Life in the Flames

Life in the Flames-1

Chapter 1

-The Day the North Fell-

All it took was just a few moments for my entire life to be changed. Utterly and completely. Like a tsunami raging forward consuming all in its path. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for the horrors of that day.

Sometimes I wonder if I hadn't left the camp if I could have stopped them . . . no. I cannot change what happened.

The evening before it all happened was a cool early spring evening, crickets chirped, and families were gathering about their tents after their evening meals. Children played tag about the tents expelling their excess energy, mothers visited, cows and horses chewed the turf, and the men were relaxing after a long day of setting up our new camp.

I had just finished gathering supplies from my family tent for my night of training. The bright full moon was steadily climbing over the tree line and into the dark purple sky.

Slipping out the back of my family's tent, I made my way quietly along the small stream that ran through the encampment of the Seaream Water Tribe, a name passed down generation to generation from my ancestors. My parents knew I was to be leaving camp that night. The Chief and his wife were much too occupied with trivial tribal matters to see me off; but at that moment I didn't mind. The call of the moon was too much for me to disobey.

Just as the moon calls the sea, it calls to me, even to this very day.

I, Alonia, the only child of the Chief of the Seaream Water Tribe must nurture the power inside my soul so I can one day protect my people; the ability to wield and control water. A practice wielded by our ancestors who passed the knowledge down in the tribe year after year. There were very few wielders in the tribe that were as dedicated as I am. Nor could they harness as much power that I seemed to inherit, but talent and power must be nurtured into skill and mastery.

That is why I must train.

The stream grew in depth and size as I neared the tree line; the most challenging part of my journey. Lake Korin laid just an hour long walk north of camp. The hike was too treacherous for my horse, so I journeyed along on foot.

As I walked by the stream in the silvery moonlight, I reflected on the annual move from our winter camp to the spring camp. It was sorely uneventful. No carnivorous beasts stalked the cattle, no raiders came upon us, and there wasn't any snow. It was the quietest camp move I had experienced my entire 18 year old life.

"Not much time to train either," I said to myself as I walked up to the bank of Lake Korin.

The moon was high in the sky by then, and I smiled down at the dark water that mirrored the stars and rippled slightly in the breeze.

Then I slipped off my sandals, pulled my long, curly, caramel-brown hair back with a small piece of ribbon, and waded into the crisp water. I involuntarily inhaled from the cold against my skin, closed my blue eyes, controlled my breathing, and clasped my hands in front of me.

Meditation was an important key to powerful and successful wielding of water. Water feels your emotions, and responds to the wielder accordingly.

Once I had all emotions and my body under my firm control, I allowed myself to connect to the water of Lake Korin, and I began my training. My body easily fell into my training patterns, and the water obeyed my command. Minutes melted into hours as the clear water bent to my will. Sheer exhaustion was the only thing that made me stop.

Breathing heavily and sweat soaked, despite the cold, I stepped out of the lake and looked up at the night sky. Where the moon rested told me there were only a few hours until daybreak. My body called for rest; so I sat down and leaned against a tree where sleep quickly overtook me.