Fire In The Blood (Shards Of A Broken Sword Book 2)

by Gingell, W. R.

  Fire In The Blood

  Shards Of A Broken Sword #2

  W.R. Gingell

  Also by W.R. Gingell

  The Two Monarchies Sequence

  Spindle

  Blackfoot (2016)

  Masque

  Stand Alone Titles

  Wolfskin

  Ruth And The Ghost

  A Time-Traveller’s Best Friend Series

  A Time-Traveller’s Best Friend: Volume One

  Volume Two (2016)

  Shards Of A Broken Sword Novellas

  Twelve Days Of Faery

  Fire In the Blood (Dec 2015)

  The First Chill of Autumn (2016)

  Copyright © W.R. Gingell

  Cover images via Shutterstock

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Please consider leaving a review! Your Indie Author thanks you!

  You can contact me here:

  http://wrgingell.com

  gingellwrites@gmail.com

  For my favourite little Sis. She corrects all my inconsistencies and finds all my missing words.

  Sometimes she even does it for my books.

  Contents

  Prelude

  The First Circle

  The Second Circle

  The Third Circle

  The Fourth Circle

  The Fifth Circle

  The Sixth Circle

  The Seventh Circle

  The Circles Broken

  Fire In The Blood

  Prelude

  By and large, slavery to Crown Prince Akish was actually quite boring. It was true, thought Rafiq, observing the prince from high overhead, that Prince Akish was vicious, overeager for a fight, and inclined to treat every life but his own with a careless abandon. In spite of that, he was the best swordsman the Kingdom of Illisr (and most likely the surrounding kingdoms) had ever seen, he had a serpent’s cunning for his campaigns, and he very rarely called on Rafiq to assist him in any but his most dangerous ventures. Thus it was that Rafiq, after fifteen years of slavery, had only ever contributed to a handful of the Prince’s more dangerous operations. He had been young when the prince’s father captured him: young but already formidably strong, with his first battle scars beginning to whiten on him. And although in time he began to forget what it was like to be free, he never forgot that he had once been free. Prince Akish, while he didn’t choose to enlist Rafiq’s superior strength for most of his campaigns, liked to have Rafiq accompany him everywhere– a sign both of his power and his nobility.

  And Rafiq, doing what dragons do best, allowed his anger to simmer beneath the surface like dragonfire; molten, deadly, and ready to be called upon at the right time.

  There was always a false kind of freedom to flying. Rafiq, wheeling left to keep Akish in sight and ease the burden of the incorporeal thread that bound him to the prince, bared his teeth to the wind. The prince had only tried to ride Rafiq once, when Rafiq’s sudden desire to display his skill with barrel-rolls, needlessly sharp turns and sudden plunges for the ground had the prince simultaneously throwing up and tumbling to the grass in an undignified heap. That had ended the appalling humiliation of having a human rider, but it did make things unpleasant when it came to keeping in range of the prince. By dint of painful experimentation, he’d since discovered that the bond would allow him a distance of roughly three miles in any direction before it clawed at him to return. There was also the added advantage that if the prince forgot to attach his communication spell to Rafiq’s ear, Rafiq wasn’t able to hear any Commands. The spell that bound him to the prince only bound him to obey spoken Commands, and if Rafiq took to the air without the communications magic, he was able to fly in the constrained freedom of his three miles for as long as he chose while Prince Akish danced in helpless rage below. He paid for it afterward, of course, but every tiny rebellion was worth it.

  “Come down, Rafiq,” said the prince in his ear. “We’re getting close.”

  Rafiq flipped lazily in the air and descended in a loose spiral. He glided close by the prince’s horse, maliciously spooking the gelding, then met the ground with practised ease, his callused pads battering the grass flat and his claws tearing out chunks of turf as he went.

  Prince Akish’s nostrils were flaring when Rafiq loped back to him.

  “Heel, you son of a lizard!” he said through his teeth. Rafiq came to heel, the spikes of his wingblades slapping the horse’s flanks and prompting further panic from the poor beast. The prince viciously hauled on the reins but didn’t repeat his insult. Those were the rules. If Prince Akish wasn’t clear enough in his Commands, he was well aware of who he had to blame.

  “Don’t spook my horse,” he said instead. “And prepare yourself: I have need of you.”

  -Am I polishing your armour or acting as a herald to your arrival?-

  “Neither,” said the prince. “There’s a dragon I need you to kill.”

  Through a curl of smoke and flame, Rafiq said: -What dragon? There are no dragons of note in Shinpo. Or is it a purge of the lesser beasts?-

  “No purge,” Prince Akish said. There was a sharp smile on his face: bespeaking acquisition and not humour, if Rafiq wasn’t mistaken. “But you’re wrong about Shinpoan dragons of note. Even a lizard like you must have heard of the Enchanted Keep.”

  Rafiq let a delicate stream of fire purr against the setting sun. He’d seen the vague suggestion of a tower from his position in the air, but he’d never heard of the Enchanted Keep. It was possible that the prince and his cronies had mentioned it, but since Rafiq tried to block out their back-slapping and shouts of laughter whenever he could, it was also possible that he’d ignored that too.

  Against Rafiq’s silence, the prince said irritably: “The third Shinpoan princess was taken captive by the dragon of the Enchanted Keep five years ago. Her family already had their heir and their spare, so it wasn’t advertised, but I’ve recently had reports that the family aren’t as ruthless with their children as they’d like us to think. It could prove useful to have the girl as a bargaining chip. And if nothing comes of that it’s always useful to rescue a princess. People like it.”

  Anyone who wasn’t the princess or her unfortunate family, thought Rafiq. Prince Akish was already trying to oust his own father from the throne of Illisr: it didn’t bear thinking about what he could do to the neighbouring Shinpo if he had a princess as hostage.

  -That’s all?- he said. -We travelled to Shinpo to kill a single dragon?-

  “No, we came to kill an Enchanted Keep,” said the prince. “It’s said that the Keep has the dragon in thrall. Whether or not that’s true, the dragon is only one challenge: there are seven circles of challenge to defeat before the princess can be rescued. She’s in the highest room of the tallest tower, sleeping an enchanted sleep until her rescuer braves all seven circles and overcomes them.”

  Rafiq gave a fiery cough of laughter. How very human and complicated. -What are the circles?-

  “No one knows,” said the prince, with a satisfied smile. “No one has yet made it past the dragon.”

  The First Circle

  There was no dragon in sight when the prince and Rafiq cautiously approached the Enchanted Keep. Rafiq, bearing in mind the prince’s informa
tion that the princess was kept captive in the highest room of the tallest tower, was sourly amused to see that the Keep only boasted one tower. It was built on a jagged outcrop of stone and dark green grass, rising white and slim against the blue sky from a white, paved courtyard; and it didn’t seem big enough to obscure a dragon from their sight. Or, if it came to that, hide the approach of one.

  Rafiq began to feel slightly uneasy. He could sense the magic of the Keep spreading through the surrounding air like heat shimmer, warping and changing everything it touched. The very air around the tower was thick with magic, the breaching of which was like plunging into a thick fog.

  “You’re Burdened,” Prince Akish said, thickening the air still further.

  Rafiq snarled at the added weight. -What are your instructions?-

  “Kill the dragon. Preserve my life. Complete the First Circle of Challenge.”

  Short and sweet. Rafiq savoured a laughing curl of fire in his throat. Prince Akish had learned that it was safer to give Rafiq clear, simple commands without any other possible interpretation than the obvious one. In this case, the prince was being even more careful than usual.

  Formally, he said: -I hear and obey- and took to the sky in a swirl of wing-spikes and grass blades.

  The first few strokes of his wings were heavy and labourious, but once he was properly in the air there was a fresh, strong updraft that wouldn’t have been out of place by the sea. That made him uneasy, too. None of the surrounding countryside had led him to expect strong breezes here. Still, it made his ascent much easier.

  As he rose, the tower of the Enchanted Keep kept pace with him, a slender cylindrical edifice in pale bricks that turned out to be both much higher than it seemed, and much larger than it seemed. The closer he got, the clearer it was to Rafiq that the tower was not in fact built of a pale sandstone brick, but massive slabs of white marble that sat gravely one upon the other. From a distance the marble had looked like regularly sized bricks: closer to, Rafiq could see that each of the marble slabs was at least as big as he was.

  There was still no sign of the other dragon. Rafiq, bound to ensure Prince Akish’s safety as well as slay the other dragon, kept to his lazy, spiralling ascent, his gaze alternating between the prince and the scenery. The courtyard of the Keep made a small square beneath him, drawing in the velvet green countryside around it until the grass seemed to pucker by the force with which it was pulled. Rafiq found himself thinking that perhaps this time, Crown Prince Akish had bitten off more than he could chew.

  The roof of the tower was light blue and gently conical, shingled in circular layers. Rafiq was inclined to admire the scale-like structure of it until it seemed to untwine itself dizzyingly from the top of the tower, and it occurred to him that the roof was moving. Only it wasn’t the roof, it was a dragon that had been coiled around the pale blue roof, now uncoiling itself.

  No: herself. This lithe, blue and silver beauty sweeping her tail around the spire of the tower was a she-dragon. Rafiq thought that he hung in the air without moving, even to flap his wings; but the hot and steady thump in his ears was certainly his wings beating against the updraft as they held him aloft. He purred deep in his throat and arched his wings before he knew what he was doing, but—perhaps fortunately—the she-dragon didn’t respond in kind. Instead, her underscales irradiated with a rippling tide of burnt orange, bespeaking caution, and a slight edging of magenta that said she was curious.

  The growing rise of orange through her scales bought Rafiq forcibly to mind of his Burden, and the fire in his belly seemed to turn to ice. He tried to pull away and circle back to Prince Akish but the Burden clawed tight into his soul and sent him headlong at the she-dragon; a blunt, battering pass that she avoided with consummate ease.

  His own unwilling clumsiness brought Rafiq to the unpleasant realisation that whether or not he wanted to, he would be forced to murder an innocent she-dragon. The only question was whether he would allow the Burden to do it for him in slow, clumsy, battering strokes, or whether he would do it himself in the quickest, most painless way possible.

  The she-dragon danced on the updraft across the tower roof, light and quick, her scales now utterly black. Rafiq, with bitterness in his heart, clipped his wings tight to his sides and dove for her.

  The she-dragon fought like a shard of quicksilver, sharp and fast. She was faster, but Rafiq was stronger and his reach was longer: he was certain that once they came to grips the battle would be done. The problem, he discovered, as he twisted once more out of reach of her claws, was getting to grips with her. She was in and out with her slender claws before he had the chance to meet and close with her, leaving thin tears on his underscales. Fortunately his underscales were tougher than most and her claws didn’t penetrate deeply enough to do more than draw blood. The slight pulling discomfort was enough to distract him slightly, however, and having to watch out for the prince didn’t help his concentration.

  Rafiq pulled himself tighter, protecting his underside, and the she-dragon went for his wings instead. He rumbled a fiery laugh and twisted, slicing hard and fast with his wing-spikes. She dodged, but he saw the spurt of red from one of her wings and the way she staggered in the air, and dove after her immediately. This time she wasn’t quick enough, and Rafiq, with a surge of mingled regret and exultation, closed with her at last. He bound her tail with his, her wings pinned to her sides by his claws, and with a clean slice of his wing-spikes he slit her throat from one side of her jaw to the other shoulder. Then he held her close, warming her last moments with the fire that burned high and hot along his underside, and carried her gently to the courtyard below, blood bubbling over her scales and his.

  ***

  In the smallest room of the Enchanted Keep a young woman in serving garb lay sleeping on a narrow cot. A scar, lit from within, spread on her neck from one ear to the other shoulder. As a dark, complicated shadow sank past the window her eyes flew open and she sat up, gasping.

  “Oh no!” she said, scattering pillows in her haste to scramble from the bed. “Oh no, no, no!”

  She leapt for the door without stopping to find her shoes and sprinted down the hall, her bare feet slapping against cool marble. A shadow passed the window again as she ran, huge and rising fast; but she ignored it.

  As she approached the grand stairs that swept down into the receiving hall, a booming gong sounded through the Keep. The girl took the stairs three at a time with the practised ease of one who has done so many times before, fairly flying across the red-marbled hall below until at last she was by the grand doors, her breath quick and short.There she took a moment to straighten her head-dress and neck-scarf, unwrapping it completely only to wrap it again more carefully around the new scar. At last she took a slow, careful breath in, released it just as carefully, and hauled open one of the massive front doors.

  The First Circle is ended.

  The Second Circle

  Rafiq flew high and sank again. It was no use trying to run, but the furious energy in him demanded to be spent, and it wasn’t until he’d expended it that he returned to Prince Akish in the courtyard below.

  The prince threw him an impatient look when he landed. “Are you finished sulking?”

  Rafiq spat a molten piece of fire and said: -Yes-

  “Good. I’ll have need of you once I’m in the Keep.”

  -I won’t fit-

  “You’re Burdened,” said the prince. “Be a man.”

  Rafiq snarled an even bigger ball of fire but there was nothing he could do. Burdened he had been, and Burdened he was to Change. His wings dwindled and disappeared into his shoulder blades, sparking the faint sense of panic that changing to human always induced in him, and the courtyard around him seemed to spring up, growing at ridiculous speed. When it was done he found himself crouched on the flagstones, chilled and small, with one stupidly delicate human hand flat against marble where it made a brown blot against the white. Somehow, whether from familiarity with Prince Akish’s physiognomy
or because of his own dusky scales, Rafiq always found himself as a vaguely earth-coloured human when he changed. It made him fit in with the general Illisran population, and if he’d assumed anything so specific, Rafiq would have assumed that he would take on the lighter caramel skin tone of the Shinpoan people when Changing in Shinpo.

  He climbed rather unsteadily to his feet, aware that Prince Akish was waiting by the Keep’s massive front doors with impatient black eyes, his fingers tapping an irregular tattoo on the grand marble balustrade beside him. There was a similarly large and ornate bell pull within easy reach of the prince– not that he’d bestir himself to pull it, thought Rafiq, with an unfamiliar human grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  He managed to climb the stairs on his second attempt, precariously off-balance by the loss of his two forward legs, and set a resounding gong bellowing on the other side of the doors by a vigorous pull at the bell-chain. Beside Rafiq, the prince straightened his chain-mail and adjusted his sword to a more convenient angle: preparing for either female welcome or male attack.

  Someone must have been watching for them, because the ringing tone of the gong had scarcely faded when one of the heavy double-doors groaned inward, spilling bloody light on the red marbled floor of the Keep’s grand hall. Rafiq saw bare feet first, one of them white-scarred in a line that vanished beneath a fluttering hem of light pink. It was a girl– a serving girl, if Prince Akish’s: “You there! Where is the princess?” was to be trusted.

  The serving girl gave them a Shinpoan bow with her bare arms arms outstretched gracefully, displaying the top of her beaded head-dress for a respectful moment.

  She drew herself upright again in a single, liquid movement, and said in careful Illisran: “Your mightinesses are well-come and apologies are offered.”