Kingdom of Wind & Fire (The Elemental Kingdoms Series Book 1) Read online

  Her brother was alive, at least for now. He’d been taken by slavers when they’d been very young. Technically, she didn’t really remember him, but as her twin, she felt his absence. She’d always felt like something had been missing from her life and when Gennifer had drawn his hood back, she’d felt that piece come falling back into place. She knew she should be excited, jumping for joy, but all she felt was numb.

  She took the kettle from near the empty water basin and went out to the full rain barrel on the side of the house, filling it. Then she went back inside and hung it over the coals of the fire. Myles walked in then, his presence thwarting her plan to use her gift to stoke the coals. Gennifer knew she was a WindDancer, but not many in the village knew. Instead, she reached for some kindling and slowly coaxed the fire to life by blowing on it.

  “Once your sons have settled him, you may go, Myles,” Gennifer said, pulling down a tin of salve and some fresh bandages from a shelf by the fire. The big blacksmith nodded and went into the small second room that served as both bedroom and sick room to fetch his sons. As they came back out, Brianna couldn’t help but look up at Adam as he passed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and dark eyes. He had a beard already growing, and a kind face. He glanced down at her as he passed and gave her a kind smile.

  Until ten minutes ago, her biggest care in the world had been whether he would ask her to dance that evening at the festival. They’d been flirting for months and she’d hoped it was building towards something more than a few kisses snatched in the woods. Now, despite his proximity, Brianna’s mind was in the next room with her twin.

  “Once the tea is ready, Brianna, bring your mother a cup. Then you can go help with the baking. There are too many bodies in this house already and I don’t need you fussing about. Your mother can help me clean his wound.” Gennifer led her mother into the other room.

  Kaelen’s face was a mask of fear and worry. Brianna hated seeing her mother this way but knew that once Brayden woke up, she would feel better. So, she got down a mug and the small tin for tea that Gennifer kept above the stove. When the water boiled, she poured it over the tea leaves and then let them steep before bringing it in to Gennifer and her mother.

  “How is he?” she asked, setting the tea on a small table by the bed.

  Her twin brother lay sprawled on the small bed, his pant leg cut open up to the thigh, a deep gash vivid and red standing out against his skin. She winced at the wound, her own thigh twinging in sympathy.

  “He’ll survive. He is exhausted and drained of blood, but once I’ve sewn this up and given him a tincture, then he’ll probably wake in a few hours. Now, go and help Cidra with the baking.”

  Brianna left reluctantly and went out into the village square. She distractedly helped collect kindling for the enormous fire that always lit the center of town on Alwan’s Day. Then she helped Cidra, the town’s baker, prepare small sweet rolls stuffed with dried fruit and nuts, a traditional treat for the festival. The whole time she thought of her brother and the stories her mother had told her about him as a small child.

  Her mother said that he was a FireWalker, like her. Usually, twins had the same magical gift, but only if they were the same gender. Brayden had been taken by Carran slavers when they were three. He’d been seen on the edge of the village with a ball of fire and had been taken while Brianna was safe back at their house with her mother. Now, fifteen years later, he showed up in their small village of Riordan, on their shared name day and it seemed like fate.

  * * *

  Brayden opened his eyes to a strange room with unfamiliar smells and sounds. He knew instantly he was not alone. He didn’t move, just stared up at the ceiling, taking everything in. His leg still throbbed, but it was a duller pain that it had been before he lost consciousness. The rest of his body ached in a way it never had, even after a hard day in the fields at the abbey.

  With no immediate danger, he slowly began inching up onto his elbows so he could observe the room. The movement made him groan and at the sound, a woman with long reddish blonde hair startled awake in the corner.

  “Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed, dashing across the room and putting an arm under his shoulders to help him sit up against the back of the bed. He let her touch him because, somehow, she seemed familiar to him and he really did want to sit up.

  “Thanks,” he croaked out, his throat raw and parched. “Water?” he asked, looking up into her blue eyes.

  The woman offered him a cup of cool water and he drank gratefully, using the moment to search for an exit. There was only one door and a single window too high and too small for him to squeeze through. There was no escape.

  “Where am I?” he asked as he handed back the empty glass.

  “You are in the village of Riordan. We are deep in the Malise Mountains. You are home, Brayden.”

  Fear welled within him. How did this woman know his name? She was so familiar to him.

  “Who are you? How do you know my name?” He wished his leg didn’t hurt so much. If he’d been well, he would have run. Everything in him told him to flee.

  The woman held up her hands, showing him she held no weapons. He saw that, like his own, her hands and forearms were covered in scars. That meant she was a magic worker, but not knowing what kind scared him even more. His heart began to pound, and his palms felt slick with sweat. What if she was a SpiritSinger?

  “My name is Kaelen Kirk and I am your mother, Brayden. You were taken from this very village when you were quite young. You may not have any memories of it, but you are my son.” He froze, waiting. Her voice held an edge of desperation, her lovely face twisted in an emotion he could not name.

  “My mother?” he asked hesitantly.

  He had only vague impressions of his mother, his memories lost in a cloud of fear and pain. He remembered warm hugs, another child that looked like him, and a deep feeling of melancholy and loss.

  “Yes, my love. I am your mother.” She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, but he flinched back from the touch, that same fear clutching his heart. “I’m sorry,” she said, her hand dropping into her lap. “This must be very overwhelming for you. Perhaps you would like to meet your twin sister? Then you will know I am not lying to you.” She said the last part sadly, her face falling.

  “Yea, that sounds good.” The moment she left the room he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. He fell back with a cry, the pain in his thigh too much to hold his weight.

  The door flew open and a girl his age with red hair, freckles, and green eyes burst in. Her hair was darker than his own, her face more delicate, her body taller and slimmer than his, but there was no doubt she was his sister. She rushed forward, a worried look on her face as she tried to help him back into bed.

  “What were you thinking, trying to stand without help? You could seriously hurt yourself!” she said, propping his injured leg back on the bed. He relaxed back, watching her warily for a moment.

  “So. You are my sister. My twin.”

  “Yes. I am Brianna.”

  “And that other woman, she’s our mother?” He watched her face, searching for any sign of deception. At this point, he’d seen enough cruelty in his life not to trust everything someone told you. This could all be an elaborate ruse or perhaps the SpiritSinger had him under their thrall. He didn’t know what had happened while he was unconscious. He couldn’t trust anyone except himself.

  “Yes. Kaelen is our mother.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you not believe us?”

  “If I’m being honest, not really.”

  “Why not?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

  He shrugged at her question. He didn’t need to reveal all his cards. Not yet at least.

  “Because I don’t know you.” Although, the more he watched her face, a memory floated to the surface of his pain addled mind. A little girl, no more than a toddler, dressed in a blue dress with a red braid running away from him, looking over her shoulder for him to
follow. He knew in his gut it was the girl sitting before him and it set off a pang of longing inside him. He wanted it to be real.

  She looked down and picked at a piece of her green dress.

  “True enough.” After a pause, she continued. “When I saw your horse today, I almost blew you off the mountain. Riders only ever mean trouble here. Or slavers.”

  He stiffened at her words.

  “Are you a magic-user too?”

  There was no use in hiding it. The evidence was written all over his hands. He held them out for her to see. She smiled and nodded eagerly, laying her own slender hands beside his. He was surprised to see hers were just as scarred, but also just as calloused. She was no stranger to hard work.

  “I’m a WindDancer, although mother won’t be happy to hear us talk about it. It’s dangerous to have magic here.”

  He looked around.

  “What, here in Riordan?”

  “No, here in Carr. They say the king is amassing an army of magic-users and using them to invade other countries.” She shivered and he wondered if she’d ever seen a SpiritSinger or experienced their power before. “But technically everyone here knows about magic. We all try to keep it under wraps.”

  “Oh, right. Yea, I know that.”

  “What’s your magic?”

  He wasn’t sure why, but he hesitated. She seemed nice enough and she was his sister, but he still didn’t trust the situation. He answered begrudgingly.

  “I’m a FireWalker.”

  “Like mother,” she said quietly. His eyebrows rose.

  “Well then, at least we know where I get it.”

  Brianna nodded.

  “Brianna, can you get me a crutch or a cane? Something to help me walk. I’d like to see the village. Perhaps even your house.”

  “Of course.”

  She disappeared with her red braid trailing behind her like that little girl in his memory, leaving him alone in the dim room, the only light coming from the small window overhead. He knew it must be getting towards evening. He reached into his pocket, feeling for his knife, discovering it wasn’t there. He really was helpless. With no way to easily draw blood he couldn’t perform magic unless he bit his tongue or cheek, which he didn’t fancy doing, meant he was defenseless as well as immobile. He slumped back onto the bed and covered his eyes with his arm, defeated.

  * * *

  As Brianna closed the door to Gennifer’s room behind her she paused, dragging in a deep breath to steady herself. She was both excited and nervous. Brayden seemed strange somehow, reserved, but she knew that if she could just spend some time with him, he’d open up.

  She went to find a stick to use as a crutch. Her mother and Gennifer were standing out by the bonfire that was about to be lit. She pulled a stout stick from the huge stack nearby, ready to be fed into the fire and examined it.

  “What’s that for?” Kaelen said, following her daughter as she walked back towards the healer’s house.

  “For Brayden. He wants to walk around and see the village,” Brianna said cheerfully. She led the way back into the house, Gennifer on her mother’s heels. When they entered the room, they found Brayden already sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for them.

  “Let me take a look at you, boy,” Gennifer said, coming around to pull aside his bandage and look at his leg. The wound was still red and angry, but it was no longer oozing as it had when Brianna had seen him dragged off his horse.

  “Looks good,” the healer said, rewrapping it. “You’ll have to keep it clean and dry and stay off it as much as possible for the next week. Then you should be able to walk with minimal pain.” Gennifer wiped her hands on her dress and then offered Brayden a hand. “Up you get, then. Your sister’s found you a good walking stick.”

  Brianna handed her brother the stick as he stood and took it gratefully, giving her a small smile. She beamed back at him, and then looked to her mother. Kaelen’s face was drawn with strain, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Brianna knew her mother wanted desperately to hug Brayden, to catch up on lost years, but she also knew that Brayden was wary of them, unsure who they were and what they wanted from him. It would take time.

  Brayden hobbled out the door, the women following in a small entourage behind him as he exited the house and made his way slowly across the village square.

  “What’s the bonfire for?” he asked as Brianna came up beside him.

  “Today’s Alwan’s Day. Our name day actually,” she said, giving him a slight nudge with her shoulder. “Happy name day.”

  He looked confused and annoyed at first, but soon a smile bloomed on his lips.

  “Happy name day to you, too. Are you going to dance around the fire tonight with your sweetheart?” he asked as they walked past the huge pile of sticks and logs ready to light. Twilight had fallen while he’d slept, and torches were lit around the town. Brianna glanced over at the blacksmith’s house, its forge open on one side to let out the heat. Adam and his brother Edward stood outside talking and as Brianna and her brother passed, both went quiet, giving Brayden an appraising look.

  “Perhaps,” she responded, looking away from Adam’s searching eyes. “Did you celebrate Alawn’s Day where you were?” she asked, unsure how much to push him.

  “The village near where I grew up did and sometimes, I watched from the stable roof. And I’ve read about it in books.” Brayden said, dancing around the topic of where he’d been these last years.

  “I suppose you can’t really dance tonight either,” she looked pointedly at his leg.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” her brother said, looking over his shoulder. “In fact, I think I’ll sit right here and watch.” He made his way over to a bench along the wall of the butcher’s and slowly lowered himself onto it. He smiled up at her and gestured towards the gathering crowd of villagers who were admiring the evergreen garlands that decorated the town. “I’ll watch you dance. Save me a sweet roll, alright?”

  Brianna smiled back at him but worry twisted in her gut. He was acting so casual, so normal, speaking to her as if they’d known one another all their lives. It made her uneasy, even though a part of her had waited and hoped for this moment for years.

  “Fine. I’ll tell Mother to come to sit with you.” Before he could protest, she turned and went back to where Kaelen and Gennifer stood, watching.

  Chapter 3

  Brianna danced until her feet were sore. Adam and Edward both asked her to dance, and though she obliged them both, she pulled Adam in for a second and then a third. A few other village boys snagged her hand for a dance, and soon the moon was high in the night sky. The bonfire was reduced to glowing embers and most of the villagers were wandering away to bed or already asleep around the village square on benches, too drunk to make it to their beds.

  She was still flushed, a cup of raspberry wine in her hand as she made her way over to the bench where Brayden still sat, his chin resting on his chest, his eyes closed in sleep. But she was still too excited, too wired to care if she woke him when she slumped down onto the bench beside him. He jerked awake; his red hair already mussed atop his head. He looked at her with sleep-laden eyes, and for a moment, she could tell he didn’t know who she was. But then he gave her a tired smile and stretched.

  “Where’s Kaelen?” he said.

  “Mum’s in bed, I would bet. I saw her wander off a few hours ago.” She didn’t point out that Kaelen was his mum as well. He would figure that out in time.

  “Have you been dancing this whole time?” he asked sitting up straighter and massaging his injured leg. He grimaced in pain.

  “Yes,” she said wistfully. She wished she still was. When they’d gotten too tired to dance anymore, Adam had pulled her off into the dark and kissed her. That’s really where she wanted to be, in his broad arms, kissing beneath the moon. She let out a sigh. Despite the fear earlier in the day, she felt content now. Her brother was home and the missing piece inside her was back in place. She had turned eighteen and been kissed tho
roughly by Adam.

  Things were good.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you show me where I can get some sleep?” Brayden said, dispelling the wistful look on Brianna’s face. She turned and smiled at him before leading him to a small two room house on the far side of the village, the back door opening into the dense pine forest beyond. He paused on the threshold, an unnamable feeling stopping him.

  This had been his house at one time. He should have grown up here. This should have been his kitchen, his table. He took a hesitant step inside, trying to take in all the details in the dim light of a small lamp on the kitchen table. He saw the pots and pans hanging from the walls and imagined his mother, Kaelen, standing by the small wood stove cooking breakfast in the morning. He imagined playing with toys by that hearth and drawing pictures in the dirt of the floor.

  Suddenly, emotions he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling welled up inside him, threatening to overwhelm him. Brianna had paused by the bedroom door, watching as he ran a finger over the back of a chair.

  “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

  “Just, give me a minute,” he said, turning away from her and hobbling out the front door. Only once he was alone, with just the darkness, moon, and stars to witness him, did he let the tears fall. An empty ache filled his chest and he felt like he was cracking in two. This was the life he was supposed to have had. That little girl in the blue dress was his only memory of home and now haunted him every time he saw his sister.

  Three days passed. Myles and a few of the other village elders had sat down with him the day after his name day and questioned him about his time spent in the abbey.