Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy

by Evelyn Puerto

  “I see,” Tereka said, even though she really didn’t. “So that’s why you’re called Riskers. But why all the insults, and lies?”

  “It was an easy way to keep the villagers from finding out the way we live. Later, they had other reasons.”

  “What other reasons?”

  Veressa looked away and took a quick breath. “I think Chen will be here soon to take you to Zafrad, to your grandparents.” She rose and grasped Tereka’s hand, pulled her to her feet, and hugged her. “You have no idea how much joy you’ve brought us.” She said goodbye to Tuli and let herself out.

  Tuli gave Tereka no chance to ask any more questions. She filled the time before Chen’s return with funny tales of her four siblings, their adventures and exploits. While Tereka soaked up every mention of her father, the stories weren’t enough to push the unanswered questions from her mind.

  25

  The morning sun caressed the air, gentle breezes warm on Tereka’s face. She strode next to Chen as they journeyd to Zafrad, the Risker camp where Tereka’s grandparents lived. Chen had told her it was about a six-hour walk over the top of the mountain that separated the two camps. There was a shorter, lower route they used to move barrels of honey and other freight, he explained, but they only traveled that way in large groups because bandits prowled those slopes.

  As it was, Chen made sure Tereka had a full quiver of arrows and her bow ready. “You never know,” he told her.

  As they walked along the mountain trail, the midmorning sun illuminated the last few raindrops on blue and white wildflowers that bloomed nearby. The forest ahead of them was a vivid green, the midsummer leaves full and rustling in the breeze. The air was cooler on the mountain than in the valley’s villages. The crisp air refreshed her weary mind, making the revelations of the day before seem less horrifying and disturbing. Her stomach still churned at the shameful thought that she was part Risker. And her mind wondered why that had to be so shameful.

  After an hour they left the trees behind. The trail snaked through another meadow, this one with fewer flowers and more scruffy grass. The path skirted boulders and rocky outcroppings as it wound higher.

  With his bow, Chen pointed into the distance. “You can see why bandits don’t like this trail. No way to sneak up on travelers.”

  Tereka agreed. The problem was that beyond the trees, the gusts of wind that blew from the top of the mountain had no obstacle, either. It didn’t seem to bother Chen, but she shivered and wished she’d worn her cloak instead of cramming it in her pack.

  “Thank you for taking me,” she said. “You must have lots more important things to do.”

  “What, than reuniting you with your grandparents? Hardly.”

  “But ruling the camp and all… ”

  “Ruling the camp? Me?” Chen laughed. “Why did you think that?”

  “The only people in the villages with glass windows are the konameis.”

  “Really?” Chen turned his head to meet her eyes. “We have no rules like that. If you want glass, and can pay for it, it’s yours." He took a few steps. “Or you can make your own.”

  The sense of sliding off a precipice had returned. Was he saying anyone could make their own glass if they wanted to? Without permission?

  She shoved that thought aside to pursue another idea. “Who rules the Risker camps?”

  “Depends on the camp.” Chen took a few steps before answering further. “Here in Mikkeliad, we have a council of three. We elect them every five years. In Zafrad, they have a single elder.” He took a few more paces. “He serves for seven years, I think. Every camp is different.”

  Her mind raced. They chose their leaders? “But who rules all the camps?”

  Chen snorted. “No one. That’s the point. We wanted to rule ourselves.”

  “Don’t you ever have, I don’t know, disputes between camps?”

  “Oh, it happens.” Chen kicked a large rock out of the path. “The elders of the camps involved call a sood, a court, and hear both sides. Then they make a decision.”

  “What kinds of things do they rule on?”

  “Usually it has to do with the boundaries of hunting grounds. When Mikkeliad wanted to trade honey through Zafrad rather than directly with the traders, the elders met and agreed on terms for guarding the path and how profits would be shared.” He turned his head. “And yes, every now and again there’s some kind of crime.”

  It all seemed rather loose to Tereka.

  “Beyond that, the elders meet every three years, just to keep the peace,” Chen continued. “After your parents were killed, the elders called an emergency meeting. There was a lot of resentment against Zafrad for allowing Xico to marry a villager. When the others heard the whole story, they understood. Somewhat. Everyone agreed to take measures to be sure it didn’t happen again.”

  “Surely there was no danger of that?” Tereka couldn’t imagine anyone else dallying with a Risker.

  “From time to time, villagers find their way to Risker camps. We’ve always allowed it, thinking it was better for them to learn the truth. And we knew that their local ephor would quickly persuade them to stay away. After your parents’ deaths, we warned any villagers who wandered by to leave and not return.”

  Tereka swallowed, considering. Had that rule been in place, her mother wouldn’t have returned to the Riskers. And she might not have been born.

  The wind picked up, preventing more conversation. Chen kept up a steady pace for another hour then stopped in the lee of a cliff.

  “Let’s have some lunch, shall we?” He shrugged off his pack and lowered himself to the ground. After digging in his pack, he pulled out two parcels wrapped in heavy paper. He tossed one to Tereka. “Enjoy.” He tore open the paper, revealing a thick pastie.

  “How did you meet Tuli?” Tereka asked as she sat beside him. “Surely you didn’t just decide to stroll over and pick a wife.”

  Chen chuckled. “Lilio, Veressa’s husband, and I were good friends. I went to his wedding and met Veressa’s sisters.”

  “You decided after one meeting?”

  “Of course not.” He grinned. “I came up with all kinds of excuses to visit my cousins in Zafrad. Then one summer day we went swimming.”

  Tereka put a hand to her throat. “What, in the river?”

  “Actually, in a lake.”

  “That’s dangerous!”

  He shook his head. “So it’s true, then. They don’t teach villagers to swim. But we all learn early on.” He leaned against the rock, his legs stretched out in front of him. “There was this girl, dark hair and blue eyes like the morning sky on a clear day. She climbed up on a rock that stuck out over the lake and jumped. Had to be fifteen feet high. Fearless, that girl. After her second jump, I knew I had to marry her.”

  “Tuli? My aunt did something that reckless?”

  “So did your mother.”

  Her mouth dropped wide open. “No. She never.”

  “She came to the camp that day, just when Xico and his sisters were getting ready to leave for the lake, so they brought her along. Xico taught her how to swim.”

  “My mother, swimming?” Tereka could barely take in the idea of her mother engaging in risky behavior. She reminded herself she shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t her mother married a Risker? What could be riskier than that?

  “Yes. Then she and Xico climbed the rock and stood at the top for a long time,” Chen said. “Looked to me like he was trying to convince her to jump.”

  “Didn’t she want to?”

  Chen shook his head. “I could see her knees shaking. She was clinging to Xico’s hand.” He grinned. “Tuli and Fialka thought it was funny, Xico with such a timid girl. Like a skinny chicken. We were even placing bets on whether he’d be able to talk her into jumping or not.”

  Tereka felt a surge of anger at the thought of them laughing at her mother, at her very reasonable fear of hurling herself into a lake. “Did she jump?”

  “She did.” Chen nodded. “All
of a sudden, they took a few quick steps, Xico pulling her along, and down they went.”

  Frowning, Tereka asked, “He forced her to jump? He pulled her off the rock?”

  “Looked that way to me.” Chen pulled himself to his feet and offered her a hand. “Come on, the wind’s picking up. Let’s go.”

  As Chen made his way along the trail, Tereka walked behind him. Her father had forced her mother to jump off a rock. Maybe that’s not the only dangerous thing he made her do. Maybe she didn’t want to marry him. She somehow got mixed up with a Risker who forced her into a marriage that led to her death.

  She scowled at Chen’s back. And the rest of her father’s family? Did they think it was some joke, or something to bet on? She wasn’t so sure she wanted to meet any more Riskers. These people were barbarians. She shoved away the nagging thought that perhaps the truly uncouth people huddled in villages rather than freely roaming the heights of the hills.

  26

  Tereka was still seething as they entered Zafrad. If anything, her irritation increased with every step. Her heart pounded, and not just because of the long hike over the mountain.

  Zafrad was where her father had coerced her mother into a dangerous marriage, probably at the instigation of these relatives Tereka was about to meet. Let any one of them make fun of her the way they had mocked her mother, and she’d show them Iskra’s daughter was made of sterner stuff than the girl they called a skinny chicken.

  The houses were similar to those in Mikkeliad, snug stone and wood dwellings with intricately carved frames around the windows. The roofs were thatched, and most had glazed windows. The doors to the houses were painted in bright colors, some in elaborate designs. A vivid red door had crossed swords painted on it. A pale blue door was adorned with a graceful flowering tree with exotic-looking birds perched on its branches. One house even had a round room on one side. Chen led the way through the camp to a dwelling near the center, walking a bit faster as he approached it. He flung open the door, then stopped.

  “Cillia’s doing a healing, we’ll have to wait a minute.” He ushered Tereka into the house, closing the door after them.

  A gray-haired woman was standing over a seated man. She held something in her hand and she passed it over the man’s dark hair, murmuring. The only word Tereka caught was “sky-god.” She curled her lip, thinking this was something she could mock the Riskers for, their silly superstition.

  A few minutes later the woman finished her ritual. She ruffled the man’s hair, then turned to see who had entered. Her worn face burst into a smile that spread to her brilliant green eyes. “Chen!” She embraced him, then looked at Tereka. “Have you brought— ?”

  Chen took her hand. “Cillia, this is Tereka.”

  Cillia sucked in a breath, then gazed into Tereka’s face. “Is it true?” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “That’s what they tell me,” Tereka said.

  The older woman gently folded Tereka into her arms. “My baby’s daughter. When Tarkio told me you were coming I could barely believe it. How I’ve longed to see you.”

  After Cillia released Tereka, the dark-haired man stood and gave her a rough hug. “Since no one else will do the honors, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Tikul, your father’s brother.”

  Grabbing Tereka with one hand and Chen with the other, Cillia pulled them toward the table. “Sit, take off your boots. Do you want something to eat?” With a few quick, efficient movements, she had them seated, sipping mugs of steaming tea and eating some kind of sweet bread with thick cream in the middle. “That will hold you until supper’s ready.”

  Tereka nearly moaned when she tasted the sweet creaminess. One thing about these Riskers, they knew how to eat.

  Chen filled Cillia and Tikul in on the events of the past few days. When he finished, he glanced at the window. “I’ll go hunt up Tarkio and let him know we’re here.” He stood up. “And before you ask, I’ll stay with my cousins tonight. You don’t need me here.”

  “All right, Chen,” Cillia said. “And thank you for bringing my granddaughter.”

  “I thank you, as well.” Tereka nodded. “Peace and safety to you.”

  With a smile, Chen inclined his head. “It was my pleasure. Coming, Tikul?”

  “I’ll stay a little to get to know my niece. For once I have some news before my wife does.” He looked at Tereka. “I’m usually the last in the family to find out anything. You’d think they’d treat their older brother with more respect.”

  Once Chen left, Tikul and Tereka returned to their seats at the table. Cillia joined them with a fresh plate of sweet bread. “How’s your headache, Tikul?”

  “Gone, Mam. Whatever you do, always works.”

  “Don’t thank me, thank the sky-god.”

  Looking from one to the other, Tereka pressed her lips together, trying to make sense of this conversation. They seemed to genuinely believe in this sky-god.

  Cillia smiled at her, warmth in her eyes. “I have a gift, a gift of healing from the sky-god. I use one of his amulets to channel his power and can sometimes heal people.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small amulet of purple and green stones in the shape of a dragonfly. Tereka’s eyes widened at the sight. This must be a Risker fetish. Objects they use to snare people in their schemes.

  The late afternoon sun flashed off the green and purple stones as Cillia turned the amulet over in her fingers. “You don’t believe the amulets have any power, do you?”

  Tereka blushed, then stammered a few words. Cillia cut her off with a laugh. “I didn’t expect you to. None of the villagers do. Your mother didn’t, not at first.”

  “My mother?”

  “Iskra. She thought it was all foolish superstition until she was carried here one day, nearly dead from an encounter with a warboar. She’d bled a lot before they got her here. I called on the sky-god and used the amulet, and she was healed with almost no trace of a scar.”

  How had everything become so strange? Tereka shook her head. Cillia was obviously sincere in what she was saying; she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would tell lies but this business of amulets healing people just couldn’t be true.

  “I gave your mother an amulet, you know,” Cillia said. “A small one. She used it a few times, to help her when she needed it. I wonder what became of it.”

  Tereka shrugged. That was the first she’d heard that her mother carried a Risker amulet. Just one more dangerous thing she did. She was such a mystery. Cillia seemed kind, and sympathetic to her mother. Maybe she’d be able to explain why Iskra ran off with Xico.

  While she collected her thoughts, she glanced around the room. The floor was pine, polished and shining like at Tuli’s house. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the table, tracing its rounded edge. She noted how solid and sturdy the bench was, not making a move or creak as she shifted her weight. Braided rugs made bright spots of color on the floor, the colors of spring flowers—yellow, blue, and pink mixed with green and white to create a cheerful mood. A huge brick oven filled most of one side of the room. Rows of tiny plants in pots sat on the windowsills. A ladder rested against a wall, leading up to a loft. Tereka resisted the temptation to relax into the room’s embrace. She was there for answers, nothing more.

  As she was musing over how best to question Cillia, the door swung open, admitting an older version of Tikul, followed by Da.

  The man nodded to Cillia and Tikul, then turned to Tereka, arms wide open. “Daughter of my son, I’ve waited many years to meet you.” He wrapped his arms around Tereka, then stepped back, holding her shoulders, gazing into her face. “So much of my son in you, the chin, the face. The eyes are your own. The shape is like Iskra’s, but they’re blue, not gray.” He hugged her again. She began to wonder how long this man who she assumed was her grandfather would hold her.

  Finally, Cillia came to her rescue. “Osip, let the girl go. How did you know she had arrived?”

  “Chen found me.” He turned to Tereka.
“Let’s sit. I want to hear everything.”

  Tereka took her seat again without looking directly at Da. From under her eyelashes, she watched him hug Cillia. He sat next to Tikul as if that was a place reserved for him.

  Cillia set out more mugs and sweet bread. She seated herself next to Tereka and tentatively covered her right hand with one of her own. “Please, do tell us everything.”

  “He hasn’t told you?” Tereka glared at the man she’d thought was her da.

  Her grandparents exchanged puzzled frowns. Cillia squeezed Tereka’s hand. “We’ve heard parts of it. But we’d like to hear it from you.”

  With a sigh, Tereka began talking. She shared a short version of her life story but she didn’t go into the details of Groa’s abuse. When she got to the part about becoming Tarkio’s apprentice, she faced Cillia. “That’s enough about me. I want to know about my parents.”

  Osip nodded. “You probably know the gist of the story.” He sighed. “We tried to talk them out of it. We told them of the dangers of a marriage between a villager and a Risker. Iskra was determined not to go back to Gishin. Xico was convinced they could overcome any opposition.” He rubbed his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “They were so young,” Cillia added. “And so in love.”

  “They were?” Tereka drew her eyebrows together and her ribs tightened.

  “Oh, yes. It was obvious.”

  “Did you like my mother?”

  Cillia smiled. “I did. She was such a timid little thing but tried hard to overcome it. Xico brought out the courage in her. Had she been a Risker, we would have had no objections to them marrying.”

  This was a different side of the story. The older generation, at least, didn’t find her mother a source of amusement. But could Cillia’s opinion be trusted? Maybe she idolized her son and just assumed any girl would love him.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll want something more than honeybread.” Cillia strode to the fire and stirred the pot that hung over the flames.