by C B Samet
The Avant Champion
Ashes
CB Samet
Novels by CB Samet
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
A Note to the Reader
Also by CB Samet
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
The Avant Champion: Ashes
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2018 Novels by CB Samet
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.”
ebook ISBN: 978-1-7324525-2-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7324525-0-3
Created with Vellum
1
Fierce blasts of icy wind threatened to blow me off the mountainside. I closed my grip on the jutting rocks as tightly as my gloved fingers allowed. I pulled my head deeper into my leopard furs—the same way a turtle retracts into its shell.
Above me, even through the howl of the wind, I could hear the snarl of the wolves overhead. I wriggled the toe of my boot into a crevice of rock, securing my leverage, and then pushed up with my thigh muscles.
“Mother Moon,” I swore.
Starving animals threatened to eat me. The wind threatened to freeze me. The looming gorge below threatened to break me. Death lurked in every direction. Yet I only had one direction to go in.
To the drooling anticipation of the beasts above, I clambered upward on the frigid mountainside.
“Sure, Dean Lariat,” I cursed to myself, as I pushed up another half-meter. “I’ll take the students on a mountain field trip. What could possibly go wrong?”
Pausing to take breath, I answered my own question: “Oh. Only a spontaneous blizzard, during an unprecedented season of wolf overpopulation.”
I shook my head.
“‘Why Abigail,’” I mocked Dean Lariat’s voice, imagining what she might have said, “‘you should have transported everyone home at the first sign of impending clouds.’”
Ha! I’d have been happy to—except that some of the students thought it would be fun to wander off.
After I rounded them up and corralled them in the safety of tightly-packed pines, I spent the next hour rescuing various other stray hikers.
A silken male voice suddenly sounded in my ears: “Some might question your sanity, Abigail, if you continue this conversation with yourself.”
Fortunately, Mal didn’t physically appear and only spoke to me audibly. An abrupt appearance might have distracted my climbing efforts—not that I’d have been able to see much of him through this storm anyway.
“So says my imaginary friend,” I replied grimly.
“That I exist only in your mind doesn’t make me imaginary.”
I huffed and pushed myself further up the mountainside. “Not imaginary? Well, let’s think about that. Only I can see you. Only I can hear you. The evidence supports my imagination.”
Cold bursts of wind stung my cheeks.
“If I’m a figment of your imagination,” Mal retorted, with that infuriating calmness of his, “would I be able to give you such valuable information about the future? Would I have led you to all those stranded hikers?”
I hoisted myself higher on the cliff face. “About that, Mal,” I argued with the voice in my head. “It would have been immensely more valuable had you warned me further in advance about the storm—and mentioned the wolf infestation.”
He scoffed. “I’m a powerful entity, but I’m not all omniscient—and you are being ungrateful.”
“Deepest apologies, prince of darkness. My normal abundance of gratitude must have fallen off the edge of the cliff at the same time I tumbled down the embankment.”
Mal remained silent for a moment, punishing me for my sarcasm.
He spoke at last, “Why aren’t you simply transporting yourself back to flatter ground?”
My footing slipped slightly. I gasped, somehow caught myself, and then took a ragged moment to breathe and steady my shaking muscles.
Merciful monks.
Stiff, cold, and wrapped in twenty kilograms of fur, I felt rigid. “This blizzard has my star sense discombobulated,” I snapped at Mal. “I can’t get my bearings to transport.”
My transporting ability originated from a blue star tattoo on my palm, gifted to me by a Blue Gypsy many years ago. With its power, I could transport myself—and other people or objects—anywhere I had been or seen; or to anywhere a person I touched had been and I could envision.
The star had saved many lives over the years—especially mine—but it did have limitations. For example, whatever speed I was traveling at when I transported, I’d continue at when I arrived at my destination. Therefore, if I fell off this cliff face right now, I could transport, but wherever I chose to appear, I’d be moving at the same speed and facing the same force of impact as where I’d left.
I had also discovered there were places on the planet I couldn’t travel into or out of—such as the enchanted Black Stag Forest in the Southern marsh.
Lastly, I’d discovered in only the past half-hour the conundrum posed by severe weather: When I’d tried to envision where I wanted to transport—back to the flat mountain trail—I only saw a white haze of blinding snow.
If I transported under these conditions, would I land on sure footing? Or would I land on top of someone—perhaps even one of my students? Or, even worse, would I land right in the middle of a pack of wolves?
Such were the conditions and uncertainty that left me climbing this cliff, in the middle of a blizzard, while conversing with the evil entity residing within me—Mal.
Well, partially evil.
Mal mostly behaved himself, but I was never certain if his good behavior was the product of our friendship, or merely the limits of his confinement within me.
“You know, I could warm you up if you so desired.” Mal’s voice was a smooth purr, conjuring images of how he appeared in my dreams—a lean, dark-suited figure with long lashes around predatorial eyes, whose darkness was perpetually filled with a mixture of amusement and sensual hunger.
“No, thank you, Mal. Happily married. Three children. Remember?”
As I felt for the lip of the top ledge—finally reaching the peak of this gargantuan cliff—I heard the snapping and gnashing of teeth that sounded entirely too close.
“How many?”
“Four,” Mal answered.
“Splendid.”
Before I’d even clambered over the edge of the cliff, teeth clamped down on the sleeve of my furs. I yanked my hand back into the sleeve, as the hungry wolf looming above me snarled. He shook his head violently with a mouth of fur and no meat.
As I brought my torso up over the ridge, a second wolf snapped at my head. I jerked away from him, too, a
nd he sank his teeth into my shoulder. Fortunately, the beast mostly chomped down on a mouthful of fur coat, but I still felt the pressure of his jaws. When he thrashed his head back-and-forth, pain shot through my shoulder.
I scrambled, desperately dragging the rest of my body up onto the top of the cliff. Crawling blindly, I kept my face down, buried in the snow, to avoid giving the wolves any further opportunity to snap or bite at my head.
As I crawled, I lashed out with my right hand, and my fingers clamped down around the wolf’s throat. Using the strength of my Warrior Stone, I squeezed. The animal yelped, releasing his vice-like jaws from my shoulder. As he warily backed away, the pain eased. Even without looking, I knew the wolf hadn’t broken skin, but his teeth would still leave wicked bruises.
The other wolf continued to snarl and shake his head, shredding my sleeve while unleashing ferocious growls.
I pushed myself up to my knees and blinked the snow from my eyes.
Almost as soon as I’d done so, a third wolf leapt onto my back, seizing my hood in his jaws. His weight almost sent me toppling face-first back into the snow. I reached back and grabbed one of the legs he had hooked around my shoulders. Again, using my Warrior Stone, I hurled the wolf from my back into the other wolf—the one determined to find my arm within my sleeve. The impact sent them both flying.
The fourth famished animal lunged for my face. I ducked, and a rapidly-fading howl of fear followed him as he plummeted off the edge of the cliff.
As I wiped the remaining snow from my face, I braced for yet another attack. Instead, squinting into the dense sheet of white, I saw the wolves retreating. One limped away, and I suspected his companions were hungry enough to turn on him in due time.
Now with a moment’s respite, I rested on my knees, catching my breath and shivering in the frigid air. It constricted my lungs, stifling me even as it gave me life.
“That could have ended badly.” Mal appeared and stood over me, the freezing wind and blinding snow whipping straight through his non corporeal body.
“It did … for the wolves.”
Thankfully, the Warrior Stone had given me the strength of a giant, otherwise I’d be sixty kilograms of wolf dinner right now.
“Are you injured?”
I shoved myself to my feet. “Awe, Mal. I didn’t know you cared. Touching.”
“Of course I care. If you die, my next source of entertainment doesn’t arrive for almost a thousand years.”
“Pity.” I began to trudge through the snow away from the cliff.
“Did we get all the hikers?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Without a doubt.”
Mal had been not only the one to alert me to the stranded hikers, but he also ensured I found each and every one of them.
“Can you lead me to the students?”
I’d left them safely under shelter, warmed by a fire, but I wasn’t sure I could correctly transport myself there in this raging storm.
“One diversion first.”
I brushed clumps of snow off my knees as I followed Mal’s spectral form. We’d already had about ten diversions today, and the safety of the students was supposed to be my top priority.
“Nearly dying on a cliff’s edge qualifies as a diversion.”
“This one’s better.” Mal led me to a cluster of pine trees and rocks.
As he nonchalantly pretended to lean against a tree (since he couldn’t actually touch anything), he nodded toward the rocks. They were slick with ice and snow.
“In there?” I glanced skeptically at him.
“Yes.”
“Is what? A bear? Giant, blood-sucking spiders?” What scheming caused that ridiculous quirk of his lips?
A whimpering sound emitted from a crevice between the rocks. I looked down and saw a ball of hair with blue eyes staring up at me.
“Oh, Mal! What am I supposed to do with a wolf pup?”
I maneuvered onto the rock and ensured my feet were secured, before reaching down for the black furball. My gloved hands closed around him
“I’ve no idea,” Mal scoffed. “You should’ve considered that before you made it an orphan. You could leave it there—a snack for another wolf.”
I lifted up the shivering pup. “I have children, and horses, and chickens. I can’t raise a wolf.” I stuffed the pup into my coat, before pulling the thick fabric back around me.
Mal straightened, looking pleased with himself. “Yet, you saved him still. You have a horse seasoned in battle, a hawk capable of blinding a Black Marsh adder, and now you’ve added a wolf to your armament.”
“I don’t need an armament, remember? I’m only needed in times of crisis, and those crises have all been managed.”
“Are you certain?”
I glared at him. “To my students, if you please.”
“As you wish. They’re dawdling in a dense cluster of trees northeast of here.”
“Lead the way.”
The sooner I returned the students to their cabins out of the storm, the sooner I could submerge into a delightfully warm bath.
By the time the sun had set, I‘d finally returned all the students to their cabins, safe from wind and snow and warmed by a fire. We’d all travel back to the university tomorrow, where I’d be heralded as a hero for saving both students and hikers.
Not in this universe.
I’d likely face an inquisition about endangering the students during a blizzard.
I felt exhausted from the effort of star traveling, using my Warrior Stone to fight a pack of wolves, and trudging through thirty centimeters of dense snowfall.
The small creature still in my coat wriggled.
I pulled out the wolf cub and held him up. “You’re a cute thing, aren’t you?”
He licked my hands.
“If my children take one look at you, they’ll want to keep you. But I can’t have you eating my chickens—and no one has time to train you.”
But somebody somewhere else does.
I transported, and immediately appeared in the Gunthi Monk sanctuary, outside the dining hall. The sound of clinking dishes and congenial conversation emerged from the large room, which was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.
In the distance, the muffled sound of a waterfall gave a pleasant, ambient noise to the sanctuary, adding even more tranquility to the monks’ secluded home.
Around me, tall cliffs of tan and red rock rose up from the valley. A rich, sapphire, star-lit sky twinkled above, and the two moons—mother and infant—cast a gentle glow on the grass and trees.
Laos walked by me at that moment and stopped at my abrupt appearance. His long, white hair danced softly in the gentle breeze as his blue cloak rustled around him.
“Abigail?” He stared at my heavy furs, still thick with ice. The sanctuary was far to the south of the present blizzard, and this cool, spring day required nothing more than a sweater.
“Laos, I’m sorry to drop in unannounced at meal time.”
He looked around with a raised eyebrow. “At least I don’t see any caged giants with you this time.”
That had been an isolated event.
“Only this.” I held up the puppy.
He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. “And what crime has this creature committed?”
I bit my lip. “I may have killed his parent—in self-defense, I might add. I was hoping Baird could take him.”
“I’ll go get him.”
I took a step forward. “I’m late picking up Joshua. Do you think you could take the pup to Baird for me? I’ll come back tomorrow to see him and explain.”
Laos took the wolf cub and patted his head. “I’ll take him to Baird.”
“Thank you.” I bowed.
Instantly, I transported myself to Joshua’s clinic and found him scribing by candlelight. As I admired him quietly working, I recalled how Joshua had always preferred candlelight to bioluminescent lamps, which had a brigh
ter glow but were tinted with an aqua hue emitting from the algae lining the glass.
Joshua’s office was surrounded with shelves of books, herbs—both dried and packaged—, and varieties of liquid tinctures. One supply cabinet overflowed with dressings for various traumas, and numerous ointments for skin infections and burns. Joshua had spent a dozen years building this place, stocking everything he could for the many illnesses that arrived at his door.
He turned to me and stood. “Abbey! I thought you might eventually remember your husband.” He gave me an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“I’m so sorry. A snow storm hit us unexpectedly, and I’ve been rescuing people ever since.”
“It’s okay. Breathe.” His golden-brown eyes twinkled as he placed his hands on my shoulders. “I know when you’re late, it’s always for a gallant reason—you’re not gone at the marketplace to buy jewelry. Now, let’s get us home and get you out of those wet furs.”
I nodded and transported us home.
Together, we walked up the driveway, crunching across the snow still left from a light dusting several days ago. Tall oaks rose around us, canopying our walkway. As we approached our home, the blue-green glow of bioluminescent lanterns emitted from the main room. When we entered our house, the children flocked to Joshua, lavishing him with kisses.
Paul approached me. “Mama, you look like a bear!”
I growled playfully, making him giggle. As I peeled off my heavy furs, Natalie left her father’s embrace and walked over to me, hands on her hips.
“You’re late. Again.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re always late.”
“Not always.” Twenty-five percent of the time was nowhere near ‘always.’
Joshua placed a gentle hand on Natalie’s shoulder. “Be easy on your mother. She does a lot of important work.”