FATHOM INK PRESS
Fire Dancer
Copyright ©2019 by Catherine Jones Payne
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permissions, send a query to the publisher at [email protected].
Published in the United States by Fathom Ink Press.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, or incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead; events; or places is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Design: Jenny Zemanek, Seedlings Design Studio.
Print Interior Design: Chris Bell, Atthis Arts.
Ebook Formatting: Kella Campbell, E-Books Done Right.
Author Photo: Steven Noreyko.
Epigraph: “Dustfire” ©2019 by Janeen Ippolito
E-BOOK EDITION • ISBN 978-1-946693-13-6 • VERSION 1.1
Also available in paperback (ISBN 978-1-946693-14-3) and for Kindle (ISBN 978-1-946693-12-9).
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For Brittany,
sister extraordinaire, woman of valor, who by her strength calls forth the strength of others.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
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
Fire Mage
A Note From the Author
Read More
Acknowledgments
About the Author
outlasting the fire around me
I breathe out the fire within
me
and stand
and soar
on embers
dreams
and dustfire
—Janeen Ippolito, “Dustfire”
Chapter One
I grabbed Nolan’s hand as we passed underneath the vivid floral arch that marked the entrance to the great Orivesi Terra Market. All around us, brilliant colors clamored for attention, advertising food, garments, machinery, tools—anything our hearts desired. But my attention was focused on Nolan, on his tall, lanky frame, the blond hair that fell in waves almost to his shoulders, and his brilliant green eyes that rested on me.
I broke out of my reverie to glance around and make sure no one from the clan was watching. It was probably foolish to sneak through the market with Nolan. I wouldn’t make a habit of it. But I didn’t see any other Fintan here. At least not right now.
My clan had set up camp just two miles from Nolan’s home and planned to stay two whole months while the festival performed in the region. Nolan and I could hardly believe our good fortune. We’d schemed to see each other whenever we could since we were young children. The Fintan usually came to Orivesi twice a year, for four or five weeks at a time. But to be this close to each other for so long was something we’d only dreamed of.
He grinned at me, and the smile lit up his whole face. “What are you thinking about?”
I returned the smile. “About how much I’ve missed you.”
“Aye,” he said. “You were too long in Parkano this time.”
“And Juankoski before that.”
He squeezed my hand. “A year.”
“Aye, almost. Ten months and sixteen days.” I’d counted every one of them.
“Snail rolls!” called a dark-haired busker, moving into our path. “Only two pennies each.”
Nolan dug in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins for the busker. He picked out two snail rolls from her bag and handed one to me.
I bit into the bread, closing my eyes at the decadent taste—the lightness of the pastry, the rich custard, the sweet raisins. They were sold only here in the province of Orivesi, and I’d missed them almost as much as I’d missed Nolan when I was gone.
Almost.
“You going to chew those or just inhale them?” Nolan laughed as I stuffed a massive piece of roll into my mouth.
I shrugged. Couldn’t talk around the pastry anyway.
At another stall, I spotted my friends Aislinn and Liam, holding hands. They were Fintan, but I wasn’t worried about them seeing us. They wouldn’t give us away. I suppressed a smile just as Liam turned and noticed me. He looked from me to Nolan and back again and shook his head.
“Be careful,” he mouthed.
I rolled my eyes and waved him off. Liam worried too much. But I was glad to see him with Aislinn. He’d been sweet on my awful cousin Shayla for the longest time, and I’d begun to worry his head was addled.
Nolan tossed another penny at a young man selling flowers and selected a bouquet of simple white daisies from the myriad of options. He handed me the bouquet and then pulled one daisy free and tucked it behind my ear. “There.”
My stomach fluttered. It was good to be back.
A thick, familiar scent floated on the air. Smoke.
Nolan smelled it, too, and we craned our heads, looking for the source.
“There.” I pointed east. Black smoke poured up into the sky. Never a good sign. White smoke usually meant a relatively innocuous blaze. A cooking fire, perhaps, or a small forest fire.
But black smoke often meant something besides wood was burning—like the possessions inside a house or a barn.
Nolan shook his head. “It’s been too dry. There have been too many fires lately.”
My stomach churned. Too many fires? I pushed down the horrifying implications.
“We should go help,” he said.
“The quellers will put it out. They always do.”
“Always good to have the fire folk in town,” he murmured.
I drew back and stared at him, my brow ruffled. “You’re fire folk, too, you know.”
“Aye.” He shrugged. “I guess I am. Just not Fintan.”
I sighed and squeezed his hand. “Nay. Not yet, anyway.”
I’d never met Nolan’s family, and he’d never met mine. It was easier that way. At least that’s what Nolan always said. And he was probably right. While it wasn’t expressly forbidden for the Fintan to socialize with outsiders, it was . . . frowned upon. Nolan’s papa had once been Fintan. He’d left our clan twenty years ago
to marry Nolan’s mama.
“You’re still hoping you can somehow convince the council to let me in?” He chuckled. “Give it up, Kyla. It’s hopeless. Once someone leaves, it’s done. There’s no way back.”
“But you know the fire magic,” I said. “That’s got to count for something.”
His countenance darkened. “Aye. It might count for an excuse for the council to move against my papa.”
The Fintan High Council would be in a white-hot rage if they found out that Nolan’s papa was teaching the magic outside of the community and raising his children to do the same. But that was why we needed to figure out a way to get them readmitted to the clan. Nolan’s mama had been dead for a dozen years now, and all Nolan’s siblings had the gift. There was nothing keeping them outside.
I’d find a way, eventually.
Another seller tugged at my sleeve, and I glanced at her wares and shook my head. I didn’t have any need for more pottery. But something in her gaze caught me—a brokenness, or maybe hopelessness. I eyed her tattered dress and pulled three coins out of the pouch that was tied around my waist. Her face lit up when I put the coins in her hand. After holding eye contact with her a moment longer, I turned away and walked further into the crowd with Nolan, the sadness tightening my chest.
This time, my gaze roved deeper into the market. Amid the bright colors and festive atmosphere, the signs of poverty and want were stark warnings. The gaunt-eyed women in daringly low-cut dresses approaching well-dressed men with bawdy flirtation. The children—orphans, I’d been told—trying to sell their wares above the din of the market. The threadbare garments and telltale signs of illness that many of the vendors tried to mask with tight smiles.
The market was beautiful, but it always broke my heart.
But what could be done? For all my complaints about the strict rules of the Fintan High Council, my situation was better than this. We ran the best show in the land and brought in sufficient coin for our needs—and the council made sure that each clan member received an equal share of the common purse. Even the thane himself got the same allotment as the rest of us.
The earth wizards had no such central government, no rules that they all respected. They didn’t live in community—they farmed, built, crafted, and sold their wares in markets like this one. But it wasn’t enough to stave off poverty and desperation among them.
The Fintan clan members were kept safe from such a fate. Because of the rules.
But surely even the strictest rules ought to have exceptions? I wouldn’t give up hope that, in time, Nolan’s family could rejoin the clan. That he would come with me when we traveled, even into the far reaches of the continent. That somehow, we would . . .
I let the thought trail off without finishing it. I was still sixteen. A whole year away from any risk of formal betrothal. My sister Breanna hadn’t been betrothed until she was nineteen, and she’d only gotten married four months ago, right after her twentieth birthday.
But Nolan had always been my best friend, and I didn’t want anything to change that.
A shower of pale-pink flower petals rained down around us, and I lifted my hand to catch one. With a laugh, I blew it off my hand and watched it spin slowly toward the ground. Which earth wizard had sent the shower of petals? When my eyes found him, I handed him two pennies for his efforts.
I elbowed Nolan in the side. “What’s your favorite thing you’ve seen so far here?”
“You. Or maybe the snail rolls. Those are pretty good too.”
My stomach flip-flopped, but I rolled my eyes anyway. Though I couldn’t suppress the blush I was sure had crept over my face.
I always blushed.
Breanna blamed the flame-red hair we’d inherited from Papa.
“Let’s go down to the creek,” I said, pulling Nolan through the crowd. “You need to teach me the magecraft you’ve learned this year.”
“Just make sure the council doesn’t find out where you learned it.”
I gave a dark laugh. “The council can’t know I’ve learned it at all. Can’t possibly trust a woman with magecraft.”
He shook his head. “It’s absurd. You’re a quicker study than anyone in my family. You’d be a great mage.”
He was right, but the council wouldn’t see it that way. The elemental fire had beckoned my heart from the time I was small. But, except for two or three small magecraft skills that every clan member learned, I was cut off from mastering it. Because I was a girl.
We escaped to the edge of the crowd and slipped past a couple of stalls, leaving the market. When we reached the dry, crackling grass, I stooped to remove my sandals but then thought better of it. “I’ll content myself with being the Phoenix,” I said. “As soon as Breanna retires.”
If I can convince them to give the role to me instead of Shayla.
“Are you dancing in the troupe yet?”
I grabbed his hands and spun him around. “Aye! Eight months ago they moved me from the understudy troupe to the primary troupe. So once Breanna retires in a couple years, I’ll try out for Phoenix. I’ve always wanted it. More than anything.”
That wasn’t quite true. Aye, I’d longed my whole life to be the principal dancer. But the last year or two I’d begun to have the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t fully sate me. That my drive to achieve wouldn’t be assuaged by landing the role.
And I wasn’t sure what to do about that.
“I’m sure you’ll get it,” he said. “Especially if you can sneak in some subtle magecraft with the fire dancing. They’ll just think you’ve mastered a secret dance trick.”
Something about the suggestion didn’t feel fair to me, but I didn’t dismiss the idea entirely. Blazes, I’d need every advantage to beat my cousin. Shayla wanted to be the troupe’s principal dancer as badly as I did, and since her papa was the thane, the council was likely to give it to her, even if she wasn’t the best.
And if I was honest with myself, it was hard to say who was the best. Shayla was dazzling, with more elegance than anyone in the troupe save Breanna.
But my spins were quicker, my leaps higher. Shayla might be more graceful, but I was stronger.
We walked eastward, down a narrow path lined with stones, following the distant sound of rushing water. When we reached the trees that grew along the banks of the creek, I sank onto a rock to gaze out at the water. The creek was a little lower than normal, and my mind turned back to what Nolan had said about it being too dry. That there had been too many fires.
“Has your family been able to put out the fires?” I asked.
He shifted. “A couple of them. One burned down a storehouse. Didn’t kill anyone, thank the eternal flame.”
I glanced in the direction of the fire. I couldn’t see any traces of it through the trees, but the smell of smoke still hung heavy in the air.
The Fintan used fire for everything, but that meant we knew how to use it with care and respect. And how to quell it.
Surely the quellers would put out this new blaze before anyone got hurt.
Shaking away my thoughts, I looked up at Nolan. “So,” I said, a gleam in my eye. “Show me.”
He chuckled. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“Always.”
“Well.” He sat down on the rock next to me and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “I can make that shrub over there catch fire.”
I rolled my eyes. “You taught me that three years ago.”
“But it won’t burn up.”
That got my attention. I sat up. “I’ve never seen anyone do that.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“It’s impossible. You’re teasing me.”
He shook his head. His grin was insufferable now. “I’ll show you.”
He turned toward the shrub and held up his hands. I couldn’t see his face, but I’d watched him use magecraft before. His eyes were closed, and he was probably moving his lips to form the right words. But he never said them aloud, except when he w
as teaching me. His papa had taught him to use magecraft silently.
Fire exploded in the shrub, the flames’ red-orange tendrils pulsing around the leaves likes a living being.
I crossed my arms and stared at it, willing the branches to blacken.
But they didn’t. The bush didn’t burn.
I waited, counting to ten. The fire still blazed amid the branches, giving off tremendous heat, and the leaves had perhaps started to brown. But the bush hadn’t caught fire.
The. Bush. Hadn’t. Caught. Fire.
Nolan dropped his hands, and the fire winked out of existence.
I opened my mouth and then closed it again.
“Told you,” he said.
“I . . . what? How?”
“Remember when you learned how to suspend a ball of fire in midair?” He sat down in the dirt and faced me.
“Of course,” I said. “It was only the second or third year we’d known each other. That’s a child’s trick.”
“It’s the same principle,” he said, “but I’m holding the fire away from the branches, so that they can’t catch the flame. The fire is all around the branches, almost intermingling with them. But it can’t touch them. And they don’t burn.”
“I want to learn.” I stood up. “Teach it to me.”
“Easy there,” he said. “This one took me four months of practice to master.”
“I can do it in two,” I said. “I want to learn it before the camp moves on to Kuhmo.”
He nodded. “Go to the maze in your mind.”
I closed my eyes and drew the labyrinth to mind—white on a black background. It was laid out before me like a map, and I was a bird soaring above it. At various points in the labyrinth were symbols that I’d associated with each piece of magecraft I’d learned.
“I can see it,” I said.
“Good. Now, go to the basic elements of firecraft.”
I traced my way along the labyrinth until I reached the symbol I’d given the basic elements—four tent pegs in a cluster.
“Okay,” I said.
The pounding of horse hooves snapped my attention away, and the labyrinth disappeared. I looked up in time to see a wagon carrying six quellers hurtle down the path, headed east. The direction of the fire. My sister’s new husband rode among the quellers.
Fire Dancer Page 1
