FROSTFIRE: Chapter One

Hello, everyone! Lauren here with a little treat for our followers and supporters. As many of you know, Anna and I are on our fifth draft of Frostfire and are back on the hunt for an agent. If you are a fellow writer, you may or may not know the importance of an established media presence. Anna and I have been working hard this year to build up our blog, Facebook, and Instagram. But as most things in life are, progress is slow. After a little discussion, we have decided to share our polished first chapter to Frostfire. So if you’ve ever been curious to see our craft and to understand what it is you are helping support, this is it. This is our baby. We sincerely hope you enjoy it, and look forward to the day we finally find our elusive agent and get to announce a publication date. Thank you for all of your support thus far.

Chapter One

Kyran jolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. What had he… His head snapped to the shuttered window as someone screamed in terror over the clamoring cry of a bell. Kicking the quilted bed cover back, he threw the inn’s shutters out to find the village engulfed in flames. Bright orange light flared against the summer night as people scrambled from their homes into the muddy streets, panicked, fleeing in every direction, and over it all, a bell was tolling. He had to do something.

He jammed his feet into his boots, and raced out of his room and down the stairs. On the bottom floor, the inn’s other occupants huddled about the fireplace, hands clenched in fervent prayer, their eyes trained on the light. Candles were burning on nearly every horizontal surface, creamy streaks of wax running across tables and shelves. 

“What is happening?” he demanded, but they either did not hear him, or chose not to.

A scream outside cut abruptly short, and the supplicants flinched, but did not cease their prayers. Kyran looked from them to the door, but not a soul moved. He shook his head at them, muttering a curse for their cowardice, and threw open the door, breaking into a run as he left the inn.

The air stung his nostrils and throat, and he struggled not to cough as he closed on the first building where he saw a woman running away from the flames. She looked back as she ran, her eyes wide in utter terror. He started after her to ask what had happened, when another motion caught his attention, and he saw it. Whatever it was. It was hard to see backlit by the fire, but it was small, no larger than a hound, crouched upon the burning thatch as if bathing in the licking flames.

 The beast jerked on the rooftop, what must have been its head twitching sharply towards him as if scenting him. Kyran stared in blank incomprehension at the strange beast, recalling the old tales of salamanders crawling from logs after they had been placed in a fire. 

The creature threw its head back and let out an ear splitting shriek. Kyran clapped his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth against the piercing pain. The sound trailed into an excited chitter, but before he could even pull his hands from his ears, the beast launched from the rooftop. It smashed into his chest, knocking him flat onto his back, its claws biting through his shirt. He shoved at the thing, its body hard and oily like an insect, but it clung to him, digging hooked toes into his skin, its mouth opening wide to double rows of serrated bone, so close to his face he could feel its breath. 

In a flash, light traced through Kyran’s skin, pale blue lines that glowed like starlight as he let his control over the power in his blood slip just a fraction. The beast’s carapace crackled hideously under his palms, and it recoiled with a pained squeal, fire erupting from the tips of its clawed feet as it leapt off his chest, knocking him flat again. 

Beating frantically at the flames, Kyran scrambled backwards, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The beast let out another chittering yowl, charging him again, and he loosened his control even further. The lines of light beneath his skin flared to almost blinding brilliance, and the ground let out a torturous scream as the muck froze in an instant, turning to hard, slick ice beneath him. The creature balked, skittering backwards, hissing and spitting as the ice scrawled outwards from him towards it. 

He yanked his knife from his boot and brandished it towards the creature as he gained his feet, at last getting a decent look at the beast in the light cast by his blood. Its proportions were wrong for an animal, gangly, but far too alien to be a human, and it wielded fire. “Stars above,” he whispered. “What are ye?” 

It feinted towards him, and he thrust the tip of his knife forward, sending it shrinking back. It was afraid. He quashed the panicked sounds at the back of his throat with sheer will, tightening his grip of control again. It was a beast. A strange beast, but a beast no less, and he hunted beasts. 

As the light of his magic dimmed, the creature lunged, long claws reaching for his belly. He twisted out of its path, slicing at its hindquarters, his knife biting flesh. It let out a high, keening wail that sent gooseflesh rippling over Kyran’s skin as it skidded across the ice, steam hissing from the wound on its flank. He followed it, trying to mark it again, but the creature hissed and scuttled out of reach, the ice crunching as it sank its claws through the thin veneer.

“Get back!”

Kyran whipped his head around at the man’s bellow, and spotted a rider bearing down on him and the creature, the sound of its gait lost beneath the roar of the fire and the clamoring bell. The horse’s flanks were lathered and heaving, its muzzle frothing from exertion, but the rider seemed to be struggling to keep his seat, his feet bouncing, his hands too wide on the reins. He was going to go over its neck the moment it changed directions.

There was a hiss behind him, and Kyran turned again to see the beast lunging over the ice, its jaws stretched wide. 

Magic surged down his arm, lashing into the beast’s hide with another crackle of freezing flesh. The beast squealed and fell back, clawing at its face and neck, only to be engulfed a moment later by a black and crimson ball of flame that hurtled past his shoulder. The icy ground popped as the fire flashed the ice to steam, and the blast knocked the creature from its feet, sending it skidding over the ice and muck. 

Kyran’s eyes widened, his pulse nearly stopping in his chest as he whirled to see the rider, on foot now, his horse pelting away with a terrified bray. Another mage? He had never seen one before. Stars, he had started to think he was the only one.

“That ice!” the rider yelled, pulling his own dagger from his side. “Was that you?”

“What?” Kyran asked, dragging his eyes back to the beast as it began to circle, its attention switching between them.

“The ice!” the man shouted back, black fire limned with crimson dancing along the fingers of his empty hand. “You’re a mage! Is that your magic?” He thrust his hand forward, and more fire erupted from his palm, but the creature leapt out of the way, turning as it did and lunging again for Kyran, coming in low. The moment he raised his knife, though, it balked, turning its lunge aside and simply running past him. 

Kyran turned to follow it so it could not get behind him, keeping his knife raised as it continued to circle. He cut a glance at the man, at the fire he wielded so openly in front of him, and swallowed the denial on his tongue. “Aye,” he finally answered, nearly choking on the word as he admitted it aloud. 

“Watch your back,” the rider warned him, closing the gap between them and taking his side. “It’s after you.”

Kyran shot a quick glance at the man, but he couldn’t make out much before the creature made another quick scuttle towards him. As one, he and the rider thrust their hands forward, sending a blast of freezing air and black fire surging towards the beast. It leapt back, but could not entirely get clear. The rider’s fire caught the beast’s backside, setting it ablaze, and it bucked wildly, shrieking in pain before it dropped to the ground and began to roll in the mud, smothering the flames in the thick mud.

“Trap it!” the rider bellowed, circling out from Kyran’s side, obviously aiming to hem the creature between them. 

It took Kyran a second to grasp what the man was asking of him, until he saw the water gathering in the furrows the creature had gouged into the earth. The man was asking him to use his magic. 

With a cry, he thrust the tip of his knife at the monster and shoved his power through the metal towards the beast. The creature wailed in pain as frost splashed across its skin and the earth around it, enrobing it in a cocoon of frozen muck. It twitched, trying to move, to run, but it was trapped by the ice, part of its limbs frozen into the earth.

“Hold it!” the rider shouted, taking his dagger two handed and falling on the beast, driving the blade into its hide with an audible crunch. The thing screamed, its body going horribly rigid as something beneath the man’s shirt glowed with iridescent light. Then, as Kyran watched, its body began to simply fall apart, its limbs and skin, and muscle dissolving before his eyes as if consumed by some inner fire until there was nothing left, not even ash. 

The man sat back on his knees, letting out a short breath before looking up at Kyran. “Was that the only one?”

Kyran nodded, gathering his senses again, bringing his magic back to heel under his control. “Aye,” he answered, his blood dimming beneath his skin. “I dinnae see another.”

The man nodded and got to his feet, wiping his dagger on his trouser leg before sheathing it at his hip. “Good.” He looked directly at Kyran, the firelight casting deep shadows over his face, but Kyran thought he could make out that the man’s eyes were blue. “You did good with that magic.”

The compliment caught him off guard. “Ah, thank you,” he hesitantly offered in return. 

“It work on fires?”

“Aye, it does.”

“Good. We’ll get these fires under control, then…” The man flicked an eye up and down him, taking in his Isleish garb, no doubt. “You don’t live here, do you?”

Kyran gave the man a flat look. “No.”

“Let me buy you a drink then. As thanks. You know where the Drunken Wind is?”