Up in Flames: Chest of Soul Prequel, #5

By Michelle Erickson

From the first time he saw her, Vael wanted Revaya. 
For twenty thousand years, she’s refused him. 
To add insult to injury, she married a human, though that can’t last forever. 
He knows their elements, his fire and her air combined, would be unbeatable. 
Everyone knows it, except Veya. 
He’s tired of waiting and is implementing a new plan: 
Eliminate her distractions. 
He murdered her friend and Teris is in ruins. 
According to Mayhem, the next step is to remove her will and enslave her. 
The plan is going to work, unless... 
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Erickson
• Release date: Jul 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781536547764

Book preview

Sometimes,

Our lives have to be completely shaken up, changed,

and painfully rearranged

to get us to the place we need to be.

Book Cover © 2014 Mates Laurentiu

Cover Concept © M &T Erickson

Copyright © 2014 Michelle Erickson

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.  All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-304-83443-0

Prologue

Chapter 1: Ambrosia

Chapter 2: Reshaped

Chapter 3: Solestar

Chapter 4: Protection

Chapter 5: Toenails

Chapter 6: Fireball

Chapter 7: Burned

Chapter 8: Quack

Chapter 9: Mala’s Last Call

Chapter 10: For Keeps

Chapter 11: Layers

Chapter 12: Dipping Guards

Chapter 13: Collateral Damage

Chapter 14: A Bite

Chapter 15: Swamp

Chapter 16: Twin Cores

Chapter 17: Gone

Chapter 18: Breaking Free

Chapter 19: Silence before the Storm

Chapter 20: Instructions and Destruction

Chapter 21: Unstoppable?

Chapter 22:  After and Before

Chapter 23: Locked in Time

Epilogue

Books by this Author

Character Index

Ode to Vael

Playlist

Prologue

With his heart drumming fear up into his throat, Vael followed his white-faced mother down the steps of their mansion and out past the stables.  She paused in shadows, taking a quick glance back at the sleeping mansion.  Her expression was so severe he didn’t dare ask her what they were doing or where they were going.

She led him to the small boat his father used on the Earth-Macshara-made lake. 

He looked up at her in shock as she gestured for him to get into the tiny craft.  Most of his nightmares were about drowning.

Doesn’t she remember father has forbidden this? 

He knew by the look in her eyes and the set of her don’t-ask-questions jaw, that she was not in the mood to debate. 

Silently, shakily, he climbed in and quickly sat on the narrow plank that served as a seat.  To his relief, she also got in and took the seat just opposite him. 

Quickly, she rowed them across the still as death water.  He no longer needed to ask where they were going.  There was only one destination possible.

In the center of the lake was a small island and on that island was a crypt. 

His father told him his grandparents were buried there.  He’d never met his grandparents. 

Nor did he care to. 

Graves were not something he cared to see – ever.  Death was a frightening mystery and he wanted nothing to do with it. 

There could be ghosts.

Once, last summer, he’d slept outside near the lake at his mother’s request so he could bring her fish for breakfast in the morning.  He’d slept at her side many times near the lake.

That night, he dreamed fire danced on the water.  He thought he’d heard a woman calling his name and woke to find smoke hanging in the air.  He’d never run faster for home. 

His mother had wrapped him in her arms when he burst into her bedroom and leaped onto the empty side of the bed. When he explained about the fire, she had looked frightened for a moment, but kissed him on his forehead, and he’d felt the world right itself.

This morning was very different.

In the light of a new moon, his mother’s face was pale as moonbeams, her dark hair and eyes searched the area around them.

She was beautiful.  Everyone said so and each time they did, he filled with pride.  They also said the marriage had been a good match for she was the niece of the Master of Stones Fist.

His childhood was sprinkled with tales of Stones Fist.  He knew it must be a grand place.  Someday, he had vowed, he would go and see it for himself!  He would discover why his mother’s face looked so lost whenever she spoke of it. 

Once he was old enough, he’d make things right for her to return.  All he knew was something that remained unmentioned had happened that kept her from visiting.

No one from Stones Fist came here, to Oddswallow, either.

As the small boat bumped against the shore of the island, she nodded at him and he gladly hopped out and held onto the rim of the boat so she could get out.

Once on shore, she held onto his upper arm, her grip that of someone facing death by drowning.  Her strength shocked him.

She took him to the crypt, pulled a key out from beneath her hair ornament, and handed it to him.  In a whisper that barely carried to his ears, she said, This is your past, Vael.  The truth is behind that door, if you have the courage. 

She knelt and pulled him into her arms, giving him a strong hug.  When she pulled away, she had tears in her eyes as she brokenly said, Forgive me.

His young heart pounded with anxiety as she walked away.  To his amazement, she walked to the water’s edge and kept walking.  He watched her swim back to the other shore. 

When she emerged, she turned to blow him a kiss and then ran, not toward the house, but toward the stables.

He thought he understood.  His father’s wrath would be terrible to endure.  His father was gone on business and would not return until tonight.  Why is she leaving me behind?

His mother didn’t do anything without reason. She would come back when his father had calmed down.  She always did. 

It was his greatest fear – that she would never come back.

It would be foolish to let his father find him here.  His mother’s actions told him that much.

He had to make a decision and then take action.

Vael looked at the key.  It was plain, ordinary.  His mother’s reaction seemed so out of character and she had risked so much to get him this far, he felt it necessary to uncover whatever ‘truth’ was inside the crypt.

The door he faced was straddled by thick wooden lintels.  He could not read what was carved into them.  It looked like a dead language.  He’d seen it before, inside the house, in a book about Macshara – those who could manipulate elements.

His foot took a step without conscious permission. 

How can a crypt be my past?

Then he asked himself the question he didn’t want to think about:  Forgive her for what? To ask forgiveness meant she knew she was guilty of something.

He inserted the key into the lock and turned it until he heard a click.  He felt sweat pop out on his forehead and wiped it away, shocked that he was sweating. 

He didn’t ever remember sweating before!

Determined to show the courage his mother had displayed by bringing him here, he pushed open the door and entered a tiny room, hardly big enough for the bed it held.

On the bed sat an attractive blonde woman with long braids.  She was bouncing a ball of fire from hand to hand. 

Vael.

He recognized the voice.  It was the same one he’d heard last summer.  He scrounged up his last bit of courage.  Who are you?

Vaven.

You’re a Fire-Mac.  She had to be if she could play with fire.

Yes.

Where are you from?

Your father bought me from the Fortress.

He’d heard the Fortress in Brissa was a terrible place.  Yet, this woman, this Fire-Mac, was bought from there.  To him, it meant only one thing.  You’re his servant?

No.

Then why did he buy you?

He bought me, her face was calm, but her eyes looked haunted, because I was the best Fire-Mac in the Fortress.  I fought for him on the dead lands.

He had heard of those.  Everyone had.  They were also forbidden. 

After I won many battles, your father and I fell in love.  Her voice was full of sorrow.

"Then why are you here?"  He could not understand why his father would make a woman he loved live in a crypt.

Thek put me here because he was afraid.

"My father isn’t afraid of anything!"

He felt the lie.  His father was afraid, very afraid – of him.  Vael wasn’t sure why.

I’m your mother.

He almost spat the word liar out loud.  But there were too many unanswered questions in the household of fear.  You can’t be.  He felt sick at the thought.  Who is Xera?

As if the woman heard his question she said, Xera was my friend before I married Thek.  She’s very brave, Vael.

He thought about Xera’s growing fear and determination.  The bruises and cruel words she’d had to bear over the years. Why is she pretending to be my mother?  Try as he might to sound brave, he heard the quaver in his voice.  The thought hurt.

She came here to Oddswallow looking for me because I sent her a letter about your birth.  Thek told her I’d run off and asked her to stay and take care of you.  She knew better.  Her lips quivered.  By accident, she found out where I was and came here whenever your father left.

His mind blurred with images of them playing near the lake.

She brought you here until you were old enough to walk.  She made a point to play nearby and sleep with you under the stars just so I could hear you.  Her face was wistful.  She promised to bring you when the time was right so I could train you.

He didn’t appreciate the information.  It was frightening in ways he couldn’t understand.  He scowled.  To do what?  I’m not a woof!

You are a Fire-Mac.

In his mind, fire danced across water, hissing and sizzling across the surface, creating heavy mist. 

That was me?

You’re very talented, she said with pride in her voice.  But Fire-Macs are not like the other kinds.  The first time you manifested, you could have killed someone.  You’re still in danger of doing so if you don’t learn to control your power.

How do you know I have talent?

I can see it.  Right now, it’s dancing around like a wild wind has caught it.

He’d never heard of such a thing.  "How can you see my...talent?"  He liked the idea of having power.

Close your eyes, tap your foot, and you will see mine.

He did and saw a bonfire spring to the front of his mind. 

"My son, you’re one of the most powerful Fire-Macs, if not the most powerful ever born."

His resistance was crumbling, but he tried once more to deny what his heart said was true.  Why should I believe anything you say? 

Because you’ve already stuck your hand in fire and not been burned, but, most of all, because you feel the call of flames.  With that said, there are many things you can learn to do, but there is one you cannot.

He looked at her.

You will never be able to shut it off or ignore it.  Proudly she said, You look like your father, but you are like me.

He did not want to be trapped like her.  If you’re so powerful, why are you in this crypt?

Because I chose to be surrounded by water and entombed in rock rather than abandon you.  She pulled away her collar and he saw a leather belt around her neck.  He had heard of such things from Xera, but never seen one.

This is a Temis Belt.  It’s how Macshara are controlled in the Fortress.  Your father promised that if I married him, he would remove it.

The fact his father lied did not surprise Vael. 

I heard you couldn’t use your element if you wore one.

Her eyes grew hard.  Your father gave me permission to use enough flame to keep myself warm and cook my food.

Something else had just occurred to him.  Why didn’t Xera just open the door and let you go?

I can’t leave without permission as long as I wear the belt.  Xera knows I wanted to take you with me to Stones Fist.  Once you are trained, I will send you to her.

He was equal parts horrified and fascinated.  He no longer questioned that this woman was his birth mother and he desperately wanted to go to Stones Fist. 

However, his father was a problem of monumental proportion. His rages were legendary and he wanted to escape intact.  Perhaps if his father believed he had no ability, he would be free.  Can you teach me to hide it?

I hope to teach you all I know, her lips twisted bitterly and she looked at the piddling fire.  For now, you know where I am, what I am, and you have the only key.  Anytime your father leaves, come here.  Vael, she said, staring right into his eyes.  If he ever finds out you’re being trained, he will kill me and put a Temis Belt on you – if he doesn’t kill you first.

Vael shuddered because he knew it was true.  He won’t be back until tonight.  What can you teach me now?

His mother smiled.  How to survive.

Chapter 1:  Ambrosia

Ammon, Lord of Acha, Master of Rozan Steading, was becoming a tree and he had the roots to prove it! 

The pale white threads were pushing out from the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers.  He was fighting a constant battle with exhaustion.  His body begged him to stick those roots deep into the soil and accept the death that beckoned.

Surrender wasn’t part of his vocabulary. 

Besides, he had a reason to live.  He had to save his family and friends, if he could, and he would continue searching for the answer that eluded him to the question:  Why wasn’t the tea-honey combination working?

At one time, it appeared he’d cured being human, but that cure, it had turned out, only lasted a few millennia. 

He looked at the delicate fibers on his fingers that had grown overnight and sighed.  As he plucked them off, a stinging monotonous process, he started to chuckle, recalling the look on Jaydren’s face as he asked his friend to check for roots on the part of his body he couldn’t see.

Each time he grew tired enough to nap, which appealed to him with tantalizing regularity, he looked at his best friend.

Jaydren, whom he called Jay, was an Earth-Mac that was struggling to keep from turning into solid rock.  He had managed, by sheer force of will, to free his face, one hand, and a foot. 

The rest was still rock-hard. 

He privately speculated why Jaydren didn’t surrender.  It would be so much easier to do what all Macshara did at the end of their life – revert to their element – than the slow creeping kind of death Jay was suffering. 

Was Jay doing it for love? 

Maris, Jaydren’s first wife, had been worth whatever effort it took to stay alive, but he was now married to Soline, the tantrum-ridden Water-Mac who had killed more people with one wave than had died in the previous hundred generations. 

One of Ammon’s best-kept secrets was the fact he liked the unfathomable Soline, at least, when she wasn’t being a bobbing-eyed menace. 

Don’t look so serious, Jaydren told him in an amused voice that now sounded oddly deep and shallow, like he was standing at the bottom of a well. 

Tea time, Soline told her husband, and held a cup to his lips and made him drink.  She did this every hour around the clock. 

And he lets her!

Jaydren stopped drinking the tea only when he emptied the cup.  Thank you. 

My pleasure.  She lightly brushed her lips against his, then lingered.

It never failed to amaze Ammon that Soline was openly affectionate with Jaydren.  It wasn’t her words, which were few and far between, but the sentiment was there in her actions, including her wild hair.  It caressed Jaydren’s face, touched his hand, and wrapped around him like a blue-green octopus when she was close enough. 

It made him nervous because her hair had the strength and sharpness of steel when she was angry.  Each time Jaydren kissed her, the hair looked soft as butter, but he’d seen it stab, cut, and slice.

He rose from his haunches, fighting the stiffness in his joints.  He made himself move as much as possible during the day.  He feared if he stopped, he would – literally – take root.  He only took off his boots once a day – to check for roots.

A few feet away, Revaya’s husband, Hawk, was resting in a hammock strung between trees.  Revaya was smoothing the hair away from his high deeply-lined forehead.  Age had tagged Hawk at long last. 

For a human, Hawk was ancient and should have died millennia ago.  Yes, he had lived many lifetimes, but it should have been forever. Ammon resented the man’s impending death. 

It meant the special brand of tea Ammon had been working on since before the death of his first wife – who had also been human – was still not perfected!

Hawk now wore the badge of Ammon’s failure and it put a permanent kink in Ammon’s confidence.  To tell the truth, he had no idea what to do at this point, but he would keep trying. 

Revaya looked up at him and the sunlight that sprinkled itself so stingily beneath the Tava trees, embraced her face.  For that moment, it looked as if she wore a transparent mask of her beautiful face over her equally beautiful harpy features. 

Of them all, he wanted to save Revaya the most. 

In his heart, he still carried an unwanted flame for her, knowing he would never allow it to fan to life without an invitation, but wishing he would get that invitation just the same.

He looked at Hawk, sensing the man’s tentative grip on life.  He liked Revaya’s husband.  She had her qualms about bringing him here when he was so weak, but relented when Ammon told her that on the other side of time, he would live longer.

The fact was, Hawk would die no matter where he was.  Ammon could not prevent Hawk’s death, but he might be able to prevent hers.

When first brought here, Hawk had rallied.  Revaya had been hopeful.  Now, she was tied to her husband’s side, wondering which breath would be his last.

Hawk had proven himself a good friend and ally.  The man was brilliant and not the least bit snobbish.  He could understand Veya’s attraction to the man’s mind, if nothing else. 

Personally, he felt the harpy part of Revaya wasn’t attracted to Hawk.  Though very likeable, Hawk was not an alpha male.

How’s Hawk? he asked the dying man in a quiet voice.

Still among the living, Hawk answered in a weak voice.  And I’ve been thinking about Jaydren.

What about him?  Soline asked, her head swiveling their direction.

Ammon still had a hard time accepting this Soline.  She was content to sit next to Jaydren for endless hours, fetching cups of tea, and doing whatever needed to be done.

Why has the stone been receding?  Hawk asked.

Revaya and Ammon exchanged a look.  This was a question the two of them had asked each other multiple times.  Jaydren was improving every day – Revaya and Ammon were not.

Hawk’s smile stretched.  It did not enhance his looks.

What is different about the tea Soline gives him?

I make the tea, Ammon stated.  It’s the same for everyone.

Not exactly, Jaydren’s voice rumbled.

Soline looked at them with her bobbing eyes dancing along the edge of her eyelids.  I add water.

Ammon had noticed, but never questioned it.  The tea was sweet because of the Mara-bee honey.

"And you added it to Jaydren’s?" Hawk wanted to know.

Yes.

Everyone knew that Soline manipulated any and all kinds of water, including a special healing kind that she pulled from herself.  She’d once used it to save Jaydren’s life after he’d been badly burned.

"What kind of water?" Ammon wanted to know.

My own.

She just confirmed what Ammon had hoped for.  He cleared his voice and put his hands on his hips, studying the ground for a moment.  He felt their eyes upon him.  He winked at Hawk and then announced, "You’ll have to pretend you never heard me say this, but Soline, you’re