by A. M. Deese
IGNITED
(Dance of the Elements, #1)
© 2018 A. M. Deese
www.amdeese.com
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written consent, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, and so on. This is a work of fiction. Any semblance to persons, names, characters, organizations, places, events or incidents is the product of imagination. Any resemblance to the aforementioned is otherwise purely subliminal influence sparked by A. M. Deese’s vivid mind.
www.radiantcrownpublishing.com
Deese, A. M.
IGNITED (Dance of the Elements, #1) / by A. M. Deese 1st ed.
ISBN-13: 978-1-946024-13-8 (eBook)
ISBN-13: 978-1-946024-02-2 (Hardcover)
ISBN-13: 978-1-946024-03-9 (Audiobook)
ISBN-13: 978-1-946024-12-1 (Trade Paperback)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017958520
Editing by Leah T. Brown
Maps by Tiphaine Leard
Book design by Inkstain Design Studio
Cover design by Desiree DeOrto Designs
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition: March 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book is dedicated to Lorraine,
who read it first and supported me always.
Cover
Titlepage
Copyright
Dedication
Map of Jangbahar
Chapter 1 – JURA
Chapter 2 – JURA
Chapter 3 – ASH
Chapter 4 – TYLAK
Chapter 5 – KAY
Chapter 6 – BESHAR
Chapter 7 – JURA
Chapter 8 – KAY
Chapter 9 – JURA
Chapter 10 – TYLAK
Chapter 11 – ASH
Chapter 12 – KAY
Chapter 13 – JURA
Chapter 14 – JURA
Chapter 15 – JURA
Chapter 16 – JURA
Chapter 17 – TYLAK
Chapter 18 – ASH
Chapter 19 – JURA
Chapter 20 – ASH
Chapter 21 – BESHAR
Chapter 22 – JURA
Chapter 23 – TYLAK
Chapter 24 – JURA
Chapter 25 – JURA
Chapter 26 – KAY
Chapter 27 – JURA
Chapter 28 – ASH
Chapter 29 – JURA
Chapter 30 – JURA
Chapter 31 – TYLAK
Chapter 32 – JURA
Chapter 33 – JURA
Chapter 34 – BESHAR
Chapter 35 – ASH
Chapter 36 – JURA
Chapter 37 – JURA
Chapter 38 – TYLAK
Chapter 39 – JURA
Chapter 40 – ASH
Chapter 41 – JURA
Chapter 42 – KAY
Chapter 43 – JURA
Chapter 44 – BESHAR
Chapter 45 – JURA
Acknowledgements
About – A. M. Deese
The House of Josper the Usurper
World of Jangbahar
End of the Border Wars (Year 1341): Josper
Which IGNITED Character Are You?
Chapter One
JURA
Jura imagined it sounded like rain. The steady tap of grains of sand pounding against the glass walls and ceiling was almost musical. The sands were still untamed but she was safe from the dangers of the earth. No, death was more likely to come from inside—and she was late.
Her robes were on backwards. The last several hours plotting what to say and just how she would say it had all been a waste of time. It was doubtful the Thirteen would take a young woman seriously, especially if she wasn’t even capable of dressing herself. The gold and purple stitching on the formal black court robe was only slightly different in the front than the back. Would anyone notice? Jura could feel their eyes watching her, swore she could hear the occasional chuckle thrown in her direction. She wanted to run, she wanted to die from embarrassment right on the spot.
Don’t panic. You don’t have time to change; just breathe. She inhaled sharply, letting her breath slowly leak out between clenched teeth. Had the justice dome always been so tall? She felt dwarfed by the massive walls towering around her. She lifted her thick maiden’s braid as a trail of sweat escaped from the nape of her neck to drip down the stiff collar of her robe. She sidled to a pillar on the least populated side of the dome and pressed her back against the cool marble.
The members of the Thirteen milled about the concave room, flitting in and out of conversation and tossing distrustful glances at one another. No one else was wearing the traditional court robes, and Jura suddenly remembered they were only used on voting day or when foreign diplomats were present. She bit her bottom lip, blood rushed into her cheeks. Wearing the robes now proved her inexperience; wearing them backwards showed she was an inexperienced idiot. Her spectacles slid down the bridge of her nose. She sighed as she shoved them back up. Why had she even worn the flaming things? The glasses, not the robes. Although they were both giving her trouble. She scanned the room and noticed that almost all of the Thirteen had arrived. The council meeting would start in a matter of minutes.
If the council didn’t accept her, her house would lose everything.
Kader, Eighth of the Thirteen, was making his rounds with refreshments. The members of the Thirteen took turns serving one another, and Jura was grateful that she didn’t have to add the duties of serving girl to her growing list of anxieties. Kader stopped in front of her, offering water from his silver serving tray. She reached for a glass and was about to bring it to her lips when she became aware of the Eighth’s beady black eyes following her movement. She paused, her hand faltering in mid-air. Water was the standard beverage during council meetings. Not only was pure water a nod to the Thirteen’s stature, it was also the most difficult liquid to poison without detection.
Jura rolled the glass in a slow circle, watchful for any residue that might have stuck to the clear goblet as it tilted. Was he watching to see if I’ll drink it or just curious because I shouldn’t be here? She raised her eyebrows and forced the corner of her lips to tilt upward. Kader inclined his head politely before turning to offer water to another council member. She deliberately set the glass down on the floor beside her. She wouldn’t drink from it, just in case.
Jura frowned as a woman entering the room caught her attention. There isn’t enough water in the world to make me wear something so scandalous. Not only was Denir, Fifth of the Thirteen, flirting prettily, but she also wore a low cut golden gown that clung to her figure. She smiled up at Jabir, the Seventh, a tall narrow man in neutral shades of gray with dark curly hair and a devilish gleam in his eye. He leered down at the Fifth.
He’s married, isn’t he? Jura couldn’t remember, and honestly, it didn’t seem to matter. She struggled to place a name for a few of the others but couldn’t recall any except Ahmar, the Third, and father of her closest friend. He was deep in conversation with a man who seemed impossibly wide for his short stature. The fat man’s jowls quivered as he spoke, and he leaned back from the Third nervously, his hand hovered just above his sheathed dagger. It was forbidden to have one’s Arbe in attendance, but nearly everyone carried a weapon. The dagger seemed to be the favored choice, although Jura noticed a few scimitars and even an assegai strapped to the back of a tall, skinny man in pale yellow robes. Jura fingered the whip holstered at her waist. No one, aside from Kader, had even acknowledged her presence. If she had acted when she first had the thought, she might have been able to sneak away before the—
&nbs
p; “Daughter of the First, good evening. I almost didn’t see you there, skulking away in the corner as it were.” Velder, Second of the Thirteen, lifted a hand and twisted his fingers into the complicated gesture that signified a greeting as he walked toward her.
“Making a new fashion statement, I see?” He raised his eyebrows.
Jura muffled a groan, of course he’d noticed her fashion faux pas. She grimaced before intertwining her fingers and wriggling her thumbs in reply.
“Councilman Velder. How good to see you?”
“Indeed. And how very odd it is to see you, alone. Where is the First? It’s nearly time to start the session.” The councilman’s long, tapered fingers stroked his thin gray mustache.
This was the moment she’d been dreading. Council meetings were closed to all except the voting members of the Thirteen families; everyone knew that. Jura was not the voting member; her father was and had been for the last twenty years, but now they were stuck with her. Her worst nightmare had come true.
“Yes. I mean, no. That is, the First is…indisposed.”
Velder frowned down at her. “Is that so? His presence is needed to preside over the council meeting.”
“I understand,” she mumbled. Father hated when she mumbled. If he was here, he’d have pulled her by the ear and given her a lecture on leadership and her responsibility to the family name. Leaders didn’t mumble. Her fingers flew up to her throat, as if scratching at her tender skin would send the words pouring forth. She just had to spit something out, anything.
Anything but the truth.
“Councilman Velder, the First is—”
“Absent for the second day in a row.” Velder’s dark eyes narrowed. “The people of the Republic cannot rule themselves. The First—”
“The First is indisposed!” She had not meant to shout. She lowered her eyes, frowning at her shoes. People would stare.
“He is unwell,” she said in a softer voice. Her tongue darted out to moisten lips gone impossibly dry. She considered drinking Kader’s offered water, even poison was better than this.
“I will judge in his stead.” There. The words were strangled, but she’d said it.
Velder barely concealed his chuckle beneath his hand. “With all due respect, the Thirteen will never approve.”
“The Thirteen? Or you?” Velder had never liked her. He didn’t seem to like anyone. Jura bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Her hands were shaking, so she squeezed them into fists by her sides. She was seventeen years old, hardly a child. She could do this, she had to do this.
Father will never forgive me if I cause the house to lose Rank.
She pushed her dangling spectacles up the length of her nose and glared at the councilman. At least, she thought she was glaring, it felt like she was squinting up at him, and she hoped she appeared stern. She felt ridiculous.
“I am the only heir to house of the First.” He didn’t respond, and she took the opportunity to raise her voice and address the room. She flinched when her voice came out as a high-pitched squeak. “It is my duty to serve as interim First if my father is incapable. His sickness—” She frowned, correcting herself. “His minor illness has forced me to step forward and fulfill my duty as his heir. Who will oppose this law?”
“Not I,” chimed out Fatima. Jura rewarded her with her best smile. Fatima currently held a low Rank, she was from the House of the Eleventh or Twelfth. Jura could never keep the Rankings of the lower houses straight, they were never stagnant and the bottom three didn’t even have a vote when it came to Rank. The councilwoman probably thought her quick approval would secure her position when the next vote occurred.
“I second it,” Ahmar boomed. He was the Third and father of Amira, Jura’s closest friend. He was her best bet at gaining quick acceptance from the Thirteen. The giant of a man tossed a curious smile in her direction.
Jura hid her sigh of relief behind her grin. His approval was all she needed; the others would follow.
Velder stepped back, bowing low. His face was apologetic, but his tone dripped with sarcasm as he straightened and said, “Of course I, as a humble servant to the laws of our great Republic, would not have a place to question it. I will, naturally, accept your ruling. It’s such a shame his Greatness is too ill to issue the proclamation himself…” He trailed off, raising a bushy brow.
She let out a sigh and squared her shoulders, glaring up at Velder. This time she was sure it was a glare. If she didn’t appear tough, the vultures at court would peck at her. It was only a matter of time before someone discovered her secret.
“The council has spoken.” Thank the Everflame. She shot another smile in the direction of Fatima and Ahmar. “Consider this matter closed and call the council meeting to order.” She brushed past him and hurried up to the dais before he called her bluff.
She struggled to keep her pace normal, the result was an awkward cross between a jog and a shuffle as she made her way across the dome to her father’s chair. She stumbled into the seat.
It was the duty of the Second to call out the beginning of the session, and Velder did so as Jura straightened in the imposing glass throne meant for her father. Like most of the palace, the massive throne was made entirely out of glass. This late in the day, the setting sun shone through the crystal clear domed ceiling, casting out prisms of pale pink and dusty orange that shone down on her and created a natural spotlight. Jura clasped the seat of the throne, squirming against the rigid glass. She tried to ignore the fact that all eyes were on her. They probably all saw her as a little girl playing dress up. Well, she had more important things to think about. For instance, how was she to lead a meeting she had never attended?
As acting head of council, she was granted four votes. The house in the number two Rank held three votes, the Third house held two votes and the six remaining houses held one. The bottom three council members had no vote at all. The First also had final say on any crime worthy of a death sentence and in all matters of war. Though they held weekly meetings, the council only voted on the rankings of the council members once a month. Today was not a voting day. At least something was going her way.
The Thirteen seated themselves in a neat row of chairs lined against a long stone table ahead of her, and Velder took his position just to the right of her father’s throne. The first citizen was called for judgment. After a few minor issues were judged, Jura began to relax. The session was going smoothly and there were only two citizens left to place judgment.
The first was a complaint between two merchants. One merchant argued the other was poaching on his district by setting up a stand of pottery not far from his own and selling duplicate wares. The other potter argued that his product differed. Jura granted the second merchant a stake of property in a neighboring province but placated him by giving him more property than he’d had before. Easy. Velder called in the final citizen.
“This is Tylak,” Velder sneered,“citizen of Ish.” His voice dripped with condemnation. Ish was the poorest of the thirteen provinces, probably because its leadership was held by the Thirteenth, a position that was never stable.
Tylak, a slave name, and yet he had citizen status. Interested, Jura leaned forward. It was rare for a slave to gain enough wages to purchase his freedom and even rarer for a slave to be granted such freedom from his owner.
“Tylak is charged with thievery,” Velder paused, meeting her eye. “The council suggests execution.”
Jura squeezed her father’s chair so tightly it was a wonder the glass didn’t break off in her hand. It was true that execution was the maximum punishment, but it was seldom carried out. Especially not for a crime as petty as thievery.
“I see,” she whispered.
Velder smiled, revealing teeth stained brown from tobacco.
She cleared her throat. “What did the accused steal?”
“Fire.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the seated members of council before settling on Jura. “From the Everflame.”
“Is this true?” Jura looked down at the young man, his appearance was unkempt, but he appeared strong rather than haggard. His dark hair was greasy and hung in lank locks over his pale face.
The man shrugged.
Velder’s eyes burned into her. She looked up at him. “What proof stands against the accused?”
“He was captured within the walls of the glass tower, carrying a torch, and he is no Fire Dancer. Where else would he have acquired it? He has stolen Fire from the Everflame and as such has stolen from the Republic. This is unnatural magic at work. This man is clearly dangerous. Not to mandate an immediate execution would make the Republic seem weak.”
Jura understood his implication. The Second was testing her. Pompous, manipulating worm.
If she did not order this man’s execution, she would appear weak and she would lose any footing she’d gained today. But how could such a man, how could anyone besides a Fire Dancer, have done such a thing? Unless…she squeezed the throne tighter to keep her hands from shaking in excitement. After all this time, was she finally being faced with some tangible evidence? What did this man know? She leaned forward.
“Tylak, was it? Tell us how you accomplished such a feat. Answer me truthfully and you will be spared.” She ignored Velder’s glare. Tell me, please.
The young man lifted his face up to her, and she resisted the urge to gasp. The man had gray eyes that cut into his chiseled features and smoldered with hate. A pale, jagged scar traced from beneath the corner of his left eye down to the edge of his lips. He was beautiful. He was terrifying. Jura swallowed against the massive lump in her throat.
“I didn’t steal anything. But kill me; I don’t care.” He spat at her feet.
Velder backhanded the man and he fell to his knees, head bowed. He said nothing else. “Greatness, his insolence must be punished.”
Jura could not take her eyes off the man. He was dirty and poorly dressed but he didn’t look like a crazed villain. And yet, according to Velder he was entirely too dangerous to be allowed freedom. A man that could accomplish what this man was accused of was more than just an idle threat to her family’s Rank, he was a threat to the entire Republic. He was also her only chance. What kind of person would dare steal from the Everflame? Could she really sentence this man to his death? Did she even have a choice? She needed more time.