The Last Flame Rider: THE LAST FLAME RIDER DUOLOGY, #1

By AINIKA KAMBO

An inescapable fate.

A path to survival.

A path to freedom.

 

 

*****

 

Magic is restricted for 16-year-old Khora, detection spells doom for her. Born a slave with one singular purpose; bow to the whims of the Mali empire or get crushed.
But now she's tired of bowing, having every choice taken away. It's time to take it back. Even if it means joining a dying rebellion that will ask more than she's ready to give, with everything on the line she's ready to take on centuries' old dark magic and tyranny with no light at the end.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: AINIKA KAMBO
• Release date: May 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223259251

AINIKA KAMBO

Ainika Kambo Lives in The Gambia ( West Africa) she loves writing fantasy, when not found smithing words she's binging on movies, or immersed in a great read she's found.

Book preview

THE LAST FLAME RIDER

AINIKA KAMBO

Copyright © [16 May, 2023] by [Ainika Kambo]

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

1.Chapter 1

2.1

2. HALF-BREED

3. 2

3. Ashes & Hope

4. 3

4. Lord-Token

5.4

5. Flames Of Justice

6.5

6. Ravens

7.6

7. First-Drum Light

8.7

8. Heirloom

9.8

9. Traitors & Trenches

10.9

10. Savior

11.10

11. Erugi

12.11

12. Kustallah Ayereh

13.12

13. We’re All Sinners

14.13

14. Flamists

15.14

15. CLOAKS & BLADES

16.15

16. The Worm

17.16

17. ZANGO

18.17

18. GATE-CURSE

19.18

19. EXECUTIONER

20.19

20. GIRI

21.20

21. THE GREAT SACRIFICE

22.21

22. Crusade

23. 22

23. Beda

24.23

24. Of Oaths & Nightmares

25.24

25. OF POISONED LIES & KISSES

26.25

26. Ninkinanka

27.26

27. Agara

28.27

28. Thrills

29.28

29. Intrigues & Lies

30.29

30. A Lullaby OF Fire, Death & Despair

31.30

31. Balgu

32.31

32. Swordplay

33.32

33. Choices

34.33

34. Shrieking Inferno

35.34

35. What Is Given

36. 35

36. The Power Within

37.36

37. Salt & Prayers

38.37

38. Memories Of Stone & Grief

39. 38

39. Ties & Betrayal

40.39

40. One True One

41.40

41. Alanka

42.41

42. Fazu Of The Dark Scale

43.42

43. Pact-Bearer

44.43

44. Of Burnings & Meetings

45.44

45. Salt Witch

46.45

46. Million Scales Of Wrath

47.46

47. Magur

48.47

48. Ice & Scales

49. 48

49. Rune-Dance

50. 49

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1

HALF-BREED

~ Khora

Rice flour and multi-colored, ochre-dye swirl, staining the air, a rainbow of colors, drums beat in harmony with the stamping feet of dancers. I regard them exult, jealousy poisoning my veins. They have reason to rejoice with the rest of the empire; they don’t have to fear about their acts, that one slight will have them writhing under the fierce invasion of the lash, as it lacerate and decorates skin. I stand, hands clasp before me, head lowered, the absolute picture of perfect obeisance, one I don’t accept one bit. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Anta stick her tongue at Foday from where he perch on the left with the rest of the Nyanchos.

Naa clears her throat delicately, and Anta went back to peering at the floor like the rest of us watching the dancing sweaty bodies in the center of the courtyard. I raise my head and gaze at Lord Laman from where he sits in his highchair, looking every bit the lord, my lips curve into a scowl unconsciously as I meet Detu’s leer beside his father. I glance back at the floor, avoiding his gaze. Lord Laman waves a hand and the dancers got off from the arena, and the wrestlers’ stride into the arena adorned with the sand-filled sacks arranged in a circle. The two started wrestling, muscles bulging as each pursued a weakness in the other. Eyes stay unmoving on them, enthralled. I lift my head and meet Anta’s eyes full of mischief.

A full-blown smile comes to life on her face, and we slink out of there, and soon the echo of the drums and betting of spectators’ fade. We have been yearning to get away from all the festivities. I glance back, marveling at the beige-stained castle, with the wooden beams jutting out from its surface. My eyes linger on everything, committing all to memory, with no knowledge of when I will set foot in here again.

I have always longed to come to Timbuktu, and the festivals of new beginnings, only trouble is that Naa would never concur with me, but this time I don’t know what’s different.

Running away, are we?

We both whip around, heart in our mouths. Foday grins at us atop his horse, reins clasps in his gloved grip, leading a dun-colored mare with a majestic mane.

He hands me the reins, I mount the mare without hesitation, and run a hand through its silky mane, marveling at the silky feel. Anta jumps behind Foday, and slides her arms around his waist, with a slight twitch of the reins his horse plunges forward, I follow him a moment later. Anta’s tinkle of laughter brings a smile to my face, she walks beside Foday as they amble in the market, hawkers hawking their goods, a tiger growls at me, its body charging at the magic enhanced cage door has me nearly topple from my mare in fright, elephants lift their trunks in the air, trumpeting, ears flapping around creating a gust of wind that slams at everything. A hawk shrieks in a small straw cage beady eyes trained on me as if reminding me that I don’t belong here. That I shouldn’t get carried away.

Embellished horse carts go past us, on it sit noble ladies wearing colorful long flowing robes, straw woven hand fans fanning primly at their faces, all unable to tear their gazes away.

Where are we going?

You’ll see. Anta glances back a beam on her face, a secret that she will not part within her beautiful eyes. Her big cloud of kinky curls swaying in the light wind, teasing them to give them a feathered look. No soul can deny her beauty, a testament to the looks we’re getting all around. We burst out of the market. The duo leads me into an inn with its door hanging off its hinges, the stench of moonshine heavy in the air, I scrunch up my nose, and follow the two inside. Foday hands a man a gold nugget, and he produces a key from his robes and opens the big lock on the door.

With an expert twist, he opens it revealing a long, narrow passage that descends with shadows playing on the walls, Anta flashes the man a grateful smile, for a few moments his eyes glaze over marveling at her beauty, then the look fades and he shakes his head as if he just woke himself from a deep slumber. Foday follows, the man turns his gaze lands on me, and narrows in menace when he took stock of me, they turn into two dark-brown muddy chips of pure hatred.

Half…

Hands pull me forward, I stumble inside, and the door slams behind us, the padlock slicks into place, plunging us into darkness. I stare at Anta trying to discern her in the inky, terrifying darkness.

Are you two coming or not? Foday’s voice bounces all around, barely holding his excitement. Cheers has me perk up and follow Anta down the steep passageway that leads to whatever the two want me to see. Light glimmers at the end, I hurry towards it, body buzzing in excitement as I step into the light, gasping in pure delight and surprise. Torches flame on the walls, people bet heavily in groups as two people wrestle on the sands. Unlike the wrestling we left behind, these two have glowing hands. I turn my gaze to Anta, and she nods, a smile tugging down her lips. Welcome to the illegal guild, Khora. She says and hold of my hand.

But… this…

Dangerous, illicit, hence the name Khora live a little. Calm down, we have been coming here for some time now, it's safe, no one will arrest us. Anta jabs an elbow into my side.

Magic. Foday wags a finger in my face and shifts his gaze on the two wrestlers in the arena.

I jump back, shaking my head, I glance back and was met with a wall. I turn helpless, panicked eyes on the two. Never in so many wheel turns would I have thought that the two like going to watch illegal magical wrestling, this could get us executed when the Ravens find out.

My gaze shifts to the two wrestlers, one of them an iron-hand catches my attention, the iron veins stands starkly against his almost blue-black skin crawling all the way to his bald head, with scars peppered all over his body, a strange crescent cut on his left shoulder. His opponent was of the snake-clan, his scaly skin looks beautiful in the light of the bonfire, breaking in a kaleidoscope of colors, each clutches the other around the edges of their loincloth, ready to flip the other on their back. A boy about my age strides towards Foday and the two clasp his forearm. He wore a Buluba of the noble caste with rich golden detailing, that commands attention whenever he moves.

You came this year; I thought you won’t be able to.

Nothing in the three worlds can stop me Zakar. You know I live to see this.

Indeed, you do, my friend. He chuckles and turns his attention on Anta and I.

I met his gaze and held it; he didn’t give me the look I have grown accustomed to seeing all my life. Instead, his eyes were full of curiosity as he took me in. I didn’t move a muscle as I studied him in return. Before Foday could introduce us a hand clamps on Zakar’s shoulder, and he’s spun around, I got a good look of the two people who stand before us, Lithams cover their faces leaving only their eyes uncovered, one has death dancing in his eyes and the other possesses golden eyes that lures you to a trap. Their rich cloaks didn’t contrast well with their simple, plain outfits.

A clammy feeling shimmies up my spine, stones of unease drag down my innards and I shiver and start looking for an exit in case something happens. Which it will because my instincts were screaming at me to run out of there fast.

Yes gentlemen, how can I help you?

My eyes widen on the flash of steel in the tawny one’s grip and I explode into action, shoving Zakar out of the way, and kicking the blade out of his grip. Foday pulls out his Sabre and goes shoulder to shoulder with Zakar who balls his palms, eyes suddenly opaque, not attacking watching the two that I now know aren’t ordinary people. Without warning they attack. Zakar loosens his fist, and the two went flying as a force lifts them and throws them onto the wall. I went on all fours searching for the dagger I had kicked out of the other’s grip. Better to have a weapon in hand than nothing, even when the thought of being caught with the weapon worms its course into my head, warning me. Right now, only our survival matters now. I watch the room descend into chaos as Ravens flood the den.

I back away from them, and bump into Anta who grips a discarded sword she has picked from the floor. We watch in dread as the Ravens approach.

Go! Foday points at the hole Zakar has punched into the wall. We run towards it, my heart stutters to a stop when a Raven steps in our way, halting us. He pulls out his blade and grins. I clutch the dagger and take a step forward. The wrestler slams into him hard, they tumble to the ground, I rush out of there with Anta hard on our heels, soon followed by Foday and Zakar. Foday waves at the hole made into the wall, and the wall fills out, reverting to its former state.

Zakar stomps his foot on the ground just as Ravens fill the empty, desolate street surrounding us, the world spins on the edges, and suddenly, we stood in a muddy arena with trenches that lay scattered all over in a complicated maze that confuses the mind and eyes. All around, people cheer and call for blood and death high on stands that crowns the trenches.

Where are we? I ask eyes widening on the unmoving bodies lying all around in the arena, the rawness of everything makes me want to retch onto the ground.

The trenches. Anta whispers, fear clear in her voice. I turn to her, meeting her pretty eyes that tell me that this is real. Zakar has teleported us into the infamous trenches. I know what odious fate awaits us here, even before the gigantic, golden-scaled creature that I hadn’t seen when we appeared here turns to us with a snarl, its muddy-yellow eyes fixed on us, with an almighty snarl, it leaps at us, a furious storm of claws and scale, a strange snaky tail dances in the open in full display, sparkling, a dullness attaches to my senses, my body goes heavy and numb, it rears higher, as it comes nearer. Two hands equipped with claws stab the ground as it walks towards us, thin lips peel back to reveal sharp, straight black teeth so different from its magnificent golden scales on its frame, mist streams out of its slit that’s passing for nostrils.

A clucking noise echoes from its throat, its tail keeps us prisoner, enthralling us. Suddenly, its tail lowers, cording beneath it, lifting its body, high above our heads, claws skitter on Anta’s skin. A smile appears on her face, and she inches closer to the nightmare.

Pretty thing. It touches her cheek reverently and claps its hands in excitement and turns its gaze on the rest of us, happy with its treat. An almost childish grin and innocence on its face.

It studies the two boys, and swings its gaze on me, a pleasant hiss streams out of its mouth, and it caresses a lock of my hair, staring at my forehead with an uncanny look in its eyes, like the two of us are the hoarders of secrets. A slight movement behind it has the grin disappearing from its place, the cry of steel rings in the air, and it whips its body around faster than my eyes could track, facing the threat that stands behind him, breaking the spell he has put us in. A bald girl stands before us, wearing tattered dashiki and trousers riddled with holes like the clothes the dead bodies wore, a huge scythe in hand, hard eyes survey our little group with a detachment that’s worrying.

With a snarl the creature launches itself at the girl, she gives a shout of her own and meets it head on, the scythe arcs in the air coming for it, she wasn’t paying much attention to the animal’s tail, all she wants is to have the creature dead. I launch my body in the air, jumping on a trench, I somersault, and hack at the creature's tail that was about to stab her in the back. She buries her scythe in its shoulders and rips it out. Black goo pours out of the wound, its shriek of pain and agony bounces off the walls of the trenches, forcing people to clap hands to their ears. Betrayed angry eyes land on me, and a hiss follows. It turns on me, claws slash at me, and I jump out of their way.

The girl leaps in the air ready to hack it to pieces but a tail slam into her, smashing her to the wall, the scythe falls from her hands; she got up again and retrieve the scythe, fierce determination shining in her eyes. Foday, Zakar and Anta came alive, they attacked the creature. The creature flings its arms out, and we went flying in the air, its dark eyes flared red. It starts for me, crawling on its two hands a macabre grin on its face. A stillness claims my senses, and I watch in horror as it comes closer to me. I glance to see all others fighting invisible bounds.

Sweet morsel. It says voice hoarse, flashing glass-like teeth. It grips my cheeks and waves a hand in the air, a hole wafting sulfur smoke opens, and it drags me towards it, I struggle, but it is of no use, my hands brush on the girl's scythe, I heft it up and bring it down on the hand holding me, and kick it into the hole, crawling away from it. An enraged bellow burst out of its thin lips, and it climbs out of the hole cradling its amputated bleeding hand. Ebony, shimmering arrows carved with runes fly in the air and embed into the creature. It raises a hand and falls. It opens its mouth as if to say something, but another struck him. He crumples, smoke rises off its skin and disintegrates before our eyes, and the hole disappears.

I glance back and meet Naa’s eyes furious, concerned eyes; she stands in the stands flank by two guards, a strange desperation shining in her eyes. An iron bar door opens, and a guard beckons us forward. We obey, the fight slipping out of us, I exchange looks with Anta.

There’s no way we are going to get out of this without heavy punishment. The guard leads us out of the dark, dank room we stepped into. We walk pass groups of children about our age sitting on the floor, hollow eyes tracking us, craving the freedom that we have.

Naa meets us, she pulls us in her embrace, the girl lingers behind in the hall, her eyes take us in, anger flares in her eyes, one riding on the wings of sadness. I meet her eyes and dip my head in thanks, her eyes widen in surprise, then they harden into obsidian frost. She dips it back and turn her back on us, steps resonating, and then she’s gone, sucked into the inky darkness of the cell. I meet the eyes of the Raven driving a carriage with an iron cage filled with people, a child with antelope horns clutches at one with tiger stripes.

Stop staring Khora.

I snap my gaze to Naa’s chiding ones.

What are they?

"They are Alurus, sinners. Their wheel turn is cursed for seven wheels turns by the ones above, and as punishment are to repent however the emperor sees fit. Now stop your gawking girl, trouble follows Alurus wherever they go. She hisses and drags me out of there, and yet my eyes couldn’t stop looking at the forlorn ragged, bloody group huddled in the small cage. A carriage comes to a stop and the groom opens the door, we step towards it, but a hand stops us mid-way.

No just him, the rest of you sit at the back.

I open my mouth to protest, but Naa clamps a hand on my mouth and pulls me to the back of the carriage. I grudgingly let her seat me on the rough stools. The carriage rocks into motion, and Foday casts us an apologetic look, and Anta reciprocates it with a smile. I refused to meet his eyes, feeling like I do when I’m reminded of my place in society, that I’m nothing no matter who I’m with, or what I do. In the end it matters naught. The carriage speeds out of there and towards home, home I thought of it. It should be like a prison, but in another way, it isn’t, my gaze falls on the three who make me look at life differently every time I want to give up.

2

Ashes & Hope

~ Khora

Footsteps ring out in the huge hall, getting closer every moment. I recognize the well-made leather sandals; I don’t even have to lift my head to see who it was. The scent of ash and anguish wafts off him in waves, and I struggle to breath. I cringe when a hand touches my head, running a finger through my hair, he chuckles, and I want to jam the scrubber down his throat.

I hope that you are looking forward to your initiation half-breed?

The word stung, I’d rather be called slave, than be reminded of my mixed heritage. I hiss in a breath and anchor my burgeoning anger that’s being sparked. How could I forget my initiation? Next week I will be assigned to a Nyancho’s house I don’t know what they will make out of me. Pain's the only thing I know. The first thing I was anointed on my first day in the slave pens. The searing pain as the iron hot brander was put on my unblemished skin. I could remember creating the secret place that I hid myself in. A place that is warm, full of happiness. A place where I will never be hurt, a place that I was not a slave. A place where I do not have to hide my marks. Drumbeats start in the distance, it pulls me out of my reverie, I continue scrubbing the floor.

Take your hands off of her Master Detu. Naa strides in the room, her eyes glittering with something I have never seen before.

I don’t take orders from you slave.

True, but I hope that your father will be thrilled when he learns that you are messing with the slaves that are yet to be initiated.

This is not over slave. He whispers under his breath before walking out.

I watch Detu stride out angrily, I release a sigh that I didn’t know that I was holding. Detu, the son of Lord Laman, the opposite of his father. Lately he has set his sights on me, determined to corner me every moment that I’m alone. The reason why I was here scrubbing the floor and not sewing my initiation garb like the rest of them. I had gotten into a fight and was punished.

Are you okay?

Yes, Naa I am, thank you.

She nods and walk away. I finish the last spot, I lift my water skin bag, and hurry out of there.

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I bang my head on the floor and groan, forcing myself up. My eyelids fought to stay open. everyone had finished with their sewing; I was the only one left. A drum thumps in the night signaling that it’s midnight, I put down my sewing and hurry out of there. Sneaking was never my problem; I have mastered the art of stealth at an early age. Knowing what the consequences of being caught outside, so learning the art of sly footing is the best choice if you don’t want to be discovered where you shouldn't be. I wince when I remember the pain of the whip as it lacerates my vulnerable flesh. The sheer, nauseous delight on the face of the whip master, someone I abhor the moment I set eyes on him, he whip a slave to death to keep us in line.

I sneaked out of the great hall, past the guards doing sentry duty outside, the flames in the torches flare brighter when I pass them.

I run a hand on the wall looking for the small nook that's there, a click told me that I had found it. I grin, and snuck inside, on my hands and knees. Darkness blankets me, I welcome it my eyes having no trouble seeing in the dark. I stepped into a small room, air whoosh behind me, and I turned round just in time as a fist crashed towards me, I caught it mere inches from my face. Another attack came to my left, and I dodged the attacks scoring a few punches of my own. Whirling round I deliver a spinning kick to my attacker’s sternum, a gasp echoes out, and I switch to offensive. Light flares to life, and I scowl at the duo.

Finding it hard to keep up Khora? Is the sewing getting to you?

I huff at him and increase the speed of my assaults. I snatch the wooden sword from the floor and lunge at him.

He grins at me giving the look he gives me whenever he manipulates me into giving into my urge of letting my anger control me. He clashed blades with me, my sword clattered on the floor, and he held his wooden sword to my throat.

You are dead.

You always win Foday.

Because you let what you feel get the best of you Khora, a warrior should never allow that. You control your feelings and not it. Besides, you are getting quite good at your reflexes Anta says stepping into the light.

For a moment I stared at her, caught in a trance, always astounded by her goddess-like beauty, her beautiful ebony skin shone in the dull light, eyes of the warmest honey stared back in a small face that was just too beautiful. Her kinky-curly long hair fell down her shoulders, nearly kissing her tailbone. Her body lean and womanly, different from my gangly shape, which has yet to fill out. She will be a coveted trophy for a noble one day, while I would be lucky to even be let near one.

My skin which I’d always wished is ebony like Anta’s, not this almost tan shade that hints at a mixed heritage that most people in the empire hated, because it reminds us of the masters who enslaved us centuries back, centuries even before the Mandinkara empire came into being. It's a scourge that will always follow all with skin like mine.

Pride, Foday chides.

Anta’s tinkle of laughter grips the room, she exchanges an indecipherable look with Foday and turns her beautiful gaze on me. I glare at Foday in annoyance. The two have grown closer recently, and it makes me look like a stranger whenever I am with them, like I’m interrupting something intimate. I just hope whatever it is, it’s not illegal. Because I would hate to see them hurt by our very system. He’s the ward of Lord Laman, and Anta a mere slave. Foday stuck with us even though it is frowned upon, slaves were not meant to acquaint with the free born, it is suicidal to mingle with the noble born . A death wish if you so much as take a whiff at a royal. It is a cruel world for slaves. Crueler when you are a half-breed; our lives aren't set