Fireborn (A Born Prophecy Book 1)

by Katie MacAlister

  “How so?” she asked, just as he knew she would. She had been curious when he first met her, and she’d evidently not lost that trait.

  “You used the word ‘consume’ earlier,” he said reluctantly. He’d warned the others about the cost of using the magic, so it was only fair he make her understand exactly what she would be taking upon herself should she join his company. “Chaos magic gains its power from the change of life force to that of death. In effect, it gets power from consuming life. By using it, you risk the magic consuming you, too.”

  Allegria was silent for a few minutes before giving a nod toward his chest. “You bear protection runes in addition to containment. Is this consuming the reason why?”

  “Yes.”

  She thought for a few minutes longer, then lifted her chin. “Kiriah has never failed to give me her protection when I needed it. I will trust she will continue to keep me safe even against this magic of death.”

  Still the magic said nothing to him. He wondered again at that. It was on the tip of his mind to ask, but wisdom decreed otherwise. “I admit a lightweaver would be an excellent addition to the force we will bring against the Harborym, but ...” He shook his head. He really should send her packing. But if she truly was a lightweaver, then she would be a strong ally in his fight against the invaders.

  Assuming the magic didn’t destroy her first.

  “No,” he said, pushing away the idea of her aid. “It is too risky. You aren’t strong enough to control magic. Kiriah may guard you from many things, but this is beyond your abilities.”

  She gave him an odd look, as if she was seeing beyond his external features, and stepped forward, her hands glowing with the golden red light of the sun. “Let me show you what else I can do.”

  He watched silently as she placed her hands on his chest. Golden light blossomed forth from her touch, surrounding him in a halo of warmth, leaching from his chest the binding harness, melting the silver bands, and pulling from him not only the pain he had learned to live with, but the chaos magic itself. He was reborn into the man he had once been.

  “Kiriah’s nipples!” he said on a gasp, holding out his hands to see the cuffless wrists. He stretched in bliss, his body whole and uncorrupted, without pain or scars or the black spots that ate away at his soul. He touched the edges of his eyes, pulling up a shield to look in it. His eyes were amber, holding the light of the sun and moon within them. “You can change me?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know for certain. I just thought that I must be able to do something to help you, to take away the pain. I don’t know how long it will last,” she said with obvious regret, and brushed back a strand of his hair, allowing her fingers to trail down his arm. “I did this once before, when one of the temple cats was ill, and it was better, but only for a short time. This may last an hour or only a few minutes. The light animals only last for that long. I fear I don’t have the control I need to make the changes last longer, or even become permanent, but I hope someday to find someone who can teach me to control it.”

  He whooped with joy and gathered her into his arms, the warmth of the sun filling him. “It is a miracle nonetheless. You shall be known as Allegria Hopebringer from this moment on.”

  She smiled, the light of happiness and warmth in her eyes, and before he could release her, she pulled his head down to kiss him. Her mouth was sweet as if she’d been eating honey, and despite the fact that his heart had been destroyed by Idril, he took pleasure in the kiss. Her fingers tugged his hair, demanding more, and after a moment’s hesitation, he gave it to her.

  Idril was lost to him. Why not take what Allegria offered? He’d had a fondness for her since the day they first met, and clearly, she wanted to relish this moment when he was in his noncorrupted form. He slid his hands down her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her behind, pulling her closer to him. Her tongue twined around his while she moved her hands along his chest before trailing lower, her fingers splaying along the fabric across his belly. He was just contemplating taking her to the cot that stood sheltered in the corner of the tent when a noise interrupted the heat of the moment.

  “My lord, I have checked the shipment, and find—goddesses’ grace!” His servant had returned, and now stood looking first at Allegria, then at Deo, then back at Allegria. “What is—what has happened—what is she doing here?”

  “I think he’s jealous,” Allegria whispered, her voice filled with amusement.

  He cocked an eyebrow at the servant, wanting to both chastise him for the interruption and thank him for the very same thing. Now, he reminded himself, was not the time for dalliances. Not while the transformation of his elite squad awaited. “No doubt. Rixius, this is Allegria. She is considering joining our force.”

  Is she, indeed?

  Rixius gave her a look that was almost comical in its animosity. Deo—relieved that the chaos magic at last made a comment, yet annoyed that he cared in the first place—made a mental note to have a word with Rixius when they were next in private. “But, lord, she is naught but a priest—”

  “Does it look like a priest did this to me?” Deo held up a hand to stop the protest that was forthcoming. “No, it matters not what you think, and before you go trumpeting my change to the world, it is not a permanent state.” He cast Allegria a swift glance, not wishing to foster hope where it might never blossom. “Although perhaps someday, when we have driven the invaders from Alba ... but we are getting ahead of ourselves. Allegria ... I don’t know what to say—”

  “Say that you will have me join your company,” she said, her gaze holding his. He read the determination within, and relinquished the objections that still held him in doubt.

  “Very well, so long as you understand the risk that you will take. Rixius, Allegria will join my forces, and by her goodwill, we shall decimate those who have held the Starborn as slaves for so long.”

  “I will do everything in my power to bring an end to them,” she promised. “You have my swords, my bow, and all my abilities.”

  He cupped her chin, looking down at her sunny, freckled face. “This is your last chance to change your mind, priestling. I must be sure that you understand the changes that will be wrought if you follow this path. Do you agree to this, search your heart and know that the power you will be embracing will not only demand a constant battle to contain it, but could overwhelm you, turning you into that which we seek to destroy. Should that happen, you will become a Harborym, and my banesmen will show no mercy in destroying you. You acknowledge and accept all this?”

  She knelt before him, her hands clasped together. “This I do swear: By the light of Kiriah Sunbringer, my life will be devoted to bringing about the end of the Harborym of Eris. I will be your weapon of vengeance.”

  This event is ... interesting. We must think upon it.

  Interesting, how? Deo wondered, but pushed the thought from him before the magic could overhear it. He looked down at the woman kneeling before him, both pleased that she wished to join him and afraid that she would regret this decision.

  Nonetheless, it was hers to make.

  “Together,” he said, pulling her to her feet, “we will bring Alba into the Fourth Age. Your children’s children will sing songs to your glory, and will celebrate the day we destroyed the Harborym. Rixius, gather the forces together. The time for transformation is almost upon us. We must conduct the ceremony as soon as the moon is at her zenith, ensuring that Bellias Starsong will grant us her favor.”

  Deo remained in the tent while Rixius carried out his orders. Allegria would have remained, but he sent her to write a note of explanation to her priestess. She didn’t wish to do it, but he insisted. If she died in battle, or had to be destroyed as a Harborym, he wanted her order to know what she’d done, and why.

  Almost an hour later Allegria’s magic wore off, and Deo stood surveying forty men and a dozen women gathered in a field to the west of the encampment. At his emergence from the tent, there were a number of shocked g
asps from those who had known him before he had been banished, but no one cried out that he was a monster incarnate, as he’d half expected.

  “You see before you the results of my struggle to tame the power of chaos magic,” he told the gathering. A few people looked a bit shaken, and did not meet his black gaze, but for the most part, the soldiers he’d chosen stood stalwart in the face of what was to come. To the side, watching with a half smile, Allegria stood easily, holding her bow in one hand.

  “It has taken from me the grace of the Starborn, but given me the power of Eris itself. Upon your chest is the mark of this power, the mark of the Bane of Eris.” He gestured toward his own tunic, identical to the ones they wore. “The crescent moon rising over a blazing sun signifies the unity of both Starborn and Fireborn in combating the darkness of chaos. Wear it with pride, my banesmen, and know that you alone are uniquely equipped to bring down the Harborym where all others have failed.”

  A cheer met this statement, the faces of his small army showing no signs of doubt now. “The step you take today will have repercussions heard around Alba. Generations of Fireborn and Starborn alike will revere your names. Your sacrifice here, today, on this field, will forever after be known as the Day of Transformation, the day when Alba took back her own, the day when the banesmen lifted high their swords, and swore that all should be free of tyranny!”

  They all raised their swords to the night sky and shouted their approval.

  “Lord Israel brought his army to bear upon the Harborym when they arrived on Alba, driving their weak forces from Aryia, but for many years he has been unable to break their hold on Genora. We will succeed where he has not! We will free the Starborn upon whom he has turned his back. We will not set down our swords until the last Harborym has been driven from our fair land. How say you?”

  A roar of enthusiasm erupted, the oaths of his banesmen filling him with a sense of victory. At last, he would be able to end the invasion, free his mother’s people, and bring about the peace of the Fourth Age. And then, only then, would he look his father in the eyes and demand the respect that had so long been denied him.

  Hmm, the chaos magic said, but fell silent immediately following.

  Deo was too preoccupied to spend much time in wonder as to the sudden quiescence of a life-form that had taunted and tormented him since he had forced it into abeyance.

  “The servants will pass amongst you with goblets. As you drink the chaos magic, remember your family, your children, your loved ones, and know that you are doing this to ensure their happiness.” He lifted a goblet in a toast to them all, although his contained only honeysuckle wine.

  Before him, fifty-two hands took fifty-two goblets, and raised them high.

  “Arise, Banes of Eris! For tonight, we take to the sea and deliver down the destruction that all of Alba cries out for. Drink, and become that which you were always meant to be!”

  With a great cheer, his force drank deeply of the magic that lay in a red swirl on top of the golden wine. Almost immediately, the transformations began, with men and women alike dropping to the ground, screaming in agony, their bodies twisting and contorting when the magic struggled to take control.

  It was a horrible sight, and an even worse sound as people begged those around them for mercy, and to end their suffering. The servants, many of whom were not to go with Deo to Genora, began backing away at the first signs of distress, and were now fleeing into the night, clearly terrified.

  Deo stood watching, the magic inside him recognizing its kind and fighting to break free of his control. He focused on his runes, knowing without even looking that they glowed red as he threw determination into them, and at last, he was able to turn his attention away from his own struggle.

  Roiling bodies filled the field, many of them sobbing for mercy, their respective faces twisted in agony. To the side stood one figure, still, tall, and with a sense of calm in a storm. He held Allegria’s gaze for a long moment; then slowly she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank.

  Without realizing he was moving, he was at her side when she fell, catching her and holding her carefully while the magic coursed through her veins, permeating every last part of her being. Her back arched against him, her screams a torment, but there was little he could do.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured in her ear as she writhed in his arms, her nails clawing at his flesh. “It will ease in a moment. The worst is over.”

  “You ... ” she panted, her voice as rough as gravel. “You promise?”

  “Yes.” He stroked her back when she doubled up across his leg, vomiting up the contents of the goblet.

  All but the magic. That was taking hold of her as she struggled upright. Her skin, pale and freckled, took on a deeper, dusky hue. Her unruly, wild hair darkened until it was as black as a crow’s wing. Oddly, a line of black dots appeared across her brow, as if the magic was tattooing itself into a circlet upon her flesh. Her eyes, rolled back in her head as she struggled to breathe, struggled to live with this new form of being, slowly settled, the color in them deepening from a light brown to ebony.

  “What ... what do I look like?” she asked, one hand touching her forehead. “Am I ...”

  “You are as lovely as you ever were,” he said, noting the signs of the struggle easing within her. Her eyes were more focused now, and the trembling had ceased. The wards on the silver bands at her wrists and ankles glowed golden, an interesting phenomenon. Deo glanced at the nearest newly made banesman, who was still in the throes of the transformation. His runes were glowing red, as were all the others.

  Deo considered Allegria, smiling a little to himself. Trust her to do things differently. He suspected it was her own powers that had modified the way the chaos magic took hold of her, and hoped it meant she would have a greater mastery over it than he expected in the others.

  Perhaps this was the right decision. Perhaps she would not fall victim to the magic.

  “Is the pain easing?” he asked when she pushed back on his leg, obviously trying to get to her feet. “No, do not rise yet. Give your body time to get used to its new powers.”

  “I don’t know that day will ever come, but I know I must get up. It hurts too much to stay still.”

  He helped her to her feet, running an assessing gaze over her.

  “Do I look any different?” she asked, pushing back her mass of hair, and examining her arms. “Am I bulky, like you?”

  “No. Your body is unchanged, save for the loss of your coloring.”

  “My hair?” She grimaced as she touched her head. “I suppose if that is the worst of it ... but why does my forehead hurt?”

  “You have a marking there.”

  “A marking? What sort of marking?” To his amusement, she set about tidying her tunic and leggings, brushing off dirt and grass. “Is it something horrible? Goddess, I don’t have horns, do I?”

  He laughed. “No. The marking looks like a circlet made up of small pinpricks, to be honest. Ones of onyx. That is all.”

  “Oh. I guess I can live with that.” She grimaced and made an aborted gesture. “Not that I could do anything about it even if I didn’t like it. Is this it, Deo? There’s nothing more?”

  He knew she was asking about the transformation. “This is it. How do you feel?”

  “Odd.” A variety of expressions passed across her face, everything from confusion to disbelief to acceptance. “I feel ... more.”

  “More what?”

  She waved her hand. “Just ... more.”

  “Does the magic fight you?”

  “Not really.” She was silent a moment, clearly assessing her feelings. “It’s there. I can feel it, feel the power that it embraces. But it’s not telling me what to do. It’s not talking to me.”

  He was relieved, his shoulders relaxing with tension he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. “Good. If it ever becomes too much for you, if the power will not heed your desires, tell me. I will add more runes to your cuffs.”

 
“I think it’ll be all right.” She gave him a ghost of a smile, her black eyes glowing with some inner light. It was a bit unsettling seeing those strange eyes in a familiar face, but he was truly grateful that she’d made the choice to join him. “I think I’ll survive.”

  “You are going to do more than merely survive,” he said, turning her to see the mass of bodies. A handful of banesmen had risen to their feet, while the others still writhed in the process of assimilating the chaos into their beings. “You will triumph over every enemy. You will help me eliminate the Harborym, and return peace to Alba.”

  “Let’s hope it’s as simple as that,” she said, watching with concern as the other banesmen fought to contain their magic. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be, though.”

  He said nothing.

  He suspected she was right.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Did you know that your father is here with his army?”

  I spoke the words quietly, but Deo acted as if I’d blown a trumpet in his ear. He spun around, the red lights in his eyes firing to show emotions that ran quick and deep within him. He’d been watching the last of the horses being unloaded from the ships that had brought us across the sea to the shores of Genora when I approached him from behind.

  “He is not,” Deo said, frowning. “He left here years ago when he couldn’t contain the Harborym. Where did you hear such lies?”

  I nodded to one of the black and red tents that had been set up before we arrived. “Your lieutenant Hadrian. My mule was disturbed by the bustle of unloading and ran off, and while chasing her, I came upon Hadrian riding to meet you.”

  Deo looked past me to the small encampment where his three lieutenants were supposed to be waiting to meet us. Only one was present, however, to greet our two ships loaded with banesmen, mounts, and supplies. Deo had been visibly annoyed, a fact that secretly amused me. In the few days it had taken to cross to Genora, I’d discovered he had a temper as short as a hen’s memory. He looked more annoyed now. “Hadrian should have come to me first, not stopped to dally with you.”