Blood in the Fire (Timelaws Trilogy) (13 page)

The Ori Forest–96th Cycle of the Wizard Calendar

(Earth Year: 5,320 B.C.)

Anthe’s Story

Three days after their journey began, Ketya and Anthe reached the entrance to a cave. All Ketya had learned along their trek was that Anthe was part of an underground movement opposed to the head wizard. She had continued to push for information, but the mysterious woman remained withdrawn. Finally, Ketya asked why Anthe didn’t use her powers to help accelerate their progress through the forest. The only response she received was that the army might try to follow the spell.

Anthe examined the cave entrance as though she weren’t sure it was the right one. “This is where you have to say goodbye to Naimi,” she announced.

A shiver ran up Ketya’s spine. “Say goodbye?” she asked. “I’m not leaving her.” Her mouth and lips were still sore from breathing in hot ashes during the fire.

Anthe stepped back from the rock threshold. “I guess I should have told you sooner,” the elderly woman confessed. “It’s…” The words caught in her throat. She looked away and trailed off. It was late afternoon and the sky had begun to take an orange hue in preparation for first sunset. The colors reflected off Anthe’s beige pupils and made them shimmer auburn and red. She swallowed and returned her gaze to Ketya. “It’s a rather cruel plan,” Anthe said. “It started with burning down your town.”

“What?” Ketya whispered. “You did that?” A gust of wind picked up.

“Not alone. But yes, our network is responsible,” Anthe said. She folded her arms to ward against the cold. “It was you or that town, Ketya,” she continued. “Had the people let your child live, the army would have done what we did.”

Ketya was paralyzed.
I’ve been following the woman who killed Brovkyl and destroyed Centream
.

Anthe tried to explain. “We had to make it look like the order came from an army general. By the time they realized the initiative to destroy your town didn’t originate from their ranks, we would be long gone. With
you
safe.”

Ketya found her words. “If it weren’t for that mattress and that gust of wind, I wouldn’t be safe. I’d be dead anyway. Brovkyl died in that fire!” This woman was a monster. Rage swelled in Ketya’s heart as she thought of Brovkyl and Rothin and all the others who had perished. Not knowing what else to do, she lunged for Anthe, but the wizard levitated out of reach. With nothing to break her momentum, Ketya landed in the gray dirt. She looked up to see Anthe hovering above. Her white dress flowed in the wind and the glow of the second sun illuminated her silhouette. Anthe looked like an angel, but Ketya hated her.

“Yes, I moved that mattress into place and blew the door open,” Anthe acknowledged. “I couldn’t do more. It had to look real so the army wouldn’t investigate. If they found traces of magic in your home…”

Ketya became suspended in the longest moment of her life. “And Brovkyl?” she asked. “Did you do the same for him?”

Anthe did not respond right away. Instead, she looked on Ketya with pity in her eyes.
Please let him be alive,
Ketya prayed. Visions of his kind eyes and strong arms flooded her mind. His deep voice echoed in her ears, filling her with warmth.

Finally, Anthe spoke. “Many of the townsfolk used their powers to survive the attack,” Anthe said. “Not all of them died. But Brovkyl… Brovkyl told me he was willing to do whatever was needed to save his child. For this to work, the army had to believe you were dead. That meant finding wizard remains in your home.” Ketya’s heart dropped. “It will be days before they figure out that those remains aren’t yours,” Anthe finished.

“I could have outrun them,” Ketya yelled, horrified. Naimi had crawled under Ketya’s skirt to take cover from the wind. Sensing that something was wrong, she let out a short whimper.

“No, you couldn’t,” Anthe objected. “Not with their powers. And if they knew my underground was hiding you, the full force of the army would have gotten involved. They would have found us.”

Ketya wrapped her fist around a stone she felt below her hand. It was sharp and heavy. Her arm was tired, but she picked it up and lobbed it at Anthe. Brovkyl deserved to be avenged. Anthe glided away from the rock. Another came at her, but she floated over it and ascended farther away from Ketya’s reach.

“Stoning me won’t change the past,” Anthe said coldly. “Brovkyl made this choice for his daughter. He didn’t know how we would go about it, but he knew it was his life for your baby. Would you make his sacrifice in vain?”

Ketya stopped searching for rocks. She stared at the dirt beneath her. Her singed, uneven hair fell loosely over her face, concealing the defeat in her eyes. “Now what?” she asked.

“I’ve made the location beneath this cave secure,” Anthe said as she returned to the ground. “We’ll guide your body into stasis and hide it here. Millennia from now, you will awaken. Shortly thereafter, it will be time to give birth, and, once the baby is born, you will cast a spell.”

A whirlwind of questions flooded Ketya’s mind.
Why should I go into status? How will I wake up? What spell?
She didn’t know where to start, so to quiet the storm in her mind, she stated a simple, obvious truth.
“I don’t have powers,” Ketya said. Her eyes did not wander away from the terrain beneath her hands.

“You’ll borrow some of my magic,” Anthe countered.

“I might not give it back.”

Anthe didn’t smile. “There will be someone looking for a body in the very distant future,” she continued. “You’re going to have to provide her with yours. In return for helping her deliver a message, she will take your daughter somewhere where she can be raised with love.” Ketya remained motionless on her knees. “If your child stays here among wizards, they will hunt her down,” Anthe persisted.

“If I surrender my body, where do I go?” Ketya asked, lifting her head up to face Anthe. Her voice shook with terror and exhaustion.

“You die. I’m so sorry, Ketya, but it’s the only way.” Anthe lifted Ketya up and pulled her into her arms. “I’m very sorry.”

“No!” Ketya yelled. “I won’t leave my child alone.” She tried to push the elder away, but Anthe’s grip was strong.

“They will kill your child if you don’t,” Anthe persisted. “My plan is the only way to save your daughter.”

Ketya shook her head and pounded her fists into Anthe’s shoulder. “I’ll hide,” she said. “I’ll find a way without you.”

“No,” Anthe replied. “You will starve or freeze to death before your daughter is even born. Pippons are only around for a season and you don’t know how to hunt.” Ketya wrapped her fists around the elders dress and sobbed into the fabric. This truth was too much to bear, but still Anthe continued. “Even if you do survive the forest, the army will figure out that you escaped the fire and they will find you. Is death what would you choose for your child? I’m the only chance she has.” 

Ketya wanted to fight this woman, but fear that doing so spelled death for her unborn baby defeated her. Gripped in Anthe’s embrace, Ketya was reminded of how Brovkyl held her. Anthe's arms engulfed her small torso and kept her steady as Ketya's body wracked with tears. Her mind whirled with possibilities.
Who will raise my daughter?
Do I trust this woman?
Brovkyl had burned to death to make her plan possible. With each question, a flood of sorrow overcame Ketya. She didn’t know what else to do.

Anthe was the first to speak again. “We have to send Naimi away now. It will be dark soon, and I want to take her to a cave, her new home, before nightfall.”

“Don’t touch her” Ketya screamed again. It was too much. She shoved Anthe away and this time Anthe didn’t resist. “I won’t part with Naimi. You said this place is secure. Let her come with us.”

“We’re going underground, Ketya,” Anthe said. “Once there, you’ll never be able to come out again. Who will care for Naimi? You and I will be in stasis.”

Ketya’s voice breathed shock. “She can’t live in the woods. She’ll get eaten. She’ll starve. She’ll freeze. Naimi has been domesticated her whole life.” As if to emphasize Ketya’s point, the wind carried the sound of a hungry growl to their ears. Night predators were beginning to rise, ravenous for their first meals of the day. Anthe had used subtle magic to keep them away during the journey, but Naimi wouldn’t have that advantage.

“She has a better chance out there than she would have locked up with us,” Anthe said. Her tone was soft, but forceful. To Ketya, it sounded cold. Had wizard lore included myths about banshees, Ketya might have believed that the frail elder before her was, in fact, a real live specimen.

“No. Put her in status too,” Ketya insisted.

“And then what?” Anthe asked. “You will be dead shortly after you awaken.”

Naimi dropped her front paws to the ground and faced the forest on all fours. Ketya didn’t know if Naimi’s fear was caused by the wind, the argument or the sound of distant predators. Every one of her red scales flared out.

“No,” Ketya said, “I won’t go through with it. Find her a home.” She sat on the ground in defiance and gathered up the creature in her arms. Naimi climbed up Ketya’s shoulder and buried her head in Ketya’s hair as if it might offer her some protection.

Anthe watched the young creature. “I have a friend who can take her if I ask,” Anthe said. “But so that you might understand: the army will discover our deception. In time, they will analyze Brovkyl’s remains and determine that you, your daughter and Naimi didn’t die in the fire. Then, they will come looking. The person in possession of your former pet, my friend, will be at great risk. Please don’t make me ask this of him.” Anthe’s voice cracked for the first time. Ketya looked up, surprised to hear this evil woman, who had done such brutal things, show emotion.

“Your friend, huh?” Ketya asked. “My lover, my pet, my friends in Centream. But heaven forbid―”

“My son,” Anthe interrupted, “was Brovkyl.”

“What?” Ketya asked. “Brovkyl’s mother disappeared during the Civil War.”

“Yes, I did. I had a son without powers and we were losing the war.” Anthe’s words were weighted with regret. “I was afraid of what might happen to him,” she continued. “The war effort needed me. When we lost, I joined the underground. At first, we tried to organize a revolution, but too many had died. Then the Ori came to us, and they gave us a plan. A plan that would save our kind. It was all there was left to hope for.

“The Ori started training me, and it became dangerous to come out. I kept an eye on Brovkyl from a distance. That’s how I learned he would father a powerless daughter. It was the last piece to the Ori’s plan, and it was a means to save my son’s legacy.” The sorrow in Anthe’s eyes turned to urgency. “Another war is coming,” she said. “All powerless men and women will be wiped out. But your daughter, his daughter, my granddaughter, will live.”

She’ll be alone,
Ketya thought. The future Anthe described scared Ketya to the pit of her stomach.
What was happening to her people? What kind of world was her daughter going to grow up in?
She envisioned the child living a scared and lonely life. The images rocked her to her core, forcing Ketya to shiver as icy terror gripped her heart. 

The wind grew colder. Night was nearly upon them and the second, smaller sun had begun to sink in the sky, leaving dark red streaks in its wake.

“How do you know all this? You act like the future is set in stone,” Ketya accused. Her voice trembled. 

“Nothing is set in stone,” Anthe admitted. “But the Ori know a lot about time travel. One of them was able to see the details of a likely future. He shared his knowledge with the rest of the underground and paid for it with his life. Such is the rule.”

“Find your friend,” Ketya said. She didn’t know what to make of Anthe’s story. She didn’t trust her. But if Naimi were safe, perhaps that, at least, was something.
Trusting is the only choice I have,
Ketya thought to herself.
For my daughters sake.

Anthe reached down and lifted Naimi away from Ketya’s shoulder.

“What will you name her?” Anthe asked.

“Ever heard of someone naming their child after a pet?”

“You will call her Naimi.”

Ketya nodded.

“I think Brovkyl would have loved that. I’ll let her rescuer know.”

“Who? Who is this person who will take over my body? I know this sounds strange, but could you please let it be someone like me?”

“Yes, I’ll try. I’ll find someone with your spirit dear. A spirit I can trust.” Anthe rested her palm on Ketya’s stomach. “Your daughter, Naimi, will be in good hands. I promise.”

Ketya closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

***

Earth - June 1981

Elizabeth

I hadn’t moved an inch the whole time Anthe told us about Ketya. Only when she finally finished the story did I realize that my muscles were sore. My shoulders and back ached from maintaining a stiff posture for so long. I looked around the room, mostly because it was a way to stretch my neck. Luke had shooed Tamer and Mark out of his armchair and taken their place. Both were forced to sit on the floor instead. The only other change was that we were now well into the afternoon.

Anton was the first to ask a question. “Why did the Ori get involved?”

“Guilt,” Anthe replied. “They trained my people to use our powers and gave us technology well beyond our cultural maturity. They felt responsible for what we did with it.”

“And the Timelaws prevented them from going back in time to fix it?” Tamer asked.

Anthe nodded. “They were advanced for their time and certainly in comparison to wizard civilization back then.” She spoke as if she were speaking to herself, lost in her own memories and muses for a moment. There was a listless note in her voice. “But, by modern standards, what they knew of time travel was very limited. They’d only just begun to learn.”

“She’s not doing it,” Luke said. The afternoon sun cast a yellow beam of light across half his face, leaving the other half shrouded in darkness. His jaw was set and his line of sight was focused on me.

“Luke, whether or not I wanted you to hear it, you just got the same story I did. You have to see how important this is,” I objected.

“How important what is?” Mark asked. He looked and sounded tired.

A chill ran up my spine. My heart throbbed for the woman who was giving up her life so I could communicate with Melissa. With considerable effort, I kept my tone even when I said, “I have to take Ketya’s body and use it to deliver my message.” Then, a chill ran up my spine. It dawned on me that Anthe hadn’t mentioned a way to get me back. My stomach churned, and, for a moment, I thought I would be sick. I closed my eyes and tried to control the queasiness.
This will mean good-bye to Mark, Luke, Anton and everyone I care about,
I thought.
Was I strong enough to make that sacrifice?
The lump in my throat swelled.
Did Luke understand what was at stake?
I turned to Anthe and tried to disguise the hoarseness in my voice.

“You went into stasis. Why did you tell us earlier that you needed to switch bodies?” I asked. My stomach tightened and it became hard to breathe. It took all my effort to listen to her answer.

“I was old,” Anthe said. Her expression turned sour. “I needed more time to research time travel and then to find and train someone with the knowledge they needed to carry this out.” She looked straight at me when she said 'someone'. “I shared my story and found a volunteer,” she said.
So many people had given their lives to make this plan possible. Ketya was going to let her child grow up orphaned. Would I be the one to let them all down? Could I ask someone else to make this sacrifice in my place?

“Where are the Ori now?” Tamer asked.

“All dead,” Anthe replied. We contemplated that in silence. Blood pounded in my ears as I tried to face the decision before me.

Luke could have cared less about the Ori, and he showed it by getting to his feet. “How would she get back?” he demanded. His voice was almost a growl.

“Luke, please. Sit down,” I begged. I needed a moment to think. My instinct was to leap up and start fighting. Tell him that I had to do this to save the war and that he couldn’t stop me. But there was too much at stake this time. This wasn’t about volunteering for a dangerous mission. This was my last good-bye to my family and friends. This was accepting a new life, raising a child all alone hundreds of years in the future on alien soil. I blinked to contain the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Liz?” Mark asked. I looked at his pallid expression. His eyes searched my face, afraid that I didn’t have an answer to Luke’s question.
Could I really leave him?
Perhaps it was time to turn a mission down.

Luke interpreted my silence as confirmation. “No, Liz,” he bellowed, his cheeks hot with fury. “I won’t. I won’t just let you disappear on us.” His voice quaked with rage.

“Luke,” I said, rising off the couch.

“What happens to Ketya’s daughter?” Anton asked. I felt his hand slip into mine and turned back to meet his eyes. The message in his firm gaze was unmistakable:
Relax. Take a deep breath and think
. For a moment, I was frozen, torn between my grief and the hope in Anton’s expression. I nodded. He was right. We hadn’t explored every possibility yet. We could think of another way. 

“Such a fuss,” Anthe said with a sly smile. “But I’m glad to see you have at least one sharp mind in your midst. So, you tell me, Anton, what happens to a child born outside one of its allotted times?”
Here were those riddles again.
I wanted to yell at her. She was wrong to try my emotions like this. Instead, I looked to Anton to see if he would reply.

He shook his head, so I spoke for him. “I don’t know that we considered that possibility when we wrote the Timelaws.” I didn’t bother to hide the anger in my tone.

“You didn’t, which is why this child, Naimi, born outside her time, will be able to travel through time freely,” Anthe explained. “No time will be forbidden to her. Of course, they would find her on a wizard planet, no matter what time she was born in. But if she’s raised among Darks, they won’t be able to look for her―not with the same freedom and resources as they would have to search their own territories at least.”

My breath was stuck. “So I bring her back here?” I asked. The moments seemed to drag for hours as I waited for Anthe’s reply. Her answer would spell my future.

“How?” Tamer persisted. “Liz’s body will die when it’s left without a soul.” His words created a vacuum in my chest. Could these really be my last moments with my family?

“I’ll keep her body warm while she’s gone,” Anthe said. Relief washed over me, causing my flesh to tingle as feeling and heat returned to my cold skin. I could breathe again.

Anton smiled and squeezed my hand, obviously relieved himself. “What about your body?” he asked Anthe.

“I’ve lived long enough,” she replied. “Much longer than that even. I look forward to joining the Ori in their peaceful existence. I’m ready to see my son again and my daughter-in-law.” Her voice warmed up when she mentioned Brovkyl.

I knew that wizards often referred to the voices, semi-gods, as the Ori. Was Anthe invoking their name now as an expression, or did she mean it more literally? Anton observed Anthe with concern and compassion, but he nodded.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, son. I bring wonderful news,” Anthe rebuked. “In fact, I was just talking to Francis the other day and he wanted to know all about the two of you.”

“The child I mentored a few years ago?” I asked. “How is he doing?”

“He’s happily married now. He and Benoît had to make up a story for their neighbors though. They say they are brothers, I think, yes?” Anthe asked. Then she nodded in response to her own question. “And I don’t believe he is in a time or position to seek out adoption,” she continued. “Perhaps, his neighbors would be willing to understand two brothers raising their niece? After all, someone’s going to have to take Naimi in, and I’m not sure you and Anton are ready for children quite yet.” She directed a wink at Anton.

My whole body tensed as if she had just wacked me with a tennis racket. However, when I looked to Anton, his reaction was not what I expected. He was staring at the floor, as if he had something to hide. Earlier this week, he had time-traveled to an unauthorized period.
His future?

“So Francis is going to raise Naimi?” Tamer asked.

Anthe confirmed with a single nod. “Yes, and he’s going to introduce her to Eln when she’s older,” my mentor stipulated.

“So, are we ready to begin?” Anthe asked, looking at Luke. He still seemed shell-shocked. He was just standing there, staring at me with a pitiful look in his eye.

“It’s okay, Luke,” I said. “I’ll be back.” He didn’t respond. I turned to Anthe. “Does this have to happen right away?” I asked. “I don’t have much power. Can’t this wait?”

She shook her head. “When you guys rescued Eln, you brought to life a sleeping cell of the most elite wizards our kind has to offer. This force has trained and studied since the day Ketya disappeared with the sole intent of preventing Eln and Naimi from ever uniting. They don’t work with other wizards or even share their knowledge with them. And now that they know Eln is the chosen one, they will come looking.”

“No they won’t,” Luke said. “Because we won’t be involved. Liz, I said you’re not doing this.”

“It’s too late Luke,” Anton said. “We broke Eln out of prison. They will come looking for us no matter what. Our only hope is to get Naimi and send her and Eln where they can’t be found. Then they’ll lose interest in us.”

Luke erupted. “Of course you would say that. You claim to care for her, but do you ever tell her to run. To be safe. All you do is push her into one fire after another.” He pointed a quivering finger at Anton. “One day, she won’t come back, Anton. She won’t come back. And it will be your fault.” His voice echoed off every wall in our home. For the first time ever, I wondered if it were possible to bring a house down by huffing and puffing.

But Anton remained calm as a stone. He would have nothing to say until Luke was ready to hear it. Luke was far from ready and he continued to harangue him. “How will you feel the day she doesn’t make it? Tell me! Would you even care?”

“Of course he would, Luke,” I said. Anton might not have needed my defense, but he deserved it. This was hard on him too. It always had been. I looked to him with sympathy.

Anton took my cue and nodded to Luke. “I care. That’s why I…” he trailed off. “It’s hard not knowing, you know. I understand that. And that’s why, when I had a chance to break the rules...” He looked at me with guilt in his eyes. I shook my head.

“Anton, don’t,” I said. “Telling anyone could change everything.”

He exhaled and nodded. But then he raised his eyes to look back at Luke. “I care. But my place is to support her. Should she ever choose to live a safer life, no one would be more encouraging than me. And if she doesn’t choose that, I'll live with it. That’s all there is.”

I took in Anton’s words. His love for me warmed my heart, but also reminded me how much I hurt him every time I risked my life. The terror he faced when he didn’t know if I was safe was the same as mine when he was in danger. But we both understood that we had to accept these risks to keep our families and loved ones safe from the wizards. I respected and admired Anton’s choice just as he respected mine.

“Luke, I’m sorry,” I said, “but you can’t pick and choose my missions. Either you let me be a part of this, and I do what I have to do, or you’re against me, and I do what I have to do anyways.”

He looked torn. I think he was contemplating yelling some more, but I walked around the table and wrapped my arms around his waist. It took him off guard. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Luke,” I whispered. “Just telling you how it has to be.”

“You just come back home safe. You hear?” Luke said. His voice was horse. “We’ll talk about this more when you get back.” I squeezed him harder.

“Yeah, we’ll talk more when I get back,” I promised.

I looked at Anthe. “I’m ready,” I said.