Infinite

21 NIGHTS

WE WEREN’T GOING to make it back to Heart in time.

A snowstorm smothered the world with white powder and wind, and though we trudged through it whenever possible, we had only twelve days before Soul Night. We’d have to hike extra, but even that wouldn’t be enough.

Twelve days.

It was well after dark when we stopped to set up camp. “I wish I’d been able to test the temple key on the prison.” I grabbed my food sack as sylph darted into the woods to hunt.

Whit looked suspicious as he and Stef put the tent together by lantern light. “Why?”

Stef let out a breathy chuckle. “Scientific curiosity. She gets it from Menehem.”

“I like to think I get it from being me.” I put no bite into my words, but I met her eyes. She needed to know I was serious. “Curiosity is just part of who I am. Like music.”

“All right.” She flashed a smile, but it was awkward and vanished quickly. Our relationship hadn’t recovered, not wholly. They talked to me now, and every night Sam moved his sleeping bag closer to mine, but even the most minor disagreement strained conversations.

“I just wonder about things. The other towers have all fallen into ruin without anyone living inside them. Janan is the only thing keeping the one in Heart intact. But it seems like if phoenixes made the towers, they should last forever, right?”

Stef shrugged. “Perhaps they would have stayed forever, had the sylph not been released.” She bent and tied the last of the walls to the tent. “Better go pick up our dinner. I’ll be ready to cook soon.”

At her dismissal, I hunched my shoulders and followed Cris into the forest, the beam of my flashlight illuminating the snowy world. By now, the other sylph had probably caught plenty of food, so I put in my SED earpieces and flipped to Phoenix Symphony.

I’d listened to the entire symphony a dozen times over the last week, and discussed it with Sam, but so far we’d heard nothing unusual in the music. The four of us even retranslated the passage I’d found about the weapon, but while that was interesting, it was not particularly descriptive of the weapon’s nature or purpose.

Our latest translation was Dragons fear the instrument of life and death. Or the song of the phoenix.

I grabbed a burned rabbit and dropped it in my bag, humming the flutes’ melody of the symphony’s fourth movement. It was a faster-paced, majestic-sounding movement, one of my favorite parts, which always made my heart swell up with fierce joy.

A hand closed over my shoulder. I jumped and spun to find Sam watching me with an amused smile. A lantern swung by his side. “Are you honestly not tired of that yet?”

I shrugged and pulled out my earpieces. “I don’t anticipate ever being tired of it, but if that happens, I’ll let you know.”

“I do have other pieces. Some better than that one.”

“This is the first piece of your music I ever heard. It will always be my favorite.” I paused by a fallen tree, whose death had given way to new life. Smaller plants huddled in the ground, waiting for springtime. “Besides, if there’s a clue about the phoenix song, surely it’s in the song you named after them.”

“Songs have words,” he said for the thousandth time as he placed his lantern on the ground. Shadows jumped up around his face as he looked at me askance, a weird little smile tugging at his mouth. “You say that just because it bugs me, don’t you?”

I grinned and admitted nothing. “Then what about birdsong? Or songbirds? Are they singing words?”

“Who knows? Maybe birds have a language, too, like centaurs.” He said it teasingly, but when I straightened and our eyes met, challenge snapped between us.

“Could it be something small?” I rested the sack on the ground and tried to shape my thoughts into words. “We were thinking it might be a whole song. The whole symphony. A whole sonata. But what if it’s something small, something so tiny you don’t even realize it’s there?”

“Because birdsong is usually short, or a repeated series of notes.”

“And phoenixes are birds.”

Sam seized my upper arms, pulled me close, and kissed me so hard I’d have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding me up. I gasped and shifted my weight closer to him, but just as I started to kiss him back, my SED chimed with a call.

We pulled apart as I fumbled for my SED, both of us eyeing each other like we weren’t sure kissing was okay again. We hadn’t yet, not since my birthday, like we were both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Now he had.

My SED chimed again. I answered, breathless. “Sarit?”

“Oh finally.” Relief filled her tone. “You’re there.”

I checked the signal strength. “Barely,” I said, handing one earpiece to Sam so he could listen, too. “I didn’t think we were yet. Are you okay? What’s going on?” It was later than she usually called. Much later.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. There was just—” She hesitated. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

I met Sam’s eyes, dropped my gaze to his lips. He was standing so close still, so that we could both talk to Sarit. “I’ll believe anything right now,” I whispered.

“Three dragons just flew over Heart.”

“Just now?” Sam looked up, like he’d be able to see them from where we stood.

“Is that Sam?” Hope tinged Sarit’s voice. “I guess you’re talking again. That’s good. Yes, just now. They circled the temple and then flew north again.”

“They didn’t attack?” I could hardly believe what she was saying.

“They didn’t. They were in and out so quickly there was no time to send up the air drones.” She sounded like she couldn’t believe it, either. “Have you seen any dragons?”

I made something between a squeak and a hysterical laugh.

“Ana has.” Sam’s voice was low and serious. “But it’s more than we can explain right now. We might be on the verge of a discovery. We’ll let you know if it comes to anything.”

“We’re on our way back to Menehem’s lab,” I added. “Then back to Heart, so we’ll need to start thinking about ways to get into the city without Deborl noticing.” We’d have to run to get there. I didn’t see how we could make it, but we’d keep trying. We all agreed on that.

“Oh, guys. Deborl is worse than ever. People are being interrogated about where you are. No one knows, of course, but that doesn’t stop Deborl from asking. His people have wholly taken over the guard. Everyone is recruited for it. If they don’t help with his cage, they’re in the guard now. He keeps talking about his friend Merton, too, and where they all went. I don’t know what Deborl sent Merton after, but I guess it wasn’t you. Whatever it is, Deborl makes it sound like it’s even more important than you.”

“I wish we knew what he’s after. What else is going on?” The Heart I knew seemed so long ago.

“The cage is almost complete. The bars are electrified, and the whole thing is set off the ground. I’ll send a picture.” She paused to take a breath, and my SED beeped as the image arrived. “There have been earthquakes every day. Animals are leaving the forest around Heart, and Midrange Lake is nearly dry. It’s falling apart. All of it.”

I closed my eyes against the dark woods, my sylph all around. It seemed wrong to stand in such peace while everything at home was in ruins.

“The obelisks in Templedark Memorial have collapsed. Deborl says it’s a sign that Janan is punishing us.” She choked on a sob. “I wish you were here. I miss you. And I miss Armande. I’m going crazy by myself.”

“I’m sorry, Sarit.” Sam spoke with her a moment more, calming her. Then he said, “We’ll be home soon,” and clicked off.

I picked up the sack of dinner. “The others will be wondering where we are.”

He seemed reluctant to move away from me, but he nodded. “You’re right, and Stef gets cranky when she’s hungry. I’ll help you with the rest.”

We worked together without speaking, but I watched him from the corner of my eye. When he caught me, he offered a shy, hopeful smile. Relief warmed through me.

“Birdsong, hmm?” He shoved a strand of hair off his face, tucked it into his hood. “That gives us a lot to think about.”

“We’ll have to listen to all of your music to figure out if there’s anything you do over and over.”

“Like what?”

“Like rhythms or harmonies that appear in your music a lot.” I shook my head. “Or something else, even. I suppose you’d have noticed already if you used the same theme in multiple pieces.”

He frowned. “I like to think I would have.”

“Maybe it’s something in your preferred instruments. Or even just the way you play music, and nothing to do with what you’ve composed.”

“This could take years.”

Which we didn’t have. “But if dragons are afraid of it, it’s worth understanding.”

Sam nodded and lifted the bag. “We’re finished here.”

It was almost midnight by the time we ducked inside the tent. Stef had water boiling, and Whit was paging through the temple books and my notes translating different sections.

“Took you long enough,” Stef muttered.

“Sarit called.” Sam crouched next to her, and while they skinned the rabbits, he told her about the conversation with Sarit.

“Ana.” Whit looked up from his reading. “Come here a moment.”

I collapsed next to Whit and the lantern, all my muscles aching. He flipped pages, back to the beginning of a notebook.

“I’ve been thinking about Menehem’s research and your follow-up notes.” He placed the notebook in front of me and took out one of Menehem’s diaries. “I see here you were concerned about both the size and the delivery of the dose of poison to use against Janan.” He pointed at one of my notes. “So I went to see what Menehem had done during Templedark.”

“He had six of these big canisters of aerosol. We have at least twenty, and the machine has been on since we left, making more. We could have twenty-five.”

“You said the sylph gained tolerance exponentially, so considering the size of the Templedark dose, we might have enough to affect Janan for a little while. Ten minutes? Twenty?”

I didn’t argue with his optimism.

“But in these notes, you’re also concerned about the delivery. If I’m reading right, Menehem had his canisters set up on a timer. They were positioned around the temple, and when he was ready, he remotely opened the canisters in order to prolong the exposure. To help compensate for the tolerance, he did one, then two, then the final three.”

“That’s right.”

“I think you were right to worry about an effective delivery. Will we be able to do anything like Menehem? We have twenty canisters. How can we release the poison so it has an immediate effect?”

“All at once.”

“But then,” Stef said, looking over as she finished dropping meat into the pot of water, “the effect wouldn’t last. We’d get maybe a couple of minutes.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have enough to make it last. That’s what we’ve been talking about. There’s simply not enough.”

As he finished washing his hands, Sam looked down and didn’t say anything. He’d been the one to turn on the machine, hoping it would help.

“It’s like a knife.” My words drew Sam’s gaze again. “It may not be enough to destroy Janan, but if we time the poison to release at the right moment, it might hurt him. It might be just enough to give us time.”

“To do what?” Stef’s voice deepened and she crossed her arms, but it was because of fear, not anger. Soul Night was so close, and people we loved were dying. Forever. She was as afraid as I was. “If the temple is dark when Soul Night begins, is that it for Janan? Will he just go away then?”

That seemed unlikely. But would he be able to ascend? Maybe not. That might simply delay him, or everything might go back to how it was before. Newsouls included.

No, I had to find a permanent solution.

“There is one thing we can do that Menehem couldn’t.” I stood and fumbled through Sam’s coat pockets until the corners of a box bumped my fingers.

“It’s true,” Sam muttered. “I’d never allow Menehem to poke around my clothes. What are you looking for?”

“This.” I unzipped an interior pocket and removed the temple key. “Both times Menehem poisoned Janan, he did it from outside the temple. But we can release the poison inside.”

“Will that make a difference?” Whit lifted his eyebrows.

“Maybe it will buy us one or two minutes more than if we used it outside.” I started to put the key back into Sam’s coat, but he caught my wrist and pressed the box against my chest.

“You keep it. I meant to give it back to you, anyway.”

With a somber nod, I stashed the key inside my coat.

“If we use it inside the temple,” Sam asked, “will we be able to get out?”

I dropped my voice. “I don’t know.” Again, I wished we’d had time to test the key on the tower in the north. Would the temple still respond to the key if Janan were unconscious?

Sam touched my hand. Snow began to fall, tapping the tent in a soft rhythm until all outside sound was smothered. “We did have a small breakthrough about the phoenix song,” he told the others.

“Maybe.” I didn’t want to get their hopes up in case we were wrong. “We still need more information. I keep hoping the books will help.” I glanced at the pile, but sleepiness tugged at the back of my thoughts. The books hadn’t provided any new information during the time we’d been snowbound, and it was unlikely we’d find anything else before Soul Night.

While we ate, Sam repeated our conversation about birdsong and our guesses about the nature of the phoenix song.

“What’s the next step?” Whit asked.

“I’m going to listen to as much of Sam’s music as possible,” I said.

“Oh no.” Whit clutched his chest. “How will you manage?”

I grinned. “I know, but to save the world, I’ll do it. I’m also going to look at the scores on my SED if I can figure out how to do that and walk at the same time. I want to make note about any trends in style or instrumentation. All trends, really.”

“So you’ll need a volunteer to carry you back to Range, hmm?” Whit glanced at Sam. “You’re looking a little scrawny lately. I’ll carry Ana.”

Sam snorted. “If anyone’s carrying Ana—”

“I’m walking.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll manage just fine. Thank you.”

“I’m not burdened with youthful pride.” Stef leaned back on her sleeping bag. “Feel free to carry me.”

Whit chuckled and winked at me. “No, Stef, you may not have youthful pride anymore, but you certainly have every other kind of pride there is.”

She threw a mitten at his head and for a few minutes, smiles and laughter filled our tent.

When the lanterns dimmed and Stef and Whit climbed into their sleeping bags, Sam crouched beside me.

“Ana, I was hoping . . .”

I bit my lip and nodded. “I was hoping, too.”

The tension in his shoulders melted like ice in spring, and he arranged our sleeping bags so they were on top of each other, an extra layer of softness underneath as we both shimmied into the top one. I pressed my back against his chest.

“Are you comfortable?” His body curled around mine, solid and warm, and our legs tangled together. Our fingers knotted, his hand over both of mine.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, the way he tried not to breathe too hard, like breathing might ruin the moment. “Sam.”

He kissed the back of my head.

“Sam.” I wanted to turn around and press my body against his. I wanted to feel his skin beneath his clothes and push my fingers through his hair. I wanted things I could only imagine. But not unless we were alone. “I’m sorry about these last weeks. About the secrets I kept. About my wild ideas. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“I know.” He squeezed my hands, and our knuckles dug against my chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. I got so lost in my own guilt and misery that I forgot what’s most important.”

“What’s that?”

“Living. Loving. Making the most of our time together, no matter how short or long it will be.”

I tugged my hands from his and pressed his palm flat against my heartbeat. After he’d saved me from Rangedge Lake, I’d awakened to find him like this, holding me close, warming me, though he didn’t know who I was. What I was.

Now I traced the back of his splayed-out hand, feeling bones and knuckles and muscle, and when I released his hand, he didn’t ask if I was sure. We both knew I was, or I wouldn’t have invited him. He lingered over my heart a moment longer, breathing hard into my hair, and then slid his hand over the curves of my body, awakening in me a deep and wonderful ache.

Heavy layers of cloth muffled our breathing, his whispered love. We were cautious and quiet, but fires ignited within me and I’d never wished so hard that we were alone. I wanted to turn over and map out the lines of muscle on his body, too, but if I did, I never think about sleep again. And Sam seemed content—more than content—drawing patterns on my stomach, smoothing his palm over the slope of my hip, and turning my body into liquid. I’d never wanted anything so much as I wanted him to keep touching me.

When his movements shifted from sensual to sweet, and his breath turned soft and even behind me, warm on the back of my neck, I finally began to drift. Though I wasn’t nearly ready to stop, sleep dragged at me, and this wasn’t our only night. There were still a few more nights to fall asleep with his hands on my bare skin.

Halfway into a dream of sitting at the piano with Sam, thunder snapped me awake.

And a shrill ringing surged through my head.