The Daughter of Flames Excerpt

C h a p t e r 1

A New Life

I was the pebble in my father’s shoe. Though he never said it, I could see it every time he laid eyes on me. My mother knew, and though she loved me, she never said anything about it. How could she? My father was a man, and he overruled her.

I grew up in this small village, amid an ocean of trees, with no one in sight. We were so far out in the world, no stranger had ever come there. In fact, it was strange how everyone knew no one would ever come, disturbing our peace. It had an unspoken knowledge, but common to all. We were so secluded, it felt as if nothing existed outside our land. But we knew it was untrue. The stories of its past reminded us of that. There was this tale told by the old, but especially by my father. Leader of the village, he made a point to remind everyone of it, during the yearly reunion. It was the only reunion where both men and women would sit equally.

It was the story of how my people escaped from the cruel Emperor Dragon. He was the Emperor of a great conquering nation and our city had fallen to it. Two generations had been born with stainless hands, but scars still felt fresh underneath a thin layer of still-healing skin as old folk told us of the luscious times they had spent in the old Oberonnia.

My father held reunions with the men each month to discuss the next course of action in recreating Oberonnia. It seemed somewhat a shame to cut down all these trees to make place for new polished stone houses. Something about them felt sacred. I guessed I was the only one seeing them that way. My people made slow progress; only men were allowed to help, and there were so few of us left. Women were excluded, as they were forbidden to participate in any activity involving creation. I envied them, and watched them for hours. Sometimes I would steal a small stone and try to imitate them. But when my father found out, he beat me till I ran and hid deep in the woods. I would stay there for days, starving myself, until I took the habit of stoking some food for these emergencies. When I came back, the matter was usually forgotten. My mother only let out a sigh of relief when she saw me and shouted:

“Go wash yourself! You’re all filthy, what will the boys think!”

That was how my mother reminded me I was coming of age. I yielded without saying a word, but it made me wish I was a boy. Then I could walk freely and do as I wished, and never get married if it pleased me! I would not be diminished every month, cramped and crippled by my own nature. I took my bath as my mother had bidden me and thought of how twisted everything was. Mothers, the creators of life, were forbidden to create! Bringing children into this world is something no father will ever be able to do and it is one of the greatest acts of creation in the universe. It is said God gave birth to the Universe. If that is true, then our mothers must have a great deal more in common with God than our fathers did. Perhaps this was how men tried to imitate the power given solely to women. I felt angry, but what could I do? I was only a girl. And I snapped the water of the bath in an outburst of anger. Water spilled on the earth floor.

One day, someone came to tell me my father had sent for me. He wanted me to join him in his personal hut. This special place was called “The Kir”. It was there that all the sacred documents saved from the old city were kept. My father continuously studied them to find the answers to all of our questions. With the exception of his wife and his highest pupils, no one was allowed in. My heart sank at the news as I was well aware of the seriousness of the matter. He was inflexible; if he had made an exception, things had to be terribly wrong.

I entered his hut on a hesitant foot. My heart pounded tightly in my chest. I looked for his stare, but he avoided mine.

“Ayanagou, you need to change,” said my father, continuing with his scrolls. “I have been thinking about it, and I do not see any other alternative. To bring you back onto the right path I have taken a decision. I know you will be unhappy to hear this, but it is the right choice. The only choice. May the Gods protect you, should it fail, for I will no longer be able to save you.”

He laid down what he had in hand and finally turned to meet my gaze. His face was dark and it had never looked so dreadful. I took fright and took his hand in mine, crumbling at his feet.

“You will save me, father!” I begged.

I did not mean what I said. It was all a game, but I had to survive.

“I am your flesh!” I said.

My father swallowed, holding himself from revealing his true thought, and dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I got up, seeing his stoned heart would not melt.

“You’re erratic!” he spat in my face.

“I am different,” I protested. “I know that. But...”

“You are the devil!” he roared, before turning as though to an inward prayer. “Help me!”

“I cannot help being who I am,” I protested on an equal tone with his.

“Sin if you must!” said father, getting up to shout in my face. “Do not influence others to do the same. That is ill. You are contaminating the others with you strange ideas, and...”

“And what?” I asked, bracing myself.

My father looked at me, his eyes red with anger. Something about his distorted face did not seem human. I had always known what he thought of me, it was just the first time he so openly spat it to my face.

“You...” hesitated my father before shooting me with the truth. “You dishonour our family name.”

I swallowed my saliva, knowing I could not escape my fate this time.

“I am your father and the village leader,” he said, suddenly towering over me to make sure I knew he was my father, “and I will not permit my daughter to defy our laws and beliefs.”

“But, I, father...” I baffled, trying to reply while keeping my calm.

“Do not interrupt me, daughter!” said my father, with such deeply contained anger, I barely recognized his face. “Timharry died and you brought him back! The power of life and death belongs to the Gods and you know it! You are a woman. You will never be anything else! The fury of the Gods will be terrible if brought upon us. And it will come unless you start changing. Gods do not like those who meddle with their magic.”

I wished so hard to fade away while I watched my father pace with the vein on his neck pounding under his rage that I wondered if I would actually disappear. But I remained, and his stare jumped back and forth on me. My father seemed to struggle with his words, carefully picking them. I looked away, knowing my own life was at stake, should I defy him further.

“You went into the water,” my Father continued. “Humans are Earth creatures, they have no business on or in water. Has your mother failed you so miserably? Daughter, I understand the temptation you must feel, having only brothers, and so I have been lenient till now, but enough is enough! You are a girl and you must stay a girl.”

“I understand, father,” I answered, despite the fact that I still disagreed.

Then I felt a turmoil of thoughts, and with every fibre in my being screaming he was wrong, I felt the overwhelming urge to show him the possibility he was wrong.

“But we drink water and use wind to work our mills,” I said. “What difference does it make?”

“It is crossing the line,” my father said, firmly. “Swimming is the role of fishes, walking is the role of humans, that is the way of things.”

“Yes, father,” I answered, submitting.

I knew deep down he was wrong, but nothing I could do or say would convince him otherwise. He only followed what he was taught. As Oberon’s high priest, he had to be deeply convinced and have total faith in our Oberonnian doctrine. Besides, he would never consider seriously the word of a girl.

Oberon was the name of the great priest who founded the city of Oberonnia. He was its first Lord and Ruler. Oberonnia was the city where my great-grandfathers lived. Their society flourished until a mad man, calling himself The Dragon, came to Oberonnia and burned the city to the ground. He destroyed everything and enslaved the people.

Only a few were able to escape. Since then, my people have been living far away from all civilization, afraid such a terrible thing would repeat itself. They left to hide where no one would ever find them. My father’s father was but a baby when this happened and he barely recalled the incident.

Oberon believed there were creatures for each of the elements: Earth, Water, Wind and Fire. All had to stay in their places, and those who did not abide by this commandment gave their souls to the devil. Birds were creatures of wind; humans and the likes were creatures of earth; fish were creatures of water; and spirits were creatures of fire.

According to Oberon, it was how life was balanced. Creatures like snakes, that dwelled on both earth and water, were creatures of chaos; in other words, bad or evil things. Humans who became creatures of chaos had to be brought back to order. If that was impossible, they had to be killed to preserve the purity of the group, the rights of the whole outweighing the rights of the individual.

Explanation after explanation, my father could not make me see how saving a life was wrong because of how it was done. I just could not see it. I had to make my father understand.

“What was I supposed to do, let him die?” I challenged.

“Yes,” answered Father, angry.

“I only...” I said, wanting to explain him.

“Not another word!” cut my Father. “I will not hear this. You will keep yourself from contaminating me!”

“The purpose was higher than the means,” I insisted.

My father looked at me without saying a word. Great anger glittered in his eyes.

“Daughter,” my father finally said darkly, restraining his anger, “do not tell me how to perform my role as spiritual leader.”

“I am not,” I protested. “I am only trying to explain how actions are positive or negative depending on whether your intentions are good or bad. Why does someone kill another, is it for pleasure or for protection? You cannot tell me both are wrong!”

“You will learn your place, woman!” shouted my father.

I did not know what to do as my father raised his hand to hit me, so I ran away. But he caught my arm and slapped me. I struggled and freed myself, and fled. My father came after me, trying to catch me. But I was too fast and he stopped, watching me go.

“Ayanagou!” yelled my father. “Come back! I am not done with you!”

But I was, and I ran as fast as I could, my head burning with fear. I escaped to the cliff that hung above the village, seeking peace. I sat near its edge, closing my eyes and trying to empty my head of my troubling thoughts. Timhary’s story came flashing back into my mind.

Timharry was a young boy who had barely begun his initiation as a hunter. He had an older brother called Hane. They both went hunting without permission. Timharry was not ready but Hane, who was still very young, persuaded his brother to follow him in a hunt. They intended to bring back their prize, surprising their father and impressing him with their skills. But things turned sour when their prey changed into the hunter.

Frightened by Hane’s arrow, the animal ran off to her cubs. Hane and Timharry were stubborn and foolish, they pursued the animal. In their rush, they fell next to one of the animal’s cubs. Furious, she charged at them, determined to protect her offspring. Timharry and Hane ran for their lives. The animal was right behind them, trying to bite or hit them whenever she could. It was impossible for either of them to outrun her; she simply was too fast.

Their only chance was to cross the river, using a fallen trunk that bridged both sides. Hane urged his little brother to go first. The animal reared and kicked Hane down before he could follow his brother. Again the animal reared, trying to stomp Hane as often as she could. Hane struggled for his life while his brother tried to make it to the other side.

That was when I heard screams. I immediately ran to their aid. I had told no one but I was in the neighbourhood because I had been secretly teaching myself how to shoot arrows. Suddenly, the trunk jiggled and Timharry fell into the river. The moment I arrived, I shot an arrow at the animal, injuring its leg. Defeated, it left. Timharry was struggling for his life. Without thinking, I jumped to save him.

I was lucky, Hawk had taught me well. Hawk was my mentor. When I was young, children often refused to play with me. Hawk noticed and asked my mother permission to bring me with him while he gathered mushrooms and herbs from the forest. This way, I would play alone, away from those who bothered me. Seeing no harm in this, she agreed.

Hawk had no wife and no children of his own. He appreciated company, even if it was that of a little girl. This was how Hawk started teaching me all kinds of things. He took me as his own daughter, except no one ought to know about the things he taught me.

One day, he plunged into the river and swam around like a fish. I was shocked. I did not yet know why, but I knew it was forbidden. Hawk eventually convinced me there was no harm and I dared to follow him into the water. Hawk had taught me too well: I dived into the river as if it were natural.

I pulled Timharry out of the water and breathed air into his lungs. Hane looked at me with much horror in his eyes, yet he said not a word. He was badly hurt and, unable to articulate his disgust, he only turned his head to look at Timharry. My heart was pounding with fear while I struggled to save Timharry’s life. Again, I breathed air into his lungs. My only concern was reviving him. I pressed down his chest, making him expel the air, and then I refilled his lungs. I repeated the procedure many time before he finally began coughing.

I was relieved; it was over and he was alive. But I knew I would be in trouble. Thankfully, Hane’s family seemed too busy mourning their son when Hane died of his injuries to demand punishment for my infraction. They never said it, but I believed part of them was glad their other son was safe. My father gave me the strongest slap I had ever received, leaving me bruised for weeks, and that was the end of it. I knew I had been very lucky.

I reopened my eyes, hoping to flee the rush of new emotions coming from my recollections, and looked down upon the village. The cliff seemed proud while it stood straight and tall. I wished, with the core of my heart, that the day would come when I would feel the same way. I breathed in the landscape while the wind flirted with my hair. For a brief moment, the air seemed to lie still while the clouds danced in the sky. I enjoyed these moments of solitude where I had no one to fight with. It made me feel at peace, even if it was for just a moment, as brief as it was. Then, despite the strong winds caressing my skin and cooling my troubled soul, my mind reminded me how things were getting out of hand. I listened to the air and the turning winds seemed to demand change.

My father’s words still echoed in my head. What plans did he have in mind? My heart was aching with sadness. Tears began to roll down my cheeks when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Startled, I turned to see who it was and a slap across my face caught me unaware. I wiped my tears and looked again only to discover one of my brothers looking down at me. He was angry.

“How dare you walk away from father like that,” he spat in my face. “Have you no respect?”

I got up to face him.

“I meant no disrespect,” I said.

“I should throw you off the cliff and do father a favour,” he said in an outburst of anger. “I am sure you will not be missed. After the way you treated him, it’s all you deserve!”

“Expressing ideas is not disrespect,” I protested.

“You are a woman!” he said. “You have none!”

“The fact that I am expressing some, does it not prove you wrong?” I challenged. “You see, unlike you, I do not need someone to pre-chew my thoughts and tell me what to believe in. You are the same as father, unable to respect a different opinion than yours even if proven wrong.”

My brother shook his head in disapproval; he could not find anything better to say. His answer finally came in the form of a slap. This time I blocked and elbowed him in the belly, throwing him down. I ran down the hill and stopped, turning around to face him. Cramped, he looked back at me with a mix of rage and hatred in his eyes. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage.

“Listen to me, Hacker,” I warned him, “you may be a man, but I am stronger than you, in heart and soul. Do not ever touch me again!”

Then I ran away, disappearing into the woods. I did not go far. I could still see the village through the trees while I ran down the grassy slope. My heart was filled with grief. I stopped to lean against a tree with my hand on its scaly trunk. I wanted to cry but I held back my tears. I was trembling inside as I took a deep breath and looked at the village. Smoke was coming out of people’s chimneys and I knew everyone had pots of stew lain on the hearth. I scanned the village to see who was about and saw a man fixing his roof. He stood on his straw roof, patching and tightening it with his tool. Fall would eventually come and we all needed to be prepared for the excess of rain.

I looked back, watching for a sign of my brother and his friends. But they did not follow.