by C. K. Rieke
She thought of the desert and walking the hot sands. She’d never been so cold in all of her life. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers over the bobbing flames, and watched the shadows on the ceiling move and dance. It took her back to memories of her father, and then strangely to Gogenanth. She wondered where he was, if he was going to be okay, and if he was even alive. Veranor seemed to be hellbent on ruining his and her lives.
A shiver ran through her body again, and she gave a sigh. She had to clench her teeth to keep them from chattering. Sitting up, she had to flip her pillow over as it had become too cool from the damp sweat. She lay her head back down forcefully, in frustration.
“Just go to sleep Lilaci, just go to sleep.”
Staring into the soft, warm firelight of the candles. She smelled the floral aroma of the wax as it rolled onto the table, and the subtle smoke that rose into the room. Watching the hypnotic flicker of the light, her vision became blurry and she wept. It wasn’t an angry burst of tears, or a blinding sadness, but a helpless feeling.
As helpless as she was in Sorock, at least she had some sense of freedom. She was open to feel the open air, and communicate with the others. Lilaci was truly a prisoner wherever they were, and she felt as helpless as that girl on the sands so many years ago. Driving her face into her pillow, she let the tears flow.
“Gogenanth, help me. Please, if ever I needed you. It is now.”
The latch popped, and the door’s hinges creaked with a sharp, grinding sound. Lilaci’s eyes shot open, and she sat up in bed. She saw the candles had extinguished themselves. Shifting her weight quickly she leapt from the bed and landed in a defensive position in the center of the room. The blinding light of torchlight entered the room.
“Come with us,” a man’s voice said. She recognized it as one of the Scaether’s.
“No,” she said.
“Hmpf,” the Scaether said, she could see his face in the firelight. He had a scowl on his face, and an impatient tone in his voice. “Come now, don’t start. Veranor wishes to see you, you’d do best to do as he says. It’s only going to be harder the longer you don’t.”
“I’ll kill you before I let you take me to see that monster again.”
The Scaether sighed and opened the door behind him, as two more entered the small room. All the three men were much stronger than she was, as they were all grown men, and she still only a teenage girl.
“You can try, but no one is going to die in this room today. You will see Veranor, be it on your feet, or not. It doesn’t matter to me, I have no problem taking you down there by force.”
Her fingers, arms and shoulders still ached from shivering in the night. Staring at the Scaethers, however, ignited that inner fire in her stomach. She wiped the cobwebs and fog from her mind and reverted to the warrior inside the fighting pit back in Sorock. If I’m to die today, my soul would be most content taking the last breath from Veranor with me.
“Fine, let’s get this over with. Can I change my clothes first?”
The Scaether with the torch nodded. “Make it quick.” And they all left the room. Shutting the door behind them, but not closing it completely.
She shuffled through a cabinet, gathering a set of clean, dry clothing, and all the while looking for something durable, something sharp. After lifting a shirt from the corner of the cabinet, she noticed a jagged splinter sticking up from the wood. She stuck a finger underneath it, and pulled it up. It wasn’t strong or sharp enough to kill, but she could take Veranor’s eyes if she got close enough. That would set her soul a little more at ease.
After she was fully clothed in the thin linen sleeveless shirt, and tight-fitting pants, she wrapped a red sash around her waist. She pulled her hair back, and fit on her pair of leather shoes.
“Alright, I’m ready,” she said. The door opened further, and the torchlight lit the walls of her room. She went and entered the hallway. The man with the torch led the way, and the other two walked close behind her.
They were taking the same path as they took the day before, or the day before that, she didn’t know how long she’d been out. They slowed as they went to the room with the two crescent-shaped tables, and she paused before entering. She saw him sitting at the table, by himself. She looked around and didn’t see the mages, which made her realize that wasn’t a dream she had about them, as she wouldn’t know what this room looked like only from a dream.
“Come, sit,” he said, not looking at her, but sipping a warm liquid with gentle, rolling steam coming off it.
“I’d rather stand,” she said.
He sighed, and looked up at her slowly.
“It wasn’t a request,” he said sternly.
“What was that in here the other day?” she asked. “What are you planning on doing to me here?”
“If you sit, I will tell you everything, but nothing before you sit down!” he yelled in an angry voice.
She stood there momentarily. Should I strike now? I’m quick, but the Scaethers are right at my back. This isn’t the right time, I’m not close enough. She went and sat in the chair across from him, but she didn’t pull the chair up to the table, and her feet were planted firmly on the ground, ready to pounce if the time came.
“Good,” he said, and took another sip of the warm liquid. “I’m sure you’re hungry, we have food coming in soon.”
“I don’t want your food. You poisoned me,” she said.
“Yes, that is true. But I assure you there will be no more poison given.”
“How can I trust you? There’s no reason to trust anything you say.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “But let me ask you this— what are you going to do? Not eat? Never drink again? This is your new home for the foreseeable future.”
“You did something to me, I can’t remember what, but that poison did something to me. Tell me what you did.”
“There’s that fire again,” he said. “Tell me, Lilaci. What is your purpose in life?”
She looked at him, not sure what to say. Searching through the thoughts in her mind, there seemed to be empty spots, where seemingly something important to her were placed.
“Tell me, what do you remember of Sorock?”
“Sorock— I remember you making me fight those girls. You made me fight Zerashan and Bellaton at the same time, and then Fewn.”
“Do you remember how those fights ended?” he asked, with as straight of a face as she’d ever seen.
“I won. I’m still Oncur. Or at least I was.”
“Yes, and do you remember the next day?” he asked.
That inner fight sparked again in her stomach. “You made me fight one of the boys.”
“Do you remember how that fight ended?”
“I— I won the first bout. Then, the second. I— I was . . . losing. I remember him battering my shield. I was actually afraid . . .”
“And then what, Lilaci?”
“Then, I remember—“ Then a searing pain shot through Lilaci’s mind like a lightning strike. She dropped to her knees in anguish, clutching her head with her hands, trying to drive away the pain.
“What happened, Lilaci?” Veranor stood abruptly, forcing the chair to scoot back on the wooden floor. He walked over and loomed over her then. “What happened?” He said in a gruff, stern voice.
“I— I don’t know. I can’t remember! Make the pain stop, I can’t think!” She looked up at him, squinting through the pain. “What did you do to me?”
“I simply moved the . . . distractions away,” he said. “Now you’re free. Free to focus on the things that matter in this life.”
“You— you monster!” With the agility of a cat, she jumped and placed both feet on the table, grabbing the wooden shard firmly in her hand. Then, she leapt from the table, readying the shard, aiming for his chest, thirsting for the kill. But just as she did so, a bright red light appeared from Veranor, and Lilaci’s limbs felt immeasurably heavy and her mind unfocused, and she seemed to forget where she was. She fell to
the wooden floor with a thud, and lay on her side, unable to gather her wits. All she could see was the blurry red light swaying back and forth.
“What— what are you doing . . . to me?”
She watched helplessly as her body was frozen in its position, positioned up on the table with the sharp shard held up in her hand.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” he said.
As hard as she fought it, her body began to move by itself. She climbed down off the table, and sat in the chair softly, and even scooted herself up to the table, with her shoulders back. She tried to speak, but the only words that came out were, “Yes, sir.”
“Nice, very nice Lilaci.” He strolled over towards her, and her side of the table. “We are going to have a good relationship from this point on.” She looked up as he was spinning something in his hand, something that hung from around his neck. It still had a red glow that made Lilaci feel empty, and weak.
“I brought you here to train you, and that is what is going to happen. I knew you wouldn’t follow blindly, but with your anger and your skills you are going to become my greatest prize; my greatest weapon.”
He was soon next to her, and he knelt to meet her at eye-level. “Look at me,” he said, and as much as she fought and strained, she casually looked over at him. His face was only inches from hers, she could smell his breath, and looked at his eyes as they looked into hers, and then he looked down at her mouth.
“So beautiful you are,” he said, and his face crept another inch closer. “So much power in such a delicate vessel. I’m going to teach you to be the best alive. I’m going to give you to the gods once we are done, and they will show their appreciation to me, so that I may become one of the Vallenen, one of the elite. They would give me power, wealth, and a surname so that I may raise kindred.”
Do something, fight. Fight him somehow, you can’t just sit here helpless. Fight. Fight. Fight! But Lilaci didn’t fight, speak, or move. She was completely at his will. He knelt there, staring at her in a sort of appreciative admiration. He thought that she would be his release from his servitude. He scanned her face, and her features, and she was helpless as he ran his fingers softly along the side of her face, and turned her head with his fingers on her chin. He leaned in slowly and laid a kiss on her cheek, his lips were scratchy and brittle.
As he pulled away, she saw the object glowing red that hung from his necklace. The glow had faded to reveal a triangular amulet twirling on a thin strand of leather. In the center of the amulet was a red, circular gem, with a carving of three worms winding around each other. She looked back up into his eyes as he stood back up and looked down at her. He extended an open hand down to her, and she put her hand in his. “Rise,” he said. She stood from her seat and stood next to him, holding his hand.
“We are going to change these lands. Together Lilaci, you and I are going to change the future.”
Part III
The Gift of the Gods
Chapter Fifteen
Three years later.
1443 Sisen Era, The Arr, one hundred-fifty seven miles outside of Voru
A crescent moon hung in the sky, and thin clouds breezed by it as it cast a faint shadow on the soft sands. Underneath the sharp moon above rest an outpost of rocky grandeur in the middle of the sprawling sands. Not another structure of any sort could be seen within hundreds of miles. The rocky outcrop nestled in between two great dunes, and surely was placed upon a sacred source, another term for a well producing clean water.
The outpost resembled a small castle, as it were, with high, jutting, rocky walls. It had armored guards roaming along the high walls. They had longbows hung across their shoulders with stuffed quarrels of sharp arrows. There were high structures within the castle as well; four buildings of making stone and mortar, and one tall tower at the center. In the middle of the night, three candles lit the room at the top of the center tower, that’s where he was; that’s where she was going.
The sands will slow my speed up to the castle from this point, best to flank from the backside, it appears to be harder ground. The guards at the top seem to be clinging to their bows, they will be slow to go after their swords, fools. They banter and laugh with each other as if they haven’t a care. If they knew what was coming they wouldn’t be so. I could slip past them and take my mark, but what would be the fun in that? They’ve aligned themselves with a heretic, the Arr has no use for them.
Looking up at the high walls as she crept around the backside of the castle, she heard a new voice, and the other laughing and balking ceased.
“Look at ya, lazy pigs! On alert, you’ve got a job to do,” said the voice. She looked up to get a look at the man, he was stout, but she instantly recognized by his posture and stature he knew how to fight. He was heavily armored with a double-sided ax and a battle-worn iron-laden shield. Her lip curled and she continued slinking through the shadows.
She waited for his voice to move further from her as he walked the walls, and she found her moment and scampered across the hard rock at the backside of the castle. She moved like a soft breeze on water, her footsteps as silent as a spider on silk. Her strong, thin fingers found grip holds easily on the rocky wall, and she was soon peeking up over the wall at the soldiers, now more alert, but unfocused and unaware of their present danger.
With her dark, thin hood and cloak over her, she made her way over the wall and became one with the shadow. She moved through it, and used its power to find the greatest power of the assassin: invisibility. Moving silently, she made her way along the wall, creeping up behind a guard holding his bow. She clicked her fingernail gently on the wall next to him, and as he turned, she drove her long dagger into his side, piercing his soft flesh and burying its tip into his heart. With her other hand she covered his mouth. He fell limp almost instantly, and she laid him in the shadow.
She crept along the wall, taking the life of another in the same fashion, and laid him into the shadows. Another fell just the same, then another, and another.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this night,” the man with the ax said, meaning to let the others hear him, but he didn’t yet know he was alone along the walls. “That moon is giving me a stir in my gut.”
“That’s not the moon,” she said, and drove her sharp sword through the backside of his stomach. Its tip gleamed white under the moonlight, spattered in fresh blood.
“What—?” he tried to reply, but found a dagger slice his throat before he would ever utter another word. She threw his body over the brown rock wall, and he landed with a soft thud into the deep sand below. She’d become one with the shadow yet again.
Maneuvering through the castle’s streets, she heard the breathing and even snoring of those sleeping within the walls of the dwellings. It crossed her mind to enter and kill all within the castle’s walls, but she heard a soft mumbling within one of the small dwellings. It was in a kind, soft voice, it was a child. A young boy was talking in his sleep. The words were gibberish in his young sleep. She had no problem killing the boy’s parents, but the boy was to be left alive, that was the code.
The thought of entering the dwelling crossed her mind, but a part of her decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and continued on. Her target was the high window with the three flickering candles.
Sneaking through the shadows of the alleys below the towers, she let her callused fingertips glide along the dirt-laden walls of the building and small clay and rock dwellings leading up to the highest tower. Turning a corner, she spotted a single guard at the entrance, he had a sword laid across his lap, and his head was bobbing as he fought the oncoming sleep.
The entrance to the tower was a well-lit courtyard with potted plants rustling in the soft breeze. At its center was a well-carved round fountain with a statue of a dragon, the same height as a grown man, with its wings wrapped around it as if it was twirling up into the sky. Its maw was open and its teeth were long and jagged.
“Pagan heretic,” she whispered to herself.
Creeping around the courtyard, she made her way over to the slumbering guard, and with her hands quickly on both sides of his head, she twisted them. He slumped to the ground, he never knew what hit him. She gathered his keys and slid the iron skeleton key into the thick wooden door’s keyhole, turned it with a soft click, and slunk into the tower.
The interior was dark and musty, but the darkness didn’t deter her, it strengthened her. She slowed her breathing and listened, she was listening for the patter of footsteps, or the hard breathing of sleep, or the occasional moans of ecstasy. She only heard the subtle creaking of wooden beams bracing the rocky structure.
He must be the only one home.
She put one foot on the winding stone staircase that led to the top of the tower, and like a cat, ran up the stairs without a sound. Finding herself at the top of the tower, and at a single door with an iron gate, and another thick wooden door on the backside of it. She slid another iron key into the gate. It unlatched with a dull pop, but before she opened the gate, she produced a small vial from her pouch strapped tightly to her thigh.
Holding the vial up, it contained a viscous dark liquid. She uncorked the small vial and dipped a thin brush into it, coating its bristles. She rubbed the dark liquid onto the joints and hinges of the iron gate, and with her other hand she eased it open, making small back and forth motions to let the liquid seep it. Once she was satisfied the gate was well lubricated, she opened it fully, and slid another iron key, this one much more elaborate, into the last wooden door, and let the latch pop open. She slid the door open just enough for her to squeeze through into the room with the three candles; into the room of her prey.
The shadows weren’t needed then. She heard the slumbering sounds of them, fast asleep. She stood up tall and removed the hood from over her head. Her dark, long, silky hair fell to her back and she drew out her dagger, which glowed gold from the light of the candles. She recognized the man in the bed as her target, but she didn’t recognize either of the two women who lay next to him.
