A Land Of Fire (Book 12) (19 page)

Darius walked quickly through his
village as the sun began to set, more nervous than he’d ever been, repeatedly
wiping the sweat from his palms. He could not understand why he was so anxious
as he weaved his way, heading toward the river, to meet Loti at her cottage. He
had faced brothers in combat, had labored under taskmasters, had even been
engaged in the most dangerous of toil in the mines, and yet he had never felt
nervous like this before.

Yet as Darius headed to meet Loti, he
felt his mind buzzing, his heart pounding, and he could not keep his throat
from going dry. He could not understand how she had this effect over him, what
it was about her. He barely even knew her, had only laid eyes upon her twice,
and yet now, as he headed to meet her, he could think of little else.

Darius thought back to their encounter,
and he turned over her words in his mind again and again. He tried to remember
exactly what she had said; he was starting to doubt himself, starting to wonder
if she really liked him, if she felt the same way about him as he did her, or
perhaps whether she just wanted to see him in a casual way, or was just curious
to know more about him. Perhaps she was dating someone else; perhaps she would
stand him up and not even meet him at all.

Darius’s heart beat faster as he
considered all the scenarios. He had dressed himself in his best clothes: a
white cotton tunic and black pants of fine wool, clothes his father had once
worn. They were the best clothes his family owned, and his father had paid
dearly for them. Still, as Darius examined them, he felt self-conscious about
them, seeing how stained and torn they were in places, still the dress of a
slave, even if slightly elevated. They were not the clothes of the Empire, not
the clothes of a free man. Yet no one in his village had the clothes of a free
man.

Darius finally emerged from the busy,
winding village streets as he came to the western end of the village, a
sprawling complex of small cottages built nearly on top of one another. As he
searched the dwellings, he tried to remember what she had said:
a cottage
with a door stained red.

Darius went from house to house, looking
everywhere, and just when he was about to give up, suddenly, his eyes settled
on it. There it was, standing apart from the others, slightly smaller than the
rest, looking exactly like the others except for the faded red stain on the
door.

Darius gulped. He looked down and
checked the flowers in his hand, wildflowers he had plucked from the side of
the river bank, yellow, with long thin stems. He was sorry now that they
weren’t of a better quality; he should have picked the wild roses on the far
side of the meadow, but he hadn’t had time for that.

Next time
, he told
himself.
That is, if she even wants to see me again.

Darius stepped up and knocked, and he
could barely even take in what was happening, his heart slamming in his chest,
drowning out all thoughts but its pounding. He could barely even hear the
screams of the children, and all the villagers running chaotically about him,
all drowned out as he knocked on the door.

Darius stood, waiting, and began to
doubt whether it would ever open, or whether he was ever even truly invited
here. Had he been mistaken? Had he imagined the whole thing?

Darius stood there so long that,
finally, he turned to go—when the door suddenly opened. There appeared the face
of an older woman, staring back at him suspiciously. She opened the door wide
and stepped out, hands on her hips, and looked him up and down as if he were an
insect. Her eyes fell on the flowers he held, and her face fell in
disappointment.

“
You’re
the one who’s come to see
my daughter?” she asked.

He stared back, silent, not knowing how
to respond.

“And
those
are what you brought
her?” she added, staring at the flowers.

Darius looked down at the flowers, panic
welling up inside him.

“I…um…I am sorry—”

The woman was suddenly bumped aside as
Loti appeared beside her, a broad smile on her face. She stepped up, took the
flowers from Darius’s hands and she examined them, delighted.

As she did, all of Darius’s fears began
to melt away. Loti looked more beautiful than he’d even remembered, freshly
bathed, wearing beautiful white linen from head to toe, and he had never seen
her smile—not like that.

 “Oh, Mother, stop being so hard on
him,” Loti said. “These flowers are perfectly beautiful.”

She fixed her eyes on Darius, and his
heart beat faster.

“Well, are you coming in?” she asked,
giggling, stepping forward and linking arms with him, and then leading him into
her cottage, squeezing past her mother.

Darius entered the small, dark cottage,
and she led him to a seat, against the far wall, hardly ten feet from the
entrance. They sat side by side on a small clay bench, and her mother closed
the door and came back inside, and sat across from them on a stool.

Her mother kept her eyes locked on Darius,
examining him, and Darius felt claustrophobic in the small, dim cottage. He
shifted in his chair. He realized it was the tradition of all the women in the
village to interrogate him before allowing him to take her daughter anywhere.
Out of respect for her parents, Darius wanted to make sure he did nothing to
offend them. He was determined to make a good impression.

“You wish to see my daughter,” the woman
said, her expression hard. She had the face of a warrior, and Darius could see
from her expression that she was a mother of sons—of warrior sons. It was the
face of a cautious, protective mother, one determined not to repeat past
mistakes.

“Your daughter is very beautiful,” Darius
finally said, his first words, not knowing what else to say.

She scowled.

“I know that she is,” she said. “I don’t
need you to tell me she’s beautiful. Anyone can see that. She has been desired
by every boy in this village. You are not the first to seek her hand. Why
should I let her spend any time with you?”

Darius’s heart pounded as he tried to
figure out what to say. He wanted to be respectful, but he was not willing to
back down either.

“I will admit that I do not even know
your daughter,” he said slowly. “But I have witnessed her great strength of
spirit and of courage. I admire her very much. That is the same strength of
courage I hope to have in my wife, in the mother of my children. I would like
to get to know her. I mean only the highest respect to you and to her.”

Her mother stared at him long and hard,
as if debating, her expression never changing.

“You speak well for your age,” she
finally said. “But I know who your father was. He was a rebel. An outcast. A
warrior. A great man, but a reckless one. There is no room for heroics among
our people. We are slave people. That is our lot. It will never change.
Ever
.
Do you understand me?”

She stared at him long and hard in the
thick silence, and Darius swallowed, not knowing what to say.

“I don’t want my daughter with a hero,”
she said. “I’ve already lost one son learning that the Empire cannot be
destroyed. I will not lose my daughter, too.”

She stared at Darius, cold and hard,
unyielding, waiting for an answer.

Darius wished he could tell her what she
wanted to hear, that he would never fight the Empire, that he would be docile
and complacent with his lot as a slave.

But deep down, it was not how he felt.
He was not willing to lie down, and he did not want to lie to her.

“I admire my father,” Darius said, “even
though I barely knew him. I have no plan to attack the Empire. Nor can I
promise you I will lie down in defeat my entire life. I am who I am. I can
pretend to be no one else.”

Her mother studied him, squinting her
eyes in the interminable silence, and Darius felt sweat forming on his forehead
in the small cottage, wondering if he had ruined his chances.

Finally, she nodded.

“At least you are honest,” she said.
“That is more than I can say for the other boys. And honesty counts a great
deal.”

“Great!” Loti said, suddenly standing.
“We’re done then!”

She grabbed Darius’s arm, pulled him up
and before he could react, led him out of the cottage, past her mother, to the
open the door.

“Loti, I did not say we are done!” her
mother cried out, standing.

“Oh, come on, Mother,” Loti said. “The
boy barely knows me. Give us a chance. You can attack him when we return.”

Loti giggled as she opened the door; yet
before they were halfway out, Darius felt a cold grip on his arm, squeezing his
bicep, yanking him back.

He turned to see mother staring at him
sternly.

“If anything happens to my daughter
because of you, I guarantee you I will kill you myself.”

*

Darius sat across from Loti in the small
boat and he rowed down the slow-moving river on the outskirts of their village,
bordered by marshland, following the route of this lazy river which circled the
village. This river ran in a continuous circle, and it was a favorite among
small kids, who would place small toy boats in it, release them, and wait for
them to return on the current. It would take an entire day.

It was also a favorite among lovers.
With its slow-moving current and idyllic breezes, the river was the best place
to be at sunset, as the heat of the day dissipated and the wind picked up.

Darius had been delighted by the look on
Loti’s face when she saw where he had brought her. Finally, he felt as if he
had done something right.

Now she leaned back in the boat and
looked up at the sky as if she were in heaven, as Darius rowed them gently down
the river. The current carried them, so he did not need to row much, and he
rested his elbows on the oars and allowed the boat to be carried by its own
weight. As they floated there in the silence, Darius thought of how lucky he
was to be here, and of how beautiful Loti looked, her dark skin lighting up in
the sunset.

Darius leaned forward and clasped his
palm over the soft back of her hand, and she looked up, smiling. She still
played with the flowers he had given her, and as her eyes met his, he had
forgotten what he was going to say. She stared back at him, her eyes filled
with intensity and passion, as if looking into his soul.

“Yes?” she asked.

Darius wanted to speak, but the words
stuck in his throat. So they floated silently as he blushed, passing swaying
marshes, lit up in the sunset, a beautiful amber and scarlet, rustling in the
breeze.

“You’re different from the others,” she
finally said. “I don’t know what it is. But there’s something about you. I can
sense you are a warrior, yet I can also sense something else…I don’t know, a
sensitivity, maybe. As if you see things. As if you understand things. I like
being with you. It sets me at ease.”

Darius blushed as he looked down. Did
she know about his powers? he wondered. Would she hate him for it? Would she
tell the others?

“Most boys your age,” she said, “are
already with girls, or are already married. Not you. I’ve never seen you with
others.”

“I did not know you saw me at all,” he
said, surprised.

“I have eyes,” she said. “You are a hard
person to miss.”

Darius blushed some more. He looked down
at the boat and toed it with his foot. He did not know how to respond, so he
kept silent. He had always been shy around girls; he did not have the natural
talent for speech that other boys had. Yet he also felt things very deeply. He
watched other boys be quick to find girls, and quick to toss them away when
they were done with him. But Darius could never do that. Any girl he would be
with he would take very seriously, and it had kept him back from committing to
anyone. He felt too much at stake.

“And you?” Darius finally mustered the
courage to ask. “You are not married either.”

She stared back at him proudly.

“There is no shame in that,” she said,
defensive. “I make my own decisions. I do not follow my passions easily. I’ve
turned away all those who have approached me.”

Darius felt nervous at her words. Would
she turn him away, too?

“Why?” he asked.

“I am waiting for someone remarkable,”
she said. “More than just a man; more than just a warrior. Someone who is
special. Who is different. Who has a great destiny before him.”

Darius was confused, and suddenly
wondered if this whole trip was a waste.

“Then why are you sitting here with me?”
he asked.

Loti laughed, and the sound of it,
high-pitched and sweet, caught him off guard. When she finally stopped, her
eyes, playful, settled on him.

“Maybe I have found it,” she said.

They locked eyes for a moment, then they
each looked away, embarrassed.

Darius began to row again, not quite
understanding her yet also feeling a stronger connection with her. He didn’t
quite understand what she wanted, or what she saw in him. He was afraid he
might lose her. He wanted to impress her somehow, to convince her to like him.
But he didn’t know what to say.