Firestones

By Kim Fielding

Born with a deformed foot and abandoned as a young child, Brand spent his youth in indentured servitude to a mediocre wizard. Now Brand is grown, but with no other prospects to support himself, he remains in his master's employ, doing small chores and selling firestones on the bleak streets of Greynox. Until one bitterly cold day.

In this dark take on a classic fairy tale, Brand encounters the most sinister of magics. With his firestones gone, can he find his way to the light?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tin Box Press
• Release date: Jan 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224862474

Kim Fielding

Kim Fielding is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Winner of the BookLife Prize for Fiction, a Lambda Award finalist and three-time Foreword INDIE finalist, she has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She's a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two daughters who fully appreciate her, a husband who isn't obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others. Kim can be found on her website: http://kfieldingwrites.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites and Twitter: @KFieldingWrites Her e-mail is [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter

One

I t’s gone very cold outside, sir.

Mr. Alvey, sitting in his worn armchair by the fire with a tankard of mulled wine in one hand, didn’t look up from his spellbook. Then you ought to sell a lot.

Brand chewed his lip nervously. I sold a lot this morning, sir. But now it’s gone much colder. Even through the closed door, the chill reached toward him with long, pale fingers, making him shiver.

Now his master did look up, his pale eyes almost hidden beneath beetled brows. Your indenture expired when you were eighteen—three years ago—and I’m under no obligation to keep you here. I can’t afford a leech. Earn your keep or leave, and good luck finding anyone else to take in the likes of you.

Brand had heard this from Mr. Alvey many times before, and the threat never failed to terrify him. If he were cast out, he’d have nowhere to go. His family had abandoned him when he was hardly more than an infant. Brand didn’t remember them or even know their names. He was far too old to return to the foundling hospital, where Mr. Alvey had essentially bought the eight-year-old for an indenture fee. Brand wasn’t capable of physical labor—he could barely walk without his stick—and being entirely unschooled, he wasn’t qualified for any job requiring knowledge of letters or numbers. That left stealing or begging, and both occupations brought police beatings and potential death due to gaol fever. Besides, he wasn’t quick enough to be a thief.

He knew he ought to be grateful to Mr. Alvey for keeping him on—a fact Mr. Alvey often repeated. But it was difficult to appreciate his master’s generosity when Brand was forced to be outdoors while the wind shrieked across rooftops and through deserted alleys.

In response to Brand’s hesitancy, Mr. Alvey scowled more deeply. Don’t bother returning until you’ve twenty pence in your pocket.

Brand knew how to count that high. It would mean he’d have to sell every firestone in his tin bucket.

He swallowed. May I…. Perhaps I could have something warmer to wear? Your old coat? I promise I’ll—

You have your own clothing! Now get out! Mr. Alvey cast a warning glare in the direction of his heavy wooden staff, which leaned against the wall. Brand was well accustomed to the feel of that implement striking his body. The bruises from his last beating had not yet disappeared.

Brand hunched his shoulders protectively against the remembered blows and paused near the door. His clothes were threadbare and thin, held together with patches and hope. The sole