Firefrost: A Flameskin Chronicles Novel

by Camille Longley

  You did ask for that, his pyra whispered, its voice weak.

  Kelan ground his teeth.

  “You were the commanding officer, weren’t you? I took down your patrol almost single-handedly. I killed ten of your own with my arrows. Right through the heart. And I would’ve shot you, too, if Poulsen hadn’t stopped me.”

  The snow on Kelan’s body collapsed and melted. His pyra swirled in Kelan’s rage, heating his body and driving away the sting of his frozen toes and hands.

  Hunter scrambled away with his knife gripped tightly in one hand.

  I’m back, his pyra hissed. I missed you, Kelan.

  Kelan pushed through the snow and sat up. He was soaked to the bone in freezing water, but he didn’t care. He was free, and he was warm.

  Kelan crawled out of his hole as his clothes steamed and dripped water. With one quick burst of fire, the cords that bound his wrists burned and fell away. He met Hunter’s green eyes.

  “You swore you wouldn’t hurt me,” Hunter said, limping backward. “And if I’m dead you’ll be lost out here. I buried the food, and I’m the only one who knows where it is.”

  It would be easy to kill him, especially half-mad with the cold as Hunter was. A burst of flames into his haughty face. Or Kelan could do nothing and let Hunter freeze to death. The ice on Hunter’s clothes would kill him once the sun set.

  Kelan looked around. The only features in the landscape were the endless peaks and the trees. Hunter was right. Kelan had no idea where he was, and without food, he wouldn’t last long.

  “Where do you want me to build the fire?” Kelan asked, swallowing his anger. He would make Hunter pay in time. Once they reached civilization, Kelan would end him.

  Hunter’s face relaxed visibly. “In that alcove,” he said, pointing. “We’ll make camp there.”

  Kelan gazed at the peak above them. He couldn’t even tell where he had been standing when the avalanche had fallen. The whole landscape had changed. Where once there had been a valley, now there was a mountain of snow.

  “Were there any other survivors?”

  Hunter shook his head. “I searched, but . . . there’s too much snow. They’re all dead by now, I think.”

  Kelan winced. Suffocated alone in the cold snow. He had almost met that same fate.

  “And Lady Isabella?”

  “Dead.”

  Kelan pressed his lips together. At least they had accomplished their mission, even if it had cost his entire troop their lives.

  He and Hunter gathered sticks and pulled dead branches from trees. The wood was wet and frozen, but that had never hindered Kelan before. He got a roaring blaze up in a matter of minutes, and Hunter sat so close to the fire that Kelan was sure he would burn himself, but still Hunter shivered. The ice and snow on his clothes melted and drenched him.

  If Hunter was going to lead him down the mountain, Kelan had to keep him alive. And if Kelan didn’t want Hunter to stab him in his sleep, Kelan had to make himself useful.

  “I can dry your clothes,” Kelan said, trying to sound uninterested. Kelan’s own clothes had dried long ago, and his boots, too.

  “They’ll dry here by the fire,” Hunter said. His voice wasn’t slurred anymore, but his teeth still chattered.

  “Not fast enough. Not if you’re wearing them.”

  Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Fine. I’ll stay by the fire while you dry my coat.” He tossed his soaking fur coat to Kelan. “If you burn it, I’ll kill you,” he said, flashing his knife.

  Kelan frowned. “Did you mean to say, ‘Thank you’? Or are all mountain folk as civilized as you are?”

  Hunter scowled and hunched over the fire, putting his wet, gloved hands over the blaze. Kelan squeezed the coat and wrung water from it, letting the heat of his hands evaporate what water he could not wring out. It wouldn’t be perfectly dry, but it would be better than wearing it wet.

  “Now your clothes, too.”

  Hunter went rigid. “No.”

  Kelan rolled his eyes. “Then it’ll be your own fault if you freeze to death in your sleep.”

  “All right,” Hunter said slowly. “Wait on the other side of the rocks and I’ll bring them to you.”

  “I can do it right here.”

  “I said wait over there,” Hunter growled.

  “I’m still waiting for my thanks,” Kelan grumbled as he walked around to the other side of the rock outcropping. These mountain folk had an extreme sense of modesty. Kelan had heard as much, but he hadn’t believed it.

  Hunter tossed wet clothes over the rocks and into Kelan’s hands. “Throw them back over when you’re done.”

  Kelan cursed Hunter silently as he wrung water from Hunter’s socks and wool leggings and tunic. At least now Hunter wouldn’t freeze. His blood debt had been paid, and he would have no qualms killing Hunter once they reached Cassia.

  He carried an armload of mostly-dry clothes around the side of the boulder. “I’m still waiting for my gratitude.”

  Hunter stood by the fire with his back to him. He had absurdly long hair that hung down his back and his bare legs stuck out from beneath his fur coat.

  Kelan froze. His face went slack. Those weren’t men’s legs.

  Chapter 11

  Sol

  Sol whirled around. “I told you to throw them back,” she growled. She snatched her clothes out of his arms and glared at his shocked face.

  “Go wait over there,” she ordered.

  Demon saluted and disappeared behind the stone outcropping. Sol wiggled into her deliciously dry clothes, glancing every few seconds toward the rocks, but Demon didn’t reappear. She shrugged on her coat again, fully dry for the first time in hours.

  “You can come out now.” There was no point in pitching her voice low anymore. He knew.

  Demon peeked around the corner, then sauntered toward her. She scowled at him as she resettled her hat on her head. She used to hide her long hair underneath it, but there was no need for that anymore, either.

  “Why do you hide what you are?” he asked, peering at her curiously from the other side of the fire.

  “The army asked for a specific hunter, who happened to be a man. And I needed this job.”

  “But why hide it from me?”

  Sol shrugged. “I’ve been putting on this charade for weeks now. There was no reason to stop. And if we were going to travel together it would’ve been better if you thought I was a man.”

  “Better?”

  “If you even think about touching me, I’ll slit your throat.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

  Sol stomped her foot. “Don’t call me that. I’m no one’s sweetheart.”

  “Well what’s your name then? It can’t be Hunter.”

  “Sol.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Were you born on the Solstice?”

  “Winter Solstice, yes.”

  Demon smiled. “How lucky am I, to have a mountain guide blessed by the gods.”

  Sol scowled at him. It didn’t feel like a blessing to have been born on Solstice. It felt like a curse.

  The snow beneath Demon had melted, and he now reclined on a steaming horse’s blanket. The darkness and the silence of night closed in around them. How was it that they had been the only ones to survive? Why had the mountain chosen him of all people?

  “My name’s Kelan,” Demon said. “In case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Demon laughed, an irritating sound.

  “There’s a mountain village not far from here, called Baarka,” Sol said. “It’s the closest place we could get food. Depending on the conditions in the mountains, we’ll either get more supplies there and continue on, or have to stay in Baarka until the snow melts. Then I’ll take you the rest of the way to Cassia and collect a reward for turning you in.”

  “I was there with you, until the part where you turn me in and collect a reward. That’s not happening.”

  Sol pulled the emberstone manacle f
rom her coat pocket. “Put this on.”

  “Ah . . . no, thanks.”

  Sol scowled at him. “This is why I saved you.”

  “No, you saved me because you were going to freeze to death. I’ve saved your life now, too. I think that means we’re even.”

  Sol marched toward him, but he sprung up and backed away. “I should’ve left you buried in the snow,” she growled.

  “I’m glad you rescued me, but I’m still not going to put that back on.”

  Sol reached for her knife and Demon’s hands sparked with fire. She gasped and stepped back. What had she been thinking, freeing a demon and giving him back his pyra? She’d had cold sickness, she realized. Her memory was foggy even now, as she tried to remember all that had happened over the last few hours. She never would’ve set the demon free if she’d been fully cognizant.

  She would’ve preferred to freeze to death than to burn to death. She gripped the manacle, her fingers brushing the emberstone inside it. The stone was warm and tingly with the promise of power. If he attacked, it would protect her.

  But using it would betray Pa’s memory.

  “You should be more careful who you threaten, Sol,” Demon said.

  “If you kill me, you’ll never find that village.”

  “Maybe I should take my chances.”

  Sol slipped the emberstone into her pocket. No, she wouldn’t use it. She would be strong like Pa.

  “Kill me, then. That’s all demons do. Kill, and destroy.”

  She met his turquoise eyes and held his gaze. She tensed, ready to throw her dagger into his heart if he moved.

  His face fell into an easy grin. “No, I don’t think I’ll kill you yet. I’m not hungry enough, and I like my maiden hearts fresh.”

  Sol recoiled and stumbled away from him.

  He laughed. “Ashes, do you believe all the stories they tell about Flameskins?”

  She scowled at him.

  “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, and like you said, I’d be lost in the mountains without you.”

  Maybe he needed her, but she didn’t need him. She’d get along fine without Demon now that she was warm and dry, and it was dangerous to keep him alive. But now that Lady Isabella was dead, it wasn’t likely the Tokken Army would pay her for her trip to Cassia, and Ma was going to have to take on debts this winter since the Flameskins had burned their field. Sol needed money, and turning the demon in would be a good way to get it. She’d wait until they got close to Cassia, then slip the emberstone on him while he was sleeping and tie him up.

  Sol rolled out the furs for her bed and tucked the bag of food underneath her head, using it as a pillow. If Demon did try to run away, he wasn’t taking the food with him. She slid her knife underneath her pillow, in easy reach.

  “Good night, Demon.”

  Piercing cries rent the chill night air, the sound of the winter howling through the icy mountains. Demon sat upright, his eyes wide. “What was that?”

  It was a cry no one ever forgot once they had heard it. “Ice wolves. The avalanche must’ve released them.”

  Demon’s face went pale. “But I thought those were just mountain legends.”

  Sol grunted. “You don’t know anything about the Ulves.”

  She let him worry and search the trees with anxious eyes as she settled deeper into her furs.

  “Should we—?”

  “We’ll do nothing. They fear fire. They won’t come near you or our camp. We have nothing to fear from them.”

  He frowned at her, searched the slopes once more, and lay down.

  Chapter 12

  Kelan

  Kelan opened his eyes. The fire was dead beside him, and his pyra pumped heavily in his blood, beating back the cold. And there was a girl nestled against him.

  He froze and stared at her, confused and groggy and blinking away sleep. It had been a long time since he had woken up next to a girl.

  Oh. The avalanche. Sol.

  His lips quirked into a smile. She had snuggled right up next to him in her sleep. The fire was cold, and she would’ve frozen without his heat. Even now she looked cold. He studied her face, buried deep in her fur hood. She looked peaceful, pretty even. He wouldn’t have guessed her to be a murderer.

  Kelan turned carefully onto his back. What was he doing putting himself so close to her? She was the enemy. Sol had killed no less than ten of his men, shot them through with arrows. The only reason he wasn’t dead was because she had been freezing to death yesterday.

  He shivered. The snow. He never wanted to be buried like that again.

  He could kill her, but what would it prove? He’d be no different from Markus, taking life just because he could. And if Sol were dead, he’d be stranded in the mountains. When he looked at her, Kelan saw the mountain woman whose house Markus had destroyed, with children clinging to her skirts. Did Sol have children, too? It seemed unlikely any man would want to claim her. He had never met anyone so bossy. She had given more orders to the Tokken soldiers than their officer.

  Kill her. It would be easy. She deserves to die for what she’s done.

  Kelan winced as he shoved away his pyra’s voice and stood up. Sol immediately squirmed deeper into her blankets as cold air replaced the heat of Kelan’s body. He threw some logs onto the fire and used a small puff of flame to light it.

  Each time he drew on his pyra, he felt it creeping in. It was still weak from the emberstone he had worn, but it would regain its strength as they hiked, especially if Sol made him angry. Irritating him seemed to be a talent of hers.

  Sol sat up and wrapped her furs around herself. She scrunched her face at him.

  “Cold?” he asked and grinned.

  “You didn’t kill me during the night.”

  “We’re both still alive. Imagine that.”

  She scowled at him before getting out of bed and rolling up the fur blankets.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?”

  “We’ll search the snow for anything salvageable, and then we’ll start toward Baarka. That’s the town I was telling you about.”

  “Do we have any food?”

  She hesitated. “Not much.”

  He frowned. She’d been holding out on him. He went to bed hungry last night.

  She’ll starve us slowly, then take us while we’re weak. Better to burn her now.

  She opened up her bag and pulled out two strips of dried venison, one for each of them, then she emptied the bag onto her furs. Strips of meat fell out along with a cloth seal from Lady Isabella’s house, and the manacle. She divided the food into two piles.

  “There’s enough for two days for each of us,” she said, “but the walk to Baarka will take us at least four or five days.”

  “So, we’re going to be hungry.”

  “No. The horse I found yesterday might have more supplies, and if it doesn’t, we’re going to skin it and prepare some of the meat.”

  Kelan grimaced. “Eat the horse?”

  “Would you rather starve?”

  She lead him through the snow toward the horse, limping as she walked, but she stopped them at the base of the new mound the avalanche had created. She crouched on the ground, inspecting tracks in the icy snow.

  “Ice wolves,” she said, pointing.

  Kelan knelt next to her and peered at the paw print. “I thought it’d be bigger.”

  “They’re plenty big. Trust me.”

  Kelan met her eyes. “You’ve seen them?”

  She nodded and bit her lip. “Ashes. I should’ve gotten the horse out yesterday. I was just so blasted tired. They must’ve gotten to it.”

  Sol jumped up and they followed the tracks through the snow. There was little left of the horse. A few bones, shreds of its mane and bridle. No blood, as the horse must’ve already been frozen when the wolves had found it.

  Sol’s shoulders slumped. “I’m such a fool. That was our best source of food, and I left it unprotected.”

  Kelan was almost glad. He wasn�
�t going to eat horse meat. He wasn’t a savage mountain huntress. “I don’t think either of us were in a state to salvage a horse’s carcass last night.”

  She glared at him. “But I’m a huntress.” As if that explained anything. She inspected the tracks and followed them in large circles through the snow. “There was a pack of them last night.”

  Kelan shivered, thinking about how close the wolves had been to their camp, but Sol seemed unconcerned.

  “Will they come back?”

  “No. They don’t awaken often. They probably already went back to the ice.”

  “Then . . . ?”

  “They’re made of ice, just like the legends say,” Sol said, meeting his eyes again. “Formed from the glaciers. If this mountain has allowed us to survive the snow, she won’t hunt us with her wolves.”

  “She?”

  “Tor and Maja aren’t the only gods who rule over Nordby. The Ulve Mountains are gods in their own right, and especially in winter. Traveling through the Ulves is never a thing to be taken lightly.”

  Kelan cleared his throat and turned away from her unnerving gaze. Huntress. She had lived in these mountains her whole life. Was it common to see things like this? Ice wolves and phoenixes and dragons, too? Or had he heard too many tales about the strange monsters that roamed the Ulves? Sol was surely a feral beast in her own right.

  She led him to a group of saddlebags that sat apart from horse’s remains. The wolves hadn’t gotten to them, but Sol had. Lady Isabella’s dresses lay strewn in the snow around them and Sol had messily hacked the seal of Isabella’s house from a dress’s skirt.

  “Don’t like dresses much?” Kelan asked, eyeing the fine silks.

  “They’re a useless waste of resources.”

  “Mountain women don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

  She scowled at him. “And this mountain woman is your only hope of survival. Now make yourself useful and help me dig out the other saddlebag. I think there’s still one in the snow.”