Escaping the Flames
The weather was fair and it was early morning when Rydia cracked open one eye to a cool draft that came through her window. It was still dark, and her mother would not come to wake her for some time yet, but Rydia was already wide awake with excitement. Today she would learn the casting of a new spell. Today she would learn to cast fire.
She sat up in bed staring at the crack between the shutters of her window through which the draft had come. She leaned forward and pushed the shutters fully open. She threw her head back in exultation as the draft became a brisk, cool breeze and blew her soft, wavy green hair away from her face. She could smell the mountains, the hard, rocky earth; the mists that hung in the valley like a sheet except over the village; and the sweet scent of crushed grass from the village square where the other children played and wrestled on the ground.
For a moment she felt like she could be a part of the earth or a piece of the sky and could disappear in either and be perfectly happy. What it would be like to be an element; powerful, enduring, mysterious….
She opened her eyes and let go of her daydream. She had to get dressed and get herself in order before her mother's footsteps sounded down the narrow hallway of their home as they did every morning for practice. She wanted to be ready; she wanted to make her mother proud.
She waited by her bedroom door holding the Change rod her mother had purchased for her in order for her to practice. She twirled it in her hands and continued to wait—and wait—and wait.
Finally, her excitement was too much to bear and Rydia began to pace around her small bedroom. But there were no footsteps in the hall; in fact, there was no noise at all from down below. Rydia cracked open her door and peeked out. No one.
She raised a curious brow and glanced back at her window and saw the sun was rising. It was dawn already and still her mother had not come to get her. She sighed with disappointment and continued to watch the sunrise, with its reds, yellows, oranges and even purple. It was beautiful but chilling. Something about the colors was wrong; they were a bit darker than usual, a shade too red perhaps. Rydia wondered at it, feeling less and less comforted by the breeze. Something didn't feel right and her mother was late. She quietly left her room and walked down the half stair to her mother's room. She peered in, but her mother was gone, her bed a rumpled mess of sheets and blankets.
Rydia paused. Why had her mother left without her?
A scream suddenly punctuated the air and Rydia's heart froze. She ran out of the hallway and bolted through the door of her home, dropping her rod in her haste. With more than a little panic, Rydia scanned the village square and found no sign of her mother. She kept on running. It was when she ran behind her neighbor's home, where the training fields were, that she found her mother lying on the ground. She was gasping for air as if she'd been struck and her red hair was flung out behind her like a mane of tangled flames.
Rydia's eyes filled with tears. This wasn't supposed to happen; it wasn't supposed to be this way! Why was her mother lying like that! What was going on! Who had done this to her!
Rydia dropped to her knees at her mother's side.
"Mother, wake up! What happened, please wake up!" she practically whined through her tears.
Her mother looked up at her with her brown eyes in pain. "Rydia," her voice was thick and slurred, "I tried. I tried to stop them but they overpowered me. The dragon of mist has perished and now I must pay the price. The intruders…they are dangerous…Rydia, leave the village, do you understand? Be a brave girl and hide outside the village. Rydia…I love you," she whispered hoarsely and tried to smile one last time for her little girl.
"Mother!" Rydia shouted and shook her. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" she screamed. "Don't leave me here alone!" she wailed.
"What's this?" a gruff but not unfriendly voice asked from across the training field.
Rydia looked up with tear reddened eyes and saw the village elder looking across the small field at her with concern all over his face.
"They—they," she sputtered, "They killed her! They killed the dragon—they killed mother!"
The elder's face fell immediately. He knew what that meant. "My word…"
A sudden brush of warmth touched Rydia's face. She looked at the elder, but he was no longer looking at her, he was looking behind her.
And then she smelled it—the thick, acrid smell of smoke. She turned to see a pack of bombs floating between the houses and loosing embers from their corpulent, flaming bodies that landed in the grass and on the roofs. The embers immediately sprouted flames.
Rydia gasped in horror and looked back at her mother. She had to move her, couldn't leave her behind, but there wasn't time—she wasn't strong enough. The elder had run to ring the village bell and left Rydia alone in the training fields. Fire was spreading between the houses, licking at the wood and slithering through the dry grass. The breeze that Rydia had reveled in earlier was now an enemy she feared. The flames were fed on the wind and the smoke blew into Rydia's lungs so she couldn't breathe.
"Mommy, mommy!" she screamed helplessly as she tried to decide whether to run or stay.
She heard a voice behind her through a wall of fire. It was deep, dark; it sounded menacing, like a dragon about to snap its jaws. She clutched her mother's rod and picked it up. She was the one who was supposed to be casting fire, not these murderers. She'd make them answer for this crime.
A dragon's head emerged through the flames followed by another that had horns like a bull. She screamed and backed away, gripping the rod until her knuckles turned white.
Help, help, help, she thought in a panic.
The fire was everywhere and the smoke was burning her eyes. She heard the bull head, which now she saw was the helmet of a suit of armor, say something about taking her with them.
She could feel her lips moving and words coming out but she had no control over them.
"My mother's dragon fell so she did too!" she shouted.
"We have our orders. The summoners are a threat!" the dragon said to his companion.
"She's just a girl!" the bull argued.
They bickered between themselves as Rydia felt her heart tear in half. Destroy the summoners?
"No!" she heard a voice scream, then realizing it was her own, "No, no, no! You killed my mother!"
The bull stepped in front of the dragon. "I'm sorry about your mother, but please come with us."
"No!" she screamed with such fury that the rod in her hand flashed gold.
The two stepped back, surprised.
However, a moment later, it seemed that the dragon had had enough of his own heat. "Let's just take her!" he snapped and advanced.
"NO!" Rydia screamed again and closed her eyes. The rod in her hands gave her strength and she felt something wanting to be called forth, something powerful. She mumbled words she didn't understand but had heard her mother use before, and hoped for a miracle. She had to stop them; she had to save her village. She wanted to make her mother proud—and to think, she had just a few minutes before been so excited about casting fire—oh, how she hated it now.
She focused her energy into one single thought and with all her might, released it. In that instant her world began to tumble; the ground beneath her feet collapsing with a terrific crush of sound. She felt like she was falling, but at least she could no longer feel the heat of the flames, the sting of the smoke, or the eyes of those evil men through their strange helmets. There was nothing, nothing at all, and she no longer knew where she was. She reached for her mother's hand but could no longer find it—she was alone. It was all so dark. So very, very dark.