Fireborn Champion Read online

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Ice and Steel

  Chapter Two - The Wary Hunter

  Chapter Three - Shade Stride

  Chapter Four - Before the Fire

  Chapter Five - Scar of Stars

  Chapter Six - Thyra and the Coins

  Chapter Seven - Ayska Masrari

  Chapter Eight - Death on the Horizon

  Chapter Nine - Brother Caspran

  Chapter Ten - Saltwater Gin

  Chapter Eleven - Loyal Stance

  Chapter Twelve - Spineshell

  Chapter Thirteen - The Mother's Gift

  Chapter Fourteen - Celebration

  Chapter Fifteen - Beasts of the Sea

  Chapter Sixteen - Seeing Scarlet

  Chapter Seventeen - From Chaos

  Chapter Eighteen - Rosvoi

  Chapter Nineteen - Nephele Catrona

  Chapter Twenty - Paradise

  Chapter Twenty-One - The Goshgonoi Drums

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Hail to the Chief

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Enshrined

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Reunited

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Gentle Dance

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Athe

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - Sermon at the Arch

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Batbayar Opani

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Swiftly Now

  Chapter Thirty - Simmer Go the Sands

  Chapter Thirty-One - Heartfelt

  Chapter Thirty-Two - Shining Step

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Sigrid Ostergaard

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Broken Circle

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Curious Count

  Chapter Thirty-Six - Rift

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Loyal One

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Spoken Words

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Shattered Glass

  To all those whose circle is broken.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Ice and Steel

  A silver shard sliced through thick bands of snow twisting in the mountain winds, hungry for a taste of flesh. Iron twisted from his master’s blade. Its jagged tip ripped through his shirt—another fresh chink in his cloth armor for winter’s frigid bite.

  Iron liked the bite. He loved the fight.

  “Just because your name’s Iron, doesn’t mean you have to move like it.” His master’s happy hoot filtered through the flurries as he danced around Iron’s swing. “You’re stiffer than a board and so slow, you’ll rust before you get another good swing in!”

  “Is that a sword or a cane you’re holding, old man?” Iron brought his blade up, twisting his feet into the pliable stance of Shade Stride. He stepped back, and his foot sunk into a deep snow drift.

  “Sinking in snow?” his master asked. “Tsk, tsk. I taught you better.” Sander’s voice came from all directions. The cursed mountain weather toyed with Iron’s hearing. Was Sander there? Or over there?

  Iron feinted as sharpened steel whistled in a deadly arc where he’d stood just a heartbeat before. His breath was hot and burned his lungs, the sweat rolling down his back and coating his palms wrought into icy rivers by the wind.

  He breathed in, summoning the Sinner’s power from his heart. The shadow god ’s magic rippled through him with a satisfying shudder, and his feet rose to the downy snow’s topmost layer.

  Sander’s blade sheered the curtain of frost twisting before Iron. It would skewer his heart easily as it skewered a roasted elk’s thigh before tearing it from the spit. Iron grinned, and the blade sunk into his chest.

  “Sinner save me!” Sander’s voice lost its haughty tone after the weapon actually met its mark. A shadow appeared through the snow, the wavering form of a man holding the weapon in Iron’s ribs. “Iron, are you—”

  The illusion that looked like Iron exploded into inky mist while the Iron of flesh and blood reappeared as a swirling, ghostly figure, swinging a spectral sword at his master in a lethal arc. Their weapons clanged, and sparks showered Iron’s knuckles.

  Magic roared through his veins. He inhaled, and his ghostly form solidified. He twisted on his heel and kicked Sander back, bringing the weapon behind him for a strike meant to shear an arm clean from the shoulder.

  The howling storm abated. Snow framed his master’s wide eyes and slack jaw, the man looked like a deer with a mouthful of grass staring down a hunter’s arrow.

  Iron twisted his wrist and clenched his jaw, the blade swinging furiously through his master’s chest. “Got you now, old man. Guess I—”

  His voice caught as his master’s body dissolved with a sigh, a mound of black sand quickly carried into the blinding white by the mountain’s howl.

  Iron seized. He spun around, his feet once again sliding into Shade Stride.

  A fist burst through the storm. A flash blinded Iron. The rippling force of the Sinner’s magic made the air rush from his lungs. His feet sunk and he flew backward. The snow he once stood on exploded against his back, encasing him like a chilly coffin.

  He slammed his palms against the ground and lurched forward. A steely tip pricked the base of his neck just where his collar met his windpipe. Iron winced. A warm line oozed from the flesh and flattened into a crimson stain on his shirt.

  “You get one chance to use a decoy like that,” Sander said. “Make sure it counts. Smart enemies will adjust to your strategy, so make sure it’s not one little fart of smoke after another. Those same enemies will find a way to catch you, so you must always find a way to slip through their fingers like smoke and shadow. Launching yourself at their blade is certainly not that way. I mean really, you can’t still be that much of an amateur?”

  Iron shivered. His master’s sword slid from his skin. As if the mountain new their duel had ended, the flurries slackened. Instead of snowy sheets, now only fat flakes twisted in lazy lines around them. A wind once furious in its rage dissipated, and an eerie silence fell upon the high forest.

  His master smirked. As always, the man wore black head to toe. Snow covered his knee-high boots. His chest heaved with the exertion of their duel. A black hood hid his weary eyes, yet even then those eyes glimmered with the youthful hunger and irreverence that Iron both loved and hated about the man who’d raised him since his earliest memories. Sander’s salt and pepper stubble almost hid the scar running from his lip to his jaw but didn’t quite hide the asymmetry of Sander’s face, much to his master’s irritation.

  The man flicked Iron’s blood from the tip of his blade and sheathed the nicked and frosted steel. He reached down, swiping Iron’s collar and yanking him to his feet. He towered over Iron; the Sinner’s magic hadn’t left the man like it did when Iron fell, and so his master stood atop the snow as if it were built from granite blocks and not a foundation of loose flakes.

  “You’re cocky, Iron,” he said.

  “I’m cocky? You practically cock-a-doodle-do when you see the sunrise.”

  “You’ve never even heard a rooster before. Besides, that’s not where the word comes from.”

  “Well sorry if you haven’t taught me everything about every word of Common already.”

  “Watch that temper. It’s okay not to know everything all the time, okay? A lesson for another day. Study extra texts on etymology tonight. Maybe you’ll come across the answer.” He grinned and patted Iron on the back. “I know you’re smart enough to know where to look.”

  Iron groaned and used his magic to hop atop the snow. He nearly came to Sander’s height now. He liked that, even though the prospect of studying extra linguistics made his heart sink. “I nearly had you
that time.”

  “You’re not a full-fledged Sinner’s man yet, not by a long shot.” Sander rested his fists on his hips and puckered his lips, warping the scar along his jaw. “Why, you know how long it took me to—”

  “Ten years, eighteen days, ten hours. And by then, you could cut a hundred men down with that sword. Blindfolded. One hand tied behind your back with seven damsels in distress cheering you on.”

  “Well, at least you listen. You get too confident—I’ve told you this countless times. Sinner knows I’m a cocky bastard, but you’ve got to put that crap aside in a duel. Arrogant men charge into battle. They die first. Smarter men, they stay behind and tell the stories about how they saved the day. The poor bastards bleeding out on the battlefield are lucky if they get a mention. They definitely won’t if they’re better looking than the survivors. Lucky for you you’ve got a face like an elk’s ass.”

  “You are an elk’s ass.” Iron tested the cut on his neck. He grimaced, trotting after his master as they made their way back home. “Besides, in the books you make me read, history glorifies the brave.”

  “There’s a fine line between arrogance and bravery.” Sander looked to the sky, tapping his chin. “Scratch that. How’s that saying go? ‘Arrogance and greed are selfish in deed, but…ah, but…’” His nose squished into a red-tipped arrow. “Screw it, I don’t remember. It’s been too long since I’ve been around anyone with half an ounce of wisdom.”

  “Hey!” Iron swatted the man.

  “Eh, you’re just a kid. And we’ve already determined you’re arrogant. Although, I suppose arrogance and wisdom could potentially go hand in hand. Hmmm…”

  He pondered the thought while they made their way over the rolling pillows of snow. Dressed in only the loose black tunic of a Slippery Sinner’s apprentice, Iron shivered from the sweat and snow soaking him to the bone. He’d already lost most feeling in his toes and wiggled them so they wouldn’t turn black from winter’s bite.

  They reached a long foothill that sloped toward their valley home. Trees coated with soft white had a tired look about them. Skaard’s endless snows weighed more than just their branches; they weighed their spirits. Still, the trees rose like serrated knifes above the ground, stubbornly refusing to let the frigid skies bury them.

  Iron glanced behind him. The tall peaks of the Everfrosts thrust skyward like the jagged, broken teeth of an old man. Snow trailed from their summits in long, curling wisps, leaving patches of unforgiving granite exposed to the elements.

  The Everfrosts layered one behind another until the farthest peaks became the horizon. Sander told Iron no one knew what creatures might have lived beyond the first peaks because no man could survive the journey. Some believed they’d find corpses of frozen titans. Others believed they’d find ruins of the demons from the Second Sun. In Sander’s opinion—he always had one—they’d probably find bird droppings and a frozen rat or two. No small part of Iron longed to see who guessed right.

  “Daydreaming again?” Sander asked bemusedly.

  Iron started, turning from the peaks. His master stood a few yards away, arms folded and fingers tapping a layered tunic much warmer than his own. Iron rubbed the back of his neck and stalked forward. “No, I just…well, yes.”

  “The Everfrosts are not for you. They’re not for anyone. They’re the Everfrosts, Iron. Maybe if they were the Land of Tits and Gin or something, but the Six made a no-man’s land for a reason. They want no men prowling around those summits. We’re not made to tread everywhere, else you’d have fins and fur.”

  “You’re no fun,” Iron said. It wasn’t true. He loved Sander like a father even though he knew the man wasn’t his real one. His master had never hidden that fact from his apprentice. Everything else? Different story.

  A howl long and wild coming from the peaks broke the tranquil calm. Iron paused, his stomach fluttering. He and Sander locked gazes. They stood as two black statues against the white and muted grey. Another howl answered the first and rolled into a long echo that washed from peak to peak.

  Two glory hawks burst from nearby pines. They spread their long, black-tipped wings and ascended into the clouds of rolling mists and soft snows. Iron narrowed his eyes. Glory hawks didn’t spook easily. Aside from Iron and Sander, they ruled the lower reaches of the Everfrosts.

  “What was that?” Iron asked.

  “Sounded a bit like wolves.” Sander turned toward the sound, the impish glitter in his eyes now replaced with something harder. “Not sure if I can tell the breed from the howl. They shouldn’t be in this part of the range, though. There aren’t enough elk and greyhorn to sustain them, and they have no good defenses from the thundersnows.”

  “Wolves?” Iron had never seen the beasts. He’d read about them in one of the many books on the creatures of Urum Sander supplied him. Wolves were hardy hunters. Intelligent. Hungry. Numerous, save hot deserts and frigid peaks. Most folk feared them, but most folk didn’t live in complete isolation from everything and everyone else in the world. For Iron, boredom had an odd habit of transforming fear into courage.

  “I want to see one, Sander. I can use the Sinner’s magic. I’ll be completely safe, don’t worry!”

  Sander’s gaze fixed on Iron as he arched a brow. “Didn’t we just have a talk about arrogance and bravery? I’ll give you one guess as to which one your happy little bout of youthful foolishness falls under.”

  An angry thorn twisted in Iron’s heart, heating his cheeks. “I can’t stay pent up in this stupid valley forever, listening to glory hawks kill foxes and hoping an elk wanders through so we don’t have to eat squirrels or root stew for dinner again. I need to see the world and the things in it. If I never know what’s dangerous, how am I ever going to be anything but ignorant? I can’t always just spar you, you know.”

  “Unfortunately, you make a good point. You’ve been around me too long. That tongue’s getting sharp. You might one day even have half the wit of my left pinkie.”

  Iron rolled his eyes. “That’d be a big pinkie.”

  “Huge. Still, my wits trump your logic. I need to find us some dinner and you need to study. You did piss-poor when last we covered the Eastern Kingdoms. How about a nice book on Blail? That country’s ten thousand times as interesting as a half-starved old wolf or two.”

  “But—”

  “I said no.” Sander motioned toward the valley. “You get to the cabin while I hunt. If the wolves stick around more than a day or two, we can investigate. They’ll be out of here as soon as they realize there’s no meat in tree bark.”

  “You’re not any fun. I’ve got the Sinner’s magic. I could easily keep myself safe.” Iron hurried after his master as they dashed toward the cabin. He peeked behind him, longingly looking toward the source of the howls. They weren’t too terribly far away.

  “There will be much more time to see far worse things that lurk in Urum,” Sander said. “The wind’s a tricky lady in the lower reaches anyway. It favors us now, but should it change directions those beasts would sniff you out, and I’ll be damned if I let you lead a pack home while I’m cooking dinner. Sinner knows what kind of hell you’d be in if I burned good meat because I’m poking holes in a feral wolf.”

  Iron fumed, flakes softly falling against his hot cheeks. “Fine. Just fine. Like always.”

  Their cabin appeared over the next crest of the rippling hill, a squat black box nestled between a few bent pines spotted with snow drifts. His wet clothes and cold toes warmed as his excitement heated his blood. He ran the rest of the way, swinging the door wide and stepping inside as warm air washed across his cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms while Sander continued trekking down the gentle slope.

  His master paused where the trees grew thick and nodded at Iron. “The Slippery Sinner makes you hard to catch and harder to kill, but he’s the god, not you. A wolf’s bite will tear your flesh just like any other man’s, you hear me? Now get to your studies. Study the etymology of cocky. It’l
l save me the conversation.” He stepped beneath a tree’s shadow but paused before vanishing. “No wolves, okay?”

  Iron grinned at the concern tinging Sander’s voice. His master bit his lip and looked worriedly after his apprentice.

  “I’ll be home, old man. Try not to worry. It’ll give you wrinkles.”

  Sander’s lips parted as if they had more to say. Instead, his eyes rolled toward the heavens, his lips whispering words that were no doubt a prayer to the god they worshipped. Sander spun on his heel and darted between the trunks, smoky mist encasing him as his body rushed unnaturally quickly toward the south where their potential dinner waited.

  With a sigh, Iron turned to the cabin. Chests in various states of wear vomited old leather tomes and yellowed scrolls over the uneven wooden floor. Posters of strange continents, strange lands, and strange creatures plastered the windowless walls. A crude table held a field of unlit candles near two simple beds piled with elk and greyhorn furs.

  Iron grimaced at his home, his school, his cage. Then, he turned his attention to the Everfrosts. They waited for him with all their quiet mystery. They were a wall thrown up by the gods as if to turn men from what treasures waited beyond. Maybe he could convince Sander to go on an expedition. Iron knew the man grew nearly as restless as him. Neither of them were meant to stay still this long.

  A low rumble sounded from behind the peaks. One of the many unfriendly aspects of the mountains were the thundersnows; quick, angry torrents of lightning and frost that could fell trees and freeze flesh in minutes. Iron grew up with their rage and feared them about as much as a fish fears water. Yet, he knew to respect the storms whenever they broke over the mountains.

  The weather conspired to kill the wolves before he could see them. No, it didn’t conspire. It challenged him to glimpse the wolves before it buried them.

  Iron closed the cabin door and cracked his knuckles, his shoes crunching on the snow. “Challenge accepted.”

  The Sinner’s magic welled within him. His body shuddered as charcoal smoke rose in trails from his arms and legs. He bolted for the peaks, trees passing in a blur of mottled white. Each breath came out hot despite the chill.