Flame's Embrace

by Pillar, Amanda

  “Fucking amateurs,” I muttered under my breath.

  A raucous laughter spread across the men and Doyle shot me a vicious glare, revealing his mouthful of half-rotten teeth.

  “Looks like that little girl might take your place, Doyle,” Scrod said between spasms of laughter. He added the last of the potatoes to the stew he was preparing, then got up and set the large pot over the licking flames.

  I stepped back, brushing the dirt off my hands, and stood in the warm glow of the fire. The hot, dry, heat was welcome as it pushed back the biting cold that rippled across my skin.

  We had reached the Brimstones earlier that day. I’d heard of the area many times before—a dangerous forest cloaked by a perpetual, impenetrable fog. Not only that, but it was home to all manner of predators stalking the thickets. Most importantly, it was fire fiend territory. Even though the heat of the fire was growing warmer and warmer, a shiver went up my spine.

  “Hey, hunter girl,” Dale called out from the other side of the fire. “Bread’s almost gone.”

  I crouched near the log they sat straddled upon, making sure to stay on my toes…and on guard. There were five of us out here, and I didn’t trust any of my four companions. I only trusted the authenticity of the silver that had convinced me to take this job. Prince Herbert was known to pay well. I looked over the men, each deeply occupied with their hunks of stale bread. They didn’t have to worry about a thing.

  I longed to feel that carefree, if only for a night.

  Doyle stuffed a handful into his mouth, hardly bothering to chew. It was a miracle he didn’t choke.

  “I say once we find the fire fiend, we show him a little neighborly love, eh?” He kicked at the weapon laying at his feet, a curved broadsword that was just as much a part of him as his own melon-shaped head.

  “Now, now,” Prince Herbert interrupted, “that’s not what I’m paying all of you for. It won’t be a good look if we bring him to the High Court in chains and missing a limb.”

  “Then we’ll just cut off the bits where they can’t see ‘em,” Dale said, his crooked teeth glinting in the firelight. He looked comically small and frail sitting beside the beastly Doyle.

  “There’s an idea, Your Highness,” Scrod added, clapping the prince on the shoulder. “He torched your own brother. He should pay for his crime. Blood for blood, I say.”

  Herbert winced then nodded, his thin fingers stroking the jewels that lined the edge of his collar. “Yes. Blood for blood.”

  They all continued murmuring, planning the exact ways they’d like to injure and maim the fire fiend. Every suggestion was more gruesome than the next. They weren’t looking to administer any kind of justice—they were more interested in torture as a means of sport. I had no appetite for such things.

  I tried to fade into the background, but Scrod’s eyes found mine. My stomach turned. Every time I caught him staring at me, it was always with a hungry, half-deranged look in his eyes. I glanced away, fighting off another shiver that threatened to crawl up my spine.

  “You’ve been quiet tonight,” Scrod said, and they all turned to face me. “Hunter girl like you…I thought you’d be right at home in this kind of place.”

  “For the last time,” I said, stepping away from them and back into the glow of the firelight. The warmth was pleasant on my skin. “I’m not ‘hunter girl.’ I’m the same age as all of you. My name is Lyss.” I turned and pulled my cloak tight around my body. “And I don’t know how anyone could be right at home in this place. It isn’t natural. Things are different here.”

  “She ain’t wrong about that,” said Doyle, his squinted eyes examining the mist curling around the clearing. “Just the thought of a fire fiend lurking around makes my bleedin’ skin crawl.”

  “How do we know Lyss’s even tracking the right fire fiend?” Dale asked, “What if we nab the wrong one?”

  I opened my mouth to defend myself but Scrod cut me off.

  “No such thing,” he said, then spat on the dirt between his feet. “Only good fire fiend’s a dead one.”

  “I hired you all for your expertise,” Herbert said, then cast his glimmering green eyes in my direction. “The hunter girl included. I’ve given her the necessary information to lead us to the fire fiend that killed my dear brother. Scouts claim there aren’t any others roaming this area. You must trust my judgement. If that’s not enough, trust in the silver waiting for you when we arrive at the High Court with that murderous bastard.”

  I stayed silent. Prince Herbert was right, of course—he’d given me ample information to work with. Scouts had confirmed the fire fiend’s travel from the city out into the Brimstones, and his trail wasn’t hard to follow from there. There was something odd in the prince’s glinting eyes though; something that made me feel uneasy, restless. I’d learned early on in life to trust my instincts.

  “Do you have actual proof that the fire fiend killed your brother?” I asked without thinking. They all turned to look at me, and I felt a severe blush scorch my neck and cheeks. He’s a prince—you’re nobody, I scolded myself. Watch yourself.

  Prince Herbert squinted at me as he absent-mindedly picked at a loose thread on the golden embroidery of his sleeve.

  “I saw him with my own eyes. He set my brother’s country manor on fire as he slept, and I chased him out into the night.”

  “Don’t worry, sire,” Scrod said quietly, “We’ll have his head on a spike by the end of this.”

  “The courts don’t take too kindly to decapitation. It’s rather difficult to put a disembodied head on trial,” Herbert said with a smirk. “Though, if he resists, it may come to that. I’m sure the judges would make an exception in my case.”

  “Silver linings, Your Highness,” Scrod said, clapping the prince on the shoulder again, “With your brother gone, you’re next in line for the throne.”

  “Oh dear,” Herbert said, tapping his chin with a delicate finger. “I suppose I am.”

  Chapter 2

  I lay awake that night, gripping my dagger as a form of comfort. Doyle’s snoring was a continuous rumble of thunder. Judging by the subdued coals that made up the fire, it was probably around midnight. I got to my feet and slipped on my cloak, taking care not to make any noise while I tucked the dagger into my waistband. The fire was a dull crackle of embers, and I felt only the faintest licks of heat as I passed by. The winter chill was wild and fierce. I could feel it sneaking past my clothes and sinking into my bones.

  I thought of the warm beds in the various inns back in the town I called home, and felt a cynical wave pass over me. Home. There was no such place. Not for me. I’d been chasing contracts from district to district ever since I was old enough to use a weapon. Home was a word for either wealthy people, children, or fools; it was a mythical place found in stories and fairytales. I silently laughed to myself as I stepped into the fog of the Brimstones.

  Walking through the sheets of mist, I realized how true my earlier statement was. There was a strangeness to this forest that I couldn’t quite put my finger on…but it was still the closest thing I had to a home. The cover of trees was my blanket, and the wild animals were my sisters.

  But the Brimstones were twisted and unsettling. The trees were charred and blackened, and the beasts we had seen along the way were only dark shadows in the distance, too cautious to approach us. The mist was so thick that it diffused the sunlight and magnified the moonlight, keeping the forest in a permanent state of dusk. It was unlike anything I had seen before, and I wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or intrigued.

  I made my way through the dense thickets, taking note of the various trees and paths twisting through the brush. My footsteps were light, and I made sure to leave no trace as to where I was going.

  It didn’t take me long to find my destination. Stepping through the thick cover of brush and into a sprawling clearing, I approached a small thermal pond we’d passed by shortly before making camp. We hadn’t bothered to
lay down our tents here because the water wasn’t suitable for drinking. It was widely known that the hot springs which fed the ponds carried a particularly metallic taste.

  I wanted to experience it for myself.

  The tall grass rose around me as I crouched low and inspected my surroundings. The only other movement came from a mass of flitting bugs and the gentle sway of trees in the midnight breeze.

  From a distance the surface of the water looked like an expansive sheet of steamy obsidian, dark and opulent, but as I approached its bank it was as if the veneer shifted. The moonlight shone down through the mist to reveal a beautiful, clear body of water, its depths scattered with smooth pebbles and stones. Taking note of the amount of steam rising from the surface, I crouched down and brought my fingers to the water, bracing myself for the stinging burn.

  Instead, I was greeted by the velvety-soft texture of warm water.

  It was delicious.

  “Such a strange place,” I murmured as I kicked off my boots. I took one last glance around, then began to undress. The mist above cleared for a moment, sending a brilliant cascade of moonlight across the lake, and a shimmer of pale light danced around the clearing. Fully naked, I waded into the water until the surface came up to my chest. There was no possibility of carnivorous fish or flesh-eating amphibians living in such heat. My feet slid over the layer of pebbles lining the bottom of the lake. They were slick with algae, and I dug my toes between two large rocks to keep my balance. I took a deep breath and felt my body relax in the full embrace of the warmth.

  A breeze rushed through the clearing, rippling the surface of the water in one swift, determined sweep. I noticed some leaves at the edge of the clearing shift more quickly than the underbrush around it. I watched as the branches moved the wrong way, and immediately froze.

  I wasn’t alone.

  I watched carefully, keeping my eyes trained on the barely perceptible movements through the haze of mist. It wasn’t long before I spotted it.

  At first, it was just the shining wet glint of two yellow eyes peering at me from behind the cover of dark leaves. I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was a fire fiend, and I was a sitting duck, a helpless target begging to be torched and torn apart. I considered screaming out for my companions, but it was pointless. Even if they bothered to come after me—and I doubted any of them actually would—I’d ventured too far away from our camp. I could scream my lungs out and there was no chance they would ever hear me. And even if they did hear me…they’d never reach me in time. By the time they’d arrive, I’d be little more than a smoldering pile of ashes.

  The creature’s slow movement shifted behind the eyes, and I realized I was looking at a wild boar, not a fire fiend. Still dangerous, but I was a hunter. This was familiar territory. This was what I did.

  My gaze drifted over to the pile of clothes I’d left sitting at the edge of the water. My long blade sat perched on the large rock beside them…its sharp edge flashing white in the moonlight, beckoning to me…chiding me for not bringing her along on my moonlight swim. I dropped lower in the warm water until the surface came up to my chin, and slowly drifted at an even pace towards my weapon, hoping not to garner much attention. I began to turn my eyes back to the wild boar and spotted more movement over to my left.

  Damn.

  Another one. This one was bigger, with hulking shoulders and razor sharp, glistening tusks jutting out of her lower jaw.

  Knowing they traveled in groups—sometimes as many as thirty—I swallowed hard and scanned the edge of the clearing. My thoughts raced as I tried to calculate the different ways this encounter might go. I was running through each of my options when a low grunt rose up from behind.

  I turned slowly to see two more boars emerge from the treeline, their thick, muscular bodes moving over the stones and twigs without hardly a sound until they were almost at the edge of the lake. I focused my thoughts, keeping my eyes locked on my blade. I knew their way of thinking, their movements and patterns. I’d seen boars swim effortlessly across rivers to get at food. But would they charge into a thermal lake with water this hot just to attack me? Then again, these were Brimstones boars. Things were different here—maybe the wildlife was different as well? I didn’t know if they would risk the lake to get to me, although if I waited to find out, I wouldn’t have a chance in hell.

  There was a distinct crunch in the distance and all four wild boars looked away from me and towards the sound, sensing an unexpected change in the air. I took advantage of the distraction and leapt out of the water, grabbing the handle of my blade as I rolled over the bank, pebbles and rocks imprinting themselves onto my bare skin. A chorus of low grunts rose from the boars as they began to circle me in a cautious, calculating dance.

  I turned, slashing the blade in the air in wide arcs. The water ran off my skin as I spun, showering the boars in rogue droplets. I growled back at them, attempting to intimidate them. It didn’t work. They inched closer, saliva dripping from the jowls as their yellow eyes surveyed the softest parts of my body.

  A roar erupted nearby and my vision was blinded by white light. Searing flames licked at the tail of the boar in front of me, and it squealed as it whirled in a circle, curling its tail around its rear. Another spiral of flames pierced through the stillness of the night, missing one of the beasts by a hair. Heat blazed across my face, burning my eyes so much that I had to turn away.

  When I looked back again, I saw him.

  The fire fiend.

  Chapter 3

  He stood at the edge of the water, wearing dark tattered leathers, while his hands were stretched out as if in surrender. His golden eyes were like glowing lanterns, and his lips curled into a grimace. Then the curved muscles running along his arms flexed, sending flames soaring out of his palms in a spiral of beautiful arcs.

  The flames clipped the back of the boar closest to me. She yelped, then leapt off into the trees. Her three companions seemed to consider their luck as their snouts twitched. Their glistening eyes darted from me to the fire fiend, then back to me again. Another long moment passed before they conceded, and they trotted off into the mist, their tails whipping angrily behind them.

  I looked at the man. He stared back at me. His handsome face grimaced with pain, and a dark, brooding tangle of hair was slicked against his sweaty brow. I took a cautious step towards him. He took a step away.

  I suddenly realized how strange I must have looked in that moment. I was soaking wet and naked, with a gleaming blade in my hand.

  “Wait,” I said, and took another step.

  He hesitated, his eyes gliding over my body before meeting my gaze again.

  I held out my hands. The mist above cleared again, sending another ripple of moonlight across the clearing. The pale light flashed off my blade, and the reflection illuminated his face.

  He took off. Unlike the wild boars, the fire fiend moved like a wolf, quick and silent, leaping effortlessly over boulders and fallen branches. I ran back to my pile of clothing, watching him disappear into the mist. I tugged my pants up my legs and wrestled with my shirt and jacket against my wet skin, keeping an eye out for the boars as I dressed. So much of me longed to go after the fire fiend, but I made my way back to the camp instead.

  Scrod, Doyle, and Dale were still fast asleep. Then I saw the prince’s bed, an absurd number of blankets and cushions draped atop a small platform he demanded we build for him.

  It was empty.

  “A little late for a swim, isn’t it?”

  I turned to see Prince Herbert sitting on a log beside the fire. His green eyes swept over my hair, which was coiled into a wet knot at the back of my neck.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I replied, avoiding his stare. My heart hammered a rhythm against my ribs. Could he have seen me?

  “Neither could I,” he muttered.

  I walked over to my bedroll, a thin mat of wool batting and canvas. As I crouched to neaten out the corners, I heard Herbert cal
l my name. Looking up, I saw his green eyes piercing through the faint mist that curled between us.

  “Did you see anything out there? Any sign of the fire fiend?” His voice was low and pensive.

  Anxiety swirled in my gut, and I shook my head as I crawled into my bed.

  “No. I didn’t see anything at all.”

  *

  We awoke the next morning to the shrill caws of a murder of crows. They were perched in a tree at the edge of the clearing, voicing their displeasure at our presence.

  Doyle groaned. He reached out of his bedroll and picked up a rock. “Bugger off!” he yelled, and hurled the stone towards the birds.

  Some of the crows hopped to the side or fluttered to another branch, avoiding the rock with ease. They gave us another round of their piercing cries before rising up like a black cloud and flying away.

  Prince Herbert yawned, stretching across his cushioned platform bed, and peered up into the hazy sky. “What time is it?”

  “The sun’s been up for an hour,” I said without looking up. I rolled up my bed and began to pack my belongings back into my bag. The cold was clinging to my skin like an invisible coat of frost, and I longed for a proper soak in the hot thermal lake.

  Leading up to this point the fire fiend’s trail had been hard to follow, difficult to find the symbols and even more of a challenge to interpret their meanings. Now it was as if they were laid out before me, begging to be found. It helped that I had seen him in action. It was a quick assessment, but now I knew his height and his weight. I knew he wore soft leather slippers instead of hard-heeled boots, and I’d seen the size of his wide and capable hands. Now, as we ventured through the forest, I saw it all before me in the form of scuffed bark, disturbed grass, and scraped mud on high rocks.

  To my sheer amazement, the other men followed relatively close behind. I glanced back every so often, always surprised to find them still there. They all seemed bored and uninterested…all of them except for Prince Herbert, whose eyes were two bright emerald stones piercing through the mist. They would’ve been beautiful if they weren’t constantly accompanied by an ugly sneer.