Flame Isfree and the Feather of Fate

By KD Sarge

Bucking thousands of years of tradition, Flame ran away from her elven heritage, her glorious destiny, and her arranged marriage. Now she's an expert treasure-finder in the human world, one job away from buying out her indenture and setting up a tower somewhere full of pretty things and pretty men.

Just one more job--but her employer doesn't know exactly what they're questing for, and also the world has changed since his map was drawn. Flame can handle all that with her usual sarcasm and skill, but when her intended husband turns up at the fateful meeting of the moons, ready to fulfill his destiny and help her save the world, she really just wants to run again.

All Flame really wants to do is nothing, but failure in the quest means a price on her head. Failure in the world-saving would be even worse.

Why can't everyone, fate included, just leave her alone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: KD Sarge
• Release date: Dec 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463031766

KD Sarge

KD Sarge writes for joy and hope, and works for a living. She has tried her hand at endeavors including Governess of the Children, Grand Director of the Drive-Through, and Dispatcher of the Tow Trucks. Currently KD loves her job in a private school for children with autism. Past accomplishments include surviving eight one-year-olds for eight hours alone (she lasted about ten months), driving a twenty-foot truck from Ohio to Arizona by way of Oklahoma, and making a six-pack of tacos in twenty-three seconds. Writing achievements include the Weightiest First Draft Ever, as well as nine other, much lighter, completed novels. She has six universes under construction. KD has won NaNoWriMo five times and NaNoEdMo twice. A widow, KD lives in Arizona with three children, two of them furred and all of them demanding.

Book preview

Flame Isfree and the

Feather of Fate

KD Sarge

Turtleduckpress.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 KD Sarge

Flame Isfree and the Feather of Fate is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and situations used in this work are the product of the authors’ imaginations and are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the Turtleduck Press (www.turtleduckpress.com) except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

Dedicated to my big brother, a surprisingly excellent DM.

Chapter 1

Scampering through the treetops, never worrying what was happening on the ground—squirrels knew how to live. Flame ran among them, heart thudding and brisk air in her lungs, the sun shining through yellow- and red-edged leaves. All that and a deep blue sky, the wind in her face, the ground far below—it had been far too long since she’d run through a mountainside forest.

A squirrel dropped onto a branch beside her and flicked its tail. Flame accepted the implied challenge, running past it. The beast bolted past her and leaped, and Flame followed as best she could, ran along a branch and leaped again when the squirrel did, but even she couldn’t leap where it did, so it gained on her with every tree.

Off in the forest, something screamed. Flame hesitated. The sound came again.

Well, she was losing anyway. Flame tossed a salute to the squirrel and slowed, listening.

The sound came again. Something in distress, that much she could guess. Flame took her bearings from the sound and trotted on.

A frantic rustling at the foot of an oak brought her down to a young fox, wrapped nose to back legs in a cord tied to a sapling. The animal saw her and opened its lips to growl at her. It couldn’t do more than threaten; its mouth was tied shut.

Hush now, before you bring something hungry, Flame told it softly in Vralajii because animals liked the sound of it. She sat on her heels for a better look.

The poor thing had walked into a badly-made snare. Fighting to get out of the noose, it had entangled itself with the cord and all its thrashing had only tightened it. Now it lay there, a night animal in broad daylight, panting and frantic.

The fox snarled again. Panting and frantic and also terrified.

Oh yes, you’re vicious, Flame told it. I’m far too frightened to hurt you, don’t worry. If she cut the noose, probably the rest of the cord would fall off. Flame tugged on her gloves then pulled a dagger, but as she reached the fox panicked, thrashing and squealing.

None of that, now, shh. Flame tucked the fox under her arm. Oh, you’re all skin and bones. Better figure out hunting before winter, little one. The fox calmed—or rather, gave up for the moment—and stopped struggling. Flame kept talking. "Out on your own for the first time and walked right into a snare? That’s some rotten luck. But now you know, right? Vraljii are all right but stay away from things that smell k’wlek. A human’s not leaving treats out of kindness. She cut the line to the sapling, held the fox tighter as the little tree shot upright. Shh, now, that’s only a start. I’m going to get you free and then I’m going to let you go, and I need you to run right to your den and hide, all right? As she talked, she unwound the cord, checking as she did for injuries hidden under the animal’s fur. All good, she said when all that was left was the noose. Now don’t bite my fingers; I need those."

CRACK-thunk!

Crossbow! Flame identified the sound even as she fought instinct to not drop flat on the poor fox.

Ha! a human voice said in Syntari. Flame couldn’t see the speaker. Pegged him!

You missed him clean, another man said. Now Flame heard the soft clomp of hoofbeats on soft earth. No leaves rustling—pine needles? She looked to a copse of evergreens she’d avoided, not wanting to get sap in her hair, and saw movement.

Go, she whispered to the fox, snatching the noose free. Get underground, she told it, with a gentle shove. The fox darted into underbrush as Flame swung back into the oak. She put the tree between herself and the evergreens and climbed higher.

We’re riding to war, belike, the second voice went on, and you’re wasting bolts missing squirrels.

Riding to war, was it? No one had mentioned anything about questing through the middle of a war when Flame took this job. Maybe it had slipped Tolor’s mind?

More likely he didn’t know. As new scout to Tolor’s unlucky little band, Flame should probably go tell him. Alas for an afternoon of running through the treetops…Flame found a place where she could look between two branches and leaned on the oak to wait.

Through the changing leaves, Flame saw two riders come out of the thicket, still arguing about whether the first idiot had exploded a squirrel with a crossbow bolt. Only two, and the one with the crossbow in hand rode a tall shiny-coated horse that didn’t come from these mountains. But in common with the other groups she’d seen on her afternoon’s run, both riders were human, soldiers for hire, perhaps, with more weapons than a casual traveler but no livery or crest to show loyalty to a lord. They were headed vaguely toward Synto, but again, as with the other groups, avoiding the road.

Three groups. One was chance, two coincidence. Three was planned action. She should tell Tolor now. Flame pushed herself back from the tree trunk, but Crossbow Boy put his foot in the stirrup at the end of his crossbow and, using both hands, pulled the string back, cocking it. A moment later he’d placed a bolt in the weapon as well, and Flame sank back. They would never see her, an elf in the high branches, but they might see a flicker of movement, and that was all Crossbow Boy seemed to need to waste a bolt. Better to wait. Though if they kept ambling along so slowly—the tall horse tossed its head. Probably wanted to run, with legs like that. The other was a stolid work-horse type.

Hey, hold on a moment, Crossbow Boy said to his friend, yanking on his reins. I’m gonna piss on that oak. Maybe I’ll catch a pixie.

The glitterkin are gonna curse your willy, Other Idiot said with a laugh. But they both rode toward Flame’s tree because of course. Braying jackasses. Flame hoped some wloshjii would act, but she didn’t think any were around.

If one comes out, great! Crossbow Boy said. Grab it!

Not grabbing anything with your willy waving around!

Catch a pixie, get a wish! Or so the story began. The tale never went so smoothly as that. Would humans never learn?

The occasional alliance of Vraljii and wloshjii stretched down through history; Flame could help with the lesson. Though she had no intention of getting anywhere near Crossbow Boy’s willy.

Flame let the riders get close, and when they were right below her, she dropped silently to just an arm’s length above their heads.

Crossbow Boy’s horse was behind the other. He hung his weapon on his saddle and dismounted, handing his reins to his friend. Walking forward, he reached for his waist.

Gods grant that I never see your bare ass again, Mounted Idiot said, covering his eyes.

Flame dropped, letting gravity lend her speed as she swung both feet into the middle of the rider’s back. On the return swing, she dropped onto Crossbow Boy’s horse and snatched the reins with a whoop.

The horse bolted. Flame held on.

Shouts and curses from behind made her grin. Flame leaned low on the horse’s neck and urged it to run, to love the wind and to feel the power of its legs.

Now hoofbeats thundered behind. Flame told the horse how fast, how strong, so far ahead of its friend…the black mane lashed her face as she guided the beast lightly, only keeping it from low branches or roots dangerous to its footing.

Horses knew how to run.

CRACK!

A line of fire sliced across Flame’s thigh, telling her she’d somehow overlooked a crossbow. She hissed and bent lower, singing reassurance as she guided the horse into a thicket.

Through the thicket and up an embankment was the road. Flame aimed the horse across the road and through the brush on the far side and whispered to it as she pulled it to a stop. Behind her a horse’s hooves rung on the road—and thundered off toward the city, and the curve where the mercenary must have guessed she’d gone. Flame patted the horse.

Well done, she whispered. Now let’s see if we can’t find you a better owner.

Staying just off the road and so nearly invisible, Flame rode until she found a track leading into the woods, and at the end a hut maybe belonging to a woodcutter. What mattered was that whoever owned the place wasn’t there, and they had a paddock and a small log-built barn. It was snug and well-maintained, so Flame put the horse in the paddock and stripped off its gear.

Anyone with half a mind, she told the horse as she searched the equipment, is going to treat you better than Crossbow Boy. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll get traded into the city to some noble lady who loves to let you run and a stable lad who feeds you carrots.

The mercenary had had only two Revlindan half-piece coins to his name? Pathetic. Flame fed one apple from his lunch to the horse and ate the second but tossed the rest of the food. It was worse than what she’d been eating lately, and that was saying something.

On the subject of food…Flame scowled at the westering sun. Past time she was getting back to camp for supper—and out of this fellow’s paddock with stolen property.

Flame had chosen the camp, so it was a good one. It was under a rock, more or less. A giant slab of stone stuck out of a small hill like the pointed brim of a hat, and the camp huddled under it, protected on three sides and with the bulk of the boulder dispersing and disguising the smoke from a small fire. On top of the rock sat a dwarf. He blended in well, but Flame knew he was there. Okon liked rocks.

Flame dropped out of her tree and caught Okon’s eye, lifted an eyebrow. The dwarf rolled his eyes and went back to watching the forest.

Under the rock, next to the fire, Tolor knelt beside the other dwarf, Satak. More forms lay wrapped in more blankets. Not even twilight and asleep already…that was Tolor’s merry band.

I have news, priest, Flame said as she approached, but Tolor lifted a hand and she stopped. Tolor muttered on, his other hand on the dwarf’s forehead. Flame saw the sleeper relax, his face soothing from an unconscious grimace of pain. Then Tolor rose and cocked his head to direct Flame farther from the camp.

So courteous, so commanding. Tolor was just the image of a priest, the sort humans loved to shower money on. Tall and neat with grey just touching his temples and beginning to mark his beard, dignified and thoughtful and so certain…not necessarily right, but certain.

You were gone a long time, he said softly when they were far enough from the camp that only an elf could have heard. What have you found?

Trouble, Flame answered, the classic response when one enjoyed irritating one’s superiors. She told Tolor of the soldiers she’d seen, and the talk of war.

Hmm, he said.

Did you know? Flame blurted.

The wealth of Synto is always a great temptation to men of arms with little sense, Tolor said, not answering the question. My task is more important than the mutterings of men in the woods. You should have come back instead of risking being seen.

I can’t keep us away from them if I don’t know where they are, Flame argued. She would have argued more, but her leg hurt and she wanted to sit down.

How have you injured yourself? Tolor asked, his eyes finally finding the bloody gash below her hip. She hadn’t stopped to deal with it, since that meant taking off her pants.

It’s nothing. It was really not a concern. It stung, but Flame was angrier about the hole in her leathers than in her skin.

It is not much, Tolor agreed, but it is wide and will scar if not treated.

Flame tossed her hair, but she did have enough scars already. She let him take her arm.

What happened? he asked, guiding her to sit on a rock sticking out of the ground. The campsite had an abundance of rocks. Okon had probably made friends with all of them.

There were two crossbows, Flame grumbled. I only saw the one.

You should stay closer to the rest of us, Tolor said as he covered the wound with his hand. Warmth and a prickling sensation spread from it, so Flame had to force her leg to stay still. If you find trouble—if you find more trouble than you can handle—you will need support that we are not near enough to give.

As if they’d be any help, in the shape most of them were in. Instead Flame said, Nothing ever got scouted from the middle of a crowd, priest.

Again. I am Tolor Morgenn, Second Lictor of the most sacred temple of Azad at Basultra. But if that is too much, you could just call me Tolor as the others do.

It never pays to get too familiar with the religious. So. Lictor. Second Lictor? What do you lick?

Tolor sighed. That is not what ‘lictor’ means. Is that better?

Much. Feels great. So, no licking this thingy we’re after—what are we after, again? Okon had said he knew, but only because he wanted Flame to ask.

An artifact, an item sacred to Azad. It was lost at Ayidrin when the world was wrecked.

Great, but what is it, exactly?

Tolor smiled. A treasure hunter of—

Finder, Flame corrected. Expert treasure finder.

An expert treasure finder of your caliber, Tolor said with a dip of his head, will certainly know it when you see it.

I don’t think you know what it is, Flame said.

Tolor smirked at her and went back to tending the rest of his people, wounded in the collapse of a place where they shouldn’t have been, back when they had a less skilled scout than Flame. Ancient map in an abandoned vault? Easy pickings for one expert treasure finder alone. But no. The scout had led them all in, and five out of the six who came out were wounded badly enough to make journeying nearly impossible. But Tolor hadn’t just put them all up in an inn for a few days while he and his god healed them up. No, he dragged them on day by day as far as they would go, prattling on about winter and pay and contracts when Flame brought the subject up. At least healing them wore him out, so he slept almost as much as the rest and Flame didn’t have to listen to him very much.

Flame figured it was just as well they’d lost their scout in the collapse, if he’d been that dumb.

And now they had her. And far more important, Flame had a job. The best kind, one that kept her out of Candescent, city of light and corruption, with the promise of paying well enough that she might never have to go back.

Her leg