by Amy Bearce
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© 2017 Amy Bearce
http://www.amybearce.com
Cover Art by Amalia Chitulescu
http://ameliethe.deviantart.com
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ISBN 978-1-62007-975-1 (ebook)
ISBN 978-1-62007-976-8 (paperback)
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To Mom and Dad
ellwyn Brennan’s tremendous skill with a sword was matched only by her love for it. The sword never lied. Its justice was clear and sharp. It cleaved through tangled knots of conflict and could most often solve any problem―but not these days, which really got under Nell’s skin.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the forest glade as she hacked and swung her longsword at an invisible, unknown opponent. In years past, she envisioned Jack while training, sometimes Donovan, and often Jasper, all members of the old Flight crew she used to work with. These days, there were no real fights and the sword was no longer her future, but training still soothed her. Corbin, her beloved, didn’t understand, so Nell practiced alone, just her and the lilting song of a woodlark among the towering red oaks and bristly pine trees.
She spun, ducked, and twirled. A stranger would see a lethal dance, but one beautiful in its stark strength. People might not describe Nell as pretty, with her white-blonde hair pulled back in a plain braid and her intimidating blue-eyed stare, but when she moved, she was arresting.
Her sides heaving, Nell finally lowered her blade. The sun dropped below the treetops, vanquished like her imaginary foes.
By all the stars, she missed a good sword fight. But life went on.
As if to drive that fact home, her mother called out, “Time for dinner!”
With a sigh, Nell sheathed her sword and went to clean up, thankful it hadn’t been her turn to cook. She might be nineteen now, but unlike most girls her age, running a household wasn’t one of her ambitions.
After a quiet dinner with her family, Nell kissed her sisters goodnight―though they were almost too old for such things―and then curled upon the cot in the living room where she stayed these days. Her sword lay within easy reach on the floor. Old habits died hard.
She traced the dagger stashed under her pillow with one fingertip before she flipped onto her back and closed her eyes. Even though her hands twitched to hold the dagger―more comforting to Nell than any worn baby blanket had ever been―she left it alone. She took some deep breaths to calm herself instead. Despite the late afternoon training session, sleep danced in and out of reach until slumber finally carried her away.
Sometime in the blackness of the night, the front door creaked. Nell’s eyes flashed open. The noise made the barest whisper of sound, but that was enough. A sliver of moonlight fell on the floor, and a tall shadow, a man’s, stretched across it. An invader. In her home. She hadn’t even heard the person pick the lock, which suggested someone with skill―and practice.
It had been at least a year since the last intruder threatened her, trying to silence the message of Aluvia’s continued need for healing. Tonight, the shadow of a knife extended from the intruder’s hand. That was new.
She slid her own sharp dagger out from under the pillow.
Nell might not be an enforcer anymore, but that didn’t mean she could relax her guard. Jack’s death hadn’t destroyed the dark alchemist’s crew entirely. It only meant a new ringleader had moved to the top, like fat rising in a broth.
The leather-bound hilt felt comfortable in her hand, an old friend. Nell tensed her muscles.
The door inched open another crack. The toes of a pair of dark green boots poked through the shadows.
Fury burst through her. She knew those boots. Jasper. He was the worst, skulking around Nell when she worked for the crew, like a rat sniffing for its next meal.
One of Jasper’s untied boot strings coiled along the floor. Her lips curled with disgust. Always sloppy. Nell focused her anger into a fine point, the intensity that gave her such skill with a blade for one so young.
He took one step closer and crossed firmly into the home. That was enough.
Instinct and training kicked in hard. Nell whirled out of bed as silent as an owl swooping on its quarry. She snatched up the long blade on the floor along the way. By the time her spin ended half a heartbeat later, she’d knocked his weapon to the floor. In one quick motion, she pressed her sword tip to his throat and her dagger at his chest. His pulse throbbed in the hollow of his neck, right next to the steel threatening to cut it.
“Nell!” Jasper gasped, voice strangled. Trembling, he threw his hands up in surrender.
She didn’t care that she stood in her nightclothes, soft linen pants and a baggy shirt. It didn’t matter that her hair hung loose down her back. She might look like a young, vulnerable girl, but appearances could be deceiving. She prayed the prophetic voice wouldn’t take over her body now. Whenever the mysterious voice issued another warning for Aluvia, it spoke through Nell without any apparent concern over what she was doing in that moment. It had led to some awkward situations, but this time, it could be deadly. “Come to kill me this time, Jasper? You couldn’t take me then. You can’t beat me now.”
“I came with a message. That’s all. I swear.”
“As if I care what you have to say.”
“You’ll care about this. There’s a new boss in town. He either wants you on his side or out of the way. You and your devoted followers.”
“Never going to happen.”
His voice went softer, wheedling. “Nell, listen. Come with me, tonight. I’ll convince him to assign you to my crew. You’re too good to waste.”
She snorted.
His expression darkened. “You never knew a good thing when you saw it.” He lowered his arms, and Nell let him, though her own weapons remained ready.
“My life’s full of good things now,” she said.
“You mean your little fairy keeper? I reckon there’s a reason you aren’t even hand-fasted yet. He’s not enough for someone like you.” Jasper side stepped and tilted his head as if examining her.
She moved slightly to block him. “Like me?”
“Someone born with a sword in her hand.”
The hands in question suddenly felt icy. “You’re just jealous.” Her tangled reasons for not formally committing to Corbin were nothing she’d talk about to this scum.
He glared. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just saying it’s a waste, you running around like some messenger of peace. War’s coming soon. It’ll be too late for you then. The new boss is gonna tame the dragons, stop ’em from setting the mountains afire. He’s promised they’ll carry us into battle to conquer Aluvia. Can you imagine anything better? You’re a fighter, not some fairy fanatic.”
“Your new boss sounds like a madman, and I haven’t been with Jack’s crew in a long, long time.” She kept her voice low in hopes of not waking her family.
“You mean my crew.”
She paused. “I’d say congratulations, but I wouldn’t mean it. Why even offer me a spot on your crew? You said your new leader wants me gone.”
“Or a part of the action. Whichever works. All the crews have a
bigger purpose now, Nell. You could too.”
“There’s nothing bigger than saving Aluvia’s future. You need to leave me alone. I’ve got a new life now.”
“That new life’s about to come crashing down around your shoulders.” He licked his lips and gave a ghost of a smile.
“Is that so?”
She scanned Jasper more closely, alarms going off inside her.
He looked older than his thirty years―life in a crew aged a body faster than most―but his eyes had a new confidence to them. His shoulders were low and relaxed, his hands no longer trembled. His pose hinted at something. Something he thought would win him this fight.
He laughed, low. The hair on the back of Nell’s neck stood on end.
Jasper said, “Things are about to get real exciting ’round these parts, girl. You don’t want to come? Fine, but at least hand over some nectar. Then I’ll do my best to keep everything peaceful, just between friends. I’ll tell the Dragon you’re on our side after all. I’m in tight with him.”
“The Dragon?”
“That’s the name he’s taken, our new boss. Down in the Ice-Locked Lands. You’ve never seen someone with such power.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you. You’ll regret leaving the crew when you’re not seen as a savior anymore. The people won’t love you forever. The Dragon will rule Aluvia, and you’ll have nothing.” He snickered.
She pressed the sword harder against his skin, until a thin line of blood welled up along the base of his neck. “Who are you kidding? The people don’t want a ruler. We have no kings.”
“We might not have a king―yet―but you’re practically a queen, ain’t you? Always so above everyone, so high and mighty is our little Nellwyn, people always chanting your name. Not good enough for the likes of us, eh? But you’ll see. We’ll have magic like you can’t imagine, and we’ll use it as we see fit.”
She scowled and delivered a swift kick to his shin without lowering her weapons. Being barefoot reduced the impact, though, and she gritted her teeth when he laughed. She said, “Without the fairies, without Flight, you’re nothing. Haven’t you gotten the message?”
“Just biding our time. The new boss promised us all the nectar we want once he takes over the ports and controls the keepers. Until then, there’s always poisons to sell, lovie. And there’s bigger things than that yet to come, much bigger. But oh yes…” Jasper hissed and leaned harder into the sword point.
Blood flowed thicker, black in the dim light, dripping down his neck. He switched to a falsetto voice and fluttered his stubby eyelashes at her. “The fancy prophetess gets to tell us what to do and not do, take and not take. Stop taking nectar! Stop making Flight! Save the world!”
Nell’s hands didn’t waver, despite the heat that rushed across her cheeks. Luckily, the darkness of the room concealed her flush. She kept the sword steady but pushed the dagger harder against his chest.
“I’m not the one saying it.” She still didn’t know who was using her body as a messenger, but she sure wished it would let her in on the secret―or get out.
“That’s not what I hear. Never saw you for a fairy fanatic, Nell. Now you’re courted by one and best friends with another.”
“Flight was death in a vial. You know it; we all knew it. But the crew still sold it. You can’t get any lower than that.”
Jasper ran a finger along the dagger at his chest. “If people were stupid enough to take it, they got what they deserved.”
“Ah, such compassion.” Nell sneered at him. “Really, your kindness is heartwarming. Just shut up and keep your hands down, Jasper.”
He dropped his hands but whispered, “Don’t you miss being an enforcer? I bet you do. The power. The fear. The rush.”
“No.” Her voice was flat.
“Liar. You can take the girl out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the girl.”
“The job was just a means to an end.”
“What end, little girl?”
Her lips tightened. So did her throat, but she kept her voice steady. “Survival.”
“The Dragon’s coming. You want to survive, you’d better prepare to bow. It’ll be too late to fight.”
“It’s never too late to fight.”
Nell reversed her hold on the sword and knocked Jasper hard on the head with its pommel. He went down with a thump. She sighed at the unconscious slob of a man at her feet.
Her unwanted gift of prophecy might have brought her instant fame and gifts of food and supplies from fervent believers, but it couldn’t deliver her from her past. It was a good thing she’d kept her fighting skills in practice. It sounded like she might need her sword yet, if this man named the Dragon was even drawing rats like Jasper to him. Rats only went where there was something to feed on.
She’d heard nothing of this man, though. Jasper could be exaggerating.
That was a real possibility, liar that he was. She discounted the bit about dragons immediately. Those weren’t the kind of beasts that submitted to being ridden like donkeys. Either Jasper was trying to intimidate her, or the so-called Dragon was making impossible promises to impress people. But even so, some kind of battle could be coming. Sounded like it.
A battle. One she’d have every right to fight, in self-defense, prophetic voice or no prophetic voice. For a woman now sworn to bring healing and peace, such a battle was a rare opportunity. Her heart sped up, and she allowed herself a small smile.
She didn’t miss the pain or the fear of the fight. But the sheer physical beauty of battle, the competitive nature of two forces clashing, oh yes. The singing slice of a sword was like nothing else. Almost perfection. A duel meant the best person won, fair and clear.
And the best was usually her.
There was none of that for her now. There were few honorable ways to earn coin as a fighter in Aluvia, almost none for a woman. And for someone touched by magic? Exactly zero. The voice that spoke through her needed to be heard; the people wanted a prophetess, not a warrior. She understood, even if she didn’t like it.
She hoped for things to settle down one of these days: for the voice to move on and for a chance at… normal. Whatever that would be. But normal young women didn’t have unconscious dark alchemists in their living room in the middle of the night.
Nell sighed again, tucked her dagger and his into the waistband of her pants, and got to work dragging Jasper out of the living room by his heels. His head bumped along the worn wood floor and clunked over the short ledge of the door to the ground outside. She didn’t try to be gentle.
The grass made pulling him easier, but even with muscles kept strong from her workouts, she grunted with the effort of maneuvering his heavy weight. Propping him up like an oversized doll, she quickly tied Jasper to the last fence post along the edge of their land, making sure to knot the rope extra tight. Considering his rise to leadership, she added a chain around him and secured it with a padlock, the key kept on her belt loop. Then she tossed a sign around his neck that read: Never threaten Nell Brennan. Forty gold coins for his release.
Smirking, she backed up to admire her work. His cronies would find him in the morning. Just like the others over the years. By all of Aluvia, would they never learn?
A broken bone or two would send a stronger message, of course. Maybe even a simple dislocation would be enough to deter future break-ins. But she shook her head. She could hardly redeem her past violence by striking out against all who opposed her now.
Even if it would be incredibly satisfying.
A hard gust of wind whipped her loose hair across her face. She shivered, her smirk fading. It had been a mild summer, but tonight felt different. Colder than it should be. The sky held a deep darkness, despite the tiny pinpricks of stars glittering as if chipped from ice. Trees moaned in the wind, shaking their arms full of green leaves that looked black in the shadows.
Nell curled her bare toes against the chill of the damp grass and took a st
ep back. A thin branch cracked beneath her foot, and a loud flapping among the trees had her reaching for her dagger. Wings flashed briefly, silhouetted against the glow of the moon, only to be lost in the blackness above.
Just a bird. She rolled her eyes at her own fancies. She’d let Jasper play with her mind. He was just trying to scare her. She’d never admit it may have worked. A little.
With one last look at the unconscious man in her yard, Nell went inside, rubbing her arms. Goose bumps crawled down her legs. She told herself it was just the chill of the air. But inside, a small part of her, a part she ruthlessly ignored, knew the truth. Change was coming.
leep was now further away than the Skyclad Mountains, with sunrise at least two hours off, Nell guessed. If Corbin were here, he’d be able to distract her with funny stories or tales of mystical creatures of legend. But alone, her mind spun endlessly. With a sigh, Nell flipped her legs over the side of her cot and stretched. She might as well get some work done.
She dressed for the day, tucked her dagger into its sheath at her waist, and headed off to the work cabin. She’d put off making more poultices for too long. When she had a spare second in her busy days, Nell tended to reach for a sword, not a pestle and mortar. Weapons work had always come easily to her, remarkably so. It had been her family’s saving grace.
Before his death, Nell’s father had worked for the crew, despite his distaste for it. After he was gone, Nell and her mother had struggled for a full year to make ends meet, but they were failing miserably. Her three baby sisters were fading away faster than shadows at dusk. Nell looked at her options and had seen only one.
She’d been all of nine when she’d first become a runner for Jack. Sierra Quinn, Jack’s fairy keeper daughter, loathed Nell from the moment she’d sworn her oath to him. It wasn’t like Nell had wanted to be a criminal, but business was business, and life went on. She’d learned how to fight, how to survive. She’d hated parts of the job, loved others, but she did all of it well.
Her life now had little in common with those days. On her way to the cabin, Nell passed by the unconscious Jasper and clunked him on the head one more time with her dagger’s hilt. Just to be safe. He wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. When he did, he’d have a headache meaner than a manticore.
