Seared by Desire

by Jennifer T. Alli

  The men looked pleased with their achievement until she began hiccupping, her chest heaving with effort. Her mind was filled with images designed to turn her stomach, to make her lose the breakfast that had been forced into her. The muscles in her throat worked rhythmically as she heaved, coaxing the food in her stomach to the surface. As she had done every morning, Sara threw up the food and its toxins, spraying her captors with chunks of what they had tried so hard to have her swallow. She smiled despite her dirty state unprepared for the hand that hit her cheek so heavily. No matter what she’d done to them, the guards had never hit her before.

  “We should leave you here to sit in your own stench,” he hissed.

  Her heart sped up; she needed to get out of this room if she was going to escape. The guard raised his hand as though to hit her again and she instinctively flinched.

  “Sean, leave her be,” the other reasoned, placing a restraining hand on his companion’s arm. “No matter what she does she’s still the child of flame and we must treat her with respect.”

  “She doesn’t deserve any Marcus. She doesn’t want to be here. You’ve heard her yourself. She doesn’t want to serve the greater glory of our people. She may be the child of flame but she clearly doesn’t want to be. Respect is earned not given freely because of a title.”

  “Elder Geoffrey thinks differently,” Marcus answered firmly. He loosened the ropes that bound her to the wooden pole, chaffing the ones that tied her wrists further in the process. Dragging her to her feet he pulled her from the room and outside where Abigail was waiting for her, a disappointed expression on her face.

  “Not again Sara,” she groaned. As had been the ritual for the last few days Sara said nothing to her former friend unwilling to associate with her at all. “Thank you Marcus, I’ll take her to the stream to wash up.”

  The journey to the stream involved walking through the centre of the village where curious stares greeted her once again. No one was permitted to speak to her and she felt no need to talk to them either. Abigail’s steady flaming hand led her past her former house, the small shack a painful reminder of what her life had been like before Lucian, of what the people who wanted to sacrifice her had subjected her to. Sara’s hands clenched into fists as she fought against the urge to strike out at Abigail in any way she could. Biting the inside of her cheek, she mentally recited the steps of her plan, which allowed her to calm slightly.

  Abigail pulled her into a sitting position at the bank of the stream before she began washing the remains of that morning’s breakfast from her face. “You really shouldn’t keep doing this. You’re going to actually make yourself sick.”

  And what do you care? Her mind hissed rebelliously. Abigail continued talking, berating her for not taking care of herself but Sara wasn’t listening, her plan was already in motion. While Abigail cleaned the dirty skin on her cheeks, Sara’s hands were busy scrambling around the riverbank desperately searching for the perfect stone. Most were too smooth and those that were the right texture were too big for her to conceal inconspicuously. She was beginning to worry that her plans were for nothing as Abigail dried her face with a dry cloth but then she felt the skin of her palm tear, serrated on an overly sharp rock protrusion. She wrapped her hand around the stone, struggling to prevent relief from showing on her face when the stone fit securely in her palm.

  “Sara,” Abigail began. “If everything goes to plan we may not be able to see each other again and if that does happen I want you to know that…I just wanted you to know that you’re my best friend and I’m going to miss you. And if you do survive then I’ll talk to Elder Geoffrey and ask him if you can go back to Lord Lucian.”

  It’s King Lucian, her mind corrected.

  Sara glared at her former friend, maintaining the vow of silence she’d taken and so on a dejected sigh Abigail led her back to the small room she was being held captive in. The rock bit cruelly into Sara’s skin as the rope was retied around the pole her clenched fist preventing the tool for her escape from becoming visible. The moment the door closed Sara got to work. Her experience of captivity had been a lesson in learning the routines of those around her in preparation for this day and she knew that she would be left alone for a few hours at the bare minimum. She manipulated the rock in her palm, twisting it until it came into contact with the rope and she began sawing away at her constraints.

  A groan of frustration fell from Sara’s lips as time continued to pass with freedom no closer than when she’d started cutting away at the rope. Her awareness of time was skewed as she only saw the sun once a day and was forced to rely on the movements of others as a guide. Judging by the pain in her arms and her own internal body clock, she’d been trying to cut through the rope for several hours, the thickness of the rope and the awkward position her hands were forced to work in both conspiring to make the apparently simple task of cutting rope extremely difficult. An angry growl bubbled up within her throat and she was so frustrated that she almost let it loose. Instead her head fell to her chest, a sense of failure beginning to well within her. What was I thinking? Her mind groaned. Any one with a drop of sense could tell this was never going to work. I must be the world’s biggest fool for ever thinking this was possible. A dejected sigh slipped past her lips and her bruised, cut fingers finally stopped working.

  She sat slumped against the pole for a few minutes, resigned to failure when the door opened. Midday, her mind automatically supplied. She waited for her visitor to strengthen her briefly with their flame but they hovered indecisively at the door.

  “Sara?”

  Her head shot up at the sound of her father’s voice and her eyes automatically narrowed in anger. “What do you want?” she hissed.

  He moved, closing the door behind him, his long stride eating up the short distance that separated them. “Sara, is that anyway to talk to your father?”

  “I don’t have a father…or a mother for that matter. They threw me out of the only home I’d ever known and said they wanted nothing to do with me. Leave,” she commanded, angry that it was only when she was about to die that her parents acknowledged her.

  He crouched, grabbing her tightly by the arms. “I had to plead with Elder Geoffrey to visit you today. I’m not leaving.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered.” She turned her face away from him. “You’ve seen me, now leave.” Her fingers clenched tightening over the sharp rock.

  “Sara, I wish things weren’t so strained between us. If we’d known what you would grow up to be, the situation would be have been different, we would have treated you better.”

  “That’s the whole point father,” she snarled, her eyes aglow in anger. “Even though it pains me to admit it, I’m your daughter, your love for me shouldn’t be conditional.” Lucian’s certainly isn’t. As her mind became filled with images of him, the desire to continue trying to escape filled her. Even if the chances for success were slim, she couldn’t give up. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again. You had your chance to be my father and you ruined it. If you ever loved me then please, leave me alone.” So I can escape.

  “If that’s what you truly want then I’ll leave. I just wanted to see you before tonight, before –” His jaw closed with a resounding snap as he realised he’d almost said too much.

  So something’s happening tonight. Whatever it is I do not want to stay here and wait for it to happen. I’ve got to be gone by then no matter the cost.

  Silent now, her father’s palms began to burn, heat and strength pouring into her. He rose from the ground casting a remorseful glance in her direction. “Goodbye Sara. I know I haven’t been the best father to you but I’m proud of what you’ve become.”

  As soon as the door closed her fingers rushed into action, her determination to escape renewed. Panic was making her heart race, the sound of blood rushing through her veins pounding in her ears. Her palms were bleeding profusely now, the skin cut to ribbons by the small but sharp rock. The rope tied around her wrists had rubbed
the skin so raw that they too were bleeding. When the rope finally fell away, her hands were a bloody mess. In a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, Sara tried to tear strips of cloth from her shirt to use as a make shift bandage, stopping almost immediately as pain exploded in her hands. She staggered backward, using the pole to support her weight. Unaccustomed to such pain, her eyes were watering, a headache building at her temples.

  “I’ll have to wait until I get home,” she muttered to herself, slinking towards the door. “Lucian won’t be happy to see this.” She wince as she imagined the fierce look of anger on his handsome features, she almost felt sorry for her captors but another wave of pain washed over her and her sympathy died a quick death.

  Anxious, she placed her ear against the door, listening intently for sounds of life outside. Silence greeted her ears but she still opened the door cautiously, her eyes peering through the small crack to confirm the silence with her eyes. Not a soul was waiting for her when she tiptoed outside. The arrogance of her people was astounding. They hadn’t even considered the possibility that she could escape simply because she wasn’t as strong as them. Ingenuity clearly wasn’t something they’d factored into their plans.

  She closed the door quietly behind her; attention wasn’t something she could afford to attract. The sun was beginning to set on her village giving her shadows to hide in. A smile crept onto her lips when she realised that Lucian would be rising soon, if all went according to plan they could be together within the hour. The shorter days of autumn had never been so welcome. She was uncomfortably close to the village centre, within easy reach of Geoffrey and her goal was near the village outskirts. Sara shrunk into the shadows, scanning the scene before her, mapping out the best route to the reach the stables and Lance. She groaned softly. I never realised just how many houses there were between here and the stables.

  The village was unusually busy and from the little she could see in the dark, most of the people milling about were outsiders. Laughter and the rich smells of ale and food filled the air but she didn’t have time to dwell on the strangeness of the situation, people were coming. Her body hugged the wall as she edged further out of sight. The voices came closer and her heartbeat became even more erratic, sweat beading on her brow.

  “Who would have thought,” one of the voices slurred, clearly inebriated. “Who would have thought the fire elementals would ever call a peace conference?”

  “I thought they hated everybody,” another voice inserted, the words so jumbled that it was hard to make out what had been said.

  A third voice joined the conversation, clearly the sober voice of reason. “I heard Lucian of the vampires finally has peace, maybe they decided that if after centuries of war he was at peace they could be too.”

  “Who knows why they’ve done it,” the first voice laughed. “And who cares? More ale!”

  Sara watched as the three stumbled out of sight her worst fears confirms. The fire elementals hadn’t called a peace conference, they’d called a mass murder and wanted her to be the executioner. Crouching low to the ground, she move as quickly as the need for silence would allow. She avoided the hustle and bustle of life in her village by keeping to the shadows, crouching and hiding behind anything smaller than herself, her goal clear. The crowds became bigger as she approached the stables, the noise louder and her fear increased correspondingly. The houses had disappeared leaving her only with barrels of ale to hide behind and Sara dropped to the ground, using her elbows to pull her body along the rocky terrain.

  “No one laughs before their funeral,” she groused, wincing as another pebble cut the skin of her elbows. “Why would they think the fire elementals want peace? They think Lucian and his people are bloodthirsty…vampires are nothing compared to these guys.” I should tell them what’s going on. The idea was dismissed almost as quickly as it had appeared. If she gave away her position, she wouldn’t escape and if she was caught the people gathered were going to die. Her escape was paramount.

  The doors to the stable finally came into sight and she eased the door open, sliding her body through the small gap. Her eyes darted around the familiar space, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she found that she was blissfully alone. Standing, she tried to find Lance among the other horses. The sound of loud naying quickly caught her attention and she raced to the end of the stable where the noise was coming from to find Lance chained within his stall. The skin around his hooves looked much the same as her chafed and bleeding wrists, it was clear why he was distressed. His skin was dirty and matted with sweat, his eyes rolled wildly within their sockets, crazed from the pain and Sara swore softly to find him in such a state.

  “Lance,” she began gently, trying to reassure him and make him aware of her presence. “Lance, it’s okay I’m here now.” Brown eyes locked with blue and his wild movements slowed. “That’s it Lance, we’re getting out of here and when we get home I’ll tend to your wounds properly.”

  She ran the back of her hand down the length of his nose, letting him reassure himself with her scent. He calmed further, moving to blow air affectionately into her hair. She gripped the heavy bolt that kept him caged and pulled, breath leaving her lungs in a rush as pain almost overwhelmed her. The bolt came free and she pulled the door open, rushing in to embrace Lance’s bulk.

  She pulled back, touching his mane gently. “Let’s go home.” Summoning the faint strength of her flame, Sara melted the shackles around his hooves beneath her blazing palm. She instantly regretted using fire to remove the obstacle as a wave of weakness washed over her.

  That’s it, no more fire until I’m fully healed, she decided. The pain I can just about deal with but the weakness as well? Those two combined will only serve to get me killed or caught and I can’t afford either.

  Sara leapt onto Lance’s bare back, the pressing need to escape meaning she had to forgo a saddle. She leaned down to whisper in his ear, “When we get home, I’ll give you a proper brushing I promise. Are you strong enough to get us there?”

  He nayed loudly as though he’d understood her words and after so many years together it was entirely possible that he did. Taking the sound as a sign of agreement she rubbed his neck reassuringly before urging him into a run. His strong hooves kicked the door open and Sara galloped into village intent on her escape.

  She rode out into the night, stunning those around her with her presence. The laughter that had filled the air only seconds ago ground to a halt and suddenly all eyes were on her. Sara’s blue eyes locked with Geoffrey’s for a moment, the hate in his dark eyes all consuming. Breaking away from his gaze, she spurred Lance into action, pressing her body close to his flesh as he raced past the crowd towards freedom, towards Lucian. Orders were called, voices rising in volume as they realised that the child of flame was once again on the loose and intent on escape. The drunken faces of those who had been tricked into attending the false peace conference blurred as Lance’s hooves pounded against the earth propelling her past them. She glanced back briefly to see Geoffrey’s hands moving wildly as he issued commands and others rushed to follow them. Even with his injuries, the horse was still a force to be reckoned with and the outskirts of the village soon came into view.

  “I’ve made it,” she laughed triumphantly, giddy excitement thrumming through her veins. “I’m coming Lucian.”

  Her brows furrowed, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as a sense of ill eased filled her, settling within her chest. Her skin warmed as the temperature rocketed suddenly, the abrupt change warning her that something was about to occur. In the blink of an eye she was surrounded by fire, flames leaping from the ground to fill her vision. Lance reared back from the fire, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, throwing Sara from her perch on his shoulders to the hard earth. She stood quickly, rushing to his side in a desperate attempt to calm him but terror gripped him hard as he hit the ground hard with his hooves, preventing her from approaching him and clipping her shoulder when she got too close. The fi
res died down enough for Abigail to walk through, disappointment etched on her features.

  She strode determinedly towards Sara, pulling her up by the collar and forcing her to stand. “What do you think you’re doing?” Angry spittle landed in Sara’s face forcing her to turn away. Abigail slapped her hard and made their eyes meet. “You are unbelievable. Seeing as you’re so intent on getting away, let us indulge you. Hold her and come with me.”

  The command flowed easily from her lips and Sara soon found thick arms wrapped around her body. She stifled a cry as her shoulder was manhandled into a more malleable position. With her arms pressed tightly against her chest, her struggles barely registered to the man holding her. He lifted her off the ground and followed Abigail’s steps back towards the village. Gnashing her teeth in frustration, Sara cursed. She hadn’t thought of the guards that would have been placed at the village entrance to prevent their ‘guests’ from leaving and she was paying sorely for her lack of forethought. The village centre drew inexorably closer, her heart sinking with each step they took. When they stopped, her eyes scanned their surroundings, desperately trying to find another escape route. Sara’s stomach rolled when she caught sight of a dead body being pulled along the ground towards them, blood from the fatal injury to his chest creating a gory trail.

  Resisting the urge to be sick, she turned to Abigail, hoping for answers. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s done then?” Abigail demanded ignoring Sara’s question, unaffected by the body placed at her feet.