Fire daughter, p.1
Fire Daughter, page 1
Fire Daughter
Freya Pickard
The Kaerling – Volumes Four to Six
Copyright Notice
First published in e-book format in the United Kingdom between 2019 and 2021 in three separate volumes: Olin Heon, Hidden Lands and Aura Vere
First published as an E-Boxset in the United Kingdom in 2024
Fire Daughter E-Boxset copyright © by Freya Pickard 2024
Copyright © by Freya Pickard 2024
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form whether printed or electronic other than that in which it is published.
Any resemblance to real people, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design by Jonathon B. Hoyt © 2024
Illustration used with kind permission from Stablediffusion
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Fire Daughter (The Kaerling Boxsets, #2)
Prologue
Chapter One - The Ship from the West
Chapter Two - The Seeker
Chapter Three - Undine
Chapter Four - Olin Heon
Chapter Five - Harlan Wain
Chapter Six - Erland Hawk
Chapter Seven - Sidra
Chapter Eight - Clay Mead
Chapter Nine - Yuletide
Chapter Ten - Ashes
Chapter Eleven - Secret Meeting
Chapter Twelve - Scattered Ashes
Chapter Thirteen - Journey to Ilk Orostur
Chapter Fourteen - Hale Iestyn
Chapter Fifteen - Starling
Chapter Sixteen - Whisper Down the Wild Breeze
Chapter Seventeen - Fairy Gold
Chapter Eighteen - The Land of Zorat
Chapter Nineteen - The Reacher’s Child
Chapter Twenty - Kimorka’s Message
Chapter Twenty One - Ill Met at Midnight
Chapter Twenty Two - Solstice Celebrations
Chapter Twenty Three - Taku-kevir
Chapter Twenty Four - Summer Storm
Chapter Twenty Five - House of Death
Chapter Twenty Six - The Temple
Chapter Twenty Seven - Undine’s Request
Chapter Twenty Eight - The Kaerling’s Demand
Chapter Twenty Nine - The Kaerling
Chapter Thirty - The Silver Dagger
Chapter Thirty One - Nightmare
Chapter Thirty Two - Alliance
Epilogue
for Elisa, Jane & Jeff
Volume Four
Olin Heon
Year of the Dragon
Leaf Fall to Yuletide
huntress searches spoor
she matches the herd's swift speed
arrow strikes quarry
Prologue
He could not remember the place in his waking hours. Only at night did the images return. He was not aware of ever seeing with his own eyes the scene of devastation but he had been brought up on the tales by those who guarded him. Even as the ruined houses and blackened stones came into view, he smiled, remembering the brief visits of the priest who had rescued him. As he began to walk the ash filled pathways he struggled to recall the elderly man’s name. The man who had found him alive in the midst of death and destruction, hearing the baby’s cry echoing in the empty ruins, was the only man, except for his current master, that Ashlar Slate respected.
Starling, that was his name. For a few years, while he grew as a boy, the priest would visit yearly and then, without warning or any explanation, the visits ceased. Memories of the lean priest vanished as Ashlar gazed around his dream world. This was his home, destroyed by brigands many years ago. He knew which shell was his house, it was the one with the chimney partially intact and the battered lean-to at the side. If the wind had been blowing in the opposite direction, he would have died. The tales he had been told suggested that a sudden deluge in the middle of the dark autumnal night extinguished the fire that consumed the village, before it reached the lean-to where, for some reason, Ashlar’s parents had left him.
Behind him an owl screeched, as if bemoaning the fact that an entire village had been wiped out in one night. The smell of damp ash filled his nostrils and he felt his throat constrict. He knew what the place looked like in reality. He had found the traces of his ancestral home years ago, just before he took service with his current employer. The only clue as to the presence of the village was a faint track leading off the main trail between two smallish towns. You had to know what you were looking for and when he had found the ancient stones, still black from the fire, the place was overgrown with weed and tree. It did not look like this any longer. Only in his dreams did the ash remain and the stark burnt buildings rise like phantoms from the greenery ...
Ashlar woke, trembling, his heart pounding. By the door Karah stirred, whining. He buried his face in his hands, feeling cold sweat bathing his body. Why did he have to dream this memory? The bitch’s claws clicked on the flagstone floor and she whined again. He looked up, seeing only darkness. Two paws landed on the bed and Karah sprang up to sit beside her master. Gratefully he hugged the lean, muscly body, inhaling her peculiar scent. She grumbled at him, sensing he was upset. Gradually the dream receded and the sweat dried on his skin. Shivering, he lay down, pulling the silk sheets and woollen blankets up to his ears. The bed frame creaked as Karah lay down next to him, her head on his shoulder.
The bitch huffed at him and he wrinkled his nose at her meaty breath. He scratched her prominent brow with his left hand and she grumbled again softly. With Karah beside him, the darkness did not seem so forbidding, even though he knew the darkness could not harm him. He used the darkness to carry out his trade. Assassination was easier at night, when his victims were at their most vulnerable. But even an assassin, it seemed, could have nightmares.
He wondered if enforced inactivity was the cause of his bad dreams. Perhaps the rich food he had eaten at the King’s table that evening had played havoc with his digestion and caused the nightmares. As sleep beckoned once again he wondered how long he would be required to stay at Court this time...
Chapter One - The Ship from the West
Lored stared out over the sea wall at the ship tacking into harbour. It was silhouetted against the low sun so he could not make out any colour or design on the strange-looking sails. He continued watching and noticed that a runner was sent from the harbour master’s cave towards the main part of the city. He breathed in the salt air, tasting the briny tang on his lips and feeling his robes flap around his ankles. The hot wind did little to dry the sweat on his forehead. He resisted the temptation to look behind him and see if the klanchiefs’ meeting had concluded. Surely soon they would send someone to tell him what agreement had been made.
He started walking, swinging his staff backwards and forwards, tapping it on the granite walkway behind the sea wall. He briefly touched the source of his power, enjoying the sudden rush of energy across his skin. Reluctantly he let it go. Still the ship tacked in, making slow but sure progress. The wind that ruffled Lored’s robes blew off the land as it always did at sunset. He reckoned it would be dark before the ship weighed anchor. Heading away from the harbour master’s cave, he followed the curve of the wall up to the tower carved out of the island’s granite bones. He strode briskly, not really using his staff as an aid. His right hand clasped the smooth oak pole firmly. When he reached the base of the tower he was slightly out of breath and paused, looking around again.
The ship from the west still inched her way into the wind. From this vantage point Lored could now see that the sails were square and red, not pale and triangular as they were from his homeland. The people aboard appeared as black ants and he could not tell what race they were. The sun hovered above the horizon. Lored missed the fire slashed sunsets of the southern hemisphere. In a few moments the sun would vanish and the hot, humid night would descend upon the island. He sighed and turned his gaze to the city.
It was not a city as Lored knew cities to be. In his homeland to the south, cities were fair or squalid, built with bricks and mortar, with some buildings rising two or three storeys high. The island was one large granite rock and Yrjo's inhabitants dwelt underground. All that could be seen from Lored's vantage point were numerous holes leading to air vents, light shafts and internal staircases.
A solitary figure emerged from the westernmost exit with a large sack over one shoulder. Lored narrowed his eyes. The figure was taller than the other inhabitants of the island and he thought it might be the blut-dilut who had so recently returned with the documents Lored had been ordered to bring back to Falna. He watched the figure stomp along the road that led to the harbour and speak a moment with the master. Other figures issued from the western exit bearing torches. Lored caught sight of a green robe and his heart beat faster with expectation. Surely that was Antti the Kansler come to tell him the klanchiefs’ agreement.
As he hurried back down the path, the sun disappeared and darkness swooped across the island. With a murmured word, Lored caused a faint light to glow from the carved merlin’s head at the top of his staff. He drew near the main roadway and wondered why the Kansler had brought so many soldiers with him. He smiled in welcome at his friend. Antti did not smile back and unease stirr ed in Lored’s stomach.
“You have news for me?” Lored came to a halt before the Kansler and the soldiers.
There was genuine regret in Antti’s heavy-browed eyes. “I am placing you under arrest, Lored, taku-kevir of Falnaboldu. Until further notice, you will remain in the holding cells.”
The Kansler gestured with one large gnarled hand and the soldier nearest to Lored seized him by the shoulders. The man was so taken aback that speech failed him as another soldier snatched the staff from his hands. The glowing light from the merlin’s head vanished at once and the soldier shivered.
“Come!” The Kansler turned on his heel and led Lored and the soldiers towards the western exit.
Lored felt a surge of panic as they forced him down the steps into the fetid tunnels of the city. Darkness seemed to seep into his lungs, freezing his mind, weighing down his heart. They took him along carven passages he had not known existed until they reached the holding cells.
“An empty one.” The Kansler ordered the bent old warder whose wispy white hair and beard gleamed in the torchlight. “After all, he is an ambassador.”
The soldiers’ rough hands pushed him into a cell and Lored stumbled over the hem of his robe. Flinging out his hands he encountered smooth granite walls. The key turned in the lock on the door behind him and he righted himself.
“Antti!” He found his voice at last. “What is the meaning of this?”
The Kansler walked away and Lored pressed himself against the barred door.
“Antti!” Lored called again. “I’m an ambassador! I have diplomatic immunity! The head of my order, Wyn Farrow himself sent me here.”
The Kansler turned and gazed at Lored with pity.
“At least tell me why I have been locked up!” Lored pleaded with him. “To my knowledge I have done nothing wrong.”
Antti’s face was impassive but the dark eyes burned with simmering anger and fear. He looked as though he was about to say something but set his jaw and turned on his heel.
“Antti!”
“You keep quiet.” The warder growled. “Else you get no food or water.”
Lored stared at the creased, ugly face for a moment and then turned away. If he had his staff he would be out of the cell in a moment. Panic rose again, increasing his heart rate, tightening his chest. Without his staff he could not channel his powers. Without his powers he was as defenceless as an ordinary man, only able to work the smallest of magics. He breathed in deeply smelling urine and soiled bedding from the cells next to him. There was however an air flow, which lessened the heavy humidity a little. The soldiers had taken the torches away with them and the old warder did not seem to need light as he made his rounds. A plate of hard bread and a bowl of tepid water were slipped through a small grill that opened independently of the cell door. Lored could not eat though he drank some of the water.
As his eyes grew used to the darkness he discovered that the cells had high ceilings. He wondered if this was deliberate, to keep the inmates quiet, as most of the inhabitants of Yrjo had a fear of open spaces. He was glad of the height of his cell, for despite the stench, the air was fresher than it was in the guest quarters. He sat down on the hard granite floor with his back against the wall so he could see through the barred door. Sighing he ran a hand over his cropped head. What was he going to do?
TIME PASSED SLOWLY. Or perhaps time did not pass at all here in the darkness. There was one light, a small lantern the old warder hung at the entrance to the tunnel that led away from the cells. Lored watched him, noticing how he used his hands to feel where things were. Slowly the taku-kevir realised that the warder was blind. He did not need light and he could not see that he was working in an open space therefore he did not suffer from the fear that cursed his brethren. Lored was wondering how he could use this to his advantage when a figure blocked out the lantern’s light.
The warder turned towards the tunnel entrance instinctively. “Who goes there?” he demanded in Yrjo’s hard-as-rock language.
“Nilo,” replied the hulking silhouette. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
Lored heard an accent he did not recognise. Although he could not speak the Yrjo tongue, he could understand most of what was being said.
“Why? Where you going?” The warder stomped over to his visitor.
“Been told to leave, haven’t I?” The figure held out a bottle. “You want some of this?”
“If you’re leaving, it’s the last I’ll get, isn’t it?” The warder ungraciously snatched the bottle and raised it to his lips.
“Don’t drink it all in one go, old boy.” Nilo’s voice sounded amused. “It’s strong.”
The warder snorted and took several long swigs of the contents of the bottle. Lored saw him lurch and Nilo expertly caught both bottle and warder.
“I warned you.” Nilo laid the warder gently on the floor and poured the rest of the bottle’s contents over the leather garments. “But this will get you off lightly, I hope. Not that they can do anything worse to you than they’ve already done.”
The figure rose to his feet. “Taku-kevir?” he called, switching to Common. “Which cell are you in?”
Nilo wasn’t a kimder, Lored realised.
“I’m here.” He rose to his feet and shook the bars of his door, wondering who Nilo was.
The figure stooped down and took a bunch of keys from the warder’s belt. Lored backed away from the barred door, feeling nervous without the protection of his staff. Nilo inserted a key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open and Lored cautiously stepped out of his cell.
“I’m not going to eat you,” Nilo said gruffly. “I’m getting you out of here.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be ungrateful.” Lored hesitated. “But who are you and why are you rescuing me?”
“Long story,” replied the other. “I’ll explain when we’re safe. We’ve got to get to the upper levels in time to avoid the klanchiefs’ procession.”
“Procession?”
“Come on!” A large hand with an iron-like grip fastened onto the taku-kevir’s left arm.
“But we need to look for my staff,” Lored protested. “I can’t leave without it!”
“Got it already.” Nilo growled. “Along with your book and clothes and spare boots. But I couldn’t find your cloak of invisibility.”
They were marching quickly along the passageway, Lored almost running to keep up with Nilo.
“I don’t have a cloak of invisibility,” he panted.
“That explains why I couldn’t find it then. Up here!”
The stairway was steep and twisting and precluded any conversation. Nilo had let go of Lored’s arm but made sure he kept up by hanging on to the man’s wrist. Lored was feeling confused and panicky again. His heart was beating so fast with the climb and the humidity, that there was nothing he could do to calm down. At length they reached a wide tunnel that sloped upwards. Lored could smell fresher air but Nilo dragged him to one side and opened a wooden door.
“In here and don’t say a word.”
Lored stumbled over something long and thin and then fell against a soft bundle.
“Quiet!” Nilo hissed and closed the door.
Darkness covered them and outside came the steady thump-thump of kimderin marching in unison. Lored remained motionless and said nothing. There was one voice outside that repeated a phrase over and over again. They seemed to take forever to pass by but at last silence fell.
“We’ll give them time to reach the harbour.” Nilo said quietly. “Then we’ll get out of here.”
“What was that chant?” Lored wanted to know.
“The gods are coming, the gods are here,” replied the other shortly.
“What does that mean?”
“Bad news for all of us.”
Lored inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. His heart rate had nearly returned to normal. “Please can you explain what’s happening?”
Nilo sniffed. “The kaerlings are here to make a treaty with the klanchiefs.”
“The kaerlings? I thought they were just a myth made up by the people of the northern lands.”
“The kaerlings exist.” Nilo growled. “They’ve been around for years.”
“How do you know?”
