Ignite: The Archangels Chronicles

Azrael shifted the hood over her eyes in hopes of trying to keep some of this blistering sand out. For the last three leagues the relentless sun has been smothering their riding party, and it would continue to do so for six more. They would have to stop soon though, the sun at its highest point can be deadly without proper shelter.

The mares they had stolen from a local patrol were few in number, and those who could walk had to switch back and forth so those who were too injured could ride throughout the trek.

"We must make it half way there by the time the sun has hit its highest point or we will never make it to Langu by nightfall." Said Camren.

He was the only one of us still willing to make conversation. He hadn't been in the camp very long before she had murdered their caretakers. The rest of us were too broken to truly care much about anything, so she just nodded her head and kept trudging forward.

With only legumes and tree nuts to sustain what few of us that haven't died from infection; our party was slowing to a crawl. They would never make the halfway point by mid day, leaving them far too close to the Death Dealers borders, and making camp here with three hundred escaped slaves would be asking for death.

Which at this moment doesn't seem so bad.

A hand on Azrael's shoulder brought her out of her inner melancholy.

"We should head more south and take shelter under the canopy of the Demora Thicket." Cameron pushed, halting her march, to look Azreal in the eyes.

Stepping out of his grasp, Azreal muttered "if we're lucky we can make it by mid day, tell the others of your plans and see who has any foraging or hunting skills." She couldn't help but avoid his stare and instead fidgeted with the weapon haphazardly tied to her waist.

Camren started to walk away, but stopped and said over his shoulder, " These people look up to you, if you break, so will they." And started moving through the crowd again.

Azreal wanted to scream that she was broken before she had ever set foot in that camp! That she was never supposed to be a leader or a hero. She was the halfbreed of her now dead family and was never good enough for them, why would she be good enough now?

Azreal had been present for so many atrocities at that camp and useless to stop them. Trained in the art of war ever since she could walk, but was helpless, chained to the ground, and forced to watch her people die.

'I am now the symbol of a broken people, a forgotten princess, of a ravaged land.'

They made it to the Demora Thicket just before midday. It wasn't a second too soon either, the mares looked dehydrated and the smaller children starting to cry of hunger.

Azreal immediately took off into the score of trees looking for potential food resources and any venomous creatures slithering around under the foliage as she pulled out the machete they had found in the death dealers camp. The blade was heavy in her hands, her arms had weakened from the lack of substance and exercise. She was enjoying the burning in her arms as she hacked through the underbrush and thorns. It was better than feeling nothing; even here in this dense rainforest with its smothering beauty.

The enchanting flowers bloomed in wide patches between trees were as poisonous as they were vibrant. Deep shades of maroon and sparkling gold, tendrils spreading out with thick white petals against the dark wood. If the humidity didn't steal your breath, these flowers would.

Azreal wasn't looking at the colors of the forest though, she needed to set snares and collect vines to make wicker traps. The rainforest is deadly at all times of day, but you don't want to be caught out in the dark foraging through the underbrush.

Removing her hood and untying her tattered cloak, she began filling it with all the edible nuts and plants she could find while marking out where the best thicket of vines were falling.

Then a twig snapped and she was instantly alert, dropping her findings and gripping her Machete in a tight fighting stance, ready for anyone to try and take her or any one of them back to those horrid camps. Just the thought had her blood boiling, and lightening running cutting across her back. The ancient blood was ready to come to the surface at any threat.

Of course it was just Camren making all the noise in the world jogging up to her, "Hey, why did you run off? We were all worried about you!" He basically shouted.

Clamping her hand over his sticky mouth she told him " shut up, or I'll never gather enough food for everyone to eat." snapping at him.

His eyes wide, he pulled back from her hand and said "well if you hadn't just run off I would have had time to send others to help you gather. We also need more than a few medicines that these flowers have to offer."

Azreal looked him over, a little embarrassed, " I didn't know you had infirmary experience."

Camren looked at the ground and kicked at the dirt "yeah my family owned an infirmary in the Imperial City before the Death Dealers started their tyranny under that false king. They slaughtered or killed anyone unwilling to follow their orders or serve in their regiment.".

The look on his face told me not to ask more, but I couldn't help myself. "Then how did you end up in the furthest camp from the Imperial City?" He paused for a moment, as if deciding whether he would tell me or not.

When Camren finally looked up his eyes were glazed over and focused on something far off as he said "My family and I escaped to the Black Forest and our knowledge of plants kept us alive. We were caught stealing machetes and horses. The Death Dealers told me if I healed and worked for them they would keep my family alive, but I knew better. Once I healed their men, they would kill me and my family, so I made a distraction with what arrows I had left so my family could escape. I can still hear my sister screaming as they beat me and dragged me off…"

Damn it, Azreal knew she shouldn't have pushed. He looked so distraught, his lanky body was definitely not built for fighting and his curly blonde hair falling over his eyes. Taking a step forward, not so close that he could reach out, but enough to be friendly and said "we will reach the Eternal Gardens and find peace. I'm sure your family is waiting there for you."

He huffed, and Azreal gave him an incredulous look and said "If they can survive in the Black Wood, they can make it to the Gardens."

He seemed to straighten after that and then he looked her over and said "where will you be going?"

Azreal steeled herself, not wanting to answer. She could be a coward and live out her days in the Eternal Gardens in peace, l.i.c.k.i.n.g her wounds and cursing the universe or she could be the hero this nation needs. The rightful heir to the ancient throne of Vanu, where a sadistic war lord now sits. No longer a princess, but the Queen.

As if sensing her inner strife he turned and said " I'll send the hunting party out this way and I will go procure the medicines we need."

He started to walk away, but this time I stopped him, and said "thank you."

He turned and looked confused "for what?"

Azreal shrugged "for organizing the others when I ran off." And then she disappeared into the dense canopy to set her snares.

The hunting party was very successful. We had a few firebenders and were able to make soup with plenty of boar and fish. It was just enough to go around, but at least everyone had something..

Azreal had never had magic before. Her parents so disgusted to have a daughter, a princess, without magic sit on an archangels throne. Without wings no less! They tried everything to make it surface; for Azreal had a direct link to the royal bloodline, the last of the bloodline now. She hadn't been trained how to use her magic just her weapons, and now that she hadn't practiced with any real weapon in years; that was shoddy at best. She couldn't control the magic either, only in survival would it surface. She supposed it would be enough for now. Azreal needed to focus and get these people to safety, and then dwell on all the things she was not meant to do or have, but has been forced upon her.

Those who were strong enough, but didn't have any experience hunting used the leftover vines to tie the big canopy fronds together for makeshift hammocks. One of the gatherers had found some bamboo poles and was mashing it up to dry and filter for yarn. She the old crones finished the rigged spinning wheel. The could make fabrics, and they needed clothes badly to protect them on the rest of their journey East through the desert to Langu. The sand had shredded what we scavenged from the dead sentinels in the camp they had overtaken.

The people still stared at her, some mad that she hadn't been able to save them sooner, saved others from dying, a coward unwilling to stand up for her people. Some stared in awe, the children mostly, they looked to her as a savior. Azreal knew what Camren said was true, these people needed a leader, just not her..

Azreal hadn't noticed that she had been grinding the rock on the bamboo so hard, she was shaving it. One of the elderly tribal crones gently took the rock from Azreal's hand and led her from the line of women and children mashing bamboo, spinning yarn, and twisting fronds.

You could tell that the lines in the woman's face were once beautiful laugh lines drained by the wars and slavery. She had elongated earlobes with blue stones in the middle as tradition for the people of the Western Mountains. "Sit child for there are many things I can tell you."

Azreal stopped short, unsure that she was ready for anything the women had to tell her. She wasn't ready for a destiny; only the goal of getting these people to the Gardens so they may have peace.

"Ah but what of the other slave camps? Do they deserve to suffer? To be left behind?" The woman said as if she had read my thoughts.

Azreal realized that she had left her mental shields down and snapped them back up. The old woman cackled leaning back on the fallen log "you have been trained well child. What I wonder is why a princess of the crown has had such extensive training in combat, and so little in magic." She paused, giving me a thoughtful look and said quietly, "You could grow us a whole field of vegetables, make a river, raise an empire from ashes. But you know nothing of your magic, why?"

Azreal looked down at her hands, dirty and calloused, scars peppered over light colored skin. " I was not born with the power to wield my magic, my parents did everything they could to cover it up. My father made me train day in and day out trying to break the barrier over my magic. He sent me to live and train with the Monks of Agraba after he had broken every bone in my body trying to release my magic and it still wasn't enough. The Monks told me it was because magic is a brutal gift, to be used when the vessel is ready, and the longer and harder you train the more powerful your magic will be when it is awakened.". The old woman nodded her head as if pleased Azreal had told the truth. She was testing her to see if she would lie.

The old women slowly moved from the log and beckoned Azreal to follow her through the camp. Azreal was trailing behind her looking at the women's tattered robes when she realized she hadn't asked her name.

Without so much as a glance backwards the old woman said "My name is Nadie Leotie of the Western Mountain Tribe."

The western tribes magical powers were more spiritual and healing being so close to the sacred grounds. As a child, Azreal heard stories of how only the gods were allowed to enter the sacred ground and any angel or fae who was allowed to cross into the plain was a divine being and had an indisputable right to the ancient throne in Vanu.

That was how Azreals family became the ruling bloodline. One of my ancestors, the one I was named after; even though he was a male, had been the first and only archangel bloodline to pass into the sacred ground until my mother. She was Fae and therefore deemed unacceptable by my father's family, the only way they would allow such an atrocity was if she could cross over into the sacred grounds.

Sure enough the raven haired beauty didn't think twice before she tried crossing the MysticFalls. It was the only passage in, and either the water would split and you would be granted passage or you would walk under 500,000 gallons of water pressure and be crushed like a gr.a.p.e. Azreals father used to tell her it was her mother's determination that let her pass, because failure wasn't an option.

Azreal thinks it was because the gods knew her father had abused his power and had wanted someone to hold him in check, to give him another chance. After her eighth birthday when her mother became bedridden from a poison slipped in her bath water, there was no one to stop him, he came after Azreal and her sister, made them train obsessively. Her younger sister though, she was their father's prized possession. She and Azreal had the same jet black hair as their mother. Azreals sister got their father's silver eyes and Azreal took after their mother with her star flecked violet eyes. The rest of their face was the same; Azreals was just a slightly older version of high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, strong pert nose, and full pouty lips the color of dusty rose.

But beauty didn't matter to their father, not when her sister, Gabriel, was born with the most exquisite pair of pearly white wings and magic flowing through her veins pulsing under her skin like gold filigree.

SMACK.

Azreal was so lost in her memories that she hadn't been paying attention to where she was walking and ran forehead first into a tree, luckily they had walked outside the perimeter of camp and no one else had seen; only the old woman laughing quietly to herself.

"Where are we going?" Azreal grumbled as she rubbed her forehead hoping it wouldn't bruise. Nadie's only reply was "just a little further."

If Azreal had been this distracted in one of her childhood lessons, she would have earned herself a broken bone, so this time she matched pace with the hobbling crone and kept focused on where Nadie was leading her.

They reached a decent sized clearing with a river bed off to the right side. Nadie turned and looked at Azreal expectantly.

Something about the way she just stood there unnerved Azreal so she snapped, "what?"

The old woman looked at her patiently and said in a voice that was both young and old "only when you find peace within yourself will you be able to wield your true power. Listen to the wind whisper through the trees, feel the sun dipping in and out of the canopy, taste the essence of the flowers, you can see very little with just your eyes. You have to align your body with the earth and stars, you were meant to fly, my dear, being stranded on the ground will kill your soul." .

The inner smartass in her wanted to retort about how incredulous that sounded, but Azreal was tired, and didn't want to upset someone who was obviously trying to help her, and well, she wasn't arrogant enough to think she was above a tribal Nomad from the mountains.

So Azreal closed her eyes and prepared for the endless drills and trying to cast with pain by breaking her body till my magic seeped out. She would do it, not just to save her people, but all the others suffering under the war lords thumb. Azreal was willing to break herself, so the rest may not only live, but prosper. She had nothing left to lose anyway, family and friends slaughtered in the undertaking. Her life, her home, her people all up in a bloody haze of smoke.

"Your soul is pure, let your inner light guide you." Nadie rasped.

Azreal tried clearing her mind but all she could see was her kingdom on fire.

"I'm not saying this won't be exhausting and frustrating, but not all magic is destructive. You can harness it by centering yourself and opening your minds eye. Feel your magic; don't force it. Instead of trying to visualize try using your heart. That inner light that tells you to help and protect those who can't fend for themselves. Your love for your people and your drive to cure these lands of these filthy Death Dealers that have terrorized so many.." Nadie was trying to push her.

At the mention of Death Dealers Azreal felt her magic spike, felt the humming beneath her skin; she held onto that feeling, stepped into the darkness let it envelope her.

Instead of lightning slashing and ripping across her back, it felt like she was stretching a part of her soul she never knew she had that was just waiting to be freed. Her wings.

Azreal heard a gasp and thud of something falling to the ground. Her eyes snapped open and saw Nadie on her knees before her. Azreal dared to peek over her shoulder and see the long delicate feathers, sharper than any blade in battle, and stronger than any shield while flying.

It wasn't the wings themselves that had the ancient Nomad praying on her knees, but the color of them. The shining feathers were the color of the darkest midnight. The filigree under Azreals skin wasn't gold but a shimmering black. Only the most powerful Archangels in history were given the gift of the sacred black wings. For what came with it was a power to move the stars. The pressure of it immediately had Azreal fumbling with her connection to that inner vortex and she could feel her wings fading.

"How come my wings disappear? I've never heard of any other angel being able to do that." Nadie finally finished her babbling and looked up at me and said " you are the first of a mixed bloodline, you of a half Fae and half Archangel."

Azreal studied the ground "Can you teach me how to harness it?"

Nadie gave her a quizzical look and said "would I have taken you all the way out here just to say I can't help you?"

Azreal glared at her "Don't condescend to me, you're the one praying on your knees."

Azreal was almost smiling as the old woman slowly stood and brushed herself off while saying "The gods must be truly desperate to have chosen you."

*******************************

It was almost sundown and Azreal had only brought back her wings once after trying all evening. When Nadie and Azreal had gotten back to camp everyone was in their makeshift hammocks off the ground and away from the dangers on the jungle floor.

They devoured the cold snake soup and went their separate ways to find sleeping arrangements. Azreal had just told Nadie goodnight when Camren whistled to her from a hammock above a nearby stream. Azreal shuffled over to where he was and he whispered down, " I made you a hammock in this tree next to mine"

he pointed over to a thickly woven hammock. It even had a new cloak resting inside. I looked over to him "why did you do all this for me?"

His eyes turned sad as he said "everything has been taken from you," he paused for a moment before finishing, "I thought I would offer my friendship to you. I know what it's like to look up at the sky and wish for someone to talk to, to not be so alone." And he reached down his hand.

Azreal really looked at him, with his strong nose, eyes the color of the ocean at night, and a square jaw. This clumsy infirmary boy with a mess of curls wants to be friends with a revenge seeking fallen angel. Azreal laughed aloud as she grabbed his hand and said "thank you." As she ambled over to her tree and climbed up, swinging into the hammock. She was so exhausted she faded into sleep thinking of a better world.