He gasps for a saving breath, his chin quivering against more tears.
Anjali ejects a sigh and stops twirling her chakram. “You never know when to lose, Kalinda.”
My instincts prickle. I back up for the trees. “Ashwin, get to the temple.”
He pivots to run, but before he takes a single step, Anjali slings a chakram at him, boosted by one of her vicious gusts. I knock Ashwin down, away from its path. The chakram whirrs off into the forest and embeds itself in a tree trunk. We scramble up, and Anjali hurls a follow-up wind at us, flinging us back.
I land hard in the snow and drop the machete. Ashwin flies into a log, hitting his head, and lies in a daze. I throw up a flame, a signal to Indah and Pons, and draw my dagger. As I stand, I notice Anjali has disappeared.
The sun has sunk, and the dusky twilight rapidly fades to dark. I scan the shadowed landscape for her. The northern winds blast, each gust stronger than the last. I cannot discern which are Anjali’s and which belong to the sky-god.
I back up toward Ashwin, and a wind whips at my ankles. I fall, dropping my dagger. Another squall lashes my back. The sting goes through my tunic to my skin. Then another strike belts me, followed by Anjali’s laugh.
She whips me again with her slicing gusts. My tunic rips, exposing my back. Another few agonizing lashes come. Welts rise on my skin. I roll over and throw repeated heatwaves to make her stop. The color of my flames starts out a lime green and steadily intensifies to emerald.
Her flaying winds peter off, and nature’s less punishing gales skim over me. Snow presses into my back and cools the pain. Where are Indah and Pons?
“Burners are supposed to be the most dangerous of us,” Anjali says, standing over me.
I reach for my dagger, but a wind pushes my arm above my head. Anjali stomps on my other arm, pinning my fire powers against the frozen ground.
“Leave us be,” I say. “Killing us will not stop Udug.”
“My father has given me everything good in my life. I do as he asks.” She leans over me and grabs my neck. “First you die and then the prince.”
The wind on my raised arm has passed. I swing it down and seize her wrist. “I’ll turn you into an ash heap first.”
“I accept that challenge.” Her powers dive inside me and squeeze my chest. She winnows my lungs, shriveling my breath and stealing my sky.
But our skin-to-skin connection goes both ways. I thread out her soul-fire, parching her. Her lips and skin dull to gray, yet she holds on.
The loss of air weakens my grip.
I. Must. Breathe.
A streak darts across my vision. Ashwin shoves Anjali off me and swings his machete at her. She lobs a wind at his weaponized arm, and it involuntarily goes over his head. While his blade is restrained, she captures his throat with her hands. Ashwin stills and shudders.
I funnel my powers into a burning ball and toss my emerald fire, now blue at the edges. Anjali’s free hand summons a wind that casts my sphere of flames into the trees.
My odd, sickly fire devours the underbrush. The northern wind picks up the embers and showers the forest with them. Sparks grow to flames that spread despite the cold.
Ashwin shoves and kicks at Anjali. He breaks free, panting, and she grabs him again. I hurl my dagger at her, burying the blade into her leg. She screams but does not release him.
I pull my second dagger, and a huge chunk of ice smashes into me. Pain bursts down my spine. I fall forward, dropping my dagger, hands deep in frost. I reach for my weapon, but flying icicles impede my path.
Behind me, Indira, a rebel Aquifier, throws her icy blades. I roll away from them, farther from my weapon. And then Indira is on me, her cold hands wrapped around my wrists. Her powers flow inside me and sing a song to my blood that entrances the rivers of my veins. She pulls, and like a tide following the moon, droplets bleed from my body.
Her powers lock me in place, like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. From the corner of my eye, I see Anjali still winnowing Ashwin. His arms turn limp, and his struggles lessen. My blood cries tears across my skin. Its irony wetness seeps into my mouth and nose. My heartbeat slows to muted thuds, and my vision dims.
Ashwin’s eyes roll back into his head. Mine start to do the same.
My inner star pierces my haze.
Indira is draining my lifeblood but also depleting the cold inside me.
I pulse my dwindling soul-fire at her, sending forth a burst of scorching heat. She tumbles off me shrieking, her robes on fire. Behind her, the forest is ablaze. Indira rolls around on the ground into the flames. The fire sweeps over her, and her shrieks and frantic movements stop.
Winded and dizzy, I climb to my knees. Flecks of blood cover my exposed skin. Dark stars sweep across my vision, blending into the sky. What did Indira do to me?
Anjali releases Ashwin, and he sags in a lifeless heap. No, Anu. No. She jerks my dagger from her thigh and tosses it, then rides a swift wind and lands in front of me. Anjali snatches my throat, and her powers crush my lungs. Having spent all my fire on Indira, I clutch the Galer’s arms with a weak, useless grip.
“I burned your father’s journals. Used them as kindling.” Anjali’s winnowing powers unfold into my limbs, siphoning out every last bit of breath. “Consider it payback for betraying my father.”
I weep inwardly for the loss of my father’s journals. I will never read his thoughts, never see my mother through his eyes. Never know them for myself.
The forest fire blazes, lighting up Anjali’s silhouette. My powers that sparked the inferno have grown wild, into nature-fire. Serpents slither in the flames.
Come to me, friends.
None heed me.
Please, I need you.
They continue their crazed overtaking of the forest. Ashwin has not moved. I will be next. Where are Indah and Pons?
I latch on to the only weapon within my reach—Udug’s cold-fire. I summon it as I would my powers. Sapphire sparks shoot from my fingers.
Anjali releases me with a shriek. I land on all fours, coughing in loose chunks of air.
Pons and Indah charge into the clearing. Both bleed from cuts on their faces. Pons aims with his blowgun and shoots three darts at Anjali in swift succession. She diverts them into the fire with well-timed gusts.
Anjali stumbles away, favoring her wounded leg. Indah stays back, the cold frustrating her powers, but Pons stalks closer. The forest fire hedges Anjali in. Pons fastens his winds into a whip and lashes at her. While I stay low, she rallies her own drafts against him.
Across the way, Ashwin has not stirred. He’s too still.