by J. E. Klimov
A holler echoed in the night sky, snapping Bence from his hurricane of worries. In a summit between two peaks, a handful of men and woman circled around a large mass. A mass with scales that glistened under the light of torches.
“Avani?” Bence whispered to himself.
She didn’t move. A lean man, whose hood fell back and revealed a face painted green, leapt on top and brandished his axe. He dug his foot into the body, puffing his chest. Intricate straps of his sandals crisscrossed over the bridge of his foot up to his knees. Bence crouched and crept closer, ignoring the returning pain pulsing across his body. When he was a couple hundred feet away, he hid behind a tree trunk. Peering around the corner, his skin crawled at Avani howling. The green-painted man, now clutching a small dagger, sawed into her flesh. He pried out one of her silver rings and waved it around, flashing a toothy smile. His followers cheered.
Silver blood leaked from her snout and soaked the hunter’s feet. They hooted and hollered, splashing their sandals in her blood. They twirled in their plum-colored flax outfits resembling robes, but were tucked in place with golden rings.
“Someone! Harvest the blood before it completely drains. Ki will pay a lavish price for this.”
Avani’s groan was silenced by a sickle to the throat. Bence’s hand flew to his mouth, catching the bile that shot up from his stomach. His shock was two-fold: of the gruesome act and the fact that he, who took the lives of many, was bothered by this. The hunters swarmed her body like ants─some plucking off scales, while others fought for the remaining piercings.
Scanning the area, Bence searched for Tulelo. His gaze traced the peaks. The moons illuminated the baby Dunya at the crest, peering down at the massacre. His tail twitched erratically.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bence said.
Rocks crumbled from the precipice and rained on the hunters.
“What’s that? Is it another one?” They pointed at Tulelo.
After realizing his exposure, the baby Dunya leap from his spot. His hind legs slammed into the ground, sending shock waves around him.
“Momma!” he roared.
As the hunters circled around Tulelo, the Dunya extended his claws and bared his fangs.
“This one’s a baby!” shouted one.
“It would be a shame to cut it down now. Look, he only has one silver stud on his nose,” cried another.
Bence reached for his bow. He tossed around the idea of saving Tulelo. It was no skin off his nose, but the creature just witnessed the slaughtering of his mother. He had to decide. Soft voices tethered him in place. First, it was Isabel’s, then Pasha’s, and finally Ami’s. While he couldn’t make out any words, their tone smoothed the jagged edges of his nerves. This was his chance to do something right.
The leader played with the tip of his dagger. “I think he would make a great pet for Maciji until he grows up. Then we can harvest his scales.”
A cheer erupted from the band of men and women as they closed in on Tulelo. The Dunya backed up against the mountainside, swiping at them. When one came close, he lashed his tail onto the ground, creating an explosion of dirt. When another hunter raised his arm to throw his dagger, the leader shoved him aside.
“Fool. You know their hide is tough. You got the get their soft spots.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he cart wheeled toward Tulelo, ducked his tail, and leapt onto him. The warrior hooked his arm around Tulelo’s neck and forced it up, exposing flesh without scales.
Bence released an arrow. It zipped through the air and struck the leader in the shoulder, knocking him off Tulelo.
“My aim is getting rusty,” Bence said. He cursed under his breath as he strung another arrow. “I won’t miss you this time.” He followed the man’s erratic movements and as soon as he fell onto his knees, Bence shot his second arrow.
The leader crumpled onto the ground when it connected to his neck. Heads whipped around for the culprit. As shrieks erupted, Bence crouched lower so the stump hid his entire body.
“It came from over there! Hurry, you, guard the Dunya. The rest, follow me.”
Pressure mounted like a boiling kettle as Bence calculated his next move. Footsteps pounded louder, in tandem with his heart beat. Adrenaline surged throughout his body, and his fingers twitched, thirsty for action. His inner beast wanted to be released. Without another thought, he rolled onto his feet and shot arrows in succession. His first arrow missed, but the second caught one hunter in the thigh.
They were closing in on him. One hundred feet reduced to fifty, and Bence was running out of arrows. He swung the bow over his shoulder and drew his dagger. The first man to reach him swung his sickle. Bence narrowly avoided the blade as he stepped backwards. Flecks of silver Dunyan blood smattered across his face. He ducked and snatched his opponent’s wrist and twisted. The sickle fell with a clang as Bence pulled the hunter close and rammed his elbow into his face.
Before he could strike with his dagger, another opponent tackled Bence. They grappled with one another; he pushed, and she shoved back. The hunter landed a blow against Bence’s jaw. The wind blew the offender’s hood off, revealing a blonde woman with bloodshot eyes.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done!” she said, followed by a high-pitched cackle.
The pressure within exploded. “I’m sick of hearing this!”
Tucking his knees in, Bence launched his legs against her abdomen. When she lost her grip, he dove and jammed his blade into her foot. He turned and dug into the other man’s foot. Bence turned his attention to the three men charging his way. At first, he didn’t detect any weapons, but an object whizzed past him, clipping his ear.
Each man had throwing daggers, and they all aimed at Bence. Scooping the sickle from the ground, Bence flung it toward one hunter. The curved blade bounced off his chest. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Another dagger flew at Bence and grazed his arm.
When the foremost man was upon him, Bence ducked, and used his momentum to send his assailant flying. Bence turned to the other two who flung daggers simultaneously. Bence side-stepped one, but the other dug into his calf. Knees buckling, he bit his lip as a metallic taste filled his mouth. Lifting his head, he saw two pairs of feet sprinting faster toward him. After he ripped the blade from his leg, Bence flung it back at them, and it connected to one’s groin.
A devilish grin formed on Bence’s lips. The last man wound his arm, aiming with his last dagger. Bence tackled him, knocking the man’s blade from his grasp.
“What are you going to do now?” Bence scoffed. He landed one punch after another. Blood poured from the man’s nose. Both his eyes were swollen shut. Bence reached for his own dagger and traced it across the man’s face.
“What are you doing running around with baby daggers?”
The man spat at Bence. “Throwing knives, bastard.”
Wiping his cheek with the back of his hand, Bence applied more pressure with his dagger. Blood leaked from the tip. “Throwing knives? Well, consider mine a much bigger… knife.”
Before Bence slid his blade toward the man’s neck, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Ami’s voice. He shook his head violently. No. No. Stop telling me what to do. This man needs to die. He tried to kill me.
The man laughed. “You too cowardly to finish the job?”
Bence sheathed his dagger and slapped his face. “I wouldn’t waste my time on you. Insignificant rodent.” Each man and woman writhed on the ground, alive but incapacitated. All but the leader. “In fact, none of you deserve the mercy of death.”
Adjusting his cloak, Bence hobbled toward Tulelo. One lone hunter stood, spear in hand. The tip of the spear shook as the man trembled.
“Your friends over there are going to have to find their way home on their own. I demand you take me to this… Maciji of yours. I assume he is your leader?” He rubbed his jaw. His skin was tender to the touch. Bence was sure it started to swell.
Nodding, he said, “She.”
“She? Whatever, I d
on’t care. Bring me to her. I want her to answer for this cruelty.”
Bence ignored the pain splintering into every inch of his body, refusing to show any signs of weakness. Turning to Tulelo, he said, “You come with me. We’ll seek justice for your mother.”
The Dunya nodded and whacked the spear from the hunter’s quivering hand with his tail. “But you’re the man momma warned against. Why did you rescue me?” His gold brows curled up as he leaned toward Bence. His nostrils flared as he sniffed him.
Bence’s cloak clung to Tulelo’s snout each time he inhaled. Taking a few steps backward, Bence crossed his arms. “You should be careful of me. But I also don’t tolerate brutal slaughtering of the young and innocent.”
Images of charred Dunyan bodies flashed before Bence’s eyes and tied an invisible knot around his tongue. “Well, not anymore.”
The environment swam around Bence. Holding a hand to his head, he felt as if blood drained from it. Bence stumbled and tripped over a rock. Before he landed, Tulelo caught him with his tail.
“You’re losing blood,” Tulelo said.
“My belt. A pouch.” Bence slurred his words. His eyelids never felt so heavy.
Tulelo became a fuzzy formation that snapped in the direction of the lone hunter. After some muffled conversation, Bence felt a tug at his hip. There was a rustle, then pop.
A tingling sensation numbed his calf. Bence smiled weakly. They found the Kacterous jelly.
“Hang on tight.” Tulelo’s voice wavered in and out of Bence’s ears.
A force tugged the nape of his cloak, lifting him up and onto a smooth surface. Scales. Bence barely made out his warped reflection in the moonlight.
“Wrap your hands around my neck and hold on.”
Bence held tightly as Tulelo got onto all fours. Relinquishing all control, Bence laid his head on his back. Tulelo snapped his jaws.
“Come on then. Just because my friend here is injured doesn’t mean you can get away with this. You’re alone now, and I can crush your bones with my fangs. Let’s get going.”
The rocking brought a sense of calm, so Bence closed his eyes. The tingling disappeared and a cool jelly coated his calf. He wanted to keep a lookout for Tulelo and make sure none of the other hunters followed them, but his mind drifted into darkness. I did the right thing. I finally did something right.
* * *
Sunlight pierced through his eyelids. Bence groaned as he blinked and turned the other way. The once soothing rocking motion of riding Tulelo now soured his stomach. The air was thick with humidity, and his skin was slick with sweat.
Bence slipped off Tulelo, only to be caught by his tail. “I need you to stop for a minute.”
“As you wish,” the Dunya said, yawning.
Falling off Tulelo, Bence double over and vomited. He retched and hiccupped continuously.
“Are you alright, friend?” Tulelo poked his snout into Bence’s face.
Pushing him away, he said, “I’m not your friend.” Bence cringed at the throbbing within his skull. It was as if someone clobbered him with a club. He felt hollow, like everything was scraped out of his body.
“Then what do I call you? Dead man walking?”
“Very funny. I’m─” He paused to steady himself. “Call me Bence. That’s all you need to know.”
“And that’s all I wanted to know. Listen, we’re at the Irellian border. This would be a good time to get you on your feet.” He nipped Bence’s cloak and pulled him up. “And take that off. It looks awfully hot.”
“You don’t say.”
Tulelo blinked at him.
When Bence realized he didn’t understand the concept of sarcasm, he said, “Forget it.” He pulled his cloak off and tossed it onto Tulelo’s back.
“Hey. I carried you because you were injured, but I am not your personal item holder.”
Bence swatted at him playfully. “Shut up. You know, you seem a lot more mature than a baby.”
Puffing in pride so his scales stretched out, Tulelo said, “Mama said a year in a Dunya’s life is like ten years to a human.”
“Speaking of humans, where’s our detainee?”
“He left to get some help,” he replied.
“He… what?” Bence jumped as if struck by lightning. “Are you stupid? He’s going to come back with a band of warriors to slaughter us.”
“He offered. He seemed very genuine about it, I mean, we did spare his life.” Tulelo scratched the back of his head with his hind leg. He jutted out his lower jaw, making his lower fangs more prominent.
Rotten breath poured over Bence. Gagging, he leaned against Tulelo, pounding his fist against his scales weakly. “We’re screwed. I have nothing left in me to save your hide again.”
Tulelo turned his head and stared with doleful eyes. “I’m sorry.” He moaned. “Maybe I should have died with my momma.”
“That’s not what I meant. Never mind.” He rubbed his eyes, wishing the headache away. From the corner of his eyes, Bence spotted a score of figures marching his way. “Here we go.”
Barely balancing on his two feet, Bence reached into his quiver. No arrows. He drew his dagger and pointed it as the mob of people approaching. Heat waves blurred their bodies into a sea of purple. It reminded Bence of his mother, casting her spells with her amethyst. Her magic was the cornerstone of so much destruction. His memories sparked a flame of anger in his chest.
Is this a hallucination? Has my mother’s power returned to haunt me?
Bence panicked. Swinging his arm arbitrarily, he shouted, “Begone! Leave us, or I’ll take every single one of you down!”
All he heard was laugher. The purple haze expanded. Bence charged forward, slamming into bodies. Collapsing onto the ground, he fought the hands that grabbed onto him; however, everything faded into nothingness.
CHAPTER
19
Sitting on her horse, Isabel waited for the iron gates of Ogonia to open. After the slaying of the Fotian family, panic spread across her country like an infection. Gossip of the return of the Aeonians inflamed the situation, leaving Isabel no choice but to find a way to quell their fears. Ironically, the Healers were eager to help.
A few weeks had passed without incident, and many people had associated this due to the presence of the Healers. They’d grown popular, at least that’s what Raiden had told her.
One guarded Ogonia, Two guarded Buryan, Three guarded Zeyland, and Four guarded Pekas. Meanwhile, Raiden had stayed by Isabel’s side while Dante remained imprisoned. Day after day, he met with Dante, but nothing could remove the feral look in his eyes. Each passing day filled Isabel with agony to the point where she wished for physical pain instead. Today, she demanded Raiden stay behind and spend more time with Dante.
With an ear-piercing screech, the gates parted, exposing rust-colored dirt and steel-framed buildings that stretched skyward. A woman draped in white stood at the entrance. Isabel squared her shoulders.
“Good morning, One. Where’s Hakan?” Isabel asked.
She brushed a stray white hair from her face. “He wasn’t up for the long walk. I’ll escort you to him.”
“Okay.” She shot an uneasy look at her horse. It whinnied and backed away. Like the horse, the Healers still hadn’t earned Isabel’s full trust yet.
“Wonderful,” One said in a breathy voice. She guided Isabel’s horse down the slope. Gold bangles adorned both wrists, and large gold stud earrings tugged at her earlobes.
“You look nice,” Isabel said, adding a thick layer of sarcasm.
Breaking into a fit of giggles, she pointed to a gold chain necklace. “Like it? Courtesy of the Golden Falls. I never wore anything so extravagant.”
“Yes. Nothing like it, I guess.” Isabel’s voice drowned out by the waterfall.
As the ground leveled, the pair walked through the main plaza where the Golden Falls emptied into a massive basin, and steel towers served as the backdrop. A few Foti scurried by. All of them carried a sword at their hips
. Their eyes flickered around. Any time Isabel made eye contact with one, he or she would stare.
“One?”
“Yes?”
“The plaza usually is packed. Why is it so… deserted?”
One laughed. Isabel clenched her jaw so tightly, she wouldn’t be surprised if her teeth cracked.
“Everyone is still spooked from that gruesome murder.”
Isabel jammed her hands on her hips. “I guess that makes sense.”
They continued down the main avenue. An occasional cart rattled by. A Fotian blacksmith hammered away to Isabel’s left. His tail twitched with each swing of his arm. He sniffed his masterpiece, a double-edged sword, purred with satisfaction, and tossed it into a pile of other weaponry. Isabel bit her cheek. There had to be at least twenty or thirty in there already.
“Here we are.”
Isabel’s head snapped forward and spotted a wide building. She shielded her eyes as the sun gleamed harshly off the metallic roof. After securing her horse, she followed One inside.
The first thing Isabel noticed was that Hakan’s once decorated walls were bare. Faded outlines of axes, swords, and spears dotted the paneling.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hakan spoke flatly. He sat on his throne made of steel.
Isabel knit her brows together. “I’m just stopping by and checking in. Remember, I sent word a week ago?”
Hakan yawned, exposing jagged fangs. “I suppose so. It must’ve slipped my mind.”
Isabel glowered at One. “Can I have a private moment?”
“Of course.” She bowed her way out.
As soon as the door slid closed, Isabel lowered her voice. “Hakan, what’s wrong? You, along with the other tribes, have been sending me incident-free reports, but your people look like they are walking on eggshells. Your blacksmith is producing more weaponry than I’ve seen inventoried at the trading posts. And where the hell are all your decorations? You always told me they were your most prized weapons you’ve ever crafted!”
When Hakan tugged his braided mane over his shoulder, Isabel’s gasped at how tangled it was. Rubies were missing, and his black sash was soiled. She’d never seen Hakan disheveled, even on his worst days. Whipping her head between Hakan and the door, she whispered, “Is it One? What did she do to you?”
