Jim Butcher - Furies of Calderon

Light and heat fell on Tavi from one side, and he turned to see Bittan standing before a blazing column of brush. "Well, well," Bittan glowered. "Looks like that leaves me to take care of you." Bittan raised his arms with an ecstatic cry, and brought them down again. The flames leapt up into a pillar that fell, swift and bright and horrible, toward Tavi and Fade.

Tavi let out a yelp and dragged the slave to one side with him. Flame washed against the earth like water, sparks and smoke billowing out from it, heat rushing through the night. Tavi smelled burnt hair, and, regaining his feet, tugged Fade with him toward the water of the river. "Fade," he gasped. "Fade, come on. Come on."

Bittan's laughter rang out harsh in the ruddy light. The fallen column of fire danced and writhed over the ground like an enormous serpent, snaking its way between Tavi and the dubious shelter of the river's chilly

waters. The fire leapt from bush to bush and tree to tree behind Bittan, growing, its crackling growl increasing to a sullen roar.

"Bittan!" Tavi shouted. "It's getting away from you! You'll kill us all!"

"I don't think you're in a position to lecture me on furycrafting, freak!" Bittan called. He turned to the burning brush beside him, scooped up a handful of blazing material, and hurled it at Tavi. Tavi threw up his cloak against it, softening the impact of the burning brush, but little licks of fire clung to the cloth. He beat at them frantically.

"I just can't decide," Bittan yelled, his voice jeering. "Whether you should smother or burn!"

Fade, the unmarred side of his face swollen and already purple with bruising, finally began to support most of his own weight, blinking his eyes around him in confusion. He pawed at Tavi's cloak, making little mewling sounds, his eyes sweeping around them, around the flames.

"I have an idea," Bittan said. "How about I fry the simpleton first! Then I can move on to you, freak." He gestured with a hand, and from within the flames, that same serpent-shape coalesced. It writhed for a moment, curling-and then shot toward Fade's chest like a streak of sunlight.

Fade let out a yelp and, with more speed than Tavi would have credited to the slave, he leapt aside, blundering into Tavi. The slave's momentum carried them both toward the fiery barrier between them and the water, tumbling over one another. Fade's back rolled against the ground as they went through the fire, and the slave let out a shriek of pain, clutching tightly to Tavi. The boy struggled to free himself, they both toppled into the Rillwater.

"No!" Bittan shouted. He strode unharmed through the fires and down to the water's edge. He lifted his arms again and sent another tendril of flame racing toward them. Tavi threw himself back against Fade, knocking them both under the water's surface. Fire splashed across the top of the water, a distant roar and a violent light above them.

Tavi stayed under the water's surface for as long as he could, but he could hold his breath for no more than a few seconds. He hadn't had a chance to get a proper breath before diving, and the water was simply too cold. He struggled further away from the near shore and Bittan's raging fury, before he broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. He hauled Fade along with him, more or less by main strength, afraid that the panicked slave might drown himself before realizing that the water wasn't deep enough.

Bittan stood at the very edge of the water and let out a shout of

frustration. The flames behind him leapt skyward as he did. "You gutless, crow-eaten little freak! I'll burn you and that gibbering fool to cinders!"

Tavi clutched at the floor of the river beneath him and seized up a stone the size of his fist. "You leave him alone!" he shouted, and flung the stone at Bittan.

It flashed across the intervening space and struck the bigger boy in the mouth. Bittan flinched back, letting out a yowl, and tumbled backward to the ground.

"Uncle!" Tavi shouted. "Uncle, we're in the water!"

Through a roil of smoke, Tavi saw his uncle draw back a fist and ram it hard into Kord's throat. The other Steadholder stumbled back with a choked shout, but didn't lose his grip on Bernard's tunic, dragging him down with him and out of Tavi's sight.

Not far away, Amara rose away from an unmoving Aric, wincing and holding one forearm, where blood wetted her sleeve. Aric's knife, it seemed, had scored on her, even if it hadn't kept her from throttling him. She looked around and shouted, through the smoke, "Tavi! Get out of the water! Don't stop in there, get out!"

"What?" Tavi shouted. "Why?"

He had no warning at all. Wet, supple arms abruptly twined around his throat, and a throaty, feminine voice purred, in his ear, "Because bad things can happen to pretty little boys who fall into the river." Tavi started to turn, to struggle, but he was hauled beneath the river's surface with breathless speed, and the arms at his throat tightened. Tavi tried to plant his feet on the river's bed, to force his head up above the water, but somehow his feet never found purchase, as though the river's bed had been coated with slime wherever his feet touched, so that they forever slipped and slid aside.

"Poor pretty," the voice at his ear murmured, perfectly clear. He could feel the press of a strong but shapely body against his back. "It isn't your fault that you saw what wasn't to be seen. It's a shame to kill a pretty one, but if you'll just lay quietly and take a deep breath it will be over soon, and you'll still be pretty when they put you in a box. I promise."

Tavi struggled and writhed, but it was useless against the soft, subtle strength of that grip. He could have wrestled her all day and never gained the upper hand, he knew: She was a watercrafter, like his aunt, and a strong one at that, and the waters of the river itself were being used against him.

Tavi stopped struggling, which made his assailant let out a soft, approving

murmur. Cold lips pressed against his ear. He was starting to grow dizzy, but his mind raced furiously. If she was a watercrafter like his aunt, then she would have the same problems Aunt Isana did. For all the advantages watercrafters enjoyed, they had to put up with more than almost any other craft, the disruption that their extra senses picked up from other people- emotions, impressions, feelings.

Tavi focused for a moment on his own helpless, fluttering fear, terror that made his heart race, stole the dregs of air remaining in his lungs ever more quickly away from him, brought him that much closer to drowning. He dwelt on that terror, let it build in him, and added to it the frustrations of the day, the despair and fury and hopelessness he had felt upon returning to Bernard-holt. Every emotion built on the next, and he fed them all with a frantic fury, until he could scarcely remember what his plan had been to begin with.

"What are you doing?" hissed the woman that held him, threads of uncertainty lacing through the throaty assurance of her voice. "Stop it. Sto-p it. You're too loud. I hate for it to be too loud!"

Tavi struggled uselessly against her, panic now overwhelming him in fact as well, blind and numbing fear blending in with all the other emotions. The woman let out a shriek and curled away from him, releasing him and wrapping her arms around her own head.

Tavi choked, his lungs expelling whatever was left in them as he struggled toward the surface. He only just managed to get his head out of water, to take a single deep, gasping breath, before the water itself bubbled up around him, sudden and enveloping, and dragged him back under.

"Clever boy," hissed the woman, and Tavi could see her now in the reflected light from the fires on the bank, a beautiful woman of dark hair and eyes, body lushly curved and inviting. "Very clever. So passionate. Now I can't hold you while you go. I wanted to do that much for you. But some people are never grateful." Water pressed about him, as strong and as heavy as leather bonds, pressure that shoved his limbs together, wrapped him up like a parcel of bread. Terrified, he struggled to hold on to that last breath for as long as he could.