Awakening Earth and Fire: Earth and Fire Trilogy Book 1

by Jacqueline Edie

  My mouth gaped open. “He what?” I choked. It did not sound like a fitting beginning to the epic love story she had always described they shared.

  She chuckled. “That was my mother’s reaction. She told him he was a fool and that the ‘weeds’ he was referring to just needed some care. A little nourishment, healing. My father smirked at her and just wandered off. But every day after that he made a point of stopping by, watching my mother work in her garden. Every day he commented that they still resembled weeds. And each day she would snap at him in response. But after their daily dispute, they began to talk as well. Casually, but he’d always linger a little longer each time.”

  I smiled to myself, surprised at how their relationship had started in such an unexpected way.

  “And then one day,” my mother continued, “he rounded the corner, passing by her house, and nearly froze in shock. Where the growing weeds had been that previous day were now the most glorious flowers. They had opened overnight into an explosion of color, bright red and purple and pink blooms dotting the entire patch. And standing next to it, waiting for him, the smuggest smile on her face, stood my mother, free of mud and looking radiant.” A grin appeared on her face. “He told me years later that was the moment he knew he loved her. When he saw the beauty she could create from nothing.”

  All three of us, my burly father included, let out a sigh of contentment, warmed by the tale. I could envision it in my head, the expression of shock on my grandfather’s face, the beaming excitement of my grandmother, and the life they’d then created together.

  Her eyes glistening, my mother turned back to the sink, dunking her hands in the sudsy water once more.

  She seemed happy after telling this particular story and I felt relief at it. Once, a long time ago, I’d asked her what had happened to them, why Mason and I’d never met our grandparents. The look of pain on my mother’s face was one I’d never forget. She was eighteen when it happened and hadn’t been home from the Training for very long. One night she’d come back to the house to find them gone. Disappeared. Their clothes, their belongings, everything was still there. Except for them.

  She never saw her parents again, never learned what happened to them. Only that when she dared enough to question one of the guards, was told to keep her mouth shut and never ask again, unless she wanted to suffer the same fate.

  A chill shivered through me as I recalled the pain each word seemed to bring as she’d answered my question. The raw emotion there. Shaking my head, I sighed, forcing that particular memory away.

  It was silent for several moments, save for the clink of soapy plates against one another. I knew my mother was about to order Mason off to bed any second. From the look in his eyes he knew it too, and was desperately trying to come up some other question to ask and buy time.

  “What about your parents, dad?”

  My eyes widened in surprise at Mason’s boldness. Not once, in my almost seventeen years of life, had I heard my father utter a single word about his parents. About his life growing up. Nothing. Even though never explicitly told, it was a topic we knew not to bring up.

  I chanced a glance over at my father. His face had gone pale under his dark beard, a strain in his eyes.

  “Enough Mason,” my mother interrupted, pointing at him with a wooden spoon, a small blob of soap bubbles falling off it and landing on the floor. She waved it towards the hallway. “No more delaying. Bed. Now.”

  “But…”

  She shot him a look that even Mason wasn’t foolish enough to argue against. Sighing in annoyance, he picked himself off the chair, muttered a gruff ‘night’ at the three of us, then stalked off to his bedroom.

  ✽✽✽

  There was silence for a moment and then the clatter of soapy dishes resumed. I turned to my father. Some of the color had returned to his face, but his fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, the nail beds gone white.

  Why did the mere mention of his parents cause him such pain? All these years I’d avoided the topic, never asked. But I was leaving in a few days. I might never return, never see my family again. Never find out who my grandparents were on his side. Never find out any of it.

  “Dad?” I said quietly.

  He glanced up, brows raising slightly as he looked at me.

  “I understand if you don’t want to tell us about your parents. Truly I do. But can you at least tell me why you don’t? I know nothing of them. And…well, they were my family too.”

  I was overreaching with that last bit, I knew it. For a moment I thought he’d refuse and order me off to bed as well. But instead he cupped his chin in his hand, fingers slowly stroking his beard, eyes contemplative.

  “Talon?”

  I glanced up and saw my mother staring at him, her eyes suddenly serious. I didn’t miss the slight tremble of her hands.

  My father’s gaze rose, meeting her eyes for a moment before giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It’s fine, Laurel. Sage is right. She’s leaving soon. She deserves to know why I’ve never spoken of it, before she goes.”

  A long pause. “Fine,” she muttered, then pressed her lips together into a thin line. Saying nothing more, she turned stiffly and left the room. I stared for a moment at the now empty doorway.

  “Why did she get so upset that I asked?”

  A low sigh. “She’s upset because she knows that thinking about my past, even the mention of it, upsets me.” Raising a hand, far more callused than my own, he raked it through his hair, so dark that even against his olive skin it stood out starkly. “Though truthfully, I don’t even know why.”

  I hesitated at this, staring at him uncertainly. “Dad?”

  Pressing his eyes closed for a brief moment, he twisted in his seat to face me. “The reason I’ve never mentioned my parents to you or Mason, Sage, is because I don’t know who they were.”

  His reply had me faltering. I hadn’t expected that answer.

  “You…you didn’t grow up with them? But…I don’t understand. Who raised you then?”

  Another heavy pause, this silence palpable with the tension it carried. “I don’t know that either.”

  Now it was my turn to pause. “But…I mean, were you adopted? I understand not knowing who raised you when you were a baby. But what about later when you were eight? Ten? Twelve? Surely you must remember that.”

  He stared at me, his eyes growing dark, pained. “Sage, I don’t remember a single thing about my life before the age of seventeen.”

  ✽✽✽

  I gaped at him, stunned. My mind raced, trying to make sense of his words. “Seventeen,” I whispered. “When you left for the Training.”

  He nodded silently.

  “But…but when people come back from the Training, that time they are away is the only thing they don’t remember. Not the rest of their prior lives. They don’t forget any of that. I mean, if I came back, I’d obviously remember you and mom and Mason, right?”

  I knew I was entering dangerous territory discussing this with my father. Talking about the Training, about remembering. But he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed relieved to finally talk about it. “It’s different for me, Sage,” he said quietly. “I don’t know why. You’re right, though. Your mother remembers everything about her life up until the Training and everything after. Only those two months she was gone is a blur. But I remember nothing. Absolutely nothing. No life before seventeen. No memories before the moment I walked back along that path with everyone else returning. I was greeted and taken in by a couple. They seemed to know me. Acted like I was their son.”

  He shook his head and I could feel a sour taste build in my mouth. “I thought I was going crazy. I was in a place I didn’t recognize. Didn’t know a single soul. They told me it was because I’d been injured at the Training, that was why I couldn’t remember anything. But when I questioned how I was injured, why I didn’t have any scars or physical signs of it, those two individuals who claimed to be my parents said I w
as lucky I was alive and should just be happy about that and move on.”

  Something changed in his expression then, a bitter coldness coming over his face.

  “But you didn’t believe them?” I asked slowly, still in shock about what he’d just revealed.

  “No, I didn’t. Not about any of it. I still don’t.”

  ✽✽✽

  The next morning, after a quiet breakfast, I left and headed off to the fields as usual. My father had been absent and when I questioned where he was, my mother replied, just a little too casually, that he had to leave early that morning. The conversation from the prior night continued to course through my mind. He remembered nothing. Absolutely nothing about his early life. Was it true what he’d been told, that he suffered some grievous injury, and this memory loss was the result?

  My gut told me that there was more to the story. A lot more than my father had ever been told. But when I asked him last night why I’d never met the people who claimed to be his parents, he just said quietly, ‘Those weren’t my parents. I had nothing to do with them. I left that day and was on my own until I met your mother’.”

  Until he met my mother. Another story I knew little about, only that it was by a chance encounter. That they’d run into each other in a small cluster of trees at edge of her family home, both of them in pain, my mother inconsolable from the recent loss of her parents, and my father, now I knew, without any memory of his own. It was that shared pain that brought them together.

  I continued along the path to the fields, tugging my long curls up into a knot as I blinked in the blindingly bright sunlight, inhaling the crisp morning air. I relished the last few minutes of solitude, alone with only my thoughts for company, before I entered the fields, toiling under the guards’ watchful glare for the remainder to the day.

  But my solitude didn’t even last until then.

  A pair of hands came down against my shoulders, tugging me back and I yelped in surprise. But my yelp turning into an exasperated groan as I met the eyes of the person those hands belonged to.

  “Rowan, seriously?!” I cried out, shoving him off. He just shot me his trademark grin in return, laughing quietly.

  “Morning to you too, Sunshine!”

  Shaking my head, I stalked forward, but a moment later slowed my pace again. I had no desire to get to the fields any earlier than necessary.

  “Hey, what’s up with you?” he asked, his grin slowly disappearing, brows knitting in concern. Normally I’d playfully elbow him, both of us grinning right up until we crossed into the fields.

  “It’s nothing,” I murmured, continuing forward, my head down. I only made it several steps before I felt a tug as he grasped my arm, twisting me around to face him. Pushing those blonde strands back, he studied me quietly.

  “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

  Letting out a sigh, I crossed my arms over my chest and his eyes leveled on mine. They darkened with wariness. But just as the words were there, right at the edge of my lips, just as they were about to pour out, I snapped my mouth shut.

  I couldn’t tell him this. Couldn’t explain what my father had shared with me the prior night. Though I didn’t understand what it meant, I knew it wasn’t something I could ever reveal outside our family. It was clear even Mason wasn’t to be told.

  “Is it the Training?” Rowan asked quietly after another moment of silence. Instantly I nodded, almost relieved he’d come up with a reason for my unusual reaction.

  Rowan bit his lower lip for a moment, then nodded in understanding. “It will be okay, though,” he tried to say brightly. I just raised a brow at that, my worn boots hitting against the hard-packed ground as we continued forward, falling into the line that was already forming at the entrance of the fields.

  “It will,” he pressed, encouragingly.

  “Rowan, how can you possibly know that?”

  He remained silent and suddenly I realized I already knew the answer.

  “You want to go, don’t you?” I asked quietly. “For Terra?”

  He eyes shot back to mine at that. The look on his face was confirmation I’d guessed correctly.

  Terra, his older sister, had left for the Training three years ago. She had been one of those who hadn’t returned. And I knew he’d been hoping to see her again.

  Rowan was quiet for another moment before softly mumbling something I couldn’t quite catch.

  “What did you say?”

  He turned back to face me, genuine worry now etched into his face. “What if she isn’t at the Training?” he repeated slowly.

  “She didn’t return with the others, Rowan. She has to be there.”

  “Does she?” he queried, his tone suddenly doubtful. “Terra left years ago. We have no idea what happens to those who don’t return. What if they’re sent somewhere else? What if…,” his voice cracked and he took a shuddering breath. “What if I never see her again?”

  “Don’t say that,” I cut him off fiercely. “Even if she isn’t there, we’ll probably be able to at least learn where she is. You have to believe that.”

  I reached out, grabbing onto his arm when he didn’t answer. “Okay, Rowan?”

  He nodded mutely, but I could tell he didn’t truly believe what I was saying. And his voiced concerns now sent new ones rushing through me. I hadn’t even considered before what happened to those who didn’t return to the Societies. Never had a reason to. But he was right.

  Not everyone could remain at this Training we were headed to. Eventually, they had to be sent somewhere else.

  But where?

  And why?

  ✽✽✽

  We continued moving slowly along, both of us silent now. Ahead of us the path divided, one fork leading to the right, over to the livestock pens. I couldn’t decide if I was jealous of those that worked there or not. It was common knowledge that those felt to be too weak to handle the labor in the crop fields were assigned to care for the animals. On one hand, it was nice to know I was considered strong enough to handle the physically demanding fieldwork. Yet, on the other, I envied their easier days of caring for the animals, broken up with frequent breaks.

  As Rowan and I veered to the left, following the fork leading to the fields, I glanced over at the pens of chickens and pigs and cows and at the individuals beginning to feed and water them. A group of girls were already over there, Ivy among them.

  But as soon as they caught sight of me watching, the entire group narrowed their gazes, muttering to one another, hateful glares now appearing on their faces. One even went so far as to throw up an obscene hand gesture.

  That was new.

  Noticing my expression, Rowan twisted his head, his entire body stiffening as he caught sight of the group. He went to raise his own hand to return the gesture, but I quickly tugged it down. We were close enough to the fields now that a guard could easily see. That girl with Ivy might be willing to risk punishment but I wasn’t going to let him. “Don’t,” I muttered under my breath. “It isn’t worth it.”

  Rowan stared at me for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek in frustration, then gave a resigned nod.

  “Ignore them,” he muttered, resolving himself to shooting the group an equally vile look, then tugged me forward, wrapping an arm protectively around my shoulders. “Just ignore it, Sage.”

  Ignore it. Easier said than done.

  But then again, that’s what I’d been doing for the last four years. What was another few days?

  ✽✽✽

  The rest of those days passed in a blur, and before I knew it, it was the day before my birthday.

  The day before I was to leave.

  Wiping the dirt from my sweaty palms, I lifted my basket and carried it to the collecting container. I’d been smarter this time, only filling it half-way with the turnips I’d been collecting. The ground was soft beneath my boots, the sun hot on my face, the heavy basket bouncing along my legs as I walked.

  After emptying the last load and submitting to being pat
ted down once again by the same guard with the dark, shellac hair, after which he’d sent me off with a particularly heinous sneer, I wandered home. The sky was a cloudless one but already darkening as the sun dropped lower and lower in the distance. The nearby elms and maples stood tall, their leaves starting to take on hints of yellow and gold. And in the distance rose the massive white stone wall.

  The barrier that kept us separated from the other Societies. Kept them hidden from view. Growing up, I would always wonder what it would be like to see them. To live in them.

  What would I be like if I grew up in Water Society? How different were the people there from us? Or what about Air Society? How did those in Air Society live?

  Pointless questions, but it had never stopped me from thinking them.

  Shaking my head, I chided myself. I lived in Earth Society. This is where I would return after the Training. If I returned, that was. I would never see another Society.

  Continuing to walk back, I stomped my boots with each step, trying to remove the excess dirt that had caked itself into them. But as I passed by one of the many log homes along my way, I automatically lowered my gaze. I didn’t think anyone was outside, but I couldn’t chance it. Hurrying by, I pushed away the memories. The memories of the afternoons spent doing schoolwork at that house. Of the many evenings I was invited to eat dinner in that home. And of the day I could no longer meet the eyes of the people who still lived there.

  Keeping my eyes down, I rushed past, refusing to look at that house, to see its bright red door, only raising my head once I was far enough beyond it. For four years I had been doing this. Four years of feeling my gut wrench with pain just from the sight of it.

  There were certain things in Earth Society I wouldn’t miss. Certain things that it would be a blessing to not have to experience again, even if just temporarily. This was one of them.