The Living Blade, Tome 1: Touch of Iron

Chapter 1

Nora was out here because the baker’s wife couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Here, under the windswept trees. Here, on this hillock poised so neatly above the vast Plains she was tempted to believe the gods had created it to show off the horizon. The possibilities. The unfinished world to come. Nora stood with her brother at the brink of the Plains, in the wet, cold, gathering dark. It would take two days’ journey on foot to get back to the Ridge, and half a day to the nearest homestead. But after Mother Sara’s death, the twins were four years away from anyone caring.

The sky was tall. A huge crest of waves headed inland, shading the last of the sunlight in hues of orange and gray and purple. On clear days when the wind swept away the clouds, herding them over the Plains, Nora could just make out the line of the Crest Mountains in the distance. The Plains were a vast, flat bowl. Sometimes, when the summer sun shone down, the silver streams of water sparkled like jewels strewn among the green. It was pure pasture ground. Now, though, no herds of sheep roamed on the Plains. There were no trees, no roads, no shelter but little flocks of trees leaning against the wind. The long Plains were spoiled with space. You could see nothing but grass for miles and miles. And the sky. The ever-changing sky.

Crossing the Plains would take nearly three weeks. Nora sniffed the air. The autumn had been mild so far, unusually so. But surely Owen had no plans of actually crossing. It would be madness in the gathering winter, without enough warmth or shelter or food. They should sneak back home and at least stock up on provisions and warmer clothing. Maybe the clouds would bring more than rain this night. Maybe frost in the morning.

Her twin brother stood silhouetted before the glorious sky, unmoving, the high collar of his long cloak pulled up to his cheekbones. He turned when she threw down her backpack on the hard ground. Here the brown grass was undergoing its winter death. There was moss under the trees at the edge of the forest. As fine a place as any. They would camp here. And tonight, she’d talk to Owen. If she let him do the deciding, their bones would still be perched on this damned hillock before he reached a conclusion.

“It’s been two days. You want to go back already?” Owen said, watching the rolling sky before him.

Nora scowled.