Girl of Fire
Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
THE PROPHECY
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
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHARACTERS & CALENDAR Calendar
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
EXCERPTS The Falcon Flies Alone
PRAISE FOR BERONA’S QUEST
GIRL OF FIRE
Gabrielle Mathieu
BERONA’S QUEST 1
ISBN 978-3952468074 (print)
ISBN 978-3952468029 (e-book)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2019 Gabrielle Mathieu. All rights reserved.
Except as permitted by the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
A Five Directions Press book
Cover photograph: Girl in armor © Boiko Olha/Shutterstock.
Book and cover design by Five Directions Press
Five Directions Press logo designed by Colleen Kelley
THE PROPHECY
The six-hundred-year cycle ends as it began,
In mortal strife.
When the Demon escapes her prison
To threaten every life.
Then fear the setting of the sun,
The dark’s called into this world.
The Demon awaits the brave and bold—
Claws bloody, wings unfurled.
Mannites and warriors amass;
Splintered by treachery, alliances shatter like glass.
Water runs beneath the foundation;
Councils falter, leaders lack inspiration.
For aid look to the fire child,
She who runs in the mountains wild.
A girl born in the year of the Hare
Could free them from the Demon’s snare.
Beware the water, beware the night.
They seek her flame to drown the light.
CHAPTER 1
Summer, Year 597, Country of Trea, Berona
I woke up before the sun rose, a bitter taste in my mouth, dried tears scratching my cheeks. I had concealed my sorrow and doubt from Father, meeting his reprimands with defiance. I would not marry any of the men he had suggested, though I was nearly eighteen. Not that I didn’t want a man. But the heroic tales that I begged my mother for had formed my taste. I dreamt of a bold suitor with flashing eyes—a man light on his feet who would whirl me dancing to our wedding bed.
I huddled under the blanket, wide awake and still angry. My belly ached. A sharp cramp pierced me. As if the restless night hadn’t been enough, my moon time had arrived. The trickle of blood forced me to leave the warmth of the pallet I shared with my little sister. I slipped out from under the covers, grabbed a rag, and pulled on a tunic, before stumbling out of our cottage into the dawn coolness.
The sky was the sullen color of an old bruise, the stars invisible. I blinked in surprise. A fog wreathed the trees by the creek, though it was summer. It wended and slithered, like the coils of snakes, flickering, white, thick. I was suddenly afraid to leave the safety of our yard.
But the winch by the well needed oiling. If I raised a bucket of water, the screech would set the dog to barking and rouse the household.
So I pulled on my boots and walked toward the river down by the ghostly trees, a little unsteady on my legs. I didn’t like the look of things. My feet dragged, but the slick of blood on my legs kept me going.
I shivered as I got nearer, the wet creeping into my bones, my back feeling heavy and my legs sodden. The chatter of the river sounded like a thousand mocking voices. I couldn’t tell where the blood was anymore; it was blending with the mist, and my thoughts felt cloudy. Only the quickening beat of my heart made sense now.
Danger. Run.
I liked danger, scrambling up rocky peaks, creeping to peek at a black bear and her cubs, climbing to the very top of the pines.
This was different.
My mouth felt dry. The mist thickened and clotted over the swirl of the water. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move.
There was a ripple in the fog. Like thread pulling a shroud tight around a corpse, the vapor coalesced, and a strand of greenish hair fluttered in the close air. Then came the flash of eyes in a glowering face, stark glowing pits, pitiless and empty as starvation. A long thin body emerged from the river, pale like a snake’s belly, dugs pointy with dark nipples. Her spectral face was ageless, thin lips stretched back to show a row of needle-sharp fangs. Outstretched hands ended in sharp claws, poised to rip out my throat. The wings were translucent shadows, held high, a raised threat. The water flowed around her, bubbling and seething.
She hissed. “I found you.”
My voice trembled. “What do you want from me? Do you mean me harm?”
She slithered to the shallow reeds by the bank, so close now. Her fell breath was like a musty cave; her eyes made me twist and turn inside like a man on a gibbet, still hoping to escape his fate. This creature was no mere witch, no pallid ghost. She had to be a demon. I wanted to run, but my knees had turned to water.
“I will destroy you.”
The cold fury in her eyes bored into me like a knife, grasping and squeezing my heart. My breath came short. I shook, expecting the strike of her claws, the fastening of those sharp teeth about my neck. My arms came up to ward her but met with empty air. She had not moved toward me.
I took a step back, then another, wondering when she would pounce. “How have I offended you?”
I felt her rage sweep over me like a wave of dark water. “Your existence is an offense.” She rose from the waters of the river bank, taller than any man, and looked down on me, considering. “You are a mere whelp, a lone child blundering through a terrible vast darkness.”
In that moment I felt utterly deserted, more alone than I ever had in my life. I closed my eyes to block out the terrible words as tears trickled down my face. My heart ached. I fell onto my knees, panting, close to the dank earth, which smelled like worms.
“There is no one to protect you. No one to love you
. There is only crushing, endless pain.”
My head spun from her threats. It took me a moment to recover. I had a gentle mother, and a father who raised me right. What would he think, to see me beggared on my knees? I forced myself to my feet. She had not left the water.
A memory came, of being small and holding my newly born sister. My mother had lain exhausted, smiling. Father knelt next to her, wiping the sweat off her face.
“I am not alone,” I said.
“You think your father will protect you? I have the gift of prophecy. You will be alone. In your hour of need there will be no one. I can spare you disappointment and heartbreak.” The water of the river gleamed, darker than I’d ever seen it. Her next words were soft, almost kind. “I can grant you an easy death.”
I swayed, the sound of the river swishing in my ears, the soft whorls of moving water putting me into a trance. But the current flowed the wrong way now. The shock woke me.
“I need no favors from a demon,” I spat out. She was tall and winged. Could I outrun her? I looked around for something—anything, to use as a weapon. Just driftwood. Why had I left my slingshot at home?
Her voice was slow poison, spelling out my doom. “There will be no hearth for you, no home, no friends. All those you hold dear, I will destroy, because of you.”
The sun’s first ray slanted through the trees, a kiss of orange on the earth.
She blinked, and the spell broke. I scrambled up the embankment, clawing at the ground. The root of the willow tree tripped me before I could run, and I fell hard. I could almost feel her warm breath tickle my neck. Where was she?
She stretched from the very edge of the river, neck extended, teeth snapping at air. Her bunching wings, her taut sinews, spoke of her frustration. Her prey was out of reach.
Can she not leave the water?
I wasn’t taking a chance. I ran so hard that branches tore at me, and stones bruised my feet through the soles of my boots.
CHAPTER 2
A Few Days Earlier, The Island Nation of Vendrisi, Luca
Luca stood on the prow of the deck, his feet spread wide to avoid being thrown off balance. The ocean was rough tonight, the air tingling and sharp against his cheeks.
He often awoke in the early hours of the morning, no matter how many ginger bitters he enjoyed after dinner, no matter how sweet the girl who lay in his arms. He attributed his insomnia to his prodigious energy. He was a man of twenty-seven, vibrant, lusty, and powerful.
He couldn’t see their destination, though they were close. The full moon was hooded by shrouds of blowing clouds, leaving the ship lantern as the best source of illumination. Despite the low visibility, he kept looking, hoping to catch a glimpse. He liked to know where he was going.
The Isle of Caput was a relatively new asset. It offered the last harbor and refuge before the open ocean. The men of Vendrisi had paid a hefty port tax for centuries, until Luca convinced Caput to join his island nation.
He smiled. Another success.
A thin whistling in the sky made him look up. A dark object was hurtling toward them. Fire gleamed through its fissures. The whistling grew louder. The first mate was already moving as Luca yelled, “Drop the anchor.”
What in Saint Celia’s name? The Royal Astronomer had predicted the meteorite but said it would fall over the open ocean. This was close. Too close.
Luca shook his head. For a moment he thought he’d caught the snatch of a song, a long slow lament that burned in his ears. The deck was full of scrambling sailors now, some looking after the rigging, others rolling barrels of unsecured goods toward the hatch. No one had time to sing.
The meteorite loomed overhead, casting a shadow onto the water. Luca threw off a sailor’s arm; the man was trying to drag him below deck. A true Prime did not hide from danger.
The noise rushed at him, drowning out further thoughts. He pulled off his belt, looped it around his waist, then tightened it around the mast. Few men would have seen a shooting star this close.
The boom bit into his bones, nearly shattering his ear drums. In the distance, the ocean roared up in a circle around the plummeting rock from the heavens. A crown of shattering waves rolled outward, toward his ship. In the dark near him, someone prayed.
The impact ripped the belt off him and tossed him down. He spat as the cold salt beat against his mouth. The wave sped past and he opened his mouth to scream out encouragement. The next one battered at him, swallowing his brave words.
Suddenly he was just another man, fighting for his life.
* * *
The Royal Astronomer yammered as a servant combed the seaweed out of Luca’s matted blonde hair. The Astronomer was apologetic, but insistent that his prediction had been correct. Something had drawn the meteorite off course.
Luca took the hot ginger bitter the captain’s niece pressed into his hands, noting the swell of her sumptuous breasts. The captain knew Luca’s taste. Nula, a strong and confident beauty, was unfazed by the storm and didn’t need cosseting.
Which was good. Three men had gone overboard as well as two chests of pepper, intended as a gift for Caput’s ruling House. Luca had known one of the men personally, an older sailor with three children back in Vendrisi.
The children would adjust to their loss, just as he had. Luca took a sip, letting the golden liquid fill his mouth. He coughed, and his eyes filled with tears from the pungent scalding drink.
The rising sun was a pale suggestion behind the curtain of fog, lending only enough light for him to witness the boiling and frothing of the ocean. A stench like piss and sulfur lingered in the close air. Luca spotted a curiously straight line of waves headed from the ocean toward Caput’s headland, dimly visible in the gloom—as if some ancient God had drawn a warning with a swipe of a giant finger. Don’t cross the line.
Luca shook the fancy out of his head, and Nula’s hand from his shoulder. There were wounded men to comfort down below, and he would have to change into something more suitable before they landed in the harbor. Perhaps the outer robe of green silk with the embroidered dragons. It set off his blue eyes nicely.
* * *
He stood at the prow of his ship, which bore a dolphin, the symbol of his House, as a figurehead. They had chosen not to land at the small harbor, already packed with sailing vessels and merchant fleets seeking refuge from the rough waters, but rather to drop anchor at the protected sandy cove in front of Caput’s royal palace.
The Duke stood on shore with the Duchess, a herald behind them holding the island’s flag, a cypress tree against a vivid aqua background. The daughter, a dumpy young woman, stood to the side, face held stiff. Luca grimaced. He hoped she would not be sent to him that night to be bred.
A short walk away their fortress, a squat ugly thing built of limestone, raged against the sky. Connoisseurs of architecture they were not. The Duke’s men got into two small transport boats and dipped their oars against the swells, fighting their way toward Luca’s ship.
Nula nudged his shoulder, pointing. A man was wading out into the deep water, approaching the ship directly, heedless of the waves. One knocked him over, and he paddled frantically toward Luca. His face was contorted with fear or grief. The Duke’s men pulled up at the same time that he reached the ship. Sailors threw him a rope, while others dragged him into the boat.
Luca sent the Mercantile Advisor, Samu, to greet the Duke’s emissary, while he strode over to the shivering, drenched man. He was old, and his build spoke of health, but today he was pale and drawn.
“What could not wait?” Luca asked as Nula wrapped the man in a blanket.
“I beg your pardon, Prime. But she is gone. Gone from here. But first she took my son, the bitch.”
Puzzled, Luca looked at the captain, who shrugged. The Duke’s emissary came over just as Luca said, “This sounds like a matter for the local justice.”
“That’s the Lighthouse Keeper,” the man said, as if that explained everything. He turned to the Keeper. “Are you sure
she escaped?”
“Yes.” They all looked at Luca again expectantly. The man extracted a piece of metal wrapped in a rag, from a leather pouch. “It’s a piece of her prison, Prime. The falling star must have shattered it. You won’t want to touch that. It’s cold as death itself.”
“Whose prison?” Luca said, trying to conceal his impatience.
“Why, the Water Demon. Our family’s always been the guards,” the Lighthouse Keeper said, astonished. “You pay our salary.”
A memory tugged at Luca. The Demon. The Great War, six hundred years ago, ended with her capture, and the confinement of the Elementals. The Elementals were herded into an obsidian prison on the Heartland, the Demon lowered into the deep ocean by the Prime’s navy. “She’s imprisoned around here?” Luca asked.
The man gulped down a sob. “Well, she was. She’s gone in the direction of the Heartland. But she stopped long enough to take her revenge. She killed my son.”
“Killed him? How?” Luca imagined a great maw gulping down a little boy.
“He’d been feeling paltry these last few days. A girl he liked threw him over. It was nothing a bit of time wouldn’t heal.” The man drew the blanket around him, shivering. “But now he’s gone. Jumped off a cliff onto the rocks below. Half of him swept off by the waves already.”
“You’re saying she had a role in this?”
“Look at the history, Prime. It’s how she’s always done those she hates. Looks for weakness, whispers her lies. And she hates every last one of us humans.”
“I’ll investigate. Thank you for your quick response,” Luca said formally. Inwardly he cursed. He would have to return to Vendrisi at the end of today, to research the Demon and convene his Council. Why had no one mentioned the damned creature was imprisoned here? He turned to go.