The Hungering Flame Read online

  The Hungering Flame

  By Andrew Hunter

  Copyright 2013 Andrew Hunter

  Kindle Edition

  Discover other works by Andrew Hunter at Freemancer.com

  Chapter One

  The wind that brought the rain still smelled of the ocean ten miles inland. Garrett and Marla sat together inside the broken hulk of an old wagon, listening to the staccato rhythm of water dripping down from the trees onto the ragged canvas tarp above their heads. Garrett’s fingers and toes ached with the chill through his gloves and boots, even though his purple robe clung to his skin, damp, and uncomfortably warm.

  Marla’s dark hair lay flat against the sides of her face, and her eyes seemed distant and sad as she gazed into the misty forest across the road. Her gray traveling garb blended against the shadowy bed of the overturned wagon. Her pale face and hands shone in ghostly contrast.

  Garrett shifted his feet, catching the sole of his boot on the edge of something half-buried in the mud. He pulled the curved dagger that Cenick had given him for his birthday from his belt. He stuck the tip of the blade into the ground beside the little wooden box and pried it up.

  He wiped the dirt away with the thumb of his glove to reveal the faded image of a painted hen and a trio of chicks on the lid. He tried to open it, but could not grip it properly without first pulling off his leather gloves. Even now, he hesitated, but Marla had seen his scars before. He stripped off his glove and grasped the lid, twisting it off with a dry pop.

  The scent of cinnamon filled the makeshift shelter. Garrett sneezed.

  Marla smiled at him, and they shared a laugh.

  “I wonder if they’re all right?” Garrett said.

  “Warren and Hauskr?” Marla asked.

  “I meant the people that owned this wagon.”

  Marla shrugged. “We aren’t very far from the coast. They could have made it to Stuggs on foot and caught a barge to Wythr. They’re probably there now, like the other refugees.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett said, carefully replacing the lid of the spice box and setting it atop an old crate.

  “I’m sure your family is somewhere safe as well,” she said, “and, after the war, when your town is rebuilt, they’ll go back, and you can find them.”

  Garrett nodded.

  “You can even introduce them to your pet zombie.” She grinned.

  Garrett laughed. “I wish you could meet them,” he said.

  “What do you imagine they’d think of their son associating with a vampire?” Marla asked with a wicked little grin. Her teeth seemed only a little more pointed than any other girl’s, but then she was only fifteen.

  Garrett smiled.

  Marla looked away, her long fingers brushing a lank strand of hair from her pale cheek. “Garrett,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can a necromancer ever bring back someone from the dead if... if they don’t have a body?”

  She looked at him then, and Garrett saw the gleam of impossible hope in her eyes. He hated to have to take it away from her.

  “Even if you had a body,” he said, “necromancy doesn’t really bring the person back. We just animate the dead body. It only seems alive, but it’s more like a machine. It’s not the person it was before.”

  “But you said Caleb remembered things from his life,” she said, “like that he was a thief before.”

  Garrett squirmed a little. “Yeah, sort of, I think, but I may be wrong. And anyway, they can’t talk, and it’s hard for them to move.”

  Marla closed her eyes and shivered. “I wish the night would come soon.”

  “Yeah,” Garrett sighed, though he wished instead that the clouds would part long enough to let him glimpse the sun. It had been more than three years since he had seen a blue sky. The eternal cloud that hung over the tomb city of Wythr reached far beyond its borders in the rainy season.

  The two dire wolves outside lifted their heads from their paws and sniffed the air. Marla’s wolf whined.

  Heavy paws padded down the leaf-choked road as Warren the ghoul returned, riding atop his pony-sized wolf.

  The shaggy ghoul dismounted, patting the wolf named Hauskr on the back.

  “You miss me?” Warren asked, showing his long teeth in a broad grin. The short gray fur that covered his body dripped with rain.

  “Did you find anything?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah, something dead. Three miles up the road,” Warren said, “I’m hungry. Let’s check it out.”

  The three great dire wolves shook themselves dry as the companions gathered their gear. Marla pulled her hood over her head to block what little of the fading daylight made it through the rain clouds.

  Cold raindrops pattered on the hood of the old rain cloak Marla had given Garrett to wear. It was a bit small for him and did not close all the way in the front, but her scent lingered on it, and so, he did not complain.

  The damp, musky scent of Ghausse the dire wolf quickly overwhelmed the dry, flowery scent of the vampire girl. At least the beast did not growl at him this time when he approached and climbed onto its back.

  Warren and Marla mounted Hauskr and Reigha, and they set out to find the source of the dead smell farther up the road.

  The gray clouds darkened to a somber black, but the wolves’ pace did not slow. Garrett, with his human eyes, resigned himself to his usual blindness in the company of friends who preferred to travel in the dark. He pressed his face into Ghausse’s thick fur to shut out the dizzying sensation of racing through the blackness with only the dim silhouettes of trees rushing past on either side.

  A cool evening breeze carried away the last of the rain, leaving only the sound of the wolves’ breathing and the wet thump of heavy paws on the damp ground.

  Warren barked a short laugh. “Still fresh!” he called out.

  The wolves as well seemed to catch the scent, and Ghausse’s long legs stretched beneath him as the wolves sprinted forward.

  They crested a rise in the road, and the wolf’s pace slowed. Garrett raised his face, sensing light ahead, and the smell hit him with the shifting of the breeze, dead bodies and burned flesh.

  A dying bonfire sprawled out into the road, heaped with charred bodies in blackened armor. In the ruddy glow of the embers, Garrett made out a dozen, unburned bodies strewn across the path. These men wore silvery mail hauberks and blue doublets bearing the symbol of a rampant white stag.

  “Astorrans,” Marla said.

  “And Chadiri,” Warren added, gesturing toward the fire.

  Ghausse’s belly rumbled beneath him, and Garrett saw the gleam of anticipation in Warren’s red eyes.

  “Breakfast!” Warren said.

  Garrett had seen ghouls feed before, but he’d never quite gotten used to watching them devour the dead. He slipped off Ghausse’s back and joined Marla in her investigation of the slaughter, trying to ignore the sound of cracking bones as the ghoul and three wolves gnawed at the Astorran corpses.

  “A dozen knights,” Marla said, surveying the battlefield. She walked over to the dwindling fire and pursed her lips in thought. “I’m counting nearly thirty Chadiri dead in the fire, but, of course, that is only a guess.”

  “Huh,” Garrett said, “I guess Astorrans are really good at fighting.”

  Marla made a non-committal noise. “Chadiri are very skilled as well. Something is...” She paused and knelt to dig something from the fire-hardened mud.

  “What’s that?” Garrett asked.

  Marla stood up, holding a small object that gleamed golden in the firelight. “A signet ring,” she said, examining it closely, “Garrett, this belongs to a member of the Astorran royal family!”

  “Why would they leave it in the mud?” he asked.

/>   “The Chadiri probably didn’t know it was there.”

  “So it slipped off someone’s finger in the fight?”

  “Possibly,” she said, “or perhaps it was intentionally removed and cast away to hide the identity of the bearer.”

  “So one of these knights was someone really important?” Garrett asked.

  Marla looked at the bodies again, wrinkling her nose at the sight of Warren’s feeding habits. “I don’t think so,” she said, “I think the Chadiri took the person prisoner.”

  Garrett felt a cold knot in his stomach. “What can we do?” he asked.

  Marla shook her head. “I don’t know. It may already be too late. The prudent thing to do would be to keep searching for the Gloaran army. They might be able to help.” Her voice sounded uncertain.

  Garrett chewed his lip. “It doesn’t feel right,” he said.

  Marla said nothing.

  “I think we have to try to help them, whoever they are,” Garrett said.

  Marla nodded, smiling slightly. She looked around.

  “About a hundred horses... they continued up the road,” she said, pointing into the night, “Well, Garrett, are you ready to take on a Chadiri legion?”

  “Do wot now?” Warren mumbled through a mouthful of Astorran knight. He and three red-faced dire wolves looked up from their meal, blinking at them in the firelight.

  ****

  Nestled in a grassy clearing, dozens of large red tents stretched in orderly rows. Armored men walked among the tents with several two-man patrols circling the perimeter. The light of many large campfires lent an orange glow to the low-hanging night clouds above.

  “You wanted to fight the Chadiri,” Garrett whispered as he crouched between Warren and Ghausse in the thicket above the Chadiri camp.

  “Yeah, but I wanted to win the fight!” Warren hissed.

  “There he is!” Garrett pointed at a spot near one of the fires where a single prisoner sat, bound to a wooden stake.

  “Who is this guy anyway?” Warren asked.

  “I don’t know,” Garrett said, “but he must be pretty important. Anyway, there’s no telling what the Chadiri will do to him if we don’t help him.”

  Warren groaned. “Aren’t you the least bit scared?” he asked, “I mean, of the impending death down there?”

  Garrett thought for a moment. “It’s weird,” he said, “I feel like I should be scared, maybe I am, a little, but, I don’t know... This feels important. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Warren sighed, “I know what you mean.”

  From somewhere beyond the trees, the shrieks of terrified horses filled the air.

  “That’s Marla!” Garrett said, “Let’s go!”

  Garrett and Warren swung their legs over the crouching wolves’ backs, and the beasts rose beneath them. The howls of Marla’s wolf carried above the trees, but Hauskr and Ghausse made no sound as they rushed through the underbrush toward the camp.

  Warren and Garrett hugged their wolves tightly as they burst from the bush into the fire lit clearing. Red-armored soldiers scrambled to their feet, drawing blades and war hammers, and shouting in alarm.

  Garrett dug his fingers into Ghausse’s fur as the big wolf jumped headlong, knocking a startled soldier off his feet. Garrett had never seen a living Chadiri this close before. The man was big and blonde, clean-shaven, with wide green eyes. The man exhaled sharply as Ghausse leapt off his chest and ran on toward the bound prisoner.

  The soldier nearest the prisoner snarled in pain as he caught a massive ghoul fist in the face. Warren was on his feet beside the prisoner now, and the bound young man looked up at the ghoul with his mouth agape.

  “Don’t be afraid!” Garrett shouted, “We’re friends.”

  “I... I’m not afraid!” the dark-haired young man said, “Who are you?”

  Warren leaned into a Chadiri hammer strike, catching the haft on his shoulder before grabbing the enemy and hurling him onto the campfire. “Talk later!” the ghoul barked. Warren grasped the yard-long stake that fixed the young man’s shackles to the ground. With a grunt, he ripped it free, lifting the struggling prisoner with it.

  Hauskr growled as Warren slung the young man across the wolf’s back like a sack of grain, and climbed up behind him.

  Ghausse lurched to the left, nearly shaking Garrett free, as he dodged a sword thrust. The Chadiri soldier screamed as the dire wolf’s jaws crunched down onto his mail-clad leg. With a mighty heave, the wolf shook his head, tossing the man aside.

  “Go!” Warren shouted.

  The two wolves lunged forward, breaking through the confused ranks of soldiers. A moment later, the cool darkness of the trees closed around them again. Angry shouts receded into the night behind them as they ran. Garrett glanced over at Warren as they wove between the trees. The Ghoul’s canine features stretched over bared fangs, his eyes wide and glowing red. The prisoner lay across the wolf’s back, his lifted face pale and frightened. The young man pursed his lips and whistled loudly.

  “What are you doing?” Garrett shouted, but the wolves separated down different trails, and Garrett lost sight of them in the trees.

  They emerged from the thicket at the base of a low hill. The wolves clawed their way to the top and paused. Their ears pricked up at the approach of another rider, coming through the forest.

  Marla’s wolf burst from the tree line to the south. The vampire girl’s grin flashed in the pale glow of the moonlit clouds as Reigha bounded to the hilltop.

  “I chased the horses as long as I dared,” she said, “I think it will be a while before they can come after us.” She looked at the young man slung across Hauskr’s back. “What did we get?”

  “I give you my thanks, dear lady,” the young man gasped, twisting his shoulders to face her. He inclined his head respectfully. “Prince Cabre of Astorra is in your debt.”

  Marla’s response froze on her lips, and her cheeks went suddenly pink. With deliberate grace, she dismounted her wolf and leapt to the Prince’s side. She leaned across him and grasped the shackles that held his wrists behind his back. The iron chain links twisted and popped, and the Prince’s hands parted.

  The Prince slid from Hauskr’s back, and he stumbled on his numbed legs. Marla was suddenly beside him to support him. Prince Cabre smiled weakly, his eyes going from Marla to the massive ghoul still astride the wolf above him.

  “I take it I have found emissaries of the Shadow City?” the Prince asked.

  Warren laughed.

  “My name is Marla Veranu,” she said, “and these are my companions, Warren and Garrett.”

  Cabre bowed to each in turn.

  Marla smiled gently, pulling the prince’s signet ring from her pocket. “I think you dropped this.”

  Prince Cabre’s eyes went wide, and his hands, red and bruised, still wearing the cuffs of the Chadiri shackles like iron bracers, closed around Marla’s pale, delicate fingers. He fell to his knees before her and looked up at her with astonishment.

  “Thank you, my lady!” he gasped and pressed his lips to her palm.

  Ghausse let out a low growl, and Garrett was suddenly aware that he was clutching the wolf’s fur a bit too tightly.

  Hooves thundered through the forest as a massive warhorse burst from the thicket, charging, riderless toward them.

  “Boneash!” Warren yelped as Hauskr spun to face the horse with fangs bared.

  “No!” Prince Cabre shouted, leaping to his feet with his hands raised, “He’s mine!”

  The horse reared, towering above the crouching dire wolves, and nickered angrily.

  “Inglefras!” the Prince said, “Be calm! They are friends.”

  Inglefras’s front hooves, as big as dinner plates, thudded in the muddy loam as he came down. The horse’s nostrils flared, and he kicked out with his back hooves once behind him.

  “Be calm, be calm,” Cabre whispered, slowly approaching the warhorse with his hands low.

  Inglefras shifted nervously, but hi
s breathing slowed. Garrett had never seen a horse this large. Inglefras’s coat gleamed, the color of hammered steel, and whites like crescent moons shone around his large dark eyes. His mane and tail shimmered a lustrous black. He bore no saddle or bridle, but the frayed tangle of a thick Chadiri rope hung loosely around one hoof, all that remained of a crude hobble.

  Prince Cabre continued to sooth the horse as Marla quietly drew the wolves back. The prince knelt and gently pulled the rope from Inglefras’s leg, casting it away into the long grass. He rose again, stroking the horse’s flank with his broad hands.

  “A beautiful animal,” Marla said.

  Prince Cabre looked back at her over his shoulder, grinning. “I thought I’d lost him forever,” he answered hoarsely, “Again, I thank you!”

  Marla bowed her head in response, blushing again.

  Garrett cleared his throat. “So, do you think you can make it back home from here?” he asked, “We’ve got some food we can give you.”

  “Oh yeah,” Warren answered, patting his rucksack with a shaggy paw, “I saved some leftovers from breakfast.” The ghoul grinned wickedly and winked at Garrett.

  “Warren!” Garrett hissed, guessing what sort of leftovers Warren had in his bag.

  Prince Cabre smiled, uncertainly. “Actually,” he said, “I was trying to find you.”

  Garrett looked at Marla.

  She started to speak, but the sound of a distant horn cut her off. A series of short blasts, followed by a long, ululating, blare rang out through the dark woods. The brassy voice of another horn answered it, frighteningly close.

  “Inglefras!” the prince cried, grasping the horse’s mane. The warhorse knelt low, letting the prince swing his leg over then rose again, lifting him high.

  Garrett looked up at the young prince who looked suddenly very regal astride the great horse. Cabre turned, scanning the tree line and jabbed his finger toward a gap in the trees. “They come!”

  Red-clad Chadiri horsemen burst from the shadows, thundering toward them at full gallop.

  “We have to go!” Marla shouted.

  Chapter Two

  The dire wolves passed like shadows between the trees, their heavy paws sinking deep into the thick carpet of fallen leaves. Garrett lay close against Ghausse’s back, pine boughs slapping against his leggings and cloak.