Blood of Fire

by Marlow York

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  When I opened my eyes, Saven was hissing angrily while someone held a compress to my face.

  I was startled when I saw Vondak’s stony eyes looking down at me. I pushed myself onto my elbows, knocking his hand away.

  “So, you are still alive?” he said, half-joking.

  “How long was I out?” My head throbbed with each heartbeat.

  “Only a few minutes,” he replied. “The rest of the trainees are still sparring.”

  I looked up, and sure enough there was another pair of fighters in the ring, with several bloodied and bruised onlookers cheering them on.

  “Here.” Vondak passed me the blood-stained cloth, and I pressed it to my eyebrow.

  “Why did you put me in the ring with the best fighter?” I asked hotly. “You knew I would lose.”

  “You would have lost against the worst fighter as well,” Vondak replied bluntly. “Raerek is not the best fighter here, but he is the most ruthless.”

  “Then why?” I insisted. “To show everyone just how little I know about fighting?”

  “No.” Vondak’s brown eyes pierced mine. “To see what you would do when placed in a situation you knew you could not win. To see how badly you want this.”

  I glanced down at the cloth in my hand. The bleeding had almost stopped. “And what did you see?” I murmured.

  Vondak looked towards the ring as another victor was declared. He eyed the trainees not like someone choosing the fattest pig or the fastest horse, but someone who must calculate each person’s skills and weaknesses and determine what to do with them.

  “I saw someone who has more bravery than many young fighters who have entered this forest,” he told me. “You knew you would not win, but you still stepped into the ring. You were knocked to the ground and could have stayed there, but you stood up and pursued your attacker. You did not give up, no matter what might happen.”

  “But bravery doesn’t count for much when I lack the skills to back it up, right?”

  Vondak furrowed his brows at me. “A powerful Warrior is not just the best fighter, or the fastest runner. I would rather train one hundred weak, unskilled fighters who are brave than train ten strong cowards.” He stood and turned to leave. “You are weak and you have suffered much, Valieri Fiero, but you can become strong. Keep your courage alive, and you may become one of us yet.”

  I watched in surprise as Vondak strode towards the fighting ring.

  “He speaks very highly of you,” Saven said, and I could feel he was surprised too.

  “He does.” My head still felt dizzy, but I forced myself to stand.

  “Be careful. You are injured,” Saven warned.

  “I’m sure I will have plenty of injuries by the end of this.” I pressed my hand to Saven’s side to balance myself. “If I don’t rejoin the group, it won’t matter how brave I am. I need to become strong, and I need them to start respecting me.”

  Saven followed closely behind me as I returned to the group, and together we watched the last set of fighters enter the ring.

  Chapter 16

  After sparring, we spent much of our time learning skills unrelated to fighting and physical fitness, such as how to survive in the wilderness and how to hunt. We began to learn how to maintain our weapons, how to forage for edible plants, and how to make fishing gear out of the items around us. For everyone else, these were refresher courses. I knew I had to catch up quickly before I fell further behind.

  When the sun began to set, Vondak dismissed us. By then, even the most physically fit trainees were dragging their feet up the path, some of them limping, others yawning. My entire body, from my eyeballs to my feet, felt like it was being weighed down with boulders. And this was only the first day.

  Saven and I were the last to exit the forest. Everyone else had turned left, towards the village, and we were by ourselves again.

  “How many more days of this are left?” Saven asked sympathetically, flicking his tongue at my bloodied arms.

  “Not days, weeks,” I corrected wearily. “I don’t know how I’ll drag myself up this hill tomorrow, let alone run through the forest and fight.”

  Saven was about to respond, but at the same time we noticed a strange shape standing in the middle of the path. It was almost large enough to be a child, but when my eyes focused in the dim light filtering through the trees, I realized it was a large bird. A vulture.

  “It’s Ysolda’s vulture, Kalon.” Saven flicked his tongue to test the air.

  “But where is Ysolda?” I wondered.

  Kalon stared at us for a long moment, not even fluttering a wing, until I grew uneasy. Finally, a raspy shriek vibrated from his throat. Saven hissed in response. The vulture called back.

  “What does he want?” I asked aloud.

  “He said Ysolda wants to show you something. Just you, not Sarrenke.”

  I watched the vulture as he continued to stare at us, his beady eyes fixed on me specifically. “What could she possibly want to show me?” I asked.

  Saven was thoughtful for a long moment. “If it is a trick, I will be with you. I don’t care how many gods the Elders have. I would kill them all if they tried to harm you.”

  I touched his side reassuringly. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. If she had intended to harm us, she could have gotten the trainees to gang up on me during training.”

  I led the way up the path. Kalon hopped a few times, flapped his massive wings, and rose into the sky. He flew just ahead of us, and when the forest opened and the village came into view, he cackled from above and veered to the left.

  “He doesn’t want us to enter the village from the front,” Saven said. “He wants us to follow him around the outside of the buildings.”

  I furrowed my brows, glancing towards the sound of villagers chattering amongst themselves. I didn’t understand the need for secrecy. Ysolda was the leader of the village; she could tell anyone to enter or exit the village whenever she wanted them to. Anything she wanted to remain secret should have already been heavily guarded. Something about this felt very odd, and we had to stay alert. I looked at Saven, and he gave a reassuring nod.

  We walked along the outer edge of the village, behind the houses and shops, until we came to the back side of the Elder Council’s hall. Kalon was standing beside a small trapdoor, which must have led to the cellar beneath the building. He raised his foot and scratched his talons against the wood, a clear indication that I was supposed to open the door.

  Saven hissed slowly, apprehensive.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. I glanced at Kalon, part of me hoping he would nod his head supportively, but the bird just stared.

  I reached for the heavy iron handle, tugging until the door opened with a creak. Stone steps led downward into complete darkness, and the scent of cold mildew rose into the air. I looked again at Kalon, who remained silent and stone-faced. He hopped past me, his powerful wings bumping against me as he disappeared into the darkened cellar.

  “The doorway is too small for me,” Saven observed, and I could feel his suspicion.

  “I think I’ll be alright,” I insisted, though not entirely convinced. “If I need help, I’ll call out to you. Okay?”

  Saven hissed irritably, but finally agreed. He curled himself into a ball and watched as I disappeared down into the passageway.

  A few steps into the cellar, the light from the outside world quickly faded away. I pressed my hand to the cold stone walls to feel my way, but if it hadn’t been for the rustling of feathers and the occasional squawk from Kalon, I wouldn’t have known where to go.

  A dim light appeared somewhere up ahead. At first, I thought someone was holding a lantern, but it was just a small torch attached to the wall. I continued to follow Kalon’s awkward hopping down the stone hallway, until the tunnel opened into a small room.

  My eyes burned as they adjusted to the brightness. The stone walls were lined with dozens of candles safely enclosed in metal lanterns. The sp
ace was filled with tall wooden bookshelves and not much else. It was a library, I realized; one of the last things I expected to find.

  The air was cold and musty, but the scent of books was not an unpleasant one. We had very few books in the Fiero village, mostly textbooks provided by the City and cookbooks handwritten on thin, fragile paper. Just one of these tall bookcases held more books than I had seen in my entire life.

  I stepped to the nearest shelf and ran my finger down a book’s spine. My finger came back covered in a thin layer of dust. I pulled the book from the shelf, but the title was written in a language I had never seen. Gently, I opened the cover, the spine creaking with neglect. The words inside were all gibberish to me.

  “Even the Scholars have difficulty reading the older tomes.”

  I jumped and dropped the book on the floor with a heavy thump, a few loose pages scattering across the floor. Ysolda had crept up on me, appearing from somewhere amongst the bookshelves.

  “Sorry,” I said, hastily picking up the stray pages and trying to find where they belonged.

  Ysolda reached her hand out to me, looking a little annoyed despite her small smile. “Here.”

  I sheepishly passed the book to her and watched as she placed the delicate pages in the proper order before returning the book to its shelf.

  “Despite our best efforts, there are languages that are still a mystery to us,” Ysolda said.

  I swallowed hard, my heart still thumping from fright. “The Scholars know different languages?”

  “Not just the Scholars.” Ysolda drifted over the bookshelf, gently pulling books to the front of their shelves, then pressing them back until the spines were perfectly aligned with the shelf. “All of the Grakkir know at least two languages—our own and yours, the language of the City. Many know three or more, and our Scholars know upwards of a dozen languages. Though, it is believed most cultures speak the language of the City as the old tongues have mostly died out.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Why go through the trouble?”

  “There is power in knowing your enemy’s language, young Valieri. Words are powerful, and often stronger than weapons of war.”

  I thought for a long moment. “So, does that mean…even Tarek knows my language?”

  Ysolda’s lip twitched slightly at the mention of Tarek’s name, but her face remained calm. “Of course. Besides the Scholars, Warriors are the second-most educated members of the clan.”

  My heart had stopped pounding from fright, but it kicked up again as I tried to recall every conversation I’d had in front of Tarek, assuming he didn’t know what I was saying.

  “Then why does no one speak my language in the village?”

  Ysolda grinned a little. “I see you have not yet gotten into the strategic part of your training.” She folded her hands over the top of her wooden cane. “Grakkir are very proud of our culture, and many would consider it disrespectful to our ancestors to speak another language. However, it is also wise not to let your enemy know you understand them. It could be dangerous if the City found out we knew their language. It is safer if they continue to believe we are stupid savages.”

  I said nothing, the word “savage” ringing painfully in my ears.

  “By the way, how did your first day of training go?” Ysolda continued, noticing the bruises on my cheek.

  “As expected,” I sighed, unable to hide the fatigue in my voice.

  She chuckled softly. “You are not the first young person to choose a path they did not feel entirely suited for. Our lives rarely take us in easy directions, but for someone like yourself, I think the challenge suits you.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “You really think so?”

  “People with difficult pasts often have great futures, as long as they remain steadfast.” She turned and shuffled towards the back of the room, leaning heavily on her cane. I followed a few steps behind her, again surprised by how small she was for someone with such a powerful presence.

  “How is Saven doing?” Ysolda asked.

  I felt defensive at the mention of his name, like a mother protecting her child from a stranger. “He is doing well.”

  “Good.” She looked over one shelf of books, then moved on to another when she didn’t find what she was looking for. “An Animal God often grows stronger as its human companion does, but it is important for him to train on his own as well. The two of you are very strong separately, but you will be significantly stronger together if you both train equally.”

  “I’ve been wondering,” I said slowly. “How is it that the City has so much power and technology, but they don’t know about the Animal Gods who live here?”

  Ysolda turned to me. “Because of a treaty signed long ago, back when the Grakkir Ancient Bloodline had nearly died out. At the time, only the Elder Father had an Animal God companion.”

  “A treaty?”

  “The City was once threatened by a clan that sought to revolt against them. At the time, the City’s leaders decided it would be in everyone’s best interests to keep the battle as small as possible to avoid panic. So, they hired our Warriors as mercenaries to help stop the uprising, offering goods and services as payment. Though the City’s leaders seemed fair and just, the Grakkir leaders knew better. We wanted nothing from them except the promise of solitude. And so, the City agreed to never step foot within our forest or cast shadows upon us from the sky.”

  It was the same rule that had been so fiercely ingrained into every Fiero’s mind. Never enter the forest. Savage clans and horrible beasts live there. Was that just an exaggeration meant to keep us scared, or had the City always suspected the Animal Gods were still alive?

  “I’m surprised the treaty has lasted this long,” I said.

  “You are not the only one,” Ysolda admitted. “Every leader since then has feared for the day the City might go back on their word.”

  She browsed through another bookshelf and muttered to herself when she still didn’t find the book she was looking for. I began to grow impatient. The further into the back of the library we travelled, the more anxious I felt to be above ground with Saven. In the very back of the room stood a round wooden table with five or six chairs, and sheets of loose paper strewn over it.

  “Have you read all of these?” I wondered.

  “Nearly all of them,” Ysolda said. “There are a few languages that are still lost to me, but Sarrenke was working on translating the ones she knows.”

  “Sarrenke?” I asked in surprise.

  “She is a very smart young woman.” Ysolda heaved a sigh. “She would have made a fine Scholar, but another path beckoned to her more strongly. A shame, really.”

  Before I could ask how many languages Sarrenke knew or anything else about her change of heart, Ysolda finally found what she was looking for. “Ah!” she cried happily. “There you are.”

  She passed the book to me and I looked at the cover, its words nearly erased by water damage. Many pages were scorched and blackened along the edges. When I opened the cover, most of the pages were warped and faded from moisture. “What is this?”

  “A book of Fiero legends,” Ysolda said. “Likely the only one in existence.”

  “Legends?” I asked curiously. I flipped to the table of contents, but the words didn’t make any sense to me.

  “Each chapter tells a different story in the Fiero history. The first one is very important. It introduces the Sun Goddess and teaches that your people are her descendants.”

  “I’ve heard that story,” I murmured breathlessly. “My parents had to whisper it to us.” I looked up at her in amazement. “Where did you find this? Books like this would have been—”

  “Destroyed.” Ysolda nodded. “And the authors, executed.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows. “Executed?”

  “You are surprised?” the old woman asked. “You should know better than I how insistent the City is on not allowing such documents to exist.”

  “Well,” I glanced down at the book ag
ain. “They are inappropriate and foolish. They’re impractical and provide no wisdom that can be applied to everyday life.”

  My voice faltered when I realized how much I sounded like Juliano. The words came out scripted, no matter how deeply I thought I agreed with them. And yet, somehow, they felt distant. Like an old lie I couldn’t convince myself was true anymore.

  “Have you ever wondered why the City insists its citizens only learn things they deem ‘practical’?” Ysolda asked. “It is a control tactic. Those who teach are the ones who decide what people do or do not know, regardless of truth or if they are telling the entire story.”

  I ran my fingers gently down the book’s warped spine. When I turned the page, a tiny flake of blackened paper fluttered to the floor, much like the ashes that had filled the sky above my village. I stared at the strange combination of letters, wondering if it had once been such a common language that nearly everyone in the world had understood it.

  “What language is this?” I asked.

  Ysolda paused. “You don’t recognize it?”

  I shook my head. “We never even saw other written languages in school.”

  Rather than look at me with superiority or criticize the City’s education system, Ysolda’s expression turned sad. “That is the Fiero language. The one your people originally spoke, many centuries ago.”

  My hands were shaking, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fatigue or anxiety. My heart felt like an iron fist was squeezing it. I didn’t even know the Fiero had their own language.

  “Many, many years ago, when I was still a tiny girl, my grandmother told me stories of the book burnings.” Ysolda looked away from me as her eyes grew distant. “Smoke rose from the City, filling the air just as it did the day your village was destroyed. Hoping it was a battle, we sent our Scouts to see if anything could be salvaged. As you might expect, they were quite surprised to see the cause of the massive fire was not from battle, but from a pile of books taller than the Elder Hall itself. They brought back what could be saved and our Scholars inspected the books. It seemed strange they would choose to burn these specific volumes.” She gestured to the shelf in front of us. “History books, legends, even children’s books. All had been banned and destroyed. The Scholars kept them here, soaking up the history of the world before the City had taken control, and teaching our own people what the City refused to teach your people.”