Barkfire

By André Ferero

On the eve of war a King makes a very difficult decision. He decides to send his baby son Blaze away, to an unknown place, for his safety. Will Blaze and his protectors make it safely through Shadowood, where the fearsome shadow-shafts reign? Will they survive the Forgotten Desert, of which little is known? And what will they find at the other side of the desert? Safety? Or more strife and discord?

Who will protect Blaze while he grows up? Who will guide him in the Way of Fire, the way of his people? Will Blaze ever discover the power of fire he carries within him, and connect with it? Or will his innate powers always remain hidden? Will he become just another insignificant boy, unaware of the strong fire power he possesses, ignorant of how much good he could do if he used his abilities right?

In Barkfire, Blaze will be forced to learn how to survive, while trying to find the self that was lost when he was sent away from his own kingdom. Will Blaze be strong enough to become his true self, and by doing so change the destiny of an entire kingdom? Or, will he live forever blind to his own potential and never truly become the boy he was destined to be?

Barkfire is the first book of the Barkwood Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: André Ferero
• Release date: Nov 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005702168

André Ferero

André Ferero is a South African writer who has been living in France since July 2006. Even though his love for Africa hasn't diminished during that time, he is not complaining about living in the kingdom (well, Republic) of food and wine.His interests include photography, reading, (good) movies, hiking, wine tasting, traveling and trying to figure out this experience called life. Music is one of his biggest loves and he listens to almost anything, from old to new.He writes as often as possible. He describes his fiction as speculative, with a focus on the characters in possible futures. He has also just finished a South African guidebook that is different from all other guidebooks on the topic and will be very helpful to travelers who want to plan their own trip to Southern Africa.

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Barkfire

Barkwood Trilogy Book 1

André Ferero

Published by Fabella Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2020, André Ferero

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to:

Luca, my own son of fire.

Always keep the fire

in your heart alive.

Chapters:

1: Arkeo Scald

2: The Fire Knights

3: The Firebird

4: Shadow-shaft

5: The Smouldering Path

6: Fangs

7: The Vale Of Obscurity

8: Sibyl Sage

9: A Hidden Home

10: The Foundling

11: Rasp

12: The Way Back

13: The Colour Of Hair

14: Blaze's Death

15: Spying On Rasp

16: Finding Blaze

17: The Shingle

18: Curebark

19: The Hanging Man

20: Dire Rox

21: Return

22: The Chase

23: Keeper Bark

24: Amuz's Order

25: A New Assignment

About The Author

1: Arkeo Scald

Mage-warrior Arkeo Scald hurried up the steep south tower stairs, taking two, sometimes three, at a time. He rounded a corner and reached a long, straight passage that marked the last leg of his sprint. Arkeo did not slow his pace as he glanced down the wide hallway. At the end of the corridor two Queen's Guards stood, guarding the closed doors that gave access to the Queen's chambers.

I have to see the Queen, Arkeo thought. She's the only one who can provide me with answers to my questions. If only those guards will allow me to enter. If not, I'll have to find a way around them.

Arkeo gripped his grey battle-staff with both hands, holding it horizontally in front of him, ready to push aside anyone brave or stupid enough to get in his way. His quick footfalls fell like thunder on the yellow flagstones and echoed with loud booms off the stone walls, forcing the guards to focus their beady eyes on his approach.

Long, curly orange hair moved to and fro from Arkeo's quick motion, licking his shoulders like flames. On his eyebrows, above his determined magenta eyes, small beads of sweat appeared. It dropped down into his eyes, burning them. Arkeo ignored the fire in his eyes and sped onward, scarlet cloak fluttering behind him as he sprinted.

Once or twice an oblivious servant stepped into his way from within a room, but immediately jumped back when they saw the crazed mage bearing down on them. Luckily the corridor was mostly empty and nobody was run over. All the castle's men were on the walls, fighting the Ferals. Even some of the brave younger women had joined the battle, to defend their city and kingdom against the bloodthirsty savages.

Arkeo knew he too belonged on the wall, fighting next to his friends. But this morning his fight was of a different nature. As he neared the Queen's chambers he hoped the rumours he had heard at breakfast were unfounded, that all remained unchanged, as it should be, that his Prince was safely in his crib, that nobody had meddled with the Destiny Prophecy.

Arkeo was not the Prophecy's creator. It was written long before he was born, but over the years he had come to think of it as his own. The mage believed stronger in the words of the Prophecy than in most other things. He had not only studied it repeatedly, but also dreamt of it many a night.

Since that fateful day so many years before, when he had discovered the ancient leather-bound book which contained the Prophecy, he had vowed to do everything in his power to make sure that it came true. Arkeo had pledged to turn the Prophecy into reality, determined that nothing in the world was going to prevent him from doing so.

Arkeo reached the Queen's rooms, barely out of breath. The two colossal guards barring the entrance did not move, only looked down at the short mage in front of them with disdain in their dark eyes.

Their left hands clasped longspears, their right hands rested on the hilts of their swords. The men eyed Arkeo suspiciously, but did not address him. All they did was to try and ignore his presence. Their behaviour did not impress or intimidate Arkeo.

I am here to see the Queen, Arkeo said in a strong voice. Open the door.

Her Grace is not to be disturbed, the guard on the right said in a monotone voice.

I am not here to disturb her, only to share a few words with her.

She does not want to see anybody at the moment.

I'm not just anybody. Don't you know who I am?

Of course we know who you are, mage. And this morning you are a nobody, just like the rest of us.

I do not appreciate your disrespectful attitude. What I want to discuss with the Queen is a matter of great urgency and of the utmost importance. The future of our kingdom depends on it.

The only future that should concern you is your own. If you don't leave right now, you will have no future to fret about, the guard on the left said.

Are you threatening me? Arkeo said, incredulous.

Not threatening, only warning.

In that case you leave me with no other option but to...

Leave?

No, not leave. This.

Arkeo lifted his battle-staff horizontally with both hands, until it was at eye level. The guards stared at the staff, but did not move. While they eyed the staff, Arkeo took his hands off its smooth grey surface. For several moments the staff floated in the air. Then it dropped to the floor, faster than it should have, coming to a stop a few inches above the flagstones.

Believing that Arkeo had lost control over the staff, failing to achieve what he had attempted to do, near invisible smiles appeared on the guards' thick lips. But the smiles turned into grimaces of pain as Arkeo pushed his right hand forward, then his left.

In an invisibly quick movement the right end of the staff connected with the one guard's groin. Before he went down, the other end of the staff had already done the same damage to the guard on the left. Both men shouted out in pain, dropped their spears, and fell to their knees, holding their groins.

Arkeo spoke a word and the staff shot back to his hands. He shoved past the guards and shouldered the entrance open, closing and barring the solid oak door behind him once inside the Queen's anteroom. To Arkeo's surprise none of the Queen's ladies were present.

Where are they? Have they been dismissed? Why would the Queen want to be alone when the enemy is at the city gates? Does it mean the rumours I heard earlier are true?

Queen Elan, may I enter? Arkeo called out.

Who is there? the Queen's hoarse voice answered from within her bedroom.

It is Arkeo, your Majesty.

What are you doing here, Arkeo? I want to be left alone. Didn't my guards make that clear?

They did, your Grace, but I disobeyed them.

Now obey me and leave.

Not without the truth, my Lady.

What truth, Arkeo?

I heard some rumours earlier in the common room. I need to know if they are true. I must know what is going on. May I enter?

If you insist.

I do.

Then enter, come and look at your dead Queen.

Dead Queen? Arkeo asked, alarmed, and hurried into the Queen's big round room.

The shutters were open only a few inches and the chamber was filled with an almost impenetrable gloom. In the near darkness it took a while for Arkeo to find the Queen. She was not on her bed, nor did she sit in her favourite chair in front of the fire. This morning there was no fire, Arkeo realised with a shock. The room was cold and smelt like ashes, old smoke and tears. Arkeo finally noticed the Queen kneeling next to the Prince's crib. She cradled something in her arms.

Is it the Prince? Is he safely asleep, protected by his mother? Is that why he is so quiet? But if so, why is the Queen crying softly to herself?

What is wrong, your Grace? Arkeo asked as he reached his Queen.

They took him, Arkeo. They took my son away from me.

Only then Arkeo realised that the Queen was cradling nothing more than the Prince's blankets. He was not wrapped warmly inside of them, like he always was. A cold surge of dismay swept through Arkeo. He found it difficult to glance at the crib, but curiosity got the better of him and forced him to look at the Prince's tiny bed. It really was empty.

Who took him, my Lady? The enemy?

No. My husband ordered this. He sent his Fire Knights to take my little Blaze away.

Why?

For his own safety, the King said. As if it is safer outside the castle walls than inside them. As if my child will be more secure without me than within my arms. How could they do this to me, Arkeo? How can I live without my son? All I want to do is to die.

No, my Grace, you must be brave now. The kingdom needs you, the people need you.

I don't care about the people. All I want is to have my little boy back, to hold him one last time. Doesn't my husband understand this? Don't you men know that a mother without her child is like someone without a heart?

When did they take the Prince, my Lady?

Some time during the night. The King wanted them to leave before the battle started.

Then they can't be too far away. I will go after them. I will find your son, and bring him back. He must stay here for the Prophecy to come true. Do you know where the Fire Knights went?

No. They didn't want me to know. They just took him and left, barely allowing me to say goodbye to Blaze.

The King will know where they went. Where can I find him?

He's on the wall, above the main gate, fighting alongside his men.

I must go to him, your Grace. He must tell me where they are taking the Prince.

He will not tell you anything. Why will he share his secret with you if he didn't even want to share it with me?

I will question him anyway, my Lady. And if he does not tell me where he sent Blaze, I will find out for myself. And I will bring him back to you. That I promise.

Thank you, Arkeo. May the Gods of Fire and Flame be with you, as well as Lady Luck.

Arkeo left the Queen behind in the cold shadows, where, sobbing, she cradled her son's empty blankets. He pulled the heavy door open and dashed past the guards before they were able to lay their big hands on him. They shouted curses and threats after him. He paid them no attention, only ran back the same way as he had come.

At the bottom of the stairwell Arkeo turned into the direction of the castle's main exit. The portcullis was raised and many women and men passed in and out of the castle grounds. Arkeo fought his way through the throng, past peasants, knights, guards and animals. The citizens had gathered in confusion and fear and the castle guards had difficulty directing them away from the gate. Nobody paid Arkeo any attention.

The cobbled streets outside the castle grounds were even more congested. Thousands of people, those who had fled from the countryside, filled it from side to side. There were men, women and children of all ages, faces marred by defeat, exhaustion and fear. Some families moved with slow shuffles to the safety of the castle compound, others halted, to rest.

Noise filled the morning air, together with the smells of unwashed people, animal droppings, trepidation and despair. But the commotion inside the town was not loud enough to mask the clamour of war. It came from a distance, from the town walls, and beyond it, but it sounded as if it were here, among the people, threatening to creep inside them and devour them from within.

How will all these people be saved? Is there any hope left for them? Or will every last one of them be slaughtered when the Ferals breach the gates? Are we, the Crucible People, going to be wiped off the face of the earth? Or will some of us survive, to rebuild our nation, our people?

Arkeo shoved the people's lot out of his mind. He attempted to fight his way through the congestion, but found it difficult to move at the speed he wanted to. He pulsed some power of rejection into his staff and held it upright in front of him. People parted instantly and a narrow path appeared for about five yards in front of him. Arkeo was still unable to run but he could at least walk at a much faster pace without any fears of falling or bumping into someone.

It still took him another fifteen minutes to reach the city's main gate. As the structure came into view he heard the rhythmic banging of a battle ram as it slammed into the gate, making it crack and strain under the pressure, sending dust and splinters flying.

Why isn't anybody trying to stop the Ferals from breaking through the entrance? Don't they understand that the enemy has to be kept out of the city? What is the King doing? Has he been killed already? Is everything lost?

Arkeo understood what was going on when he looked up at the wall. Many Feral soldiers had scaled the wall from the outside with grappling hooks, ropes and ladders. Countless Crucible soldiers fought against the invaders, with swords, spears, battle axes, curses and shouts. Arkeo sped up the stairs to the top of the wall. Bodies fell down around him, some dead, others wounded, screaming in pain. The smell of blood and sweat swept over him, filling him with anger and rage.

Arkeo reached the top of the wall and was confronted by a tall Feral soldier, dressed in bearskin and chain mail. A round metal helm, with horns sticking out on both sides, covered his big head. From underneath it, black locks of hair tumbled down his back. The man's eyes were even darker than his hair and his purple lips showed a smile of satisfaction when he saw the short mage, only armed with a wooden staff, five feet long.

The Feral laughed from deep within his belly, then attacked, thrusting his heavy sword straight at Arkeo's chest, believing, from the look in his evil eyes, that Arkeo was already as good as dead. Arkeo brought his staff up and swept the sword to the side, away from him. As the staff touched the blade, it shattered into countless fragments of steel.

The big Feral soldier stared in surprise at the hilt in his hand, then he shot Arkeo a look of disbelief. The man threw the hilt down and tried to remove a knife from the scabbard at his side, while backing away a few steps. Arkeo jumped forward, slamming the one end of his staff into the big man's chest. It singed through the man's chain mail and burnt into his skin, killing him instantly and shooting his corpse back over the wall in a big arc.

Where is King Crux? Arkeo shouted at one of his own soldiers.

He was above the gate earlier, but he might have been swept away by the fighting.

I'll find him, Arkeo said.

He fought his way closer to the gatehouse overlooking the main gate, felling Ferals with his staff as he proceeded. His breath came faster and warmer now from the exertion. The skin on his arms tingled with a sensation of fire as it burnt up and down his muscular arms, filling him with fierce energy.

Arkeo searched the struggling mass of men for his King. It took him some time to locate his leader in the tumult. He saw King Crux as he killed a Feral and ripped his bloody sword out of the dead man. The fallen man was replaced by two others, fierce, ugly, and hungry for his death. Arkeo dashed to his King's side and struck both Ferals down with a wallop to the face before King Crux had the chance to move his sword.

I can do my own fighting, Arkeo, Crux bellowed.

I know that as well as all your other soldiers, my Liege.

What are you doing here anyway? Didn't I order you to stay inside the castle, to help protect it if the wall falls?

You did, my Lord.

Then get back there right now.

Not before you tell me what's going on, my King.

Are you blind, Arkeo? A war is going on, can't you see?

Do not evade my question, King Crux. You know what I'm talking about.

No, I have no idea.

Your son, Prince Blaze.

Oh yes, there is that, of course.

Where did you send him?

Somewhere safe.

And where do you believe your Fire Knights will find such a place, my Lord?

To the south.

The south? How can you say that, King Crux? The south holds nothing but wilderness, badlands, deserts and certain death.

This is certain death, Arkeo. At least Blaze's escape gave him a chance to survive.

This battle is far from over, my Lord. And what about the Prophecy?

Not your Prophecy again, Arkeo. I don't have time for it right now. I'm a bit occupied, if you haven't noticed.

No disrespect, your Majesty, but the Prophecy is more important than all of this, including you, my King. Anyway, how do you expect your son to play his role in the Prophecy if he isn't here?

How do you expect my son to play a role in anything if he's dead?

You make a good point, my Lord. And, to make sure he stays alive, I have no other option but to go after him.

No, I forbid you to do that. The only thing you must do at this very instant is to get your scrawny butt back to the castle and protect it.

There are other protectors there, my King. Men as able as I am. Unfortunately, none of them are willing and stupid enough to go and look for your only son and bring him back here, where he belongs.

You underestimate the abilities of my Fire Knights, Arkeo. They will protect him better than you will ever be able to.

That is a highly debatable point, my King. Anyway, what will they teach your son even if they manage to keep him alive? Warfare? How to kill another man? There is much more to life than war. I must go to him, must find him. I know he will need my guidance.

If you defy my order to return to the castle you must not expect to be welcome in this city ever again.

I'll cross that burning bridge when I get to it. But now I must leave. May the Gods of Fire and War be with you.

Arkeo turned his back on the King and rushed away. He was about to break into a run when King Crux shouted after him.

Arkeo, if you're dumb enough to go on this senseless quest of yours, I order you to do me a few favours.

Yes, my Lord?

Do not ever bring my son back here until it's safe. And if we are all killed by the Ferals, bring him up as a good man. Do not tell him who he really is at first. Leave it for a day when he is old enough to understand. Then you can tell him where he comes from and why I was forced to send him away. And lastly, tell him that I will always love him.

I will do as you command, my King. Now I must really go.

2: The Fire Knights

On the evening before the battle against the Ferals, King Crux summoned his best Fire Knight to his private study. The knight was one of the most experienced, trustworthy, and able. He was the only one the King trusted with a mission that was, in his opinion, even more important than the imminent battle. The King believed that this knight, with the help of two of his best men, would be successful in carrying out what he expected of them. King Crux was unwilling to think about the possibility of failure, and what exactly it would mean to the survival of his people.

Did you say three, your Majesty? Ferno asked after the King had explained to him what he wanted from him.

Yes. You and two of your colleagues. You know your men, Ferno. Take the best two. This mission is more important than anything you have ever done before.

I know, my Lord. That's why I believe three of us will not be enough.

It will have to be, Ferno. I can't spare any more men, I need my other knights on the wall. As you know, the Ferals are at our gates. Their attack is near. I am certain it will happen tomorrow morning. There's another reason why three is a good number. If your company is any bigger you will draw attention to yourselves. The Ferals might be dumb, but they're not blind. Three of you will stand a better chance of slipping through the net they have woven around Fornax.

How will we get out of town, your Majesty? We can't just ride out of one of the gates. They are all being watched. We'll never make it through the Feral lines. We'll be cut down like wheat during the harvest.

You'll use the Sub Rosa Tunnels. They'll take you far enough away from the enemy lines.

The tunnels, my Lord? I was under the impression that they had caved in centuries ago.

Most of them have, but there is one way through. I used to play there when I was a boy.

Will you be able to show us the way, your Majesty?

No, I can't leave Fornax for even a few hours. My people need me here. They must see that I am present at all times. I must fight with them. But I'll take you to the entrance of the one remaining tunnel. The one I hope will get you through, King Crux said and spread a small map out on the big oak table in his private chambers.

It was a detailed map of the Sub Rosa Tunnels, drawn in charcoal ink on a square of deerskin leather. Ferno studied the map, noticing that the tunnels started in the dungeons underneath the castle. From there it branched off into the four main directions of the compass. The lines to the tunnel exits were not straight, but twisted, turning often to left and right, in the shape of a long, thin snake.

I cannot believe what I'm seeing. I was under the impression that these tunnels were only a myth.

It's one of our best kept secrets, one only entrusted to the royal family. But these are desperate times. Times when the sharing of a secret can save our future.

Which way is the best? Which tunnel must we use?

You only have one choice, all three others are impassable. You can only go south.

South?

Yes. Which is not such a bad thing, Ferno, since you must anyway travel south once you exit the tunnel.

Why south, your Majesty?

The north is the home of the Ferals, and will even be more dangerous than here. To the east the Cliffs of Ruin will block your way. And to the west you are certain to get bogged down in the Marshes of Martyrs. That only leaves the south.

If we travel south we will reach Shadowood, the badlands and the Forgotten Desert. Those places will be difficult to travel through. We don't even know how big the desert is, if there is an end to it, nor what lies to the south of the desert. Maybe nobody lives on the other side of that desolate place. What will we do then? Where will we go for help?

I understand your concern, Ferno. And you are right, of course. The woods, the badlands and the desert are dangerous places. But if you stay here, in the Crucible Kingdom, and if we fall before the Ferals, they will hunt you down and kill you. They will either imprison my son, or kill him outright. If you travel south he will at least stand a chance to survive. I can't explain why, but something tells me that he will find a place of safety in the south, beyond the borders of the world that is known to us. The Gods of Fire and Flame will guide your way, of that I am certain.

You speak truly, my King. With the help of the Gods, and the strength of our swords, we will find a path to safety. I vow on my life that I will take Prince Blaze to a safe place, where he can grow up strong and free, until he is big enough to come back and avenge our people.

You must prepare to leave in the middle of the night, Ferno. This departure cannot be delayed any longer. I believe the Ferals will attack at dawn. By then I want you to be outside of Fornax.

I will choose my two best men and inform them of our duty, my Lord. We will journey south and take your son to safety.

I am infinitely thankful to you, Ferno. You are giving me hope for the future again. A future that includes the survival of our people.

I am doing this not only out of duty and necessity, my Lord, but also out of love. Love for my country and my people, and love for Prince Blaze. We will survive these difficult times, King Crux. The great fire of our lives will not be extinguished yet. I will do what is expected of me to assure that.

Many hours later Ferno Burns followed his King down a stone staircase, into the dark depths of the dungeons. He led a golden-brown stallion, holding the big animal by its reins, talking to it in a soothing voice. His way was lit by a flaming torch. The going was slow and cautious on the narrow stairs, steep and slippery from the ever-present humidity. The horse obeyed Ferno's commands, careful not to fall. Ferno weighed every step before he took it, always aware of the wicker basket on his back, and the precious cargo it contained. At least his four month old Prince was quiet and Ferno wondered if he slept.

Behind Ferno the two Fire Knights he had chosen for the quest followed without speaking a word. Thermo Brightsword was a tall man, with a beard the colour of fire warming his square face. He was one of the few knights who wore his hair short. It was hidden under his riding helm. The helm was made of vigor steel, tempered in the Fornax furnaces. It was light enough not to cause any discomfort when spending hours on a galloping horse, and strong enough to withstand countless blows from an enemy's sword.

Clash Quarrel descended not more than ten steps behind Thermo, not taking his eyes off the stairs once. His brown eyes sparkled, not only from the light of his torch, but also from the promise of the coming adventure.

Like the other knights, Clash was also no longer dressed in his Fire Knight uniform. All three of them had donned civilian clothes, to make them more inconspicuous. They had chosen the dull colour of tall winter grass for their garments, to help camouflage them out in the countryside they were bound to ride through later that day. The only proof that they belonged to the company of Fire Knights was their swords, made of the best vigor steel in the kingdom.

Nobody spoke their thoughts when they reached the vault at the foot of the stairs, but from the look on their faces it was obvious that they were relieved to have made it without a fall. The knights checked the hooves of their animals, speaking to them in calming voices as they did so. Ferno handed his torch to Clash, removed the basket from his back and placed it upright against a wall to enable him to see how his Prince fared. The small boy's eyes were open and he smiled at Ferno when he saw him.

You are a brave boy, Prince Blaze, Ferno said. The Prince responded with a short laugh and a bit of babbling in a language Ferno did not understand.

King Crux lifted his son out of his basket. He held him up to get a better look at the boy, imprinting a picture of his little face on his memories. The boy smiled, not understanding what was going on. After a minute the King lowered his son and pulled him to his chest, holding him close for many seconds. He stared into the distance with a glazed look in his eyes.

In the torchlight Ferno saw the sadness on the King's face. He wondered if King Crux would have shed a few tears for his son if he had been alone with him. What was the King thinking as he held his son one last time? Was he wondering if he would ever see him again? Did he wish he could be part of his upbringing, part of his life, be a father to him?

The King kissed Prince Blaze on both his rosy cheeks and placed him back inside the basket. He made sure the child was strapped in, comfortable and well protected. With iron willpower he turned his back on his son. King Crux removed the tunnel map from inside his doublet and rolled it open, holding it up in the light of the torches. He went over the route the