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Girl of Fire

Page 40

by Gabrielle Mathieu


  What to do? Help waited at home, but by the time she rode there, found someone, and persuaded that person to stop scolding her long enough to hear about Girei’s predicament, assistance would arrive too late. She had to stay and free him.

  But it would be dangerous to go back into the woods without sending word. Even more reckless than sneaking out in the first place.

  The steppe ponies grazed a few feet away. Nasan slid off the Russian horse, tying it to a tree a safe distance from the road. Girei would need it later. She tiptoed through the snow, then darted at her brother’s gelding, slapped its flank with one hand, and grabbed her mare’s mane with the other.

  Girei’s horse ran for its stable without looking back. Nasan exhaled and gentled her mare. When the pony arrived riderless, someone would investigate. Meanwhile, Girei depended on her.

  She considered the two horses that remained. If she left them in plain sight, the Russians might find them—and her. But if

  she hid them, her family would not know where to look. And

  if she chased them off, she and Girei would have no way to reach home before their enemy recaptured them.

  She decided to compromise. “Stay, Sorkhokhtani,” she whispered in the mare’s ear. Then she checked to see that the trees hid the gelding and slipped back into the woods.

  http://www.fivedirectionspress.com/the-golden-lynx

  ALSO FROM FIVE DIRECTIONS PRESS

  The Falcon Flies Alone

  GABRIELLE MATHIEU

  I jerked awake, cold and hurting. The floor was so hard. And slanted?

  All around me, treetops waved in the wind.

  This was no floor. This was a roof.

  The roof of a three-story house.

  Panic hit me, and vertigo flared. I squeezed my eyes shut. My head pounded.

  Air riffled across my bare skin, raising goose bumps.

  Bare skin?

  My eyes popped open and my breath caught.

  Where were my clothes? I was stark naked.

  My hands scrambled to cover the essentials. What if someone saw me like this? Totally naked.

  And now sliding toward the ledge.

  I scrabbled frantically for a hold, grabbing the first thing I could: a small chimney.

  Anchored. For now.

  I had a more pressing problem than being nude. How would I get down?

  I scanned the roof, hoping to find something within reach. A rope. A whistle. My clothes. Anything. The green tiles glistened like dragon scales. The morning sun was still low in the sky, a sky that seemed so near and blue, oppressively close. When I dared to look down, I could make out the rust spores of fern fronds that grew under the pines at the corner of the house.

  I blinked, surprised at my acuity.

  The glimpse of the garden at least confirmed my location. It was the De Penas’ grand house at the edge of the village—I’d just arrived there yesterday. The air had a queer greenish tinge, though, and little particles glinted, moving.

  Clinging to the cold chimney bricks, I closed my eyes to think better. Had I been up here all night?? Panicked questions screamed through my mind, and I panted from pain as the pounding in my temples intensified.

  So high up. If I fell…

  I was too young to die. I’d only been with a fellow once, and he’d run off on us the next day. I wasn’t even twenty.

  How did I get on a roof?

  And how would I get down?

  I wished Da was here to help me. He’d have the answers.

  No. Da will never help you again. He is not an angel in heaven, looking down on you. He’s worm food.

  My eyes got wet. I swallowed my sadness. He might be dead, but he didn’t raise me to be a sobbing baby.

  My head pounded so much I wondered if I’d had a subarachnoid hemorrhage. I might die all alone in this tiny village in the middle of the Alps, and my dog would starve in the shed where I’d locked her up. I should have told someone where I was.

  Like who?

  My breath ripped through me, ragged gasps. All I could picture was poor Simone, a heap of crumpled dirty-white fur in the cold, dark shed.

  I’d left her alone.

  Calm down, Peppa! Nothing makes sense. Think this through. I was Ivy League material, right? I’d kept the acceptance letter from Radcliffe College with my small store of keepsakes.

  I should be able to figure this out.

  First, assess.

  I was on the roof of my new employer’s manor. I turned my head, wincing, searching for the small window of my dormer room. It was hidden below the sharply pitched eaves to my left.

  There was just no way I could have gotten from that window to here.

  An agonizing flash went off behind my eyes, as a fragment of memory jolted me. I was a great bird, flying…

  I pressed my lips together to suppress a wail.

  I had a horrible, sick feeling. Images skittered. Distant farms like matchboxes, scattered lights glimmering far below me.

  I’ve gone mad. Barking mad.

  It must be the pain that’s confusing me.

  Just a neurological process.

  Da would gasp that after he screamed from agony. “Pain is just a neurological process.”

  Pain. Fear. They have explanations. My adrenals pumped out epinephrine and norepinephrine in waves. But explaining my fear didn’t help enough.

  I shut my eyes again. I needed to get my heart rate down. Breathe. In. Breathe out. There. I felt better with my lids jammed closed, my nakedness hidden.

  But my peripheral circulation was shutting down. I hung from my right arm like a carcass from a meat hook. I needed to move while I still could.

  My window was the only one on this side of the roof, but to reach it, I would have to dangle from the jutting eaves by my fingertips and kick the window open. Not an option for reentry. I had to find another way.

  I stayed glued tight, afraid to change position.

  Poor Simone. She needs you. My dog would be pacing and shivering in the dark shed, tongue hanging out from thirst.

  I forced my eyes open. The sun hoisted itself up, rays spilling over the rugged mountains. My gaze was drawn toward the imposing peak of Säntis, still bathed in shadows. Where I had…

  No. That’s insane.

  I studied my position. My right arm was locked onto the smaller chimney, probably the one for the master bedroom. Another wave of vertigo washed over me, and pain bored into my temples. I tried to picture Simone’s soft fur, comforting like a down pillow. Disturbing images intruded: blood, feathers, and broken glass. Hoarse screaming.

  What happened last night?

  I looked down again. Only a few meters beneath my feet, a horizontal snow-guard railing marched across the roof.

  The railing would break when I crashed into it, and I’d plummet down three stories.

  http://www.fivedirectionspress.com/falcon-flies-alone

  PRAISE FOR BERONA’S QUEST

  “Girl of Fire moves through a world alive with fantasy adventure in this highly satisfying novel.”

  —Cat Rambo, author of The Tabat Quartet and other works

  “A wondrously rich and deeply imagined world riddled with secrets, in which even those entrusted to guide and protect the young Berona shelter their own dark truths. Berona is a heroine to admire, possessing innate courage and the strength to seek justice as she tests herself against formidable—and growing—obstacles. Gabrielle Mathieu has forged an engrossing story.”

  —Octavia Randolph, author of The Circle of Ceridwen Saga

  “An ancient demon, a headstrong girl, an overconfident prince, fighters, healers, lovers, schemers—a large, diverse cast fills the pages of Girl of Fire as humans race to save the world from a reawakened evil. The book offers a rich mix of elemental magic, experimental science, prophecy, heartbreak, and heroism—and the adventures are just beginning.”

  —Sharon Shinn, author of the Elemental Blessings and other series

  “Sword-wielding priests, a
deadly water demon with scores to settle and an arrogant prince in need of some hard lessons in life make for an exciting mix. Add a feisty young woman who has no choice but to leave everyone she loves to embark on a journey to fulfill a secret prophesy, and you have Girl of Fire, the beautifully written first novel in the magical Berona’s Quest series. I can’t wait to see what happens in book 2.”

  —Sue Tingey, author of The Soulseer Chronicles

  If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite online bookseller and/or on GoodReads.

  Five Directions Press publishes fiction, often but not exclusively devoted to exploring the rich tapestry of women’s lives in many times and places—some real, some fantastical. For more information, see www.fivedirectionspress.com.

 

 

 


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