Page 1 of Fear the Flames
PartOne
The Deal
ChapterOne
Rain and wind whip against my cheeks as I urge my horse to run faster into the dark forest, with only moonlight and lightning to aid my vision. Thunder rumbles throughout the sky in tandem with the horse hooves pounding the dirt. There are many reasons for a mission that requires you to ride through dangerous conditions—secrecy, desperation, curiosity, revenge, haste, to name a few. I stopped trying to dissect my intermingling emotions years ago while taking on a mission, but I can’t deny the overwhelming sense of curiosity that courses through me tonight.
The steep mountainside resembles a maze of fallen trees, uneven paths, and slick rocks. The rain has drenched my cloak and leathers, which now do little to keep the chill from seeping into my bones. My dark hair is soaked, and several strands have ripped free from the braid that falls down my back and stick to my face as if they’re coated in syrup. But I’ll never pass up an opportunity to gain information about the tension brewing between Imirath and Vareveth.
Imirath.
My father, King Garrick’s kingdom.
Hatred coils through me as a grimace contorts my face. The patrol we send out regularly came back to Aestilian with news of Vareveth soldiers crossing the Fintan River. Granted, next to nobody continues the path into the Terrwyn Forest or climbs the Seren Mountains, and for good reason. The Terrwyn Forest is feared for many reasons, the beasts being one of them, but there’s also a much more sinister truth to the forest. Not only does it thrive on water, but also on blood. It’s one of the most dangerous places to travel through, but I want to know why Vareveth is here. No kingdoms lie between the Fintan and Aestilian—it’s unclaimed godly land.
There are several villages within the Sweven Forest, only nomadic clans and cults roam the Terrwyn, but no king or queen can claim either territory as their own. However, ordinary god-fearing citizens can forge a life within the forest, though it’s a treacherous path to take. It’s why my father hasn’t found me, no matter how many patrols or assassins he has sent. Forging a kingdom on sacred land is seen as mocking the gods. The same gods that forsake humanity and have been asleep for nearly five hundred years. Not to mention the beasts that patrol the forest and the thick mist that coats the air the further you ascend.
Most people fall from cliffs or go mad when they realize they can’t see their hands in front of their face. You lose all sense of direction and self-preservation unless you know how to navigate it. The Caleum River flows down the mountainside. You can’t see it through the mist, but you’ll make your way through if you follow the faint sound of rushing water—if you don’t get eaten or fall to your death first. If you keep your wits about you, you’ll find Aestilian, my kingdom, hidden in a valley next to the Syssa Falls. A place where those deemed unworthy of society have made a home. It’s not an oasis, it’s nowhere near perfect, but it’s home.
Finnian’s horse increases their pace and sprints next to mine, matching her stride. I sneak a glance at him—his ginger curls lay flat against his forehead, and his porcelain skin almost glows through the darkness.
“Are you going to tell me why you ran into the house and dragged me out like a deranged goblin?” he shouts over the storm. Technically I never told Finnian why we left Aestilian, but we stopped clarifying details with each other years ago.
Wherever I go, he goes.
Wherever he goes, I go.
“A deranged goblin?” I laugh and glance over at him again, but now a full-blown smile covers his face.
“Yes.” He clears his throat, and I already know he’s about to imitate my voice, “Finnian, come on! Get your ass on a horse!Put that rear in gear!”His voice cracks on the last word, which only increases my laughter. “Gods, that was so much easier to do when we were younger.”
“Your balls have dropped?” I gasp, and he shoots me a look that says he would flick me if we weren’t riding.
Finnian came to Aestilian when he was ten, and I was eleven. He lived in a village deep within the Sweven Forest, north of Feynadra, with his parents and three siblings before a clan dispute occurred. Leaving him with a burnt-down home and a family that joined the ashes. It was summer and he had fallen asleep under a tree after chasing fireflies, which is the only reason he wasn’t reduced to ash that night. Sometimes I still catch myself whispering words of thankfulness to the bugs when their small bulbs of light break through the darkness on warm summer evenings.
My uncle, Ailliard, sent out a patrol after catching wind of what occurred in the village and brought Finnian and several others back to Aestilian. Finnian was little more than skin and bones when I first saw him, with lanky arms and wobbly legs—he passed out shortly after dismounting the horse with Ailliard. I didn’t have a single friend up until that day, it wasn’t that there weren’t any children in Aestilian, but two factors played into my isolation. The first being that Ailliard always made it a point to remind me I’m a queen. Aestilian was never meant to turn into a kingdom, but it felt cowardly to hide when we had the ability to help people. I never received the mercy of someone grabbing my outstretched hand, but I can hold someone else’s.
Though, taking people in isn’t entirely selfless. The more people in Aestilian, the more power I have. A larger kingdom equates to a larger army which then equates to becoming a larger threat, and I quite like the idea of being a threat. I haven’t tuned my skills or spied from the shadows since I escaped Imirath to never make my move in this game. You can only wrong a person so many times before they let retribution overtake their pain. Every corner of Ravaryn will feel my presence when I rejoin the world. They’ll say that the lost princess has come back as a vengeful queen, and they won’t be wrong.
Ailliard carried Finnian into the healing house, where I helped nurse him until he was well enough to stand. I hadn’t spoken to many people aside from when I had to; I kept to myself most of the time. I was betrayed by the two people in this world that were supposed to protect me more than anyone else, and as a result, I developed an inability to let people in. But Finnian plowed the walls I built around myself into smithereens and became my best friend.
It was late when I received the guard report of Vareveth soldiers crossing the Fintan. Darkness already held the rain-sodden forest in its clutches. I would have left straight from the guard house, but I knew Finnian would have been upset if I left this late without telling him.
“Vareveth soldiers were spotted at the tavern on the edge of the Terrwyn. They crossed the Fintan.”
Finnian’s orange brows shoot up, and he shakes his head slightly, “Vareveth! You’re sure?”
“Green cloaks, well-groomed horses, and expensive uniforms,” I recite the words from the guard report.
Finnian gnaws on his bottom lip, “They would have had to pass through Feynadra or Urasos to get here.”
“Exactly. It’s a bit of a hike forjusta pint in a sad excuse of a tavern,” I muse.
We return to silence as the firelit lanterns rise in the distance. We slow our horses while passing through the weather-worn gate, their hooves sloshing in the muddy road. The scent of salt lingers in the air that wafts off the Dolent Sea. I’ve been to this village before, but the dark wood houses, shops, and tavern look even drearier while shrouded in gloom.
My horse follows Finnian through the road, which isn’t as crowded as it usually is despite the overflowing stables and staggering volume of the tavern ahead of us. I dismount my horse after Finnian, and we tie them off on their usual post. We never leave our horses in stables on missions; it’s best to keep them close in case anything goes wrong. Which it usually does to some measure, but I love the unpredictability of these kinds of missions. I was never meant to live an idle life.
I reach into my saddle bag to pull out a dry black cloak and a facemask to cover my nose and mouth. It’s normal to wear a facemask in this part of the continent considering there’s no ruler to hold you accountable, only the law of the gods. If they wake long enough to wipe their godly drool and give me a slap on the wrist, then so be it. I have my knives, and I’m not above stabbing a god. There’s some semblance of government within each village, but it’s nothing you can’t run from if you get into too much trouble. It’s also better that I cover my face since Imirath has been getting restless. There hasn’t been an assassination attempt in a few years, but it’s still best to take precautions when I can.
