Author's Preface
Solana: I have heard that somewhere. What is the Briogan?
Aisling: She’s a fire spirit.
Solana: She…is…a fire spirit. Presently?
Aisling: Aye, my people worship her to this day.
Solana: Okay, and this Briogan is the link to Fletcher’s sprite?
Aisling: Definitely. Oh this is quite fun. Ordinarily this would be a little tidbit I leave for the Footnote Finders, but this time I get to tell the world. Fuckin’ wild. Oh, I’m sorry. Can I curse?
Merkra: You’re fine.
Aisling: Anyway, Fletcher Sterling Lightfoot was something of a folk hero to my people. When he was a young man, still at that bard college, he got absolutely pissed one night and wandered out into Clorah Coil. The people there just call it the Mistwood, I think. Big forest. Covers most of the southern part of Ashoria. Turns out though, the forest was a prison for an ancient fire spirit. There’s some debate amongst the previous Voices exactly how Fletch did it, but he freed her. She came back to tell us the tale.
What was that?
He wasn’t supposed to act like that. Fletcher was arrogant, forward, and inappropriate.
Not thoughtful.
Not respectful.
Not now.
Not while she was being hunted.
She walked him to the ramp when they docked, but didn’t say a word. Her pursuer was on board. She could feel his slimy presence crawling on her skin, waiting. Fletcher looked back over his shoulder at her when his feet set on solid ground, a soft, completely unnecessary smile on his lips. She felt the urge to roll her eyes, but they refused. Instead, she just stared at him, unflinching as he disappeared into the crowd.
She pulled up the ramp herself, not letting anyone else off the ship. He could have jumped off the side, but she’d have heard that. No, Gregor was still here.
“Set off.” She commanded the captain before he could question her. “There’s a rat aboard, and I don’t intend to let it scurry off.”
Catching Gregor while he was essentially invisible wouldn’t be simple, but assuming he didn’t throw himself overboard, she was going to do it. Once the ship drifted clear of the docks, she moved to survey the deck.
“I know you’re here.” Atania pulled Ember from its sheath and spun it in her hand. “Don’t make me find you the hard way.”
“Do I need to be concerned? Is someone on my…”
Atania silenced the captain with a raised finger. “The only thing you need to be concerned about right now is distracting me. He’s after me. Just stay out of the way.”
Though the captain was likely an innocent bystander, the distraction did exactly what she feared. Her only cue that the saurien had come out of his invisibility behind her was the tiny pinprick white irises expanding slightly as his eyebrows rose.
Atania lurched to the side, narrowly avoiding the wispy white flash of one of Gregor’s ghost daggers. She’d watched those weapons pass through the toughest of armors, leaving their wearers dead without a scratch on them. Her nostrils twitched, eyes narrowed, and she leaped at him.
Gregor was not a bad fighter and his weapons were truly terrifying, but without the element of surprise he had no chance against someone like her. And he knew it. He backpedaled as Atania advanced, swinging his blades wildly to keep her away. Sailors scattered out of their way, and the moment Atania saw the slightest opening she leapt. His flailing arms faltered for just a moment, and she slipped between the swings.
She tackled the Gregor to the deck, sat on his midsection, and after a brief struggle, grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wood.
“Put them away!” She snarled at him.
He hissed at her, tongue flicking in her face, but did not dismiss the daggers clenched between his fingers. Atania brought her forehead down onto his snout. Her head spun, black spots mixing with flares of bursting light flooded her vision, but she brought her head down again.
And again.
Again.
Until he stopped struggling beneath her, and his hands opened. The ghostly white blades evaporating into the air.
“I need rope!” Her voice cut through the silent deck. The deviltouched that worked on these vessels weren’t soldiers. Their gifts weren’t suited for combat. The most action they probably saw was drunken squabbles.
“Rope! Now!”
She glanced around. A sailor snapped out of the stupor they all seemed succumbed to and brought her a length of coiled rope. She flipped Gregor onto his stomach and tied his wrists to his ankles, making sure to run a line across his palms so he couldn’t close his hands and summon the daggers again.
Only then did she scoot to rest against the guardrail to which he’d almost escaped. Catching her breath, she ignored the looks she was getting and her pulse that thundered through her ears.
He’d tried to kill her.
If he could summon those blades while he was invisible, he would have.
When push came to shove, Gregor was nothing but a sniveling peon. No, this was Penelope. It had always been an idle threat, but now she was acting on it.
Gregor came to a few minutes later, struggled against the ropes, tried to close his hands, then gave up.
“Don’t suppose you know why Penelope sent you after me?” Atania asked, watching his vibrant green eyes vanish behind double eyelids. “Mhmm… Thought so.”
He wouldn’t say anything. If nothing else, he was a loyal lapdog. This, however, was a problem. Penelope’s only oversight was the king and Father. She couldn’t take this to Father without Yasha in tow. Penelope was sleeping with the King, so as much favor as she might have with him, it was unlikely to override the hole his dick fell into.
“Have y-you figure out how s-screwed you are yet?” Gregor’s voice eked out.
Atania stood up, rolled her shoulders for a moment, then kicked Gregor as hard as she could in his exposed ribs. Air shunted from his lungs as he groaned in pain, and they spent the remainder of the trip across the strait with her boot planted in his back. Every time his labored breaths got a little too loud, she pushed down a little harder.
Hefting Gregor up onto her shoulder, Atania disembarked the ship and headed for the castle. The confused looks she drew walking through the port town and the courtyards didn’t stop her. She climbed the stairs with purpose until she got to Penelope’s quarters and brought her boot up to kick the door in. Wood splintered at the hinges as it swung open, garnering a shriek from Yasha who sat in the far corner reading a book.
“That’s unexpected.” Penelope cocked her head.
Atania dropped the saurien unceremoniously in the doorway, eyes locked on the wild redheaded halfling who was wrapped up in a blanket sipping a mug of some steaming beverage.
“You want to explain why your lackey is trying to kill me?” Atania snapped, delivering another violent kick to Gregor’s gut.
“Gregor?” Yasha stood up in the back, moving toward the table Penelope sat at to get a closer look. “Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine, Yasha. Atania won’t cause any permanent damage.” Penelope patted the little girls hand before looking back at Atania. “I’m a bit insulted. You think If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t do it myself?”
Atania’s jaw clenched and a thin smile crossed her lips as she nodded. “So you’re going to claim you didn’t send him after me?”
“No, I did.” Penelope stood, dropping the fine blanket on the chair behind her and strolled over. “He was supposed to follow you, seems we are getting a little overzealous.” She knelt down and tested the ropes with her fingers. “Could you do me a kindness and cut him free?” She grinned up at Atania.
“Go fuck yourself.” Atania stared down into the swirling orange and red eyes. “I’ve decided I’m not going to do as Father says.” The words burnt as they came out, but once they were free, she didn’t want them back. She glanced up at the girl, who looked far more concerned than she should have been over the saurien. “Sending her from one hell to another isn’t fair to her.”
Merkra: Okay, I know we’re talking about Atania right now, but I need to go back. This means you already know what’s going to happen here? Like the full story?
Aisling: Ehhh…to a point. See, my people were in a war with the Crown way before Fletcher Lightfoot came along. Vilrut would send his troops out into the Wildlands and capture the magical beasts that roamed the land. Pull them out of their natural habitats and put them on display like art pieces, or worse, sometimes have his soldiers fight them for people’s entertainment. My ancestors weren’t very fond of that.
Solana: I imagine not.
Aisling: Yeah, and old school druid? Way less chill than we are now. We’re talking folks that would shift into rimeclaws just to rip a soldier’s face off. Brew an electrical storm to set fire to an entire battalion. That being said though, to your original question, I know parts of what is going to happen. The Forest Walkers of that day were famously reclusive. So the bits that I know mostly have to do with Fletcher. I’d prefer not to spoil that bit for you.
Merkra: Yeah, no worries. We’ll get to it. Before that, we have a word from our sponsors over at Dragon’s Hoard…
Waves battered against the rocky cliffs below, spraying the castle walls with foam and vegetation. The last time they’d relegated Atania to wall duty, she must have been a teen. Nights like this, when the stress and weight of everything had become too much, she missed it. Staring up at the moon, quiet conversations with her brother, the smell of the sea, but most of all the constant crash of waves.
There was no room for her to relax tonight, though. Penelope had shown her hand, and backing down from taking Yasha to Father wasn’t likely to put her murderous intent to bed. Nowhere was safe. If she hadn’t put a beating on Gregor just an hour ago, she wouldn’t even feel safe here.
Atania crossed her arms, resting her chin on her forearm as she stared out at the water between two battlements. Maybe she could run. There were whispers of smugglers. People that could get you out of Etos. Maybe she could find Lady Dawnflare. Try to join her guard.
There was a soft tug at her tunic.
“Miss Atania?”
A shiver went down her spine, and she nearly reached for her dagger…before the voice registered in her mind. How she hadn’t heard the little girl approach was beyond her, but standing at her side, frown on her lips, was Yasha staring up at her.
“What are you doing out here, honey? You’re going to get in trouble.”
“I sneak out all the time.” Yasha shrugged. “No one ever catches me.”
Atania chuckled and looked back and forth along the walk. No one was out here but them, so what harm could it do?
“Were you looking for me?”
Yasha nodded and leaned against the wall next to her. “Why did you hurt Mr. Gregor?”
Atania pursed her lips. “He tried to hurt me,” she said, tugging softly at the curls on the back of her neck. “I was defending myself.”
“Like we did against the dragons?”
“Exactly.” Atania slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. Yasha rested her head against her hip, a horn digging into her hipbone, but it was surprisingly comforting. A strange warm sensation filled her core.
“Did Penelope tell him to try to hurt you?” Yasha eyes fell to the floor. “I know she said she didn’t, but I think she lied.”
“I think she lied, too.” Atania swallowed slightly and rubbed the girl’s shoulder with her thumb. “Penelope doesn’t like me very much.”
“I know.” Yasha whispered. “She calls you a lot of nasty names when she thinks I’m not listening. I think you’re nice, though.”
She chuckled softly and shook her head. “I don’t doubt that, but you shouldn’t be worried about it. No one is going to hurt you.”
Yasha looked up at her, violet eyes misty with tears she was doing her best to hold back. “Are you lying?”
Atania knelt down and brought a calloused thumb along the girl’s cheek to wipe away a tear. She forced as genuine a smile as she could and shook her head.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”