Flames of Ashmore

Chapter One

Chapter One

Rowan

I was going to get caught. And if I got caught, my mother was going kill me. Checking over my shoulder, I made sure she was busy packing for her trip before I rounded the corner and sprinted down the lane that wound through the woods behind our house.

Off in the distance, I could hear the little river rushing along through the brush and the reeds, lapping against the rocks that lined the muddy banks. When I was a kid, I used to dream of building a boat with my da. We’d make it out of the birch trees that filled our land and put bright colored pillows all over inside to make it soft. Mama would be so excited to see what we’d done, and the three of us would sail away down the river, all the way to the ocean on the western shore of Ashmore. But none of that would ever happen. My father died before I was born, and I’d never so much as left my hometown.

My feet pounded down the gravel road, the sound muffled by the insulation of the forest. Instead, the bird song greeted me, spurring me on, trilling into a sweet symphony as I emerged from the tree line into the grassy field.

I knew this land better than I knew myself. Every brook and stream, every cave and alcove. I knew them all. I’d spent hours exploring when I was supposed to be minding the sheep. Mama knew, of course. Somehow, that woman always knew when I was balking on my chores and pretending I was somewhere—anywhere—else. Somewhere filled with adventure.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, sticking my tongue out at the sheep staring at me through the thin, iron fence. They’d been sheered in June, after the Beltane festival, but their heavy woolen coats were beginning to grow back, covering their little bodies in silly white tufts. Benji, the one giving me the eye, looked particularly silly. I’d had to cut a chunk out of his wool last week because he’d gotten stuck trying to get through the fence. Benji and I had a lot in common.

Neither one of us liked being in a cage.

I crinkled my nose at him. “She won’t even notice I’m gone.” He bayed in disbelief, before dismissing me and going back to his feast of grass and weeds. “I’ll take that as permission.”

Grinning, I took off through the golden field, flying through the tall grass. The Lucht Siuil came this way every year. Mama said it meant Travelers in the Old Tongue. If I didn’t hurry, I would miss them. I loved my home. Couldn’t think of anywhere better to grow up. But that didn’t stop me from fantasizing about what it would be like to run away with a band of Travelers, like one of the characters in my books.

As quietly as I could, I crept down the side of the hill, careful to stay behind the trees and out of sight. I moved with grace, lithe as a dancer. Each calculated step got me closer to the road. Mama would be furious. How many times had she told me to stay away from the trade road, to not even leave the farm without her or Spence? But the Lucht Siuil only trekked through Harlow Springs on their way to Deithe once a year, and I wasn’t about to miss it.

Perching behind a particularly large boulder, I gazed down at the brightly covered caravan and sighed. I loved when the traveling merchants came to town. With their colorful clothing and ribbons in their hair, they always struck me as being mysterious and free. I liked to imagine all the adventures they must have had to collect the knives and pots, the colorful banners hanging from the sides of their wooden carriages. Even their horses and mules were decorated in expensive fabric bridals and wool saddle blankets woven with intricate designs. It was possible my mother even made some of them.

I’d read stories about the Lucht Siuil since I was a girl. They worshipped the Great God Lugh, who watched over travelers in Ashmore, and each year for Lughnasadh, they would begin their migration from one side of Ashmore to the other. No one knew where they stayed through the rest of the year, but every summer they came from the south and headed north to Deithe. Right past Harlow Springs.

Shifting to get a better look, I leaned forward, pressing myself against the boulder. The dirt beneath my feet crumbled and I let out a muffled cry before pitching forward down the hill. For what felt like an eternity, I toppled end over end in a mess of knees and elbows, doing my best to keep my head protected on the way down. When I reached the bottom, I stopped with a heavy thud, splayed out over the road. My breath was gone. Wheezing in pain, I stared up at the clouds from the flat of my back.

Suddenly, the afternoon sun disappeared. I blinked hard at the shape above me. Then it smiled.

“Take a bit of a fall, did ye lass?” His voice was harsh and raspy, and his breath was rancid, but his words were tinged with kindness. I took the hand he offered and let him help me up.

“Thanks.” My tunic was full of dust. Half the hill had rubbed off on the fabric. The man had rough skin, lines heavy with age, and his hair was bristled gray and matted beneath his violet cap. His brown coat was full of patches and pockets, with more holes dotted through the sleeves and down into the trousers.

Opening my mouth, I tried to say something, but no words would come out. Travelers. I’d fallen into a band of Travelers.

So much for not getting caught.

“What were you doing up there, love?” The woman who stepped forward was plump with a kind smile and hard, gray eyes. Her strawberry-blond hair was streaked with white, with a threadbare green shawl draped over her shoulders, even in the hot, summer heat. Her dress was just as tattered as her friend’s clothes, but even in rags, she was a woman I didn’t want to mess with.

I pushed the dirt with my shoe. “Just trying to get a look.” Out loud, it sounded ridiculous. All I could offer was a sheepish shrug.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout her, Bonnie, love,” the man said. “She’s just looking for a wee adventure.” Behind him, the friends that gathered began to laugh. Bonnie simply raised a brow.

The man cleared his throat, but Bonnie waved him away. A genuine smile played at her lips before she turned her attention back to me. “So, love, it’s adventure you’re after?” Her shrewd eyes missed nothing. “You look to be about seventeen. Shouldn’t you be on your way to Deithe?”

“Not if she knows what’s good for her,” the man grumbled. The look she gave him could scald the moon.

“Enough with ye, Bruce,” she said. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Rowan,” I stammered, my voice catching in my throat. “Rowan Harper.”

“Nice to meet ye, Rowan,” Bruce said. Sweeping his hat from his head, he dipped into a deep bow, and brushed the hat across his toes. Laughter exploded around us again, and many of the men bowed in return.

Bonnie shook her head and shuffled her way in front of me. She took my face between her hands. Her skin was rough and callused from a lifetime of hard work. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the group went silent. Everyone stared at us, but I was the only one confused. When Bonnie opened her eyes again, she surveyed me with calculated wonder.

“Well, well, well.” Reaching down, she snatched my hand and turned it over, her fingers tracing the lines across my palms. “You’re not what you seem, are ye, lass?”

A trickle of fear slithered down my spine, but I forced myself to ignore it. No way was I giving this lady anything to hold over me. Squaring my shoulders, I looked Bonnie in the eye and refused to look away. For a moment, the two of us stared at each other. Then Bonnie laughed, the sound full and cheerful. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” My lips twitched at the corners. “But that’s not the most interesting thing about your reading, girl. No, there’s a touch of destiny about you.”

A thrill of excitement caught in my throat. I’d never left the confines of Harlow Springs. I’d hardly even left the farm. For me, destiny was like a one-way ticket to another life. One with adventure, danger, maybe even magic. I’d dreamed of living a life like the heroes in the stories Mama used to tell me when I was a girl. Now it was my year to go to the Choosing and a Traveler of all people was telling me I’m fated. Awestruck, I reached for the pendant around my neck. “Destiny.” My voice was hardly more than a whisper.

Bruce let out a booming laugh and slapped me hard on the back. “Sure you don’t need a ride to Deithe, lass? It’s getting late, we need to go if we’re going to make camp before dark, but you’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

One slice of sunlight broke through the clouds and ricochet off one of the pans, directly into my eyes. Wincing, I looked up at the sky, appalled that the sun had already dipped below the tree line. “Gods,” I cursed, climbing to my feet. I needed to get home before Mama noticed I was gone. “Thank you, but no.” Even I couldn’t hide my regret. “I’m sorry, but I have to get home.” Turning, the rocky hill beckoned, but I looked back over my shoulder. “Have a great trip,” I called. “Bring me back something from Deithe.”

“But you’re going to miss all the fun!”

“Nay, Bruce,” said Bonnie, one hand held over her eyes to shield them from the sun. “This one’s got adventure in her veins, to be sure. We’ll see her again. Get ye gone, girl,” Bonnie ordered, waving me away. “We’ve got places to be.”

I dashed back up the hill, neither noticing nor caring if I was seen by the travelers below. Reaching the top of the trees, I climbed the waist-high fence enclosing the field with ease and wove my way through the sheep to the other side. When I reached the gravel lane leading to the house, I broke into a sprint, letting the wind, the pine scent of the trees, and the gurgling of the nearby river take me away. For one moment, just one, I imagined I really could go off on an adventure, somewhere far beyond the borders of our tiny little town and the even tinier farm. Mama would be leaving soon, heading to Ada for her monthly delivery, and I would stay in Harlow Springs; stuck, like I had been my entire life.

The few times I’d gone down to the village—with Spencer protesting the entire time—I’d been able to glean a little information about the realm of Ashmore. The Dark Axis was concerning, with all their raids and pillages. Spencer always acted as if they lurked around every corner, waiting to cut our throats. I knew the Order of the Dark Axis was the enemy of the Crown, supposedly led by the immortal traitor, Gabriel, but as dangerous as the stories claimed he was, the knights of the royal army fascinated me more.

I’d never been interested in the Temple, wasn’t much for religion. I had no talent for growing anything, and according to Spence, I was useless in the healing arts. But I handled a knife okay and Mama had taught me to defend myself. What I wouldn’t give to be able to leave this place for a while and make my mark on the world. When I was young, I yearned to join the army, to get formal training, to do something good. Now, I just wanted to go.

Occasionally, the merchants passing through would stop at the farm and stay a night or two, regaling us with stories from the road and legends of the Isle. They told us of the fae and the courts or faerie, the Seelie and Unseelie Sidhe and the wars they’d waged against each other in their underground homes. They told us of mythical objects the Goddess gifted to the Tuathe de Danann; the sword that allowed its master to win every battle, the stone that granted eternal life, or the cauldron that could feed thousands without being refilled. They regaled us with tales of battles and intrigue, of the romance between the Great Goddess Danu and the God Lugh. But my favorites were those of the Great Wars and the Seers of Milesia, especially the last Great Clan War when the Traitor Gabriel fell. I’d always felt a connection to the Last Seer of Milesia, though I couldn’t say why.

My favorite merchant was Gare with his logs and boards coming to stay on his way back to Ada. He always had stories of Deithe or Illead to tell, sometimes even the werewolves of Cristiana when they were in need of specialty lumber. Gare would tell me their stories and legends under the full moon, and carve me a wolf as he talked, the flames from the campfire casting an ethereal glow.

Then there was old Sinnen with his crops, coming in from Nimeria. He was always kind enough to bring me the books his wife had finished. Because of Sinnen, the books on my shelves came from all over Ashmore, spanning decades of stories. I’d lost count how many times I’d read them. All legends filled with magic and heroes, the fae, villains. Great battles and lost kingdoms. Sinnen would quiz me on them the next time he passed through.

Of course, there were some unpleasant folk who came through as well, but I’d gotten to be a fairly decent judge of character over the years. Mama called it a woman’s intuition. I called it good observation.

Rounding the bend, I stopped short in front of my mother, trying not to let the guilt show on my face. Watching the Travelers pass was not an acceptable pastime for the daughter of Deirdre Harper. Someone might notice me and actually offer me a life. Part of me wondered what she would do if she found out I’d literally fallen into a band of Travelers. They definitely noticed me. They even knew my name.

Best she never found out about it.

Arms crossed over her chest, Mama quirked one eyebrow in question. “Where have you been?”

“With the sheep.” At least my answer came quickly. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I had been with the sheep—for all of forty-five seconds.

Mama’s hazel eyes, exactly like mine, narrowed in suspicion, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she pursed her lips and pointed to a wooden crate of dyed wool. “Grab that.”

Obliging, I hefted the crate into the little wooden cart and wiped my brow before turning around to face her. Mama wasn’t an imposing woman in stature, but she was intimidating all the same. People from the village said we looked alike, and maybe that was true in a way, but Deirdre Harper was gorgeous, and I was just…well, I was just me. I got my thick, dark hair from her, as well as my olive skin and hazel eyes that changed with my mood. But while my mother was elegant and stunning, I was rough around the edges and always had a smudge on my face or a leaf in my hair.

“I want to go to the Choosing,” I blurted before I could stop myself and chicken out. Swallowing hard, I crossed my arms over my chest, mirroring her stance, and waited. It wasn’t like me to go against Mama’s wishes, but the Choosing only happened once for the girls of Ashmore, and even though I would never be Chosen, I didn’t want to miss my shot at seeing the Realm. From what I’d heard, the Temple City of Deithe was made from white stone and sparkled in the full moon. Many weren’t allowed within the walls of the Temple, save when those girls who came of age were invited to participate in the Choosing ceremony each August. There, they would stand before the gods and the Seer would look into their future. I didn’t care much for any of that, but I would like to see the city and I wouldn’t get another chance to go.

Mama’s brow furrowed, her mouth turned down in disapproval. She eyed me skeptically. For a moment, I thought I was going to get my way, but then she shook her head. “No.”

Throwing my hands in the air, I followed Mama into the barn. The smells of hay, horse, and manure overwhelmed me, wrapping me in the familiar—as well as a reminder I had chores to finish. “But Mama, I’m supposed to go. I’m seventeen this year. It’s my duty.”

“Not everyone goes to the Lughnasadh festival when they turn seventeen. Here.” She handed me a colorful wool blanket she took from a wooden chest, then disappeared into the stall for the rest of the tack she needed for the horse.

I grabbed the lead rope, crossed to the stall on the right, and clipped the lead to Mama’s horse, Archer. He was a pretty dapple gray, sixteen hands high, but he’d never been my biggest fan. Archer didn’t like anyone but Mama, which made him more than touchy. I kept my voice calm as I ran a hand down his nose, hoping to ease him out of the stall. I managed to get him to the yard without incident and hitched him to the cart with practical hands.

Mama had always kept me close to the farm, but that was when I was younger. Now, it didn’t make sense. When she was a girl, she’d been orphaned and traveled the realm with no one but Spencer to keep an eye on her. She didn’t talk about it much—if at all—but I could imagine the sort of trouble she got herself into. “You could escort me. The Daughters are each allowed an escort, right? Or if you didn’t want to go, Spencer could take me. Please, Mama. I just want to see the city.”

“They sacrifice the Chosen, Rowan.” Her voice was tight, but she wouldn’t look at me. “The answer is no.”

“Mama, it’s not like I’m going to be Chosen.”

Mama set a basket of fruit and meat pies on the wooden bench, then smoothed out the cushion before patting away the dust that settled in the fabric. “You’re not going, Rowan.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“I need you here to mind the farm. You know that.”

“Spencer can do that.”

“Spencer is here to mind you,” she said, her voice taking a sharper edge that brooked no argument.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Spencer was always here to “mind” me, though I didn’t need minding. I especially didn’t need minding by my mother’s pet phouka. As the fae folk went, he wasn’t even that interesting. Sure, he could shapeshift, but if he were of the Sidhe, he could control one of the elements. Phoukas just hung around and caused trouble. At least for me, this one did.

“Okay,” Mama said, brushing her hands on her dress, “I’ll be in Ada for a few days, so I should be back in a week or so. Stay on the farm. I mean it, Rowan.” She leaned in for a hug. “Do not go to Deithe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” But I smiled while hugging her back. I’d never left Harlow Springs before. I suppose it wouldn’t be good to start now. “I promise I won’t burn the farm down while you’re gone.” As much as I hated it, I meant it.

Mama’s lips twitched at the corners. “And Spencer? You’ll listen to him?” She took my offered hand and let me help her up onto the bench. She gripped the reins in her hands, causing Archer to paw the ground in anticipation.

I laughed. “Not a chance. See you in a week, Mama.”

It didn’t take long for the cart to disappear down the long drive. I couldn’t help but be disappointed I wasn’t allowed to go to the Choosing, but I had to admit, it probably was for the best.

When I was sure my mother was out of sight, I sprinted for the large oak tree by the creek. It had the best vantage point on the farm. Climbing two thirds of the way up, I turned to survey the view. To the north was the edge of Harlow Springs, the little town situated in the heart of the Gershwyn Forest in the province of Gyare. If I squinted hard enough, I could just make out the many chimneys of the inn, next to the pointed roof spewing black grease smoke that was the Harlow Springs tavern. But when I looked to the east, I couldn’t see the trade road.

I needed to get higher. Reaching for the next branch, my fingers wrapped around the rough white and brown bark. I pulled myself up and twisted around to perch in the V created between the branch and the trunk of the tree. My seat was nearly twenty feet high, but any lower and I wouldn’t be able to see the Travelers on their way to the Temple. Half the island was on their way to the festival to watch the Choosing. If I had my way, I’d be going with them. But Mama forbade it, and as much as I wanted to, I learned a long time ago not to disobey her rules.

Craning my neck, I pushed myself out as far as I could go. The Travelers’ caravans usually came this way, and if I was lucky, I’d see Bonnie and Bruce on their way out of town since my earlier expedition was cut short. But I could still only see the one bend in the road over the trees. Thankfully, from that height, Spencer couldn’t see me either, even if he was down on the ground calling my name.

“Are you going to answer him?”

With a start, I turned sharply, nearly losing my footing on the branch. My cobalt blue tunic caught on a twig, and I gaped at the boy suddenly in front of me as I worked to get the fabric loose. Sprawled across the branches like he belonged there, he was unlike any man I’d ever seen. He was young and ancient all at once. Everything about him was dark; his eyes, his hair, his skin. In fact, in the dusky light, I would swear his skin changed from jet black to a gorgeous shade of blue, as if one shade wasn’t deep enough.

He was one of the Sidhe.

“The phouka’s getting closer,” he said, glancing down to where Spencer still searched. “It’s rude not to answer. Maybe he wants to escort you to the Choosing.”

“Trust me,” I muttered, no longer in shock, “he doesn’t.”

“Ah. Still Deirdre’s puppet, then? Running around the Isle of Ashmore at her behest?”

“You know my mother?”

The boy merely smiled. “Oh, I know a great many things about you, Rowan Harper. I know you’re bound. I know your mother has worn many names and faces since we met in her youth. I know she’s refusing to take you to Deithe for Lughnasadh as a means to keep you safe. Typical.”

“How? What do you mean I’m bound?”

“I know you’re a powerful Seer,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Which, given who you are, isn’t surprising. I know you have yet to discover your potential. I know you have an incredible and difficult destiny ahead of you.” He leaned forward so I could see straight into his almond-shaped eyes. They were three different shades of blue. “And I know you’re letting that skinny little shapeshifter down there get under your skin.”

At the base of the tree, Spencer stared up at me with dark, angry eyes. Hands on his hips, he glared at me, and I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue. Spencer called my name again, but like I had the last twenty times, I ignored him.

“He’s nothing,” I said, waving him away. “He watches me for my mother when she’s away, no doubt to report my every move.”

“And keep you from the festival, I’m sure,” said the stranger.

Bemused, I leaned back against the trunk of the tree, the green and silver leaves scratching against my shoulder. Lips pursed, I eyed him. What a strange being he was. The more I looked, the more his human façade fell away until only the Sidhe was left. His blue-black skin was beautiful, but paired with the pointed ears and pearly white teeth, the smile he offered was alarming.

“Ah, but a ride to the Choosing is an easy fix. That isn’t your problem.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, pray tell, is my problem then?”

“Your problem is you don’t know who you are, where you come from. That’s where I come in.”

“And why would you help me?”

The boy waved my question away with a flourish of his wrist. The dark black armor that adorned his arms glistened in the sun. Had he been wearing armor before? I honestly didn’t know. Too much of him was elusive—I couldn’t tell what was real and what was glamour.

“I have my reasons,” he said. “But for now, forget about the mundane questions running through your head. Focus instead on the MacKennas.”

“The MacKennas?”

“Fascinating clan. Stories upon stories about High Magic and destiny in the Temple library in Deithe. Most of them are even true. The ones involving the Sidhe are my favorite.” He winked at me.

Despite myself, I laughed. He was amusing, even if he was insane. But he was also terrifying. I was no stranger to the fae, but the Sidhe were another story. They were the upper class of the fae folk, known for being unforgiving and vicious tricksters. This stranger looked important though, like nobility—which would make him one of the Gentry. I swallowed hard.

“Who are you?” I heard myself ask.

“Ah. The fundamental question of all existential thought. Who am I? Well, for all intents and purposes, you can call me Shane. Who I am to you, well, that’s a conversation for another time.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Your name is Shane?”

“Sure, why not?”

“It just sounds so…normal.”

Shane shrugged. “I have another name, of course. But to give you that would be to give you power over me and that is not something I’m prepared to do.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I would be impressed if you did.” With a flick of his wrist, he slipped a hand into his pocket and produced what looked like a brass acorn. Its cap was decorated with an intricate pattern I couldn’t make out in the fading light. Shane dropped the trinket into my hand. “Here. If you ever need me, take this outside, turn it three times, then set it on fire. I’ll find you.”

Wide-eyed, I stared at the acorn. “You’ll find me?” That sounded too good to be true. He nodded. “At what price?”

“Sorry?”

“Last I checked, the Gentry didn’t give out favors for free. There’s always a catch.”

“You’ve done your homework, I see.” A slow grin spread across his face. I smirked. “What you said is true. We do not usually do favors for free, nor can I tell a lie. So, let us just say I am paying back an old debt.”

“A debt.” I frowned. “To whom?”

“Roan.”

My head snapped back like I’d been slapped at hearing my father’s name. Instantly, my fingers went to the smooth, jade pendant at my throat; the only thing I had left of him. It took me a moment to find words. “You knew Roan, too?” How much of my parents’ past did I not know?

“I knew him well. Best of the Golden People I’ve ever met.”

My mind was spinning. What did my father have to do with the fae, especially one of the Sidhe? Most humans made it a point to stay away from them. They were faerie royalty, and as a rule, they weren’t all that fond of mortals. And yet, this one knew too much not to be telling the truth. “How did you know my father?”

Without answering, Shane reached into his pocket again and took out a book. The tomb was three inches thick. He handed it to me. “Roan left this in my care. He asked me to return it to you at the proper moment. I think it’s time to honor that request.”

With one tentative, shaking hand, I took the book, cradling it in my hands like a child. The cover was made of worn, supple leather, the color a rich, forest green. An intricate raised knot of lines was embedded in the leather, the corners bound by a dark material I didn’t recognize. The pages were homemade and pressed with some kind of herb. I didn’t need to be a historian to know the book was a treasure. Mystical was the word that came to mind. “This belonged to my father?”

But as quickly as he’d appeared, Shane was gone. I was alone with only an acorn and an ancient relic for company in the encroaching dark.