Firefrost: A Flameskin Chronicles Novel

by Camille Longley

Carol grabbed her in a fierce hug. “It’s a lie. Please come back, Sol. She won’t be angry forever.”

  Sol let out a long breath and tears stung her eyes. Why would Ma have said something like that, even if she was angry?

  “We know the truth. You’re our sister,” Carol said. “I’ll light a candle for you in the temple when I go to Skive.”

  Sol gave Carol another fierce hug, and buried her tears in her sister’s black hair. “I’ll come back.”

  “Where will you go?” Carol asked.

  “There’s a place called the Hivid Wood. Maybe it’s only a rumor, but they say that Flameskins are sheltered there.”

  “Sol,” Kelan said in a warning voice.

  “You can’t tell anyone where we’re going,” Sol told Carol.

  “I won’t.”

  Sol took Kelan’s hand and squeezed it. “Let’s go.”

  Then she framed in her view her sisters and the house that Pa built and the village of Hillerod and the mountains she called home.

  She would be back.

  The descent from Hillerod to the foothills near Skive took only three days on foot, but each step away from her home was laborious. The mountain sucked at the soles of her boots as she walked. And her ma’s parting lie still stung. Kelan didn’t say anything about it, and she was grateful for that. She didn’t want to think about it.

  The path they took was an old, narrow game trail that hadn’t been used yet this spring, and new growth threatened to conceal it completely. Spring had already come to the lower hills, and the vibrant greens of new shoots and leaves, and the yellows and whites and violets of wild flowers filled the mountains. The air was fragrant with the smell of blossoms and choked with insects. Sticker bushes lined the path and kept catching at Sol’s clothes and tearing her tunic and skin.

  She got snared yet again in the grasp of briars, and Kelan had to carefully disentangle her from the branches. He pulled thorns from her hair and her pants.

  He kissed her cut hand. “I’m sorry, love.”

  “I’ve never seen anything so overgrown. We’ll have to find another way down.”

  It hadn’t looked like such a difficult path from above, and none of the thorns ever caught at Kelan and trapped him.

  He frowned as he wiped blood from a cut on her arm. “It’s like the mountain doesn’t want to let you go.”

  She yanked another thorny branch from her sleeve. “The feeling is mutual.”

  She unhooked a clawed branch from her pants, and it immediately swung back and reattached itself to her clothes. Kelan ripped at the branch, but the moment he let go, it wrapped itself around her leg once more.

  She met Kelan’s eyes. A tremor of something like fear passed through her. It was difficult not to believe the impossible when she stared it in the face.

  “Has this ever happened before?” he asked. His voice was strained.

  “Never. I’ve left the mountains before. This didn’t happen when we went to Olisipo.”

  “Why won’t it let you go this time?”

  She ripped at the branch. “No. They’re just overgrown brambles. The Ulves don’t trap people here.”

  “Is it me? Do they not want you to go with me?”

  “No. If the Ulves didn’t like you, you’d be dead.”

  He yanked at the thorns and pulled her loose. “You’re the queen of these mountains. They don’t want to let you go.”

  “The queen? Burnitall, Kelan. What are you talking about?”

  She tried to walk forward, but the undergrowth stretched more tightly around her, tripping her up and clinging to her arms and legs. She yelped as she was ripped from Kelan’s grasp and hauled backward.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled, but her arm was streaked with blood from the cuts and she slipped between his fingers. He stumbled backward and the brambles parted for him, but twined more tightly around her. The wind whispered through the trees, and the rustle of the leaves almost sounded like words.

  “Help me!” She ripped at the vines and the branches and the thorns that clawed at her, but they snaked around her torso and held her in place. Leaves tickled the back of her neck as branches descended on her.

  This didn’t make any sense. Why was this happening?

  He pulled the vines, trying to disentangle her, but they slapped at his hands, and a tree branch swung forward and slammed into his gut. Kelan grunted as he was thrown to the ground. Above them a tree creaked.

  “Watch out!” she screamed.

  He jumped to his feet and threw himself into the brambles beside her as a tree crashed down in front of them, hitting the ground where Kelan had been. Clods of dirt and sticks pelted and cut them. Dust flew into their faces and they both coughed and blinked it out of their eyes.

  The more she struggled against the trees and the brambles, the tighter they twined around her. She had always known there was magic in these mountains, but she had never seen it act like this. A vine twisted around her palm, wrapping itself tight around her skin and covering her hand. She couldn’t reach her knife to cut herself free. The mountains had taken her captive.

  “Use my emberstone!” Kelan said.

  He pressed the glowing stone to the tips of her fingers, which were barely visible beneath the leaves. She drew on the stone and fire exploded out of her other hand, burning her sleeve and the brambles that caught at her skin. Kelan yanked on her other arm and kicked at the vines around her legs as fire consumed them. The branches slowly unwound themselves from her feet.

  She fell free of the thorns and landed on top of Kelan with a grunt. He grabbed her cool hand and yanked her to her feet. Vines and twigs and leaves trailed in her wake as she ran. She still had a vine wrapped around her arm and leaves threaded through her hair. Behind them, there was another whoosh as a tree crashed to the ground.

  “Run!” she shouted. “Don’t stop until we’re in the valley.”

  They bolted through the woods and leapt over bushes as their packs bounced on their backs. Brambles snagged her legs, and branches swung out and caught her as she ran. They climbed over fallen trees that tried to block their path and jumped over a ravine that opened at their feet.

  The trees slowly thinned, and the mountain gave way to the gentle slope of the valley, but they didn’t stop. They ran until they were breathless, and the trees were far, far behind them.

  Sol slowed and dropped to her knees in the grass. “I think we’re safe,” she gasped.

  The trees of the Ulves quivered, and the wind blew mournfully through their leaves, but nature had ceased attacking them.

  “What in the name of Maja was that?” Kelan demanded. “I thought we weren’t going to get you free.” He grabbed her and held her tight. His eyes were wild and afraid.

  “I don’t understand it, either.”

  He stroked her black hair. “Sol, about what your mother said—”

  “Don’t.” She curled up in his arms. He held her the same way her pa used to, and she laid her head on his chest.

  Except Kelan had a heartbeat.

  She had never heard her pa’s pulse.

  She scrambled upright and stared at the mountains. Her hands flew her mouth. “They’re not my sisters. Lisbet isn’t my ma.”

  Kelan held her tight. “They’re still your family.”

  “You knew.”

  He cringed. “I didn’t. But I’ve never seen anyone move through the woods like you do.”

  She clutched her hands to her chest. “My pa’s heart was stolen. He fell in love with a dryad. Oh, saints. Saints!”

  She dropped to her knees.

  What did this make her? Something less than human? Something made of oak and malice and magic? Something made to steal hearts and flit through the misty trees?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Kelan whispered.

  “But it does! What am I?”

  “You’re as human as I am, Sol.”

  She was still covered in twigs and vines, and she pulled at them frantically, trying to rid herself
of the trailing fingers of the mountains that still wanted to drag her back.

  “Sol, it’s fine.” Kelan pressed his forehead against hers and kissed her softly.

  He gently unwound the vine still wrapped around her right hand. When he pulled the ivy free, there was a large red acorn in her palm.

  He brought her hand to his face. “What is this?”

  “An acorn?” It was like no acorn she had ever seen. It glowed red and was about the size of a cherry. Touching it was like touching an emberstone; it felt alive, filled with energy and possibility.

  She stared at the mountains. “Why would they give this to me?”

  Kelan was staring at the mountains, too. “If you can’t stay in the Ulves, maybe they want you to bring the mountains with you wherever you go.”

  “What do you think it will grow?”

  He closed her palm over it and kissed her. “Something beautiful, like you.”

  Chapter 45

  Kelan

  They traveled off the road most of the time, both to avoid soldiers and to increase their likelihood of finding greens and game to fill their bellies with. They never rested, and they stopped only to sleep and to prepare the food Sol had caught. They were following a trail of rumor and hearsay toward the Hivid Wood, and neither of them knew what they would find when they got there.

  Though they avoided people and villages as much as possible, they couldn’t stay away from civilization forever. The terrain and the roads were unfamiliar, and neither of them knew the exact location of the Wood.

  They had arrived at a town called Rodding. Kelan tugged constantly at his sleeve as they walked through the streets, pulling it down low over his emberstone. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of letting it be seen again.

  He and Sol had talked about remaking the band so that it wrapped around his upper arm and could be more easily concealed. But reshaping it themselves would give it an imperfect seal on his skin. They would need a metalsmith to do it for them. But letting someone see his cuff had risks of its own. He had been wearing it for weeks now and it chafed his wrist, but he didn’t dare remove it.

  Kelan watched the road anxiously for soldiers as they passed through the town. The streets churned around them with vegetable sellers and peddlers, but no soldiers. They passed a woman pulling noodles at a table on the street. Cooking noodles swam in a simmering pot of meat broth beside her. Kelan’s mouth watered at the smell. There were so many things he hadn’t eaten in ages: dumplings, shrimp, noodles, rice, seaweed. He wanted all of it.

  Sol laughed when she saw his face. “I’ll get us some dinner, if I can.” She had a neatly-folded deerskin in her pack, along with a bundle of brightly-colored feathers they had collected to trade.

  “Can we get you a new pair of shoes, too?” he asked.

  She looked longingly toward a cobbler’s shop. She had worn through her soles and covered the holes with folded deerskin scraps. All their clothes and supplies were ragged from use.

  She linked her arm through his and pulled him toward the trading post. “I don’t know what they’ll give me for the deerskin, but hopefully they’ll at least give us some directions.”

  She opened the door, but Kelan pulled away. He had another errand to do.

  “You’re not coming in?” she asked.

  “Just give me five minutes. I want to look at something.”

  “But, Kelan.” Trouble had a way of finding them, and it compounded when they were apart.

  “Just five minutes, then I’ll come straight here. I’ll be fine.”

  She frowned.

  “Trust me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I trust you. Just be careful.”

  She entered the trading post and once the door closed behind her, Kelan hurried off down the street. He retraced their steps and slipped into the metalsmith’s shop he had seen earlier.

  The interior was warmed by the dying fire of the smith’s workstation. Kelan’s palms sweat as he approached the counter, but not because of the heat.

  “Looking for something in particular?” the smith asked, his eyes roving over Kelan’s stained and dirty clothes, and the ragged pack on his back. The walls of the smith’s shop were covered in shelves with utinsels, weapons, pots, and vessels.

  “Do you work in silver?” Kelan asked.

  “I can.”

  Kelan unhooked the chain around his neck and slid the brass button into his pocket before laying the chain on the counter.

  “Could you melt this into a ring for me? It’s silver. You could keep the excess.” If he still had his pyra he could’ve done it himself, but it would’ve been a crude thing. He wanted Sol to have something beautiful.

  The jeweler picked up the chain and inspected it. “It’d be a shame to melt down a nice chain like this. I’ll trade you for it.”

  Kelan sighed as the smith placed his mother’s chain in a wooden box. He had hoped the chain could’ve been melted down, so it would still be close by, even if it were in a different form. But he only had five minutes before Sol would start to worry.

  She had given up so much for him; he could make this one sacrifice for her.

  “This for a you or for a girl?”

  “A girl,” Kelan conceded.

  The smith grunted and rummaged on shelves for another box. “This is the only one I have to fit a girl’s finger.”

  The smith dropped it into Kelan’s palm. The small band had been etched with leaves, like her dagger. “It’s perfect.”

  He wanted to make Sol his in every way. It was only a silver band, but maybe it would ground her. She would always have it to remember him, even if he couldn’t be with her. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if she disappeared one day and returned to the mist or was reclaimed by the trees.

  “You getting married?” the smith asked.

  “We were married recently.”

  Kelan grinned. They had gotten it completely backward. First, they had eloped, then he had met the family, and now he was finally getting the ring.

  “Let an old man indulge himself in a piece of advice: She’s always right.”

  Kelan laughed. “I’ve already learned that one.”

  “Smart boy.”

  He nodded and bowed as he slipped the ring into his pocket. “Thank you.” He turned toward the door, but paused. “Could you give me some directions? Do you know how to get to the Hivid Wood?”

  The man stepped away from Kelan with a scowl. “The Hivid Wood? That’s a dangerous place. The wraiths eat anyone who enters. I’d stay away if I were you.”

  He sighed. “Never mind.”

  That was the only thing most people knew, that wraiths had overtaken the forest. He wouldn’t have believed the rumors a year ago, but after what he had seen in the Ulves . . . .

  As Kelan turned toward the door, there were several shouts outside. Through the small window of the shop he caught a glimpse of dozens of people and torches pass by.

  “What—?”

  “Trouble,” the smith growled. “That’s what that is. Trouble for Rodding and trouble for you. Stay far away from it.”

  Kelan bowed again and left the shop.

  The crowd had already passed down the street, taking the peddlers and the shoppers with them. Kelan hurried through the empty street toward the trading post and yanked on his sleeve again to make sure it was covering his emberstone.

  Sol was already in the street, and she ran to him when she spotted him. “Cinders, Kelan,” she scolded and scowled at him. “Don’t you ever leave me again.”

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “They’ve taken some Flameskins.”

  Kelan’s blood went cold.

  “Demon! She’s a demon!” the mob shouted.

  Sol clung tight to Kelan’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Who have they taken? Did you see?”

  She pulled on his arm again. “It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

  “Tell me.”

/>   “Please, Kelan. Let’s just leave. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  He was not going to walk away and allow another atrocity to happen. She shivered when he took her hand, but she let him lead her toward the crowd in the town square. Above the shouts of the crowd came a woman’s scream that pierced Kelan to the core.

  A pyre had already been lit in the square, and smoke blotted the blue sky. He pushed through the writhing mob trying to get closer, but it was slow moving for two people with large packs on their backs. The woman continued to scream, and her cries rang in Kelan’s ears.

  He moved more frantically, pushing people aside, trying to get to her. The crowd was suffocating, so many people brushing up against him, spewing hatred and brimming with violence. Smoke blew toward them, stinging Kelan’s eyes and making him cough.

  The woman’s screaming ceased abruptly, sending a chill through him.

  He shoved someone aside and stepped into the square.

  Blood pooled on the street. The woman’s heart torn out and left half-submerged in a puddle of red-tinted rainwater.

  Kelan recoiled and Sol was there to catch him when his knees gave out.

  They had already thrown the woman’s body onto the pyre and flames licked at her hair and her clothes.

  Kelan swallowed bile.

  Rage burned hot inside him as his head spun. If he had his cuff off, he’d burn Rodding to the ground. He’d make every one of these people suffer for what they had done.

  Sol yanked on his arm. “Let’s go. There’s nothing we can do.”

  He was standing on his own now, but he couldn’t move. He could only watch the flames consume her.

  Sol pressed a kiss to his cheek and tried to pull him back into the crowd. “Kelan, please.”

  “Mommy!” sobbed a voice. “Mommy!”

  Kelan turned.

  The mob had its hands on another victim, a girl no more than five, with tears running down her dirty cheeks. Her black hair was mussed and tangled in the ropes they had wound around her body.

  Two men held the girl taut between them. The child, even if she was a Flameskin, was powerless against them. Fear had undoubtedly drowned out her pyra long ago, and at that age, the girl’s flames had only just started appearing. She wouldn’t know how to use her pyra to protect herself.