by B. T. Narro
Contents
MAP
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
NEW RELEASES
AUTHOR INFORMATION
COPYRIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
Flies circled the food I’d made for my father. I shooed them with a quick toss of my hand and covered his dinner plate with a cloth. The sound of footsteps came toward my door. I cringed until I realized this couldn’t be Jon. His boots made a different sound against the gravel: quick and heavy crunches when he was sober, and sloppy scuffs of his feet when he was drunk. But these footsteps came down heel to toe, pressing against the gravel in cautious paces. This person was vigilant, even stopping—probably to look around—before finally knocking on my door. I took the knife beside my father’s plate.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“My name is Callyn. I’m a soldier of King Quince’s army.” It was a woman with a firm voice. I set the knife back on the table and started toward the door.
“What did Jon do?” I asked. She’d said she was a soldier, not a guard. I couldn’t imagine what my father had done to bring her here. I figured I’d open the door to find him being carried behind her by soldiers, dead or at least unconscious, a picture I’d imagined plenty of times.
But it was just her and no one else. She had unwashed blonde hair and wore an expression that made her seem ready to be annoyed by any joke. It matched the severity and seriousness of her black uniform.
“I don’t know who Jon is,” she said, her voice somewhat irritated now. “I need to come in.” She took a step closer while looking past me, clearly expecting me to move aside. When I didn’t, her eyes lifted to mine. “Need I remind you it’s the law that you allow a soldier into your house if so requested?”
I didn’t know of this law. Looking beyond her, I saw others in the same uniform knocking on my neighbors’ doors.
“What’s going on?” I asked, stepping aside.
“I need a bed—to myself,” she added firmly, “and a meal.” Her eyes caught the covered plate for my father. She walked over and promptly removed the cloth. After leaning down to sniff the meat, she inquired, “Were you about to eat this?”
“That’s for my father, Jon.”
“Is he here?” She sat, glancing up at me with hungry eyes.
“I don’t know where he is, but he might be home soon. You should go somewhere else.”
“Why would I go somewhere else?”
Because you’re a small woman, I wanted to say, and Jon is likely to be drunk. As I thought of how to word it, she grabbed the fork.
“I must eat something and get to sleep. I’m going to eat this.”
“Go ahead, but you should leave after you’re finished. Jon won’t want you here.”
She took two bites. With a full mouth, she blurted, “Doesn’t matter what he wants. I’m too tired to search for another place that has a bed.” She looked up at me again. “There is a bed for me here, right?”
“Yes.” I didn’t know why I couldn’t lie to her. Maybe it was the dark circles under her eyes.
I sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward to the edge of my seat, ready to jump the moment I heard Jon’s footsteps.
“What are soldiers doing in Lanhine?” I asked.
“Marching to battle.” She shoved another forkful into her mouth. “We’re protecting this town.”
“From what?”
She swallowed and gave me a look as if I was stupid. “What’s your name?”
“Neeko.”
“You should know about the war, Neeko. Lanhine is King Quince’s most southern town, closest to the enemy. You don’t look too young. How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
Callyn shook her head with disapproval, then brushed her hair out of her face. She was probably about five years my elder, but the disappointment in her eyes made her seem much older. Or maybe it just made me feel younger.
“Sixteen is too old to be ignorant about the war.” She filled her mouth again.
I repressed my annoyance. “We’re at war with the south?”
She nodded. “Enemy troops have been seen coming north. We’re going through Lanhine to meet them in battle before they get into our territory.”
Questions flooded my mind, but it didn’t feel right to bother Callyn with them while she ate.
Eventually, she shoveled the last of the food into her mouth and leaned back against the chair. Taking a deep breath, she chewed as her eyes closed.
“Are you scared?”
“No.” Her eyes squinted open. “Are you?”
Why would I be scared? I wasn’t the one fighting. “No.”
I figured the next day would be just like most others. I’d rise early and walk to Old Fern’s Tavern, where I’d continue my work replacing his dilapidated roof. It would be another week before I finished, and I needed to make sure I had another contract before then.
There was a small house on the way to Old Fern’s with no door. Each day I walked by, I kept expecting to see someone installing a new one, but I hadn’t yet. It wasn’t safe having no front door. I figured I should speak to them tomorrow. Whoever lived there most likely was poor, but if they paid for the materials, I could build a door in…let’s see, one day to get all the supplies. Another day to—
“You should be scared of the war, being in Lanhine.” Callyn’s voice roused me from my thoughts.
I wasn’t, but I did fear what would happen when Jon came home. If I could get her into the back room before he got here, there was a good chance he’d never see her.
I’d added the guest room to this house last year. No one had used it, but that wasn’t the point of the project. Our neighbor Wylen had just died. He’d taught me everything about carpentry, spending far more hours each day with me than Jon ever had. Adding the guest room meant proving to myself that I was capable of managing without my mentor.
It was my most satisfying project by far. Working in my own home, I could use pyforial energy without worrying about anyone seeing me. It was illegal to do so, with dire consequences. To be arrested for pyforial manipulation meant life in prison—a solitary life at that. I’d be stuck alone in a cell, my meals slid under the solid metal door. I wouldn’t see even a guard for the rest of my life. A ridiculous law, in my opinion.
Having finished her meal, Callyn stood. “Which room will I be taking?”
It was only then that I realized she had to be a mage like me. She was too small to be anything else, though she must have control over a different energy to be walking around free. I looked for a wand and found one held to her belt with a strap.
“This way.” I started toward the back room.
“Bastial?” I guessed, pointing at her wand. It was the easiest form of energy to manipulate and the more dangerous of the two besides pyforial.
“I’m a bastial mage, yes.”
Bastial…so, fire, I thought. Now I really dreaded my father coming home and finding her.
“If you hear anything outside your room, just stay there with the door locked,” I told her. “It’ll be better if Jon doesn’t know you’re here.”
“And your mother?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. So I shook my head instead.
“I see.” She looked around the room. “I’ll be out before sunup.” Her lack of remorse was a pleasant surprise. Usually when the topic of my mother came up, people felt the need to ask questions. Some even went so far as to continue prodding after I dismissively told them she died when I was young. There wasn’t a single thing more difficult for me to speak about, as I still blame myself for what happened.
“Good night.” I started to shut the door before remembering my manners. “And thank you for fighting for us.”
She nodded dutifully. I expected her to thank me for my hospitality. Instead, she set down her bag, turned her back, and began unbuttoning her uniform. When she looked over her shoulder with a glare, I shut the door.
Jon used to be a guard for Lord Heon. It didn’t quite make him a king’s soldier, like Callyn, though in his mind they were of the same importance. He’d never thought highly of any soldier, but that might change now that war had begun.
An audible scoff came from my mouth. It was a silly thought. Even war wasn’t enough to change Jon’s opinions.
I hurried to prepare him something to eat. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before I could hear gravel splashing against our door between heavy stomps. He wasn’t just drunk. He was furious.
Jon didn’t know I was a pyforial mage. It would be the last thing I’d ever tell him, besides where I kept my money.
He never struck me, though sometimes I’d find myself wrestling a shoe out of his hands that he’d removed to throw at me. More often than not, he’d cry when it was done, bellowing about how it was his fault Faye had left. I always tried to ease his guilt. It may have been his fault she’d left, but it was my fault she was dead.
Jon was the most miserable man I knew. I pitied him when I wasn’t angry with him.
The door burst open. “Damn soldiers everywhere!”
“Keep your voice down,” I said. “It’s late.”
His head bobbled about, his eyes finding me yet looking through me.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, gesturing at the food I was making.
He pursed his lips, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t as angry as I’d first assumed. But then he undid his belt and I realized how wrong I was.
“I should teach them some respect.” Jon started toward the door with his belt folded in his hand.
I quickly weighed my options. If I let him leave, what were the chances he’d end up dead or imprisoned? But if I convinced him to stay, would he find Callyn?
I gritted my teeth and grabbed his shoulder. “You’re past the point of reason.” It was a line I must’ve used a thousand times by now, his cue to take a breath. But he didn’t seem to hear me or even notice my hand on him as he walked outside. I repeated it, louder this time. “You’re past the point of reason!” I grabbed him with both hands. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“Neeko, if you don’t let go of me…”
This was strange. I wasn’t used to him using my name or warning me before doing anything while he was this drunk. I let go of his shoulders.
Frozen by fear, I watched him stomp forward, his boots tossing the gravel in every direction. He stopped at the end of our short path from the road, growled like a dog, then screamed and threw his belt onto the dirt.
Cursing the soldiers, he spun around and started back toward me. I ran past him to grab his belt. What had soldiers said to him? They’d probably just teased him about his drunkenness. It didn’t matter; I wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up.
“Who are you?” I heard Jon demand from the kitchen.
My stomach turned. I ran back in to find Callyn standing there in a thin nightgown, gripping her wand tightly with one hand.
“I’m a soldier of King Quince’s army. Be quiet so I can sleep.”
Rage flushed Jon’s face.
CHAPTER TWO
“A soldier, she says!” Jon mocked. “A soldier!” I didn’t know who he was talking to, but it didn’t appear to be Callyn or me.
“Are you drunk?” she asked, though it was more of an accusation than a question.
“Get out of my house before I throw you out by your hair.” Jon thrust his finger toward the open front door. “Pig’s ass, you’re a soldier. A gentle breeze could knock you over, woman.”
Callyn seemed stunned. She didn’t move or blink.
“Now!” Jon yelled. His head swung to each direction. I’d seen this too many times before. He was looking for something to throw. I started toward him, but I was too late. He grabbed a potato I’d just taken from the fire before he came in.
The moment his hand came around it, he shrieked. A surge of curses followed before he glared at me, shaking his hand. “Neeko, you stupid child!”
I turned to Callyn, ready to tell her that she would be better off if she left. But I froze when she pointed her wand at Jon.
“I need to rest!” she whispered furiously. “Treat your hand in silence, and don’t disturb me! Do you understand, or shall I arrest you for refusing hospitality to a soldier in time of war?”
“Get out!” Jon squawked, no longer seeming to mind his burned hand as he shook his fist at her. “All of you soldiers are cat piss.”
She stood perfectly still, continuing to aim her wand.
Jon’s eyes bulged. “Get out!”
When Callyn didn’t move, and I saw fury cross her features, I decided my chances were better calming my father than convincing her to go. I stepped in front of him.
“Just let her sleep. She’ll be gone before you—”
But Jon startled me by pounding his fist on the table beside us. He cursed as he turned and took a knife from the rack on the counter. I jumped back reflexively. “Jon, don’t! You’re past the point of reason. You’re past the point of reason!”
He didn’t seem to hear me. He didn’t even seem to see me, trudging toward Callyn and throwing the table out of his way in the process.
Time seemed to slow as the terrible event unfolded. Callyn’s black wand glowed red at the tip.
“Stop!” I shouted at both of them. It was no use. Jon was a step away, bending his elbow to ready his attack. Callyn bit her lip as her eyes enlarged. She was done refraining; she put all of her power into hurting him. I could tell from the way she leaned toward my father and thrust her arm wildly.
She unleashed a burst of bastial energy I’m sure she’d begun gathering the moment he grasped the knife. The fireball exploded against my father’s chest, illuminating the whole kitchen as shards of fire splattered onto the floor.
Jon flew across the room. His head slammed against the counter on the opposite side. I ran to him as he wheezed and clutched at nothing in failed attempts to pull himself up, the sound of the crackling fire fading as the room fell back into darkness.
I’d never seen a fireball strike someone and didn’t know it was such a vicious sight. My father’s shirt smoldered, undulating like a swarm of blood red ants. Thin strings of smoke came from his wound, carrying the scent of his burned flesh.
His wheezing continued as I ran to him. I didn’t know what to say, so I screamed at Callyn, “Help him!”
The anger was gone instantly from her face, replaced by panic. “I’ll get someone.” She ran out of the house.
She was gone for barely more than a breath before Jon went limp, his arms sliding down to rest against the floor. His chest stopped smoldering—the appearance of ants gone. His shirt was tattered, his flesh
black beneath it.
I checked his pulse and felt nothing. I tried the other side of his neck. Nothing again. I pushed my fingers harder. Still nothing.
“Gods, no.” I tried his name over and over. “Jon. Jon? Jon!”
It was heartbreaking to scream my father’s name right into his face and see no response. Part of me still expected him to get up. Why hadn’t I fought to get the knife out of his hand? I could’ve stopped this.
I could hear my breath trembling. Where was there to go? What was there to do? I didn’t know, so I stayed on my knees and cried until I noticed a woman standing on the other side of my father. She dropped to her knees and placed two fingers against his neck. Then she shook her head without remorse.
For a while, neither of us spoke. I couldn’t look away.
“Who are you?” I finally asked. I don’t know why the question came out so suddenly and with such anger. I didn’t feel in control of myself.
“She’s a soldier and a friend of mine.” I turned to see Callyn standing beside the toppled table behind me. I don’t know when, but she’d put her uniform back on. She looked sad, guilty, tired, everything she should look. But her friend was the opposite. Dressed in the same black uniform, she was poised and ready to argue, though I didn’t know about what.
Then she opened her mouth and I found out. “This man attacked her. Callyn had every right to shoot him.”
Although I knew deep within me it was true, I also knew it was the worst thing she could’ve said. Who was she to speak like that? I didn’t care if she was a king’s soldier. I’d just lost my father!
Enraged, I jumped to my feet. I got ready to yell, prepared to accept any repercussions that followed. I’d never hurt a woman, but gods how I would scream at one.
“You—!”
There was a crash that shook the ground beneath my feet. Screams stormed into the kitchen through the open door, their terrible sound mixing with the crackling of a distant fire. There was another crash, no, an explosion, the sound of shattering wood—a house collapsing.
I examined the two soldiers’ faces for clues. They stared at each other with identical looks of shock.
“Is it possible it’s the south?” Callyn asked.
