Burnt

by Lyn Lowe

  A nod. “I realize this is quite a scandalous attitude for a woman of my standing, but I am very fond of my Peter.” She still sounded just as cordial as before. But this time it wasn’t anger that hid beneath the surface. “He was once quite happy. And so very kind. I knew of his preference for other men, and though it concerned me I did not forbid it. I arranged a marriage to a girl from a fine family. They knew each other quite well, and she was aware of his preferences and was not put off by it. I believe they loved each other, in their own way.

  “Discretion, obviously, was key in this arrangement. Then Luna arrived. I do not know what occurred. All I know is the results. My Peter ordered his lover executed for attempting to escape. Then, on our annual trip to the capital, he made a very public attempt to seduce another noble’s son. The engagement was ended. My Peter stopped smiling. And now he does all that my niece asks of him without question.”

  “So it’s revenge?”

  She shook her head just a fraction. “No. All I want is my son back. I will find a way to pry Luna loose from this family. And then my Peter will learn how to smile again.”

  Kaie sighed. He was hoping for something less sympathetic. He didn’t want to like this woman. “Alright. I mean thanks.”

  Her lips pursed for a moment. “And your secret, Kaie Zetowan?”

  “I have magic.”

  Her mask slipped again. Her face paled. “No. I misheard you. Our conversation is finished. Run now and I will spare you her attention.”

  “You didn’t mishear.”

  She took two steps to cross the distance between them, pointing a trembling finger in his face. “You are a fool! Do you know what you are doing?”

  “Pretty sure I do,” he muttered. He couldn’t summon the courage to speak any louder.

  She shook her head, her hands going up to her beautifully wrapped arms and rubbing them, as if for warmth. “I will have to summon a Namer. Any slave found to have magic is given to the care of a Namer. They will use their magics to go into your head and rip out yours. Do you know how they do that?”

  Kaie nodded, because Sojun told him. But the Lady Autumnsong wasn’t watching him anymore. Her eyes took on a glazed look he recognized quite well. They weren’t seeing the world around them anymore. They were locked on her own private nightmare.

  “They rip out your mind. Your memories. Everything that makes you a person. Nothing is left. Not who you were, not what you might be. You won’t even think to feed yourself unless someone puts a fork in your hand and orders you to use it. You won’t even recognize your name. And so the Namer will give you a new one. It will be the same they give all the Named, the only one to give to such a creature. You will be Hollow.”

  The shudder that ran through his body was nothing compared to the screaming going on in his head. Somehow, Kaie managed to keep himself rooted. “It solves both our problems.” He didn’t know where the steadiness in his voice came from, for he felt none of it. “Your niece can’t take me if a Namer comes for me, right?”

  Lady Autumnsong’s eyes focused again, returning to his face. Her mask was in place once more, but Kaie could swear he saw sadness in the brown depths. “Correct. You will be confined in a special cell until the Namer is done with you. Then you will be unfit.”

  From the sound of the word, she meant unfit for anything. But that was something Kaie didn’t really want to know. So he bit back the question. “Even if you kill me, you can’t be sure the witness and the girl who was attacked will be safe. Your niece will be upset, and she might ask for one of them. Or you might need to set a more severe example. But this… If it was just my magic lashing out, they’re not to blame. And you aren’t taking me away, the Namer is. This will keep them safe, right?”

  After a long moment, Lady Autumnsong tilted her head in agreement.

  Kaie nodded. Just as Sojun said, “Then this is the solution.”

  “Please.” It was such an odd word, to hear from a woman like Autumnsong. “Don’t make me do this. Take my alternative. Please.”

  She was testing his resolve, and it wasn’t nearly strong enough for that. “Why do you care? This is better for you, too. Your niece won’t be mad at you for losing me.”

  Now he was certain he saw sadness. She was almost about to reach over and take his hands, he thought. But she didn’t. “I remember every Hollow made from my estate. Every one of them visits my nightmares. I care. Is there nothing I can do to dissuade you? I will send the two away. Sell them. Get them out of Luna’s reach and safe from any further punishment.”

  Kaie faltered. That was a solution he never considered. If they were safe, he didn’t need to do this. He would care just as little about Amorette and the others he brought death to with his head cleaved from his neck. And it was so much less terrifying.

  Except, powerful as Lady Autumnsong might be, she could never be sure the two would end up together. Nor could she guarantee that they would be treated as well. Vaughan sacrificed so much to give Peren her own home, to bring her fruit for her birthday. If they were sent away, could he get her any of that? She wouldn’t be upset about those losses, he was sure. But she would never be happy trapped inside all day, making bread and washing dishes. Autumnsong couldn’t promise Peren would be running deliveries in her new home. He could not steal what little happiness they found for themselves.

  “Mistress Autumnsong, I have magic.”

  Blood and Fire Saga

  Burnt

  Forgotten

  US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00AFB2ENA

  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/260104

  UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00AFB2ENA

  Destiny

  Lost

  (Coming July 2013)

  Misery

  (Coming fall 2013)

  Acknowledgements

  First and most importantly, I need to thank everyo

  ne else who helped me build this world. There are so many, and I don’t know names for at least half. But there are a few that deserve special attention: Michelle W., Kate C., Phil S. and Larina W., you guys breathed life into something flat and over-done. It’s only because of the unexpected (and in one case, terrifically traumatic) paths you took my world down that I have anything to write about at all. Michelle and Kate I am especially thankful for. You two poked, prodded, nagged and encouraged, whenever I needed it. I can’t even imagine where I would be without you two.

  Nathan, was under no obligation whatsoever, yet he spent hours picking apart every bit of this book. He says he was mean, but don’t you believe it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  My family gets some mention, as well. They put up with a lot more than I’m willing to admit to. I love you guys.

  My co-workers should probably be thanked. I suppose. They did listen to me go on and on about this book. And on. And on. So yeah. Thanks Anthony Timmerman, Andrew L., Jake R. and Dave Wolf. Especially Anthony, who is absolutely the best cheerleader anyone could hope for, and might actually be rooting for this book more than I am.

  Much appreciation to the Nishant, Debbie and the staff of Biggby’s Coffee here in South Lyon. I can honestly say that none of this would be possible without the fuel and quiet corner to escape you provided for me. You guys are the best!

  Finally, to those people who took a chance on Burnt and the Blood and Fire Saga. Especially the ones who took the time to review it. You people are amazing.

  About the Author

  Lyn lives in Michigan. It’s cold there most of the time. She is not a fan. She spends entirely too much time there playing video games and watching Netflix. Sometimes even with people!

  She started reading when she was six years old, when she met a girl younger than her who could read the whole menu at a restaurant and it brought out her competitive side. Within a month she was reading chapter books, and since then she’s devoured just about every book she’s come across. Four years later she started writing a horrible story about orphans.

  She’s a fan of amusin
g t-shirts, shiny new electronics, science fiction TV shows and cartoons. It’s also a safe bet to assume she’s into anything else remotely dorky.

  Sneak peek at Book Two

  Of The Blood and Fire Saga

  Forgotten

  Pain tore through him, like a stream that flowed to every inch of his body was lit on fire. He longed to pass out, to be done with it, but even that release was denied him. Kaie tried to be still this time, but the shaking started despite his best efforts. He could feel the spittle rolling down his cheek, was aware of warm urine spreading between his legs, but could do nothing about it. Even if his arms weren’t strapped down to the table, such efforts were well outside his abilities at that moment.

  He tried to hold on to the good memories at first. The girl with the long white-blond hair who kissed him, the sweet smell of the lilacs blooming near the shack, the night when he was able to get well and truly drunk…but those didn’t hold against the Namer’s attention. They tore up like paper.

  Desperate, he turned to the ugly ones: the slap of fists against his flesh, the taste of blood on his tongue, the sting of the lash against his back, the sound of that girl crying when she thought he was asleep, and the hazy memory of going through this before…Those lasted a while. They hurt, every one of them, and for a while he could hide there, mixed in with all the other hurts she was giving him. But she found him eventually. And then she ripped those memories apart just as easily.

  He panicked. She was taking everything and leaving him empty. That couldn’t be allowed to happen, he knew. He couldn’t remember why, but he knew that it would be bad. Very bad. But there wasn’t much left for him to hold on to. She was smashing through unimportant things now. The feel of grass under his feet. The smell of the wooden walls. He didn’t know what to do.

  Then he found it. It was small. But, for some reason he didn’t understand, it was strong. Far stronger than anything else he had in him. So he grabbed on to it and clung. And for a while, not long, but enough, he forgot about the pain.

  She pulled away slowly, a frown on her face. He forgot what to call her, at first. It came back slowly. Namer. There was someone else behind him. A girl. Young. She darted forward and began wiping his face with a damp cloth. It was cool. It was amazing. He smiled at the girl gratefully. Her eyes locked with his for a moment, then she paled and darted away again.

  The Namer rubbed at her temples, looking drained. “What is your name?”

  He smiled again. He knew that. It was his thing. His small, strong thing. “Kaie.”

  Both the women sighed.

  “Namer, how many times can we do this? How many more can he survive?”

  “At least one more.” The woman – the Namer – was pale and severe. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face in a bun so tight he wondered if she was trying to slowly pull it all out of her head. “I am going to Uraz, to speak with the Council. Put him back where he belongs.”

  The girl inclined her head in acquiescence and began tugging on the belts that held him to the table.

  “And Kissa?”

  “Yes Namer?”

  “No riots this time. I will not tolerate another incident like this morning. And I when I return, I will not hear ‘Kaie the Unbroken’ uttered even once. Do you understand? Not once.”

  A girl looked down at him. Her long blonde hair formed a tent around them, tickling his chin and ears. She wasn’t beautiful in any normal way. Her face was mostly sharp angles and too pale by half. But her eyes, huge and the darkest blue saw right through to the center of him. She smiled, and he knew that she approved of what resided there. He reached up to brush her cheek, filled with the need to discover just how soft that fair skin of hers was.

  A clang at the door brought him back to himself, banishing the girl like a gust of wind catching dandelion seeds. Kaie sighed and rubbed his eyes clear of the last traces of the dream. He sat up slowly, already missing the dream, and picked up the tray of food.

  It was always the same. The metal slot at the bottom of the door would open, and a tray would slide through. It was always the same food. Greasy broth with chunks of tasteless meat. Stale bread. Tepid water. It would come again later.

  He figured the intervals to be about ten hours. But that was estimation at best. There was a lamp on the ceiling. It never flickered. Useless to keep time with. He saw no one save his large-eyed phantom. The trays were taken and the bucket he shat in was cleaned while he slept. Earlier or later, it made no difference. If he didn’t sleep, they weren’t. No help there.

  So he kept time by counting. A constant, steady beat. Always in the back of his mind. 1,382,101. 1,382,102. Even in his dreams he counted.

  He was finished eating. Kaie sent aside the tray and began his routine. First, running in place. Knees high. Fast as he could. For a count of 600. 1,382,721. He was working his way up. The first day, he only managed a count of 97. Now, he was starting to feel like he could run away. When the opportunity came. And it would.

  After that, he rested. Not because he needed to. Not anymore. But there was so little to occupy his time. It was better to break up his tasks.

  Next he did push-ups. Until his arms shook. There wasn’t much room for them. But he found that if he angled his body properly in the cell, it worked just fine. 1,383,621. Then another rest.

  Sit-ups followed that. Those weren’t as easy. The food didn’t sit well on his stomach. Crunching it over and over made things worse. Kaie did them anyway. 1,384,521. Rest.

  Squats now. They made his legs burn. More than the running. 1,385,444.

  Another rest. Then he hit the wall. Even breathing. Light punches. The scabs on his knuckles broke open. Again. Soon the wall was covered with his blood. It hurt. It all hurt. But he kept going.

  There wasn’t enough to do. Not to fill the hours. His body got tired. Less every day. But there was no healer. He needed to be careful. Couldn’t push too hard.

  So he trained his mind. Math problems. Logic puzzles. Escape plans. Lots of escape plans. Anything he could think of. He was going to be strong, when the time came. Strong enough to run. Strong enough to fight. Strong enough to get away.

  1,420,514. The door clanged. Another tray slid into the cell. He ate everything. Just like always. It wasn’t enough. He was too thin. Kaie laughed. Another thing to complain about.

  Really, people. If you’re going to imprison someone for 1,420,995 seconds, couldn’t you at least try to feed them properly?

  He would bring it up before the rest of his list. He wanted to make sure it sank in. After, they would be distracted. Very distracted.

  Kaie set the tray on top of the other. He stacked the bowl and cup. It was time for the final part of his routine.

  He picked at the drying blood on his left hand. A glob of fresh stuff welled up underneath. He walked to the door. Kaie carefully coated the first two fingers on his right hand. It was time to write what he knew.

  All memories of his past were gone. He didn’t know where he came from or why he was in the cell. He thought he was there before he remembered, before the Namer and the girl Kissa. Not for any particular reason. It was just a feeling he got. He didn’t know if it was day or night. He didn’t know if the girl in his dreams was real, or just a product of his imagination.

  But he knew two things with absolute certainty. And so he wrote them on the door. With his blood. Before he went back to sleep. Every day. It was gone when he woke. But that was good. Because it meant they read it. That his captors saw the things he knew.

  I am Kaie.

  I will be free.

  1,421,268.

 

 

 
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