Smoke and Fire

“There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Before that, in fact, the Valley hadn’t changed for generations. My grandmother would frequently remind me this whenever I tried to change some custom for our village. We farmed and we worshipped. We were safe, happy, alone. And then they came.” I said.

“The dragons?” Syrus asked in his hushed voice. It was hard to hear him over the din of the creatures of the forest. Best to keep a fire going.

Slowly, I looked up from the crackling embers of the fire, pulling myself out of my trance. I had to remind myself I wasn’t back in the Valley, back home. The shadows from the dancing flames made Syrus look older than the teenager he was, well, that and the fear that’s behind everyone’s eyes nowadays. Can’t blame him though if he’s out here by himself. If you’re alone out here it’s probably because you’re running, either to or from something. I was doing both, actually.

“No.” I chewed my tongue and dropped my gaze back to the embers, wishing I really was back with my sister, Ellyse, sitting at my family’s hearth. I push a log back into the middle fire with my stick. “The Army came.” I stabbed the heart of the fire, sending sparks frantically upwards, fleeing.

Syrus looked at me blankly. He blinked a couple of times.

“But they came ‘cause of the dragons” he said with a crack in his voice. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I mean, they came to Amadaen to 'elp us rid of ‘em.”

I sighed. This wasn’t an argument I wanted to have again, not with someone I was going to part ways with in the morning. Not with someone I wasn’t sure I could trust. I decided to entertain him anyway.

“And where did you hear that?” I feigned interest, leaning back.

“Well, I mean, ‘erryone says so. There weren’t no dragons here. Then there was. Then The Burnt Army came, to ‘elp us,” Syrus stated matter-of-factly.

“And why did the dragons come?” I kept my voice level, curious even, even though I knew where this was going.

Syrus squinted, his brow furled. “Em, I mean, ya know the tales, surely. The Burnt Army was battlin’ dragons for near a century, always just survivin’.” He said this with the rhythm of one retelling a tale he’s heard since childhood, a rhythm I too, was familiar with. “‘En then they harnessed the Fire, drove the dragons from their lands and, not wanting others to suffer their fate, came to ‘elp. To fight.”

He looked at me and nodded to convey his sincerity. To my surprise, he then cleared his throat and sang softly.

"Over the Sea, Black, wings beat deafeningly,

the Goddess of Apate rose with the Flame.

Fire and smoke, ashes and sparks, they face reckoning,

until no more, the dragons came."

He was so earnest, as the young often are. I looked Syrus in the eyes, hoping he could see the flames reflected in them. “Out of the goodness of their hearts?”

“Huh?” Syrus threw another log in the fire, more sparks.

“The Burnt Army was fighting the dragons for nearly a century and after beating them, instead of rebuilding, they risk crossing the Dark Sea to help folk they’ve never met? Out of the goodness of their bloody hearts?"

My chest is noticeably rising. I force myself, take a deep breath. Slowly, I feel my chest rise, then fall. Stay calm, stay cool. Syrus looked around, squirmed on his log. People always get uncomfortable when what everyone knows to be true is questioned.

"Yea! Goddess Aster wants to use her powers to 'elp us all, she wants to free us from the beast so we don't suffer as her kin 'ave!"

I shook my head as I stood up, perhaps too abruptly. It was one thing to hear the tale from the Goddess' foot soldiers, her creatures, her pawns, but hearing it from someone that has suffered, that has had to flee because of her "kindness" to rid of the dragons, well, it made me feel as if I swallowed a spark vial and the only path for the sparks to go were up my throat and out my mouth.

Setting my feet wide and facing Syrus, I went to go on, but I paused. Syrus noticed it too. It was quiet. Just the crackling of the fire, no crickets, no frogs, nothing. We instinctively reached toward our belts, slowly. Syrus rested his fingers on his hilt, my hand went into my pouch. I was gently rubbing my fingers over my vials: Smoke, Sparks, My Last Resort. We sat like that for a few minutes, not moving. Slowly, the woods resumed their nightly song. We continued to sit there for a few more minutes, better to be cautious than dead. If I wasn’t on edge already, I was now.

“So.” I resumed, kicking a small rock with my boot. “Did the Goddess and her Burnt Army free you from the ‘beast?’”

His mouth wavered, as if not knowing what expression to wear. “Well, yes. And no.”

“You can’t be both free and captive,” I replied simply.

He didn’t have to answer, the story was written all over him: boots that have been repaired too many times, shawl with scorch marks, hungered sunken cheeks. I wanted him to say it though, wanted him to say it himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, to avoid the present or the past, I’m not sure.

They opened. “The dragons are gone.” He said in no hurry. “But so is 'errything else. Everything. Those that weren’t burnt or killed durin' the fightin' got taken. For payment you see. It’s…it’s only fair though.”

“Fair? How is it fair? If it was fair, why are you here and not with your family, at home?” The fire was getting lower now, we would have to gather more soon or call it a night. I liked the low light, made it easier to keep the charade going.

“You see, I didn’t 'ave much to stay for. Never knew my mum. Brother and Father went with The Army. Not much left of the Shore ‘nyways. I wanted to go too, but they said I was too little, too young.”

He said that last part barely above a whisper. I pitied him. We weren’t too different really. Well, with what happened to us. What we’re doing about it though, that’s what sets us apart. Knowing that made it harder to understand him, harder to accept his decision. How can he want to join them? Doesn’t he see? The fire may have been low but there was still heat in the air.

Biting my tongue. “So you’re trying to join them? Track them down?” It wasn’t hard to do. An army like that leaves quite a trail to follow. I know because I’m following them too. Not for the same reasons as Syrus though, no. I could never stomach that. Not again.

“I just want all it all to end,” Syrus said as if pleading. “The sooner we defeat the dragons, the sooner we can go back to the way things were. The sooner we can stop sufferin'.”

Suffering. There’s that word again. As if it’s something we can avoid. As if it’s not a large, dark cloud, a shadow, always just blocking the sun. Ignorance? Unwillingness to see what’s right in front of you? Blind faith? Whatever it was, I couldn’t empathize. I felt the familiar tightness in my throat, I could only hold back my tongue for so long before I let loose. Maybe I should try to understand him, he’s so young, he can learn. I don’t have the patience for that though. The heat inside me, the sparks, have been building, jumping to get out. I can’t keep it in anymore.

"Isn't knowing your home, the Shore, burned from the war, suffering? Isn't having your fathers and brothers taken away to join that…that…that bloody army, suffering? Isn't the slaughter of your livestock for food by those hybrid humans, suffering!?" My skin felt hot as if I had a sunburn from head to toe. I couldn't stop the small tremors pulsating in my limbs now if I tried; maybe if my sister was here to help. “Even if the dragons are exterminated, like vermin, don’t you think you’ll still be suffering? You’ll still have a hole in you from all you lost? There’s only one truth in our world and it’s that the living suffer!” I could hear the last syllable echo off the trees as if they were repeating in agreement.

Syrus suddenly looked his age, younger even. Panic can do that to you. His mouth wavered open and then silently closed. I could almost see the small gears of his mind trying to understand who I was, trying to decide to fight or flight. Fool didn’t choose flight. "There are always sacri…"

"Don't you dare say there are always fucking sacrifices!" I barked. "My kin have more than sacrificed!" I noticed the clearing around us getting more well lit and yet the fire hadn't changed. It was happening and I didn't care. I was almost relishing the fact it was going to happen. "And what about you? Don't you think you've sacrificed? Where's your dad and brother, huh? Your home, the Shore, what happened to that when The Burnt Army's wooden mountains arrived? And for what?!"

I couldn't hear the crackle of the fire anymore, couldn't hear the creatures of the night, couldn't hear anything besides a dull roar in my ears. I needed to stop, needed to just walk away before I changed completely. Grandma always said I’d never learn to control it with the anger I have. There was more smoke in the air now, a haze, and it was not because of the fire. Syrus fell off his stump and started crawling backward, all airs of confidence dropped.

“Wha…what…pl…please don’t 'urt me.” He started to cry and cower. He recognized who I was. What I was.

Stars though, he really is just a boy. A son. A brother. Defty, I reached back into my pouch and grabbed the smoke vial, threw it on the ground, and fled. For a few minutes, as I ran, all I heard was the hiss of each footstep in the undergrowth of the forest, all I smelled was the smoke of plants getting singed. I needed water, or a lot of dirt, but water would be best. Pushing branches and shrubs out of my way, I only knew I was following the slope downhill.

***

I heard the gurgling of the river before I saw it. Bursting out above a small bank, I dropped my cracking body into the water with a big hiss. The steam made it seem like I threw another smoke vial but I knew I used my last one back at the campfire. I left myself suspended in the water, floating with the river, letting it take me where it wanted. I could feel my heartbeat start to slow, my skin cooling.

I rose out of the river, shoulders slumped as if I was carrying sledgehammers in each hand, head bent down. I needed some food soon. Whether I change completely or not, it takes a lot of energy. Being too dark to see and too tired to grope through the thick wood, I climbed the bank and flopped like a wet blanket onto the soft summer grass. Breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth, I was still slowing my breath, my heart. My hand instinctively found the necklace around my neck. With relief, I gingerly pulled it out from underneath my wet shirt. Squeezing it, tears welled in my eyes as I clamped them shut.

I took another deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill my lungs and pushed it back out my mouth, warm but not hot. In and then out. In and out. I could almost hear my grandma’s hypnotic voice saying those words over and over to me like when I was a child. I opened my eyes slowly and took in the stars shining above me. If I was unaccustomed with the patterns, I could pretend I was home again. They were off though, foreign patterns in a foreign land. I turned the necklace around in my hand, feeling its coolness, taking in its familiarity. I brought it into my line of sight and watched it sparkle like the stars.

“I’ll find you El.” I whispered into the chorus of the night. “I promise.”