Chapter One: Waking to the World

   A hand shook him awake, jolting Jairo roughly into reality. A short-haired silhouette, his father, then moved away after seeing he was up. The predawn light dimly illuminated his small room, and Jairo quickly got dressed in a leather shirt and pants. Today was a very special day, and he did not want to miss it.

   He moved out of his bedroom and headed straight for the front doorway, but his mother's soothing voice came from behind him.

   "Jairo, today is special. Eat, eat!"

   He  sat down at the table, the only wooden piece of furniture in the house, and began to eat whatever it was out of a ceramic bowl. Discovering it to be his favorite soup, Jairo wolfed it down, and started on licking the bowl clean.

   "Hurry now, Jairo. The sun is coming."

   He stood up and hugged his mother, then took a deep breath and stepped outside. Jairo leaned against the house, feeling the rugged sandstone beneath his fingers, watching the sky slowly lighten. When another dark figure moved out of another house, he began to walk towards the center of the village.

   The stadium stood directly offsetting the Chief's house in the center of the village, wood stakes piercing out the top of the outside wall, a symbol of ferocity and wealth. A dusty wind started up, scattering the sand beneath his sandal-shod feet and tossing some into his face. Jairo felt, rather than saw, the excited souls, who walked along with him, who would proceed into adulthood that very special day.

   They entered through the western gate, where an audience of spectators, drummers, and officials waited silently. Jairo stopped with the others at the center of the stadium, facing north to where the Chief sat. A dark figure moved up quickly, his father going to sit at the right hand of the chief. Being the second-in-command of the whole tribe had its benefits, mostly additional respect from other villagers, and wood. Wood was unbelievably rare and precious in the unforgiving Foore Desert, normally used only for fuel, spears, smoke signaling, and seeing it anywhere else signified influence and prosperity.

   The sunrise must be near now, the sky was turning from purple predawn to bright red. The Chief stood up. And then it started.

   Jairo felt the warm beams of the sunrise's first rays on his face, heard the drummers start a high tempo, saw the Chief raise his arms to embrace the glory of the sun. A steady wail rose up, everyone calling to the sky and sun. Jairo added his voice to the throng, being one with his people as they welcomed the sun. Now all would know of this glorious day, as the Sun Call could be heard for miles around.

   The Chief then dropped his arms, and everything fell silent.

   "On this special day, all they who stand before you are no longer boys, but men!" Chief started out with the same speech as he had every year, when Jairo was younger and had itched to be where he was now. "They who stand before you, have one and all faithfully served the Ren tribe their whole lives. They who stand before you have gone through sixteen summers and sixteen winters, sixteen harvests and sixteen plantings, and sixteen years have they waited to become one with us.

   "Standing before you today is: Asa of the Saang, Korf of the Ceoul, Kort of the Ceoul, Jairo of the Alda..." at each of their names they put their fists in the air, and Jairo felt the blood coursing through his veins in excitement.

   "...Xen of the Ful, and Dae of the Smol. Three and rell contestants ready to join the Ren tribe! Let the rite of passage begin!" The Chief sat, Jairo and the others moved under a ledge.

   The Chief called out: "Asa of Saang and Dae of Smol, step forward!" Two of the boys stepped back into the center of the stadium. The Chief waved his hand and two spears dropped from the stands into the sand. They picked up the spears and moved about a dozen paces from eachother. The drummers tapped twice in quick succession and they rushed for each other.

   At first Dae, the one with leather bracers, seemed to have the upper hand, forcing Asa back step after step with jabs and quick swings. Then Asa ducked a swing and poked Dae off balance with the butt of his spear. Dae rolled back and lunged aggresively. Asa expertly deflected and slammed Dae in the head, knocking him out.

   "Dae is unable to continue. All welcome Asa to the Ren tribe!"

   Asa  pumped his fist in the air and went to join his family in the stands.

   "I'm glad I didn't have to face Asa." someone muttered behind Jairo. "Best fighter there is, poor Dae's an outcast now."

   "Korf of Ceoul and Jitt of Moll, step forward!" The two took up the same spears and positions. Dae had been dragged out the south gate. The second fight was much longer than the first, Korf and Jitt only moving a couple steps one way before going back the other way. Finally Jitt put a gash on Korf's arm and the fight quickly devolved from there, with Korf bearing multiple cuts and a concussion.

   Jairo dozed off for the next few fights, until someone sitting next to him was called. "Xen of Ful and Mors of Hors, step forward!"

   The sun was just high enough in the sky to touch the stadium floor now. Jairo stood up and stretched, and analyzed the last person under the ledge with him. The other boy stared back at him nervously, shivering. Whether it was fear or the chill of being under the ledge, he didn't know. Jairo nodded to him and he gulped, looking even more nervous now, if it was possible to shiver more than he was.

   Jairo smirked and turned back to Mors and Xen. Mors was trying to circle around but Xen kept up a steady offensive, repeatedly jabbing wherever his opponent wasn't blocking. Finally Mors got around but recieved a thwack to his side, and started backing up the other way.

   "Come on, Mors," Jairo muttered to himself, "Go on the offensive. Attack him."

   The fight seemed fairly one-sided, Mors slowly acquiring cuts and bruises. Then Xen accidentally went too heavy with a lunge and stumbled. Mors stood there, slightly bewildered at the turn of events. Xen hurriedly rolled back and got onto his feet again.

   Jairo facepalmed himself. Several people in the crowd shook their heads or sat down heavily. The fight began again, with Mors seeming even slower than usual. Xen knocked the spear out of Mors' hand, then put him unconcious with a blow to the head.

   "Jairo of Alda and Kort of Ceoul, step forward!" Jairo stepped into the stadium, picking up Xen's spear. Kort walked, trembling, and picked up Mors' spear. Then the kid just collapsed, nearly skewering himself. Jairo ran over and pulled back Kort's eyelid.

   "Kort fainted," he announced to the crowd. He saw the Chief and his father talking to each other. Then the Chief turned back to the crowd.

   "Who will fight Jairo of Alda?"

   "I will," came a voice from the stands, "I've had plenty time to rest, so this should be fair." Asa jumped into the stadium center and picked up Mors' spear. Two people came over and took Kort to whatever place of shame the losers went. But Asa was far more dangerous than Kort. Asa was one of the best fighters Jairo had ever seen, at least when you took away the age difference between him and the adult fighters. But that wasn't going to stop him. Today, he, Jairo, would claim victory and become a proud member of the Ren.

   The drummers tapped twice, and the fight began. Asa traveled instantly, the drums had yet to fade into silence when he jabbed at Jairo's stomach. He deflected the thrust with the back of his forearm, and then tried to punch Asa in the face, spear clenched between his fingers. He ducked and swept Jairo's feet out from under him. Jairo swung a wide arc to stop Asa from coming any closer, and scrambled to his feet again. This was not a good start.

   Asa aimed a blow for his head, and Jairo brought his spear up in a small counter-swing, neatly crossing Asa's spear. Child's play. Then Asa swung the other end in an uppercut into Jairo's stomach again. He slid his spear down to stop that blow, leaving his head and back exposed. Asa hit the stone head of the spear against Jairo's head, sending him sprawling.

   Jairo's vision was swimming, and there was a ringing in his ears. He got to his feet, despite his spear lying on the ground somewhere. He would not lose. Asa jabbed once, twice, and was deflected. Asa feinted for Jairo's head, then swung up Jairo's foot with one end of the spear, putting him on his back. Jairo raised his hand instinctively to defend himself, closing his eyes. He felt a strange heat move through his body and out his hand, though he did not feel cold afterward. The crowd gasped for some unknown reason.

   Jairo peeked, and saw Asa standing several feet back, breathing heavily. He got to his feet. Complete silence reigned. Asa raised a finger at Jairo. 

   "J-Jairo is a F-Fire Child."

   Jairo looked at his hands. Is that was happened? Him, one of the people that could control fire at will? He curled his hand into a claw shape facing up, and felt for that heat again. He sensed it move up through his hand, and a gout of flame erupted from his palm. He turned to Asa, who had his spear gripped with white-knuckled hands. Asa, best of the fighters, afraid of him? Ha.

   He got into a martial arts position, and Asa shuffled into his place opposite him. Jairo tried a palm strike combined with that movement of heat, and out came a fireball. It went several feet before sputtering out. Asa yelled and charged him. He dodged to the side and got a swinging punch, which sent out an arc of flame that missed Asa's back. Jairo then did a combo of punch, punch, thrusting kick, then an overhead punch. The resulting flurry of flames made Asa back off with some singed hair. Then he rushed Jairo again, but stayed close, deflecting Jairo's punches out of the way before he could scorch him.

   Jairo then just grabbed the spear and set it on fire. So Asa dropped it and Jairo starting jabbing him with it, until the stone head fell off from the burning stick. Then he moved as much heat as he could into it until the bolt in his hand was made of solid fire. He hurtled the bolt towards Asa, who fell over backwards trying to dodge it.

   Then a voice sounded loudly, like one of the miner's voices echoing up from the caves. "Durg Foore!" and he was thrown to the side. Not like someone had hit him, there was no pain, but a force propelled him sideways, and everything looked blurry. Asa took advantage of this and ran up, picking up Jairo's spear he had dropped earlier. Jairo tried to get up, but everything became blurrier and he fell down again.

   Asa jabbed, and Jairo make a weak attempt at deflecting it. He avoided getting hit in the chest, but his left shoulder exploded with pain. It felt like his blood was being turned into molten metal, and someone was screaming. Then Asa pulled it out, and everything went dark.

-----V-----

   Jairo woke to an intense throbbing in his shoulder. He shifted slightly, and his whole arm felt like fire. Looking over, bloody bandages were wrapped tightly around his shoulder. He was on a raised sandstone bed, with some other, smaller platforms surrounding it. The ceiling had a peculiar pattern carved in, a series of wave crests in concentric circles with a hammer in the middle. He must be in the shaman's hut.

   "Ah, you're awake," and an elderly man, the village shaman named Naa, waddled around to his side. "I was just about to change the bandages," he said. "Want me to put you to sleep? It would be less painful..."

   Jairo shook his head. Naa gingerly started unwrapping the reddened cloth, then placed it to the side on one of the other tables. He took a clean piece of cloth and a bowl of water and started dabbing up the blood. Jairo felt little twinges of pain, but nothing more. Naa was skilled at his craft. Then he began to slowly pour water over the wound to clean it, and Jairo sucked in his breath. When it was over Naa took the bloody cloths and put them in a basin, for cleaning later, and brought some fresh bandages over. He rewrapped it in a different pattern than before. "To hold everything in place, not to soak up blood," he said.

   Once Naa tied the last knot he let Jairo stand up. If he didn't move his arm, Jairo almost felt like new again. Naa went over to attend to the bloody basin.

   "Get plenty to eat," Naa said, "and nothing that comes anywhere close to exercise, ok?"

   Jairo nodded, and then realizing Naa wasn't looking. "Yeah."

   "So, you are a Fire Child?" Naa asked inquisitively.

   "Yeah. Funny how I never knew before the most important day of my life," and Jairo shrugged and blamed fate in his head.

   "You never learned anything about controlling your gift?"

   "Nope."

   "Well, I think you did rather well for your first time."

   "Really? Have you seen many Fire Children?"

   "Only you and... and someone else. It's not inherited, blame fate in your head for who gets it."

   "Do you know who could teach me to get better at it?"

   "Experimentation is surprisingly fruitful way of getting results," said Naa, chuckling, "but, I'll tell you something better..." Naa paused. "I am also a Fire Child. I could teach you a couple things."

   Naa waddled over and placed Jairo's hand over his wounded shoulder. "Envision the heat in every fiber of your body, hotter in some places and less so in others," Naa instructed to Jairo's incredulous face. Why would he keep his gift a secret? Jairo supposed he kept it a secret so he could stay out of the military, and be a medic, which was probably the best choice.

   Despite being astounded, he attempted what Naa told him to. Placing his own hand on his shoulder, he felt for the heat in his shoulder. The bandages start flaming and Naa slapped it out with a random length of cloth on the floor.

   "You must imagine it. Imagine it in your head, not in your body. Separate physical implementations of fire vs mental use. Try again."

   This time Jairo tried to picture his shoulder, with the wound messing up the regular shape... and this image came into his head of warm skin and muscle, and this gaping space, where bits of flesh hung uselessly, and hot trails of liquid seeped into the space where his veins were cut open. He sensed, on a smaller scale, a higher level of heat on the fringes of the torn muscle, where his body was slowly repairing itself.

   Naa's voice brought him back out of the vision. "If you know exactly how your shoulder should look like when healed, you can assist in the healing process, but you lack the knowledge and I lack the strength of my youth. I would teach you, but unfortunately we don't have the time."

   Jairo's head was full of questions again. "Why don't we have time? Does it have something to do with me being a Fire Child? Why did you tell me you were a Fire Child? Who can tell me more about my gift?"

   Naa hushed him with a raised hand. "All good questions," he said, nodding, "but the first one you should ask your parents." And with that, Naa turned back to the bloody bandages.

   Jairo walked out of the shaman's hut feeling thoroughly confused. The sun was high in the sky, everybody inside their houses eating lunch.  He walked back to his house, watching beetles scurry across the sand. He stepped inside, and his mother turned towards him, eyes full of tears, and she ran to hug him.

   "Oh Jairo," she whispered.

   "What's going on?" he asked.

   Jairo then saw his dad come through a doorway. "You lost the rite of passage," his father said. "You've... been exiled." At this his mom nearly strangled him, and he carefully extricated himself. "I lost?"

   "You were unconscious. You were unable to continue. According to the rules of the rite, you lost." His father stood grimly, arms folded.

   "But that p-piece of crap Asa didn't f-f-follow the rules ei-either. You aren't supposed to try and k-k-kill your opponent," sobbed his mother.

   "However, the Chief and the elders didn't think you would have won that anyway," retorted his father. "But, we have been preparing a few things to help you... go."

  He gestured to his mother, who handed him a satchel. "We're only supposed to give you enough food for a few days," she said. "This is about four." She smiled weakly. "Your father also has something for you."

   Jairo turned around and saw a sword. A sword, made of metal. Jairo looked at his father's face. It must have cost so much to get such a thing. He also handed Jairo a set of brass knuckles. "In case you get in a fight, and in case you lose your sword."

   Jairo went to his room, found a belt and strapped the sword to it, fit the knuckles under his working gloves, and slipped the satchel over his good shoulder. His father came in. "You have until sundown to leave the village," he said. "You can stay until then, or try to get a head start on the other exiled people. If it's any compensation, Asa has also been exiled for violating the rules."

   "Well, thanks for the warning," he replied.

   "Yeah, Asa looks the nasty type." Jairo hmph-ed in response.

   He spent the afternoon practicing with the sword, his father sometimes coming out to spar with a fist or a spear. They decided to eat outside, watching the sun go down.

   When the sun was close to the horizon they got up and went to the west entrance of the village. Other people being exiled were also there. One of them came up to Jairo.

   "Hey, want to travel in a group with me and some others?"

   "Sure," Jairo replied. The benefits of being in a group would far outweigh the bad aspects, at least for now. He could leave later if need be.

   "The name's Hyle. What's yours?"

   "Jairo."

   "Nice to meet ya, Jairo."

   They went over to a loose cluster composing most of the exiled. A couple stood by themselves, probably too proud or too stupid to join. Two people, who became Korf and Kort upon asking Hyle, kept pointing to Jairo's sword and whispering to each other.

   "They're not quite right in the head, if you ask me," said Hyle. "Failing the rite messed up something in there."

   All in all, they totaled six: Hyle, Asa, Kort and Korf, Dae, and himself. Mors and someone else must be the people standing by themselves. An older warrior guarding the village shouted over to them. "The sun's going down, you should get going!"

   Hyle looked back and gestured to them, and they all left. The past to their backs, the sun and the future to their fronts, Jairo felt strangely elated. He could now go anywhere in the world, and not a thing could stop him.

Author's Note

In this story, instead of a base ten number system they use a base eleven number system with eleven numbers: zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, rell.
Saang, Ceoul, Alda, etc. are their family names, their surnames.

Reviews

[Rose of Gondor]

JAAAAAIROOO NOOOOOOOO MY POOR DARLINNNNNG
This hcpater had meo n the edge of my seat at all times. UGH THAT'S NOT FAIR STUPID VILLAGE NO