Fireheart - Chapter 1 Night Of Flames

No one remembered the last time that the Night of Flames fell upon a moonless night. A clear, star filled night sky enveloped the land of the Jakara, where preparations for a ceremony were underway. Throughout the winding paths and cobbled streets of the village, large bonfires blazed and crackled, casting dancing shadows over the low brick buildings. In the arena not far from the village, a humongous pile of dead wood, leaves, and offerings of cloth, food and carvings was ready to be lit.

Around the arena, the wooden seats were filled with girls and women of every age and size, from the youngest newborn to the eldest who could barely climb the steps to take a seat. Beneath the spectators, other women settled into their chairs and accommodated their drums, bells and flutes. The sound of their music announced the commencement with a slow, deep drumbeat.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

In the northern hills, however, Scarlett heard the drums from afar and let out an involuntary whimper. She had been hiding in the empty barracks all afternoon under the pretext of saying goodbye to the place which had been her home for the past six months. After hours of sweeping, casually spilling dust all over the place again and then sweeping some more, she had given into despair and stared at the wall for almost an hour.

The Night of Flames was also the night of trials, where she and seventeen other trainees would become Karainas.

Or fail.

There were no fiercer warriors than the Karainas in the kingdoms of Jakara, but Scarlett felt as brave as a lamb. While the other trainees rejoiced at the fact that their night of triumph- or failure- would be remembered for being moonless, Scarlett felt betrayed. She had prayed to Jasy every night for the past few months, asking the moon goddess for strength and guidance. Scarlett liked the moon, because like her, it had no inner fire. No light of its own.

Jasy had never replied, and Scarlett didn’t expect her to. The Gods had no time to meddle with human affairs. But she believed that maybe Jasy understood, and recognized a fellow outsider trying to survive in a vast, unwelcoming universe.

Scarlett’s mother had been a Karaina, and had died fighting the Hova in the last great wars. She had never met her, and she didn’t even know her name. Scarlett wasn’t the only motherless baby raised in the matriarchal world of the Karainas. They were warriors, and in the life of a woman trained to fight or die defending the human lands from the Hova, motherhood wasn’t a priority. And a baby raised in the land of the Karainas had only one destiny: to work and fight as if every day could be the last.

Up until it became obvious that Scarlett didn’t possess any fire magic, or any magic at all, she had never felt like an outsider. But the fireless in the land of flame magic were destined for what she believed to be menial occupations, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wishing she were someone else. Plenty of fireless women must have loved their jobs as sky watchers, rhea breeders or stitchers, but the truth was, she wasn’t good at staying still or calm for long.

Why did she have no fire magic if her mother had been a Karaina? If the Karainas ever bred, their daughters would also possess the spirit of fire. She wondered if had been her father’s genes. Maybe he had been someone the wind tribe, who paid no heed to magic. Or maybe her mother hadn’t been a Karaina after all, and she had been raised to believe that so she wouldn’t feel left out. The fact was, tonight she would face seventeen other trained fire wielders and all she had to fight them was her dull sword and shield.

“Stop it,” said Mimbi. “You will be fine.”

Scarlett turned her head to find her friend’s smiling face staring at hers. She hadn’t heard her come in.

“I believe in you,” said Mimbi, as she stretched out her hand. Scarlett took it and rose. Her sword fell on the floor, making a clanking sound that resonated through the empty barracks.

Mimbi’s long, black and unburnt hair fell down over her shoulders as she bent to pick up Scarlett’s sword. Scarlett knew that Mimbi never left anything to chance, and that wearing her hair down was a statement. Long hair among the Karaina trainees meant that no one had ever broken her defenses. Most of the other girls’ curls and locks had been charred or completely burned off in combat. Scarlett always kept her hair braided and oiled with snail’s ointment, which was thought to keep the burning to a minimum. Luckily, no one had ever come close to hurling a fireball to her head.

“What if no rhea is willing to take me as rider?” said Scarlett, as she fastened her sword belt. Mimbi tilted her head, observing her.

“Then you’ll ride a capybara or a deer into battle. I don’t care. You will become a Karaina because I need you with me,” she said, waving her head so her hair fell to her back.

“You know that only those with a fire spirit can become Karainas. You can’t undo centuries of traditions because you want your best friend to play warrior with you,” Scarlett said.

“They’ll send me to do stitching or the tannery.”

“Stop being an idiot. You’ve already broken tradition by being the first trainee without any kind of spirit magic. I’ve never seen anyone dodge fire and blades like you. Remember me; any rhea should be honored to make you its rider.”

If it weren’t for Mimbi, Scarlett would have just accepted her fate. Mimbi was the the High Elder’s daughter and heiress, and she had convinced the Grand Karaina to let Scarlett train with them despite her lack of magic. Then it had been up to Scarlett to learn how to fight, and she had done it graciously. What she lacked in magic she compensated with speed. Her body bore the traces of many confrontations where the trainee’s fires had gotten the best of her, but she had defeated every one of them at least once.

No one became of Karaina without a rhea, and the flightless birds chose whom they pleased to ride with. It was said the they could smell courage, and the fastest, bravest rheas always chose the woman that could match their own. They bowed only for Karainas, and no one knew of a fireless Karaina in the tribe’s history. If the birds were so smart, Scarlett thought, they’d see right through her.

“Well, you can always become a smith. Or my personal hairdresser,” said Mimbi, still smiling.

“Oh, it would be such an honor to braid the hair of my beloved leader,” said Scarlett, giving a mocking bow.

“It would be my honor to have a friend like you by my side, whether you’re there to braid my hair or fight the Hova with you,” said Mimbi.

The thought of Mimbi riding into battles without her left her with a hollow sunken feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She was her only friend.

The bull’s horn sounded from afar, and Mimbi cocked her head to one side.

“We will be late,” she said, grabbing Scarlett’s hand in hers. Together they left the empty barracks and walked out to meet their fate, not knowing that this night would be the last time they saw each other in a really long time.