The Girl of Fire and Thorns (18 page)

I catch a glimpse of fur. A long quiver of arrows. Waist-length hair that grows in clumps. I don’t dare breathe as they creep past on bare feet. A hunting party perhaps? Scouts? Their flesh is so pale. Red and blotchy in places from the sun. I wait for a sign that we’ve been spotted, but it’s too hard to tell through the trees. They are a marvel of silence, their footsteps and clattering bones only audible at this close range. Were it not for the Godstone, we would have stumbled right into them. I don’t see paint swirls. Still, the resemblance to the Perditos is uncanny.

Inviernos. At last I gaze at my enemy, albeit in the mere glimpses allowed by dense branches. They are smaller than I imagined, paler, but more savage looking. Like the Perditos, they slink along with animal grace.

We wait in tense silence. My feet cramp and my neck itches madly, but I dare not move. The Godstone continues to pump ice through my veins. Humberto’s hand is heavy and hot on my shoulder, and I’m glad for it. There are so many below, traveling in a long line of at least three abreast. What would they do if they discovered us? Would they kill us instantly? I haven’t heard of anyone being captured. What if an animagus is with them? He could burn our clump of trees to ash if he wanted.

At last the way below is clear. Still we wait, as dust from their passing settles. Then Cosmé puts a finger to her lips and motions for us to stay put. She creeps from the shelter of our trees with astonishing stealth. My legs tremble with the effort of keeping my body still and upright against the slope, and sweat trickles down my temples as we await her signal to move.

She returns a moment later. “They travel west,” she whispers breathlessly. “They don’t seem to have noticed us, but we need to get away in case they catch our trail or discover our campsite. The way east is clear. For now.”

We scramble out from under the trees. Humberto helps me down the slope. I hold on to his hands a little tighter, a little longer than necessary. At the bottom, we pause to catch our breath.

“Elisa, from now on, you lead with Humberto,” Cosmé says. “Even if you slow us down. If that thing inside you tells you”—she makes a vague gesture with one hand—“then wave your arms or something, so we can head for cover.”

I nod, even though the prospect of leading the group into enemy territory terrifies me. What if we can’t find cover next time? What if I’m too slow to react? But as I hurry ahead with Humberto, I find myself smiling. Just a little. Because I may prove useful after all.

Chapter 19

W
E travel in silence for two days, rejecting easy gulches and soft inclines in favor of deer trails that cling, near invisible, to steep slopes, camouflaged by thorny shrubs and gnarled juniper. Humberto leads us decisively, with me right behind him.

The Godstone stilled and warmed again to my body as soon as we were out of reach of the enemy’s scouting party. But since then, it has gradually cooled in increased warning. So I am not surprised when we top a ridge as the sun sets and look toward the Sierra Sangre to discover a diffuse glow, orange-red in the fading light, spreading like a blanket along the base of the mountains.

“The army of Invierne,” Humberto whispers at my side. “Still more than a day’s travel away. Yet their cook fires shine like a small city.”

I gulp and grasp for his hand. “The gates of the enemy,” I whisper back.

“Perhaps,” he says, and his thumb caresses the back of my knuckles. “Elisa, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, and I’m grateful for it, but not even Humberto can protect me from a whole army. I look up at his profile and say, “Thank you.”

He drops my hand as the others crest the rise behind us. “We must camp before all our light is gone,” he says, then scurries down the other side, and I am hard pressed to keep up.

We dare not light a fire that night. We sit in a circle on our bedrolls in a tiny, sheltered hollow and gnaw on dried venison and shriveled dates. I will be hungry again too soon, but at least I don’t get the headaches anymore. Looking around, I realize I’m not the only one who is unhappy. I giggle.

Cosmé leans forward while the others raise their brows. “Something funny, Highness?”

I grin at her. “I think we actually miss your jerboa soup.”

Belén and Humberto chuckle while Cosmé pretends to be offended. Jacián gazes toward the mountains, uncaring. He is always so quiet, so disconnected. In spite of a month’s journey together across the desert, he remains a stranger to me. Sometimes I forget he’s there.

“Everyone to bed,” Cosmé orders. “I’ll take first watch.”

For once, Cosmé lets us sleep late. “They do most of their travel-ing early in the day. They don’t like the heat,” she explains. “Since we’re so close, we stay put until the sun is high.”

I find stillness more repugnant than traveling. When I walk, I have things to keep my mind busy, like where to place my feet and how badly my shoulders ache. Hiding in relative comfort, I remember to be terrified. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or not when we finally shoulder our packs and follow Humberto out of the hollow and into the shadow of the Sierra Sangre.

The Godstone grows ever colder. I pay close attention to it, uncertain that an icy warning would provide enough contrast to alert me. My stomach tightens in response, and my muscles stiffen. By the time Cosmé calls a halt, I’m trembling from the chill.

We shelter in a copse of pines. I drop my bedroll twice trying to flip it out onto a carpet of pine needles.

“Elisa?” It’s Humberto’s concerned voice. “You’re shaking.”

I nod and take a shivery breath. “So cold.”

He puts his hand to my cheek, and I lean into its warmth. “God! Elisa, your skin is like ice.” He rushes to his pack and withdraws his tinderbox.

“What are you doing?” Cosmé asks as he squats down with flint and steel.

“We need a fire. Quickly, before the sun goes down.”

“No fire!”

“It’s Elisa. We need to get her warm.”

Cosmé turns to me. “Is it the Godstone?”

I nod.

“Is someone approaching?” Belén asks.

“I—I don’t know. Don’t think so. Just getting colder. As we get closer.”

Cosmé closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “What if we can’t get her near the army?”

The others look at me in dismay. Even through my frosty fever I can read the thought in their eyes.
What if we’ve dragged her all this way for nothing?

“Almost got a fire going,” Humberto says. “Another moment.”

We’ve come so far. The thought of returning to our village unsuccessful fills me with dread. And now my companions risk discovery, just to keep me warm.

I place my fingertips to the Godstone. The chill of it seeps through my robes.
God,
I pray silently.
What should I do?
As always, the stone responds with vibrating comfort. My belly begins to warm.

“Humberto!” I hiss. “Put out the fire!” I close my eyes and smile.
Thank you, God. If I have to pray all night and all day tomorrow, that’s what I’ll do.
Tendrils of warmth creep up my back, down my legs, into my arms and fingertips. I hear snapping branches as Humberto stomps out the fire.

I look up, feeling loose and relaxed. “I have to keep praying,” I explain. “I need each of you to wake me when you take watch, so I can warm myself.”

Humberto places his hand on my cheek again, under the guise of checking for warmth. “This Godstone is a strange thing,” he says, but I see the relief in his face. The others stare at me with a mix of awe and alarm.

After we flip out our bedrolls, Belén surprises us by pulling a loaf of bread from his pack. “Been saving it,” he says. “For our last night before reaching the army. Probably dry now.”

Humberto slaps him on the back. “You’re a good man, Belén.”

I pray over our meal, aloud, then continue praying in silence as we eat. The bread is indeed dry and squished, but rich with figs and nuts. I fall asleep asking God for courage and stealth, and thanking him for giving me one more chance to be truly and satisfyingly stuffed with dinner.

We sleep late again. After we roll up our beds, I pull Cosmé aside.

“If I don’t make it back,” I say, “and you do, will you promise to continue with our plan?”

She studies my face a moment, then nods once. “The Malficio will become a living thing. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“You think you’re going to die.”

I shrug with purposed nonchalance. “The
Afflatus
is unclear on that point. And all bearers die eventually.”

“Then why did you agree to come?”

So many reasons. Because I was done with being useless. Because I decided it was better to die, if that meant completing my service. Because Alodia or Ximena or Lord Hector wouldn’t hesitate in my place. Because it was time to grow up.

“It is the will of God,” I tell her. A weak answer, and a hypocritical one, for I am as lost as a lamb in a bramble when it comes to God’s will. But giving voice to the real reasons would be too hard.

Humberto tosses his pack over one shoulder as he approaches. “We should reach the cave today,” he says. “Jacián will move ahead and make sure it remains undiscovered. If not, I have another place in mind, but the cave would be ideal.”

He turns eastward, and as we move to follow, a stiffening chill slithers down the bones of my legs. I pray fast and fervently, until my muscles relax and walking becomes a natural, fluid motion. Father Alentín said I should pray through my doubts, and that’s exactly what I do. I chatter at God without ceasing, telling him about my fears, about the ache in the arches of my feet, even about the lizards that scuttle across my path and the hawks that scream overhead. I wonder if he laughs at my mindless prattle, or if he even cares. The Godstone continues to spread warmth, though, so long as I keep it up.

Moving with stealth while carrying on a perpetual one-sided conversation is not easy, especially for me. My mind is busy enough with the task that the afternoon slips away. I’m surprised to look up and see Jacián stopped ahead of us, an unlikely grin on his face. “The cave is clear,” he announces. “And the entrance is nicely overgrown.”

Humberto’s body loosens visibly. I hadn’t realized he was so concerned. He guides us into a narrow dry wash. It’s dusty and tight and overgrown with thorns, so I’m dismayed to learn we must wait here for dark. At my grimace, Humberto smiles and says, “And be sure to watch for vipers.”

I glare at him, then lean against the uneven wall and close my eyes. I tell God I long for a bath in the cavern pool of the village, followed by a meal of juicy lamb chops and stewed carrots.

We don’t wait long, for the sun disappears sooner in the hills than in the desert. The need for stealth is greater than ever, but in the red haze of fading light, I can’t see well enough to plant my feet. Every snap beneath my boots, every scuff against shale sends a vast echo of announcement. My desperate prayer leaks from my mind to my lips, and I find I’m muttering as we scurry along. Oddly, the others don’t shush me.

Night falls as we navigate through brambles and around boulders, switching back at increasingly higher levels. At last, the shadowy black of clumped juniper breaks wide to reveal deepest, star-pricked blue, smudged along the bottom edge with the orange-red glow of Invierne’s army. Jacián beckons us forward to the rim of a great cliff, and we look down, not nearly far enough, into an enormous valley. Campfires dot the rolling expanse like candle flames in velvet, as far north and south as I can see, and eastward to trickle up the slopes of the Sierra Sangre.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper.

Jacián leads us over the lip and down a narrow deer trail. We inch along sideways, our backs tight against the cliff face. In the dark, it is the most dangerous part of our journey. I hardly notice. All I can think about is the size of Invierne’s army and the strange, manic faith my companions must possess to bring someone like me across the continent to save them against such a thing. I hear rustling as Jacián pushes brush aside to reveal the cave opening; it’s small and deeper black than the darkness around us. One by one, we crawl inside. The air instantly cools and moistens my skin. I feel a hand in mine and recognize Humberto’s touch.

“Step carefully, Elisa,” he whispers as he pulls me forward and around a corner. I can see nothing, but I follow without question, my mind in a daze as icy creepers shoot through my abdomen. I’ve forgotten to pray.

The sonorous strike of flint and steel is near instantaneous, with a spark that blazes behind my eyes long after it fades to mere candlelight. Cosmé holds the candle aloft, revealing a high ceiling dripping stalactites. “I haven’t been here in years,” she says softly.

“We used to play here,” Humberto explains in my ear. “When we were little. In springtime, a shallow stream, perfect for splashing, runs through this chamber.”

“The candlelight?” I ask. “Is it safe?”

“It’s safe. In the next chamber over, we can even have a small fire.”

The chamber he speaks of is tiny and round, with a soft sand floor. More important, its entrance is camouflaged by an immense limestone pillar that juts from the ground. The entire cavern system is sprinkled with dead branches, whorled and worn smooth from spring’s flash flooding, so we have no trouble collecting enough wood for a cheery cook fire. We lay out our bedrolls, then sip pine-needle tea.

Belén takes the first watch at the cavern’s cliffside entrance. I pray warmth into my body before fading into uneasy sleep.

Morning brings dim light. Like in the bathing caverns behind our hideaway village, the sun finds its way even into the depths of the earth. Already I am alone in our tiny limestone chamber. After praying to warm my numb limbs, I rise to retrieve ink, hide, and quill from my pack. I’m eager to be done with this task.

Cosmé enters just as I stand to go. She holds a jackrabbit upside down by its feet; long, veined ears trail in the sand. “Getting started already?” she asks, indicating the hide with a lift of her chin.

“I don’t care to linger here.”

Her eyes are bright, and there’s something remarkable about her easy, relaxed humor. A different kind of girl sparkles just beneath that perfect skin, a girl with a ready smile and kind eyes. Perhaps revisiting her childhood haunt brought it out. Or maybe she’s just glad we arrived safely. Whatever the reason, I realize that Cosmé, already lovely, could be stunningly beautiful if she chose.

She frowns. “What are you staring at?”

“Um . . . the rabbit. How did you . . . ?”

“Humberto got it with a sling. He’s always accommodating when I threaten to make soup for breakfast.”

I chuckle. “He’s very capable, isn’t he?”

“Like you, my brother appreciates food only if it can be served in large quantities.”

I choose to believe her teasing the friendly sort, and I grin right back. “Your brother is a wise boy.”

“He’s at the entrance on watch if you want to join him. I’ll bring you both breakfast when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

I retrace last night’s journey through the twisting cavern. It’s not difficult; all I do is follow the brightest path of sunlight. Humberto is there in silhouette, his back against the rim of the opening. A spiky tangle of mesquite obscures the view. When I step forward, I feel Humberto’s hand on my knee.

“No farther, Elisa,” he whispers. “Stay out of the sun. Morning lights the cliff face like a torch. You’ll observe in the afternoon, when the sun is behind us.”

I swallow hard at the reminder of the peril we’ve put ourselves in.

Our thighs brush as I settle next to him. I don’t move at all, perfectly happy to be so aware of his body next to mine, to listen to his soft breathing.

I see our enemy clearly through tiny breaks in the bramble. This cave is an excellent observation post. Though I can’t discern the layout of their camp, I can make out individuals as they scurry about at unknown tasks, clothed in leather and furs, barefoot, pale skinned, lively. The most striking thing is their hair. I see shades of black like mine, some with red tints like Alejandro’s. But others have hair the rich brown of coconut shells, or even lighter—the yellow-gold of honey or straw.

“They are strange looking,” I whisper. “So savage. So colorful.”

Humberto grunts. “Wait till you see an animagus.”

I pray to ward off the sudden chill beneath my breast. Then I change the subject. “Where are Belén and Jacián?”

“Belén hunts. We have a bet as to who can get a bigger rabbit. Jacián is exploring the area to see if anyone has passed by recently. They won’t be back until the afternoon. The sun is too high for them to slip down the cliff unnoticed.”