Sage's face whitened in the light of the candles. Lincoln allowed Sage to pass before him out of the tent. He followed quietly, closing the flap behind him, leaving Kinna alone with Julian.
Julian crossed to Kinna, but stopped when she stepped back. “Kinna, what's going on? Why are you here?”
“Are you sure you're not being watched?” Kinna whispered.
Julian shook his head. His brown locks were close-clipped, military-style. The lack of curls made his tan cheekbones stand out in stark contrast to the rest of his face. He looked dangerous. A new scar cut across his eyebrow, and the hair gapped in that one spot. “As soon as Sage knew you were here, I knew, but I was almost back to the barracks anyway.” He sat down on his cot, touching a chair with his toe and nodding toward it. “Tell me what's going on.”
Kinna sat in the chair. She played with her blue tunic, bunching it in her fingers and then letting go. “I need your help.”
His dark gaze held questions as it traced her face. Kinna took a deep breath and plunged in. “Cedric was captured at your aunt and uncle's house. He's in Sebastian's hands now, and Lincoln and I managed to find out where he's being held.”
“How does that affect me?” Julian asked gravely.
“Because we heard that Sebastian's taking Cedric to the Forgotten Plains. As Leader of the Third Pixie Division, surely you have some influence; you can command a prisoner released, can't you?” Kinna knew the chances of a positive answer were slim, but she hoped that Julian might know of a way.
Julian blew out his breath. “Kinna—”
“This is my twin brother we're talking about. I can't leave him in Sebastian's hands. You have to help me free him.” Kinna reached for Julian's hands. “Please, Julian.”
He stared at her. “Your twin?” Disbelief rang in his voice.
Kinna's eyes slid shut as she recounted the wealth of information she'd discovered about her own past—that she was a child of the deceased King Liam of Lismaria, that Cedric was her twin, that their nurse had fled with them on that dismal night so long ago when Sebastian had issued the order for their deaths—that through the magic of taibe, she and her twin had been birthed in the fires of Dragons rather than from the body of a woman.
Julian's silence forced Kinna's eyes open again. In his expression, pain and awe and disbelief struggled for first place. “When did you find this out?”
Kinna spoke urgently. “The night before you left the Pixie Glades. Cedric was arrested that night, and Linc and I escaped. Julian, it's true, isn't it, that you're headed for battle on the Forgotten Plains?”
Julian's dazed eyes sharpened. “It's true, but what is your source? The orders only just arrived.”
Kinna waved his words aside. “Sebastian plans to use Cedric on the field of battle, I imagine, by forcing him to command his Dragons. Sebastian still believes that Cedric holds more power over the beasts than even his finest Dimn.”
“What's to say that Cedric won't call the Dragons to turn on Sebastian's forces?”
“Cedric wouldn't do that; he's a good man, and he wouldn't destroy thousands of lives to get at one person. Sebastian is counting on that.”
Julian stood, pacing the trampled grass. “Kinna, how do you know all this?”
“After Linc and I escaped Sebastian's men in the Pixie Glades, Chennuh took us back to The Crossings, and Lincoln turned into a magnificent spy while he sat in on war Councils with Commander Lanier and the others. He weaves powerful Pixie charms that slide him past even the most watchful of guards.”
Julian glanced at the tent flap as if to be sure Lincoln hadn't slipped in unnoticed. Tension still riddled his face.
Kinna stood. “So will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you release Cedric and help him escape to safety?”
Julian slowly shook his head. “You know I can't, Kinna. If I were discovered, it wouldn't endanger only my life, but Sage's and my family's as well.”
Kinna nodded slowly. “I see. And I understand, of course.”
“I'm sorry, Kinna.” Julian reached for her hands, pulling them into his. “You know I'd do anything for you, anything, don't you? But I can't put my family in danger this way. And I can’t flagrantly disobey the King. I’m a Leader of a Division in Sebastian’s Army.”
Kinna snatched her hands away, stung. “Yes, you certainly must maintain loyalty to such a wise and benevolent monarch,” she snapped sarcastically.
Hurt flared in Julian's eyes, and Kinna's shoulders slumped. “I'm sorry, Julian. Of course you can't put your family in danger. I shouldn't have even asked it of you.”
Julian gently squeezed Kinna's shoulders. “This doesn't change anything for us, does it?” The plea in his voice was unmistakable. He stepped closer, massaging the back of her neck. “I love you; I just ... can't.”
His dark eyes gazed hungrily at her mouth, and Kinna back-stepped once again. Julian's arms dropped to his side.
“I know, Julian, and I shouldn't have put this burden on your shoulders.”
Julian arched an eyebrow. “So we're still okay? You and I? King Sebastian hasn't gone back on his word; we're betrothed, Kinna—”
“Yes, my mother showed me your letter where you passed on Sebastian's threats against my father.” Bitterness bit Kinna's words, but she was past caring.
Julian shook his head. “I couldn't stop him, Kinna; once Sebastian gets an idea, he'll enforce it no matter the consequences.”
“I know,” Kinna said, “and I'm not blaming you. I just wish—”
“Wish what?”
“I just wish that my father were safe, that's all. And my brother. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to them.”
Julian pulled her into his arms. “I know, Kinna.” His hand gently stroked her back. “I just don't want Sebastian and his agenda to come between us. You know how much our marriage means to me.” He pulled back. “So, are we fine?”
Fear wound through Kinna's innards, as it had since the betrothal had been made official, crushing her stomach in its firm grip. Julian didn’t understand. Her father's face swam before her, his dark hair streaked with gray, worry coating his expression. The words from Sebastian’s letter blazed through her head again: You'll keep your betrothal, darling niece, or I'll see you father's head on a pike. Kinna swallowed. She held her voice steady, determined to show no sign of her inner turmoil. “Of course, we're fine. It doesn't matter if you can't free Cedric. It just means that I'll have to do it myself.”
“What? Kinna—” Julian stared at her. “What do you mean? You're not thinking of trying to free him on the eve of battle, not when Sebastian's plans for warfare so closely involve him?”
“And why not?” Kinna rejoined. “Julian, he's my twin, the only blood-family I have left besides a power-hungry uncle who hates me. You say you can't help him because you're thinking of Sage and your own family, and that's fine. I understand that, but don't tell me I can't help my brother, Julian; don't you dare!”
Silence thundered between them. Anger tinged Julian's gaze. Kinna stepped toward the door flap. “Anyway, Julian, I appreciate your help, and I wish you the best in battle.”
“Kinna, wait.” He grasped her shoulder, whirled her around, and pulled her against him. The rapid thud of his heart pulsed against her own. “Don't leave like this,” he whispered. He lowered his head, and his mouth found hers. It wasn't the tentative brush of lips he'd given her once before. Passion flowed through his fingers digging into her hair. He pressed himself too close against her.
Outside the tent, Sage released a sob of agony. Kinna used the chance to pull away.
The candles lit the raw emotions scrawled across Julian's face, and Kinna managed a small smile. “I'm not ready for this, Julian, and I think you know that. Betrothal or no, you're still just the friend I grew up with in the Pixie Glades. Let's not ruin that.”
“Kinna, after we wed, our friendship will be—different.” Julian's whisper hitched. “Won't you try—
”
“The future is a void. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I am no Seer Fey.” Tears stung Kinna's eyes. She knew her words brought him pain, and she hated hurting her friend. But she couldn't give him the love he so desired; her heart had already been given to another, even though he had rejected it. And her. Silver eyes, shuttering some deep emotion, swept across her consciousness. Ayden. Kinna blinked hard to dispel the image.
Julian sighed, running a hand through his short, thick hair. “Do you have some means of protecting yourself?”
“Lincoln has a knife, and Chennuh keeps me safe.”
“Chennuh is not with you at present.” Julian strode to a wooden chest pushed against the canvas and snapped open the lid. Several daggers of different lengths were piled inside, and he pulled a short, wicked-looking blade from the box. “I have no sheath for it, Kinna. Take care and put it in your boot.”
Kinna hefted the blade. It was heavier than it appeared. She slid it into her knee-high moccasin. “Thank you, Julian,” she said, sincerity touching her voice.
The tent flap flew open and Lincoln burst in. “Kinna, come. Now.”
Panic erupted in Kinna's abdomen. Her ears picked up the sound of several pairs of feet tromping through the grass, drawing closer to Julian's tent. She whirled to run, but Julian's sharp, quiet voice stopped her.
“No, this way. You too, Lincoln.” Julian motioned to the opposite side of the tent. “Out the back. I'll take care of this.”
Julian disappeared through the opening, and Lincoln hauled Kinna to the back corner of the tent where the ground dipped. “Go,” he whispered. Kinna hit the grass and weaseled under the canvas.
On the other side, Julian's hard voice stopped the advancing footsteps. “Do you have new orders for me?”
“Nay.” A man's voice carried easily around the canvas tent. “It's another matter. Search his tent.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Outrage filled Julian's voice.
Lincoln had escaped the tent; he tugged urgently on Kinna's arm. She hesitated, wishing to hear the rest.
“I apologize, Commander, but my orders are to search your tent. A Dragon's footprints have been found on the beach, and orders are to search your tent if any signs of a foreign Dragon appear.”
Terror seized Kinna; immediately, her mind searched for Chennuh. She wound her arm through Lincoln's. “This way.” Chennuh was safe, but she could feel his disturbance as he maneuvered through the air above them.
“Where are we going?” Lincoln asked as he hurried beside Kinna down the row of tents. “Back to the beach?”
Kinna shook her head. “No, there are soldiers all over the beach. Chennuh's heading to the crest over there.” She motioned toward the black line of sand hills that darkened the starry horizon ahead of them.
“Want me to sing?”
“No, there are too many of them.” Kinna glanced through a gap between tents and shied backward, nearly stumbling over Lincoln. She yanked him around the corner of a tent as six soldiers hurried by, their swords unsheathed.
As soon as they passed, Kinna rushed into the next section of tents, but not quickly enough.
“There they are!” The voice was closer than Kinna had anticipated.
“Run!” Lincoln urged, his voice no longer quiet. He pulled her along. He was faster than she, but he slowed his pace to be sure she stayed ahead of him.
Kinna flew down the pathway of tents. On her right, thudding footsteps approached, and she took a sharp left, then a right, losing herself in the maze.
Behind them, the soldiers' shouts grew louder.
“We're not going to make it.” Chennuh, help!
A burst of fire lit the night sky, trailing from a point high in the air into an inverted mushroom above the tents. Several caught on fire. Terrified shrieks filled the encampment.
Kinna could see the soldiers now. They bore down on her and Lincoln. Kinna burst into the wide pathway that led through the center of the camp and sprinted toward the fire. All around her, men emerged, running toward them, surrounding them. Kinna halted, panting, panicked. Lincoln pulled her behind him. He opened his mouth and a powerful song burst forth, spilling over the soldiers.
The song crashed like thunder, potent; like a tidal wave, it pulled at the audience’s movement. The men closest to them stilled, their motions sluggish. The ones behind plowed through, but as they drew close, they, too, struggled to move. The men’s gazes grew dreamy and still.
Lincoln sang louder, and even though the Pixie's voice held no power over the blood of Aarkan that ran through Kinna's veins, the raw emotion and the taibe that moved in his music pulled at the core of her being.
More men piled through the ranks, and powerful as Lincoln's song was, it wasn't enough. She and Lincoln were trapped.
The men closed in until Kinna could see the whites of their eyes. She knew she should be running, fighting, doing something, but Lincoln's voice was overwhelming. In a dream, she watched the men slow, their cries dull, their weapons drop.
A bone-shattering roar exploded the ranks. Hard, bony scales bit into Kinna's ribcage, wrapping around her torso as she jerked into the air with Lincoln beside her. Higher and higher, they soared into the night sky, and the circle of men below them grew small.
The dazed soldiers released a roar of outrage as Lincoln's voice abruptly cut off, but they were too late. Chennuh clutched Lincoln and Kinna in his invisible talons, carrying them on the wind toward safety and freedom.
Chapter Two
Ayden
Ayden stretched his hands in front of him, interlocking his fingers and twisting backward before shaking them hard. Scorching heat seared his hands, racing up his arms to his shoulders. He couldn't control the fire in his veins. At least it wasn't constant, but the same burn had filled his limbs several times since he'd bestowed the Amulet on King Sebastian four months before, and thus broken his curse.
He could touch living things without watching them dissolve to ash now. But the pain of this new, strange heat was difficult to handle when it appeared. Even so, pain was easier to bear than destruction.
He clenched his fists until the blood fled from his knuckles, but the burn remained.
Ayden took a deep breath and looked at the dusty scrolls that lined the shelves, the guttering candles that decorated the tables. The place smelled of ancient papyrus and decaying parchment.
Each of the Clans of West Ashwynd had a library containing scrolls that documented the history of their own people and creatures, but the best, most complete library was located in The Crossings where Ayden could not go. The next time he saw Sebastian, it would be on his own terms. He'd searched the scrolls in the Troll Havens and the Ogre Swamps. None of them had the information he sought. He had his doubts about the Dryad Dells' library, one of the more provincial Clans, but he had to try.
He held his hands to his face, blowing cool air across the burning skin, finding little relief. He stepped toward the shelves, and began paging through the scrolls.
“Amulet. Amulet,” he murmured as he searched for the familiar markings. A scroll toward the back caught his attention, and he pulled it out, blowing the dust from it as he carried it to a nearby table.
He pulled the parchment back, listening to the satisfying crinkle of age and decay, and scanned the markings. It wasn't written in the common tongue, but rather in pure Lismarian. Ayden had fled Lismaria as a boy of eight, and his understanding of the language was basic at best, but he could make out most of the words.
A phrase leaped off the page:
The Amulet, cast by the Seer Fey, or the Ancients as they are sometimes called, was wrought within the fires and by the Stars in the time of Aarkan the Firebringer as a symbol of the oath that sealed the three races together: Dragon, Man, and Fey.
Ayden pulled his hands back to his lips, blowing cool air over them as he continued to read.
...The Amulet contains the power of the Stars, manifested in four Touches—opposing extremes o
f fire and ice (representing the earthly elements) and ash and healing (the healthy life and death by decay, or the divine elements). The splintering of the Amulet's power can result in the split of the earthly elements, or even occasionally the divine elements. The power splinter only happens when more than one being is present. If the Amulet splits its powers at such a time, one individual will receive either a Touch manifesting in fire and the other manifesting in ice. The same would hold true with the divine elements of Ash and Healing, although occasionally, it has been known to only apportion one or the other of the divine elements—either healing or ash.
Death by decay! Ayden's gaze centered on the words as his life flashed through his head in a single instant—the living beings who had died by a mere brush of Ayden's skin against theirs, their features crumbling into ash and black rot. Ayden slammed his fists on the table on either side of the parchment, feverishly reading.
The Amulet has long been feared by all but the Seer Fey, and as most creatures dreaded contact with it for fear of receiving one of the Touches, the Seer Fey reclaimed the piece. It was taken into the Marron Mountains where dwelt the Ancients. In recent years—Ayden glanced at the date that headed the entry; it was written over sixty years ago—stories have arisen of occasional sightings of the Amulet by various creatures and citizens of Lismaria. Not everyone has emerged unscathed. Darkness has followed several, including a Trolldimn who drowned himself following contraction of the Ash Touch, and a Dryad, who burned to death, trapped inside his tree.
Below this were markings that documented the sources, and then a scribble along the side in fading ink, different from the square heavy print in the middle of the parchment. Ayden turned the document to read it.
Destruction of the Amulet has proved impossible thus far. Legend among certain Clans, namely the Pixies, who descend from the Seer Fey, alludes to the probability that a reversal of the Amulet's powers would involve Dragons, Seer Fey, and Man again, and likely, a requirement of all the Amulet's powers to be present within that grouping—Ice-Touch, Fire-Touch, Ash-Touch, and Healing-Touch.
Embrace the Fire Page 2
