Flame Singer (Fire Sower Book 2) Read online

  Flame Singer

  Callie Kanno

  Cover art by Dustin Foran

  Map art by Calvin Sharper

  Copyright © 2017 by Callie Kanno Harper

  All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  For Mike and Shirley,

  who have shown such love and support.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One: Leave Taking

  Chapter Two: Favorable Tides

  Chapter Three: Borrowed Power

  Chapter Four: Yearning

  Chapter Five: Lonely Warriors

  Chapter Six: The Three Sparrows

  Chapter Seven: Hollow Cry

  Chapter Eight: Hidden Knowledge

  Chapter Nine: Ismene

  Chapter Ten: Unexpected Meeting

  Chapter Eleven: Mourning

  Chapter Twelve: The Secrets of Forgers

  Chapter Thirteen: Eyes of Malice

  Chapter Fourteen: Stronger

  Chapter Fifteen: The Forger Village

  Chapter Sixteen: Treasure Seekers

  Chapter Seventeen: Taint

  Chapter Eighteen: The Hunters

  Chapter Nineteen: Tales of Old

  Chapter Twenty: Chosen

  Chapter Twenty-One: Broken Bonds

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Escape

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Prisoner

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Wounded

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Fire Visions

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Crossing Over

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Loss

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Shadowed Pain

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Pursuit

  Chapter Thirty: The Prince

  Chapter Thirty-One: Lonely Road

  Chapter Thirty-Two: The Blood Dagger

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Bunarat

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Warmongers

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Parting Ways

  Chapter Thirty-Six: The Halcyon Mountains

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Firespring

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Forge

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: True Potential

  Chapter Forty: The Order of Tivan

  Chapter Forty-One: Farewell

  Chapter Forty-Two: Javyln

  Chapter Forty-Three: Homecoming

  Glossary

  Prologue

  “Where did you get this?”

  The harsh question caused Arik to straighten his back. “It has been in my family for generations,” he said defensively.

  The questioner grunted dubiously, but said nothing further for several moments. He stared into the leather pouch as if it simultaneously contained the greatest treasure in the world and the thing he feared most.

  Arik studied the giant form before him—a man doubled over from habitual stooping. Arik wondered if that was from his work at the forge or from the years of suffering that had clearly broken the man.

  “Has it ever been touched?” the former Forger asked next.

  Arik’s shoulder jerked guiltily, but it went unseen by the giant man staring into the pouch. “No,” Arik lied.

  Arik’s grandfather had given him the leather pouch when Arik had come of age. It was a family heirloom—their greatest pride. Arik had not believed that it was truly the eye of a chimera. After all, the creatures had been extinct since his father was a child.

  His grandfather had warned him never to touch it, and so Arik had first dumped the lump of metal-looking material on his bed. It looked so ordinary. So… disappointing.

  But then, he had reached out to run his fingers over the smooth surface.

  Arik shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

  It had been like an explosion of fireworks in his mind, full of vivid colors and strong emotions. The rush of adrenaline was unlike anything Arik had ever experienced before.

  Over the next few years, Arik spent much of his private time holding the chimera eye. He reveled in the flow of raw magic that emanated from the stone. He obsessed over the possibility of harnessing that power. He studied every known text concerning the forging of magical items, searching endlessly for the elusive Forgers.

  Finally, his searching had paid off.

  “What do you want from me?” the former Forger asked, tearing his gaze away from the contents of the pouch.

  “I want you to turn that into a weapon,” Arik answered promptly.

  The large man’s expression darkened. “I am no longer a Forger, boy. You should have been told that by whoever gave you my name.”

  Arik wrestled down the desperation in his voice. “But surely you still know how it is done,” he said quietly.

  The former Forger’s brow contracted sharply. “Yes,” he whispered, “I remember.”

  Arik switched to a soothing tone, as if speaking to a wild animal. “It would be such a waste to let this beautiful material remain as it is. It was meant to be something more.”

  The giant man nodded slowly. “He has been waiting…”

  Arik wasn’t sure what the Forger meant, but he could sense that he was close to getting what he had wanted for so long.

  “I should not,” the man murmured to himself, “but it truly would be such a waste of the sacrifice that was made.”

  Arik held his breath, waiting for the Forger to convince himself it was the right thing to do. Arik knew it was only a matter of time. All of his research had shown that the Forgers had strict beliefs regarding magical materials.

  “I will do it,” the large man said finally. “But I do not do it for you. I do it for him,” he nodded to the pouch.

  Arik’s rush of elation was so powerful that he could hardly contain himself. It didn’t matter to him what the Forger’s motivations were. All that mattered was that he would finally have a weapon of power. He would be able to wield the magic that had been at his fingertips for so long.

  And then, nothing would stop him…

  “Will you give it a name, like all those other famous magical weapons?” Arik asked excitedly.

  “He already has a name,” the former Forger said softly. “His name is Savion.”

  Chapter One: Leave Taking

  Idris’s eyes were already open when the knock sounded at his door. In spite of Captain Cowan’s urging that he get some rest, Idris had been unable to sleep. He had heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall.

  “Idris?” a familiar voice called.

  He sat up immediately. “Just a moment, sir.”

  Idris pulled on his boots and walked across the room to open the door. Captain Cowan stood on the other side, his heavily scarred face pinched and weary.

  Idris straightened his scarlet tunic. The dragon and starburst embroidered in gold on his chest glimmered in the lamplight. “Are we going to see King Nikolas now?” he asked his superior with more confidence than he felt.

  Cowan shook his grizzled head. “I have already spoken to the king.”

  Idris was secretly relieved. He suddenly understood why the captain of the Royal Guard looked so harried. “What did he say?”

  “He has given his blessing,” the old soldier answered shortly.

  It was clear to Idris that it hadn’t been as simple as that, but he knew better than to pry for details. King Nikolas the Bold was a warrior in every sense of the word, and he never gave ground without a fight. Captain Cowan had likely engaged in a lengthy argument in order to gain the king’s approval.

  Idris felt a surge of anxiety as his thoughts naturally turned to the journey they were about to take—the reason they had needed the king’s blessing. C
aptain Cowan and the three youngest members of the Royal Guard were about to depart from Marath for an unknown length of time during a turbulent period in the king’s capital city. There were less than a dozen members of the Royal Guard to begin with. Losing almost half of their number would leave the royal family more vulnerable than any of them would like.

  Yet, it had to be done. If they did not undertake the journey, they would lose one of their number permanently.

  Cowan handed Idris a bundle. “Change your clothing.”

  “Yes, sir,” Idris answered automatically.

  The captain walked away and Idris closed the door to his room. He set the bundle on his bed before unwrapping it. He found it contained the clothes he was expected to wear. The tunic was brown and nondescript, as was the rest of the ensemble. It could have been worn by just about anyone, which was probably why Cowan had selected it. The belt that went around the waist had a couple of pouches attached to it. Idris filled them with items that would be of use as they traveled—a flint, a small knife, a medical kit.

  Idris changed his clothes, then tidied his topknot of black hair. When he was finished, he pick up the weapon that had gained him admittance into the king’s most elite group of soldiers.

  It was a partisan, with a black lacquered shaft about six feet in length and the bottom capped in etched steel. The top of the polearm was sculpted steel overlaid with gold and jewels to form a dragon’s head, and the blade looked like a tongue of flame issuing from the dragon’s mouth. Idris admired the beauty of the priceless weapon, just as he always did when he set eyes on it.

  The craftsmanship of the weapon was extraordinary, and the detailed expression on the dragon’s face made it look alive. The glittering rubies of the scales and the sapphires of the eyes were so bright they almost glowed. Idris knew that was due largely to the power of the weapon.

  Is it time, farmer?

  The voice sounded in his mind like a familiar melody.

  “Yes, Iona,” Idris answered aloud. “It is time.”

  The partisan—like all magical items—was sentient and worked in partnership with Idris. Not long ago they could barely exchange a civil conversation, but now Idris was pleased to acknowledge that they were friends.

  Idris gently pulled a fitted leather covering over the head of the partisan, tying it closed. The cover hid the riches from view. There was no way to hide that he was carrying a polearm, but onlookers would not suspect its true worth.

  Idris attached the partisan into a holder which he then strapped to his back. He glanced around the room to see if there was anything else worth taking, pausing as he looked at the mantel over the fireplace.

  When he had first come to Marath to train with the Royal Guard, his family had given him a bundle of gifts. Among the items was a chain of colorful yarn with beads woven into it—each bead representing a member of his family. The family chain was a traditional gift to those who left home, so they could symbolically carry their family with them as they traveled. Idris picked up his family chain and tucked it into the pouch on his belt.

  How sentimental, Iona commented. Her voice had a teasing tone, but it was affectionate as well.

  “I do not know when I will be back again,” Idris explained needlessly.

  With a final glance around his room, he walked to the door and stepped out to the hallway beyond. A small group of Royal Guards stood waiting near the exit. Captain Cowan was speaking quietly to Drusi, his second in command, and Farah, Idris’s primary instructor. Aherin, one of the other new members of the Royal Guard, stood slightly to the side talking with Demas and Palti.

  Idris’s eyes fell on Hildar, a young woman with the chestnut hair and fair skin that told of noble bloodlines. Her delicate face was pale and her eyes were weary with strain. She looked at Idris and nodded in greeting, a show of their recent friendship.

  He smiled in return, but his stomach gripped with anxiety. Hildar was the bearer of a weapon of power that had been corrupted at some point in its history. That dagger was fighting to take control of her. Idris had seen firsthand how destructive Hildar’s weapon could be. He had no desire to witness it again.

  His eyes automatically dropped to the belt around Hildar’s waist, where she normally kept her dagger.

  “Where is Savion?” he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

  Hildar’s hand moved to her belt, clutching at the empty air. Her expression became one of chagrin as she became aware of her reflexive action. She cleared her throat and determinedly dropped her hand to her side. “Captain Cowan has sealed the dagger in a special case.”

  Hildar gestured as she spoke. Idris’s eyes followed the motion to the case in Cowan’s hands. It was long and narrow, just the right size for a dagger. Idris couldn’t tell what the box was made of, but it looked like crystal. The case looked to be solid, without seams or hinges. If the outline of the dagger hadn’t been visible, Idris wouldn’t have known that the rectangle was anything more than solid rock.

  Captain Cowan overheard the exchange between Idris and Hildar. He turned to address the group. “Now that we are all assembled, I shall share with you the plan for our journey.”

  An expectant hush settled over the hall.

  The captain of the Royal Guard held up the crystal case in his hand. “This is a special item taken from the king’s personal treasury. It was made during the time of Lyndham, the first king of Calaris, and has been handed down through the royal family. It acts as a barrier around magical items, rendering them useless until released. In this way, Hildar’s dagger will be contained during our journey.”

  Idris breathed a sigh of relief. It was as though a large rock had been lifted from his chest. He was relieved to know that Savion couldn’t hurt Hildar anymore.

  Cowan continued. “King Nikolas has given me permission to take Hildar, Idris, and Aherin on a journey to reforge this dagger. I have been told that it is a dangerous process, and we are not guaranteed success. However, I believe that it is necessary for us to try.”

  Several heads nodded in agreement.

  “Drusi is in charge while I am away,” he went on. “The remaining Royal Guards are to stay vigilant in protecting the royal family. We know that there are traitors in the Water Palace, and it is likely that war with Roshum is approaching. It is not possible to be too cautious when it comes to the safety of the king and his heirs.”

  Idris could see that Cowan’s warnings were unnecessary. Every member of the Royal Guard took a solemn oath to protect the royal family. The fervor of that vow shone in each soldier’s eyes. In fact, the reason that Jerin and Roth were not present for this meeting was because Cowan had ordered that the king never be left unattended.

  “Where will you go?” Drusi asked quietly. “The art of forging weapons of power was lost long ago.”

  Cowan gave a small smile. “There are people who may know where to find what has been lost.”

  If Drusi was bothered by the cryptic answer, she gave no indication. Instead, she nodded as if he had said exactly what she expected to hear. “I wish you luck on your journey.”

  Her statement signaled the end of the brief meeting, and everyone broke into smaller groups to say goodbye.

  Demas and Palti walked over to Idris. The former clapped Idris heartily on the shoulder.

  “I wish I was coming with you,” Demas said regretfully. “Adventure and glory awaits you, while I stay here to keep an eye on the royal children.”

  Idris grinned at his friend. “I think you mean that mud and snow and scant rations await me, while you get comfort and hot meals.”

  Palti chuckled. “He has a point, Demas.”

  “Just think of how the ladies will swoon when you recount your harrowing tales of blizzards and danger,” Demas pressed on with a theatrical tone of voice.

  Idris felt a small catch in his throat as he laughed. “I will miss you, my friend.”

  Demas’s expression became more sincere. “I wish you safety on your journey.”
/>   Palti reached out and gripped Idris’s hand. “As do I, duwado.”

  The large man’s affectionate nickname for Idris meant ‘little brother’ in his native language. He truly treated Idris like a younger brother, which was something that Idris treasured. Being away from his family had been a difficult transition, but the friends he had made during that time had made it bearable.

  Captain Cowan gestured to his three youngest Royal Guards. “Let us waste no time. Our ship awaits.”

  Do not worry, Iona said comfortingly. You will see them again, in this life or the next.

  Idris knew she meant well, but her words were anything but comforting.

  He turned and followed his companions as they walked out of the quarters of the Royal Guards and into the winter’s cold.

  Chapter Two: Favorable Tides

  Few people were out and about so early in the day. The small group crossed the grounds of the military compound without incident.

  Idris’s glance slid across a pair of soldiers standing guard near the outer wall. He recognized one of them as a young man who had come from the same village as Idris. Meic’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and resentment as he watched Idris walk by. Idris gave him a wide grin as they passed.

  Meic’s eyes narrowed and he determinedly turned away, as if indicating to Idris that he didn’t care what the other was doing. Idris knew it was childish to goad Meic, but he enjoyed doing it anyway.

  I hope that boy does not get into trouble while we are away, Iona commented.

  Idris was taken aback by her concern. Do you think it likely?

  Iona considered her words carefully. I think that youth are eager to prove their worth, and they do not often count the cost.

  Idris waited for her to go on, but she fell silent. Her statement left Idris feeling unsettled, but he pushed the sensation away. He knew he needed to focus on his present situation instead of what Meic might do in the future.