Valley of Embers (The Landkist Saga Book 1) by Steven Kelliher Read Free Book Online

surface that crashed down like an avalanche. He sailed up and over the Long Hall, past the market, and slammed down before the gate, breaking the earth there and sending up shockwaves that announced his presence to the dark.
    This was how powerful the Embers of old must have felt.
    The darkness receded like an inhalation as Kole rose. And then it came for him, spilling from the trees, an army of lashing talons and red eyes intent upon his blood. Kole had no blades, so he summoned great living weapons of flame—spear and axe. He set to hacking.
    Kole laughed a devil’s laugh as the Dark Kind fell before him, and all around him the forest that ringed his home burned.
    There was a piercing cry. At first, Kole thought it the strangled, inhuman wailing of the Dark Kind, but it soon resolved into a woman’s scream. Kole tried to regain control, to reel the flames in, but they would not be contained.
    He sat bolt upright and fought to orient himself in the momentary panic that comes from unfamiliar surroundings. There was a fire in the grate now, and motes of ash with cinders for tails floated by him. It took him far longer than it should have to notice Iyana’s presence.
    For a sickening moment, Kole thought hers must have been the voice he heard screaming in his flames, but she was unharmed. She sat in a latticework chair with a steaming cup of lemon-scented water clasped neatly in her small hands. Her eyes glowed like green versions of the cinder motes as she studied him.
    And what a sight he must have made, bunched up and steaming as his skin turned sweat to vapor.
    “Hello, Iyana,” Kole said meekly, fighting to suppress the panic that still welled within him. He was used to settling after his dreams, but the settling was taking time.
    “You’ve had quite a time the last few days, Reyna.”
    “I imagine you have as well.”
    She set her cup down. He marveled at how much older she seemed and how much younger she looked.
    “Feeling better since last we met?”
    “Physically.”
    Iyana moved to fill him a cup. The stone was warm and reassuring in his hands and the smell reminded him of the markets of Hearth, all citrus and clove.
    “Maybe you should take some time away from the wall.”
    “We’re nearing the end of the Dark Months,” Kole said, indicating the pink light of dawn, which filtered in through the slatted window. “The days will grow longer and the World Apart will recede.”
    “Until the next cycle,” Iyana said, adding, “During which time we will undoubtedly require your services again.”
    Kole sighed.
    “I’m worried, Iyana,” he said.
    She set her cup down and put a hand on his knee, flinching slightly at the heat.
    “I’m not sure it’s going to end this time.”
    “What’s not going to end?”
    “The Dark Months, the Dark Kind,” he swept his hand out in a meaningless gesture that was meant to span the whole of everything. “All of it.”
    Iyana stared at him, all concern, but Kole was having trouble meeting those green eyes lately. She took his hands in her own, ignoring the pain it must have caused her.
    “You are Landkist, Kole Reyna,” she said. “Ember-born and chosen of the flame.”
    “And I’m among the last,” he said bitterly.
    “We don’t know that for sure.”
    “The desert has forsaken us,” he said. “We are not its children any longer.”
    Iyana shrank back a bit and Kole squeezed his temples.
    “I’m sorry,” he started, but she broke in.
    “Our new land has gifts all its own,” she said, fighting to keep a civil tone.
    “They aren’t gifts meant for war,” Kole said, shaking his head.
    “No,” Iyana clipped. “They’re gifts meant for mending. A lot of that goes on in wars, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    There was nothing to say to that, so Kole said nothing. But something in his look must have worried her, because her temper—often hotter than his own—cooled quickly.
    “What is it, Kole?” she asked. “What do you