Page 12 of A Sword of Ice
8
The Good, the Bad, and Mana
Iona had learned early in life to trust. In the good, the bad, and above all, in Mana. Mana was all-knowing and all-seeing. It wasn’t just the elements that made up Tir na Faie, or the threads that connected Fae lives together. It was more than that. It was a mother’s love, a father’s strength. It was instinct. It was a gut feeling. Signs that something was on the horizon.
For a long time, that instinct had been missing whenever she’d thought of leaving Porir. She could have survived without money eventually, so that wasn’t the only thing holding her back. It was that every time she strayed away from the city it never felt like the right moment. Even when her brain screamed at her to move, she could never bring herself to do so, because Mana had not yet allowed it.
The next day, all Iona could feel as she went through the motions was dread. A part of her said she should have stayed within the safety of her own rented room, but a bigger part hadn’t wanted to not see her familiar. So she got up, despite the niggling at the back of her head, and she got dressed.
She avoided staring at the spot where Rey once sat, the wood still stained black with ash, his joint still pursed as if waiting for his return. Iona still hadn’t heard from Belinda at all, and she didn’t ask, out of fear of hearing the truth she already knew, deep in her gut.
She was already outside when she first heard the sounds.
Flashbacks pierced through her mind. A place that was dangerous to venture but hauled her back with merciless claws, until she was no longer on the streets of Porir but somewhere else.
On a sandy beach, clouds roiling dangerously overhead, and the sharp taste of ashwood on her tongue. The ground rumbled beneath her bare feet like an earthquake that could split the ground in two. She found purchase, but her legs were too weak to hold her up. The approaching feel of iron weakened her, and the ash grew denser in the air. She nearly choked on the taste of it but held back her gags.
She breathed through her nose and watched, miles down where sandy beach met mountains being invaded with iron.
Hoards of humans came. Their steeled boots banging against the ground like the drum beats of a war about to decimate. Their weapons gleamed against whatever light was left in the sky, whatever rays weren’t blocked off by their darkening smoke.
Iona would remember that sound forever. The first sounds of the marching. Followed by the screams of the dying. It was all like a grotesque song, a deathly wail, a promise of the end.
And the end came that day. It came with blood, ash, and marching.
Iona sucked in a breath, her eyes blinking so rapidly, she felt the sharp points of her eyelashes graze against the tops of her cheekbones like the tip of a knife. Her fingers cramped from how hard she was hitting her thighs. She looked around the street. Humans and Fae were coming out of their homes to look down at what the commotion was.
Iona didn’t need to look to know.
She recognized that rumbling as clearly as she recognized her own soul.
Soldiers.
They were coming.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise since the wanted posters had all gone up. Someone had put them there and now they were back. Human soldiers by the dozens, if the rumbling was any indication, coming to put their order in Porir.
Iona’s feet slid as she broke out into a run, pushing past the gathering crowd and making her way into the shadows. She wasn’t sure if she screamed at them to get back inside, to get out of sight, but by the time she made it to the zoo, her throat ached raw as if she’d been shouting. Her chest heaved, and her lungs were desperate for breath.
She doubled over, placing her palms against her thighs as she breathed in and out.
She should have gone home, but she couldn’t ignore her familiar.
Iona pressed herself against a wall, dropping her head back to look up at the gray-white sky. Snow drifted down against her cheeks like ash, and when she breathed, her breath clouded in front of her face.
The soldiers were here. In Porir. It wasn’t that big of a city, but they’d sent quite a few. Which meant not all of them would probably be bribed like the ones already established in the city for years.
But Iona didn’t want to get ahead of herself. She had no idea what was going on and panicking wasn’t going to help. Maybe they were just passing through and weren’t here to set order to the city at all. Maybe it hadn’t been soldiers at all but a parade or a traveling circus of some sort. She took a breath and willed her nerves to calm as she made a plan. She would go about her day as normal until she found out more.
If things appeared dire or if the soldiers stayed, then she would go to George. She had some money saved to pay for a new life, one she would have to fit her familiar into. As far as signs from Mana went, this one seemed to ring loud and clear.
That decided, she went about her day, feeling like Mana was trying to tell her something all throughout. She didn’t try to ignore the sensation of prickles along her skin or the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She just couldn’t quite place what the reasoning for the sensation was. What she should be wary of in the first place. The possibility of oncoming soldiers—if that indeed was what she’d heard—or something darker?
She used a rag to wipe methodically on the outside of her familiar’s glass dome. Her hand gripped the scrap of material tightly and scrubbed in circles until it shone. On the other side of the glass, her familiar swam beneath the pool, coming close to make faces at her before he pushed himself off with his paws and swam away, only to come back and do it over again.
Meanwhile, Iona was lost in her thoughts, wiping down the same spot until it gleamed, and she caught her reflection in it.
And, too late, the reflection of someone behind her.
