The Torch Keepers

By Hosanna Emily

The King's blue flame quivers as a new fire arises, and Kadira must hold fast to his torch. It's destiny; she's a torch keeper.

A fiery revolution sweeps across the kingdom of Érkeos, and each person must choose a side. Kadira, a girl set apart to serve the King, finds her city engulfed in the Liberation's eme

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.C. TreeHouse LLC
• Release date: Sep 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780578566801

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Published by S.C. TreeHouse Press  

press.sctreehouse.com

The Torch Keepers

Copyright © 2019 by Hosanna Emily

www.havingaheartlikehis.blogspot.com

Cover design: Alea Harper

Illustrations: Caroline Ruth

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any manner, electronic, mechanical, including recording and photocopying whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Published in association with Storytellers a protected series of S.C. TreeHouse LLC and S.C. TreeHouse Press a protected series of S.C. TreeHouse LLC and Hosanna Emily.

S.C.TREEHOUSE PRESS and S.C. TreeHouse Press’ logo are registered trademarks of S.C. TreeHouse LLC.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-0-578-56517-0



Table of Contents.png

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Epilogue

The Characters

Acknowledgments

About the Author



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to the soul thriving with a passion to live for the King:

keep the torch burning;

you’re never alone.



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Though your sins are like scarlet,

they shall be as white as snow.

Isaiah 1:18



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Always keep the fire burning.

Why, Mama? The child’s tiny hand reached up to point at the flickering, blue flame. She turned toward her mother, the firelight picking up streaks of gold in her mother’s dark hair. Why must we keep the fire burning? The girl tilted her head. Her sapphire eyes shone in the pale light.

Because, my child. The woman knelt and took her daughter’s hand in hers. Because we are the King’s Torch Keepers. We must always follow our calling, for it is a noble one.

They worked as one to lift the dying torch down from its elevated place by the city gate, the rough reeds of its handle scratching their fingers. Kneeling, the woman held an unlit torch to the flame and waited for the fire to catch as the end of the wick met old with new.

The former torch’s flame grew low in the mother’s hand, and the fire blinked several times before fading to blackness. The young torch burst to life as the fire caught, the ever-glowing flames driving the shadows back into the desert wilderness. The flame’s steady, blue glow cut through the air as it was lifted high to be a sentinel to those beyond the city’s walls.

One day, my child, you will be the Torch Keeper. The woman stared out into the still night. And then you too will hold this great responsibility to keep the flame alive. The loyalty of the city will be in your hands.

The child nodded. Her bright smile flashed a dimple in her cheek. I will, Mama. I’ll never let it die.

The woman lifted her daughter into her arms and pressed soft kisses against the little girl’s curly hair as they slipped through the city gates. Once behind the barricades, she tucked the child into a low bed under the eaves of a thatched roof. Their eyes met, blue against brown. The girl smiled.

A man with the same tan complexion joined the woman, and they looked down on the girl, their faces worn from the harsh, desert wind. Holding her daughter’s hand, the mother knelt at the bedside to push away a lock of midnight hair from the child’s forehead.

It’s not an easy job. Her whisper broke through cracked lips. But you must be strong. The kingdom of Érkeos is counting on you, my child.



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Do I look pretty, Ka-Mama? I lifted my cheeks to the mirror and brushed back the curls that tickled my face. Now I could see my eyes, blue just like Daddy’s. Grinning, I pushed my hands down, rubbing my sparkly dress. I like this new outfit you made me.

One more thing, and then I’ll have a look at you, my little Ka-Dara. My mama pulled back my hair with a ribbon and then took me in her arms. I saw her necklace sparkle, and I pulled away slightly.

Can I try it on? I breathed.

She slipped the necklace around my own neck, and I sighed, deep. When Ka-Mama put it back on herself, I stared into her dark eyes. My face grew warm. You’re beautiful too, Ka-Mama. I’m so happy we’re gonna have a celebra–, cele–, what’s it called again?

A celebration? She laughed. Tonight we will celebrate the anniversary of our nation’s birth.

My mouth opened wide. Oh, I ’member! That was when the King made our land and the first two people in it! They were Torch Keepers to protect us against bad guys. Like you and Ka-Daddy do!

Yes, she said and touched the end of my nose, and one day you, my child.

My smile went away as I turned back to look at my reflection. I pulled my bottom lip in and wrinkled my forehead. My teacher said, ‘today is an epoch in our time.’ I don’t know what that means, but he told us that some people say the moon will pop up in the sky when the sun goes down. I hope it does, ’cause I never saw the moon before. What does it look like, Ka-Mama?

She shook her head. None of us knows, save the King. The moon hasn’t risen since the beginning of time.

I think it’s pink. I ran to the window to stare into the sky. But my teacher said that those super wise people who study the stars say the moon might be orange or yellow. They’re probably right, ‘cause they’re smarter than me.

Ka-Dara. She took my hand and squeezed it tight. We must not believe everything others say. Even learned people are often wrong.

What about you and Ka-Daddy? My lips turned downward. I fiddled with the necklace she wore, but she gently uncurled my fingers.

She laughed. We’re wrong too sometimes.

The wooden door swung open, and the sounds and smells of the party filled the air. I squealed and ran forward, throwing myself against Ka-Daddy’s legs.

I knew you’d be home soon! Did you bring me a present? ’Member, you said you would? My eyes opened wide as I clapped my hands.

Yes, my princess. He leaned down to give me a hug. When his whiskers tickled my face, I fell over with giggles. I pulled away from the smell of his shirt—my mama called it leather—and saw his eyes look over my head to where Ka-Mama stood. He nodded.

The rumors? They’re that bad? Ka-Mama walked towards us and touched his shoulder.

His jaw tightened. With the celebration tonight, we need to be careful. They’re always looking for opportunities.

My present? I interrupted them and jumped up and down, grabbing my daddy’s arms.

Two, he said. My feet touched the ground as he reached into a rawhide pouch and closed his fist tight. Smile lines lay around his eyes as he held out both fists together. Which one?

I bit my lip and rocked from foot to foot. My eyes turned from one hand to the other. Finally, my finger pressed into his left fist. This one.

He opened his hand. There was nothing.

You tricked me! I laughed, grabbing the other fist and trying to pull open his fingers.

He laughed too and quickly opened his fist, putting something on my hand. A bright red fruit! I squealed. Grabbing its squishy skin, I pressed it to my nose and inhaled the sugar-smell. "Oh, it smells so good! I’ll share it with you, Ka-Daddy. But I need to peel it first. My legs slipped down in a crossed-legged position as I carefully tore away the thin peels. Breaking the juicy insides into three pieces, I handed one to Ka-Daddy, the other to Ka-Mama, and kept the last in my own palm. One for each of us!"

Ka-Mama took the slice, and we both let the sticky flavors tickle our tongues. It dripped on my chin. When I wiped the juice on my sleeve, Ka-Mama smiled, but her eyes were wet.

What’s wrong, Ka-Mama? My eyebrows pulled tight, and I jumped back to my feet. I could give you another piece of my fruit. Do you want it?

She turned away, placing a hand against her fat tummy. Her gaze met Ka-Daddy’s, and his eyebrows pulled together.

Did you forget my other gift? Ka-Daddy asked, making me look back at him. He took out a thin, dark bottle and held it in his fingertips.

I pulled away and wrinkled my nose. What’s that?

The juice from the moon-flower. His voice lowered. It’s very rare, and you must tell no one of it. Tonight for the celebration, your mother will put a drop in each one of your eyes.

My eyes? Why? I jerked to my mother’s side and put my hand in hers. I don’t want you to.

My dear, she said, your eyes are beautiful like your daddy’s. The King gave you bright blue eyes, unlike any other child, for you are set apart to be a Torch Keeper. But the King’s enemies will seek you out because of it. This will keep you safe. She touched my chin and raised it so that I looked in her face. You must be brave and trust us.

I stuck out my lower lip. But why don’t you do the drops in your and Ka-Daddy’s eyes too?

She played with my hair. My princess, I am a Torch Keeper by marriage, thus my eyes are not like yours. And your father is not a child; it’s his own decision to make. Ka-Mama and Ka-Daddy both smiled down on me. But we need you to be safe.

I—I’ll try to be brave, I said, swallowing hard. If you want to, I’m ready for you to put it in.

Ka-Mama’s arms surrounded me, warm. She lifted me to my bed and took the dark bottle between her fingers. My chest tightened as she hesitated.

Ka-Mama? The word trembled on my tongue.

She pressed a kiss against my cheek and raised the bottle. My eyes stared up at the ceiling. In Ka-Mama’s hands, a brown drop hesitated on the end of the bottle’s tip. And fell. Down, down.

Everything grew fuzzy. I jerked away and pulled in a sharp breath of air. My teeth clenched tight as the second drop followed. They burned, and I tried not to cry.

Now, child, come see in the mirror. Ka-Daddy lifted me to my feet, and I took quiet steps toward my reflection as my vision returned. The colors around me were like balls of cotton, all fuzzy. I blinked several times as my hands reached for the mirror, and I raised my gaze.

A gasp caught in my throat. The girl staring back at my face wasn’t me. She wasn’t the same girl who laughed earlier, excited for tonight’s party. My blue eyes had changed to an ugly brown. The pink color left my cheeks.

My mama sniffed and turned away, wiping her face with the edge of her sleeve.

It’s okay, Ka-Mama, I said. Tears caught in my eyes. Deep breath. I do like brown almost as much as blue.

Sometimes we must do hard things, but the King will give us strength. Ka-Daddy pressed me close to his chest. You are brave, my princess.

I love you, Ka-Daddy. I stared into his own sky-blue eyes just like mine—but mine weren’t anymore. I quickly looked away.

And I, you. He pushed me back and played with the ends of my curly hair. But while I was out, I heard Am-Othniel was looking for you. He’s in the dancehall tuning the instruments for the celebration. Go have fun with your little friends, my dear.

Be back before the dance, Ka-Dara! My mama said as I ran to the door.

I will. I grinned. I want Ka-Daddy to have my first dance. I paused and ran back to throw my arms around my mother’s tummy which was getting bigger every day. Ka-Daddy said she wasn’t fat, but I couldn’t put my arms around her anymore. That meant she was at least a tiny bit fat, I think. I let my lips touch Ka-Mama’s tummy in a whisper. Goodbye, baby.

The outside air embraced me in its dry heat as I slipped onto the dusty street. Music rose from where lots of strangers set up for the celebrations. The smells of bread, fruits, and meats cooking on sticks over fires made me smile. Soon, we would feast! I turned toward the streets and left behind my family’s house that guarded the city gates.

Behind the wooden walls, the torch flickered with a strong, blue light. And farther in the horizon, dust rose up in clouds as caravans journeyed through the wasteland on their own missions.



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Hard, white stone touched my feet. Footsteps made funny, deep sounds against the tall ceilings of the dancehall as I hurried past big blankets hanging on the walls. Ka-Mama called them tapestries, but to me they just looked like pretty quilts. The reds and yellows told stories of the way of the King and the creation of Érkeos, swept up in the giant blankets. I stopped near one and let the cloth rub against my fingers. It felt slippery like the new dress I wore.

I looked up. There was a picture in this blanket, two angry people running away from a big garden. There was a torch too, big and blue, like a huge wall of fire. I gasped—the people were Torch Keepers like my mama and daddy! But somehow, their eyes were different. They were green and blue at the same time. I chewed on my lip.

A sound made me turn away. A quiet musical note filled the air and slid around me like lazy clouds in the sky. Tingling ran down my arms as I hurried to the end of the hall where large instruments stood, waiting for use. When night came, the sparkling floors would have a whole bunch of dancing feet while songs filled the air. It would be so fun!

The note faded, and another began, this one higher yet with a smooth feel that surrounded me like a hug. My feet climbed up the stone steps. I reached out and touched the edge of one of the smaller instruments. The glass piece made goosebumps crawl up my arms.

Oth? I smiled at my friend as he bent over the instrument with his eyes pressed shut. He shook his head and reached forward to press a key. The music repeated in another note.

When he opened his eyes again, he adjusted a knobby thing and turned toward me. It’s almost perfect, but the note’s a bit flat. I need to get it perfect for when I play tonight.

I held my breath as he fiddled with the knobs before pressing the notes. Between the keys, he whispered to me.

These are hammers; they’re soft, covered with the silk of taffworms. When the hammers strike those bronze strings, he said, pointing, they make vibrations. That’s the sound we hear. But if the vibrations are only slightly off—, Am-Othniel pressed a key, and his lips twisted.

His words made no sense, so I looked closely at the glass instrument. Keys stained different shades of gold and brown all lined up at the front of the instrument. Behind them, I could see through the glass frame and into the deeper part of the instrument where dark strings stretched out in all different sizes. When the keys were pushed, the strings in the back wiggled like worms! Am-Othniel leaned his ear near the last string, played it several times, and then stepped back with a grin. I giggled.

He rubbed his hand across the keys. This is my favorite instrument, the laude-chorda. It’s small, but when I play it the music will sing louder than every other sound. It’s like standing by a door when wind blows up a fierce sandstorm. It’s all you can hear—music.

Can you play me a song? I reached forward to press a note, but he grabbed my arm.

Not ’til the dance tonight. It must be perfectly in tune. If only one instrument is sharp or flat, it will ruin all the others. He motioned to the big jumble of instruments behind him.

I turned in a full circle to examine the instruments with strings, with banging drum-things, and some with twisty tunnels for people to blow through. When I turned back to him, my voice dropped to a whisper. Can you play all of them?

Of course. He shrugged and winked at me. Just not at the same time.

I giggled. You should be a minstrel when you grow up. I’d sing with you. You could travel everywhere and play songs to make people dance!

I wish my mom thought so. He looked down at the laude-chorda and shook his head. ’Cause Am-Dad was never with us, he can’t teach me a trade. Am-Mom said I should learn to be a builder. I guess that’s more important than music; people always need builders.

But if you performed, maybe one day the King would invite you to his palace, and you could perform for him and his great generals. Then your mother would see how good you play!

He laughed and shrugged it