THE FLAME BETween us

Below, you will find the first four chapters of The Flame Between Us. These chapters are from Draft 4. Anything you read is subject to change in future versions.

Chapter 1 

Anri Batiste – the youngest captain in the Roseland Military – stood at the front of the warship Another Wind, one foot on the bow as he examined the approaching shoreline. It was a piss poor sight, truth be told.

The land ahead was a mass of ice and snow dotted with the occasional rock, and it looked a fair bit like hell had found its way to real life. Snow-coated trees sprang up a hundred paces passed the rocky shoreline. The trees were green despite the chill, though whether it was out of ignorance or protest, he couldn’t tell. Past the trees, snow-capped mountains rose in the distance, while canyons slashed like snakes across the landscape.

He lowered the telescope and sighed. They were atleast an hour out, perhaps two – this would simply not do.

A gust of salty wind blew through. It bit and nipped at his skin, disregarding his uniform. The weather had been pleasant for most of the week-long voyage. Only this morning had the weather taken such a turn. He’d known this place would be cold, but knowing was different from experiencing.

Anri turned away from his soon-to-be home, the frozen lands called Iseloth, and headed down the ship’s deck, passing the mast and sail. The deckhands and sailors moved languidly through their tasks since the rough seas of the open ocean had given way to calmer water.

Gladwin Thornhill, the contractor piloting the ship stood at the helm. He shouted a slew of orders and nautical terms that Anri half recognized. A few sailors called back in acknowledgment as Anri picked his way across the deck, stepping around coils of rope and a pair of cursing sailors who scrubbed the deck. Anri climbed the stairs and suffered the vexing wind while he waited for Thornhill to finish his slew of orders.

“Are you quite done yet?” Anri asked, arms crossed and back stiff. He lifted his chin a measure, attempting to stare down his nose at the contractor. To his dismay, Thornhill stopped leaning on the wheel of the ship and now stood taller than Anri. Damn Batiste bloodline. Anri took after his father in regard to his height, which was technically average by Roselandi standards, though many uneducated folks thought of him as short.

Thornhill was a thick, barrel-chested man with a grizzly white beard. His skin was tan and dried like sun-beaten leather, and the faded pink hat he wore matched the effect. He chewed on a wooden pipe, bits of smoke drifting out to be whipped away by the incessant breeze.

“Yes,” he said, voice gravelly (no doubt from years of smoking the pipe). “I am quite done, officer.”

Anri stiffened. “It’s captain. Captain Anri Batiste. You’ll address me by the proper title if you have any sense.”

“If you had to moor the ship, what sort of sheet bend would you use?” Thornhill asked.

Anri scoffed. “A double sheet bend.”

Thornhill smirked. “You wouldn’t use any sort of bend. A standard cleat hitch would be fine. You may be a captain in the military, but on a ship, the man steering is the one they call captain. And I’m guessing Central hired me for a reason, seeing as you don’t know the first thing ‘bout sailing.”

Anri suppressed a growl. The nerve of this insolent… He tamped down the thought. Focus on what’s important. He needn’t waste time on this simpleton. “I see, erm, captain. When will we arrive at port?”

Thornhill took a long drag of his pipe. “’Bout two hour, methinks. Maybe three. Fresh crop of icebergs will slow us down. We’ll have to get the ice smashers out soon.”

Anri huffed as he pulled out his pocket watch, an old family heirloom. “We’ll be late. They’re expecting the soldiers to be stationed and ready by noon, and it’s already half past eleven. Besides that, I’m scheduled to meet the colony’s governor, my new partner, at noon. I don’t like to be late, captain.”

The so-called captain shrugged. “Not my problem. Central Command paid me to get you from one point to another. Beyond that… the sea’s an unpredictable mistress.”

Anri pressed his lips together, searching for a speck of patience for this imbecile. “I’ll need you to sign a few documents for me. Shipping manifests and such.”

“Can’t read or write,” Thornhill said. He turned and shouted a few more orders to the sailors below. What is going on with Central? Trusting an illiterate to sail a company of soldiers this far from the mainland?

“Any mark will do,” Anri said. “It’s more formality than anything.” He removed the envelope from the satchel resting against his hip, above his sheathed sword. The wind, cursed as it was, tried to snatch the envelope from his hand. He removed the paper from it, then fished a pen from within the satchel. It was one of his mother’s lucky pens, the blue one with a fine nib.

“Just mark here,” he said, proffering the paper and pen, then pointing to a line near the bottom.

Thornhill smushed the nib of the pen into the paper, far harder than necessary, drawing a large ‘X’ across the line. Messy as a fucking pig, don’t know why I’m surprised. Thornhill returned the supplies, which Anri hurriedly tucked away into the satchel.

“A word of advice,” Thornhill said, turning back to Anri, “You’ll want to dress warmer, where we’re going. Winter solstice passed, but that don’t make a difference up here. It’s too cold by half and won’t improve by a third. And don’t be caught alone outside Dun Vurn. I hear the savages have been getting more aggressive, attacking traders and miners.”

“Not to worry,” Anri replied, “I dealt with my fair share of savages when I was south in Galicia. I’m sure these will be the same. I’m more concerned about pirates than a few savages running around with pointy sticks.”

Thornhill tutted. “Don’t underestimate these ones, officer. Couple men in my crew saw them the last time we dropped anchor here. They’re big – not as big as a brute – but still tall. And they never get cold. Most of ‘em hardly wear more than a pair of shorts and shoes. Unnatural, y’ask me.” The captain drew a triangle from shoulder to head to shoulder and back across, the superstitious sign to ward off evil.

Anri snorted. “A word of advice for you, captain. Don’t believe everything you hear. And learn some manners when you’re speaking to a superior.” Anri turned, but Thornhill’s cackling laugh gave him pause.

“Superior?” Thornhill tapped his navigator on the arm. “Pete? Y’ear this? They really wasn’t lying back in Ser Vien.”

“Means you owe me a few crowns, Cap’n,” Pete said.

“Damn but I guess I do,” Thornhill said, then took a long drag of his pipe.

“You two have a lot of nerve speaking to me that way,” Anri interrupted. “Need I remind you House Batiste owns the better half of Cen Vera?”

Thornhill snorted. “For now. Give it a couple years, boy. There’s a reason Central sent you out here, or are you too simple to see that?”

“It was a promotion.”

Thornhill and Pete both laughed again. “A promotion?” He turned toward one of the sailors smoking a pipe nearby. “Jones, get a load of this fish shit.”

Anri stormed away to the main deck, ignoring the chuckles of the contractor and his first mates. Anger coursed through his veins; his pulse pounded in his ears. His fingers kept curling into fists – it took a measure of willpower to force them open. Remember what Mother taught me. Ten, nine, eight, seven…

It was just the nerve of that fucking captain! Thinking he was all high and mighty for borrowing a military ship for a week. Well, Anri would show him. He’d show all of them. Two months was all it’d take, then he’d net another promotion and get out of this miserable hellscape. More importantly, the promotion would mean—

“It helps if you bend your knees more,” came the high-pitched voice of a young deckhand. He was a boy, maybe only thirteen or so. “When you walk stiff legged like that, you won’t keep any balance.”

“Shut up,” Anri said, hardly sparing the boy a second thought. By the emperor, but he wanted something to punch. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

What if Thornhill’s right? Why would Central send him out here? The bulk of the military was down in the South, dealing with Galician raids. There was little here, only a small pirate infestation to sort out. Dun Vurn was a mere outpost colony with a thousand civilians. Fifty soldiers were already stationed here, plus the fifty he was bringing, waiting below deck. Most captains had a company of three hundred. For Anri? A measly hundred.

A bucket rolled across the deck, crossing his path. Impulsively, Anri kicked it as hard as he could. He watched the trajectory of the bucket, realizing belatedly it was flying straight for the back of a sailor’s head. By some miracle, the wind veered the bucket off course, where it landed harmlessly.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

The anger had dissipated, enough. He settled against an unused bulkhead of the ship, where the cover shielded him from the wind. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a book bound in red leather. He thumbed it open to a page in the middle, where a loose piece of paper waited. It was a sketch of House Batiste. Home. If Anri didn’t succeed here, he might never see his home again.

But he knew he could do it. He could prove everybody wrong. Anri Batiste, the youngest captain of Roseland, had every intention of being promoted to a commander, and with that title, he would finally have the honor and wealth to restore his family to its former glory. Even if that meant freezing every day for the next two months. Whatever it took, Anri was nothing if not determined.

“Land ahoy,” came the cry of one of the sailors, high up in the crow’s nest.

 *** 

The harbor was a disappointment – a paltry thing, compared to the great harbors of Ser Vien or Cen Vera. He had expected as much, to an extent. Even still… Dun Vurn had been established twenty years ago, and this was all they had managed?

Three other ships rested in the harbor.  One merchant-class ship, slow and filled with supplies. Two galleon-class warships, and the ship he was aboard would make a third. Besides that, a few dinghies and small fishing vessels floated next to the docks.

 Soldiers and sailors alike streamed around him, unloading crates of supplies from the ship.  Anri turned for the set of stone steps leading up a shallow hill to the town.

“Should be the last of ‘em, cap’n,” one of his lieutenants said. Anri had learned few names during his week at sea.

“Good. Who was formerly in command here?”

“Present!” A loud voice said, behind him. Anri turned, wincing, to see a tall and thin man with a ridiculous mustache saluting. “Lieutenant Bigsby, reporting for duty, captain.”

Anri resisted the urge to laugh at Bigsby’s presentation. “Good. Escort the soldiers up to their barracks, help them get settled in. I’m going to meet the governor.”

“Aye, sir.” Bigsby saluted, then turned to converse with one of the other lieutenants.

Anri started up the dark stone steps, which had been swept free of snow, thankfully. After a few minutes, he was at the entrance to the town proper. Dun Vurn.

Like the docks, it was small. Buildings lined the main street, most two stories, and some one-story. The shops and homes were built of the dark wood that came from the trees native to the area. Brick or stone made up the trim of the structures, accompanied by the occasional window. Snow covered nearly everything in sight, from the sloped, shingled roofs to the cobblestone street.

His boots squelched as he stepped through a slushy spot in the street, continuing further into the town. He pulled his thin uniform tight against the breeze, wondering if the wind would ever cease.

Dun Vurn was small but had an air of hardiness about it. Practicality and utility. He supposed that made sense. You’d have to be resilient to want to live here. Townsfolk filled the streets, some going about chores while others shopped. Most dressed in thick woolen coats, and many of the men sported beards, which was very much against the recent trends in Roseland of going clean-shaven. Altogether, it was livelier than he had expected.

The governor’s home, which also functioned as the legal headquarters, waited at the end of the street. It loomed into view, a tall, three-story mansion, far larger than any other in town. It was built of vertical slats of dark wood, and ornamented like the other buildings, yet on a far larger, more elaborate scale. A decorative, wrought-iron fence surrounded the property.

Anri stepped through the open front gate, considering how this meeting would play out. As Anri understood it, he was the highest ranked soldier in the colony. And since Dun Vurn was so small, the military also functioned as the constabulary. Anri Batiste, Captain of the Guard. That has a nice ring to it. In certain lighting, he and the governor were practically equals: Anri handling any martial issues, the governor handling legal issues.

Anri rapped on the front door thrice.

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing a young woman, close to Anri’s age of twenty, dressed in a fur coat and thick trousers. She pushed a set of spectacles further up her nose. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Anri replied, “I’m Captain Anri Batiste, here for a meeting with Damian Vestrias.”

“I wondered if you would show. Come in.” She pushed the door open further and gestured for Anri to step inside. “Well, captain,” she continued, “your appointment was for noon, and it’s nearly three, so you may have to wait a minute. I believe the governor’s already in a meeting with someone else,” she trailed off as she stopped at a desk near the door, scanning through what Anri presumed to be a schedule. “Yes, in a meeting. But he should be free in about fifteen minutes or so. You can make yourself comfortable in the meantime.”

Anri surveyed the room. Three main sections, broken up by wooden columns. The center remained empty, save for a rug. To the right, a long table, and the effects of a dining room. To the left, a fireplace, bookshelves, and a few chairs. He strolled to the fire, but his lips curled in disgust at the taxidermized white bear mounted to the wall above it. Its maw gaped, revealing horrible teeth.

He shivered and looked away. He didn’t want to look or think about that bear. Better to distract himself with conversation. And maybe he could learn something about his new partner, this ‘Vestrias,’ whose name didn’t seem to exist in any Roselandi lineage books.

“I don’t believe I caught your name,” Anri said, sparing the secretary a glance. She sat at her desk, scribbling a note.

“I’m Mindy. Mindy Whitecroft. The governor’s secretary. I help with paperwork, scheduling, and the like.”

“Mhm,” Anri mumbled. He pulled his gloves off, setting them near the edge of the fireplace to dry. He settled into a chair, grateful for the warmth. “How long have you lived here? Did you always work for Vestrias?”

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” she said. “I’m actually the first Roselandi born here in Dun Vurn.” A pause. “I’ve worked for the governor for most of my life.”

Interesting. Then Vestrias must’ve trusted her, to an extent. But – being born out here – she was little more than a commoner. Probably undereducated too. Anri cleared his throat. “Do you like it here?”

She paused. “I think so. But it’s all I know. I’ve nothing apt to compare it with.” She moved out from behind her desk, over to the pantry near the dining table. “Some tea to warm your bones? I understand southerners aren’t used to the chill.”

“That would be lovely,” Anri said. Hospitable, at least.   

“Straight or with sugar?”

“A hint of sugar.”

A few moments later, Mindy sat a cup of tea on the cacao table nearest his chair. “There you go. He shouldn’t be much longer.”

With that, she scurried from the room into one of the doors near the back. Anri sipped the tea, the rising steam warming his face while the tea warmed his belly. Though the taste was subpar at best, after a cold week at sea he found it comforting.

A door near the back creaked open and a merchant dressed in many furs hurried from the back room and out the front door, hardly sparing Anri a glance. Then, the back door opened again, this time revealing a man who could only be Damian Vestrias. He walked with an air of arrogance, looking down his nose at everything. He was in his mid-forties, with long black hair tumbling down the back of his head to his shoulders. His face was hard, with lines of consternation etched deep into his forehead. He wore a fancy black tunic and doublet of an expensive styling, with a deep purple overcoat worn atop. The floorboards squeaked beneath his heavy black boots.

“Good afternoon,” he spoke, voice deep and rich, “you must be Captain Batiste.” He stopped behind the chair opposite Anri. “You’re younger than I expected.”

Anri stood from his chair, offering a short bow. “Yes, Captain Batiste, at your service. I presume you are the governor of Dun Vurn?” Now I find out how competent my partner is.

“Indeed. Damian Vestrias,” he said with a smile then didn’t reach his eyes.

“Vestrias,” Anri mused, “I don’t recognize that House name.”

“Yes, it is a new one, only a few years in the making. You may recognize my former one, of course, Carnilles.”

That changes things. “You’re related to the emperor, then?”

“Very perceptive, Captain Batiste. First cousins, as it were.” He waved a hand, then gestured to the chairs. “Please, seat yourself.” Anri did. Likewise, the governor sat at the chair across from him. “Mindy made you some tea, yes?”

“Yes.” Carnilles, hm? If I play my cards right, his connections could take me far. This whole thing could be an opportunity to launch straight past commander into being a colonel.

“Good.” The governor turned, spotting Mindy standing in the corner with her hands clasped behind her back. “Mindy? Fetch me some wine. The Catalunen variety if you will.”

“Of course,” Mindy said, scurrying off once more.

“Now,” Vestrias said, turning back to Anri, “Do you have the shipping manifests?”

“Right here,” Anri said, producing the envelope from his satchel and passing it to the governor. He examined it for a moment, then nodded, tucking the envelope into a pocket of his overcoat.

“Excellent,” he continued. “That brings me to more important matters. I’ve been made aware of your – shall we say – situation back in Cen Vera.”

Anri tried his best to keep his face composed. Did Vestrias know of House Batiste’s most recent round of debt incurrence? Could he know? Or was this a bluff, meant to test any new captain stationed out here? Anri could call a bluff. “Yes, Central Command has stationed me out here, now that I’ve been promoted to captain.”

The governor smiled. “Yes, a promotion, if you like.” Mindy walked in, set a wine glass on the table between the governor and Anri, then poured some of the Catalunen wine. The governor glanced up at Anri. “I would offer you some, but soldiers can’t drink on duty, correct?”

Anri nodded. “Correct. Please, drink away. The tea is plenty for me.”

Vestrias took a deep sip, then sighed in contentment. “Delectable as always. Thank you, Mindy, you’re dismissed. Return in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes sir,” Mindy said, once again disappearing.

The governor took another sip. “Now, where were we? Ah yes. Let me make it clear to you, captain. We may be of comparable ranks, officially, but you should be aware that my performance reviews will directly correlate with whether or not you achieve the next promotion that you desire.”

Sure. I work with you; you get me promoted. Easy enough.

“Beyond that,” he continued, a smile creeping over his face, “I thought you should know that a friend of mine told me the most interesting bit of gossip. It was about how House Batiste is in an incredible amount of debt to House Fairfax. They told me that the father of House Batiste is incarcerated once again. The mother is chronically sick and bedridden half the day. The two daughters are children, seven and nine. Too young to work. Only the eldest son could hope to save his family. Only he, a prodigious captain in the army, could reach the rank of commander and use the pay bonus to pay off his debts. Or did my friend get any of the details wrong?”

Anri remained frozen, acutely aware of his pulse pounding in his ears. Am I being blackmailed? How do I even respond to this? “I see.” Anri coughed. “Then you’ll understand why I take my job seriously.”

The governor smirked. “Good answer. All of your reports to Central will be filtered through me.”

Anri focused on his breath. He’s cutting me off from any outside help.

“Do remember,” the governor continued, “that it is entirely within my control whether you spend a few months or a few years here.”

“Understood, sir.” A feeling of dread settled over him. What could he ask of me that he thinks he needs blackmail to have it done?

“Do not fear, young Batiste, my rule is not so bad. You’ll come to find I’m quite reasonable, in most scenarios. And so long as you work with me in a compliant manner, you’ll find I’m quite capable of providing desirable results to your military career.”

“I’m a soldier, I follow orders. Easy enough.” For now, Anri would play along to see where it lead.

“Unfortunately, due to your late arrival, you’ll have to begin your first assignment with the utmost haste. I had allotted a few hours for you to settle, but it seems it wasn’t meant to be.”

“First assignment?” Anri asked. Here we go…

“Indeed. I’m sure you’re aware of the savages, native to Iseloth?”

“Of course.” While he was at university, they had spent a few weeks studying and discussing the savages of Iseloth. They were something of a curiosity. Apparently, some were immune to the cold, and rumor had it they did lots of strange rituals with fire and burning each other.

“Well, we’ve spent years trying to live amicably with them. But over the past few months, they’ve grown increasingly hostile. They’ve outright attacked Dun Vurn three times now, stealing supplies and killing trappers. You agree this is unacceptable, yes?

Anri nodded. “Were they provoked or…?”

“I’m afraid not. Were it so, it would be more understandable, but these attacks were a complete surprise. To make matters worse, there are reports that there is a witch hidden amongst the savages. She’s said to be skilled in the arcane art of fire.”

“A witch?” Anri sputtered. “You can’t be serious.” He took another sip of his tea. He’d heard of sorcerers and witches in faraway lands, but Roseland had nothing of the sort.

“All too true. This poses a serious threat, naturally. You’ll need to mobilize all the soldiers. Lieutenant Bigbsy has outlined a plan, I’m sure you can review his report during your trek. As I understand it, you’ll approach disguised as traders. Once you’re close enough, you’ll need these.”

Vestrias stood and walked to a cabinet, from which he produced a collar connected by chain to a wrist cuff. Rather than metal, the whole device was made of a pearly black stone veined with white lines that spiderwebbed across it.

“Are you familiar with this device?”

“I’m familiar with the material,” Anri said, swallowing. “It’s soulstone, yes?”

“Indeed. This particular design is for the imprisonment of witches or sorcerers. You attach the wrist cuff to your own wrist, then the collar goes around the neck of the witch. Once it’s on, it’ll absorb any magic they attempt to use. The mechanism is controlled with these switches on the cuff, see?” He demonstrated the locking and unlocking mechanisms for both the wrist cuff and the collar.

Anri swallowed. “Just one witch?”

“We think. One of our trusted scouts spotted her creating fire from nothing while away from their village. This is the first instance of this we’ve ever seen. However, there could be more.”

Great, magical fire throwing witches. Lovely. “And you want me to… what exactly? Capture the witch?”

“Yes. But not only the witch.” The governor held up the collar again. “All of your soldiers will be equipped with one of these devices. In fact, each will be equipped with five of them. They double as standard means of imprisonment.”

Anri’s eyes widened. One soulstone collar could have cost somewhere in the realm of twenty crowns. To supply five hundred of them… Vestrias must’ve had access to near unlimited funds. “Sorry, are you saying…?”

“Yes, Captain Batiste, I want you to capture all of them.”

There it is. That’s why I’m being blackmailed. “Not to—” Anri coughed, “—question your judgement, but are you sure this is the best course of action?

“The orders came straight from Central. From the emperor, in fact. Where do you think the funds for five hundred soulstone collars came from?” Vestrias smirked again. “We will begin a program of education for the savages. We will sanitize, civilize, and assimilate them. One day they will become a part of the empire.”

If this was from the emperor himself, then there was no avoiding it. “I see. And you intend for my company to go now?”

“Indeed. Capture the entire tribe. Avoid casualties. Take them prisoner and return with them. They will be sanitized upon arrival. After that, the education process will begin with physical labor. We will break them down so we can rebuild them correctly. In a week, when my wife arrives, she’ll take charge of their education.”

Anri sighed, took a very long sip of tea, then sighed again. If the orders are from the emperor himself, who am I to question that? “Alright. What sort of weapons do the savages have?”

“Some have darts or spears. Bows and arrows. A few have tomahawks, made from metals they’ve traded for. But they should be no match for modern steel, yes?”

“Right. I presume some of the soldiers stationed here already know their location?”

“Yes, they’re settled in a valley some two or three hours east from here. If you hurry, you’ll arrive as the sun sets. Lieutenant Bigsby knows the way. For now, Mindy can show you to the barracks.”

On cue, Mindy appeared from wherever she had been waiting, while the governor stood and headed into one of the back rooms.

“Right this way, captain,” Mindy said, nodding to the door. Already, Anri’s mind was racing, preparing for what was to come.

He grabbed his gloves from near the fireplace, and followed Mindy outside, squinting against the glare of the bright snow. She continued, unphased, but looked back to see what had slowed him.

“Oh, right. You’ll get used to it after a while,” she said.

“The cold doesn’t bother you?” Anri asked, shivering.

She shrugged. “Not really. I hardly notice it.”

She led him back through the town, pointing out various shops as she went. Anri ignored most of it. Imprison the savages, hm? He supposed he was doing a good thing, putting them in a position to be educated and taught of all the great things the Roseland Empire had achieved. His stomach felt strangely uneasy, despite the tea. They’ll be happier once they are educated. They’ll be happier and cleaner…

“…and those are the Fens. We make most of our clothing from their fur,” Mindy continued, pointing to a few pens filled with what resembled massive sheep. They might have been six or seven feet tall, bulky creatures that weighed a ton. Each was covered in thick coats of fur. Admittedly, they did look rather warm.

“I might need a coat made of that,” Anri mused.

“I’d recommend it,” Mindy said. “You could go see Taylor, the town tailor. He can have you fitted in a few minutes and have garments ready by the end of the week.”

Anri frowned. “You all have a tailor named Taylor?”

Mindy paused. “I guess I never considered the absurdity of it. Always figured it just made sense.” Mindy chuckled for a moment. “If you go, ask him to make the outside of your coat from drakeskin.”

“Drakeskin?”

“Taylor would know more about it than me, but it comes from the drakes that live in the canyons. They’re like lizards with wings, about the size of an eagle. By themselves, not too scary, but if you’re alone and three or four of them find you… not good.”

“I see,” Anri said, shaking his head. What have I gotten myself into? Witches, winged lizards, and giant sheep? I am certainly not getting paid enough for this.

Anri spotted the barracks ahead, and his company of soldiers preparing to march. Time to prove to them that I’m worthy of a promotion.

CHapter 2

Children of the Chuca tribe laughed and shouted with glee as they chased each other. They played a game called Hunter Seeks Fox, where one child was the Hunter, and all the others were foxes. When the Hunter caught the fox, the fox became the new Hunter and the old Hunter became a new fox, and so on it went.

Evi smiled. She’d been watching the kids play for an hour already. Partly, it was to stall for time. Also, there was something simple and joyful in the way the kids played. So carefree. But – now that Amma was off in a meeting – Evi was free from prying eyes and could get to work with today’s secret task.

She hefted a small leather bag in her hand, smiling at the weight, then slid it back into her rucksack. A moment was spared to ponder where to do the deed at, and she settled on a clearing she knew of only a few minutes’ walk from the village.

Opposite the children and their game, lay the village proper. She hurried past cone-shaped tents of fenfur and drakeskin. Ahead, a team of six Hunters (true Hunters, not ones from a children’s game) carried upon their shoulders a slender fishing boat laden with a mound of redtails and yellowfins. The Hunters themselves were all tall, strong men, with spears or atlatls strapped to their body. Most wore little in the way of clothing: often only fenfur trousers and a light drakeskin vest. Moccasins for the feet allowed a soft step in the snow.

One of the Hunters in this group stood out from the others, wearing a thick coat made of fenfur, drakeskin, and seal fat. He had matching leggings and thick boots. He doesn’t have a Gift. Evi shivered at the thought. Just last week she’d seen that Hunter, Jaqi, without such excessive clothing. What caused him to slip up?

She continued past the Hunters, then past Bodi, who sat outside his tent carving new atlatl darts. His wife, Melina, was close by, sewing a torn wingsuit.

Evi’s moccasins crunched lightly in the snow as she left the village and continued to the forest. She took the south trail, then veered right onto Arkenka’s trail. It was a loop that could be walked in about an hour, named after one of the tribe’s ancestral heroes.

The clearing was unoccupied, as she’d hoped, and shielded from sight in three directions. As good of conditions as she could hope for.

Evi crouched and brushed snow from a hardy-looking gray rock, then emptied the contents of the small leather bag onto it. Pebbles clattered into place, each of a different material. Some were black as a moonless sky, others gray as a wolf’s fur, and a few were whiter than fresh snow.

She arranged the rocks into a circle, scooted back, settled on her haunches, and held a hand forward.

Turning her focus inward, Evi searched for the warmth nestled within. The Gift rested above her stomach and below her lungs, a warm core of heat and energy. Using it was like flexing a muscle. She stoked the flames, drawing upon the heat and guiding it down her extended left arm. The heat grew stronger, insistent, and yearned for release.

Snap.

Flames manifested from her hand, transcending from ethereal to physical. Evi shaped the energy with her mind, directing the fire toward the pebbles. Hotter. She pushed harder with the Gift, flexing it with all the intensity she could muster. Steam curled in the air, only to be carried by the wind as the snow around her melted.

As more fire rained upon the pebbles, the first caress of cold tickled her toes. Quickly, the chill spread up her feet, and found her ankles. She clamped her right hand tightly into her opposite armpit, trying to keep her fingers from losing heat. Her knees shook, she shivered, and her flesh prickled.

The cold spread further, snaking up her shins and past her quivering knees. Numbness settled over her toes, meaning she had little time remaining.

Evi grunted and ended the stream of fire. She fell back to her butt and groaned as she searched through her bag for the fenfur leggings she had packed. She slid them on and wrapped a blanket over her shoulders. While she waited for the pebbles to cool, she massaged warmth and feeling back into her feet.

Such measures were rarely taken. Normally, the Gift passively kept away all but the worst of the cold. But when creating flames, especially with such intensity, the heat had to come from somewhere. If no other options were present, then her body heat became the fuel. She’d toyed with the idea of building a small fire to draw upon for heat, but in the end had opted against it. This task had to be quick and leave minimal traces. Even the melted snow in the clearing was risky.

Her Gift pulsed with a dull ache, and her stomach rumbled for food. She took out a piece of fen jerky from her pack and chewed on it for a minute, then washed it down with a gulp from her waterskin.

By now, the pebbles had cooled. To her delight, the plan had worked. Now the pebbles shone a myriad of bright colors: radiant reds and deep blues, sparkling yellows and verdant greens. Evi scooped a handful of snow to finish their cooling, then stowed them in their small leather sack.

She stood and stretched, considering the next step of the process. She meant to turn the stones into a necklace, which would be a gift for her brother Xav, once he passed his Trial of the Hunter. She supposed she could either weave the pebbles into place with an intricate net of cord, or she could find a way to put tiny holes through each of the pebbles. Perhaps the traders would have a tool that could do it?

“And what exactly is all this?”

Evi flinched and turned. It was Da. Oh Kavetka.

Da stood tall and proud, wearing only shorts and a leather bandolier across his chest, accompanied by a collection of faded scars earned from a lifetime of hunting. His face was hard with sharp cheekbones, and the tattoo on his left shoulder indicated his rank as Chieftain of the Tribe.

He gestured to the clearing, and to the melted circle of snow that Evi stood in the middle of. “Well?”

“I, uhm—” Evi began. But she saw no easy way out of this one.

Da sighed and turned away, then looked off into the distance while shaking his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he muttered.

Evi kept her eyes down as she gathered the rest of her things.

“Let’s go,” Da said, voice curt.

Evi followed, trying to judge his mood and how much trouble she would be in. He remained silent as they walked back, and Evi’s nerves only grew. His silence weighed on her like avalanche, deceptively heavy and oppressive. Finally, she could stand it no longer.

“I’m sorry, Da-ka, I know I wasn’t supposed to use my Gift outside the village. But it was for a good reason.”

“And what reason is that?” he grumbled.

“It’s going to become Xav’s present once I finish with it. And once he passes his trial.”

“If he passes his trial,” Da corrected.

“Come on, you wouldn’t actually hold him back if he failed, would you?”

Da sighed. “Just because he’s my son, doesn’t mean he gets special treatment. He’ll have to pass his trial same as any other boy who would become a man.”

Evi didn’t bother asking about the Trial of the Hunter. Only men took that trial, and they didn’t talk about it with anyone who hadn’t taken it.

“Speaking of trials,” Da said. “Yours approaches too. You’ve only one more winter. You would be wise to take our rules more seriously, if you wish to become a Huntress.”

“Would the elders really deny me?” Evi asked. “They say I’m the most talented Artist in three generations.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Da warned, “there is more to being a Huntress – a woman – then being skilled with your Gift. If you can’t demonstrate that you can handle the responsibility of the Gift, then you won’t keep it.”

“But Da!”

“Wisdom,” Da interrupted, “is what you need. Instead of arguing about our tribes’ traditions, focus on why those traditions exist. Use your head and think.”

“Amma says wisdom comes from the heart, not the head,” Evi replied.

“Your amma says lots of things, that doesn’t make them true.”

Evi fell silent at that. Sometimes there was no use in arguing with Da. If he was in a mood, trying to change his mind would be like asking the wind to stop blowing.  “So what’s my punishment for using the Gift?” Evi asked.

“I’m not punishing you for using your Gift,” Da replied tersely, “I’m punishing you for using it without supervision. Your Art is dangerous, Evi. You could have started a forest fire or hurt yourself.”

“I haven’t had any accidents with the Gift since I was twelve. Six years, Da! I’m plenty responsible, I just need a few chances to prove it.”

By now, they had reached the village once again. The afternoon wore on, but since the heart of winter had recently passed, the days were terribly short – it would turn dark within a few hours. Tribesfolk finished chores, tended to the fens, or otherwise prepared for the feast tonight.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Da said. “For now, go to our tent and see if your amma needs help preparing. Tell her I’ll be out checking the traps for a few hours.”

***

Evi found Amma building a campfire outside their family tent. Their tent, like all the others, was a collection of carefully carved rods arranged in a conical shape. The walls were made of fenfur and drakeskin stretched tight across the frames. Chucana tents could be moved if needed but felt solid and stable otherwise.

Evi picked up a bundle of thin sticks and joined her amma in building the campfire. “Hey, Amma-ka. How goes it?”

“Hello, love,” Amma replied, smiling. She brushed a lock of deep brown hair behind her ear. She had beautiful hair, a trait Evi was lucky enough to inherit. “It goes well enough. You?”

“Da says I’m in trouble.” Evi kept her eyes fixed on the nearly finished campfire.

“Why’s that?” Amma asked. Evi could feel Amma’s gaze, even without seeing it.

Evi glanced around. “Xav’s not here, is he?”

“No, he’s out with his friends. Why?”

“I was working on Xav’s present, for when he passes his trial.”

“And?” Amma crouched opposite Evi, the wooden pyramid between them. Amma extended a hand and snapped, launching a spark of fire into the kindling. Within seconds, the fire roared to life, taking each log.

“And I had to use my Gift for part of making the presents.”

“You did it without supervision?” Amma guessed.

Evi nodded. “He told me to come help with cooking.”

Amma pursed her lips and ran her eyes up and down Evi. “Don’t worry about it, Evi.” She sighed. “Every girl your age has practiced with their Gift in secret. The trick is to not get caught. Your Da is a stickler for the rules, you of all people know it.”

Evi nodded and unwrapped her blanket from her shoulders, folding it a few times into a cushion, then sat on it in front of the fire. “What are you making?”

“We’re skewering a fen, and we’ll cook an ice berry chutney to go with it. Likely some rice to round it out.”

“What’s the occasion?” Evi asked. Normally, families within the tribe cooked for themselves. But if they were skewering a fen, then it would mean a full feast and dance tonight.

“Your da wants a feast tonight,” Amma shrugged. “As he says, we do.”

“So I’m not in trouble, then?” Evi asked.

Amma shook her head. “There’s plenty of us to work on the food. You’re free to go.”

Evi twirled her finger through her hair as she considered how she would spend the evening. “Wait. I almost forgot. I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you think Tosi and I could go visit the traders tomorrow?”

“You and Tosi?” Amma raised an eyebrow. “Your Da would never approve. Groups of five or more. And a Hunter present. Those are his rules.”

“If I get Lenor to go too? Lenor and Tosi are both almost Hunters. Wouldn’t two almost-Hunters count the same as one real-Hunter?”

Amma gave Evi a very unamused look.

“It’s for Xav’s present. I think the traders might have the perfect tool to finish the job.”

“I think your Da was planning another visit in a few weeks. Wait ‘til then.”

“But isn’t Xav’s trial next week? I need to go soon.”

Amma paused for a moment. “Elder Ria asked after you during the women’s circle. I suspect if you did her a favor, she might help put together a group to go visit the traders.”

“Elder Ria?” Ria was one of the oldest elders in the tribe, her face bearing deep lines and graying hair. Despite her age, Ria was stronger than ironwood, and colder than ice when she wanted to be. She also gave Evi lessons in the Art.

“I was told she’d be at the village green, if you wish to go see her.”

Evi nodded. “I will.” She grabbed her blanket and stowed it in her bag now that she was warm. Likewise, she shedded her leggings, leaving on only a tightfitting shirt, shorts that reached halfway down her thighs, and a few necklaces with beads and other ornaments. She already felt freer, not wearing that cumbersome blanket or the leggings.

***

The elder Ria stood still like a tree, precisely in the middle of the village green. Evi called a greeting to her as she approached and offered a slight bow. Ria inclined her head in return. She was wrapped in a massive drooping blanket of fenfur, one that fell all the way from her shoulders to her feet.

“I’m pleased you could join me,” Ria said, voice soft.

“My amma said you needed my help with something?”

Ria’s lip curled in amusement. “I did. But first, tell me why you used the Gift outside of the village?”

Evi tensed. “Who told you?”

“The wind whispered in my ear,” Ria said. “A moment ago.”

Evi frowned. Ria often spoke in riddles and double talk. Saying the wind whispered was probably some cryptic message about how rumors spread quickly. “Right, I knew I was breaking a rule, but I did it for a good reason.”

“Ah, so is it okay to do something wrong for a good reason? Would it be okay of me to break both of your arms if it would prevent you from using your Gift and getting injured?”

“What?” Evi shook her head. “No. I didn’t say it would be okay in every scenario. Just the one I was in.”

Ria nodded. “Good. Don’t allow your opponent to box you in with false rules and conditions. Your training in reasoning is progressing nicely.”

Evi beamed at the praise for a brief moment, then met Ria’s gaze again. “But what has this got to do with my Art? With my Gift?”

“It has everything to do with the Gift. If your will is not strong, nor your reasoning sound, how can you hope to control something so elusive and mysterious as the Gift?” Ria spread her blanket aside and held forth a hand.

“Watch,” Ria said. Evi took a few steps behind Ria.

Ria snapped, and a ribbon of flame launched from her palm. When the flame impacted the ground, it coalesced into a bright orange puddle, which grew and expanded into the trunk of a tiny, thin tree. Orange and red flowers sprung from the branches, flames flickering with life. For a brief second, it was the perfect facsimile of a tree, only made of fire.

 Then a gust of wind passed through and the whole thing faded away.

Evi took a steadying breath. She understood enough about the Gift to understand that what Ria had done was mastery. To control the flames, as far from her as they were, would have taken unbelievable amounts of focus and willpower. Evi had never seen such a casual display of skill.

“Why do you—” Evi swallowed, “why show me this?”

“So you understand how high the mountain is. You’ve only crested the first peak, Evi. But you’ll need to pick your path wisely, moving forward.”

“What do you mean?”

“The wind has been whispering lots lately,” Ria said, strangely grave. “I worry that a storm approaches. One we are not prepared for.” She glanced to the east, where a full moon had begun to rise.

“Are you well, Ria-ka?”

Ria nodded. “Perhaps it was nothing, exce—”

“Hey!” came a shout from the forest line.

“Hey!” Three children sprang forward, all panting hard. The one in the lead was Kori, a boy of nine with a mischievous smile and clever eyes. “Traders!”

“Calm down,” Evi said, offering a waterskin to the kids. Kori took a quick sip, then passed it to his sister Arly, and then his friend Pel. “Where were you all?”

Kori caught his breath first. “Fishing at the frozen lake! And we saw traders crossing one of the bridges over Marimar Canyon. They’re working their way down the main pass.”

“Traders?” How odd. The Chuca always went to the traders, not the other way around. Yet now the traders were coming here? “How many?”

Kori shrugged. “Lots. They even brought caravans. They must have so much to trade.” His eyes lit up. “I have to go get all my vases I’ve been making. I hope they’ll trade for a lot.” Kori scampered off, his friends right behind.

“Strange that the traders are coming here,” Evi said. “I’ll run to fetch Amma. She’ll know what to make of it.”

“Strange indeed,” Ria said, staring off into the distance.

***

“The traders?” Amma asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Kori was sure of it,” Evi replied.

They stood in the village green, accompanied by Ria, and a few other elders. Da hadn’t yet returned from checking the traps. Normally, he would have the final say in any matter, being the chieftain. With him absent, that responsibility went to Nessa Sunagarda, Evi’s Amma.

“Kori did seem certain,” Ria added.

“I do not like it,” another of the elders said. “The traders have never been allowed to visit before. Why change that now?”

“Perhaps they will have more metal tools to trade,” another elder offered.

“We could stop them at the mouth of the Valley if we wanted to keep them away. But we’d need to move now,” said another, one who had once been an esteemed Hunter before his old age.

“Quiet,” Amma said. “I need a moment to think.” She rubbed her temples.

“Da would probably say to stop them,” Evi offered.

Amma’s eye twitched. Uh oh, she’s mad. “Well, Karn wants to throw a feast tonight? Let’s make peace with the Roselandi and have them share in the feast. Slaughter three more fens.”

“But Nessa,” one of the elders began. He stuttered as she glared at him. “Nessa-ka,” he amended. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“Quite,” Amma said, meeting the elder’s questioning gaze. “Now, go make preparations. Send a runner ahead to inform them of our feast. They can make camp in the Valley and join us before nightfall.”

“Understood,” the elders all said with a bow of their heads. With that, Amma strode off, headed back to her tent.

“That one concerns me,” Ria said softly to Evi, while the rest of the group dispersed. “Her disagreements with your Da blind her.”

“I try to stop them from arguing, but it never works.”

“You do more than anyone could ask of you,” Ria replied. “Do not burden yourself with their difficulties, Evi. Focus on your reasoning and intuition. That will be the secret to unlocking your Art.”

“Thank you, Ria-ka.”

Chapter 3

The Valley of the Whistling Wind enveloped Xav and his friends as they hiked toward the mountain’s summit.  True to its name, wind whistled and ricocheted off the red hoodoos that filled the valley the way trees fill a forest.

The snow-capped hoodoos were spire-shaped rock formations, and had been in the valley for a millennium, so the tribe’s elders said. When Xav was little, Ria had explained how their God, the Kavetka, had once gathered a thousand demons here and turned them all to stone as punishment for their evil ways. Time and the elements had eroded the features, leaving only stone spires.

Now, the wind used the hoodoos as if an instrument; the different angles created haunting melodies. It would’ve been creepy, but with the sun directly overhead and friends nearby, Xav thought little of it.

“Xav, you’re falling behind again,” Lenor called. He was the fourth in the line of five boys and dressed for warmth in a fenfur coat and leggings, and like everyone else, he carried a rucksack brimming with supplies. Lenor was only a month older than Xav, yet his best friend towered over him in height and build.

And that wasn’t to say that Xav was small, Lenor was simply a giant. Xav, for his part, wore only a pair of drakeskin shorts and a loose fitting drakeskin vest, adorned with various beads and animals’ teeth. The cold didn’t faze Xav – his Gift kept him warm.

“I’m precisely where I mean to be,” Xav answered. From the back, he could supervise, and he’d be witness to any of the asides or gestures within the group.

“Staying near the back so you can slip off again?” Raul called from the front. With twenty-one winters, he was the oldest of the group, beating Xav by a year. Raul had a similar build to Xav, and he too wore only loose-fitting shorts, though he also carried a spear.

Raul had recently passed his Trial of the Hunter, making him a man in full and permitted to carry a weapon without any supervision. The other boys hadn’t passed their trials yet, though they all had belt daggers or tomahawks – more tools than weapons. The group had left on this excursion earlier this morning, when Raul had promised to divulge a few of the closely guarded secrets regarding what the Trial would contain.

“Never,” Xav called back, allowing a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice.  He ducked between two hoodoos that formed an arch overhead, following the path that Raul laid ahead.

Raul snorted, glancing back. “All talk.” He continued forward.

By Xav’s best guess, Raul led the group toward the nearest mountain, ahead. Mountains filled the lands of Iseloth, and a spider’s web of canyons carved the land into a hundred smaller pieces. The canyons all seemed to center around Nilak Lake, far to the North, and spread outward from there, some reaching all the way to the sea.

Lenor fell behind by a few paces until he was in line with Xav. “What do you make of all this?” He asked. “Will Raul really share what the Trial is?”

“Tough to say,” Xav answered. “It’s taboo to talk of it with someone who hasn’t completed the Trial, but this is Raul we speak of. I do seem to recall him cheating his way through countless games, and convincing Tosi to give him his Gift when Raul first lost his.”

“Still can’t believe he got away with that,” Lenor muttered.

Only women were supposed to use their Gift. It was an old religious tradition, and the Chuca tribe was nothing if not traditional. Men were born with a Gift too, and though they could reap the passive benefits of warmth it provided, they weren’t allowed to create flames. This was called the Temptation. If you gave in to the temptation three times, you had to pass your Gift on to someone else in the tribe. Usually an elder, who had long ago given their Gift away.

Xav shrugged. “I guess we’re all too proud to snitch. Or maybe someone owed Raul’s family a favor.”

“You are the chieftain’s son,” Lenor replied, “you could do something if you wanted.”

“Knowing Raul? I give it a couple weeks until he gets caught using his new Gift. It’ll end up in the elders’ hands anyway.”

“I think I’ve figured it out,” Lenor said, suddenly. “Raul is like an avalanche, rushing down the mountain. He takes what he wants without concern for what stands in his way. But you, Xav, you’re like the water within a river. You simply follow the path laid out for you, concerned by little.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” Xav asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No, Ria-ka says I need to learn to view the world in less concrete terms. I figured that comparison was abstract enough.”

Xav snorted. “It’s not bad. But you forget, the river carves its own path. It’s a slower process, but far more permanent than the avalanche that will melt come spring thaw.”

“You’re grasping for—” Lenor paused as an awful screeching sound echoed through the valley. It was certainly not the wind. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was in pain.

Ahead, the other boys all glanced to Raul, who immediately set out in the direction the screeching had come from. Xav sighed and followed. I’ll keep an eye on them, make sure nothing gets out of hand.

Raul led the group through a bramble of bushes and over a small hill until they reached a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees. A dead tree had crashed to the ground and pinned a nanuk.

Xav gaped, much of his cool calm slipping. Every instinct in him screamed to flee from the massive white bear. Blood seeped from a few spots on the nanuk, a striking red against the white of its fur. The beast howled when it spotted the boys, and tried to move toward them, but it could not escape the cumbersome weight of the fallen tree.

After their initial shock wore off, Tosi, second youngest of the boys, carefully prowled forward, belt dagger in hand. Xav wanted to hold up a hand, to tell Tosi to stop, for it was dangerous, but a subtle gesture from Lenor gave him pause.

Tosi stopped five paces from the nanuk, just out of reach. The nanuk growled again, and tried to pull itself forward with its paws, then whimpered as the tree’s weight shifted.

“It’s a bad omen,” said Mensi, the youngest. “A hurt nanuk? Maybe we ought to turn back.”

“Are you scared?” Raul chided. “Best we put it out of its misery.” Raul hefted his spear, taking a few steps forward, then he paused. He turned to Xav with a twisted grin on his face. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Xav shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Why not?” Raul asked, feigning confusion.

Xav sighed. Everybody in the clearing already knew the answer, but that wouldn’t stop Raul from taking the opportunity to embarrass Xav. Ruling by fear is his go to. “I’m no good at hunting,” Xav spat the words out quickly, as if they were acid. “We all know it.”

“The only way to improve is to do it,” Raul chided.

“It’s a waste of time,” Mensi said. “He’ll just freeze up again.”

“It’s been two years, that’s long enough. Take it,” Raul said, proffering the spear to Xav. “The nanuk can’t move. You can’t fail this hunt.”

Xav looked away, but Raul remained where he was until Xav was forced to look back and take the spear. The wood was polished and smooth in his hands, but even as his fist curled around it, memories rushed back.

Xav stood next to Da and several other Hunters as they searched for seals upon the plains of the frozen lake. All had been calm until a nanuk surfaced and attacked. Xav froze with fear as the beast charged him, unable to raise his spear in defense. Xav should have died – should’ve paid the price for his mistake. Instead, Mikusi pushed him aside and sacrificed himself. The nanuk killed him, and it was all been Xav’s fault.

Xav looked back at the nanuk before him, only taking the shallowest of breaths. Xav tried to raise the spear, to will his legs to take a step forward, but his body refused. Rather, his breathing came faster, and his vision seemed to narrow in on the maw of the beast.

A shove came from behind and sent Xav tumbling toward the nanuk. He dropped the spear as he fell and scrambled away from the creature, a slight shriek escaping his lips.

Xav panted and tried to recover his wits, while Raul and the other boys pointed at Xav and laughed.

“Some things never change,” Raul chuckled. He scooped up the spear and strolled to the nanuk, then casually stabbed it in the neck. He twisted the spear deep. The nanuk howled in agony for a few terrible moments, then silence held the clearing.

Xav turned away, as his stomach roiled, and he swallowed the bile that sought escape. He watched the air puff into small clouds as he caught his breath, then get wisked away by the wind, which had taken up it’s quiet whistling once more.

He spared a silent prayer to the Kavetka, hoping that the nanuk hadn’t suffered unduly.

***

A short while later, the group returned to their initial path, and left the Valley of the Whistling Wind behind them (and further behind that, their home of Chucana Valley). By now, they were in the wilderness, a less tamed part of the land.

The trees grew dense, and the boys in turn tense. The group stayed closer together, and Xav spotted many hands straying to belt knives or tomahawks. More for comfort and reassurance than anything, but it was telling.

Raul remained oblivious to this, in the front as he was.

“Raul, how much further?” Mensi asked. “It’s well into the afternoon.” He eyed the horizon. “It’ll be nightfall before we get back.”

“Trust me,” Raul called, “have I ever lead you astray before?”

“Well there was that one time…” Xav muttered to himself.

Raul shot him a nasty glare, and Tosi took a few slow steps until he fell back alongside Xav. “Guess what?” Tosi said, a wicked grin growing on his face.

Xav sighed, mentally preparing himself. He takes far too many cues from Raul. “I think I’ll pass,” Xav answered.

“Evi’s been giving me lessons in Roselandi,” Tosi continued.

Xav kept his gaze forward. “Maybe she can give you lessons in manners too.”

“We’ve made a mutual exchange sort of trade. She teaches me Roselandi, and I teach her how to kiss, that sort of thing.”

Xav set his jaw and didn’t grace Tosi with a reply. After all, a reaction was what he wanted. Tosi, seeing he wasn’t going to get anything, hurried back ahead to Raul, launching into a conversation.

Lenor fell back with Xav. “You’re going to let him say that about your sister?”

“She’s her own person,” Xav sighed, “free to make her own bad choices. I’ve already warned her of him.”

“I suppose,” Lenor said, shivering as a strong gust blew through and sprayed snow from the tree leaves into their faces.

Xav wiped it away. “Let’s talk about something else, anything.”

“Have you heard the news of the Varrians?”

“What? They still steal from the traders, I presume.”

“Naturally,” Lenor said, “but I overhead some of the elders talking. More raids, as of late. The traders grow angry.”

“I’d be angry too, were someone stealing all my fenfur.”

“Not only fenfur. Food and valuables, too. Even some rare rock that the Roselandi find in caves.”

Xav pondered that. He could see it going two ways. One: the traders could up and leave Iseloth, finding it not worth their time and effort. Or two: more traders and soldiers would arrive, so they could better defend their goods. Of the two, the latter seemed more likely.

“Do you think your Da will want to keep avoid the foreigners?” Lenor asked.

“Da wants nothing to do with the Varrians, or the traders. It took five years for him to decide that trading was acceptable.” Xav shook his head. “I wonder what their homeland is like, with all the fine tools they have.”

“Nothing wrong with our tools,” Lenor said, rubbing his thumb over his belt knife, a simple thing made of bone, worn wood, and cord.

“I know you’ve seen their metal swords. Imagine a knife that never needed repair. How much time would that save?”

Lenor shrugged. “You want change for change’s sake. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it, wisdom of the elders.”

“Agree to disagree?” Xav asked.

***

Before long, they reached the top of the mountain. Thick snowflakes fell around them, obscuring the trail. The ground glittered like a thousand bits of metal, reflecting the fading light of the sun. An eerie quiet settled over the white landscape, disturbed only by the crunch of snow underfoot.

As the temperature dropped, those without a Gift donned extra layers to keep the chill abated. Lenor added a scarf, cap, and mittens. Tosi and Mensi had done the same. Xav had thrown on a blanket of fenfur, wrapped around him like cloak. It broke the worst of the wind. Raul wore only his shorts, a brazen defiance of the elements.

The sun wasn’t far from the horizon when Raul stopped and turned to look at the four of them. They stood in a small clearing, not far from a cliff that overlooked one of the canyons and ran adjacent to the path they’d taken.

“Alright,” Raul began. “Want to know what the Trial of the Hunter is? It’s got three parts. The first part is to skim down the mountain.”

Xav felt a chill run down his spine, and not from the cold. Skimming?

“The elders don’t know it, but yesterday I snuck out five wingsuits from the Women’s Tent, and I brought them up here. How thoughtful of me. Anyway, if you want to pass your Trial, you’ll need to skim down from here. The better you do on this part of the Trial, the easier the other parts are, so we’re going to practice.”

Tosi whooped, and Mensi, seeing that, also whooped. Lenor shrugged and stretched his arms. Xav for his part, did not feel so relaxed. Skimming?

Skimming was an old religious custom of the tribe, dating back a thousand years. It involved strapping on a wingsuit made of drakeskin, then flinging yourself off a cliff in a desperate gamble that the wind would carry you down to safety. Apparently, some of his ancestors had done it more than the one time the Trial demanded, even making sport of it and competing to do more dangerous paths through the canyons.

As for Xav? No thanks.

“I’m sure you are having doubts,” Raul continued, pointedly staring at Xav. “Which is why we took so long to get here. If you don’t skim down, you’ll be descending the mountain on foot, in darkness. Just as dangerous, what with the nanuks about and the unsafe footing. And you’ll miss tonight’s dinner and festivities.”

Xav gulped as apprehension seized him, as if he suddenly forgot how to move or voice his thoughts.

“Which pass shall we take?” Mensi asked.

“Let’s do Drake’s Landing,” Tosi offered. “Or maybe Siren’s Scare?”

“Fire Down the Mountain,” Mensi interjected.

“Let’s do Dead Man’s Doom,” Raul said.

“I don—” Xav began.

“—We all know you want to do Fen’s Fumble,” Raul interrupted. “That is, if you even skim at all.”

“Yes, Dead Mans’s Doom,” Lenor said. He gave Xav a sheepish smile. “I’ve heard it’s the most fun.”

“Good, it’s settled,” Raul said. “The takeoff point is close.”

They reached the clearing shortly, a sense of dread creeping over Xav. All he could think about was his uncle Tameric, who had died in a skimming accident when Xav was seven. The tribe spoke of it little, but Xav still remembered it vividly. Still remembered the way Tameric’s bones had jutted out at horrible ankles, the awful gurgle coming from his throat as he wheezed for breath.

“First things first,” Raul said, unslinging his pack and plundering through it. “Everyone takes three sips.” He brandished a bottle of Roselandi Spirits, the dark variety that burned. Xav groaned, internally. What better way to fling yourself off a mountain than to be drunk while you do it? Three sips wouldn’t have any of them drunk, but they would be on their way.

Raul took a hefty swig, then passed the bottle to his left. Tosi took a turn, then Mensi, Lenor, and Xav. The spices of the whiskey filled his mouth, and warmed his belly, a distinctly different feeling than the warmth of his Gift.

Xav returned the bottle to Raul, then it made its way around the circle twice more. By his third swig, Xav felt positively lightheaded. It was almost enough to make him forget his nerves. Almost.

Next, Raul fetched the wingsuits from behind a tree, and each of the boys strapped theirs on. Once everyone was dressed, they took turns tying their rucksacks to each other’s backs, cinching them tight so the wind couldn’t drag them away.

Xav buried his hands in his armpits, so the others wouldn’t see the way they trembled.

Raul led them to the cliff’s edge. “Alright. We’ll take off here. Fall a good way and get some speed, then open your wings up and catch the currents down the cliffside. See those two little peaks over there? Aim between those. Make sure you have enough height before you get there. Once we’re past those, follow the canyon. Remember, it’s left, left, right, left, right, left. Got it?”

Nods of agreement came from each of the boys. Xav recited the directions to himself, even though he knew them by heart. He hoped it would help distract him from the thoughts of falling to death, or crashing into a rock, or being attacked by drakes. Doesn’t seem to be helping much. Uncle Tameric’s body flashed through his mind again.

“See you on the other side,” Raul called, then stepped off the cliff and disappeared. Xav gasped, despite himself.

Tosi whooped and sprinted off, Mensi following next.

“Don’t think so hard, Xav,” Lenor said, then sprinted off.

Xav stepped to the edge, breath coming in short bursts. How can I not think? The ground was so far below, it could have been a thousand paces. Faintly, he could see the distant blurs of his friends hurtling down the mountainside.

His legs trembled, though he tried not to let them. His breath grew shallower, faster. Tameric flashed through his mind again, his arms bent all wrong.

Maybe a running start?

Xav took a few steps back, a deep breath, then launched forward.

And stopped only two steps later, falling to his knees at the cliff’s edge. His body refused. It wouldn’t go. He would die if he stepped off the cliff, he was certain of it.

He crawled away from the edge, sucking in deep gasps of air as tears filled his eyes. Dammit! What if I am a coward? Maybe Da is right, maybe I am broken. He sniffled, glancing back the way he had come. It would be a long walk back, through the dark. he glanced at the cliff one last time, then hurried the other way.

Chapter 4

The tribe of savages whooped and beat their chests as they danced around a bonfire. Some beat drums in nonsensical rhythms, while others chanted unrefined melodies. The music lacked any of the subtlety and organization of Roselandi music. Likewise, their dances lacked any measure of grace. Hell, half of the savages were hardly even wearing clothes.

Anri lowered the telescope from his eye, mouth curling. The governor was right: they were savages. Ferals. Inferior. Even the textbooks from the Academy couldn’t have prepared him for seeing it in person.

“Nasty fuckers, eh?” said a soldier who bore the name Siobhan. He was a fellow of medium build, with a sharp jawline and a short haircut. Anri had met his type before, the kind of person who was drawn to the military for the sake of sanctioned killing. Horrible people, but efficient soldiers. Better, I suppose, to have them in the military than prowling the cities.

“Indeed,” Anri said. He folded his telescope up, slid it into the satchel at his side, then pulled the cape of his uniform back around him. This cursed wind is relentless. A light snowfall had begun, just to make it worse. It was almost like this cursed continent had been designed inhospitable. Even the natives followed the trend, apparently.

“They really had the nerve to attack Dun Vurn?” Anri asked.

“Aye,” Siobhan said. “Couple weeks back. Few caravans coming in from the boonies with crates of furs and some minerals. When the caravans were near a lake on the trail, the savages came out of the water, like it wasn’t freezing cold. They shot up the trappers with bows, took the supplies, and left the dead to freeze.”

“By the Emperor,” Anri whispered.

“Aye. Had a friend on one of those caravans,” Siobhan said. He pulled out his knife, a wicked thing with a fang-shaped blade, and made a slashing motion. “Well, I intend to show them why they don’t fuck with Roseland.”

“No,” Anri said, “our orders are to capture with minimal casualties. We’ve been over this.”

“There’s a bit of wiggle room in ‘minimal,’” Siobhan said.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Bigsby appeared, speaking as loud as ever, “I spotted her. The witch.”

“Where?” Anri said, getting his telescope back out.

“Look to the fire, then up about three clicks. Then left. Do you see the tent with the flap open? She just went in there. I bet she’ll come out again in a second.”

Anri followed his instructions, keeping his gaze on the tent. “How do you know it was her?”

“On my honor,” Bigsby said, “I saw her light a torch on fire, and she wasn’t holding a thing. Couldn’t believe my eyes at first, but then she did it again.”

The tent flap rustled, and the witch stepped out. She was younger than Anri expected. Perhaps eighteen, if he had to guess. She had long black hair that fell past her shoulders, and she dressed in short furs much like the rest of the tribe, with a short shirt that hugged her midriff, but left her shoulders and arms exposed. Beads hung from her neck, swaying as she walked over to the fire and began dancing with others.

“Shit fire and save a match,” Anri muttered, lowering the scope once more. He turned back to his soldiers.  “Let’s get a move on! I’d rather not freeze out here.”

“Wait!” Came a cry from a soldier near the left side of the group.

Anri turned to see what the matter was. He inhaled a sharp breath. It was one of the savages. The thing came alone, wearing only shorts, its muscles on display as if to intimidate the Roselandi. He raised his hands in a placating gesture and spoke with a thick accent.

“Come for feast, tonight!” he said, though it was difficult to parse.

Anri and the others remained frozen. We have to play the part of traders. Beside him, Siobhan’s hand rested on his knife. On his other side, Bigsby’s grip tightened on his reins. “Cap’n?” he whispered. “What’ll it be?”

“We would be honored to join the feast,” Anri called to the savage.

“You all make camp there,” the savage said, then pointed toward a clearing about four hundred paces from their village. “Then you come.” He nodded and walked away.

“The nerve of that rat,” Siobhan growled, “giving orders to us. I ought to ride him down.”

“Control yourself,” Anri said, curt. “For now, we are traders. This is an easy means to get close.”

“You heard the captain,” Bigsby called back to the caravan. “Let’s get moving.”

 *** 

The fire flickered before her, while the music of the drums and the singing of the tribe urged her to dance harder. Evi’s breath came in steady, deep gasps. Her skin slicked with sweat and joy filled her. Kavetka, but the dances never got old. The rhythms of the drums, pounding and insistent, had a way of entering your body, urging your muscles to move. The ancient chants filled her ears and sated her spirit.

Around her, members of the tribe danced with equal measures of joy and ecstasy. Those who weren’t dancing were standing around the cookfire, where a fen had been skewered and a few tribesmen were cutting off slivers of meat. Cups filled with ale were being passed around to the adult tribesman. Evi might’ve been able to get one if she tried, but she was in no particular mood for drinking. No, the dancing was intoxication aplenty.

“You did what?” Someone shouted.

Evi turned to find the source of the voice, then cringed when she saw it was Da, talking to Amma. She couldn’t make out what Amma said, but the way she stood said plenty. Her arms were crossed, and her chin was down, while her eyes stubbornly met Da’s gaze.

Da’s face soured and filled with anger, then he stormed off. Evi’s stomach felt sick, and suddenly the joy of dancing melted like snow in spring thaw. She thought to go after Da, but then she saw Amma crying as she ducked into a nearby tent. Evi glanced between the two. How am I supposed to help both at once?

Someone tapped her shoulder. Evi spun to see Tosi. He was a winter older than her with a devilish smile and messy hair. He wore a long-sleeved drakeskin sweater, and similar leggings.

“How goes it, Evi?” His arms enveloped her. She smiled as she felt his warmth against her, and she breathed in his scent of fresh pine needles. Maybe Tosi could keep her thoughts away from her parents.

“Well, enough,” she said, smiling and looking into his eyes. “Did you just get back?”

He nodded. “Just a moment ago.”

“Where did you all go?”

“It’s a secret, sorry Evi. Only those who went can talk about it.”

Evi gave him a considering look. “How did Xav do?”

“At what?” Tosi asked.

“At whatever mysterious thing you all did,” Evi teased.

“Actually, quite terrible. He’s going to be a few hours.” Tosi laughed. “Kavetka, but the look on his face. If only you were there.”

“Sure,” Evi said, then gave a meaningful look toward the dance circle. “Shall we?”

The two slipped into the crowd of dancing tribesfolk, just as another song started. This one was a samba, with an infectious rhythm that got even some of the elders to amble to the dance circle. Evi laughed with delight as she and Tosi circled each other.

All too soon the song ended, and Tosi pulled her aside once more. This time, he led her past a smoky cookfire and around a tent. The beaded necklace she wore clacked as she hurried to keep up with his long stride.

“Where are you taking me?” she laughed.

“I figured we might find a few minutes to kiss,” Tosi said, grinning at her.

Evi felt a warmth rise inside of her and on her cheeks. “Only for one song, though. I want to keep dancing.”

“Fair enough,” Tosi said. Though Evi wasn’t particularly in the mood, she knew it would make Tosi happy, so what was a few minutes? After all, making others happy made her happy.

Tosi led her around the corner of another tent, to a relatively secluded area, where his hand found her chin and led her lips to his. Evi started slow and gentle, but that wasn’t what Tosi had in mind, as his tongue quickly found its way past her lips and into her mouth.

She tried for a moment to slow things down, letting her hands grab his shirt and hold it tight, but Tosi only seemed to get more excited from it. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer as his tongue pushed further into her mouth. Kavetka, but his breath is pungent from the ale.

Evi resisted the urge to break away. If it made Tosi happy, she could endure. Besides, the song was already halfway through.

Shouts from the campfire drew Tosi’s attention, causing him to break away and look. She could see in his eyes that he was deciding if he’d rather stay with her or go investigate.

But Evi knew an opportunity when she saw one. “Let’s go see what it is.” Evi pulled his hand and quickly led him away. Tosi complied, thankfully.

Around the tent they went and saw that the songs had come to a halt, and most of the tribe was gathering around the western edge of the village.

“You stay here,” Tosi told her, “I’ll go see what it is.” He began pushing his way through the crowd.

Lenor stood as tall as a tree, near the back of the crowd, so Evi tapped his arm to get his attention. He glanced down and smiled when he saw her. “Hey Evi, how goes it?”

“Well enough,” she replied. “What’s going on?”

“The traders, they finally arrived. We saw them when we were on our way down an hour or two ago, but they had stopped, so we thought they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.”

Evi frowned. “You all got back an hour or two ago?” Hadn’t Tosi said he’d just returned? Why would he lie about that?

“Mhm. A bit before night fell. Why?”

“Just curious,” Evi said. “Anyway, what’s all the commotion for? My Amma invited them for the feast. They’re probably just arriving.”

“I heard they were invited,” Lenor agreed, “but I thought they were supposed to camp up in the Valley of the Whistling Wind. Except they brought all of their caravans right here to the village. Whole thing feels odd, you know?”

“Maybe they misunderstood the messenger,” Evi said. “I should go help translate, I’m one of the best Roselandi speakers in the tribe.” It might also provide her with a chance to ask a trader about a tool to help finish Xav’s present.

“Be careful,” Lenor said.

“You’re always paranoid, Lenor,” Evi said, then shoved her way through the crowd. Being the daughter of the chieftain did have its perks, like when she wanted to get to the front of the crowd.

Da talked to one of the traders, who was wrapped up tight in his cloak. None of the Roselandi had a Gift, so they always shivered and wrapped themselves tighter than a freshly shaven fen.

“What’s going on, Da?” Evi said, stepping up next to him.

“Quiet, Evi,” Da said, gently pushing her behind him. Evi almost protested but the trader spoke before she had the chance.

“Here,” he said in Roselandi, “a gesture of goodwill.” He flicked his hand to the side and a few more traders walked up, carrying a recently slain fen. “We apologize for arriving so late. We misjudged the distance. But we hoped to trade some goods and sleep here for the night. Then we can leave in the morning. We would have made camp back there, but the wind was particularly abhorrent there. We figured you wouldn’t mind us coming down here, where the wind is subdued.”

Da wouldn’t like that. Da had always been suspicious of the Roselandi traders, though most seemed good willed to Evi.

Da frowned and weighed his response. “You can stay and trade tonight. But it would be best not to make a habit of visiting us uninvited, especially so late.” Evi raised her eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t expect Da to be so hospitable toward the traders.

“Of course,” the trader said, “tonight is an exception.”

The traders mingled into the crowd, proffering tools of metal, showing odd looking jewelry, or opening the caravans to retrieve the rest of the goods. The trader who seemed to be their leader, the short one with black hair, a sharp jawline, and a stern face dismounted from his horse.

Evi stepped over to him. “Do you know if anyone here could carve a tiny hole into a pebble?” She fumbled with the bag at her belt and produced one such pebble for the trader.

“Evi,” Da muttered in a warning tone, while the trader examined it. A few others stepped close, looking at the pebble.

“Is this the one you spoke of?” the trader asked, looking at one of his companions. Evi raised her eyebrow. What does that mean?

The other trader nodded, his face twisting into an ugly smile. “Precisely.”

The short trader, the leader, returned the pebble to her. “Maybe Darnell, over there.” He pointed behind Evi. Her and Da both followed to see who he was pointing at, then Evi felt a hand wrap around her neck.

Shocked, she pried at the arm, but it was locked tight. On her left, two of the traders tackled Da to the ground. She tried to gasp, but she could barely get a breath in her throat. A shrill whistle screeched through the air, and pandemonium erupted.

Screams filled the air as the traders attacked her tribe. Tribesfolk were thrown to the ground, unable to defend themselves with no weapons nearby. The traders produced swords and spears and shepherded the tribe into smaller groups.

Evi struggled and tried to bite at the arm around her, to no avail. She felt the Gift, nestled warmly in her, and reached to it, drawing fire into her arms as her panic rose.

She stuck an arm forward and snapped, launching a burst of flames at the nearest soldier, who stood with a sword pointed at Da’s back. The soldier caught fire and screamed as he fell to the ground, rolling to put it out.

“She’s the witch!” screamed the soldier holding her. The grip on her neck grew tighter, suffocating. “Collar her!” the voice said. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision.

A collar, pitch black with veins of white, appeared in another soldier’s hands and clamped around her throat in an instant. The first soldier shoved her to the ground, releasing the grip on her neck. She gasped for air and brought a hand round to point at the soldiers.

She snapped, but nothing happened.

Shocked, she realized she couldn’t feel the Gift. The leader-soldier produced a knife and held it to her throat. “Don’t move.” He looked up around at the soldiers. “Collar all of them, take no chances!”

It was the same dark-haired, short soldier she had spoken to. Evi spit in his face. “You bastard!”

The soldier wiped it away and backhanded her, then flattened her from her side to her back. He placed a knee on her belly right below the ribs, preventing her from taking more than the faintest of breaths. “Quiet.” Evi felt the sharp taste of iron in her mouth. Her vision watered from the slap, and around her the tribe was chained in similar collars. She thrashed and struggled against his weight, but the effort was futile.

She searched for her Gift but found emptiness where it should’ve been. The collar was ice cold, sucking the heat from her skin everywhere it touched.

Shouts and whoops filled the air as three tribesmen, armed with spears charged the nearest of the soldiers. Evi shrieked as blood spurted into the air and all three tribesmen were slain in a matter of seconds. Kavetka, save us.

One of the soldiers, a vile looking one, walked over, brandishing a sword that dripped blood onto the snow, painting it red. “That’s the last of ‘em, Cap’n.”

The soldier standing over her, the captain, smiled. “Good. Get them into the caravans. I want to talk to these two.”

Soldiers shoved her tribesfolk into the caravans with merciless efficiency. Many nursed minor cuts or broken bones. Those she could see had wide eyes and far away looks. What is happening?

Da and her were hauled up onto their knees, facing the captain. He stood, back stiff, staring at the two of them. Another soldier appeared, this one with a large mustache. “Captain! Shall we burn the huts?”

The captain nodded. “As you will.” The other soldier moved back and began lighting each of the tents on fire. Evi watched with horror as her tribe’s home burned. Next to her, blood dripped from Da’s nose, yet his face was hard as stone. Evi tried to mimic that, to be strong, despite the fear that boiled within her.

“You are the witch.” The captain looked at her as he spoke. “You will notice you can’t use your sorceries anymore. The collars prevent it. Don’t bother trying. How well do you speak Roselandi?”

“Well enough to call you a bastard!” Evi lunged forward, but the guard behind her just pulled her back by her hair. She screamed at the pain, face grimacing.

“Stop, Evi,” Da said, quiet.

“Ah, so your name is Evi,” the Roselandi said. “And you are?” He turned to Da.

“Karn Sunagarda. Soon to be your bane.”

The Roselandi laughed. “That’s cute. You have the air of being a leader about you. Am I correct?”

“I am the chieftain,” Da said.

“Since we’re doing introductions, I am Captain Anri Batiste, Roseland’s finest. The pleasure is all mine.” He turned to the side. “Now, it’s cold as shit and I’m ready for bed, so we’re going to head back to Dun Vurn, where you all will begin your assimilation to the empire. And you, dear”—he turned back to Evi, stepping close and holding her chin with his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes— “are of special interest to my superior. Both a blessing and a curse, I expect.”

“I will do nothing for you,” Evi snarled.

“I’m afraid you are without choice.” Anri rolled his eyes and looked toward his men. “Load them up. Let’s be going, then.” He climbed back onto his horse as Evi was shoved into a caravan, packed tight with other tribesfolk. Knees and elbows poked her as the scent of sweat and fear assaulted her nostrils. Kavetka, what happened?

 ***

Xav had bit his nails down to nubs by the time he reached a clearing, perhaps a third of the way down the mountain. The clearing gave way to a small cliff that overlooked the valleys below, and with his sightscope, Xav noticed something odd.

Traders? What were they doing nearing the tribe? It was difficult to make out through the low light and falling snow, but it looked as if they were talking to the tribe. Likely it was Da standing near the front, conversing with the Roselandi.

Damn, I even miss out on trading with the Roselandi. Xav was always eager to trade away tribe goods for the interesting gadgets the Roselandi had, like the very sightscope he used right now.

A flash of light drew his attention back to the distant scene. Everyone was running. More torches flared to life. So much commotion, Xav couldn’t tell what was happening until…

Oh Kavetka. Horror and dread crashed through him, smothering and dampening his feelings like an avalanche. The Roselandi attacked. Swords flashed and tribesman fought back, trying to flank the Roselandi, but they had been caught off guard, weapons left behind during the festivities. Kavetka, and many of the tribespeople would be drunk and tired, no shape for combat.

Bile rose in Xav’s throat as he saw a tribesman’s stomach get slashed open by a sword. Xav dropped the sightscope and retched into a nearby bush.

Why was this happening?

Didn’t matter right now. His tribe needed help.

I need to get down to them. But he was hours away by foot, even if he risked sprinting through the dark and uneven footing. Not a good option. Other options?

There was a wingsuit in his pack.

Xav gulped. He hadn’t been able to do it before – why would this time be any different? Uncle Tameric flashed through his mind again, only this time, Xav saw his own face on Tameric’s disfigured body.

His hands trembled as he reached for his pack, pulling the wingsuit from it. His knees buckled and his vision seemed to narrow until the only thing he saw was the leather of the wingsuit, rough in his hands.

Don’t think so hard, Xav, Lenor’s voice rang through his mind. But that only made his mind race faster. What if he fell? What if there was no wind to catch? Kavetka, even if he made it down, what would he do? Just the thought of trying to poke someone with a spear made his skin crawl. Launching an atlatl dart at someone? He nearly retched again.

Xav forced himself to look through the sightscope once more. He should’ve gasped, but by now, the storm of emotions had left him spent of feelings. Now he was empty.

Most of his tribe had been shackled with strange collars around their neck. Corpses littered the ground. In his indecision, Xav had missed any chance of saving them.

What now?

Grimacing and seeing blurry through tears, Xav shoved the wingsuit back into the pack and started running for Chucana Valley. It would be stupid to skim down – too risky. If they’re already captured, it won’t make a difference how long it takes to get there. Better to arrive alive and unknown. Then I can assess and make a plan.

A plan to save my tribe.

Want to read more? Message me below if you’re interested in beta reading