Enna Burning (19 page)

Enna’s neighbor Doda stood in the yard to see them off. Isi had given her pleading instructions to put off the soldiers as best she could, and when the king came—for Isi was certain he would come—to tell him what she was doing and that they would be back before harvest.

The first few days they rode under the Forest canopy. The wet, green smells, the growing things, the ceaseless chatter of birds and squirrels, all seemed fresh and new. She had spent far too long in a small winter tent, and even longer subject to the impatient, ravenous desires of fire. She thought how it was the opposite of the slow life of the forest, lichen growing, moss, mushroom, one thing living off another. A tree did not have to die to support a nest.

Enna was battling constantly to restrain the heat and slow the fever’s rise, and she had little energy for conversation. She soon realized that Isi was nearly as troubled as she. Enna watched her, imagining all Isi heard from the Forest breezes, and wondered if the voices of birds or the warm tones of her horse in her mind comforted her or added to the confusion.

At night they camped off the trails. Isi thought it best to avoid people in case they were recognized and word was sent back to the capital before they were out of Bayern. The winds helped direct her on paths where no people lived, and once they crossed the southern border of Bayern, she had a map sketch from the trader’s book they could follow.

After one such day of long travel and silence, they set up camp inside a hollow made by the twining roots of two ancient firs. It was early spring, and the night air was a chill on their skin.

Isi was drinking a tea that smelled like steeped hay. She offered Enna a cup.

“It might help to resist the burning,” said Isi.

“No,” said Enna, “I’m done drinking teas and numbing control.”

Isi nodded. “It helps me—a little. I don’t dare take it during the day. I need to hear the wind to find our way. It’s not so bad out here where we’re alone. People are so much more complicated than trees and birds. But with it I sleep a little easier.”

Enna shivered, despite the fire and the constant burn of her skin. She threw pieces of dead grass at the fire and got angry that they did not fly straight.

“Isi, I can’t pretend that we’re just great friends as always and go on. I tried to set you on fire, and I started burning against Bayern, and you’d be right to hate me.”

Isi looked at the flames a long while, and Enna found she was holding her breath. After a time, Isi looked up.

“It did hurt,” she said.

Enna shut her eyes against the ache.

“I didn’t hate you, Enna, but you know, it took me so long to trust people again after being betrayed before. Then I remembered that it was you who got me to trust again a couple of years back, and that was for a reason. And I remembered that Leifer had burned you, and you forgave him.”

“But why, Isi? Why do so much?”

Isi seemed stunned by the question. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. When I was completely alone, you were there. I know you must feel so alone right now, and the thought wounds me. But I care mostly because I’m selfish. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” said Enna.

“You’ve had a bad time of it, Enna. Be easier on yourself. I think about all you’ve been through . . . I had no idea what it must be like to have the world of fire nipping at you. I knew you were in deep with the fire, but I had no idea until I went into Eylbold that night that you were also in the clutches of a very dangerous man. I have a feeling it’s extraordinary that you did resist him as much as you did. After a month alone with a man like that, so skilled in people-speaking, I imagine nearly any other person would’ve licked his boots at command.”

Thinking of Sileph still made Enna feel odd, put together wrong, like a loosely stitched doll. She shifted uncomfortably.

“That was a brave thing you did, coming to Eylbold,” said Enna. “I was . . . You made me better with your words.”

“I would’ve been a poor friend not to attempt it. As I recall, a few years ago you stormed through a raging battle just to get by my side so I wouldn’t feel alone.”

“Did I?” Enna raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Yes, well, that wasn’t half-bad, was it?”

“No, not half. That next day after the fighting was the best day of my life.”

Enna grinned. “I remember you about smacked me when I suggested we call the newly formed Forest band the yellow band after you.”

Isi rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes.” She started to giggle. “And you remember when Razo got his javelin from the king, how his hands shook so hard he could hardly hold it?”

Enna laughed, too. “He had fish eyes; he didn’t dare blink in case it’d all go away.”

They laughed much harder than the memory was funny because it felt good to laugh. At first the shaking hurt Enna, and she felt that place in her chest shift uneasily like shards of broken bone scraping one another. But then something found its right place, the pain eased, and the laughter felt more natural.

That night for the first time since the battle, Enna did not worry when she went to sleep that she would not wake up again. The next day the travel was a little easier to bear. On rainy evenings, they set up the tent early and huddled together under its thin eave. Enna found her voice to tell the story she could not before. What Leifer’s death was like, how she felt as though someone had grabbed her insides and ripped her like paper. And why she had read the vellum, how the knowledge had felt more important and beautiful than anything in all the warring world.

She told Isi about Finn and his whispered confession in the tent at night. And she whispered Sileph’s name at last, though it hurt her to admit that she had fallen for his words and lies and looks. She could barely confess that her heart still felt twisted and pained even at the thought of him.

And Isi always listened, never told Enna she had been foolish, never said hollow things like “You’ll be all right.” Enna knew that Isi had seen her own father killed, had lost her family, her homeland, her beloved horse Falada, and still, even in her joy with Geric, she carried an edge of that sadness. Isi saw Enna’s struggle and her sadness, and she understood.

Then one evening the talk stilled, and drowsily, they found themselves playing with wind and fire. Enna set a pile of dead pine needles crackling, and Isi flung a suffocating wind to blow out the fire. Enna pushed out more heat and anticipated Isi’s lighter wind that blazed the fire higher. Enna added heat, Isi added breath, and the fire grew. Each seemed to sense what the other would do in advance, and they worked together like an old couple long accustomed to shared chores. Then, when Isi pulled in a stronger wind, the kind that would take the air away from the fire and kill it, Enna stopped her short. She sent a rush of heat against the swoop of air, and the heat changed the air, split the wind into pieces, hot, erratic gusts that blew themselves away.

“A neat trick,” said Isi.

Enna smiled. “It makes me wonder what else we could do.”

The next day they crossed Bayern’s border. In Bayern, they had often passed within sight of farmhouses and close enough to Bayern hundred-bands on border patrol that Isi could sense them on the wind. But now they passed through unclaimed land. The grass was coarser, the ground stony, and there were few settlements. Even so, the risk of running into roaming bands of their recently defeated enemies was a dangerous possibility. Whenever Enna found herself wondering of Sileph, she quickly pushed his voice and face out of her mind. Isi looked back over her shoulder more and more. Twice Isi said she thought a man on horseback followed, someone familiar to her she could not name.

Some days past the border, Enna and Isi were filling their bottles at a stream. Isi stood up suddenly and turned, looking like a woodpecker listening at a trunk.

“What is it?” said Enna.

“Men.” Isi opened her hands, listening to the wind curl through her fingers. “Not the single horseman—two different men. They’re near. The wind was going north, so I didn’t realize until now—”

A man’s voice interrupted her. “There, now, look at that.”

Enna saw two men ride up, both with at least a month of beard growth and sporting somewhat tattered Tiran uniforms. One seemed familiar, perhaps a guard she had seen on one of her raids or even in the Eylbold camp.

“Well, they are not rabbits, but they will do just fine. Three horses, some supplies, and two little girls to add to the treasure.” He smiled at Enna and winked. “Hello there, pretty girl.”

“Go away.” Enna meant to sound commanding, but it came out sounding a bit bored. The tall man laughed. Isi took Merry and the packhorse and hooked their reins onto the strong arms of a shrub. It was then that Enna realized they would not avoid this without a fight.

“Well, well, Pilad, looks like we found ourselves a Bayern girl. One of them is, anyway,” said the tall, more talkative soldier.

The one called Pilad did not seem capable of smiling. He leered at Enna, and his hands fumbled at his sword hilt anxiously. “Yes, that is fine. You there, girls, come on with us, now. It’s up to you if we catch you easy or hard.”

Isi stepped up beside Enna. They looked at each other and smiled a little.

“We’re not running, pig-boys, as you can see,” said Enna, the tiredness in her voice edged with laughter, “but I think you’d best run yourselves if you want your skulls to keep a good hold on your hair.”

The tall man looked at her, stunned, then turned to his companion and guffawed. The other laughed, too, but without smiling. Enna and Isi exchanged glances again. Isi smirked.

“I don’t understand,” said Pilad. “Why do they look all giggly? Do they have warriors hidden in the brush somewhere?”

The other drew his sword. “Let’s take them before their companions return.”

He started to ride forward. Isi took Enna’s hand, and Enna knew exactly what to do. She sent a spark into the brambling ground before the advancing rider. Even before it flamed, Isi seemed to know where Enna would send the spark, and she fanned it with the wind. The rider’s steed reared, neighing in fear. Prodded by the wind, the fire rushed and crackled until it completely encircled both riders. Enna replenished the circle with more fire where she felt the wind leave gaps. She did not worry about Merry. With the same certainty that she knew where Isi would send her wind, she knew Isi, through Avlado, would calm their horses.

The flames of the circle leaped over one another, clawing the air higher and higher. The men dropped their swords and tried to soothe their anxious mounts. Enna smiled at them. The fire wanted the men, their clothes, their hair, their bones and blood. It wanted to push past the wind that maintained it like a flock of sheep. But it was easier to keep control with Isi beside her in silent communion. An understanding flowed between them purer than anything she had known. Enna felt right next to Isi; the fire felt right with the wind.

At the same moment, they both knew the riders had had enough. Enna sucked the heat from the flames, and Isi’s wind blew it up into the cold sky. The soldiers gaped, one seeming close to tears. Their horses stamped unhappily.

Enna glared. “I said, run.”

Without hesitation, they turned their mounts and galloped north.

Isi laughed. “Well, I know I shouldn’t, but I loved that. You are amazing.”

“No, you are.” Enna laughed from her belly and felt like crowing. The warmth from the fire, the victory, the heat around her ready for a new lighting. The laugh shook her chest. She coughed and bent over, vomiting her breakfast, seeing again the battlefield and men on fire. The memory was so real—vibrant, twisting flames, smells of smoke and burnt hair, the rolling nausea she felt at setting the inside of a man aflame. Slowly she became mindful of Isi standing behind her, rubbing her back.

“I’m sorry.” Enna wiped her mouth and straightened. She slowly met Isi’s eyes. “I’m so afraid, Isi, of what we’ll find in Yasid, of losing this. But I don’t want to kill again.”

Isi nodded. They mounted the horses and turned south.

Two more weeks of travel did little to improve Enna’s fever. She and Isi found themselves unable to converse during the day, both concentrating on staying upright and trying to keep the heat or voice of the wind at bay.

Isi worsened with each day in the open, and the tea worked less and less well. And besides the wind illness, Enna began to sense something else amiss in Isi. The heat from her increased. It was as though Isi had a fire burning in her middle. When Enna asked her, Isi just smiled and said, “I think I’m all right.”

One night, like many others, Enna woke in the dark burning from fever. She moaned and rubbed her face, and the heat of her forehead scalded her fingertips. When the fever was this severe, she needed Isi to send a breeze to cool her off, break apart the heat that clung to her skin, and breathe in the cleansing air.

“Isi,” Enna whispered.

There was a wash of orange over the dark night. When she closed her eyes, the orange pulsed and spun. The fever dimmed her other senses until only touch felt real—almost too real, sensitive and painful. Her clothes and the blanket seemed as grating as raw stone against her skin. She thought she heard noises outside, though it sounded as though her head were underwater. Sometimes in the night, Enna found Isi curled up on the ground beside Avlado or wandering around the camp, rubbing under her eyes where the dark circles never left.