by Marlow York
“You live alone all the way out here?” I asked. “Must be lonely.”
Roger grunted and leaned his elbow against the table. “Sometimes it’s very lonely. Old Buttercup isn’t the best of company, no matter how many times I try to engage her in conversation.” He jabbed his thumb in the general direction of the ox’s pasture. “But Violet warms the foot of my bed at night and I find comfort in my solitude, especially now that the world is going to hell.” When Violet hopped into his lap, he smiled gently and caressed her long fur. I heard her purring across the room. Roger frowned slowly, his eyes drooping with sadness. “My wife used to keep me company, and our three boys.”
“Where are they?” Anza asked.
Roger glanced at her. “They are no longer with me,” he said quietly. “My wife and youngest son are buried out behind the house. My two oldest were lost at sea many years ago.”
“Lost at sea?” Cypress asked. “Were they sailors?”
“Almost everyone in the town was involved in the fishing trade, back when there was a town,” Roger said. “The coast isn’t far from here. We used to take the boat out for weeks at a time, pulling in whatever we could find. Back when the fish were plentiful.”
“What changed?” Cypress leaned closer with interest.
“It’s hard to say exactly,” Roger said. “The City’s airships started flying overhead more often. We used to sell them fish too. But then the fish started disappearing. Before we knew it, we barely caught enough to sustain ourselves, let alone enough to sell. I feared the City had poisoned the water, but that seemed impossible. How could they poison an entire ocean?”
The sea is really that big? I asked myself, afraid to reveal my ignorance.
“I wouldn’t be surprised by anything they could do,” Anza spat. “After they destroyed my village and killed my parents, I assume the worst now.”
“As is the case for all of us, unfortunately,” Roger said glumly.
I sensed he had once had a good relationship with the City, but I found it unusual considering how far away his home was from their walls.
“How did they know you were out here?” I asked. “In order for you to trade with them, that is. We’ve been traveling for weeks to get away from them. I can’t imagine it would be very lucrative to travel all that way just to trade.”
“I didn’t live here while I was still trading with them,” Roger explained. “This was a hunting camp, a place my sons and I only visited once in a while to catch game. I used to live in a small village to the south of here. But…that village no longer exists.”
“The City destroyed it.” I wrinkled my forehead.
“No. A plague swept through and killed nearly everyone.” Roger looked pensive, as though trying to remember the exact details. “Not long after the fish started disappearing, the City caught word and sent people here to see what the problem was. They determined it was some sort of illness that was killing the fish, but I didn’t believe that for a minute.”
“Why not?” Cypress asked.
“Because there weren’t enough fish washing up on the shore.” Roger’s face pinched with anger. “I’ve fished the ocean my entire life. I know what it looks like when something is killing the fish. You see fish bodies washed up on the shore or floating to the surface. Most creatures know better than to eat them if they’ve been poisoned, so they just accumulate until they eventually rot. This was different. It was like the fish were just disappearing.”
“And what did the City do about it?” Cypress asked.
“They offered everyone in the village refuge in the City.” Roger took a long gulp of tea. “They said that whatever was killing the fish may find its way to shore and begin killing the animals and people, perhaps even the plants.”
“The Sickness,” Anza muttered.
“Sounds like the City was threatening you,” I mumbled angrily. The others looked at me with knowing eyes.
“I agree with you now,” Roger said, “but I didn’t think that at the time. No one did. They all assumed the City officials knew what they were talking about, and everyone had heard about how glamorous the City is behind that wall. Most clamored at the opportunity to go inside, with the hope of being taken care of or becoming rich, just like the City Dwellers. Some, however, chose not to go. They didn’t want to leave their homes for some unknown place miles and miles away. The village was beautiful, and people loved it. My boys loved it, and my wife loved it…I loved it too.” His eyes grew distant again and his frown deepened.
“And then the plague came?” I closed my eyes for a moment, recalling Nella’s dying father in the alleyway.
Roger nodded. “People got sick almost overnight. Some lasted a week, but many were dead within days. We didn’t have enough room in the cemetery for all the bodies, so we had to burn them. The sky was filled with foul smoke almost every day. So, my family fled. We packed up our belongings and headed into the woods in the middle of the night. But…the Sickness followed us.”
“Is that how…?” Anza’s voice trailed off. I was amazed by her tactfulness.
“My youngest caught it first, then my wife. They didn’t last a week.”
“We’re sorry to hear that.” Cypress spoke for all of us.
My hands burned with anger. “The City couldn’t capture your village, so they killed everyone instead?”
“The thought crossed my mind as I watched my wife and son die, but I didn’t think it was possible,” Roger said. “The City had always protected us and lived alongside us, despite being so far away. We considered ourselves their allies. To this day, I can’t figure out what we did to make them so angry.”
“You didn’t want to be controlled,” Anza said. “You didn’t want to become their pets, like the Fiero.”
“You also held a monopoly on the fishing trade in the area,” Cypress said quickly, catching the flash of anger in my eyes as I glared at Anza. “The City likes to control as many goods as possible, choosing who gets what, when, and how much of it. If they knew about the Secara’s trade routes, they would have hunted us down and destroyed us too.”
Roger shook his head. “I just don’t understand. It sounds so crazy when you say it out loud.”
“But it’s true,” Cypress said. “I think the only reason they let you live was because you aren’t like us. I don’t understand how the Grakkir got away with it for so long.”
“To keep the Fiero close,” I breathed. All eyes turned to me, and I looked back at them, my lips parted in disbelief. “They used to tell us stories about huge animals and savage people who lived in the woods. They said it was too dangerous for us to go there, and we had to stay close to the City for protection. Otherwise we would be punished.”
“And though we were miles away from the City, we were still close enough to keep an eye on,” Anza added. “I doubt they ever saw an Animal God because so few Grakkir have them now.”
“So, they keep you alive long enough to be useful, then they kill you when you don’t do what they say?” Roger looked from one face to the next. “If that’s their ultimate goal, why don’t they just kill everyone all at once and get it over with?”
“Because they don’t want to alarm the other villages,” Cypress said. “It would ruin their reputation as a ‘great and luxurious’ place to live.”
“It is also more beneficial to get people on their good side, like they did with your village,” Anza added.
“It’s not just that,” I realized aloud. “They’re afraid of us.”
“Afraid?” Anza asked.
“They have airships, bombs, and killer spider machines on their side. What do they have to be afraid of?” Cypress scoffed.
“This.” I lifted my hand and called the Ancient Fire. Even though Roger had seen it once before, he gasped and pushed his chair away from the table in alarm. Violet hopped off his lap and slunk away from me.
“That, right there.” I pointed at Roger’s reaction. “They have ideas about what we can do, but they don�
�t know everything. They fear us because we are more powerful than they can even fathom. It’s fear of the unknown that makes them hate us and want to destroy us. It threatens everything they’ve built. Their reputation, their riches, their power. I think they know, somehow, that there must be more like us in the world. They don’t want the rest of us to know about each other, because once we can find each other, they know we can take the City down.”
“Which is exactly what we’re doing.” Anza smirked dangerously.
“And they’re onto us by now,” Cypress said. “The Fiero attack didn’t go as planned because you got away, Valieri. Then the Grakkir left their homeland. By now, the City must suspect we’re searching for allies, but they don’t know who we are yet.”
I nodded. “They know we’re out here somewhere. That’s why those spiders were in that cave. We can only hope they don’t know who we are.”
Roger slumped back in his chair. “This is all…so complicated.”
“We do complicated for a living.” Cypress gave him a wide grin.
✽ ✽ ✽
I awoke to the sun peeking through the trees. I leaned against Saven’s side, watching the burning orb rise over distant mountains. Chickadees cheeped and fluttered in the nearby trees. Buttercup, the ox, snorted in her pasture as she grazed on the dewy grass. I sat still for a long while, listening to the sounds of the morning and attempting to quiet my stormy mind.
Saven stirred beside me, hissing a long, slow groan.
“Saven, how are you?” I turned onto my knees and touched his face.
“I’ve been better.” He raised his head and looked at his wound, expertly packed with a mixture of Cypress’s herbs and covered with Roger’s bandages. Flicking his tongue, he gazed around the clearing with a hazy mind. “How long was I unconscious?”
“Just overnight.” I gently removed the bandages and assessed his injury. “The wound is closing slowly. When was the last time you ate anything?”
Saven’s mind clouded with guilt. “I don’t remember.”
I pursed my lips, feeling like an irritated mother. “How are you supposed to stay healthy if you don’t eat anything?”
Saven shifted his gaze to Buttercup’s pasture.
“Don’t even think about it,” I scolded. I stood and draped my blanket over his back. “I’ll find something for you to eat.” I glanced back and added quickly. “Leave the cat alone, too.”
Saven heaved a sigh and rested his head on the ground.
I headed for the forest, stepping quietly along a beaten path. Calling upon my Warrior training, I observed the ground for tracks and looked at the trees for signs of scratch marks from a deer rubbing its antlers. I’d never been a very successful hunter. During training we’d taken a few group hunting trips, but I’d never been the one to find the animal or kill it. Maybe I’d be lucky enough to find something.
I pushed aside a tree branch and jumped when I saw Cypress sitting on the ground, legs folded, eyes closed. I felt embarrassed to be interrupting whatever he was doing.
“Valieri?” he asked without opening his eyes.
“Uh, hi.” I stepped in front of him and glanced around. “How did you guess?”
“Your energy.” He opened his eyes. “The Secara perfected a meditation technique that allows us to home in on certain types of energy. With enough practice and familiarity, we can identify people just by their energy.”
“So, you’re familiar with my energy?”
He gave a laugh. “Yes. I’ve never met a Fiero before, so your energy is distinctly different from the Secara and Grakkir.”
“How so?” I picked at the tree’s bark, then quickly stopped myself. What if the tree could feel it?
“Your energy is like a firestorm trapped in a bottle.”
I frowned. What an appropriate and scarily accurate comparison. “Do you feel that all the time when you’re around me?”
“No, only when I’m concentrating.” He straightened his legs with a pained grunt. “If it makes you feel better, I wasn’t just sitting here searching for other people’s energies.”
“Then what were you doing?” I asked.
“Listening.”
I glanced up at the tree he leaned against. The branches swayed gently without any breeze. The leaves suddenly twitched and fluttered, creating a soft rustling noise. I closed my eyes and though I couldn’t hear anything, I felt the pressure of energy passing back and forth between Cypress and the tree. When I opened my eyes, Cypress was grinning at me.
“What?” I asked.
He chuckled softly. “This one is funny.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the tree. “It’s not very often you meet a tree with a great sense of humor.”
I laughed. “No, I suppose not.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Hunting for Saven,” I said. “No luck so far.”
“How is he?” Cypress asked.
I shrugged. “Awake, but he hasn’t been taking care of himself, so he isn’t healing quickly.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
As if on cue, the bruises Anza put on my left cheek throbbed painfully. I touched my right cheek where the spiders’ claws had left a thick, uneven scar. Cypress patted the ground and I reluctantly sat down. “When was the last time you just sat quietly and listened?” he asked.
“This morning.”
He squinted at me. “No, I mean sat and let your mind think of nothing.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Try it now.”
I glared at him. “While you watch?”
“I’ll close my eyes with you.” He shut his eyes and faced forward.
I sighed heavily. “Fine.” I shut my eyes, and immediately flashes of Saven’s wound, my village in flames, and dead Grakkir lining the streets filled my mind. I shuddered and opened my eyes again.
When I looked at Cypress, his eyes were still closed. “I don’t mean you have to force every thought out of your mind,” he said. “Focus on the things you sense around you. If your mind wanders, listen to the wind in the trees, smell the dew on the grass, feel the cold dirt beneath your hands.”
I shut my eyes and did as he said. The breeze shifted the leaves, making them sigh quietly. I dug my fingertips into the damp ground and inhaled the earthy scent drifting upward. I exhaled slowly and felt myself relaxing against the rough bark of the tree. When Juliano’s face clouded my vision, I gently pushed it away and focused on the pattering of tiny footsteps as a creature foraged for food. I opened my eyes curiously and saw the culprit—a grey squirrel—nuzzling the ground for seeds. It hopped towards us, regarding us with huge dark eyes. Its bushy tail twitched, and it squeaked once.
I giggled, surprising myself with the sound and how unusually calm I felt.
Cypress beamed at me. “You’d be amazed what you can attract when you calm your energy.”
I stared at him quizzically.
He tilted his head at the squirrel. “You were looking for food, right?”
“Yeah.” I drew my dagger and leaned forward to get better range of motion. The squirrel’s tail twitched, and it bolted for the nearest tree. I quickly drew back my arm and snapped it forward. The dagger flipped through the air and found its mark—piercing through the squirrel’s neck and pinning it to the tree. The creature yelped in alarm, then went limp.
“Whoa,” Cypress breathed.
I smiled at him and stood to retrieve my kill. When I turned to look at Cypress, my mouth popped open. Tall blades of grass and ferns tilted toward the spot I’d been sitting in. The tree’s lower branches stretched downward, almost like an arm slung over someone’s shoulder. Very slowly, the plants straightened back into their original positions.
“Huh,” Cypress said thoughtfully.
“What?” I asked.
“They were drawn to your energy. I’ve only seen them do that for the Secara.”
The sun filtered through the leaves, creating glistening patches of light o
n the dewy foliage. “Like the sun,” I said.
Cypress stared at me. “The legends say the Fiero people are descendants of the Goddess of Fire.”
“Who came down from the sun.” I tried to recall the legend from the book Sarrenke had read to me. “‘She brought to them her nourishing warmth, a guiding light, and the strength to destroy that which blocks a path to the light.’” I looked down at my hands. “I always assumed my powers could do nothing but destroy.”
“Maybe there’s more to them than that.” Cypress stood and touched my arm. “I think if you practice stillness and calm, you’ll be able to unlock a new aspect to the Ancient Fire.”
I met his eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” I lifted the squirrel. “But until then, I need to focus on hunting. This alone isn’t going to satisfy Saven’s appetite.”
Moments later, Cypress demonstrated the unique “snares” he used to capture rabbits. We sat quietly behind some bushes until a pair of cottontails hopped into the clearing. They munched on grass and inched ever closer to the delicate morning glory vines laid out on the ground. We both held our breath as the creatures stepped into range. Cypress’s hand hovered just above the ground. One more step and he flicked his fingers upward.
The vines sprang to life and wrapped around the animals’ legs. They thrashed to get away, but they were trapped. Cypress waved his other hand and a second set of vines—their deadliness downplayed by beautiful purple flowers—sprang from the trees and onto the creatures’ necks. With another gesture, the vines choked them. The entire scene played out in less than a minute.
Cypress released the vines and sent them back up the trees they’d been climbing. I gently touched the flowers while Cypress gathered the rabbits.
“I’ve noticed one big difference between the City and the rest of us,” he said.
“Only one?”
He grinned and continued. “We kill quickly. They draw it out.”
“That’s because we understand the value of life.”
He looked at me. “This army we’re building, I want everyone in it to understand that concept. We’ll be fighting and killing, but we have to be doing it for the sake of life.” He shook his head. “As a Secara, it feels blasphemous to say something like that. My people value life and growth, but the trees have told me the Grakkir are teaching the Secara well in the art of killing.”
