{"id":469,"date":"2020-01-25T17:28:38","date_gmt":"2020-01-25T17:28:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/?page_id=469"},"modified":"2020-01-26T03:13:48","modified_gmt":"2020-01-26T03:13:48","slug":"gods-of-the-flame-sea-excerpt","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/gods-of-the-flame-sea-excerpt\/","title":{"rendered":"Gods of the Flame Sea Excerpt"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

<\/a>Book 3 of Flame Sea <\/h2>\n\n\n\n

CHAPTER TWO<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ijesh<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Flame Sea Territory<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Blood splattered across the stage of the caverous, cliff-built theater, whipped by the crimson-stained blades gleamed golden in the light coming from the oil-filled braziers.  Ban gritted his teeth against the pain, surging forward to try to catch his attacker on the point of his blade.  He missed, but the movement opened his wounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Common hardened iron instead of the light, strong, rare golden of faeshiin<\/em>, Fae-metal, the youth wielding those wounding weapons faltered.  Seeing the deep cuts he had caused on the tall warrior fighting him, Nadj blanched.  Cuts which buckled his opponent\u2019s legs, having severed his quadriceps rather deeply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t falter, Nadj!\u201d  the female of his three two trainers ordered, stamping the butt of her staff against the stone flooring.  \u201cHe\u2019s still a danger to you!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ban certainly strove to be.  Ignoring the pain, the kneeling, bleeding, tattooed male lashed out with his long arms, slashing at the teen\u2019s leather-covered legs.  Yelping, Nadj managed to simultaneously skip back and deflect the blow with a clang from the clashing blades.  The tip of Ban-taje\u2019s sword did scrape along his leathers, leaving behind a paler scratch on the smoke-tanned material.  It would not, however, have badly injured the youth if he hadn\u2019t diverted the blow; Ban was delivering most of his blows with the flat of his blade, not the edge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

However, he was<\/em> relentless in striking hard, and swung aagain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWould\u2014you\u2014stop?<\/em>\u201d  Nadj hollered, bashing his blade with each word.  \u201c…Flames take you!  Surrender!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hissing ferally through a disturbing, toothy grin, the tattooed, black-haired man shuffled forward on his knees, leaving smears of blood from his open wounds.  He ignored the pain of them as thoroughly as Nadj ignored the pain of his scratches and bruises, lunging with quick cuts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe\u2019s not going to stop, Nadj,\u201d  Bargo, the youngest of the three trainers called out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like Seda, the youngest of the three trainers stood off to the side, out of immediate danger of the two combattants.  So did the other seven of their pupils.  Actually, the students of Krue-taje\u2019s advanced combat class sat on benches, each of them having gone through a similar hard fight.  No longer winded but still a bit sweat-soaked, they recovered from their bouts with Ban.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The unstoppagle outworlder shuffled forward awkwarldy but swiftly on his knees, chasing down the last of the eight young warriors despite his terrible wounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tears streaking his cheeks, Nadj tried to get out of the way, and found himself nearly skewered again.  Finally, the youth accepted that the man who could not die, would<\/em> not die.  Teeth bared, he stabbed with the dagger in his off-hand, puncturing his foe\u2019s throat.  He ripped the blade out again a split second later, all while parrying with the short sword in his main hand Ban swinging his own dagger inward, to try to counterstab him in the side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

More blood gushed out in a white-hot line of terrible pain.  This time, the kneeling, bloodsplattered male jerked, choked on a burble of liquid red, and keeled over.  Thudding into a puddle of his own blood.  Sobbing, Nadj dropped the dagger from his left hand, though his right still clung to his sword.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bargo shifted his hand to his own short iron sword, watching the twitching death of their volunteer.  If Ban\u2019s death took too long, if the student refused to give a suitable death-blow, it would be a kindness for one of the instructors to step in and finish the job\u2014a kindness for Ban, and a mark against the squeamish pupil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Older and wiser, Seda held up her hand, cautioning him to wait.  Just a dozen heartbeats passed while Ban bled out in spurts, consciousness fading.  Then he twitched one last time.  His own blades fell from his grip, finally surrendering the weapons under the force of his own death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other seven pupils eyed the fallen male with worried looks.  Some of them moved their lips, silently counting heartbeats.  Half a dozen beats after he died from the shock of massive blood loss\u2026the body and the blood smeared over the floor, all of it flared.  Enough of it had been spread around, that everyone winced away from the rather bright flash.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

An instant later, the dead man reappeared on his feet, alive and whole, clean and clad in the same sandals, leather shorts, and matching black-dyed vest wrapped around his tattooed chest as he had been wearing before he died so gruesomely.  His skin, virtually scarless, looked a few shades lighter than before, allowing the colorful tattoos inked under its surface to be more easily seen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That lighter skin color did not surprise anyone; they all knew by now that he \u201creset\u201d to his original condition, to the moment when he had first been cursed immortal.  It was only when he lived for several months, or even years, that he developed the deep, suntanned brown endemic to most of the people living in the desert lands surrounding their home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without hesitation, the man named Lord Death in the tongue of the Flame Sea Tribe, closed the distance between him and the crying teen, and gently pulled him into a hug.  \u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d  Ban-taje comforted him.  \u201cI cannot be permanently killed.  You did not actually harm me for long.  It\u2019s okay\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t\u2026 I c-can\u2019t do this!\u201d  Nadj sobbed, clinging to the tall human.  \u201cI thought I c-c-could, but I\u2026 I j-just can\u2019t!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s okay, too,\u201d  Ban murmured, holding the shaking seventeen year old.  He looked over at the seniormost of their trainers.  \u201c\u2026Well?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The figure that sat in a comfortable chair at the far end of the bench of students would have been the oldest being in the auditorium, if Ban had not been there.  Far older than Bargo\u2019s twenty-nine years, or Seda\u2019s thirty-five, Krue had seen nearly four hundred years so far, roughly a fifth of a typical Fae lifespan.  For a quarter millennia, he had studied the various combat skills of his kind, striving to perfect his place as a Fae Gh\u2019vin, before being assigned to the pantean of the Flame Sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because of the uniqueness of this world, how the anima-magics of the universe and the effects humans had on the Fae, the need for a contingent of Guardians had been deemed vital.  Krue would have been the leader of dozens of specially skilled combattants, and had been sent ahead of the rest in order to assess this realm\u2019s needs and provide proper protection for the Fae who lived her, and the humans they lived among.  That contingent had never arrived\u2026which meant Krue-taje had reluctantly decided he needed to instruct the local humans in how to be efficient, effective warriors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026Not everyone is suited to be a warrior,\u201d  Krue stated.  Rising, he approached the two combattants.  The scales of his golden faeshiin armor scraped and clattered softly, almost musically against each piece when he shifted upright, but once vertial, he moved so smoothly, his armor made no sound.  \u201cNot everyone can stomach the necessities of countering violence with violence, or the demands of war.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nadj, pulling free of the Death Lord\u2019s embrace, sniffed and tried to hold himself upright.  Tried to look strong despite his trembling.  He could not, however, look up enough to meet thos ice-lemon eyes.  He had the light gold eyes and golden curls of someone with partial Fae blood, the brown skin and muscles of his human side, but at that moment, none of the grace that often came with that combination of lineages.  Not when he trembled so hard, he shook between sniffing breaths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Krue-taje stopped to Nadj\u2019s right, flanking him across from Ban-taje.  \u201cNadj.  There is no shame in not being a warrior at heart.  This is why we practice upon Ban, with his permission.  Killing changes a person.  In someone who is good at heart, this is a painful lesson, because it changes the warrior, leaving unpleasant memories in the wake of each fight.  And many who think they can take another life often only encounter that choice, and its cost, in the midst of actual peril.  Those who freeze or refuse are often cut down by the ones they fight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut with the aid of Ban, you have the chance to see what you are made of without permanently ending another\u2019s life. You have not<\/em> actually killed anyone,\u201d  the Fae Gh\u2019vin soothed.  \u201cHe is clearly alive and unharmed, no matter what we do to him.  No permanent damage has been done.  If you wish\u2026you may retire from your obligations as our student.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will<\/em>, however, continue to practice with your bow and your sling, your spear and your knife.  You have shown no hesitancy in killing animals, whether wild or domesticated,\u201d  Krue added.  \u201cYou will still be expected to stand guard-watch over the valleys when your time in the rotation comes nigh.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNow, go sit with the others, and accept comfort from them,\u201d  the Fae stated, lifting his chin a little.  Unlike most of his kind, his hair did not flow down his back; even Ban had longer hair than his.  Though to be fair, Ban\u2019s straight, black, waist-length locks had been reset alongside every scrap of skin and drop of his blood.  \u201cYou are not yet dismissed.  You still did well, despite your misgivings and hesitations.  Sit among them, accept comfort, and ponder whether or not you are suited to become a warrior of the Flame Sea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf your answer upon reflection is no<\/em>, there will be no reprisals.  If your answer is yes<\/em>, your training will continue.  Either way,\u201d  Krue offered,  \u201cI will always remain available to listen to your concerns and your fears.  I, too, once struggled with the rightness versus wrongness of ending another being\u2019s life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nadj sniffed and frowned at that.  He blinked, confused, before blurting out a question.  \u201cThen why do you do <\/em>it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBecause if the only people who know how to fight and harm and kill other people are the ones who enjoy<\/em>fighting and harming and killing, then no one will be able to stop them.  Beings who are good must sometimes take up unpleasant duties in order to save the lives of others,\u201d  Krue instructed.  \u201cEvil people often think<\/em> their cause is good and right and just\u2026but Evil will always be quick to blame and quick to judge.  Evil is reluctant to help, loathe to give without getting in return.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A faint scrape and slap of footsteps on stone pulled Ban\u2019s gaze off toward the risers.  Or rather, to one of the tunnels under the arcs of seating rising up from the dais where they stood.  A shadow, elongated from the daylight beyond, bobbed and wove as its owner walked into the theater.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA-And good?\u201d  Nadj asked, sniffing and rubbing his nose on his forearm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood is quick to help others, even without recompense,\u201d  Seda instructed.  Like Nadj, she had the golden hair of her mother\u2019s father, \u00c9fan-taje, though she bore the green eyes and paler, merely suntanned skin of her paternal grandmother kin.  She wore fitted bits of oil-hardened leather for armor over clearly muscled limbs, in her prime despite having given birth to five children so far.  \u201cGood is slow to judge without solid evidence.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh, yes, the morality of the Fae,\u201d  a tenor male voice drawled, palpably amused.  \u201cGood is such-and-such, and evil is so-and-so, and the choice between the two is quite clear\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nadj bristled, turning to frown at the red-haired speaker.  \u201cThe choice is<\/em> clear between the two!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Of course!\u201d  Udrin exclaimed, touching his spread hand to his chest, still clad in the finespun linen his sire\u2019s kin were able to import from other realms.  \u201cIsn\u2019t that just what I said?  I just<\/em> said that,\u201d  the Dai-Efrijt drawled, flicking his other hand outward.  The gesture was Fae, the words in their letter were in agreement\u2026but that tone, drawled just so, subtl mocked those words in their spirit.  \u201cI swear, half the time no one ever listens to me.  Well, Krue-taje, I am here to report to you for fighting practice.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re early,\u201d  Krue replied, his expression a calm mask.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Udrin flipped his hand again, and shifted over to sit on the lowest tier of curved benches.  \u201cThen I shall watch.  What is<\/em> today\u2019s lesson, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2026we had to kill Ban,\u201d  Nadj admitted, strengthening his voice.  \u201cIt\u2026wasn\u2019t easy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, nonsense,\u201d  Udrin dismissed, arm twitching.  He fluttered it in dismissal, humming an odd little tune, then gestured.  \u201cAnybody<\/em> can kill Ban-taje.  The trick is making him stay<\/em> dead.\u201d  Tilting his head, Udrin studied the tall, tattoo-covered male speculatively.  \u201cI do admit that\u2014theoretically, of course\u2014it would be fascinating to try each possible method, experimenting in a methodical, carefully recorded manner.  Perhaps a way could be found then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLonger-lived beings than you have tried, and failed,\u201d  Ban stated flatly.  \u201cThey always<\/em> fail\u2026and I always ensure they never start again, once I get annoyed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The red-haired youth twitched his hand again, then danced his legs a little, lifting and lowering his knees.  \u201cYes, yes, whateve\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUdrin!\u201d  Krue snapped, cutting him off.  \u201cBe respectful.  Watch in silence<\/em>, or leave.  This is not your<\/em>study hour.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2026Of course, Krue-taje,\u201d  the redhead amended, bowing slightly.  \u201cI will be quiet now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Krue didn\u2019t sigh or roll his eyes, or show any other sign of impatience. \u00a0He did let his gaze linger a moment on the teenaged newcomer, then turned back to the curly-haired youth. \u00a0\u201cTake your place among the others, Nadj, and remember my words. \u00a0We will now continue the remainder of today\u2019s lesson with a point-by-point dissection of Nadj\u2019s fight against Ban.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Book 3 of Flame Sea CHAPTER TWO \u2026 Ijesh Flame Sea Territory Blood splattered across the stage of the caverous, cliff-built theater, whipped by theRead More<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-469","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/469","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=469"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/469\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":588,"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/469\/revisions\/588"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jeanjohnson.net\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=469"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}