Forged from the Ashes (Wings of War Book 1) Read online

  © 2020 J. Kearston

  All rights reserved

  No part of this work may be duplicated, reproduced, or transferred by any means, without the written approval of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual people (living or dead), places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Potential trigger warnings: This book contains darker themes such as the mention of sexual assault (though no graphic detail, there are some close call situations that may be triggering to some as well as alluding to it happening to others), some graphic descriptions of blood and violence, as well as the mention of family members committing suicide. This book is meant to be fun entertainment with some laugh out loud humor. While I would love for you to read my work, never do so at the risk of your own mental health.

  Cover by HarleyQuinn Zaler at HQ Artwork

  Forged from the Ashes

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 | Ezra

  Chapter 2 | Ezra

  Chapter 3 | Ezra

  Chapter 4 | Vyrian

  Chapter 5 | Ezra | That same afternoon

  Chapter 6 | Ezra

  Chapter 7 | Soren

  Chapter 8 | Ezra

  Chapter 9 | Vyrian

  Chapter 10 | Ezra

  Chapter 11 | Soren

  Chapter 12 | Ezra

  Chapter 13 | Caius

  Chapter 14 | Vyrian

  Chapter 15 | Ezra

  Chapter 16 | Caius

  Chapter 17 | Ezra

  Chapter 18 | Soren

  Chapter 19 | Caius

  Chapter 20 | Ezra

  Chapter 21 | Vyrian

  Chapter 22 | Ezra

  Chapter 1

  Ezra

  Blood splatters my cheeks as I laugh, kicking off of the corpse’s back to give me that final boost I needed to reach the end of the rope. I brace my feet against the wooden blockade, the slats so close together there’s no way to get a handhold, and start scaling the wall. The idiots are so focused on reaching the goal, they aren’t paying enough attention to what’s going on around them. And if there’s one thing you can’t afford to have in this competition, its tunnel vision.

  Only a moron wouldn’t assume everything is booby-trapped.

  But no, they think the most direct route is the fastest way to the finish line and it cost this man his life. I should thank him; it gave me the leg up I needed.

  Because I can think three moves ahead, I incinerate the rope with barely a thought, effectively barring anyone else from following me up the latest hurtle. With a deep breath, I take a second to center myself before jumping. There’s no time for second guessing in these games and if you can’t even trust yourself, you don’t deserve to win.

  My fingers curl around the metal ring and I don’t skip a beat, using my momentum to propel me to the next and then the next. I don’t bother glancing down to see what is in the pit a hundred feet beneath me, because it doesn’t matter. Whether it’s a pool of lava or rusty nails, if I fall I’m better off dead than living with the shame of losing. We could use the prize money, and I refuse to look my little brother in the face and tell him I failed, let alone make my brothers mourn my death.

  I land in a crouch on the ledge, breaking into a run, following the curves of the artificial path. The wooden walls are high enough that I can’t see the next turn in front of me, much less the crowd. A fiery little rat in a maze and one wrong step will be my last.

  The game takes no prisoners and has no mercy, because if you need to rely on someone else’s kindness to succeed, you’ve already lost.

  A grunt of pain echoes from ahead of me and I slow my steps, peering around the next bend and getting blasted with fresh air. Ahead of me, a behemoth of a man has a hand firmly pressed to his upper arm, staunching the blood that is steadily dripping to the stone ledge at his feet.

  The short maze let out at the top of a stone column, another hundred feet above the ground than the pit was. There’s a single, solid piece of rope stretched between here and the opposite ledge, the finish line locked in my sights.

  I pause for a moment, waiting for whatever sliced into this competitor to reveal itself or himself. I may be close to the end, but I never let my excitement drown out common sense.

  The man takes a cautious step closer and several blades shoot out from both posts at either side of the platform. He steps back before sustaining any more damage and I hear steps thundering behind me. Cursing, I take a risk, stepping onto the platform and dropping to hang off of the edge beside the entrance before the newcomer or tall, dark, and bloody can spot me.

  I keep my breathing steady, letting my nails sharpen just enough to embed in the rock to help my grip. The wind whips at my body fiercely without the maze walls to shield me and my bright red hair escapes my ponytail to whip in my face like annoying little flames. My heart is racing, not from fear, but adrenaline. It’s been quite a while since anyone else has managed to keep up with me, let alone make it close enough they might actually beat me.

  “Soren! You alright, man?” the newcomer asks, but I keep my head beneath the ledge, lest they catch sight of me.

  “It’s nothing, Caius,” the behemoth replies, voice low enough I have to strain to hear. “But we might need to prepare to take a few hits to get to the rope.”

  I hear a shuffle of feet and risk bringing my eyes just above the ledge, my arms screaming in protest. Caius is completely shirtless, blood splattered over his entire torso and his short blonde hair. The savagery only adds to his appeal. He rolls a stone across the ground, but it doesn’t set off the trap. He frowns, rising up from his crouch with a nod towards Soren.

  “You able to hold on with that wound?” Caius asks, eyeing his friend’s bicep.

  Soren scoffs. “What do you take me for? You going first or me?”

  Caius grins, shifting into a running position and I know I need to time this just right. The men that run these gauntlets may be stronger, but I’m not only faster, I’m also more brutal. Caius breaks into a run and I hoist myself up. Soren pauses as I knock some debris loose, turning to face me. He freezes as the newbloods always do, shocked to see a girl in the savage competition, or just in general.

  I use his surprise to my advantage, breaking into a dead sprint just as Caius sets off the trap and blades start flying. He hunches over on instinct the same time my foot lands in the center of his back and I launch off, propelling myself higher than the range of projectiles and in front of him.

  My foot lands on the rope, but my momentum keeps me going, as I anticipated. I hear shouts behind me as I lurch forward, grabbing the rope in my left hand on my way down. I swing, curling my leg around the rope and hoisting myself up, ignoring the brief pain in my palm as nothing more than an annoying blip.

  Always sacrifice your less dominant hand if it comes down to it so you can still fight. I might not be able to feel the heat, but that doesn’t mean the wound isn’t there, and grabbing something might be difficult. That small pain is enough to prove I ripped it open, need to account for the blood so I don’t slip.

  “Are you fucking crazy!” Caius shouts behind me as I rise to my feet, walking with my arms outstretched to keep my balance on the tightrope.

  “Yeah, a little,” I call back shamelessly without turning my head. Definitely not the worst thing I’ve been called.

  Another jolt to the rope as Soren climbs on and I risk a glance over my shoulder. Both men are hanging down, crossing with one fist in front of the other rather than risk balancing.

  “You’re going to fall! Grab the rope, damn it!” Soren growls, but I ignore him, walking faster
to accommodate for their agility.

  They’re gaining quicker than I could have imagined and I know it’s going to be the closest match I’ve had in years. “If I were you two, I’d hold on a little tighter, okay?”

  I don’t give them time to respond before I summon a small ember in my hand and toss it behind Soren on the rope. I ignore their shouts as I break into a sprint, refusing to look down or focus on anything beyond my next step.

  Don’t hesitate or second guess yourself. Trust your instincts.

  There’s a brief second when the rope burns through before it starts to fall, a moment suspended in time where I feel the tension in the rope beneath my feet loosen. That’s the second that I leap, tucking and rolling as I tumble across the stone on the pillar and directly under the ribbon for the finish line instead of busting through it like normal.

  I heave in heavy breaths, panting as the adrenaline crashes through me, lighting up my nerve endings until they feel like pinpricks. My heartbeat is thundering so loud it’s all I can hear. I brush a shaky hand across my face, swiping the now dusty hair from my face and slowly rise to my feet. With a few steps, I let my claws sharpen and from this side of the ribbon, place my middle finger on the bottom.

  Caius comes into view first and Soren climbs up right after. While holding their gaze, I flick my finger up, effectively giving them the bird while at the same time making it clear they were two seconds away from winning.

  This high up, there is no one here but a solitary official for an extra ruling if the cameras couldn’t pick it up in the case of a close call. Caius is seething, while Soren stomps over, towering over me and looking down at me with the same shocked expression as earlier.

  He’s not nearly pissed enough for a man that I almost killed.

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks down at me with confusion. “Are you hurt?” He swipes a hand over my cheek and it takes me a second to realize I’m covered in dried blood, dirt, and my clothes are singed in several places.

  It catches me off guard more than anything because no one touches me. At least, no one around here. Not only are they newbloods, they must be new enough to town that word of my family hasn’t reached them yet.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I counter, gesturing to his various wounds. “You look like a pincushion.”

  His slate grey eyes light up with humor, turning his imposing stature into nothing more than a giant, bloody teddy bear. “Not the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

  “Won’t be the last time either,” I laugh, letting the warning hang in the air without explaining.

  I start walking towards the stairs, slapping Jarred’s hand in congratulations as I pass the official, the two of us well acquainted from my numerous victories. Giving the strangers my back, I begin the long descent into the waiting crowd. I can hear them roaring from here as I stretch my arms over my head and roll out my shoulders. I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow, but the money softens the blow. I’ll use my hundred dollar bills to dry my tears if I must.

  “Who the hell allowed a girl to enter the competition?” Caius growls.

  “Aww, don’t be a sore loser. So you got your ass handed to you by a girl; at least you didn’t die...yet,” I jab.

  He growls in frustration and it sends a thrill through me, promising more danger than the death race I just left. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

  I turn around to grin at him, continuing down the steps backwards. Soren looks ready to snatch me off my feet before I trip and fall while Caius eyes me with caution. The fact that this half naked, savage man is eyeing me like I’m something dangerous he needs to be wary of while the other appears two seconds away from throwing me over his shoulder?

  I’m pretty sure my lady balls just exploded from excitement.

  “To answer your question, I did. I know, shocking, right? A woman actually allowed to think for herself and make her own decisions?” I flutter my hand to my chest in mock indignation. “Heaven forbid a lady have free will.”

  We’re nearly at the bottom and I know as soon as I descend into the crowd I’ll lose them, so I walk just a little bit slower, enjoying the novelty of new comers. It’s been at least a year since we’ve had any.

  Caius sighs, cracking his knuckles, but it’s Soren that answers. “Are women more common in this country? I thought the population situation was global?”

  “Nope, you’re looking at the one and only in the tri-county area, gentlemen.” I bow with a flourish, never once missing a step.

  Soren reaches out and grabs my wrist anyway, tugging me closer like he’s certain I’m about to break a leg. The roar of the crowd dies down as several mutterings and menacing rumbles start to sound out around us. Still, Soren doesn’t let go, and a sick part of me gets crazy turned on at his lack of fear, like any sane person would be in this situation.

  “Ren,” Caius starts casually and Soren slowly releases me, one finger at a time.

  “And you see this crowd,” I state loudly, jabbing my thumb over my shoulder. “They’re smart enough to know I’d kick any of their asses if they even tried to stop me from entering.”

  I can practically feel the crowd parting behind me, and know what’s coming a second before it does. A heavy arm is thrown over my shoulders and I roll my eyes, but lean into the familiar touch.

  “You spoutin’ lies again, Ezra?” my eldest brother asks, his tone and posture relaxed, casual. But I know him well enough to know that in less than a second that can change.

  I snort. “You know as well as I do they’re terrified of me.”

  Now it’s Kahl’s turn to snort derisively. “You’re right, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the three of us.”

  I shrug. “Glad you’ve finally made your peace with the facts.”

  He finally deigns to give the strangers the time of day. “You survived, congrats. Don’t feel bad about losing; Ezra here is undefeated three years running.”

  I preen a little under the praise, standing straighter.

  Soren narrows his eyes before he rumbles out, “Why would you allow your mate to risk her neck time and time again? You don’t care that she could die?”

  There are several menacing sounds around me as the men in the crowd wait to see what Kahl will do at the blatant disrespect. It wasn’t a challenge, but it was an insult for damn sure.

  Kahl strums his fingers on my shoulder. “First off, gross. She’s my sister. Second, it makes her happy,” he states, not sounding annoyed in the slightest like I expected. “And watching the men vying for her attention get crushed beneath her feet makes me happy. Win-win scenario.”

  I still, because I have never once heard one of my brothers mention anything about the men running in the races with me were trying to get on my radar. I start to relax as I realize it doesn’t matter, because they’ve obviously done a piss poor job of it if I couldn’t even tell you half of their names or noticed them missing from town afterward.

  “I take it you’re the leader around here?” Caius asks, changing the subject before things can escalate.

  Kahl scoffs. “Fuck no. Ezra just can’t go five minutes without getting into trouble and a buddy of mine called when he saw mountain man here touching her on the camera feed. Care to explain what was up with that?”

  Soren awkwardly clears his throat. “I thought she might be hurt. Weren’t you watching the race?”

  Kahl ruffles the top of my hair and I bat his hand away in annoyance. “Nah, I had work to finish up. Not like I didn’t know she’d win.”

  I shove his shoulder in annoyance, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, it puts me a step closer towards Caius, and Kahl wastes no time wrapping a hand around my wrist and tugging me back, plastering my back to his front. He wraps an arm across my collar bone and rests his chin on the top of my head while I huff in annoyance.

  “Dick. You missed my amazing leap of certain death. It was badass to behold.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m sure you looked like a whe
ezing monkey,” he counters instantly. “We’ll catch it on the replay later just so I can see your face when you see I’m right.”

  Caius starts to walk away, but Soren hesitates before following. “See you around, Ezra.”

  Kahl’s arm tightens imperceptibly on my collar. “Plan on staying long, losers?” he asks lightly.

  Caius stops to wait for Soren. “Moved here a few days ago. No better way to get a feel for a town than a run through the Gauntlet.”

  I try to suppress my shudder of excitement at the prospect. “You’re frequent fliers?”

  Most of them quit after the first maiming if they don’t end up dead. There are only a handful of men around here that run nearly every race with me, and even then, they’ve never won since I started; just survived.

  Caius shrugs a single shoulder. “Suppose so. Though with you in the running, what’s the point of signing up for the next?” he points out like the wise man he is.

  I try to fight the grin that wants to take over my face at the prospect of running against them again. I’m saved from answering when Kaiden shows up, looking ten shades of pissed off.

  “Fuck you two assholes doing, touching my sister?” he spits, coming to stand beside Kahl and I.

  Caius rolls his eyes and walks away, Soren shooting frequent looks over his shoulder as he follows his friend. “Nice to meet you, Ezra.”

  I wave. “Pleasure kicking your ass, Soren. Caius.” I tip my imaginary hat to them.

  My brothers get all huffy and drag me off, the crowd parting respectfully. My brothers aren’t leaders, but they’re the ‘protectors’ of the area’s only female until I pick my mates. Honestly, if Soren and Caius had tried anything, anyone in the crowd would have intervened on principle. Not that they would have had the need, because I wasn’t joking about kicking their asses.

  Only one person in my entire life had the balls to not understand no meant no, and I made sure it was a lesson he would never forget. When my brothers found out though, they had far less mercy than I did, tearing the asshole apart and spitting on his corpse. The crowd praised the triplets for weeks.