Book of Fire. Michelle Kenney

      ‘The … Origin of Species?’ I tried, racking my brain for any memory of the Darwinian text I’d read years ago.

      He let out a short bark of laughter.

      ‘Yes, but a secret that may make the Origin of Species look like your school abacus! I don’t have the answers, Talia, but I have equipped you so that one day you might understand this better than your old grandpa.’

      Equipped me? I studied the complex text intently, willing its enigma to somehow rise from the pages and reveal itself.

      ‘Can Eli know?’ I asked.

      ‘No.’ His tone was sharp and non-negotiable.

      ‘The Book of Arafel is the responsibility of one of our line only. You must only share it when it is your time.’

      I scowled, conjuring up all the permutations where that neat arrangement could break down, as a piercing alarm filled the air.

      Grandpa glanced towards his window, his bushy eyebrows forked into unusual concern.

      ‘The perimeter alarm!’ I frowned, jumping to my feet. ‘I’ll get the others, Grandpa.’

      My chest tightened as I sprinted out through the living space, and scrambled down the ladder to join mum and Eli at the bottom of the tree. Jas had retreated to the topmost branches, and was mewing like a kitten.

      Eli shot her an anxious look but there was no time for animal therapy now. The drill was mandatory. If the alarm sounded, every member of the village had to report to the Council Ring.

      The Ring was a large, deep cave, accessible only via a narrow tunnel behind the village storehouse. It contained a natural circlet of boulders, which gave a spherical appearance to the space, and had provided Thomas and his small following with shelter in the early days. Now it was used only in an official capacity for events, meetings, and shelter if the weather was unusually bad. The Council said the natural shape of the Ring reminded us of Thomas’s harmonious principles: shared community living, open trade, and dispute resolution by dialogue. But tonight the Ring was protection.

      Every direction I looked villagers were hurrying out of the dusky foliage, their faces pale and strained, barely concealing their anxiety. The young and fit helped the elderly and infirm. Between the trees to our left, a golden-haired toddler stumbled while his mother struggled with a crying newborn. Mum hurried over to the terrified child.

      ‘Come on, Daniel,’ she whispered, taking his hand. ‘Let’s see how many rabbits we can count along the way.’

      His mother smiled gratefully as she fell in next to us, and I recognized her as Nina from the other side of the village. Her husband had accidentally disturbed a hibernating bear in the outside forest a couple of years ago. He’d never walked, or spoken, again.

      ‘Grandpa?’ I asked Mum with raised eyebrows. I already knew her answer.

      Grandpa was weak, but had become increasingly stubborn when it came to village summons. He said his presence was a distraction for the new leadership, and not being answerable was a precious perk of his advanced age. He wasn’t relinquishing it to anyone.

      ‘Maybe later.’

      She spoke briefly and her strained expression said it all.

      We arrived at the Ring within minutes, and joined the steady line of villagers filing silently down the tunnel into the lantern-lit circle of stones. The cavern was only about ten metres deep into the mountain, but its cold, dank atmosphere made it feel a million miles away from our treehouse. There were about six hundred of us, and we filled the empty space with ease.

      Four sentries were positioned at the exit, and I felt a small surge of comfort even though they would be no match for an aircraft Eagle, should one ever penetrate the mountain range. I watched as Max and two of his tall friends lit extra lanterns, and I pressed myself into Mum’s warmth.

      A hush fell across the arena as a small, elderly man stepped up onto the flat boulder used only for public addresses.

      Art was our elected Village Leader, and had accepted the reins from Grandpa three years before. The Council held annual open elections, but Grandpa had been re-elected as Leader for nearly forty consecutive years before ill health forced him to stand down.

      Tonight, Art smiled calmly around at the anxious crowd as two Elder members of the Village Council joined him on the flat stone. Then he turned a dial on a small black box, and the perimeter alarm disappeared.

      ‘My friends.’ He spoke with a quiet air of authority. ‘Thank you for your calm and rapid response to our intrusion alert. Our detectors suggest that at least one Sweeper, perhaps two, have infiltrated our designated perimeter. We have also detected large unidentified animal life in the area.

      ‘In accordance with Arafel’s Emergency Plan, we will deploy a small fact-finding task force immediately. Please will those nominated assemble on the west side, and move down to the side chamber where there will be a quick briefing.’

      I threw a swift glance around the crowd as various villagers hugged their loved ones before making their way over towards a small cavernous antechamber. I clenched my fingers knowing they were all thinking the same thing. That they might not return. Then Max dismounted casually from a boulder to near the exit and I felt an odd coldness creep into my stomach. He threw a brief wink in my direction as he passed.

      ‘Eli Hanway is also requested to join the task force.’

      It was impossible to miss the mandatory edge to Art’s voice, and I caught my breath. It was completely understandable of course. Eli was easily the best person to manage any unidentified animal life, but he was also vulnerable – and my brother. I scowled at Mum. Her gaze was fixed on Art, though she squeezed my hand until the whites of her knuckles gleamed in the cavern’s flickering light.

      ‘The initial task force will be deployed in fifteen minutes; all community members are requested to remain here until we have gathered more information.’

      As Eli joined the others inside the antechamber, Art inclined his head to signify the short meeting was at an end.

      ‘Grandpa?’ I whispered.

      Mum shook her head, although I already knew he wouldn’t consider coming to the Ring for the duration of the task force operation. Just as my brain started processing numerous persuasive strategies, none of which were likely to have success, a familiar voice echoed across the cavern.

      ‘Apologies for the interruption, Art, but I believe you might – despite your undoubted wisdom – have overlooked something.’

      His authority was unmistakable, even at his age.

      ‘Grandpa?’ I asked incredulously, craning my neck as the crowd parted to let a stooped figure shuffle slowly into the centre of the Ring.

      ‘George!’ Art’s voice was full of equal care and surprise. ‘What concerns do you have, my oldest friend?’

      There was a hush as Grandpa pulled an old oblong item, wrapped in Mum’s shawl, from under his arm. He unwrapped it with shaking hands, and held it up above his head for everyone to see. A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd and I shivered. It was the Book of Arafel. Grandpa rarely took it out at home, let alone in public. It was just too precious.

      With slow ponderous actions, Grandpa opened the dusty tome, cleared his throat and began to read aloud: ‘In accordance with Article 8562 Procedures in an Emergency, all task forces should include an original member of the Council of Arafel in preference, or his/her replacement.’

      ‘Old friend, this requirement has not been overlooked,’ Art interjected gently. ‘I intend to accompany the task force.’

      Grandpa’s shrewd gaze was unwavering. ‘The Article states all task units should comprise Arafel’s core pillars: strength, skill, speed, and experience. It’s no secret I learned how to negotiate with Insiders from my grandfather, as he learned from Thomas himself,’ he continued