Shadow Fire (6 page)

Bodies…

Seven Shrine Maidens died on that fateful night twenty-five years ago tomorrow, the first day of spring. The eighth maiden was taken hostage and never heard from again. Could the horrible, pungent odor be the smell of death?

We enter the shrine; Zane leading with the elder and me close behind. It's so dark, the utter silence within eerie. The air is dusty forcing me to put my hand over my nose to take a breath. Zane lights two large torches partway within, and the shrine flares to life. As I scan my surroundings, my mind is in shock and unable to keep up with the images attacking my brain. Eight rows of pews lining either side of the main aisle are charred black from an intense fire. But the char marks only travel down about six feet before disappearing, leaving the rest of each pew untouched. There's no sign water was used to put out the fire… it's almost as if it just extinguished on its own… but that's not possible is it?

My feet continue to carry me forward down the main stone aisle until I stop before a charred mark burnt into the stone floor, in the shape of a small human body. Was this poor girl burned to a crisp? Moving around the charred remains, I continue to the altar where Zane's standing. When I reach his side, his soulful eyes meet mine, his expression pained.

"You don't need to see this, Ashlyn," he murmurs, trying to push me away from the altar.

"Elder Clements brought me here for a reason." My reply comes out a croak from the stale, dusty air affecting my throat. "Let me look."

Before moving aside, Zane takes my hand in his, then leads me the last few feet to peer around the large altar. My lungs constrict as the bitter odor of decay enters my nose. The wall appears as though a child went crazy with reddish-brown paint on the stark gray stone, splatters reaching as high as the domed ceiling.

But the floor… the bloodstained stone floor captures my attention. They didn't bother to clean up after the remains of the Shrine Maidens were removed. Small pieces of flesh and bone are strewn among the blackened pools of dried blood.

My hand flies to my mouth to hold in the scream trying to escape. I back away before turning and fleeing the shrine, gulping down the fresh night air once outside. Learning about the theft in school is nothing compared to seeing the damage, the pitiful remains in person. The statue was important enough to someone quite powerful, willing to go to such horrific lengths to obtain it.

Could magic be involved? I know my parents would prefer I not believe in magic, but I've seen first-hand it does indeed exist. Magic might explain the odd burn patterns on the pews and walls. It might account for a person burning to death without affecting the surrounding area. If magic was used to steal the statue, does it mean the thief believed the relic to be magical as well? Too many questions with no clear answers makes my head begin to reel.

"Are you all right, Ashlyn?" Zane asks. When I glance at his face, his features are set in grim lines, his eyes hard and angry.

"I will be," I reply, averting my gaze from the simmering rage in his eyes. "It was just… unexpected. I-I didn't realize the level of destruction and certainly didn't expect to see proof of the Shrine Maidens' deaths. It was… sobering. This wasn't just a theft, it was a massacre."

"Yes," he murmurs, watching the elder exit the building. "I'm going to help Elder Clements lock up and escort him home. I gather you wish to leave tonight?"

"How did you know?"

"Just a guess that not only would you be averse to going to the town celebration tomorrow," he begins with a wry smile, "but you'd probably prefer to avoid Cory and his father. It would be impossible if we stayed. You'd be forced to spend several hours in their presence with a fake smile plastered to your face. I wouldn't want that for you."

"You saw right through me," I admit, smiling a bit at the mercenary who seems to understand me so well. "I already have my gear hidden near my house so I can sneak away quickly."

"Meet me at the southern gate after you've gathered your gear," Zane says with a rakish grin, which once again sends my heart fluttering. "I'll be there as soon as I get the elder home and retrieve my things from the inn."

With one last shy glance in his fiery eyes, I turn to depart.

"Wait, Ashlyn," Elder Clements says before I can leave. "By a vote of eight to one, we will be cleaning the Goddess Shrine so it will be ready for your return with the statue. We believe you and Zane will be successful." I bet the one against was Mayor Franklin. "Good luck on your quest and may the Goddess watch over and guide you."

Not knowing how to respond to the vote of confidence, I nod. He presses a small pouch into my hand. From the faint clinking within, I assume this must be the silver the town promised me. Clutching the pouch to my chest, I murmur a brief 'thank you' before taking off at a brisk jog.

Desperation to get away from the elder and the gruesome images in the temple gnaws at me, urging my feet forward, while the whipping wind dries the tears the moment they fall from my eyes.

Chapter Five

Sneaking Away

Sneaking back to the tavern, I feel like a common thief skulking in the shadows. News spreads like wildfire in this small town, and juicy gossip like what happened tonight is nothing but kindling. There are many more people up and about than normal for this time of night. The last thing I want is to discuss the evening's events with curious townsfolk. So I'm reduced to creeping from shadow to shadow, trying to avoid being spotted. Throwing open the tavern door, my relief is short-lived when I realize some of the regular sots have already found their way back after being shooed away by the elder.

Holding my head high, I grab my gifts from the banquet table and hurry to the door without a glance at the men surrounding the bar. To my amazement, there's a chorus of cheers, shouted wishes for good luck, and even a few pleas to be careful. Glancing back over my shoulder, I nod to the group of revelers before ducking back out into the cool night air. My heart swells from the overall positive attitude of those inebriated men. It's nice to know at least some of the town is on my side and wishes for my safety.

I'm forced back into the shadows as I make my way home. Luck is on my side, and I'm able to gather my pack and quiver without incident. Leaving my old, worn-out bow and arrows on the porch, I race to the southern gate hoping Zane already arrived. To my relief he's there waiting, speaking to the two militiamen guarding the gate. When I walk to his side, I realize he's arguing with the guards.

"If you don't have Mayor Franklin's permission to leave, I can't let you through," the blond guard on the right says in a condescending tone. "He expects the Chosen to show up for the celebration tomorrow. She's the guest of honor."

"You mean she's the main attraction!" Zane bites back, his exasperation apparent in the way he's toying with the hilt of his longsword.

From the intense glare in his eyes, I wonder if he'll just plow through the guards. There's no doubt in my mind he's more than capable of taking both down with little to no effort.

"If I'm not mistaken, I was
chosen
to go to a monster infested ruin by the people of this town," I say, all but growling at them. "I have no desire to be part of the mayor's ridiculous circus tomorrow. I'm not some prized mare to be paraded around the plaza and ogled at!"

They exchange glances and move aside while I'm taking a breath to continue my rant. Grabbing Zane's hand, I drag him through the gates and out into the open pastureland. When I hazard a glance at him, he's biting his lip in an attempt not to laugh.

"I'll try not to become monster food!" I shout over my shoulder at the stunned militiamen.

My sarcastic remark is enough to send Zane over the edge, and he begins to laugh in earnest. Without a word, I continue dragging him away from the town until the lights are small specks in the distance. Part of me is afraid the guards will change their minds and chase after us.

Now that we're away from the oppressive air of the town, I take a deep cleansing breath, my relief palpable. The aroma of the nearby oak trees invades my senses, filling me with the solace only the forest can bring. Eyes closed, I spread my arms wide, taking in the feeling of freedom.

The last three weeks have been so tense. The training was constant, any semblance of peace nonexistent. Out here in the moonlight, nattering voices far behind, I can relax.

After spinning around a few times, face tipped back toward the starlit sky, I gaze at Zane. He's kneeling on the ground staring up at me with an amused smirk, laughter filling his eyes. When I kneel on the ground beside him he starts digging through his pack searching for something. The silver gauntlet he pulls out is huge, the metal around the hand covered in several small spikes. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of a punch thrown with it. He slips it onto his left forearm and then starts to struggle with a large piece of silver armor.

"Would you like some help with your armor?" I ask.

He smiles and nods. It sits on top of his left shoulder. I fasten the two straps which wind around his back and buckle at his chest. The armor covers his shoulder, extending down over most of his upper arm.

"So what exactly is this armor for?" I ask, running my fingers along the shining silver plate.

"I mainly use it as a battering ram. Originally I used it for defense. Between it and the gauntlet, my left side is pretty well protected allowing me to act as a human shield. However, I quickly learned using it to mow down the enemy is much more satisfying," he replies with a feral grin while doing a few final adjustments.

I have to admit he does appear formidable in the glinting silver armor. The fierce gleam in his molten red eyes is dazzling, and I find myself a bit breathless as I continue to gaze in wonder at my warrior protector. The last item he takes from his pack is a leather half glove, which he pulls onto his right hand.

"I have a gift for you," he says, picking up the small bundle on the grass next to him. "I think you'll find this quite useful. And I'll feel better knowing you have an extra measure of protection."

Unwrapping the cotton, which turns out to be one of his shirts, I'm struck silent by the beautiful gauntlet. It's small in comparison to the one covering his forearm. The silver is etched with tiny dragons in flight, the wings and tails wrapping around to end at the red velvet backing. Zane helps slip it onto my left forearm and I'm surprised at how light it feels. The metal over my hand extends out just far enough to hurt someone with a well-placed backhand or punch. Untying the bow from my pack, I'm delighted to discover it doesn't interfere with the bowstring at all.

"It's beautiful, Zane," I murmur, my fingers tracing the tiny dragons. "Thank you so much. I wish I'd had this earlier to smash in Cory's face."

He nods his agreement before holding his hand out to me.

"Are you ready?" he asks, pulling me to my feet with one arm.

When I stumble a bit and collide with his firm chest, I'm well aware it was no accident. It seems my body is one step ahead of my mind, acting on its own. Glancing up from beneath my bangs, I meet his sultry gaze. The intense heat reflected there floods my body with warmth.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he murmurs, gazing languidly into my amber orbs while I tremble in his loose embrace. "I've never seen golden eyes before. They have a sexy feline quality to them."

He pulls away, his eyes never leaving mine. Just when I think I might drown in his fiery eyes, he releases my arms and starts walking south toward the Planthes Forest. I know we need to travel south, and there's no other way than to travel through those dark woods. Suppressing the urge to flee in the opposite direction, I force my feet forward, following the mercenary. The sharp tang of blood hits my tongue, and I realize I bit my bottom lip.

While I spend many days in the forest hunting, I'm always out before nightfall. The forest is tranquil during the day, but it becomes rather eerie once the sun sets. The only time I was ever in the forest after nightfall happened two years ago, an experience I'd rather not repeat. My imagination got the better of me. I ended up battered and bruised from my frantic flight out. There's nothing like rumors about bandits and ghosts to scare a poor teenage girl half to death.

"We need to put some distance between us and the village before dawn. Knowing the mayor, he may send a search party for you when he realizes you're gone," Zane says, noticing my slow, reluctant pace.

He's right, Mayor Franklin will be furious I left before his grand ceremony. It would be just like him to drag me back in irons. Wouldn't that be embarrassing — stuck on the stage with the mayor while shackled to keep me from escaping. An involuntary shudder courses through my body at the thought.

"I think we should also avoid the merchant trail just to be safe," Zane says, continuing the trek due south instead of southeast toward the trail.

Though I'd like to argue, I'm not about to admit my fear of ghosts in the dark woods. Besides, his logic is sound. If we take the merchant trail, we're likely to run into bandits lying in wait for unsuspecting travelers. Sure we may run into more monsters forging our own path, but I'll take a few monsters over a gang of bloodthirsty bandits any day. Just as we reach the first sparse trees, which signal the beginning of the vast forest, Zane stops, his entire body tense.

"Quiet," he whispers, "stay close. Something's coming."

I stand beside him, straining to hear what caught his attention. There's a slight rustling before a large black figure looms in the brush only feet away. Zane pushes me behind him, and draws his sword in one fluid movement. In that moment I realize just what the dark figure is.

"Wait!" I yell, gripping his right shoulder. "Don't attack!" He pauses mid-strike but doesn't sheathe his sword.

"Care to share your logic?" he snaps, sword still at the ready.

The black figure is hidden within the thicket in front of us. I push past him to approach it, but he grabs my arm, yanking me back.