Ignited

by A. M. Deese

  The Dancer twirled and leapt into the air, assegai gleaming and posed to kill. The dragon pushed from the ground, snapping its wings back in a rush of air and sending dust up in a porous cloud that filled the stadium. The Dancer jumped up above the cloud of smoke. No, Tylak realized, his body is wrong. The Dancer was thrown and the dragon rose up, catching the Dancer between his giant jaw. He shook the Dancer’s limp body and dropped it to the ground as he took flight, rushing high up in the air. He circled dome, testing its strength with jets of fire that ricocheted off the glass. The crowd went wild, screaming out the dragon’s name.

  It’s Beshar’s dragon, Tylak realized, watching Jura give a whoop of delight and Ash clap enthusiastically. Several members of the Thirteen walked down to give their congratulations. The dragon still circled the arena. It would tire itself out eventually and return to the arena floor where its trainers would try to cover him and coax him back to his pen. Covering a dragon meant getting the giant chain muzzle around his head. Most dragons were very disagreeable to this process and many spectators lingered in the stands, hoping to catch a glimpse of more bloodshed. There were six trainers in the arena, probably because the chain muzzle was so heavy and any less they would be unable to lift it within enough time.

  “You’re in the way,” said an annoyed voice. “Again.”

  Tylak looked up into the questioning eyes of a food runner. Tylak’s garments clearly said that he was not upper class, and the man probably wondered why he was in their spectator box.

  “I was just leaving,” Tylak grinned, giving one last look over at Jura and Beshar who, like everyone else in the room, had also stood to leave.

  “The dragon’s name?” he asked the servant.

  The servant let his eyes drift up to the circling blue dragon.

  “Inferno.”

  Tylak cast one last look at Inferno, and then hurried out of the box, eager to leave the arena and disappear into the night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ASH

  It seemed he’d made a mistake in coming. Beshar did not look pleased to see him. In fact, when Ash had first made his presence, the Tenth had appeared annoyed. Was he courting the First? Ash shifted awkwardly in his seat. Last time he’d spoken with the council member, Beshar had seemed eager to discuss Ash’s past achievements, praising the memory of his previous accomplishments. Ash had hoped that attending the fights today would afford him with more opportunity to discuss his future employment in the arena. Beshar had wanted no discussion.Instead, he found himself sitting across from the Lady of the First explaining the most rudimentary rules of Fire Dancing.

  Just stand up now and walk away. As much as he wished he hadn’t gotten himself into the situation, he saw no quick way out of it. He was Ash, the greatest Fire Dancer of his time, and he was already out-shadowed by others. The First had never even heard of him. He narrowed his eyes down at her and tuned in to what she was saying, interrupting her, “No, the Fire Dancers don’t create fire. They can only manipulate existing fire.” He sighed. “We can all feel the Everflame to a various degree. It’s a presence that hums inside you. Some, Fire Dancers, can actually take control of that presence, that fire, and manipulate it the way they want.”

  She bit her lip, “So it’s like mind control.”

  Ash frowned, he’d never thought of it that way, but it sounded right. He nodded.

  “But you can’t actually make fire?”

  Ash thought about Timber, his control over the element was masterful and even though Ash would never admit it, if he believed someone could be capable of making fire it would be Timber. But people couldn’t create fire, it came from the Everflame.

  “We leave that up to the dragons,” Beshar slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. The First leaned in toward him, flashing a beautiful smile.

  She was flirting with Beshar. Ash had little experience with the opposite sex outside the Dancers of the arena, but the First was definitely flirting. Why would the First flirt with Beshar? He pushed the question out of his mind. There was no sense in wondering over the oddities of the Thirteen.

  The preliminary fight was more of an exhibition than an actual battle. Two Dancers parried and twirled, tossing a flame of fire from one to the other. To the crowd it appeared as if the fire appeared from out of nowhere. But Ash knew of the hidden torches along the ring of the arena. He shared the secret with the First, an impish grin broke out in response to the knowledge.

  It was fun to watch the Dancers from the eyes of the First. She bounced in her seat, excited as a child watching for the first time. She gasped out loud and cheered enthusiastically, all the while simpering beside Beshar. He wondered what she saw in him, but once again pushed the thought to the side. Who was he to question the attractions of a member of the Thirteen?

  The first show ended, and Ash wondered if now was the proper time for his proposal. Beshar seemed no less distracted. His handkerchief fluttered out of his pocket as he repeatedly dabbed at his forehead. The First also appeared to be suffering from the heat because she called for more fanners. Ash never noticed the heat.

  “That was amazing. They were beautiful.” The First smiled at Ash, seeming to remember that he was there. “Is that what you used to do?”

  “I can still dance with fire,” he answered slowly, careful not to snap. She couldn’t possibly know the pain her question evoked. And he could still manipulate fire. No one could ever take that away. He smiled tightly. “Though these old bones won’t let me move quite so painlessly.” He tapped his knee.

  The First frowned sympathetically. “It must be very difficult, stepping down from a world that’s been your entire life.”

  He stared at her light amber eyes, surprised by the compassion that rang in her voice. “It is.”

  “Don’t depress the girl, Ash,” Beshar laughed, but the sound was forced. The councilman smiled at the First. “He’s a free man with plenty of water chips to live out the rest of his days however he pleases.”

  The First smiled at Ash and placed a hand on Beshar’s arm. “Didn’t you say you owned the dragon in this fight?”

  Beshar smiled smugly, and Ash realized he was very confident with this one. “Inferno. Mean as they come. I expect you’ll have an impressive display. Though the arena hardly brought out their finest.” He smiled at the First. “I had hoped you would see Timber fight. He’s quite the athlete. Wonderful to watch, though I dare say that didn’t end so well for my dragon last time.” He chuckled, “I’d hate to make the habit of training a new dragon for every fight.”

  Ash bit his tongue. Timber was all anyone ever talked about these days.

  “Where do they keep the dragons?”

  Ash realized the First was asking him and he gave her his attention. “The dragons? Well, that depends on if they belong to someone or if they belong to the arena. The councilman’s Inferno is probably sitting in a holding pen.” He leveled his eye on Beshar. “He probably has land outside the palace with some sort of containment for his dragons. I would imagine the councilman had him drugged for easy transportation. If they belong to the arena, they live under the arena in a network of catacombs. Every dragon has their own pen with an individual tunnel that leads to the arena.”

  “Catacombs? That’s fascinating. Did you know that?” Jura seemed genuinely impressed as she directed her question at the councilman beside her. Ash was once again reminded that most people were completely unaware of the details that made up day-to-day life in the arena.

  Beshar nodded, “Of course. I know everything.”

  The First poked Beshar in the arm. “And was that true what he said about your dragon? Did you have him drugged?”

  The councilman nodded. “It’s easiest. I feed all my dragons in their own transportable pen. On days that I bring them to the arena, I drug their food. It’s a tranquilizer. Makes them very docile. It wears off in a day’s time. By then I’ve transported them to the arena. And I do own land outside the palace. The key is to
be sure you have a good dragon trainer, someone your dragon can bond to. Once the dragon imprints with its trainer, he would never hurt him. And while the dragon is never completely domesticated, it’s content to eat the food and live with its imprinted trainer. Though it’s uncommon, Inferno is bound to me instead of a trainer.” He smiled at the First. “I guess you could say I’m a dragon trainer now.”

  The First nodded her head enthusiastically, “How many dragons do you have, Beshar?”

  He tightened his lips and wiped at his brow. “Trained and ready to fight in the arena? At the moment, just the one.” He frowned at Ash. “Suppose I should be thankful Timber’s not in the arena.”

  “He has a son training as a cadet,” Ash heard himself saying and wondered why he shared the information.

  “I know,” Beshar smiled, surprising him. “I bought him.”

  The First dropped her gold glasses and fumbled for them on the floor. She stood quickly, dusting at the bottom of her robes.

  “Did you say that you bought the Fire Dancer’s son?” she asked, peering up at Beshar.

  Beshar nodded. “It was a good investment. The boy has a solid bloodline, Timber being his father. The opportunity presented itself and I took it.”

  “How long will he train?” The First directed the question at Ash.

  He shrugged. “It depends. I trained for eight years before I took to the arena for the first time, but I was a quick learner.”

  “Though not as quick as Timber’s boy,” Beshar boasted. “I project he’ll have his naming day before his twelfth birthday.”

  A Fire Dancer left their slave name when they were chosen to be a cadet. From then on, they were simply referred to as cadet. It wasn’t until a Dancer’s entry into the arena that they were given their true name, their Fire Dancer name. To name a child at the age of twelve was unheard of.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Beshar frowned up at him, “Very serious.”

  “I can’t imagine that. A boy of twelve doing all of that,” the First gestured her arms wildly. “Everything the dancers were doing earlier.”

  Beshar laughed. “He’s only nine now. Come with me to the arena next week. You can watch him in the practice field.”

  The First smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Ash felt awkward in their presence. The councilman was in the middle of trying to woo the lady’s affections, and Ash had come crashing in. No wonder Beshar had been so upset. Now wasn’t the time for Ash to be unwanted company. But he couldn’t leave now, it would appear strange, and it was his own fault for being so dense before. He would leave as soon as the match ended and approach Beshar another time. Wait, no, he reminded himself, it has to be tonight. If he didn’t take advantage of tonight it could be months, a year, before he was granted another chance. Burn his luck.

  He gazed off into the distance, trying not to listen, and caught sight of a long-haired man in the back of the box. A servant, his clothing seemed to suggest, and yet he didn’t appear to be working. He appeared to be watching the First. He stared at the man, confirming it. The man hadn’t take his eyes off her. Ash’s fingers itched to reach an assegai that wasn’t there. He had stopped wearing his last week and felt its absence. He made a vow to start wearing it again, burn anyone’s opinion. Timber was sure to have words about it, but Ash found that he didn’t care.

  The man was still staring. Ash cocked his head and lifted his shoulder in question. What do you want?

  The man gestured rudely at the First. Disgusting. He had just met the lady, but she was a member of the Thirteen, the First, and Ash would be a flaming fool if he would let some boy shame her. He was Ash Flame Dancer, greatest fire dancer of his time. He stood up.

  The man was suddenly gone. Ash shook his head in wonder. Impossible. Where did he go? People didn’t just disappear. Unless he was never there to begin with. Ash shook his head. He’d heard of a disease that fell upon the aging where their mind saw things that weren’t really there. Surely he was too young for that?

  The dragon horn sounded and he sighed. The fight was beginning. He settled into his seat, smiling when the First squealed in delight at the appearance of the dragon. Beshar had much to be proud of. Inferno truly was a monster of a beast. Massive, quick, and deadly. He felt no pang at the loss of the Fire Dancers. They enjoyed a death found in the arena. Gone in flashes of fire and smoke, deceased after battling something bigger, grander, greater than themselves. Their deaths were beautiful.

  Everyone cheered at their passing. Ash included.

  Chapter Nineteen

  JURA

  Jura hated to admit it, but she loved the arena. The rush of the crowd, the anticipation of the dragon, and the magic of the fire display. She loved it all and it ended too quickly.

  Afterword, Beshar deposited her in her awaiting litter and said he would call on her the following day. She’d failed. She had tried to secure an invitation to his quarters, but Beshar had seemed distracted by the details of bringing Inferno home and had called for her vehicle.

  “May I see you tomorrow?”

  “I would love that.” She breathed the words, the way she had seen Amira do in front of her suitors.

  Beshar didn’t seem to notice. Maybe you’re not doing it right? Or maybe the Tenth just has no interest in me? He nodded brusquely and helped her into the litter before walking away without so much as a backwards glance.

  She expected the Shadow Dancer in her litter, but that didn’t stop her from jumping in surprise.

  It was a man this time. He lounged against her pillows, sipping on her flagon of wine. He wore a thin black mask that covered his eyes and nose.

  She managed to sit down across from him and raised a slender brow.

  “Checking up on me?” She was proud when her voice came out cool and relaxed.

  He smiled. His teeth were crooked. A pity, it took away from his handsomely sculpted chin.

  “We expect a return on our investment.”

  Jura narrowed her eyes. “Your investment? That’s laughable, considering you have yet to invest any knowledge to me. Who is responsible for my father’s blood chain?”

  “Nasty business those. I hear they’re impossible to remove by anyone except the owner of the chain.” He tsked and shook his head. “And I do apologize, Greatness, but you are an investment. Just because we haven’t told you who to hold responsible for your father’s predicament doesn’t mean we haven’t given you information. Learning Beshar’s secrets will be helpful to you too.” He cocked his head to the side. “What did you discover tonight?”

  Jura gritted her teeth. “Beshar is very proud of his dragon. He imprinted it to himself rather than a trainer.”

  “Interesting but hardly worth taking note of.”

  “He’s bought a new cadet. The son of Timber and only nine years old.” Jura was losing confidence but she forced a smile.

  The Dancer rolled his eyes. “Well, it seems you can pay attention at the arena. And while this isn’t exactly common knowledge it certainly wasn’t being kept a secret.” He smiled again.“And I can’t help but notice you’re going home,” he looked at her pointedly, “alone.” She flinched. I’m not even attracted to the Tenth, so why do I feel so rejected?

  “We’re having dinner tomorrow.” She lifted her chin. “A private meal in his chambers.” The lie slipped off her tongue easily, surprising her. Well, there was no reason she couldn’t make it true. She would just have to force an invitation. You can do this.

  The Dancer kissed the air between them and let out a girly squeal.

  She ignored his mockery and clasped her hands together. “I don’t understand why I’m being asked to spy on him.” She noticed how her knuckles turned white as she gripped her fingers. “Your league seems to make a habit of sneaking about and breaking into private rooms. Surely one of you could discover his secrets?”

  She looked up, but the Shadow Dancer was gone. She sighed. Of course he’d disappeared. I should demand they teach me t
his trick, she thought to herself, relaxing against the pillows. Tomorrow was a full day. She had a luncheon with the Fifth. Beshar had insisted she attend. Why has he taken such an interest in my game of politics? Perhaps he’s noticed how terrible I am at it? Whatever the case, she wished his interest hadn’t been so invested in her skill in politics and was instead invested in an interest in her.

  There has to be something he wants from me.

  “I can help your Rank. My house can vote toward it on the next vote,” she had suggested, but the councilman had laughed.

  “I wouldn’t want to be any number but the Tenth. Not so low as to feel unstable and without vote, yet not so high as to be overly noticed.”

  He was right to a degree. The houses below him were weak and struggled to hold their place, and any of the greater houses wouldn’t worry over one with rank in the double digits. And he did seem to have a fair amount of power. Jura had noticed the way the other members of the Thirteen had fawned over him, though he’d insisted it was only her presence that had made them act so. Perhaps it was. She hadn’t spent enough time out in society to know otherwise.

  When father is better, I will stay involved. Take a more active role in politics. Be the true Lady of the First.

  She’d enjoyed the tidbits of information Beshar had let slip about each of the members. She had never pictured herself as a gossip, but all those facts had been so interesting. She’d devoured his words like they were the script from one of her mystery novels. She now knew many details involving several of the houses’ rise to power. Beshar had whispered of betrayal and backstabbing. She’d learned who was sleeping with who. Most shockingly, the lady of the Seventh was having an affair with the Lady of the Ninth. As a virgin who didn’t even fully grasp the concept of what happened between a man and a woman, she wondered over the mechanics of two women. Did everyone know everyone’s secrets? Beshar also knew that Zair had killed the previous Thirteenth. He’d known every detail of the family’s murder. Was it because Zair had told him or had the Tenth simply known? Did everyone know everyone‘s secrets? What if someone knew about father?