Kindling: Ignited
Kindling is the first book in the Against the Elements series. This chapter is the introduction of the protagonist: Petra.
I decided to remove this snippet from the final work, because giving Petra a point of view in the narrative takes some of the tension and surprise away from the reader.
Enjoy!
Margot had, once again, come to spin her unbelievable web of lies. Her white dress hung around her shoulders, exposing sunburned skin. She’d braided her blonde hair earlier in the day, but now it was frizzy and coming undone. The first time it had been her poodle, then her brother, her husband, and now it was a friend of hers. Petra didn’t believe one ounce of it, but who was she to turn away a paying customer?
“He’s not doing well,” Margot said. She’d worked up some tears which trailed one by one down her painted cheeks. She dabbed at them with a silk handkerchief and stained the cloth with tears and cheap makeup. “The doctor said he might never walk again, and if he does, the pain—”
Petra spun around and ran her pointer finger along the book spines shelved behind the shop counter. “So a pain salve? Does your friend have a preference?”
Margot hiccuped and blew her nose into her handkerchief. “Preference?”
When Petra found the book she searched for, she pulled it down from the shelf and opened it on the counter. “I can do teas, lotions, edibles. There’s a good sleeping agent that works well with teas if that’s something your friend would like. Since he’s hurting so badly.”
“I-I don’t think that’d be necessary,” Margot stuttered. “He’s, uh, he’s been sleeping just fine—”
Petra glanced up from her book. “Has he? Even with the pain?”
A new wave of tears welled in Margot’s eyes and she sniffled into her handkerchief. “He said it doesn’t hurt as bad at night.”
“Odd.” Petra snapped the book shut and pulled another down from the shelf. “So what, then, is he looking for?”
Margot leaned in, sniffled, and said in a hushed voice, “Something discreet. He doesn’t want others to know he’s taking something for the pain. You know how people can be.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Petra said with a vigorous nod. “I think I have just what he needs. I can whip it up for”—she glanced back down at the book, skimming a few pages before she laid her finger under a specific line—“What do you say ten silver?”
Margot pulled out a coin purse and laid the correct amount in Petra’s open palm. “Thank you, Petra. You’re a lifesaver,” she said.
Petra dropped the coins in a lockbox beneath the counter. “Come by around noon tomorrow to pick it up, alright? I’ll even wrap it nondescript for you.”
“Thank you!” Margot’s tears had dried, but her cheeks were red from all the forced crying. She left the shop with a skip in her step now that she had another supply of her fix incoming. The bell above the door chimed as the door slammed behind her.
Once alone, Petra took the key from around her neck and unlocked the door beside the shop counter. She shut the door behind her and clicked the lock into place lest a nosy client come searching for her.
Hanging torches were the only source of light in the room. One in particular hung above a desk across from the door. Behind the desk were a set of wooden stairs which led both upward and downward. Bookshelves lined every inch of wall, and each shelf was filled to capacity with books of all kinds—leather-bound, blue-binding, red, brown, scrolls and parchment, and a book which looked to be bound in something resembling dried out flesh.
To the right of the desk, a pedestal stood with an open book atop it, as well as a bowl stuffed with some burnt herbs. A brown rug covered the room from the desk to the pedestal. At the center of the rug lay a sizable, sleeping monitor lizard.
Petra dropped to her knees in front of the lizard. “Rise and shine, Varan.” She patted him on his flank. He lifted his head, his lids flicked across his eyes, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. His forelegs stretched out in front of him as he gurgled away his sleep.
“Get on, you lazy thing,” Petra said.
Varan groaned but got to his feet. He slunk along down the stairs into the basement.
Petra moved to follow, but something atop the desk caught her attention. The desk was a mess—as were most spaces she occupied. Opened and unopened books strewn across the top, loose papers, pens, and various other stationery. Partially hidden under a stack of papers was a map of the world. Across the top, scrawled in black, it said Reborn in Flames.
A small, pink dot moved across the sea, towards the Southern Fork. “What have we here?” Petra shuffled the papers off the map and lifted it to get a better look. The dot moved slowly, but its destination was obvious—Nazaire, and then up the river to Donnerai.
He was coming.
Varan grunted at the top of the stairs.
Petra held the map out to him. “You see that?” she asked.
He titled his head. The pause was palpable as the gears in his head turned. His forked tongue flicked out and touched the parchment. Then, subtle enough to miss, Varan bobbed his head in a nod.
“And he’s coming our way. You know what that means?” Petra continued.
Varan blinked up at her one eye at a time.
She pulled the map back to herself and her mouth contorted into a wide, manic smile. “It’s almost time.” The words came out in a whisper, because if she said it any louder she might explode from excitement.
She laid the map on the desk, above all the miscellaneous stationery. That didn’t feel right, though. So she fished some pins out of the desk and, gathering the map, turned towards the wall beside the desk. Holding the map with one hand, she pinned it in place with the other. “There, now I won’t lose it,” she said.
Varan grunted again and headbutted her in the leg.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Petra laughed. “Just a second.” She gave the map one last, grin before she followed Varan down the stairs.
Varan scuttled ahead, not obstructed by the darkness which greeted Petra in the basement. She stopped just long enough to pull a candle down from a shelf. Her pointer finger and thumb engulfed the wick and the candle ignited with an orange flame. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the new light source.
Shelves, tables, and a set of drawers were hidden in the shadows. Bundles of herbs, boxes with and without their lids, and jars with things swimming in them were scattered all over the place. Petra weaved through them all until she reached the far side of the room.
Varan waited on top of a table. When Petra approached, he ducked underneath and waited in front of an empty plate and a half-full water bowl. He gurgled and nudged the plate.
“Yes, yes,” Petra said, “I’m getting to it.” She placed the candle in a holder on the table and took the empty plate from Varan. A shelf to the side held jars with various substances inside. Petra blew dust off the jars and pulled one down, unscrewing the lid and emptied something pink and slimy swimming in yellow liquid onto the plate. It smelled strongly of copper and faintly of salt. Varan gobbled the meaty substance up as soon as the plate hit the floor, dripping wet bits at Petra’s feet in his hurry to scarf it all down.
This wasn’t what she’d come down here for, though. Petra turned her attention away from Varan, lifting the candle from its holder to her eyeline. She pursed her lips and blew. The flame flickered and then grew until it engulfed the entire candle. Under the new heat, the candle melted away and the flame formed into a ball which floated above Petra’s shoulder. She reentered the storage maze and the ball of fire followed alongside her.
A doorway waited for her as she maneuvered the room. The fireball hovered in place, just outside the door frame. Petra didn’t need it in here. An unseen, orange light illuminated the space. It seemed to originate from the center room and spread outward—casting shadows in the corners.
More shelves, tables, and drawers decorated the room, though it wasn’t packed like a labyrinth and the walls were visible from anywhere in the room. Petra approached a shelf covered in boxes. Getting up on her tiptoes, she pulled a box down. Inside the box were empty, lidded jars. She took one and put the box back.
Petra retraced her steps out of the room, the fireball following her as soon as she entered the maze storage room. As she approached the stairs leading up to the study, she waved her hand and the fireball extinguished.
Back in the study, Petra glanced at the map. The dot still moved, though slowly. She expected it would, but the insistent excitement inside her demanded she look anyway. Patience, she told herself.
She locked the study door behind her as she entered the shop. With the empty jar in hand, she headed towards the back of the shop. A kitchenette—only a sink, a few cupboards, and a small fireplace—sat at the far back.
The jar clinked when she placed it on the counter. She opened a cupboard and pulled down some labeled containers and one unlabeled, wooden box. The labels read chanvre, valerian, and licorice—one for the “pain”, one for sleep, and one for nightmares. Just a little treat from Petra for the lies Margot spun.
The unlabeled box creaked as she opened it. It contained a blue paste. With her ingredients at hand, Petra got to work. She grated the roots and threw them into the empty jar with a handful of the chanvre flower. Screwing on the lid, she shook the contents to mix them together.
The final ingredient would need to be prepared before it went into the jar. Petra took the paste and a cooking spoon to the fireplace. A bowl sat atop the fireplace. She pulled that down, knelt and ran her hand over the firewood within the stove. A fire came to life, licking at the grate above it. Spooning the paste into the bowl, she sat it on the grate. White smoke billowed from the bowl as the contents heated up. The flame burned blue then smoldered. A final puff of white smoke spit from the bowl and the fireplace went out.
Petra lifted the bowl with her bare hands, feeling the heat against her skin. She breathed deep, absorbing the heat until the bowl was cool to the touch. The paste had burned up, leaving behind a bowlful of white powder. Returning to the counter, she opened the jar and tilted the powder into it. White smoke filled the jar. She swirled it and the smoke disappeared.
The tea was ready. From one of the cupboards in the kitchenette, Petra found a tin box to fit the jar into. A small card which simply read tea, drink with honey and milk was dropped inside the tin. Then Petra closed the lid over it and tied a red ribbon around it. The tin sat on the counter to be collected by Margot.