by A. M. Deese
The training sessions of the cadets had never interested Ash before. They were young, inexperienced, and too weak to be interesting. They were most focused on achieving any control of the flame at all, and their sparring moves were unpracticed and awkward. Ash had never believed himself to have the patience for instructing, but if this was his only chance at staying near the arena he would hold onto it. He quickened his pace, ignoring the jarring pain that pricked at his left knee as he made his way through the twisting narrow hallways. A particularly sharp turn sent spikes of searing hot pain through his lower joints, and he was grateful when he reached the sparring field a few moments later. He stood straight, smiling to himself when he barely felt winded. His joints were falling apart, but he still had his endurance.
The four cadets, all boys, lined up in the sparring field. Could there truly only be four? Ash frowned. In his inaugural year there had been forty-seven. He’d heard the whispered rumors that the power was dwindling, that fewer and fewer were being chosen. This would certainly make it harder for him to acquire a cadet of his own.
Ash had been chosen when he was eight years old. Though not unheard of, it was uncommon for a boy to be chosen before his ninth or tenth birthday. Ash had always been a prodigy. His family had belonged to Ishar, then the seventh house of the Thirteen, and Ash had been called Azukk. Ishar’s province was known for producing Dancers, and an average of five to eight children were chosen every year. Like many his age, Ash had looked forward to any change that came to his body, hoping for a clue that would signify he’d be chosen. Though it was nearly forty years ago, Ash would never forget that fateful day.
He was in the city with several boys from his house, sent on an errand of fetching meat and dragon oil from the market. The boys had retrieved the items quickly and were taking their time on their way home, climbing over city monuments dedicated to the Everflame and collecting shiny pebbles and beetles. Ilyakk was turning ten the following week. He had balanced on the edge of the fire pit, boasting that they would discover he was a Fire Dancer in the upcoming week. The boys cheered for Ilyakk, begging him to show off his moves, and the boy obliged, pivoting several times along the pit’s edge and causing his peers to cheer in delight.
Ash had been impressed by the boy’s display. Though he’d never been to the arena, he loved to hear stories of the bravery that occurred there. Maybe after Ilyakk was chosen he would invite them all to the arena to watch. More than anything in the world, Ash wanted to see a dragon.
This moment, the moment his life changed, would always be seared in his brain. One moment Ilyakk was spinning on the fire pit’s edge and the next Ash watched as he slipped and tottered backwards into the flaming pit below.
It was terrifying. Ash had called out and threw his arms out toward Ilyakk, a futile effort to catch his friend, when the most remarkable thing happened. The fire in the pit swept out and toward Ash’s arms only to then sweep upward and disappear into the sky. A dazed Ilyakk had hit the soot below and stared at Ash in wonder. Ash had helped his friend out of the fire pit. The boys of his house were all covered in ash and slapping him on the back enthusiastically when the arena scouts appeared.
He’d been so excited to learn that he had been chosen. He had never felt that he held any power, and the knowledge was overwhelming to his young mind. He’d been thrilled to move into the citadel for training, not understanding the full depths of his sacrifice. His mother had come to see him once, crying on the edge of the practice field. He hadn’t seen her at all in the two years since he’d been chosen, and at first, his heart leaped at the sight of her. She’d waved and called out, but when she’d started to cry, Ash had felt embarrassed and ashamed. The cadets were taught that crying was a weakness. Water was priceless in the Sand Sea. One must never waste what little the body held. He’d turned away from his mother and focused instead on proper foot placement while he executed his turns. When he’d looked up again, his mother was gone. He ignored the pain of missing his mother. He’d been chosen by the priests of the Everflame. They had scouted his talents and picked him, marked him for greatness. They had brought him home.
Ash would later learn that such scouts stood watch at all major fire sources, keeping a watchful eye for children that displayed any power. When the Everflame sees fit to gift them with power, it is the responsibility of the palace to see that the children are raised to use their power for good. Though many would only train to use their power for the good of the palace, a special few were selected to train in the true art of Fire Dancing. Their power was needed to help vanquish the beasts of evil that ruled beyond the Sand Sea. Dragons.
Ash had never seen for himself, but he’d learned in his studies that the world was a much bigger place than the Glass Palace and it’s surrounding cities. Beyond the sea of sand lay a steep mountain range, and beyond the mountains a vast jungle of wild creatures. It was there that the dragons made their home. Few traveled outside the Sand Sea and returned to tell the tale, though Ash had heard stories of the kingdom of people that lived in the jungle beyond. Merchants from the distant land traveled to the Sand Sea to make trade with the palace. He’d heard wild stories of people traveling with their own water because it was so plentiful in their land. The people brought exotic metals and creatures in exchange for spices, rugs, and the precious dragon oil that was found plentiful in the Sand Sea.
It was common practice for youths from the palace to travel beyond the Sand Sea in hopes of capturing a wild dragon. Those that returned at all often came back empty handed, but there were a few houses that had made a name for themselves through such an achievement. Many houses owned facilities that worked at breeding the creatures, though that was a deadly practice and only the most gifted Fire Dancers were successful of such a feat.
How had his mind wandered to the breeding practices of dragons? And why the trip down memory lane? Ash shook his head, angered at his nostalgia. He needed to focus.
He snapped his attention back to the sparring field. As expected, the boys were clumsy and awkward with their assegai, tottering under the tall sleek weapons as they went through their forms. One boy stood out. Ash admired his fluidity with the unpracticed movements. He was smaller than the others, yet nimble and quick. He was awkward still, but he had a natural grace that with some guidance could be—
“I see you’re admiring my boy,” Timber’s deep familiar voice startled Ash. He would have whirled around had Timber not placed a crushing hand on Ash’s shoulder.
“Yours? Early on for you to take an apprentice of your own. Seeking an early retirement?” Ash shrugged off Timber’s grip and turned to meet him head on. He refused to let the man belittle him. Ash wouldn’t forget who he was, and he wouldn’t allow others to do so either. He was Ash, the greatest Fire Dancer of his time.
Timber smiled, and Ash was surprised to see that the man had dimples. They gave him a boyish quality though his dark eyes glittered dangerously. “I couldn’t leave my flesh and blood to the training of the aging relics offered through the citadel now, could I?”
Now that Timber mentioned it, the boy looked incredibly like his father. It was not common practice for Fire Dancers to marry while they still fought in the arena and even more uncommon for a Dancer to sire a child old enough to be trained while he still fought. Ash looked at Timber with renewed interest.
“He has nice lines,” he found himself saying.
Timber’s smile deepened. “Yes, he has a natural talent. Chosen when he was eight.”
That would explain his small size. “How old is he now?”
“Nine and growing every day. He grew up on this arena. He’ll be greater than myself someday.” Timber smiled politely, and Ash heard the unspoken comment: better than us both.
Seems I will have to look elsewhere for my protégé. “It’s sad to see there are only four cadets. I suppose they are all spoken for? Are there any in need of a trainer?” It galled him to ask.
Timber’s eyes widened. “You were here scouting? C
an’t stay out of the game, can you?”
Ash flexed, reminding Timber he still had strength in his old, scarred arms. “I’ve got a bit in me yet. Though these cadets are disappointing.”
Timber nodded grimly. “The smallest class yet. And yes, all spoken for, so you’ll need to look elsewhere.”
Ash shook his head. “I’ve already been denied the boy I’d most like to work with.” He watched as the child leaped into the air with ease and spun down to his knee thrusting out his training assegai.
“The boy’s mother?” He wondered out loud.
Timber’s eyes darkened and he scowled down at Ash. “Mind your business old man.”
Ash watched him leave, realizing that Timber was a man of many surprises.
Chapter Twelve
KAY
When Kay woke up, her head was foggy and there was a strange buzzing sound in her ears. The muscles in her leg spasmed and her joints begged to straighten, but when she tried to do so her feet hit something hard. Her eyes snapped open and she stared down at her feet, pressed against a wooden crate. The crate was small, no more than a few feet across, and even shorter than it was wide. Encased inside Kay could scarcely move about. Her lips were dry and parched. She licked them in an effort to moisten them but the effort proved little result.
Where was she? She vaguely remembered leaving her home. That man, that horrid sneak of a man, had thrown her into a sack like a wayward chicken and, surrounded by the dark wool, Kay had succumbed to exhaustion. That was the last thing she remembered.
She turned her head to the side to further take in her surroundings. She peered through the large gaps between the wooden slats, squinting in the morning sun. Her crate was on the far side of some sort of cart. She wasn’t alone. The cart was full of the wooden crates, and in each of the crates lay a kid. Most appeared to be much older than her, but there were a few that seemed the same age. How long have I been asleep? She didn’t recognize her surroundings. The rolling hills and woodlands of her home were replaced by sparse yellowed grass that grew in patches and stunted trees that had more branches than leaves.
He’s not taking me anywhere. I have to get out of here. She was aware of the intense heat all around her. It was in the ground below, the sun above, it even emanated off the bodies of her fellow prisoners. She shouldn’t Breathe in their heat. It was dangerous to do so, and Daddy wouldn’t approve. But if it came down to it, she would.
The people in the other crates lay still and quiet. She frowned at them. Why weren’t they shouting to be let out? Had no one tried to escape? It wouldn’t take much. She simply had to Breathe in the heat and blast her way out of the crate. Once she was out, she would jump from the crate and run as fast as she could back toward home. If anyone tried to stop her, she’d blast them too. She didn’t feel her strongest but she couldn’t waste any more time, each second only took her further and further away from home. She Breathed.
Nothing happened. Despite the heat of the air around her, goosebumps prickled her arm. What was wrong with her? Again, she tried to Breathe in the heat and again nothing happened. She could feel the heat around her, but she couldn’t reach it. The harder she tried, the more it seemed to wriggle further out of her grasp. The buzzing in her ears increased, and she began to pant. The air she sucked in seemed thin and smoky. Her thoughts were jumbled and slow, and she tried to piece together what was happening. Was her power gone? The thought didn’t make sense. If her fire power was gone, she wouldn’t still feel the burning heat around her. This was different. Her power wasn’t gone, it was blocked.
In the crate closest to Kay, another girl lay curled up in a ball. She was bigger than Kay by more than a few years, and even though she was in a larger crate, it was still so small around her that her body was pressed into it on all four sides. The crate was close enough so Kay pushed her arms through the narrow slates of her crate and poked at the girl’s skin. The girl groaned in response. Her tone was agitated, but Kay refused to give up. She needed answers. She poked her again, digging her nail into the skin of the girl’s arm.
The girl lifted her head slightly and glared at Kay. Kay glared back.
“Where are we?” Kay asked.
The girl widened her eyes and shook her head.
“How long have we been here? Where are we going?”
The girl shook her head so violently that Kay wondered how her eyes didn’t rattle in her head. She opened her mouth to repeat her questions, but the girl interrupted her with a stream of incoherent babble that erupted from her mouth in a feverish whisper. There was no understanding that; she spoke another language.
Defeated, Kay lay her head back down against the wood. Even her movements felt slow, as though the air around her was made of tree sap. She had just closed her eyes when she heard a soft voice just off to her right.
“Girl. Hey girl. I’m from Tirdrakor too. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, I’m here!” Her heart leaped and she felt a small rush of energy pulse through her. “Where are—”
“Shh.” The voice interrupted her. “You must stay quiet. Udo doesn’t like for us to speak.”
“Who is Udo?” She worried that her voice had dropped too far below a whisper because it was several moments before the voice responded.
“He’s a bad man. He’s taking us far away. I don’t think we’ll ever go home again.”
No. The voice is wrong. She would go home.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Kay. What’s yours? How long have you been here? Do you know where we’re going?”
“Kay is a boy’s name and you sound like a girl. My name is Wallace.”
“I am a girl,” Kay struggled to keep the anger out of her voice. She didn’t want to talk about names. She needed answers. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. We travel east. We’ve made several stops along the way, but we haven’t stopped since we got you. That was days ago. I thin—”
Wallace’s voice cut short with a startled yelp and the cart jerked to a stop. Kay twisted around in her crate, struggling to see what had caused the boy’s sudden exclamation. The girl in the crate beside her trembled and pressed her head into the floor, murmuring her foreign words at a rapid pace.
“You will be silent,” a deep baritone growled.
Kay didn’t have to turn about in her crate to see, because the boy was thrown into the dirt beside her. She watched from her crate as Wallace whimpered and crawled in the sand. A horrid man stood over him and kicked Wallace in the ribs. That must be the man the boy called Udo. The boy groaned and cried out from pain.
“There is no talking.” Udo drew back his foot and once again shoved it into Wallace’s rib cage. Wallace begged him to stop, but the man only grinned and kicked him harder.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Kay shouted.
Udo straightened and left Wallace rolling in the dirt, moaning and holding onto his middle. Udo walked to the cart and stooped so that he was eye level with Kay.
“You ask me to stop?”
Kay had seen many smiles in her life. Daddy had a smile that ate up his entire face. Mama’s smile made her eyes sparkle and a fat dimple winked from her left cheek. Udo’s smile was the most wicked thing Kay had ever seen. His was no smile. Kay swallowed hard and once again reached for the heat around her. She Breathed…and nothing happened. Her head felt like it was underwater, and her belly turned and rolled itself in knots.
Udo chuckled. “It won’t work. Your power is not your own. You cannot hurt Udo. And you cannot escape. You will be mine until I say it is not so.” His accent was harsh and guttural, his words clipped and foreign sounding.
He bent down to Wallace and punched him directly in his face. Blood spurted out of the boy’s nose and sprayed across the dirt.
“Please,” Wallace begged. “Please, no more.”
Udo kept his eyes trained on Kay’s face. His smile deepened when she gasped at the blow he gave Wallace.
“Leave him alone.” Kay
didn’t want Udo’s anger directed at her, but she refused to allow him to lay another hand on Wallace. She pressed her palms into either side of the crate and heaved her body weight from side to side. The crate scarcely moved from her effort, and she screamed in frustration.
“You are weak. I am your master now, and you will obey. There is no talking.”
Kay stared down at Wallace. He was sobbing in the sand. He didn’t move except for the shake of his shoulders. Wallace had only tried to help her. He didn’t deserve this beating. She hated Udo. Hated him more than she’d ever felt anything in her life. He’d taken her away from Mama and Daddy. He’d helped kill them. All so he could take her away. The hate built up inside her, a small inferno that burned in her gut. Though she’d never hated anything with such intensity before, the hate burning inside her felt familiar. She felt as if she could almost… Breathe.
Udo’s smile faltered.
The feeling was wondrous. Heat flared up inside of her. She pulled it in from all around. Heat from the air, the burning sun, the hot bodies all around her. Heat from the molten fire hundreds of feet below the ground. She Breathed it all in. The wooden crate burned red around her before it exploded into bits. Shards of broken wood showered all around her and she stood up, pulling in still more heat.
Udo stumbled back, throwing his arms up to shield his eyes from the falling debris.
Kay stood tall. Her muscles were no longer aching. Instead, she felt strong and full of energy. She cradled a ball of fire in her hand. The heart of the flame was already larger than her head. In another moment, she would hurl it straight at her enemy, blowing him up into tiny Udo bits.
She raised her arms and he disappeared.
She leaped from the bed of the cart, chest heaving as she whirled around in search of her enemy. He was truly gone.
But that’s impossible. People don’t just disappear.
She tossed back her head and screamed up at the sky, hurling her ball of fire up and away. Udo should be lying in a pile of ash. Where was he?