Every part of Amber’s brown body burned in the light of the fire, but still she danced. The heat wasn’t that got her, but the pressure. As the new coordinator, she did her part and led the others’ swaying and sashaying to the beat of the drums. The Messiah wanted nothing more than for a successful ceremony, and she would deliver.
She nervously glanced at her students’ performance. Her dancers mirrored her every move around the great flame. For their first ceremony they weren't too shabby. She wasn’t ready to pat herself for a job well done, for Magla; moving like a hut on foul legs almost crashed into the dancer on her left.
Amber shook her head and kept to her routine. In rhythm with the orchestra’s drums, she twirled her thin shawl. The routine was ingrained in her body. The finger cymbals tied to her skirt applauded with her lithe movements. She hoped for the Messiah to do the same. The stringed instruments picked up for the next measure. She bit her lip hoping her dancers could pull this off.
Amber spun around by the pyre, letting go of one end of her scarf. The flame licked at the fabric igniting it. She whirled the burning fabric in the air and stepped to the music of the flutes. Amber seared shapes in the space around herself, not letting the fire nip her students or the audience.
When she glanced about her troupe they all were with scarves alit. Relieved, Amber tossed the flaming fabric into the night air. Lifted on the heat of the pyre, the scarf burned into nothing. Amber spun to see her dancers; embarrassment flared up seeing Magla try discretely to stamp out her burning shawl.
Her eyes darted to the Messiah, he acknowledged her, but the audience clapped, oblivious to the mistake. Amber exhaled breath she unknowingly was holding. She saw one of her former students in the crowd; her sloppy dancing kept her from participating tonight. Her burn wounds weren’t quite healed, either. Without the scarf, Amber felt the warm pulse of the fire behind her. It became her heartbeat, pounding in anticipation for her musical cue. Amber counted in four-four time.
Amber led them with her chin up. She twirled on a single foot, braking with the other to face the flame. Amber heard the Messiah tapping his knife against the stone. The troupe carried on furiously executing the choreography. Amber called out the maneuvers for good measure. When she yelled “Jump,” she leapt to the left, sticking the landing and immediately twirled her body.
Amber paused and clapped. The music died down, and she heard the fire crackle over hushed gasps. She felt the cool strangle of dread upon her. Without seeing them, she knew misfortune was upon them. Amber whipped around; Magla. Her student landed poorly and sprained her ankle. She huddled and nursed her foot.
The Messiah clicked his knife on the stone. It was like a countdown. Amber hastily moved to Magla’s position and hefted her above her ankle. She shouted to the band and her troupe to keep going. The Messiah smiled, resuming the music.
“Drums!” He shouted, and the pounding rumbled louder, steadily the dancers found their place and started their motions. “Flutes!” He yelled, and the woodwinds merrily sang. He nodded to the violinist for her to start up again.
Amber held Magla like she would a dance partner, and took her halfway around the pyre in a heated waltz. Her student hopped trying to keep up. The cymbals on both of their skirts cheered for them. In time with a dead beat the other dancers all clapped.
That was it. She supported Magla and together they all bowed. Amber grinned anticipating the applause for their elegant skills. The audience remained quiet. She huffed while some of the dancers and staff came to aid Magla. Amber glanced at the preparations being made on the stone. She knew what to expect, now. Amber wiped her eyes.
The Messiah tapped her on the shoulder. He still held the knife. The Messiah led her into a bow. He nodded approvingly to Amber as the audience applauded, “Omozaic be praised!” Cheers began raining down upon the troupe. It was a torrent of praise, Amber soaked up. She added to the deluge of applause, as well.
The Messiah happily moved into the rhythm of the still playing orchestra. He swayed with the dancers around the fire. Seeing his and her dancer’s smiles, Amber breathed a cool breath. The ceremony would come to a close soon. With a weight lifted, she basked in the warm moonless night as tonight’s captive was brought to the stone. It wouldn’t be her and Amber coveted this relief. She recognized this woman being held down, as the former coordinator. Amber moved to watch the ceremony close, clapping along the crowd.