The Natharien Chronicles
WHEN COMES THE FIRE
by Lisa Cochrane
For my mother, who has always encouraged my wild imagination.
Table of Contents:
Chapter One...........................................................................................1
Chapter Two........................................................................................11
Chapter Three......................................................................................25
Chapter Four........................................................................................37
Chapter Five........................................................................................47
Chapter Six..........................................................................................62
Chapter Seven......................................................................................78
Chapter Eight.......................................................................................92
Chapter Nine......................................................................................101
Chapter Ten........................................................................................113
Chapter Eleven...................................................................................125
Chapter Twelve..................................................................................141
Chapter Thirteen................................................................................162
Chapter Fourteen................................................................................179
Chapter Fifteen..................................................................................190
Chapter Sixteen..................................................................................205
Chapter Seventeen.............................................................................216
Epilogue.............................................................................................241
CHAPTER ONE
"Don't go, Zuwa," Lallur said quietly, glancing sideways at their two children sitting in the next room, playing a dice game. Neither the eleven-year-old girl nor the thirteen-year-old boy looked up, enthralled in their game as they were. Her heart broke for them, so unaware of the injustice going on around them. If only it could stay that way. Lallur pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, and she felt her husband's arms slip around her waist as he embraced her tenderly once more, pressing his lips to the crown of her head.
"Don't cry, my love," he said softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as though he might disappear any moment. In a way, she knew he soon would. "The queen has asked us to fight. I need to do this. I need to protect you all."
Lallur pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt, her tears soaking it as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. "Damn your sense of righteousness," she whispered. "I thought living here meant we would be safe from this war, but here we are, being pulled into the middle of it. What did we do to deserve this?"
Zuwa hushed her, stroking her hair in a comforting manner. It did nothing to slow her tears.
"No one deserves this, my love. That is why we must fight. We must end the killing. And if no one fights to stop it, then it will never end." Zuwa took a deep breath before pulling back from her. Her fingers hesitated as they brushed the sides of his neck, but after a moment she let them fall, squeezing her eyes shut against the fresh flood of tears that threatened to fall at the sensation of emptiness that gnawed at her insides.
"You know I must go," Zuwa said quietly, glancing over at their two children with a pained expression. "I cannot say goodbye to them. If I do, I will never leave." He gave her a sad half-smile. "No matter how much you might like that, you know I must go." He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips, lingering there before he drew back once more. "Tell them I love them."
With that, he swept his cloak over his shoulders and was gone before she could call for him to wait, to not do this, to run away with them instead. The lump in her throat kept her from calling out, and by the time she found her voice to speak, the door was shut, and her husband was gone.
Lallur collapsed to her knees, not holding back the sobs that wrenched themselves from her throat, the tears spilling down her cheeks as she covered her eyes in grief. She barely registered the sound of her children's alarmed voices asking her what was wrong. Her husband was gone, and she knew in her heart that he would not return. The queen had sent him to his death, and she would be a widow, left to raise their two children on her own.
"Mama," her daughter Namida said, sounding concerned. "Mama, what's wrong? Tell us what's wrong, so we can help."
Lallur lowered her hands to look at her two children, Namida and Kafar. She loved them dearly and wanted to protect them, like any mother would. How was she supposed to tell them that their father had left to fight in a war that was never supposed to reach them? Lallur remained silent save for her sobs as she wrapped her arms around her children, holding them close. Though they wore identical looks of confusion, they held her back, and her sobs quieted as they stayed there, huddled on the floor and holding one another close.
The hours dragged on, and the sounds of fighting approached. The children's confusion had turned to fear, a sense of foreboding having settled over the house. Lallur's tears had long since run dry, and she slowly let go of her children, standing up and rubbing at the tear tracks staining her cheeks.
"Come, children. It's not safe out in the open like this," she said, moving to grab the rug from the sitting area and dragging it with her to the storage room, where she set it down next to the floor hatch that led down into the cellar. With a grunt of effort, she pulled the hatch open, motioning for the children to go down. They stared back at her with wary eyes from the doorway.
"Mama, why are we doing this? What's going on?" Namida asked, her eyes wide with apprehension. Lallur's mouth went dry at having to explain war to her innocent children. They were not a wealthy family, but they had never been hard-pressed to provide for their needs, and had lived a peaceful life up until today. How could she explain to them that she didn't expect they would live to see the next sunrise? Her heart felt like it was breaking as she looked at her children; so beautiful, so caring and so, so young. They were too young to die. She would not let them die. She clenched her jaw in determination, ushering them over to her.
"You two will hide in the cellar. I fear there may be bad men coming soon, and I don't know if they will try to find us or not. I won't take that risk, though," she said, all but pushing them towards the stairs. "You two are to stay in the cellar. If you hear anything...don't come out."
They stared up at her once they descended the stairs, their dark brown eyes tugging at her heartstrings. She refused to believe that this would be the last time she saw either of them again. Fate would watch over them, right? Fate wouldn't let anything happen to her family... With a deep, steadying breath, she whispered "I love you," lowering the door. The gentle thud of the heavy wood settling into place brought with it a sense of finality, and she choked back a sob at the thought as she moved to the front hallway once more, kneeling down in front of the door. Bowing her head, she began to recite one of the only prayers she knew.
"Fate be with us, Fate guide us. For those that know their Fate is sealed will know that Fate will never abandon them, but give them peace, in life and in death..."
The door creaked open. Lallur kept her gaze focused on the floor as large black boots thudded dully against the floor to enter her sight, cover
ed in strips of leather and the stench of death.
"...For if in life do we believe, so, in death, shall we achieve unity, and be blessed forevermore," the boots' owner said in a rough, gravelly voice.
Lallur slowly looked up, her eyes trailing ragged black clothing covering the stranger's well-muscled physique. The many strips of fabric that wound around their otherwise bare arms caused a sense of dread to well up in her. They marked the man as one of the enemy; one of Kaska's elite troops. Each strip of fabric denoted a dozen enemies slain by their hand. She swallowed thickly as she counted the number on each arm—seven on the left, eight on the right. Her eyes trailed up to his hooded face, catching a gleam of gray from within the shadows.
His hand reached for the sword at his waist.
Lallur didn't even have time to scream.
o—O—o
Namida’s head jerked up as she heard heavy footsteps approaching the cellar from above, the thud of boots reverberating through the wood as she silently huddled closer into her older brother’s side. The steps seemed to pause dangerously close, the source lingering for an age of tense muscles and shallow breathing before they finally withdrew once more. There was the sound of ceramic breaking; no doubt their dinner wares, as the sound seemed to come from the kitchen down the hall. Namida shared a glance with Kafar, barely able to see the details of his face in the darkness of the cellar. That was when she heard the muttering begin.
The first thing that caught her attention was the prickling sensation that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. It was only then that she heard a man’s low, guttural voice speaking in a language she was unfamiliar with. The words seemed to echo in her bones, bringing with them a sense of terrible power and wrongness that she could not explain.
And then the voice was gone, and all at once, it stopped.
Namida clutched at Kafar’s arm, waiting for the heavy footsteps to come back, but they did not. When the silence stretched on around them, she whispered at length, “Kafar, did you feel that?”
She could just make out the nod that Kafar gave, his bushy hair bobbing with the motion. “What do you think it was?” he breathed, finally shifting in his spot and stretching his legs out from where they’d been pressed into his chest.
“I don’t know, but…” Namida trailed off as she sniffed the air, a sense of dread settling in her gut. “Kafar. Do you smell that?”
Kafar inhaled deeply, cursing under his breath. He shot to his feet, struggling with the heavy cellar door overhead until Namida stood to help him. Pushing with all their effort, they managed to wrestle it open so that they could climb out, Kafar first offering a foothold to boost Namida up before she turned and lent him a hand to climb out.
The heat rolled over them like a wave. Namida felt tears sting her eyes as she coughed, the air thick with smoke. Kafar quickly pulled off his outer shirt, pressing it over her face so she could breathe through the fabric. He lifted his under shirt to his nose and mouth, doing the same as he squinted through the thick layers of gray that kept them from seeing further than a few feet into the rest of the house. Fear seized Namida’s heart, turning her feet to lead.
“Kafar, what do we do? Mama’s still in here somewhere,” she said through the shirt pressed over her face.
Kafar had a grim look in his eyes as he grabbed her free hand with his.
“No, she’s not. She would’ve come for us if she was.”
Namida's eyes prickled with tears from both Kafar's words and the smoke that assaulted them. Kafar shook his head at her tears, his eyes flashing with determination as he clasped a hand around her wrist and tugged her towards the back of the house, towards the door there.
There was a loud snapping noise, and the next thing Namida knew, she was lying on her back, her mind racing to catch up to what had happened. It took a moment for her to comprehend that she was staring up at the ceiling, except it wasn't actually the ceiling. There was a hole above her, opening up to the sky. The next thing she registered was a searing heat that consumed her left side.
She screamed.
"Kafar—Kafar, help—" she coughed, feeling as though she couldn't breathe as the smoke filled her lungs and her left side was wracked with pain when she tried to breathe in. She couldn't feel her left arm, and she could swear that from the little she could turn her head, she could see flickers of fire licking away at her skin from between the rubble. That would explain the burning, she thought with morbid detachment. When she managed to turn her head to the right, her breath left her in a rush.
Kafar's empty brown eyes stared back at her, rubble having crushed his entire lower body. Namida didn't have the air left in her lungs to scream. All she could do was sob, the pain shooting through her with each small movement.
"No, not you too," she whimpered. It felt like forever that she lay there, unable to look away, unable to close her eyes. She realized belatedly that she was going to die, and the last thing that she would see was her brother's dead body. The last thing she would feel was this overwhelming grief and loneliness. It scared her. She didn't want to die, but she didn't want to live in a world without her family, either.
A distant howl echoed over the crackles of the flames, sending a chill through her. Namida had grown up with stories of the hounds that served the royal guard, most of them positive, but she had always had an innate fear of them. Something about the calculating look in their eyes, and the way they grinned at her with their sharp teeth. Her mother had always told her it was just their way of saying hello, but as a child, it was hard to think of it as a friendly greeting when it looked like they wanted to swallow her up.
A scratching sound drew her thoughts away from the numbing pain in her side. With weary eyes, she glanced to her left as well as she could.
A hound's yellow eyes stared back at her.
Namida's heart pounded in her chest as she stared the hound down. She was pinned, with no way to escape. This was it, she thought. The hound was here to devour her, and she had no way to fight back.
The hound whined, lowering its tail and giving a slow wag before approaching her. She yelped as it pawed at the rubble covering her left arm and side. It growled as it locked its jaws around the heavy wood and clay, digging its heels in until it dragged the pieces off of her. Namida stared at the hound in shock. Was it...helping her?
"Why?" she croaked, her voice scratchy and hoarse from breathing in smoke. "Why are you helping me?"
A wave of calmness washed over her, and though she didn't know why, she allowed it to envelop her as the hound finished unearthing her. It nudged her good arm as though to indicate something and, confused, she wrapped her arm around its haunches, allowing it to half-drag her further from the flames. She stumbled as she tried to walk, hissing as her left leg gave out on her. She could see the top of her thigh was a bloody mess, no doubt having been caught by the rubble as well. Her tunic and slacks were torn and bloodied, as well. The hound gave an urgent-sounding whine and knelt down next to her, nudging her once more. Puzzled, she shifted her weight fully onto its back, the large dog giving a whuff of approval as it trotted and hopped over and around the flaming debris of her crumbling home until they reached the outside. She felt her throat close as they passed by her mother's body, lying in a pool of her own blood just inside the broken front door, leaning open on its bottom hinge.
The streets were no better. In her pain-induced haze, she recognized the bodies of friends and neighbors strewn throughout the streets. The little hope she had held out that her father might still be alive was quickly stamped down as she saw the bodies of royal guards lining the courtyard, as well. The hound carried her steadily onward, through back alleys and down less-traveled paths. She clung to its fur as though it was a lifeline, and in a way, it was. The hound was the only thing that she had left. She no longer had a home or a family to go back to. She knew from the whispers she had heard of war that it must have been Kaska's troops that slaughtered the townspeople. Who else would have reason to attack a
town that pledged allegiance to Queen Gawela? It was no secret that ever since Queen Gawela had spurned her former lover, Kaska the Maimed, for using her to amass power, he had declared war on the monarchy. He had demanded that the people be given the choice to decide their own ruler, claiming Queen Gawela's claim on the throne was illegitimate.
It made Namida so angry. That Kaska gave such little thought to extinguishing human lives just to get back at the queen—it was sickening.
She would give anything for the power to end his life.
CHAPTER TWO
Darwe gave a long-suffering sigh as he pushed a hand through his tangled black locks, pushing them back under his thin cotton hood. The desert heat burned his nostrils as he inhaled, despite that it was not even mid-morning yet. He had started his rounds before sun-up so that he would be back well before noon, knowing that the longer he tarried in the scorching daytime heat of the Solan desert, the greater the chances were that he would pass out from heat sickness. He might not be a healer, but he knew enough to be careful when it came to the extreme weather of his home country.
It was proving to be just another routine sweep of his master's outer borderlands, but for some reason, Darwe had this feeling of anticipation that tickled at the back of his mind. It was annoying, but he couldn't seem to squash it. His master had often told him that if his mind was trying to tell him something that he was not convinced of, he should believe it, for a warrior's sharp mind was one of their greatest tools. Darwe frowned. What could possibly be causing such a feeling, though? His hand drifted to the pommel of the sword at his side, gripping it tightly. Whatever this anticipation might mean, he would be prepared for the worst.
A muffled thump echoed from over the next hill.
Darwe paused in mid-step, tilting his head to the side as he listened.
There was a soft groan, like that of a young girl, and a quiet whine. The sound caused Darwe's mind to race. The only beasts that whined were hounds and wolves, and he could not hear any sound that would indicate it was a wolf. Wolves traveled in packs; never alone, and certainly not with humans. It must be a hound, then, although they were an equally rare sight. Darwe's brow furrowed as he tried to think of the best course of action. He didn't really have much choice, though, when it came to revealing himself to whoever was beyond that hill. These were his master's lands, and he was to get rid of any intruders...by any means necessary.
When Comes the Fire Page 1