feel that way. There was ample water, space for grazing. If there hadnโ€™t been a war, if the

lines had somehow been drawn differently, this would have been a peaceful place.

We made no fire and camped in the open that night, our bedrolls spread beneath the stars. I listened to the sigh of the wind in the grasses and thought of Nikolai. Was he out there, tracking us as we tracked the firebird? Would he know us? Or had he lost himself completely? Would a day come when weโ€™d simply be prey to him? I peered into the sky, waiting to see a winged shape blotting out the stars. Sleep did not come easily.

The next day, we left the main road and started to climb in earnest. Mal took us east, toward the Cera Huo, following a trail that seemed to appear and disappear as it wended through the mountains. Storms came on without warning, dense bursts of rain that turned the earth beneath our boots to sucking mud, then vanished as quickly as theyโ€™d arrived.

Tolya worried about flash floods, so we left the trail completely and headed for higher ground, spending the rest of the afternoon on the narrow back of a rocky ridge where we could see stormclouds chasing each other over the low hills and valleys, their dark swells glinting with brief flashes of lightning.

The days dragged on, and I was acutely conscious that every step we took deeper into the Shu Han was a step we would have to retrace back to Ravka. What would we find when we returned? Would the Darkling have already marched on West Ravka? And if we found the firebird, if the three amplifiers were brought together at last, would I be strong enough to face him? Mostly, I thought of Morozova and wondered if heโ€™d once walked these same paths, gazed on these same mountains. Had his need to finish the task heโ€™d begun driven him the way my desperation drove me now, forcing me to put one foot in front of the other, to take another step, ford another river, climb another hill?

That night, the temperature dropped enough that we had to set up tents. Zoya seemed to think I should be the one to put ours together, even if we were both going to sleep in it. I was cursing over the pile of canvas when Mal hushed me.

โ€œSomeoneโ€™s out there,โ€ he said.

We were in a wide field of feather grass that stretched between two low hills. I peered into the dusk, unable to make anything out, and lifted my hands

questioningly.

Mal gave a shake of his head. โ€œAs a last resort,โ€ he whispered.

I nodded. I didnโ€™t want us in another situation like the one weโ€™d had with the militia.

Mal picked up his rifle and signaled. Tolya drew his sword, and we formed up, back to back, waiting. โ€œHarshaw,โ€ I whispered.

I heard Harshawโ€™s flint being struck. He stepped forward and spread his arms. A blazing gout of fire roared to life. It swept around us in a shining ring, illuminating the faces of the men crouched low in the field beyond. There were five, maybe six of them, golden-eyed and dressed in shearling. I saw bows drawn and the glint of light off at least one gun barrel.

โ€œNow,โ€ I said.

Zoya and Harshaw moved as one, throwing their arms out in wide arcs, the flames flaring across the grass like a living thing, borne by their combined power.

Men shouted. The fire licked out in hungry tongues. I heard a single shot of gunfire, and the thieves turned and ran. Harshaw and Zoya sent the fire after them, chasing them across the field.

โ€œThey might come back,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œBring more men. You get good money for Grisha in Koba.โ€ It was a city just south of the border.

For the first time, I thought about what it must have been like for Tolya and Tamar, never able to return to their fatherโ€™s country, strangers in Ravka, strangers here too.

Zoya shivered. โ€œThey arenโ€™t any better in Fjerda. There are witchhunters who donโ€™t eat animals, wonโ€™t wear leather shoes or kill a spider in their homes, but theyโ€™ll burn Grisha alive on the pyre.โ€

โ€œShu doctors might not be so bad,โ€ said Harshaw. He was still playing with the flames, sending them shooting up in loops and snaking tendrils. โ€œAt least they clean their instruments. On the Wandering Isle, they think Grisha blood is a cure-allโ€”for impotence, wasting plague, you name it. When my brotherโ€™s power showed itself, they cut his throat and hung him upside down to drain like a pig in a slaughterhouse.โ€

โ€œSaints, Harshaw,โ€ Zoya gasped.

โ€œI burned that village and everyone in it to the ground. Then I got on a boat and never looked back.โ€

I thought of the dream the Darkling had once had, that we might be Ravkans and not just Grisha. Heโ€™d tried to make a safe place for our kind, maybe the only one in the world.ย I understand the desire to remain free.

Was that why Harshaw kept fighting? Why heโ€™d chosen to stay? He must have shared the Darklingโ€™s dream once. Had he given its care over to me?

โ€œWeโ€™ll keep a watch tonight,โ€ Mal said, โ€œand head farther east tomorrow.โ€

East to the Cera Huo, where phantoms stood guard. But we were already traveling with ghosts of our own.

* * *

THERE WAS NO EVIDENCE of the thieves the next morning, only a field scorched in bizarre patterns.

Mal took us farther into the mountains. Early in our journey, weโ€™d seen the curling smoke of someoneโ€™s cookfire or the shape of a hut on a hillside. Now we were alone, our only company the lizards we saw sunning themselves on rocks and, once, a herd of elk grazing in a distant meadow.

If there were signs of the firebird, they were invisible to me, but I recognized the silence in Mal, the deep intent. Iโ€™d seen it in Tsibeya when we were hunting the stag and then again on the waters of the Bone Road.

According to Tolya, the Cera Huo was marked differently on every map, and we certainly had no way of knowing if that was where weโ€™d find the firebird. But it had given Mal a direction and now he moved in that steady, reassuring way of his, as if everything in the wild world was already familiar to him, as if he knew all of its secrets. For the others, it became a kind of game, trying to predict which way he would take us.

โ€œWhat do you see?โ€ Harshaw asked in frustration when Mal turned us away from an easy trail.

Mal shrugged. โ€œItโ€™s more what I donโ€™t see.โ€ He pointed up to where a flock of geese were tacking south in a sharp wedge. โ€œItโ€™s the way the birds move, the way the animals hide in the underbrush.โ€

Harshaw scratched Oncat behind the ear and whispered loudly, โ€œAnd people sayย Iโ€™mย crazy.โ€

As the days passed, I felt my patience fraying. We had too much time walking with nothing to do but think, and there was no safe place for my thoughts to wander. The past was full of horrors, and the future left me with

that breathless, rising panic.

The power inside me had once seemed so miraculous, but each confrontation with the Darkling drove home the limitations of my abilities.ย There is no fight to be had.ย Despite the death Iโ€™d seen and the desperation I felt, I was no closer to understanding or wieldingย merzost. I found myself resenting Malโ€™s calm, the surety he seemed to carry in his steps.

โ€œDo you think itโ€™s out there?โ€ I asked one afternoon when weโ€™d taken shelter in a dense cluster of pines to wait out a storm.

โ€œHard to say. Right now, I could just be tracking a big hawk. Iโ€™m going on my gut as much as anything, and that always makes me nervous.โ€

โ€œYou donโ€™t seem nervous. You seem completely at ease.โ€ I could hear the irritation in my voice.

Mal glanced at me. โ€œIt helps that no oneโ€™s threatening to cut you open.โ€

I said nothing. The thought of the Darklingโ€™s knife was almost comforting

โ€”a simple fear, concrete, manageable.

He squinted out at the rain. โ€œAnd itโ€™s something else, something the Darkling said in the chapel. He thought he needed me to find the firebird. As much as I hate to admit it, thatโ€™s why I know I can do it now, because he was so sure.โ€

I understood. The Darklingโ€™s faith in me had been an intoxicating thing. I wanted that certainty, the knowledge that everything would be dealt with, that someone was in control. Sergei had run to the Darkling looking for that reassurance.ย I just want to feel safe again.

โ€œWhen the time comes,โ€ Mal asked, โ€œcan you bring the firebird down?โ€

Yes.ย I was done with hesitation. It wasnโ€™t just that weโ€™d run out of options, or that so much was riding on the firebirdโ€™s power. Iโ€™d simply grown ruthless enough or selfish enough to take another creatureโ€™s life. But I missed the girl who had shown the stag mercy, who had been strong enough to turn away from the lure of power, who had believed in something more. Another casualty of this war.

โ€œIt still doesnโ€™t seem real to me,โ€ I said. โ€œAnd even if it is, it may not be enough. The Darkling has an army. He has allies. We haveโ€ฆโ€ A band of misfits? Some tattooed zealots? Even with the power of the amplifiers, it seemed a mismatched battle.

โ€œThanks,โ€ Zoya said sourly.

โ€œShe has a point,โ€ said Harshaw, propped against a tree. He had Oncat perched on his shoulder and was sending little flames dancing through the air. โ€œIโ€™m not really feeling up for much.โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t mean that,โ€ I protested.

โ€œItโ€™ll be enough,โ€ said Mal. โ€œWeโ€™ll find the firebird. Youโ€™ll face the Darkling. Weโ€™ll fight him, and weโ€™ll win.โ€

โ€œAnd then what?โ€ I felt panic press in on me again. โ€œEven if we beat the Darkling and I destroy the Fold, Ravka will be vulnerable.โ€ No Lantsov prince to lead. No Darkling. Just a scrawny orphan from Keramzin with whatever force I might piece together from the Grisha who survived and the remnants of the First Army.

โ€œThereโ€™s the Apparat,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œThe priest may not be trustworthy, but your followers are.โ€

โ€œAnd David thought he might be able to heal Nikolai,โ€ Zoya put in.

I turned on her, my anger rising. โ€œDo you think Fjerda will wait for us to find a cure? How about the Shu?โ€

โ€œThen youโ€™ll make a new alliance,โ€ said Mal. โ€œSell my power to the highest bidder?โ€

โ€œYou negotiate. Set your own terms.โ€

โ€œHash out a marriage contract, pick a Fjerdan noble or a Shu general?

Hope my new husband doesnโ€™t murder me in my sleep?โ€ โ€œAlinaโ€”โ€

โ€œAnd where will you go?โ€

โ€œIโ€™ll stay by your side as long as you let me.โ€

โ€œNoble Mal. Will you stand guard outside our bedchamber at night?โ€ I knew I was being unfair, but in that moment I didnโ€™t care.

His jaw set. โ€œIโ€™ll do what I have to do to keep you safe.โ€ โ€œKeep your head down. Do your duty.โ€

โ€œYes.โ€

โ€œOne foot in front of the other. Onward to the firebird. Keep marching like a good soldier.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s right, Alina. Iโ€™m a soldier.โ€ I thought he might finally crack and give me the fight I wanted, that I was itching for. Instead, he stood and shook the water from his coat. โ€œAnd Iโ€™ll keep marching because the firebird is all I can give you. No money. No army. No mountaintop stronghold.โ€ He

shouldered his pack. โ€œThis is all I have to offer. The same old trick.โ€ He stepped out into the rain. I didnโ€™t know if I wanted to run after him to apologize or knock him into the mud.

Zoya lifted one elegant shoulder. โ€œIโ€™d rather have the emerald.โ€

I stared at her, then shook my head and released something between a laugh and a sigh. My anger went out of me, leaving me feeling petty and embarrassed. Mal hadnโ€™t deserved that. None of them had.

โ€œSorry,โ€ I mumbled.

โ€œMaybe youโ€™re hungry,โ€ said Zoya. โ€œI always get mean when Iโ€™m hungry.โ€ โ€œAre you hungry all the time?โ€ asked Harshaw.

โ€œYou havenโ€™t seen me mean. When you do, youโ€™ll require a very big hanky.โ€

He snorted. โ€œTo dry my tears?โ€ โ€œTo stanch the bleeding.โ€

This time my laugh was real. Somehow a little of Zoyaโ€™s poison was exactly what I needed. Then, despite all my better judgment, I asked the question Iโ€™d wanted to ask for nearly a year. โ€œYou and Mal, back in Kribirsk

โ€”โ€

โ€œIt happened.โ€

I knew that and I knew there had been plenty of others before her, but it still stung. Zoya glanced at me, her long black lashes sparkling with rain. โ€œBut never since,โ€ she said grudgingly, โ€œand it hasnโ€™t been for lack of trying. If a man can say no to me, thatโ€™s something.โ€

I rolled my eyes. Zoya poked me in the arm with one long finger. โ€œHe hasnโ€™t been with anyone, you idiot. Do you know what the girls back at the White Cathedral called him?ย Beznako.โ€

A lost cause.

โ€œItโ€™s funny,โ€ Zoya said contemplatively. โ€œI understand why the Darkling and Nikolai want your power. But Mal looks at you like youโ€™re โ€ฆ well, like youโ€™re me.โ€

โ€œNo he doesnโ€™t,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œHe watches her the way Harshaw watches fire. Like heโ€™ll never have enough of her. Like heโ€™s trying to capture what he can before sheโ€™s gone.โ€

Zoya and I gaped at him. Then she scowled. โ€œYou know, if you turned a bit of that poetry on me, I might consider giving you a chance.โ€

โ€œWho says I want one?โ€

โ€œI want one!โ€ called Harshaw.

Zoya blew a damp curl from her forehead. โ€œOncat has a better chance than you.โ€

Harshaw held the little tabby above him. โ€œWhy, Oncat,โ€ he said. โ€œYou rogue.โ€

* * *

AS WE CLOSED IN on the area where the Cera Huo was rumored to be, our pace quickened. Mal grew even quieter, his blue eyes moving constantly over the hills. I owed him an apology, but I never seemed to find the right moment to speak to him.

Almost exactly a week into the journey, we came across what we thought was a dry creek bed that ran between two steep rock walls. Weโ€™d been following it nearly ten minutes when Mal knelt and ran his hand through the grass.

โ€œHarshaw,โ€ he said, โ€œcan you burn some of this scrub away?โ€

Harshaw struck his flint and sent a low blanket of blue flame rolling over the creek bed, revealing a pattern of stones too regular to be anything but manmade. โ€œItโ€™s a road,โ€ he said in surprise.

โ€œHere?โ€ I asked. Weโ€™d passed nothing but empty mountains for miles.

We stayed alert, searching for signs of what might have come before, hoping to see etched symbols, maybe the little altars weโ€™d seen carved into the rock closer to Dva Stolba, eager for some kind of proof that we were on the right path. But the only lesson in the stones seemed to be that cities rose and fell and were forgotten.ย You live in a single moment. I live in a thousand.ย I might live long enough to see Os Alta turn to dust. Or maybe Iโ€™d turn my power back on myself and end it all before then. What would life be like when the people I loved were gone? When there were no mysteries left?

We followed the road to where it just seemed to end, buried in a slump of fallen rock covered in grass and yellow wildflowers. We scrambled over it, and when we reached the top, a sliver of ice crept into my bones.

It was as if the color had been leached out of the landscape. The field before us was gray grass. A black ridge stretched along the horizon, covered in trees, their bark smooth and glossy as polished slate, their angular branches

free of leaves. But the eerie thing was the way they grew, in perfect, regular lines, equidistant, as if they had each been planted with infinite care.

โ€œThat looks wrong,โ€ said Harshaw.

โ€œTheyโ€™re soldier trees,โ€ said Mal. โ€œItโ€™s just the way they grow, like theyโ€™re keeping ranks.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s not the only reason,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œThis is the ashwood. The gateway to the Cera Huo.โ€

Mal took out his map. โ€œI donโ€™t see it.โ€ โ€œItโ€™s a story. There was a massacre here.โ€ โ€œA battle?โ€ I asked.

โ€œNo. A Shu battalion was brought here by their enemies. They were prisoners of war.โ€

โ€œWhich enemies?โ€ asked Harshaw.

Tolya shrugged. โ€œRavkan, Fjerdan, maybe other Shu. This was old days.โ€ โ€œWhat happened to them?โ€

โ€œThey starved, and when the hunger became too great, they turned on each other. Itโ€™s said the last man standing planted a tree for each of his fallen brethren. And now they wait for travelers to pass too close to their branches, so they can claim a final meal.โ€

โ€œLovely,โ€ grumbled Zoya. โ€œRemind me to never ask you for a bedtime story.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s just a legend,โ€ Mal said. โ€œIโ€™ve seen those trees near Balakirev.โ€ โ€œGrowing like that?โ€ Harshaw asked.

โ€œNot โ€ฆ exactly.โ€

I eyed the shadows in the grove. The trees did look like a regiment marching toward us. Iโ€™d heard similar stories about the woods near Duva, that in the long winters, the trees would snatch up girls to eat.ย Superstition,ย I told myself, but I didnโ€™t want to take another step toward that hillside.

โ€œLook!โ€ said Harshaw.

I followed his gaze. There, amid the deep shadows of the trees, something white was moving, a fluttering shape that rose and fell, slipping between the branches.

โ€œThereโ€™s another,โ€ I gasped, pointing to where a whorl of white shimmered, then disappeared into nothing.

โ€œIt canโ€™t be,โ€ said Mal.

Another shape appeared between the trees, then another.

โ€œI do not like this,โ€ said Harshaw. โ€œI do not like thisย at all.โ€ โ€œOh, for Saintsโ€™ sake,โ€ sneered Zoya. โ€œYou really are peasants.โ€

She lifted her hands, and a massive gust of wind tore up the mountain. The white shapes seemed to retreat. Then Zoya hooked her arms, and they rushed at us in a moaning white cloud.

โ€œZoyaโ€”โ€ โ€œRelax,โ€ she said.

I threw up my arms to ward off whatever horrible thing Zoya had brought down on us. The cloud exploded. It burst into harmless flakes that drifted to the ground around us.

โ€œAsh?โ€ I reached out to catch some of it on my fingers. It was fine and white, the color of chalk.

โ€œItโ€™s just some kind of weather phenomenon,โ€ Zoya said, sending the ashes rising again in lazy spirals. We looked back up the hill. The white clouds continued to move in shifts and gusts, but now that we knew what they were, they seemed slightly less sinister. โ€œYou didnโ€™t really think they were ghosts, did you?โ€

I blushed and Tolya cleared his throat. Zoya rolled her eyes and strode toward the hill. โ€œI am surrounded by fools.โ€

โ€œThey looked spooky,โ€ Mal said to me with a shrug. โ€œThey still do,โ€ I muttered.

All the way up the rise, weird little blasts of wind struck us, hot and then cold. No matter what Zoya said, the grove was an eerie place. I steered clear of the treesโ€™ grasping branches and tried to ignore the gooseflesh puckering my arms. Every time a white whorl rose up near us, I jumped and Oncat hissed from Harshawโ€™s shoulder.

When we finally crested the hill, we saw that the trees marched all the way into the valley, though here their branches were lush with purple leaves, their ranks spreading over the landscape below like the folds of a Fabrikatorโ€™s robe. But that wasnโ€™t what stopped us in our tracks.

Ahead of us stood a towering cliff. It looked less a part of the mountains than like the wall of a giantโ€™s stronghold. It was dark and massive, nearly flat at the top, the rock the heavy gray of iron. A tangle of dead trees had been blown against its base. The cliff was split down the middle by a roaring

waterfall that fed a pool so clear we could see the rocks at the bottom. The lake stretched almost the length of the valley, surrounded by blooming soldier trees, then seemed to disappear belowground.

We made our way down to the valley floor, stepping around and over little pools and rivulets, the thunder of the falls filling our ears. When we reached the largest pool, we stopped to fill our canteens and rinse our faces in the water.

โ€œIs this it?โ€ Zoya asked. โ€œThe Cera Huo?โ€

Setting Oncat aside, Harshaw dunked his head in the water. โ€œMust be,โ€ he said. โ€œWhatโ€™s next?โ€

โ€œUp, I think,โ€ said Mal.

Tolya eyed the slick expanse of the cliff wall. The rock was wet with mist from the falls. โ€œWeโ€™ll have to go around. Thereโ€™s no way of scaling the face.โ€

โ€œIn the morning,โ€ Mal replied. โ€œToo dangerous to climb in this terrain at night.โ€

Harshaw tilted his head to one side. โ€œWe might want to camp a little farther off.โ€

โ€œWhy?โ€ asked Zoya. โ€œIโ€™m tired.โ€ โ€œOncat objects to the landscaping.โ€

โ€œThat tabby can sleep at the bottom of the pool for all I care,โ€ she snapped.

Harshaw just pointed toward the tangle of dead trees crowded around the bottom of the cliff. They werenโ€™t trees at all. They were piles of bones.

โ€œSaints,โ€ Zoya said, backing away. โ€œAre those animal or human?โ€

Harshaw hitched his thumb over his shoulder. โ€œI saw a very welcoming bunch of boulders back that way.โ€

โ€œLetโ€™s go there,โ€ said Zoya. โ€œNow.โ€

We hurried from the falls, picking our way through the soldier trees and up the valley walls.

โ€œMaybe the ash is volcanic,โ€ I said hopefully. My imagination was getting the best of me, and I was suddenly sure that I had the ancient remains of burnt men in my hair.

โ€œCould be,โ€ said Harshaw. โ€œThere might be volcanic activity near here.

Maybe thatโ€™s why theyโ€™re called the Firefalls.โ€ โ€œNo,โ€ said Tolya. โ€œThatโ€™s why.โ€

I looked back over my shoulder to the valley below. In the light of the

setting sun, the falls had gone molten gold. It must have been a trick of the mist or the angle, but it was as if the very water had caught fire. The sun sank lower, setting every pool alight, turning the valley into a crucible.

โ€œIncredible,โ€ Harshaw groaned. Mal and I exchanged a glance. Weโ€™d be lucky if he didnโ€™t try to throw himself in.

Zoya dumped her pack on the ground and slumped down on it. โ€œYou can keep your damn scenery. All I want is a warm bed and a glass of wine.โ€

Tolya frowned. โ€œThis is a holy place.โ€

โ€œGreat,โ€ she retorted sourly. โ€œSee if you can pray me up a dry pair of socks.โ€

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