Fireborn (A Born Prophecy Book 1) Read online

  The clang of the hammer against the anvil punctuated Thorsin’s words. I made a face and reluctantly sheathed my sword. “It was a ploy, a cunning ploy intended to throw you off-balance, and it worked.”

  “Mmhmm.” Thorsin wiped down his massive axe, and gently wrapped it in a clean bit of soft leather before donning the blacksmith apron that protected him from sparks and fire. “If that’s true, then there’s nothing more I can teach you. You have gone beyond my skills.”

  “Aw, don’t say that.” I pulled out a small package made up of a loaf of round bread and a hard nub of cheese my fellow priests made, and pressed it into his hands as payment for the lesson. “You’re the only one in Temple’s Vale who will teach me. How am I to improve if no one will let me practice with them?”

  “You don’t need practice, little priest. I thank you for the payment. Did you, perchance, make the cheese yourself?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “I’m the least domestic person at the temple.” I glanced to the west, where Kiriah Sunbringer was beginning her descent toward the distant horizon. “And speaking of that, I’d best be getting back before Sandor ends her afternoon meditation.”

  “Tend that ear,” Thorsin called as I ran off down the dusty red track that led to the temple grounds. “And mind you say a prayer to Kiriah for missing your daily devotions in order to spar with me.”

  I raised a hand to let him know I’d heard him, and trotted on, my mind wandering down familiar paths. If only I’d managed to convince Lord Israel all those years ago to take me into his company. If only Sandor understood that I was better able to serve the temple by use of my bow and swords than the endless prayers to Kiriah. If only I was allowed to use the power that had been given to me at birth ...

  I slipped over the fence where a stream crossed under it, hidden by the sparse copse of trees from the view of the porter at the main gate, pausing just long enough to grab the string of pheasant I’d shot earlier in the day, and hurried past the temple gardens, occasionally nodding and murmuring a greeting when a priest passed me, arms invariably full of produce on the way to the kitchen.

  “... and Lady Sandor said that we were not to include them in our prayers, but I think that’s wrong.”

  I stopped abruptly as I rounded the corner of the temple, voices issuing from the covered walk causing me to hide behind a pillar.

  “Well, they are Starborn. Why should we interest ourselves in their welfare?”

  I gnashed my teeth for a moment at the sight of Catriona and Geer, two of the older priestesses who frequently looked upon me with disdain and suspicion ... and both of whom stood between me and the door to the vestry, where I needed to be.

  “Because Kiriah’s love is boundless. Perhaps if we showed it to the Starborn, they would see the error in their ways of following Bellias. ”

  I turned around, intending on entering the temple by the side door, even though the risk was higher there of being seen, but gave a little startled jump at the sight of the woman who stood silently behind me. “Oh! Hello, Sandor. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Obviously not.” Sandor glanced at the four pheasant hanging by their feet from a short length of twine. “I must be confused about the day, because I could have sworn you were intended to be conducting prayers today.”

  My gaze slid away to study the temple grounds, a haven of round green shrubs, lush grass dotted with lavender flowers, and the graceful, arched trees that grew in this part of the world. Adding in the sweet scents of the flowers, the busy drone of bees, and the high calls of birds, one would think this place was a veritable paradise, but I knew it was nothing but an attractive prison. “I thought I would better serve Kiriah by providing for the sisters. After all, the initiates are praying today, and surely the goddess doesn’t need more than four prayers at a time. Any more than four would be wasteful, don’t you think?”

  The priestess’s lips twitched twice, but she had a firm grip on her emotions, something I knew well given the number of times I’d been sent to Sandor’s study in order to receive what was politely called correctional guidance. “Your actions do you credit, child, but your intentions could use a little more devotion to Kiriah.”

  “I know,” I said with a sigh. “But it’s just so hard. There’s a war out there where people are fighting for their lives, fighting to save an entire race.”

  “The Starborn have brought this blight upon themselves,” Sandor said blithely. “Their queen welcomed the Harborym when they first came, whereas our own good Lord Israel rejected their offer to help us bring all of Alba under the domain of the Fireborn. And if the destruction of the Starborn is not a sign from Kiriah of the wrongness of their ways, then I don’t know what is.”

  “They haven’t all been destroyed,” I argued. “There are still Starborn. I heard from the blacksmith that not all the Starborn had been taken in the Consumption. Lord Israel should take his army to Genora again and free them.”

  “Pfft.” Sandor waved away the idea. “Lord Israel tried that once a few years ago.”

  How well I knew that. I felt again the pain of being left behind when Deo rode off after his father, leaving me with no hope, trapped at the temple, and bound to a goddess who seemed to care little about my happiness.

  “And look how that turned out,” Sandor continued, turning to stroll toward the main entrance. I fell in alongside her. “His army was decimated, and there are no Starborn left. They’ve all been turned into Shades, and are slaves to the Harborym. Thus, it is not worth his time to save them. The Shades can’t be saved, not that he would wish to do so.”

  “His own son is half-Starborn,” I couldn’t help but point out. “No doubt he feels it worthwhile to help any of his kin who escaped the Harborym.”

  She gave a ladylike snort at the mention of Deo. “And just look what the result of that unholy union was—an invasion that destroyed the race that bore him, and then he went mad with their power and was banished.”

  “But there was a prophecy that said he would bring about the Fourth Age, and prosperity and peace, and—”

  “No, child. It was a false prophecy. That much is clear to us now.”

  “Even so, is it not our duty to help those in need? If you won’t send a group to help find survivors who have escaped the Consumption, what about sending us to battle alongside the soldiers fighting the Harborym themselves? I would be happy to lead such a team—”

  Her lips tightened even before I finished speaking. “Your duties lie here, child.”

  “I’m not a child! I could be of so much more use outside the temple!” I wanted to shout my frustration at the priestess, but held my temper in check. I knew from experience that such outbursts would be greeted with chastisement, and little more.

  “You are of greater use here.” She started to move past me, clearly having dismissed the subject, but I stopped her.

  “To do what? Pray? That’s all we do!”

  “Prayer is important,” Sandor protested. “Without it, how would Kiriah know we needed her blessings in this time of great trial?”

  “She hasn’t heard us since she smote Alba with the fire of the sun,” I said with a bitterness I could almost taste. Oh, I knew well that I should keep such thoughts to myself, but as ever, I was unable to keep from speaking aloud. “Both goddesses have turned their backs on us since that time. Everyone knows that.”

  Ire flashed in Sandor’s eyes, and she grabbed my wrist in a grip that I knew would leave bruises. “Everyone does not know such a thing. It is heresy you speak, and you will cease doing so this instant, or you will force me to punish you.” Her words struck me as if they had barbs. “It is our honor and duty to guard the goddess Kiriah’s temple, and guard it we shall. Do you understand?”

  “A group to help fight the Harborym would aid much more in preserving the temple,” I said, wresting my wrist from the painful grip of her fingers. “There are several sisters who are almost as proficient as me with the bow, and I’ve been tea
ching them what I know about how to use a sword—”

  Her words shot at me with the force of my own arrows. “I am well aware that you are under the delusion—indeed, you have been since you were first brought to us—that you were meant by the goddess to fight evil, but I assure you that in this, as in many other things, you are incorrect.”

  I slapped my hands on my legs in sheer frustration. “I am a lightweaver! Even if Lord Israel would have no use for my bow or my sword, I have the power to help!”

  “Your power is devoted to Kiriah, and nothing else!” Sandor snapped, making a dismissive gesture. “No! No more protestations. The words you speak are foolish and show me that you have yet a long way to go before you are granted any position of importance. And lest you have forgotten, let me remind you that you were given to the temple for a purpose, and I shall see to it that you serve it no matter how hard you fight against your destiny. Take those pheasant to the kitchen, and then I expect you at the altar with the initiates.”

  Dismay filled me at the idea. “But ... they are to be in prayer all day and night.”

  “Exactly.” Sandor gave me a look that was about as soft as steel. “A night spent on your knees in prayer to Kiriah contemplating your blasphemies and stubborn nature will do you good.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Sandor held up a hand to stop me. “Not one more word, lest I condemn you to the contemplation chamber for a week of solitude. Go about your business, and do not repeat your opinions on this subject to anyone else. The last thing I need is you instilling such inappropriate thoughts in the sisters’ minds. ”

  Sandor bustled off, leaving me bristling with indignation, fury, and a profound feeling of helplessness.

  “And I hate feeling helpless,” I growled to myself, stalking stiff-legged to the building that housed the kitchens. “It’s so wrong. I could be helping people. I could be fighting against the invaders. I could be making a difference.”

  Bertilde, one of the cooks, looked up when I entered the cool confines of the pantry and slammed down the pheasant. “There, now, Allegria, that’s just what we’re needing for supper—a nice pheasant pie. Merciful goddess, what has you in such a tizzy?”

  “I am to pray,” I said abruptly, removing my bow and quiver from where they were slung across my back. “That is all Sandor considers me good for.”

  “Aye, well, we are a devout order,” Bertilde said, nodding. Her face was naturally red, but now was dotted with perspiration, no doubt from her having been working over the ovens contained in the next building. “Mind you, I don’t say that there’s not such a thing as too much prayer, and not enough hard work, but there, I’m not the head priestess. Thank you kindly for the birds.”

  “You’re welcome.” I dipped a cup into the water barrel and slaked my thirst before asking (more to stall having to return to the temple than anything else), “How fares your brother Jack? Is he still watching the coastline for invaders?”

  Bertilde’s face clouded. “No, he’s run off to join Lord Deo.”

  “On the Isle of Enoch? How is he going to get to there? The harbors are all watched closely lest the Harborym attack, and no captain would sail there.”

  “Merciful goddess, what would Jack be doing on the Isle of Enoch? He has no need for such perilous travel, because Lord Deo has returned to Aryia,” Bertilde answered, snatching up a pheasant and expertly beginning to pluck it. “Jack said Lord Deo is gathering up a group who will use some form of new magic to free the Shades from Harborym control. Not that I have any hopes such a harebrained plan will work, even if Lord Deo has found a new magic. The Shades are past redemption. They are nothing but husks, a shell and nothing more. It’s best to let them be, and not try to cross the goddess’s will.”

  My jaw sagged in amazement. “Deo is back? But he was banished! His father banished him to Enoch when he tried to kill him.”

  “When who tried to kill whom?” Bertilde asked absently, her arms and apron now stained with feathers and blood.

  “Deo tried to kill Lord Israel last summer. Didn’t you hear about it? That’s when Lord Israel banished Deo to the Isle of Enoch, which I have to say was rather harsh. Sandor said there was nothing there but rocks and scrawny goats.”

  “I can’t believe a father would do any such thing to his son, and not one that he raised since he was a wee babe.”

  “That was just because Queen Dasa had Deo sent to Lord Israel for safekeeping when the Harborym opened their rift in Starfall City,” I said, poking through a bowl of chopped vegetables and popping a couple of pieces of carrot into my mouth. I added, indistinctly because of the carrots, “It doesn’t mean Lord Israel was happy to have him.”

  “Pish,” Bertilde said dismissively. “What father isn’t happy to have a son?”

  “Lord Israel, evidently. Or at least he isn’t when his son attacks him.”

  “I don’t remember hearing about any such happening, but I don’t keep up much with those higher born.” She gave me a complacent smile. “I’m just a simple priest in a simple temple, as are you. Jack keeps me informed of any news fitting for me to know. And Lady Sandor, of course.”

  I hooked a three-legged stool with a foot and sat down, happy to have an excuse to delay return to the temple, even if it was to be short-lived. “Well! Ham, the blacksmith’s son, says it all came about because Lord Israel wed the woman who Deo was betrothed to, a highborn named Lady Idril, who was from the north. Ham the gardener said that Deo had a great passion for her, but that Lord Israel wanted to punish his son, and so banished him and wed her himself just to spite Deo.”

  “Tsk,” said Bertilde. “Imagine a father wanting to punish his son so strongly that he took his bride. What must have Lord Deo done to bring that curse down upon his head?”

  “I don’t know. Ham didn’t tell me that. He did say—”

  “Allegria!”

  I was on my feet and hurrying out the door before Sandor could do more than beg the goddess for the strength to deal with the trials life brought her. I ran back to the temple, Bertilde’s news rolling around in my brain. So Deo was back in Aryia, was he? And he was gathering his own force to go to Starborn lands and save his mother’s kinfolk? My heart raced at the idea of joining him, of working alongside the man who had so captured my fancy years before as a child. But how was I going to convince Sandor that it would benefit the temple to release me into Deo’s service?

  The goddess must have been smiling on me, for when I trotted from the warmth of the day into the coolness of the temple, I found a group of three men wearing mail armor clustered together at the entrance, one of them demanding that the porter fetch Sandor at once.

  “But Lady Sandorillan is communing with the goddess,” Feliza, the porter, said, her long silver hair gleaming in the soft lights of the candles that lined the aisle. I tucked a strand of my own unruly hair behind my ear and wished, for the thousandth time, that I had been graced with the silver hair of the highborn, instead of the bland dirty straw-colored hair of what Bertilde called hearty peasant stock. “She cannot be disturbed for anything.”

  “This is important,” one of the men said, clearly in charge of his group. His voice was as rough as his appearance—his face was scarred, and he appeared to be missing part of an ear—but the mantle of authority sat firmly on his shoulders. “We come on behalf of Lord Deo Langton. He seeks a boon of the goddess, one that was promised him at his birth.”

  “I don’t know anything about a boon,” Feliza answered, clutching her hands together and looking as if she was about to burst into tears. “Only Lady Sandor would know what to do, but she is communing.”

  “Is it true that Deo has returned to Aryia?” I heard someone ask, and was mildly surprised to find the voice was my own.

  The man turned his head to give me a look that plainly stated he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in talking with me. “Yes, he is gathering his forces now for the transformation.” He turned back to Feliza. “Fetch Lady Sandorillan, or I wil
l send my men hunting for her, and I doubt if your delicate little priestesses would enjoy having their temple searched.”

  The men chuckled as if an uncouth joke had been made. I eyed them, wondering if Kiriah would forgive me for spilling blood on her sacred temple floors.

  “Oh, dear.” Feliza wrung her hands again, and cast a look full of appeal toward me. “I can’t do that, indeed I could not. I would lose my position should I disturb Lady Sandor. But you cannot come any farther into the temple. Men are not allowed in the inner recesses of the Temple of Kiriah. It is most forbidden!”

  “What transformation?” I asked, using the tip of my bow to scratch an itch on my back. Feliza shot me another pleading look of desperation, but I ignored it. I wanted some questions answered before I threw these louts out on their respective arses.

  The headman looked confused at my question.

  I clarified. “You said Deo was gathering forces for a transformation. What kind of a transformation? Magical, physical, or something else?”

  He dismissed my question immediately, while the other soldiers looked down their noses at me even though they were only a little taller than me. We hearty peasant stock may not have the silver hair or delicate features of the highborn, but we are also not slight of figure, a fact I frequently bemoaned.

  “It is nothing a priestess like you would understand.” The headman sneered while he spoke, clearly trying to insult me. He turned back to Feliza, and shoved her out of the way. “I tire of your excuses. Let us search the temple for Lady Sandorillan.”

  I whipped the bow off my back, and had the arrow nocked and aimed right at his exposed throat before he could blink. “I am no ordinary priest, soldier, and you heard Feliza—men are not allowed farther into the temple. What is this force Deo is gathering?”

  He blinked at me a couple of times, eyeing the arrow with the respect that it deserved. His Adam’s apple bobbed before he answered. “He is Lord Deo to you, priest. And just what are his actions to do with you?”