Phoenix Burning

by Bryony Pearce

  Toby was suddenly aware of the sun beating down, the swell and surge of the attendant’s cries and the scent of unwashed bodies and dust. Above, the staff and magnifying glass swayed on their ropes.

  As Ayla moved to his side, Toby looked for Summer. She was watching Arthur with a small smile on her face.

  Summer raised her arms. After a moment Arthur copied her. Toby looked at Ayla.

  “We have to,” she muttered and she too lifted her hands to the sky.

  Toby grimaced and did the same. “Praise the Sun.”

  “Stand and pray,” Father Dahon repeated.

  Toby realized that he was talking to Lenka and Matus.

  The crowd began to chant: “Stand and pray, stand and pray.”

  “Stop it,” Toby yelled. “Can’t you see them?” His arms began to ache.

  No one came to remove Lenka and Matus and no help arrived for the four who were standing and praying as ordered. They had been promised help, but perhaps it was purely spiritual aid that Father Dahon had meant.

  Then Ayla pointed. “Look.”

  The staff was lowering. Now the rope hung a good arm’s length closer to Toby’s head.

  The second bell rang. It was time to fight.

  “Stay with me.” Ayla raised her fists.

  Toby rotated his wrists and did the same, never taking his eyes from Arthur. The bigger boy was snake fast, he had already seen it.

  This time, with a howl like the Banshee, Summer pounced on to Ayla’s back and spun her. Toby turned to look and that was when Arthur hit him.

  He ploughed into the earth. Knowing Arthur would be on him immediately, Toby closed his hand around a handful of loosened earth. Aiming for Arthur’s eyes, he flung the sand up, rolled sideways, and checked with one hand that the inverters were still wrapped tight against his stomach.

  He scrambled up as Arthur cried out and began to circle towards Ayla.

  Arthur followed. “Give up, Toby,” he growled in a low voice. “I’ll make it quick.”

  Toby shook his head. Arthur’s curls were sticking to his forehead with sweat and he seemed to be growing larger and more powerful with each breath he took. How the hell could Toby have a chance against him?

  A shriek of pain almost took his attention, but Toby didn’t dare turn. If it was Ayla, there was nothing he could do to help, if it was Summer … well, good.

  Frantically his mind took him through Callum’s lessons in hand-to-hand combat. Eyes, ears, nose, throat and groin: those were the weak points.

  Toby had already targeted Arthur’s eyes. The boy was happy to go sunblind anyway. Would that make it all right to gouge?

  Toby opened his fist.

  He would distract Arthur with a knife hand to the throat and then go for his eyes.

  When Arthur charged, Toby was already moving. Arthur dodged backwards to avoid Toby’s hand at his throat but Toby shot upwards with his fingers, aiming for the eyes. He missed with his index finger, but his middle one struck home.

  Arthur screamed and knocked Toby away. The crowd noise built to a crescendo. As Arthur staggered, Toby took the opportunity to check on Ayla. She and Summer were on the floor. Summer was underneath, desperately trying to punch Ayla in the left shoulder, but Ayla was holding her down and leaning close. Toby remembered their own first meeting. Summer was about to get that same headbutt.

  He turned back to Arthur. “Why don’t you give up?”

  Arthur kept one hand over his eye and began to pace towards Toby.

  There was the sound of a smack and a cry from Summer. Both Toby and Arthur looked. Ayla was sitting back and Summer was groaning, her nose bleeding and her eyes unfocused. Ayla raised her fist just as the bell rang.

  Ayla’s fist came down.

  “Stop.” Mother Hesper’s voice reverberated around the arena. “You must stand and pray.”

  “Stand and pray. Stand and pray,” the crowd chanted.

  “Cheater,” Ayla roared. But she rolled off Summer.

  Arthur ran and lifted Summer to her feet. Her plaits were coming loose and a red mark was blossoming between her eyes.

  Toby took Ayla’s hand and raised it into the air. “Praise the Sun,” he yelled.

  Above them the rope with the glass on it began to come down.

  When the bell rang again, instead of attacking, Arthur boosted Summer on to his shoulders and she reached for the long staff.

  “Stop them!” Ayla shouted.

  Toby ran. Ayla was just behind him, limping now on her injured leg.

  The staff was out of Summer’s reach, but Arthur grabbed Summer’s feet and lifted her higher. She balanced on his hands and got hold of the staff.

  Toby bowled into Arthur’s legs, knocking him flying, but Summer was already somersaulting down, staff in hand.

  Toby bit down on a curse as Summer stood, spinning the staff as professionally as Dee.

  Ayla came to a halt. “You think that’ll change things?” she said. “You think I can’t take it from you?”

  In one smooth movement, Arthur kicked Toby away and rolled to his feet. As Summer ran at her, Ayla used a crescent kick to knock the staff sideways with her boot. Then she stepped in close, so Summer couldn’t use the staff against her and Toby relaxed: she had this.

  Ayla turned so that her back was against Summer’s chest and she gripped the hand holding the staff. As Toby watched, hands like steel bands wrapped around his biceps. He should never have taken his eyes off Arthur.

  Toby struggled as Arthur began to run him backwards towards the jagged shards of metal that lined the arena wall. He tried headbutting, but could get nowhere near. His arms were pinned. He tried to raise his knee, but Arthur was moving too fast.

  “Toby!” Ayla screamed.

  The shadow of the wall fell on Arthur’s face; cool shade bathing them in grey. Toby dropped his whole weight into the other boy’s arms, aiming to throw Arthur off balance. It worked, and quickly Toby wrapped his legs around Arthur’s knees to trip him. They rolled and came to a stop, centimetres from the junk-metal ring.

  Arthur tried to force him nearer and Toby wriggled frantically.

  Wham! Ayla landed on Arthur’s back and punched down on his neck with both hands knotted together. His grip on Toby went slack.

  As Toby squirmed out from under Arthur, Summer appeared as if from nowhere and slammed the staff down on Ayla’s back. She cried out.

  The bell rang.

  The four teens pulled apart, panting raggedly.

  Toby grabbed Ayla’s arm and pulled her into the centre of the arena, away from the baying crowd and the rusting metal spikes on the wall.

  Arthur was bent over, his hands on his knees. Blood dripped from his damaged eye.

  Summer clutched the staff tightly.

  “We need a plan,” Toby rasped.

  Ayla nodded as she raised her hands. “Praise the Sun.”

  But there was no time. The magnifying glass began to lower and the bell rang once more.

  This time Summer and Arthur approached Toby and Ayla together, moving as one.

  Ayla rubbed sweat out of her eyes. “How long did they practice?”

  “A lifetime?”

  Ayla was already moving. “Get Arthur,” she cried. She ran straight at Summer. She was fast, but her limp had become much more pronounced. A small smile played on Summer’s face and she adjusted her stance, aiming her weapon at Ayla’s left leg.

  Arthur circled Toby, his arms spread. Both of them were half watching their partners.

  At the last second Ayla switched her gait, threw all of her weight on to her left leg and swept her right heel around. As she took Summer’s feet out from under her, the staff came down. Ayla hissed in pain as it struck her back, but she reached up and grabbed the weapon from Summer’s fingers.

  In one smooth move she snapped it on her knee and threw half to Toby.

  “No!” Toby screamed. Had Ayla forgotten the puzzle? They needed that staff.

  He caught the broken shard an
d faced Arthur.

  “Your partner just screwed us all,” Arthur yelled.

  Toby glanced at the splintered point of the broken staff in his hand.

  Arthur started to back away from him and Toby drove him towards Lenka’s crumpled body. Too late Arthur saw her outflung arm. He tripped and fell. Instantly Toby leaped on his chest and held the pointed stick at his throat.

  “It’s over,” he yelled.

  The crowd howled their fury and frustration. Arthur and Summer were the clear favourites.

  There was no bell; no sign that anyone had heard him.

  “I could kill him,” Toby shouted. “We’ve won.” He looked for Ayla: she was lying on top of Summer, choking the girl with her own half staff.

  What were the sun worshippers waiting for?

  Summer’s blue eyes drifted closed and the attendants surrounding the arena seemed almost ready to rush them and save her. Through the gaps in the wall Toby could see them sway. His heart pounded and he touched the inverters.

  Ayla stood and marched towards him.

  “Finish it,” she snapped.

  Toby shook his head. “I can’t – not without killing him.”

  Ayla glanced towards the cathedral steps. Father Dahon and Mother Hesper now stood side by side, watching. “They’re not going to stop the fight. We haven’t finished the trial.”

  Arthur began to struggle and Toby pressed the stick against his throat, hard enough to break skin.

  “I’ll deal with this,” Ayla said. “Get out of the way.”

  Toby shook his head. “I won’t let you kill for me.”

  “How long are you planning on sitting there then?” Ayla said. “I won’t kill him.”

  Ayla gripped Arthur’s chin, twisted his head to the side and raised her stick.

  Her weapon came down so fast it was a blur. There was a thud as the blunt end of the staff connected with the soft spot behind Arthur’s ear.

  With surgical precision, Ayla had knocked him out.

  Trembling, Toby sagged back on to his heels. The bell rang and he and Ayla stood up.

  “Pray, pray,” the attendants chanted.

  After so much practice the words came easily. “We believe in one Sun, The Father, the Almighty, Heater of heaven and earth, Revealer of all that is seen, and unseen…

  Slowly the magnifying glass was lowered until Toby could reach up and grab it. His hands closed around the metal circle surrounding the central glass. He pulled it from the rope and the attendants started to call out. Some shouting for Arthur to waken, others cheering Toby on.

  He caught sight of Zahir, smiling painfully at him through one of the gaps and nodded.

  On one side of the metal there was a hole, if the magnifying glass was stood upright, the hole would be hidden. Toby could fit his thumb inside. He touched the glass through it, then he compared the hole to his broken stick.

  “What’s the problem?” Ayla cocked her head.

  Toby looked at the panel in the wall; it was well above his head and surrounded by metal spikes.

  “We need the full length of the staff.” He avoided her gaze.

  “Is that all?” She knelt by Lenka and tugged the cloth binding from the girl’s hair. Then she handed the linen strip to Toby. “Here, now you can fix it.”

  Toby fitted the ends of the staff together again. The cloth was long enough to wrap three times around the break, holding it tight.

  Sounds of appreciation broke over the wall. Toby glanced at the sanctuary steps. Mother Hesper stood with her arms folded, glaring at him.

  He turned back to Ayla. “Did you think of that before you—”

  Ayla raised her eyebrows. “Of course I did.” She laughed quietly. “You really thought I broke the staff without considering how to fix it afterwards.”

  Toby flushed. “Sorry.” He brightened as he slotted the staff into the hole in the side of the glass. “There.”

  “Now what do we do?” Ayla put her hands on her hips.

  “Now we use the sun.” Toby stepped over Summer as he made his way to the wall beneath the panel. “It doesn’t just give out light, but energy. Think of the solar panels.” He held the staff up above his head, angling it so that the light from the sun hit the magnifying glass and shone through on to the wooden plate.

  The crowd began to cheer; Summer and Arthur forgotten.

  Ayla grinned as the wood began to smoulder. Finally, with a hiss and pop, a flame burst into life. He fed the flame with the sun’s rays until a hole big enough for his hand was eaten into the panel.

  Then he dropped the staff.

  Together they stared up at the blackened wood. “It’s still out of reach.” Ayla rubbed her temples. “If I wrap your shirt around my hands I could climb—”

  “No.” Toby shook his head. “You’ll be cut to shreds. Maybe they’ll send us another bit of equipment at the next bell.”

  But no bell rang. The crowd grew restless, Toby felt disapproval radiating through the junk walls.

  “How long are we going to stand here?” Ayla whispered. “Arthur and Summer will wake up soon.”

  “I know,” Toby said. Then he slapped his forehead. “Remember how Arthur and Summer got the staff?”

  Ayla nodded, already moving towards him.

  “You think you can balance on your bad leg?” Toby bent so she could climb on to his back.

  Ayla ignored his question. She leapfrogged on to him and landed sitting over his shoulders. Toby took her weight and straightened.

  “I’m not high enough.” Ayla put her hands on his head. “I’m going to have to stand.”

  “Let me get closer.” Toby walked carefully towards the wall. If he tripped or lost balance, he would tip Ayla on to metal spikes. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

  “Compared to climbing the masts or standing watch in a high wind, this is nothing,” Ayla whispered.

  Toby relaxed. She was right. He stopped a small step away from the wall and planted his feet.

  “Put your hands on your hips,” Ayla said.

  “You don’t want me to hold your feet?”

  “No, I need your shoulders wide and stable.”

  Ayla got her left foot on his shoulder and then her right. He held his breath as her injured leg trembled. Then she got her balance and began to stand.

  Behind them, Arthur groaned and Toby caught his breath. “Hurry,” he muttered.

  “All right.” Ayla extended one arm; her fingers brushed the splintered hole. “I can’t quite reach…”

  Toby slid one foot nearer to the spikes. His heart thudded as Ayla rocked but held her position. Then her fingers slid inside the hole. The burned wood left charcoal smears on her wrist as she pulled her hand out and held the pendant high.

  The crowd roared.

  “Do you think we get to keep this?” she said, admiring the glitter of sunlight from the diamond.

  “The bell’s not rung.” Toby turned to see Arthur trying to get to his feet. “They’re waiting for him to take it from us.”

  “I don’t think so!” Ayla leaped from Toby’s shoulders, wrapped her fist around the pendant and punched Arthur in the jaw. He thumped back down and lay still.

  The bell began to ring and the crowd shouted for them. “Sun and Moon … Sun and Moon.”

  Once more Toby touched the inverters hidden under his shirt. They had done it.

  He didn’t watch as the others were removed from the arena.

  Ayla hunched at his side, her fist clenched around the pendant as though daring someone to take it from her.

  Mother Hesper and Father Dahon appeared at the arena’s exit and the attendant crowd hushed. Mother Hesper’s lips were pursed and her eyes tracked Summer as she was dragged away. Then she turned back to Toby and Ayla.

  “Our Sun and Moon,” she said.

  The air rippled with the crowd’s ecstatic cries.

  Then Father Dahon spoke. “The favoured pair – your Sun and Moon – will now be prepared for the festival
.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Toby’s new room could not have been more different to the cell he had woken in that morning. He was now in an area of the sanctuary he had not seen before, away from both the cathedral and the rear courtyard, in a villa raised off the ground by stilts. Its sides were open to the sun, light curtains drifted in the sea breeze and the large bed was covered in pillows. In the centre of the room a bath set into the floor was filled with steaming water that scented the air with rosemary and bergamot.

  Clean yellow robes hung on the back wall. They were simple, dress-like and floor length, with a wide hood and gold link belt. He would look like Father Dahon.

  “Ayla?”

  “I hear you.” Ayla’s apartment was so close to his that their billowing curtains occasionally tangled. He heard a splash and then a sigh as she lowered herself into her bath. “Relax, Toby, we’ve got a week before the others arrive to meet us at the festival. Enjoy it.”

  “How can you, after what we’ve done?” Toby looked at his hands. His knuckles were scraped and his nails encrusted with dirt and blood. His throat and ears were blistered from the sun.

  Slowly he removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor. His chest was still an angry red from the salt and around his stomach the stained bandages were still tightly wrapped.

  He looked around him. He seemed to be alone, but in this place, who knew? He undid the bandages and caught the inverter as it fell. Where could he hide it now? There was no burying it here.

  Toby still had the fork tine stuck in the hem of his sleeve. He wriggled it out, used it to slit the side of a pillow, slid the inverter inside and pushed it under the pile at the back of the bed. It was the best he could do.

  Then he pulled his trousers over his protesting legs and dropped them on the floor. Bruised and aching, he stepped into the water.

  Toby laid his head back on the edge of the bath and allowed his muscles to loosen. The water leached the dirt from his skin and grew dark.

  Toby closed his eyes. Exhaustion wrapped around him and pressed him against the porcelain. He slept.

  Toby’s aches and pains had all but gone. He was dressed in yet another new yellow robe, his feet were bare and his hair had been oiled until it shone. The challenges that had led up to the day of the festival almost seemed a distant dream. But that morning, when he had carefully removed the inverter from his pillow and strapped it to his shoulder with the old bandages, he was well aware that the haze of the last few days had been nothing more than a brief escape from reality.