When Comes the Fire Read online

  "I promise," she muttered, and immediately regretted it. There was no turning back now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was the month of Phan-ein; the beginning of the season watched over by the fourth and final Ancient. Darwe's nameday had come and gone a few days past, during the first week of the month, and they were now halfway through the first of the two months in the Ancient's season. The desert air was drier and cooler than usual, and Namida knew from experience from the way there had been hardly any clouds in the past few days that they were due for another long winter drought before the rains came. She frowned, thinking of the long journey they had ahead of them, and knowing that they would have to be very careful with their water rations for the journey to come. She shifted the heavy pack slung over her shoulders, Darwe carrying an identical one beside her. He gave her a wistful smile, and she knew that, like herself, he would be sad to leave Master Dorozi's complex behind. Master Dorozi's still; not hers, even though she had been in charge of it for just over a year now since the swordmaster's sudden demise. It would never be hers. She would always remember it as belonging to the man who had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go. Her heart gave a painful squeeze.

  The workers of the complex that had stayed with them throughout the long year had come to bid the two young warriors farewell. Though a few had returned to their original homes, stating their desires to see family and friends again even if it meant risking their lives in the midst of the growing conflict, a surprising number had stayed. Only a handful, but still; it was more than Namida had expected to stay when she finally accepted her leadership role in her old Master's place. Most of the workers had given brief goodbyes, offering them small tokens to take with them such as an extra water skein, or a small knife, or twine for tying snares. A couple had dared to hug Darwe, giving Namida awkward pats on the head or shoulder.

  Yet while the rest of them had soon hurried inside, not wanting to spend any longer outside than necessary due to the growing issues with mercenaries and spies encroaching on their borders, two of the workers remained of whom Namida had grown especially fond over the past few years—Mantas, a middle-aged former soldier with bright eyes and a receding hairline; and Chifuya, his short, matronly wife who had never been able to have children of her own, and had thus taken Darwe under her wing when he arrived at the complex, collecting Namida as well shortly after her arrival. Not that Namida had allowed her to at first, of course, being the scarred, bitter child she was. Chifuya had a stubborn streak a mile wide though, and had refused to accept Namida's refusal of her. She continued doting on Namida and waiting her out until finally, a couple years back, she had broken down and given in to the woman's charm. Not before griping at her for being Fate-defyingly stubborn. The woman had just winked at her and told her it was one of her gifts. She had harbored a soft spot for the woman ever since, and Mantas, bless his soul, had been the crazy uncle she'd never wanted—tossing her random breakable vases to test her reflexes when she least expected it (it had ended poorly on more than one occasion, usually when he threw things at her from the wrong side and didn't seem to understand the concept of her only having one hand to catch things—it was highly aggravating, to say the least), and pulling pranks on her whenever she went out on patrol duty. It made her angry to come back to things like her entire bed covered in the fall leaves the workers had raked from the greenhouse, or a bucket of water perched on her door to try and soak her (though she had dodged the majority of the splash thanks to her reflexes). It wasn't until she had vented to Darwe about Mantas' antics that he pointed out to her that the man hated seeing Namida, a mere child in the man's eyes, going out and killing people to protect the complex and those within it. He said Mantas did it to get her to forget about the things she saw and did while she was out on patrol; to get her to forget about death and killing and having to act the part of a soldier in the war they weren't even supposed to be part of, all the way out in the middle of nowhere as they were. It was then that she had begun to harbor a soft spot for Chifuya's husband Mantas, as well.

  She hated that she had become so attached to these people. She hated that she was saying goodbye to them. It felt so...permanent. The echoes of flames reverberated in her mind. If it hadn't been for you... She clamped down on the thought, taking a steadying breath. Six in, hold, six out...

  "Oh, my darling girl! You know I'm going to worry about you and how little you eat every single day," Chifuya fretted, even though Namida regularly ate more than Darwe. He often teased her about it, saying she must have a hollow leg to store all the food she packed away in, but she shrugged it off. She needed to eat to have energy to pour into her training; energy to drive her towards her goal. She didn't understand Chifuya's obsession with making her eat. It wasn't like she could ever forget to; not with how her stomach would growl non-stop if she hadn't eaten enough throughout the day. Namida wasn't worried about putting on too much weight, either. With how much she trained and moved and patrolled, her body took everything she could give it and built it into toned muscles that stretched the length of her body, tight cords of power that had helped her bring down opponents twice her height and four times her girth. She was nimble and swift and merciless as a desert cat on the prowl. Unfortunately, all Chifuya seemed to see was a scrawny little chick she needed to play mother hen too. It exasperated her, but if she griped at the woman for it, she would just get pecked back in line. So really, there was no point in even mentioning it, no matter how much she wanted to roll her eyes at the woman's needless fretting. It was alright, though. Mantas rolled his eyes in her stead.

  "Chifu, leave the poor girl alone. You know she'll be miserable without you as it is," he said, giving Namida a wink from behind his wife's back. Namida smiled a bit in reply.

  "You know I'll write whenever I'm able, Auntie Chifu," she said, withholding a wince at the promise. It wasn't that she didn't want to keep in touch, but she knew that times when it would be safe for them to do so would be few and far between. And even if they weren't, it still wouldn't satisfy the woman's fretting and impatience between each letter. She promised it nevertheless, though, as she knew that the farewells would only drag on and on forever if she did not. The woman was a fiercely protective mother hen, and she would not let Namida out of her sight if she knew it meant she would never hear from her again. Namida felt bad for the woman. It would be the closest thing she would ever know to having her own child set off to find bright new adventures of their own—except, well, they weren't adventures, and they promised to be more grim than anything. She suppressed a grimace at the thought. If she showed any hesitation, any distaste for the journey to come, she knew Chifuya would seize onto it and try to bully her into staying. The woman had no remorse when it came to using guilt trips to get her way.

  Chifuya frowned, but nodded, wagging a finger in Namida's face. "You better pray to the Ancients you keep your word, or you'll be in for a world of pain next time I see you." She didn't doubt it for a second. The older woman reached out and wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh, I'm going to miss you! And you too, Darwe, but I know I don't have to worry about you letting yourself wither away like this one would if left to her own devices." Namida gave an annoyed grunt. Darwe just gave a low laugh and shook his head, giving the pair an amused look. She flashed him an obscene gesture behind Chifuya's back, making Mantas roar with laughter. "Young lady, quit whatever you're doing! When Mantas laughs, it's always because you're doing something rude!"

  Namida shot Chifuya an innocent look as the woman let her go, holding her at arm's length. "Who, me? I would never!"

  Chifuya snorted and rolled her eyes as if to say, yeah right, but didn't comment, instead eyeing up the bulky packs Namida and Darwe were toting. "Did you pack extra under-clothes?"

  "Yes."

  "And the extra water skein Putha gave you?"

  "Yes..."

  Chifuya frowned. "What about the extra rags for when you get your monthly cy—"

  "Chifu!" Mantas i
nterrupted not-so-subtly, coughing the woman's name into his fist. Chifuya only seemed to notice then that both men's ears burned bright red and they were looking at anything but the two women between them.

  "Pah! Cowards," Chifuya grumbled. "Can't believe you both are afraid of something so natural..." She sobered, turning to clasp one of Darwe's hands in one of her own, then grasping Namida's in the other. She gave a little sigh as she gave them both a sad look. It was odd seeing the normal chipper and energetic Chifuya looking so...defeated.

  "I hope you two know," she said quietly, "that I love you both, and I really will miss you. You two," she glanced between them, "had better look out for each other in my absence. The world is a dangerous place, especially right now." Her expression was grim as she gave their hands one final squeeze before she let them go. She didn't have to remind Namida of that fact. What had happened to Endothar all those years ago had happened to at least three more villages throughout the country that they had heard of. They had no way of knowing if there were more in the northern part of the country or not; Master Dorozi might have had a fair number of spies and informants spun in his tangled web before he had fallen, but they had no eyes or ears any further north than the mid-east. The ones who might have been able to provide any clue as to Kaska's whereabouts had long since been weeded out by the enemy or given up the profession in favor of going underground, much like Dorozi had all those years ago.

  As they at last bade their final, drawn-out farewells and trudged off into the dimming light of the desert, having left after the sun had already passed its peak so they would not be traveling during the hottest hours of the day, Namida was angry with herself to find that she had to blink back tears. Leaving Chifuya and Mantas behind was hard because they were some of the only people Namida had left. She glanced at Darwe to her right, who walked with his shoulders squared beside her, over a head taller than her and a solid brick of a man with muscles that rippled beneath the loose, flowing clothes he usually wore; a stalwart warrior and friend. She glanced at Nyago to her left, who trailed a single step behind her like the ghost of a shadow, with sharp teeth and an even sharper mind, seemingly able to understand things that no creature should. They were her brothers, both beast and man, and she was proud to be able to call them her friends. It made her feel better as they ventured out into the unknown, as they reached the borders of Master Dorozi's lands, knowing the distance by heart even though the sands were constantly shifting and changing and the scenery was never the same two nights in a row.

  "Well," Darwe said, looking strangely hesitant, "this is it. One more step and we're back in the fight." He was quiet for a long moment, unaware or uncaring of her eyes as she studied him; the way he pursed his lips ever so slightly, his brow crinkling as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in a distracted manner. His eyes suddenly snapped to hers. "We don't have to do this, you know. We could...we could leave! Just head for the sea and find a ship that will take us to Memiria, or even Natharien, and just leave." He grabbed her hand in both of hers, and she could feel her eyes widening with every word he said. "Just you and me—" Nyago growled, and Darwe's eyes flickered to him briefly, "—and Nyago, of course. Shut up, you rude beast.” His gaze moved back to hers. “We don't need to take part in this war. We don't need to risk our lives over something that has already changed us so much even when we weren't steeped in it, like we will be the moment we take that next step. Because we will be." His eyes softened, and she could sense how desperate he was, how pleading his voice was as it grated against her ears. "And I don't want you to be."

  It was all she could do not to rip her hand away from him. Her eyes hardened into flints.

  "You don't get to decide that," she hissed, watching his expression go carefully blank. That was when she knew she had hurt him. He would take every bit of abuse she would give him in her rage and never once deal any back, but she knew that she hurt him, and she knew that it was bad and wrong and cruel but she couldn't help it. She was bitter, broken and angry at the world that had dealt her such a terrible hand; at Fate and the Ancients for not protecting her from it; at anyone that would stop her from dealing that very hurt that she had been feeling for the past seven years back onto everyone and everything that got in her way. She felt a pang in her chest when Darwe slowly let go of her hand, letting it fall back to her side, but she just kept going. "You have known me since the moment I woke up at the complex. You have known me since the moment I realized I had no family, no home, and no arm. You have known me since the moment I became this empty thing whose only purpose in life is revenge. I will not become the weakling who runs away at the first chance of danger. I will not be the one who hides from a fight. I will not be a coward. And if you think, for one second, that I will turn my back on my one mission in life, you can stay here right now and never try to find me. Do you understand?" Part of her wished it would finally push him over the edge. Part of her hoped he would yell back at her, strike out at her, and turn back around to the complex. But the larger, quieter part of her—the weak part that she always tried so fruitlessly to quash—said no. It whispered for him to please stay, to look through the facade of ugly rage and see the wounded beast beneath that needed him to care for it in the stillness of the silence that stretched between them, forming a rift that she had never truly wanted.

  Darwe's face was unreadable and distant for a moment before he grit his teeth and lifted his chin as though in defiance of her, resting one hand on the pommel of his sword as he tugged the folds of his scarf up over his hair and around the lower half of his face, preparing for the gusting winds of nightfall as the sun began to swing lower on the horizon.

  "Yeah. I understand," he said quietly, reaching forward to fix her scarf, too, without asking whether she needed help or not. She could never seem to get it quite right with just the one hand. Truly, where would she be without him? "I understand that you're not going to scare me off that easy." She deserved the long, knowing look he eyed her with as he gave the scarf one final tug, making sure it was secure as he turned to face the south-west once more and stepped past the border, officially leaving behind the only home either of them had known for the past several years.

  Namida would never admit the relief that flooded through her as she had no choice but to follow. At least for now, she would not be parted from Darwe just yet.

  o—O—o

  It was hard—so hard—for Darwe to walk away from the complex like that. When he had asked—or rather, begged—for Namida to run away with him, it was really his own weakness that he wanted to run away from. It wasn't just the war that scared him. It was the chance of losing her, of losing the last piece of Master Dorozi that lingered with him while they were still staying at the complex, of maybe even losing himself when it came down to it. He was walking away from the only home he had known for the past twenty years of his life, and the family he had made for himself had all left without him, leaving him behind. All that remained were Chifuya and Mantas, and even those they were parting ways with. But what about Namida? She and Nyago were the only things he had left now, not that the hound and he had ever gotten on. So he had made the mistake of asking her to leave with him; to run away to Memiria or Natharien, someplace where they would never have to give the war in Solus another thought. He knew it was a fool's wish before he had even uttered the words, but the way she had torn into him... Fate! He had forgotten how much it hurt when she lashed out like that. Still, he had known there was a chance she might react like that. He had expected it, even. So he was able to push through the hurt and the pain and the disappointment in order to put on a brave face for her. Fate knew he couldn't let her see how much it hurt to be rejected by her. She was the only family he had left, and he wasn't about to lose her or leave her just because she couldn't see past her own selfish desire for vengeance.

  One foot in front of the other.

  One step further from the only home he could remember. One step further from the memory of Master Dorozi, who had ta
ken him in from the parents whose faces were little more than blurs when he tried to picture them as they were all those years ago.

  One step further from Chifuya and Mantas, the only people left who looked after him when he was so tired from making sure Namida didn't work herself to an early grave.

  One step further from the coward he had once been, and towards the warrior he would need to finally embrace in order to follow the girl who lived for the fight.

  It made him think about how he had come to this point, and why he was throwing away the comfort of the complex to venture into the perils of their war-torn world just for the sake of one girl. It made him examine the guilt that still lingered with him over causing the loss of her arm; over forcing her to live when all she had wanted to do was die, the only hope she still clung to being the thin thread of a chance that her father might have escaped the battle at Endothar with his life. It made him ponder at the fierce protectiveness he felt for her, as he had helped nurture her into the person she was today, being the only person that saw her in such weak states as when he helped her with her hair, or comforted her after she woke screaming from yet another nightmare of death and fire. And all in all, it made him realize that he was completely and utterly devoted to the fierce little one-armed warrior girl, and would walk through fire for her if it meant getting to stay by her side for the rest of his remaining time in this realm.

  And so he kept walking, ever conscious of the girl falling in step behind him, of the hound that trailed them both as they ventured further into the desert than they had since either of them had arrived at the complex.

  One foot in front of the other.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The first night camping in the desert was uncomfortable for both Namida and Darwe in more than one sense of the word. They dug a hasty hole in the loose sand before the blowing winds got too harsh and frigid for the few layers of cloth that protected them from it, erecting the sturdy tent, stretching and securing the tarps around the supports with the expert precision drilled into them by Master Dorozi over the years; he had taught them all of what he thought to be "essential survival skills" as well as swordplay, teaching them a variety of things ranging from fishing (though she had balked at the idea, questioning where the blazes he thought they would fish when they lived in the desert, for crying out loud) to cooking (which she had found herself to be exceptionally poor at, and relied solely on Darwe's expertise for anything other than porridge or salted meat) to pitching a tent or shelter built from various resources in the case that they had no such resources available (which was something she finally agreed with the man that would prove to be useful to them in the future). They anchored the four corners of the tent with their packs and heavy rocks they were able to find nearby, and shoved sand up against the outer edges to help the low-pitched tan material blend seamlessly with the desert background it was set against in case prying eyes happened to wander their way.