Page 1 of Phoenix's Fire

Prologue

Tobias

Iwas an idiot of a man.

I had to remind myself of that every day, because if I made one mistake, the repercussions would be fatal. For years now, I'd been trying to understand the difference between what I saw with my own eyes, what my mother had told me as a boy, and the things we'd been taught in the compound as children. The answer wasn't one I liked.

But the rapping of a gavel on the wooden table made my head snap up. I was an idiot of a man. A big, stupid - but useful - fool. Strong enough to be picked for any chore I desired, dumb enough to never be given responsibility over others. In other words, free to do my own thing most days.

Sadly, not today. As the Council of Elders called the monthly men's meeting to order, I dared to glance around. Every able-bodied man in the compound was required to be here. The room always started off cold and damp, smelling of moisture from the river that powered this place, but it quickly warmed with the press of so many bodies. At the front, the group of elders sat proudly, nothing but old men with too much privilege.

To the side were the two elders not serving on the council. Mr. Ross and Mr. Danburn had long since lost their wits to the ravages of time. They were still respected among the Righteous, though. They had served the people well, and now, they deserved to enjoy their retirement.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Mr. Saunders said as he looked across the room. "I would like to bring this meeting to order. First off, as it is the end of the month, we have three young women turning twenty in September. Mr. Morgan has already spoken for Bronna Chambers. Darla Harrows and Selah Dixon are both still awaiting a suitor."

That made the men around me begin to murmur. Darla Harrows was not anattractive girl, but she was quiet and gentle. Selah Dixon, on the other hand, was shapely, even if her ears were a little larger than expected. The Lord said we should not be too picky, though. All men were encouraged to consider marriage when we turned twenty-five, but the real pressure didn't start until we reached thirty. Ideally, we should have a child within two years of our wedding, and once our first wife passed, then we could worry about a woman's beauty.

The chatter in the crowd finally began to die down, which made Mr. Saunders lift his hand. "I would like to ask about the status of the hunters? We've had two unsuccessful hunts, and the storage rooms are getting low. Considering December is approaching, we need to be stockpiling our supplies."

"Sir," Mr. Baird said, pushing to his feet. "I have been sending out additional gatherers to collect the tributes of vegetables."

"Which is helping," Mr. Saunders relented, "but that is not the same as meat! We have growing boys to feed!"

"And many dead because of it," Mr. Myers countered. "Reynold, we've lost almost an entire team of hunters."

"The people still need meat!" Mr. Saunders snapped, slapping his palm down on the table. "Do not tell me our fittest young men are incapable of feeding the compound. Do we need more? Do we need to retire the incompetent? I hear the fungus farms on the lower-level need attention."

My eyes jumped across the room to where Jamison sat with his head hanging. Harvesting fungus would likely be his next duty to the compound. The damage to his shoulder appeared to be permanent, so the man might never be able to lift a gun again - or a rod.

It had been a little more than a week since we'd returned from the last excursion. My crew had been considered successful. I'd carried back many of the heavy bags left on the hillside myself. The hunters, on the other hand, couldn't say the same.

The men were still whispering about the Phoenix. Once, the Wyvern had been the monster they feared in the forest. Now it was a little slip of a girl. One who had once been ours. One who'd figured out how to free herself, and from the name she'd chosen, I had a feeling she was doing just fine above ground.

"We need to start training the boys younger," Mr. Morgan said, making everyone look over in surprise.

"Excuse me?" Mr. White asked. "Which boys?"

"The ones still in sermon," Mr. Morgan explained. "Mr. Cassidy, I'm sure the older boys know their subjects well enough?"

"They do," Mr. Cassidy replied from his seat in the front row.

That made a few of the elders nod approvingly. Mr. Morgan just kept going. "So why don't we start including a training session for them with the hunters? Get them prepared and ready for when they turn twenty and are no longer in lessons?"

"Or..." Mr. Saunders said. "Maybe we should start sending them to hunt?"

"We're not that low on numbers," Mr. Peterson said, standing so he could bespotted. "Sirs, while we have taken heavy losses recently, our hunters can adapt. We've done this before, when the Dragons began fighting back."

Mr. Saunders made a warning noise at the leader of the hunters. Mr. Peterson had just come a little too close to the truth, and that was not to be done inside the compound. The Dragons attacked us. We did not attack them. We merely defended ourselves while trying to gather food for the compound, because the Earth was a dangerous place. Nothing more, nothing less. It would not do to cause concern among the Righteous, after all.

But I listened. I kept my head down and silently noted the numbers the elders discussed. Nearly fifty dead in the last two months. Too many widows. Not enough boys in the children's wing. I had to fight the urge to scoff, because fewer children meant fewer mouths to feed, but that wasn't the real concern. Our elders wanted to make suretheircomforts never waned. The rest of us were merely here to ensure that.

Back and forth, the elders bickered about how to solve our problem. Numbers. That was the answer they finally settled on just before they opened the floor to any men with a concern. I sat a little straighter, feeling my guts twisting with nerves.

Before I could lift my hand to be recognized, a man stepped forward, taking his place at the end of the row, directly before the Council of Elders. He was thin, tense, and just starting to grey. I wasn't familiar with him, at least not from this angle.

"I would like to ask the Council of Elders for permission to transfer from the fungus farm to gathering. I am not so old, sirs, as to be unable to carry the bags."

"Why?" Mr. White asked, dragging out the word. "Tell me, Mr. Galloway, what do you think this will do for you?"

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