Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One

Text copyright © 2012 Shae Ford

All Rights Reserved

For my mother, Brandy; my father, Terry;
and my little sister, Emily

You always knew this day would come,

even when I couldn’t see it.

Thank you for believing in me

Table of Contents

Prologue: The Dragongirl

Chapter 1: The Last Arrow

Chapter 2: An Unfortunate Twist of Fate

Chapter 3: The Traveler

Chapter 4: The Sovereign Five

Chapter 5: Bow-Breaker

Chapter 6: The Singing Sword

Chapter 7: Wolves with Iron Teeth

Chapter 8: A Long Climb

Chapter 9: The Jackrabbit

Chapter 10: Garron the Shrewd

Chapter 11: A Mistake

Chapter 12: Luck and Skill

Chapter 13: Women’s Undergarments

Chapter 14: Crow’s Cross

Chapter 15: A Hasty Escape

Chapter 16: Bartholomew’s Pass

Chapter 17: Iden and Quicklegs

Chapter 18: Pirates?

Chapter 19: Anchorgloam

Chapter 20: A Bargain

Chapter 21: The Wright Arises

Chapter 22: Galley-Scrubbing

Chapter 23: Dangerous Pets

Chapter 24: A Fancy

Chapter 25: The Tempest

Chapter 26: Secrets

Chapter 27: Battlemage Jake

Chapter 28: The Witch of Wendelgrimm

Chapter 29: Witchslayer

Chapter 30: Gravy Bay

Chapter 31: Dark Things

Chapter 32: The Unraveling Plan

Chapter 33: Madness

Chapter 34: Foolishness

Chapter 35: Liquid Courage

Chapter 36: A Warrior’s Boon

Chapter 37: Fire

Chapter 38: New Sails

Earl Hubert pressed a delicate silver goblet against his fat lips. He
sucked down three mouthfuls of wine without even taking a breath. The sound of
his slurping reverberated obnoxiously off the dining room ceiling, but the
servants, ringed around the walls, kept their eyes trained carefully on the
floor.

A hunk of venison sat on the plate between Hubert’s fleshy arms, still
warm in its own juices. Steam rose from the pink grain against the chilly
mountain air. He inhaled the seasoned tendrils and smacked his lips. Then he
reached for his knife.

The first steaming bite was almost to his mouth when the door slammed
open.

"Your Earlship!"

Hubert twisted around as far as his sizable belly would let him. He
glared at the sweaty, panting guard who stumbled through the doorway.
"What is it? You'd better have a good reason to interrupt my din —"

"Your Earlship, we've found her," the guard said quickly. His
eyes were wild, he dashed the wet lengths of hair from across his forehead and
took ragged breaths. "She’s wounded — we've got her in chains. Come
quickly!"

He was speaking nonsense: gasping, heaving nonsense. And in the meantime,
Hubert’s dinner was getting cold. “Her
who
?”
he said.

The guard looked at him incredulously. His eyes grew wider; blood
throbbed at the vein in his neck. His chest heaved in time with the throbbing.
None of the blood seemed to be reaching his face. Not a word left his open
mouth.

But he didn’t have to speak. Hubert read his terror as clearly as the
panicked, hurried words of a castle scribe. All the feeling left his body and
dropped straight into his gut. The knife slipped out from between his fingers
and clattered to the floor. "
Her
?"

The guard nodded.

Hubert jumped to his feet. His backside toppled his chair and his belly
sent the plate of venison flying. “Where?”

“The courtyard,” the guard said, jumping out of the way as Hubert
barreled past him.

Tapestries and flickering torches blurred out the side of his eyes as
Hubert rushed down the hallway. Two sturdy wood doors loomed ahead of him, and
he shoved them open with a thrust of his pudgy hands.

Evening was settling, taking the warmth of the sun down with it. Hubert
pulled his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders and his labored breath came
out in puffs. Summer in the mountains was just as miserable as the winter
— the only real difference was the lack of snow.

As he waddled to the far corner of the courtyard, he saw that the entire
guard stood clumped together. Every sword was drawn and gripped firmly in
trembling hands. Along the walls above them, archers stood at the ready. Their
bows were arched back and their arrows tucked under their chins. Each of their
unblinking eyes was locked on the beating heart of a single target.

The guards were so busy watching their captive that they didn’t hear
Hubert approach. “Move!” he said, shoving through the first line. “Get out of
my way!”

They scrambled to obey him — and the ones who didn’t move quickly
enough were bounced aside by Hubert’s girth. When the guards finally parted and
he could see, Hubert stopped. His legs stiffened as all the warmth left his
face.

Three strides away, a young woman knelt in the dirt. Though she looked no
older than seventeen, her body was propped up against the castle walls —
held there by several lengths of chain that wrapped around her every limb.
Locks hung from the chains in a mad tangle, holding her bonds tight.

She kept her head bent and the dark waves of her hair hid her eyes. A
steady stream of blood dripped off the end of her nose and pooled in the dirt
beneath her. Every drop that struck the ground sizzled and popped — like
water striking fire.

Hubert let out an astonished gasp of air. He realized that he never
really expected to find her. For years, he’d seen nothing — not a charred
rock or a toppled tree. Not even so much as a clear trail. All the patrols he
sent to track her down never returned. He didn’t know if it was the perils of
the mountains that claimed them … or her.

“What should we do, Your Earlship?”

The question brought Hubert back to the moment. The guard who spoke
watched him through a swollen eye. His lip was split and blood stained the
collar of his gray tunic. The gold wolf’s head on his torso was covered in
dirt. Several of the others had cuts and bruises. One man had his bloodied arm
wrapped against his chest.

Apparently, their prisoner had put up a fight.

“We’ll send word to the King,” Hubert finally said. “He’ll want to punish
the traitor in person. But we have to be sure it’s really her.” He nodded to
the guard with the wounded arm. “You there — pull her hair back.”

The guard’s face crumpled. “Your Earlship, please —”

“Do it, you whimpering lout! Or I’ll have you run through.” A one-armed
soldier wasn’t any good to him. At least if the girl managed to escape her
bonds, Hubert wouldn’t lose an able-bodied man.

The guard bit his lip and inched forward. He kept his body as far away
from the girl as possible, and stretched his good arm towards her. His fingers
barely touched her hair when her head suddenly jerked up.

The guard yelped and fell on his rump. He scrambled hand over knees to
get away from her and dove into the safety of his companions, who lowered their
swords and took a collective step backwards. Above them, wood creaked as the
archers tightened their grips.

When he saw her eyes, Hubert’s gut twisted in a knot. Now there was no
mistaking who she was.

Bright green and blazing, they went straight through him. They locked
onto his and burned their way into his soul. He knew she could sense his every
feeling — his every fear. She must have heard how his heart raced, because
she lurched towards him. Hot blood poured from her wound as she quelled the
instinct to attack. She could crush him in a second — Hubert knew this
well. And even though he knew the danger … he couldn’t help but admire her.

It was human weakness that brought him a step closer. Beneath the dried
blood that caked her face she was achingly beautiful. With the shadow of her
hair and the blaze of her eyes, with the bend of her full lips set against her
pale skin … she had a face that men would die for.

“Is it her, Your Earlship?” one of the guards asked.

Hubert collected himself quickly, shaking his head in an attempt to free
himself from her spell: “Yes. It’s the Dragongirl.”

At the sound of his words, her eyes flickered. They slipped out of focus.
“I cannot stay," she said. "I'm searching for something. It's very
important."

The flatness in her voice caught him off-guard. There was something wrong
with her. "What, no insults? No oaths of a gruesome — albeit
creative — death to all who stand in your way? You're not the
bloodthirsty criminal His Majesty makes you out to be.”

She didn't seem to hear him. "Release me. I must leave this instant,
it's very important," she said again.

The blow to her head must have knocked something loose. Yes, that was it.
And with so much blood gone she couldn’t possibly have any strength left to
fight. Hubert might have skipped with excitement, if he thought he could
actually get himself off the ground. For once, he had the upper hand.

"I'm afraid release is simply out of the question," he said,
his confidence growing with every second she remained bound. "You'll stay in
the dungeon for the night, and in the morning we'll turn you over to the King.
I’m sure he’ll want to string your traitorous carcass up with the others."

She was quiet for a breath. Then her request came again — this time
as a growl. "Release me."

Hubert smirked. "No. Guards! Take her to the dungeon.”

Two men hauled her up roughly by her arms and began dragging her away.
Hubert smirked at her for a final time before he made his way back towards the
castle. He was thinking about how he would spend the bounty gold when he heard
a noise that made
his heart shudder to a stop: it was the shriek of
breaking iron, of chains splitting in two and locks falling away. He spun
around and watched in horror as the fire in the Dragongirl's eyes swelled to a
blaze.

Hubert’s legs had never moved faster. He hauled himself across the
courtyard, screaming for the guards to open the gate. He fell through the doors
just as a monstrous roar shook the ground.

“Close them, you fools!” he said, kicking the nearest men with his boot
heels as he tried to roll off his back.

One guard looked shocked. “But Your Earlship, what about the others?
They’ll be killed —!”

“We’ll all be killed if you don’t bolt that door!” Hubert bellowed over
the top of him.

Fear won out over bravery. The guards slammed the doors and slid the
gigantic iron bolt in place. Outside, Hubert could hear the panicked charge of
men trying to make it into the castle. He covered his ears to keep from hearing
their screams.

“She’s going to kill us all,” a man close to Hubert moaned. “We have to
write to the King —”

"And tell him what? That we had the Kingdom’s most wanted outlaw
in our grasp
— and we let her
escape? No!” Hubert shouted. "The King can never hear about this."

They cringed as something heavy slammed into the door with a sickening
crunch. Moments later, dark liquid slid underneath it, trickling along the path
of the mortar. Hubert tucked his legs tighter beneath him to keep it from
touching his boots.

“She wanted freedom. She’ll leave when the courtyard is clear," he
said, mostly to reassure himself. "But wounded as she is, she won't get
far. The Unforgivable Mountains will finish her … and the King never has to
know."

Kael took a deep
breath. He let it out slowly.

“Today is the
day,” he said, for about the hundredth time that morning. He hoped that if he
said it often enough, he might actually start to believe it.