“Eh? Who?”
“The city’s builders. Bigger than humans or trulls. Who were they? Where are they now?”
Lars shrugged. “You know I don’t have the answers.”
“If the firewall has nothing to do with the motions of the suns, then what is it?”
“The important thing is that we find a way through to the other side,” Lars said firmly. “We’ll have to search when we get there. What would a gap through the firewall even look like?”
Taimin reached out to pick up the piece of fibrous paper that lay on the ground nearby. As he inspected the map they had copied before leaving Zorn, he focused on the marker at the firewall’s edge and tried to picture a path.
When he was young, he had come close to the firewall, where the sky turned red and the heat became unbearable. The firewall as he had seen it was clearly impassable; after his parents’ bodies were taken into it, he had watched them burn to ash in just a few hours. Perhaps there would be a break in the red color, a place where a swathe of blue sky rose above normal dirt, rather than blackened ground.
To escape the wasteland, he would have to learn the truth about a world full of secrets. If he could find a route to the lands outside the firewall then not only humans, but all of the five races would no longer struggle just to survive.
Lowering the map, Taimin glanced at Lars. “The marker might signify something else,” he said.
“There’s a way through,” Lars said. “I’m sure of it.” He climbed to his feet and stretched. “Anyway, I’m off to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow, and the day after that. Tonight we have full bellies, plenty of water, and a fire. But you and I both know that from tomorrow, things aren’t going to be so easy.”
Selena lay on her side with her eyes open, facing the wall of the cave. She listened to Taimin and Lars talking. She thought about the firehound’s attack.
What if he hadn’t turned in time? He might die one day, all because she couldn’t farcast. She would never be able to prevent him taking risks, and nor did she want to. She just wanted to do what she could to keep him safe, and to help every member of the group on their perilous journey.
She remembered his injured foot. How did he live with the pain?
After the two men’s voices became quiet, she heard a shuffle behind her, along with Taimin’s breathing. He slid onto the blanket at her back, moving carefully so he didn’t disturb her.
She turned her head and stared into his eyes for a moment, but she knew they weren’t alone in the cave.
“Good night,” she whispered, so that only he would hear her.
For the first time, he moved to bring himself close, on his side like she was, and she felt his body all along her. Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed his hand to pull it over herself.
She felt a sudden urge, a desire to kiss the man holding her, but she was conscious of Lars’s snores from the far side of the cave. Instead, she simply enjoyed Taimin’s warmth.
As she settled into sleep, her thoughts drifted. Her mind turned to the things Taimin and Lars had said.
She tried to imagine the builders of the white city, Zorn. Taimin had said they were tall . . .
3
Ingren walked on blackened ground, while ahead of her, her eight-foot-tall figure cast a long, wavering shadow. Her skin felt hot, but she knew it was just a trick of her imagination; her protective body suit would keep her safe. The sky was red in all directions. The vista was barren; desolate. The very idea of life surviving in this place was unthinkable. She felt her anxiety grow and tried to focus on Ungar, her bondmate, who led her ever onward.
Ungar’s shadow was even longer. His shoulders were broad and his limbs were lean. As he walked with long strides, his entire body communicated pent-up force. Strong and brave, even by the standards of his fellow warriors, he was a bondmate to be proud of. If he had one flaw it was that he sometimes confused courage with rashness.
Ungar’s suit-clad silhouette was sleek and silver, contrasting with the fiery sky, but focusing on him through the strange smoky haze was difficult. He was a shimmering figure holding a ceremonial spear, a weapon too long and awkward to fit inside his suit. Ingren blinked. She knew fatigue was wearing at her senses, even as the extreme conditions and endless walk made her lose all track of time. But she knew she had to keep up, and stay close to her bondmate. Losing him wasn’t an option.
As her boots crunched into the black dirt, she saw Ungar enter a field of boulders; at least the change in terrain proved they were actually moving. She thought about the dangers ahead. It was in her nature to worry, and even making it through this difficult stage would only mark the beginning of the quest. Nonetheless, she couldn’t wait until the crossing was over. The environment surrounding her was hostile to all life. If it weren’t for her suit, she would be dead in moments, scorched to the color of the ground around her.
Ungar glanced over his shoulder and slowed his pace so she could catch up. His face was covered by the silver material of his suit, except for his eyes which were always bright and crimson, like burning coals. Ingren heard his low, growling voice.
“I told you my suit is too small.” Ungar scratched under his arms. “It is rubbing me raw.”
Ingren shook her head. Despite the situation she almost smiled. After twelve years of bonding, she was used to Ungar’s complaints. Her own suit also felt tight and constrictive, but she was simply glad it worked. It covered her from head to toe, the flexible material extending to boot coverings and gloves. A transparent section in front of her eyes enabled her to see, while her breath was evacuated through a mesh near her mouth, which also filtered the savage heat from the air outside.
Ungar made an elaborate show of stretching while he resumed his walk. He still took the same determined strides, but he appeared to have finally realized she was having difficulty keeping up.
“It was your idea to do this,” Ingren said.
“At the moment, we are not doing anything. We are walking,” Ungar said impatiently. “My spear thirsts for blood.”
“We will make it through the barrier soon enough. Then your quest can begin.”
He snorted. “You call it my quest.” His red eyes gleamed as he turned his head to face her. “Yet I have no doubt that you will be pleased to be the bondmate of a marshal. You know as well as I do that there has never been a marshal who has not completed a quest.”
“I know, I know,” Ingren said. “Your superiors do like their traditions. The hunts still mean something to them. I have to say, though, I will be happy when we are back home.”
Ungar’s voice became serious. “I have heard your doubts, but I need to know I can rely on you.”
“Of course, bondmate.”
“Five trophies, Ingren. Five trophies to take back to Agravida. Each hunted down and defeated in physical combat, as bonded warriors did long ago.” Ungar lifted his spear into the air. “You have no idea how eager they are to hear of my exploits when the quest is done.”
The more excited Ungar became, the more Ingren worried. “This rule about the strongest opponents—”
He bristled. “It is no rule. It is about custom, and honor. They will see the severed heads. They will hear my tales. I cannot return with the head of an infant. My trophies must be worthy.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you understand?”