by Marlow York
I looked up and down the bookshelf, noting the distinct collection of singed books. There weren’t many, but I suspected they were full of things the City never would have wanted me to know about.
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked.
Ysolda stepped a little closer, the sound of her cane clacking against the stone floor. “If you wish to grow strong, in every sense of the word, then you must also strengthen your mind. It is your right to know what the world was like, and perhaps then you will understand why the City is not to be trusted. You can begin with this.” She gestured to the book of legends in my hands. “I’m sure it will hold a very important place in your heart.”
I looked down at the damaged book. I felt like I was holding the weight of my lost village in my hands. There was no author printed on the cover, as though no one dared take credit for the book’s existence, lest they be discovered and punished. That was the true weight of what I held; an entire clan’s history nearly forgotten if it hadn’t been for one or more brave souls unwilling to let our history be destroyed. I gripped it tightly in my hands. It was up to me to assure the Fiero had a future, even though it was as uncertain as our history was.
I looked at Ysolda. “Thank you.”
She smiled, her face crinkling like the pages of the old books surrounding us. She handed me an old canvas knapsack, dark grey in color. It was obviously something not created by Grakkir hands, but salvaged or traded from another clan. “Put it in here. I trust you not to let it become lost or further damaged.”
I nodded and slipped my arms through the straps, adjusting them until I could feel the book pressing against my back. It reminded me that, miraculously, not everything had been lost. If our legends could survive a fire, and I could survive a fire, then perhaps there could be a future for the Fiero after all.
✽ ✽ ✽
I sped down the path as quickly as my aching legs would let me, explaining to Saven what had happened in the cellar. When we reached the field, I could see Khero waiting impatiently outside the house for us. I brushed past him and hurried through the front door, panting with excitement even though I wanted to collapse with exhaustion.
Sarrenke and Tarek’s heads snapped up, surprised to see me burst through the door.
“Uh…” I hesitated, noticing Tarek’s annoyed expression. He shook his head dismissively and returned to his food.
“You are back later than expected. Did you get lost?” Sarrenke joked.
“I was…” I glanced again at Tarek, “invited into the village for a moment.”
Tarek scowled and stared at me. “Invited?” he asked gruffly. He noticed the backpack and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What is in the bag?”
I slipped the pack from my shoulders and removed the book.
Tarek dropped his spoon and stood. He stepped forward and grabbed for the book, but I pulled it away. He glared harshly, and my heart instinctively raced with fear.
You are no longer a slave, I had to remind myself. I was permitted to have property, and Tarek seemed to remember this at the same time I did.
“What are you doing with that?” he demanded.
“It was given to me by Ysolda,” I retorted.
“Ysolda?” Sarrenke asked. Her eyes grew concerned.
“It’s a book of Fiero legends. She said it was salvaged from a fire outside the City many years ago. The problem is, I can’t read it. Can you?”
Sarrenke looked almost flattered to be asked. “Let me see it?”
I passed her the book, and Tarek’s demands were nearly forgotten. We watched as Sarrenke gently opened the book. “Yes,” she finally said. “I can read this.”
“Will you read it to me?” I sounded like an eager child.
Sarrenke glanced from me to Tarek and back again. “Of course,” she said.
“Not now,” Tarek interrupted, sitting back down to his meal. “I don’t want to listen to fairy tales while I’m eating. Do it on your own time.”
“Fair enough,” Sarrenke passed the book back to me. “Sit and eat, Valieri. You must be starving from a long day of training.”
I sat down and slipped the book back into the knapsack, a little disappointed that we wouldn’t be able to begin reading right away, but she was right. My stomach was moaning with hunger, and I doubted I could stay awake long enough to get through the first chapter.
✽ ✽ ✽
Sarrenke followed me down to the stream after dinner. As I waded into the water to wash the sweat and grime from my tired body, she sat cross-legged on the ground and opened the book.
“I have seen this book before,” Sarrenke said thoughtfully. “When I was training to become a Scholar, I spent a great amount of time in the library reading everything I could.”
“Have you read this one before?” I asked, savoring the chilly water on my bruises.
“No. It was important to read history books and scholarly texts first. Only after we had memorized the factual books, then we could move onto books of legends and fiction.”
I waited impatiently as she flipped to the first chapter and began reading. I washed slowly so that the swishing of water wouldn’t interfere with her words.
“The Goddess of Fire,” Sarrenke began. “They say she fell through a hole in the sky, though unlike Lucifer, the fallen angel, she did not pass through the ground into Hell. No, her place was on Earth among the people. She brought to them her nourishing warmth, a guiding light, and the strength to destroy that which blocks a path to the light, like felling an old tree so the young plants can grow. Like burning old buildings so new ones can be built in their place. Like cutting one’s long, damaged hair so it can begin again. Without the Goddess, we would have no fire, no warmth, no nourishment. Without the fire, we would not be a people.
“Though the Goddess loved the people, she remained distant. She was lonely and missed the other gods and goddesses of the Higher Plains, but she knew the people on Earth would fear her if she got too close. The heat that emanated from her body could be felt for miles away, and no human could get too close, otherwise they would be burned alive. For this reason, she made her home in a cave far from any village.”
“The other gods and goddesses,” Saven hissed thoughtfully. “That must mean my people too, the Animal Gods.”
I shushed him quietly, though I pondered his words. He and the Goddess of Snakes were proof there was some sort of other land where the gods lived. Did that mean there were other gods and goddesses like the Goddess of Fire who had created people like me?
“One day, a lone traveler appeared outside her cave,” Sarrenke continued. “Surely the heat radiating from the cavern was unbearable, and yet the traveler did not run away.
“‘Hello!’ he called. ‘Will you please come speak to me?’
“‘No!’ the Goddess shouted back. ‘If you get too close to me, you will be burned up! I do not wish to harm you, so please go away.’
“The traveler smiled to himself. ‘If you do not wish to harm me, then it shall be so. Please, tell me your name.’
“‘It is Fiara,’ the Goddess responded. By now she had become curious of the traveler and peeked carefully out from behind a massive boulder. The young man wore a heavy cloak, his face hidden under a long hood. Perhaps it was the cloak that kept him from burning. ‘You should leave,’ she warned. ‘Surely the heat is unbearable.’
“‘I come from a very hot country and my cloak keeps me safe,’ he responded. ‘Please, let me see your face.’
“The Goddess shrunk behind the boulder. ‘Please leave, I do not wish to harm you.’
“‘Then you will not harm me,’ the traveler repeated, a smile playing in his voice.
“I do not wish to harm this man, the Goddess thought to herself. No one has ever come so close to my cave. He must be a fool, but he is a kind fool.
“Reluctantly, the Goddess stepped into the light of day. Her dress had become torn and dirty during her time on Earth, but any other clothes she touched burst
into flames. Her long, thin limbs were pale like white-hot steel, and her orange-red hair hung in long waves down her back. Her eyes were deep red like smoldering coals. The grass beneath her feet scorched with each step, leaving a blackened trail behind her, and yet the man’s cloak remained intact.”
Sarrenke looked up suddenly. “Are you going to get out of the water?”
I snapped out of my haze and splashed from the water, nearly slipping on the damp shoreline as I grabbed for my towel. “Keep reading!” I cried.
Sarrenke looked for her place in the book. “And yet the man’s cloak remained intact. ‘Please,’ the Goddess said. ‘I am made of terrible destruction. For anyone to get too close would mean certain death.’
“‘I do not fear death,’ the traveler said. ‘I only fear a life of loneliness.’
“‘I too am lonely,’ the Goddess replied. She reached for the traveler’s hood, but she stopped herself. ‘I do not wish to harm you, I do not wish to harm you.’ She concentrated all her power on these words and prayed the man would be safe.
“She gently pulled back the traveler’s hood, revealing a face as ugly as it was beautiful. The left side of his face was that of a handsome man with dark skin, black hair, and eyes of jade. The right side of his face was thickly scarred with burns.
“‘What happened to you, my friend?’ the Goddess asked.
“‘There was a great war in my home country,’ the traveler said. ‘Many people died, and the rest fled. I was badly burned during the battle and barely escaped with my life. I have traveled ever since, a monster who reminds people of the danger and hatred in this world.’
“The Goddess reached her hand up and placed it on the smooth side of his face. She felt the cool skin and was thankful he was not harmed by her touch. She leaned in and kissed the scarred side of his face. ‘A man who can cause great pain and suffering and yet chooses to be kind is a beautiful person. What is your name?’
“‘Athis,’ the man responded. ‘It is an honor to meet someone as beautiful and kind as you.’
“Fiara, the Goddess of Fire, chose Athis, the scarred warrior, to be her husband. Their union showed the people of the world that the Goddess was not as terrifying and destructive as they once thought, and the Goddess learned to control her power. Together, they created the race that would become known as the Fiero, the Fire Bringers, the keepers of great compassion and terrible destruction.”
Sarrenke looked up at me. “Is this the story your parents told you as a child?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “The very same story, one we were never meant to know.” I glanced up at the sky. “Part of me always thought my parents had made it up. Somehow, I feel a little less lonely knowing that other people knew the same story.”
Sarrenke remained quiet for a long time before finally closing the book. “You must get some rest. You continue your training tomorrow.”
I nodded in agreement, and the three of us made our way back to the house.
Chapter 17
As we faced the pile of logs, I felt as though it was more obvious than ever who was the odd one out. The other Warrior trainees had probably done this before, much like they’d all trained in running and fighting. Why not allow the youngsters to throw axes, too?
“Watch closely,” Vondak commanded. He squared up with the log pile and concentrated on a small smudge of orange on one of the logs. The approximate height of a grown man’s chest. He took a deep breath, and I found myself holding mine as he heaved the axe and propelled it gracefully and powerfully, spinning until it collided with the orange dot. A perfect throw, a perfect kill.
“Now throw,” he said.
One thing I’d noticed about the Grakkir language, particularly among the Warriors, was its directness. We were never instructed to “practice,” even though that’s what we were doing. Instead, they assumed we would succeed, even if we’d never performed the act before. In this case, he wasn’t telling us to try to throw the axe into the target, he was telling us to do it, even if it took all day. The Warriors never doubted themselves. It was never a matter of if an act could be performed, but a matter of when. In my case, it could take a very long time.
I picked up my axe before anyone noticed my hesitance. They all expected me to do badly, but I couldn’t show any fear. If I was to be one of them, I could never back down from a challenge. My gutsy behavior in the sparring ring was just the tip of the iceberg. Though some of them seemed to respect my resilience, it was also the perfect reason to attack me harder and try to wear me down. I couldn’t let that happen.
I hefted the axe into my hand. It was a simple axe used for chopping wood, not really for fighting, but it would be a good tool for practicing technique. I squared my shoulders as the others were and watched from the corner of my eye as they each threw. Some hit the logs and the axes stuck in the wood, others stuck only for a moment before falling to the ground. No one hit their bullseye.
I suddenly became aware of Anza’s green eyes burning into the side of my head. She seemed to watch and judge me more than anyone else. It was like she needed reassurance that she was the better of the two girls in the group. Ignoring her, I took a deep breath and swung my arm. The axe did a perfect spin in midair and buried itself deep in the log, mere centimeters from the orange dot. I watched, waiting for it to fall, but it never did. Of the few axes remaining in the log, mine was the closest to the bullseye.
My mouth popped open, as did the mouths of many other trainees. Irlav walked over to my axe, briefly inspected the location where it pierced the wood, then pulled it from the log with a little effort. He brought the axe to me. “Again,” he said.
I feared, as everyone else probably suspected, that it was merely beginner’s luck. I faced the log and squared my shoulders again, took aim, and threw. The axe spun, and this time landed just above the orange dot. If the dot was the center of a man’s chest, then my axe would have been in his throat. A quiet murmur of voices fluttered amongst the trainees, many of them wondering how I could have managed to hit the target twice in a row my first time ever throwing an axe. Some of the voices held words of admiration.
Vondak removed my axe and brought it to me. “Good,” he said with a nod. I swore I saw the flicker of a grin as he turned and walked away. I smiled down at my axe, trying not to show pride.
I couldn’t help but glance at Anza, who was scowling beside me. This time, she had a real reason to scowl at me, and I for once had a reason to smirk at her.
“You can climb trees and you can use an axe,” Anza muttered under her breath. “Very useful skills for a woodcutter or a squirrel, but that does not make you a Warrior.”
“Neither does blatant jealousy,” I hissed back.
Anza clenched her jaw angrily and raised her axe. For a moment, I thought she was going to use it on me, until she quickly turned and hurled the axe at the logs. It stuck with a perfect bullseye.
Saven hissed quietly behind me, sensing the sudden rush of anger that filled my chest. I took a deep breath and glanced down at my hands, struggling to control the Ancient Fire.
“Jealousy or not,” Anza said, “you are still the weakest one here. That has not changed.”
“Careful,” Saven warned as I felt the heat of flame warming my fingertips. I kept my eyes up, lest my downward glance attract attention.
I lifted my axe and quickly threw it at the logs. Just to the left of a bullseye. I noticed a faint black streak on the handle where my fiery fingers had gripped it, but it was small enough that no one else would think it was unusual.
“How unexpected,” Vondak said, walking up behind us. “Who would have guessed our best axe throwers were the females?”
It was as much of a compliment as he was willing to give before addressing the entire group. His timing couldn’t have been better, because it was difficult to suppress the Ancient Fire while I was so angry at Anza for her snide comments.
“We will break for lunch now,” Vondak announced.
Every
one set their axes neatly along the stack of logs and broke off into groups. Saven and I were headed off on our own when Bjorn approached me.
“Come eat with us,” he offered. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. I noticed Bjorn spent less time with Anza, Raerek, and the stronger trainees, and spent more time with the smaller boys. Perhaps they were silently acknowledging that they were more likely to become Scouts than Warriors. For this reason, I hesitated.
“Scout or Warrior doesn’t matter,” Saven reasoned. “It benefits us either way to have more allies.”
Though I wanted to join the stronger trainees who were more likely to become Warriors, Saven was right. It showed I was willing to form friendships and alliances and could work in a team. More importantly, it showed they were beginning to respect and accept me.
I finally nodded. “Sure.”
✽ ✽ ✽
“Valieri, in the ring!” Vondak called.
I had sparred a few times, but only against the smaller trainees. I was no longer afraid to step inside the ring, but my stomach still knotted with anxiety. I was the least skilled fighter in the group, and everyone knew it. Matches didn’t last long, and I always lost. Still, I couldn’t back down. Each time my name was called, I stepped up to face my opponent.
“Anza, in the ring.”
A titter of voices rose around me, some snickering, while others seemed interested. Having the two girls fight seemed like an obvious choice, but this was the first time we had been paired together.
“This ought to be interesting,” Raerek smirked.
“I doubt it,” Anza retorted loudly. She stood and faced me, eager to show off how much stronger she was.