by A. M. Deese
The dragon roared and turned toward Timber, simultaneously swatting Kindle with her gigantic tail. Kindle bounced off the arena floor and lay still. Timber’s weapon was stuck in her scales, so he twisted backwards, performing a series of twirling leaps to stay in motion.
To the crowd, the fire just appeared around Timber’s twirling form, but to Ash it was a thing of beauty. A Fire Dancer’s ability lay in their power to manipulate the flames, to move around them. So long as the Dancer anticipated the moves of the dragon and understood their body, fire was as harmless to them as it was to the dragon. Timber pulled the flames from the dragon and held on, bonding the fire to him. He became a tornado of flames, spinning ever faster, and the crowd screamed in exultation as Timber released the fire at the dragon. The flames wouldn’t hurt her and were mostly for show, but what a show it was.
Timber was so seamless that even to Ash it looked as if he was creating fire. The notion was impossible, but the thought had Ash grudgingly admitting to himself that Timber was as good as he’d claimed. Better, even. Wildfire spit fire back at Timber in retaliation, and Ash watched him pull it around him and shoot it up toward the dome. The crowd went crazy, stomping their feet and screaming.
Timber leaped forward to retrieve his assegai and yanked it from Wildfire’s chest, causing blood to spray across the dirt. The dragon bugled in pain and spit another ball of fire that Timber deflected easily with a twisting leap. The fire curved around him and hit the dirt near Kindle’s still form. Timber shook his assegai in the air, and the crowd chanted his name. Ash was so caught up in the fight that he didn’t care. Let them call out Timber’s name, for in this moment he was a god and Ash was living through him.
The dragon continued to blow fire at Timber, but he had caught the rhythm of her breathing now and she was no match for him. When she raised up on her hind legs, he took the opportunity and plunged his assegai deep into her exposed belly, ripping it open. Blood and gore spilled across the arena floor. Wildfire gave a final cry before collapsing into the dirt. Sand billowed up in a porous cloud around her as the dust settled. Timber straddled the fallen beast and raised his assegai to the chanting crowd. His eyes met Ash, and the retired gladiator suddenly felt impossibly cold and rubbed his arms against the chill.
“She didn’t last very long,” Beshar mumbled, disappointed.
He stood up to leave and Ash followed him. He didn’t want to watch Timber accept his winnings.
Chapter Four
TYLAK
The incessant drip drip drip of water was enough to drive any man insane. He’d been half way to the mad house before he was brought to this prison, so he decided that it no longer mattered. I am going to die. Tylak grinned. The thought should terrify rather than amuse him. He giggled, confirming his descent into lunacy. Yes, he was crazy, and he would die alone and mad in this dank and dirty cell.
He could hear them, the mutterings and groans of those around him. Too long in the darkness and solitude of the dungeons had reduced each of these poor souls to little more than mumbling fools. And he was becoming one of them.
Maybe before everything had happened he would have resisted. The old me would have been busy plotting an escape. The old me would never give up. But that was before, when he’d had something worth fighting for. And even if he wanted to fight now, how could he? Once again he was nothing, stripped away from any value he thought to hold. Once again he was Tylak the slave.
His thoughts drifted off to Sykk and the promise he’d made to his mother. Tylak had never known his father, but his mother had been enough. She was kind and good. He could picture her now, worn and tired but ready with a smile for him and his young brother.
“Remember, you are strong. You can make a difference in Sykk’s life, in your own. You can shape your destiny.” Those had been her final words.
When he was fourteen he’d taken a job as the blacksmith’s assistant, eager to do the manual city labor and earn an honest pay. A slave earning an income. He had been so proud. He and Sykk had celebrated the day he’d brought home his first two weeks of pay. He’d earned five water chips and an entire gallon of water. An entire gallon. He’d been so shocked he’d almost dropped the priceless liquid. They’d shared a loaf of flat bread and fresh meat and had drank themselves silly. To Tylak, water had never tasted sweeter.
Back then he had still dared to believe that things could improve for him and Sykk. He had dared to have hope. It was all a joke. People like me can’t shape their destinies. He felt foolish that he’d once held on to the beliefs that he and Sykk’s lives could change. All those hopes were gone now. The world was a cruel place, and the rich got richer while the poor stayed poor. A slave would never be any more than a slave.
Never again. He made the silent vow, feeling the anguish of his loss tear through him once more. He pushed all thoughts of Sykk away from his mind. Don’t think about him; not anymore. Give up.
He lay down on the floor and drank from his glass. How ironic that here in this prison he could have more water at his disposal than he’d ever dreamed possible. The rich and powerful didn’t have to worry about when they will have their next drink of the precious liquid. For them, water is only a purchase away. And there was none such display of this opulence than that of the palace. He’d seen the garden on his way to the judgment hall. The lush green and fragrant flowers had disgusted him. And there had been a fountain. A damn fountain! The sheer waste of it all made his skin crawl. He figured his cell was probably beneath the gardens. That would explain the occasional heady waft of flowers and the constant drip of water into his glass. He took another greedy gulp. He might die here in these dungeons, but he wouldn’t die thirsty.
The scrape of his heavy cell door opening was deafening, and he jumped to his feet. He hadn’t expected for them to come for him now, in the dark of the night. His adrenaline surge was fleeting, and he slumped back against the wall. What does it matter? If my time is now, so be it.
Despite the fact that he told himself he didn’t care, he still watched the opening door with interest. He couldn’t hide his surprise as his captor approached.
“You,” he spat. “What are you doing here?”
She widened amber eyes. She was probably surprised at being spoken to in such a way. The shock in her face almost made him smile. He would have, if he hadn’t been so angry. She and her kind were the reason he was in this mess.
“I’ve come to ask you some questions. You will answer them truthfully.”
Bossy little thing. He frowned at her.
Her voice was low and husky, a surprising feature on her delicate frame and a direct contrast to the squeak he’d heard earlier when she’d sentenced him to be executed. If the situation was different, Tylak might have thought her beautiful. She had delicate features, a slender nose, tiny pouted lips. Her hair, long and black, hung down to the small of her back, shiny as obsidian. Her almond shaped eyes dominated her tiny face, and they were full of wonder and…Was she frightened? Good, let her be afraid. He spat again. “What do you want?”
She took a careful step back to avoid the puddle of saliva and clasped her hands behind her back.
She lifted her chin. “I have questions, slave, and you will answer them.”
She tried to look stern, but her spectacles slid down the bridge of her nose and he laughed.
He stood up, closing the distance between them and taking pleasure when her tiny pink lips parted into a delicate O. Her Arbe closed rank around her, yet another reminder of her status. She waved them back.
Interesting. She’s brave. Or maybe she just realized that my chains prevent me from getting any closer. He narrowed his eyes and scowled down at her.
“I am known as Tylak.” He kept his voice steady, even. He was doomed to rot in a prison cell until his execution, but he was not her slave. He stared her in the eye to make sure she saw he was unafraid.
“I am Jura, daughter of Justir, First of the Thirt—”
“I know who you are,�
�� he snapped.
She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brows. Tylak enjoyed watching her squirm and said nothing. She doesn’t know what to make of me. Good.
“I have some questions for you. If you answer them to my satisfaction, I will see you rewarded.”
She was persistent, he had to give her that. Tylak smiled.
“What could you give me that I would want?”
“Well, your life for one.” Though her statement was smug, her voice was hopeful and her eyes pleaded with him. “Freedom, perhaps? A chance to start again.”
He chuckled. “If it’s just the same, I’d rather not accept any favors from one of the Thirteen. Thanks for stopping by, though. I’m sure you can see yourself out.” He sat back down on the cool stone floor and turned his back to her, staring at the wall. He took another swig from his glass of water, ignoring the sound of her gasp. He wanted to be left alone.
“You’re drinking bath water.”
“Excuse me?”
“The water dripping into your cell.” Her voice had become lilting and amused. He liked her better when it was laced with desperation.
“I happen to know you’re directly under Councilman Beshar’s bathing chamber.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s very large and sweaty. Though perhaps it’s safe. He doesn’t seem to bathe often, at least if his odor is any indicator.” She shrugged. “I think that’s why he favors that floral perfume.”
Do not let her see you’re disgusted. Deliberately he set the glass back down. He sighed, it didn’t seem he would get rid of her so easily. “Ask your questions and be gone.”
Her smile widened. It was a nice smile, though he would never admit it.
“You’re here because you stole from the Everflame.”
“That’s what I’m told.”
“Well,” she cleared her throat. “How did you do it? Only Fire Dancers can manipulate fire. So how did you steal it?”
He sighed again and leaned his head back against the wall. He wanted to bash it in and be done with her, with everything. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“Well then, were you a Fire Dancer once? Relegated back to mere slave after you committed some crime?” Her eyes were earnest, and she ran the tip of her tongue against her pink lips.
“I’m no Fire Dancer and I’m not a slave either. Not anymore.” He glared at her. “And I didn’t steal fire. Look, I can’t explain it to you and there’s no point even if I wanted to. I’m being executed tomorrow, why does it matter?”
She frowned. “You’re not making any sense. Are you saying that you never had any fire in your possession? That the guard lied or was somehow confused? I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. Go away.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. “I was hoping—”
“Hoping what? Listen, I don’t have any evil scheme. I just…what is it? Do you feel guilty? Is that it? I’m a dead man,” he growled. “Go back to your palace and leave me in peace. I want to spend my last hours alive in silence.”
“N-no. I was hoping you’d tell me where you’d learned to do such a thing, that you could teach me. You could help me with—oh, never mind, this is foolish.”
Her outburst was unexpected and he cocked his head to the side regarding her with new eyes. “You want to learn how to steal fire?”
“Yes,” her voice was defensive. She frowned down at him.
He couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“Enough,” she seethed, placing her hands on her hips.
Was she about to throw a tantrum? Oh, he really hoped she was.
“I can’t help it,” he gasped. “You’re as mad an anyone in here. Greatness, as far as I know, stealing fire is a feat only done by Fire Dancers. I can’t teach you. Why in the name of the Everflame would you want to? Surely you have Fire Dancers in your own employ to help you?”
“Of course I do. It’s just that…” She trailed off. She appeared to be blushing though it was hard to tell in the dark cell.
She cleared her throat and continued, “I thought if I could steal fire, that they would have to take me. That they would let me in.”
“Who would let you in?” The humble look in her eyes was really quite charming.
“The Shadow Dancers,” she mumbled, looking at the ground.
She really was mad. Completely and utterly insane. Why do I always attract the crazy ones? “The Shadow Dancers don’t exist.” Tylak rolled his eyes. “And even if they did, they wouldn’t let you in their midst.”
“Please,” her voice caught in her throat. “I’m desperate.”
“Clearly. And more than a little insane.”
She nodded. “And it would appear I’ve wasted my time.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll leave you to your death then.”
She walked back toward the cell door, calling out for one of her Arbe to open it for her.
Tylak watched her, battling with himself. Her kind wasn’t to be trusted. She was privileged, pampered, and represented everything that he hated.
And she was his only chance at survival. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
“Greatness, wait.”
She stopped and turned around, frowning at him.
Tylak heaved a deep sigh and lifted his arms. He couldn’t tell her everything, but he was a fool if he allowed himself to stay in this prison waiting for his death. “I may not have been entirely forthcoming with you. I know something that can help.”
She tossed her head at one of her silent giants, and the member of the Arbe undid his chains. They fell to the floor with a beautiful clamor.
Tylak rubbed his wrists and followed her out of his cell. He couldn’t trust her, but he had every intention of using her.
Chapter Five
KAY
Kay opened both her eyes and smiled. She leaped from her bed, throwing on pants and the tunic from the day before. She pushed the sleep out of her eyes and washed her face and mouth before running outside toward the corral. The morning sun was more pink than orange as it peeked over the puffy white clouds. The clouds hung so low Kay almost felt she could reach out and grab one. Well, if Daddy held her up.
Kay’s father was the biggest, strongest and bravest around. Kay knew there was a lot more to the world than her family’s acreage, but she never had the urge to explore. Their homestead had everything she could ever want. Daddy had built their home himself with his own two hands. Kay often sat in his lap and stared at those hands. His fingers were long and capable, his palm big and hard. Daddy never minded when she climbed up, not even now that she was seven years old and getting too big for cuddles.
Mama stopped her at the gate and Kay skidded to a halt, annoyed that she hadn’t woken up earlier. If she had, Mama might not have caught her.
“Where are you going, young lady?” Mama’s face was warm and loving as always, yet she narrowed her eyebrows in an effort to appear stern. Kay knew that Mama meant it.
“I just want to see him. Please, Mama? Just for a moment? I’ll be so quick.” Kay beamed her full smile, the one she showed her mama and daddy when she wanted them to see just how good of a little girl she was. “Please, Mama?”
Mama remained firm. “Chores first. I can’t be expected to do everything myself.”
Kay wanted to ignore her mother’s wishes but instead thought about all the work Mama would have to do by herself if she neglected her chores. She turned around and headed back toward their house.
There were chickens and rabbits to feed. The garden needed constant care. Kay was in charge of watering the plants as well as harvesting the ripe vegetables. The house always needed a good cleaning, and laundry was in need of a washing. It was mid-morning before Mama announced that Kay had completed enough chores and was permitted to go outside to the corral.
Kay needed no further prompting and ran from the house, kicking up trails of dust as she ran up the dirt road that led to the north barn. The best
barn. The building was located on the edge of their property atop a large dirt mound that stood out against the otherwise rolling green hills. She stopped short in front of the massive building. Made of shiny metal and wire, the structure leaped from the ground and towered into the sky, two double doors dominated the front of the square building. Eager, Kay opened one of the doors.
She was immediately aware of the blast of heat that hit her skin and her lungs, the tell-tale characteristics inside the north barn. She smiled at the familiar feel and smell of the room.
“Daddy, are you in here?”
Her father appeared from the opposite end of the barn. He smiled and waved her over.
“Be careful now. Rumble has a bit of a temper today.”
Kay laughed, “Daddy, you say that about Rumble every day.”
The dragon in question lay curled on his side in a roped off corner of the barn. He opened one lazy eye at the mention of his name but didn’t move. Too old to still breed, the dragon lived there out of habit more than anything else. Rumble had been in her family decades longer than Kay, then her father even. Kay had asked her father once how old Rumble was. When he’d been unable to answer, she’d decided to demand the answer from Rumble herself. She’d stood atop his giant magnificent snout and stomped her foot until he’d opened both of his monstrous eyes. The giant black orbs had stared at her blankly. Mama had been so scared she’d wept like a baby, and Daddy had been so mad that, after he’d gotten her safely off, she’d gotten a whooping. She’d been five years old. Kay felt that Rumble would never hurt her, and it appeared the old dragon was content to spend the rest of his days sunbathing in various spots in the surrounding pastures and his nights sleeping, curled into a sinewy ball of scales in the barn.
Kay reached her father and fell into his arms. Daddy swooped her up in the air just as she’d known he would and she laughed.
