Autumn Chaos: A Steamy Humorous Fantasy Romance (Season's War Book 1), page 1
Copyright © 2022 by Olena Nikitin
Print ISBN 978-1-9998861-0-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. Olena Nikitin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
External content
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Content Warning:
Dear Reader, we appreciate that everyone has a different level of sensitivity and may be triggered by different topics. It is up to your discretion whether you can handle the content in our books. The book is intended for a mature audience of particular interests and contains a certain amount of spice and sexual innuendo, as well as scenes of death, physical violence and medical experiments. It is a work of fiction set in a world with different racial, cultural and social norms. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental, and the names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination.
Acknowledgements
This writing journey would be much more bumpy and difficult without the people who helped us create this book. We would like to give our special thanks to
Germancreative – for a beautiful cover that brought Ina and the magic of Autumn to life
Anne-Marie Rutella – for editing and making sure our manuscript is readable, and our ideas sound good on paper and for her enthusiastic support for Ina’s adventures
Beta reading team: andronia001, bawrites, sasha_pj, monicam1001, ra-sanders917. Your support and feedback helped us to shape this book, plug the plot holes and make Mar a much more pleasant person … although I liked him being an arsehole 😊
Sally Altass for making us feel like “real” writers when we barely published a short story and continuous support and encouragement when we were writing Autumn Chaos.
I would also like to thank my friends and colleagues from Royal Cornwall Hospital Emergency Department, especially my best PR woman Chrissy, for supporting me when I suddenly decided to become a writer. Yes, I know you bought the books. I still hope it is because you liked it.
FINALLY
WE WOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO OUR MOTHERS
WANDA AND MAUREEN
FOR THEIR STEADFAST BELIEF WE COULD DO IT
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 1
The Black Forest hadn’t gained its reputation just from the thickness of the vegetation. While the dense foliage caused deep shadows, it was also full of poisonous plants and animals much larger than you’d expect them to be. The Leshy, the trickster Guardian of the Forest, gave sanctuary to many creatures and spirits rejected by the rapidly expanding world and ensured no members of the civilised races encroached on his domain. However, one person strolled, unconcerned, through the hostile undergrowth, enjoying the sun’s rays filtered by dark green leaves. Ina reached up and played with the warm sunlight. Shadows created a pattern on her skin, and adding a bit of magic, she formed the shape of a viper’s head rising from her forearm. One of the tree branches reached for her, dark wood stretching out, trying to tangle in her copper hair.
“Oh behave,” she said, swatting it with a laugh, and the giant oak trembled when Chaos-fed flames consumed the illusory snake. Her carefree manner and random display of magic were out of place here, and Ina often wondered what people saw when they looked at her and whether she even cared anymore.
Exile was difficult for a single woman, but life is life, and one had to eat. For now, she wandered through the forest, picking herbs and some very special mushrooms. The potions she created out of necessity, and for fun, always contained a bit of light entertainment on the side. The wildwood was full of life. A veritable cornucopia for someone who knew what to look for and could find a path in the almost impenetrable foliage. After ten years, she knew every stone here. She peered down into her brimming basket and nodded with appreciation. It hadn’t taken her long to gather all she needed today. Nice and easy, just like I like it, she thought, heading back to her hut.
With her mind preoccupied with plans for the evening, Ina strolled back to her cottage. The latest batch of cherry liqueur should be ready by now, and she was curious about how her new recipe had come out. Oblivious to the voices that grew louder as she approached the path to her home, Ina came to the clearing, and the view in front of her just took her breath away, but not for long, though.
“What the hell are you doing in my garden?” Ina shouted at the top of her lungs, seeing far too many peasants having what looked like an afternoon party in front of her house. She was a Fury incarnate. The witch was not a hospitable person and, after all these years, the villagers should know this. Her temperamental magic flared up, goaded by her anger, and raw Chaos pooled around her. Golden eyes looked at her from the rim of the roof in silent accusation. See, see what happens when they are not afraid of you? Her cat’s disdain was palpable.
As Ina looked around, committing each face to memory, she spied a bottle in one of the villagers’ hands. Her cherry liqueur—those thieving bastards had found her cooling barrel in the yard. They took her evening reward, and some village idiot was gulping it like moonshine in the tavern.
The sudden change in the air, caused by red mist, swiftly made the common folk very aware of how furious she was. The wisps of primal power sprang forth and firmly attached themselves to the peasants’ guts with a rolling curse.
“May you not shit for a week! And when you finally can, you will not make it to the crapper before your arse explodes, you fucking drunkards!”
It was not a very sophisticated spell, but the witch didn’t care about finesse. Her visceral curse caused the gathered crowd to run like headless chickens, fleeing her yard as fast as possible. Ina smiled benignly and looked at the cat as if to say. “See? I can speak their language.”
Deep inside, Ina could feel her curse had anchored itself well. The locals will undoubtedly remember that, while she may not look like it, Ina was still an alumna of the University of Higher Magical Arts. Of course, the “shit you not” curse was not something to brag about to any of her professors. If I ever got released from this forest, of course, she thought, feeling a bitter taste in her mouth, then scorned herself. You will find the way out. After all, you are the incorrigible Ina. The last words cheered her up, and she chuckled slightly, looking around, only a little surprised that there was still one, or possibly two, people in front of her hut.
Abandoned by his kin and trembling like a leaf, a now abashed headman stood next to a big bundle on the floor that resembled a human shape. She moved closer, observing the heap cluttering up her yard. Ina confirmed it was indeed a human. Massive and almost appetisingly naked, if not for the fact that he was covered in blood and his pale face meant he was knocking on Nawia’s doors. The afterlife probably looked pretty damn attractive in his present state.
“So, what is going on here?” she asked. The sweet saccharine of her voice, an attempt to be pleasant and soothing, seemed to cause the headman to go through a speed version of the curse, as he now looked ready to soil his pants.
“Lady, we found him…in the forest, there was blood and others, people that is, but they were dead. This one still breathes, and his armour had gold in it, so we thought…we thought…” the man stuttered.
He looked like his legs would buckle under him, but worse, she didn’t like the way this all was heading. The man on the floor looked like a warrior, not a bandit, and he had golden armour? That meant nothing but trouble.
“Headman, where might his armour be?” Ina asked as it suddenly dawned on her that the man at her feet was wearing nothing but bloody breeches.
“We…ehhh…we took it off so he can breathe easier.” The headman was getting redder and redder, and Ina thought he would pop a blood vessel in a moment.
“And I’m assuming each of you helpers took a piece for safekeeping, leaving this half-dead body with me. And what do you expect me to do? I’m not a necromancer.” Anger raised its head again. These good people complicated her life, and she genuinely hated complications.
“But, lady, it took four men to bring him here…”
“Gods give me strength not to strangle this one,” Ina said, clenching her fists before casting the feather. The elemental incantation decreased the man’s weight to a small fraction of what it should be, but Ina barely noticed. Simple household spells had become her routine and something that allowed her to survive in this godsforsaken place.
“Pick him up now and put him on my bed,” she said and opened the doors, leaving the headman, almost as pale as her unexpected guest, to carry the body inside.
As she turned for a moment to put the basket in the kitchen, the frightened villager threw the man on her bed and ran away. Ina looked at her cat, who had decided to strut in.
“Now I have no bed, blood everywhere, and a non-paying job to do, and it is all your fault for letting them in.”
Boruta, named after a forest demon, only looked at her, turned around, showed how interested he was in her complaints, and wandered off to sit on the still-warm stove. Left with the body, presumably a dead one by now, Ina approached the bed. Her healing spells were limited but even only quickly examining him, she wondered where she would dig the grave and whether she should spike him with aspen wood now or later. Her musings were rudely disturbed when the pale warrior made a soft, barely audible moan.
“Aren’t you a tough cookie?” Ina smirked, but something in the way he was clinging to a life that he should have lost hours ago made her want to give him a chance. “Well, now, let’s see what we can do for you.”
She got herself ready and placed her hands on his forehead and chest. With her eyes closed, the lifelines of his energy sprang forth in her mind, illuminating the meridians. They were clear and pulsating as a diagram of the human body, with more than a few broken channels and dimmed places. The damage to his body was extensive. Someone didn’t want this man alive. Broken ribs, a laceration to the liver, shattered femur, battered flesh, and claw marks everywhere. Still, the most interesting was a single puncture wound to his side. It looked like he was stabbed with a dagger. “Complicated” just became worse, as this looked like attempted murder.
Ina opened her eyes and looked at him with a long, cleansing breath. He was certainly not a spring chicken anymore but still in his prime with only a handful of silver strands in ashen blond hair and a man of the sword, judging by tight rope like muscles.
I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed if he were livelier, the errant thought crossed her mind, evoking a brief chuckle. It seemed she hadn’t been with a man for far too long if she lusted over this half-dead body. Still, this would take a hell of a lot of energy to fix, so he had best be worth it.
Healing magic had never been her forte. The dedication and compassion it took to alleviate suffering were not in her nature, but leaving someone to die when she could prevent it wasn’t either. The fate or Gods had condemned him to die, but Ina always had an issue with authority, disliking those overbearing pricks. Judging by her current circumstances, the feeling was mutual. Except for maybe the Leshy, but the lord of the forest would advise her to feed her patient to the beasts. She almost heard him saying, they have to eat, too, and the man already looks like a half-open snack. Ina’s attempt to fight her nature failed, “Fate my arse,” she grumbled, intending to show all her defiance. Still, under the brass and anger, there was also a deeply hidden, tiny spark of hope that the golden-clad fool could be her passage home. If she dragged him back from Nawia’s doors, and that was a big if right now.
Ina profoundly hated this part, but it was the only ace up her sleeve. The ancient spell called “the sacrifice” worked by trading one’s life force to sustain another. It was dangerous and frowned upon, not to mention mostly forbidden outside of the family members. Ina rubbed her temples and went to the cupboard for one of her rare concoctions. She needed some reinforcement if she was going to live through this experience, as a spell, once started, couldn’t be stopped. Ina opened the door, sending a dubious look at the innocuous bottle covered in dust. Her graduation project would enhance a life force tenfold and speed up any healing. She’d never had the time to improve the formula, so the unfortunate aftertaste would make kissing a ghoul’s ass a preferable option.
Ina had concocted the potion when she was young, stupid, and determined to save the world, or at least impress her great-aunt Nerissa. Good times. Now, older and wiser, she didn’t look forward to drinking it. Bottoms up. I’ve drunk worse in The Drunken Wizard, she thought, opening the bottle.
Ina quickly downed the oily brown liquid, trying not to gag. It was a truly disgusting crime against her taste buds, and hopefully, it hadn’t expired after years on the shelf. She stripped to her underwear and then climbed on the blood-soaked bed. Boruta looked at her with disdain. Her cat was a judgemental arse, but indeed she was about to do something utterly stupid.
Ina shuddered as the sticky linen touched her skin and cast the forbidden spell. The potions and elixirs that could heal or speed recovery wouldn’t be strong enough. He needed her magic as well as her strength, and lots of it. Ina whispered a quick prayer to Leshy. There was no turning back, and she needed some help and courage to go through with this.
Cuddled up to the cold, lifeless slab of meat, Ina took his hand and closed her eyes. The heat caused by the elixir spread through her, causing an uncomfortable electrifying sensation but worse was about to come. She gasped when searing suffering almost blinded her and swayed her resolve when her body and mind opened to his pain and injuries. The sacrifice magic connected their meridians, exchanging a life for a life.
Oh fuck, it is worse than in the stories. I don’t even know this arsehole, she thought, howling in pain when the ancient spell flowed through her body, breaking her bones and tearing her flesh while it repaired his. Her potion kept her alive, forcing her body to heal when mindless, powerful magic transferred the injuries to achieve perfect balance. They said you would welcome death with gratitude if you went for the sacrifice spell, and Ina agreed.
I’m going to die here with him.
The panicking thought reverberated through her, and the Chaos in her sprang forth, warping the exchange. Raw magic interfered with the balance of the spell and reached for her soul. Tears clouded her vision, and the witch screamed without shame, fighting this self-imposed hell and trying to not lose herself in it. The sun had already set when, after several gruelling hours of painstaking repair of one injury after another, his femur snapped into place with one last effort and the bone started mending itself.
The bed beneath Ina was soaked with his blood and her sweat, all mixed, creating the pungent odour of a battlefield, but exhaustion took the will to care. Echoes of his pain and wisps of magic still coursed through her veins. His body was healed, and so was hers. All that the warrior needed now was some time to recover his energy. He, it seemed, had other ideas, as his life force still tried to pull more from her, more than she could give.
“Not so fast, hero,” Ina said quietly, cutting him off. “The rest you will have to fix yourself.” Yet despite severing the ties, she still could feel a strong connection between them.
Oblivion beckoned, its irresistible claws dragging her slowly into its depths, still holding tight to the warrior’s hand. A sudden spark of white energy in his centre caught her attention, akin to a fragment of the sun with swirling gold hues and flashes of light that felt somewhat alien to the human body. Ina had never seen such a thing before.
“Shiny…” she purred, trying to reach the alluring spark and being blinded by pure agony as soon as her soul brushed against it. Scales and fangs flashed in her mind. The feeling of plunging a hand into molten gold pierced through her, and fuck, but it hurt. Oh, the irony, lying in her knickers next to a handsome man, and all she could do was scream in pain, again, when whatever it was imprinted itself on her. That was her last thought before all went black.
Warm sunlight caressed Ina’s face and she stretched like a cat without opening her eyes. She didn’t want to wake up just yet, not when it was nice and warm and…fluffy?
