Firewalker (Worldwalker 2)

Rowan and Tristan exchanged a speaking look and Lily got the sense that they were mindspeaking. They must have become stone kin before the ritual.

Tristan cracked the tent flap and called softly outside to Breakfast and Una. “Tell them we need more wood for the fire,” he said to Una.

“And a cauldron of their dirtiest water,” Rowan added.

Both were brought, and in a moment the fire was high again. The water purification ritual only took a few minutes. Rowan laid out herbs and minerals in front of Lily, and all she had to do was blow on them to give them the power to make polluted water clean again. This time, it was Lily’s golden stone that twinkled in response to her summons. One soft exhale and Lily felt all her energy drain out of her, leaving her limbs heavy and her head swimming with exhaustion.

She felt Rowan catch her wilting torso and lay her gently on her side. His hand stroked her back soothingly while he gave instructions for the cauldron of cleansing water.

“Make sure they know the ratio is thirty thousand to one, Tristan,” Rowan said. “Thirty thousand cauldrons of water can be cleaned by this one cauldron—be very clear when you tell them because they won’t believe it.” Rowan’s voice dropped to a rumble. “Even I don’t believe it.”

“What are we dealing with here, Rowan?” Tristan asked fearfully.

“I think she’s even stronger than Lillian, but I have no idea how that’s possible.”

Lily cupped her willstones in her hand reassuringly. Something clicked in her head and the words spilled out of her, uncensored and childlike. “Pink is for medicine magic, gold is for kitchen magic, and smoke is for warrior magic. Each can do its own job better than making one stone do everything, but it’s harder to look after three of them. Harder to swallow if they catch me. I’m stronger but I’m less safe.” Her eyes flew open in panic—an echo from Lillian although she didn’t know exactly what it was that she feared. “They’re coming! Don’t let them put me in the barn!”

“Shh. Sleep, Lily.” Rowan’s hand stroked her hair until her eyes drooped shut again. “You’re always safe with me,” he said.

“But what if you want to leave me again?” Lily asked. She didn’t hear his answer and frowned as she drifted off on her raft and strayed into the Mist. Lillian was waiting for her there to show Lily the source of her panic and dread.

… They use the noose poles to push me into the barn, and they slide the doors shut behind me. I scramble to my feet and rush the door frantically, banging on it with my fists, but I know it’s no use. I hear the chain jingling and the padlock click. I’m trapped.

I hear the sound of people behind me. Moaning. Hacking coughs. Rheumy lungfuls of air bubbling inside half-rotted chests. I turn and face them slowly. It’s so dark in here it takes time for my eyes to adjust, but I can already smell what I can’t quite see. Blood. Blood everywhere. In the brick of the walls, and the concrete of the floor.

This used to be the slaughterhouse, back when this ranch raised lambs. Back when there were lambs left to eat. I know there are no animals on thi

s ranch anymore. They were all eaten a long time ago. But I smell fresh blood, and as my eyes adjust I see why.

The fearful pack of skinny, sickly people limp toward me. They all have something in common. They are each missing a limb—whether it’s a leg, an arm, or both. In the far back, lying on filthy pallets or just sprawled on the excrement-caked ground there are people who have been reduced to bloody stumps. They are the source of the endless moaning. There’s a chopping block near the limbless ones. Everyone else avoids it, but they can’t drag themselves away. It takes a while for me to understand what I’m looking at. And then I wish I couldn’t see and that I never came to understand what really happens inside this barn.

This is a slaughterhouse still, but my captors don’t kill their prey outright. No. That would be wasteful. There would be feasting after each slaughter but famine until the next. If they tried to store anything without refrigeration, the meat might spoil. Certainly, many still died of shock or blood loss during the amputation and those that didn’t make it were eaten outright, but there were only so many people left in the world. The savages had to make their final food source last.

I look at the maimed bodies huddled in front of me, my mind shying away from the horror of it. They are the new lambs in this broken, backward society. I was wrong. There are animals left in this world. Here, the animals rule, and they eat the people one piece at a time …

Lillian, enough. I understand you now, but please stop. I can’t take any more. The filth. The suffering. Oh God, I just can’t.

I haven’t shown you what I owe yet, Lily. If you want to know what really drives me, you have to understand my shame. Soon, when you’re calm, I’ll show you the worst of it. I’ll show you the secret that you and I must carry to our graves.

Lily had trouble opening her eyes. Her head was stuffed up, and her lashes were stuck together with dried tears. She peeled her swollen lids apart. She was alone in the tent. A small fire was banked low, throwing barely enough light to see by.

Lily sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, trying and failing to wipe the inside of her mind clean. She knew that even if she could erase the smells and the sounds of the barn, knowing it had existed had changed her. Lillian hadn’t shown her some made-up cautionary tale about the potential horrors of nuclear war to scare her. She’d shown Lily what had truly happened to a version of the world that was very similar to Lillian’s. Something that could still happen now in the world that Lily was in. The world Rowan refused to abandon. Alaric and Chenoa still had thirteen bombs for thirteen cities.

Lily now understood why Chenoa and her two acolytes, Hakan and Keme, had been so important to Lillian, and why Lillian had sent out her army to get those three scientists back. They were the ones who knew how to build the bombs. They might have also known where they were hidden, too.

And it was Lily’s fault they got away. If Lily had just stayed out of it, Lillian could have found the bombs, gotten rid of them, and ended the conflict between the cities and the Outlanders. Thousands of braves wouldn’t have died in that battle, and the war would have been over months ago.

“Lily?” She twisted around to see Tristan half in and half out of the tent. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she lied, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

Tristan glanced behind him nervously before entering the tent and perching on his knees next to Lily. “We have to go kinda soon,” he said. “That Mary woman was furious when she found out you were still here. Rowan’s still trying to calm her down.” He reached out and touched her shoulder gently, his eyes soft with worry. “Are you really okay? You look pale.”

Lily patted his hand and went to stand. She lost her balance and tipped into his arms. “Ah—no, I guess not,” she mumbled, her depth perception telescoping in and out. She felt Tristan’s arms tighten around her, and a rush of tenderness coming from him. He wanted to kiss her.

“Tristan? We need to move,” Rowan said as he entered the tent. He saw Lily in Tristan’s arms and froze.

I’m having trouble with my balance, Rowan, and Tristan caught me. Nothing happened.