The Flames: Book 2 of the Feud Trilogy
Page 1
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Volteria
PART ONE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty- Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
PART TWO
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
A SPECIAL NOTE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CONNECT WITH KYLE
OTHER BOOKS BY KYLE PRUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Copyright
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. For information regarding permission, please write to us at kyleprue@kyleprue.com
Copyright © 2017 Kyle Prue
All rights reserved.
Cartwright Publishing, Naples, Florida
Electronic ISBN: 978-1545348642
Cover design by Ashley Ruggirello www.CardboardMonet.com
Interior formatting by Ashley Ruggirello www.CardboardMonet.com
Library of Congress Control Number:
The Flames / Kyle Prue
Printed in the U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Dedication
For David and Courtney
Now that it’s dedicated to you, you have to read it.
Volteria
PART ONE
"Man is a collection of base animal urges. To act on them and experience sinful pleasure would be morally no different than taking a breath."
- Thomas Hobbes
Chapter One
VOLTERIA
NEIL VAPROS
In just six months Neil had all but forgotten the feeling of sleeping soundly. He didn’t remember what it felt like to walk a crowded street, or attend a party, or even make eye contact with a stranger without panicking. This is how it must always be for escapees on the run, he supposed. For fugitives, life wasn’t a march; it was a sprint from cover to cover, where terror squeezed your lungs and held you by the throat. Neil dreamed of a day when these feelings would be a distant memory. In that coveted future he could awake lazily, instead of in a cold sweat, gripping the sheets in terror.
Somehow, facing his enemy head on didn’t cause Neil the same terror. It ignited a fire within him. It felt nice to hunt for once instead of being hunted. He stood at the top of a ravine with his back to the glowing moon above him and waited in silence. Every once in a while he lit a flame in his hand and watched it dance in the wind. It wouldn’t go out if he concentrated on feeding it with a constant stream of energy. Expelling flames was a lot like exhaling. He could push the fire out of his hands all at once in a giant gasp, or he could set the flames out in a less powerful stream, little by little.
Neil could see the carriage miles away on the horizon, and his eyes narrowed. This mission was an intricate one, and Neil felt his pulse quicken as he thought of how complicated the situation could become. He needed the Imperial Order from within the carriage, and no one could know he’d taken it. At least those were his brother Rhys’ instructions. While he watched the convoy of Imperial soldiers roll through the ravine, Neil was once again struck by how gorgeous the fields of Volteria looked in the light of the far- off rising sun. Months ago he’d been living in a giant walled city, Altryon, with no scenery to speak of. Now, outside of those walls, he was greeted by endless stretches of colorful landscape. It was breath taking.
Neil could now hear the soldiers’ voices. Their conversation echoed up the walls of the ravine. “Okay, fine,” one guard huffed. “Maybe I couldn’t win a fight with Darius Taurlum, but I’d snap Neil Vapros in half, no problem. Vapros are known for being easy to break.”
Neil’s ears perked up. Apparently he was the subject of a discussion. Now that he could see the convoy clearly, he formulated a plan. There was a driver and a few guards on each side of the carriage, sitting ducks in this ravine.
Once the battalion of soldiers was beneath him, he materialized to the carriage roof. Luckily the ancient Vapros ability of teleporting was mostly silent. The wooden roof strained slightly under his boots, and he hoped that no one on the sides of the carriage would notice. He grabbed the driver and materialized back to the top of the ravine. Normal people weren’t used to materializing, and often it disoriented them for full minutes at a time. It was a new and frightening experience to feel your matter disassemble and then reassemble somewhere else. The driver tried to stand, but he fell to the ground and vomited instead.
The horses, no longer being whipped, stopped in the center of the ravine. The soldiers fanned out, looking for their coachman. Neil waited until they were out of each other’s sight lines for his next strike. He materialized down and back up again four or five times until no soldiers remained in the ravine.
Neil pulled the last one up with a bit of satisfaction. “Is this the part when you snap me in half?” he asked.
The soldier didn’t respond. He was too busy emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground.
Neil appeared in front of the carriage by the horses. He patted
one gently on the neck and walked to the carriage door. It only took him a few seconds to find what he needed. General Carlin’s wax seal was easily recognizable among all the common documents. Neil pocketed the Imperial order and closed the carriage door.
He heard the blade slicing through the air just in time to dodge it. He threw himself backwards and the soldier’s sword embedded itself in the carriage. Neil struck with a fireball that knocked him off of his feet. The soldier tried to stand, but Neil’s hand began to glow again and that deterred him. The soldier glared at him. “We’re gonna find you and your little friends. The Emperor won’t rest until your heads are on a pike.”
“No need. The revolution will find him first.” It took Neil a moment to decide whether or not to say the next part. “Free Volteria!”
Neil and his friends hadn’t officially joined the revolution, but he knew their battle cry well. He’d heard it whispered enough times. The soldier pulled a small vial from his coat pocket and popped off the cork with one hand. “Long live Saewulf and long live the Emperor.”
Neil materialized in front of him and seized the poison before the soldier could swallow it. He materialized back to the doors. “Those are some choice last words. But let me make something clear: saying ‘long live Saewulf’ on your way out is pretty foolish. They’re probably still scraping bits of him off the walls of the Imperial Gate.”
The soldier leapt forward faster than Neil had anticipated and his sword stretched up towards Neil’s head. The soldier only managed to nick his neck before Neil could launch another fireball into his chest. Neil regretted risking his life for a conversation with the guard. He also regretted not counting the soldiers more carefully before starting his mission. That mistake could have been fatal.
The soldier frantically rolled on the ground, desperately trying to extinguish his flaming torso. “Give up,” Neil commanded. “Keep pushing us and we’ll abandon our aversion to killing.”
He drove his heel straight into the soldier’s nose and heard the telltale crack. Neil materialized down the road in the direction of the Golden Mug as quickly as possible. He’d taken his time with the guards and would have to move quickly to get back by dawn. He couldn’t resist opening the letter as he walked, but reading it didn’t ease his panicked nature. He shoved it back into his pocket.
As Neil continuously dematerialized and rematerialized farther down the road, he fell into a mindless rhythm on the long trek back to his hideaway. It seemed impossible that it had only been six months since the Emperor had sent his troops that fateful night, attacking the homes of the three most powerful families in Altryon. Even the Taurlum with their skin of steel and superior strength, and the Celerius with their lightening speed, had fallen to the same fate as the mighty Vapros: all the family members were either killed or imprisoned. Except Neil and his friends. Neil half smiled at the thought of calling Lilly Celerius and Darius Taurlum his friends. Months ago he could have been commanded to assassinate either of them at a moment’s notice.
Every day the Empire drew closer, or it just barely passed over them, and every day Neil’s resolve to fight weakened slightly. He grew a little wearier. As he bolted up the final path to his secret home, out of breath and over excited, he thought about the future once more. Being on the run had taken its toll. All he wanted was a life away from the fear and worry of being a fugitive. But if something was going to happen, it had to happen soon. He was too tired to slip through the Emperor’s long cold fingers forever.
Neil learned to walk silently long ago. When he and his siblings were little they were given a training exercise that made them light-footed. The goal was to descend a set of stairs into the training room of the Vapros bunker without their father, Sir Vapros, hearing them. If he heard the slightest noise, he would turn and fire a bolt with a metal ball on the tip. The arrow always hurt, and sometimes even sprained body parts or fractured bones. Neil still had a small scar on one of his hipbones where he had been struck one afternoon.
Sneaking into the Golden Mug didn’t prove to be a problem. He drew a small key from his coat and pushed it into the lock silently. It clicked open and Neil entered the bare bar. In the dark he wandered past the tables and chairs and into the kitchen. He knew the Golden Mug would be open for business in a few hours. He also knew not to touch any surfaces in the bar. It was a mad house during business days and he was sure that sticky, dried alcohol covered every surface even after its cursory nightly cleaning.
Once at the back of the kitchen, he pulled open the latch and materialized into the pitch-black attic. Here were the secret rooms he and his companions had made their temporary home. Neil could see that the only visible light was came from underneath his door. He opened it and sidled past his younger brother. “We’re gonna run out of oil.”
Rhys was squinting at a book that was nearly his size. “I guess you’ll just have to be our new light source then.” He gestured vaguely at Neil’s hands.
“It worked.” Neil let his coat fall to the floor and he into his miniscule bed. “I got it.”
“What did it say?”
“The Empire is sending their men in waves. They’re redirecting their efforts toward maintaining their hold on Brightbow. The majority of the Imperial force is officially heading west. Now we just have to look out for random patrols and wandering squadrons.”
Rhys exhaled in relief and sat up. “I suppose we’re in the clear temporarily. No one saw you, did they?”
Neil was silent for a moment. “They did.”
“I asked you to be careful.”
“I was. You try taking on an entire convoy of soldiers on your own.”
Rhys glanced up from his bed. “ You have a cut.”
“What?” Neil asked. “Oh, right. This thing.”
“Were you being cocky again?” Rhys asked with genuine concern in his voice.
“What? No,” Neil said, “When have I been cocky? I was all business. I just miscounted the number of men, that’s all.”
Rhys peered at him through the dark. Neil peered back. “Why don’t you ever use your head?” Rhys asked.
Neil wanted to be mad, but it actually sounded like a legitimate question. Rhys’s words were completely free of judgment. “Why are you more of a parent than Dad ever was?”
“This just looks like a long road ahead. Little cuts add up.”
“Afraid I’ll be less pretty by the end of this?” Neil asked.
“No. I’m sure you’ll be a very pretty corpse,” Rhys said and picked his giant book back up.
Neil pulled out his pillow and beat on it to give it a little fluff. Rhys was definitely an old worried parent trapped in a fifteen year-old’s body. “I’m not going anywhere, kid. Get used to worrying about me.”
“I’m used to it,” Rhys said quietly.
Chapter Two
THE GOLDEN MUG
NEIL VAPROS
Neil woke to someone’s hand on his shoulder. He whipped his knife out from under his pillow and waved it wildly. “Calm down!” Rhys whispered urgently, materializing back a few feet. “I just came to wake you up!”
Neil blinked sleepily up at his brother. “Sorry,” he said, stowing the knife and rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Sun went down a few hours ago. We can come out now.” Rhys headed toward the door. “And hurry,” he groaned over his shoulder. “Josephine says it’s haircut night.”
Neil smiled. Josephine was the closest thing to a mother he ever had. Years of singlehandedly running this bar had left her rough and coarse, but there was a kindness in her eyes that made Neil feel as if for the first time in his life, he was unconditionally loved. When he and his fellow fugitives had knocked on her door one night, begging for shelter from pursuing soldiers, she had let them hide in a few secret rooms in her attic, no questions asked. For months now she had kept them well fed and well hidden, and if all she asked for in exchange was help cleaning up after hours and to let her give them haircuts once in awhile, well, Neil
could think of worse ways to live. “I can’t wait to see her cut Darius’s hair,” he said enthusiastically as he followed Rhys out of their tiny bedroom.
Rhys frowned. “I hope he doesn’t throw another tantrum.”
Darius, Lilly, and Rebecca had gathered in a clump at the top of the stairs. “What’s the holdup?” Neil asked.
“Can’t go down yet,” Lilly said. “There might still be people.”
“Oh, come on,” Neil rolled his eyes. “The place must have closed an hour ago. We’re fine.”
Rebecca shook her head and tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “I was down there helping Josephine close up, and there were still some soldiers,” she whispered. “They’re probably gone, but I don’t want to risk it.”
“Soldiers?” Neil pushed a hand through his hair. “Were they searching? Or just drinking?”
Rebecca offered him a smile he could barely make out through the dimness. “They were too drunk to walk straight. I doubt they were looking for a fight.”
Next to her, Darius squirmed restlessly and let out a little moan. “Can we go?” he whined. “I want to go!”
Rhys patted his friend’s shoulder. “Be patient,” he said calmly.
“Why are you so eager anyway?” Lilly snapped. “You hate getting your hair cut.”
Darius kept his eyes fixed on the bottom of the stairs. “I just don’t like waiting. The suspense kills me.” He turned to Rebecca. “Go check again.”
Rebecca wrapped her hand around the banister and moved carefully down the stairs. Putting her finger against her lips, she got down on her stomach and slowly lowered the hatch in the floor. She only left it open a few inches, but light flooded into the dark attic space, making her squint. Neil watched her peer through the crack and scan the kitchen below before letting the trap door fall open all the way. “All clear,” she announced, and then dove out of the way as Darius charged down the stairs and jumped through the hatch.