Excerpt: Blood and Heat

The weight of my bow and quiver is comfortable on my shoulder, and my sword at my hip makes me feel more at ease walking out the door into the night. I keep Kayden between me and Kella as we walk to the beach, though he isn’t tense enough for his enemies to be nearby. You never know, though. I wonder if he doesn’t rely on his sense of his enemies too much, useful as it is.

Even before the bonfire draws into sight its light dances off of the sides of the buildings nearest the beach. The tall flames and long shadows of people around them pass in and out of sight through the larger spaces between buildings, and then white beach sand dotted with patches of darker earth and brush stretches out before us to the water. The waves are easier to hear than see crashing against the beach, but light does reflect off the crests as they near the shore, casting them in red-gold.

Music floats on the salty breeze; minstrels are taking advantage of the crowd to earn some coin. The babble of voices forms a constant undertone to the music, and occasionally there’s a loud crack or pop from within the fire.

Kayden looks mesmerized, and Kella moreso. It’s odd--I have little doubt Kayden could control the bonfire even at this size, but it still seems to captivate him. I wonder if there’s some difference between natural fire and the stuff they create? Kayden can create those campfires that consume far too little wood, but I’ve also seen him light more naturally behaving fires.

But there--there are designs in the flame, dancing, like blue-hot horses on the gallop or mirrors of the waves crashing against the shore. They aren’t obvious and they aren’t always there, but it’s like there’s something crafting some of the flames. I lean toward Kayden without looking at him. “Are you doing that?”

“No,” he says. “Kella’s playing in there, but it’s not just her. Fire spirits.”

“I’ve seen bonfires before, but never this. At least, not that I remember.”

He shrugs, his long shadow shifting across my chest and face. “They’re not as common when our kind isn’t around, I’ve heard, but they’re there sometimes.”

There’s a seers’ saying--‘forgiving the play of spirits in the fire.’ But I always thought it was just a saying. I can imagine how spirits dancing in the flames might interfere with the visions seers hope to see. “They sense you, then?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He shifts his stance, turning to face me. “More than others they are curious about me. And they like to show off.” He smiles.

More than others. I remember the trembling feeling of magic in the air as day slipped into night when we traveled, and the way it grew less potent--and sometimes disappeared--when we started sparring nightly with Kella.

The familiar notes rising above the babble of conversation pull me toward the minstrels. I can feel Kayden following at my side; I look over my shoulder and find him walking with me, still half-entranced by the fire, though Kella is circling the bonfire on her own and staring deep into it. Their fascination with it is much more powerful than that of the others talking and walking around the fire, but no one seems to notice how strangely wrapped up in the flames they are.