by Marlow York
Jenassa was never far from my mind. Half of the time I worried myself sick wondering where she was or what sort of pain she was enduring. The rest of the time, I used her name as a mantra. Jenassa, help me get through this day, I thought. Jenassa, I’ll come find you, I promise. I knew I needed to stay alive for her, if nothing else.
For a long time, I dreaded sleep almost as much as I craved it. I was always exhausted, but sleep brought nightmares—visions of smoke, fire, and screams. More than once, I awoke with my ears ringing from the death shrieks of my people, and the scent of smoke in my nostrils even when there was none in the air.
Then, without my noticing, the nightmares lessened and began to disappear. Grateful as I was for restful sleep after a long day of work, those dreams had been the only way I saw Jenassa and my parents’ faces. Sometimes I remembered them the way they were before the attack, but often they came to me choking on smoke with blackened skin peeling away from their faces.
How long would it take, I wondered, before I couldn’t remember my mother’s stern lips, or my father’s sparkling blue eyes? How long before Jenassa’s low voice spoke to me only in Grakkir? Would I eventually forget my own language? My culture? That I’d ever had a life outside the Grakkir clan? By the time I noticed the icicles dripping along the roof of the house, I vaguely realized I had turned eighteen years old without even knowing it.
And then, something unexpected happened.
The harsh snows of winter melted into spring, and with it came a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time: the excited shouts of children. It was midday, and I sat just outside the tent, mending a hole in one of Tarek’s shirts. I looked up and saw an unusual sight: a group of youngsters in the field, poking at something with sticks.
Occasionally during the warm months, the young ones would come down to the field, but Khero usually scared them off before they got too close to the house. I didn’t like the way they thought of us, that we were all “cursed” with bad luck because of Tarek. The children knew they were forbidden to come near us for their own safety, but they still liked to make fun of us. More than once, I’d seen a group of them play a game where they dared each other to see who could get closest to the house without being noticed. Of course, Khero always had an eye on them. I think it was a game for the watchful wolf to jump out and scare them away. Their behavior assured me that we were not well-respected, and I feared what may happen if these children grew up thinking we were lesser beings to taunt, rather than people who deserved a respectful distance and to be left to our solitude in peace.
As I watched them, I saw one of the boys pick the object up and I realized it was a small snake, perhaps a foot long. I shivered. Snakes were possibly one of the creepiest creatures in existence.
I continued to watch as the boy lifted the snake high in the air and flung it as hard as he could. The small creature whirled around and landed with a slight bounce several feet away. I shook my head at the abusiveness of those savage children; where on earth were their parents?
The tiny snake tried to slither away, but the group of children caught up with it. Another boy picked the creature up by the neck and chased after the two little girls in the group. They shrieked and ran away in a wide circle of excited fear. The boy whipped the snake again, sending it flying.
I decided I’d had enough of their cruelty. “Leave it alone!” I shouted, storming away from the tent. The children stopped and stared at me, their eyes wide. Perhaps they were frightened to see a “banished one” so close, or maybe they were shocked that a slave would yell at them. They stared for just a moment before they sprinted back towards the village, chattering to each other with shaking voices.
I realized my hands were hot. When I looked down, there were tiny flames flickering on the tips of my fingers. I bit my lip and stared after the children. Had they seen the fire? What would happen if they told someone? All I could hope was that they feared punishment for being so close to our house and would keep their mouths shut.
I located the small snake, which lay curled into a defensive ball somewhere in the tall grass. I kept my distance in case it decided to lash out at me, but mostly because I was disgusted by the thought of even looking at the thing. At first I thought it might be dead, but I noticed very subtle movements as the creature’s muscles tensed and relaxed. It had a few cuts and abrasions, and I would not have been surprised if its spine was broken. A pair of crows circled overhead, shrieking at me to get away from their meal. It seemed just as cruel to leave the injured animal to be picked apart while it was still alive, but I wasn’t eager to touch it.
I sighed and decided the right thing to do would be to let the animal die a relatively peaceful death in the woods instead of being eaten alive. If it was tough enough to survive an attack from the heathen children from the village, it deserved a chance to live and die in its own time.
I carefully picked the snake up in my cupped hands. It tensed into a tighter ball, its head hidden somewhere in the middle. “Eww….” I said to myself. “I’m sorry, but your kind makes me very nervous. It’s nothing personal.”
I was talking to myself to take my mind off the bizarre way the animal slowly writhed in my palms, its scales bumpy and smooth at the same time. A chill ran up the back of my neck despite the warm sunshine. “I’m taking you to the woods so you won’t be eaten alive. I’m not sure if you’ll survive anyway, but I figure after what you just went through you don’t deserve to die at the claws of a different breed of animal.”
I laid the creature down under a bush growing just on the edge of the trees. It rolled slightly down the incline and its head popped out of the tight ball. It looked slowly towards me and flicked its red tongue out, smelling the air. I shivered again and backed away cautiously. I quickly returned to the tent when I noticed Khero trotting in my direction, growling.
Sarrenke stood beside the house, watching me curiously.
“Just some ill-behaved children,” I said sarcastically as I approached her, Khero’s nose nearly touching my shoulder.
Sarrenke looked towards the path where the children had disappeared, frowning. Khero raised his head to smell the wind. Sarrenke didn’t ask what had happened. Instead we got back to work mending clothing while Khero stood outside the tent a long while, sniffing the wind and staring towards the distant forest.
✽ ✽ ✽
I attempted to drift off into a restless sleep. My eyes closed, and my head began to float as I teetered between consciousness. As I floated, a strange rustling noise slipped into my tent. A dry, hissing sound like the sort created by dead leaves rubbing together. I remembered, with a jolt of alarm, that the new spring leaves were still alive.
I shuddered to alertness and looked around. Everything was still inside the tent and the tent flap rustled as the breeze pushed through it. I sighed and shook my head at my own silly thoughts.
Rolling onto my side, I looked at the small candle Sarrenke had given me. Though I had the tools to spark a fire, I no longer needed them. Instead of assuming I could only create fire when I was angry, I considered what else was happening during those moments. It seemed that the Ancient Fire presented itself when I was either in a heightened emotional state, or when I was potentially in danger. At first, I focused on how I had felt when Tarek pressed Juliano’s knife to my throat, or the feelings of fear and betrayal that washed over me when the City had bombed my village. I found that when I managed to convince myself I was in danger, I could call the fire to my fingertips and place it to the wick.
Not only was this tactic as emotionally exhausting as it was physically draining, I knew it wasn’t healthy. So I focused instead on concentrating energy and intention. This was much more difficult and just as exhausting, but with patience and practice, I could start small fires without having to cause myself mental or physical distress.
I placed my index finger on the candle’s wick and focused. I inhaled deeply, and as I exhaled I imagined the energy I had stored flowing through my arm, into my ha
nd, and appearing as heat on the tip of my finger.
Initially the wick let up a thin plume of smoke, but then the fire caught. I released the rest of my breath, a sigh of relief. The process of creating fire took almost as much physical energy as weeding the entire garden, and often left me tired enough to fall asleep. The more I practiced, the less worn-out I felt.
“I’m growing stronger,” I whispered to myself with satisfaction.
The leaves rustled and hissed again, but when I glanced towards the tent flap, I realized it wasn’t moving. I blew the candle out, crept over to the tent flap, and I peeked outside. The wind was completely still.
I stepped outside into the cool night air. The trees surrounding the house were growing lush and green; when a breeze kicked up they made hardly a sound. The sky was clear, with the full moon glowing above me. Fog hung low over the field, making eerie shadows out of the trees in the distance. That’s when I heard the sound again, the rustling and hissing. This time it was more like a whisper; a strange garbled language said under someone’s breath. I peered around, wondering if someone from the village had come down the path, but there was no one. The sound grew louder, as though the source was right behind me.
I spun around but saw no one, just dark forest. The sound came from the other direction again, but quieter this time. I turned in confusion, my heart pounding.
“What?” I asked. The word slipped from my mouth before I could catch myself.
The sound was coming from the south, away from Tarek’s home, in the direction of my former village. I knew I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. Instead, I felt like an invisible string was tugging at my legs, urging me forward. I slunk away from the house, quickly crossed the field, and disappeared into the trees.
I bypassed the spring and followed the winding stream until I reached a fork in the trail, little more than a deer path. I was certain if Tarek knew I’d gone so far from the house without Sarrenke he would’ve beaten me, but the sound wasn’t just making me curious. I was strongly compelled to find its source, and I couldn’t understand why.
Pebbles and fallen twigs prickled my bare feet, but I ignored the pain and continued onward. Small patches of snow that hadn’t yet found the sun were the only remnants of winter. Beads of spring rain hung from the tips of pine needles, sparkling as the branches shifted to let the moonlight in. I paused, and in the silence I heard the unmistakable sound of small waves rushing upon a shoreline. I followed the sound until the path took me to an opening. My breath caught as I finally saw the lake Sarrenke had spoken of.
The sandy beach was littered with tiny snail shells and washed-up foliage. The dark lake spread out in a wide circle, rippling subtly in the breeze. With each wave came a rhythmic hush, hush, hush as the water caressed the sand. On the far side, I could see dim lights from the village, but all was calm while the rest of the world slept.
For a moment, I had forgotten my mission while the lake breathed like a sleeping giant, waves lapping cold and gentle against my bare feet. Then the rustling whispers came from the trees behind me.
I looked around, heart thudding, but there was nothing to see. I squinted and noticed a second path disappearing into the dark forest, and an unseen force compelled my feet forward.
The path eventually opened into a large clearing. The wind was completely still, as though the world were holding its breath. I glanced around, my eyes well-adjusted to the darkness. I realized with great suspicion that even the crickets had stopped chirping. Was it me they were hiding from, or was there something else out here?
Out of the corner of my left eye, I saw the ground just beyond the tree line was moving in a strange rippling motion. It wasn’t the wind blowing the grass and bushes; the movement was much more disorganized. I strained my eyes as I stared at the spot, trying to make sense of it, when I felt something tickling my feet. I looked down and saw dozens of snakes crawling past me, and one of them was slithering over my right foot.
I gasped in alarm and jumped, trying to get away without stepping on any of them. I looked again at the dark mass beyond the trees and realized there were hundreds, if not thousands of writhing snakes moving in one huge wave towards me. The trees behind the mass began to groan and lean. Something was heading directly my way. Something huge and strong enough to bend thick maple and pine trees as it shoved past them.
The dark mass took shape as the creature’s head emerged from within the trees. It was the most enormous snake I’d ever seen in my life and would likely ever see again. Its head alone must have been the size of two black horses stacked on top of each other, its body—thicker than the trees it delicately maneuvered around—had faint dark brown diamond markings. I couldn’t tell how long it was because as the snake coiled into a tight mass, rearing its body above me, its tail was nowhere in sight.
I was frozen in place. I hoped I was in a bizarre nightmare brought on by exhaustion and would soon wake up. Creatures that massive just couldn’t exist. The hissing of the thousands of snakes roared like hot grease in a pan. The giant snake’s tongue flicked as it watched me with unblinking garnet eyes. It opened and closed its mouth, and the loud hissing of garbled voices enveloped me again. I put my hands over my ears, unable to make the noise stop or make sense of the syllables. When the sound persisted, I realized it was in my head.
“What do you want?” I shouted.
Something heavy came down on my shoulder and I jumped, thinking a snake had fallen out of a tree. I was relieved to see Sarrenke standing beside me, her awestruck eyes fixed on the giant snake before us, her mouth open in a wide smile. She said something under her breath in her native language.
“We need to get out of here!” My voice strained with panic.
“I never thought I would live to see one,” Sarrenke said, ignoring me.
“What? Why would you want to see that? It’s going to eat us!”
“Do you not see?” she asked, finally glancing at me. “It is a…a…she-god. What is your word for female god?”
“Goddess?”
“A goddess,” she breathed. Her eyes were teary with wonder as she stared up at the snake, which hadn’t moved once during our exchange.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Is it not obvious?” Sarrenke said with a smile. She looked at me suddenly. “It called to you, didn’t it?”
“Called to me?” I asked, my stomach knotted with dread.
“Yes. The gods of the animals call to chosen people when they have done great things. Or will do great things. That is why you are here, is it not?
“Great things?” I asked. “I haven’t done anything great. I just…I heard a strange hissing sound and…for some reason I needed to come here.” The sound started again, and I looked up at the snake, wincing and covering my ears. She slowly leaned one way, then the other as though she was sizing me up.
“You are afraid of snakes,” Sarrenke noticed.
I nodded.
Sarrenke reached up and took my hands away from my ears. “We often can learn much from that which we are afraid of.” Her pale eyes met mine with understanding. “I do not hear what you are hearing; only the little snakes on the ground. Relax your body and calm your mind. She will not hurt you. She is trying to tell you something. Listen.”
I took a deep breath and tried to relax my tense shoulders while Sarrenke held my hand. I looked up at the snake and met its dark red eyes; two pools of solid blood.
The hissing sound returned as I focused on the snake’s eyes and tried to keep my mind calm. Sarrenke’s hand on mine was cold but reassuring. She never would’ve risked killing Tarek’s slave, his valuable property, and so I trusted her judgment. The garbled syllables began to arrange themselves until the sound of a deep, raspy woman’s voice filled my head.
“Valieri Fiero of the Fire clan,” she said.
My mouth opened in astonishment. “Yes,” I said aloud. “That’s me.”
“You do not need to speak aloud. We can communicate this wa
y. I have heard much about you from my son. He says you are kind-hearted and insisted I meet you in person. He sensed something in you that he did not understand, and now I see what he meant.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I suddenly felt nervous. Who was her son? The tiny snake from earlier that afternoon?
“You are certainly kind, but you are also more powerful than you realize. I can feel the fire that dwells within you and it will lead you to great things. Or terrible things.”
“How can that be?” I asked.
The snake hissed out loud. “The circumstances leading to our meeting are unfortunate. You have suffered greatly for someone so young. You will suffer more in your life, but your strength will lead your people to defeat your enemies.”
“My people are dead,” I told her curtly. “My enemies have already won.”
“Your enemies are still out there,” the snake hissed. “The City claws away at the forest faster and greedier than a fire, taking everything and leaving nothing in return. The Fiero, once so powerful, were nothing more than obedient dogs, loyal and blind to what they were doing for the City, unaware of the consequences. The City is powerful, but not unstoppable. You have a new clan, and though you are just a slave now, I see a much greater fate in store for you.”
I looked at my feet. Somehow, hearing about how the City had used the Fiero and destroyed them with no provocation was more painful coming from the Snake Goddess than from Sarrenke or Ysolda. I turned to Sarrenke. “Can you hear any of this?”
She shook her head.
The snake looked at Sarrenke and moved closer to her, flicking her tongue to take in Sarrenke’s scent. She gazed fearlessly into the snake’s eyes, then tipped her head respectfully.
