A tiny flame bloomed on one upturned corner of the First Rule poster that had almost been the death of them, but before the flame could do more than discolor the paper, it was snuffed out, leaving only a wisp of smoke behind.
“Emil’s awake,” Sigrun told Mikkel.
“You don’t say,” Mikkel replied dryly, half-a-dozen wisps of smoke rising from his hair. “Fortunately, so is Lalli. Perhaps Emil will be more cooperative for him.”
Sigrun frowned. “I get the feeling you remind Golden Boy too much of a mean teacher of his or something. Once we Return, I swear I’m gonna go find those incompetent Svensk and...”
Mikkel waited until she’d run out of steam before observing, “You’re oddly choleric for an Earth-Bender.”
“And Emil’s a melancholic, which can be dangerous for a Fire-Bender, but he’s been coming along nicely ’til he scared himself just now.” Sigrun grinned. “Besides, that’s why we get along so well together. We’re both Earth and Fire.”
*
Lalli was deeply unhappy at having to confer with Onni while Reynir was in the dream with them, but it couldn’t be helped: he needed to try to hash out just what exactly the encounter with Sonew had portended.
Sonew was not a “natural” Bender; by his own admission, he had made a deal with something or someone from the spirit world to gain his powers. That this bargain even existed worried Lalli; the thought that it might not be the only such bargain was frankly terrifying.
Then there were the Death-Shades. Sonew had admitted to knowing about them and their pursuit of Lalli’s group, and had rather implied that he had been an agent in setting the Death-Shades after them.
All these questions and more were burning in Lalli’s mind, demanding answers that Onni alone of Lalli’s ken might be able to answer; such was the force that drove Lalli to seek Onni’s counsel in their dream, regardless of whether or not the redheaded Life-Bender was present.
*
Emil was trying desperately to keep from igniting everything around him, as he and Sigrun were out here alone under the stars. The fire within him snarled and chafed at its confinement, but he kept beating it back.
They were out on a hunting trip, where the least little slip-up on Emil’s part might result not simply in injury to one or both of them but also the whole party’s going hungry until they could catch something else. The strain of this only amplified Emil’s absolute horror over what he’d done to Sonew, making it that much harder to keep the fire banked.
They were most fortunate that night: a non-Reaving-Bent bear wandered into their trap. Of course, this embarrassment of riches meant hours’ worth of work in hauling it back to camp, so Sigrun got to work gutting their kill with a will, calling for Emil to help her.
“Roll up your sleeves and let’s get to it,” she ordered him.
Emil swallowed hard. Roll up his sleeves? It was bad enough that they all knew he had shamed himself sufficiently to result in his Exile, but this would be so much worse...
His deliberations were cut off when an impatient Sigrun reached over and yanked one of his sleeves up to the elbow, exposing a myriad of tiny scars in row upon orderly row. Aghast, Sigrun drew her arm back, grasping for words which seemed to have fled her mind. “Emil...”
The blonde Svensk ducked his head in shame. His voice was flat and dead as he told her, “You kept insisting my ‘little blazes’ would stop--I didn’t want you to see how wrong you were, but now you can.” He pointed to a very faded one near his wrist. “This was my first punishment for setting something alight--my mom’s hair. Usually, it only takes one or two of these to teach a Fire-Bender not to lose control; lack of control can kill or maim so easily that the lesson must be burned into you. But I never could learn it.”
Sigrun’s retort was pithily encapsulated in a single word that expressed her feelings towards the Svensk and their teaching methods. Then she added for good measure, “Then why did your little ‘incidents’ drop to one or two a day over the last month?”
Emil shrugged. Still with that dead, hopeless tone in his voice, he said, “You’ve all been so nice to me, and I haven’t deserved it in the least...”
The moon rose to the sight of Sigrun holding a sobbing Emil.
*
The Death-Shades surrounded the camp, but no one stirred save Tuuri. Though she tried to rouse the others, they lay where they were, as though already drained by the hungry hordes that steadily approached them.
There was nowhere to run, and no one else who could fight. Tuuri was on her own.
Just before the lead ghost would have entered the vehicle, it happened. The last of Tuuri’s restraint snapped. She could not let this happen.
Her eyes shining blue, Tuuri announced, “Leave now. There is only terror for you here.”
“Halt and heed me, Fiendish Phantoms
Hollow husks of horrid hunger
Unto us now come unwelcome
Sink into my spell, you spirits!
“Can you feel the fear awaken?
Long-held lust yet lose its luster?
Now at last has passed your longing
Hounded down by mounting terror!
“Feed? No, flee, indeed, you evils!
Nevermore henceforth to hound us!”
Before the last syllable had finished echoing into the night, the Death-Shades had flown, mashing into each other in their haste to escape the sudden terror that had overtaken them. Out of the world of flesh they fled and back to their own realm of spirits, pausing only briefly to let their go-between know that their deal with him was off, now and forever.
“We knew you could do it.” Tuuri turned in surprise at the voice...
