Blood of Fire Page 3

  Juliano gasped again. “Seen them…” he coughed, and blood spewed from his mouth.

  “Where?” I asked desperately. “Did they escape?”

  “Jenassa, yes. East.” He wheezed and cringed from the pain.

  My heart sank. “And my parents?”

  Juliano’s grey eyes stared up at me and slowly he shook his head. “Bomb…in the village…helping the escapees.”

  My stomach lurched, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. I wanted to think he was lying. Maybe he’d seen someone else, but he knew my parents well. They were well-respected members of my clan, honorable and brave. Of course they would stay and help others escape when they could’ve run away.

  I inhaled a shaking breath. “But you saw Jenassa head east, right? You’re sure of it?”

  Juliano nodded. He slowly reached his hand down to his side. He removed a long dagger from its sheath and held his shaking hand up to me. “Please,” he begged.

  I looked at the knife and into his eyes, gaping in confusion. “What?”

  He placed the knife weakly on his chest. “Please. Do it.”

  Juliano, the intelligent, strong schoolteacher, the man who knew every book in the village and then some, was begging me to do the unthinkable. I could tell his condition was bad; there was little chance he could survive such horrific wounds, especially without anyone with real medical knowledge to help him. In severe cases such as this, we called upon the City for help. Their medicine was much more advanced than ours, which mostly consisted of the use of herbs. Asking them for help was no longer an option.

  I looked towards the City. Its distant lights had once been a comforting sight on dark nights. Now, they looked like a million tiny eyes searching for me.

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  “You must,” he wheezed. “The teachings…are a lie. The City is a lie. They know that I know…please, they’ll find me.”

  “What are you talking about?” How could the City be a lie? How could he refute everything he’d devoted his entire life teaching to generations of Fiero?

  “Please,” he insisted weakly. “Kill me and run. Don’t let them find you.”

  “Why am I so important?” I insisted. Then I stopped myself. This man was also greatly respected in our village. The least I could do was end his suffering instead of prolonging it with unanswerable questions.

  “Okay,” I said finally, though bile rose in my throat. I picked up the knife and realized I didn’t know the fastest way to kill him. I was a Harvester; the only thing I’d been taught to do with a knife was cut fruit from its stem.

  Juliano wrapped his charred fingers gently around my hand, squeezing my fist around the handle of the dagger. He directed the tip of the blade just under his rib cage, pointing upward to his heart. He looked me in the eye and gave a short nod.

  Tears fell from my eyes, and I found myself whimpering in a poor attempt to keep quiet. My shaking hands threatened to drop the dagger. “I can’t do—”

  An arrow whizzed past my shoulder and pierced straight through Juliano’s neck. He gasped and his eyes went wide with shock, but a moment later they glazed over. He suffered no longer.

  I looked around, my tearful eyes wide with fear, and spotted the archer.

  He sat atop a black horse, its muscled frame colored with ash and war paint. The man was almost as muscled as his horse—his skin was dark and scarred, laced with intricate black tattoos. The largest covered his chest and thread up his throat. He had a thick beard and his long, dark hair was shaved at the sides, while tendrils of thick dreadlocks cascaded down his back. Two axes were strapped to his sides. His brown eyes glared at me, into me. He was Grakkir. I’d heard stories of his kind, and none of them ended happily.

  Chapter 3

  Ijumped to my feet, clutching Juliano’s knife in my inexperienced hands, and faced the man. I knew I was no match for a ruthless Grakkir man, born and raised to kill, but instinct told me to stand my ground. If I was going to die, I wouldn’t do it cowering on my knees.

  The man stared back at me, not the least bit intimidated by me or the knife. His dark eyes were calculating, unrelenting, focused. They were the eyes of a hunter and warrior; of a man who was not easily defeated. The Grakkir clan did not know fear—all they knew was how to fight and survive at any cost.

  Considering everything I’d been told about the Grakkir, I wondered why he was just watching me. Why not kill me and get it over with? Unless….

  The Grakkir were known for another thing besides killing—they often swarmed destroyed villages like vultures, stealing from the dead and taking the living as prisoners to be their slaves. Juliano himself had taught me that the wild clans were dangerous and couldn’t be trusted. The stories I’d heard from my elders and the guards were horrific enough; I feared I would soon find out for myself how awful the Grakkir really were.

  Thundering horses approached us, and a moment later I was surrounded by five other riders. I looked from one man to the next. They all shared dark complexions and similar hairstyles, but these riders had tattoos under their eyes and along their cheekbones and forearms. Most of them were smaller and leaner than the man who’d shot Juliano, and they lacked the massive chest tattoo. Perhaps he was the leader of this small band.

  One of the riders, with long blonde hair and a piece of metal piercing the bridge of his nose, suddenly grabbed my upper arm and tried to pull me onto his horse. I shrieked with surprise and flailed my knife at him, slicing into his arm.

  The rider cried out and said something in a strange language while the other riders chuckled. I couldn’t tell if they were laughing at my lousy attack, or at their companion for getting struck by a young girl.

  The large archer was the only one not laughing. When he spoke, his voice rumbled. It was the voice of a powerful person who wanted to be obeyed. I’d never heard their language before, so I couldn’t even pick out a single word or phrase. All I could do was watch their expressions and body language.

  The blonde man who had reached for me frowned and furrowed his brow. When he spoke, I got the idea that he hadn’t liked what the larger man had said. The others were also frowning, watching the larger man for a reaction, but for some reason they didn’t look worried the way subordinates do when there is a disagreement between a superior and someone beneath him.

  The large man spoke again. This time his voice boomed and his expression turned fearsome. Whatever he wanted, the smaller man didn’t seem to agree. If there was mutiny within the group, I think I would have let the large man have what he wanted. He was clearly the largest and likely the strongest. Based on what I knew about them, things would not turn out well for the smaller blonde man if he didn’t back down.

  From out of the darkness came another shape, but not a human one. My brain didn’t want to believe what my eyes were seeing as they went wide with horror. The guards had been right: the forests were full of fearsome creatures. I just didn’t expect them to be in the form of a massive grey wolf.

  I had never seen a live wolf in real life before; they were nearly extinct. I’d seen pictures of wolves in textbooks, and once a guard brought a dead one to the village to prove to us how dangerous the forests could be. Those wolves were puppies compared to this monstrosity. He stood at least as tall as the horses, his head possibly larger than theirs. His paws could easily rip a hole through my back, and his yellow eyes glowed like the lights from the City.

  Despite its size, the wolf padded almost silently into the village and stood beside the large archer. Neither the man nor his horse flinched at the animal’s appearance, but the other horses snorted and shifted nervously. The smaller blonde man glanced at me, then spat more strange words at the larger man. He urged his horse around the wolf, and the others followed. They made their way into the village, on their way to search the rubble for anything they could steal.

  I looked up at the large man. He and the wolf stared at me wi
th the same cold expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the forest not far away. It was probably a stupid plan, but if I could just get into the thick foliage, perhaps I’d have a chance at escaping. I knew I couldn’t fight them off, so running was my last option.

  Before I could change my mind, I bolted towards the trees. The forest didn’t seem too far away; in just a few yards I’d be able to disappear into spaces too large for a man and horse to find me. I couldn’t even hear the horse coming after me, nor the sound of large paws against the ground. I had this. Freedom was only a few steps away.

  Yet somehow, the huge wolf appeared beside me. He growled, exposing teeth longer than daggers and veered towards me. What was worse, I wondered—to die a slave, likely tortured and forced to do all sorts of terrible things in a village full of savages, or to be torn to shreds by a hungry wolf? His jaws were so huge, perhaps the bite would break my neck and it would be over quickly.

  To my surprise, the wolf didn’t lunge for me. Instead, he bolted ahead of me and stopped suddenly just before the trees, blocking my way. I froze, waiting for him to jump at me, or make any sort of movement. I clutched the dagger in my shaking hand, but the wolf didn’t move.

  We stared into each other’s eyes. His rumbling growls made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Why wasn’t he attacking me? Even loyal, well-trained guard dogs would jump up and snap onto an intruder’s arm. Why not a wild animal?

  Suddenly, an arm wrapped around my neck and the knife was wrenched from my hand. My legs were swept out from under me, I was in the air, and then my back hit the ground hard. I coughed and struggled to catch my breath. The large man loomed over me, glaring down at me with Juliano’s dagger in his hand. He looked at the weapon, turned it over and inspected the blade. Then he knelt over me, his hair falling like thick ropes around both our faces, and pressed the knife to my throat. I shook as I glared into his eyes, but I refused to look away no matter how intimidating he was.

  Why doesn’t he just kill me? I stared up into his cold eyes, the blade pressing deeper into my skin. A whimper escaped my lips and I flinched back against the sharp pain of skin breaking.

  The man pulled away. It was just a warning. He said something in his strange tongue, the words growling from his lips. I didn’t need to know their meaning to know I was supposed to cooperate, and I had no other options at this point.

  He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, as though I weighed no more than a rag doll. He tied my hands together in front of me with a rough strip of leather. The wolf stayed close to my side, creating a blockade. We approached his steadfast horse, which hadn’t moved an inch since its rider dismounted. I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well-behaved the animal was.

  The man lifted me and placed me on his horse’s broad back, then climbed up in front of me. There was no saddle to hold onto, only a halter and lead rope for the man to steer with. Again, I was impressed by the well-trained horse; even our own horses used saddles and bridles to obey commands.

  The rider kicked his heels against the horse’s side, and I wobbled with the sudden movement. Without thinking, I grabbed the rider’s waist to steady myself. I felt an awkward, disgusted blush rise in my cheeks. Once I got used to the horse’s sway, I pressed my hands against the horse’s back. I already had to stare at this man’s back and inhale his scent—sweat, wind, and earth. I didn’t want to touch him, too.

  We reached the other riders, who had regrouped at the edge of the northern forest. It hadn’t taken long to ransack what few items had survived the fires. I saw they had a few woven net bags full of pots and bowls, un-fashioned leather, some clothing and jewelry. There were no other captive Fiero among them. Everyone was either dead or had managed to run away.

  Our horse followed the group at a short distance, the wolf close to the horse’s side. I couldn’t bring myself to look back one last time at my destroyed home. It’s gone, I reminded myself. My home is gone, my family is gone. All I have now is myself, and I alone must endure whatever is before me.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  I struggled to keep track of how long we rode. I must have fallen asleep at least once or twice, and when I finally awoke, the sun had started to rise, and we had stopped in front of a crude wooden shack with a canvas tent beside it.

  The blonde rider, whose injured arm was wrapped in a stained bandage, spoke briefly to the large man. The man nodded once, and then the other riders turned their horses and continued up a small beaten path that disappeared into the forest again. They took with them everything scavenged from my village. Everything except me, that is.

  The rider dismounted and pulled me down off his horse. My legs ached, unfamiliar with the bow-legged sensation of horseback riding. He led the animal around to the side of the small house, if that’s what you could call the poorly-constructed building. The wolf stayed at my side, eyes glued to me. He was there to keep me from running away while his master tended to the horse.

  I looked around at my surroundings. The house had been built just in front of the forest and faced a small grassy field. Trees surrounded us on all sides. I looked towards the forested trail where the other riders had disappeared, and I wondered if they would return. Part of me hoped for it so I wouldn’t be left alone with this man, while another part of me feared what they might do if they did return.

  I looked at the wolf, who watched me with stony, yellow eyes. My father had told me that staring into a dog’s eyes could be taken as a challenge, and submissive dogs would look away from their superior’s gaze. This wolf held my stare but didn’t growl as an alpha dog would when being challenged by an inferior. It didn’t even move a muscle. Something about its eyes spoke of a greater intelligence than the average dog. They watched and calculated as though there was more going on in its brain than just the small instinctual thoughts of a wild beast. I had to turn away from such powerful eyes.

  The man reappeared from the side of the house, marching right towards me. He grabbed my arm roughly, spitting something in his language, and pulled me towards the small tent to the side of the house.

  “Let me go!” I shouted in vain. The man ignored me, opened the tent flap, and shoved me inside. I fell on the hard ground, unable to properly catch myself with my hands still tied together. The small tent was musty with the scent of old dirt and mold.

  I glared up at the man, whose face I could barely see in the darkness. He said nothing but scoffed at me in disgust and let the heavy tarp fall over the entryway. His heavy footsteps gradually died away. I hefted myself up to my knees and carefully peeked outside the tent flap.

  My captor stood a short distance away and was looking intently into the wolf’s eyes. I noticed the wolf didn’t turn away from him, the way our dogs might look away from their owners. Something passed between wolf and man in that gaze, but I couldn’t tell what it was.

  The man gave a short nod towards the tent, and the wolf looked in my direction. The wolf’s eyes seemed to cut through the darkness and stare straight at me. My heart began to pound, so I let the tent close and backed away from the doorway. My ankle smacked into something heavy, and I stumbled and fell. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could begin to make out the shapes of the items around me. I guided my hands down to the object I’d tripped on and discovered it was a shovel. Beside it was a garden hoe, then what felt like a rough wooden bucket. This must have been their storage shed.

  I felt my way around until my hands found a dry, crunchy substance. I grabbed a handful and realized it was a pile of hay. I was exhausted enough to decide it would make a good enough bed.

  I lay down on my side and shivered. I wasn’t cold; I never really felt cold, especially on a summer night. Instead, I felt the events of the day slowly begin to press down on me. I was an orphan without a home, the reluctant survivor of a war I couldn’t comprehend. Now I was a captive.

  I remembered my mother’s face, the stench of her burnt hair. Juliano’s pleading, bloodshot eyes. The back of my sister’s head as she
sprinted towards the village. The last time I had seen my father was at the breakfast table early that morning, long before the attack had started. Even that memory was tainted with the acrid scent of smoke, the same stench that clung to my hair and clothes. I covered my nose with my soot-stained hands, but my skin was tainted with smoke too. A sob forced its way up my throat, despite all my best attempts to deny my tears. I sniffled and cried, longing for my lost family and home, but also frustrated that I couldn’t escape the scent of their deaths.

  Soft footsteps approached the tent. I froze and stopped sniffling, holding my breath. A massive shadow fell over the tarp. The wolf’s muzzle pushed into the tent, his nose sniffing for me. My own scent was so intermingled with the stench of smoke, they might as well have been the same. His lips curled back as he growled, exposing massive teeth. I kept as still as possible, but he knew I was there. I’m sure he was telling me to keep quiet.

  His muzzle retreated, but his shadow remained just outside the door. He would stand guard to make sure I wouldn’t escape.

  I pressed my face against the hay, trying to focus on something besides the scent of smoke. I lay there for a long time, somewhere between awake and asleep. When I closed my eyes, a fire raged behind them. When I opened my eyes, the wolf’s shadow stood before me.

  And I was stuck somewhere in the middle, a purgatory between a past I could never return to and a future I didn’t want to live in.

  Chapter 4

  Idon’t know when I managed to fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes, the picture in front of me was finally different. Instead of darkness and silence, someone was shouting.

  The tent flap burst open, and I jolted upright. My captor stormed towards me and ripped me to my feet, dragging me outside the tent. I fell to the ground as soon as he let go of my arm, completely disorientated by my surroundings. I almost gasped in shock again when I saw the wolf standing not far from where I lay. Then I began to remember what had happened and the crush of sadness threatened to take over me again.