Chapter 14: A New Crown: Stasia

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 After the first few steps, Stasia caught the rhythm of Tejusi’s stride and stayed hidden in the cloak as they glided over the smooth stone floors of Chraun. The Flame’s long legs made it hard to keep up with him, and even more difficult was trusting that he wouldn’t run her into a stalam; she was completely blind in the dark folds of slink fur. The Flames with her were silent, so all she could hear was the steady tap of their marching feet.

 She could smell Dynat’s sweat under the faint odor of slink musk, and the rage it awoke in her was frightening. She had seen in Medoc’s mind his intention to give the former Fire King to her once the Lake was clean, payment for Chraun’s crimes against Iskalon so that he would not have to take any responsibility for them. Dynat must stand trial and execution; killing him now would be selfish at best. Iskalon would see justice done.

 A short time after they left the Throne room Stasia heard shouting and screams in the distance. Medoc's war for the throne had begun. War between brothers and friends. Stasia shuddered to think of it. War with an enemy had been horrible enough; what if she had been forced to fight with her own sisters? Civil war had occurred in Iskalon, but very rarely. It seemed to happen non-stop in Chraun.

 A sulfur smell penetrated the cloak and Stasia realized the baths were near. Tejusi’s stride changed, and Stasia nearly had to run to keep up. Her body, still recovering from Dynat’s treatment in spite of the rough Flame healing Medoc had given her, protested the vigor of her movement. But her discomfort was pale beside fear. Pleas of mercy drifted down the tunnels, strangled by screams of pain, swallowed by loud explosions.

 Tejusi halted suddenly and Stasia walked past him, her crown, face and one foot spilling out of the cloak. She froze as three Flames stepped out of an open doorway before her and her escort. They wore sturdy steel plate armor without decoration or medals—Warriors, she guessed, from what she had seen of Chraun’s ranks. Two were men with glowing lava mesh and one was a large, mannish woman, her mesh patterned in squares. They were laughing and talking, and stopped short, staring at Stasia. She fought the urge to hide under the cloak again, and instead stepped out. Hiding now would only cast more suspicion on Tejusi.

 “What are you gawkers doing standing around?” Tejusi’s voice was loud and sharp, very different from how he’d spoken to Medoc. He stepped forward, approaching the Flames and standing between them and her so that she did not see his face, only the gleam of red torchlight on his short, dark hair and the lava on his bare shoulders, nearly-hexagonal circles. The two Warriors with him stood on either side of her. She wondered if she could sneak behind them and get away while they were all distracted. The Spiral must be very near. “This is no time to be roaming the tunnels. The King needs all hands.”

 “Which King would that be, Cadet? New Kings, old Kings, it's all rather confusing.”

 “King Medoc. The only King, now. And it’s Luten—I’ve been promoted. See?” Stasia heard a faint clank as he tapped the medals on his chest.  

 “That’s a fine cloak, Luten Tejusi. Fit for a King, wouldn’t you say?”

 The muscles on Tejusi’s shoulders knotted and Stasia felt a subtle difference in the air, almost a chill. The torches flickered and faltered, replaced by a dim glow of smoldering torch-heads.

 The darkness erupted with flashes of white-hot flame and glowing balls of fire. Stasia knew this was her chance to run, but she was paralyzed, rooted to the smooth stone floor. It was as if the fire was hypnotizing her. She could see the battle taking place in slow motion, could see how Tejusi concentrated the heat before he flung it at the other Flames, how the woman wove a rope of fire from the swift, forward motion of sparks, how Tejusi’s Warriors fought in tandem, one shielding with a firebreak, the other throwing fireballs. She had never seen Flame T’Jas in this light; before it had been a confusion of fire. She almost thought that she could do it herself, and she tried to make a fire-rope using the woman’s techniques, thinking she could help Tejusi . . .

 Her attempt fizzled spectacularly, and before she could try again, darkness had fallen in the tunnel. She could hear heavy breathing, saw seven bodies laying on the floor, their lava dimming. Were they all dead? She began to back away, her former paralysis gone, but steel scraped against stone and one of the bodies stirred.

 “Please . . . Heal me . . . Ice Fairy . . .” It was Tejusi. Stasia stopped in her tracks. Did he have the strength to chase her down if she ran? He had killed the Flames because they saw Dynat’s cloak. He would not hesitate to kill her to protect Medoc’s secret.

 After a moment of silence, the Flame spoke again. His words were slurred, delirious. “Denu . . . Never liked him. Scum shouldn’t . . . Get promotions . . . Because of father’s money. But Adkiel . . . Bunkmate . . . First Training. Rotta, she . . . drink any man under the table . . . wake at first Gong bright-eyed while the rest of us were dragging.”

 It took a moment for Stasia to realize he was not talking about the Warriors who had accompanied them but the ones he had fought and killed. He was in deep shock. Sympathy tugged at her heart, but she pushed it down. She could fill hours talking about the friends she had lost to his people. What were his two to her?

 “They should not have had to die, Ice Fairy. I should not have had to kill them.”

 His words were more lucid this time. Sympathy tugged again, and Stasia let it in. Chraun had been at war with itself for centuries, as King after King was deposed and replaced. What Tejusi faced was nothing new, but it must be painful to be pitted against your friends. She stepped closer, still uncertain if she should heal him or flee.

 She kicked a body with her next step, and when she reached down to feel it, she realized it was Dynat, still wrapped in the slink fur. Hatred seized her, washing away sympathy. Heal Tejusi? What was she thinking? She should kill the Flame, if anything. A thousand deaths would not make up for her loss.

 With Tejusi stuck in shock and the rest of the escort dead, she was free. She picked up Dynat’s unconscious body and heaved it over her neck. Her spine protested the weight with a sharp, piercing pain. She ignored it. She would not leave the former Fire King where he might be rescued, and she did not have enough cold here to kill him.

 Tejusi shouted after her, and Stasia ran awkwardly, hindered by tired, cramping legs and too much weight, toward the Spiral Tunnel and freedom.

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