Sword of Fire and Sea (The Chaos Knight Book One) by Erin Hoffman Page B

critiquing the landscape, until finally they arrived at their destination.
    At a tiny town, really more a trader's waypost than a settlement, the crew halved and parted ways. One cart continued on to collect the promised red teak and trade the rest of their goods further east, while Vidarian, the priestess, and three crewmen stopped at the town. For any natural pursuer it would have been a neat plan, but Ariadel did not seem reassured.
    A handful of coin bought them dinner and beds of sweet hay in a farmer's barn, both cheerfully delivered by a family only too happy to see silver come into their hands. When captain and crew adjourned to their lodgings armed with large bowls of ham and pea soup, the farmer's children were gleefully discussing what they'd purchase at the next coastal faire.
    After dinner, the crew divided up the rest of the night into separate watches. The red-painted barn, though small, boasted a small tack room that they allocated to the priestess. A few carefully arranged bales of hay ensured that no one would gain entry to the makeshift safehouse without the knowledge of whomever stood guard beyond the door.
    Vidarian took the last watch. In the late evening a storm blew into the valley, beginning as a squall and gradually increasing in intensity. Having spent only his early years on land, Vidarian had seen many storms rage across the open sea, but never one that spent such fury past the coastline. Stinging rain came down in solid sheets that turned immediately to ice upon striking the ground. Lightning crackled with strobe-like frequency in the lightless predawn, illuminating the deranged spires and windblown shocks of ice that formed along walls, doors, windows, and anything that showed itself above the ground.
    The old barn creaked in the howling wind, but within all was quiet, and the structure had been built well—their hay remained dry. Accustomed to their smaller berths aboard the Empress , the crew slept solidly in the comparatively larger space of the barn's loft—but in the tack room a light still shone when Calgrath woke Vidarian for his watch.
    Squinting at the glow beneath the door, Vidarian paced each long wall of the barn, then came to sit in the pool of golden light. The storm thundered on and yet the light did not waver, and after two hours Vidarian turned, venturing a glance between the door's hinges.
    Inside, sitting on a pile of furs loaned her by the farmer's wife, Ariadel stared fixedly into a tall candleflame that neither wavered nor consumed the blackened wick on which it rested. Fascinated by its stillness, Vidarian found himself staring into the flame as well—and when he came back to himself with a start, he gave an involuntary jerk of his right arm, thudding it soundly into the door. Cursing to himself, he stood and continued to peer inside.
    The priestess blinked slowly, a dreamer ascending gradually from a deep sleep. Bit by bit she came back to herself, first moving her hands to touch the furs with marked unfamiliarity, then finally standing and squinting myopically at the door. Moments later she stirred again and moved to open it.
    “Good evening, Captain,” she whispered. Her color had improved yet more and seemed almost entirely back to normal.
    “Good morning, Priestess,” Vidarian answered, sotto voce and abashed by his accidental movement. “I did not mean to disturb you.”
    She smiled tiredly. “Sometimes one wishes to be disturbed. Please come in, I would not wake the crew.”
    Still not fully apprised of himself, Vidarian could only nod, then duck inside the tack room at her invitation.
    As the door clicked shut the storm receded even further from hearing, muffled by stacked bales of hay that insulated the tack room against noise from beyond the exterior wall. The scent of leather still lingered in the warmer air, although the tack itself had been shut away in storage chests before its many meticulously polished buckles, bits, and cinches could betray the