Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

They rode until they reached the very edge of the Alluvian, and they both stopped, breathing hard, their zertas winded, too, and sat there, side-by-side, looking out at the clearing.

Darius saw before him a dozen women from his village, working the wells, each pumping the long iron rods, filling water for pails. The women all labored hard, with humility, heads down, hands raw from the pumping.

On the outskirts of the clearing stood several Empire soldiers, standing guard.

“See anyone you like?” Raj asked, with a mischievous smile.

Darius shook his head, his anxiety increasing at the sight of the guards.

“We shouldn’t be here,” Darius said. “We should turn back. We have gone far enough. Too far. This is more than a game now.”

Raj looked out, taking in all the girls, undeterred.

“I like the one with the long hair. In the back. Wearing the white dress.”

Darius looked over the women, realizing Raj was not going to listen to him. He was not in the mood for this. And what bothered him even more was that he was shy around girls. And this was hardly the place or the time.

But as Darius looked them over, despite himself, there was one girl that riveted him. She had just turned from the well, and as she did, he caught a glimpse of her face, and his heart stopped. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. She was tall, well-built, looked to be about his age, with short, black hair, almond skin, and light yellow eyes. Her features were not that delicate, with a strong jaw and chin, and broad shoulders and a stocky build, but there was something about her—the shape of her eyes, the curve of her hips, the way she stood so tall, so proud—a certain dignity to her—that completely mesmerized Darius.

“Who is that?” Darius whispered to Raj. “That girl there. With the yellow dress.”

“ Her? ” Raj asked disdainfully. “Why do you settle on her? She’s not as pretty as the others.”

Darius flushed, embarrassed.

“She is to me,” he said indignantly.

Raj shrugged.

“I believe her name is Loti. My parents exchange goods with hers. She lives on the far side of the village, behind the cave mounds. She rarely comes to town. She comes from a family of warriors. Strong-willed. Not an easy girl to tame. Why don’t you choose someone easier, prettier?”

Suddenly, a zerta charged into the clearing from the opposite side, and all the girls stopped what they were doing. Darius looked over and saw an Empire officer, wearing a uniform different than the others, ride in and come to a stop in the clearing. He slowly surveyed all the women, and they all looked back up at him with fear. All except Loti, who remained proud, expressionless.

The officer breathed hard and looked around as if he were looking for a snack, something to satisfy his urges. His roving eyes finally stopped on Loti.

Loti, balancing two pails of water over her shoulder, averted her eyes, looking away, clearly hoping he did not settle on her.

But the officer grinned an evil grin, showing his yellow fangs, his red eyes flashing as he dismounted and, spurs jingling, the dust rising beneath him, strutted directly for Loti.

He stared down at her, and she finally looked back at him, defiant.

“What, no smile for me?” he asked. “Have you slaves not learned to please your masters when they address you?”

Loti grimaced.

“I’m not your slave,” she replied, “and you’re not my master. You are a heathen. It doesn’t matter how many slaves you trap beneath you—it will never change what you are.”

The officer stared back at her, mouth agape, shocked. Clearly, he had never been spoken to that way before. Darius was shocked, too, and in awe at her courage.

The officer reached back and backhanded her across the face, and the sound shattered the silence as it tore through the clearing. Loti cried out and stumbled backwards.

As Darius watched, he had involuntary reaction; he could not restrain himself. Something shifted within him, and he suddenly lunged forward, to stop the officer.

Darius felt a strong hand on his chest, and he looked over to seek Raj next to him, holding him back, looking nervous and serious for the first time that day.

“Don’t do it,” he said. “Do you hear me? You’ll get us killed. All of us. The girl, too.”

He squeezed Darius’s shirt hard, and Darius’s muscles tensed up in his grip, and Darius stayed there, reluctantly, before conceding. Darius decided to wait and watch, willing to see what happened next before he took any action.

The officer turned and walked to his zerta, and Darius relaxed, assuming he was about to mount it and leave. But instead, he reached to his saddle and pulled out a long shining dagger with a copper hilt, and held it up glistening in the sun, grinning cruelly at Loti as he began to walk back toward her.

“Now you’ll learn what it means to be a slave,” he said.

Loti’s eyes widened in defiance as she dropped the pails of water from her shoulder and faced him. To her credit, she did not back away, but continued to stare at him defiantly. Who was this girl, Darius wondered? How could she have such a strong spirit?

“You can kill me,” Loti said, “but you will never claim my soul. My brothers and all the souls of my ancestors will avenge me.”

The officer grimaced and, raising his dagger, rushed toward her.

Darius had to act; he knew he could not wait another moment. He shook of Raj’s grasp, and as he did, he began to feel a power well up within him, a power he had felt but a few times in his life. It was like a heat, like a prickling sensation, taking over him, slowly climbing up his skin. He did not understand what it was—but right now, he did not wish to. He only wished to embrace it, to wield it.

Darius examined the clearing, and as he did, the world slowed; he was able to see every blade of grass, to hear every sound, every chirping of every insect; he felt almost as if he were able to slow time. He entered a strange dimension, where he was not really here, caught in some gap in the fabric of the universe.

His eyes focused on a small red scorpion that he had not seen before, and, using the power within him, Darius pointed a finger toward it. As he did, the scorpion suddenly lifted out of the grass and went flying across the clearing. It lodged itself onto the officer’s calf. It was not a lethal scorpion, but it would suffice to hurt him badly—and incapacitate him for a while.

The officer, just feet away from Loti, suddenly screamed out and dropped to his knees, clutching the back of his calf.

“Help!” he shrieked, his voice cracking.

The Empire guards quickly ran to him, grabbing his arms, trying to drag him to his feet.

“My leg!” he shrieked.

One of the guards reached down with his dagger and sliced the scorpion from his leg, and the officer’s shrieks filled the clearing.

“Get me back!” he yelled. “Now!”

They quickly mounted him on his zerta, and his zerta took off, racing through the clearing and disappearing back into the forest.

Darius quickly looked around, wondering if Raj suspected anything, and Raj looked back at him with a different look, a somber look, perhaps a look of suspicion, or of awe. But he did not say anything, and Darius did not know what he’d seen, if anything.

Raj turned to go, and as Darius turned to join him, he did notice, from the periphery of his eye, one person staring back at him with an unmistakable look of awe: he turned, and his eyes locked with Loti’s. She had seen him. She knew what he did. She knew his secret.

Alistair stood against the wall of Erec’s chamber, craning her neck up at the window, side-by-side with Erec’s mother, and looked out the window in fear. She could see hundreds of torches, an angry mob of Southern Islanders hurrying through the night, chanting, all making their way in a procession toward the house of the sick. They were being led by Bowyer, and she knew they were coming right for her.