Rise of the Firebird Read online

  Praise for

  CRY OF THE

  FIREBIRD

  “…the story incorporates a fair share of surprises, and never fails to provide new scenes featuring bloodshed and strange new creatures…The beasts, in particular, help this story to move beyond the genre’s many clichés, and their complexity extends well beyond typical fantasy creatures. Fantasy fans will likely enjoy Anya’s adventures, which feature novel supernatural elements in a modern setting.”

  Kirkus Reviews

  “A series that promises a fresh twist on the world’s mythologies and folklore. Kuivalainen immerses her tale in the fantastic - a fact that will no doubt thrill fantasy enthusiasts. It also has enough love triangles and romance subplots to keep this genre’s fans entertained for days. Cry of the Firebird contains a compelling cast of characters and a delightful grounding in the some of the world’s most ancient legends - all told by a natural storyteller.”

  Self-Publishing Review, 4 Stars

  Works also

  by Amy Kuivalainen

  CRY OF THE FIREBIRD

  ASHES OF THE FIREBIRD

  THE EAGLE KEY

  Connect with Amy Kuivalainen

  https://firebirdfairytales.wordpress.com

  Twitter.com/@AmyKuivalainen

  Facebook.com/AmyKuivalainen

  For Anna, who pushed me when I needed it and took me for coffees at Fika when I needed to brain storm.

  And for Jack, who had the vodka ready when I finished writing The End.

  Rise of the Firebird

  Amy Kuivalainen

  Copyright© 2016 Amy Kuivalainen

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media

  Interior Design by Polgarus Studios

  Copy Editing by F J Sutton

  Table of Contents

  Works alsoby Amy Kuivalainen

  Connect with Amy Kuivalainen

  Prologue

  Chapter One - After Shock

  Chapter Two - Soul

  Chapter Three - Ilya’s Breadcrumbs

  Chapter Four - Helping Hand

  Chapter Five - History

  Chapter Six - Love Letter

  Chapter Seven - Early Spring

  Chapter Eight - The Divine Spear

  Chapter Nine - The Blood Spell

  Chapter Ten - The Instrument of Heaven and the Gate Chooser

  Chapter Eleven - The Problem of the Seeds and The Big Easy Bash Up

  Chapter Twelve - Board Pieces

  Chapter Thirteen - The Bonds that Bind

  Chapter Fourteen - Parting of the Ways

  Chapter Fifteen - Acquainted

  Chapter Sixteen - Storm Season

  Chapter Seventeen - The Cry of the Volk Krovi

  Chapter Eighteen - Battle Plans

  Chapter Nineteen - The Dales of Dead Land

  Chapter Twenty - Killing Floor

  Chapter Twenty-One - The Kiss and The Game

  Chapter Twenty-Two - The Graveyard Procession

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Birchwood

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Night Raid

  Chapter Twenty-Five - The Borders of Pohjola

  Chapter Twenty-Six - And Then There Were Three

  Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Gap Toothed Hag

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - The Cursed One

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Real World Problems

  Chapter Thirty - The Butterfly

  Chapter Thirty-One - Home Again

  Chapter Thirty-Two - The Camp

  Chapter Thirty-Three - The Gratitude of the Dead

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Voskresheniye

  Epilogue

  Character List and Pronunciation Guide

  Special Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Look through the cold forest and see the burning rumble. A concrete building lies in ruins. Chunks of debris lie in all directions, the cries of the wounded and the dying pierce the night in a howling song of anguish. The smell of burning flesh, chemical smoke and the mossy forest fills the air. A shimmering green light moves through the trees and five men appear. They are dressed in sturdy leather armour and they are carrying sharp steel. Their leader surveys the wreckage with cold eyes.

  “Finna Elenya,” he says as his men spread out, picking through the ruins. He has seen this kind of destruction before and steeled himself for the inevitable. Dirty blonde hair floats in the dust and smoke. He picks his way carefully through the chunks of rock, concrete and steel to where the girl lies. In her arms, he sees the broken dead man that she cradles so closely to her. With care, he gently untangles her grip.

  “You need to let him go now,” he says as she starts to protest. Words have failed her. The sound of pain and loss is primal. It is the sound of agony and heartache. He grips her tightly in his arms and lifts her broken body effortlessly. “Shhh, I have you,” he croons to her. “Never fear, we won’t leave him.”

  He summons the green light to him and steps through into nothingness.

  Chapter One - After Shock

  Anya could hear the voices around her. Words were being said like, comatose, shock, and grief. She kept her eyes closed, a pillow tucked up close to her. She wasn’t any of those things. She was tired. An ache started in her chest and filled her body with sharp nails. Every time she went to sleep, the dream would start again. She would see and hear Trajan whispering, “Run.” Yanka and Vasilli would be standing over his body, his heart in her hands. Then they would start to eat the heart as if it was the most succulent of delicacies. Anya always woke scared, shaking and alone.

  Anya couldn’t remember how she got into the suite she was currently lying in. She didn’t know how many days she had been in bed. She didn’t care. She had the will to do nothing except to sleep and to dream. If she woke, the broken nightmare that was her life would start all over again.

  She dreamt of the farm and of the past months away from it. In the dreams, Trajan was everywhere. The light in his red streaked eyes when he smiled at her, and the feeling of being absolutely safe in his arms. She saw him twisting a piece of his dark hair as he read in front of the fire, heard his laughter on the edge of her mind, but she would never see the light in his eyes again or feel the brush of his lips. Vasilli and Yanka had taken that light away. Words flowed over her like water and leaked into her dreams and subconscious. They played over and over in her mind.

  “Vekja Elenya,” a voice commanded, pulling her from the layers of dreams. “No one else is here but me.” Anya opened her eyes very slowly. Søren sat on a chair next to her bed. Horrible hot tears filled her eyes and gushed down her cheeks. He handed her a dark green, silk handkerchief.

  “I apologise, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said half-heartedly. “Not yet in any case.”

  “Where am I and how did I get here?” Her voice was husky and her throat sore from disuse.

  “You’re with the Álfr in Alaska. Welcome back.”

  “Where’s Yvan?” There had been so much blood and confusion. She couldn’t remember past the blinding light and Yanka’s cold smile.

  “He’s healing like the others. That is what you should be doing.”

  “The Álfr let you bring us here? I thought they had rules about privacy.”

  “They do,” his lips pursed together. “They’ve made an exception for you on account of the elvianth and that the Groenn Skær marked you.”

  “The Álfr want to kill me themselves, don’t they? I swear, Søren, I had no idea that this would happen. I thought…”

  “You were doing the right thing? Being the hero and saving the day?” he said snidely. “You’ve no idea what you have done by letting Yanka loose in the world again.”

  “Trajan was murdered before my eyes. I
know what I’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry…about the Thanatos,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t have much respect for his kind but I know he loved you in his way, and protected you when no one else did. He didn’t deserve such a death.”

  “I’ll kill Vasilli and Yanka for this,” she swore. “If I die trying so be it.” She felt the cold dark flower of revenge buried deep in her soul open and bloom. She’d never truly understood black rage until the moment Trajan fell to the ground.

  “Aramis told me that she admitted Vasilli is her son. The Álfr didn’t know that and neither did he.”

  “How is Aramis?” Anya remembered the sickening smell of burning dead flesh, the hand he held out to channel his power mangled from the magic.

  “He’s alive but his soul is broken. The Álfr aren’t happy with his actions but it wasn’t entirely his fault. He didn’t know many things, but that’s not something that you should be worrying about now. Now’s the time to grieve for fallen companions and heal.”

  Anya felt blood leave her face, “Who else?”

  “The Twin’s human bodies have been too damaged. They are god heroes in this land, so they have taken on their animal forms. They aren’t too far away. When you’re better, we will hold funeral rites. Harley’s knife wound is healing though it’s been a tough battle. The others have minor wounds, but like you, they’re hurt in their soul, the ones with magical ability most of all. Yanka hit you with such a force that I am surprised any of you are alive at all.”

  “I shielded them. I’m not sure how I did it. I joined my power to Aramis and made it, I don’t know, bigger,” she tried to explain.

  “I’ll have to tell Ruthann that. He will be impressed.”

  “Thank you for coming for us. I know you didn’t have to bring us back here,” Anya managed a weak smile and tried to ignore the pain in her chest.

  “I knew if I didn’t take the rest of them, you’d never have forgiven me.”

  “Whatever the reason, I won’t forget it.”

  “Sleep Elenya,” he said. “Worry about the world tomorrow.” He brushed his fingers over her forehead and she slept.

  And she dreamed.

  Anya watched Yanka and Vasilli appear through the gate that bordered the farm. Yanka wore a long, heavy coat that had been placed over her thin cotton hospital scrubs. Emotions flittered across her face as she looked at the burned out rubble before finally going blank.

  “You did this?” she asked as she surveyed the wreckage that was now the farmhouse.

  “I lost my temper,” Vasilli shrugged. “I inherited it from my mother.” Yanka ignored him and picked her way through the burnt possessions.

  “They aren’t here,” she muttered as she walked through the ash.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “My rune stones. They’re gone.”

  “They could’ve been destroyed.”

  “No, they couldn’t have. I put spells on them myself. They would survive a blacksmith’s forge. I’d sense them if they were among the wreckage.”

  “The old man that looked after Anya never taught her magic, so I don’t think she would have recognised their power. Rumour has it that she wasn’t taught because she was too much like you.” Yanka flicked her long hair behind her shoulder.

  “She looks like me but that’s where the similarity ends. That girl is weak. If she had any kind of power, she would’ve stopped you from killing her lover. Her magic was strong enough to rouse me from my sleep. She’s served her purpose. If she gets in my way, I will kill her.”

  “She’s untrained but she has potential.”

  “She is the least of our concerns,” Yanka interrupted. “Is my house still standing?”

  “Of course, you are the Dark Princess.”

  “Good, I’ve had enough of this sad corner of hell.” With an effortless wave of her hand, Yanka summoned the gate and they stepped through it, fading like smoke.

  Anya woke jolting and thrashing out at her sheets and blankets. “Shalosť wake up, you are dreaming.” Warm hands found hers and helped untangle her. Yvan’s eyes hovered over her and her panic faded.

  “Yvan.” She threw her arms around him, pulling him down on the bed next to her. “I was so worried that you…” She held him tightly, her choking sobs wracking her body. He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her.

  “Little shalosť it’s okay, I have you.” His long fingers stroked her hair as she tried to stop her tears.

  “Trajan…he is…”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I was so angry at him, Yvan. I thought he had abandoned me and that he’d run away like last time. I should’ve known better. I should’ve thought better of him…”

  “You cannot think this way. Even if you were upset with him, he knew that you loved him. You can’t change what happened so don’t let it make you bitter. Don’t let his death change you. It wouldn’t be honouring his memory to let the darkness surround you. I know better than most what you are going through. Vasilli killed my wife in front of me. It didn’t matter that she had betrayed me. It didn’t matter that she didn’t love me. What matters is how I live with it, how I hold onto who I am. You can’t let the bitterness cripple you.”

  “How did you live with it?”

  “I breathed in and I breathed out, and waited for it to become easier.”

  “And did it?” His arms tightened around her.

  “Yes, sometimes it is easier. Not today though.”

  “I thought I’d have family with Yanka. A small twisted part of me wanted her to wake up and look at me as if I was a hero. That she would…I don’t know. I didn’t expect to have another enemy.”

  “It’s not a crime to want to have family or have expectations. It’s what makes you human.” Anya didn’t reply. She was listening to the deep beat of his heart, trying to get lost in the steady rhythm.

  “I’m so grateful for you, Yvan. Whatever gods exist, I thank them all for you. If you had died…”

  “Don’t say it. I’m not going to leave you. Even death wouldn’t stop me from watching over you. I’m the Hero, remember?”

  “I’ll never forget it.” She was dozing when he started to move carefully out of her embrace. “Don’t go…”

  “I’m going to run a bath for you.” Yvan loosened her fingers and eased off the bed. She followed him slowly, her legs weak from disuse. Numbly, she watched him turn on the taps, holding his brown wrist under the water to test the temperature.

  “You cut your hair,” she said with surprise. His black hair that had always hung to his shoulders was shorn to a mop of inch long curls.

  “I had to. It was singed in the explosion,” he said, running a hand through it self-consciously. He straightened, letting the water fill the tub.

  “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” Anya whispered. He moved to kiss her forehead.

  “You’re welcome, shalosť. I’ll be here when you are done.”

  Alone once more, Anya took off her clothes and climbed into the hot water. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest and let the heat seep into her. As the water went cold, she heard voices rising in the next room. She got out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel robe, leaving wet footprints wherever she went.

  There was a crowd sitting in her lounge room when she walked in. Katya passed her a bottle of vodka with a brief hug. Anya sat on the carpet and rested her back against the couch. If she started to drink vodka, she would end up on the floor anyway. Anya scanned their faces and realised how right Søren had been. They all looked damaged and exhausted.

  “How are you, Harley?” she asked. Harley lifted up her Def Leppard t-shirt to reveal a large white bandage patch on her stomach.

  “Considering I knew it was a fatal wound, I’m pretty fucking fantastic,” she grinned. “These Álfr sure know a thing or two about healing. They let me call Mama Lya and Blue Jay who were both crazy mad but relieved to know Fox and I are okay.” Fox sat down on the floor next t
o Anya and took a swig from a tequila bottle.

  “I thought you were done for when that bitch exploded,” she muttered.

  “I tried to make my magic shield all of us but I wasn’t good enough.”

  Izrayl said, “You were amazing. That blast levelled the hospital and if you hadn’t shielded us, we would have all been vaporised.”

  “How about you, Aleksandra?” Anya asked the beautiful gypsy sitting on an armchair opposite her. Mychal stood behind her like an extremely intimidating bodyguard. The fingers of his right hand rested gently on Aleksandra’s neck, but if it was to comfort her or himself was anyone’s guess.

  “I couldn’t touch my magic for a few days but I’m back to normal now,” Aleksandra said with a smile.

  “And you, Mychal? Were you hurt at all?”

  “No,” he answered in his usual blunt manner.

  “Really? Nothing? You must have an excellent guardian angel.” A small ironic smile appeared on his lips but he said nothing. “Hamish?”

  The cowboy gave her an amazing white smile. It was all bravado but it made her feel better. “Right as rain, love. My ears were ringing like a bastard for a couple of days.”

  “Belle?”

  “I’ve lived through worse.” Anya nodded and took another long swig. She noticed a face missing.

  “Where’s Aramis?”

  “He’s hurt really bad,” said Katya.

  “His hand?”

  “His head too.”

  “I’ll visit him later then.” The vodka was finally making her feel warm and relatively calm.

  “Have you shown her, Yvan?” Cerise said as she paced and chain-smoked.

  “Shown me what? You said you weren’t hurt.” Anya looked at Yvan and he sighed. Yvan lifted up his black t-shirt to reveal a well-muscled, bare, brown chest. It took a moment for Anya to register what she was seeing. His chest was bare. The firebird was gone.