Fire of the Forebears, page 1
Fire of the Forebears
hERitOr'S hELm BOOk OnE
L.A. Buck
Redhearth
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by L.A. Buck. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration by Erik Taberman.
Cover design by Maria Pangilinan.
Edited by Emma O'Connell.
Proofread by Ellie Owen.
Outside of reviews, no portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. If you would like permission to use material from this book (other than for review purposes) please contact Labuckauthor@gmail.com.
ISBNs: 979-8-9853265-1-2 (trade paperback), 979-8-9853265-2-9 (ebook), 979-8-9853265-6-7 (hardback)
For a digital and interactive copy of the map, visit my website: https://labuckauthor.com/
Contents
Map
Part One
1. Claws
2. Bound by the Law
3. Láefe L’Fonfyr
4. A Grey World
5. Gift-Giving
6. Harvest
7. Six
8. Travail
9. Prisoner of War
10. Fool’s Leap
11. Of Beasts and Monsters
12. Homecoming
Part Two
13. Two Paths Diverge
14. Ìsendorál
15. Twelve
16. Sword-Bearer
17. The Toll
18. Davka’vara
19. The Crowfoot’s Tale
20. Domvik
21. Half Truths
22. The Long Ride
23. Flickering In Firelight
24. Not Without Consequences
25. By Way Of The River
26. The Council of Nansûr
27. Bellicosity
28. A Good Man
Part Three
29. Lingering Enigma
30. Bargaining
31. Reciprocity
32. Shadow of Shalford Tower
33. Backtracking
34. Patchwork
35. Rih Hill
36. Under Cover of Darkness
37. Ghosts
38. The Withering Tree
39. Errant Thoughts
40. Veracity
41. The Reckoning
42. Mortal Severance
43. Juncture
Part Four
44. Traitor Among Renegades
45. Bounden
46. Repercussions
47. Duty and Dereliction
48. Invocations
49. Banished Tears
50. Arbitration
51. Among the Fallen
52. Pretense
53. Fire
54. As the Stones Settle
55. Alone
56. First Impressions
57. By the Power
58. Will and Prophecy
A Note from the Author
Glossary
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About the Author
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Part One
ERStWhiLE
Chapter one
Claws
Leafy branches snatched at her cloak and sleeves but Kura ran anyway, heart pounding, through the thickest part of the forest. She knew she ought to be afraid. She had been the first time, probably the second, but now excitement sent the blood coursing through her veins. That, and foolish hope.
She threw a glance over her shoulder, scanning the sun-speckled undergrowth to make sure none of the other farmhands had followed. They’d be crazy to try—there were simple rules for surviving the Wynshire and this broke most of them—but it didn’t take guts to ask where she had gone. If they pressed her, she’d have to make up another story, her unsatisfied neighbors would talk, and slowly but surely word of this would reach her family.
Somehow, only the fear of disappointing them stuck with her.
The distant gurgle of the Everard River echoed in the ravine, but Kura turned uphill toward a group of fir trees that stood among a ring of boulders. She leapt over the nearest stone, hands and feet sliding across the damp moss, and dropped into the basin to wait in the cool shadows. Birds called in the distance and the afternoon breeze whispered through the branches, but no footsteps followed hers.
Pulling a leather parcel from her baggy pants pocket, Kura rose and secured the package within the half-rotted trunk standing in the heart of the grove. She slunk back into the shadows, then hauled herself into the nearest tree. It wasn’t easy climbing the evergreens—she was always left covered in sap—but she kept her feet close to the trunk as she trod the spindly stairs to her customary perch, as near the top as she dared go.
Now, she waited.
She steadied her breath as she swept an unruly lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Her contact had told her not to wait, but she didn’t give serious thought to obeying him. There was always someone watching whatever moved in the Wynshire, and while most would just keep watching, she couldn’t trust the more curious to keep their paws on their own business.
Twigs snapped, then a grizzly bear’s muzzle pushed through the underbrush. Kura stiffened. She’d expected a squirrel, or maybe one of the badgers that lived on the hill, but not a bear. The beast lumbered into the basin and rose on two legs, its wet, black nose wrinkling as it sniffed the air. A man, shrouded in a mottled green cloak, struggled to keep his seat on the creature’s back.
“Down, boy!” the man said.
“I’m not a dog,” the bear grumbled, but he begrudgingly dropped to all fours. Sunlight flashed off a chunk of onyx decorating the leather strap on one furry limb—the mark of the Northern Sleuth. But what was he doing this far west?
“Of course you’re not a dog.” The man laughed nervously and slid off the beast’s back. “I wouldn’t dare imply anything like that.”
Kura clenched and unclenched her fist around the hilt of her sword. They couldn’t be king’s men—at least, the bear couldn’t. Could he? Whoever they were, they shouldn’t be here.
The man stretched, then sighed as he glanced around the grove. “So, where is it?”
The bear huffed and jerked his nose toward the hollow trunk.
Chewing her inner lip, Kura pushed aside one of the pine branches to watch as the man pulled the parcel from the trunk. She breathed a frustrated sigh. Maybe she could scare them off.
She dropped from the tree and landed with a grunt on the needle-covered ground below. The bear snarled and pulled back as the man shouted in surprise.
Kura rested her hand on her sword hilt and fought to keep her voice steady. “Who are you?”
The bear scoffed. “I thought I smelled a human, but I guess it was only you, child.” He bared his thick, yellow teeth in what might have been a grin. “How many springs have you seen? Nine, I’d say, by the looks of you.”
Kura frowned. “I’ve seen twenty.”
“My mistake, then. You humans are all so tiny.”
“Hey now,” the man said, raising his arms as he stepped between Kura and the bear. “We’re all friends here, right? Let’s be nice.”
Kura met his gaze. A brown scarf hid all but his dark eyes, his black skin, and a few strands of thick, black hair, but he had a stocky build—most likely from muscle, though it was hard to tell under his cloak. His voice marked him as her elder, but not by much.
“You recognize this?” the man asked.
Kura flinched as his hand drifted toward his broadsword, but he reached into a pouch on his belt and produced an opaque crystal suspended from a hemp cord.
Surprised, Kura let go of her sword hilt. She reached behind her shirt collar and produced a similar stone from around her neck. “What happened to the last guy?”
The man shook his head. “Lost him in a skirmish with a royal patrol a week ago.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences with the fellow, but it still felt like she should have more to say. “I’m sorry.”
The bear snorted. “You aren’t supposed to recognize us, and we’re not supposed to recognize you.” He extended a massive claw toward the parcel in the man’s hand. “Might I assume you’ve forgotten what this is supposed to be as well?”
Kura forced herself to look the bear in the eye but couldn’t help taking a step back. “I marked on your map all the places I’ve noticed any creature activity. As always, though, it’s just been nostkynna, like you. I’ve never seen saja here.”
“Good enough.” The bear sighed, though it sounded more like a growl. “We should depart. No doubt this idling will lead to the death of us as it is.”
Kura frowned again. “I wasn’t followed.”
“The edges of the world are not your refuge, girl. A darkness moves in this land.”
“Darker than the Wynshire at night?” She laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about me, I’m used to it.”
The bear measured her with unblinking eyes. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be.”
“Alright,” the man muttered, and gave the bear a pat on the shoulder. “Stop terrorizing the locals. Let’s go.”
“Wait—” Kura froze when the bear swung back to look at her. “I apologize if I’m being blunt, but the other guy promised to secure safe passage for six to a home in the mainstates in exchange for my information.”
Another growl rumbled deep in the bear’s throat. “Is that all you care about? Your own skin?”
Kura bit back a scowl. “I want to see Dradge gone as much as anyone, but you can’t fault me for putting my family first.”
The man nodded. “We’ll do what we can, I’m sure.”
Kura studied his face. His tone was too placating for her to trust him to follow through, but what else was she supposed to do? “Thank you.”
The bear turned back toward the forest, and he and his cloaked companion disappeared among the trees, the gentle sway of low-hanging branches the only remainder of their passage.
“Goodbye, then,” she muttered.
A cool fall breeze whistled through the grove, making the shadows dance on the boulders and dry leaves flutter to the ground with a muffled crunch. Kura slipped her thumbs behind her belt and strolled back the way she had come so urgently before.
How many months had she been doing this now? At least seven—three more would make it a year—but she and her family weren’t a day closer to leaving this godsforsaken place. She kicked half-heartedly at the bed of leaves.
At least I’m trying to—
A branch creaked above, and Kura stopped. She surveyed the trees, hardly allowing herself a breath. After a dozen heartbeats she caught a glimpse of a sleek, tan form leaping from branch to branch. A cougar, headed toward the fields.
The cat paused, the tree limb bending under its weight, his pale eyes locking with Kura’s. He bared his fangs, stuck out his tongue to jeer at her, then leapt to the next branch.
Kura muttered a curse and took off at a sprint. Those cats are getting bold.
With mere animals the solution was simple—loud noises, more people, some strategically placed campfires at night—but nothing was that easy with a nostkynna. Much more than talking animals, their intellect made them most akin to a human. Kura only hoped she wouldn’t have to kill this one. As she’d learned with the wolves, that made future negotiation difficult.
The cougar wove casually through the treetops, pausing at times to watch birds scatter or grin at Kura below, but she ran through briars and tangled branches to keep her trajectory straight—and pulled ahead. She burst into the sunlit cornfield and tore through tall, brittle stalks until she reached the wheat. She’d left the others here; the man was swinging a scythe to fell more of the harvest while two women followed behind him, gathering the cut stalks into bundles.
“Cougar!” Kura shouted, and each face shot up to meet hers. They hesitated, the women holding Kura’s gaze as the man looked to the trees. “Leave the stuff, go get help!”
One woman pointed toward the field. “The goats—”
“I know, I’ll get them, go!” Kura charged through the field, doing her best to keep from trampling the crop. She pressed her index fingers under her tongue and let out a sharp whistle.
A speckled, long-eared face peeked out from among the stalks.
“Cougar!” Kura shouted. The goat stared at her, and a few more shaggy heads emerged from the wheat beyond it. “Cougar!”
With a piercing yowl, the cat leapt from the trees and landed at the edge of the cleared field. One goat bleated, then ran for the footpath between the crops, and the rest of the herd followed. Kura leapt onto the path after them, skidding to a stop as she drew her sword.
The cougar sauntered alongside the rows of corn, baring a toothy grin. “Hello, human.” He spat out the last word like a curse. “What a pretty claw you have. A pity it’s only one.”
Kura raised her weapon, her hands steady despite her pounding heart. “No farther!”
The cougar laughed, then sat back on his haunches to raise one of his front legs. “These are real claws, squatter.” Five barbs shot out from the cat’s paw. “If you didn’t taste so terrible I might have already given you a closer look.”
Kura didn’t move. “This is our field. The wolves respect that now, the bears get a tribute, the foxes and the raccoons—”
“Is that what you think?” The cat crept forward again, lean muscle rippling beneath his thin coat as his tail twitched. “That you can bully and barter your way to safety with all of us?”
Kura took a hesitant step away. Someone should have been here by now to back her up.
The cat pounced, his claws aimed at her chest. She lunged to the side, slashing the beast across the face with her sword. He howled and skidded across the dusty path, but was airborne again in an instant. Kura tried to raise her sword, but the cat drove his claws into her shoulders and knocked her to the ground.
His howl filled her ears. In a wild panic, Kura flung the weight of teeth and fur off her and scrambled to her feet. The creature lay on the ground, writhing, as blood soaked his side and turned his pink tongue red. With a grimace, Kura drove her sword through his eye, and the creature stilled.
“Kura!”
She glanced up from the carcass, letting out a breath. Her brother, Faron, a longbow in his hand and a quiver full of arrows rattling on his belt, ran toward her from across the field.
“About time!”
Faron greeted her with his usual unamused frown. “You alright?”
Kura nodded. Faron was three years her junior, although now his lanky frame made him at least a head taller. Like her, he had a square face with strong features, although he sported fewer freckles on his white skin, and the long hair tied back behind his head was a deep brown.
“Wait.” Concern sprang into his eyes, and he pointed at her shoulder. “Kura, it scratched you—”
“Hey.” Kura batted his hand away, then ran her fingers over the claw-marks in her quilted doublet. The cat had torn through several layers of her makeshift gambeson, but hadn’t reached her skin. “I told you I’d make you some of this if you want.”
Faron shook his head absently and prodded the carcass with the end of his bow. “Is he dead?”
“He’s dead.” Kura let those words linger as she forced herself to look at the cat. It didn’t always feel like it, but killing a nostkynna was essentially the same as killing a human. She tried not to let herself forget that. “I gave him a chance to leave.”
Faron slung the bow over his shoulder. “Looks like one of the Treefall pride.”
Kura frowned at the beast’s bloody shoulder, which bore his clan mark: a deep white scar in the simple shape of a tree. “Another one of them was lurking around here last week. Killed two of the goats.”
“Did you try and chase that one off on your own, too?”
Kura flashed him an innocent smile. “I follow the rules, Faron. Negotiate, present terms, then fight.”
Faron watched her with a skeptical frown, then sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s get rid of this.”
Kura cleaned her sword off in the grass before slipping it back into its scabbard, then joined Faron in picking up one of the cougar’s rear paws to drag the carcass toward the forest.
