Dawn of Fire

By E.R. Martin

Fighting to survive in a land that wants to destroy her, Ari refuses to surrender. If she were to be caught, she would lose her freedom first, her tongue second, and her life third. A fact she knows all too well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.R. Martin
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781737875222

Book preview

PART 1: DAWN

SHIRI

Day 25

Ci 2632

They said we did not belong. They said we were not meant to be. So, they took it upon themselves to make it so.

They work in secret; in silence, they work to end us. They say not one of us will remain. Soon, their threats will be more than words.

Our legacy is dust; our names all but forgotten.

But I tell you, we were once mighty.

ARI

The unnaturally black night hung heavy, not even allowing the moonlight to pierce through. The snarling and barking of the hounds seemed to come from everywhere at once. The tall trees loomed dark and daunting, dispassionate observers to the unfolding scene below.

Branches snapped like bones as hard, black boots ran through the undergrowth, crushing everything in their path. Orders rang through the shattered night as men’s deep voices sliced into one another. Swords scraped as they came free from scabbards, hands tightened on leashes, and heads swiveled in every direction looking for their prey.

A small figure could seldom be seen in the gloom as it raced for its life, darting through the forest. Through the trees, under low-hanging branches, and over fallen timber, the chase continued. Soft leather boots gliding over the leaves and debris, making no more sound than a whispered prayer.

Her dark hair whipped in her face as the wind picked up, driving curling strands into her stinging eyes. She mopped a hand across her face in frustration. Her foot nearly slipped as she slid around a tree and jumped over a pile of brush. The trees above protested to the sudden gust, moaning and creaking as they bent to its powerful force.

She ran for her life; capture was not an option. If she were to be caught, she would lose her freedom first, her tongue second, and her life third.

A fact she knew all too well.

Her small frame twisted to avoid low branches; to slow down and navigate deliberately was not possible. In a young forest such as this, the trees were still learning to reach for the skies, so it was no surprise that one reached out to snag her. The fingers of the branch lashed across her chest, spinning her sideways. She lost her balance and her knee slammed to the ground hard. Her breath caught in her throat in a croaking cry as she scrambled to get up. Biting down on her sleeve to keep from making more noise, she slipped behind the largest trunk she could find before peering over her shoulder.

Are they gone?

The pounding of her heartbeat echoed in her skull, driving out all sounds of her pursuers. She reached up and brushed her fingers across her chest, searching for the source of the pain. When she found it, she sucked air in through her teeth at the sting; in the dark, all she could see was the black-looking stain on her fingers. The branch had sliced an ugly gash into the exposed skin of her collarbone.

She had to do something immediately.

Clenching her teeth in an effort to calm her breathing, she focused as hard as she could on the sounds that surrounded her. The usual night noises had gone silent in the chaos of the chase.

But there, in the distance, she could still hear it. The stench of blood was a perfect trail for the hounds hot on her heels.

Slipping out from behind the tree, she continued to run, the urgency building in her chest before she saw what she was looking for. A tall tree stretched to the sky, but next to it stood a stout little friend whose low boughs provided a staircase to a safe haven. Glancing around her, she tugged the sleeve of her tunic down over the blood on her now sticky fingers. She could leave no trace behind.

Without missing a beat, she scaled the lower tree, trying to ignore the pain until she was high enough to reach the branches of the taller tree. The leaves welcomed her like a long-lost friend as she disappeared into the foliage, her dark skin blending into the deep velvet of the night.

Finding a steady spot where a wide branch met the trunk, she finally stopped. Warily, she threw a leg over the branch and slid until her back rested against the bark. She clamped her teeth hard to keep from gasping—the faster her heart pumped, the more blood she lost.

Pulling the strip of fabric from around her right wrist, she deliberately and gently took the water pouch from around her waist. When the cloth was wet and there was no more blood to be seen on her hand, she pressed the remaining clean corner against the still-bleeding gash on her collarbone.

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back; at least for now, she was safe.

Fayd! She smacked her head against the trunk, jarring the thoughts in her mind. How could you be so stupid? Seven years of running, and this is what it has come to.

She brushed the sweaty strands of her hair away from her forehead; her dark, curled locks often had a mind of their own. Opening her eyes, she absentmindedly pulled up the leather hood that had come off during her escape. It was her most valuable possession. As she touched the cool hide, her thoughts flashed to Imbiana’s delicate hands fastening the hood and pulling it up over her head.

Unbeknownst to Ari, her own flared nose, full lips, and strong jaw were the spitting image of her mother. Her slender face was often framed by her loose dark curls, though tonight she had bound her hair in a thick braid. But it was her eyes that were truly dangerous. Offset by her dark complexion, the golden amber eyes burned bright in the night. Closing them, she listened to the leaves rustling, each individual adding softly to the chorus of the forest.

What now?

There was nothing to do but wait for morning. The only way to guarantee that the chase was over was to see an empty forest by the light of day. Though the trees were thick, Ari was confident that with the sun’s first rays, she would be able to tell whether or not she was alone. But the true challenge would be to stay awake. Tired from running, her adrenaline wearing off, she could feel her aching muscles relaxing. Her eyes felt heavy as her breathing settled back to its normal rhythm. But she lacked the rope to secure herself, so she waited.

The wind teased her face as she sat high above the ground. Fortunately, the weather in the country of Ailos was often mild—rarely dropping low enough to freeze the ground. But rain was often a threat in the forest this time of year. Ari stretched out a hand to ensure that the moisture on her skin was from the frantic race and not the sky.

With nothing to occupy it, her mind slipped into the memories she had to constantly work to keep at bay. Images of the attack on her home flashed before her eyes: the sudden crack of an arrow, the desperate escape, and as always, the running, the constant running. She pulled back the fabric from around her left wrist and ran her fingers over the tattoo that was carved into her skin—a mark that she hid at all times. The three curved, parallel lines that sat on her wrist were close to two years old, but still the skin itched whenever she grew warm.

In an attempt to shut out the horrific nightmares, Ari closed her eyes and tried to focus on the precious few good memories she still had. Imbiana’s gentle smile as she tucked the covers around her chin. Her soft hands that soothed all wounds. The days spent gathering in the farmers’ fields and tending to their own small garden. All the hours spent by the fire reading and laughing together. Learning to fight, to protect herself. Their practice sessions by the old tree, throwing sharp knives until they embedded into the torn bark.

Imbiana had been the only mother Ari had ever known. Then again, Ari couldn’t remember if Imbiana had actually been her mother.

But the tender memories were shattered once again as reality rushed back in. Pressing her hand into her closed eyes, Ari gripped her wrist over the tattoo until her knuckles turned white. The strongest image that always fought its way to the top of the heap burst through like a bolt of lightning. Beautiful but deadly, the Ashtari sword cut into her mind. The gleaming blades swung through the air, wielded by Imbiana’s skilled hands, separating Ari from the soldiers who came to take her. The double-edged blades connected only by the ornate handle had rested on the mantle of their home—never to be touched.

Until that fateful day.

Imbiana’s scream, feral and desperate, sliced through the soldiers like the ancient Ashtari itself, separating bone and muscle. Ari would never again hear Imbiana’s lilting voice as she tucked her in at night: I love you, my dear girl. Never hear the laughter that bubbled over so easily or the soothing words that dried every tear.

She would only hear the echoing scream of Imbiana’s war cry. Her last memory of Imbiana inked into her brain like the tattoo itself.

Ari flinched violently as the memories faded. As a nearby squirrel chattered, the realization struck her that she had fallen asleep. Her groggy mind worked to push itself out of the nightmares of the past. The sun’s first beams warmed her face, the birds chirping away; night was over, and day had finally come.

She remained still for a long moment before she opened her eyes, allowing her mind to focus before introducing it to new stimuli. It was not until the breeze brushed across her face, tickling her cheek with her hair, that she remembered she was in a tree. The danger of falling asleep this high off the ground was not lost on Ari. Her eyes flew open and her body tensed. She moved her stiff limbs gingerly in the effort to negotiate her way out of the tree that had become her unintentional bed.

When her feet hit the ground, it felt as though all the bones in her body would snap on impact. She straightened with a groan, adjusting the pack that was mercifully still on her back. After the escape, the running, climbing, and sleeping, it was a blessing she still possessed her meager supplies. She paused to adjust the strap on her pack, her fingers brushing the cold metal of the knife secured at the base of her neck, when her hood slipped from her head. She reached to pull it into place when she heard the snap of a twig.

Do. Not. Move.

Ari froze as the sharp pressure of a sword rested against her back, just above where her pack sat. Her breathing became shallow as her mind slammed into overdrive, gathering information and calculating her options. The heavy accent that accompanied the command meant one thing and one thing only: a Guard.

His sword pressed against her back, but her fingers inched toward her own blade, hidden under the fallen leather hood. The odds of her reaching it before the Guard ran her through were very slim.

Death could be the better choice.

Turn around. You Najti? The question was accompanied by a sharp heavy pressure on the sword, removing any further thoughts of reaching for her knife. Overcoming the panic, her jaw tightened as her teeth ground together. The soldier had not seen her eyes yet; there was still hope that she could lie her way out.

Ari took a shaky breath and spun cautiously—hands still raised; eyes lowered to the ground. To reveal them would be to end her life.

Fayd.

I am not Najti. She spoke clearly and deliberately, her voice low.

One could not mistake the uniform of the Guard. Each soldier wore hardened leather armor over a deep green tunic. Broad shoulder pieces were attached to each man’s upper body, giving them a daunting form. Their tall boots and thick pants protected their legs from most attacks. A loose piece of fabric draped around the neck and chest of each soldier denoted their rank.

The coarse tan fabric of this man clearly marked him as a lowly foot soldier. A lieutenant would be seen in a dark blue, a captain in red, and it was rumored the general himself wore gold to announce his position.

Their mouths and noses were covered in black fabric that wound its way around their heads, while the top of their faces were painted a rich, deep red. It was intended to incite terror, but deep down it simply irritated her.

The halting voice came back in a very broken Kozos, his words muffled by the mask.

Why you in woods if you no Najti? Who are you? Najti? With each question, the suspicion in his voice grew.

I was lost. I was trying to find my way home. I live on the outskirts of the city; I am just trying to get home. She realized her words came out too fast for the man to understand. Slowing down, she repeated, I am not Najti.

She tried to keep her voice as calm as she could—the panic and hatred fighting for purchase—but her heart pounded in her chest. This soldier looked young and inexperienced, and if she could only convince him to let her go, she could still escape. The fact that he could barely speak Kozos—the common language of the people—convinced her that he had not been in the employ of the Crown for long. The Collí who lived in the villages and farms surrounding the city spoke Kozos. While the rich and powerful spoke the more refined language of Ornella. It was a requirement of the Guard to learn Kozos—though few spoke it well.

The soldier shifted his weight as his eyes roved over her, clearly unsure of what to do. His sword lowered a few inches as he regarded her suspiciously.

Where is home?

South. Ari pointed over his shoulder, knowing full well that was the direction he had come from. If she could convince him she was from a nearby town, he may let her go.

The sword lowered another few inches, and the soldier twisted his head to look in the direction she pointed.

Go home. This is no place to be.

Ari’s lips parted in relief. All right…I’ll go.

She reached up shakily to put her hood back on while walking toward the soldier. Stepping back to keep her distance, she circled the Guard so she would not turn her back on him. She stepped sideways, hands still half raised, eyes down in what she hoped was a nonthreatening manner. When she crossed to the other side of the soldier, and was certain he would not attack, she gradually angled her body. But just before his face was out of her peripheral vision, the man jumped in fear. She was in the midst of turning, just about to run, when she smacked into a broad, red-clad chest.

Ari stumbled back and fell to the ground.

The terror she had held at bay since the night before shot straight to her stomach. Her mouth went dry as her skin grew clammy.

The man stared down at her as he slowly drew his sword.

What do we have here? The Kozos was smooth with a high accent. Bile rose in her throat as she took in his uncovered face. She stared in unblinking horror as the face of the man split into a wicked grin. He took a step closer.

It was over.

She was as good as dead.

The man standing over Ari was Kafu, Captain of the Crown’s Guard.

Kafu’s sharp eyes snapped to the baffled soldier who still stood with his drooping sword.

"Kafsa ta ni sheedir?"

If Ari had not been in such a dire situation, she would have chuckled at the reprimand the soldier was receiving. His captain had just called him an idiot, and she wholeheartedly agreed.

Switching to Kozos, Kafu flicked his sword at her and hissed, Scum! Get up!

Ari was too frozen with shock to move; her muscles had forgotten how to work.

I will not repeat myself.

As Ari gradually forced her feet back underneath her, Kafu snorted. And to think you almost got away. If my Guard was half as intelligent as you Najti scum, you might really be extinct like you are meant to be. He reached forward and yanked the strip of fabric she wore around her left wrist, exposing the tattooed symbol that Kafu had ordered be put there himself.

"Ta sheedir! Fad ta graat zafalin shey sadé?" You idiot! Did you even check its arm?

Ari was too distracted to be enraged at being called an it, but she knew the Guard—and many Collí—saw Najti as subhuman. Kafu’s reputation preceded him. She had encountered him on her previous capture; the memory was burned into her like it was yesterday.

She still bore the scars.

I wonder if he remembers…

This was not the first time she had been captured, and her last escape could have been counted as luck. But she was certain she would not survive again; an escape would not be possible.

I remember this one, Kafu spoke over her head to the soldier.

So, he does.

It is because of this one that we are more careful now, but you will see this soon enough. His vicious grin made her sick to her very core—she knew what would be coming as soon as she was thrown into Kafu’s prison.

He snapped at the soldier in Ornella to bind Ari so she could not escape. To say she was handled roughly would have been an understatement. But she had never been one to go easily, and she struggled against her captors. Imbiana’s training flashed through her head as the filthy rope wound around her wrists. Thrusting an elbow into the soldier’s stomach, she moved to stomp his foot—thoughts of freedom screaming through her mind.

That is, until Kafu sank the hilt of his sword into her gut. All the air instantaneously left her lungs, and she collapsed to the ground, completely limp. No longer able to defend herself, she was stripped of her pack, and it was thrown into the dirt. A foot connected with her head, sending starbursts of light across her field of vision. A rough piece of cloth was forced into her mouth so she couldn’t make a sound, and another piece was tied over her eyes.

Ari’s hands were bound with coarse rope before she was hauled to her feet. Struggling to recover from the abuse, she nearly collapsed again. The lackey of a soldier heaved her up by her secured hands and yanked her thick braid to pull her head back. The point of his dagger found itself pressed just below her ear as his firm tightened.

Kafu was taking no chances this time.

Move. The gruff order was accompanied by a shove that would have made her lose her balance if not for the soldier’s tight grip.

With some difficulty, they started to move, walking in the direction of Iberne, the great city southwest of the forest.

The place where Kafu would take Ari’s freedom, her speech, and eventually her life.

The march through the woods was the most grueling ordeal of Ari’s life. With every step, she felt the panic building as her hope drained. Her heart raced as her chest tightened in pain. The hard rock in the pit of her stomach churned with each stride. A million thoughts piled atop one another as she stumbled along, unable to speak, unable to see. Thoughts of her last capture ran through her head in an attempt to work out an escape. But Kafu would make sure that she would not get away. In fact, he would most likely kill her at the first sign of flight.

Only two years ago, when she had first been captured outside of Iberne at the age of fifteen, she had been taken immediately to the Magistrate’s court to await her fate. One look at her eyes and it was obvious she was Najti. The first night there, a man with a dark presence entered her cell with two soldiers. They held her down while the man dipped a sharpened metal sliver into the ink and inserted it into her wrist over and over again until the mark was permanently tattooed to her skin.

They left her there, locked inside a black pit for days on end. Ari thought that would be the end, but they came back.

Two times, three times, four, until she lost count. The senselessness of their beatings still haunted her at night when she closed her eyes. They starved and deprived her of water until she could hardly lift her head from the ground.

She guessed they held her for nearly a month before dragging her from the cell to face punishment for merely being who she was.

The Magistrate decided she would be taken to Nabal to be executed. Ari was to be transported to the capital city where she would be beaten further, tortured, her tongue removed, and eventually executed—all for the city’s pleasure.

But it had been during the trip from Iberne to Nabal that she had seen her chance to escape. Though she was weak and starving, she noticed the soldier assigned to her was different. Unlike the others, he did not strike her. He kept his distance, as though he feared her. One night, he bound her hands before her and left her on the ground.

Thinking Ari asleep, he stepped away to relieve himself. Through her exhausted, starved haze, Ari grabbed the biggest rock she could find and flung herself on the soldier. Before he could react, he lay in a crumpled heap and Ari was running as fast as she could.

But this time would not be the same, she was sure of it. The fact that they were so close to Iberne meant that Kafu would waste little time.

She was already sentenced to death. He would likely see to her execution personally.

Fayd! What do I do? Her eyes darted behind the blindfold as she desperately worked to find a solution. Was it time to give up and accept her fate?

Unable to see, Ari stumbled several times. Each time she nearly fell, the soldier pulled her up by her hair. As the adrenaline wore off, exhaustion swept through Ari’s limbs.

"Gallé!" Faster! Kafu’s order came, but Ari could not summon the strength to comply.

"Zamat." Strike.

The hilt of the soldier’s dagger crashed into the side of Ari’s head. As her neck snapped to the side, she felt the tearing of skin. The cut from last night had opened again, blood running down her neck.

Once he had finished striking her, the soldier pressed his blade to the spot just below her ear. She was certain the man had already carved a long gash into her flesh. The blood running down her neck mixed with her sweat.

Hopelessness gradually overtook her. Beginning in her chest and sinking to her stomach, the dread settled like a weight. Her head hung low as, against all her efforts, tears soaked into the blindfold. She refused to let a cry escape her lips, but the mix of anger, terror, and despair was too much to contain any longer.

When it grew dark, Kafu finally stopped the march to make camp for the night. While the soldier and the captain made themselves warm by the fire, they left Ari slumped against a tree.

How could I let this happen?

For several long moments she wallowed in her plight. Drawing her knees to her chest, she bowed her still blindfolded head and wept silently. All the terror she had worked to keep at bay for years overwhelmed her to the point that she could barely think.

It was over.

At least I’ll see Imbiana again.

At the thought of the woman who raised her, the hairs on her arm rose.

Imbiana would not have wanted her to give up and surrender. She taught Ari how to fight, how to survive. The rage rose inside her at the injustice. She would not surrender without a fight.

Imbiana…Imbiana!

Ari’s head snapped up suddenly, causing the muscles in her neck to protest. Imbiana’s hood still remained fastened around her chest and neck, and hidden behind the soft leather, was her knife. The daft soldier had neglected to search her properly.

If I can just get to the knife…

Drawing in a shaking breath, Ari waited until she could hear Kafu and the soldier eating before she worked on her bonds. The first problem to solve was her lack of sight. She silently rubbed the back of her head against the tree until the damp blindfold worked its way down and fell around her neck.

A small smile of triumph danced across her face.

As noiselessly as she could, she began to slide her back across the trunk of the tree. The small leather sheath sewn into the cape of the hood was tight against the blade, but if she was persistent, maybe she could work it free. Ari closed her eyes, trying to focus on the task when she felt the weight of the metal shift. Her eyes flew open just as a shadow fell across her face. She gasped, the tip of the dagger hovering an inch from her nose coming into focus.

Kafu’s beady eyes glared down at her as he sneered, As much as I would enjoy ending your useless life now, I will gain more favor by making a show of your death. But that does not mean I have to bring you back in one piece. So please, by all means, continue your attempts to escape, and I will remove a limb of your choice, one at a time, until you are no longer a flight risk. It would certainly make my life easier. He pressed the tip of his blade under Ari’s chin. So, let’s have a quiet night, shall we?

Her heart pounded, but Ari swallowed hard, glaring back at him, refusing to lose her resolve.

Kafu stood, keeping his gaze locked with Ari’s as he sheathed the dagger. Returning to the fire, he kicked the soldier and ordered him to take first watch, threatening him with disembowelment if he allowed it to escape again. Satisfied, Kafu wrapped himself in his cloak and was asleep on the ground before the crickets started their song.

The soldier sat by the fire and kept his eyes locked on Ari, rising every hour or so to walk the perimeter of their small camp before returning to his post. It was not until his fourth trip that the chill of the night seeped into Ari’s bones. While the day had been relatively balmy, the evening gave way to a cold night. Ari thought longingly of the blanket in her pack that, although threadbare, comforted her on countless nights when a fire was simply too dangerous. With nothing else to do, her mind wandered.

Ari always had the feeling she was not long for this world. She had been hunted since she was young, and with each near miss, she could feel herself growing closer and closer to death. When Imbiana sacrificed herself for Ari’s freedom—though noble and brave—it only delayed the inevitable. It was only a matter of time before her cunning failed and her exhaustion caused her to make a mistake.

She was living on borrowed time.

All it had taken was one misstep, one slipup, and she was headed back to Iberne where it would all end. Ari curled closer to the tree as a cold wind whispered through the trees, causing her to shiver.

The soldier’s movements interrupted her mournful thoughts. He was shivering too, but rather than getting up to stoke the dying fire, he remained slouched against a tree. As Ari watched, the soldier’s eyes glazed over. He no longer focused on her with sharp determination. Rather, he stared at a patch of ground a few feet from his left boot. Confused, she watched him intently.

Then she heard it.

The wind humming through the trees sounded like a hauntingly beautiful melody. Ari’s ears almost tingled as she strained to hear what was just beyond her reach. As the gust picked up, it became clear that there was, in fact, music dancing on the breeze.

But it was more than just a melody. A strange and foreign message intertwined itself with each note twirling with the wind.

Ari drew in a trembling breath. Without willing it to, her mind sank deeply into the past. Memories of her life before living as a fugitive flitted before her eyes. She saw Imbiana’s smile as she braided Ari’s hair. The warm days in the sun as she taught Ari to