by C. K. Rieke
With the rising sun at their backs, they decided to set up a small camp. They’d rest and wait out the worst of the sun’s heat. After midday they planned on heading back out. Lilaci was to share a tent with Fewn, while Foro took one for himself, and Garenond and Dellanor shared another. Once the tents were pitched, Fewn went and lay in the shade of the tent. Lilaci, not fatigued yet, saw Foro standing atop the dune’s peak just before them. She went over and stood beside him.
“Looking for water?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said.
She surveyed the plains around them.
“See anything yet?” she asked.
“Nope.”
Lilaci pulled her hood forward, to shield more of the sun’s light. She looked before them, and to both sides.
Foro pulled his gaze back, and looked at Lilaci, as she scanned the area.
“Why you think Veranor put you in charge?” he asked. “It’s not my place to judge, but you ever even been out on a hunt before?”
“Nope,” she said. It’s because I was appointed by the gods themselves.
“Veranor is a strange man. He tends to take . . . Trophies, if you get my meaning,” he said. “I’m sure he’s trained you well, but just do me a favor if ya would- don’t get us killed.”
“There,” she said, pointing down to a small rockbed far down on their right. “That’s our best bet for water. We’ll check under those rocks once we’re on our way again.”
Foro looked over down at the near-imperceivable small rockbed far off in the distance.
“I’d ask the same of you and your men- don’t get me killed, and stay out of my way.”
Lilaci turned and went back towards the tents.
“Hey ya-” Foro called to her.
She turned slightly.
“Is it true? Do you have the Sanzoral?”
She smiled up at him, and walked back off towards the tents.
The sun continued its arc over them, and the sands grew hot, and the air wafted like an invisible stream. Lilaci wiped the sweat from her brow, and drank sparsely from her watersack. She then went over and poured a bowl for the Iox to drink from. With their packs down from its back she patted its two large humps on its back, letting the coarse hair slide between her fingers. She looked at the four curling horns atop its head. They were rough, with coarse grit and dull at their tips. It made a low growling noise as she petted it, it wasn’t an angry growl, but that like a cat would make, only on a much larger scale.
Lilaci sensed someone walking towards her from behind. She knew the feeling that perked up inside of her, as she’d fought Fewn many times, she had an instinctual reaction to her approach.
“We need to figure some things out,” Fewn said. Looking at her then, Fewn had grown since they’d last seen each other in Sorock, obviously. She had grown taller than Lilaci, even just by an inch. Her face had a deep scar on the chin. Her hair was perfectly pulled back with the wooden pick like she was taught, and her eyes were dark, like twilight in a moonless night. I remember those same eyes in the fighting pit. There’s something in those dark eyes, I can tell she’s hiding something. There’s something she’d not telling me. Something about our past together.
Lilaci grabbed her watersack and walked back over to the camp where the three men sat, conversing among themselves. Fewn dropped to meet their level, her knees hovering above the sand. Lilaci looked at her sword’s sheath as she knelt, it was long and finely made of black leather and a hardened copper. There’s surely an even finer sword hiding under that veil.
Lilaci remained standing, with her arms crossed over her torso. “What do you want to know?” Lilaci asked Fewn.
“Everything about this mission seems straightforward,” Fewn said. “Except— for me . . . And you.”
Garenond and Dellanor seemed to agree with that statement.
“What did Veranor tell you?” Lilaci asked the group. They are truly in the dark about this mission, and the weight it carries with the Six Gods themselves. They don’t know that someday they may be heralded as High Knights of the Gods for this.
“Not much,” Garenond said. “Except you’re in charge.”
“We’re going after a girl,” Lilaci said. “She’s in the Bompart region.”
“That’s it?” Foro said. “One girl?”
“Yes. One girl,” Lilaci said.
“So why are we here?” Fewn asked. “Surely these Scaethers could handle it. Does this have to do with your new gift?”
Lilaci stood in brief contemplation. “The two are linked, yes.”
“So we’ve got the power of the gods on our side, eh?” Dellanor said. “This girl must be worth her weight in gold.”
“Listen, I’ve been given the task of finding this girl, the Dragon’s Breath as she’s known, and bringing her back to the gods. I’m going to complete this task, and truth be told, I’m not sure why you are all here to assist me. I could surely acquire the girl quicker, and quieter, alone.”
Fewn shot up to her feet. “That’s just like you. You’ve always had to go out and be the best, do everything on your own. You know what? We don’t need you either. That’s your curse, you’ll never have a team. You’ll never be part of a family. You’ve always got to be out on your own.”
When Fewn said the word family, Lilaci felt a fire begin to build in her. “You think you know what it’s like to be me? You got to be one of the other girls. You got to hide in mediocrity. You think I enjoyed waking every day not knowing who was going after me that day? And after all the times I beat them, any of them. After every time I beat you—” Lilaci stared hard into her eyes, “—I knew the commander was sending more, bigger, better after me. But you know what? I beat them all.” Then an image flashed through her mind; she was on the ground being pummeled by a boy. She was scared and vulnerable. She remembered she was waiting for the commander or masters to call the fight. Then a shadow of a man leapt before her, knocking the attacker off her. There was a boy, a different boy— Then the pain shot in again like salt on a fresh burn. A pain that dulled every other sense in her body. Then the image of slithering, slimy worms writing around each other came to the forefront of her mind, and the other image vanished.
“You may have beat me then—,” Fewn said, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword, and shifting her feet to a wide, defensive stance, “but you wouldn’t best me now. After you left Sorock, I became Oncur, and I was the undefeated.”
“I bet you were,” Lilaci said, drawing her sword from its scabbard with a sharp ringing sound. Please, come at me. Strike first so that I can take you down in defense. That’s the only way I can fight you without the harshest of penalties. It’s against our code to strike our own. “What a privilege that must have been; to become Oncur once your better was taken away. How convenient for you. I beat you then and I’d beat you now.”
Foro stood with arms outstretched. “Alright, alright. Do not draw swords. You both know that’s forbidden within ourselves. Save it for the ones who harbor the girl. We’ve got a job to do.”
Fewn released her grasp from the hilt, and her scowl turned to a half-smile. “Ha! I was just getting a rise out of you.” She walked over to Lilaci and clapped her on the arm. “Your temper hasn’t changed a bit.”
Lilaci calmed and stood back up straight, sheathed her sword and removed her hand from her own its hilt. Getting a rise out of me? I just about cut you in half, girl.
“Bompart region, ay?” Foro said. “That’ll be due northwest. Two weeks time, give or take, and looks like there’s a storm brewing.”
Lilaci turned and looked to see the distant— yet unmistakable— wall of dark clouds on the horizon in that direction. “The sooner we’re off, the sooner we’ll return.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Garenond said, lifting his pack to his back. “You say to walk into a storm, we walk into a storm.”
They walked with the Iox packed full of supplies for close to eight hours before the winds blew past and made their w
ay forward slower. Lilaci held up her shawl to cover eyes, nose and mouth from the blowing, grainy sands. With the winds blowing in stronger, and their feet disappearing into deeper and deeper sand, Lilaci held up a hand for them to stop. They went to unpacking the Iox quickly, before the storm was fully upon them.
Foro and the other two set up the tents in a low fashion, to let the winds fly past as best they could. They put the tail of the tent in the direction of the wind, so each tent looked like an arrowhead. Lilaci dipped into the other tent after they assembled it. Just after she was inside, Fewn came in and sat on the other side of it. She quickly began removing her cloak and garbs, leaving them at its entrance, to leave most of the sand down there.
She cracked her neck and back and lay back on the canvas, sinking into the soft sand underneath. “Nice to be out in the world? Isn’t it? You know this is the first time I’ve been out on the sands since I was a child. I always dreamed of getting out of Sorock when we were older.”
Lilaci slowly removed her cloak and laid it by the tent’s front flaps. She looked over at Fewn curiously.
“You know things were different after you left,” Fewn said. “The commander was gone, and Elan was promoted to the role of a temporary commander. She was much less strict, and the fighting wasn’t like it was before with Veranor. Maybe once a week we sparred. There was never anything like that day where two fought one, and boy fought girl. That day was remembered sort of like a fable, a dark tale. When the new faces came into Sorock, they wouldn’t believe the story.”
“How long was I gone?” Lilaci asked.
“You know, I actually felt bad for you, being gone . . . With him. I always knew there was part of him that seemed infatuated with you. None of us ever made his eyes gleam like when he watched you fight. You were gone for years, Lilaci. I assumed he was turning you into something, his weapon, his toy.”
Years? How many years? Fewn felt bad for me? “I thought of you and the other girls often. As much as we were all trained to be in competition with one another, there was a bond. It was the closest thing to friendship I knew.”
“Yes, I agree. That is except for your relationship with Gogena—”
The same sharp pain drilled into Lilaci’s mind then, and she clasped both hands to her head, and the writhing of the slick worms from Veranor’s amulet squeezed each other. That name, why is that name so familiar, but distant? The blinding pain grew more painful, and she dropped to her knees and drove her forehead to the sand. Why can’t I remember that name? What is going on in my head? Is there a poison in my mind?
“Lilaci? What’s wrong?”
All Lilaci could see were the worms wrapping around her, squeezing her mind. “It’s just, these headaches I get sometimes.”
“Veranor did do a number on you, didn’t he?”
Veranor? All he did was train me . . . make me strong. It’s because of him I’m the assassin I am today. All he did to me was help me.
“I suppose he did,” Lilaci said. “But I’m stronger because of it.”
Fewn gave her an inquisitive glance. “Sure, Lilaci, sure.”
“Do you doubt the intentions of the commander?” Lilaci asked, looking up at Fewn as her pain was beginning to subside.
“I’ll just say you’ve been living in a hole if you think Veranor did things to you for your good,” Fewn said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d throw down my life for Elan or the commander, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. Veranor serves Veranor. There’s no denying that. If you don’t see that, you’re blind.” Fewn then turned and walked back over to the others. Lilaci heard her say softly to herself, “Poor Lilaci,” as she walked away from her.
Poor Lilaci? I’m the best of all the girls of Sorock. He picked me for a reason . . . He picked me because I was Oncur, right? Because I was the best, because I was worthy . . . right? Yes of course that’s why. Poor Lilaci, nonsense. I feel bad for you, Fewn. You’re just jealous. I was blessed to be chosen. Veranor would never do anything to me that wasn’t for my benefit. Right?
The winds outside the tent blew over loudly, whistling and howling. The never-ending sands pelted the canvas tent throughout the night. After Fewn was well-asleep. Lilaci lay with her eyes open, half-way in a daze as she watched a small mound of sand before her eyes on the canvas. She blew it softly and it began to trickle down. As the sand fell, and in her daze, she noticed something in the sand. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it appeared to be a grain of sand the color of a deep, violet lilac. It glimmered as it rolled down the dune. Her eyes opened wider and she stared down at the sand.
“What are you?” she whispered as she extended her hand towards it, then paused, and lowered her hand back down. She stared at it and it glimmered purple light. Looking at it, she felt as though it was not just a grain of sand, but more like a part of her, like the small toe on her foot. She focused like it was a toe, and began to try to wiggle it. She strained, like moving a body part she had never moved before. It was so close, just a shrug is all she wanted, just a little— then . . . The purple grain of sand rolled slightly up the small mound of sand. While the rest of the sand lay still, that one grain rolled up, causing more to fall down beneath it.
The Sanzoral. There it is. I can feel it now. The Sanzoral is inside me. What will begin with a single grain of sand, will grow to me being able to move the dunes themselves.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lilaci didn’t sleep that night, because two things weighed heavily on her mind; the Sanzoral, and the name Fewn had said to her the night before. As for the Sanzoral, every day she would work on her power, controlling the sand itself. She was also curious why every time she tried to think the name that Fewn spoke, her head became a whirlwind of pain and agony. There was something in that name, some memory that was hidden from her.
They walked the long, winding sands of the Dakaran region, en route towards the Bompart region of the Arr. The Dakaran region was over six hundred miles across, and surrounded by a shallow collection of mountains called the Zont-ils. Past those would be the Bompart region of the Arr. Bompart itself was nearly four hundred square miles, so it’d be no easy task finding a small caravan. Lilaci had been taught the geography of the deserts of the Arr, and excelled in tracking. Although the Scaethers were more trained in it, Lilaci found herself as more of a natural than they.
“If we make good time, and travel dusk to dawn, we should reach the mountains in just over two weeks,” Dellanor said to Fewn as they sat under the early morning sun. The sands were still cool, with a delicate dew collected on their tents.
“Fine by me, I was growing tired of the rank smell of defecation in the cities,” Fewn said as she bit into a piece of dried meat warmed by the fire. “What about you, Lilaci? Good to be back out into the wild?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, looking out at the endless dunes surrounding them. Even the city of Voru was out of distance behind them then.
“Aye, you girls are fresh from training, ey?” Garenond said. “Those camps can be a headspin. I remember knowing nothing of time passing where I was.”
“Where was that?” Lilaci asked. “Back in Voru?”
“No,” he replied. “I was in Godan, near the southern Sea of Barrakka.”
“I assumed you were from Sorock, like we were,” Lilaci said.
“It was a Sorock— my Sorock, but in a different place.”
“How long have you been out?” Fewn asked.
“Oh,” he said, looking over at Foro who was sharpening his sword with his whetstone. “What would you say? Eight years?”
“Seven years, four months, and seventeen days,” Foro said.
Dellanor laughed, “If you wanted an exact answer, there it is.”
“So,” Lilaci said. “You two were in Godan, in the Great Oasis of Zōn together. What of you Dellanor? The same? Did you train together?”
“No, I’m older than those two, and I’m from the other part of the Arr,” he said. “City of Scindír is where I trai
ned.”
“You’re from Scindír?” Fewn asked. “I’ve heard the roads are paved in gold and lined with ever-burning torches that never fade.”
“Part of that is true,” Dellanor said. “But in the Sorock there, there’s little gold to be found. Aye, it's a magical place, as vast as an ocean, and the Great Oasis of Azgobinandan is as fruitful as she is generous. I haven’t been there since I left Sorock, twelve years ago, give or take.”
“Look at us here now,” Fewn said. “Five, collected from the greatest cities. Out in the desert, looking for a caravan for the gods. Isn’t this what we were trained for? How exciting.”
Lilaci looked at her and saw Fewn’s passion. She enjoyed the hunt just as much as Lilaci did. The other men looked more worn, as if this was just another mission, another prize. But this appeared to be the first time Fewn was thrown out into the wild, and she had a thirst for blood.
“We should get moving,” Lilaci said.
Foro stood and wiped his blade clean. “You heard the girl.”
Why does he keep calling me girl? I’m a woman now. I’ve killed and even met the gods themselves. How’d he feel if I called him boy? But, I suppose I am younger than they are— and I doubt they’ve been on the sands with a woman. He’d better learn I’m more than a mere girl, and quickly.
A strong gust of wind blew past them as they were rolling the tents back up and strapping them to the Iox. “Looks like a storm's brewing,” Foro said, looking over his shoulder back to the east. “We’d best find a low spot to wait it out.”
Lilaci looked back a the gathering dark clouds, blowing immensely high behind them. “No, let's continue. I want to make it to the Zont-ils in the two weeks’ time.”
“Whatever you say,” Garenond said as he strapped the tent firmly on the Iox’s back. “Let's get moving then. You heard her.”
