Chapter 1: The Great Fire

This is the start. Still under work.

I woke in the arms of ashes, clawing at my lungs, smoking me out of my sleep. The night was alive with fire, screaming, ripping at life and at the earth. I was eight but now knew well the smell of burning flesh and the hot strangle for life. The trees, were all ablaze, down to the roots, burning until they were all ash and darkness. The people fled for the city walls, scrabbling about in the dark for a safety that would not come. We were lost in flame. My tiny body, separated from its parents stood terrified beside a smoking birch. All about me were the once grand oaks giving up great wooden limbs and the terror felt by our horses, tangled in a thick black fog. I heard hooves patter wildly about me and the horrid sound of pleading, of individuals calling out who I dared not help. I stumbled, lost in a home which did not seem my own. I screamed for her, my mother, whose hand had slipped from mine as we ran. I screamed for her and felt horror keenly when no voice answered. I apprehensively followed another mother, holding a wailing child in her arms and felt sick when I saw its leg, black and red like carelessly overcooked meat. Every nerve inside me jumped, stinging my skin till it was alive with terror.

                “MOTHER! FATHER! RUTHIE!” the voice came from within a burning pile. I saw a horse lying dead, its neck twisted off its spine and the remains of a tree clouded in a vicious black fog.

                “RUTHIE!” I ran fast, fast to the burning pile, running to the faint screams of my baby brother.

                “SALA!” I screamed in a voice that pierced the air like a knife. Kicking my way into the flame, I saw a black head and two tiny arms flailing about in front of me. He was trapped, buried beneath the fallen horse. The flames were hot and as I knelt down they stung my face. With all my weight I pushed against the beast’s burnt carcass trying to free my brother. Yet I could not. Our horses were large and strong, they were our cities pride, carrying many goods, travelling with families for long journeys, the strength of these beasts pushed my five year old brother into the jaws of death. I could not lift it.

                “HELP ME! PLEASE! HELP ME! MY BROTHER! PLEASE!” I screamed but my voice would not carry above the sound of crackling wood and branches falling to the ground like heavy bodies. I saw him choke, cough beneath the smoke, his tears drying in his eyes from the heat.

                “HELP ME!” I screamed again, wanting to run for help but unable to desert my brother’s side. Suddenly a voice like a glorious beacon found its way through the darkness.

                “RUTH! SALA!”

                “MOTHER!” I screamed shaking with urgency. The loudest scream my little lungs could produce. I looked for her face, it was black and wild with fear.

                “HELP HIM!” I threw myself once more against the weight of the horse and wept to see that he no longer moved, his little eyes closed and a mouth, gaping open, black at the lips. Larger figures, the figures of my mother and father threw every ounce of their strength at the horse and succeeded in lifting it off Sala. His tiny legs were twisted around him and he lay perfectly still safe for a few shallow breaths. He was lifted away by the broad hands of my father and my mother took my hand, drawing us away from the fire. The hairs above my brow were burned away and the skin around my neck was red raw.

                “Stay with me,” my mother whispered, her voice weak and breaking “Stay by my side now Ruth.” I grabbed onto her arm, pulling her closer as we bolted from the burning city. I saw houses fall, people clasping bodies which littered the floor like fallen leaves in a horrid autumn. When we reached the Cliffside gates I saw that the sea was full of little black figures. We descended the stairs with a crowd of smouldering strangers and met our people on the beach. As i looked up over the cliff side I could see my city burn, the last of the trees smouldering before the fire reared its golden head and turned them to ash.

                “Filthy magic doers, that’s my home. What did they want to do that for?” said a coarse voice behind me. I turned; it was one of the fishermen. His face was haggard and dirty like those around us but his eyes spoke a sorrow which I keenly felt.  His fellow put a hand on his shoulder.

                “Nothing we can do about it, we’re in a war son, but they’ll pay for this, by god they will.” I heard a frantic whisper. My mother and father crouched next to my brother, one of them holding his wrist and the other leaning forward over his chest. I crawled towards them.

                “Father?” his face was blank and unfeeling as he held the wrist of Sala. My mother stayed where she was, leaning over him. I chanced a look. Even though the smoke and the black crust around his face and arms I knew he was dead. He breathed no more. I had never seen my father cry but he stood up burying his face and let my brother’s wrist fall to the ground. I saw a tear track across his face, cleaning away the dirt as a long string of mucus fell from his nose. The people surrounding us clasped their hands to their hearts and mouths. I looked down once more. My mother, like Sala did not move. I saw her free hand, contorted with pain begin to shake. I took it, pulling her away from Sala’s empty form. I caught her thin face, there were no tears.

“Mother?” I choked. She stared out at my face as if she could not place me, her eyes unblinking and cold. I whimpered to notice that her hand did not clasp mine back but stayed contorted, twisted in a moment of madness. I copied the words of the fisherman, for he had seemed to have comforted his friend.

“They’ll pay for this mother, I swear it.”  I hugged her to me wishing the life back into her. As the people covered the body of my brother, I knew that whoever those monsters were I would keep to my word.