Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy

by Evelyn Puerto

  Da seemed to be studying Tereka’s face. She returned his look with a stony gaze. Anything he said would only make it harder for her to sort the truth from the lies.

  After regarding her for a moment, Da turned to Osip. “Tell me, how’s your honey supply?”

  The two of them talked of honey, trapping, and glassware. Tereka observed dumbly. Part of her thought she should offer to help Cillia. Another part was frozen, unable to comprehend what was happening. Everything she’d been taught told her she should be ashamed of being part Risker, but the more she saw of them, the less shame she felt.

  Her confusion grew as Cillia laid the table. The plates were decorated with a ring of autumn leaves at their edge and a basket held pale golden bread. Tereka’s eyes widened. She’d never seen bread that wasn’t dense and gray. Cillia placed a large platter with greens and tiny tomatoes in the center of the table. Even in summer, the villages didn’t have such an abundance of fresh vegetables.

  Next came sandy colored bowls with a red lacy patterning girdling the outer rim. “Tarkio, if you please?”

  “Of course.” He got to his feet and carried the pot from the fire and set it on a metal trivet.

  How did he know what Cillia wanted? He seemed rather familiar with these people who were only supposed to be his trading partners.

  Then Cillia fetched a metal candlestick that split into five branches. The branches supported a ring that held five blue candles, held in place by delicately wrought metal leaves. When she lit the candles, they gave off only light, not smoke or odor.

  Da tipped his head toward the candlestick. “Beeswax.”

  Beeswax. Not tallow, like in the villages. Tallow that smoked and smelled like rancid meat. Tereka swallowed hard. These Riskers lived with luxuries she’d never imagined.

  Osip held his hand up and thanked the sky-god, not just for the food, but for Tereka. She gripped her hands together. The Riskers were superstitious, that much was true. But they were anything but filthy savages.

  Cillia ladled soup from the pot, a clear soup with large doughy rounds floating on top. Tereka watched as Da, Osip, and Tikul sprinkled chopped herbs on their soup and helped themselves to bread.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Cillia asked her.

  Suddenly, she was. “Oh, yes. It’s just a little… ”

  “I can see how this would be confusing.” Cillia patted Tereka’s shoulder. She handed Tereka the plate with the herbs and pushed the breadbasket closer to her. Then she took her seat. “Tarkio, have you been to Paamiut lately?”

  Grateful that the attention was off her, Tereka gingerly tasted the soup. She added some of the herbs and tried again. What were all these different flavors? A little heat, a little sweetness, something pungent. She bit into one of the doughy rounds and nearly gasped. It was filled with spicy meat and onions.

  The bread was another wonder. A thick, crunchy crust, soft and nutty-tasting on the inside. Tereka didn’t have to be prompted to slather a chunk of it with butter. As she ate, she watched the man she’d once thought was her da with the Riskers. He joked with Tikul, confided in Cillia, asked Osip for advice about trading. They were much more than trading partners, that was clear.

  When they finished eating, Cillia turned to Tikul. “I’m not throwing you out, but I’m sure your Zamora will want you home soon.”

  He laughed. “As will my daughters.” He winked at Tereka. “I’ve only the two girls left at home. My son married last fall.”

  Tereka pursed her lips. Counting Veressa’s seven children, and Tuli’s six, that meant Tereka had sixteen cousins that she’d never met. And there was another aunt out there somewhere as well.

  “May I come with you?” Da said to Tikul, who nodded. “I’m going to Shinroo in the morning, Tereka,” he continued. “Then on to North Rivash and Porvoo. I’ll be back to Gishin in a week. We can meet then and take a load of honey back to Trofmose.”

  She rubbed a hand over the back of her head and tugged on her hair. “Why?”

  “Well, I thought you wanted to finish your probation. You’ve done all the runs. A load of honey will give you more than enough profit.”

  “Won’t Juquila notice we’ve been gone?”

  He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t think it matters.”

  Tereka jaw went slack. “What?”

  “As long as we come back profitable and sufficiently subservient, I think she’ll leave us alone.”

  “But what was all that talk that I might be taken?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That was a real concern. Sometimes they have someone beaten before they are taken, just to make sure everyone else knew about it. And made sure they weren’t next.”

  “But you really didn’t think that would happen with me.”

  “No.”

  “Then why?” Heat surged into her face. “Why bother to smuggle me out of town?”

  He sighed. “Because I didn’t know if Juquila had plans to send you another message when you were still in Trofmose, or on the way to Gishin.”

  She crossed her arms. “You could have just told me.”

  “I could have.” He let out a long breath. “But would you have agreed to come here with me?”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap of her teeth. Would she have? Probably not. She would have insisted on doing her planned trading runs.

  “So there’s no reason you can’t return to Trofmose.”

  Tereka bit her lip. “You’re assuming I’ll want to go back with you.” He’d lied about her mother, about her father, and now the threats on her life. What could she believe?

  “Do you want to stay here?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “No.”

  “That’s good, because you couldn’t even if you wanted to.” Da rubbed his hands on the legs of his pants. “Look. Finish your probation, get your license. Then decide. If you don’t want to partner with me, I’ll give you the regular license and I’ll keep the Risker one. Fair enough?”

  She stared at him, then nodded. “Fair enough.” She glanced at Cillia and Osip. They were regarding her with what looked like sadness. She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing her pulse would slow down. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She just wanted some kind of sense in her world. “But if I wasn’t in so much danger, why come here now? Please just tell me that.”

  Da reached under his shirt and pulled out a small bag. He held it in his fist, pressing his lips together. “I have a few things I’ve been keeping for you.” He took a deep breath as if putting off what he was about to say. “And I think you need them now. They could protect you. Or cost you your life, but they’re yours.”

  27

  He untied the string holding the bag shut and reached inside. He laid two dragonfly amulets on the table. Their purple and green stones twinkled under the flickering of the candles. Osip, Cillia, and Tikul gasped.

  With a shaking hand, Cillia picked up the amulets. “Are these— ”

  Da inclined his head. “When I found you, Tereka, these were tucked in the blanket wrapped around you.”

  Cillia stared at the amulets in her hands, then laid one on the table. She pressed the other to her face and closed her eyes. “Xico.”

  Osip wrapped an arm around Cillia’s shoulders and rested his forehead on hers. “Xico.”

  Tereka felt like she was intruding on a private moment. Her grandparents were mourning her father, the father she’d never met, the Risker who’d forced her mother to jump from a rock. These people loved him, that much was clear.

  After several long moments, Cillia opened her eyes. “Sorry. Even though it’s been so long, every now and then I feel his loss like a stab to the heart.”

  Tikul pointed at the amulet on the table. “One must have belonged to Iskra.”

  “I know you gave her one, but why would she keep it?” Tereka didn’t know the punishment for owning something the Riskers used in their superstitions, but it would be severe.

  “I gave it to her,�
�� Cillia said, “thinking it would protect her. She must have given it to you for the same reason.”

  “May I?” Tikul asked, touching the amulet in his mother’s hand. She handed it to him. After studying it for a moment, he let out a breath. “It is Xico’s. See this chip?” He pointed to a tiny chip in one of the stones of the dragonfly’s body. “Xico’s amulet had this same mark. It happened when he fell into a ravine chasing a warboar.”

  Tereka wrinkled her face. Her father chased warboars?

  “So the other was Iskra’s.” Da picked it up. “I never knew which was which.”

  “How do these things work, anyway?” Tereka asked.

  “They are to be used in the service of the sky-god,” Osip answered.

  It was all Tereka could do to stifle her irritation. More of this sky-god nonsense. “What does that mean?”

  “That they are not to be used for selfish gain, but to help others.” Cillia took Xico’s amulet from Tikul and placed it on the table, nudging the stones of the wings and tail into straight lines. “The amulets give different gifts, depending on the user. Mine enable me to heal. All through the power of the sky-god.”

  “I thought they gave my da the power to do anything.”

  Cillia gave her a sad smile. “His amulet enhanced everything he did, just about. I think it was because he never thought he was better than anyone else. He just worked hard to excel at everything he did.”

  “His amulet might do that for me?”

  “Be careful,” Osip said. “The sky-god doesn’t tolerate abuse of these gifts. Others have tried to bend them to their will and have paid a high price. You ask the sky-god for help, then do your best. He’ll channel the power to you if you intend to serve others, not yourself.”

  Tereka squinted at him. He made it sound like their usefulness was at the whim of the sky-god. Who didn’t exist, anyway.

  “There’s one more.” Da juggled the bag in his hand. He tipped it over and spilled its contents onto the wood surface.

  Osip, Cillia, and Tikul froze with their mouths hanging open. Tereka glanced from one to another. What was shocking about another amulet?

  Cillia picked it up and held it up to the light, her hand shaking. “I’ve never seen one before. When you told me about it, I’d hoped you were mistaken.”

  Da shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe it, either.”

  The amulet dangling between Cillia’s fingers was larger than the two lying on the table. Three stones formed its tail, rather than just one like the others.

  Osip took the dragonfly from his wife and fingered the three gems of its tail. “We all wanted to deny it.” He put the amulet down and shook his head.

  Tikul pointed his chin toward Tereka. “Are any of you going to tell her?”

  “It’s time I saw to my cows,” Osip said. “And you, son, probably should do the same.”

  Tereka studied his face. Osip was avoiding Tikul’s question. What did Tikul want them to tell her that Osip didn’t?

  “You’re probably right, Da,” Tikul glanced from Osip to Cillia. He huffed out a breath, stood up, then leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for supper.” He rested a hand on Tereka’s shoulder. “It has been a joy to meet my brother’s daughter. I hope I’ll see you again.”

  Did she want to see him again? Or flee to Trofmose to escape the shame of being part Risker? Or try to unravel why these kind people were not what she’d been led to believe? The only reply she could give Tikul was a nod.

  “Coming, Tarkio?”

  “I’ll stay with Tikul tonight,” Da said. “Unless you’d rather I stayed here?”

  Tereka frowned. He was the only familiar person around, but she couldn’t get over the way he’d deceived her for so many years. She shook her head.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I understand. But the amulets are yours. Keep them safe, and hidden. From everyone.” He picked up her hand but she jerked it away. “Tereka, I couldn’t love you more if you were my own blood.”

  A barrage of thoughts collided in her mind as she silently watched him take his leave. He gave warm hugs to Osip and Cillia, who clearly had some affection for him. A weight pressed on her chest. Why couldn’t she have had a nurturing mother like Cillia? One who loved her father? And a father who was honest and wise. She toyed with the amulets on the table and clenched her teeth as her anger surged. It seemed her only chance of filling the void within her was through a connection with the outcast Riskers.

  Cillia sat next to her. “Your coming here has brought us great joy, my girl. But I think it’s given you pain and confusion.” She laid a hand on Tereka’s knee. “Am I right?”

  Tereka stared at her, blinking to fight back tears. No one had ever understood her so well. Or offered such compassion. She fought the impulse to throw herself into Cillia’s arms. It didn’t seem fair that the only person who understood her was someone the village rulers wouldn’t permit her to know.

  28

  The next morning, Tereka agreed to let Osip show her around the camp. “Mind you, we can’t introduce you as Xico’s daughter. The story that you didn’t survive has to continue. We’ll say you’re a cousin from a camp near Anbodu.”

  She nodded. “But how will you explain my hair?” As far as she’d been able to see, Risker women wore their hair long. Not at all like the severe bangs and chin-length cut that was mandatory for village women.

  Cillia laughed. “That’s not a problem.” She wet Tereka’s bangs and brushed them straight back from her face. Then she picked up a small jar. “A little of this will do just fine.”

  “What is it?”

  “A pomade. Maple sap with a dash of spirits and rose oil.” She held the jar under Tereka’s nose. She sniffed and smiled at the sweet, floral scent. She stood still as Cillia worked the pomade into her hair and tied a blue ribbon around her head, holding the hair in place.

  “There. No one will be able to tell you ever had bangs. And don’t worry about the short hair. Tuli cut hers short once.” She rubbed Tereka’s arm. “Now go. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  “I guess it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Who wouldn’t be confused? I remember how your mother struggled, trying to reconcile what she’d been told about us and what she saw with her own eyes.”

  Tereka followed Osip out into the sunshine. Her eyebrows rose and she pressed a hand to her chest. She’d caught a glimpse the night before, but hadn’t really taken in her surroundings. Far from being a camp of savages, this was some kind of fairyland.

  The houses were arranged in neat rings, not a scrap of litter or trash to be seen on the gravel paths between them. Nearly all of them had at least one glazed window. Most had small bushes planted nearby; others had boxes that hung under the windows filled with bright red, yellow, and pink flowers stretching their blooms toward the sun.

  She could only shake her head at that. Who had time to tend plants that produced no food?

  The people strolling about were as varied as the buildings. Most wore shades of green, brown or yellow, while a few sported jaunty red or deep blue. Some men were bearded, others, clean-shaven. Most women wore their long hair pulled back in long tails or tidy braids.

  With her mouth gone slack, Tereka gazed at them. How do they decide what to do with their hair if no one tells them?

  An old man sat on a bench in the sunlight, strumming a guitar. The notes of his song formed a plaintive yet hopeful melody that made Tereka hear a whisper of calm and feel a hint of peace she’d never felt before. She blinked away the sudden tears in her eyes.

  Children laughed in the lanes, chasing dogs or tagging along after their mothers. No scowling vendors or stern guardsmen stifled their merriment. Tereka wondered how the Riskers kept everyone safe if they allowed so much freedom. She drew her eyebrows together. Were all the rules for safety and fairness really so necessary?

  She scolded herself. She couldn’t let them corrupt her thinking. Something had to
be wrong with this place. Something she couldn’t see.

  Osip led her east, where the mountains towered above the camp. He pointed to their left. “That level ground there, and to the south of the camp, are the fields for our crops.”

  Sunlight glinted on the rows of green. Tereka put a hand to her eyes to shield them from the glare reflected off a group of low structures that shone as if they were made of glass. She pointed to them. “If you please, what are those?”

  “Greenhouses.”

  “What is that?”

  “I’ll show you.” He veered to approach the closest one.

  As they drew near, Tereka gasped. The whole building, walls, and the peaked roof was made of large sections of glass separated by thin metal frames. “What are they for?” she asked.

  “We plant vegetables in them, so we can have fresh produce most of the year.” He walked around to the back of the greenhouse. “See this?” A fire burned under a covered metal barrel. A tube led from the barrel into an opening in a section of the glass wall. “We heat water and vent the steam inside, very slowly. Just so it’s warm enough for the plants.

  Tereka shook her head. This was something the villages could easily do. But it seemed no one had thought of it. Or considered it worth a try. So the villagers survived the long winter months on limp carrots, moldy cabbage, and withered potatoes.

  After Osip turned back to the east, she followed him without speaking. The rising ground, he told her, was pasture for their cows, sheep, and goats.

  “Do you grow and raise everything for yourselves?”

  “Just about. We trade with other camps for fruit from the south. And we don’t grow much grain. It’s cheaper to buy it from the villages.”

  “Even after it’s milled?”

  “Oh, we mill it ourselves. The flour is fresher.”

  He led her through the pasture, following the course of a fast-moving stream, past a flock of sheep placidly grazing. Tereka’s legs were burning by the time they arrived at a wooden building sitting on the left bank. A dam spanned the stream and held the water back, except for a flow directed to a vertical wheel next to the building. A wheel that was turning as if by itself.