Clouds of Fire

Chapter 1

Emily

My hand ached from it's anxious grip around the pencil. With less than five minutes to go I tucked a stray wisp of hair behind one ear, nervously scanning through my essay with careful scrutiny. By the time the final bell chimed I would be finished for the year. Free for two months. As the expectant shriek from the tarnished brass instrument sounded; I was sure of myself. I believed that I had done enough to suffice, enough to guarantee my return the following year. The education centre was ancient, with flaked yellow emulsion hiding scrapes and tears in the plaster from hundreds of years of enclosure. There was a faint aroma of extinguished fires and a musty damp that had lingered for as long as I could remember. Although it sometimes stuck in my throat and made me long for a gasp of fresh air, I savoured it because it was familiar and it felt as if the building belonged to me.

Of course, in some far off and slightly twisted way it did. Nothing escaped my mother and her admirable, unquenchable power over the land of Amoria. Susanna, or 'The Angel', was omnipresent in the beliefs and dreams of every soul in the city; a desirable influence on their daily lives. The only person whose life truly depended on her existence was my own. The high and mighty Angel, sitting sipping hibiscus tea at the kitchen table every morning, nose deep in the daily newspaper she created. Honourable and adored as she was, I could see past the superficial façade to the mother figure beneath, who nursed me through sickness and picked me up when I fell.

The muted patter of feet signified the presence of my closest ally, Alice. The sweet, innocent girl who had never strayed far from my side since the first day of school still smiled at my cynical expression tirelessly. I looked up at her, one hand on my paper as I rose from my seat, clutching the fate of the year to come between my fingertips.

"How do think you did?" Alice asked with an imperturbable eagerness, adjusting her lopsided pigtail with one hand.

"I'm fairly confident," I shook the serious emotion from my face that always creeped in when I was deep in thought and embellished my chapped lips with a grin instead. Alice took my arm in hers as we left the classroom, no doubt planning to steer me towards the path that lead to the rock pools - our favourite place.

The stones glistened a tantalising emerald green, reflecting my dishevelled hair, which I neglected to care about. I shed my fur jacket in the warm evening sun, avoiding the shimmer of a cloud inked on my shoulder. This was my secret; when I was around my mother I hid the curious image. I didn't know what it was or how it came to be, but something deep down inside me prevented me from sharing it with her. Alice and I often spent hours just watching the ignorant ripple of the pools, the magnificent beauty of the water that held no secrets or boundaries. I liked it up here.

The walk home was pleasant. I watched as Alice turned down the forked road that lead to her house, skipping and humming to herself. Shaking my head and smiling to myself, I continued my short journey home. The wind whistled faintly, rustling the auburn leaves as I entered the woods. Feet crunching and bracken tangling my ankles, I looked all around me at the patches of sunlight sprinkled on the forest floor. As the shadows deepened and the trees became more dense, the path was more visible, flattened by the persistent flow of hurried footsteps. Looming from the distance was a twisted iron archway, interwoven with dainty wild flowers: poppies and daisies, asters and sprigs of lavender. The grand house that I lived in was a little further along with the familiar window boxes stuffed with roses which exuded a saccharine scent. The gardens were filled with flowers of all kinds, for even The Angel had hobbies and interests beyond the crowd of avid followers which she led.

On my return I placed my satchel on the kitchen counter, rifling through it to find my journal. I collapsed on the cushions of my bed, withdrew a stick of charcoal and began to mark the page, documenting my thoughts of the day. I had always felt that my dreams were best kept to myself; it was a natural instinct that I couldn't place, like so many other things. The gap in my conscience constantly troubled me so I decided to keep a record, ever since six years ago when the memories started to fade.

I needed a way to remember who I really was.

The next morning when I came downstairs, there was a crumpled note pinned to the table by a drained mug of tea. Curiously freeing the paper I read the scrawled writing, rolling my eyes as I reached the bottom.

Morning dear,

I had to leave on urgent business this morning.

Your supper is in the cupboard and I left three coins with which you can purchase anything else you require. I shall be back tomorrow hopefully.

Don't worry about me I'll be back soon!

Love Mother

I sighed as I dropped the parchment in the bin. Susanna was not usually the compassionate kind, only when it could be displayed as solid evidence. She could never bare to blemish her glittering reputation. Finding myself with nothing to do, I busied myself with collecting fresh tulips from the garden to display on the mantelpiece, taking my time arranging the blooms in an orderly fashion. I paced the dwelling, wringing my hands and whispering an ancient poem to myself in boredom. After a while I laughed at my dismal productivity, and decided to leave the house in search of an activity more fulfilling than walking around my own house.

As I reached the forest the air was humid and the ground was dry and crisp. Listening to the sorrowful chirp of a starling, I started towards the town centre, hoping to find Alice on her daily errands. You see, most habitants of Amoria weren't as fortunate as me. Most houses were cramped and unkempt, as only status could grant you a lavish home. Some days I was grateful but predominantly I yearned to be the same as everyone else. I have always wanted to be known as just 'Emily', not 'Emily the Angel's daughter'. The marketplace was buzzing with life and cheer. Stalls overflowed with various wares: fruit and vegetables, wooden sculptures and ornate jewellery. I approached the fruit stand, reaching into my cloak pocket for one of the three gold coins, eyes on the juicy apples that overflowed from the baskets. As I held out my money, a wave of embarrassment shuddered through me. The expression on the merchant's face was a further crippling reminder of my displacement from the mainstream citizens. It was rare to see a lustrous gold coin, you were lucky to receive a silver variant in this town. However my mother's stature was paramount once more and I was pushed further away from the bustling village I so desperately wanted to call my home.