Here's your chance at a sneak peek of Fire 'N Bryce! This short story takes place between Season One and Season Two of The Sidhe and is the first time we see Bryce's point of view. We hope you enjoy the story!
Even as he did an aerial twist, dodging the stone projectiles thrown at him, Bryce coiled fire between his hands. The heat he generated was tremendous, but that wasn’t what made sweat coat his skin and drip from his red hair. The burning magic was bigger than a rugby ball when he flung it at his assailant. It collided center mass with the stone golem, exploding into smoke and cinders, and searing the top layer of its body. It made a dent, but just barely, and immediately the damage healed right back up, before it raced after him again.
“You need more mass behind your flames,” Donovan instructed.
And Bryce already knew that. He knew it every single time his magic burst on impact instead of driving a hole right through his target.
Growling with his effort, he tried again, coiling up the fire as hot and tight as he could. Shoving all his will into the magic like it was the last thing he’d get to do. Like it was do or die. He shoved his fire hard together between his hands, until his gut ached with the effort of pushing and his body trembled. And then he threw the fire again.
And again it shattered into a rain of burning scraps.
His heart pounded with his need to do this. To prove himself. To be the best Sidhe warrior Donovan ever trained.
The golem rushed for him and Bryce stood his ground. He streamed a javelin of focused flame right at the stone creation’s face, intent on burning its head right off.
It collided with him in a flying tackle that drove his back to the floor. The golem’s shoulder lodged in his gut to take him down hard, knocking all the air out of him with a yelp of pain.
When he didn’t get up right away, just rolled side to side a bit, the golem disintegrated into sand that ran down to the floor where it was absorbed.
Bryce cracked opened his eyes.
Donovan stood over him, hand extended. “You put everything you have into it, but that’s not enough. Not yet.”
Grimacing, Bryce accepted the hand, and let Donovan yank him to his feet.
“Take a break. We’ll try again later.”
“No. I’m good. We can keep going.” He did his best to resisted the urge to bend at the waist and struggle to catch his breath, but his body didn’t listen to him any more than his fire did.
“Take a break,” Donovan repeated.
Bryce limped over to the bench and slumped down onto it. As he mopped the sweat from his face with a towel, he guzzled the water from a bottle. Out in the middle of the practice room, Kieran demolished his third golem, shattering it with unheard sound vibrations that made the ground shiver beneath Bryce’s trainers. Something as inconsequential as sound could tear things apart, when his fire, which should be flat out the deadliest magic of the lot, couldn’t make more than a singe mark.
He knew fire could do some flat brilliant stuff. He’d gotten Donovan to tell him all about the fire Sidhe from the Mounds. Especially the ones that had been Elite, like him. Deadly assassins and fierce warriors. Just like Donovan.
Just like what Bryce knew he could be.
Not like poor Malcolm, with hardly enough magic to rub together to even notice. He’d be furious, too, if he’d gotten the short end of the magic stick. That was why the lad used his knife to strike at the golem coming at him. Bryce and Malcolm were the same age, but Malcolm was thinner and more agile. He looked like a ninja when he tumbled, like he always knew right where his body was in space, but he almost always wanted to charge in with his blade rather than waste time with the fancier stuff.
Both the other lads were deadlier than him. They’d both had their first kills under their belts, too. And if Donovan ever needed someone at his back in a fight, he’d probably want either of them.
Leastwise, for now.
Bryce tossed down the towel and bounded back into the workout room. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go again.” He bounced on the balls of his feet.
As Donovan raked his gaze over him, Bryce could feel the assessment. Like Donovan was checking him for weakness. Looking for a reason to send him back to the bench. So he flamed over his hands, just to prove how ready he was. The fire licked up his arms, but the heat didn’t hurt him at all. And his sleeves didn’t catch fire either, because it was stuff made by the dwarves and couldn’t burn. Even before he spoke, Bryce could see it in his eyes that he meant not to let him go back in. “I have something else I want you to do. Dawn needs to return to the fairy’s grove. Her foster father is sick and they’ve sent for her.” He checked the wall clock. “She’ll be leaving in half an hour. Just long enough for you to shower and grab an overnight bag.”
His shoulders slumped. The eager grin melted into a grimace. “Fairies?”
“No one travels alone.”
And Bryce knew that rule. Especially now that the Seelie and Donovan had crossed swords. That guy was one bad ass bloke, but Bryce still put his money on Donovan. But if that Seelie meant to hurt Dawn, or even him, there wasn’t much Bryce could do to stop him. He’d coated him with fire once before, and the Seelie had ripped it all apart.
Even still, what would that Seelie bloke want with a bunch of stupid fairies? They were almost a hundred percent unlikely to run into him out in some old mossy woods.
When Bryce didn’t move right away, Donovan gave him ‘the look’ and that got him going.
That look alone should be enough to bring the Seelie to his stupid knees. It scared the living crap out of Bryce.
And made him only all the more determined to prove himself worthy of something more than escorting Dawn to frivolous fairyville.
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