Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2)

by Callie Kanno

  “Iona,” he said quietly, “how big were typical giants?”

  Some were as large as twelve feet tall, she answered. I would say the average would have been around eleven feet tall.

  “Interesting,” he mused.

  Hildar looked over with a sharp glare. “Hush,” she reprimanded him. “I am trying to concentrate.”

  Idris felt his ears grow hot. Normally, he was good about speaking to Iona silently when they were around other people. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  He turned back to his book once more, bending over the pages as he focused on each word. The book told briefly of Didrika’s childhood in a remote human village. The village didn’t have a name, but Didrika stated that it was located north of a city called Yuul. Idris paused to write down the name on the piece of slate that Cowan provided.

  Didrika went on to recount how various groups of part-giants eventually came together to form a village of their own. She only referred to it as the Forger Village, as if it was the only of its kind. She gave no specific location, only that it was to the far north of the continent.

  I learned the use of runes from my grandmother. Hedda was particularly skilled in using runes, and many wished for her to teach them her secrets. The other Forger children envied me, for I was her only student. At first I did not realize that my grandmother meant to teach me. We began when I was quite young, using only household runes. I learned to mend things that were broken and how to keep food from spoiling. From there, Hedda taught me how to use runes for healing. It was not until I had grown to my full stature that she began to teach me the secrets of rune forging.

  Idris stopped, frowning. “Captain Cowan?” he called. “What are runes?”

  Cowan got to his feet and walked over to Idris. “It is a type of magic that uses specific symbols to accomplish a desired effect. Where is it mentioned?”

  Idris pointed out the passage. Cowan’s eyebrows drew together as he read the words. “That cannot be right,” he said to himself.

  “What is it?” Aherin asked, looking up from his text.

  “This states that runes are used when forging an item of power,” Cowan explained.

  Hildar shrugged her shoulder. “Why is that a problem?”

  “Because,” Cowan said, holding out his bo staff, “there are no runes on our weapons.”

  Idris’s stomach jolted as he realized Cowan was right. There were no markings on Iona that looked like any sort of writing. Aherin picked up his bow to take a closer look. He slowly ran his fingers over the surface of his weapon. “Maybe they are hidden in the designs,” he suggested.

  Idris grabbed his partisan to examine it as well. He once again marveled at the exquisite details in every part of the weapon, but there were no runes to be seen. “Nothing,” he reported to the others.

  “Same here,” agreed Aherin.

  Cowan grunted. “One more reason we need to speak directly to a Forger.”

  Hildar rubbed her forefinger along the bridge of her nose, staring at nothing in particular. “Perhaps there was more than one way to forge an item of power,” she murmured.

  “Possibly,” nodded Cowan, “but I hope that is not the case.”

  Idris frowned. “Why?”

  Cowan sat down heavily. “If there are multiple ways to forge a weapon, then it is possible that it has to be reforged in the same manner. If that is the case, we need to find a Forger that can use the exact technique that was used to forge Hildar’s dagger. That makes our task much more difficult.”

  Idris and Aherin exchanged looks. Hildar seemed stunned. “The chances of us finding a living Forger are small to begin with,” she said in a voice that verged on despair. “Now we have to find a Forger with a specific set of skills?”

  Their captain held up his hands in a calming motion. “We do not know that is the case. It may be that there is only one way to forge items of power, and we simply do not recognize what the runes look like.”

  Hildar rested her head in her hands, looking defeated. “What will happen if Savion cannot be reforged?”

  “Then the dagger will have to be destroyed,” Cowan said in a brusque tone.

  Hildar’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “The dagger is a corrupting influence,” the captain said without pity. “If it cannot be reforged, it cannot be used.”

  Idris could see Hildar’s face grow pale. “And what happens to me?” she whispered.

  Cowan studied the young woman before him for several moments. He turned back to his book as he answered. “We will make that decision if the need arises.”

  Although it was clear that their leader was done talking, the three young soldiers stood rooted in place. They stared at each other with a mixture of emotions. Idris felt a surge of pity for Hildar. He could not imagine how difficult it would be to feel that his entire future was at risk. It had been hard enough when Idris had been forced to decide if he wanted to join the Royal Guard. How would it have been if someone—or something—had made the decision for him, regardless of how he felt? Hildar may be forced to leave the Royal Guard, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

  That may be the preferable option, regardless, Iona stated.

  What do you mean? Idris asked her.

  Hildar may not wish to have the dagger reforged once she knows what is required, she replied.

  Idris took a deep breath. Well, we will not know what is required until we find a Forger.

  True.

  Hildar slowly went back to her book, and her peers followed her lead. It added a sense of urgency to their task, being reminded that Hildar could lose so much. Idris read and reread each paragraph of Didrika’s journal, making certain that he didn’t miss any important information. He completely lost track of time as he studied his book. He didn’t even notice the sound of approaching footsteps a few hours later.

  “Master Emeric told me you were here to do research,” a familiar voice said.

  Idris whipped around to see Princess Lenora standing near the group, holding a tray with freshly baked hand pies. His face immediately burned with embarrassment, recalling the events of the morning.

  The princess set the tray on an empty table. “I thought you might appreciate something to eat.”

  “Thank you, your highness,” Captain Cowan said respectfully. “You are very thoughtful.”

  Idris’s companions all set their books aside for a much-needed break. However, Idris bent back over his task, feigning that he was too busy to stop. He secretly hoped that the Breenite princess would leave, sparing him from humiliating himself further.

  “Here,” Lenora said, standing directly behind him.

  Idris jumped guiltily, staring at the hand pie she offered him. “Uhhh…”

  “Are you not hungry?” she inquired.

  “No,” he blurted. “I am. I mean, I am very grateful, your highness…”

  She reached out to take his hand, placing the pie into it. “You may still call me Lenora, if you wish.”

  He flinched away from her touch, but accepted the food. “Thank you, Princess Lenora.”

  Lenora sighed softly. She stepped away to fetch an unused chair, then set it next to Idris. “Were you not the one who spoke of the unfairness of being judged by one’s position?” she asked, sitting down on the chair. “Does that not apply to me as well as you?”

  Idris instantly felt contrite. “Of course it does,” he answered. “I just feel like an idiot for not realizing that you are not a kitchen maid.”

  A beautiful smile crossed Lenora’s face. “To be honest, I am glad that you made the mistake. It was nice to be treated like a regular person.”

  Idris’s heart leapt in his chest. “Really?”

  Lenora nodded. “That is why I come to Hollow Cry Tower so often. Master Emeric and the other scholars let me do whatever I wish, so I can do all the things that my mother and father feel are beneath my dignity.”

  “You really do like to cook?” Idris asked her, taking a bite of the hand pie.


  “Yes, I do,” Lenora laughed. “I wish I was a kitchen maid.”

  Idris’s eyes widened as he chewed the flaky crust and savory vegetables. “You are very good at it,” he said with enthusiasm.

  A flush of pleasure colored her delicate face. “Thank you.”

  Idris caught a disapproving glance from Hildar, quelling his desire to continue the conversation with the princess. “I should get back to work,” he said. “Thank you for the food.”

  “What are you researching?” Lenora asked curiously.

  Idris hesitated before answering. He wasn’t sure how much Cowan wanted outsiders to learn of their task, but someone like Lenora might have additional information to give them. “We are looking for the Forgers,” he told her. “We hope to find one still living, so we can talk to them.”

  Lenora frowned thoughtfully. “The last known Forger community was here in Breen, but it was destroyed generations ago. Local lore says that the survivors fled to the mountains.”

  This statement got the attention of the entire group. “Which mountains, your highness?” Cowan asked, leaning forward.

  “Get me a map, and I can show you,” she instructed.

  The captain immediately did as she asked. He walked over to a shelf that held several rolls of leather, reading their labels carefully. He selected one and brought it over to Idris’s table, unrolling it as gently as possible. The square of leather held a detailed map of Breen that had been burned into the surface. Idris was amazed by the intricate work that had been put into creating it.

  Lenora stood, leaning over the map with her brows knit together. She pointed to a small range of mountains on the eastern border of Breen. “The Forger village was near the base of these mountains,” she told them. “If the stories are true, it would be most likely that the Forgers used those mountains for shelter.”

  “That is assuming that the Forgers did not choose to leave Breen all together,” Hildar pointed out. “That is not far from Jish.”

  “It is possible they went to our neighboring nation,” Lenora allowed.

  Cowan straightened. “Either way, it gives us a starting point. Thank you, your highness. Your help has been invaluable.”

  “Perhaps I can be of further assistance,” Lenora suggested lightly.

  The captain spoke cautiously. “Oh?”

  “I have visited the ruins of the Forger village before,” she explained. “I can take you to them.”

  Cowan immediately shook his head. “That is not necessary, your highness. I would not wish to inconvenience you.”

  Lenora waved a hand. “It is no inconvenience. I have business in Koyo anyway.” She pointed to a city just north of their destination.

  Captain Cowan pressed his lips together for a moment. “Your highness,” he began, “I do not think-”

  “Do not concern yourself, Captain,” she interrupted with a bright smile. “I shall be quite safe making the last leg of the journey on my own. I am accustomed to traveling alone. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go prepare for our departure. We can leave first thing in the morning.”

  Before Cowan had a chance to object, the princess had swept away. She left in her wake a stunned silence. Aherin stifled a snicker. “I guess we are doing as she says,” he ventured.

  Hildar’s face was a thundercloud. “She is certainly skilled at manipulation. She knows we cannot refuse to let her join us now—not without insulting the royal family of Breen.”

  Cowan sighed softly. “I suppose it does no harm to let her guide us to the base of the mountains. However, I would advise all of you to take care in what you tell the princess. She has ulterior motives in coming with us, whatever they may be.”

  “Yes, sir,” his students replied in unison.

  “For now,” Cowan continued, “let us finish reading these books. Any additional information we find will be important.”

  “What about other books about the Forgers?” Hildar asked. “Should we not stay until we have read them all?”

  “Very little has been written about them,” Cowan explained. “They were a very secretive group of people, and they did not want information falling into the wrong hands.”

  Aherin frowned. “How will we find them?”

  Cowan shrugged slightly. “All we need is a starting point, really. Local lore will tell us the rest.”

  “That does not seem very reliable,” Hildar pointed out.

  Their captain raised his eyebrows. “It is all we have.”

  Idris turned back to the Didrika’s journal, but his thoughts were distracted. Even if the Forgers had fled to the mountains, what was the likelihood that they were still there? If they had been running from danger or disaster, they probably would have gone farther away.

  Will we ever find what we are looking for? Idris wondered silently.

  For Hildar’s sake, I hope not, Iona responded.

  Chapter Thirteen: Eyes of Malice

  A darkened figure slipped away from an alcove. He kept his eyes on Idris and his companions, making certain that they didn’t notice. The figure silently made his way to the stairs, then climbed to the sixth level of Hollow Cry Tower.

  He wound his way through the rows of bookcases, coming to a solitary display case in a lonely corner. His eyes settled on the golden circlet resting behind the glass. The metal was sculpted to look like insect wings, woven together across the brow. The edges of the circlet were lined with small emeralds that twinkled in spite of the dim light of the room.

  The figure cast a quick glance around the area, making sure he was alone. Then he opened the glass case and gently removed the circlet. Walking to a window facing east, he placed the circlet on his head. The man’s eyes clenched shut as he focused every thought on the brother circlets connected to the one he wore.

  It took a few minutes before he got a response.

  I am here, came the voice of his leader.

  As am I, added the second-in-command to their Order.

  “I have grave news to report,” said the spy.

  We gathered as much, the second-in-command replied drily, since you are contacting us outside of the usual timeframe.

  “There is a group of people here researching the Forgers,” the spy blurted.

  A moment of silence followed.

  How many people? asked the leader.

  “Four,” answered the spy. “They are from Calaris, but the leader of the group spent time here at the tower.”

  What is his name?

  “Cowan.”

  Interesting, mused the leader. I have heard of this man.

  Who are the others? asked the second-in-command.

  “His students,” the spy said dismissively. Then he hesitated. “But…the Breenite princess has offered to help them.”

  The royal family is interfering? That is grave news, indeed, said the second-in-command.

  “I would not say that the princess is knowingly interfering,” the spy amended hurriedly. “I think she is just trying to be helpful.”

  Even so, the second-in-command argued, the king will be angered when we have to eliminate her.

  The spy paled. “Surely such measures are not necessary.”

  Anyone who seeks to uncover the knowledge of the Forgers must die, the second-in-command insisted.

  The spy’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “But…the princess…”

  She will die to ensure the greater good, was the merciless reply.

  Enough, interceded the leader. We will not kill anyone needlessly.

  But, sir, the second-in-command began.

  Silence, the leader snapped. Then he spoke to the spy. What information were these people seeking?

  “The last known location of the Forgers,” the spy answered readily. “They wish to find a living Forger.”

  Why?

  “They mentioned reforging a weapon of power.”

  See? said the second-in-command. They wish to revive the dark arts of the Forgers. They cannot be allowed to l
ive.

  The leader ignored the comment. What was the Breenite princess’s part in this?

  “She was told they were looking for the Breen Forger village,” the spy explained. “She offered to show them the way.”

  Was she a part of the plan to reforge the weapon?

  “No, sir,” answered the spy.

  The leader sounded satisfied. Then it might be possible to preserve her life.

  The spy felt a wave of relief, but the second-in-command protested. Sir!

  It would be foolish to wage war with the royal family, the leader insisted. The king allows us to fulfill our purpose. We should not incite his vengeance if it can be avoided.

  The second-in-command snorted angrily, but didn’t argue. The spy was grateful that he would not be bringing harm to one who had always been so kind to him.

  The others will have to die, the leader went on. That cannot be avoided. But we shall first see if they can lead us to any surviving Forgers.

  They will not find any, the second-in-command pointed out. Our forebears hunted the Forgers down.

  Perhaps, allowed the leader. Perhaps not. If any remain living, Cowan would be able to find them.

  Who is that man? demanded the second-in-command.

  He is a warrior of great renown, the leader explained. He has been a Wielder for longer than any living soul, save for Emeric. He serves King Nikolas of Calaris.

  The descendant of Lyndham the Treacherous, spat the second-in-command. For that alone this Cowan deserves death.

  We will not kill a man for serving a corrupt master, cautioned the leader, but we will kill to prevent the knowledge of the Forgers from ever being spoken.

  “They are leaving in the morning,” the spy told his leader. “Princess Lenora said they would take the road that eventually leads to Koyo.”

  You have done well, the leader said in an approving tone. We will intercept these seekers of darkness after we know that there are no Forgers to be found.