Shadow and Flame

by Gail Z. Martin

  “All hail King Blaine! All hail King Blaine!”

  With that, Blaine waved in acknowledgment, and as Kestel moved up beside him, he stood and received the cheers of his well-wishers. Musicians took up their instruments, beginning with a regal fanfare and quickly moving to popular dance tunes. Before the night was through, Blaine was certain that they would be playing tavern favorites, and figured Verran might even sneak out to be among them. Dillon had planned an evening of celebration, with food carts and bonfires, performers and parades, accompanied by plenty of music and free ale.

  “You know, most of the people out there will decide whether or not they like me as king by how good a party we throw for them tonight,” Blaine said to Kestel as they moved inside the castle for the official coronation dinner.

  “Then it’s a good thing I worked with Dillon to plan the festivities,” Kestel said with a grin. “Judith and Zaryae lent a hand, too.” She winked at him. “Don’t worry—by the time they sober up tomorrow, they’ll be singing your praises for a long time to come.”

  Blaine doubted it would be that easy, but he smiled and nodded, still not quite believing the turns of fortune that had brought him to this moment. More trumpeters welcomed them to the great hall, which had been restored, if not exactly to its former glory, to a reasonable approximation suitable for such a grand occasion. Tapestries and paintings that had been hidden away since the Cataclysm now hung in their former places, while new pennants and banners had been made to fill the spaces left by those pieces damaged irreparably in the war. Candles and lanterns of all shapes, sizes, and materials formed a glittering strand down the center of the long table, banked by fresh flowers and fragrant branches. The fine place settings of King Merrill’s time had long ago been looted, but enough mismatched pewter trenches had been gathered to serve everyone.

  “I think all the ceremonies have made me hungry,” Blaine joked, savoring the aroma of roasted venison and onions.

  “Then you’re in luck,” Kestel chuckled. “I happen to know that the menu tonight really will be fit for a king.”

  For the first time since his return to Donderath, no one was trying to kill him. Blaine found that thought as satisfying as the platters of food Dillon and the castle staff had prepared. The feast was a testimony to Donderath’s recovery, and to a successful planting and harvest. Succulent venison with root vegetables, crusty bread, and passable ale made for an excellent meal, along with an impressive variety of desserts. Plenty of deer blood meant a bounty for the talishte guests as well. Blaine and Kestel sat at the center of the long table. Judith, Edward, Dawe, and Mari were on Blaine’s right, while Borya, Desya, and Zaryae were to Kestel’s left. Connor was next to Zaryae, and after the meal, Blaine’s first official action as king would be to perform a handfasting. Piran, Verran, Niklas, Penhallow, and Geir were directly across from Blaine and Kestel, along with Engraham from the Rooster and Pig. The rest of Blaine’s allies—the mages, the Elders, and the Knights of Esthrane—all joined in the feasting.

  “Do you think we’ll ever have this group together again?” Kestel asked, leaning her head on Blaine’s shoulder.

  He took a sip of his ale, and shrugged. “Who knows? Rinka and Tormod—and Birgen—will head back to their lands in a few days, to rebuild. Gods know, we need that. Voss says he’ll sign a contract with me to have his people handling security for Castle Reach, the port, and the seacoast within twenty miles. And with Folville as the Lord Mayor of Castle Reach, and Voss’s men rebuilding the shipworks, we might just have a port and sea trade again.”

  “I’m quite taken with heading up the castle and royal forces,” Piran said with a grin. “But I hope you’re not going to make us wear those wretched uniforms Merrill’s castle guard wore.”

  “Oh no,” Kestel laughed. “Merrill’s colors were gold and purple. Blaine was leaning more toward orange and red, with a hat to match.” The look on Piran’s face was worth it, right before the queen nearly laughed hard enough to choke.

  “We’ll talk,” Blaine said with a raised eyebrow. “I hate orange.”

  “I think it’ll be a while before we hear anything more from Meroven,” Niklas said, finishing off his venison. “At least, I hope so. But we’ll have the borders patrolled. And I intend to have troops in place for the harvest, so we can do our damnedest not to have another hungry winter.”

  Judith and Edward had made a private handfasting while Blaine was off at war. They looked at each other with real affection, and Blaine was happy that in all the loss and hardship, they had found each other. Mari and Dawe would add a sibling for Robbe in the fall, and since Blaine’s new home would be Quillarth Castle, he had officially bestowed the title of Lord of Glenreith on Dawe. Only Carr was missing. It helped to know that he had gone to the Sea of Souls in peace, and the extra time they had been afforded together with Carr’s ghostly presence helped to ease the pain, but Glenreith would never be the same without Carr.

  “Have you decided where the two of you will go, after the wedding?” Kestel asked Zaryae and Connor, as if she suspected the melancholy direction Blaine’s thoughts had taken.

  They exchanged a glance, giving Blaine to guess that the answer was not entirely settled. “To Solsiden and Westbain, most likely,” Zaryae replied. “To help Penhallow and the Wraith Lord with the cleanup.”

  Penhallow cleared his throat. “I just want to go on record, along with Kierken, that we intend to rebuild Westbain for the newlyweds, as our wedding gift to them.” He gave a rare smile. “Only fitting, after all that they’ve braved on our behalf.”

  Connor and Dawe were not the only ones to be gaining lands and titles. Piran, Verran, Niklas, Borya, and Desya had all been granted noble titles and vacant manors, as befitted Lords of the Blood. The Knights of Esthrane had already begun rebuilding their Citadel, and Dolan had confirmed the rumor that he intended to restore Mirdalur as a working manor. Dagur, Rikard, and the mages were committed to restoring the University at Castle Reach to its former glory, and maybe even other sites, like the Lyceum at Tobar.

  “I wanted to thank you for bringing Bayard to Bleak Hollow,” Rinka Solveig said. “Together with the twins,” she added with a nod toward Borya and Desya, “I think we can open trade routes up before winter to the Lesser Kingdoms and the null villages. If the harvest is as good as we expect, we should have plenty to sell, and as I recall, a few of those villages brewed some fine mead and lager,” she added with the pleased expression of someone who expected to turn a handy profit.

  “Let us know if you’ll be trading iron goods and ale,” Dawe said. “Now that the villages around Glenreith have gotten their feet under them again, the forges are turning out good, sturdy tools and bridles, and by next summer, we’re expecting to see a better grade of ale and whiskey from our brewery and distillery.”

  “I’m waiting for the wine you promised me,” Kestel said with a raised eyebrow. “I haven’t had a decent glass since before Velant, and I’m long overdue!”

  “Speaking of which,” Piran said, “Voss told me he thinks we’ll have three new seagoing ships ready by the time the ice breaks up in Skalgerston Bay. We can reopen the Edgeland trade when the White Nights are back, and you know what that means.”

  Kestel, Piran, and Verran all looked at Blaine. “Herring!” they said in unison.

  Blaine glanced up at Dillon, who was, as an excellent seneschal, standing right behind him. “Make a note, please,” he said. “You can add herring to all the castle menus to improve trade with Edgeland. But there’s to be none on my plate. Ever.”

  “Noted, Your Majesty,” Dillon replied, with just a hint of laughter in his voice.

  Blaine smiled, listening to the buzz of conversation, warmed by good food and drink and the knowledge that at least for now, they and the kingdom were safe. Blaine glanced over to see Kestel watching him, and he guessed that she was thinking along the same lines. He stood, and the conversation quieted.

  “A toast,” Blaine said, lifting his glass with his le
ft hand while he took Kestel’s hand in his right. “To a new beginning—for Donderath, and for us. May the gods grant us and this kingdom peace, prosperity, and safety, and the wisdom to never forget the price it required to obtain them.”

  Tomorrow, official business would require the attention of Donderath’s new king. But tonight, Blaine was surrounded by family, friends, and allies in quiet celebration, more than he ever expected, and all that he needed.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you, readers! Because you read, I write. Whether you’re just discovering my books or whether you have been with me from the start, I deeply appreciate each and every one of you.

  Many thanks also to my agent, Ethan Ellenberg, and his team. I appreciate everything you do.

  Lots of gratitude and appreciation for my editor, Susan Barnes, and the whole Orbit crew, including Laura Fitzgerald, Ellen Wright, Anna Jackson, Lindsey Hall, Gemma Conley-Smith, and all the other folks who work hard to make my books a reality.

  Conventions are the heart of the sci-fi/fantasy community, where readers and authors meet. Thank you to Arisia, Illogicon, Ad-Astra, Mysticon, Awesomecon, Capclave, Lunacon, Chattacon, Libertycon, Ravencon, Balticon, ConCarolinas, ConGregate, Dragon*Con, Origins Gaming Convention, Atomacon, Philcon, World Fantasy, Contraflow, Confluence, and the Arizona and Carolinas Renaissance Festivals, who always make me feel at home and who have welcomed me as a guest author—as well as the new conventions I have yet to experience. I am very grateful for the opportunity to be part of convention programming, meet wonderful people, and give back to a community I truly appreciate.

  Thank you to my Thrifty Author Publishing Success Network Meetup group, an awesome group of writers. We have so much fun and have all come so far.

  Many thanks also to my author, artist, musician, performer, and reader convention friends and Renaissance Festival regulars, who help me survive life on the road; to the fantastic bookstore owners and managers, who carry on a valiant fight on the front lines of this crazy publishing industry; and to my social media friends and followers, who are always up for some online mayhem.

  And most of all, thanks to my husband, Larry Martin, who plays a huge part in bringing all the books and short stories to life. He’s my best first editor, brainstorming accomplice, proofreader extraordinaire, and now official coauthor of our new Steampunk series, Iron & Blood: A Jake Desmet Adventure. The books wouldn’t happen without him, and I’m grateful for all his help and support. Thanks also to my children, who are usually patient with the demands of the writing life, and for my dogs, Kipp and Flynn, who are experts at dispelling writer’s block. It takes a village to write a book, and I am grateful to each and every one of you!

  extras

  meet the author

  Photo Credit: Donna Jernigan

  GAIL Z. MARTIN is the author of the new epic fantasy novel Shadow and Flame (Orbit Books, 2016), which is the fourth and final book in the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga; Iron and Blood: A Jake Desmet Adventure, a new Steampunk series (Solaris Books) coauthored with Larry N. Martin, and Vendetta: A Deadly Curiosities Novel in her urban fantasy series set in Charleston, South Carolina (Solaris Books). She is also the author of Ice Forged, Reign of Ash, and War of Shadows in the Ascendant Kingdoms Saga, the Chronicles of the Necromancer series (The Summoner, The Blood King, Dark Haven, Dark Lady’s Chosen) from Solaris Books, and the Fallen Kings Cycle (The Sworn, The Dread) from Orbit Books, plus the novel Deadly Curiosities. Gail writes several series of ebook short stories: The Jonmarc Vahanian Adventures and the Deadly Curiosities Adventures, and with Larry N. Martin, the Steampunk Storm & Fury Adventures.

  Gail’s work will appear in several new anthologies in 2016. An all-new Blaine McFadden adventure, No Reprieve, takes place during the Velant Prison years and is posted on Orbit Short Fiction. Watch for Blaine and his friends to return in more short stories and novellas set in Velant and on Edgeland. Gail’s stories have been featured in anthologies including Heroes, With Great Power, Athena’s Daughters, The Big Bad 2, Dance Like a Monkey, Realms of Imagination, and the British Fantasy Society’s Unexpected Journeys, plus an illustrated story in Icarus: A Graphic Novel. Other US/UK anthologies include Magic: the Esoteric and Arcane (Solaris), The Bitten Word, Rum & Runestones, Spells & Swashbucklers, and The Mammoth Book of Ghost Stories by Women.

  Stories Gail coauthored with Larry N. Martin have recently been featured in anthologies including Clockwork Universe Steampunk vs. Aliens, Alien Artifacts, The Weird Wild West, The Side of Good, Space, and Contact Light.

  Find her on the web at AscendantKingdoms.com, on Twitter @GailZMartin, on Facebook.com/WinterKingdoms, at Disquieting Visions blog, and GhostInTheMachinePodcast.com. She leads frequent conversations at goodreads.com/GailZMartin, participates on Reddit/Fantasy as GailZMartin, and posts free excerpts of her work and the occasional free novella on Wattpad at wattpad.com/GailZMartin.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  SHADOW AND FLAME

  look out for

  THE SWORN

  The Fallen Kings Cycle

  by Gail Z. Martin

  Summoner-King Martris Drayke must attempt to meet a great threat, gathering an army from a country ravaged by civil war. Tris seeks new allies from among the living—and the dead—as an untested generation of rulers face their first battle. Meanwhile, the legendary Dread are stirring in their burrows after millennia of silence, and no one knows what hand wakes them and whom they will serve when they rise.

  Now, Drayke turns to the Sworn, a nomadic clan of warriors bound to protect the Dread. But even the mighty Sworn do not know what will happen when the Dread awake. All are certain, though, that war is coming to the Winter Kingdoms.

  THE SWORN is the beginning of a new adventure set in the world of the Chronicles of the Necromancer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Get some rest. I’ll take this watch. Don’t worry—I’ll be happy to rouse you when your turn comes.”

  Despite the amulet, Jair’s dreams were dark. The afternoon’s battle replayed itself, but in his dream, throngs of ashtenerath pursued them, undeterred until hacked to bits. He woke with a start, relieved to find the campsite peaceful. Mihei had put another log on the fire, and from the smell of the smoke, more warding leaves. Jair settled himself back into his blanket and tried to sleep once more.

  As he balanced between waking and slumber, Jair saw Talwyn’s image in the distance. She smiled and beckoned for him to come closer. She was singing, and the sound of her voice cheered his heart. Finally, he stood next to her, and Talwyn welcomed him with a kiss. Then she placed a hand over the pendants at his throat. “Watch carefully, my love. The roads are filled with danger.” Her eyes widened. “Wake now. Take your sword. The shadows are moving.”

  Jair jolted awake an instant before Mihei cried out in alarm. Jair and Emil were on their feet in an instant, swords in hand.

  “What do you see?” Emil said, scanning the night.

  Jair could just make out a trace of movement in the shadows.

  “Spirits. Dimonns. Don’t know which, but whatever’s out there isn’t friendly,” Mihei replied. “I strengthened the wardings.”

  Jair looked down, and where Mihei had traced a large circle around them and their horses with the cleansing elixir, a ring of stones now marked the area.

  “There! Can you see?” Emil pointed into the darkness where darker shapes moved swiftly across the tall grass of the clearing.

  Mihei nodded, raising his hands as he began to chant. As Jair watched, a phosphorescent mist rose in the clearing, first just ankle-high, then suffusing the night with an eerie green glow. In the glowing mist, the shapes became clearer. Disembodied shadows slipped back and forth in the mist, but their outlines looked nothing like men. Some were misshapen hulks with wide, empty maws. Others were wraiths with thin, grasping arms and impossibly long, taloned fingers that stretched toward the living men and horses within the wardings.

  The horses shied and Jair feared th
ey might bolt. Mihei spared the animals a moment of his attention, looking each of the horses in the eyes and murmuring words Jair did not catch. Immediately, the horses quieted.

  The black shapes rushed toward the stone circle, and a curtain of light flared between the three men and the advancing shadows. The shadows howled and shrieked, spreading themselves across the glowing barrier until they blotted out the moonlight. Jair glanced at Mihei. The land mage’s forehead was beaded with sweat and he was biting his lip with the effort to reinforce the strained wardings.

  “Tell us what you need and we’ll do it,” Jair urged.

  “Keep me awake,” Mihei said. “My guess is that someone used this forest as a killing field, and the spirits have never left. Their anger could have drawn the dimonns. The deaths in the village could also make the dimonns stronger.”

  “What do they want?” Jair asked.

  “Blood.”

  “If they’re drawn by the wronged dead, can you appease their spirits, reduce the dimonns’ power?” Jair had drawn his stelian, even though it was clear that it would be little protection against the shadows that wailed and tore at the gossamer-thin veil of the warding.

  “I’m no summoner,” Mihei replied. “I can’t help the spirits pass over to the Lady. But if we survive the night, I can find where their bodies were dumped and consecrate the ground. That should satisfy the spirits, and without them and the ashtenerath, the dimonns should leave.”

  “Should,” Emil repeated doubtfully.

  Mihei looked to Jair. “I need some things from my bag.” Jair listened as Mihei recited a list of powders and dried plants, and he went to gather them from the vials in Mihei’s bag as Emil stood guard, weapon at the ready.

  “Mix them with my mortar and pestle,” Mihei instructed. “Then make a paste of it with some water.” Jair did as Mihei requested, dripping water into the mortar’s rough bowl until a gray, gumlike paste stuck to the pestle.