Chapter 1
The rough, dry grass of the once golden plains bit at my feet as I was pulled from the shelter. The same sunlight that drained the brown earth seared into my eyes. As I blinked away the pain of sudden light, I found the Rogue magicians before me. The leader of the clan, Yurik, rose from a velvet cushioned chair at my presence. “That’s good enough, Mathus.”
His eyes settled on me as he lifted the wine canteen to his lips. I cringed as it leaked from the corners of his mouth and stained his brown shirt. He lowered the canteen and brushed his mouth with the back of his hand. Mathus dropped my chains and joined the others in celebration of the raid on a Cheval clan, people who could communicate with horses.
“Time to continue our training,” Yurik said amid the cheers of his fellow magicians.
There was no training, there was only the slaughter of innocent magicians whose villages or schools had been ransacked, as mine had been. In his calloused hand, a whip had replaced his precious wine canteen.
“I won’t do this anymore.” I took a fighting stance, ready to destroy the monster before me.
“Your courage is futile, Kirra,” Yurik roared as the whip flew at my stomach.
I fell to my knees with a shuddering gasp as the steel tipped weapon punctured my skin. I clutched at my stomach, blood trickling down my fingers.
“Please don’t hurt me,” a voice whimpered.
Through my limp hair, I found the Cheval magician who pleaded for his life. I stared in horror as Yurik threw an axe before him in the grass.
“Take my best weapon, Troy. You turned down the offer to join our clan. I don’t give second chances, but we took many satisfying horses from your village, so I am in a good mood.” Yurik clasped his hands together, savoring the control over a life. “One more chance. Kill her and I’ll spare you. Even better! You’ll be made head of the Rogue clan in Northern Sapstone Forest and you’ll have all the land you need to breed more horses for me. You’ll be richer and more powerful than you could ever imagine.” Yurik sighed, his broad shoulders falling. “I might even let you see your wife again.”
With Yurik’s promise still hanging in the air, Troy’s eyes settled on mine with a dark intensity. I staggered to my feet. Yurik grinned as he stepped away, his thick tongue darting from his lips as he watched the battle unfold. Troy dragged the axe to him, his knuckles turning white around the dark wood handle. I cringed as the steel blade crunched against pebbles, making my stomach woozy. As Troy rose with narrowed eyes, Yurik’s magic crept up my skin.
“No, please,” I moaned as my eyes began to well with tears.
Too late. Yurik’s magic rushed over my skin and silenced my plea. Only the sounds of my own breath, the rush of my blood, my own steady heartbeat, filled my ears. This must be what a hunter feels, as he stares over the tip of his bow. His shoulders relax with one last final breath, with one last creak of the bow string as it’s pulled taut. Before he lets the arrow fly, straight and true, he feels a moment of perfect balance, where he can only hear his own breath, the rush of his blood, his own steady heartbeat. With the last of his exhale to escape his lips, he lets the arrow zing, confident that it will hit the target.
I was the hunter. Troy was my target.
Yurik’s voice rang in my head as Troy took steps towards me. “He’ll chop to the right, then swing up to your torso. Spin left and finish him off with a flying flame dagger.”
Troy ran at me with a yell, axe high above his head. I moved as the blade found empty air. He turned it and swung it at my torso. Blue fire bubbled from my blood and flew as flying daggers into Troy’s chest. They settled deep, burning his clothes and charring his heart. His brown eyes fell on mine before he stumbled, crumpling into the grass.
The Rogue men roared in approval as the axe fell to the ground.
Yurik wiped the handle on his shirt, then kicked Troy’s body down the hill where four other bodies lay rotting in the sun. “Bravo, Kirra,” Yurik said, clapping. “Really, the two daggers were beautiful. I tell you what I want, and you redesign it into the ultimate killing weapon.”
I should have been enraged as my fire daggers disappeared into thin air. It was the law, written into the Biramoux Code. Use magic to kill, and the amount you used will be taken from you. Use magic to kill enough times, and you will be stripped of it entirely. Any magician who ran out of their magic would have to see the Council to request more. They better have a darn good reason for running out of magical essence. But with Yurik controlling my body and thoughts, I felt no rage. I should have been sick to my stomach as I murdered my second magician, but I felt no remorse for Troy. The consequence was two fingers mass worth of flames. The day before it had been an arm’s length of flames. Gone forever. But I was indifferent.
Yurik’s thick fingers stroked my cheek. “I might even take these off tonight.” He rattled the chains that bound my hands and ankles. I stared up at him with a calm indifference. Numb from his magic. “Nikaii!” Yurik called for his right hand man, turning from me.
A young man hustled over, his silver amulet bouncing against his chest, the same crude protective amulet all Rogues wore against unwarranted mental magic attacks.
Yurik gave him a pointed tooth smile. “You seem upset Nikaii…was the girl given to you today not to your liking? She’ll make you a fine wife.”
He shook his head. “No, she is a great gift. I thank you. But, Yurik, forgive me. I think it would do good to have the Fuegera fire magicians transported into Winter Council so Psymon can finish their training before we declare war…” His eyes flickered over to me.
“Nikaii…you sound like you are trying to protect them.” Yurik moved in front of him, his head tilted and arms crossed. “Are you questioning my training methods?”
Nikaii took a moment to respond. He had to tred carefully, for Yurik’s tone was calm, yet challenging. “I only suggest this because the time you put into their training would go to waste if they are made to kill using magic. They’ll run out of fire and we don’t have access to the magical essence keep.”
Yurik’s eyes narrowed as he jabbed the whip handle into Nikaii’s chest. “What do you know, boy? Psymon made me head of operations in Summer Council territory. We recruited you to be a tracker, not an advisor.” With one last searing glance into Nikaii’s eyes, Yurik returned to his cushioned armchair. He sank into it, his mud caked boots resting on a hand carved chest. The spoils of war. His eyes swept over my stomach as the canteen found its way into his hand again. “Clean her up.”
“Come on.” Nikaii’s expression muddied as he turned to me.
Was it pity for the destruction of my village? Was it disgust for what I had just done to Troy? As he returned me to Yurik’s hut, I passed my best friend, Fina, who sat with a blank expression and rusted chains.
“Rodal, let’s see what your Fuegera can do!” Yurik ordered before he took a hearty swig of wine. “Bring forward the Aguero!”
Rodal yanked on Fina’s chains and brought her into the fighting circle. The Aguero water magician from yesterday’s village raid was released from his bonds. Another victim. They could never win against us. Not when the Rogue’s mental magic could tell us every move of our opponent before it even happened.
I glanced over my shoulder as Fina threw out a red flame boomerang at the Aguero magician, who charged her with an ice sword. He ducked under the boomerang and swung for her head. She sank to the floor, sweeping her leg to knock him to the ground. The boomerang soared back into her grasp, then into the Aguero’s neck.
There are some things people train their whole lives for. We trained to be responsible, law abiding fire magicians of Biramoux. We had been spoken of as the most powerful graduate class of the Fuegera fire magicians in over a century. And there we were, doing despicable work for the Rogues. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
“Lie down, please.” Nikaii’s tone softened as he held open the flap to Yurik’s hut and gestured to the small, fur covered cot.
When I had woken after the raid on my village, the stench in Yurik’s hut combined with the pounding in my head was powerful enough to send me retching. But my senses had become dull to the smell, and I barely noticed it now. Gingerly, I lay down, moving my hands so the chain fell off the head of the cot. Perhaps if Nikaii did not fix this wound, I would die. Death would be merciful, and protect me from the psychological and physical torture that awaited me at the hands of Yurik. His drunken laughter drifted through the hut. I closed my eyes and clamped my hands over my ears as Nikaii set about to cleaning the wound.
“If you would just obey, he wouldn’t strike you. Don’t fight against him.”
My hands unclamped from my ears. “I’ve got to.”
He began to stitch the wound shut before he spoke again. “Why try?”
The needle tugged on my skin. Through a hiss of pain, I said through clenched teeth, “Because it’s my only option.” The needle moved quickly in his grasp, and soon my wound was sealed. I was feverish; sweat formed on my brow and trickled down my neck. As he packed up the medicine kit and made his way to exit the hut, I blurted, “You’re different.”
“What do you mean?”
“Than the others.” I held my breath for his answer as his green eyes searched mine.
“Not as…angry.”
His mouth opened, “I—“, then twisted shut. A dark look of pain crossed his face before he slipped away.
It wasn’t until after he left that I noticed the plate of fresh food lying next to the rancid scraps of meat. After I had eaten my fill, a sense of panic began to creep into my bones. Nikaii had left me alone with my thoughts. And when Yurik drank, his magical hold over me eased, and I felt. I could be human for a little while. But to feel and to be human were painful. I remembered things.
If I kept my eyes shut, I would find small relief in everything vanishing. But doing so could not make the weapons on the walls disappear, especially the menacing double edge axe, stained with fresh blood. Nor could it take away the fact I was in my second day of imprisonment. The flashing memory of being dragged from my village forced me to open my eyes. I hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. Every time I tried, I’d wake drenched in sweat and urine from a nightmare. A terrible dream where the Rogue magicians destroyed our village because they needed magicians to fight in their army. Except it wasn’t a nightmare, and waking up didn’t mean it was all just a dream. I was reminded of how very real this situation was. Five of us had been taken, and because of the Rogue’s mental barriers, no one could find us.
I had been separated from my friends when we arrived in camp. However terrified I was of training with Yurik, I was ashamed to find I craved it. It meant a few precious moments to see my friends. Today I was lucky enough to see Fina, who seemed to be doing okay. Yesterday I had seen Leyah and Jemma with faces bruised and bloodied. I had yet to see Haley. I stared through the small smoke hole of the shelter, where an endless liquid black sky covered the stars. Did they watch the same stars I did?
I had dozed off, the result of the antibiotic in my stomach. The stench of harsh alcohol roused me. Through my eyelashes, I watched a black figure waver with indecision as I pretended to sleep. The man moved closer and stood above me, his breath shaky. I tensed my muscles to fight him off. It must be Yurik. Although far weaker than him, I would never let my dignity sink below lying there, taking what I knew his strength and drunken state would bring. He began to lean over me. I lurched and struck my fist into his stomach as cold water drenched me. My breath caught from shock. I scrambled to wipe the water from my skin, the chain rattling as I moved.
“Oompf!” The man fell back, dropping a wood bucket to clutch at his stomach. “It’s Nikaii,” he wheezed.
Goose bumps erupted over my mostly bare skin. “What? What are you doing?” I asked through chattering teeth.
“Don’t ask questions, Kirra. Get up,” he whispered harshly as he kicked the bucket out of his way. I blinked in the darkness with confusion. “Get up,” Nikaii’s voice pleaded as he yanked my arm.
I fell off the makeshift cot and onto the dirt floor. Nikaii lifted me up onto my shaking legs. He thrust a knife into my hand before removing my chains. I stood frozen like a deer at the end of a strung arrow, watching him with horror.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
Yurik was furious to find any of the other Rogues talking to me, evidence of what had happened earlier in the day when a dark haired Rogue touched my chin. Yurik battered his skull in front of me. The blood was still caked to my skin. I could only imagine the consequences, for both of us, if Yurik walked in on this scene.
“Sorry for the water. I didn’t mean to dump it on you, although I guess the punch makes us even.” The all-too familiar clank of the shackle startled me as it fell into a coiled heap, leaving my legs feeling light without its cumbersome weight. “I’m getting you out of here,” Nikaii whispered as he rose. His soft green eyes burned with urgency and determination.
I licked my cracked lips as my grip on the knife trembled. The cold weight of it was dead in my fingers. Yurik’s mental cloud that made a home in my mind slowed my thoughts like a drug. My magically tainted conscience countered with Nikaii’s proposal. I belong here, I belong to Yurik. I have nothing left, this is home.
The only way to keep the other young girls and myself in the camp was to leave us mentally incapacitated without our own thoughts. The perfect hollow shelled fighters. The Rogues could plant anything into our minds, and Yurik had made it clear that I was his now. He did not damage my mind completely. I figured, when the time came, maybe he wanted me to put up a fight. This night and the last, I could thank alcohol for leaving him too drunk to advance on his desires, which he often mumbled in his sleep or expressed with leering smiles and glances. Still, Yurik’s magic comforted me as it told me I should stay. I shook my head to clear the muck, but it hung on my body like thick swamp mud, caking and drying into an oppressive hard shell.
“I have to stay.” My eyes glazed over as I struggled to give back the knife and push him from the shelter.
Nikaii pressed his fingers to my head. I tensed as a gust of wind tore through my mind, pushing out Yurik’s magic. It was all gone: the constant nausea and weakness, his voice that was constantly in my head, the slimy feeling on my skin that was a key sign for being “psyched”. I blinked and stood straighter with the tremendous weight off my shoulders.
“How do you feel?” He placed supportive hands on my shoulders as he studied me.
My eyes lifted to Nikaii’s and I demanded through gritted teeth, “Where is Yurik?” I looked over Nikaii’s shoulder, wanting to achieve the revenge I dreamed about the moment the Rogues attacked. The stench of the Fuegera clan’s charred flesh never left my senses. I needed to return the favor.
“I’ll take that as you’re no longer psyched. But you’re mad if you think I’m letting you near him. You’d die,” he said as he jerked me out of the shelter.
We cut towards the edge of camp as I stole a glance over my shoulder. The Rogues had passed out by the fire, their slumbering bodies floating in a sea of dark, strewn bottles that glittered amber in the dying firelight.
I stumbled on the uneven grass. “I need to help the other girls.” I tried to yank free from his grasp.
He shook his head and grabbed for my arm again. “No, you cannot go back. You are the only one who can make it.”
“Are they alive?” I croaked as my eyes locked onto his.
“Yes,” he replied as he fastened a small, silver medallion around my neck. He placed the charm in my hand and folded my fingers over it. “My Rogue Amulet will give you protection.” Warmth spread in my palm like a comforting blanket as his magic coated my skin. “They won’t be able to touch your mind anymore as long as you keep this on. Only I will be able to find and communicate with you.”
“Come with me,” I pleaded.
He shook his head, his white brow scar shining in the moonlight. “I can’t. Someone has to watch over your friends until you return with help.” My heart welled with gratitude at Nikaii’s promise to keep my friends safe. “Be careful of who you talk to. The Rogues have spies everywhere. Use your magic sparingly, your blue fire attracts attention. Now go,” he hissed at me, looking over his shoulder as if expecting to see the other Rogues awakening.
A lump formed in my throat as I looked to the huts that held my friends. A thousand daggers stabbed my heart. I would come back for them. Free was a strange word in my mind. It coated my tongue like rancid milk. It was hard to swallow the fact I was escaping when I felt freedom did not belong to me anymore. I had never expected to survive this ordeal.
I stumbled in the uneven grasses as the campfire grew smaller behind me on my escape. But to where? Where was home? If I returned to Redstone Desert, would I find small mountains of ash where our homes had once stood? Would I find the strewn bodies of my people, left victims to the jaws of hungry animals? My stomach lurched at the thought. I would return and bury what remained, or forever be haunted by the unknown. I hardened my resolve, and glanced up at the stars for a guiding light.
The pale moonlight tickled the long grasses. With a strengthening wind, my only source of light was swallowed up into the endless bruised-black sky of clouds. Streaks of light raced and broke into streams while thunder cracked like a whip, urging me on.
With no stars to lead me, in a large field where a heavy storm brewed, I felt so very small. The storm began to caress the grasses with timid droplets of rain. It quickly grew in confidence, and opened above me as the wind pushed against my back, blowing me towards the woods. Faster, faster, it called to me. Although my surroundings were unfamiliar, I obeyed its call as the thunder roared with vengeance.
“Kirra!” Yurik’s angry voice carried on the wind, slamming against the trees before me.
My body seized as my blood turned to ice. The thunderstorm, so characteristic of the Summer Council’s climate, had woken the Rogues from their drunken slumber. I whimpered in panic as horses cried into the night. They had saddled up to find me. Fear made me fly.
A branch of thorns lashed against my cheek as I crashed into the forest, leaving a branding pain that was hard to ignore. Blood pumped into my weak legs and away from my head. Behind me, the Rogues galloped towards the woods. My tattered gown suffocated my legs, slowing me down as it absorbed raindrops and mud.
The terrain fell beneath me as I pressed on, gasping to pull air into burning lungs. The forest pathway opened to reveal three Rogues with drawn weapons, riding hard. I cut left, knowing they would have difficulty when forced off the trail. The ache and burning in my muscles begged my body to stop, but I pushed on, knowing the consequences if I did.
I was no longer Kirra Fuegera, for too much had changed in my life. I embraced the primitive woman within me. I was running for my life, my skin thick with dirt, grime, and the will to live. I tightened my grip on the knife, resolving to kill if necessary.
A Rogue’s deep voice cut among the splattering rain and hoof beats. “Over there! To the left!” I flinched as his whizzing poison dart stuck in a tree trunk behind me.
“Come on Kirra, we just want to have some fun! Stop so we can play!” they jeered.
The thought of their “fun” seized my muscles in momentary panic. I stumbled over a tree root. As I lay panting on the damp earth, the horses were reined. Panic flooded my heart as they dismounted.
“Spread out,” Yurik’s deep voice ordered. “Nikaii, track her.”
Fog burst from a horse’s nose as the rain drummed on fallen leaves. Glints of their black eyes flashed as they scanned the dark.
“If you come back, Kirra, your punishment will be far less. Yurik might even reward you for being a good girl,” someone proposed.
The only answer was malicious, knowing laughter. I waited for a magic slime to coat my skin as Nikaii searched for me with his mind. I looked down at my chest and saw the Rogue amulet. He had given me his mental protection. They could try as hard as they wanted, I would not be touched. I found the strength to move with the realization of Nikaii’s sacrifice.
“Something’s wrong. I can’t find her.” Nikaii’s voice cut through the air.
“What use are you then!” Yurik’s axe handle struck Nikaii’s shoulder. “Who gave her an amulet?”
“The odds of finding her out here tonight aren’t good. Let’s go back, eh? We still have plenty of girls…warm wine…dry beds,” Rodal suggested as he clasped Yurik’s shoulder.
“Right, you said it yourself…she’s dispensable,” another Rogue agreed.
“You—idiots!” Yurik roared. “Do you realize the consequences if she escapes and tells Summer Council? We lose the element of surprise! No one returns to camp until we find her!”
The Rogues spread out, beginning the search again. One man’s silhouette was barely visible in the dense forest, but there was no mistaking his movement towards me. I concentrated and lifted my hand towards him. I exhaled, steadied my shaking hands and pushed the energy from my body, ready for my fire to consume his left arm.
But they didn’t come. Horror stricken, I studied my palms in the dim, purple light. Was I broken? Had Yurik’s commands to kill left me with no fire? I gripped the knife tighter, accepting that this was the only weapon I could rely on, while I tried to ignore the sick feeling of failure in my chest. I moved along the wet ground, causing siren birds above me to erupt from their branches with cries of alarm.
“There!” a Rogue yelled, pointing at me, before being tripped by Nikaii.
No use. Too late. Hoof beats.
I cursed and burst from the brush, combating fatigue with adrenaline. It was all I had left. With no knowledge of the forest’s layout, I was unaware of the ravine before me.
I strained my eyes but could see nothing, only more menacing darkness. A Rogue appeared at my left, his arm stretching for me. I ducked and slid through the wet leaves, whipping out Nikaii’s knife. I dug it into his horse’s underbelly. The running gait finished the job, forcing the knife to slice through his right side. Warm blood gushed on my arm as I yanked the dagger out. The beautiful creature’s knees buckled and the Rogue went down hard. I gagged from the stench of iron as it splashed onto my body.
I took a burning step before the earth disappeared like a rug had been pulled from beneath me. I swung over the edge of the ravine, my legs scrambling against the weak rock face, forcing pebbles to their death below.
“Not so fast, Kirra,” a voice grunted.
Frantically, I looked up to find Yurik’s strong grip on my arm.
He pulled me up, and I gasped as the jagged rock cut into my side. A few stitches broke free and warm blood trickled down my stomach. The stench of alcohol, dirt, and sweat infiltrated my senses. I squirmed in his grip and kicked my legs, screaming violently into the night for him to release me. The rain coated my bruised skin, forcing my arm to inch out of his grip. I stared down at the dark, seemingly endless pit beneath me. I moved the dagger handle higher in my hand as I weighed my options. Go back to the camp and face an inevitable death, or fall and probably face an inevitable death. The second option would be swifter.
Yurik’s other hand grabbed for my hair. With my eyes tearing in pain, I shoved the dagger into his thigh. He growled with fury and released me.
The rugged earth tore at my tattered red gown. I winced and scrambled as I fell faster, grasping for a ledge in the slate. My teeth forced blood from my lip as my hands burned along a vine. Flipping onto my stomach, I dug my toes into the weak rock. My fingers gave out and I slipped.
I hit the soft dirt with a sickening thud. My body screamed with exhaustion and pain, forcing me to roll onto my stomach. I wheezed as blood trickled down my sides, leaking into the dark earth. The rain provided a purifying tonic on my back, washing out the rocks as darkness dragged me down into a current of delirious sleep.