With a Vengeance: A Standalone Why Choose Primal Romantasy, page 5
“Marie!” I called out to the darkness, but the blustery wind carrying the faint scent of something smoky snatched away my words. Worry ran up my spine. She shouldn’t be out here in the dark, not in her condition.
I abandoned my attempts at yelling into the wind and walked around the farmhouse. The remnants of the burnt half of the farmhouse were eerie, with the wooden frame exposed like a skeleton. It was hard to think that this was ever a place where generations of Carines lived.
I searched for a while, but it was clear that Marie wasn’t here. And a part of me was glad. Seeing this shell of a place must’ve brought up hard feelings for her. The night our parents were murdered was the night I’d found her trapped inside the farmhouse, half the place on fire. Begrudgingly, I had Dane to thank for saving her. He’d been in the right place at the right time and had his own farmhands help put out the flames while we rested at his home. It was difficult to reconcile the man I saw today with the one I’d known in childhood.
I shook off the past and thought about where else to find Marie. There was a rocky path on the other side of the half-dead tree that hung over our parents’ headstones that led to a secret place. She could have found solace in the cave, tucked into the side of the cliff, hidden out of the way. When we were children, the echo of calming waves had always been a balm for a troubled mind. But when Mother found out about our secret spot, she’d asked Father to block the entrance, too afraid we might get trapped or lost inside. So now all you could do was perch at its boarded-up mouth and observe the crashing waves against the unyielding rock face below.
Deciding on my next course of action, I strode back the way I’d come, my footsteps crunching on the rocky grounds. As I approached the side of the farmhouse, the sound of padded steps caught my attention. I strode closer, hoping that Marie would be around the corner. What I encountered instead sent my heart plummeting to my feet and stole the breath from my lungs.
Three Yassiri men, the same ones I’d bumped into in the village, dismounted from inky black inok that were twice the size of horses. Behind them, four more riders formed an imposing presence. The creatures they rode possessed robust, muscular bodies with shimmering black scales that caught the lantern light. Furry, wolf-like snouts adorned their faces, complete with black, glittering eyes, sharp fangs, and clawed paws as large as a man’s face. I was utterly entranced by those beasts, trying hard to remain grounded in this moment rather than the past. Overcome by emotion, I almost failed to notice the approach of the giant warriors, quiet despite their size.
I hid behind one of the large wooden logs that held up the farmhouse’s roof and prayed to Gudan for mercy that they wouldn’t find me. Had they noticed me missing already and been sent by the Komisar for deserting?
“I knocked, but there was no answer,” the rich voice of the one I thought of as the leader carried over the wind, sending a tremor through me.
I gulped. These men were here for me.
Visions of being chained to the Komisar like chattel sped through my mind. What was I thinking trying to avoid the Reaping?
Stupid, stupid girl!
I was torn between confrontation or pretending I hadn’t seen them. Yet, before I could even consider one idea over the other, the largest Yassiri warrior stepped around the edge of the farmhouse, a flickering lantern in his hand. Instinctively, I took a step back, my back meeting the solid exterior of the farmhouse.
“Vienne Carine?” This time, the leader’s voice emerged as a low growl, as if his lips were more accustomed to guttural utterances than the Common tongue. Hearing my name come from his mouth made my heart skip a beat and had heat pooling between my thighs. There was something deeply primal about him, about all of them.
I peered up between my lashes, feeling the burn of their attention. I responded to the question with a nod, finding myself incapable of forming a verbal reply or meeting their gazes directly.
“We’ve come to collect you. Desertions are not tolerated,” reproached the warrior, his astute gaze assessing me like a vigilant parent might a wayward child.
My mind stuttered. Deserter. There was that word again.
Fear should’ve taken a hold of me. But I didn’t care right now. Alarm still thrummed at not finding Marie. I needed to make sure she was safe at home, not out here in the bitter cold.
“I’m not deserting. I got…interrupted,” I responded, deliberately offering an ambiguous answer.
“Hmm.” The leader’s face was unreadable as he scrutinised me, eyes landing on my bag. “Come with me.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I need to find my sister.”
“The Horde leaves no one behind.” His eyebrow arched as he spoke. “The Reaping waits for no one.”
“But my sister—” I began.
“We’ve heard it all before,” he interrupted, stopping me with a raised palm. “We won’t entertain your diversions. You’ll come with us willingly or—”
The leader stopped talking as the pretty warrior in the tunic placed a hand on his shoulder, pausing to sniff the air. “Varro, the inok grow restless, and the smoke carries an unusual scent.” His voice exuded a smooth and soothing cadence.
So that was the leader’s name, Varro. The strong name suited him.
I looked up. There was no smoke to see, the darkness of the cloudy night sky shrouding it.
One of the mounted riders who’d remained at a distance edged his creature closer. “It isn’t wise to burn your fields at night.” He directed the words at me. “Especially with the wind blowing the fire toward the house.”
“What fire?” I asked, but didn’t wait for a response. My heart immediately rose to my throat. It was too reminiscent of the night the farmhouse burned with Marie inside it, the same night Mother and Father were taken from us.
A wail rang out and my stomach sank as bile filled my throat. Instinctively, I knew the origin of that cry.
Marie.
The pitch of her voice set my teeth on edge and had me dropping my bag and running towards the sound. I ran and ran until I could see it. Some of the arbre forest on our side of the boundary with Dane was aflame, the fire moving faster than I could run.
Another cry rang out, and I broke across the muddy field towards the grove of trees, the spiky pine-like branches of the arbre trees clawing at my exposed forearms. While I still couldn’t see her, I knew that somewhere in those smouldering flames tearing across the forest was my sister. And I also knew that I would do anything to save her.
“No!” The cry tore from my throat, its rawness echoing through the air. The sight in front of me left my heart frozen and unmoving in my chest. I didn’t understand how this could happen. The rain overnight should have protected the woods. I just couldn’t get my head around how the fire started.
Thundering steps alerted me to the warriors. I turned, meeting Varro’s searching gaze, illuminated by the light from the blaze. “You weren’t lying,” he said, his haggard breaths almost obscuring his words, but I caught them.
“Marie!” I called out, my voice laced with desperation as I fought against the smoke that stung my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. Marie had gone quiet, and the smoke was becoming too thick.
Disoriented amidst the swirling chaos of fire and ash, I found myself in the embrace of Varro’s arms. His expression was now grave, his sinewy arms locking me in place, grounding me.
I turned around in his arms. “Please, help me find her,” I implored. I wasn’t above begging, not for Marie.
“Stay here!” Varro commanded. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll find your sister.” His gaze shifted purposefully toward the other two men, giving them a meaningful look. Varro gestured to the pretty warrior with the covered chest, one arm still banding around me. “Lorcan, can you get your inok to track her scent under all this smoke?”
Lorcan winced as he brought his inok forward with a simple look. His control over the beast was both impressive and scary. “I can try,” he said, his focus shifting to me. “Siblings have similar scents. Rafi needs to smell you to track her. Is that OK?”
I nodded despite my skin crawling. Having the inok up close was something I was entirely unprepared for. But my reluctance didn’t really matter. I’d do anything to find Marie.
Lorcan directed the inok in a guttural language foreign to my ears. It held no resemblance to the more rounded and lilting tones of the Common tongue spoken across the mainland.
The inok stepped forward cautiously as if assessing the potential threat I posed. I couldn’t hide the shudder as it drew its muzzle towards my face. It probed discreetly until it breathed deeply at the crook of my neck, finding my scent. I shook in Varro’s arms, holding my breath.
Lorcan’s inok lifted its head, sniffing the air. A low growl rumbled in its throat, a sound that sent a chill down my spine. Lorcan, despite his earlier wince, sprang into action, swinging onto the inok’s saddled back with practised ease.
“He’s caught the scent,” Lorcan announced from his mounted position. He seemed more confident on the back of his creature than when he was standing on his own two feet.
Varro released me, and I immediately missed the security of his brawny arms. His authoritative voice cut through the chaos as he rallied the other group of four men who’d been hovering behind him. Spurred into action, they raced away from the fire and toward the farmhouse.
“What are you doing? You promised to help!” My shoulders slumped in defeat, watching the men move in the opposite direction from the blaze.
“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Varro countered, his voice firm. “We’ll get your sister.” Varro then moved to the golden warrior. “Arim, you can stay with the lady.”
Varro’s actions fuelled my defiance. “You’re not leaving me here. I’m coming with you.” He ignored me, mounting his inok and riding away with Lorcan leading the way.
“He may be blunt, but his concern lies in protecting you and your sister,” Arim interjected, placing a reassuring hand on my arm, his voice silky and gentle.
“How would you feel if it were your sister? Your own flesh and blood?” I shrugged out of his grasp. “She’s all I have left. I can’t lose her,” I confessed, voice cracking.
Arim’s expression tightened, perhaps a silent acknowledgment of my pain, and he stepped closer to me. Close enough that, when I breathed in deep, I caught wisps of soothing lavender and something earthy and grounded even over the smell of drifting smoke.
Arim’s expression relaxed into one of resignation, his honey eyes holding mine. “You do exactly as I tell you when I tell you,” he said, tone brooking no argument. “No recklessly venturing into danger. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I accepted, relief flooding my body.
One moment I was on the ground, the next, Arim lifted me onto the inok. I braced myself for fear or revulsion to engulf me. Yet, all I experienced was a sense of awe. Inok were powerful and undeniably intelligent, that much was sure as we raced, without a word, toward where Varro and Lorcan had disappeared.
“Put this over your face,” Arim yelled over the rushing air and crackle of the blazing fire. He handed me a sheer, wet piece of cloth from the saddle on his inok. “It will protect you from the smoke.”
I obeyed his command without hesitation, securing the cloth tightly over my mouth and nose. Arim tipped my face up, gently adjusting the cloth to cover my eyes. As his fingertips brushed against my skin, a shiver coursed through me, a tingling sensation I hadn’t experienced in so long. The way Arim looked out for me stirred up feelings I never thought I’d experience again, especially for a Yassiri warrior. I pushed the forbidden thoughts aside, burying them deep and returned my attention to the fire ahead.
The inok took a sharp turn to the right, its powerful strides carrying us towards the edge of the arbre plot along the boundary where our lands met those that now belonged to Dane.
Lorcan and the other men had arrived from the opposite side of the path, their eyes fixed on Varro as he bellowed at my motionless sister.
Marie stood frozen in the middle of the burning forest, her face still shrouded by her fluttering, black veil. She didn’t look hurt. Not physically, at least. Black and grey ash covered her body, obscuring her clothes beneath a veil of thick soot.
A crash sounded somewhere close by, and I caught sight of a fallen arbre tree aflame. All this destruction broke my heart. Then the fire did something unexpected. It crept across the muddy ground, flames erupting from the wet earth. It was impossible, and yet, the mud itself was on fire.
I ripped the cloth from my face and shouted, “Marie!”
She didn’t so much as flinch. It was like her mind was somewhere else. The fire encircled her. Soon Marie would be engulfed, ensnared in the flames.
Varro jumped through the blaze, scooping Marie out of the mud, and carrying her towards where the rest of his men were waiting.
I attempted to dismount, but Arim stopped me. “No.” His voice was firm, his grip on me unyielding. “Stay on the inok. It’s not safe yet.”
My eyes cut into him, frustration and worry warring within me. How could I stand idly by when Marie needed me? Every instinct I had urged me to break free, to be at her side.
Unlike Marie, Varro didn’t get out unscathed. Half of his once pristine trousers were on fire, the flames reducing the leather to ash. He remained undeterred, and a begrudging seed of respect was planted within me as I listened to him bark more orders to Lorcan, Arim, and the other men.
In a swift motion, Varro dipped a piece of familiar Sylque into a bucket of what I assumed was water. But when he withdrew the cloth, it emerged from the bucket covered in a layer of grey powder. He covered the flames that were eating away at his pants with the fabric, then removed the cloth. As if by magic, the flames were snuffed out. I was too mesmerised by his actions to care about the Sylque being ruined to extinguish the fire.
“Flamariel,” Arim muttered the word to himself, his expression flickering, then quickly dismounted from behind me. “Remember, you said you’d do as I say. Stay here, I’ll get your sister.”
Chapter 7
It took everything in me to stay seated, but I did as instructed, my hands gripping the top of the inok’s saddle intensely.
In a few swift strides, Arim was in front of Marie, effortlessly carrying her as though she were a small child. Arim brought her over to me, and without hesitation, I leapt off the inok, my old boots finding a precarious footing on the muddy ground. Marie’s eyes were unfocused, still lost in the grip of numbness. I pressed my lips to her forehead. “You’re safe, everything will be alright,” I murmured. The words were hollow, but I was compelled to reassure her.
Arim caught my eye over Marie’s frozen body, a melancholy smile of understanding tugging at his lips.
“Arim!” Varro’s urgent voice shattered the moment, his face smudged with streaks of the same ash that mingled with his braided locs.
Arim’s attention shifted to Varro, and he ordered me to sit on the ground before gently placing Marie down beside me. He then joined the others in their efforts to douse the flames of the tree trunks. This was the last of our arbre. If they couldn’t save it, the Carine legacy was finished.
I was helpless, watching as bolts of Marie’s painstaking work were undone. Piece after piece of Sylque dipped into the bucket of ash and employed to smother the raging inferno. Their efforts proved effective, the flames petering out entirely.
Arim returned, his voice heavy with concern. “We’ve got to get you both away from here.”
He gently lifted Marie onto the back of the inok while she remained deep in her catatonic form. A sharp ache pierced my chest. All I wanted to do was protect my family and our farm, but it seemed I had failed at that more than once.
With many of our oldest arbre trees ruined, if not by the fire itself, by the smoke and ash tainting the bark, the weight of my debts grew heavier. I needed every coin I could gather, lest I be forced to relinquish our farm to Dane. A twisted sensation coiled within me. I’d already lost so much. I couldn’t lose this.
Arim went to pick me up, his hands encircling my hips. “Wait,” I said, my hands covering his. “That fire…it’s not normal, is it?” I dared to look up at him, my hands instinctively reaching up to rest on his biceps, my fingertips itching to trace the intricate scars etched onto his warm skin.
Arim’s voice held a sombre note as he responded, his gaze distant. “No, it isn’t. It’s flamariel.” At my blank look, he added, “Thyonian fire.”
A shiver coursed through me at the mention of Thyonian fire, flames borne of a Thyonian’s magical phoenix nails. I swallowed a gasp as I remembered this morning’s display, the Komisar bringing out a Thyonian raider, dampening gloves concealing the power at his fingertips. The Komisar said that he was the last of the bandits, but what if there were more?
“Why is there Thyonian fire on my farm? Why would they venture so deep into Southtide’s territory?”
Southtide stood far removed from the front lines. The village was between Yassir to the east and Thyon to the west, and the Carine farm was at the southernmost tip of the territory.
“I can’t answer that,” Arim said, avoiding my gaze. He wiped a hand across his brow before seizing me around the waist and positioning me on the inok behind Marie. Uttering a few words in Yassiri, he got on behind me, his chest pressing against my back. Reluctantly, I found a strange solace in his presence, in not facing the chaos of this night alone.
When we arrived at the farmhouse, Arim helped us dismount and ushered us inside, bringing a small saddle bag with him.
Arim led Marie to a seat before directing me, “Get me some clean cloths and water.”
I brought him the pile of Sylque Marie had discarded over the months as she worked on a secret enchantment and a bucket of water from the well, placing both on the table. Arim crouched in front of Marie, making himself small, as though not to scare her.
“Marie, can you hear me?” Arim’s voice was softer now as he slowly peeled her veil back. She squeezed her eyes shut before gradually focusing on Arim. “Are you injured? Do you hurt anywhere?”
