Blood in the Fire (Timelaws Trilogy) (3 page)

Centream–96th Cycle of the Wizard Calendar

(Earth Year: 5,320 B.C.)

Anthe’s Story

The two early afternoon suns cast golden hues across the small orange houses that lined the road. Ketya walked through the village with her head bowed. Long brown hair concealed her elfish face. Maroon eyes focused on the dust she kicked up with each brisk step. All she could think about was getting home.

An elderly merchant greeted her as he passed by on his way to sell his goods at the marketplace, but she didn’t hear him as she drove forward, towards the edge of the village. Soon the orange houses became more and more spars as crop fields filled with fledgling yellow stalks took their place.

A cloud passed over the larger sun and cast a cold shadow down on the winter-weary land. Ketya pulled her worn shawl in tighter and refolded it over her stomach.
I should have known better than to rely on fabric to hide my pregnancy,
she admitted to herself.

The thin cloth she had patched together during her school days had been intended for an evening gown. When her teacher asked her why she wasn’t following his instructions, she told him that two dresses were plenty enough for a girl her age and the shawl would be more practical. He’d grunted and moved on. A child with her lack of abilities was a waste of instruction. Ketya had returned to her needlework while the other children in class proceeded with their sewing spells.

In truth, she was disappointed at first that she couldn't produce the gown. The other kids in the class had used their powers to make beautiful garments. But with time, she came to appreciate the shawl. It was a testament to what she could accomplish without magic. Her classmates would have never been able to sew anything by hand. Finally, as if moved by some twisted humor, the shawl had proven to her that magic was in fact more valuable than handcraft. It had failed to hide her pregnancy from a probing spell.

Two weeks ago, she started to suspect that she was with child. But two weeks was a long time for Ketya to keep a secret in a town where almost everyone, save herself, had powers. Rothin hadn’t even asked her if she were pregnant. He just looked at her flushed face, studied her stomach for a moment, and then performed the incantation to find out what he wanted to know: that she was pregnant, that it was a girl, and most importantly, that her daughter would be born without powers.

I should have asked him to stop,
Ketya told herself.
I should have asked him...
But she knew why she hadn’t. It wasn’t that she feared Rothin. He was older now, and he’d earned a powerful position as a town juror. To emphasize the change, he’d shed his former blond locks in favor of the crop-cut hairstyle the army used. However, that was just an intimidation tactic like everything else about him.

Ketya had lived with Rothin for several years, and she knew the true extent of his compassion. In fact, it was he who hid her in the schoolhouse when the small band of unruly soldiers came to 'cleanse' their town. Her mother and brother were killed during the attack. Her father was spared because he had powers, but he was not fit to raise her after that. The forbidden drink appealed to him more than the duties of a single parent. So instead, Rothin had beseeched his own father to take Ketya in and raise her. The newly formed family grew close, but half a decade later, that caused Rothin to feel that much more betrayed when she left their home to move in with Brovkyl.

Ketya was now seventeen years old, five years Rothin’s junior. Ever since she left, they had butted heads whenever they encountered one another. More than one loud argument had taken place between them in the marketplace. Her friends warned her that Rothin was in a position to make her life difficult if he wished. They said she was too hot tempered for her own good. “He wouldn’t hurt me,” she’d told them
.

She trusted Rothin, and she knew that he still cared for her. No, fear of him was not what motivated her in the marketplace today. She hadn’t stopped him because she wanted to know what his spell could tell her.

After two long minutes of spell chanting, Rothin raised his yellow eyes to meet hers. “It’s a girl,” he said. She studied his face and waited for a reaction. His expression remained stoic, but the sad undertone of his voice told her what she wanted to know:
he was sorry for her.

However, Rothin's pity didn’t stop him from announcing the rest of his discovery to everyone present at market that morning. “Ketya’s pregnant,” he yelled, turning away from her. Ketya took a step backwards to distance herself from him. “Ketya’s pregnant and her daughter will be powerless.” 

Horror gripped every bone in Ketya’s body. Suddenly, she felt brittle, like she might shatter at any moment. Instead, she turned on her heel and began to walk away. If she ran, they might chase her. Given their powers, she wouldn’t be able to outrun them. So she walked and hoped they would take their time deciding what to do with her. They had the ability to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. There was no reason for them to interrupt their busy day with the meager decision regarding her fate. That could wait until the drearier hours of late afternoon. When they’d exhausted all other options for self-entertainment, they would gather in the courthouse and make a theatrical production of the danger she posed for the town in her current state.

Ten years ago, her child would have been legal. Eight years ago, the civil war between wizards was decided and so was enacted the law that all powerless, female children would be executed at birth.

“I wish it were a boy,
”
Ketya whispered. An invisible fist squeezed her chest as the reality began to sink in. Every night and waking moment of the past weeks had been filled with fear-fueled prayers. She had convinced herself that if she prayed hard enough, the mere power of her will would force the child to be a boy. That hope was demolished.

Ketya’s legs felt weak under the weight of this new reality. Her knees wobbled and threatened to give way as she walked, but still she marched on. Brovkyl would know what to do. She held on to faith he could save their child.

Ketya stepped off the path and onto the field that separated her small home from the road. She ran across and bounded up the steps to her front porch. The stone door felt heavier than usual. She strained her arm to pull it open. When the gap was large enough for her small frame, she ducked inside and heaved the door shut behind her.

Brovkyl heard the noise and turned from the book he’d been reading to see Ketya panting in the entryway. Her heart sank at the sight of the torn expression on his face. In an instant, he closed the distance between them and wrapped her in his arms. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. Unlike most slim wizards, Brovkyl was forced to do his field labor manually, and he had a wide frame to show for it. Ketya remained still as he embraced her.

Naimi, Brovkyl’s pet, came to great Ketya at the door, but Ketya ignored the dragon-shaped creature. “How did you know what happened?” she asked.

“You had your basket when you left for market this morning,” he replied gently, still holding onto her. “Where’s the basket? And what happened to the heat potions you were going to buy?” Ketya pulled away and looked down at her empty hands. She could not remember where she had left the basket.

“Rothin probed me with a spell,” Ketya told him. Brovkyl took her trembling hands in his large ones and held them steady. He had already guessed what she was about to tell him, but Ketya continued. “It’s a girl,” she said. “You’re going to be a father.” A warm smile formed on Ketya’s lips as she pictured Brovkyl reading their future daughter a bedtime story. But the smile was edged with tears as she realized that could never happen. “What are we going to do?” she asked. 

Brovkyl was silent. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. Deep down, she knew that there was nothing he could do, but still she hoped. His silence shattered her heart once more and this time it was too much for her legs to bear. She dropped to the ground as a fit of sobs wracked her body.

Brovkyl came to his knees by her side and lifted her into his arms. She looked up and saw his brown eyes glistening with moisture. Neither one of them would ever meet their daughter.

“I’m so sorry, Ketya,” he said. “I’m so very sorry.” His speech was hoarse with pain. He lifted her face and studied her eyes as if hesitant to finish his thought. But after a moment, his anguished voice prevailed. “They can use their magic to kill her in your womb. They might not wait for her to be born…”

Ketya lifted her arm and slammed her fist into his chest.
Why was he telling her that?
The people in that town were her friends. She bought goods from them and shared laughs with them at market. Some of them had attended school with her.
Could they really hurt her so deeply?
But another part of her knew they wouldn’t hesitate. If they didn’t act swiftly against her child, the army would attack the town. Even Rothin had chosen Centream’s welfare over hers. A new wave of sobs gripped her body as she remembered his betrayal.

Brovkyl grabbed her hand and held her fist firmly in his. “I’m telling you this because we’ve both been trying to avoid the reality. And if we’re going to beat them, we can’t lie to ourselves any longer,” he said.

As instantly as they had started, Ketya’s tears subdued. “Beat them how?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Brovkyl admitted. “Do you know anyone in the town who would be willing to help us? Anyone who might use their powers to cover our tracks if we run away?”

Ketya remained frozen.
Run away. Where?
The town of Centream was more tolerant than most; they allowed her to live as normal a life as possible without powers. But, even here, they would execute her child, so where else was there to go? Sensing the tension, Naimi stroked Ketya’s skirt with her wing. It was an attempt to reassure her, but Ketya gave the two-footed pet no heed.

“No, I don’t think anyone will help us,” Ketya said. Her voice was weak with fear.

“Then what if I stay behind?” Brovkyl suggested. “Maybe I can buy you some time. You can hide in the forest or try to find a cave to live in.”

Ketya shook her head. “It won’t work,” she said. “I want you with me. I don’t want our daughter to grow up without a father.”

Brovkyl’s eyes swelled under the weight of her words. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling as he fought for control.

What do I know about living in the forest?
she thought.
I’d bleed out from splinter wounds trying to make an arrow.
Hunting and gathering had not been a way of life for wizards for at least a hundred years. Her grandmother had shared stories about the times when wizards lived in caves, but, thanks to the Ori, they had progressed beyond that now. With progress, the old knowledge was forgotten.

“I have to convince them you are still here,” he replied. “You are the most resourceful person I know. You will learn to live as our ancestors did.” His words were calm and steady, but she could hear the pain in his throat. He squeezed her close, then leaned back and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “I love you,” he said. “And I love our daughter. Please tell her when she’s older. Please don’t let her think I abandoned her.”

“Of course not,” Ketya said. “Because you’re coming with us. We’ll find another way.” She tried to force a reassuring smile.

Brovkyl shook his head. “You have to tell our daughter that I’m sorry,” he said. “My mother left me and my father to go fight in the war. I always resented her for it and I promised that I would never abandon my child. Ketya, you have to know that I want more than anything to be with you, but it’s the only way.” He squeezed her fist tighter. “Please forgive me.”

“Brovkyl, you can’t,” Ketya protested. “They will never believe you and even if they do, you’ll be…” Ketya’s voice broke as the horrid image of Brovkyl’s fate flooded her mind. The town’s jury would convict him of helping a Forsaken escape execution. The minimum sentence was to be stripped of powers, of which Brovkyl had none, and forced into a life of slavery in the head wizard’s fields. The maximum sentence was death. “Please come with us,” she begged.

Brovkyl was silent for a moment. She could see the struggle taking place behind his frown and how much he wanted to give in. “Stay tonight,” he said. “I doubt it will be more than a few more hours before the town comes knocking at our door. We’ll present you to them and ask for time. They will think that if you were going to run away, you would have done so already. Perhaps that will be enough to buy us a few days mercy.”

“Then what?” Ketya asked.

“I have to stay behind. If they don’t see me working our fields tomorrow, they’ll know something’s wrong. But you can leave early in the morning before they wake and maybe you’ll reach the caves by nightfall tomorrow.”

Brovkyl’s keen eyes studied her. His expression was full of love for her. “Please,” he said. “Do it for our daughter.” Ketya didn’t trust herself to speak. She nodded instead.

Then after a moment, she rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Our daughter will never resent you,” she promised. “I’ll tell her everyday all the stories about the love you’ve shown me. She’ll hear about the flowers you left on my window sill when we first met. How you came to my house late at night when everyone was asleep just so we could sit on the roof and talk. I’ll tell her how so full of love you are and she will know that you love her too.”