Chapter 8

As we made our way farther into the canyon, my senses were flooded with the smell and texture of smoke. Manod coughed behind me as the air grew thicker. Cyrus pressed on, his eyes not leaving the trail in front of us.

"What would be on fire in this canyon?" I asked, scanning the path ahead. "Does anyone live here?"

"Wildfires," he said, pushing forward as quickly as the rocky ground would allow. "We've always had them, but they've grown so much worse during the drought. People do live out here. There's a cluster of cabins near the encroaching flames."

"How do you—"

Cyrus tapped on the corporeal part of the crown he wore. "It is the Crown of Seeing, after all."

The smoke in the air was becoming overwhelming, but I kept pace with Cyrus. If he had a plan, he revealed none of it to me. What could we do about an out of control fire? We had no way to douse it — we'd not seen a trace of water since we entered the canyon. If I hadn't heard the sound of it a few hours ago, I wouldn't have believed it existed at all.

The trees grew denser as we traveled. Normally, I would have welcomed the sight. These were sickly, though, the few left that hadn't succumbed to disease or lack of water. Fire would make quick work of the dry, dead wood if it got out of control.

We heard it before we saw it: the crackle of flame and the shouts of men. We emerged from a copse of desiccated trees to find five cabins clustered around a dry river bed. The buildings were on fire. Two bearded men were gathered around a third, who was lying on the ground in front of the houses, seemingly unconscious.

One of the men sprang up as we approached. "Can you help? We've got people trapped in the cabins!" He dissolved into a fit of coughing.

Cyrus swung down from his horse, unaffected by the thick smoke. My eyes were stinging and watering. I pulled my tunic up over my mouth to filter out some of the ash in the air.

"Where are they?" Cyrus projected an air of calm authority.

"My wife and daughter are in the middle cabin. Raffin's grandmother is in the one on the end. She's eighty, and her lungs haven't been right since last winter. Raffin went in after her, but he passed out before he reached the door. We dragged him back."

From behind us came a harsh, sandpaper cough. I turned to find Manod with his hand around his own neck. It was radiating a white light that leached into his skin and flesh. The symbols on his vestments were shifting and glowing. It dawned on me then that the robes he wore were an artifact of Stahkla. They must be the source of his ability to heal.

After a moment, the old priest removed his hand from his throat. "That should do it. I'll take care of the people out here. See what you can do about the ones inside."

"How close is the water from here?" Cyrus asked the men. The question didn't sound hopeful.

"Almost half a league to the south," one of the men replied. "It used to run through here, but..."

"Yes. All right." Cyrus turned back to me and Jelenna, who had joined us. "Jelenna, ride with the soldiers and carry back what water you can. Leave me a couple strong men. We may have to drag people out. Skye—"

"I'm not going anywhere," I cut him off, surprised by my own vehemence.

"I wouldn't think of it. Stay by my side. I may need your help." His eyes flickered with a quick moment of apprehension. "This is going to cost me," he said under his breath.

My stomach tightened his words. What was he going to do? Jelenna rode back to the soldiers and barked out a quick command before heading out at a clip. They all followed her, except for two huge men that rode up to join us.

"We'll go into the middle one first. The two of you will lead the way once I've tamped down the flames. Skye, stay by me."

The two muscular giants dismounted and made their way to the front entrance of the middle cabin. There was a rude set of decaying wooden stairs that were beginning to char. The men pushed through the smoke, but they had to stop where the fire became too intense to traverse.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to put it out." With that, Cyrus grabbed my upper arm, squeezing tight as he closed his eyes. The crown's orange light pulsed and intensified. Tendrils of smoke drifted upwards from it.

I startled at a loud pop from the fire in front of us. The conflagration on the front stairs of the cabin flared and died down, shrinking to nothing. Cyrus opened his eyes, steadying himself against me.

"Come on." Cyrus gestured to the two soldiers. One of them kicked the door, which crumpled under the assault. We stepped through into the house. The smoke made it nearly impossible to see, and I couldn't help but cough.

"I can help with that." Cyrus' crown burst with energy once more, and this time it was as if the smoke in the air froze in place. He sighed, exhausted and drained. With that, the particles of ash and dust fell to the floor, clearing the field of vision and coating everything in a layer of soot.

The main room of the cabin was bare, and the walls were marked with stains of black charcoal. One of the soldiers headed up the stairwell in the back, and immediately turned back.

"There's a wall of flame at the top of the stairs," he called out.

Cyrus moved to go up the stairs himself when a shriek came from the second floor, followed by the weak cough of a child. Cyrus' face took on a grim cast. He climbed halfway up the stairs.

"Skye, please..."

I went to him, standing a step behind. I was confused as to why my presence was needed, but I would do what I had to to save these people. The heat poured down the stairwell. It was unbearable. Cyrus gripped my shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut. As he did, something shifted inside of me, and my bones ached with a sudden, deep weariness.

In the doorway, the flames shifted and morphed, forming shapes as they burst forth, grabbing at Cyrus. Then the fire died down to nothing.

Cyrus opened his eyes, and collapsed down into a seated position, breathing heavily. I reached down to help him up, but he waved me off.

"Go up to the next floor. Help them."

His face was marked with soot and deeply lined with exhaustion. However he was doing this, it was taking a toll. I shoved my concern aside as I squeezed past him up the stairs.

I rushed into the upper room. A woman crouched in the far corner, a blanket pulled over her, shielding what must be her baby. My heart ached at the desperation in her face.

"It's safe," I said, walking toward them. "Let's get you out of here."

The blanket flopped to the side, and the woman stood up. Her face was stained with ash and tears. She held a tiny infant in her arms. It wasn't more than two months old.

"There's something wrong with her. She's breathing, but…" The woman held out her child to me. I took her into my arms. I held her awkwardly, not knowing how to help. The baby let out a faint cough, as if that was all she could muster.

"I'm going to take her to the priest," I said. "He'll help her."

She gave me a quick nod, and I took off down the stairs. Cyrus had gotten on his feet and was heading out the front door. He saw me and stepped aside.

"Take her to Manod and meet me at the other cabin."

I made my way out to the priest as fast as I could. Manod had managed to get the collapsed man up on his feet. Raffin, his name was. I held the infant out, and the old priest took her into his arms with a careful intensity.

"She'll be fine, Skye. Go to Cyrus." His eyes filled with worry, matching my own.

"What's happening to him?" I asked.

Manod cradled the infant, checking her for injuries as he spoke. "The powers of an artifact always come at a cost. The cost is greater if the bearer uses it for something outside its intended use. The Crown of Seeing was made for scrying and augury, but it was also a gift of the God of Fire and Metal. Through the connection to him, Cyrus can command the flames, but the price is great. He pulls vitality from you to help him weather it."

I shook my head in confusion. "How?"

"The artifact can sense your betrothal. The connection that formed because of it, new and faint though it is, is enough for Cyrus to channel a small amount of energy from you."

My eyes widened. "But we're not married. How is there any kind of bond between us?"

"I sensed it when you were injured, the thinnest of strands formed from fear and care and your promise." Manod glanced over at the far cabin, which still had smoke pouring from it. "Go to him, please. He's as stubborn as you. He'll force his way into the last cabin alone."

With that, I was off, sprinting over to the rough structure, where Cyrus and the two brawny men stood at the front door. The house itself was run down, probably in the worst shape of any of them. I slipped in next to him.

"What do you need?" I asked. He turned back to me. There was a vulnerability in his face that I'd not witnessed before in him. He was tired, yes, but more than that I could sense an undercurrent of fear.

"Take my hand. The door is blocked with debris. I'll need to clear it. There's no time to dig the old woman out."

"Can you do that? Move the fallen beams?"

"I can. If they're burning, I should have some control over them. But I can't do it alone." The uncertainty in his eyes gave the lie to his confident words. I desperately wanted to take his doubt away.

I slipped my hand into his, trying not to think too hard about how right it felt. A watery smile appeared on his face. Then he squeezed.

The world went white. I held on to my consciousness through sheer force of will. This time, I could feel the energy drain from my body. He was taking more than he had before. Through the blurriness in my eyes, I could see him, tall and shaking, the crown's bright light eclipsing the blaze in front of us.

The door split open with a loud crack, parting down the middle and pushing through the debris on the other side. The two burly soldiers stepped forward, but Cyrus stopped them.

"Wait. The flames are too intense for you to go inside." Cyrus steadied himself against me, his breath fluttering against my neck. He straightened, squeezing my hand once more.

Through the debris, I saw her. A gray bundle that had to be the old woman, unmoving against the far wall.

The fire burst with blue-white intensity, and my stomach dropped. Cyrus shook, and I trembled with him. My knees wobbled with the loss of vitality.

In a flash, the flames died, and the two soldiers moved around us and rushed into the damaged cabin. I couldn't move, I could barely stay on my feet. I was weak, but that wasn't the worst of it. An intense pain ran through my muscles as I attempted to keep upright. Cyrus pulled on my hand, and then crashed into me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders as he lost control.

It was too much. The pain, the weight of his body, my own fatigue. I couldn't hold on.

As I lost consciousness, Cyrus whispered in my ear, his voice ragged from inhaling smoke.

"I'm sorry, love."