But as they entered the yard in front of the farmhouse, a piercing scream shattered the quiet evening. Dara froze, her hand going to her sword.
“What is that?” a voice screeched.
“It’s a giant lizard!”
“Mummy, come see!”
“No! Make it go away!”
Tiny figures started popping into view all around the farmyard. Dara counted three, four, at least five of them. The gaggle of children drew nearer, all pointing and staring at Rumy, who was trundling along beside the horses.
“Don’t go near it, Jin!” shouted a high-pitched, frightened voice. A little girl stood on the farmhouse porch, peeking over the railing.
A boy of around ten, who’d been approaching them cautiously, looked over his shoulder and shouted. “I ain’t afraid of no lizard, Shir!”
“Don’t say ‘ain’t,’ Jin,” said another girl, who followed close on his heels. She examined Rumy with almost as much excitement as Jin.
“Why’s it so big?” asked a smaller boy. He had crept to the porch steps but didn’t get any closer.
“Maybe it got magicked!” said Jin.
“You mean ‘someone used magic on it,’” said the girl beside him.
“Or it magicked itself, Kay,” Jin said.
“I’ve never heard of a magic lizard,” Kay said. She turned bright-green eyes on Dara and Vine. “Is it magic?”
In answer, Rumy reared up on his hind legs, making the children start, and blew a jet of flame straight into the air.
The children squealed, some in delight and some in fear. The little girl on the porch—Shir—screamed and disappeared inside the farmhouse. A second later, the door opened again, and a short, round woman with pale-blond hair hurried out.
“What is all this ruckus? Jin, are you scaring your sisters again?”
“Mummy, look!” cried the little boy sitting on the porch step. “It’s a magic lizard!”
“I think it’s actually a dragon,” said Kay knowledgeably. “I’ve read about them.”
“Goodness me! Why didn’t you tell me we had visitors?” the woman said. She disentangled the small boy tugging on her skirts and hurried down the porch steps. “And a lady, no less!”
“Good evening, ma’am,” Vine said. “We were traveling by your lovely home, and we wondered if you might have a room to spare for the evening?”
“You can stay in our room!” called another girl. She looked to be about the same age as Kay, possibly her twin. She stared at Vine’s elegant clothes with wide eyes and twisted her hands in her skirt.
“Hush now, Kol,” said the woman. “I’m afraid we don’t have much, my lady,” she said. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable if you press on to the village. They’ve a decent inn off the square.”
“I fear we won’t make it there before the rain begins,” Vine said, glancing up at the storm clouds looming nearer to the farmhouse. Lightning flashed as she turned back to the woman. “Your children are absolutely delightful. We’d be honored to stay in your home.”
“Please let them, Mummy,” begged Kol.
“What about the dragon lizard?” Jin said. “What if it eats the baby?”
“He’s a cur-dragon,” Dara said. “He doesn’t eat people.”
“Too bad,” Jin said.
“A cur-dragon?” said Kay. “Neat!”
“Can you make him spit fire again?” called the other little boy, who still hadn’t relinquished his position on the porch steps.
“He has a mind of his own,” Dara said. “I can’t really make him—”
Rumy squawked at her and sent another burst of flame into the air. The children cheered.
“Oh dear,” said their mother. “Is it safe?”
“He’s harmless, ma’am,” Dara said. “He can sleep on the porch, if you allow us to take shelter here tonight.”
The children turned to their mother, giving her wide-eyed, pleading smiles.
“Oh, very well,” she said with a sigh. “We’d best get those horses into the stables before the rain comes. Jin, go find your father.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Vine said, dismounting gracefully. “I am Vine Silltine, and this is my bodyguard, Dara. What may we call you?”
“I’m Roma,” she said. “And I don’t reckon these ones will stay still long enough for you to get them all straight. Please make yourselves at home.”
In short order, Roma’s husband, a quiet man called Yen, whisked the horses off to the stables, and Dara and Vine were settled at the huge round table inside the farmhouse with steaming mugs of tea. Rumy had been instructed to wait on the porch, and the children alternated between watching him through the windows and darting back to Dara and Vine to ask questions about him.
A natural fire crackling in a stone hearth warmed the cozy farmhouse. Doors led to various bedrooms off the main room, which was kitchen, dining room, and living area combined. Roma bustled around the farmhouse, picking up stray boots, socks, and wooden toys from the floor.
“Sorry about the mess,” she said.
“We don’t mind at all,” Vine said, somehow looking just as at home in the farmhouse as she did in a palace. “We’re so grateful for your hospitality.”
“Are you a real lady?” asked Kol. She and her twin, Kay, were the oldest of the children. There were seven including the baby, who was fast asleep in a bassinet despite all the commotion, and a toddler, who waddled around, generally getting underfoot. They all had bright-green eyes and pale-blond hair. Kol wore hers long, whereas her twin kept her locks pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Kay had disappeared into one of the bedrooms to retrieve a weathered book, which had roughly drawn pictures of various fanciful creatures in it. She and Jin were busy poring over the entry about dragons in all their varieties while Kol hung around Vine’s chair.
“Do you live in a palace?” she asked.
“I am a lady,” Vine said, “but I live in a greathouse, not a palace.”
“Is that like a manor house?” asked Kol.
“Just like a manor house,” Vine said.
“Have you ever been to a ball?”
“Oh yes. Balls are lovely.”
“I wish I could go to a ball.” Kol sighed dramatically. “Have you ever danced with a prince?”
“Indeed I have. And so has Dara. A wonderfully handsome one too.”
Dara shot Vine a warning glance. She felt safe here, but it probably wouldn’t be wise to share too much about themselves. Vine did love being adored, and Kol was fast becoming her biggest fan.
Dara felt a tug on her sleeve. The little boy who had stayed on the porch steps while his siblings investigated Rumy stared up at her with wide eyes.
“You have a sword,” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said. “Would you like to see it?”
“Yes, please.”
Dara looked up at Roma. “Is it all right?”
Roma nodded. “Be careful now, Ber. Do what Miss Dara tells you.”
“It’s very sharp,” Dara warned as she carefully drew her Savven blade from its sheath. “It’s heavy too, so you’d better hold it with two hands.”
She placed the black hilt in Ber’s hands and made sure he had a good grip before letting go. He stared at the sleek steel blade, eyes wide, and didn’t move an inch.
“Why is it so hot?” he asked after a moment.
“What do you mean?”
“It feels like a poker in the fire,” Ber said. “I didn’t know swords got hot.”
Dara took the blade back from him, surprised. “You can feel that?”
“I want to feel!” Jin shouted. He charged over to Dara, knocking against his little brother as he reached out to touch the sword. “What are you talkin’ about, Ber? It feels cold to me.”
“I want to try too!” The other children lined up to touch the blade. Only Kay could feel the heat like Ber.
“What does it mean?” she asked, fixing Dara with intelligent eyes.
�
�It’s a Fire Blade,” came a quiet voice from the door. The children’s father had returned from the stables. Rain fell behind him in a quiet rush. Yen wore a broad-brimmed hat, and he took it off to shake away the water as he came inside. For the first time, they could see that unlike Roma and their children, Yen’s hair was a deep-bronze color.
“You’re from Vertigon,” Dara said.
“Aye,” Yen said. “It has been a long time since I last saw a Fire Blade.”
“Do you want to see if you can feel the heat too?” Kay asked her father.
“I already know I can,” Yen said, meeting Dara’s eyes steadily. A Fireworker. What was a man with the Firespark doing in a farmhouse in Trure? “I think Miss Dara can feel it too.”
Dara inclined her head, watching Yen warily. He said nothing more. What would he do now that he knew they shared this ability? It shouldn’t matter to these people, but the sudden exposure of Dara’s secret made her uneasy.
“Well!” Vine clapped her hands, breaking the tension between them. “I’m starving! May I help you with supper, Roma?”
The children rushed to assist Vine and their mother as she assembled a simple meal of root vegetables and roasted plains pheasant. Dara returned her Savven to its sheath and avoided making eye contact with Yen. She helped Jin and Kay feed Rumy some raw pheasant, and then they joined the rest of the family at the large round table.
The children chattered over each other as they ate, asking Vine and Dara endless questions about Vertigon, Rumy, and what it was like to be a noble lady. Visitors didn’t come this way very often, and the children were curious about the world outside their farm. Roma kept busy feeding the baby and preventing the littlest ones from dropping food on the floor. Yen didn’t say much, but he listened carefully to everything they said. Dara stuck to a vague outline of their mission to find a lost friend, almost wishing they had given false names. Naturally, they left out the part about Siv being the king.
Rain pounded the roof of the farmhouse. Distant rolls of thunder punctuated their conversation, making Dara grateful they didn’t have to stay outside tonight. After they finished eating, Vine gathered the children around her on the rug by the fire and told stories. She gave animated renditions of classic tales, like the Legend of Teall and Daran. The children requested their favorites, some of which Vine knew and some she confessed she’d never heard before. Kay volunteered to tell these ones, her voice strong and sure as she entertained her young siblings.
Dara glanced at Roma. She rocked the baby on her lap and cooed, watching her brood with soft eyes. A lump formed in Dara’s throat at the sight, and she found herself thinking about her own parents. They’d never created such an atmosphere of warmth at home. Her father was often preoccupied with his work, and her mother was too practical for stories. Dara mourned what her parents had become almost as much as she mourned her sister’s death.
She often relied on what her parents had given her to keep moving forward—her mother’s practicality and her father’s intensity had become some of her greatest strengths—but she didn’t want to develop her mother’s coldness too.
“May I have a word?”
Dara started. Yen had appeared beside her. He beckoned with a callused hand, and she followed him to the window. The rain blurred the details of the yard out front. Rumy slept on the porch beneath the window, snoring contentedly.
“My children like you,” Yen said softly. “I don’t think you’ll harm us.”
“Of course not! We—”
“I have to know what you’re running from before you stay the night under my roof.”
“We’re not running from anything,” Dara said. “We’re looking for a friend, like we said.”
“A friend.” The skepticism was plain on Yen’s weathered face.
“He was kidnapped.”
“I see.” Yen frowned, still waiting.
“That isn’t the full story,” Dara said. “But the less you know the better, wouldn’t you agree?”
Yen considered this statement for a long time, his expression cloaked. Dara steeled herself for refusal. Maybe they’d be sleeping in the rain after all.
At last, Yen spoke. “There were riders behind you on the road. They never passed the farm. I looked away for a moment, and they had disappeared. Are you sure you aren’t running?”
A chill went through Dara that had little to do with the cold night.
“How many were there?”
“Three at the least.” He tugged at his earlobe and looked back at the group gathered around the fire. “I can’t put my family in danger.”
“I don’t know who’s chasing us—if that’s what they’re doing,” Dara said. “We’ll leave if you want us to, though.”
Lightning flashed outside, followed an instant later by a peal of thunder. The storm was intensifying. It must be right on top of them now.
Yen sighed, the tension in his shoulders loosening. “I won’t turn you out in this.” He looked back at his family, safe in a pool of light around the hearth. “Is this friend you’re looking for a Fireworker too?”
“No,” Dara said. “Just me. And I’m not even a full Worker. I discovered my Spark late in life.”
“I see.”
“And you?” Dara said. “Did you remain in Vertigon long enough to train in the Work?”
“Aye,” Yen said. “I was a Metalworker’s apprentice. Made silverware mostly. I traveled to Rallion City to sell my master’s wares in my early twenties. That’s where I met Roma. I fell in love and haven’t returned to the mountain since.”
“Do you miss it?” Dara wished she could take back the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She didn’t want to let on that she missed the rush of heat, the way the Fire made her feel invincible. Not Rumy’s spurts and the trickle of Fire she’d drawn from the Works back in the palace, but the vast, unrestrained flood of it. Sometimes she imagined that if she Wielded the Fire in the magnificent quantities she’d experienced that night in the Great Hall, she would be able to find Siv. It was nonsense, but she hadn’t been able to shake the thought. Siv and the Firespark had entered her life at the same time. The power would always be linked with him in her mind. She wasn’t sure she could be whole without either one of them.
And her desire for that furious, burning torrent was the thing she’d inherited from her father that scared her most of all.
Yen met her eyes steadily, seeming to understand. “When I first moved to the Horseplains, I craved it worse than anything,” he said. “The desire never goes away.”
“How do you cope?” Dara asked. If she truly never returned to Vertigon, she needed some way to resist the incessant itch.
Yen gestured toward his family. “This here makes it easier,” he said. “Find something you love more than the power, and hold on to it with everything you have.”
Dara reached for the pendant around her neck. She thought she understood.
Dara and Yen returned to the warm circle of his family. Yen dropped a kiss on top of Roma’s head and took the baby so she could rest her arms. Dara sat on the floor, and seven-year-old Shir climbed onto her lap and started playing with the end of her golden braid, comparing the color to her own pale hair. Dara smiled at the little girl, hoping that one day she’d figure out how to fill the ache inside her as Yen had.
Lightning crashed outside, and Dara’s thoughts turned to Siv. Was he caught in the rain somewhere? Was there any chance Vine would Sense his trail again? Thunder boomed, making the windows shudder. Shir squealed and threw her arms around Dara’s neck. She hugged her tight, hoping Siv wasn’t out in this storm—or in worse danger.
20.
The Fighters
SIV faced the four strangers across the scattered remnants of the campfire. He still had Charn’s knife in his hand and a substantial amount of Charn’s blood on his clothes. Adrenaline from the fight coursed through him, but he wouldn’t be able to take four people at once, especially when they’d made short work of his Soolen
captors. Even Chala Choven was dead—the poor bastard. Stabbing his way out of this wasn’t an option.
“Hello,” he said, trying out his friendliest grin. “Thanks for the rescue.”
“Rescue?” The swordswoman snorted and pointed her blade at him. “Guess again.”
“Hey now,” Siv said quickly. “There’s no need for that.”
“Who are you?” asked a tanned, muscular man, who was even bigger than Tech. All four strangers were decidedly fit and muscular. And they held their weapons as though they knew how to use them.
“Just a hapless traveler,” Siv said. “I was taking the High Road from Rallion City to Fork Town when I was set upon by these miscreants.”
“We’re a long way from the High Road,” said the big man.
“It’s been a rough week.” Siv tightened his grip on Charn’s knife, keeping it close at his side. The woman’s eyes flickered to it instantly.
“What were you going to Fork Town for?” she demanded. Too late, Siv realized her accent had a particular lilt for which Fork Town was famous. He’d have to be careful with his story.
“I’m a wine merchant,” Siv said. “Going to pick up new stock. Fork Town makes the best wine this side of the Bell Sea.”
“Got any left?” asked the big man.
“Sadly no, not after being kidnapped by these unsavory characters.” Siv prodded Charn’s body with his toe.
“Curious. Very curious indeed.” The oldest of the four took a step closer, studying him intently. He was short, with a deep tan and curly, graying hair. He wore a rich-looking red baldric, and Siv got the immediate impression that he was the man in charge here. “What would a group of Soolen scouts want with a Truren wine merchant?”
“He doesn’t look Truren to me,” said the big man. His hair was flaxen, and despite his bulk Siv guessed he was from the Horseplains himself.
“My mother is Truren,” Siv said. “My father was born in Vertigon, but he returned to the mountain when I was young. I grew up in Rallion City, not far from Valor Racing Grounds.”
“Thanks for the life story,” the woman muttered. “Can I kill him, Kres?”
Siv winced. He shouldn’t talk so much. Of course they’d realize he was lying.
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