Firefrost: A Flameskin Chronicles Novel

by Camille Longley

  He had taken off his emberstone. Even if he was still alive, he was possessed. He would try to kill her if she found him.

  Her Kelan was gone.

  Marta unhooked the emberstone manacle around her arm and threw it onto the ground. She smiled a horrible smile.

  “I’m going after Silas. And if he’s dead, I’m going to burn their camp to the ground.”

  Another boy her age stripped his emberstone off as well, and a girl drew her dagger.

  Sol sagged against the doorframe. “What happens when they catch us? They’ll use us to find the haven.”

  Marta drew an arrow from her quiver. “Anyone who gets caught gets shot.”

  “I’m not going to shoot you,” Sol said.

  “We’re all just demons. What does it matter anyway?”

  “You’re not a demon. Stop this.”

  Marta turned toward the crowd. “Who’s coming with me?”

  Several of the children stepped forward, raising bows or knives or hands that glittered with fire. Marta turned to Sol, but Sol only shook her head.

  “I won’t make Kelan’s sacrifice meaningless.” He had sent her away. He had put up a burning wall and stranded her.

  She remembered that last glimpse she had of him. The orange light of the fire had cast ghastly shadows over his body. But the face he had worn was the same one he had made when they were falling off that cliff: It’s time to let go, love.

  She slammed the tip of her oak dagger into the doorframe. Why did he always have to give up so easily? She would’ve found a way if he had just let her help him!

  “There’s an army waiting to invade the Wood, and eventually their scouts will find us,” Marta said. “We have to fight back. We have to protect our haven and our family.”

  “But there’s just a handful of us,” Sol said. “And they’re trained soldiers.”

  “Are you a huntress or are you the prey?”

  Sol took in a ragged breath. The moment she left Cassia and stepped with Kelan back into the Ulves, she had become the hunted. She had been chased across Tokkedal and been forced to flee her home and her family and her mountains. And now the war had finally found her here in this final haven.

  She was finished running. There was nowhere left to run to. And without Kelan, there was nothing left to protect except this new family gathered around her.

  If they were marching into battle, so was she.

  “I’m a huntress,” Sol whispered.

  Marta smiled and her voice went dark. “Then hunt.”

  Chapter 57

  Sol

  Sol pulled the red Flameskin soldier’s coat over her tunic. The coat had been taken from a body in the pit and was streaked with dirt, but it should pass.

  One of the boys handed her a large leather packet filled with powder, and she tucked a second smaller packet in her pocket. Beside her, Marta did the same.

  Fire buzzed in her veins. She had her emberstone clutched in her hand, and the flames were eager to be used. She could imagine what it was like to have a pyra. She wanted to destroy the Flameskin camp. Her hatred swirled and surged with the fire inside her.

  Sol glanced at Marta, who was fastening the buttons on her Flameskin coat. “If you get taken—”

  Marta patted the smaller packet at her hip. “I’ll eat it. I swear.”

  Sol let out a shaky breath. This was a suicide mission, but it was their best chance at destroying the camp. She just had to pray she would have the strength to take her own life if she got caught. If they took her alive, it would all be for nothing.

  Marta saluted the wraiths, and a few embraced her and Sol.

  “We’ll be back,” Sol promised. But her voice wavered. She hoped she would be back, and Marta, too, but there were no promises when sneaking into a flameksin camp.

  The wraiths slowly melted into the forest and climbed back into the trees. They had weapons strapped across their hips and over their backs. They would attack the Flameskin camp tonight, if Sol’s plan succeeded.

  “Are you ready?” Marta asked.

  Sol nodded, and they set off in opposite directions through the forest. Her hands sweated as she clutched the leather packet of poison to her side.

  The wraiths had spent all morning grinding and preparing enough powder to contaminate every water source in the camp.

  At least, she hoped it would be enough.

  As the trees of the Hivid Wood thinned, the camp appeared before her. Tents and horses, men and women. An army preparing for war. They sharpened weapons and polished armor, cut down trees and sawed wood to construct barricades and defenses.

  Sol stepped out from between the trees toward the nearest tents. Everyone seemed to be occupied, but she couldn’t tell if there were soldiers patrolling and watching this portion of the Wood.

  “Hey,” a man shouted.

  Sol jumped as he rushed toward her. She froze, and her heart thundered inside her.

  “No one’s allowed in the forest except scouts,” the soldier said.

  Sol took a deep breath and stood straighter. She was a Flameskin now, and she needed to act like one. She deepened her voice and let it become gravelly. “I was taking a piss. You got a problem with that?” She pulled on the emberstone in her hand and sparks ran over her knuckles.

  He sighed and waved her on. “Stay out of the woods. Don’t you know the rules?”

  Sol gave him a good scowl and hurried away, her heart skipping inside her. She couldn’t get caught. She didn’t want to consume the poison in her pocket.

  She strode purposefully through the camp with her head down, but her path was aimless. She passed dozens and dozens of soldiers, multicolored tents, and tired animals. There were so many people here, and so much going on. She had no idea where to begin.

  Anvils clanged, and she paused to watch a man melt a hunk of metal between his hand and use his hammer to shape it into a sword.

  She wandered toward a large pot of rice boiling over a fire. A cook stood nearby, salting a cow’s bloody haunch.

  Sol crept forward silently and took a small handful of powder from the larger packet and dropped it into the rice. The bubbles popped over the sparkling powder, dispersing and submerging it in the starchy water.

  A hand grabbed her wrist. Sol yanked back, but the cook held tight. Her hand shook as she reached for the poison in her breast pocket.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the cook demanded. “Food’s not ready yet.”

  He shoved her away from the rice, and she landed hard on her tailbone. The cook turned back to his meat and she scurried away with a gasp.

  She and Marta had talked about poisoning the water and wine in the camp, but Sol realized that poisoning the army’s lunch would be much more effective. The wine might or might not be drunk for a while yet, but the food would be eaten immediately, while it was still hot.

  There were people cooking all over the camp, and they seemed accustomed to the appearance of soldiers in their kitchens looking for snacks to sustain them between meals. They took little notice of one more Nordese girl in a red coat.

  She wandered the whole length and breadth of the camp until her heavy packet of powder ran empty. And all around the camp lunch was being served to oblivious soldiers. They ate tainted rice, meat sauce, and soup, and Sol took a grim satisfaction from it.

  The Flameskins had come to the Hivid Wood wanting to strip away the wraiths’ freedom. She would protect the haven with whatever means available to her. Even stooping so low as this.

  She knew she should get back to the forest, but her feet dragged as she walked. She wasn’t here to look for Kelan, but he was the reason her feet refused to carry her back to safety.

  But the camp was enormous, and her search was futile. It was just like she had told Marta: impossible. He could be held in any of the hundreds of tents in the camp and she could search all of them without finding him.

  She had reached a place near the center of camp where a high and wide tent had been erected
. The tent door flapped open and a large group of soldiers strode out.

  One of them was horrifyingly familiar: Haldur, Kelan’s uncle.

  Sol bolted, dodging people and tents as she fled and prayed that Haldur hadn’t seen her.

  But people stared at her as she ran. Someone shouted. Soldiers didn’t run in their own camp.

  She slipped in between two tents and stood there for a few minutes, regaining her breath and burying herself in the folds of the thick cloth. She patted the packet of poison.

  Running would get her caught.

  Getting caught would mean eating the remaining poison.

  She had to keep her head. She could still walk out of this alive. Kelan would want her to keep living and do what she could to protect Azalea and the haven. She just had to get out of the camp.

  She took another deep breath and strode out from between the tents.

  Officer Osten stood waiting for her. “Hello, Isabella.”

  Sol yanked the oak dagger from her belt and Osten threw up his hands. “Wait!”

  She launched herself at him, and he jumped into the tent to evade her. She tumbled into the tent, striking out blindly as her body tangled with the cloth door. Osten had fallen to the ground inside and scrambled away from her, but Sol was faster.

  She landed on top of him and pressed the edge of her knife blade to his throat.

  She should kill him.

  She knew she should.

  That night they had taken Kelan she had killed Flameskin soldiers. But this was a new day. Osten’s lips trembled and his hands shook.

  “Let me go!” he squealed. “I’ll tell you where Kelan is! That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” He squirmed underneath her as she hesitated. He tried to slide out, and she pressed her blade against his neck. He cried out, and her blade coaxed a single drop of blood from beneath his skin.

  “Where is he?” Sol demanded.

  Osten swallowed. “He’s in the southernmost point of the camp, at the edge of the Wood. He’s tied to a tree there. Him and the other boy.”

  Sol shoved hard with her knee in his chest, making him gasp. This was a trap.

  “I swear it! He’s there! He’s alive!”

  “Why would you help me?”

  “Because Kelan is my friend. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  She frowned at him. That was a lie. There was nothing friendly between them.

  “Who did you tell I was here?” Sol asked.

  “No one. I saw you near the command tent and followed you straight here. I swear it.”

  Osten still struggled to get free beneath her.

  If there was a chance Kelan was alive, she would take it. She patted the packet of poison to make sure it was still there.

  This was a trap. But even if it was, she didn’t care. Even if she only got to see Kelan one more time, it would be worth it.

  She slid the tiny packet of poison from her pocket.

  “What’s—”

  The moment he opened his mouth, she poured a mouthful onto his tongue. She got up, and he tried to spit it out of his mouth, but it was too late. He quivered for a moment, then fell still.

  She knew how to make a proper poison.

  There was still enough of it left to kill her as well, though not as quickly. She shook herself and peeked out of the tent. No one took notice of her.

  It appeared that Osten had been telling the truth, in that regard at least. He hadn’t told anyone else she was there. But why?

  She went south, and passed more blacksmiths shaping horseshoes between their hands, and lieutenants running drills, and food that Sol hadn’t had a chance to poison.

  Hopefully, Marta had gotten to it.

  Hopefully, Marta was still alive.

  As the Wood grew closer, the tents were spaced farther apart. The Wood loomed over the camp, casting a long, misty shadow. She thought she caught sight of movement among the treetops, but it was difficult to tell with the shifting darkness and the wind sifting through the branches.

  Sol caught a glimpse of something at the edge of the trees. There, tied to trees at the edge of the Wood, lay Kelan and Silas.

  She gasped into her hand and broke into a run.

  Kelan.

  Gods above, it was Kelan.

  He lay inert on the ground, and whether he was unconscious or dead she didn’t know.

  She stopped short when she got close and looked around hurriedly, but could see no one else around. It was quiet here; the silence of the Wood invaded this space and muffled the clamor of the camp. She took a step toward Kelan, watching, waiting, but there were no guards. Why were there no guards?

  Sol took another step toward Kelan. Bruises had bloomed on his cheek and his forehead and his eye, and his lip was split. Blood had run down his chin and dried there. His burned arm looked horribly painful.

  But his chest was still rising and falling. Kelan was alive.

  Every sense warned against approach, but her aching heart couldn’t bear the sight of him like this.

  Maybe Osten really had wanted to help him. And she had killed him for it without a thought.

  Shouts behind her. She pressed herself against a tent wall and tried to lose herself in the folds of cloth.

  More shouting. She caught snippets of the words and smiled. The Flameskin Army had realized something was wrong. Hopefully, they wouldn’t understand what had happened until everyone had eaten their fill of contaminated food.

  Someone grabbed her arm. Sol gasped and tried to jerk away, but when she looked up, she found Marta beside her.

  “Stop scaring me like that,” Sol hissed.

  Marta shushed her with a finger to her lips.

  “Did you know Kelan was here?” Sol demanded.

  “Mie just spotted them. Did you finish?” she asked, eyeing the leather bag tucked into Sol’s belt.

  “Yes.” Sol tried to get up, but Marta pulled her back.

  “Wait. The wraiths are coming to help us.”

  They crouched in silence, half-hidden behind the fold of a tent wall. Sol watched Kelan’s chest rise and fall and rise and fall, and watched the wind pull at his bloodstained tunic. She itched to touch him, to wake him, and see his turquoise eyes and hear his voice again.

  There was a bird call from the trees. Sol looked up at the treetops to find shadows there with bright eyes and dirt-caked faces.

  “They’re ready. Get Kelan,” Marta whispered.

  Sol rushed toward him. She took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his bruised forehead. She allowed herself only one blessed moment to hold him, then hacked at the ropes around his wrists.

  He was unresponsive to her touch, but he was warm and alive and breathing. His captors had tied an emberstone to his arm and she ripped it off. Fire sparked underneath his skin as she hoisted him over her shoulders and stood. She drew on the emberstone, and fire surged into her legs and her back, giving her the strength to lift him.

  Marta had pulled Silas over her shoulders as well, and together they ran for the trees.

  Kelan was almost twice her weight, and his long legs and arms dangled over her body. She couldn’t move fast, but the emberstone helped. The wraiths followed above, jumping from limb to limb.

  There was another bird call. A warning.

  Sol couldn’t glance behind her with Kelan on her shoulders, so she turned quickly when she crested the hill. The soldiers crept between the trees, but their red coats made it impossible for them to hide. Dozens and dozens of soldiers had filed into the forest and followed behind her and Marta.

  Bows twanged in the trees above Sol, followed by crackling laughter. An arrow thudded into a Flameskin soldier’s side, and she dropped. The soldiers shouted and drew their swords.

  Sol sucked fire from the emberstone and bolted into the trees with Kelan thumping on her shoulders as she ran.

  “Go to the haven, Sol!” one of the wraiths shouted above her as she passed beneath the trees.

  But they weren’t
supposed to go to the haven. They couldn’t lead the soldiers to it.

  The forest filled with the shouts of war. The wraiths rained arrows on the Flameskin soldiers, and fire exploded through the treetops. The mage soldiers tried desperately to strike at the shadows, but the wraiths moved like mist from limb to limb as they scurried above the forest floor.

  Sol glanced back once more. The red-coated soldiers were gaining on her and Marta.

  A dozen wraiths dropped from the trees and stood in a line, laughing and shrieking. They were dressed in leaves and grasses and smeared with mud.

  The soldiers faltered.

  “Do not taunt the wraiths of Hivid Wood,” one of them screamed.

  “Do not enter into this cursed forest!”

  The wraiths held out their hands and gathered fire from their pyri. They sent a wave of flames rushing at the advancing lines of soldiers. The Flameskin soldiers screamed as the fire ignited their clothes and skin. More than half of them succumbed to the flames, the half that had eaten the tainted food. The other half fell to arrows from the treetops.

  It only took a single speck of emberstone to extinguish a pyra, and the poison Sol and Marta had poured into the army’s food was made of emberstone dust. While the Flameskins had specks of emberstone in their bodies, they were as susceptible to fire as anyone else.

  Fire crackled on the trees, eating at branches and limbs and sending sweet pine smoke into the air. The wraiths marched forward, pushing fire toward the Flameskin camp. Flames leapt from their hands toward the grass and the tents. Horses and people screamed, and smoke choked the air and blackened the sky. A bugle sounded in the Flameskin camp and was joined by other horns.

  The hunt had started. But this time, Sol was not the prey.

  Chapter 58

  Kelan

  Kelan blinked awake to the steady thump of his body crashing against a pair of bony shoulders. There was the pounding of a pair of running feet and the crackle of fire. His arms and legs slowly regained their feeling, and as he lifted his head, he caught a glimpse of Sol’s face.