Book of Fire: a debut fantasy perfect for fans of The Hunger Games, Divergent and The Maze Runner. Michelle Kenney

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СКАЧАТЬ made me stronger. Drawing a breath, I stepped through to Grandpa’s room, savouring the cocooning scent of old books as I entered his snug den.

      My grandfather was one of the village’s Senior Elders and held a special, weighted vote in any decision-making. He was also caretaker to Arafel’s sizeable library, created when Thomas salvaged books among the city’s ruins. It was a role he took extremely seriously. And one I would inherit one day. The collection represented a wealth of our ancestors’ general knowledge, and since no one had been permitted to return to the city since Thomas’s time, it was also a priceless asset.

      ‘Hi, Grandpa,’ I called, forcing a cheerful tone.

      My gaze took in the proud, wan man reclining in his favourite oak chair beside the open window. His watery blue eyes leapt as they met mine, while my fragile spirits tumbled. Grandpa had been our rock since Dad had gone, and I couldn’t think about how we’d cope if he left us too.

      We’d consulted all three of Arafel’s voluntary medics. Although our small community had no traditionally trained doctors, efforts had been made to record the knowledge handed down by two original defector doctors. Radiation had eradicated many of the old water and airborne diseases, so when people in Arafel died, it was usually from injury or old age. Such was the prognosis for Grandpa, they said softly, as though it would ease the pain. It was his time.

      I walked towards his outstretched hands. Grandpa was the eldest resident of Arafel and one of the few remaining links back to the first days. He was a living reminder of how hard life had been compared with now, and as I grasped his hands I studied his shrewd face. Every year was carefully etched by time’s pencil; every line bearing witness to Arafel beliefs: natural order, respect for our place, and taking only what we needed to survive.

      ‘Close the door, Talia,’ Grandpa said softly, ‘and take a seat.’

      I stared in surprise. Grandpa rarely closed his door, and almost never called me by my full name. Suddenly the air in the room seemed heavier.

      I did as he wished, before scuttling to my knees in front of his chair.

      ‘Do you feel OK, Grandpa? Should I send for someone?’

      My chest contracted like I’d dropped into the freezing water all over again as Grandpa cupped my cheeks in his hands.

      ‘Hush now, child. I’m as fit as anyone who’s been blessed enough to take care of Arafel for eighty-seven years. We just need a little chat, you and I, about a special task I need you to fulfil when I’m gone.’

      My hackles rose instantly. ‘You’re not going anywhere, Grandpa!’ I returned a little too quickly.

      ‘Now you and I both know that’s not true … or possible.’ His eyes twinkled down at me and I buried my face in his warm, weathered hands, suddenly nine years old again.

      ‘Come, don’t let those beautiful eyes be sad for me, Talia; you must know there are others who would trade their entire lives for one day in our free world. In the end we must all know our place in nature, and time.’

      I nodded, trying to swallow, and failing miserably. ‘That’s what you said about Dad,’ I whispered hoarsely, the memory of his words easing the twist in my chest.

      ‘Did I? Well then, it must be true.’

      He smiled and let his gaze wander to the bark window frame, through which reached the last glowing arcs of evening sun. He seemed different tonight, at ease in a new way, almost as though he was freeing himself of everything that tied him to this world, and to us.

      I dug deep for a smile, trying to ignore the new invisible wall growing between us.

      ‘You’re a special girl, Tal, and what I’m about to tell you must never leave this room. You and your brother are born survivors. I don’t worry about that, but this responsibility is different. It concerns the future of everyone we love and who lives here. It concerns the future of Arafel itself.’

      I stared at Grandpa. I’d never heard him speak so seriously before.

      ‘Sit beside me, child, and when you’re ready, pass me the Book of Arafel?’

      There was no direction, and I knew he knew I’d rumbled its hiding place a long time before. I wondered briefly how much else he knew, that I’d never opened it, at least not since that one time when I was a child.

      The Book of Arafel was a precious community possession, and only key members of the Council were permitted to peruse its pages. A record of key events and Council decisions since the day Arafel was founded, it had always resided with us as direct descendants of Thomas. The book was weathered and unimpressive on the outside, but had taken on a mysterious charm ever since I’d caught a glimpse of what was concealed inside.

      It happened the same year Dad died. Grandpa received a small delegation from the Council when we were reading Classical Tales and Mythology, one of my favourite for colourful pictures of fantastic legendary beasts. Grandpa always indulged my insatiable appetite for myths of the old worlds, and together we would ransack the library for any small reference to their tales. Sometimes he even made up games to test my recollection of their names and special anatomy. It was thanks to him that I could draw and tell so many of their magical stories from memory, something the younger schoolchildren loved.

      On this particular evening, he left the Book of Arafel on his small writing table when he went to speak with the Council, and unable to stop myself, I’d lifted the cracked leather cover. The strange weighting of the paper was the first thing I noticed. And although I tried to flick through the leaves, the book fell open in the centre as though those crudely cut pages were begging to be read first. Their content mesmerized me instantly. Grandpa had returned before I’d had chance to study the pages closely, but the mystery of the unique drawings and text had always stayed with me.

      I couldn’t imagine what relevance such an old book might hold for me now, but I reached across and eased the sizeable volume from under the bed mattress anyway. He threw me a mischievous smile as I passed it to him.

      ‘There’s not much you don’t see is there, Tal? Good. I was counting on that. Now come and sit beside me the way you used to when you were knee-high to a grasshopper!’

      My eyes pricked with a rush of heat. It was one of Dad’s favourite nonsense sayings and hearing it always made me feel as though he were back in the room with us. I knelt beside Grandpa’s chair and leaned into his comforting warmth. At nineteen, Eli and I had long finished our school education, and were fully involved in village life. Like everyone else, we spent six days a week fulfilling our chosen community role. For Eli, there was no life outside animals, while I was following in my father’s footsteps by teaching in the village school. Either way, family time was a precious luxury to us both.

      ‘Look.’

      Grandpa’s voice lowered to a whisper as he ran his finger down the centre of the aged leaves and opened them about halfway. He turned the book around on his knees and indicated I should read. It had a loose spine, which rattled as it swivelled. I dropped my eyes to the faded writing, and tried to concentrate.

      ‘Research: Voynich Manuscript//Genome Investigation: 10th May 2024

      ‘Author: Thomas Hanway,’ I read, frowning heavily.

      There was a faded CLASSIFIED stamp emblazoned across the front page, and I knew immediately I was reading something of significance. СКАЧАТЬ