Page 1 of Ashes In The Wind & Islands Of Ash
Chapter One
Sweat beaded along my brow, gliding down my face, and dripped from my lips. I heaved, bending at the waist, tasting the salt of my labor as I tried to catch my breath.
“Again,” he commanded.
My father and I had been practicing since before the sun crested over the horizon. We started with weapons. He taught me how to get an arrow to hit its mark then did the same with battle axes and swords before moving on to bending.
My father always said an enemy would not care if you were tired. Every muscle in my body ached as I gathered myself back into my fighting stance, preparing to run the course again. Wooden posts jutted from the ground with bags stuffed with straw for heads—my targets. My enemies.
My father played as my moving mark. I took a deep breath, shook out my limbs, and pumped the blood flowing through my veins faster, using my bending as I concentrated. Raising my arms methodically, the water lifted from the two buckets by myfeet. It swirled around my arms as I prepared my attack. With a flick of my wrist, water sliced through the air, drawing the heads off of the closest post-like men. Bolting forward, I rushed by the nearby trees, shooting thin streams of water through anything with a straw head or a wooden body.
“Water moving fast enough is as sharp as any blade,” my father voiced through the trees from within the training course but remained hidden from my line of sight. “But the ability to wield both is your advantage, Eme. Use it.” His voice rang from behind me and I turned, sending a crescent blade of water soaring through the air, taking out the remaining wooden dummies. My last target still mocked me, unseen.
I closed my eyes, letting my fae hearing heed my surroundings. I waited for the faintest brush of a step from my left as I pulled water from the soil under my feet that I had wielded before and blasted it into the direction of the sound. My father yelled as he smacked into a nearby tree. I clenched my fist, turning the water to ice, freezing him there as I manipulated it to my every command.
“Ah, come on, is that all you’ve got?” he taunted as he flexed a hand, using his own bending to melt the ice right off of him and sending the water hurling toward me again. I leapt, blocking his blow with a shield of my own water, drawing it up from the muddy ground. I tugged the axe from my hip in one swift motion as I dropped my shield and propelled it through the air. He tilted his head to the side as it grazed his face, causing him to stumble back into the tree. My father peered over his shoulder where my blade sat a mere inch from his cheek, sticking out of the wood. He looked at me with a wide smile.
“That’s my girl,” he declared, yanking the axe from the bark as he walked over to me.
“Orion, Emelyn!” My mother called us for lunch. He draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side as we sauntered back to our small cottage home.
“Good work today,” he said, placing a kiss atop my head. My father stood over a foot taller than me, his frame strong from years of training.
Walking through the narrow paths of our village with a smirk on my face, I replied, “Thanks,Pada.” Father.All the cottage homes sat alongside and behind each other in rugged rows, built with extended thin logs we’d chopped and molded ourselves, with thatched roofs on top. Our home appeared, sitting on the outskirts where a break in the tree line ahead revealed the Heavensreach Mountains where the Sky Elves dwelled. Peering up, I could see them soaring through the open blue skies, preparing for the day’s comings and goings. Flying seemed invigorating. I wondered what that kind of freedom would feel like, to soar the skies like the dragons and elves of Osparia.
A basin of water sat by our front door to clean up. My father washed his hands and splashed his face before I did the same. Smoke from the fire barreled from our rooftop, floating into the canopy of trees as my mother prepared lunch for us inside. The smell of fish and herbs wafted through the air as my father opened the door for me to head in. My mother’s long brown hair cascaded down her back. She had the top half pulled up and out of her face as she stood at the large, well-used wooden table to the side of the main room. She glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Food’s almost ready. Did you get cleaned up?” she asked as I stepped over the threshold.
As my father walked up to her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist, I replied, “Yes,Ima.” Mother.
“Mother moon,” he murmured his curse into the crook of her neck. “Smells delicious, love,” he said, placing a gentlekiss on her exposed shoulder. My mother’s cooking was always delightful.
“Manners.” She gave him a side eye, a warning, but the look soon faded into a warm smile as my father leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. The affection my parents had for each other was something I wanted to have one day when I was older. Being mated was a blessing from the Mother herself. It wasn’t a rarity. Most people found theirs, but it also wasn’t a guarantee.
My mother turned out of my father’s embrace and set the large, prepared fish in the center of the table, caught fresh from the nets our people cast on our shores. My father grabbed the long knife and began chopping off its head. His usual.
“Gross,” I exclaimed, scrunching my nose at him.
“The head is the best part. It’s the richest for your body,” he said, prodding the knife in my direction. “You’ll appreciate it one day, Eme.” He stabbed his portion and slapped it down on his plate. My mother poured water into the small cups already sitting on the table. I picked mine up to take it down in one swig. My father jabbed out his meal’s eyes with his fingers and held them up to his own while sticking out his tongue, poking fun at me.
I couldn’t hold back my snort, choking on my water. My nose burned as it shot through it and back out of me. My father chuckled while tossing one of the fish eyes into his mouth. I flicked my wrist in his direction, causing the water in his cup to douse him. I coughed and laughed as he wiped a hand down his damp face.
“Do you two ever stop playing?” my mother asked, her features serious. But as she glared at us, we all started laughing. She stood, readying to clean up the mess as my father devoured his fish.
“I got it, Ima.” With a wave of my hand, the water lifted and shot out the small open window that sat above our counter fullof stored food in containers and vegetables strung up on nobs along the weathered wall.
“Your water bending should be used for more important things, Eme.” She sent a glaring eye at my father as she continued, “Not cleaning up puddles. It is a blessing from the Mother herself bestowed upon the people of Esora and should be treated as such.” My mother reprimanded my laziness in her mastered tone. She was theKumai,teacher,for all the young fae in our homeland of Esora. TheKumaitaught us of our history, our bending, and how to use it and respect it. I admired her wisdom.
My parents had told me the tales before bed growing up of how long ago, the god of the sun and the goddess of the moon waged war with one another until they finally made peace and blessed Osparia, restoring balance within our world, along with all the other stories of the creatures that lurked within the woods and waters of Osparia.
The water’s call to me was indefinable, as if something rooted it in my bones and blood to use it. It was second nature, like eating or drinking. It came naturally, without a thought. But my mother could go about her day only using the work of her hands until she needed her bending for more vital things.
I nodded in understanding while I ate my portion as my father stood, his plate clean. His chair scuffed against the wooden slats as he pushed it back. He placed his hand over my mother’s, leaning on the table.
“Cut her some slack, Ivy. She did well today.” He gave me a wink as he stood up for me, and my mother rolled her eyes at him playfully. I covered my mouth, trying to hide my smile at my father’s resilience.
“Why must I always be the villain of your fun?” my mother questioned.
