Where the Wind Could Not Reach

The gale had swollen the wildfire to a catastrophic scale—and yet, in a twist of fortune, that was precisely what she needed. Had the air been still, her power would have been all but useless. There were limits to what a mere human could do when wrestling with the raw force of nature. The stronger the wind, the more Rhea's abilities surged, but the harder they became to fine-tune. A spirit's power was like a willful child. You did not command it or force its hand. You soothed it. You coaxed it along.

Not that way. A little further.

Rhea shifted the wind around the lesser flames spreading near the fiercest blaze. She meant to set a backfire—to let the fires devour one another. She gripped the watchtower railing and poured every ounce of her concentration into the task.

The inferno racing toward the garrison faltered as its wind was stolen away. Flames that had writhed like a demon's tongue surged straight up into the sky. As the great blaze slowed, the smaller fires around it raced ahead, consuming the forest first. From every direction, wind-borne flames gathered, slowly encircling the towering wall of fire.

That's it.

She felt the wind settle fully under her command and let the tension drain from her shoulders. A wind imbued with a spirit's power would not change course again—not without some significant disruption.

She was just catching her breath when she spotted a small flame still moving through the forest, a short distance from where the backfire had taken hold.

Not that way. You need to go the other direction.

Rhea focused again, her brow furrowing. No matter how many times she tried, the wind would not reach it. It approached the flame—and bounced away.

This has never happened...

A thought flashed through her mind.

Could it be?

Rhea vaulted down from the watchtower and ran straight out of the residence. She waved a hand at the group gathered in front of the manor and kept running.

"Where are you going?!"

"Wait there!"

She called back to Penny, then grabbed at anyone she could find, demanding answers.

"Where is His Highness? The Prince?"

She pushed past those who couldn't give her a proper answer until she spotted Cedric directing the soldiers.

"Sir Milo! Where is His Highness?"

"It's dangerous. Please take shelter somewhere safe!"

"I asked you where he is. Did he go into the forest?"

Cedric's expression was answer enough. Rhea spun on her heel and ran. He couldn't catch her as she vanished into the press of soldiers. He pressed his lips into a thin line, then turned back to his men and resumed command. Right now, the mission mattered more than the princess's safety.

Mid-sprint, Rhea came upon soldiers moving horses from the stables. She picked one out and, with a lithe, practiced motion, vaulted onto its back.

"Hiyah!"

"Hey! Someone's stealing a horse!"

"After her, now!"

The soldiers pointed after her, shouting—but they couldn't give chase. They'd been moving horses that had been at rest, without reins or saddles. Getting ready would take time they didn't have.

"You're a fast one, aren't you? That way!"

Rhea seized the horse's mane and rode the unsaddled animal with practiced ease. Anyone from Zephyros learned to ride without reins or saddle from childhood. And since awakening her spirit's power, she could forge a deep bond with animals almost without trying.

Show me the way.

She pictured the place she'd seen from the watchtower. Following the direction the wind whispered to her, Rhea spurred the horse onward.

Carion rode for the forest village with ten elite guards at his back. The closer they drew, the denser the woods became, until the path vanished entirely and they could ride no farther.

"One of you stay and watch the horses."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Carion and the remaining soldiers pressed deeper into the forest. It was late, and they could barely see a few paces ahead, yet they found their way without hesitation. Carion led from the front. His sense of direction was so keen that even professional guides would have marveled at it. If he had been somewhere even once, he could find his way back through a moonless forest in the dead of night.

He found the ability mysterious even to himself. It was as if an invisible guide dwelt inside his mind, showing him the way. He would never lose his path in the woods—and yet, ironically, he had never managed to find his way through life.

When they reached the edge of the village, it lay steeped in quiet darkness. The uproar at the garrison wouldn't have carried this far; everyone was sleeping as if the world itself had gone still. By the time they noticed the wildfire, it would already have been too late. They would have panicked, stumbled, and the entire village would have been wiped out.

"Everyone, wake up!"

"Wildfire! Get up, all of you!"

The soldiers shouted as they moved from house to house. Startled villagers came tumbling out of the little huts.

"You all need to evacuate. The fire will reach here! Don't take anything—just hurry!"

There were perhaps fifty villagers in all, half of them children.

"It's a forest path in the dead of night. Stay close enough to see the person in front of you, or you'll lose the way!"

Carion took the lead, guiding the cluster of villagers. The children slowed them down, but they reached the horses without incident.

The village chief, counting heads, suddenly cried out.

"What? Lara's missing?"

"Chief—I can't find my little sister. Lara! Lara!"

Children began to cry. The crowd stirred and murmured.

"Lara!"

"Lara! Where are you? Answer me!"

They called again and again. No answer came.

Carion asked the chief what had happened.

"She's an eight-year-old girl. I counted everyone before we left. I'm certain of it."

One of the soldiers spoke up.

"I was at the rear of the group. There's no way she slipped away along the path. She must not have joined us before we set out."

Carion gazed into the dark woods for a moment, then spoke.

"Take the villagers to the garrison. I'll go back to the village."

"Your Highness, it's too dangerous. Let me go."

"Can you find your way better than I can? I'll be faster. Go to the garrison."

The soldiers couldn't stop him as he vanished into the forest dark. They exchanged glances and nodded. If it was their commander-in-chief, they believed, bringing back one child would be the work of a moment.

On his way back toward the village, Carion caught a sharp, acrid smell.

The fire's already spread this far.

He quickened his pace. By the time he was nearly there, thick smoke filled the air around him.

"Lara!"

Carion shouted the child's name as he searched every corner of the village. He found no trace of her, no sign of life. A frightened child might be hiding, so he went into every house he could see, checking them one by one.

He was just stepping out of the last house when an ember landed on the roof. The covering of dry twigs and leaves went up in a rush of flame. The instant he saw the blaze roaring red before his eyes, Carion heard a pulse that shook him to his core.

"Kh—"

He clutched at his chest and dropped to one knee.

Of all times.

His cursed affliction had seized him. In an instant, his breath caught in his throat, and a searing pain tore through him—as if a massive fireball were burning him from the inside out. And today's attack was far worse than usual. His vision swam. A strangled groan tore itself from his throat. He wanted nothing more than to collapse to the ground and scream.

"Hhh—"

Carion clenched his teeth and fought to keep his swaying body upright. He knew that staying here meant death, but his body would not obey. He half-crawled to a tree a short distance from the burning house and managed to slump against it.

"Your Highness!"

The voice was clear, bright, and desperate. He gasped for air and thought, so now he was hearing things.

"Your Highness! Stay with me. Your Highness! Carion!"

His brow twitched as his eyes began to fall shut.

Had his mother been the last person to call him by name? He could no longer remember when that had been.

Something brushed his face, gentle as a caress. It wasn't a touch. It had no form—like the wind itself.

Wind?

And then a hand—a real one—touched his face.

"Hah..."

The tightness in his chest broke open all at once, as if a blocked airway had been cleared.

"Are you all right?"

The fire raging through his body subsided in an instant, and a cool, clean energy wrapped around him. This must be what it felt like—the miraculous touch that pulled a man from the flames and brought him back to life.

Save me.

He reached out in a desperate rush, seized the savior his hands found, and pulled her into his arms.