“Get off Hoggr!”
“Nay, Ember. Father sent me to—”
With her elbow, Ember jabbed backward. Air rushed out of her brother’s lungs, stirring the hair on one side of her face. She turned in the saddle and shoved him off Hoggr’s back. Beron’s eyes widened an instant before he plummeted over the side and landed in a heap of long arms, legs, and tan cape in the tall grass.
Ember leaned forward across her steed’s neck and spoke in his ear. “Raya went to Torr to get you. I suppose you shall protect me…aye?”
Somehow, the horse understood her. Hoggr danced to one side, his great hooves sounding hollow on the ground.
Scrambling away, Beron stared up at her, his eyes full of shock. “Have you taken leave of your senses, Sister?”
“I am the reckless one, the favorite.”
“The insane!”
“Perhaps.”
Sarenkesh and Sir Hestbone pounded toward her, their horses snorting as they sensed the impending danger.
“Princess, what are you doing?” the dwarf’s gruff voice reached her, but she ignored his query.
“Attack!” Ember yelled.
The great steed lunged forward, nearly unseating her. The wind screamed through Ember’s ears as Hoggr raced over a rise and down the other side. The reins and her fingers tangled in his mane. She squeezed her knees as hard as she could to keep from falling off. Riding such a large animal felt like she was careening down a hill in a run-away wagon; each jolt so hard she feared her teeth would fall out.
“I pray you know what you are doing,” she screamed, but the wind ripped her words away.
The band of riders drew closer. Upon seeing the colossal horse barreling in their direction, they halted. Perhaps they were uncertain, or perhaps merely stunned that only one rider raged across the plains in attack.
“Raya, hear me,” said Ember. The wind stung her eyes, and tears trickled from their corners. “I know not what to do.”
Hoggr thundered straight for the Southlanders. The men urged their steeds into action again, and faintly, a battle cry fell upon Ember’s ears.
Whatever happened now, it was too late to turn back. Ember knew her steed wouldn’t comply anyway. The wind tore at her hair, stung her face. Ember tightened her grip on Hoggr’s mane and the reins until her fingers protested. She pressed her face to his hot, ebony neck, the pungent aroma of horseflesh invading her nose.
They careened around a small hillock and over another gentle rise. The tall grass rushed by in a blur of green, and her heartbeat matched every thud of Hoggr’s hooves. Looking ahead, Ember squinted against the sun glinting off armor and weaponry. Her horse shot into the throng and reared, hooves pawing the air, his neigh fierce, furious. Fear swallowed Ember whole, and she held on for dear life, every muscle straining to maintain some semblance of a hold on the saddle and Hoggr’s slick sides.
Hoggr took a rider out of his saddle with a blow from one front hoof. The man’s helmet cracked apart like a nut, blood spurting through the break. Ember gasped, struggling to maintain her seat. Hoggr whirled the opposite direction. He gnashed his teeth and kicked out with his hind feet. Horses screamed in pain, and oaths from the Southlanders fouled the air. Each of her steed’s twists, spins, kicks, and jumps nearly launched Ember into the air.
“A steed of Torr!” a voice shouted.
On his hind legs, Hoggr lurched to the left, using a front hoof to knock a sword from a warrior’s hand. He dropped to all fours, spun around, and kicked out with both rear feet nearly catapulting Ember over his head and into the saddle of a rider facing opposite of her. A bronze helmet with two ebony horns curving downward beneath his chin hid most of his head. A malicious smile spread across the Southlander’s dark-skinned face.
“Daughter of Trinity!” He pointed his sword at her. “Archers, shoot the steed! Take the girl alive!”
The warrior separated himself from the throng and stood on a knoll several lengths away.
Like a flea biting deeply, Ember clung to Hoggr. If she lost her grip and landed beneath his war-hammer hooves or those of the other horses, she was finished. Her mount shrieked, the sound piercing, blood-curdling. He lunged for a rider, whose steed failed to move out of the way, and bit down on the creature’s neck. The sorrel whinnied in pain, and its rider raised his mace to bash Hoggr’s head.
Something stirred deep within Ember.
The mace arced downward.
Heat blazed up from Ember’s guts, through her chest, her arms, and into her face. The stench of sulfur stung her sinuses and nose, and tears gushed from her eyes. Terror struck Ember, dread that gripped her heart as flames belched from her mouth, fingertips, and eyes.
Pain seared her innards and lungs. It raced up her throat and singed her mouth, her teeth feeling as though they were melting to the gums. The sensation of intense heat assailed her eyes and scorched her chest. She cried out, but all she knew was fire. Flames poured out of her, becoming her very essence.
Flames spewed past her lips, burst from her center, and shot from her eyes and hands. More flames licked through her hair and cascaded over her arms. Ember screamed in fear and pain, and then gave herself over to death.
Chapter Six
Her eyes opened to a searing blue sky. Blinking, eyeballs stinging as if salt had been thrown into them, Ember sat up and looked around. A gasp flew from her lips. A circle of charred earth encompassed the entire rise. Tendrils of black smoke rose from the heated soil and twisted into the air in the form of thin, vaporous serpents. Charred bodies of both man and animal littered the ground save for Hoggr, who nuzzled her head and nickered.
“Princess!”
“Ember!”
She struggled to her knees and looked over her shoulder. Sir Greensleeve and Sir Hestbone leaped off of their horses and ran across the blackened ground toward her. Beron jumped down from the elf’s steed and pounded after them.
“Where”—she gulped, her throat raw—“is my aunt and Lady Evanesce? Kaedric?”
Sarenkesh reached her first. He dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. The frantic beat of his heart permeated her ear where it pressed against his chest. He moved back slightly to look her over, then shifted her long braid from one side to the other of her neck. He raised her arms, lifted her tunic, and studied the thin shirt beneath. Lowering her arms again, the elf eyed her intently.
She swallowed again, grimacing at the pain it caused her. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Don’t you remember?” Beron said. He fell at her side and throwing his arms around his sister and nearly knocking her over.
She pushed her brother back. “I don’t…remember.” She frowned. The stench of sulfur and the sudden, all-consuming heat blasted through her memory. “Fire.”
“Aye,” the captain of war said. “You were like a great fire-breathing dragon. You suddenly stiffened, stood up in the stirrups, and started spewing fire from your mouth, your eyes—”
“Even your fingertips!” Beron hugged her again. “I have never seen anything like it!”
“Do not tell such tales,” she said and tried to stand.
Sarenkesh helped her to her feet. “Look around you, dear princess. Do the blackened earth and bodies lie?”
“I-I did this?” Oh, but she had. She remembered the indignation she had felt as the warrior swung his mace at Hoggr’s head. The feeling had welled up from deep within her body and bubbled to the surface as if she were a spout in the earth vomiting liquid fire. Everything in her body had grown unbearably hot until she feared she might truly melt, and she recalled the sensation of power so intoxicating she had no choice but to succumb to it. “I killed them all. I did not mean it.”
“If you had not killed them, they surely would have murdered you and the rest of us, even searching for the women and that gutless donkey’s ass who escaped with them. There would be no survivors.” The dwarf tipped his head to one side, gazing up at her. “Looks like your special power has
awakened.”
“Magic you can use to protect us on the remainder of our journey,” Sarenkesh added. He put his arm around her, drawing her to his side. “However, the one I believe to be their leader escaped your flames.”
“Leader?” she echoed. Pain throbbed in her skull, and her mouth was so dry, it felt as though someone had replaced her tongue with a wad of arid dirt.
Sir Greensleeve nodded. “Aye, the one who wears the bronze helmet with two large black horns jutting from it like great fangs.”
Remembering the man and his evil smile, she closed her eyes.
“Rest assured he will herald your impending arrival to the others,” said the dwarf.
Beron hooked his arm around her waist too and squeezed her gently in reassurance. “You did what you had to do.”
“I did not want to kill anyone,” she said again, her mind a torrent of dismay.
A breeze blew across the stark circle of carnage. Dark ash particles danced in the current. The odor of roasted flesh smacked Ember’s senses. She wrinkled her nose and wrestled with the upheaval in her stomach.
This carnage was her power? Her magic? Oh, what a cruel joke. What god has seen fit to give her such a destructive gift? Lochri, perhaps? And a gift she doubted she’d be able to wield effectively, if at all. The queen’s warning drifted through her mind on a breath of revelation. Had Raya been the one to bestow this power upon her through her mark?
She pulled her hand from Beron’s and touched the symbol on her temple. Heat emanated from it. Jerking her hand away, she stared at her fingertips. Black smudged her nails, but with the hem of her tunic, she wiped the soot away to reveal bright pink tips. Her gaze moved from her hands to Sarenkesh’s concerned gaze.
“What has she done?” Ember whispered. “Am I now one of Lochri’s pawns as well?”
Sarenkesh frowned. “Princess?”
Shock visited her, and darkness followed, enveloping her in a warm blanket of oblivion.
She awoke in Sarenkesh’s arms astride Hoggr. Twilight deepened around them. She lay quietly for a long time, her ear pressed to the elf’s chest, and watched the scenery change from grassy plains to gullies, hollows, and trees that lined their rims or jutted from precipices.
Night birds chirped sleepily in the shrubs and low, twisted trees. A breeze sighed across the landscape bearing the aroma of rain-kissed terrain and cleansed foliage.
Sir Hestbone’s pony snorted, followed by a loud, trumpeting fart.
“Ach! You are such a foul beast,” he grumped.
Ember smiled and raised her head.
“I thought you were awake,” Sarenkesh said next to her ear. “The weight of your body shifted a while ago. Not that I am complaining, dear princess. You are quite lovely, and my arms welcome you.”
“Always the charmer, aye?” she whispered back.
He flashed a wide smile, his teeth stark in the twilight. “I am here to woo and protect.”
She chuckled softly and leaned against him, allowing herself to seek solace in his arms. His magic wound about her, soothing her mind, comforting her heart, and she realized, healing her throat and eyes.
“Ah, dear one, I could get used to this.”
“Only until someone more comely catches thine eye.”
“I highly doubt that,” he said. “You are just as intriguing as you are a joy to behold.”
“More charmer speak.”
His deep laughter rumbled against her ear.
“The fear that suffocated me when you erupted into flames was unlike any I have felt in all my long life.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I cannot even begin to explain it.” Sarenkesh tightened his arms around her. “I give thanks to the gods that you are whole and well.”
His words warmed her heart, and she smiled.
“How are you faring?” he asked. “You’ve been asleep all day and a good part of the evening.”
The events of the day flooded back into her mind, and a sigh slipped through her lips. “What I did drained me. I feel terrible about killing all of those men—and their horses.”
“Killing for the first time is difficult for the mind and heart to accept, but reason will soon teach you that killing to save others is a necessity of war.”
She shook her head, her cheek brushing his tunic. “I have killed before.”
“Oh?”
“Once, when a stranger startled me after sword practice. I was walking to the bladesmith’s barracks to have a nick repaired in my weapon. The stranger jumped me, but I made short work of him.” She fell silent, her thoughts straying to the moment her blade had spilled the man’s guts onto the stones. His innards had glimmered in the dim evening light, and blood splattered across her boots. Later, in the comfort of her bedchamber, she had laid staring through the window at the moon, asking Raya to forgive her. As time had passed, she’d eventually realized that if she hadn’t killed him, the man would have done the same to her if given the chance and quite possibly her family too. No one recognized him; save to say that he was a Mortal.
Blinking, she added, “Father said that it was the start of things to come. At that time, my sisters and I were almost of age and had become a worry to those who felt threatened by us.”
Hoggr paused to step over a fallen log, unsettling Ember a bit in the saddle. Sarenkesh tightened his hold around her until the steed returned to a normal gait. Settling back against his torso, Ember relaxed again.
“You must be quite the swordsman,” said Sarenkesh, admiration in his voice.
“I can hold my own, but Father says I’ve been blessed with not only the ways of women but also male strengths.”
“Remind me not to upset you.”
A soft guffaw escaped her. “I would think my fiery gift should worry you more.”
“It does. You must learn how to wield your power.” The elf shifted his weight slightly to the right and laid the left rein along Hoggr’s neck. The horse avoided a boulder instead of leaping over it. “Someone knows you and your sisters are a danger to them. How long ago did you kill that man?”
She thought back. “Hmm…two summers past.”
“I am guessing King Roahre is correct in his assumption. Someone sent an assassin to remedy a threat.”
Snores erupted behind them.
Sarenkesh looked over his shoulder and chuckled. “It seems that the captain of war is dozing on his pony. Perhaps we have traveled far enough in the twilight.”
“Aye, I agree,” Kaedric said to their left. “My backside cannot take any more abuse.”
Lady Evanesce called from the rear of their traveling party. “Dikartha and I would like to camp for the night too.”
“Well, Princess?” said Sarenkesh. “What say you?”
Ember straightened in the saddle and leaned her back against the elf. She glanced over at Kaedric, who fought sleep as he wobbled side to side in the saddle. Looking over her shoulder at Sarenkesh, she suddenly felt the need to be in his arms, to have him make love to her until her fears and worries evaporated on the wind.
She lowered her voice so that only Sarenkesh heard her. “It grows late, so we should camp for the night.” She offered him a demure smile. “Perhaps I shall share more with you later.”
A mischievous light lit up his eyes. “Captain!” he shouted.
Sir Hestbone grunted loudly and hollered back, “Ach! What is it?”
“It is time to camp,” said Sarenkesh, reining in his laughter.
“Aye, it is.” The dwarf rode abreast of them. “Wait here and I shall scout for a well-protected spot.”
Ember lay on her bedroll staring up at the stars. Is Raya up there somewhere watching us? Within her mind, thoughts, doubts, and worries spun in a vortex of disbelief. What have I gotten myself into? Does Lochri, the god of trickery and fire, now play a role in my future? Has he given me the destructive magic that now flows through my veins? If so, why? How could possessing something so devastating save Mortals and Fae alike?
; So many questions but not one answer to quench her curiosity or provide balm for her doubts.
Loneliness assailed her. She missed her sisters and her parents. Her special thinking time in the palace gardens each evening seemed like a distant memory too.
Hoggr stomped the soft earth, the vibration permeating Ember’s bedroll. His soft, velvety muzzle touched her ear, hot breath reeking of wild onions. Grimacing, Ember rolled over. Across the campfire from her, Sarenkesh’s dark, piercing gaze met hers.
With her defenses down, the Gloaming Elf’s magic wound around her and nudged her psyche and her heart. She knew what he was doing, but she didn’t care. Earlier that evening she’d entertained thoughts of tumbling beneath a fur with him. Tonight, she needed comfort, a lover’s touch. All she wanted was to lie beneath Sarenkesh as he strained against her body, his member throbbing within her.
He smiled, and his gaze wandered over the others, each one fast asleep beneath their capes. Ember looked into the woods. The dark gray outline of Kaedric keeping watch was almost indiscernible. Rising, she gathered her cloak. Hoggr purposely blocked her path and snorted as if to say he didn’t approve. Casting a seductive look over her shoulder at Sarenkesh, she ducked under Hoggr’s belly and stepped into the shadows.
Perturbed, the warhorse’s nickers of protest trailed her until Ember was out of earshot.
In the moonlight, she made her way between large rocks and boulders to a creek that flowed quickly, its gurgle loud and bubbly, perfect to cover their sounds of lovemaking. A smooth, sandy spot emerged beneath the twilight sky as Ember rounded a group of dried, twisted trees that had washed down the creek. There, she spread her mantle upon the sand and sat.
The water rushed along, its sound washing over her body and through her mind. Above her, stars winked, their brightness dulled by the half-dawn atmosphere.
“Princess.” Sarenkesh’s voice rose above the gurgle of water.
She turned, looking up at him, the deep lavender of the night sky framing his snowy hair. “Make me forget for a while,” she pleaded. “Give me the comfort of your arms.”
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