Morgan Rice - A Land of Fire

“You wish to see my daughter,” the woman said, her expression hard. She had the face of a warrior, and Darius could see from her expression that she was a mother of sons—of warrior sons. It was the face of a cautious, protective mother, one determined not to repeat past mistakes.

“Your daughter is very beautiful,” Darius finally said, his first words, not knowing what else to say.

She scowled.

“I know that she is,” she said. “I don’t need you to tell me she’s beautiful. Anyone can see that. She has been desired by every boy in this village. You are not the first to seek her hand. Why should I let her spend any time with you?”

Darius’s heart pounded as he tried to figure out what to say. He wanted to be respectful, but he was not willing to back down either.

“I will admit that I do not even know your daughter,” he said slowly. “But I have witnessed her great strength of spirit and of courage. I admire her very much. That is the same strength of courage I hope to have in my wife, in the mother of my children. I would like to get to know her. I mean only the highest respect to you and to her.”

Her mother stared at him long and hard, as if debating, her expression never changing.

“You speak well for your age,” she finally said. “But I know who your father was. He was a rebel. An outcast. A warrior. A great man, but a reckless one. There is no room for heroics among our people. We are slave people. That is our lot. It will never change. Ever . Do you understand me?”

She stared at him long and hard in the thick silence, and Darius swallowed, not knowing what to say.

“I don’t want my daughter with a hero,” she said. “I’ve already lost one son learning that the Empire cannot be destroyed. I will not lose my daughter, too.”

She stared at Darius, cold and hard, unyielding, waiting for an answer.

Darius wished he could tell her what she wanted to hear, that he would never fight the Empire, that he would be docile and complacent with his lot as a slave.

But deep down, it was not how he felt. He was not willing to lie down, and he did not want to lie to her.

“I admire my father,” Darius said, “even though I barely knew him. I have no plan to attack the Empire. Nor can I promise you I will lie down in defeat my entire life. I am who I am. I can pretend to be no one else.”

Her mother studied him, squinting her eyes in the interminable silence, and Darius felt sweat forming on his forehead in the small cottage, wondering if he had ruined his chances.

Finally, she nodded.

“At least you are honest,” she said. “That is more than I can say for the other boys. And honesty counts a great deal.”

“Great!” Loti said, suddenly standing. “We’re done then!”

She grabbed Darius’s arm, pulled him up and before he could react, led him out of the cottage, past her mother, to the open the door.

“Loti, I did not say we are done!” her mother cried out, standing.

“Oh, come on, Mother,” Loti said. “The boy barely knows me. Give us a chance. You can attack him when we return.”

Loti giggled as she opened the door; yet before they were halfway out, Darius felt a cold grip on his arm, squeezing his bicep, yanking him back.

He turned to see mother staring at him sternly.

“If anything happens to my daughter because of you, I guarantee you I will kill you myself.”

Darius sat across from Loti in the small boat and he rowed down the slow-moving river on the outskirts of their village, bordered by marshland, following the route of this lazy river which circled the village. This river ran in a continuous circle, and it was a favorite among small kids, who would place small toy boats in it, release them, and wait for them to return on the current. It would take an entire day.

It was also a favorite among lovers. With its slow-moving current and idyllic breezes, the river was the best place to be at sunset, as the heat of the day dissipated and the wind picked up.

Darius had been delighted by the look on Loti’s face when she saw where he had brought her. Finally, he felt as if he had done something right.

Now she leaned back in the boat and looked up at the sky as if she were in heaven, as Darius rowed them gently down the river. The current carried them, so he did not need to row much, and he rested his elbows on the oars and allowed the boat to be carried by its own weight. As they floated there in the silence, Darius thought of how lucky he was to be here, and of how beautiful Loti looked, her dark skin lighting up in the sunset.

Darius leaned forward and clasped his palm over the soft back of her hand, and she looked up, smiling. She still played with the flowers he had given her, and as her eyes met his, he had forgotten what he was going to say. She stared back at him, her eyes filled with intensity and passion, as if looking into his soul.

“Yes?” she asked.

Darius wanted to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. So they floated silently as he blushed, passing swaying marshes, lit up in the sunset, a beautiful amber and scarlet, rustling in the breeze.

“You’re different from the others,” she finally said. “I don’t know what it is. But there’s something about you. I can sense you are a warrior, yet I can also sense something else…I don’t know, a sensitivity, maybe. As if you see things. As if you understand things. I like being with you. It sets me at ease.”

Darius blushed as he looked down. Did she know about his powers? he wondered. Would she hate him for it? Would she tell the others?

“Most boys your age,” she said, “are already with girls, or are already married. Not you. I’ve never seen you with others.”

“I did not know you saw me at all,” he said, surprised.

“I have eyes,” she said. “You are a hard person to miss.”

Darius blushed some more. He looked down at the boat and toed it with his foot. He did not know how to respond, so he kept silent. He had always been shy around girls; he did not have the natural talent for speech that other boys had. Yet he also felt things very deeply. He watched other boys be quick to find girls, and quick to toss them away when they were done with him. But Darius could never do that. Any girl he would be with he would take very seriously, and it had kept him back from committing to anyone. He felt too much at stake.

“And you?” Darius finally mustered the courage to ask. “You are not married either.”

She stared back at him proudly.

“There is no shame in that,” she said, defensive. “I make my own decisions. I do not follow my passions easily. I’ve turned away all those who have approached me.”

Darius felt nervous at her words. Would she turn him away, too?

“Why?” he asked.

“I am waiting for someone remarkable,” she said. “More than just a man; more than just a warrior. Someone who is special. Who is different. Who has a great destiny before him.”

Darius was confused, and suddenly wondered if this whole trip was a waste.

“Then why are you sitting here with me?” he asked.

Loti laughed, and the sound of it, high-pitched and sweet, caught him off guard. When she finally stopped, her eyes, playful, settled on him.

“Maybe I have found it,” she said.

They locked eyes for a moment, then they each looked away, embarrassed.

Darius began to row again, not quite understanding her yet also feeling a stronger connection with her. He didn’t quite understand what she wanted, or what she saw in him. He was afraid he might lose her. He wanted to impress her somehow, to convince her to like him. But he didn’t know what to say.

They continued floating down the river in silence, the air thick with the rustling of the marsh, with the sound of the breezes, with the night insects beginning to sing. Darius’s muscles slowly relaxed, tired from a long day of labor. It was unusual for him to relax, to not be thinking of his work the next day, of his miserable existence, of craving a way out of here. For the first time in a long time, he was happy right where he was.