Siena (Forestfolk, Book 1)

Chapter 12

After breakfast the next morning, I followed the now familiar trail to Davin’s tiny worktable. I wanted to apologize for making him sad. When I reached it, he wasn’t there.

I sat on the stump in front of the worktable and leaned over, propping my head onto my hands. Did I cause him so much grief that he wouldn’t come out today? With a sigh I looked around and picked up one of the leather strips he had been cutting.

“Looking to learn a trade, are you?” said a familiar voice.

I looked up and saw Davin ambling down the trail from the opposite direction, the fronds of his new hat swaying around his head. “You’re here!” I popped up from the seat.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” he asked as he took his place in front of the worktable.

“I thought maybe . . .” I shifted from one foot to the other. “Never mind. I wanted to apologize, for yesterday.”

“Don’t be daft, nothing to apologize for. It was a shock to learn news of Nily is all.” His gruff voice held no hint of emotional turmoil.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I sat down and twirled the leather strip around my fingers.

Davin pulled a swath of hide out and began to cut shapes. We chatted while he worked, and when he stood up to arch his back, we parted ways.

At Zelly’s garden, I joined her in raking weeds and grass out from the edges of the plot. She talked about her Iceling home and how I would have liked it there. She was in the middle of describing a sweet snowy treat when we heard the scream pierce the forest.

We both dropped our rakes and ran toward the sound. As we got closer to the source, we heard shouts and more screams. Then we smelled the smoke.

It was a cabin, completely engulfed. Huge flames danced on all four walls, and I stared at them, entranced. I’d never seen so much fire before, not even on the night of the attack when I escaped.

I heard a plea from the entrance of the cabin and saw Goben there, tugging on the arms of an unconscious man. “Please, Papa, wake up! We have to get out! Papa!” He kept yanking on his father’s arms with as much strength as his nine-year-old body could muster. Inch by inch, it was a snail’s pace. Flames danced around the doorway, dangerously close to the prone body. A little girl sat not far from him, crying.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me, and I bolted in their direction, only to be held back by someone. I twisted around to find Zelly gripping my arms.

“No!” she said. “You’ll be burned alive! Goben is fireproof, but you’re not!”

I frantically searched around me and saw a bucket half full of water. Pushing Zelly aside, I dumped the bucket over my head and sprinted to help Goben. Together, we dragged the body out a safe distance away from the blaze.

Goben rushed back to the doorway, yelling, “Mama’s still inside!”

Without thinking, I ran in after him. I was hit by heat so intense it nearly stunned me. The air was thick with smoke and I could scarcely breathe. I focused on Goben—who seemed unbothered by the flames at all—and I stumbled my way toward his mother’s body, who was sprawled next to a table.

My skin started to burn in the unbearable heat. The smoke blinded me. We grabbed each of her singed hands and pulled her as quickly as we could. I choked on heat and smoke. White-hot pain scorched my back, my arms. A piece of burning debris fell and narrowly missed me.

When we finally broke out of the firestorm, the outside air cooled me, even though it was a warm afternoon. We didn’t stop until we reached the first body. After laying her alongside it, I dissolved into a coughing fit, gulping for air and trying to get the taste of smoke out of my mouth. Someone led me away, and I flinched when they touched my burned shoulder. I sank to the ground, continuing to gasp for air and coughing black soot out of my lungs.

When my breathing finally settled, I looked in horror as the flames from the cabin caught onto nearby trees. People with buckets tried to douse the fire with water, but the lake was too far, and the buckets too few. It was futile, like trying to put out a bonfire with spit.

“Take it back! Sember, you have to take it back!” Goben shook the little girl, who couldn’t have been older than six, trying to snap her out of her crying fit. “You can do it! I’ve seen you!”

The girl tore her tear-filled eyes away from her immobile parents and stared at Goben.

“Sember, it’s okay. Just focus. You know how to make fire, just do it backwards.”

She rubbed her eyes with her fists.

“Sember!” Goben was shouting again, desperate. “Foresthome is going to burn to the ground if you don’t help. You have to do this!”

Recognition finally changed her little features from a mask of terror to one of timid resolve. No one attempted to stop her as she walked to the thickest part of the blaze and held out her hands, palms lightly touching the towering blaze. The heat didn’t seem to bother her at all.

For several breathless moments, nothing happened. Then, as if called away by its master, the blaze began to shrink away from the trees. The girl persisted, and the flames gradually became smaller and smaller, until, at last, all that was left were smoldering beams and ash.

She dropped her arms and stood motionless. A large crowd had gathered around, staring. She turned around, not noticing the crowd at all, and walked back to Goben. She dropped to her knees and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Galen pushed his way through the swarm of onlookers, followed closely by who I assumed was his mother, Ruba. She carried a sack and hurried to kneel beside the two burned parents. Dread etched her face as she pulled herbs and bowls out of her sack.

I dragged myself closer for a better look. They were so badly burned they barely seemed human. Their flesh was scorched black in some places, with angry red blisters in others. I wasn’t sure if they were even alive.      

The Forestfolk stood about, still stunned by the chaos. A hush fell as they watched the woman tilt her face over the noses of each body, listening for breath. She nodded, but continued to stare at the bodies in horror.

“I . . . I’m not sure I can do anything for them,” she said in a quiet voice. “There’s too much damage.”

“You have to!” Goben cried, pulling on her arm. “You can’t just give up!”

She turned her anguished face to the child. “I’m sorry, Goben. There’s nothing I can do.”

“No!” he shrieked and flung his body onto his father’s, sobbing. “Papa, wake up!”

I couldn’t take any more. My heart was rending to little pieces, and tears threatened to spill. I could do something about this. If I could deliver these children from suffering this loss, then it would be worth the consequences of revealing my gift. I knew no pain greater than watching a parent die.

My secret didn’t matter anymore.

I crawled toward them, legs too unsteady to walk. Someone said something to me, but I ignored them. When I got there, Galen tried to lead me away.

“I can help them!” I snapped and pushed his hand away, annoyed that he would want to stop me.

“Child, there’s nothing we can do.” Ruba shook her head and reached for my arm.

I recoiled and hissed, “Let me save them!” I barely recognized my own voice. The vehemence felt foreign to me, but I was single-minded in my purpose. They would die if I couldn’t reach them. I had to save them.

She backed away, and I faced the mother’s blackened body. I felt no revulsion as I laid my hands upon her reddened chest. I closed my eyes, focused my mind, and opened my floodgates, pouring my healing energy into her, breathing in new life. I cracked my eyes open to check her progress, but it was slower than I’d expected. I’d never tried healing someone so completely damaged before.

I doubled my efforts, willing her charred flesh into bright, pink skin. I heard astonished gasps and murmurs all around me.

It was working.

And I was weakening.

I pulled my hands away, breathing hard. My lungs wheezed from all the smoke I had inhaled. I had to heal the father now or I may not have the strength.

Various pairs of feet moved out of my way as I crawled around to the other side. He was a little less burned, but the damage was still extensive. I covered his chest with my hands and closed my eyes again, commanding as much healing energy as I could muster. He couldn’t die. I would not let him.

I checked my progress, but it was even slower than before. With a frown I stared hard into the man’s face, pushing my hands against his chest, willing my strength to become his.

“Please,” I mumbled under my breath. “Just a little . . . more.”

Ever so gradually, the blisters began to fade. My body shook with the effort, my mind dizzying, but I refused to give in. This was my purpose. At this very moment, there was nothing but this.

My vision blurred, and my breathing turned ragged. The small trickle of energy I had left slowly dripped away from me. It was everything I could give him . . . everything.

I was dimly aware of my body slumping over, and then everything slid into darkness.