Born Of Fire

Born Of Fire Chapter 10

The next morning, Phoenix awoke to the sound of rushing feet outside his home. Rising quickly, he slipped into his breeches and rushed into the glaring sunlight, scanning for danger, but realized there was no need. A thick post had been driven into the ground near the fire in the village center and Soran was tethered to it, unconscious, kindling lay at his feet. Doritan stood off to the side watching the people scurrying through the square, some carrying parcels while others shooed curious children. A long table sat close to Soran, with chairs placed around it. A large pot of stew was cooking over the fire, sending sweet smells throughout the village. Phoenix walked quickly to where Doritan stood with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Father, what is going on?"

Doritan met his eye for a fleeting moment, then turned back to watch the busy people. "We are celebrating the victory over Demetrius' soldiers tonight. We lost many men and the village needs an uplifting night."

"But father, this is not customary. All families should be in mourning for two weeks, in respect to the dead, not making preparations for a night of drunkenness."

"The old ways are just that Phoenix, old. We have moved past them. I feel that the widows and orphans will be much better off with a night of remembrance and laughter, than two weeks of tears."

"But father-" Phoenix began.

"Enough Phoenix!" interrupted Doritan. "I am Gazda, and I say this celebration will happen. You must not be a dampener to tonight's festivities. Am I understood?"

“Yes, father,” Phoenix mumbled, lowering his head.

"Good," said Doritan. He then spun and turned away, walking toward a group of women who were preparing the wine.

Phoenix wandered until he came across Ember, who sat sewing a leather gauntlet. Lowering himself beside her, Phoenix stayed quiet until Ember, without looking up, spoke. "You have seen the preparations for tonight?"

"I have."

"So you are aware they plan to burn him alive then?"

The kindling at Soran's feet flashed through Phoenix's mind. "I guessed."

The needle slipped through the tough leather a touch too quickly, impaling Ember's finger, causing a single drop of crimson blood to spill. Hissing, Ember brought the finger to her lips, sucking the blood. A testament to her frustration, she threw the gauntlet to the dirt and rose to her feet. "He is not a danger any longer! He should not be put to death, especially a painful one!"

Phoenix rose and stood beside her, waiting for her tide of emotion to recede. She raised her hands in disgust and turned to face him. "What did you learn from him last night?"

Phoenix summed it up quickly, and Ember's brow furrowed in thought. "But why would they want all the Zuhdalay?"

"He does not know. He was following his orders."