Alpha Reading from The Broken Flame
Chapters 1 and 2 of Death and Damnation, Book 1 of The Broken Flame
Chapter 1 Catch of the Day
Startled awake, she cried out in alarm as she was pulled roughly out of bed. Mother shushed her and patted her back as she cradled her in her arms.
“It’s alright, Minnow. Mother’s here.”
Minnow felt the tremors in Mother’s chest and heard the fear in her voice. She grabbed hold of the straps of her mother’s chiton dress and buried her chin into a shoulder. Shouts and then a woman’s scream came from outside. Mother moved as best she could through their dark house while holding five-year-old Minnow to her chest.
By the light coming through the crack between the closed wooden shutters of their only window, Minnow made out the outline of their kitchen table and chairs.
Mother pulled open the door, but Minnow could see nothing but the shadows inside her home. Something huge, stomped past on the dirt road that ran through the village. When the thuds drifted away, Mother moved outside, staying close to the wall. For the first time, Minnow saw fires. Most of the roofs in their village were ablaze. Dark shadows moved within the flickering light.
Mother turned the corner of the house and ducked down as she ran toward the olive grove behind their home with Minnow crushed to her chest. She stumbled to one knee and almost dropped Minnow.
“Mother, put me down.”
Mother ignored her, struggled to her feet, and started running again. Minnow saw them then. Four short creatures came around the corner of her house, their eyes glowing green like the algae that sometimes floated upon the waters of the sea. They moved half like a man, and half like a frog. Stride, skip, hop. As if one, their eyes turned toward Minnow and her mother. Minnow’s mouth went bone dry, and she felt deathly cold.
These were the monsters her parents told her about. The ones they used to scare her into doing what they said.
The Sea Reavers.
The four frogmen let out a burping, hissing sound that reminded Minnow of the gurgle of a wave made as it pulled away from rocky shallows. The creatures ran-hopped toward them. She hugged her mother's neck so scared she couldn’t say a word.
Mother quickened her pace. She ran into the grove and raced along the first row of trees. Minnow’s world bounced up and down. Two of the frogmen followed them up the row. She saw another pair of glowing eyes on the next row over. Twin orbs shaking up and down.
Her heart thrashed in her chest, and Minnow felt like it might burst. She could barely hear Mother’s ragged breathing, the pounding of Mother’s sandals, and the strange shuffling sounds of the creatures, over the pounding of her own heart.
The only time she had ever been this scared was when she had fallen in the deep wading pool and swallowed all that salt water. Her father snatched her up in seconds, but not being able to breathe, she panicked. Father. Where’s father?
The frogmen running up their row were closer now. Mother tripped and twisted to her side at the last second, or she would have crushed Minnow beneath her. Released from her mother’s arms, Minnow flew forward and rolled across the hard ground. She cried out in pain. Mother had come to her feet and pulled Minnow up by her arm. She grabbed Minnow’s hand and turned to run but stopped. A frogmen stood in the path. He leaned a thick piece of driftwood against his shoulder. What seemed like hundreds of sharp teeth ringed the creature’s wide mouth.
If a frog could grin, it did. It spoke the Babel language coming out like a gargle. The creature’s croaking added the higher and lower tones of the language. It said, “Tà ló má ní wó lú.”
Minnow understood, because it was the other language besides Mykenaran that mother and daddy taught her.
The frogman had said, “Give up and you will live.”
Mother let go of Minnow and pushed her back. “Stay right behind me.”
Minnow could hear the others coming. A blade appeared in her mother’s hand, and she lunged at the frogman. Green, bulging eyes went even wider as the surprised creature didn’t move fast enough. Mother’s knife sank into exposed, rubbery skin under the creature's woven shirt made of fishbones.
The frogman screamed and stumbled back. Minnow’s mother pushed by him. Minnow stood there watching the slimy, glowing ichor coming out of the frogman’s belly. Cool, rough-skinned hands grabbed her arms. Small suction cups at the end of frog-like fingers latched onto her. Coming out of her trance, Minnow screamed as her feet left the ground.
Mother turned, her eyes huge in the moonlight. The stabbed creature had fallen to one knee, but when mother’s face scrunched up in a mask of fury and she ran toward Minnow, the frogman swung his club. The cracking sound of Mother’s leg breaking and the following shriek were the most horrific sounds Minnow had ever heard. She sobbed and peed.
Warmth ran down both her legs as the creature raised the driftwood above its head with both hands and slammed it down on the back of Mother’s head. Minnow closed her eyes and turned her head away, but she heard three more savage whacks.
A creature threw her over its shoulder, and they moved away. Bouncing up and down, she opened her eyes. She searched for Mother, but there was nothing but empty ground and olive trees.
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Held by the hands and legs, two frogmen tossed Minnow. She flew up and away from the small rowboat. She crossed over the railing of an evil-looking ship made of bones. She felt herself falling, and her stomach dropped when a pair of callused human hands caught her. Swung her and then tossed her forward as if she were today’s catch.
A huge stony hand snatched her ankle. She swung back and forth for a second as she rose higher. Like a prized fish, she stared upside down into the swirling, storming eyes of a man made of stone. The bald giant had dark skin like the rocky shores near her village, but there were little veins of shining blue all over, like little luminescent streams filling in the cracks of a mud flat.
The rock-man lifted a lock of her golden hair and held it close to his face. The creature’s thin lips moved. A sound like an avalanche of tumbling rocks came out of his mouth.
The human who had tossed her laughed and pointed toward one of three open holes in the bone deck. He said in Babel, “Put her in the pampered pit. That gold hair will bring a high price.” The man’s tattooed face split into a grin. “But what would you know about the value of hair?”
The big rock-man laughed, and Minnow’s entire body shook as the rumble of waves crashing against cliffs rolled over her. Her head throbbed. Once, trying to copy one of the older kids in the village, she had stood on her head for several minutes. The same thing had happened then, and she felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to her face.
The giant walked to the pit the man had pointed to, grabbed her wrist and turned her right side up. Minnow glanced down. At least ten faces stared at her. The desperation in their eyes made her want to start crying again, but she didn’t think she could. Breathing hurt. Her entire chest ached from all the sobbing she had done since they had captured her. Since she heard the sickening whacking sound.
Then he lowered her down as far as his huge arm could go and let go.
Her bare feet slammed into the bony planks, and she whimpered, pain shooting through her feet like stepping on a sharp rock. She fell to the ground and lay there. Several of the prisoners turned away. No one moved to help her. She crawled toward the wall and tried to pull herself up.
An older girl of about ten, squatting and leaning against the wall, pushed Minnow away with her foot. “This is my spot.”
Minnow pulled herself up to sit. “Where are they taking us?”
The girl’s eyes drifted down to her one sandaled foot. “A slave market.”
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Minnow had lain at the bottom of what the other prisoners called a ship’s hold for over a week. She and all the other children used a big bucket in one corner to pee and poop. She hated that she had to do it in front of everyone. The big rock-man emptied the bucket at the end of each day, but the smell never left the hold.
Twice a day, a tattooed woman wearing a necklace with a shrunken human head as an amulet came to feed the captives. She even tended their wounds. The older girl had said it was to make them presentable to sell.
When Minnow finally climbed out of the belly of the ship, she saw that the evil ship had docked on what was a floating island. An island made from driftwood and the remains of countless wooden ships. There were other vessels docked along the edges of the ginormous raft— buildings, some of them taller than she had ever seen, filled the interior of the floating city.
She spent the night in a big room with bars, then they marched all the prisoners to a big round building with a raised stage at its center. Toward the back of the stage, she waited with the other prisoners for their turns. The older girl was sold. A human woman purchased her. Minnow heard them say they were taking her to a brothel. Minnow had no idea what that was, but the girl had been inconsolable.
Minnow was next.
The man shoved her in the back, and she stumbled up the last step onto the top of the platform. All sorts of men and creatures stood below. She had never seen so many different types of clothes or races. Her captors were everywhere. There were frogmen and some frogwomen. These were skinnier and had pinkish throats while the male frog creatures had yellow necks. There were rock-men and tattooed humans. Both men and women.
Then there were dwarves and elves, but these were different from any she had seen before. The dwarves had skin like golden sand, and the elves had pale skin, the color of a dead fish’s belly, and dark eyes that were very much alive. They wore some unnatural armor made from the bark of a warped tree. There were emaciated little blue elf-like men with flaps of skin under their arms, a creature with the body of a lion but the head of a human, and even a walking, talking alligator.
So many strange eyes. And all of them stared at Minnow. Their faces appeared to be sizing her up to see if she was worth eating. She hadn’t been frightened until she looked into those eyes, and she squeezed her legs together to keep from peeing again.
The man who pushed her lifted her chin and then spread her lips to show her teeth. He said in Babel, “This young’un is healthy. She’ll make a good kitchen wench until she’s old enough for other things.” He held up her hair. “A rare find and a good investment. You’ll triple or quadruple your money in a single night.” He hissed-laughed, but Minnow didn’t know why. “Let’s start the bidding at fifty obol crowns for this golden minnow.”
She shuddered at the unexpected use of her pet-name. What happened next was a blur. The people and creatures below yelled and raised their hands while the man pointed and said more numbers. Then he said, “Sold for one hundred and eighty obol crowns.”
One of the tattooed women tied Minnow’s hands together and led her by a rope down a set of stairs. Minnow went without a fuss as if in a dream.
A nightmare that never ended.
At the bottom, a gruff-faced dwarf, his face appeared like it was chiseled from sandstone, grabbed the rope. “Come along.” He turned and tugged.
Minnow’s hands yanked forward, and she hurried to catch up. Afraid to ask but too afraid not to, she said, “Where are we going?”
The dwarf never looked back, but in a gruff voice said, “Khemhotep.”
Chapter 2 A Pack is Born
Khel put his hand over his mouth and took short breaths through his nose. He froze in place, afraid the slightest movement would send the pile of trash he hid under tumbling down. The smell didn’t faze Khel. After years of living in the alleys of Ziyon-Tir, he’d grown used to the constant smell of shit, puke, soured mead, and rotting refuse.
Something metal dragged along the alley wall, and the familiar tingle of fear ran up his back. Khel didn’t pray for salvation. What was the use of that? It had never worked anyway. Didn’t save his mother from the man who stabbed her. Didn’t save his little brother from an illness that a priestess could have easily cured.
What use was an Eternal Flame that never even warmed Khel’s skin on a freezing night? No, sputter it, Khel survived by following his instincts and when trapped, by being unafraid of dying. It is amazing what a small boy can do and how little he won’t do when he doesn’t fear death.
“I know you’re here, little curr.” The man’s footsteps came closer to Khel’s hiding place. “I’ve tried to be nice. Offered you food. A warm place to sleep. I don’t ask much in return.”
Something sticky oozed down Khel’s back, and gooseflesh ran across his shoulders. Still, he didn’t move. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but he was terrified of what that man wanted in payment for his kindness.
“It’s time for you to earn your name.” The man chuckled. “I’m done playing nice.”
Khel hated what his name meant. The scraping sound came closer, and he felt part of the rubbish pile explode. Another kick sent refuse flying. Khel used the commotion to slide away from where he thought the next kick would come.
The boot slammed into his kidney, and he clamped both hands over his mouth trying to swallow his cry, but it was too late.
A hand came through the trash and grabbed his throat. “There you are.”
Khel reached for the long piece of metal he kept tucked into his hemp-rope belt. The man yanked him up, and he choked. Rubbish flew in all directions.
Khel snarled as he stabbed out. The jagged end of what had once been part of a chariot’s axle bit into the man’s shoulder, and he dropped the blade he had been holding.
The man threw Khel forward. He slammed against the alley wall. The air burst out of him, and his head thudded against the stucco-covered brick. He dropped to the ground in a heap. The panic of not being able to bring air into his lungs took hold as his vision blurred.
“You will pay for that, dog. You will pay a thousandfold.”
Khel wheezed and spots floated within his fuzzy vision, but he felt the man pull him by his feet. His legs and midsection were suddenly cold. His arms wouldn’t move.
Somewhere deep in the fog of his injured brain, Khel recoiled. Worse than death. So much worse than death was coming for him.
His very existence was a result of his mother’s shame. And now he would live that same hell. Damn you. Let me die. If you are truly The One Most High, then do it. Kill me. Save me, please.
Disgusted that he would beg for salvation, he sucked in life, and his lungs inflated. No, let me die!
The spots disappeared as the man wrenched his legs apart and shoved them upward. The cruel glint in the man’s eyes told Khel that He Who Is had truly abandoned him.
The man’s head suddenly jerked back, and a blade moved across his neck. A crease formed, and blood gushed forth. Warm viscous liquid splashed against Khel’s stomach and soaked his shirt. The evil man’s cruel eyes turned glossy, and then the head was pushed aside. The body sank to the ground beside Khel. In the man’s place stood a boy.
The One Most High had sent a boy to save him. By the boy’s bedraggled appearance, He Who Is sent an angel in the form of another street urchin.
About the same age as Khel, the boy squatted down and wiped the bloody blade against the man’s pants. The boy’s piercing blue eyes bore into him from a handsome face that even the thick grime could not hide.
He pointed the tip of his blade at Khel. “You might want to pull those up.”
Khel saw his exposed and blood-covered privates. He scrambled for his pants, pulled them up, and tried to tie his belt, but the rope had been sliced through. He looked around in the strewn trash for something to keep his pants from falling when a leather strap flopped down next to him.
“Use that.” The blue-eyed boy dug into the dead man’s pockets. He pulled out a small bag that jingled.
Khel stood and wrapped the belt around his waist twice to make it fit. He moved scraps of food and other refuse with his feet.
“Here you go.” The boy held out the long piece of metal.
Khel took it and whispered. “Thank you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off his savior. “For everything.”
“Don’t mention it. That drowned cockroach has been stalking me for weeks.” The boy held out his arm. “I’m Zev. That’s short for Zhev. Mean’s wolf.”
Khel locked his hand around Zev’s forearm, and they shook. “I’m Khel.”
“That’s funny.” The handsome boy smiled, and his eyes twinkled.
“What is?”
He tapped Khel’s chest and then his own. “You’re a dog, and I’m a wolf.”
Khel was almost too scared to say it out loud because he feared that Zev would leave him. Everyone did. Instead of swallowing his words, he forced himself to find courage. He grinned and said, “Like a real-life pack.”
Zev laughed and put his arm over Khel’s shoulder. “Exactly. A pack.”