Shadow Fire

by Wheaton, Kimber Leigh

"Yes," he murmurs, watching the elder exit the building. "I'm going to help Elder Clements lock up and escort him home. I gather you wish to leave tonight?"

  "How did you know?"

  "Just a guess that not only would you be averse to going to the town celebration tomorrow," he begins with a wry smile, "but you'd probably prefer to avoid Cory and his father. It would be impossible if we stayed. You'd be forced to spend several hours in their presence with a fake smile plastered to your face. I wouldn't want that for you."

  "You saw right through me," I admit, smiling a bit at the mercenary who seems to understand me so well. "I already have my gear hidden near my house so I can sneak away quickly."

  "Meet me at the southern gate after you've gathered your gear," Zane says with a rakish grin, which once again sends my heart fluttering. "I'll be there as soon as I get the elder home and retrieve my things from the inn."

  With one last shy glance in his fiery eyes, I turn to depart.

  "Wait, Ashlyn," Elder Clements says before I can leave. "By a vote of eight to one, we will be cleaning the Goddess Shrine so it will be ready for your return with the statue. We believe you and Zane will be successful." I bet the one against was Mayor Franklin. "Good luck on your quest and may the Goddess watch over and guide you."

  Not knowing how to respond to the vote of confidence, I nod. He presses a small pouch into my hand. From the faint clinking within, I assume this must be the silver the town promised me. Clutching the pouch to my chest, I murmur a brief 'thank you' before taking off at a brisk jog.

  Desperation to get away from the elder and the gruesome images in the temple gnaws at me, urging my feet forward, while the whipping wind dries the tears the moment they fall from my eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Sneaking Away

  Sneaking back to the tavern, I feel like a common thief skulking in the shadows. News spreads like wildfire in this small town, and juicy gossip like what happened tonight is nothing but kindling. There are many more people up and about than normal for this time of night. The last thing I want is to discuss the evening's events with curious townsfolk. So I'm reduced to creeping from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid being spotted. Throwing open the tavern door, my relief is short-lived when I realize some of the regular sots have already found their way back after being shooed away by the elder.

  Holding my head high, I grab my gifts from the banquet table and hurry to the door without a glance at the men surrounding the bar. To my amazement, there's a chorus of cheers, shouted wishes for good luck, and even a few pleas to be careful. Glancing back over my shoulder, I nod to the group of revelers before ducking back out into the cool night air. My heart swells from the overall positive attitude of those inebriated men. It's nice to know at least some of the town is on my side and wishes for my safety.

  I'm forced back into the shadows as I make my way home. Luck is on my side, and I'm able to gather my pack and quiver without incident. Leaving my old, worn-out bow and arrows on the porch, I race to the southern gate hoping Zane already arrived. To my relief he's there waiting, speaking to the two militiamen guarding the gate. When I walk to his side, I realize he's arguing with the guards.

  "If you don't have Mayor Franklin's permission to leave, I can't let you through," the blond guard on the right says in a condescending tone. "He expects the Chosen to show up for the celebration tomorrow. She's the guest of honor."

  "You mean she's the main attraction!" Zane bites back, his exasperation apparent in the way he's toying with the hilt of his longsword.

  From the intense glare in his eyes, I wonder if he'll just plow through the guards. There's no doubt in my mind he's more than capable of taking both down with little to no effort.

  "If I'm not mistaken, I was chosen to go to a monster infested ruin by the people of this town," I say, all but growling at them. "I have no desire to be part of the mayor's ridiculous circus tomorrow. I'm not some prized mare to be paraded around the plaza and ogled at!"

  They exchange glances and move aside while I'm taking a breath to continue my rant. Grabbing Zane's hand, I drag him through the gates and out into the open pastureland. When I hazard a glance at him, he's biting his lip in an attempt not to laugh.

  "I'll try not to become monster food!" I shout over my shoulder at the stunned militiamen.

  My sarcastic remark is enough to send Zane over the edge, and he begins to laugh in earnest. Without a word, I continue dragging him away from the town until the lights are small specks in the distance. Part of me is afraid the guards will change their minds and chase after us.

  Now that we're away from the oppressive air of the town, I take a deep cleansing breath, my relief palpable. The aroma of the nearby oak trees invades my senses, filling me with the solace only the forest can bring. Eyes closed, I spread my arms wide, taking in the feeling of freedom.

  The last three weeks have been so tense. The training was constant, any semblance of peace nonexistent. Out here in the moonlight, nattering voices far behind, I can relax.

  After spinning around a few times, face tipped back toward the starlit sky, I gaze at Zane. He's kneeling on the ground staring up at me with an amused smirk, laughter filling his eyes. When I kneel on the ground beside him he starts digging through his pack searching for something. The silver gauntlet he pulls out is huge, the metal around the hand covered in several small spikes. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of a punch thrown with it. He slips it onto his left forearm and then starts to struggle with a large piece of silver armor.

  "Would you like some help with your armor?" I ask.

  He smiles and nods. It sits on top of his left shoulder. I fasten the two straps which wind around his back and buckle at his chest. The armor covers his shoulder, extending down over most of his upper arm.

  "So what exactly is this armor for?" I ask, running my fingers along the shining silver plate.

  "I mainly use it as a battering ram. Originally I used it for defense. Between it and the gauntlet, my left side is pretty well protected allowing me to act as a human shield. However, I quickly learned using it to mow down the enemy is much more satisfying," he replies with a feral grin while doing a few final adjustments.

  I have to admit he does appear formidable in the glinting silver armor. The fierce gleam in his molten red eyes is dazzling, and I find myself a bit breathless as I continue to gaze in wonder at my warrior protector. The last item he takes from his pack is a leather half glove, which he pulls onto his right hand.

  "I have a gift for you," he says, picking up the small bundle on the grass next to him. "I think you'll find this quite useful. And I'll feel better knowing you have an extra measure of protection."

  Unwrapping the cotton, which turns out to be one of his shirts, I'm struck silent by the beautiful gauntlet. It's small in comparison to the one covering his forearm. The silver is etched with tiny dragons in flight, the wings and tails wrapping around to end at the red velvet backing. Zane helps slip it onto my left forearm and I'm surprised at how light it feels. The metal over my hand extends out just far enough to hurt someone with a well-placed backhand or punch. Untying the bow from my pack, I'm delighted to discover it doesn't interfere with the bowstring at all.

  "It's beautiful, Zane," I murmur, my fingers tracing the tiny dragons. "Thank you so much. I wish I'd had this earlier to smash in Cory's face."

  He nods his agreement before holding his hand out to me.

  "Are you ready?" he asks, pulling me to my feet with one arm.

  When I stumble a bit and collide with his firm chest, I'm well aware it was no accident. It seems my body is one step ahead of my mind, acting on its own. Glancing up from beneath my bangs, I meet his sultry gaze. The intense heat reflected there floods my body with warmth.

  "You have the most beautiful eyes," he murmurs, gazing languidly into my amber orbs while I tremble in his loose embrace. "I've never seen golden eyes before. They have a sexy feline quality to them."

  He pulls away, his eyes nev
er leaving mine. Just when I think I might drown in his fiery eyes, he releases my arms and starts walking south toward the Planthes Forest. I know we need to travel south, and there's no other way than to travel through those dark woods. Suppressing the urge to flee in the opposite direction, I force my feet forward, following the mercenary. The sharp tang of blood hits my tongue, and I realize I bit my bottom lip.

  While I spend many days in the forest hunting, I'm always out before nightfall. The forest is tranquil during the day, but it becomes rather eerie once the sun sets. The only time I was ever in the forest after nightfall happened two years ago, an experience I'd rather not repeat. My imagination got the better of me. I ended up battered and bruised from my frantic flight out. There's nothing like rumors about bandits and ghosts to scare a poor teenage girl half to death.

  "We need to put some distance between us and the village before dawn. Knowing the mayor, he may send a search party for you when he realizes you're gone," Zane says, noticing my slow, reluctant pace.

  He's right, Mayor Franklin will be furious I left before his grand ceremony. It would be just like him to drag me back in irons. Wouldn't that be embarrassing — stuck on the stage with the mayor while shackled to keep me from escaping. An involuntary shudder courses through my body at the thought.

  "I think we should also avoid the merchant trail just to be safe," Zane says, continuing the trek due south instead of southeast toward the trail.

  Though I'd like to argue, I'm not about to admit my fear of ghosts in the dark woods. Besides, his logic is sound. If we take the merchant trail, we're likely to run into bandits lying in wait for unsuspecting travelers. Sure we may run into more monsters forging our own path, but I'll take a few monsters over a gang of bloodthirsty bandits any day. Just as we reach the first sparse trees, which signal the beginning of the vast forest, Zane stops, his entire body tense.

  "Quiet," he whispers, "stay close. Something's coming."

  I stand beside him, straining to hear what caught his attention. There's a slight rustling before a large black figure looms in the brush only feet away. Zane pushes me behind him, and draws his sword in one fluid movement. In that moment I realize just what the dark figure is.

  "Wait!" I yell, gripping his right shoulder. "Don't attack!" He pauses mid-strike but doesn't sheathe his sword.

  "Care to share your logic?" he snaps, sword still at the ready.

  The black figure is hidden within the thicket in front of us. I push past him to approach it, but he grabs my arm, yanking me back.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he asks, anger filling his voice. "I can't protect you if you refuse to obey my orders!"

  His left arm wraps around me, pulling my body flush against his firm chest, my face colliding with his neck. I feel a touch lightheaded for a moment as I breathe in his scent. He smells of vanilla and something else… perhaps cinnamon? Closing my eyes, I lean my head in closer, pressing my cheek against his warm skin. Yes, cinnamon. An urgent whine from the bushes snaps me out of my daze. Zane is still on the defensive, waiting for an attack.

  "It's just Shadow," I manage to say through my dry throat. Zane still has me pressed up against him, protecting my body with the armor on his left side. "Please lower your sword. You're making him nervous."

  When Zane makes no move to sheathe his sword, I try pulling away. His grip is like iron. I'm not going anywhere until he decides to release me.

  "Shadow, come here," I call out.

  A large black wolf pads out of the brush. His ears are perked up, and his tail is stretched out behind him, on full alert. It appears neither male wants to back down. Shadow sniffs the air, opening his mouth as he inhales. Zane tenses against me when the wolf's teeth are bared in a predatory grin.

  "Zane, this is Shadow," I begin the tense introduction, "he's my hunting buddy." Zane starts to relax, his arm loosening around my body.

  "This massive wolf is a pet?" he asks, freeing me from his grip. When he sheathes his sword, I release the deep breath I'd been holding.

  "Not a pet. More like a companion," I say with a small smile.

  Shadow creeps forward. I bury my fingers in the thick fur at his neck. Zane holds his hand out, allowing the wolf to take in his scent. Shadow chuffs before settling back on his haunches, his bright blue eyes shifting between Zane and me. His head is tipped to the side, a gesture I always interpret as curiosity. I suppose the wolf is unaware of the events of the past three weeks. He must be wondering where I'm going.

  "Zane, I hope you don't mind, but I think there's a good chance Shadow will follow us."

  "But what about his pack?" he asks. "I thought wolves lived in packs."

  "Well, Shadow's a bit of a renegade. I found him when he was a small cub, and he travels alone as far as I know. The only other wolf I've ever seen him with is Loki, but I wouldn't really call them a pack since they barely tolerate each other." My eyes scan the forest searching for the white wolf, Loki. "I wonder where Loki is. He certainly wouldn't let me leave without saying goodbye…"

  I trail off realizing Zane is gazing at me with a raised eyebrow. He must think I'm crazy now, the girl who talks to wolves. Shadow's still staring at me; his azure eyes alight with curiosity.

  "Shadow, we're leaving, wanna come?" I ask, rubbing at his furry ears.

  I know the wolf understands most of what I say, though most people would think me crazy were I to admit it aloud. He's been my confidante for four years, and he always seems so intelligent, like he's listening to every word. Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to who can listen and not respond, or offer ridiculous advice like Celeste.

  "We need to move on," Zane says. "We're too exposed and vulnerable to attack here."

  I nod and follow him into the dark, sinister woods, Shadow close behind. The wolf seems to be on high alert making my anxiety soar. Zane reaches back and takes my hand in his.

  "Stay close," he orders, "something still feels off."

  His hand is warm, the contact sending a wave of tingles throughout my body. He laces his calloused fingers with mine, his thumb caressing my hand. I glance at the side of his head, noting the way his dark auburn hair bounces with each step. The short sleeves of his shirt are tight, his muscles pushing against the smooth fabric. My eyes wander down to his legs encased in tight fitting black pants, tucked into worn black leather boots. He's walking fast and his sword slaps his left leg with each step. I'm so wrapped up ogling the mercenary I fail to notice a large fallen branch. As I stumble over it, Zane stops me from falling. It's a good thing he had my hand, or I would've face-planted on the forest floor.

  "Are you all right?" he asks.

  I can't seem to find my voice so I nod. Satisfied, he continues on. As the canopy of trees thickens, it blocks out what little light the moon provided. Our pace slows when the darkness makes it difficult to navigate the many obstacles along the forest floor. The leaves rustle in the night wind, creating an eerie sound matched only by the infrequent grunts and howls of nocturnal forest creatures. It's quite easy to understand how the rumors of ghosts came about. I wouldn't be surprised if one appeared in our path right now.

  A loud hooting causes me to jump in fright before my mind registers it's an owl. Zane's fingers tighten around mine, which helps calm my racing heart. We've been hiking through the dense underbrush for quite a while. My legs are starting to feel like pudding, I doubt I can go much farther without collapsing.

  "Zane," I call out through panting breaths, "we've been walking for quite a while now. Can we stop for a rest soon?"

  He stops to glance back, his expression soft, his lips curved into a kind smile.

  "You must be exhausted," he murmurs. "I know there's a small creek nearby. We can camp there for the remainder of the night. I just wish I was more familiar with these blasted woods." He sounds tired and frustrated too. I'm about to scream in exasperation when an idea springs to mind.

  "Oh, wait a sec." I release his hand and drop my pack to the ground. "I have an
idea." Rummaging through my pack, I find what I'm searching for. Pulling out the bright blue flask, I open it. After taking a quick drink, I hold it out to Zane. "Want some?"

  "No, I'm fine, thanks," he replies. "What's this plan of yours?"

  "Shadow!" I call out, scanning the forest for his form.

  Within seconds he's at my side huffing. Pouring some water in my hand, I hold it out to Shadow. He sniffs at my hand then licks the tiny pool of water.

  "Shadow, we need this. The water. Can you lead us there?" The wolf huffs before he takes off almost straight ahead. "Well let's go," I say to Zane through a smile.

  "Very clever," he murmurs.

  He holds his hand out and I take it again. Though I know he's holding my hand out of necessity not attraction, I just can't bring myself to care. The feel of his warm, calloused fingers against mine is divine. Just holding his hand makes my pulse race out of control. It's a good thing I'm tired. I hope Zane attributes my soft panting to exhaustion rather than attraction.

  We follow Shadow's trail through the dense trees, trying to keep up with the wolf's brisk pace. Shadow isn't taking an easy path. We have to dodge quite a few low hanging branches, and I manage to trip over another fallen log. Then I hear a sound that warms my soul, running water — and close by too. When we reach the creek, Zane releases me, and scopes out the area, searching for a suitable campsite. Shadow is on the opposite bank howling and huffing.

  "I think Shadow found our campsite for us," Zane remarks. "He's certainly intelligent for a wolf."

  He takes my pack then motions for me to stay put before jumping across several large rocks to reach the other side. There's no way I'm going to follow him across the wide creek; the night is far too cold for a swim. I watch in apprehension as he drops the packs and makes his way back to me. He leaps from rock to rock, the picture of masculine grace.

  "Your turn," he says, his bright garnet eyes gleaming in the dim light.

  "Oh, ah, perhaps I'll just camp over here," I say, backing away from the offending creek.