Back Winter of Fire Save as PDF
Chapters (33)
  1. Cover
  2. Elsha’s Fire
  3. Dedication
  4. Tribute to Elsha
  5. Foreword to 2019 edition
  6. Part One Firebrand
  7. 1 High Dreams
  8. 2 Dark Realities
  9. 3 My Calling
  10. 4 Fire on My Mind
  11. 5 My Strange Philosophy
  12. 6 The Firelord
  13. 7 A Friend
  14. 8 Divining
  15. 9 Earth-Force
  16. 10 Visions and Vows
  17. Part Two The Shining Star
  18. 11 Siranjaro Fire
  19. 12 Other Fires and Dreams
  20. 13 The Light in My Dark
  21. 14 Secret Powers
  22. 15 My Home, My Almost-Love
  23. 16 Gifts
  24. 17 Pain, Love and Destiny
  25. 18 High Road to Kasimarra
  26. 19 The Test
  27. 20 The Myth
  28. 21 Persuasions
  29. 22 The Battle
  30. 23 My Morning
  31. 24 Into the Light
  32. About the Author
  33. Publishing Details

At last the skies began to lighten behind Kasimarra. I got up, took the torch, and hurried along the ascent. The way became very steep, the ridge turned suddenly to the right, and Kasimarra and the temple place were directly in front of me. Below, the town already showed signs of life: torches moved along the roads, and the lower door to the temple blazed suddenly with light. Above me, at the end of my road, the temple waited, silent and serene.

My torchlight showed that the ridge had become narrow with near-vertical sides, in places no wider than the path itself. I felt as if I walked a knife’s edge. The wind was very strong, and whistled across my path and tore at the flames in my torch. I held my hood down low over my brand, and walked on I was close to the temple now, and could see the Firelord’s door. I hesitated a moment, swept by the wind, by fear of the dizzy height, by terror of the enormity of what I was about to do. I said a prayer, took a deep breath, and entered the temple.

I had expected a grand entrance, but my torchlight showed a tunnel. Shaking with fear, I pulled the Firelord’s hood low over my face, drew the sleeves down over my hands, gripped the torch and the knife in its scabbard on my waist, and went in. The tunnel was not long, but smelled damp, and the air was stale. I remembered that it was used only by the Firelord once a year.

Guards stood at the end of the tunnel, barring it with swords crossed. As I drew near, the swords parted, were lifted upright. I gripped my knife, futile against those blades, and went in. The temple was vast, and dim with candlelight and shadows. I dared not look at the guards. I bent my head low, feeling the heavy hood covering my face and my pale hair, and went straight on past, across polished firelit floors, crimson carpets, and on until I came to two doors. They were pure gold, beaten into beautiful designs of strange birds and beasts, wide wilderness places, and foreign cities. In the centre of the door, divided by their opening, was the Firelord’s sacred sign: the diviner’s eye.