Fate of Fire (Flight Moon Series Book 2)

By D. M. Raver

A family is divided as war with Gorusk looms in the future...

They thought the hidden garden at Rosewall foretold their fate. Statues depicted in a time locked battle, three kingdoms opposing Shirr, the tyrant king of Gorusk.

Nothing has prepared them for the doom that gathers on the horizon.

Assassins will come in the night. Death will come from the sky. Betrayal from within.

Though Dornata and Corban struggle to keep their family safe, the closer they get to the time of the foretold battle, the more in danger they become.

And the strange child, with red eyes of a dragon, secretly gathers strength.

Discover the complete Flight Moon Series:
Book One: Fire Born
Book Two: Fate of Fire
Book Three: Converging Flames (to be released in 2020)
Book Four: Wild Fire

Prequel to The Flight Moon Series: Brother Betrayed
Book One: A Great Journey
Book Two: The Wars of Arnith

• Language: English
• Publisher: D. M. Raver
• Release date: Dec 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370758043

D. M. Raver

Fantasy author for over twenty years, D. M. has a passion for writing and literature. Her first novel, Brother Betrayed, is the prequel to the Flight Moon series, published 11/11/11. Fire Born and Fate of Fire are the first books in the series. Upcoming books are Converging Flames and Wild Fire. Other works include: City of Silver - a dystopian fantasy about a young girl with the power to save a dying city. The Enchantress - an arabian fantasy about a woman, some toys, and an intelligent white tiger. Deep Dark Waters - a collection of poetry Dying to Live Again - a contemporary fantasy

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

DIVIDED

Fingers dip in the crystalline water, but no ripples form. Nothing disturbs the perfect, serene pool. Reflections of the elven wood glimmer on the still surface. Standing sentry around the glade, large asnian trees curve in shapes as if crafted from stone.

Dornata cups some of the clear water with hesitant hands. She raises the liquid to her chest and gazes at her shimmering reflection.

Light colored eyes stare back at her, framed by silvery hair. Pain and memory wash from her youthful skin. The woman in the reflection looks as if nothing of the past two cycles had happened, as if Phillip were still alive and her children had never brought her so much... worry.

Dornata lets the water stream down her fingers to its source. It was only an illusion. She knows the truth, the dark lines taking up residence upon her brow and the shadow that swallowed the sparkle in her eye.

Time passes slower in the elven wood. Dornata knows part of her truly does belong here. Maybe that’s why she decided to travel here with her mother, instead of going with Gakulisan to find Gifij and Tezart in Nautica. It was out of the question to travel with Corban to where he was going.

These woods should calm her heart, but they only stir up angst. In the quiet, the sounds of her sorrow grow louder.

Her mother, however, seems at peace in the strange wood. It has been several decades since her mother last saw it, since she abandoned her home to take the hand of a humble wood smith.

Dornata looks over to her. Folashia rests on a smooth boulder beneath columns of golden sunlight filtering through the asnian leaves. Silver dust drifts around the gnarly, ancient trees, giving an ethereal glow.

They could probably spend the rest of the afternoon here, but they still have several day’s ride to Kinesh, the elven capital deep in the wood. It would be best to make the most of the daylight.

The mares given to them by Prince Jessue graze lazily near the pool. She would almost prefer to walk the remaining distance to the elven capital, to be closer to this majestic beauty. That, however, would delay them longer from reaching Kinesh, and that may be time they do not have.

Are you ready, Mother?

Dornata regrets using the common tongue in this place. Though she knows enough elven that she can manage, she still would have botched the words.

Yes, my dear, Folashia responds and rises from her reprieve.

Dornata shoulders her pack, but stops at movement through the woods. A high-pitched whiz hiss disturbs the pervasive silence. Too fast to be a natural creature, it approaches the women before either has a chance to act. The object rushes closely by Dornata’s head and hits a tree behind her. Folashia and Dornata turn to see a silver arrow embedded halfway in the tree’s bark.

Dornata searches the forest for the arrow’s source. Great skies, the elves have come to eradicate the filth that has entered their lands. A half-breed trespasser and her mother, a deserter of her own kind. It was a mistake coming here, and now seven mounted elven soldiers will make them pay for it.

The riders gallop towards the pool, armor shining white in the sunlight. There’s a chance Dornata could reach her mount and try to out-ride them, but Folashia’s black mare has wandered towards the south, grazing on the spring grass.

Mother and daughter have no choice but to stand and face what is coming.

The soldiers slow as they near the glade. Riding in front is an heavily armored elf, a knocked bow still in his hand.

My apologies, he calls out as he halts his stallion before the two women. I mistook you for an escaped prisoner.

His words are sincere, but his angular, olive-colored face is stern with distrust.

Apologies are not required, defender of the forest. Folashia bows her head.

The six other riders form a half circle behind him. Folashia’s mannerisms have done little to put them at ease.

I am Othinan, captain in the Queen’s guard.

The leader stares long at Dornata, his gaze posing a question before his words can speak one. Dornata touches the tight braids on her head nervously.

What is your purpose here?

Before either of them can answer, the captain’s eyes widen and he lifts his bow. He pulls back the arrow, and at the same moment Dornata feels a hand on her back.

There is a cry of alarm, but it is distorted through a spinning haze as Dornata tries to understand what is happening.

A firm grip wraps around her abdomen, then something sharp and dangerous presses into her throat. She doesn’t dare turn to see her assailant. She doesn’t dare breathe. Is it another soldier, sent around to capture them from behind? She thinks of her knife under her cloak, but she cannot will her hand to reach for it.

The captain dismounts and carefully sets down his bow. Let her go, Noklay.

Dornata is pulled closer and his body presses against her back.

Oh, no, no. She is my prize. The stranger’s voice is melodic as he speaks the elven words.

Dornata looks to Folashia, but her mother is stiff with fear, still next to the boulder. The mounted soldiers draw and aim six knocked bows, but none release.

Her assailant chuckles, backing up and pulling Dornata with him. The leader raises his hands in peace and eases toward them.

Halt! Or this lovely maiden’s blood will flow across the forest floor.

The man’s hot breath steams onto her shoulder, but makes her shiver as if from a chill.

Dismount! Noklay commands.

Noklay, you’re not a murderer. Just let her go. The captain’s composure is blotted with anger and concern.

Dismount, I say!

The soldiers reluctantly comply.

Now, hit your horses. Do it or she dies!

Sir? The soldiers stall.

Dornata flinches as the bandit slides the knife across her skin. Tear drops of blood crawl down her neck.

Do it! Othinan orders.

The soldiers hit their horses, making them jerk and dash into the forest. Dornata watches seven steeds gallop out of her sight.

This plan won’t do you any good Noklay. You have the entire Queen’s guard after you. Just surrender.

The stranger laughs. Seems like this plan is doing me just fine. You won’t dare follow if you wish her to live.

He forces her back and Dornata’s breath shudders.

Now, I would love to stay and savor the taste of this fruit, the Queen’s royal guard completely helpless... but we must be on our way.

Tears blink from Dornata’s eyes. The mare whinnies and she realizes with terror where he is taking her.

With a jerk she is spun around and lifted atop her steed. Blindly she grips the saddle as the stranger mounts behind her.

Stop now. You have nowhere to go! Othinan yells.

Noklay grabs the reins and spins the mare around in a whirl.

Give my regards to the queen! He laughs and kicks the side of the horse, sending it galloping to the east. A scream resounds among the thunderous hoof beats. Dornata listens, but hears no one follow.

The baby is heavy on his back. Several days of traveling through the eastern Arnithian mountains the child now seems heavier with every step. Gakulisan, ready for a respite, sits on a boulder and removes Fornala, setting her on his lap.

It is about time you carry me for a while, youngling.

The wizard’s kind brown eyes glitter over the babe. She is still, not restless as a child her age should be after traveling such a distance. She has not uttered a sound since they left his castle in the southern mountains, over thirteen days prior.

Are you looking forward to seeing your brother? The last time you saw him was in your family’s cabin. And, I suppose, in Eltha’s garden.

Fornala turns her eyes to him. Gazing into their red depths, Gakulisan cannot help but think of the dragon within her.

You could help me find him. You know where they are, don’t you? Why don’t you change back to Flight Moon?

The wizard’s heart sinks as he considers the possible reasons the dragon would have to keep this feeble form. Perhaps she is still recovering from the spell cast on her in Nautica.

We could fly to find Gifij and Tezart.

There’s a sparkle in her ruby eyes. She pushes away the blanket. Her small arm straightens and points northeast.

What? That’s not the way to the dwarves. That’s where they are?

Fornala nods.

I knew it, Gakulisan states, standing up. The dragon inside you has made you wiser than your years. Maybe you are interchanging yourself.

He reins in his excitement, regarding the infant with concern. She is breathing, she is conscious, she is healthy, but the wizard can’t help but worry. Is she safe with the beast within her? Her gaze is meaningful, yet empty. Like, instead of a child, he regards some ancient thing that is bored with the conversation.

Gakulisan doesn’t speak his errant thoughts, re-positioning her on his back.

So, this is the way to Gifij and Tezart? Then this is the way we’ll go. The wizard starts down the side of the mountain, heading the direction the small child indicated.

On the other side of the thick pined woods, Gifij sits waiting. Nearly half a day prior, Paige went out to hunt and left Gifij alone in the makeshift cabin.

Gifij stands. Barefoot on the packed dirt floor, she paces back and forth. There’s little space for her to work out her angst, however, with no more than a man’s length between the bed and the table. Soon she falls in defeat on the bed and stares blankly at the wall.

The formidable armor and weapons adorning the inner facade draw her attention. She rises from the bed and takes the heavy shield down, gasping at its weight. It is nicely hammered into a circle, nearly perfect in fact, besides a few dings commemorating the battles it has seen. There is a dragon engraved in gold on its front. On the back, to her surprise, she finds a poem...

Ruin and anger appall the skies

Like a desert void of life

The sun is ready to warm

But nothing is there

Nothing reaches toward its rays

In darkness, it has all been slain

Gifij’s hand slips and the shield falls to the table. Who would bear such a proclamation into battle? Her fingers trace the words. Such a dark omen. She hopes it speaks of the past, not of something in their future.

With effort, she replaces the shield on the wall, then turns to the sword. It has the same golden dragon engraved on the side of the thick blade. She decides not to try to lift it, afraid of the faultless edge of the blade.

There’s a knock at the door. Gifij startles, but suppresses a cry. Knocking? Paige wouldn’t knock, it is her house! No one else should be able to see it, hidden at the roots of the mountain. Gifij tries to see through the window, but her view is blocked. The knocking sounds again. Cordiality ruling over caution, Gifij clears her throat.

Who is it?

There’s murmuring from behind the door. A young voice calls out, Dan’s son.

A child? The tone of the voice is disarming, but her hand still shakes as she opens the door.

Gifij reveals three boys, all dressed like villagers from what she can tell. Their clothes are a wreck, smudged with dirt, and their hair is disheveled. Judging by the state of their clothes and their tired expressions, it is quite obvious they have been sleeping on the ground, possibly for several nights. Gifij also notes that they carry nothing besides long branches taken from the wood as walking sticks.

The oldest child approaches her, enough definition in his features to suggest his age of eleven to twelve cycles. Gifij half expects him to speak some odd language more suited to forest sprites, but he speaks the common language of Arnith.

Madam, we are lost. The boy slicks back his short black hair, an attempt to make himself more presentable. Would you please tell us where we are so we may find our way home?

Well, first I’d like to know how you spotted this place. Gifij stifles a smile, putting her hands on her hips.

Trindeer spotted it. He points out a brown haired boy, lightly freckled and a hand shorter than the others, but with some age in his eyes.

Gifij steps from the threshold. Relief is apparent on their faces for finding another person in this expansive forest.

I see... Well, Nautica is somewhere in that direction. Gifij points north. Shal is to the south, and the capital is... that way, she finishes, pointing west.

Oh, we’ve been going the wrong direction! the tallest boy exclaims.

So this is Kesle Wood Forest? Trindeer asks. He seems a bit more shy than the others, but Gifij hears maturity in his voice.

Yes, I believe that’s what it is called, Kesle Wood.

Oh great. The middle child, a bit wider around the middle, throws up his arms and slumps on the ground. It’s going to take us days to get home!

Do you think that we can make camp on the side of your cabin madam? the tallest boy asks.

Gifij checks the woods, looking for Paige. Where is your home?

There’s a small village on the old shepherd’s road called Romain, Trindeer answers.

Maybe I can accompany you. Do you need help finding your way back?

If... you wouldn’t mind. The tallest boy gives her a smile.

It would be better to stay the night and leave in the morning. I’m sorry though, this cabin doesn’t have room for anyone else. But I can build you a fire and give you some blankets.

No madam, Trin can start us a fire, but we sure could use some blankets. It’s been mighty nippy out here the last couple nights, the tallest boy states.

Well, you don’t have to call me madam, my name is Gifij.

My name is Miron, the tallest boy bows to her with a flare. And this is Farna.

The middle boy nods.

Nice to meet you all... My friend will be back soon with supper. You all must be starving.

Oh yes, supper sure sounds good. Farna rubs his stomach. Gifij welcomes them into the cabin and feeds them some leftover bread as they wait for Paige to return home.

Corban has been riding for days. When the horse finally gives way under him, he looses it, letting it run free in the mountains. It would be safer to reach his destination on foot. Figuring that he is close, he runs for a while. After a couple leagues he wears himself out and collapses.

A short nap has restored him. He stands at the top of a steep incline, stretching as he gazes out. To the south stretches layers of mountains, lands he has crossed. Days and days it has been, and there’s been no sign of other men. Few venture this way, through the cursed woods and towards Dernsith, the city of outcasts.

He turns around to his forward journey. With a smile he starts his decent down the mountain.

All I have to do is follow the valley and I’ll be there shortly.

Corban is surprised at his excitement. He usually feels nervous entering this dangerous place. Perhaps now it is different because he isn’t returning as a thief.

CHAPTER TWO

VISITORS

Paige startles when she enters her cabin to find strangers present. She grasps the handle of the knife on her belt, but doesn’t draw when she sees the intruders are children. Turning to Gifij, she observes her guest’s finds have been raised by the new company.

They came here, lost. They are from Romain.

They were able to see my house? Paige gives a cautious glance outside.

Surprisingly, yes. Gifij gestures toward the youngest boy.

Impressive. You must have gifts of vision.

Trindeer doesn’t acknowledge her compliment.

They are planning to go home tomorrow. I want to accompany them.

Romain is a solid day’s march, Paige states, her brows lowering. How did you end up all the way out here?

Well... Miron checks the other two, hesitating. We ran away from... Blood drains from his face. We were playing a game of jimjacks in the west field and... Paige kneels down to read his face. When we were attacked by... by...

Dragons, Trindeer finishes for him.

All are silenced by his proclamation. Paige glances at her sword and shield upon the wall.

We ran and ran, Farna picks up the story. I don’t know what came over us, but when the dragons attacked we just ran into the forest. When we stopped, we didn’t know where we were. Even Trin couldn’t get us back home. We wandered till we came here.

I see. Paige looks to Gifij with concern. Did you see what kind of dragons they were?

No, we just ran...

Yes, Trindeer interrupts Miron, one gray and one gold. The gold one was much larger.

Fimlarr. Paige staggers a little, catching her tall form on the wall.

Paige, Gifij urges her back. Paige, are you alright? What’s wrong?

Fimlarr... Paige shakes her head, returning some color to her face. He is a dragon of Gorusk. I wonder what he was doing out here.

I hope they didn’t hurt any of the other children. Farna rubs his hands together. Some of them were paralyzed in the middle of the field.

How many were there? Gifij asks.

About thirty or so others.

I don’t think Fimlarr would hurt a child, but the gray dragon... Paige’s voice trails off.

"We can’t do anything