by Marlow York
“Here.” Sarrenke passed some food to me, purchased with a handful of tomatoes, carrots, and a head of lettuce. It was a steaming pocket of bread filled with tender meat and vegetables. Even before I took a bite, my mouth watered with anticipation. When I sunk my teeth into the crisp bread, I realized how badly I’d missed the taste of spices and venison. I kept my head lowered respectfully and nodded towards the old woman who had sold us the food, not knowing the Grakkir word for “thank you” until Sarrenke spoke it to me. The woman chuckled as I stumbled over the guttural word, but she smiled and nodded in appreciation.
As we continued through the village, we stopped a few more times to trade. Everyone had valuable items, whether it be food, a tool, jewelry, clothing, or raw materials. Even the smallest children were practicing their crafts, play wrestling, or watching the adults carefully, attentively learning.
“We expose the young ones to everything,” Sarrenke said. “They soon find a path that calls to them, and they learn the skills required to become proficient.”
“A path?” I asked. The only path I wanted to take was away from this village.
“Life itself is a journey, is it not? The skills they gain in their youth dictate the path their lives will follow. All skills are important to the village, and each individual is appreciated for their skill.”
Then what does that mean for Tarek? I thought. He was banished to the outskirts of the forest, never allowed to come into the village and be part of the community. Was he still appreciated for his skills? Was his existence important to the village anymore?
We turned a small bend, and there stood a structure larger than all the rest. This building was rectangular, rather than circular or square like the other small houses. The doorway stood wide enough for two or three people to pass through, and taller than even the tallest men in the village. A pair of Warriors stood guard outside the door, and they eyed us suspiciously when we approached. I noticed massive machetes strapped to their hips, and I wondered how many people’s blood the sharp blades had tasted.
Sarrenke smiled kindly and spoke to the men, but one of them shook his head and waved for us to leave. Sarrenke frowned and glanced at me. “They do not think banished ones should come inside,” she explained.
“I thought they were okay with you? Everyone else seemed okay.”
“We have been close to Tarek, who is the source of bad luck. They are afraid we will pass it to the Elder Council.”
“Source of bad luck?” I asked.
“Perhaps ‘source’ is the wrong word. He is believed to carry bad luck,” Sarrenke said.
“Why, though? What did he do that was bad enough to be banished?”
Sarrenke took a deep breath, frowning. She dropped her voice. “Many years ago, Tarek led a battle against another village. In the middle of the fight, he left the battlefield and because of that, one of our men died. A Warrior leader never leaves his men in battle, that is the most important rule.”
Before I had the chance to ask any more questions, a woman’s voice called to us from inside. The guard answered, then the woman responded in an irritated voice. The guard waved us through the door, looking annoyed.
We passed through the large doorway and my eyes had to adjust to the sudden darkness. The long room was lit on either side with candles, illuminating a path to the ten figures at the end of the room. I imagined the Elder Council to be just a group of old people, but I was mistaken.
Four humans and four enormous animals sat on either side of the path leading to the only elderly person in the room—a grey-haired woman with deep creases in her leathery face. She sat upon a thick wooden chair with designs carefully hand-carved into its arms and legs. On her left side sat a massive vulture, who watched with beady eyes as we approached.
The other people in the room were two men and two women, and each one knelt on thick cushions beside their animal companions. The middle-aged man and woman sat closest to either side of the old woman. The man was accompanied by a red fox, and the woman, a bat. Beside them sat a man and a woman who appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties. The young man had an elk at his side, and the young woman had a lynx. I felt the eyes of every living creature in the room burn into me with each step I took. Something about the atmosphere felt thick and ominous, and their eyes carried more weight than the eyes of all the other villagers combined.
Those must be gods, I realized, my heart hammering painfully under their attentive gazes. I tried to keep my eyes averted, but it was difficult when I was surrounded by so many awe-inspiring creatures.
“Ysolda,” Sarrenke said, smiling as she knelt before the old woman and bowed her head respectfully.
The old woman nodded in greeting, and her lips raised at the corners. When both women glanced at me, I crouched and bent my head as well.
Ysolda spoke in their language and Sarrenke stood. I echoed her motion and stood just behind her, my hands folded awkwardly on top of each other in front of my waist. I studied the bat, which hung upside down from a metal perch to my right. I’d never really liked bats and the way they flew erratically around our village at night.
Suddenly, it released a high-pitched shriek, flapping its wings against the middle-aged woman’s shoulder. She turned and spoke calmly, gently caressing its head with her fingertips. Then she looked at me with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.
“Our friend seems to know something about you that the rest of us do not know,” Ysolda said, her voice low and throaty.
I looked up at her quickly, surprised she knew my language, but uncertain of what she meant. The elk snorted loudly, while the fox and lynx growled. Everyone seemed to agree with the bat, but I had no idea what they were agreeing about. Could they possibly sense the Ancient Fire in me?
I remembered Khero’s reaction when I brushed past him down by the creek. At first, I thought he was offended that I’d walked too close to him, but then I remembered the strange pressure I felt against my skin. Had he been sensing whatever the other animal gods were sensing? Did he react aggressively because he didn’t understand what he was feeling either?
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I told the old woman.
She watched me for a moment, perhaps assessing if I was lying. Could she read minds? Could the animals?
No, that’s absurd, I told myself.
Finally, Ysolda turned her attention to the vulture perched on the metal post beside her chair. “Perhaps it is something you do not yet know about yourself.”
I didn’t say anything this time. I watched as she shared a look with the vulture, like the way I’d seen Tarek look at Khero. There was undoubtedly a strong connection between human and animal in those moments, but it was the sort of connection an outsider couldn’t possibly understand.
“Have you been treating our guest well, Sarrenke?” Ysolda asked.
I held back a snort of derision at the patronizing word “guest.”
“Yes, I believe so,” Sarrenke said without looking at me. “She is a very hard worker and learns quickly.”
“Good,” Ysolda said. She looked at me again. “I always like to meet visitors to our village. It is very important to know who is in your home, is it not?”
I agreed with her on that, but I remained silent. They were implying too much that I was a welcomed guest in someone’s house, not a kidnap victim. Her choice of words made me a little uneasy, as though she didn’t quite understand the gravity of what her people had done. To them, scavenging from destroyed villages and taking slaves was so normal that it was something to be proud of.
“I am very sorry for what happened to your people,” Ysolda continued. “The City always stood as a symbol of protection for the Fiero. It must have been difficult to see them for what they really are.”
I glared at her. “Yes. Almost as difficult as being stolen from my home and made into a servant.” I tugged at the collar around my neck.
The others shifted nervously around me, and I felt all eyes on myself and Yso
lda. Rather than become angry, the old woman just smiled. “Greater horrors would have awaited if you had stayed there long enough for the City to find you, Fiero.”
She spat my clan’s name like it was a weapon to use against me, as though being born Fiero were a bad thing. I felt heat rise in my cheeks and hands. “And what do you know about the City?” I snapped.
“What do you know?” Ysolda replied coolly.
I fumbled for a moment, caught off-guard by her question. “The City has always protected us. We’ve lived in harmony, benefitting from each other for hundreds of years.”
Ysolda lifted her palm and gave a shrug. “True, but that does not make your leaders good people. Good leaders do not destroy the people they are supposed to protect.”
My words faltered again as my mind struggled to remember if I had ever actually seen the City’s leaders for myself. Occasionally I had heard their voices, amplified somehow to carry a great distance. I hadn’t been able to make out the words, but the City Dwellers were always cheering and clapping. They seemed so happy.
“Please, young one. You have been through much turmoil and I can tell you are confused and in pain.”
I felt my anger rush again before I could stop myself. “Don’t patronize me!”
The animals around me shifted and called out in snorts and shrieks and growls. Even the calm vulture flapped its wings and released a throaty hissing sound. The sudden clamor startled me so much that my anger quickly dissipated to confusion and alarm.
Ysolda looked thoughtful and smiled at me again. “I think you will do well here, young Fiero. What is your name?”
I stared into her dark eyes with my hazel ones. “Valieri.”
“Valieri,” she repeated. “Last of the Fire Bringers. Consider this your formal welcome to the Grakkir village.”
Again, I said nothing. Ysolda and Sarrenke spoke for a while like old friends, but it wasn’t long before Sarrenke decided we needed to head back to Tarek’s home. Ysolda smiled at me as I turned to leave, but I merely frowned in response.
Once we were outside in the warmth of daylight again, I turned to Sarrenke. “How did she know my clan was once referred to as the Fire Bringers?”
“She is our clan’s head Elder,” Sarrenke said simply. “It is her job to know as much as possible about our world, and that includes the history of other clans, both living and dead.”
“How did you two become such good friends?” I asked.
“I was once training to be a Scholar, who, if they are successful, may someday earn a place among the Elder Council.”
“But you didn’t want that?”
Sarrenke looked thoughtful as she touched the scar in the center of her brow. “The Elder Council and I decided I was better suited to be a Healer instead.”
We spoke no more about the Elder Council and spoke very little at all on the walk back to Tarek’s house. Once we got there, Khero, who appeared to not have moved from his place outside the house, was dutifully at my side once again. Sarrenke went inside to deliver the goods we’d purchased, and I sat with my back against the rough wood of the building.
“It’s been a long day,” I told Khero with a sigh. “I’m very tired.”
He said nothing in return.
I glanced up at the wolf, but I jumped in alarm when I noticed unfamiliar eyes peering through the open window.
Her face was round and small, cheekbones etching out deep shadows on her cheeks. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes peered at me curiously, but not with the sort of anger and intensity I was expecting.
I opened my mouth to say hello, but Tarek’s deep voice came from somewhere inside the house.
“Ria,” he said.
My mouth fell open in shock. Tarek’s wife appeared younger than I was!
As she looked down at me, the corner of her thin lips raised in a tired smile before she disappeared back into the house.
Chapter 8
Over the next several weeks, Khero remained a dutiful guard dog, always keeping an eye on me, always attentive to my location and activities. This made me uneasy at first, but then my unease gradually turned to annoyance. I never once tried to run away. For one thing, I fully believed Khero would track me down, and I was certain the punishment would be great for a runaway slave. Also, if I did run away, where would I go? I had no home to return to. I wanted to find Jenassa, but a long journey through unknown territory would take careful planning and supplies. Neither of those things were readily available.
So, I put up with Khero following me and watching me like a loyal puppy dog. Eventually, I grew so accustomed to his watchful yellow eyes that my annoyance disappeared. I almost started to enjoy his quiet company.
I ate my meals just outside the front door, Khero lying not far from my side. Sarrenke and Tarek talked as they ate, their strange language filtering through the open window.
“I think they’re talking about you,” I said. “I think I heard the word ‘wolf.’”
Khero sighed, not indicating one way or another if I was correct. I’d begun to recognize certain words, particularly words Tarek said to me, such as “go” and “move” and “slave.” Sarrenke was teaching me the Grakkir words for fruits and vegetables, and simple sentences.
Initially, my instinct was to reject their language and any assimilation into their clan. It told me they planned to keep me around for a long time, which was not my intention. It was inevitable, though. I couldn’t help that I began to understand them, or that certain phrases would be useful to know.
“We never owned dogs as loyal as you are,” I continued. “My family, that is. I harvested fruits and vegetables, my mother was a planter, and my father mostly took care of the work horses. We didn’t own them, they belonged to the whole clan. My sister—Jenassa—she followed in my father’s footsteps. She was strong and good with the animals. I mean…she is strong and good with animals. I think they decided I was too weak to do things like that. People who are slender like me are good at climbing trees to harvest fruit without breaking the branches.”
I looked down at the food in my bowl, a thin soup made from rabbit, potatoes, carrots, and celery. No spices. We often had spices in the Fiero clan, but here they were a luxury we didn’t need. I missed the taste of spicy things, and cinnamon, and fennel seeds. After a long day of work, however, I was just grateful for whatever food I was given, even if I was sometimes hungry later at night.
“I miss my family,” I told Khero quietly. And it was true. The good thing about working so much was that I was often too busy to think about my loss, but at mealtimes and when I was trying to sleep, it was often all I could think about.
“My sister is still out there, I think. I worry she is lost and alone, but I also worry that she has been captured by a clan like this one, or worse. I think not knowing is the hardest part. I hate that my parents are dead, but at least I’m certain of their fates.”
I turned and looked at the wolf, expecting his gaze to be elsewhere or his eyes to be closed like when I chatted to him about frivolous things. To my surprise, he was looking right at me, his eyes attentive, not growling or glaring.
“If she was in this clan, I probably would have seen her by now, or Sarrenke would have told me. Since she’s not here, she could be anywhere. Neither of us know much about the world. The City never told us much, to be honest.”
I looked down at my bowl again. Growing up, our schooling consisted of practical subjects. We didn’t learn about things that were considered unnecessary, like the history of long dead civilizations, or religion, or politics. The City would take care of stuff like that, we were assured. It seemed like a relief at the time, but now I realized how unprepared I was for the world outside the Fiero village.
“Just like they wanted us to be,” I whispered. “They wanted us to be stupid and dependent.” I looked at Khero again, tears filling my eyes. “How can Jenassa possibly survive in a world we were taught nothing about?”
Khero furrowed his brow and opened
and closed his mouth, making strange grumbling noises. He snorted and pushed his massive paw against my leg.
“Are you telling me not to cry?” I asked. “I’m sure a Warrior’s wolf doesn’t like to see signs of weakness, right?” I wiped my eyes against the back of my hand. “It’s true, though. Crying over what I’ve lost isn’t going to get me anywhere.” I ate another spoonful of soup, swallowing hard against my swollen throat. “I just hope my sister is okay, that’s all.”
Khero didn’t respond, but I’m sure he agreed. I wondered if he had siblings, or if it was one of those things where all the world’s wolves were his brothers and sisters. Some religions believed in that, didn’t they?
When Sarrenke stepped through the door, my tears had been wiped away and I was ready to accompany her down to the creek so we could wash the dishes.
There were many other instances during my time with the Grakkir that Khero and I had “conversations” like that. I talked more than Tarek did, but maybe Khero liked that sometimes. For the most part, the conversations were one-sided, but it was nice to be able to talk plainly to someone, besides listening to my own inner monologue.
✽ ✽ ✽
As my daily activities became a mindless routine, the hours raced by. Soon, I couldn’t keep track of how long I’d been captive. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. If the changing seasons hadn’t been so distinctive in our part of the world, I might not have noticed the time passing at all.
I worked, I ate what they gave me, I slept, and I worked more. I avoided anything that would anger Tarek, but he mostly just ignored me. Khero followed me for months, and eventually I learned to ignore him too. Sarrenke’s voice was little more than background noise as we worked. Most of the time I let her talk and added very little to the conversation. My heart was heavy with loss and betrayal, and I couldn’t tell if she was trying to distract me from my pain, or if she was oblivious to it and was just excited to finally have someone to talk to while she worked.
