Serafina's Flame

by J. C. Hart

  "There is a place over the bridge, on the mountain." Carmel’s voice rose effortlessly, and the crowd parted, allowing her to move to the front. "When I was standing at the peak with Serafina, I could see all the land, spreading out around us. And on the other side of the mountain is a vast meadow on the lower slopes. It would be perfect for our people."

  Vana chewed the inside of her cheek, wishing that someone else had made the suggestion, and then nodded. "You can lead them there. You can help them find the way and get them set up." At least this way they would be far apart from each other.

  Carmel glanced around the crowd before leveling her gaze at Vana. She shook her head. "I will come with you, once I have spread the news I gathered from Serafina."

  Vana stepped down from the dais and stalked to Carmel. "No. I go alone."

  Carmel reached out, laid her hand on Vana’s arm, but the younger woman flicked it off. "You don’t know what lies ahead. You don’t know the city, the people. If you make it there you will never find your daughter, never be able to leave the city once you’ve got her back. Is that what you want? To die with your child in their city?" Carmel’s words were harsh, but there was a softness to her gaze.

  Vana glanced away, swallowing hard. As much as she hated to admit it, the old woman was right. "Okay," she whispered. "But we do things my way, and just because I’m accepting your help it doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, or that I want to speak with you. I do this for my daughter, not for you. It absolves nothing."

  "As you wish." Carmel bowed her head and then turned to the rest of the people. "Gather around, my children, for I bring the ash of Serafina. I bring your ancestors to you once again, along with the goddess’s desire to reconnect."

  Carmel raised her hands, flinging black dust into the fire. Bright flames sprang up. The people backed away before drawing closer, mouths open, heads shaking in awe. Vana could hear the mutterings of magic and blessings, of divinity and the stories of old, but she focused on Carmel’s face and the way it seemed to glow, lit up from within. Her stomach clenched and she turned from the scene, not wanting to stay with the crowd, not wanting to see what the old woman would do next. There were no ancestors she wished to speak to now, and she couldn’t stand the way the others were crowding around Carmel, as if she were the goddess herself.

  No. She pushed through the crowd of bodies until she was at the fringe and then stepped outside, wrapping her arms around herself to protect her from the sudden chill, and headed for the hall. She would pack. She would prepare, and come morning she would leave. Aida needed her.

  5

  The villagers moved quickly, a frenetic energy filling them with more purpose than they’d had in years. Anything that could be carried, would be; the small hunting tents, the tools, and weapons, the food stockpile. Packs were fashioned and stretchers built to spread the load. In an uncoordinated way, everyone pulled their weight.

  Everyone but Vana, who had her own mission, her own requirements. She was packing dried meat when someone approached and coughed to get her attention.

  Vana stiffened, expecting it to be Carmel, but when she turned she found the mother of an abducted child. Loren glanced around nervously, as though she didn’t want to be seen talking to Vana.

  "Yes, Loren?" Vana leveled a stare at her. "What do you need? You should prepare for the journey."

  Loren shifted her weight between her feet, back and forth, back and forth. "I know many don’t think you should go. I know we’re all worried about the danger it might bring, but… Can you bring my boy home?"

  Vana sighed, her heart heavy. "I want to bring them all home, Loren. I’m not a selfish woman. We’ve all lost something these past days, the soul of our people lies in our children, and I won’t leave them to rot in Asakan hands."

  Loren embraced her, crushing her face against Vana’s chest, great sobs tearing free. "Thank you, thank you so much."

  "I still have to get to the city and get them out," Vana murmured, rubbing Loren’s back. She wasn’t sure what to do with this gratitude, had never found it easy making friends with other women in the first place, but at least this meant that they were not all opposed. She’d have a place in the village when she returned. If she returned.

  Vana had given no time over to considering what might happen if she was unsuccessful. It wasn’t worth it. She knew without doubt she would not recover from that loss. She would never feel up to facing her people again, not even Jonti, whose love was so gentle, who had always forgiven her rough edges and abrasive manner. Who’d worked so hard to mend the wounds her last husband had left behind.

  Loren pulled away, wiping her running nose. "Thank you," she said again, ducking her head. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small parcel, placing it in Vana’s hands before walking away.

  Vana unwrapped the edges of the wax lined fabric, revealing sweet delicacies, the tiny purple mushrooms that grew only under rotting logs when the blue moon waned. They were prized things, thought to give strength and courage, to heal ills and guide the path of the consumer. She wrapped them up, pressing the packet to her bosom, wishing she’d said more when she’d had the chance.

  But she tucked them into her pack, nestled between clothes. Just knowing they were there would help her on this journey—and hopefully she wouldn't need to use them.

  Jonti came in not shortly after. He wrapped his long arms around her waist and she leaned back against him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His question was barely audible as if he wasn’t even sure he wanted to ask.

  "She is my daughter. You know I have no choice." She pushed his arms off and went back to her packing, but he spun her to face him.

  "There is always a choice, love. Always. Remember that." He kissed her on the forehead. "I know you can look after yourself, and with Carmel there to help you, I know you’ll get into the city and find the children. But I worry… What if we’re not meant to have those children? What if there was a reason behind their taking?"

  She slapped him. Hard. He winced but didn’t move as she cradled her hand against her chest, a sob wracking her as she sank to the floor. "I didn’t mean to do that—"

  "Shhh, it’s okay." He sat down beside her, wrapped an arm around her. "You’re not like him. This isn’t the same. His mind was warped."

  "And what if mine is now too? What if I can’t come back from this?"

  Jonti shook his head. "It’s not the same."

  Vana took a deep breath and faced him. "I will not give my child over to some destiny, no matter what you believe. She is our daughter, only she, or we, can choose her future for her."

  "You weren’t there when Carmel flung the ash, you didn’t see what I did." Jonti grabbed her hands. "You need to give her a chance to show you. We’ve lost so much. I don’t want to lose any more." His voice broke, and so did her heart. She placed her hands on either side of his face and drew him in for a kiss, hoping it could push at least a little of the grief away. Delay the inevitable.

  It had been awkward, these last few days. She had withdrawn, she knew, and now she could see that he feared she had no intention of returning. Maybe he even believed her quest to save Aida was nothing more thn a ruse. He knew as well as she did that she was broken.

  She captured his face again and forced him to look her in the eyes. "I love you, Jonti. I will find you at the new village, and I will bring Aida and the others home with me. I promise you this."

  He nodded, a vast sigh escaping his lungs as he wrapped his arms around her.

  ***

  By the time she felt she had done enough, the others had gathered around the communal fire. They had been spit-roasting goat for hours, and the other food had been buried under hot stones to cook. As she entered the circle they were just lifting the baskets from the ground, the smell burst into the air and made her stomach gurgle.

  It might be the last time she ate like this, so she pushed her nerves aside, pushed down her frustration with the others and moved into the crowd, taking a pla
te and loading it high with root vegetables and succulent meat and fluffy bread. Vana sat on the ground next to Jonti, their knees knocked together and they laughed. Their son was running around with the remaining children, letting off the nervous energy that seemed threaded through the village.

  She could pretend, just for tonight, that everything was okay. Normal. They were together, enjoying traditional food in the traditional manner, and tomorrow didn’t matter.

  Vana glanced around the group, her eyes catching Carmel, who sat on the opposite side of the fire. Vana didn’t hold her gaze, her eyes slid away and she focused on other more familiar faces and prayed that Carmel wouldn’t bring the ash back out, wouldn’t need to tell the people more about the goddess. Serafina’s absence had spoken more clearly than Carmel’s presence ever would. Vana needed action, not words.

  Her food tasted sour as she indulged these thoughts, so she reached for the bowl of brayberry wine being passed around the circle and drank deep, drowning out those thoughts and refocusing on the people before her. The ones she loved. The ones who had been there the first time the village was devastated, those who had endured and kept them safe, those who had helped them thrive, even as they had kept the village quiet and hidden.

  Vana eyed each face around the circle, committing them to memory, giving her thanks to the night sky they were here, together, alive. One people, committed to keep on. Even though it meant moving.

  And she would return to them. Even if she couldn’t save all the children. Even if she couldn’t save Aida—because this was where she belonged.

  6

  Vana set out at first light. She didn’t wait for Carmel—as much as she knew the logic in having the old woman with her, she was loathe to accept the help—she needed the peace and space of the bush, the thrill of the hunt, the focus of tracking, though the first stretch of her journey was easy. She could have been out following any creature, hunting any game.

  The trail was wide. There were muddy boot prints on the ground, branches broken and pushed aside to make room for the party. She could see them now, count them in her mind. A dozen and a half Asakan invaders, and that woman, dressed in the blue of the All Mother, presiding over the incursion. And ten children, dressed in their bed clothes, barefoot and bawling. Aida’s hair was plaited when she was taken, and it had flicked out, smacking her captor in the stomach as he wrestled with her. She had fought—she was Vana’s daughter, through and through—but she’d been no match for the big man.

  Tears stung at her eyes but she swiped them away. There was no time for that now. She stalked on, treading lightly and drawing strength from the forest around her.

  This had always been her home. Not the village, or the walls of her hut. Not the kisses of her partner, or the embraces of her children. The trees and birds, the moss and rocks, the shadows striking the ground, dappled light from the sun filtering through the leaves. That rich, earthy smell, so unique to the forest.

  Vana let herself sink into that now, let her senses drown in it until she'd calmed. She kept her eyes closed for a moment listening to the vibrations of the living things all around her. She opened her eyes and stepped forward.

  And then she was upside down, suspended above the earth, the ropes of a net digging through her clothes.

  Stupid, stupid woman. Of course they had left traps behind. Of course she hadn’t stopped to think of that. So intent on getting her goal and arrogant enough to believe she’d sense something before it happened. She should have known better. The net continued to swing even after she stopped wriggling.

  Vana let out her breath in a huff. No one would come for her—the Asakans would only be trying to slow her down, they wouldn't be waiting here. At least something was going her way. Her arms were crushed between her body and the rope of the net, but if she could just twist…

  "Do you need some help?"

  Vana glanced down to find Carmel looking at her, a weirdly serene smile on her face. Vana rolled her eyes, but it probably didn’t translate from her current position. She wriggled her hand until she could feel the hilt of the blade at her hip, and drew it. "No, I do not."

  She hacked at the rope closest to her, as Carmel followed the line of the trap down to the ground. "I said no. Do you make a habit of ignoring the wishes of other people?" She felt the rope begin to give and started on another strand. The burns on her leg stung as the rope grazed against them, but she wasn’t going to stop until she was free.

  "No, I generally listen to the wishes of others, it is, after all, the reason I came back."

  Vana had heard this story before, when Aubrie returned to the village with little Romane. Then, it had seemed an honourable thing. Vana had only vague memories of Landon, Carmel’s pale son, and the whispered stories of his conception that even she had understood. It was part of what horrified her so much about Aida being in Asakan possession.

  She sawed the knife against a third rope, and then there was a snap and the net tore apart. She grabbed the bottom of the net as she fell, softening her landing. The ground jarred her knees on impact, and her shoulder ached.

  "I could have helped," Carmel said. She offered a hand, but Vana shook her head.

  "You could have stayed away. It’s your fault that the Asakan’s came and took Aida and the others." Vana dusted herself off.

  "You are my people, Serafina my goddess. Would you strip me of my right to be among my own? Is that not what the invaders do?"

  Vana looked away as she slid her blade into its sheath. A pang of guilt hit her in the chest for the young woman that Carmel had been when she was taken, for the old woman standing before her. No one had tried to get her back, and yet Carmel was here, trying to help Vana.

  "I didn’t mean it like that." She softened her voice, letting her shoulders drop. "Everyone has the right to be with their own, but your actions brought the Asakans here. They followed you, they destroyed our village and took our children, and some of the blame for that lies with you."

  "It was not my intention." Carmel exhaled, her body slouching as she did. She sank to the floor of the forest, and motioned with her eyes for Vana to do the same. "Do you remember me, from before?"

  Vana shook her head, though it was a lie. Carmel had been named as goddess's, and everyone knew her. She’d had a gentle nature, always kind, always caring. Until she had Landon, anyway, and then she had been shunned—and perhaps that was why no one went for her.

  "Well, I remember you. You were such a darling child, though ever distrustful. And stubborn. I see that some things haven’t changed." Carmel quirked an eyebrow.

  Vana finally sat, wincing at the pain in her legs as she did.

  "Are your burns giving you difficulty?" Carmel smoothed a hand down her own leg.

  "They ache, a little. Nothing that will stop me from carrying on."

  "Will you let me help with that? I can ease the burns, and then we can keep moving."

  Vana considered Carmel, this woman who seemed to want nothing from her, except to be let into her mission. Carmel was right though, she didn’t trust her. Not all the way. However, this would all be easier with her legs healed.

  "I will let you help," she said, keeping the edge of resentment from her voice. "But don’t think this means I have forgiven you."

  Carmel laughed. "I didn't ask for your forgiveness." She gestured for Vana to roll up her pants, and with trembling hands she did. The wounds were seeping along the lines where the rope had rubbed against them.

  Carmel got out her canteen and poured a thin stream of water onto each bandage, letting it seep in before placing her hands above. Vana could feel gentle warmth flood through the wrappings and she pulled away.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Dissolving the crust on the wounds so I can remove the bandages without hurting you. If you’ll let me." Carmel cocked an eyebrow and waited as Vana slid her legs out again. The old woman returned to her work and Vana tried not to flinch, the sensation wasn’t unpleasant, just strange.


  Soon Carmel unwound the bandages, revealing bright red flesh. Some patches were inflamed and Vana winced as the cool air hit her skin. Her normally strong stomach protested the sight and she turned away, swallowing bile.

  "I’m surprised they let you come. Surprised you got this far."

  "I have a high tolerance for pain," Vana replied, turning to watch Carmel’s face as she worked. The other woman pressed her palms against the wounds, one on each leg, and again warmth radiated from her.

  "I learned this from Serafina. When I found her on the plateau I was injured, worse than this. She bade me walk into her flames and rejuvenated me." Carmel glanced up at Vana and smiled. "My skills are not as strong as hers, you will still have scars, but the pain will be gone, and the wounds mostly healed."

  Vana nodded, grateful that she would be unimpeded by pain for the rest of her journey. She’d stopped herself from thinking about it too much, but after being tangled in the net, they were more painful than ever before. She looked at her legs as Carmel pulled away. The skin was knitting back together, healthy and pink.

  She reached out and placed her hand on Carmel’s arm. While part of her brain protested at the touch, she knew she had to play this right. "Thank you, for lending your magic to my cause."

  "Serafina’s magic, Vana. She is the one you should be thanking."

  Her stomach curdled at the thought. It had been a long time since she’d thanked the goddess for anything, and she wasn’t sure she could start now. Just knowing she'd been up there on the mountain while her people suffered, while they struggled to survive. She could have helped them thrive, but no.

  Vana nodded, not able to speak.

  "I need a little time to rest," Carmel said. "The magic is given freely, but it still costs. Will you sit with me and share some tea?"