Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy

by Evelyn Puerto

  Kemet looked from Da to Tereka. He opened his mouth to speak, then his shoulders slumped. “You’re right.” He leaned over and kissed Tereka on the forehead. “See you soon?”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She struggled for enough breath to speak. “Kemet. Thank you.” She took a shallow breath, wincing from the stabbing pain. “And stay safe.”

  He brushed a finger over her cheek. “You too.” She let her eyelids droop, in too much pain to enjoy his touch.

  After Kemet, Da closed the door and leaned against it. “Your pack is ready to go?”

  “Yes.” She laid her head on the table. “Are you sure—we need to leave tonight?”

  “Well, I’m sure we shouldn’t spend the night here. You know how it is. If they try to take someone in the night and don’t find them, they often give up, thinking they’ve given enough of a warning. So we’ll just go somewhere else, then leave town in the morning.”

  “But couldn’t they—just take me then?”

  “They could, but people are usually taken at night, to make it more terrifying for everyone else. I have an idea, just in case.”

  “Am I going to like it?”

  In answer, he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s take care of your ribs first.”

  He eased Tereka’s dress and shift up to drape over her shoulders. While she patted the salve onto her cracked rib, he tore up an old shift to make long strips. He bound them around her ribcage and readjusted her clothes. “Better?”

  “Much. Where did you get that salve?”

  “That’s my secret. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Where are we going?”

  “Just give me a minute to get our things.” He disappeared into the sleeping room.

  Tereka laid her head on the table. That salve, whatever it was, eased the throbbing and stinging of her wounds and its faintly floral smell was soothing. Relief washed through her, that she was no longer lying in the alley, vulnerable to attack. And that her pain was lessening with every breath.

  But why wouldn’t Da tell her where they were going? He seemed like he had a plan. And why so secretive about the salve? Come to think of it, he’d never answered her about it when she’d asked in the past.

  Her musings were interrupted by Da’s return to the kitchen. He carried both of their packs, along with a long, thin bundle she was certain contained their bows and quivers of arrows.

  “Ready?” He put a hand under her elbow and helped her to her feet. She swayed, then steadied herself.

  “I think so.”

  He went to the door and peered out into the night. “Then let’s go.”

  18

  A cool breeze chilled Tereka’s face and soothed her swollen eye. She blinked a few times. At least now she could open the eye all the way. She let Da lead her down one lane and through a back alley, always taking the route with the fewest people. At times it seemed he was going in circles or doubling back.

  “Where are— ”

  “Shh. We’re almost there.”

  She sighed. While Da’s salve was effective, she felt her strength dissolving like melting snow. If only she could sit down for a moment.

  Da turned down another dark alley. Halfway through it, he stopped and knocked on a door. A few heartbeats passed. No response. He knocked again.

  This time the door flung open and dim light shone into the alley. A burly man wearing the brown pants and tunic of a trader holding a candle stood in the doorway. “What do you want?” He snarled the words as if challenging an enemy.

  “Peace and safety to you too, Yeroblat.” Da winked at Tereka.

  She frowned, trying to remember the last time she’d seen the man. Had it been two years? Or three?

  “I’ve come to call in my favor,” Da continued.

  Yeroblat laughed. “Then why come to the back door? Come in.” Tereka followed Da into the house. He walked straight past the piled-up boxes and crates in a room lit only by the candle in Yeroblat’s hand, then passed through a doorway into another room. Tereka tottered behind him and soon found herself in a warm kitchen occupied by a woman with a round, wrinkled face, graying hair and two stocky girls about Tereka’s height.

  “Cyra, you remember Tarkio?” said Yeroblat as he bustled into the kitchen behind them. “He needs our help.”

  The woman stood and smiled. “Tarkio, of course, for you, anything. And this is Tereka. It’s been a long time.”

  Tereka returned the woman’s smile. “It has. Peace and safety to you.”

  “You probably don’t recognize Zarina and Inzhu.” Cyra pointed at the girls. They giggled as Tereka surveyed them. From their height, she’d assumed they were about her age, but from their demeanor and the white bands around the shoulders of their dresses, she realized they were schoolgirls. She had dim memories of Yeroblat and his family and the time she and Da visited them in Utoro. These girls must have been ten or eleven then. She smiled again. “I do, but I mistook them for their older sisters.”

  That prompted another bout of giggles. Cyra ignored them and pulled out a stool. “Sit, and have some tea.” She waited for Tereka to comply, then set out a collection of mismatched and chipped mugs. “You met the girls in Utoro, years ago. But we always wanted to return to Trofmose, where Yeroblat and I grew up. Thanks to your da, we were able to do that.”

  “I never heard the story,” Tereka said.

  “Well, it’s like this.” Yeroblat pulled up a stool and sat next to her. “My family were vendors, but I wanted to get into trading. I had an old uncle who lived in Utoro, and he left me his trading license. So we moved there. Tarkio’s father agreed to take me on as an apprentice so I could inherit the license.”

  “No one else would take a chance on him, wild boy that he was,” Cyra said as she put the teakettle over the fire.

  Yeroblat grinned at her. “Not so very wild, if you agreed to marry me.” He shrugged. “Utoro’s a bit isolated for my taste. And rugged. Lots of shortages when the caravans can’t get through or the pirates come calling. It wasn’t the best place for us, especially considering that within a few years, we had five daughters who’d want husbands. And not of the pirate variety.”

  Tereka nodded. It didn’t take much imagination to consider what life as a pirate bride would be like. Almost as bad as being married to a bandit or a Risker. She shuddered at the thought.

  Cyra placed bread and jam on the table. “Over the past few years, my three oldest girls all married boys from Trofmose. One was a trader.”

  “Which made us all the more eager to move back,” Yeroblat said, then he sighed. “Kaija, our third girl, had only been married a year when her husband was killed by bandits on a trade run.”

  “There was no one to inherit the license.” Cyra shook her head. “The syndic was about to reclaim it when Yeroblat ran into Tarkio here. He told us what papers Kaija needed to file to grant the license to her da. Once he had the license, we got permission to all move to Trofmose.”

  “And I promised Tarkio I’d return any favor.” Yeroblat crossed his arms. “So what is it?”

  Da leaned forward on his seat. “If it’s too much, I won’t hold it against you.”

  “It must be something if you say that.” Yeroblat leaned his head back to inspect Da with narrowed eyes. “Come on, let’s have it.”

  With a deep breath, Da launched into the story. He told them of Juquila’s animosity, of the way she extended Tereka’s probation, and the attack in the alley. Through it all, Tereka writhed inwardly. What Yeroblat and Cyra must think of her. She didn’t want to be viewed as unsafe or incompetent.

  Yeroblat rubbed both of his chins. “That Juquila sure can hold a grudge. And time hasn’t lessened her appetite for vengeance.” He shook his head. “And you opposing her about traders defending themselves made it worse. She’ll trample you like a warboar if that’s what it will take for you to submit.”

  Tereka’s breath caught. She hadn’t realized how much Juquila hated Da.

>   Yeroblat shrugged. “And as you say, better safe than taken. What do you want me to do?”

  “If you’re sure… ” Da shrugged. “I need to get Tereka out of town without her being seen.”

  “Right.” Yeroblat narrowed his eyes. “And you came to me because?”

  “Because I remembered your tales of how your daughters would stow away in your wagon and only reveal themselves when you were halfway to Pir Bakran.”

  The two men laughed. “Those girls only did it twice, maybe three times,” Yeroblat said. “But they were clever about it. Yes, I can round them all up and they can repeat their prank with your Tereka as the stowaway. Which way do you want me to take her? Toward Attu?”

  “No, I was thinking north. To Gishin.”

  “Why there?” Tereka felt it was time she was part of the discussion.

  “Because,” Da replied, “you’re supposed to be going there anyway. It’s not the first place Juquila would look. Then once you’re seen there, you can disappear.”

  She frowned. “Where?”

  Da stared at his hands. “To the Riskers.”

  “No.” Stay with Riskers? That was unthinkable. She was not going to live among savages. Da continued to study his fingernails.

  “Just for a few days,” he said.

  “Surely there’s another way?” Cyra’s voice was troubled. Da shook his head.

  Cyra poured three mugs of tea and set them on the table, then glanced at her daughters. “Come girls, let’s sit in the other room.” She ushered them out, throwing a pitying look over her shoulder at Tereka.

  “Listen, you’ll be perfectly safe.” Da picked up a mug and took a sip. “My trading partners wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. And you only need to stay a week or less. Just enough time to make Juquila think she’s scared you into playing by her rules.”

  “What about my probation?”

  “You’ll come back with a wagon full of honey to make up for any profits you’ve lost.”

  “Can I do that, as an apprentice on probation?”

  He snorted. “Of course you can, working with me. Believe me, I had reasons to study the rules years ago and know them better than Juquila herself. And I’ve made it my business to make sure I understand every angle. This is the best way for you.”

  Tereka frowned at him.

  Yeroblat cleared his throat. “I hate to say it, but I think your da is right. You need a few days to hide. Come back with a load of honey and the taxes on it will add quite a bit to Juquila’s coffers. She’ll back off, at least for awhile.”

  Tereka ran her hand over the back of her head and tugged on her hair. “But what if she doesn’t?”

  “Then you’ll have to be the cowed, submissive girl she wants you to be.” Da stared at a spot on the table. “My hope is that if you are sufficiently meek, she’ll give up on the idea of taking you.”

  Tereka chewed her lip. Humbling herself before Juquila could be worse than being taken. “But live with outcasts? How can that be safe? Or even bearable?”

  “I’m sorry.” Da took her hand. “I’ve thought about it, and there’s no other way for you that I can see. Unless you’d rather just go home now and hope you don’t get taken.”

  Would hiding out with barbarians be better than being taken? She wasn’t so sure. On her return, she’d have to spend hours in the bathhouse to get rid of the lice she’d pick up from sleeping in a Risker bed. And no matter what, they’d never convince her to eat warboar.

  Da’s face was pinched. He wanted her to agree, no doubt. Couldn’t he come up with anything better? Hide in Kemet’s house for a week? While that opened up some intriguing possibilities, she couldn’t put him, or his father, in danger.

  Tereka tugged on the hair at the back of her head. Da was usually right when it came to dealing with her aunt, and just about everything else. “Fine. Will you smuggle me out in a sack of grain, or a barrel of fish?”

  19

  The next morning, Da slipped off at first light, saying he’d catch up with her later. Tereka was left holding both their packs and the bundle with their weapons. She stared after Da with her mouth hanging open. She hadn’t realized how much she’d counted on him staying with her.

  Yeroblat ruffled his graying hair. “Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon. Now, to business.” He kissed Cyra and lumbered out of the house.

  Cyra set out bread, jam, and tea and insisted that Tereka eat. “Girls who smuggle themselves out of town shouldn’t miss a chance for a meal.” She gave Tereka a wink, her round face split by a warm smile.

  That set Zarina and Inzhu to giggling.

  Once Tereka had eaten, Cyra bought out a gray dress. “Put this on over yours.”

  Tereka had stopped trying to understand what was happening. She did as she was told and Cyra pinned up Tereka’s brown skirt so its hem wasn’t visible. She had Tereka put on her brown cloak, then a gray cloak and hood which she tugged over Tereka’s head, obscuring her face. She stood back and appraised her handiwork.

  “You’ll pass for one of mine. Good thing you chose a rainy day for this escapade. I don’t know how we’d have pulled this off if the sun was out.”

  Just as Tereka was about to say that none of this was her idea, the door opened. Three stocky girls with the same round faces, olive skin, and dark eyes as Zarina and Inzhu walked in. Cyra’s other daughters. She didn’t remember the names of the older two, but the closest to her in age was Kaija, just a year older.

  Kaija smirked. “So you want us to teach you how to leave town without being seen by nosy guards or annoying parents? You’re in the right place.”

  Within a few moments, Tereka and Yeroblat’s four oldest daughters left the house, a knot of giggling girls. Tereka carried her pack, Kaija carried the weapons bundle, and Zarina held Da’s pack. The other two carried bundles of their own. They threaded their way through the puddles on the cobblestoned lane that led to the market. Before they’d walked halfway there Tereka was sweating under her two cloaks, her face damp from the misty rain.

  Clanging from the blacksmith competed with the bells announcing the eighth hour of the morning. Trofmose had woken up, and the market teemed with traders, vendors, and children all buying pasties and tea.

  Tereka’s group arrived in the square where wagons were lining up for the caravan to Gishin. Kaija led the way until they found Yeroblat’s wagon at the end of the line. Boxes and sacks were piled up next to it.

  “Good, you’re all here.” Yeroblat greeted them loudly enough that he could be heard in Attu. “Those useless rascals the miller calls apprentices are late again. You’ll have to load the wagon.”

  That announcement brought complaints from his daughters. “Not again.”

  Tereka narrowed her eyes at Zarina’s whine. Surely she knew what her father expected of her. After she caught a glimpse of Zarina’s smirk, Tereka realized she was acting. They all were.

  Kaija poked Tereka in the back. “What are you waiting for? Get in the wagon.”

  When Tereka started to climb onto the seat, Kaija stopped her. “No, the back.”

  With a shrug, she moved to the back of the wagon. Kaija heaved a sack of grain inside. Her sisters did the same. Tereka blinked, stunned that these girls could lift and toss the bags so easily. It was a good thing they seemed to like her. She wouldn’t want to get into a fight with them.

  Zarina joined Tereka in the wagon and together they arranged the sacks of grain in short piles, starting on the sides of the wagon near the front. Sweat dampened Tereka’s forehead and she grunted as she hefted a bag onto another.

  Kaija pointed to the weapons bundle and Tereka’s packs. “Put them under the seat, but in the corners and the back.”

  Tereka got on her knees and slid first her pack, then Da’s into a corner. Then she positioned the weapons bundle along the front of the wagon. When she began to crawl out, Zarina put a hand on her shoulder. “No, Inzhu’s here.”

  “Lie down. Quick.” Kaija’s tone was insistent.


  What Yeroblat’s other daughter had to do with anything, Tereka didn’t understand. But she heard the command in Kaija’s voice. She slid into place and a burlap sack that smelled of fermented milk and old shoes settled over her. Two sacks of grain dropped into place, blocking her view. After two more sacks landed on the first two, she was trapped under the wagon’s seat, screened by the grain.

  She widened her eyes. So this was how they were going to get her out of town. It was clever, she had to admit. But her mouth dried and her stomach fluttered. If anything went wrong, she was completely helpless.

  Giggling. More giggling. That higher-pitched laugh had to be Inzhu. Tereka listened to the chatter of Yeroblat’s daughters and the thump of sacks dropped onto the bed of the wagon. Then Yeroblat’s booming voice. “Such wonderful girls. You all came to see your old da off. Even in all this rain.”

  Another trader replied. “Huh. I can’t even get my old mam to wave me off.”

  Yeroblat mumbled a reply and they both laughed. The wagon shifted and someone climbed into it. A flapping sound and a gust of air told her the girls were spreading an oiled sheet over the grain.

  Tereka shifted in place, grateful that someone had thought to put down some clean straw so she wouldn’t be lying on the hard boards of the wagon. Now that she was still, the damp air seeped through her clothing, making her shiver. Another reason to be glad for the gray dress and cloak. They served a purpose other than disguising her as one of Yeroblat’s girls.

  A harsh horn sounded, once, then twice. Good. The caravan would be leaving soon. But would this work? Heartbeat after heartbeat passed and the caravan hadn’t moved. She wondered why the delay, and hoped it had nothing to do with her. Her fingers twitched and she resisted the urge to drum them against the boards she lay on. Balling her hands into fists, she pressed her lips together. For a moment, Yeroblat’s girls stopped talking and all she heard was the gentle pat of rain on the tarp that covered the grain.