Heart of the Flame Read Free Page B

sluggish beat of her pulse.
    Above her head, the tender spring leaves of oak and ash trees glistened in the starlight. Barely unfurled from their winter slumber, they quivered in the evening breeze. Raindrops from a recent shower clung to their cupped folds. Summoning what she felt might be the last of her strength, she slowly got to her feet and reached for the precious droplets. She sipped from the leaves like a crude forest beast, feeding hungrily, but it was not enough.
    Not nearly enough to quench the thirst that raged in her.
    She had to find more water. She had to douse the fire that was consuming her. Rasping a breath through parched lips, she swiveled her head and looked out across the expanse of night-dark terrain that surrounded her. Something snagged her attention, making her grow quite still where she stood, watching, listening.
    The wind howled, but above the raw scrape of branches and the soughing shift of tall meadow grasses was another sound.
    Water.
    Great rushing waves of it, rolling not far from where she was.
    Feebly, she took a few steps, cocking her head toward the welcoming roar of the tide. The night breeze was cool outside the cover of the woods. It snatched the hem of her mantle and sent it rippling out behind her like a sail.
    Above her, thin tendrils of clouds scuttled across the darkened sky, coal-gray on black. Like fingers of smoke, reaching for her...closing around her throat. Choking her.
    Materializing from out of the murky edge of recall, a punishing hand seized her in a death grip. She struggled to breathe, her fingers grasping at the unrelenting vise clamped onto her neck.
    Dying...she was dying....
    "No," she whispered, clutching at her temples and fighting the madness that seemed to pull at her from all directions.
    She remembered struggling, desperately striving to free herself from strong, punishing hands. She had managed--somehow--but only for a moment. Only until a flash of metal danced before her eyes, a blink of light amid the smoke. Then fired erupted in her breast. Searing hot, bright as a thunderbolt. She could not see, could not think. Darkness had descended quickly, thicker than any roiling cloud of ash and soot.
    He meant to kill her, but she had gotten away. Barely.
    She stumbled into the meadow now, her hands flung out and dragging through the spring rushes that stood nearly waist-high. The air was crisp as it buffeted her, but in her mind she gasped as though engulfed in a sea of ash. Smoke was thick in her eyes as the memories crowded in. She was there again, in the keep on the hill.
    Death was with her now as it had been that night. It pursued her with every hitching, awkward step she took, chasing her with the same force of the night wind. Before long, she knew, it would catch her. She did not fear her eventual end, but neither would she yield to it easily. Determined to fight to the last, she urged her legs to carry her swiftly, her ear tuned to the soothing song of the sea.
    Water , she thought, the word like a balm on her tongue. Water would cool the fire that was consuming her body and slowly eating away at her wits. She needed only to reach the nearby shore and she would be safe.
    Hearing the roar of the surf, she ran faster. She was getting closer. The tall reeds of the meadow gradually gave way to scrubby, rock-strewn grass and moss. Soon it would be sand beneath her feet, then the gentle lap of the waves. She must be almost there.
    Impaired by her haste and the delirium that seized her senses, she tripped on one of the jagged stones underfoot. She went down hard on the ground. Her breath was gone from her lungs in a whoosh as she struck hard earth, and a stab of intense pain wracked her left shoulder. Something warm and sticky oozed down her sleeve and onto her bodice.
    Blood, she realized in a dulled state of wonderment.
    Her end was nearer now than ever. The knowledge stunned her as she lay there, listening to her heart labor in her breast. So this was death?