“Perhaps I should try running as fast as I can, to try and collect water droplets in the air.” I flailed my arms around in a pathetic hash of movement while I shuffled myself forward. After a few minutes, I realized with weary giddiness that a horde of thin droplets had materialized on my limbs. I slurped them down, and recoiled at their salty flavour. “Not water,” I concluded, before walking off again.
“Perhaps I should try drinking the strange yellow vial in my pocket,” I suggested while snickering a little.” I paused to consider the prospect. In many ways it was the most ridiculous of my options, yet it was the only one that carried tangible possibility. Right there, just resting by my thigh was an opportunity for me to be free of hunger and thirst and possibly even survive. Would I deny my body this? I tried to rationalise further. Professor Wenchenberg could have given this to me. He would want me to survive, even if I couldn’t see any logical reason for it. The Grimlars on the other hand would love giving the trainees a vial of poison. They’d probably laugh themselves to tears at the thought of a stupid little Ickle-bit accidentally killing himself.
“Keep your pockets clean.” Profesor Wenchenberg’s voice repeated in my head. Did he mean for me to get rid of what was in my pockets, or to keep what it was inside? It seemed certain that he knew about this beforehand, but whether or not he made his intentions clear was something else entirely.
I removed the vial from my pocket and held it up to the light. “It almost looks like molten gold,” I mumbled to myself after a while. I licked my wilted lips and laughed weakly. “Yeah, it really does in this light doesn’t it? Pure gold.” I had just said this when a memory in my head suddenly fluttered. I remembered that just three nights ago I was reading about gold. I pressed my sandy palm into my sticky forehead as I thought about this for another moment. “There was something about gold and dragons,” I said, now pacing back and forth. “It said that gold was the reason dragons lived so long. Wasn’t gold supposed to be the life essence of a dragon?” I cocked my head to one side and felt my mouth fall agape as a new thought crossed my mind
“This may be a dragon soul,” I said, surprising even myself. It took me a moment to fully realize what I said and when I did, a horde of questions swarmed me. “Where would the professor get a dragon soul? Why of all people would he give it to me? What are the odds of survival if I were to drink it?” To become one of the Quenched would be to risk everything, but did I have anything to lose? Was there any other way to survive?” I clenched at my chest, feeling terribly sick at the thought of making a decision this big. There I was, slowly dying from the elements and letting myself believe that there was no way to fix it. The vial made its presence known as I continued to walk forward, bumping against my leg with every step I took.
“I’m going to die,” I admitted coldly. “Today or tomorrow or even years from now; I’m going to die.” I wiped my salt stained face with my arm and sniffed a bit. “It doesn’t even matter what I do now. The outcome is all the same isn’t it?” I asked as if expecting an answer. I gritted my teeth and shook my head but just kept talking. “Why am I running from this great big thing that’s always going to catch up with me? What’s the point in running if its only going to tire me out?” I looked at my hands and was surprised to see that they weren't shaking. I realized that I wasn’t scared; just incredibly tired.
I clutched the side of my pant leg and began to breathe very deeply. “Maybe I’ll just keep running for a while longer,” I said, chuckling to myself quietly. “Keep running even though I know how the race is going to end.” I looked around and sighed. It could have all stopped then and there but for some odd reason I could see a bright future somewhere off in the distance. I figured if I was going to die, then I would die knowing what was in the bottle.
A small pop floated through the air as the stopper was quietly torn from the vial. A fantastic wash of aroma flooded over me as the liquid was exposed to the air. It smelled like like flowers, smoky wood fires and leather all in one. My innards painfully demanded more and pounded desperately on my sides as I brought the vial closer to my nose. I lifted it further and watched in unperturbed silence as my resistance crumbled away.
While gradually adjusting the angle of the trembling container, I was surprised by how quickly the liquid flowed from the glass. Without a second thought, I brought my lips to the edge, and drank. I gagged and fell to the ground, crippled by the liquid’s unexpected sourness. A soundless cough flew out of my windpipe, firing a fleet of minuscule pins into my throat. I brought myself back up to my feet and continued to lumber forward, but I could tell that something was wrong. It was as if I was seeing the world through shattered glass. Even despite this I continued to stumble on while unable to see for what felt like hours. I had to go on.
I tripped over my own two feet and fell to the ground quivering. Terrible flashes of chaotic images were swept into me, creating hallucinations that loudly interrupted reality. I was carried out of the lifeless field and thrown into what seemed like a large cave slapped together with jagged rocks.
“I must be dreaming again.” I thought to myself, now trying to get a sense of my surroundings. There were two almond shaped windows just to my right. I tried desperately to look through each of them, but the drizzle of the rain outside made it difficult to see anything. I sighed and wiped my forehead. Why was it so hot? I continued to stare and stare until finally the itchy humidity caused me to look back at the source.
Resting in the room with me was almost literally half a creature. It was humanoid but wrapped in thick gray scales. A tar like substance covered the figure’s left hand side and a large portion of the floor. The creature shuddered and coiled itself tight the moment I began to observe it. His desperate breathing was forced and ragged, with each outtake of air raising the temperature of the room even further. Above a muzzle of twisted teeth, protruded two deep yellow slits for eyes, which stared at me as if I was the one making the room so hot. I asked for its name, however it didn’t seem to notice. I asked again and the creature shook its head in apparent discomfort.
“Just a name,” I insisted. “Please tell me your name.”
The reptilian figure rattled its head in violent protest, throwing aside thin drips of the dark ink flowing from his skin.
“You don’t know who you are... do you?” I asked while relaxing my stance slightly. After a great many pauses, the creature tutted its head forward in reluctant agreement. “Do you know of what you are?” Another lengthy pause followed before a wheezy voice replied.
“Dead.” I shuddered at the intensity of this one word; full of terrible amounts of sadness and hate but with a certain breath of relief as well. If what this creature said was true, then he certainly would have been a dragon. A cool breeze flew from an unknown source, and I stood up to try to meet its embrace. Almost as soon as I had risen, the sudden cool evaporated and left me feeling weak and empty.
“My name is Jacob Ofpacis,” I said, trying to retain eye contact. The creature deliberately ignored me. I took a single step forward, causing him to hiss in alarm and sidle away another three paces. A spiked tail flew from it’s backside, twitching in distress.
“Go away,” It said as it shielded its piercing yellow eyes.
“Away where?”
“Go away Jacob Ofpacis,” it insisted for a second time.
The strange refreshing cool suddenly passed through the space once more. The being on the opposite end of the room, straightened up and ran a forked tongue through the air. A small portion of the tar like substance stuck to the creature suddenly dissolved, leaving behind clean and brightly polished scales. He stared at his own arm in wonder.
“Was that you?” It asked, drawing a claw to where the material had vanished. I shook my head which caused the creature to immediately lose interest in me. So we sat together in the sweltering heat, warily eying each-other for signs of movement. Occasionally, I would stand up to look out of the windows, trying to glean information from the outside w
orld. Twice it seemed like I could see people running around past the veil, however the images I saw were fleeting. The bursts of freezing air that shot through the area at random intervals eventually brought the room down to a more manageable temperature. Soon I found my weariness overtake my desire to study the strange being who occupied my thoughts. I eventually fell asleep.
Chapter three
The Gift of Gold
A gift is a grievance
If grievances mean
giving new feelings
where before hadn’t been
Truths being fleeting
Open pure eyes
Where a gift as a greeting
Keeps men shut to lies.
I had been awake for awhile when someone hoisted me with some difficulty onto a shoulder, grunting with exertion as he did so. I didn’t know why, and I didn't ask why. I found I had much more time to concentrate on living if I didn't ask questions. Trembling slightly, the figure stumbled as he attempted to walk forward but eventually righted himself and set out a modest pace. I cracked a single eye open, and stared with disbelief as the land before me slowly moved past. A small instinctive groan escaped my chest as my carrier stumbled. All movement stopped and the person holding me flung my body onto the ground as quickly as he could manage. The sea of sunlight above me blinded me as I wearily tried to identify the person standing over me. Just young enough to be mistaken for a boy, the person above me had shallow rounded features, which made him look rather meek and innocent. His black eyes were hidden in a map of dark skin.
“It can’t be...” I whispered, eyes widening.
Preston looked away bashfully.
The next minute and a half was a frenzied blur, where in my disoriented state I lumbered up to greet the friend as old as time. One of us was laughing with an ecstatic mania. One was crying and trying to right himself every-time a sob escaped his lips. Both were exchanging times past in a wordless display of emotions. The thing that eventually tore my gaze was the intriguing lack of pain in my calf where the stone golem had struck me. Looking down, there was no evidence it had ever been torn or injured in the first place. Instead my lower leg shone with a healthy glow in the sunlight.
“But... How?” I asked, gesturing to the leg. Preston scratched his head self-consciously.
“Anti-magic,” he mumbled bluntly.
“Oh... Oh... Right.” How could I have forgotten. The only reason that Preston was alive and well was due to the fact that the Grimlars discovered he had anti-magic.
“According to them, I’m a blood warlock,” he said, shaking his head. I noticed a dangerously cold edge to his voice as if he was somehow ashamed of what he had become. “It sounds disgusting when they say it like that, but as far as I know I heal wounds, possibly even sickness considering the state you were in.”
“Was my fever that bad?” I asked while feeling my forehead. Preston tensed.
“You were melting the snow around you Jacob.” I gaped with disbelief, but Preston continued. “In honesty, that's how they found you in the first place; Gregor and his cronies.”
“Gregor...? As in that black haired kid who used to bully us at the orphanage?” I sighed and furrowed my brow. “I suppose that means he’s survived as well.”
Preston almost seemed to smile. “Unfortunately he’s done much more than just survive.”
“How do you mean?” I asked, straightening myself up.
Preston sighed uncomfortably and unfocused his eyes as if he was looking off into the distance. “The Grimlars consider Gregor a prodigy in kinetic anti-magic. He’s a third tier already.” I cursed, and looked off into the distance with him.
“So he’s pretty close to becoming a full fledged Grimlar huh?” I asked after a while.
Preston nodded. “I think the only thing he has to do left is finish these exams.”
I frowned as I realized that didn’t make any sense. “Why would Gregor be in the same set of exams as us if he’s third tier?” I asked carefully. “Shouldn’t he have his own set of harder exams?”
“These are the king’s examinations Jacob,” Preston reminded me cooly. “After five years in the camp, everyone regardless of their tier needs to take these exams.
“Oh right,” I said while bringing a hand to my forehead. “So Gregor found me,” I concluded warily. “What did he do?”
Preston seemed to stiffen as he considered my question. “He carried you around and used you to melt ice for water,” he answered quietly.
Dozens of creases cracked my face open, however for Preston’s sake I kept my fury to myself and took a deep breath “Alright, if Gregor was carrying me around, why wasn’t he worried about catching fever from me?”
“Gregor claimed your fever was from some enchantment and wouldn’t spread,” Preston said, shrugging slightly.
I paused for a moment to consider this. Did Gregor know what happened to me? Would he have learned something that I failed to consider, or did he too suspect that I had swallowed a dragon soul?
“Alright there Jacob?” Preston asked from further down the path.
I flinched a little and rubbed my eyes. My legs had stopped walking, I realized suddenly. I nodded responsively before slowly toddling on after him. “So you were travelling with Gregor then?” I asked as soon as I reached Preston’s side.
Preston glared at his feet, balled his fists and began to quiver with an umbridge I had never seen in him before. “Gregor found me a while ago, and forced me to travel with him and his gang. He probably thought he could use me somehow.” Preston shook his head angrily, as if trying to swat off flies. “A terrible blizzard turned up shortly after. Even though we got a fire going, the storm was way too strong to keep it lit. We thought we might fall to it, but a while later, found you flailing by yourself in a ring of earth where the snow wouldn’t touch you.” Preston stopped and absentmindedly started drawing circles in the air. “A perfect ring,” he repeated quietly.
“So what happened after you all found me?” I wondered, trying to draw Preston back into the conversation.
“At first Gregor made me carry you but after a while, we found out my touch was healing you. Because it was your fever keeping us alive, Gregor refused to let me hold you again. He had someone else give you water and someone else carry you. When the storm eventually ended, Gregor abandoned you,” Preston concluded wearily.
I shook my head in dumb disbelief, now at a complete loss of words
“Gregor wanted me to come along with him but I refused.” Preston added quietly. “”I’ve been by your side ever since.”
As gratitude welled in my chest, I quietly embraced Preston in silent thanks. “What had I ever done to have such a wonderful friend?” I wondered aloud with nothing short of wonder.
Preston gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Once a team always a team,” he replied wholeheartedly.
I grinned. “Out of curiosity how long have I been out?”
Preston thought about this for a moment, even taking a second or two to count on his fingers. “Two days,” he deducted. The chilling realization that I had been in the forest for nearly five days, without food was startling to say the least. I tripped over my own two feet and weakly fell to the ground. I rolled around for a moment, not having the energy to pull myself back up. Preston rushed to my side before throwing one of my arms over his shoulder.
“Are you sure you want to keep going Jacob?” Preston asked warily. “We’ve still got time, we could probably rest for a while, find some food.”
The opportunity to find food was tempting however I was sure that Preston was just saying that to make me feel better. The both of us had no chance of hunting anything.
“Don’t worry about me,” I told him sternly. “The quicker we get out of here the quicker we can have a good meal to eat.
Preston looked doubtful, but still continued to walk nonetheless. The gargantuan mountain slowly sinking beneath our footsteps seemed to command every element of the scenery surrounding us. Ever
y tree was bent to best receive the sunlight. Every beetle scurrying along had been raised with the strength to cross the rugged terrain.
“Wait a minute...” I said outloud “Beetles?”
“Sorry what?” Preston asked, turning to face me.
“Beetles!” I said while pointing down to the ground. “Food!”
Preston arched both of his eyebrows and looked like he might gag. “Jacob you can’t be serious. You don’t know where those beetles have been.”
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 5
