Fire Heart (The Titans: Book One)

by Dan Avera

  “Asper,” Clare said as they passed a knot of children playing by a stream, “why does everyone here have hair like that? I've never seen it before. It's beautiful.”

  “We are the last of the Faellan,” Asper said with a sad smile. “The only ones left after Soréllia came up from the south centuries ago. Feothon finally tired of the constant warring and simply brought all of his people here.”

  “The Faellan,” Clare said softly. “I thought you were all dead and gone. I'm...sorry.”

  Asper chuckled. “'Tis nothing to be sorry for. Only Feothon remembers the old times, and we are all very happy to live in the Dark Forest.”

  When at last they passed the final cluster of humans, it took Clare some time to notice that they were alone. The realization came as something of a surprise, but Clare was not given a chance to muse on its implications. They had reached an enormous pool of water surrounded on nearly all sides by trees. Wisps of steam trailed like wandering spirits from the pool's surface, dissipating in the morning air as quickly as they had appeared, and a continuous stream of bubbles at the water's center churned and frothed softly.

  “A hot spring?” Clare asked, and Asper nodded with a smile. “But it doesn't smell...”

  “As I said, the forest provides.” Asper touched her dress of leaves and whispered something that Clare could not hear. An instant later the raiment seemed to crumble around her as the leaves fell to the ground one by one, eventually leaving her naked. Clare averted her eyes.

  “There is no need for that,” Asper laughed. “We are both women. Now come—the water is always perfect.”

  Clare had spent most of her life living in a barracks full of male soldiers; she had grown used to their company, but somewhere along the road she had also lost the easy way other women had of dealing with each other. Her discomfort now would not be banished so easily, and she lifted her gaze but kept it away from Asper's bare form. She wordlessly moved to undo the laces on her breeches, her self-consciousness joining forces with the wound on her hand to make her fumbling movements even clumsier.

  “Oh!” said Asper. “My apologies—I'd forgotten. Here, let me help.” And then she was so close that Clare could feel the heat from her body. She tried unsuccessfully to keep her vision averted, but it was exceedingly difficult with Asper standing right in front of her. “There you go,” Asper said a moment later, and Clare felt the breeches slide down her legs and collapse in a heap on the ground. Her cheeks heated—and then reddened even further when she felt Asper tug at her shirt. “Arms over your head, Clare,” the forest woman said in a singsong voice, and then the shirt was off as well.

  Clare immediately crossed her arms over her bared breasts and nervously cleared her throat. “Why so tense?” Asper asked with a smile, and then she seized one of Clare's hands and pulled her, stumbling, toward the water.

  The water did indeed feel perfect, and Clare felt herself immediately relax as she slid beneath its deliciously hot surface. She closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh. There was a small rock ledge, the perfect depth for her to sit with just her head, neck, and shoulders exposed, and she settled down on it and leaned against the side of the pool.

  “See?” Asper laughed, and Clare opened her eyes to see the forest woman standing before her. “'Tis not so bad.”

  Clare smiled. “No,” she agreed softly. “Sorry, I suppose I'm just out of practice with...well, being a woman.”

  Asper laughed again. “Well, allow me to help you get back in practice.” She drifted around to Clare's left and settled down beside her, and in the same movement put her hands gently on Clare's shoulders. “Turn around—there you go.” She began to slowly knead the area around the base of Clare's neck.

  Clare tensed at the contact, but after a moment she began to relax. The sensation was wonderful, and strangely arousing at the same time. For a fleeting instant she thought of Will, but banished the mental image a moment later. No need to embarrass myself, she thought.

  “You are wound as tight as a lute,” Asper chuckled. She was quiet for short time. Eventually she broke the silence by murmuring, “Tell me about him.”

  “Who?”

  “Will, of course.”

  The request caught Clare by surprise. So, too, did her reaction to it; she found that the very thought of Will helped her relax. “He's...very kind,” she said, smiling as she thought about her time with him in the birch forest. “I think probably one of the nicest men I've ever met. Katryna told me he met a little girl in Prado whose father had been beaten by the guards, and when an old woman tried to give Will money for liberating the city he told her to give it to the girl's family instead. I've just...never heard of that kind of thing happening. Why? What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing in particular,” said Asper with a knowing chuckle. “Just talk. Look at that—your body is loosening up already.”

  Clare groaned when Asper's fingers found a particularly tight knot of muscle. “Well,” she gasped after the strange mixture of pain and ecstasy had passed, “did you see the wood flute he keeps around his neck?”

  “I did. Does he play?”

  A smile tugged the corners of Clare's mouth. “No,” she said softly. “It belonged to one of his men—a boy, I think. His name was Rik. He died just before I found Will.”

  Clare waited for Asper to say something, but when the other was silent she continued. “You should have seen his face when we went back to the village where all his men were killed. It was like...like somebody had taken away part of his soul. I wanted to hold him or...I don't know, comfort him somehow. But I didn't have any idea what to do.”

  “I think that when you are around him, 'tis comfort enough,” said Asper.

  “Oh?” Clare half-turned to look at the woman out of the corner of her eye.

  “Yes. Have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”

  Clare blushed. “Well, I—sort of. I just—”

  Asper let forth a sweet, musical laugh, but said nothing.

  “What's so funny?” Clare demanded.

  “Oh, nothing. Just you.” They were quiet for a time, neither saying anything and the only sound coming from the steady stream of bubbles at the pool's center. Clare began to drift off into a doze as Asper's hands continued to work their charm on her sore muscles.

  “Ah! Thought I'd never find this place,” said a new voice, startling Clare and tearing her from her daydream. Her head snapped up to see who had spoken.

  “Katryna,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “Spirits above, Clare,” said Katryna in a mock-hurt voice. “Try not to sound so excited.” She winked. “One of the forest bumpkins told me I could come here while Castor is doing...whatever.” She began to strip her clothes off then, and soon she, too, was naked. “Nice to be around some women for a change, eh? I get tired of all those sweaty men. The smell...” She waved a hand in front of her nose for effect, and Clare laughed, mildly surprised that her own awkward demeanor was quickly dissipating. Perhaps she could get used to this feminine bonding thing after all.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Asper as Katryna slid into the water with a sigh. “Are you settling in well, Katryna?”

  “Very,” she murmured. “They've given Castor and I our own little tree to stay in, and the animals are all very helpful. Why, just this morning a wood weasel brought me breakfast.” She sighed for effect, and gave Clare her best doe eyes. “It was marvelous—beautiful! I've never seen such a lovely thing!” Then she put her finger on her chin and looked away thoughtfully. “But he sure left quickly once I asked if he was on the menu, too.”

  Clare gaped, but Katryna had already closed her eyes and settled back against the edge of the pool. “Great Black this feels good,” she murmured.

  “What is Castor doing?” asked Clare after shaking her head and choosing to push Katryna's comment from her mind for the moment.

  “No idea. They said that Will and Feothon needed him
for something, and they hustled him off.” Katryna rolled her shoulders, and then pointed at Asper, who was still massaging Clare's back. “Are you really making the pregnant woman give you a back rub?”

  “I—no, I—”

  Asper made a tsking noise. “Nonsense. I started it. And besides, we were about to switch places.” She winked at Clare when the latter turned to give her a smile.

  “I see,” Katryna said as Clare eased herself out from under Asper's hands and drifted behind the forest woman. The water sloshed cheerfully around her as she moved. “So, Clare,” Katryna asked with a sly smile, “how are things between you and Will?”

  “Why is everybody so curious?” Clare asked, blushing for what felt like the thousandth time that day. She began to gently knead Asper's skin, which was surprisingly smooth and clean for someone who lived in a forest. But then again, this isn't a normal forest, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Things are fine. I just wish he would stop feeling guilty about hurting me.”

  “But he did hurt you,” said Katryna.

  “I was the one who took his hand, damn it,” Clare snapped, and immediately regretted the outburst. “Katryna, I'm sorry...” she began, but when she looked up she realized that the other woman was grinning.

  “I'll be testing your loyalty like that from time to time,” Katryna said in answer to Clare's perplexed stare, and then she winked. “Hopefully you don't come to hate me for it. But that's me, so for as long as we're traveling together you'd better get used to the idea.” She laughed, and even Asper chuckled.

  “Will said you've known each other a long time,” Clare said.

  “Oh...I think about ten years now.” Katryna laughed softly and shook her head. “You know, that man has saved my life more times than I care to think about. He and I were actually good friends before we met Castor. We first met when we joined a mercenary band called the Hands of Death at about the same time. I was fifteen then. So young and stupid.” She chuckled. “It was a rocky start, you know. He was kind of withdrawn—and mean, too—but I saved his life once. An enemy prisoner who'd escaped from his bonds was sneaking up on him with a knife, but I tackled him and broke his neck. And after that Will really opened up.”

  “Wait, wait,” Clare said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Will was mean? Will Blackmane? Are you sure it wasn't just your sparkling personality bringing out the worst in him?”

  Katryna stuck out her tongue but grinned a moment later. “I admit, I may have had something to do with it. But no, in the beginning he was very cold, very ruthless. The thing is...I don't know. I was never really certain if it was the true him or if it was just an act. And then there was, ah...” She trailed off and looked away. “Never mind. If he wants to tell you about his past, that's his choice.”

  This new revelation startled Clare. Was there some hidden side to Will that she had not yet seen? The idea unnerved her.

  “Anyway,” Katryna continued, “after I saved him we both watched each other's backs and made sure we didn't die. We hopped around to a bunch of different groups of sellswords; never stayed too long until we joined the Raven Knights. In all the bands we fought for, Will was the only one who never tried to get me into bed, and he always treated me like an equal. I was a woman doing a man's job, you know, and I'd really only proven myself to him.”

  Clare raised an eyebrow. “I know what you mean. So wait, you and Castor weren't always...?” She made a vague motion with her hand.

  “Together?” Katryna asked. “Nope. That happened about four years ago, a year after Will and I joined the Ravens. Castor was taking notice of us by that point, since Will and I were constantly outperforming everyone else on the battlefield. But...bah, it's still embarrassing to think about it. I slipped up one day, wasn't paying attention. We were assaulting this tiny outpost, and we thought we had it under control. But the garrison's commander was dressed like a grunt, so nobody noticed him, and he took the first Raven he saw hostage. That happened to be me.

  “He told Castor to call off the attack or I would die. Will tried to come after me, and it took four other men to hold him back.” She smiled at the memory. “He broke one of their noses, and I think...yes, and he cracked some of another man's ribs, too. But they finally got him on the ground. And then Castor challenged the man to a one-on-one fight.” She shook her head, and Clare saw something completely new in her eyes—adoration. “He said that if the commander won, the Ravens would all leave, no questions asked, and he could kill me. If Castor won, the other soldiers would have to surrender, and I was to be set free.”

  “That's crazy, though,” Clare said. “Nobody in their right mind would fight Castor. I saw him in Prado—I don't know of anyone who could beat him in a duel.”

  “Well, Will could,” Katryna said with a small smile. “But that's beside the point. The commander, as it turned out, was General Bors Barellio. He wasn't even the regular commander—he was just passing through on his way to Brightstone.”

  “Wait,” said Clare, “that name sounds familiar...”

  “Terror of the South?”

  “Ah! Right! The man that slaughtered seven hundred people in the name of Gefan.”

  Katryna winked. “You got it.”

  “I never understood that,” Asper murmured, and Clare paused in her massaging.

  “What?”

  “Gefan. One god who supposedly created everything on his own with no help, and yet whose actual existence is in question.” She shook her head. “Very strange. And all the killing that follows that name around, just to get to the Beyond...”

  Katryna shrugged. “Everybody still thinks the Titans are a myth,” she said. “There's a reason they're called the Old Ones now. The Titans left us, so we forgot about them. And people need something to latch onto, especially when times are as bad as they are. The Clergy simply gave the idiots what they wanted. It's not hard to convince someone that your way is the right way.” She grinned then, and the way she did it gave her a predatory look. “In my case, all it takes is a set of teats, the promise of this thing between my legs, and a few choice words. Of course, most of my followers end up dead very quickly, but even so.”

  Clare snorted and coughed, the sudden bout of mirth catching her off guard. Katryna smiled coquettishly and blew Clare a kiss.

  “Anyway,” Katryna continued, “Barellio accepted. Castor won, of course. That was a sight to see. If you think he's something when he's fighting yaru, then do this: next time we're in battle, tell him that Will or I are in trouble. The man will go mad.”

  “That's horrible!” Clare gasped, but Katryna only laughed.

  “Only a little bit,” she said sweetly. “But after he killed Barellio, he pointed his sword at the guard that was holding me. He told the man that he could either release me then, or he would shortly be missing a hand. The rest of the soldiers surrendered pretty quickly after that. There's something to be said for killing a man so fast that he doesn't even realize he's dead.” A smile ghosted across her lips, and her eyes became distant with the fog of memory. “That night, I went into his tent and asked him why he'd risked so much to save me. He said for two reasons: the first was that I was under his command, and I was therefore his responsibility. My predicament had been his mess to clean up, so he had done what was necessary.

  “He didn't say the second reason, so I had to prod him for it. That was when he told me...” She giggled, a girlish sound that was completely out of place with Katryna. “He told me that I was the most incredible woman he had ever met, and that he would never have forgiven himself had I died.”

  She trailed off, staring at nothing. “That's beautiful,” Clare said after some time had passed, and her voice was a whisper laced with emotion. Katryna settled her gaze back on her then.

  “We made love for the first time that night,” she said softly. “It was...incredible.” She paused for a moment, and then shuddered in silent pleasure. “You wouldn't think it to look at him, but he has a huge—”

  “Clare,” As
per interrupted quickly, “would you do me a favor and move a little farther down my back? Ah, thank you.”

  ~

  “Where are we?”

  They had, for a long while now, been walking through a part of the forest that had steadily become more and more overgrown. It had gotten to a point where Will thought they would need to break some of the plants walling them in.

  He was wrong, of course; Feothon had simply walked in among the undergrowth, and it had moved obediently to let him pass through unhindered. After Will went by, the plants slowly closed up and reformed into a nearly impenetrable wall once more.

  “We are close,” Feothon answered cryptically. “There is something that needs to be done, and soon. We are almost there.”

  Will opened his mouth to ask another question, but thought better of it. They walked on in silence broken only by the infrequent bird calls from overhead, until finally they came upon a particularly dense clump of ferns. The leafy fronds parted like silk curtains as Feothon stepped through them, and when Will crossed the threshold he found himself standing at the edge of a sunlit clearing. A tall, angular boulder stood at the clearing's very center, and creeper vines adorned its base. There were words carved into the face of the stone, but they were ancient and time had long ago worn away any meaning they held.

  But what really caught Will's attention was the man sitting with his back propped against the boulder. He was old—perhaps the oldest person Will had ever seen. He was completely bald, and liver spots dotted his crown and the skin of his hands. And when the man turned to face the new arrivals, Will saw that he was blind—his sightless eyes were a dull, opaque blue that saw nothing. But...