Prologue

The four of them stood and watched as red and gold tongues of flame licked out of the newly split earth. What had once been moorland was now cold stone and even as they watched, more of the cracks yawned wider and the ground fell away into the fire pits with rumbles and belches.

"It looks set to consume our new land, brother," Nodin said. The orange light flicked across his features, highlighting and deepening every line on his face. The three star–shaped birthmarks under his right eye, those that set him and his fellows apart from the Lamya, appeared dark and lost in shadow. A wind full of heat blew his long hair from his shoulders and he turned his face from the blaze.

"We'll raise great walls of rock," his brother told him, "that no flame shall devour."

He nodded, satisfied. Gazing out across the pits of fire, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. A rough beard was starting to form and he remembered he hadn't shaved in days. He felt tired and old and worn.

"We can begin to build our kingdom again," said the youngest there. "Our people are tired of lying on rock and short, sharp grass. They want a roof over their heads and their King back on his throne. We have crossed the mountains of the Midori. We are safe from the Barbarians now."

"We are safe," Nodin agreed, walking away from the flames with his brothers by his side. "For now. But I fear the Kingdom of Malinas will always attract evil."

He looked to the sky as if for help. The sun was setting, hidden behind purple–grey cloud. The sky all around exploded with colour and streaks of red shot across the horizon.

Lines of gold – no, the colour was more than gold, it was glowing, shining with brilliance, almost fluorescent orange but much softer – blossomed before his eyes. Yellow, orange, red, gold, the sky was a multitude of colours, as if the sun wanted to put on its final show before the moon took over. And everywhere, in stark contrast with the sky, were the clouds. Huge soft-looking things, deep grey mauve, powerful and forbidding and yet somehow strangely more striking than the dance of colours in the sky.

He lowered his gaze and sighed. At his back he could feel the heat of the flames and floating towards him were the songs of his people. They were Elani folk, honest and true.

"They sing of Solmerro still," said one of his brothers, standing by his side. "Evil chased us from there and yet you think it may still find us here? Surely the Barbarians will not follow us?"

"The new Kingdom is..." He could find no words to finish his sentence. The youngest of the four brothers stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Nodin," he said, his voice soft, "my brother, my King. The Kingdom of Malinas will always attract evil. You said so yourself. You are loved no less for it, we all knew the time was right to leave."

Nodin smiled at his younger brother's words and grasped the hand on his shoulder. His brother smiled back at him with flames dancing in his eyes. "We cannot run forever," said Nodin. "When the time comes, we must deliver them a warrior."

Chapter 1

"When the Lamya invaded our Kingdom all those hundreds of years ago, it was the King's poet who led the Elani to the Vale after the King was killed." Sorrel whispered to her friend, full of excitement, and ignored her old teacher completely. To her, his voice was just background noise.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"He waited and waited and waited, watching as the Lamya built their stone castle, seeing its towers rise over the hill. He never fought back. If it were me, I would've gone back the very next day with an army at my back and—"

"Miss Sorrel, please do try to concentrate, you'll never make it as a respected Elani Elder if you continue to act like a child." Old Synan, already flustered from an earlier lesson and with a strand of white hair falling in front of his eyes, frowned over his spectacles.

Sorrel glanced at her friend sat by her side and then sheepishly at the old man. "Sorry, Synan." She sighed and scribbled down some notes in her book as he continued his teachings from the book of 'Rules of Trading.' "Maybe I don't want to be an Elder," she muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably on the furs. They made her legs itch.

Synan stopped, a finger raised to wag at her. "Miss Sorrel, as the daughter of a healer it is your duty to become an Elani Elder, like it or not. Isn't that so, Little Cloud?"

Little Cloud, as Synan's grandson, was also bound to become an Elder. He shrugged and grinned at her. "Sorry, Sorrel. He's right."

She pulled a face and struggled to her feet, dumping her notebook on the floor. "I knew you'd take his side. Well I don't have to sit here and listen to you both." She stomped out of the little wooden hut where Synan held the lessons, shielding her eyes from the sun as she went.

Little Cloud hurried to his feet and followed her. "Sorrel! Wait!" he called, half-stumbling out the door to reach her.

She turned and glared at him. Then she sighed and sat down on the root of the old beech tree that lent its shade to the little cabin. Synan didn't come after them and she imagined he was glad of the break. "What am I going to do, Cloud? I don't want to be an Elder. I don't want to learn about diplomacy and etiquette. I want to be a warrior like Leif. I want to fight the Lamya for our Kingdom! It's been too long. The warriors of old didn't lose their lives for us to cower in the Vale."

She folded her arms around her knees, frowned thoughtfully and listened to the sound of River Pinn burbling past the hut. Sometimes, she felt as though the river was mocking her. It was so calm no matter what was happening around it.

She sighed again and peered over the riverbank and into the water. Her reflection stared back at her.

She looked younger than her fifteen years, with her pale skin and thin, boyish face. Her short hair was dark and scruffy. Wild, her mother always described it - like her.

Sorrel smiled to herself. Wild! And yet she wasn't allowed to train as a warrior. It was because she was too small - she knew that.

She lifted a hand and touched her single star-shaped birthmark under her right eye, then reached forwards abruptly and disrupted her reflection.

"Sorrel?"

"These marks," she said, turning to Cloud, "they're what make us different."

Cloud reached a hand to his cheek and his fingertips brushed his own three stars.

"But I only have one! I'm one step away from being a Lamya."

Cloud grinned at her. "Now you're being dramatic." His pale eyes twinkled. "All this talk of warriors! I'm not cut out to be a warrior. My Dad said I'm more of a farmer like he is."

Sorrel gave him a playful nudge. She knew he was right. Although he was taller than she was, he was certainly no more notable; he had short neatly trimmed mousey hair and a rounded friendly face. He was very un-warrior like.

She grinned at him. "That's 'cos you've got no drive or determination like me! I want excitement and adventure, and—" "And everything else besides, it seems," Cloud said. "Whereas I'm just happy for a quiet life, relaxing in the Vale and minding my own business."

"And what if the Lamya come again?" she asked, leaning forwards and absently pulling out chunks of grass. "And take over our Vale like they took our Kingdom? What if they come for us? I don't like that new leader of theirs. He's worse than any of them."

Little Cloud batted at a bee as it buzzed around his face, and shrugged. "The Lamya haven't bothered us for years now. And they wouldn't dare enter the Vale anyway," he said, "not with our warriors to protect us. They'd have to be mad."

She shook her head, folded her arms into her lap and sighed. She had a bad feeling about the whole thing – a strange twisting of nerves in her guts. If only someone would listen to her! "The Kingdom of Malinas will be great again someday, Cloud," she said quietly, "and it won't be the Lamya who make it so."