Valley of Embers (The Landkist Saga Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: A Good Scar

  Chapter Two: Sages and Ember Kings

  Chapter Three: Starlit Hunt

  Chaper Four: Dreams and Portents

  Chapter Five: Burden of Leadership

  Chapter Six: Down Among the Roots

  Chapter Seven: Green Door

  Chapter Eight: Steady Breathing

  Chapter Nine: High and Low

  Chapter Ten: Storm Clouds

  Chapter Eleven: Live

  Chapter Twelve: The Walking Fire

  Chapter Thirteen: Ant Hill

  Chapter Fourteen: The Cave

  Chapter Fifteen: Two Pair

  Chapter Sixteen: Endurance

  Chapter Seventeen: Duel Natures

  Chapter Eighteen: Hunters Hunted

  Chapter Nineteen: Firefly

  Chapter Twenty: Power

  Chapter Twenty-one: The River F'Rust

  Chapter Twenty-two: A Cold Hearth

  Chapter Twenty-three: The Fires of Hate

  Chapter Twenty-four: A Light in the Dark

  Chapter Twenty-five: Rock and Reed

  Chapter Twenty-six: Drums in the Deep

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Sisters

  Chapter Twenty-eight: The Worm

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Numbers Game

  Chapter Thirty: Deephome

  Chapter Thirty-one: Field of Suns

  Chapter Thirty-two: Blood from Stones

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Reckoning

  Chapter Thirty-four: The Dark Hearts

  Chapter Thirty-five: The Breaking

  Chapter Thirty-six: Field of Wind and Fire

  Chapter Thirty-seven: Legacy of the Flame

  Chapter Thirty-eight: Dead and Born

  Chapter Thirty-nine: Ashes

  About the Author

  Valley of Embers

  Copyright © 2016 by Steven Kelliher

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  For David, for showing me that reading is pretty great. Also dragons. Those are great too.

  For Mom and Dad, for believing I could do anything.

  For Krysten, for being my light in the dark.

  Kole was as calm as he could be, waiting on the edge of nightmare.

  The tiniest sliver of orange and gold could just be seen peeking up through the depths as the sun fought to carve out a horizon. He watched from his perch on the roof as the distant disc turned pale and dissolved into the waves, leaving nothing but its trailing rays to light the gloomy ridges that ringed Last Lake.

  Dark as it might be, the presence of any sort of light was a comfort as the Dark Months neared their end. Soon enough, Kole knew, the sliver would become a crest that would rise over white-capped waves, and soon after that, the sun would grow by half on its way to a perfect whole. The Valley would know peace for another season, its protectors respite, however temporary.

  “You’d think you were willing it to rise, the way you stare.”

  Kole looked down to see Linn latching the door to the house she shared with her sister. She laced up her boots and stretched, sinews casting shadows along the skin of her shoulders and back.

  “Rises higher each day,” Kole said. He put some heat into his legs and hopped down, landing light as a feather despite the two-story drop to the road below.

  “Might be something to it, then,” Linn said with a wink.

  “Might be,” Kole said. “Though, if any eyes in the Valley could compel something grand as the sun, I’d guess them to be yours.”

  “So serious,” Linn said, looping a bow that stood as tall as her around her back. “Shall we?”

  Linn moved off toward the north, Kole following with a resigned sigh.

  “Nothing ever comes of these meetings,” he complained.

  “No,” Linn agreed.

  “Then why does Tu’Ren insist?”

  “The First Keeper may be the only man in the Valley more serious about his duties than you.”

  “The Dark Kind will come as they always do,” Kole said. “And we’ll beat them back, as we always do.”

  “Plenty to be said about keeping to a routine.”

  “Not all of it good.”

  Linn shrugged.

  “I’d imagine the meetings are less about you Embers and more about keeping the rest of us vigilant,” she said after a time, and Kole did not argue. He knew the folk of Last Lake considered the Embers their true protectors. The flame-wielding Landkist of the Valley certainly did their share against the horrors of the night, but so, too, did warriors like Linn Ve’Ran. Kole would put her at his back before any other, Ember or not.

  Kole still remembered the terror he had felt upon first contact with the Dark Kind. How strange, that such things could become rote.

  The Emberfolk had lost many in that first year, but it had been some time since they had lost any. Kole was determined to keep it that way.

  The streets turned from dirt to gravel the further they got from the shore. They walked uphill, passing around the choked alleys of the market, which was already bustling, and set a path toward the gate. Kole could see the timbers frame the gray horizon to the north.

  The cozy homes along the southern bowl gave way to plainer buildings as the ground leveled off. They passed the kennels and Kole made a mental note to bring a carrot for Shifa on his way back. The armory loomed to their left and the gatehouse straight ahead. A young man with light hair turned to regard them as he ushered a young woman inside.

  “Always putting on a show,” Linn said under her breath as she waved to Jenk Ganmeer. Kole did not know why she held such disdain for the Ember. Then again, he did not count Jenk among his favorites or his friends. Still, he was good with the flame. When you stood against the creatures they did, that was enough to make a relationship worthwhile.

  Jenk held the door open for them and Kole nodded to him as he stole into the cramped quarters.

  The gathering was all here: the Ember Keepers and non-Landkist besides, all of them chief defenders of Last Lake. First Keeper Tu’Ren busied himself over the kindling in the stone hearth as the rest watched, Kaya Ferrahl shaking her head with a sigh and earning a sharp glare from Second Keeper Larren Holspahr, who rested alongside his spear against the far window. Jenk closed the door behind him and sidled up next to Kaya, while Taei and Fihn Kane stood with arms crossed, the former looking aloof, the latter annoyed.

  Once Tu’Ren had the pine arranged to his liking, he set to striking the flint, blowing softly to coax the sparks to life. Kole watched in silent fascination. The rest of the Embers present—himself included—would have used the fire in their blood to ignite the blaze. But Tu’Ren Kadeh always built his fires the old way. It said something about the man. Exactly what, Kole was not one for guessing.

  With the flames licking eagerly at the white wood, Tu’Ren stood and turned to regard them.

  “We’ve had reports from the Runners.”

  “How many this time?” Kaya asked.

  “Many, I’d guess,” Larren put in. “Always is this time of year.”

  Tu’Ren turned his eyes on Kole.

  “That’s just the thing. There’s no sign of the Dark Kind. None. Karin doesn’t like it. And if he doesn’t like a thing, I certainly don’t.”

  Kole swallowed. His father was First Runner of Last Lake for a reason. If he could not get a be
ad on the movements of the Dark Kind, no one could.

  “Maybe we burned them out on the last attack,” Jenk offered. He snapped, calling up a small flame between thumb and forefinger that had Linn scoffing.

  “Can’t burn the Dark Kind out,” she said. “Not all of them.”

  “They always come hardest before the Bright Days,” Kole said. “Maybe they’re trying for Hearth?”

  Tu’Ren shrugged.

  “Our timber walls are easier prey than the stone of our cousins to the north.”

  “So,” Fihn put in, “what are we on about, then? Either they come or they do not.” She shot a withering look at Jenk, who doused his flame. “If they do, I’d suggest you save your precious fire, Ember.”

  Kaya did the bristling for Jenk, who merely laughed off the insult. Taei smirked at his sister’s slight. It was one of the great ironies, that he had been Landkist when Fihn had not. What fire she lacked in her blood she more than made up for in disposition.

  “Now, then,” Tu’Ren said, drawing them back in. “Could be nothing. Could be something trying to look like nothing. Never any harm in being prepared. Larren?”

  The Second Keeper took the floor, and even those among them that had arrived slouched and grumbling perked up as he went over the formations.

  Kole woke to the steady beat of drums. The booming percussions were amplified by the timber walls of his home, acquiring a wavering quality as they crept in through thatch and shingle.

  He went first to his leather armor, which soaked in oil water. He looped an Ash bow over his back, strapped on his water skin and drew his blades. The Everwood knives were black with old char.

  When he opened the door, the steady bass of drums cleared, their sharp retorts ringing and now intermingled with the baying of the wall hounds. Kole picked out the steady baritone of the First Keeper as he issued orders in a staccato rhythm at odds with the chaos of the night, the rain adding its own crescendo to the familiar proceedings.

  A small slope of packed earth separated Kole’s quarters from the front gate. As he moved off, boots finding purchase difficult in the muck, he heard panic issuing from the merchant sector. He knew there was no such sound further south, where the children would be ushered into the Long Hall.

  Everyone, it seemed, was heading south, toward the Shore of Last Lake. They sought the armor provided by moving away from something.

  The walls rose before him, the timbers bathed in the red-orange glow of flame. Kole took the steps to the gate two at a time. He scanned the curving arch, picking out the intermittent stone braziers that glowed along its length. The rest of the defenders were scrambling up their steps and getting into position, the Keepers settling next to their braziers. Kole closed his eyes and felt the heat tickle his blood as his own brazier thrummed.

  He surveyed the earth before the walls. Brown water pooled in shallow depressions, slick canvases that acted as natural complements to the drums that were only now quieting their complaints, something the hounds were less inclined to do.

  He eyed the tree line. On a hot morning, he could bury a stone in the nearest clearing with a strong throw. Tonight was cool bordering on cold. Kole quickened his heart and set his blood to boil, feeling the heat coursing through his veins, the hafts of the blades across his back glowing a dull red in anticipation.

  The moon was no ally tonight. The Dark Months might be tailing off, but it was small comfort. One could almost feel the World Apart brushing by, whispering its promises and issuing its soft challenges. Kole did not listen.

  “You look worried.”

  Kole looked to his left. Across the breach before the gate, Linn regarded him coolly, a faint smirk tugging the corner of her mouth.

  “Finished tucking your sister in?”

  “You know her,” Linn said, turning her attention to the trees. “She always has to make sure everyone’s in their place, from the elders right down to the fauns.”

  “Somebody has to,” Kole said.

  “I suppose.”

  Kole nodded, but both kept their eyes locked on the shadows beneath the trees.

  “See anything?”

  “Everything,” Linn said as she scanned. “Which is to say, nothing.”

  Two scamps were along in short order—boys not yet used to shaving the stubble that sprouted haphazardly along their chins. They carried a black cauldron stocked with flaming pitch between two poles, depositing it next to Linn. Beside it they placed a bundle of arrows whose ends had been wrapped in birch and sealed with wax.

  Linn nodded her thanks without turning and the boys hopped off the archer’s platform, picking their way eagerly among the moss-covered stones that trickled toward the lakeshore.

  Kole did not begrudge them their flight.

  Something was off. His father had yet to return from his weeks-long ranging, and Kole was beginning to wonder if Tu’Ren’s fears were well placed. Kole trusted his gut, but he trusted Linn’s eyesight more. He watched her—she was still as stone—as often as he watched the shadows between the trunks of the trees.

  The shouted orders of the First Keeper faded away, Tu’Ren’s voice going out in a wisp. Everyone was in position, and Kole rested a palm on his brazier, the heat flowing into him with a welcome shock that set his skin to steam in the drizzle. The other Embers along the wall were calm as mantises, with the archers and spear-wielders in between watchful and ready.

  Kole caught a flash of movement to his left—Linn’s bow shifting in her hands fast as thought. She had a steely look, and Kole dropped his own bow from his shoulders and snatched a shaft from the pitch on his platform, lighting the end with a burst from his palm. He drew the string half-taught, feeling each feather slide along the grooves of his fingers.

  He took it for a trick of the light at first. Here was a shadow that grew shallow before deepening once more, and there a flicker of jet black between a copse of trees.

  “There.”

  Kole looked as Linn rolled her shoulders back and drew.

  At first, it looked like a great pack of worms, or a giant’s hand made only of rotted fingers, fat and questing. The tentacles reached out fast as centipedes, hissed in the ruddy torchlight and withdrew for a breath, drenching the trees in an inky stillness.

  Usually it was a ‘They’ come bursting out of the forest—a roiling mass of spiked tails and barbed tongues lashing in the wavering light, leaping and slithering toward the walls. This time was different.

  Now it was a singular thing—a mass of purple darkness, like a coil of snakes that move as one body. Its great arms ended in jagged claws, which raked earth, grass and stone with its passing. Roots cracked under its mass and the demon poured itself out from the trees, the horror lit by flickering torchlight.

  Linn squinted against the torches at her periphery and let fly. Her aim was true and the shaft pierced the beast’s head, which shifted chaotically on impact, the mass of squealing serpents attacking the flaming arrow like an infection.

  The beast roared throatily, and the wall hounds renewed their baying, iron will covering their nerves.

  Tu’Ren took up the call, and Linn had already sunk two more burning shafts into the creature when Kole found his range. Other shafts arced up from the yard behind the gate, the wind of their passing teasing the hair on the nape of Kole’s neck. All along the wall, volleys flew, finding their mark and doing little to stop the demon’s momentum.

  It was like a titan of nightmare, a god of the forest—a Night Lord from the World Apart, whose like had only been seen once before in the life of the Valley. That was a creature against which only Creyath Mit’Ahn, Ember of Hearth, had stood his ground, and Kole was not he.

  Great forelegs curled into apelike fists, pounded the sloshing earth as bowed hind legs propelled it with lurching strides. And it headed right for the gate on which Kole and Linn stood.

  “We need to steer it away,” Linn said, voice steady as she loosed another shaft. Her lips formed a tight line.

  Kole
dropped his bow and drew the Everwood blades from the sheath strapped across his back.

  “Taei!” Kole yelled, and the other Ember turned to regard him from his own brazier further down the line. “We need Tu’Ren!”

  “I think he’s occupied elsewhere,” Taei said. He was a matter-of-fact sort of fellow, and Kole was just now noticing the facts.

  The din of pitched battle echoed on all sides as the Dark Kind they had expected issued forth like a frothing river. It started first on the right flank, where First Keeper Tu’Ren was stationed alongside Jenk. The hounds were already up and over the walls there, their quick strides leading the swarm on circular routes between wall and wood as the archers picked their marks.

  On the left, Larren gave his own commands in his measured way, his spear tip glowing amber as he drained the fire from his brazier with the opposite palm. A pack of Dark Kind was already scrambling up the walls there, and the warriors around him dropped bows in favor of blades.

  All around, men and women fought for every inch, throwing back the creatures with steel, flaming shaft and—in the case of a select few—Everwood blades burning bright as dawn, spraying their glowing arcs across the night.

  Kole had never seen this many at once.

  He sent his own sabers into a spin, feeling the familiar warmth coursing through his veins as he concentrated on the brazier that crackled beside him. Light flared and his blades ignited in a shower of sparks that had Linn cursing beside him as her latest shaft veered off the mark.

  “Kole,” she said, drawing out his name in an uneasy warning as Dark Kind found their holds in the timbers of the gate and started their climb. The great black beast roared and beat its chest, the worms that were its skin charred and flaking around the burning arrows flecking its hide.

  The beast came on again, and it was very close now.

  “Kole!”

  He left a smoking black stump where the first clawed arm reached up and over the carved timbers and whirled to face another.

  There was a crash, and he was flying. And then he was falling.

  His lungs expelled what air they held as he landed with a shock that sent pain lancing up his spine. Splinters—some the size of him—rained down around him as the gate exploded. Kole only realized he had lost one blade when a warrior scorched his gloved hand retrieving it from the debris. The man tossed it at Kole’s knees and nodded before being launched through the air by a black fist the size of a wagon.