The Flames of Arathia

by Jordan Liberatore

  “But I’m okay with getting to know you for the rest of our lives,” Malcolm assured. Melody bit her lip, looking down.

  “Fine,” she muttered. Malcolm wrapped his arms around her.

  “There’s my love,” he breathed. “One day you’ll forgive me for all of this. I swear one day you’ll understand.” Melody didn’t even see the tears that had begun to form in his eyes.

  It was the sound of running that woke Drusilla up. Adam thrust her door open, shining sword in hand. Drusilla had never seen anything like it. It reminded her of the swords the Elves carried in the legends her mother used to tell her as a child. Worry filled the man’s eyes as he looked at Drusilla. The blue flickered to a golden red, chilling Drusilla to the bone. She knew that sign all too well. “Go up deck. I have to find Lu,” Adam ordered. Drusilla wasted no time in grabbing her dagger and running upstairs. Tall men, if they could be called that, were flying onto the ship with the wings of eagles, though much larger. The ends were frayed, almost demonic, pure black like the night above them all. Their skin was pure black as well with painted lines of purple that glows like gold with the light of a torch hitting it. In their hands they held long, thin swords that are a dark grey, almost like ash. Their blood red eyes were all fixed on Nathan, standing like a king in battle near the wheel. He was strong, fearless even. It was as though he knew it was to happen.

  Never before had Drusilla seen anything like it. Nathan turned to her, his eyes a golden red flame. He had a long dagger in one hand, and a ball of fire in the palm of the other. His sword still hung in his belt. It was clear now. Nathan was a fireblood: a man descended from the founders of Galdirr that could wield fire from his veins. Adam and Lu ran up, each with fire of their own in their hands. So they were all firebloods. Drusilla was faced with a choice. Did she reveal that she too was of that ancient race, or did she hide her secret? Adam thrust his sword her way, and that was all it took. She’d fight with the blade not with the flame. All the training Luther gave her came to mind, and Drusilla was ready.

  It all began suddenly, like everything else was time in slow motion. One of the beasts screeched the most inhuman sound Drusilla had ever heard, and Nathan’s ball of fire went flying through the air. It hit one of the beasts, sinking into its black skin causing it to glow purple before exploding in ashes. Fire flew through the air, Drusilla swinging Adam’s sword at whatever beast dared to come at her. Lightning flickered across the sky as rain began to fall. Chaos surrounded them all, a beast lunging towards Drusilla only to meet the blade in her hands. She glared at it right in its red eyes, pulling back as a rush of adrenaline coursed through her body. Dust, fire, and shouts mixed into the air, the world getting drenched by the heavens.

  Drusilla felt alive. She fought as hard as she had ever done, her body moving on its own. She couldn’t quite think, not with the world blurring around her. It was all chemical, all her instinct. It was like breathing, and every bit of anger was leaving her. The rage Drusilla felt seeped out, fueling the blade in her hand. Then, covered in sweat, rain, and ash, Drusilla froze. The beasts pulled back and it seemed the world had drew in a deep breath. Adam stood on one side, Lu the other, and in front of them all Nathan watched the sky. It wasn’t over. They all knew it. Drusilla was so tense, every fiber of her being on fire. Everything was at a peak. And then it happened.

  Something moved in the corner of Drusilla’s eye and she turned to it. The darkness twisted and turned, Nathan catching on as well. His eyes were flaming, pure fire against the black of the night. Then it came: a figure of muscle and demon just as the others, but so much more. It was larger, its double pointed tail lashing against the stormy air. A deep growl issued from its throat. There were no red eyes, no glowing marks. It was only black, a black that was so much deeper than any black they’d ever seen. Adam cursed in an ancient sounding language beneath his breath. The beast flapped its fraying wings, large rips in the leathery skin of it. How such wings held the thing up was uncertain, but they worked nonetheless.

  Adam and Nathan looked over at each other, nodding in silent agreement. Adam took his sword back from Drusilla, tossing it over to Nathan. The captain raised it in the air, his eyes burning as flames took over his hands, spiraling up the metal of the blade. The beast hissed in anger and possibly fear, throwing itself towards Nathan who thrust the blade up into the thing’s chest. It hissed and roared again before falling back, bursting into ash that covered the captain like a blanket. He coughed as the rain began to fall harder, but a peace had overcome them all. It was over. They had won. Against all odds they had won.

  Nathan seemed to be lost in thought, looking not like a captain but a king after battle. He relaxed as the rain let up, though which came first could not be discerned. The fire died down, Nathan turning to Adam with a deep sigh. His eyes were back to that soft gray, not hard and dark like Malcolm or Lu but like the sky when it is just beginning to turn to a storm. However, there was something there that Drusilla had not noticed before: a thin gold band around the rim of the iris. His face was tense, a fear and anger written in his skin.

  “Ak tana ri nashi?” Adam asked in a hushed voice. Drusilla had never heard the language before, though Nathan understood question as “Has he found us?” Nathan looked from Lu to Adam with sad eyes.

  “Lok, yen coya ak tana,” Nathan replied. Once more Drusilla could not understand the words, though Adam heard the answer as, “Yes, I fear he has.” Adam ran his hand through his hair, no one looking at Drusilla. Finally Nathan did. “Follow me, Drusilla,” he instructed the Free Strider. “You two can make sure that there was no harm done with the fire.” Uncertain, Drusilla followed the man to the kitchen. He looked at her dead in the eyes. “I am sure that what just happened has surprised you. I want to explain some things. Please sit down,” the captain encouraged. Drusilla sat down, ready to listen to the fireblood on the run.

  It all began in Nathan’s home town of Norto, a small harbor village in Southern Galdirr. Spring always brought happy flowers in the surrounding meadows, winters windy breezes and traders. Fall brought a harvest of apples so ripe and beautiful. His favorite was always summer; with its salty ocean winds and warm sunny days to spark joy in anyone’s heart. He would just stand and take it all in, watching sunsets so beautiful he could scarce begin to describe them, and enjoying the summer berries that grew in the wild, resting in bushes just outside the village.

  Sefton, Nathan’s father, was a trade ship captain, owner of “The Star’s Flight,” which was the center of the family and town income. Marilan, his mother, was a seamstress, well loved and respected by the people. Together they raised his younger sister, Alyssa, who was just ten, and Nathan, barely 18 years of age. Still, as young as he was, he was the assistant chief of Norto. It was an honorable job any would envy, but that all respected. He deserved the position even if he could never admit it.

  Summer had been drifting along with Sefton’s coming and going. Captain Sefton Rodrick was known for his trade in woodwork, something the village was brilliant at. Music almost always filled the streets. The soft notes would rise in the air and sweep through all around so that no matter where you stood, it graced your ears. Some would be ancient tunes left by the village’s forefathers, such as songs of triumph over their pains. Voices harmonized flutes and violins on street corners, growing louder near the inn and the pub where men would wander to after a hard day’s work.

  Sefton had just come back from sea. His smile brought joy once again to Marilan’s eyes. Alyssa jumped up and down begging for a piggy back ride in the garden. Her bare feet were specked with dirt, her curly locks of her mother’s blonde hair bobbing. By evening we had all sat down to eat, conversation flowing. Sefton and Nathan discussed news of the kingdom, Marilan and her son his engagement to Lillian Serenity, the daughter of another captain who had just docked. It was a simple night, the warm summer eve filling us with one last feeling of peace.

  Alyssa had just been put to bed. Night had crawled upon the Norto
countryside, the stars bright and many. Everything was quiet, still, and uneasy. Nathan rested on his cot awaiting sleep, staring at the wood ceiling thinking of what to do in the morning. He planned on seeing Lillian, his dearest Flower, and taking her out for a ride. Often they would venture out to find ruins of Romarn. As children the two would go to the nearest of these and pretend that we were defeating Romarnian soldiers so as to keep Galdirr safe from their tyranny.

  Morning would never dawn. Around midnight it started, flames followed by horrified screams breaking the night. Nathan jumped from the covers and started helping grab some things, specifically money. No fire had yet reached the Rodricks, but they knew they had to run. Alyssa stood by crying, clutching her teddy bear as hard as she could. Nathan picked her up and rushed outside, Marilan and Sefton just behind. The flames were already licking their home. Nathan tripped along some rocks. Alyssa cried for her mother, who immediately had the poor creature in her arms. Nathan picked up the bear and continued running. He finally reached his father’s ship. Looking back as he climbed the rope he saw the flames devour his home and his village. His family was nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 6:

  “I’m sure you’ve already guessed some of this. Yes, the three of us are firebloods, an almost forgotten race of man. It is one that has been washed out over time, not that anyone other than firebloods seem to care. I wish I could have been clear on that with you and warned you before this,” Nathan began, his hair dripping dirty water. His ash stained white shirt clung to his skin for dear life. He sat across from Drusilla a very different man than the one who had eaten breakfast with her hours before.

  “Those monsters we fought were called Alatarik. They are sea creatures that live on the Black Spear Rocks which we have just passed. Normally a ship can safely pass through there. Normally these creatures leave people alone. The only time they go for a human kill is when they are under the order of an evil leader. Many years ago, about seven to be exact, such a man burned down my village killing my family. He did this just because we were all firebloods. We are after an object that will defeat this man. He is one of the Brethren. His name is Malcolm the Dark,” Nathan explained. Drusilla froze, her heart dropping. There was that name again, there on another man’s tongue. It was another evil he’d done. No…she couldn’t believe it. Two years before she’d met Malcolm he’d burned down an entire village. Drusilla forced herself to slowly nod in understanding, feeling the crushing break of her heart once again. She could barely breathe it seemed. After all this time her past still caught up with her.

  Malcolm was a young man, barely more than 19, when he’d been called in to see the Eknar. He’d fought to place this one on the Brethren throne. “Burn Norto. They have traced the heir there,” the Eknar explained.

  “An entire village?” Malcolm questioned. The Eknar, younger than he, leaned forward.

  “Dare you question me?” the Eknar growled. “Go, Malcolm, and burn the damn bastard who could ruin all of this! I command you.” Two years later he’d been called back in a much colder man. The life in his eyes was near burning out.

  “What this time?” Malcolm sighed.

  “There is another heir possibility. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I won’t have it. Kill the bitch. Her name is Melody Kloy, and she’s about 19,”the Eknar instructed.

  “She’s a child,” Malcolm argued. “I will not continue killing children.”

  “You will do as I say. If you want to be knighted, you must kill the girl,” the Eknar insisted. At the thought of glory, Malcolm caved. He never counted on what would happen, the weight of the lies he was about to spin. He never once counted on falling in love. Now looking back on it he shed a tear. He’d killed children. There was so much blood on his hands. He was 25 and he’d killed more people than he personally knew well. What was it for? Once he was a dreamer, thinking he was doing the right thing. He saw the truth now. He saw the pain. Malcolm had lost everything, and he was going to keep paying for it until the day he died.

  “I will let you rest, Drusilla. You’re probably very tired. I’ll wake you when it’s time to eat,” Nathan instructed. Drusilla forced herself to stand, legs shaking and barely working. She went to her room, setting the dagger and ring on the bed. Tears swelled in her eyes, burning and stinging as she began to gasp for breath. She stumbled back, pressing her spine against the door. She wanted to scream, to tear out her past, to forget. She wanted it all just to be a bad dream. Drusilla had been running for four years, and now fate was throwing it all back in her face. It was a thousand regrets, a thousand could have been moments, and fate was there staring at her. It seemed to her that fate always intervenes by intertwining some brave soul to bring that path or thing up to the surface creating a haunting phantom that the one running must overcome if they are to just merely survive life without being scared of every turn and twist of the road, every shadow that moves, to even look in the mirror without feeling like they wish that they were in someone else’s shoes.

  Drusilla slipped to floor, staring at the objects on the bed. “I loved you,” she breathed. “I love you.” With those words, those words she hadn’t dare say for four years, she cried. She bit into her jacket covered wrist and cried. Would she be forced to see Malcolm again? She had wanted to face him, but could she? The reality was much more brutal than the fantasy Drusilla had built for herself. What was that language Adam and Nathan spoke? She couldn’t understand any of it, and worst of all, she didn’t know if she wanted to. A strange language… an Elvish sword… her worst nightmare facing her again… Drusilla was frightened. None of it made sense.

  Then it all came to Lu. What was it about her that made Drusilla’s skin crawl? There was some secret, that much Drusilla understood. Other than that there was nothing. She looked like Malcolm though, that was plain. Beings above, it all went back to him again. She fought it all as hard as she could, her body screaming for sleep. Drusilla feared that the most. She’d close her eyes and see him again, and Drusilla couldn’t face it. The Free Strider couldn’t bear to see his face in her head again, feel his lips on her skin again, or relive that night again. All the same the blackness fell on her, and Drusilla’s tired body fell to sleep crying right there on the floor as the ship rocked back and forth.

  “Why don’t we take a walk?” Malcolm had suggested. They’d been eating dinner rather late having spent too long going through history. The dinner conversation had gone from Malcolm and Melody’s plans to this suggestion. Something felt wrong, some churning in Melody’s stomach, but she wrote it off as Breena smiled and nodded. They all stood, walking out into the rain. For as late as it was, and the rain that fell, it was a rather nice evening. Then came the accusations, the poison from the snake’s mouth. Then came the lunge… Breena jumping… The dagger clattering… The blood. Drusilla remembered the blood the most. She’d grabbed the dagger, grabbed her bag inside, and ran. What else could she do? She was the spawn of a failed marriage. She had every view against her, and now her mother was in a pool of blood. So she ran, as far as she could. She didn’t stop, just kept running.

  Outside of town, about a mile off or so, she finally collapsed onto her knees. Melody fell forward, vomiting into the rain drenched grass. The rain began to fall again, and with shaking hands Melody tried to clean the blood off the dagger, his dagger. Her head was spinning from crying so hard. She couldn’t remember how she found the cave that night, but she found it and took refuge in the shelter. That was when the white figure came. She was stunning, clothed in light with golden eyes. Melody knew the stories, stories of High Elves coming to see those destined for greatness. All Drusilla knew was that the figure gave her the last shard of peace she’d ever have before Melody became Drusilla.

  Malcolm had ditched town after it all went south. He screamed, punching the tree. “DAMN IT!” he growled at the air, falling to his knees. It shouldn’t have been that way. He never should have had to do that. Breena deserved better. Melody deserved so much better. She deserved cas
tles and silks, not a mother dead on the ground. Every last word Malcolm had spit out played back in his head. He shouldn’t have said them. He never meant them. He loved her. He only ever loved Melody. The rain hit his skin again, and he let it. He deserved worse.

  A part of him had died. Malcolm had just betrayed the greatest thing he’d been given all for a glory he didn’t give a damn about anymore. The glory was fleeting, but the love was eternal. But now he couldn’t have that. He’d have an eternity of pain, and for what? The Eknar’s pleasure? Malcolm never should have worked so hard to get the Eknar in place. Any love he had for the Eknar faded with the rain that night, just as Melody had crawled into that cave.

  “Sill? Sill, breakfast is ready,” Adam called, knocking on the door. Drusilla stirred awake with a groan. Her body was stiff from falling asleep as she did.

  “I’ll be right there,” Drusilla yawned. She reached forward to the bed, slipping the ring back into her pocket and placing the dagger into its sheath. She opened the door to see Adam waiting for her. He seemed familiar in a way. Drusilla saw him in a new light now, with his sword at his waist and his lips curved into a subtle smile. She noticed the gold flecks in his dark blue eyes, something she hadn’t really seen before. It was like she was seeing him again for the first time. She shook the thought from her head, following the smell of food into the kitchen. Lu was already there, leaning against the stove. Her hair hung in long waves around her, not tied back for once. Her cold stare was so much darker and more menacing than Malcolm’s ever was. Nathan was not in the kitchen, probably in either his room or office. He did seem rather tired the night before.

  Drusilla quickly finished her breakfast before going up to the deck. Ash still littered the surface, remnants of the night that gone on. It was to be Drusilla’s duty to clean it. That task was completed around noon. Nathan finally came up with a yawn, just as Lu was going down to sleep. “Sill, help me out a moment,” Adam called. “I want to show you how to take care of the sails.” Drusilla set aside her mop, walking over to the man. It was as he showed her, his sleeves pulled up, that Drusilla saw his tattoo. It was an upside down Y on his right forearm, dots at the end of each prong of the Y. It looked to be about ten years old, if not a little more recent. Adam noticed Drusilla studying it and smiled.