Kindling Ashes: Firesouls Book I (12 page)

“Why?”

/Say I want to keep it secret
./

“Baltair wants it secret.”

“Did he just tell you that? Are you speaking to him now?” Maria asked.

She nodded cautiously and it was like they hadn’t even heard her negative answer a moment before – they just leaned closer.

“What’s he saying?”

“Is it true he lived at the summit of a mountain?”

“Is it true a sword never touched him?”

/I think I’ve actually become more famous since I died
,/
Baltair murmured.

Lucky you,
Giselle replied, focusing on not saying the words aloud and directing them at him. Just yesterday Sarra had taught her how to communicate with Baltair in her head rather than out loud. Giselle had been quite put out to realise that she’d left it so long just so she could eavesdrop on her conversations with Baltair.

“I don’t know about swords. He got hit by arrows at least.”

“What does he think about being trapped in a human?”

Giselle had never thought of it as ‘trapped’. He’d just always been there.

/It’s not trapped. It’s… constricted
./

She frowned, considering how much he was stuck. Sixteen years in someone else’s body couldn’t be a good feeling, especially when she’d been a child. How many times had he wished to be free?

/Giselle, listen to me
./
His voice was like gentle rain water, calming her panicky thoughts. /
It’s not your fault we’re in this situation –
apparently,
I was the one to come up with all of this. We understand each other and I’d rather be in your mind than anyone else’s. Especially his…/

Their attention turned to Corran, who now watched with a glum expression. He’d been left out of the circle as the others had shuffled closer.

“He says it could be worse,” she replied, staring at Corran. He glared back for a second. She met his challenge gleefully, letting the anger rise to the surface. He looked away.

I still don’t trust him.

/I will never trust a son of Huwcyn Dunslade. But we’ll watch him. They can’t stop us killing him when he gives himself away
./

Tinglings of discomfort shivered through Giselle at his words but she nodded, one hand touching the knife buried in her clothes. If he tried to hurt Baltair, she would be ready.

*

/Giselle! GISELLE
!/

She stumbled out of dreams of flying.

/Get up, there’s something out there
!/

She dragged herself to her feet, long since used to paying full attention to Baltair’s warnings, and peered through the darkness.

“What are you doing?” Sarra mumbled from the ground next to her – the same moment that men poured from the trees.

“Wake up!” Giselle screamed at the sight of flashing metal, diving back to the ground to hunt for her knife. She should never have taken it off!

Shouting filled the area but it was too dark to see what was happening. She spun in the direction the fire had been and almost fell into the glowing embers. She kicked it, overturning a log to allow it to spurt up and give them some light – then one of the men reared next to her and grabbed her wrist. She brought her arm up and bit as hard as she could, pulling away the moment his hold lightened and running away from the fire.

It was chaos – there were people stumbling about everywhere and she couldn’t tell who was a Firesoul and who was… whoever these people were. They had swords and to her
right some people seemed to be rounded up – but she had no intention of staying and finding out. She tried to flee into the woods but tripped over something after only a few footsteps and went sprawling. She pushed one hand down to find sticky rope around her ankles and pushed it off.

Someone cried out behind her and as she climbed to her feet she turned to see Sarra grappling with a grizzled man just a few feet away. She battled with herself for a moment, but in the end it was no choice – this woman had looked out for her non–stop since they had left Tyrun and she couldn’t abandon her now.

She barrelled into the man’s legs in an attempt to knock him off balance. She could never win fighting properly so she did the best she could – biting and scratching and kicking, trying to ignore the blows he got through to land on her as well. Something pulled on her arm and she turned to fight that off as well, but it was Sarra. They fleed into the woods – but then Sarra got caught in the same rope that Giselle had and went straight over. Giselle ran back, brandishing her knife to cut it free.

“No! Go, don’t wait for me!”

Giselle ignored
her,
pushing the rope aside and pulling Sarra back up. This time they ran together and neither fell as they disappeared into the trees.

“Who are those people?” Giselle panted.

“I don’t know. Keep running!”

“I’m running!”

They ran as quietly as they could, ragged breathing and heavy footsteps the only noise. Even Baltair did not notice the man waiting in the darkness until he lunged out, ramming into Giselle and pushing her down to land face–first in the mud.

/Fight! Get free
!/

She elbowed back as hard as she could but it seemed to do nothing except produce a little grunt. Her arm was shoved down too and she felt a knee dig into her spine, pinning her to the ground. Panic filled her lungs as she breathed in the dirt and plant debris. She could see nothing and all she could hear was scuffling. That must be Sarra.

“Stay still y’little rat,” the man yelled above her as she wriggled. Something hit the back of her head and her vision went even blacker. She felt like she was about to be sick.

/Giselle, stay awake
!/
Baltair roared, sending a rush of heat at her. Her eyes flashed open.
/The knife! Where’s your knife
?/

Something rose and got stuck in her throat as he spoke, but she scrabbled for the weapon. She must have dropped it when he ran into her! She’d never used it before though. Food, climbing. It was a threat – she waved it around and no one came too close. It was meant to protect her – not stab!

/Giselle you’ve no choice! Be brave, find the knife
!/

The man kneeling on her lifted his weight and she scrambled to get free, but a large hand caught the back of her dress and held it tight as he lifted her. Her hands rummaged through the forest floor as fast as she could until her left fingers were cut by something sharp. She wriggled free enough to grab the handle, but he caught her again.

He wrenched one arm behind her back and she could feel the rough texture of rope being pulled around her wrist. She had no more time. Leave it any longer and he’d find the knife and take it.

/Do it
!/

It wasn’t just her being captured. It was Baltair as well.

Her one free arm spun around and slammed the knife into him. It met more resistance than she had expected – the
sensation it sliding through flesh and muscle was repulsive, but she held on as tight as she could. Her fists wouldn’t work against this man, so the knife was all she had.

It seemed to take an age, but the moment he started yelling time sped up again. She pulled the knife free and tried to run, but he still hadn’t released her. She was just pulled higher till her attempts at running meant kicking her legs about in the air. She caught him in the chest and then he dropped her, but it was more of a push so forceful it winded her.

/Run
!/

Can’t…

He lifted her by the arm with one hand, and his fist flew into her face.

CHAPTER
12

I
t felt strange but comforting to have a sword in his hand again, although the blood was an unpleasant addition. Despite all his training in fighting, Corran had never killed a man before tonight and it had been the opposite of glamorous.

Henry traipsed next to him, glancing all around as if the raiders might jump out at any moment. They had stayed together throughout the night, fighting back to back against the raiders. Corran had tried to find Giselle – he didn’t want his prey slipping out of his hands – but she had disappeared into the night. Everyone had, even the raiders. Now, the forest was silent. The sun rose, finally leading the pair back to the grim sight of their campsite.

Several raiders were sprawled out dead on the floor – but so was Walter. His new beard was matted with dark red liquid that had leaked from a gash deep in his head. Lifeless eyes stared out of a gloopy pool of blood buzzing with flies. Corran lashed his sword out at the tiny creatures, waving it around to try and get rid of them. They darted away from the body but then just settled back down.

“He had a kid,” Henry whispered. “He told me one night. Born last year. It’s why he was so grumpy, he missed his kid.”

Corran turned his back on the gruesome sight, trying to stop his own feelings of sadness mixing with Frang’s to become overwhelming.

It had been strange, fighting last night with Frang’s consciousness alert the whole time. He’d called out a few times to alert Corran to someone sneaking up on them and that unnerved him – but not as much as the silence now. Since they’d killed the last raider who’d attacked and hadn’t come across anymore, Frang hadn’t said a word.

“Where’d you think the others are?” Corran asked, wandering through the empty campsite and stepping over debris. Movement caught his eye and he spun, brandishing his sword. The old horse stood in the shadow of the trees, pawing at the ground. A little blood stained her leg, but as Corran hurried closer he could see it was from someone else; the horse was uninjured. He reached a hand up to pet her nose, murmuring nothings to her and allowing her steady breathing to calm him as well. There was something about being near horses that helped him ease whatever worries he had, even if it was only temporary.

“Corran!”

He swivelled at Henry’s frantic hiss to find him running over, gesturing behind him. He tugged Corran behind the horse so they were somewhat hidden.

“There are people in the trees over there!”

“Firesouls or raiders?”

“I couldn’t see! I just saw people and thought we should hide.”

Henry trembled, both hands pressed against the horse’s hide as if trying to hang on. Last night he had kept his calm and even been the one to place the sword in Corran’s hand – but the
thought of the raiders being back so soon was obviously too much for him. He was only a stable boy.

“I’ll go find out,” Corran whispered, hoisting his sword ready in one hand and ducking down to run to the cover of a large thorny bush. He crouched there, looking out in the direction where Henry had pointed and found the figures. There weren’t too many – four or five – but they were heading straight towards the campsite. He glanced back at Henry and the horse,
then
darted forward so he was behind a tree on the edge of the little clearing.

The group got closer and he had never been so happy to see Gerard before. It wasn’t like he’d be upset to see the idiot captured by the raiders – he was just glad it was
him
and
not
the raiders come to attack again. He stepped out from behind the tree, waving at Henry that it was okay, and walked over to them.

“Corde– Corran!” Gerard called out, hurrying over. He eyed the sword Corran held, but gave him such a warm smile he almost felt guilty for his previous thoughts.

Henry appeared at his shoulder, the horse behind his, and the group came together. Eian and Maria traipsed behind Gerard and even further back was a miserable Sarra. She was covered in dirt and purpling bruises littered one arm. She looked the worst, but maybe that was just because of the expression on her face.

He quickly worked out why. Giselle was not there.

“Where’s Giselle? And the others?” he added as Sarra joined the circle. She winced at the mention of Giselle’s name.

“Captured,” Gerard said with a heavy sigh.

“But… why? Why were they here? Why did they do this?” Corran demanded, his voice rising as he spoke. It suddenly seemed inexplicable – they had been doing nothing wrong!
They had just been travelling and now they’d been captured like wild dogs! It was strange, though. The raiders hadn’t been after their supplies – the cart and horse were left behind.