Serafina's Flame

by J. C. Hart

  She flapped a hand at him, willing him to be silent. She could hear something, a rush, a clang of metal, not the metal of ladles on pots, but the metal of weapons. Someone screamed, and then more cries filled the air. "Something is wrong." She broke into a run, her feet pounding the ground as hard as her heart thumped in her chest.

  "Wait! What do you mean?"

  She didn’t look back, didn’t wait for him. He would follow soon enough; there was no time to waste. Vana pushed branches aside, not caring that they scraped her skin, bringing blood to the surface. She could see the village now, or rather the orange haze of flames above it. Not the village fire, but their cabins aflame.

  "Aida! Gabe!" she cried out as she ran, bursting out of the trees, her feet landing on the hard-packed dirt of the village grounds.

  More sounds flooded the air, wails and moans mixed with shouts in another language. Vana charged into the communal area to find women on their knees, men on the ground, blood pouring from wounds, and children being dragged from the huts.

  A woman, dressed in the colors of the All Mother, stood between the cowering Nivaen people and the other invaders. Her arms were raised, and she held a jug and a burning torch. She was speaking the foreign Asakan tongue and Vana could make out nothing but the name ‘Carmel’. The woman smashed the jug on the ground before tossing the torch onto the liquid. Blue flames burst up, spreading fast, and a haze of heavily scented smoke fogged the air.

  Vana pressed her hand to her nose and dove through the flames. Heat engulfed her pants, but she didn’t care, she had to get to her children.

  One warrior was pulling Aida from her hut now, the girl kicked at him as he threw her over his shoulder. Vana reached them, she smashed her fists against his chest but he swept her aside with one strong arm before striding away.

  "Vana!" She heard Jonti calling from somewhere behind her but ignored him, drawing herself to her feet again and grabbing for Aida.

  This time the man turned. His meaty fist swung up and smashed into the side of her head.

  She fell.

  2

  Itching, searing pain pulled Vana from unconsciousness and she reached for her calves, finding thick bandages which prevented her from assessing the damage. Her head throbbed when she tried to sit, forcing her to lie back, her vision swimming.

  "Vana, you’re awake." Jonti was there, propping her up, pressing a cup to her lips. "Drink."

  She sipped gratefully, only then realizing how parched she was. "Aida, did you get her?"

  Jonti frowned and shook his head. His lips drew tight and he wouldn’t look at her.

  An old, familiar pang hit her in the chest. "She was right there! You were coming after me. Why didn’t you help her? You said you would always be there. That she was like your own child."

  He shifted his features, measured his words. "You were on fire, Vana, you needed my help more than she did."

  Vana held her rage inside, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself. "She was taken by those Asakan dogs. What are a few burns when they could do anything to her?" Her words were a whisper of ice. Jonti flinched against them.

  "Vana—"

  "Quiet. I can’t speak to you right now." A sob burst free, and she wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that Aida was gone, or that Jonti hadn’t tried.

  He backed down like he always did, placing the mug on a side table that she realized was not her own.

  "Where are we?" She didn’t need to ask what had happened. She had seen their hut, seen the flames licking at the thatched roof before she’d lost consciousness. Instead, she asked, "How much did we lose?"

  "Half the huts, a dozen children, many of the men."

  Her hand clawed for his arm, nails digging in. "Gabe?"

  "Safe. He said Aida hid him before they came."

  She withdrew again, pulling the blanket up to her neck, its rough wool scratching against the bruises on her chin. "Go. Be with him, he needs your comfort more than I do."

  "He's with your sister and the others, in the great hall. He'll be fine." Jonti paused and took a deep breath. "It is you I worry about."

  "Perhaps if you hadn’t worried for me so much we would still have Aida. Did you think of that?" Vana glared at him, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. He was the one she always turned to for comfort—the safe place she had run with Aida when her last husband had almost beaten her to death. When her blood had rained down on the cheeks of her sweet young babe.

  How could she ever forgive Jonti? She had lost the daughter she’d lost her life for, all because he was a coward.

  She wracked her memories, trying to find anything that might leave a clue. Carmel. The woman had spoken her name before making the blue flames. Jonti was at fault for letting them take Aida, but Carmel was the reason they had come here at all.

  She would give her body a few days to heal and then she would get Aida back. And if she couldn’t get Aida back, then Vana would find Carmel and make her pay.

  3

  Vana stared into the flames though the tears on her cheeks burned hotter than those of the communal fire. Aside from Aubrie, the survivors had all gone to bed in the great hall, exhausted from the funeral rites. She was smeared in ash, but she didn’t want to wash it off. She wanted the remains of their people to sink into her skin, to become a part of her body so she would never forget.

  Two days. Two days since they had come and taken Aida and the other children. Two days and they hadn’t returned, and no one had done a thing about it. All those children; though it was only Aida she thought of now. Her cherubic face, her dark, shiny skin, and her luminous brown eyes.

  She swiped the back of her hand against her nose as though it would stop the tears. She didn’t want to feel this crushing sorrow; she needed to hold onto the sight of Aida’s face as the Asakan scum had dragged her from the village. She needed to feel the anger burning in her chest, to feed the seeds of revenge blossoming in her heart.

  She needed blood.

  Aubrie placed a hand on Vana’s shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "Go away."

  "You need to talk," Aubrie said.

  "No, I don’t. I need to find a way. We have to get them back." She glanced at the older woman’s face. Aubrie was resigned, but Vana was determined. She couldn’t understand why everyone was being so complacent about this. "Don’t you want to fight for what is ours? They can’t just come and take our children!" Vana’s lip curled. "Ah, but you still have your baby safe and sound, nestled against your chest. So what does it matter to you?"

  "It matters," Aubrie said, though her words were not as strong as Vana thought they should be. "And he is not my baby, I’m caring for him while my sister goes to the goddess."

  "And what else is she hoping to bring?" Vana lifted an eyebrow. "She flees the city, and for the first time in decades the Asakan raiders come and visit their wrath upon us. Is that not enough? I heard that woman say her name." Carmel. Vana remembered her from when she was just a child and Carmel would look after her from time to time. Her sorrow at that historic loss had now been eclipsed by her rage.

  "Hush child." Aubrie’s voice was firmer now. She stood and paced the fire circle. Romane stirred and then slept again, the sleep that only those unaware of devastation could embrace.

  Vana shook her head but said no more, instead, training her eyes back to the flames and the village entrance that lay beyond. A figure moved in the shadows, approaching the carved posts that marked the edge of their space. Vana grabbed her dagger from her belt and stood, fingers clenched around its hilt. Logically, she knew this person could mean no harm because those who were dangerous seldom walked right in. They came as shadows, through the edges of the village. It didn’t matter, not to her. Anyone who came now came too late.

  The figure called out, her Nivaen rusty. "Ho! I’ve returned from the mountain, and I come bearing news of the goddess."

  "Carmel!" Aubrie shot forward, her arms wide as she crossed the distance and enfolded her sister. />
  Vana followed, slower. She didn’t return her knife to her belt, if anything she gripped it tighter. The Asakans may have come and taken Aida, but this woman, she was the real villain. Her actions had brought terror to their peaceful village and Vana would make sure she paid. It was almost as if Vana had summoned Carmel with her words.

  "What are you doing here?" Vana asked when the two women finally drew apart.

  Carmel’s brow furrowed. "This is my home."

  "No, it was your home once, but it isn’t now. You don’t belong here. You are more one of them than us, and your actions brought the Asakan dogs back to wreak havoc on our people once again." She stretched out her arm, pointing to where Carmel had come. "Go."

  Aubrie stepped between the two women and gently pushed Vana’s arm down. "Go to your husband, your remaining child. Try to sleep." Aubrie’s face was expressionless as she turned Vana away and gave her a gentle push.

  Vana huffed, glaring at them. Carmel’s face was soft, there was no malice there, but Aubrie’s gaze burned dark. Vana turned away.

  The sisters murmured to each other as she left. "What happened here?" She heard Carmel ask. Vana rolled her eyes and left them to it. Let them have their moment. She would sleep, and then she would gather her friends and family and find a way to make Carmel pay for what she had done.

  ***

  Vana stepped over Gabe and slipped under the blanket, pressing herself against the warm frame of her husband. How he could sleep—how any of them could—she had no idea.

  She drew Gabe closer, so she was sandwiched between the two. He writhed in his sleep and she stroked his hair until he settled again. At nine the boy was too big to need his mother, but since the attack they had shared the bed, taking small comfort from the presence of others. This should have been enough. The press of bodies, the gentle snores filling the great hall. But she couldn’t settle her mind. Her fingers itched to do something, her legs ached to move, though she knew she needed rest to be any use to Aida.

  The knowledge that Aubrie might bring Carmel in here, with the others, taunted her. How could she sleep under the same roof?

  Vana stared at the thatched ceiling, recalling the way the smoke had billowed off her own roof when the raiders set it aflame. She could picture the woman in her blue robes, her arms raised. How could another woman do that? Steal children. Break up families. She had spoken only Asakan though, so if she had a reason, Vana couldn’t have understood it—outside it having something to do with Carmel.

  This was getting her nowhere.

  She gently moved Gabe aside and got up, tucking the blanket back in around him before she stole out of the great hall and into the night. She snuck around the edge of the building toward the communal fire pit, hoping to catch Aubrie still talking with Carmel. They hadn’t come into the hall, so they had to be somewhere. The fire had been doused, only the moon’s pale beams illuminating the common area. Vana could hear a sorrowful owl calling in the distance, and night insects chirruping softly just outside the village.

  And then she heard a low chuckle. She followed the sound, traced it back to Aubrie’s cabin. Her heart raced as she tiptoed up the steps and peeked through the cracked wooden door. There was Carmel, cooing to wee Romane, a smile splitting her face as he babbled. The woman pressed the child against her shoulder, rubbing his back and eliciting a loud belch, making Carmel laugh again.

  "Oh, I have missed you, my boy. And you’ve grown! I wasn’t even gone that long." Carmel shook her head in disbelief and Vana’s heart constricted as she pulled away from the door and pressed her back against the cabin wall. She didn’t want to see Carmel this way, not as a person who loved, not as someone who cared. And yet there it was. That image of her as a grandmother warred with Vana’s sense of rage Carmel’s involvement in the devastation brought upon them, and she knew sleep was done for the night. There could be no rest here, not now.

  Vana moved away from the cabin, fetched her knife and boots, and headed into the woods.

  4

  She woke with blood still on her hands, the soft fur of the rabbit against her arm. It sickened her, a little, to know she had slept holding the creature she’d killed. It wasn’t the killing bit that bothered her. They still needed to eat. But the dead thing had given her some comfort, some sense of release, and she wished she could get that from her family. From her people.

  The sun was still slung low, its light barely breaching the thickset leaves above her. Vana pushed up from the moss she’d made a bed of, grasped the hilt of the knife at her belt, and headed back to the village.

  The trills of morning birds were the only things she heard until she was close, and then the quiet tread of feet. They’d changed their way of life so much after the incursion when Carmel was taken, making as little impact as they could. Smaller huts, smaller plots of gardens hidden in more obscure places. Anything to avoid the wrath of the Asakans and their All Mother coming down on them again.

  Vana shook her head in disdain and pushed through the shrubbery that bordered the village. She needed to check on her family and give Jonti the rabbit to cook. He was much better suited to that than her.

  When he spotted her, he rushed to her side, drawing her close. "Where have you been? I nearly sent out the other trackers."

  She laughed. "Like any of them could find me if I didn’t want to be found. Here, I brought us this." She handed over the critter. "Cook me something delicious, please?"

  "Anything for you, my love." He brushed dry lips against her forehead and she sighed, knowing this small peace would not last.

  "She came back last night," Vana murmured.

  "Aida?" Hope lit his eyes so fast she felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.

  "No, not Aida. Carmel, the woman from the city."

  Jonti shook his head. "No, don’t say it."

  "This is her fault! You can’t deny that. She must be punished for what she’s done, and we must get Aida back. We can’t just do nothing." She flung her arms in the air and then crossed them firmly over her chest. "I'll go and get her, if no one else will." She wanted him to say he would go too, that he would risk something for her daughter, for the daughter he’d said he loved as his own.

  Jonti let out a long slow breath and then tongued the corner of his mouth. "You know I want her back as much as you, but we can’t risk it. We can’t bring more destruction to the village. If we incite their wrath—"

  She didn’t let the breaking of her heart get in the way, but grabbed his arm, slid her hand down until her fingers were clasped in his. "They know where we are. They can come back anytime. Did you think of that? It doesn’t matter what we do, we’re vulnerable now. We’re exposed."

  His grasp tightened on hers, the lines of his face tensing as he realized the truth of her words.

  "We have to leave." His words came out as a whisper.

  "You’re right, we do. You need to get them moving." She took a breath, capturing his eyes with hers. "And I need to find Aida."

  "But—"

  "No." She shook her head. "You have your mission and I have mine. Both of them are important. Besides, I'm the best tracker our village has, who better to go? Someone must bring the children home."

  Jonti exhaled, his shoulders caving. He glanced at her, and she couldn’t tell whether it was relief or regret in his eyes. "You’re right."

  "Don’t sound so gloomy, my love. I’ll come back." She squeezed his hand, eliciting a melancholy laugh from him.

  "I know. I worry, it’s in my nature." He kissed her forehead again, and strung the rabbit on the porch, wiping the blood on his pants. "Come. We better call a meeting." He held her hand all the way to the common area, then let her go. Nudged her.

  She stepped forward and raised the communal whistle to her lips. She paused, trying to still the tremors in her hand. This had to be done, but there was no taking it back once it was. Vana forced all the air she could from her lungs and through the vessel. The peel of it rang through the village and
everyone stopped what they were doing, pursing their lips in a whistle of their own. Soon they crowded the communal area and she stepped onto the small dais and cleared her throat. She could see tears in some of their eyes, fear, hope, grief, echoes of her own.

  "It's time to talk about the future of our village." Vana took a breath. She knew she had to play this right. If she blamed Carmel they wouldn't take her seriously. She needed to stay focused on what was important. "The Asakan raiders have returned after decades of absence. After the last time, we made ourselves small and quiet, but now they have found us again. They have stolen our children. Our future." She made eye contact with as many as she could while she spoke, noting the grief, letting her own well up. "We cannot let it stand."

  There were murmurs in the crowd, so she pressed on. "Let me say my piece, and then you can say yours. I lost my daughter to them, so I know how it feels. I intend to get her back. Before you say this will bring further danger to our people, take a moment to think. They know where we are, there is nothing to stop them from coming back. If we want to be safe we must go where they can’t get us."

  A clamor of voices erupted, but she stood tall, weathering the flow until it dissipated. "Jonti wants to help our people find a new home, and I know there are many of you with important skills who can help us rebuild. If we all pitch in, we can leave here soon, move to a safer place."

  "But this is our home. This is where our history is." Aubrie stepped out of the crowd. It took all of Vana’s willpower not to sneer and say it was her fault too. "We didn’t leave the last time, and they didn’t come back then."

  "Not until now. Do you really want this to be our legacy? That we leave our people living where invasions happen, decades apart? Or do we want to find a new place to make our own, a place where our children’s children will be safe. Where our people can thrive."

  Strangely, there was no protest. The Nivaen people were chronically passive, and Vana knew even this was a big ask for them, but she could see they were broken. They would stay here and die if no one told them otherwise.