Followed by Thunder

By Forthright

One sister, a pure light that beckons, the other, a fierce light that burns.
Fira and her sister are chased out of another village. Fleeing on foot across the empty moors, they’re caught by a storm that roars like the monsters ever in pursuit. But the wind changes and the thundering brings a stampede of defe

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twinkle Press
• Release date: May 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781631230677

Book preview

Followed by Thunder

FORTHRIGHT

Songs of the Amaranthine, 2

Followed by Thunder

Copyright © 2019 by FORTHRIGHT

ISBN: 978-1-63123-067-7

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or shared in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author. Which is a slightly more officious way of saying what I’ve always asked. Play fair. Be nice. But by all means, have fun! ::twinkle::

TWINKLE PRESS

FORTHWRITES.COM

because you are certainly someone’s treasure

Table of Contents

Curse Bringers

Thundering Hooves

Horse Clan

Lead Mare

Mountain Lore

Dragon Dance

Rock Collector

Echoing Song

Cadmiel’s Tump

Winged Predator

Sleeping Beauty

Passed Over

Tend Her

Spare Feelings

Crystal Adept

Playing House

Green Stone

Heavy Pockets

Pushing Boundaries

Reckless Fool

All Speed

Warrior Maiden

Bucking Tradition

Soul’s Anchor

Tsumiko inspected the crest painted on the crate’s lid—a faceted flower that looked like a jeweler’s workmanship. Is this for a clan or a cooperative?

Michael set aside his crowbar. Glintrubble is a cooperative that specializes in mining and shaping the stones that amplify a reaver’s abilities. Their community includes horses, rabbits, and bats. And reavers, of course.

TSUMIKO AND THE ENSLAVED FOX

Curse Bringers

Fira pulled her sister along, keeping her upright, urging her forward, praying she wouldn’t look back. Why must they repay every kindness with a curse?

Was it a dragon? Lufu asked, her voice barely heard over the rain.

It was.

Is it gone? Lufu’s green eyes were too wide, her chin atremble.

Let us hope so.

Clutching one hand over her heart, she said, I am hoping hard.

Fira pushed impatiently at sodden hair and squinted at the sky, searching for bearings. The storm lashed on all sides, rain sheeting around them in pitiless torrents. Chilled to the bone, she was grateful, nonetheless. This endless drenching might be the only reason the monster hadn’t seen them, smelled them, caught them.

Is it my fault? Lufu’s voice quavered.

Fira stopped and pulled her younger sister into a fierce hug. At fifteen, Lufu was reckoned a woman grown, but her innocence made her seem more like a child. One in desperate need of protection … and reassurance. "Not your fault, Lufu, Fira said in her most commanding tone. If anything, it was me. I stayed too long."

Lufu leaned into Fira’s larger frame, confessing, It was nice to stay. I liked them.

And they liked you. But it is better for them if we move along. Assuming the dragon hadn’t already taken out its frustration on the tidy farmstead. Fira had seen one of the milk cows carried off, and she feared for both the herd and its herders.

They’d been taken in by a soft-spoken farmer and his kind-hearted wife, whose reasons were plain enough—six strapping sons. Fira had firmly ignored the bashful looks and clumsy advances of the older boys. Still, the settled prosperity of their farm had tempted her to linger, and the second son had an admittedly nice smile. So when the missus kept finding little ways to delay the girls’ departure, Fira had been fool enough to hope it would be different this time.

Are Henry and Roger angry? Lufu asked.

The littler boys had been all mischief and play, always begging for dares and boasting of heroic deeds. If Fira had wanted to shift blame, they were owed a share for hastening the disaster.

Fira asked, How did they get your rock?

They asked to see it. Lufu ducked her head. I only meant to show it.

I know how they can be. She doubted the boys had planned to keep the chunk of crystal for themselves, but they’d run off with Lufu’s lucky stone. It had always been with them. A link to a childhood that was more nightmare than memory. Their charm against the monsters.

Bad things happened when Lufu left it or lost it, so Fira made sure to stitch a hidden pocket into whatever rags they found to wear.

Lufu knew it was best kept secret. But the boys must have twitted her somehow—about her darker skin or her accent—or wheedled her into comparing treasures. And they’d snatched it. No sooner had Henry and Roger vanished behind the barn, the winds whipped up and the sky boiled black, and a dragon fell upon the farm like a blade of lightning.

Cows bawled.

Hens scattered.

Men shouted.

Fira had listened to Lufu’s teary explanation and bolted after the boys, half-dragging her sister. She knew where the stone was, and she knew they must get it back. Even if Fira didn’t know why, those two things had always been true.

That single stone was their parents’ only legacy, a rough-hewn gem, clear as air, with winking facets and the tiniest kernel of yellow at its heart. Even at their coldest and hungriest, they never would have sold it. Some things were more precious than temporary comfort.

When Fira reclaimed it from the two quaking boys and bid them hide in the creek bottom, the sky had opened up, drowning the fields, covering their escape.

How much further? asked Lufu. Will there be a house?

With no answer to give, Fira kept silent.

Fira?

I am here.

Even a cave might be good.

She gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. If I spot one, we will stop.

But there was nothing to see but a gray and growling sky, hardscrabble rock, and an inhospitable expanse of scrub and shrubs that caught and tore at their heavy skirts.

A terrifying roar pierced the murk.

Is it c-c-coming? Lufu’s teeth had begun to chatter.

Fira pointed to a small tumble of stones just visible through the spatter of raindrops, the first shelter she’d glimpsed. There!

Without another word, both girls picked up their skirts and ran.

Thundering Hooves

The heap of boulders was farther than it seemed and bigger than it looked, but it made for a meager shelter. Huddling against bare stone was no kind of safety. Fira circled the haphazard monolith, but found no crack, no crevice, no burrow to hide them.

In the distance, the nightmare beast shrieked.

Lufu was sobbing now.

The stone, Fira said. Let me hold it.

Over the years, they’d realized that the stone liked Lufu better. It hid her from the beasts and soothed away bad dreams, so she curled around it to sleep. But when Fira held the crystal, it sparked and snarled like a cornered cat, all arched back and puffed tail and bared fangs. More than once, the monsters had recoiled as if stung and fled before the stone in Fira’s hands.

She couldn’t hide from them, but she could hurt them.

If only she could keep them from coming back.

A shrill roar came from closer quarters, and Fira whispered words of love, kissed Lufu’s forehead, and took the crystal. It had to work. It would.

Lightning briefly blinded her, and thunder cracked directly overhead, but its rumble didn’t fade. The noise kept building until it shook the very ground underfoot. Fira grabbed Lufu’s hand. Something was coming. Something big.

What is it? her sister cried.

I do not know! I cannot see!

All of a sudden, the wind changed, whipping around them, pushing back the rain, clearing her view. Fira stood in the center of a whirlwind, frightened as much by the freakish weather as by the danger it revealed. A bronze dragon with red eyes and curling horns crouched upon the stony jumble, poised to spring.

Fira whirled,