Dragonfly Refrain

by Aimee Moore

  Guffaws rang out among the men, crude weapons wavering with their owners’ mirth.

  “Bring her and Jaffer to me,” I said.

  My assaulter spoke loudest. “Nah, bitch, you don’t have that Kraw now, and that soldier ain’t no match for us. You’re going the way all witches go, after we’ve had our fun.”

  On a slight eye roll, I gestured, calling the flame sparking in my veins. Every raised weapon within my sight caught fire. Shrieks and howls danced around me as the men hopped and cursed. Chaos ensued as the women in the back picked up their skirts or scrawny children and ran, the unarmed townsfolk panicked, and the livestock jolted the cart in their surprise.

  “Oh right, that’s how we send a gesture of good will from our sniveling leader. Bout right, that is,” Lianne said with a laugh.

  I elbowed her with a useless clunk against her plate armor.

  “Ain’t no one listening anyhow.”

  That’s when Dal squeezed out of the back of the cart. “Negotiations are failing,” he said.

  “Going up in flames, they are,” Lianne said with a hoot.

  I set my weight in exasperation. “Maybe we should just leave the cart and go,” I said.

  But Dal’s gaze was not on me, he was scanning the panicking crowd, who were running for water or stomping on their crude weapons that would not extinguish. “Where is the man who attacked you?” Dal murmured to me.

  I pointed. The cart rocked as Dal flung himself from it, and my attacker’s eyes widened in horror when he spotted the angry Kraw charging to him. I knew Dal was fast, but the speed which he reached the man was frightening.

  Within moments, Dal was pushing through the crowd, none too gentle, and raising my attacker by his shirt to face me.

  “Say it,” Dal growled.

  The fool wept and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “Heavens above and hells below, all that will listen, I’m bloody sorry,” he sobbed into my face. “So, so sorry. I’ll never look at a woman again, honest, just make it let me go.”

  Adrenaline kicked into my gut as his wet face, so close to my own, dredged up the memory of what he tried to do to me that night in the rain. Patroma rose up within my mind. Her battle-painted smirk of superiority, her black leathers clinking with spikes, and the glinting menace of her many piercings. Scorch his own weapon through his flesh and leave him to scream for death.

  I wrapped my fingers around the man’s throat, and his wiry hands pawed at my wrists as I let my gift heat my skin. “Were you Kraw, I would have killed you so slowly that every grain of your being would mourn the gift of its pathetic life,” I said in a low, dangerous voice. “But you are not Kraw. Death would take your sweet suffering from me too soon.”

  My gaze flicked behind the weeping man, who was panicking at the heat in my hands now, and locked on to Dal. His eyes burned with resignation and regret. He was going to exact his own brand of justice on this man, but it wasn’t for the woman that he saw before him now. It was for the woman I was when this sack of filth had assaulted me. Dal had never wanted me to be Patroma.

  I turned my attention back to the fool in my grasp. “Thank him,” I whispered, letting go of the man’s throat to tilt his jaw toward me with cruel fingers. “Thank him as he hurts you, because it will be a kindness compared to what I could do.” And with that, I shoved him away.

  Frost settled over the hazel in Dal’s gaze as he cast me one last look, then he dragged the screaming man into the woods beyond.

  I turned to the panicking townsfolk, who still had not produced Kenni or the old man Jaffer. Pushing flame to surge to my palms, I threw a ball of fire into the dirt before me. The blaze splashed about, inciting more chaos. “Do I stutter? Bring me Kenni and Jaffer!” I bellowed.

  A metal-clad hand was on my arm, and I turned with a snarl, igniting fire in my palms. Lianne’s helmet stared back at me. “King’s spit, woman, what’s gotten into you?” Her voice rattled about in the helmet.

  I pulled my arm away from Lianne as my lips parted in realization. What’s gotten into me? Stars above, what never left me? I had to silence Patroma. I drew my flame inward, extinguishing the pandemonium I had wrought on the town. That’s when a familiar voice spoke up.

  “Good heavens Sera, what’s all this?”

  I turned to Kenni. My friend, the short blond, was as scrawny and dirty as ever. The knees of her white apron were especially brown, and her hair was wilder than I remembered.

  “Ah, greetings from your king, I suppose,” Lianne said.

  “I brought goods from Elanthia,” I said, gesturing back at the cart with a sheepish look.

  Kenni glanced past me at the woods, wiping her hardened hands on her apron. “That your Kraw taking Willet into the forest?”

  “Well…”

  “You said you wouldn’t unleash your Kraw on them. Why’d you come back after all this time and do this?” The terror on Kenni’s face made my stomach lurch.

  “No, you misunderstand. The capital has sent goods to help. I’m sure Dal will bring him back.”

  “You don’t know what you’ve done,” Kenni said, voice hardening.

  “I’ve brought hope, Kenni. And look,” I said, reaching into the caravan and grabbing a tall sunflower, its roots bound in a soil-laden burlap sack. I stepped down and handed it to Kenni as people backed away from me. “Sunwold can have its sunflowers back. Things will be like they were before. And we’ll have a feast for the Longest Day. Things will be proper again, you’ll see.”

  This was the culmination of our efforts. The travel, caring for all of these livestock and plants, spilling the innards of my dirty truths to the king, delaying our escape to Dal’s world; all of it was right here, in my friend’s hands.

  I could hardly bear the suspense as the shocked look on Kenni’s face focused on the sunflower. Then she looked up at me, threw the sunflower down, and stomped away. As Kenni disappeared into the throng of onlookers, they beheld the grandest circus show of all: the human woman who could summon fire, but not please her only friend.

  I wished Patroma could help me with the crushing hurt in my gut. But for once, she was silent in my mind, leaving me to fight my own misery as I stared at the discarded sunflower. Its deep brown dirt spilled from the burlap, splashed around it like blood.

  “Well, girl, you’ve returned to insult your only friend, I see.”

  I turned to see the familiar face of Jaffer, eyes magnified by spectacles that made him appear insect. Jaffer was stooped over, white hair coming out of every place on his potatoey head except where it belonged.

  “Jaffer, why is she so upset?”

  “Kenni’s feelings are Kenni’s business. What’s the meaning of all this commotion?” Jaffer asked, waving one wrinkled arm about. Weapon handles were smoldering on the ground, shocked citizens were standing a good distance away, and the women and children were peeking out of the windows in their homes, clutching curtains in front of them as if the swath of fabric were a shield.

  “Elanthia sent all of this,” I said with a weak gesture at the caravan. Why was I fighting back tears?

  “Oy there, capital city soldier here,” Lianne spoke up. “Reckon you could use a bit of supplies after the Kraw.”

  “You mean the slaughter,” Jaffer said. “They ever make it through the capital?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s half destroyed. The Kraw snuffed the leyline that was bleeding the life from our world, then left.” I gestured toward their fields, which had been barren a scant few months ago.

  Jaffer stared at me through thick glasses perched precariously on hairy ears. Then he looked at Lianne. “You there, soldier. She telling the truth or is our farm girl here off her rocker?”

  Lianne gave a nod. “All true,” she said from behind her helmet. “The Kraw did what they came to do and left. Done.”

  “All except one,” Jaffer said, glancing at me.

  “Except one,” I confirmed.

  “He going to bring Willet back, or is Sunwold going to
be less one man today?”

  I furrowed my brow at Jaffer. “You are aware of what these men do to women like Kenni behind closed doors, aren’t you?”

  “Course I know, I’m not deaf, yet.”

  “They need to pay,” I said.

  “You going to make the whole town pay, girl? Going to string up every able-bodied man by his toes and flay him alive? What do you think this terror is going to accomplish? You can teach a dog to fear stealing from your table, but as soon as you leave the room, he’s going to take the roast.”

  I smiled. “You know what, Jaffer, you’re right. And I planned on that dog trying to steal the roast.”

  As the sun lowered and the people began to realize that I was not here to cast them into fiery hells, the livestock were handled and the goods were passed into bony hands. Children chased the chickens with laughter, the sheep baaed as they ricocheted off people’s legs, and the cows groaned with excitement as they were paraded off with the horses and pigs. I sighed with relief at seeing the livestock go, then scowled at the two men fighting over a hunk of dried meat.

  “Oy there, no need to fight; plenty more here!” Lianne called, moving to insert herself between two sets of dirty fists.

  I shook my head and leaned back against the well, glancing at the setting sunlight slanting across the field that Dal had plowed only weeks ago. The orange glow threw tiny green sprouts into sharp contrast. Despite the lateness of the season, they reached for life.

  That was when Kenni finally showed herself. I watched her push her way through the crowd, then she rested her elbows on the lip of the well, looking into its inky blackness rather than making eye contact with me.

  “You had no right, you know. No right at all. To march in here with your warrior and your freedom and your pity.”

  I turned to lean over the lip of the well next to Kenni, looking down into the endless darkness. I tried not to remember the way the Warlord’s voice sounded exactly like what I was staring into. “It wasn’t pity,” I muttered. “Pity was cut out of me after I left here. It was hope.”

  “Hope for what, Sera? Think some animals and luxuries will change human nature?”

  “People change human nature. Some laws would help.”

  Kenni scoffed. “Laws are like roads, aren’t they. If no one wants to follow them, they’re useless.”

  “The people who make them want to follow them. No one wants to live like this.”

  “Live like this,” she said with a sardonic laugh. “You barely know. They were awful after you lot took off. Willet and his cronies blamed me for what you did to him that night.”

  I glanced at my friend in the warm glow of the sunset. The yellow of healing bruises shone under the dirt on her skin. I let off a long breath as I looked back into the well. “We both bear the scars of the lives we chose. I suffered after I left here, Kenni. Not worse than you, not less, not equally. Pain is pain. And we both bear it.”

  “That why you limp now?” She asked, turning toward me at last.

  “This limp doesn’t even compare to the rest of it,” I said.

  Kenni’s hard gaze made the side of my head tingle. Her face shifted toward my marked arm, then back up again. “What’s all this really for? You and your Kraw here to stay? I’m simple but I’m no fool; Elanthia gave up on us long before we gave up on ourselves.”

  I turned a small smile to my friend. I could count her freckles this close. “Dal and I are leaving on the Longest Day. I just wanted to leave behind some good to make up for the lives I ruined.”

  Kenni gestured with her chin toward the field of sprouts. “Plenty o’ good right there.”

  I turned away from the hopeless, midsummer seedlings with a sigh. We both knew the fall frost would kill them long before they’d sustained the town. “You’re going to learn how to handle a weapon, Kenni. My escort is the best sword in all of Elanthia, and you and anyone else who suffers will become the ones to be feared.”

  “So that’s what you’ve brought me then. My old life, in the handle of a sword. You’re not the same as you were when you left, you know. You’ve traded loaves of bread for lumps of steel.”

  “I’m betting you’re not the same as you were before the Kraw came, either,” I whispered.

  Kenni folded her fingers together as she nodded and looked into the blackness of the well. After a time, I concluded that she wanted to be alone, and so turned to leave.

  “Where are you and your Kraw going after this?” She asked.

  I stopped, turning back to her. “To a secluded place in Dal’s world. Away from war and fear. To peace.”

  “Won’t be seeing you again then, will I?” Kenni said in a flat tone, turning to me.

  I gave a small shake of my head.

  Kenni watched me with those inquisitive brown eyes. Then she said, “I don’t forgive you for this yet. But I’m not fool enough to turn my nose up at fine silks from Elanthia.”

  I gave her half a grin. “Let’s go see them.”

  Soon, the town center was cleared, and with bellies full and spirits high, the people of Sunwold set a pyre to gather around.

  “Come here,” I told the children.

  Their parents wouldn’t let them, and so I gestured forth anyone who would approach me. I pretended to catch something out of the air, and held my balled hand toward the children.

  “Blow on it,” I said to them. “Give it your hope, and I’ll give it wings.”

  “It’s alright,” Lianne said to the wary adults holding the children back. They let go with reluctance.

  The children beamed as anticipation gave them haste. All of them took turns blowing on my hand, some pushing each other out of the way for a turn to take part in the magic. When they had all participated, I turned to the unlit pyre, raising my fist to my face.

  “Watch what you’ve done,” I whispered. Then I unfurled my fingers as I blew across my palm. Dragonflies of flame flew out of the space in my opening hand.

  The children squealed as my fire illuminated their toothy joy. The dragonflies continued to pour out of my palm, swirling about the pyre, their wings giving tiny roars of flame as they danced by. Once the pyre was sufficiently surrounded by my burning creations, I raised my hands with a flourish, and the dragonflies converged on the wood in a dazzling dance that drew forth a collective gasp from the crowd. Flames burst from the pyre then, and the children danced with shrieks of joy as some of the adults gave applause.

  Death was not all that rode on the song of the dragonfly.

  That was when Dal returned with a limping Willet, whose wide eyes darted about. His comrades approached him, murmuring demands for information, darting mutinous looks at Dal. But Willet only shook his head, refusing to speak of what had transpired in the woods, following Dal as a lost puppy follows its abusive master for lack of a better companion.

  “Leave me,” Dal growled.

  Willet fell backward, scrambling bony legs and arms, clawing at the dirt with haste to obey.

  The rest of the town was beginning to relax around the fire, bringing food and drink. Dal joined me at the fire, meeting my gaze.

  I smiled, taking his large hand in both of mine, and returning my attention to the townsfolk. Much of them were discussing their plans for the morrow.

  “The stables will have to be mended for the livestock.”

  “Let us do more than mend, let us give the beasts a fine home indeed.”

  “What splendor the beasts will have while our own homes list with rot and disrepair,” another chortled.

  “Have we not needed improving for a while?”

  “Yes, but without the strength of fine horse flesh, we have had little choice.”

  Dal spoke in a deep voice that drew all eyes to us. “I will assist with repairs tomorrow.”

  The fire crackled into the tense silence of the villagers. I glanced at Lianne to see her thoughtful gaze traveling between townsfolk and Dal.

  Kenni’s voice broke the silence from the other side of
the fire. “They’ll be leaving on the Longest Day. Seems to me the festivities could benefit from their help.”

  “Jaffer?” Someone else called.

  There was silence for a moment. Then Jaffer’s voice rang out. “Just don’t burn the damn village down,” he said.

  A laugh swept through us all. Kenni strode past the pyre and conversing townsfolk to come sit with me and Dal. It was the same smile she had worn on the day that we both pulled loaves of fresh bread from the oven. “It’s been too long since Sunwold has celebrated the Longest Day proper.”

  “I think we all deserve some good in our lives after the last year,” I said.

  Kenni smiled at Dal before leaning in to whisper to me. “Your Kraw will be an asset to us tomorrow, he will. Not a person here who doesn’t remember that strength of his, and not a person here who wouldn’t find a use for all that muscle to set this place to rights.”

  I grinned and leaned in to Kenni. “He could do with a bath, if you ask me.” It was twofold, my playful jab, for his people also shared a bath after loving as a sign of respect.

  Dal let off a soft laugh, nearly lost among the roar of the pyre, then spoke in Kraw so that all could hear his voice. “You shall bathe me in the river tonight, after I have made you call my name so loudly that the stars will shout it back.”

  My face burned, though only I could understand his words, and I bit my lip and averted my gaze. Several of the women, seeing my reaction, joined in a collective “ooh,” and then I was laughing with everyone else. Even Lianne was slapping a man on the shoulder as she pointed to how red my face was. Her chortle rattled around in her helmet.

  That night, when everyone had retired for the evening with hope in their eyes and food in their bellies, Dal and I retreated past our tent on the outskirts of town, into the woods for some peace. It was easy, walking in the waxing moonlight, marveling at the stars, to forget that the world had been ravaged by both man and Kraw.

  “Dal, will you tell me what you did to him?” I asked, playing with a long lock of my hair as we walked.

  “No.”

  “Why ever not?”

  Dal gave a brief noise of thought. “Hm. Some things are better left to the imagination.”