Shadow Fire

Shadow Fire

By Kimber Leigh Wheaton

Published by Asraea Press

www.astraeapress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

SHADOW FIRE

Copyright © 2014 KIMBER LEIGH WHEATON

ISBN 978-1-62135-259-4

Cover Art Designed by AM DESIGN STUDIO

To Joan – You have no idea how much your stalwart support has meant to me. To Jason – My first beta reader who stayed up long into the night reading. To Paul – My inspiration for every hero and villain.

Chapter One

Fate

Every step I take is one step closer to death.

Hiking through the dense underbrush, I try to calm my frayed nerves and control the fear threatening to overwhelm me. Twigs and tendrils of ivy grab at my ankles as I continue to forge ahead, forcing me to wrench away from their skeletal grip. The sunlight is fading, signaling the end of another day, but this is no ordinary day.

A loud
crack
pierces the air. I freeze in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. Whipping my head around, I try to locate the source of the sound. My heart pounds in my chest, the erratic rhythm painful. These woods are full of predators, some animal, some monster, but the worst… human. Taking a deep breath, I listen to the surrounding woods: birds chirp, insects hum, and small animals scurry about as if they have no care in the world.

Lungs burning, I force myself to continue walking. I didn't collapse three weeks ago when this whole fiasco started and I won't give in now. My family needs me to be strong.

The trees become sparser as I approach the edge of the forest. My shoulders slump when I pass the tree house we used to play in so many years ago. Any other day when I'm this close to home after a long day of hunting, I'd smile, breathe a sigh of relief, and perhaps look forward to dinner. Today there will be no raucous family meal, no solace in entering the peaceful village, and nothing to smile about.

The villagers will be awaiting my return, skulking in the shadows, desperate to catch a glimpse of the walking dead girl.

I've dealt with the whispers and pointing for three weeks with my head held high, my anxiety hidden behind a mask of indifference. I don't want them to see me like this, trembling in fear, broken. They've taken everything I am, every hope, every dream I've had for the future and smashed them to pieces with little hope of salvation. The townsfolk of Verdane decided my fate and they chose death.

The elders told me being
Chosen
is an honor. Either they are ignorant or apathetic. Every five years for the last twenty, a teenage girl has been chosen by the town, via secret ballot, to undertake this dangerous quest, never to return. Perhaps if the elders had to forfeit their lives instead they wouldn't be so quick to label it an honor, they'd call it what it is… a sacrifice.

The sun continues its descent, casting long, ominous shadows in the forest as if foretelling the hideous fate awaiting me. My heart sinks along with the setting sun until it becomes heavy like a lead weight, making each breath more difficult than the last. A drop of sweat falls from my forehead mingling with the few teardrops leaking past my wavering control.

My pace slows, feet shuffling through the dead leaves, stirring up dust and the pungent odor of mold. A wave of dread flows through me, and my stomach roils. The tears are flowing faster now, blurring my vision, and making it impossible to continue my trek.

Stopping by a large oak, I drop the tail of the dead forest leopard I've been dragging and lean to rest against the rough bark. Though the leopard is wrapped in a bed sheet, making it easier to pull through the underbrush, it must weigh at least a hundred pounds or more. My right arm is throbbing from the effort. Most hunters have a mule or even a wooden sled to haul their kill, but my family can't afford such luxury. I'm just glad I had the foresight to bring the sheet this morning. The leopard pelt is worth a small fortune, and I'd hate to see it ruined through the simple act of carting it home. Dashing the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, I try to dispel my grief by focusing on my amazing luck today.

This has been the most productive hunting trip I've had in months — no, years. Not only did an idiotic leopard decide to attack, forcing me to kill it, but I also found a small copse containing a bed of rare violet nightshade. The leopard pelt alone will provide my family with enough silver to live on for several months; add in the nightshade and they should be set for quite a while. At least I won't have to worry about their well-being when I depart on my quest. Thoughts of a family I may never see again bring me back to the emotional precipice.

Closing my eyes, I inhale the calming fragrance of the forest: the cool aroma of oak leaves, the dank odor of moss, and the sharp tang of blood from the dead leopard. Just as I'm beginning to relax enough to return to town, a gruff voice rings out through the forest.

"Ashlyn," the male voice yells from up ahead, his form still hidden by the trees.

I recognize the voice; it belongs to Cory, the mayor's son and a major thorn in my side. He has a sadistic streak a mile wide coupled with an unnatural obsession with me. How can I deal with him right now? Perhaps if I stay quiet he'll head in the wrong direction.

Sinking to the ground, I curl up against the tree, trying to make my body as small as possible. The vegetation crunches under clumsy footsteps signaling Cory's awkward approach. It amazes me that he fancies himself a hunter. How can one hunt if they scare away any prey within a two-mile radius? The footsteps become louder and louder until I realize there will be no avoiding him this time. I suppose it's too much to ask for just a bit more luck amid my recent landslide of misfortune.

"There you are, Ashlyn," Cory says, towering over me, hands on his hips and a slight glare on his hawkish face.

He's a skinny version of his father with the same long pointy nose and the same arrogant attitude. His dark brown eyes glint in annoyance, but I continue to stare back, refusing to avert my eyes. Neither do I jump to my feet, as he no doubt feels a peasant should in the presence of a member of the aristocracy.

"Still as brash and uncouth as always I see," he says, brushing invisible dirt from his beige linen pants, while staring down at me as if I'm some disgusting insect.

"What do you want, Cory? I'm rather busy at the moment," I say in a clipped tone, trying not to show my uneasiness. Icy tendrils of dread shoot through my veins. Why would Cory seek me out in the solitary confines of the forest?

"Yes, looks like you got yourself a nice forest leopard there," he says, grimacing at the dead animal. "I'm beginning to wonder just what I see in you. If you weren't so beautiful, you wouldn't be worth my time. Why do you insist on dressing like a boy?" he asks, motioning to my worn gray leggings and navy tunic, hand-me-downs from my brother, Abel. "Without your long red hair, I'd think you were a boy from the back. Though it pains me, I have to admit, your hair is stunning."

Deep breaths help keep my emotions in check and my features schooled. Cold dread grips my heart when he begins to play with the hilt of his decorative sword. My options are limited. I can't shoot him with an arrow or stab him with my dagger, even if he attacks me. Being the mayor's son he's always been immune to any discipline no matter how egregious the transgression.

"Please move, Cory." I hide my fear behind a blank expression as I rise to my feet. "Celeste and Brinda are waiting for me. If I'm late, they'll be worried."

Perhaps the mention of my younger sisters will remind him I'll be missed if I don't return home soon. My pulse jumps as his dark eyes wander over my body, like I'm a wild mare to be captured and tamed.

"I've decided to give you the honor of a lifetime and make you mine before you leave tomorrow," he says, his brown eyes leering at me.

Before I can register his words, he springs forward, grabbing my wrist, and pulling me against his tall form. In my shock I react without thinking as four years of martial arts training take over. I stomp on his foot, followed by a knee to the stomach, and an elbow to the chest. He staggers away, but when his gaze meets mine he has a frightening sneer on his face, his dark eyes sparking in quiet fury.

"Chosen or not, you will regret striking me," he says, cracking his knuckles and taking an offensive stance. "Have you forgotten we share the same fight master? And I am three years ahead of you."

He leaps toward me throwing two punches I evade with ease. The assault continues, his strikes coming faster and faster, soon reaching a point where all I can do is block. I'm already weary from a day of hunting, and it's not long before I miss a leg sweep and fall to the ground. My head strikes a tree root. The sharp pain stuns me for a moment, then my vision begins to blur.

Lowering his body to mine, he holds my wrists over my head with just one hand while I struggle in his iron grip. He uses his body to hold me down, the weight against my chest making it difficult to draw in even the tiniest breath of air. Hateful eyes, now darkened with passion, bore into mine. The sour smell of his sweaty, unwashed body makes me gag in revulsion. He buries his free hand in my long copper hair, yanking it to force my head back.

"Please, Cory," I cry out with the small breath I'm able to pull into my lungs. "Please let me go! I don't want this! I swear I won't tell anyone… please."

His lips descend on mine in a fierce kiss, his teeth cutting my lower lip when I manage to wrench away. I try to headbutt him in the face, but he grabs another fistful of my hair, forcing his mouth back against mine in another bruising kiss.

"I believe the lady said no," a deep baritone voice rings out from beside us. "I suggest you remove yourself immediately before I'm forced to do it for you."

Cory leaps up to confront the newcomer, his face set in a vicious scowl.

"Do you have any idea who I am?" Cory snarls at the tall, auburn-haired male. "You just interfered with the wrong man. Perhaps a few days in the stockade will teach you a lesson."

Now that the monster has removed his oppressive weight, I sit up, gulping in several deep breaths of much needed air. My heart is racing, my breathing ragged, and I have to fight the urge to leap up and flee. I rub at the back of my head where it impacted the tree root, feeling the small painful knot forming beneath my hair. When my hand comes away blood-free, I breathe a tiny sigh of relief.

My eyes move to gaze at my savior, widening in appreciation of the gorgeous man. His posture is relaxed while he gazes at Cory's livid form. Only the fingers of his left hand give away his tension as they drum a light beat on the scabbard of his longsword. Dark auburn hair brushes the top of his shoulders, and unruly bangs cover part of his left eye. My breath catches when those molten orbs meet mine, a brilliant dark red, almost the same color as his hair. In all my years I've never seen red eyes before, and they're quite striking. He exudes raw masculinity from every pore making my already racing heart flutter in appreciation of the stunning male.

"Are you okay, Ashlyn?" he asks in a soft murmur while ignoring Cory.

The way my name rolls off his tongue sends tiny shivers coursing through my body. Even as I nod in response I wonder how this handsome man knows my name. I'm sure I'd remember meeting someone with his breathtaking appearance.

He pushes Cory aside with one of his broad shoulders before offering a hand to help me up. I place my hand in his, my eyes roaming up his arm, drinking in the muscled perfection of his tanned biceps as it strains the fabric of his blue short-sleeve shirt. When he pulls me up, I stumble a bit from fatigue and collide with his firm chest. He places his arm around my shoulders, holding me against his side, before returning his glare to my attacker. Though I don't know this man, I feel safe with him.

Wrapping my arms around him, I bury my face into his shoulder when my mind registers just what Cory had done. Tremors course up and down my body from horror and revulsion. The earlier shock is wearing off, and hot tears prick at my eyes. My stomach roils threatening to reject the small meal I had a short while ago.
No, no, no!
I refuse to allow Cory to see how much he scared me. I won't allow him the satisfaction. My savior strokes my left arm; the soothing motion quells my trembling, giving me the courage to face Cory without breaking down.

"I think the better question is… do you know who I am?" When Cory continues to glower at us without bothering to reply, my savior shrugs his shoulders. "Does the name Zane Elistaire mean anything to you?" Cory's eyes widen and his nostrils flare as he backs away from Zane. "If you weren't Mayor Franklin's kid, I'd beat you within an inch of your life right now." Cory turns to run away, but Zane grabs his arm before he can escape. "If I ever hear of you doing this to anyone again, it won't matter who your father is." Zane growls low in his throat before releasing Cory's arm.