The Spirit Rebellion(119)

“Mellinor,” Miranda whispered. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I’m not sure,” the glowing water answered. “There’s no Enslavement, but what kind of river doesn’t respond to a wizard with a blazing open spirit standing at its heart?”

“Maybe it’s shy?” Eli offered.

“Or maybe it’s under a binding we can’t feel.” Miranda stepped forward until she was at the very edge of Mellinor’s bubble. She hated doing this. Not only did it feel like a vaguely abusive display, it was unspeakably rude. Still, they were on a strict timetable, and the river certainly wasn’t going to cooperate on its own.

“River Fellbro!” she cried, pouring the weight of her spirit into the words until they buzzed with power. The water around them hitched as her voice struck it, and for a moment, the river was still. Then, as though nothing had happened, the water began flowing again, darker and murkier than ever. Miranda, panting from the power she’d put into her call, looked around in confusion. She’d thought for sure even a Great Spirit wouldn’t ignore something like that.

She was gathering herself for another try when Eli’s hand brushed her shoulder. She looked at him, startled and scowling, but he just pointed at a spot in the water behind where she was standing. There, in the clouds of swirling silt, was a face. It was large, about as wide as Miranda was tall. Its features were murky, shifting in and out as the water flowed, and it did not look pleased.

The dark, silted eyes roved over them as a muddy, brown mouth opened. “Go away.”

Its voice was like a wet slap against their ears, but Miranda reached out with her spirit, catching the river as it tried to fade. “We will not,” she said firmly. “Great Spirit Fellbro, I come before you as a representative for all the spirits of Gaol currently under the thumb of Edward di Fellbro, Duke of Gaol. It is the Great Spirit’s duty to protect those in its charge, yet your spirits live in fear and slavish obedience because their Great Spirit will not stand up for them. I feel no Enslavement on you, no madness. Why, then, do you ignore your duty?”

The silted face glowered and turned away. “How easy it is for you to talk,” it grumbled, “coming here at the end of things. We’re the ones who have to live with the duke day in and day out.” The river looked at her, and Miranda shuddered as the weight of years pressed against her through his gaze. “There are worse things than being Enslaved.”

“I don’t think you know what that means,” Mellinor growled, his water flashing brilliant blue. But Miranda raised her hand.

“What kind of threat could the duke use,” she said softly, “to make you abandon your duty?”

“All kinds,” the river said. “He is a powerful man with all of humanity’s destructive nature at his aid. He’s threatened to dam me up, pollute my water, reroute my flow to another river, the worst kind of things you can think of. With all that, Enslavement seems kind of superfluous, don’t you think?”

“So you abandoned your spirits?” Mellinor roared. “All to save yourself?”

“Not forever!” the river roared back. “Judge all you want, but you never lived with the duke. We have to, and we suffer every day for it. Our only consolation is that, awful as he is, the duke is only human. He’ll die sooner or later, and then we’ll be free. But for now, we do as he says, all of us, even me, because no humiliation, no suffering he puts us through is worse than what he would do to us if we disobeyed.”

Miranda opened her mouth to answer, and so did Eli, but it was Mellinor who spoke first, his water almost boiling with rage.

“You rivers,” he sneered. “Always flowing downhill, always taking the easy way out. You let him walk all over you just because he won’t live forever?”

“Don’t talk so mighty, lost sea,” the river rumbled, sending ripples through their bubble. “What right do you have to judge us? It’s not like you’re so pure. I know you, Mellinor. We’ve all heard of your failure, the sea defeated by a wizard. Rage all you want, but I had no mind to follow your path into madness. A few years of shame is nothing compared to hundreds trapped under a dead wizard’s thumb. I just did what you should have done, and I have kept my lands.”

“Then your lands are poorer for it,” Mellinor rumbled, his water spinning faster and faster, “saddled with such a coward!”

“Live a year in Gaol and you’d understand!” Fellbro shouted. “I only did what I needed to survive!”

“Mellinor!” Miranda said sharply. “Enough! This isn’t—”