Amanda Downum - The Drowning City

“Look after him for me, then.”

Selei’s face blurred as Xinai blinked angrily. She couldn’t talk her out of this. “I will,” she choked. “I promise.”

“I wish you could have been mine by blood as you’ve been in my heart. But Cay Lin is lucky to have you.” She untied two charms from around her neck. “Give this to Riuh,” she said, tapping the larger. “This one is yours. There’ll be nothing left for the rites, but if you and he would sing for me when this is over…”

“We will.”

A tongue of flame uncoiled from the crater, washing the night carnelian and gold. The mountain was a hot pressure against all of Xinai’s senses, scraping her raw.

“It’s time,” said Selei. She knelt and took up the box of rubies. “The wards are failing. You should go.”

“I can’t let you go alone.”

“This will be a bitter enough victory-don’t make us lose another warrior to it. Run, child.”

Scrubbing her eyes, Xinai turned and started down the slope. Rocks slipped and scattered under her feet and tears blurred her already strained vision. She looked back once, saw the old woman picking her way carefully toward the top of the mountain, silhouetted against the cauldron’s glare.

The first tremor threw her down and she slid cursing through rock and brush before catching herself. She kept her footing through the next, but the path was treacherous.

She was scarcely a quarter down the slope when the night shattered into flame and ash.

Zhirin was so busy staring at Mount Haroun that for an instant she didn’t understand where the roar was coming from. Then the sky blotted dark and Asheris twisted up and sideways, his impossible wings shredding the clouds. She screamed, gasped as his arm tightened around her ribs. She clutched at him as they spiraled farther away from the mountain, land and sky spinning around them.

When they paused again she saw what had happened. The cauldron hadn’t erupted, but one of the hills flanking the mountain had burst open, spewing smoke and ash. The plume rose before them, past them, blotting out the stars. Sparks flashed in the column like blossoms on a tree. An instant later she cried out again as cinders and ash rained over them.

Asheris cursed and turned, shielding them with one set of wings while the other beat frantically against the thickening air. Zhirin choked on the stench of sulfur and char; grit crunched between her teeth.

Craning her head and shielding her eyes, she saw lava leaking from the shattered mountain, incarnadine blood pouring down the southwestern slope. Flames flared gold and vermilion around the flow. The forest was burning.

The air cleared as they gained distance, though the smell was still thick. Asheris turned and they watched in horror and amazement as the mountain shuddered and split again. A new rift opened on Haroun’s main slope, spitting fire and rock. Lava spilled from the cleft, rushing down the hills.

To her otherwise eyes, a many-headed serpent writhed free of shattered rock, hissing his hundred-tongued fury into the sky.

Zhirin wasn’t sure how long they hung there, coughing on the acrid fumes, watching the mountain rip itself apart. Her lungs and throat burned and tears leaked down her face.

“We need to land,” Asheris finally said, turning away from the devastation.

The air was clearer to the east; the worst of the ashen cloud rolled west, toward the bay. Toward Symir. Useless to think about that now, she told herself. There was nothing she could do.

Asheris’s wings stretched wide and they wheeled downward in a narrowing gyre. The river glittered beneath them. He was landing near the dam.

He touched the ground as gracefully as any bird, but Zhirin stumbled as soon as he let her go. A rock bit her foot and she frowned-she’d lost a sandal somewhere in the sky. She took a step, then kicked off the other. When she turned, his wings had vanished.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

He shrugged, steadying Isyllt with a hand on her elbow. “Stay out of the way until Haroun’s wrath is spent.”

“But Symir is going to burn!”

“There’s nothing we can do to stop that now.”

She turned away, gritting her teeth in fear and frustration. Even the river’s nearness couldn’t soothe her now, though it steadied her, eased the drain of spent magic. She could see the gray bulk of the dam upriver, the sharp-toothed mountains behind it blotting out the stars.

“The dam,” Zhirin said. Her voice sounded odd and distant, like a stranger’s. “If we release the dam, the river can help stop the fire.”

Asheris shook his head. “Then the city would flood and burn. It would only add to the destruction.”

“You always speak of the mountain as though it lived. Do you think the river is any less alive?”

“Fair enough. But men bound the river as they did the mountain. What makes you think the Mir would help us if it could?”

She smiled slowly. “Because I’ve asked.”

Without her charms, Xinai would have died a dozen times on the mountain. As it was, her spells were all but exhausted when she reached the foothills near the Kurun Tam. Her muscles screamed, pushed to their limits, and falling rock and ash left her bruised and burned; her lungs felt scoured raw despite the scarf over her face.

The pillar of smoke blotted out the sky, hid the coming dawn. Lava writhed down the slope like red-gold worms, consuming everything in its path. It would be on them soon.

People moved among the trees, gawking like her. She didn’t know if they were Tigers or Dai Tranh or Khas, didn’t have it in her to care anymore. They’d all be just as dead if they didn’t run.

She might have stood and stared until the fire took her, but the earth shook again and Haroun belched another gout of smoke and sparks. A moment later the rain of stones resumed. A black rock the size of her head landed a yard away, shaking Xinai out of her daze.

A hand closed on her arm, yanking her toward the cover of the trees before another could crush her. Phailin’s face was streaked with soot and blood and her mouth worked soundlessly. An instant later Xinai realized that the girl was shouting, and she was the one deaf.

The road, already softened by rain, was murderous now. Mud slid away in sheets from the steeper slopes, and branches and sometimes whole trees blocked their path. A horse passed them, only to founder and fall, crushing its rider as it rolled. Xinai was glad she couldn’t hear man or animal scream.

The ash thickened, worse than rain; a stone struck Xinai’s shoulder, wringing a gasp from her burning throat. She stumbled, slid, scrambled up again. Just a little farther , she told herself-they were almost to the ferry. Her sweat-drenched scarf smothered her and she clawed it away from her mouth. Her lungs hurt so much already she didn’t care about the ash.

The slope eased, trees thinning. Almost there-Another tremor and she hunched, arms around her head to ward off falling stones. Phailin slipped and crashed into her and they both went down in a tangle of limbs and mud. Xinai tugged at the girl’s arm, but she didn’t move. She pulled her a few feet, then paused as she saw the black blood glistening across Phailin’s face. Xinai touched the wound, and jerked her hand away when shattered bone shifted under her fingers.

Hands on her shoulders, pulling her up, turning her. She could barely stand, or focus on Riuh’s face. He was shouting, voice sharp with fear, but she could only shake her head and gesture angrily at her useless ears. He flinched when he saw Phailin, jaw working as he swallowed. He took Xinai’s arm, dragging her toward the dock. Her knees shook and she wondered if he’d have to carry her to the boat.