The sun beat down on the square, its hot kiss a small taste of what was to become of her. It was almost insulting to her that on her last day, the day when she needed it most that her friends, the clouds would desert her.
Her arms, bound to the stake felt as though they weighed a tonne mirroring the ache in the rest of her bones, a reminder of her earlier exertions. Her thoughts cast back to those moments, soured now by the repercussions of her actions.
The Osar Mountain in Karang had always been dangerous. The roads, if they could even be called that, were perilously narrow and prone to rock falls. But due to the heavy rain over the mountains, the rocks were particularly unstable, making the journey only for the insane or the suicidal. But Tris, on her way to Namorn, was confident in her magic, knowing that it would protect her from these dangers and warn her of unstable ground.
At the summit, were she planned to stop for the night was the tiny village of Sournois. Deeply superstitious, few hundred people of the town, wary of strangers, had kept to themselves. And having settled in her small room, above the inn she had settled down by the window to read in the fading light.
Suddenly, she had been struck by a vision, a small group of children no older than eleven or twelve had wandered from the village and on to the crumbling path that lead to the closest spring. She had leaped from her seat, rushing to the aid of the children. She thrust her power into the rocks around them, praying that they would not give out, anything but that. However, no gods were listening. Though the pieces she held in her power stayed level, those under it crumbled plummeting to the gorge thousands of metres below. Now the only thing holding the 4 youths was Tris. It was her vs. Nature's own force of gravity, and Tris knew better than anyone who would lose. She did her best, struggling to hold the rocks together, just for long enough for the kids to crawl to safety. She tried. But nature is a force of its own. Tris cried in horror as her magic began to fail. First a stone here and there, then finally entire sections of her stone platform fell. The children scrambled, rushing to get to the solid ground. One a young girl in scraggly clothing leaped and rolled, crashing into the earth on the solid side of the path. The others were not so lucky. They fell, oh how they fell, their screams echoing through the surrounding valleys long after they had struck the unforgiving earth.
Tris had fallen to her knees weeping. The whole village had come out surrounding her and the lone surviving child.
"How could you! "Cried the nearby voice of the headman "You save this worthless wretch and murder our little ones, my son! OUR GOSSE! MONSTER! We shall see you burned for this!"
Rough hands had grasped her arms dragging her to her feet.
Her head, clouded with exhaustion had sparked in outrage, she had tried to save their children, risked her own life! Why was this not enough?
She moaned as understanding took her. These people were supremely superstitious, worshiping the Folie, a strange and vengeful god who was merciless in the ruling of his adherents. The people. Practising strange rituals, including the worship of the Gosse, a child, born to the headman, the voice of the Folie on earth, who was destined to lead these people as next headman or woman, guiding the people toward their idea of heaven.
"MURDERER! Without our Gosse we are doomed! The line had been broken! The only way to restore the balance of the Folie is to purge the source! Quick gather the sacred wood!" and turning to Tris with a sinister glare, the headman said "Take that meurtier to the stake"
Tris shook her head clear of these memories they would not help her now. She searched her sluggish mind for any possible weapon. Her magic now just a flicker in her heart, would be of no use to her. She could barely move and had she not been tied to the stake she would have fallen.
Her exhausted thoughts reached her family and she cursed herself five times a fool. Why did I not think of them before! Calling to the shred of power she thrust it out in one titanic burst.
"SANDRY! BRIAR! DAJA! HELP ME!"
She held her cry for as long as she could but she had so little magic left, so tired. A flash of connection but then it was lost. Her body crumbled, held up by the bonds alone as the wood was stacked around her. There was nothing more to be done. Her magic gone and her last hope Despair moved in and bombarding her meticulously conserved hope, leaving hollowness in her heart.
SANDRY! BRIAR! DAJA! HELP ME!
Sandry at up with a gasped, her heart pounding in her ears. Nameless terror flooded her veins, freezing her in place. She heard something hit the floor upstairs.
"TRIS!" she cried and lunged from the bed, pounding up the stairs and into another room. Daja, (as of course it was her room) was on her bed, face white as a sheet. A door slammed open across the hall and Briar crashed into the room.
"DID YOU HEAR HER!" he asked, panic peppering his words.
"Of course we did!" cried Sandry, fear for her friend making her words harsh. "Or do you think we always have midnight meetings for the sheer joy of it?"
"WELL YOU DON—"
"Quiet you two!" said Daja, her calm voice cutting through the panic of the others. "we have to figure out what is happening! We have to help Tris!" Looking to her siblings, she saw she had their attention. They were focused now. Ready to do whatever it takes to help Tris. "Now, what did you see?"
Sandry went first.
"It was not a sight, it was a feeling. I don't know what is wrong just that she is in danger, just that she thinks she will die soon... "
"I saw her;" This was Briar "She is in the mountains, near the Namorn border. She looked terrible, worse than when she tried to stop those tides, worst than after them pirates" he said, emotion turning his culture speech to that of his home slums in Hajra. "She was exhausted, no magic and some bleater has her tied to a pole, on a platform. They were stacking bundles of wood around her but it was not normal wood. It wasn't just dead. It had no memory of life, like it had never grown."
Daja came last, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her anguish.
"She did not send me vision or feeling. She sent me a message."
"What was it?" questioned the others.
"S-She..." Daja stuttered, her eyes filling with tears "She says she is to be burned, she has no magic, there is nothing she can do, she says she loves us, she-..." Daja's voice failing her at the last, forcing out the end of their beloved friend's message "She says goodbye".
The sun rose over the mountains, casting shadows on the village. Tris' bones were throbbing from being upright for so long. The villagers had finished building the pyre hours ago and had since retreated to their homes, save for the group of men who guarded her.
She half-wished they would just get on with it, burn her and get it over with. Her magic would take at least a week to regenerate to any useful amount and without it she could not contact her siblings who were hundreds of kilometres away, even if they reached for her with their magic. Without her own, she could not complete the connection. She was all alone.
"Why don't you just kill me already?" She called to her guards. "Can you just get it over and done with?"
One man with short blond hair and a scar over one eye turned to her eying her warily replied,
"No. Ye must feel the full repercussions of yer actions. You have brought destruction on our people and if this is not done right we will not find the new Gosse, and we will starve. And so that is what you shall do, You shall stand here; until the sun is at its height tomorrow then we shall light the fires and purge you of your sins."
Hooves thundered on the road leading to the mountains. Six horses flew across the landscape carrying the three mages towards their helpless sister. Sandry's bones were aching. They had ridden all throughout the day since they had heard from Tris, stopping only swap horses. The day was drawing to a close, the sun sinking into the horizon, turning the sky purple, the colour of a bruise.
"We must stop to rest. The horses cannot keep up this pace and neither can we." sent Sandry to the minds of Daja and Briar, as she slowed her mount.
Irritation flooded her mind from Briar.
"We can't stop! We can't just sit and rest while Tris is in danger! We are less than a day from her! We must KEEP GOING!" he cried.
Daja's calm entered her mind as quickly as Briars frustration had.
"We must stop Briar. Killing the horses will not help Tris. We will stop and rest then continue on tomorrow."
Briar didn't like it but he saw the truth in her words.
"I'm sorry girls, but I'm just so worried for Coppercurls, I mean who knows what those bleaters in the village might have done to her."
The day broke on the village much as it had the day before but today, at least for Tris, the day was cold, the brightness of the sun, previously cheerful now bleak in the face of the future.
The shadows which had been her constant companion in the cold of the night began to fade and lengthen as the sun rose higher in the sky.
It was cruel in a way. The day was beautiful. The sky a cloudless cerulean dome, stretching away into the distance. The air of the mountain peak, usually buffeted by breezes of all sorts, was still. Not even the gentlest puff disturbed the tranquillity of the day.
Her heart sank. Though in her magic-less state she would have been unable to speak to any breezes, or move any clouds, the feel of them embracing her form, shading her from the heat of the day, would have been comforting. In all her years, through everything, weather she knew it or not, the winds had always been there for her, when her family had done their version of human pass the parcel with her, when she had been taken to Discipline, when she had destroyed the pirates, Through everything they had been with her. And now, in her most desperate moments, her time of need they had gone. Everyone goes in the end she thought sadly as the head man began to say the rites for her burning; you can't trust anyone with your heart, cos people only know how to break it.
The head man lifted a torch from a holder on the alter and dipped it into a pot of oil, lifting it to place it in a holder, then turning to dump the remaining oil over her head and clothing.
"Oh great Folie, take unto you the spirit of this incroyant, who took our Gosse from us. We pray that you bring an new Gosse to guide us to you." With this he lit his torch and cast it on to the pyre.
The people who had built this fire knew their craft well. The kindling caught the flames quickly and it spread to the larger branches the flames quickly devouring the dry wood.
She could not feel the flames yet but she knew from her studies that she would suffocate in the smoke before she died of burns, but not before the flames had taken their fair share of her flesh.
The fire rose higher now, and began to lick at the edges of the platform. She could feel the heat now. Hungry, questing it turned to her as her skirt began to smoulder. The blaze came closer now, its fingers caressing the soles of her feet, kissing her legs, its progress sped by the oil.
She did not make a sound. It hurt like nothing she had ever experienced but still she did not scream; she would not give them the satisfaction, to hear her beg for release.
Her eyes began to close now as her breath hitched in her throat. The smoke was overcoming her lungs as they fought to provide her with enough oxygen to stay conscious. It was a losing battle, and lose she did.
As her eyes closed and her vision dimmed, she heard a cry carried to her on the winds, a combined shout, a simple word but the only one she wanted to hear.
TRIS!
The three mages galloped up the hill unhindered by the unstable ground that had plagued their journey this morning.
Despite their grand intentions to stop for the night and rest the horses, the feeling of urgency had not left Briar, and eventually after only a few hours rest he had convinced his sisters to continue.
Worrying too much to think of conversation, they had spoken little in their frantic ride towards their sister.
The sun rose as they reached the foot of the mountain. Briar guessed they had half a day's journey to reach the village, yet the necessity for speed had not left him. Perhaps it was Tris reaching out for them but they had been unable to reach her since her first message, now two nights past.
We don't even know if she is still alive he thought. We could be riding towards a corpse...
As if she had heard his thoughts, Daja projected to them; we must not lose hope, Tris will be fine. We WILL get there in time.
Briar tried to take heart from the words, to feel the confidence that she felt, but he had grown up in a world where luck was rare and hope was rarer still, he knew when a situation felt hope less. When it felt like it did now.
The sun was reaching its zenith as they reached the ridge.
They turned a corner on the track and the village of Sournois came into view. It was rather ramshackle, just a few building surrounding a square. The largest structure seemed to be a temple of some sort. These details were all noted by Briar's peripheral regions in his mind, but what really held his attention was the smoke rising from the square, where the whole town seemed to have gathered.
Panic flooded his system as he urged his tired horse into a gallop, aware that either side of him, Sandry and Daja were doing the same. He wound between the houses entering the square.
It was full of people. The whole town seemed to be there, surrounding a huge pile of wood. There bound to the stake was Tris looking just as she had in his vision. Her face was grey with exhaustion, her eyes sunk in her sockets, she had lost weight in her travels but now her skin hung off her bones as if she had been starved for months rather than days.
Her magic, he thought. She musta done somethin' really big and drained herself, that's why she couldn't call us. That's why she looks so terrible.
He took this all in in an instant. The three mages dismounted and began to force their way through the crowd. The air was filled with expectancy, fever pitched, ready to burst with the violence it held. The crowd was still all focused soully on the head man by the alter.
Word floated through the air. As the man at the altar began to chant, lifting torch high above his head, tossing it on tho the bonfire.
The flame caught quickly, spreading fast to cover the wood and reach towards their friend. Briar cried out and tried to force his way through the wall of people. He reached out with his magic, trying to call life into the wood of the pyre, to stop the flames from reaching his friend. However this part of his dream vision was true, his green magic washed over the branches like water over stone, he could not reach them his power had no effect, the flames sped closer to Tris
He watched her shudder as her dress began to smoulder, the flames finally reaching her skin. Her eyes rolled up into her head as her body became limp in the bond, lashing her to the stake
"TRIS!" he cried as he shouldered passed the endless crowd finally drawing near to the pyre.
Magic surged being him as he felt Daja reach out to the flames calling them away from their fallen sister.
Briar sprang on to the pyre, scrambling over the still warm coals to reach Tris. Pulling out one of his many daggers he cut her from the pole, lifting her prone form, much lighter now than it had ever been, and carried her from the platform.
Daja released the flames which returned to the half-consumed wood and turned to face the new problem. The crowd of villagers had not been standing idle while the mages freed their friend, lead by the head man; they came forward now, armed with bows, cooking knives and the occasional pitchfork to attack the Circle.
"Give us back the meurtier. We must sacrifice her to the Folie. Or the balance will not be restored and we will perish!"
"We can't and we won't!" cried Daja. "but we do not wish to harm you, let us leave in peace and we will leave you alone also."
"I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT CREATURE TO LEAVE HERE ALIVE! SHE HAS MURDERED OUR GOSSE AND DOOMED US ALL IN HER ACTIONS! YOU WILL SURRENDER IT TO US AND WE WILL SPARE YOU!"
"I was afraid you'd say that." Daja said as she took a better grip of her stick and moved into a fighters stance. Sandry moved in beside her.
What's the plan she asked softly.
Take them down all of them, but take them alive. Was Daja's terse reply
Done.
With that the girls began.
Mean while Briar had settled Tris' unconscious figure on the ground. Oblivious to the fighting around him he carefully examined her body, noticing each wound.
She was not in good shape. Physically weakened from her magical exertions 2 days in the elements with no food or water had not done her any good she was so thin, her eyes sunken into hollow sockets. Ligature marks covering her arms and chest had begun to swell, evidence of her struggles against her tight binding. Her back was covered with whip marks showing the further effects of the headman to 'purge the evil spirits" from her body.
Then were the burns, they covered her lower legs, the smell of seared flesh sending shivers down his spine, echoing the dead that had covered the streets in Gyongxe. But this was not Gyongxe, this was his sister and she really needed his help. Focused now, he riffled through his bag pulling out his favourite jar of burn ointment. Spelled by both him and Rosethorn, it blazed like the sun in his magical vision. Usually he only had to put a dot of the ointment in the centre of a burn for it to disappear. Tris' burns however, were so bad that eventually he was just slathering it on an inch thick. And even then the burns stood stark against her alabaster skin.
Then he looked to her back. His cutbane made quick work of these. Though painful they were not deep and though the scars would never fully disappear, they had healed well enough for now. He rubbed more cutbane on her wrists, and blushed severely as he did the same to her chest. Taking out his water skin, he removed his shirt wetting it and laid it over her forehead. Then he began to trickle water down her swollen throat.
Glancing around he saw that Daja and Sandry had finished with the villagers; most were either unconscious in the ground or cocooned in thread. They hurried over to him, worry written all over their faces.
"Is she ok?" "Is she hurt?" "What did they do to her?" "Will she be Ok?"
"Lakik's teeth! How am I to answer if you two bleaters keep on yattering at me!"
"BRIAR!" they yelled.
"Ok! Ok! She will be fine! Scarred yes, hurt yes but she will live."
The girls released a sigh of relief, smiling softly at the wonderful news.
There was a soft coughing behind them, which grew to a steady hack. Briar turned swiftly and raised Tris to seating, supporting her as he held a bottle to her lips.
"Drink this Tris, you will feel much better."
She choked down the foul tasting concoction between gasps for air. Eventually the coughs subsided and Briar laid her back down.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, eyes glued to her as he watched her expression for signs of pain.
"I didn't think you would come" she rasped. Her voice coming out as a harsh whisper.
"Well doesn't that show what a bleater you are! And I thought you were sensible for a skirt! not show up indeed, what kind of family does she think we are!" exclaimed Briar.
"Take me home" she whispered.
Eyes softening Briar smiled
"Anything you say, Coppercurls. Anything you say."