I didn’t have much experience running. I knew I’d be out of breath, very soon, and maybe all of me would hurt tomorrow. But thankfully the magic didn’t seem to care if I could breathe, if my legs trembled or my balance wavered.
At the center of that vast clearing Drazha and her kin struggled to keep back an unrelenting flood of canine aberrations from the vulnerable clustered around the central stone, and their line was breaking. Blood streamed down from one of her arms, her double-bladed spear taking throat after throat. Khal’s hand found my back.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Go.”
He tore down the slope and slid into place at his mother’s side.
It’s strange how, in the face of terrible things, all the fear can bleed out of the world. I wasn’t afraid for him, or for me. I just knew what I had to do, and Khal was capable, even injured, even half-maimed by the woman he now fought beside, Khal was splendid at his role. So now it was time to take mine.
It was time to find out just how much I could burn.
I made my way down the slope, fighting not to turn an ankle or tumble down into the melee, till I was at a range I trusted, and could angle myself to face only dog-beasts.
I think Piotr saw me. He was behind Khal’s line, with his cane, comforting some children, and when he looked up he had a look of horror on his face, head whipping to find Khal, like he was calculating how someone could reach me. I almost laughed at that, a strange feeling. Because the dog-beasts had scented me now, and the same way they’d cut in and out before, herding usapart or together, some five of them loped towards me. I held up my hands, and I breathed.
As the heat flowed through my arms, fifteen feet of flame reduced them to curling, wriggling masses of char.
I kept walking.
Another blast- I stretched myself this time, tried for how long I could keep the flame moving- took out the center of their formation. The remaining were eyeing me, jaws snapping, pulling away to opposite sides. I was in front of Khal’s line now, the orcs some yards behind me, the beasts spreading out as the light-headedness began. But I had one more in me. I knew I did, and I’d make it count.
“Khal,” I shouted back. “I might faint after this.”
Leaves crunched at my back. “I have you,” he said.
I nodded, and lifted my arms, and let myself scream, right as two of them leaped.
My fire took one. Someone’s sword took the other. And I burned. And burned. And burned.
When I’d burned at Rowton, at the tower, that once in the streets, it had been a thing beyond me, a thing that terrified me, just another thing about my body and my mind that I could not control. But here, I chose this. I chose to melt flesh and char bone. I chose the power flowing out of me and through me, this trust that when I fell it would be into his arms. And the flame flowed till the beasts were scattered, some fleeing, till the heat left and cold flowed down my arms, till I lost sense in my legs and the world tipped back.
Khal caught me. Vrathgar was running past, others were running, picking off the remaining of the creatures, and Khal’s face was over mine, sweaty and earth-stained and perfect. I wanted to reach up and touch it, but my hand was numb, clumsy against his cheek.
“You did it,” Khal said. “You were wonderful.”
“You’re wonderful,” I mumbled. I guided his face down, and I kissed him, salt and earth and hope.
“Sorcerer’s husband,” someone was speaking Orcish. The reservoir inside of me was emptied, but still in bits and pieces I could understand. “Is she alright?”
“She will be.” Khal’s face was relief, exhaustion and relief.
“If sorceress…water…” Someone brought a jug, and he helped me drink.
“You too,” I grumbled. “You were fighting.”
He half-laughed. “So were you.” He bent his face over me, his forehead resting against mine.
Runners were coming, reporting to Drazha, words I knew with words I didn’t. Injuries, some grave, but none taken. None stolen today.
It was cold. Khal noticed me shivering and acquired a blanket. Clouds were gathering overhead, portending rain.
“I should get you to the tent,” he murmured. He started to lift me.
I flailed. “No, stop! I can stand, your leg?—"
He stopped, and let me rise shakily to my feet, clutching his sleeve for balance.
He chuckled. “We make a fine pair, here.” He was limping, heavier than before. There was a stain at his thigh.
