Survive My Fire Read Free

and rage, the very elements the Gods used to spawn us. “My brother is my enemy, unless my cousin threatens. The tribes are my tribe’s enemy, unless one not Keldari threatens.”
    “Such warfare and killing has decimated our tribes. You’re not the only one cursed by the Gods, Chanda. All tribes suffer Despair until the price is paid. We... die.”
    I turned and studied his face, the planes and chasms of shadow and rock carved by his life. He was older than I had been when the curse befell me. His eyes carried the shadow of death, betrayal, and lies. “The Gods decreed our punishment. We die at their whim.”
    Our Gods are a brutal Trinity in Keldar: Agni, He Who Burns, the Red Dragon; Somma, She Who Hung the Moon, the White Dragon; and Yama, He Who Breathes Despair, the Black Dragon. We are all cursed to carry the Trinity’s blood to some degree. Dragon blood burns in our veins.    
    If we live long enough, we eventually succumb to the dragon blood and become mindless beasts, full of rage. My only brethren, my kin. I hear them calling in the desert reaches but I ignore them. They kill each other, or humans, endlessly. There is nothing left for them but killing. They can never go back. Me, well, I have my hatred but also the small, bitter hope that I will someday escape my dragon.
    “We tried to kill a God, and all of Keldar suffers as a result. Only an entire people’s death will wipe away our devalki.” Jalan said nothing I didn’t know, nothing that hadn’t been true even in my time. Then, though, he raised shadowed eyes to mine. Unflinchingly, he said in that curiously flat voice, “Unless you die.”
    “Me?” My voice cracked, my raspy throat as barren as the land about me. “I would have died ages ago if I could cleanse our devalki. Why now?”
    “You’re the last White,” he whispered softly. No change in his face, but his eyes bled with emotion, with regret, even rage that this must be so. “You’re the last carrying Somma’s blood.”
    Only one God would be pleased with all of Somma’s blood eliminated from Keldar. Not Agni, the God of Fire, who blasted our lands with heat to purify and cleanse us of our devalki against Her in the first place. Not Somma who dried the rivers to harden Her children and make us worthy of Her blessings. “Which God do you serve, Jalan?”
    “You know the prophesy as well as I. The Red Dragon Comes to destroy us all.   I’ve seen the signs. Only a remnant will survive.” His granite face hardened even more, harsh with determination. “My tribe carries Yama’s blood. None will survive the Last Days unless—”
    Shaking my head, I laughed. It was better than tears. “Unless you sacrifice me to Yama.”
    “According to the priests, if you die, Yama will lift the curse of Despair poisoning my people.”
     
     
    Jalan clenched his fist tighter on the scimitar but didn’t pick it up. He hadn’t planned to tell her the truth. Wells of sand, she would never help him, not now, knowing he planned to sacrifice her.
    What possessed him to bare his soul, he, the Krait dra’gwar?    
    He knew why, and the very answer fisted in his gut, shredding and tearing as if the White Dragon bit him in half. Fire pulsed in his blood. His beast rose inside him, his blood boiling with emotion. Soon, the Fire within would overwhelm him. This was the very reason he didn’t participate in battle any longer, the very reason he didn’t seriously try to wound or kill the White Dragon when he feared he wouldn’t survive until the full moon rose. He didn’t trust himself to remain human. His end had come.
    After his people were spared, then, and only then, would he surrender his iron grip on this accursed beast and blaze with all the agony and rage in his heart until he joined Chanda in the afterlife. Perhaps she would kill him every day, and toss his remains at the feet of Somma in payment for his devalki.
    Fire blazed in her proud, fierce eyes. The tilt of her head, the jut of