Rising Fire Read Free

deception.
    Begin in the East, then North, then South, then West . . .
    Find the true gate among therest.

Chapter 1
    Late winter, AD 1286
Yester, Scotland
    W ith the morning’s cool mist long burned away by the strong rays of the midday sun, Brienne waited until the villagers were all seeing to their daily chores and tasks before deciding that this was the day.
    And it was—she could feel it in her bones and in her blood. Something called to her, and some growing urge within her pushed her feet toward the place where she would find out the truth about what lived inside her. There had been tiny glimpses at what it might be, times when fire seemed to answer to her, but she would attempt something this day that she had not dared before.
    Taking a deep breath, she lifted the latch and tugged the heavy door open a crack. It creaked on its hinges as she eased it open only wide enough for her to slip inside. Then, after stepping inside the smithy’s dark cottage, Brienne closed the door behind her, wanting no interruptions. Since her father was off on an errand, she expected none. Entering into the small building thatserved as his workshop, she circled the fire pit and tossed in more wood, watching as the existing fire licked at the new pieces and then consumed them. She leaned over and pressed down on the bellows that fed air to the fire, encouraging it to spread and grow hotter and hotter with each breath of air that blew from the pump.
    The flames flared higher before her and she could not resist the urge to look deeper into them. Brienne tried to fight their call, tried to fight the strength of it, but lost the battle. She inhaled slowly, trying now to control the fear that simmered in her belly while she moved closer to the fire’s heat. As it called to her, icy tendrils slid along her skin in spite of the heat in the smithy. Shivering and sweating at the same time, she lifted trembling hands from her side and held them out.
    Not knowing how to do what she planned, Brienne stretched her fingers, wiggling them, and watched as the flames did the same. Then she flexed each finger separately, and single bursts of flame followed each movement. When she twisted her hands, the reaction of the fire was overwhelming.
    Each flame danced before her, swirling and dipping this way and that before joining the others in the growing swarm of heat and light. Even when she dropped her hands and closed her eyes, they remained vivid and shifting in her mind.
    They danced for her—
they danced for me!
—moving in every direction when she simply thought it, and the sound of their movements surrounded her. Holding her arms out over the fire, she wiggled her fingers over the hearth and laughed as the flames writhed and swirled in answer to her gesture. This was not new to her. She’d done this many times before.
    What she planned to do next was different and daring.
    Moving her hands in a gathering motion, Brienne pulled the flames together and then spread them out until they filled the space before her, no longer limited to the fire pit and no longer dependent on wood or peat to fuel them. Staring into them, she searched for the center of the brightness and heat and waited.
    â€œMine.”
    She strained to keep her eyes on the fire and listened as the whispers came from the heart of it again.
    â€œCome to me.”
    A shudder coursed through her body, and the fear overwhelmed her as the whispered words surrounded her, enticing her, entreating and tempting her. The back of her neck tingled, and her skin burned as the heat of the flames—nay, the flames themselves—encircled her. Keeping her body still, she waited to hear more, waited to recognize the voice or to learn who called to her through the fire. From deep within her soul, she drew the strength she needed to regain control over the flames and, standing within their embrace, she listened and waited to hear more.
    â€œDaughter of my