Page 1 of Cry of the Firebird

PROLOGUE

Look through the heavy pine forest and see a fire glowing. Beside it sits a bear of a man, knife in one hand, a clay bowl on the ground in front of him.

It has been a long time since he last shed blood for his gods. Tonight would satisfy them a little longer.

The screech of a doomed animal is cut short, and the bowl fills with steaming blood. He puts it on a flat stone by the fire before he cuts his scarred wrist and lets his blood drip into the warming mixture.

He has thrown his runes for many days and has had no clear sight. He has marked each one with his blood, and still, they reveal no new secrets to him.

A tune starts deep in his gut. It stretches and twists like an unborn child, traveling up like a snake through his chest, making his bones shake. He grinds his jaw shut to keep it from escaping as it creeps up his throat.

The bowl is steaming heavily as he leans over it to breathe in the blood fumes that will give him visions. His lips vibrate as the magic tries to push its way out. The man is well-learned in the ways of the song and knows how to control it.

The magic of the song works through him, pulling him under the power of the trance, dragging forth memories that he always does his best to keep buried. He tries to breathe as the visions begin hitting him thick and fast.

The secrets in his blood demand to be heard, each turning over in his mind like rune stones spelling out his past and future: the lost princess, the witch, the game, the bloodline, the curse, the gates, the firebird. Over and over, they turn. Lost past and broken present and a future that would burn the world in blood and fire.

The magic tells him the war he's been waiting for is almost there, and he is not ready.

He grinds his teeth together. He will possess the firebird's magic and break the threads of fate around him, even if he has to wade through a sea of blood.

This man's name is Vasilli, and he is trying to find his brother.

CHAPTER ONE

Anya woke with pain behind her eyes and a hangover that wouldn't give. She downed some painkillers and walked into the village on unsteady but determined feet. The lady who ran the grocery store gave her a slow once-over glance from her muddy boots to her fair, crookedly braided hair and frowned in disapproval.

Even with a blazing headache, Anya still lifted her lips in a partial sneer in reply. Anya had a sneer that could cut you in places you didn't know you had, but only if she deigned to notice you.

This wasn't an uncommon exchange when she bothered to walk the few short kilometers from her farm. Anya knew what they thought of her, and she made it known that the feeling of dislike was mutual.

Thankfully, the only cafe in the village wasn't busy with forestry workers in high-vis gear or other local farmers at mid-morning. A weekly visit to the restaurant was something that she had been forced to do when her grandfather Eikki was alive. Since his death three months prior, she had found that she still hadn't been able to let the ritual go. It was also fun to remind people she hadn't left the farm like they thought she should.According to most of them, a woman shouldn’t have been running a farm alone, no matter how small it was.

Liisi, the cafe owner, gave her a guarded smile as Anya ordered eggs and coffee before retreating to a booth in the corner. She rested her head on the cold countertop and soothed her burning head.

Why did you do this to yourself?She hadn't planned to drink so much the night before, but she had been having nightmares every night for the past week, and the vodka helped get her back to sleep. Last night, she had been reliving the car accident that killed both of her parents. She never forgot the sound of her mother's blood hitting the dashboard as Anya had waited for someone to come and rescue her from the back seat.Pat, pat, pat.Her stomach roiled again.

It had been years since she dreamed of the crash, and it was bound to flare up her PTSD all over again. She had only just gotten it under control enough that she didn't see Eikki dying every time she shut her eyes.

"Here, you look like you need this and more," Liisi said, putting a steaming mug of coffee down in front of her.

"Thanks," Anya mumbled. She waited until Liisi had disappeared back into the kitchen before she took out her flask and topped the mug up with vodka. Anya sipped and stared out the window so she wouldn't look at Eikki's empty seat and feel the gaping hole of his loss in her life.

Anya always thought boredom would kill her living in the small village on the borders of Russia and Karelia, but now she knew it would be loneliness.

This is another reason to sell the farm and start a new life elsewhere.

It was all Anya had thought about since she had put Eikki in the ground months ago. Every time she would go to act on it, the guilt would come crashing down over her.

Her ancestors had always farmed the land next to the ancient forest, and she was the only one left in the family. It would mean letting go of the family roots forever. Anya had another big mouthful of the spiked coffee, the heat and alcohol burning a hole in her empty stomach.

The loneliness wasn't the only problem. The feeling that something was missing inside of her had only grown since Eikki's death.

Every day, the pressure inside of her grew. She had turned twenty-seven and had barely seen anything of the world.There has to be more to life than this.

Liisi put a plate of eggs on the table before her, jolting Anya from her increasingly morbid thoughts. Her stomach didn't want food, even though she knew she needed it. She was still staring at her plate when someone cleared their throat.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a deep voice asked her in English.