Samhain Publishing

Freedom comes with a blistering price…

For as long as she can remember, Camea has longed to explore the world beyond the island kingdom of Adar. It is an impossible dream, especially if she follows tradition and marries the farmer her parents have selected for her. But then, Camea has never been one to follow expectations.

When the village witch announces she has been selected to be the Fire God’s next bride, Camea has no intention of sacrificing her life to appease the volcano. She plans to escape and follow the Stars to her dream.

Matai, once a prince of Adar, now pays a fiery penance for seducing one of the Fire God’s witches. He must take a new bride each year, then kill her—or condemn Adar to the lava. Unlike his past brides Camea doesn’t shed one tear for her fate, nor does she beg for her life.

In the face of death she sees the remnants of the man he used to be—and a way to save them both from the Fire God’s never-ending cycle of wrath. If Matai has the courage to trust his heart.
 

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Copyright © 2011 Shona Husk
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

The blacksmith had fastened a bronze ring to her wrist. It clashed with the gold armbands that would buy her passage to wherever she wanted to go. Camea gave another tug. The trouble was her bronze ring was attached to a chain that was attached to another bronze ring that had melded to the smooth side of the volcano. It was like the ring had become trapped in that last lava flow two hundred years ago. Back then the god had almost smothered Adar in a fit of rage. A witch had taken a mortal lover and the god had been so jealous he could only be placated by the king’s promise of a new bride each year.

A bride. Camea snorted. She placed both feet against the volcano and pulled. The ring cut into her skin and ground against her wrist bones. Sweat trickled down her back.

“Stars.” She eased up and inspected the damage done to her wrist. Blood wept down her arm and her skin was a ragged mess. So much for escape—this marriage seemed binding.

She’d thought she’d be walked up the slope until it was impossible to go any higher and then left for dead. She’d envisioned fighting off the witch before her throat was cut and her remains left for the predators that roamed the jungle, and then simply walking down and disappearing with a bunch of traders while avoiding disgracing her family. People in Adar didn’t leave town and become traders. They stayed. Adar was the richest of the island nations.

Camea shivered in the red dress. It was an expensive wedding dress, the weave so fine it was almost sheer. The cloth had been gathered and tucked, and was held in place with jewelled clasps. Even her hair had been pinned up so only a few curls hung around her face. Her chaffed skin stung as she gave the chain a halfhearted pull. She swallowed around the growing lump in her throat.

Surely the god couldn’t be angry after all this time? How many other girls had sat here listening to the cries of animals in the jungle waiting for a god to rescue them and then kill them? Or waiting to be killed by the sharp teeth of the first hungry skiff that strolled past? What was worse? What would be quicker?

Camea gave herself a shake. There were no bones here. She wasn’t going to die chained to the side of the volcano when no one else had. She pulled out a metal hairpin, ruining her carefully styled hairdo. It was the length of her fingers and could be used to fight off wild animals…or dig out the other ring. She started scratching at the stone.

Around her the jungle went silent. Not asleep. The jungle never slept. There were always the noises of animals chirping and hissing and growling. The trees were always in motion, but now not even a leaf whispered on the breeze. Camea looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the yellow glowing eyes, snarling teeth and laid-back ears of a skiff. Nothing.

Urgency pressed its hands against her heart. In her soul she knew she had to get free—now.

She wriggled her hand, hoping the blood would ease its passage through the bronze ring. She didn’t have big hands; unfortunately she didn’t have big wrists either. Maybe she didn’t need that hand. Smoke caught her eye and she stopped. The only sound in the jungle was the pounding of her pulse. Drifting down the side of the volcano was a puff of smoke. Only it had no source, and it didn’t disperse and meander the way smoke should—it came steadily towards her. An almost solid cloud of sharp, grey smoke.

Stars. She tried to speak, but fear had taken her words.

The Fire God was here and ready to take his bride.



Incorporeal, Matai slid down the mountain to the embedded bronze ring. There she was, this year’s bride, dressed in red and dreaming of her death. He halted a few paces away. She wasn’t crying or praying like they usually did. She stood, feet planted like he’d caught her out, staring like she was trying to find a person in the smoke.

Matai circled her. His smoke drifted over her damp skin. The humidity made the dress cling to the curves of her body. Her green eyes never left him, but her hand jerked to life as she tried to force the ring from her arm. He coiled smoke over her torn flesh. No other bride had ruined herself with an attempt to get away.

She stilled.

“Are you the god of the volcano?” Her voice quavered, but she lifted her chin instead of casting down her gaze.

Matai forced the smoke cloud into the shape of a man. “I am the volcano.” But he was no god. He gave weight to the smoke and forced her to kneel.

“You don’t have to kill me. Just let me go. I will leave and go very far away.”

He looked towards the jungle, glad she couldn’t see his face. He would love to let her go, let her run and take her chances getting off the island. The hot blood of last year’s bride was still fresh on his hands. Her pleading screams still echoed in his head. He wouldn’t listen to another beg for her life so soon.

Matai stepped closer and placed a ghostly hand over her mouth so she inhaled the smoke that made up his body. He wouldn’t kill her tonight. What he would do was much worse. He would let her live with him for a year and then he would kill her on the same night Adar selected his new bride. That was his duty. His punishment. Kill her, or let Adar drown under the boiling lava he kept at bay and kill thousands.

She slumped unconscious in his arms.

“Sorry,” Matai said, knowing she couldn’t hear him. He melted the chain and took his new bride home to the heart of the volcano. 

Displaying 1 to 1 (of 1 reviews)  1 | by Kym Date Added: Saturday 05 February, 2011 WOW!! Finally a world you can see, smell, taste and 'breath... View Full Review Rating: [5 of 5 Stars!] Displaying 1 to 1 (of 1 reviews)  1 |

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