Son of Fire

By K. B. Forrest

Dragons and sorcerers populate Atar’s world. A lost prince taken in by a tribe of savage Scythians, he is hated and abused because of his disabilities. He does not know that he is to be the next Firestarter. As he is forced to confront evils he never imagined possible, he also gains the strength to find his voice and his honor. Watching and hating him, his half-brother, son of the evil wizard Dahaka, waits for the opportunity to take away Atar’s destiny for himself. How will Atar and his werewolf companion and lover, Bulliwuf, thwart an evil they cannot see?

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Feb 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781771110419

Book preview

In a world lit only by ancient fires, passion and danger await.

Dragons and sorcerers populate Atar’s world. A lost prince taken in by a tribe of savage Scythians, he is hated and abused because of his disabilities. He does not know that he is to be the next Firestarter. As he is forced to confront evils he never imagined possible, he also gains the strength to find his voice and his honor. Watching and hating him, his half-brother, son of the evil wizard Dahaka, waits for the opportunity to take away Atar’s destiny for himself. How will Atar and his werewolf companion and lover, Bulliwuf, thwart an evil they cannot see?

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Son of Fire

Copyright © 2011 KB Forrest

ISBN: 978-1-77111-041-9

Cover art by Martine Jardin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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Smashwords Edition

Son of Fire

Fire Chronicles One

By

KB Forrest

Prologue

The Evil Night

Circa 500 BCE Bactrian Outlands

Nausea, fear, and pain threatened to overwhelm her as she ran down the dappled moonlit path, clutching her precious child tight to her bosom. She glanced up for an instant and through a break in the foliage a comet streaked gloriously through the clear night. A sign? She threw a glance over her shoulder and gasped in another ragged breath of the hot summer air.

They are coming for me.

It was only a matter of time before they discovered that she was gone. Fear and adrenaline sharpened her senses. She could smell the damp earth, her sweat, and the child. The tremendous ache in her delicate arms was beyond pain. She carried her child with the strength born of a mother’s fear. The forest around her buzzed with insects, lusty for life, as she ran.

Ahura Mazda! Give me time! Let him live, please!

She was almost at the place where they were to meet. God, if she were stopped now—no, she wasn’t going to think. She imagined she could hear the water in the distance, but perhaps that was only her own frantic heart.

The thick night air seemed hateful to her. It played with the silky material of her dark gown, making it billow out behind her. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck rose and her overheated body chilled as she felt eyes upon her. Whirling, teeth bared, she turned to confront whatever was behind her.

There was nothing there in the relative silence of the night. The black leaves that lushly covered the summer trees were outlined in silver moonlight. They fluttered mysteriously in the gentle wind. She moaned with relief and ran faster, her small feet leaving slight marks in the leafy floor. Blood sang in her ears and her breath came in shallow little gasps. She had to hurry. She stumbled, twisting her ankle painfully and barely catching herself before she fell. White-hot pain lanced through her leg, but she lurched forward once more. There was no time!

Under her wimple, hot, bitter tears began to course down her cheeks. She thought she had no more tears left in her, but this new horror eclipsed all that had come before. The grief of giving up her child tore at her very soul. Desperately, she blinked the pain away and tried to see ahead into the night. She threw another glance back the way she had come. Is the whole forest watching me?

If she had to die, so be it, as long as he had a chance at life.

The poor innocent child was caught in the midst of it all. She held him tight, her hot tears falling onto his gently rounded face. He was only three. He had his whole life ahead of him. And now she would not be there, watching proudly as he grew to manhood. She would not be there as he came to wonder why he was different. She would not counsel him and comfort him and be there to love him. It was impossible now. He was her secret treasure. She would have kept him even if that meant a life of fear.

Then he came.

He came and changed everything. Now all she could do was hang on and wait for the day when her son would return gloriously, proudly, to reclaim his birthright and fulfill his mystical destiny. Her son was the one. She knew this as certainly as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow. All the indications were there, even though he was only a babe of three years. She knew.

The path ended abruptly and she could see the people to whom she would entrust her child’s life. She shuddered and glanced over her shoulder again. The dappled, moonlit path seemed to writhe with movement. Was that a figure darting back behind that tree? Was she being followed?

The water beyond the still figures slid past, rippling under the light of the moon. The moment seemed frozen in time to her. The tightness in her throat and the numbness in her mind combined with the fatigue she suffered to produce a surreal horror only found in dreams. Her lungs burned and her limbs trembled with overexertion. Through her tears, she gazed into her child’s eyes, which were wide and blue. She could see two perfect little moons reflected in their innocent depths.

She sobbed bitterly.

May Ahura Mazda protect you, my dearest child! May they never find you, she whispered. She touched her soft, trembling lips to his forehead.

Mama, he responded as he tried to move his fat little hands, which were bound by a richly embroidered blanket.

Shhh, my poor, poor baby. Will I ever see you again?

The child just stared up at her, his soft brow crinkled in his effort to understand. Her tears glowed on his smooth cheeks.

Hurry now, hurry! hissed one of the figures.

She kissed him one last time before she handed her precious son over to face the cruel world without her love. As the warm weight of him left her arms, she thought her heart would break. Although every moment she lingered could mean her life, she watched them take her son into the small boat. The craft slid out over the moonlit black waters leaving the woman alone on the shore.

Chapter One

Fire! The bellowed order and the screams of the wounded and dying assaulted Anacharsis’ ears.

Firestarter! one of the generals screamed to him. Anacharsis!

They’re at the south gate! a soldier somewhere beyond screamed.

Anacharsis hurried through the melee to the fallen general, blocking out the horrible screams.

Firestarter, the general moaned when the great mage approached. The general was illuminated by the chill moonlight. An arrow protruded from his chest and his eyes were round with shock and fear.

No! May the God Mithra save us! Jamshir! Oh, my poor friend! Anacharsis said, kneeling next to Jamshir, his robes soaking up the pool of black blood that seeped into the flagstones of the fortress.

No time, Jamshir whispered as Anacharsis’ deft hands flew to the wound. Firestarter, we’re surrounded. There are just too many of them, Jamshir moaned.

Jamshir’s next words were lost in the boom of the battering ram. All is lost! Tell my wife that I love her. Tell her to remarry. His voice was barely above a whisper.

Anacharsis leaned in close. Be still, be still, Anacharsis ordered.

She will probably be a slave to those bastards! They will overrun all Seven Kingdoms, by God! We were the last stand and we’ve failed.

Boom!

The ominous rumble of the battering ram sent a chill through Anacharsis.

May his tongue rot in his head! May his mother curse her own breasts which fed the cowardly bastard! Jamshir screamed, fighting against the death that closed in around him.

Anacharsis did not have to ask of whom the general was speaking.

Not even a portion of the army! Jamshir howled, his hands clutching at Anacharsis’ arms. If King Hergor had only sent a portion of his army! May Mithra curse the land of Turania and all the cowards that live there! What the hell use could he possibly have for his damned army?

The general stopped speaking as blood rose in his throat and poured out of his mouth. Jamshir convulsed as his spirit left him. Anacharsis gently closed his friend’s eyes as a horrible suspicion rose within him.

* * * *

Fire! the command was muted by the thick stone walls of the fortress. Dahaka the Sly jumped and quickened his pace as the battering ram hit, shaking the ground under his feet.

Damn, damn, damn! Dahaka whispered to himself as he slipped along the cool, poorly lit corridors in the back of the fort of Larzum, scanning nervously for people. A rat scuttled behind him, causing him to jump with fear. He glanced through a narrow window out at the moon as he bit his nails hard. Almost time. And none too soon, hell, he might already be too late. He had definitely miscalculated his pawn, Hergor of Tur.

The bitter, familiar taste of self-loathing squeezed at the back of his throat as he continued on his way. Why hadn’t he foreseen this problem? His hand went to his chest to touch the medallion around his neck. He was glad he hadn’t been as stupid as to trust that power-hungry weasel with his only son and heir. He had gotten his wife, Cunaxa the Pure, to fake the child’s death years ago. She’d sent him off somewhere, but the infuriating thing was that she’d lied to him about where she’d sent him. When he tried to find the boy, he’d vanished. Yes, he thought, that bitch was probably glad to be rid of the brat, but she would never kill her son—his son. As for the other one, the child she’d had three years ago—he hoped that Hergor of Tur had killed him. It wasn’t his child, and he knew this despite her lies! It bore a resemblance to…to… He ground his teeth in frustration and rage.

Dahaka!

He whirled at the sound of that hated voice, black robes swirling around him. The passageway was nearly black, but Dahaka made out a figure standing in the gloom.

Dahaka, where the hell do you think you’re going?

Well, hello my dear brother, Dahaka said, the quaver perceptible in his voice. Hating himself, he snarled, Can’t a man take a piss around here?

The figure before Dahaka was cloaked in shadow, but all about him was the scent of blood and war. The ends of the figure’s luxuriant white beard were visible in the gloom. The figure took a menacing step closer, into the flickering light, and the sheer power of the man was conveyed with that simple gesture. Fear made Dahaka’s knees a little weak. He took an involuntary step back and immediately hated himself for his fear.

Anacharsis the Wise, Anacharsis the Firestarter, Anacharsis, who was always better than him, stood before his brother, staff in hand. The familiar, hot jealousy flooded into Dahaka as the knowledge that he could never hope to be his younger brother’s equal was brought home to him again.

Anacharsis was the most powerful, most feared mage the world had ever seen. As the Firestarter, kings sought to win his favor. High lords competed with each other to offer him hospitable accommodations. Although Dahaka was extremely powerful, he was always second. Always, he fell into the long shadow of his brother. The only thing Dahaka took satisfaction in was the knowledge that he had stolen the woman Anacharsis loved, Cunaxa the Pure.

The privy is that way, in case you forgot. Though how you could have done so, frankly amazes me. Anacharsis stared in a way that told Dahaka that he knew something was amiss.

A boom from below shook the ground on which they stood. Screams of rage and pain followed, and a great, eerie cry issued from the throats of the attackers. But the brothers stood, glaring at each other, eye to eye, as they had done a thousand times before throughout the years.

Dahaka’s mind was racing. He hadn’t planned it like this and he couldn’t think with that self-righteous brother of his staring at him.

Speak up! What are you planning?

The voice was commanding, imperative, and Dahaka’s spirit rebelled against it. He looked at his brother, eyes narrowed. They were all going to die here in this stinking little town. He didn’t have time for games with his brother. I am going back to Persia.

What are you talking about? Speak plainly, and hurry up. I am needed, Anacharsis ordered curtly.

What I am saying is simple enough even for you to understand. Dahaka stepped closer to his brother. I need to return to the castle to save my son before Hergor of Tur kills him. He paused and smiled wickedly, savoring the triumph he felt as Anacharsis’ eyes filled with horror. I honestly didn’t think he had the balls to double cross me.

He wouldn’t…you wouldn’t… impossible! Anacharsis the Firestarter seemed too shocked to believe him.

Boom!

A flaming arrow arced through the window near Anacharsis. He didn’t seem to notice, so fixed was his attention. No, he moaned. No, not even you could be capable of such evil. Tell me you and Hergor are not in league! In the name of the Creator, tell me you did nothing wicked.

Dear, dear, brother, Dahaka crowed, snorting with suppressed laughter. Simpleton that you are, it is no wonder I was able to pull this off. By the time I get back, he will have secured an empire for me. It should be child’s play for him to take over kingdoms, with so many of the armies fighting the Northern Savages. I am afraid he has felt his success too keenly, however. He’s probably getting it on with that slut of mine as we speak.

Stop! Anacharsis whispered.

So you see the importance of my returning without delay? I could be quite out of a position if he’s already installed himself in my castle. What’s the trouble, dear brother Anacharsis?

How could you do this to her? Anacharsis screamed. Your own wife!

Dahaka laughed over the sound of Anacharsis’ bellowed question. How gallant of you, fool! You give yourself away at every turn. I know you’ve been with my woman, haven’t you? Dahaka growled and smiled wickedly. But I suppose we shall have to share her with another now.

Stop, Anacharsis groaned as if all strength was draining from him. He leaned against the wall, weak with horror. No, he whispered. No!

Boom!

Dahaka grinned and drank in the sight of his powerful brother in the last extremity of despair. Anacharsis was leaning heavily against the wall, one hand over his eyes, mouth slightly open. He lowered his hand. Blue light poured from under his closed lids in defined rays. Anacharsis stood up and took a step toward his brother with the airy quickness of a reptile.

* * * *

Like lightning, Anacharsis seized his brother by the throat and with his other hand, he drove his steely fingers into the man’s chest. His fingers closed around Dahaka’s treacherous heart and Anacharsis jerked it out of the wicked man’s chest, feeling it pulsating in his hands. Anacharsis held it for a moment, blood dripping from it in black, glistening plops in the moonlight.

Anacharsis saw Dahaka’s look of frozen horror, but he was no longer a man. Anacharsis was a demon of fire.

He threw back his head and roared so loudly that the walls of Larzum shook. Light poured off his body, streaming down windows near him to illuminate the wide-eyed, upturned faces of the savage attackers below.

He felt himself rising as the savage fury in his heart touched upon the deepest wells of power in his soul. The night air was now on his face. He was floating above the fort, as bright as a star. Fury tunneled through his body. He heard screams distantly, but mistook them for the screams inside his own head. His whole body raged. His soul seemed to explode with grief and rage. He felt his hands burning. They felt hollow.

Then it was