by C. K. Rieke
‘Evil you’ve become,
Yet now justice has been done,’
Long nights of fear and terror had ceased as the witches had been slain,
And songs of a champion of gold now became,
The knight had ended the plague, yet dark were still his remaining years,
Nightmares of killing his only family would never disappear,
A hero he’d become, yet no glee found him in his life,
For he lost his only daughters, and his only wife.
There was a long, silent pause after Fewn had finished singing. Kera had since, stopped humming as the song turned somber. They listened to the crickets as they chirped. They heard the crackling and hissing of the fire, and Fewn leaned over and pulled the animal carcass towards her and began to skin the coarse brown hair from the animal, the size of a large cat.
“Where did you learn that song?” Kera asked. “It’s so sad.”
“Sad?” Fewn asked in surprise. “You find it sad? I think it’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful? How can you think that? It’s tragic, a whole family killed themselves.”
“No, the father purged his family of evil, sure he felt remorse, anyone would, but what would you do if evil was imbued in your legacy? What if your daughters were murderous, torturing, witches?”
Kera had no answer.
“He shouldn’t have married a witch to begin with,” Fewn said. “That was his first mistake, and one he had to pay for.”
“You think we all have mistakes to pay for?” Kera asked. Kera was thinking that Fewn’s biggest mistake was betraying Lilaci and wondered how much Fewn would have to pay for that mistake.
“Why would you think you have things to pay for? You’re only just a girl.”
“I think my biggest mistake was trusting you.”
“Why would you say something so hurtful?”
“Don’t you remember that you took me? I swear, Fewn, you’re infuriating. What’s your plan now? Taking me on a walk around the desert before you take me to The Six?”
Fewn sighed and tossed the animal’s fur to the side.
“Honestly, Kera, I don’t know— I don’t know what to do. I feel like every decision I’m making is the wrong one. I know what taking you to the city means, and I know what not taking you there means.”
“So, we’re just going to walk until you figure it out?” Kera was starting to believe that perhaps Fewn was coming to her senses. Maybe she was remembering her promise to help protect her.
“I don’t know yet! Leave me alone, I’m trying to cook you some food.”
“Well, let me know when you figure it out. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve decided of my fate.”
Fewn stuck the animal and hoisted it over the fire. Another tumbleweed rolled into view and Kera ran off to fetch it.
While she was away, Fewn stared hard into the flickering flames. She whispered to herself, “What are you doing Fewn? Do you want to become the witch or the knight?”
Chapter Nine
A thick, rolling gray fog crept through into the night, and with it a cold chill. The dawn was a dull haze all around them as Fewn rolled out from under her thin knit blanket, and Kera nestled tighter into her covers. Fewn went over to the smoldering embers of the fire and stoked them with her sword. A musty smoke rose from the ashes. She knelt and checked the remaining meat she’d cleaned from the bones and left at the edge of the coals to dry overnight. Feeling the pieces of sinewy meat between her fingertips, she lifted it to her mouth and bit into a corner of the elongated strip of meat. Pulling back on it, she was unable to bite down enough to break a piece off, so she put it onto the side of her mouth, and with her stronger molars, eventually broke off a bite, yet struggled to chew it.
“Damn, it's like chewing leather,” she sighed. “Better than nothing. You awake? Best to be on our way, this fog makes for good cover.”
Kera didn’t move, pretending to be asleep.
“All right, a bit longer you can stay there, but then we’re off.”
“Whatever you say,” Kera murmured from under the tapestry of red and orange.
They were off again on the sands within an hour, and neither spoke to the other as they packed up, left the camp, and made their way into the gloom. Kera began to rub her arms to warm herself. Fewn trudged on, carrying most of the equipment on her back. They walked hours that day, their feet making way through a scattering of sharp rocks on the desert floor, and the gray haze remained a curtain to hide their path from wandering eyes. Their only interaction during that walk was that of Fewn reaching over and handing Kera strands of the dried meat from the day before. It wasn’t much, but it gave her to the strength to continue on, although neither knew where their destination truly lay.
Through the fog, they could both tell that the sun was beginning its descent. Just before the sunset, a red glow permeated the thick air around them, causing the world to glow a dark crimson. As Fewn was opening her mouth for the first time that day to talk to Kera, Kera darted over to her right, towards a large rock half her height. Fewn closed her mouth in surprise and followed to see what she was running towards.
Kera dropped to her knees at the base of the rock, glowing red from the sunset, and she began to dig with both hands. Fewn went over, and watched as Kera dug into the sand, and she recognized the familiar sound of water pooling into a makeshift well. Fewn dropped her pack from her back and began to dig, helping Kera. As the water gathered into a large pool in the hole they were digging, a wide smile grew across Kera’s face, her white teeth showing in the red glow. She looked over at Fewn, and Fewn couldn’t resist but smile widely back.
Fewn reached back and produced an animal skin to place in the hole, to filter out the sand, and let the clean water filter in. As the water slowly began to seep into the hole they’d dug, Kera lifted a handful into her mouth and drank quickly, a sigh of relief left her dried throat. She took another, and then Fewn reached in and took one, and then another. Water flowed down her mouth at both sides. What didn’t make it to her mouth fell back to the pool in heavy drops. The water level grew again, and as with as much as they drank, they watched as the water seemed to endlessly roll back in.
With a twist of her wrist, Fewn splashed up the water at Kera’s face, and it hit her on the cheek. Kera gave an insulted scorn, and splashed up a larger handful back at Fewn, who shielded her face, but splashed back. The two both began to laugh, hiding their faces but splashing each other, and the water continued flowing.
“All right, all right,” Fewn said. “I yield, I yield.” Her breathing was exhausted from laughing. Her face was soaked, as the dried dirt began to roll down her face.
Kera’s laughing slowed as she caught her breath. Fewn looked at Kera then, her black hair rustled down her face, and she stared into her piercing gray eyes. It was like looking into the soft glow of the moon’s reflection on water— mesmerizing. She looked at the streaks of water trickling down her young, pale cheeks, creating lines between the sand on her face like cracks on the desert floor. Fewn reached over and let her hand touch Kera’s face gently, and Kera didn’t flinch. Fewn let her thumb began to wipe away the dirt from her face. She reached over and grabbed a thin rag from her pack, dipped it into the cool water, and wiped away the dirt from Kera’s forehead and nose. All the while staring into Kera’s eyes.
To Kera’s surprise, tears began to well into the Fewn’s eyes, and she stopped wiping Kera’s face. She continued to stare deeply into the young girl’s pale, gray eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” Kera asked in a soft voice. She watched as Fewn’s lip began to quiver, which she tried to bite down on to stop, but then more tears began to streak down.
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just the water, the water is making me emotional.”
“Oh,” Kera said, sounding disappointed, and she stood up and began to walk away.
Fewn stared at the pooling water, and she caught a reflection of her fac
e in the red glow. She lifted a hand up to her face, and she began to cry— harder.
“Kera,” she said softly while sobbing. “It’s not the water— it’s you.”
Kera stopped her walking and turned to watch Fewn cry, while wrapping her arms around herself. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done, for what I am.”
Kera hesitated, but then walked over to Fewn and put her arms around her and said nothing.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said. “I never did, I betrayed her, I betrayed you. I don’t want to give you to them, I was just— I’m scared.”
“Me too,” Kera said, wrapping Fewn in her arms tighter.
Fewn rose up to her knees and turned to wrap Kera in her arms. “Please forgive me, I don’t want you to leave me, I don’t want you to be upset with me. I know what I did was wrong, but I didn’t think I had a choice. I’m a monster. Lilaci is dead because of me— I killed her.” She sobbed violently into Kera’s shoulder.
“She’s not dead,” Kera said. “She’s too strong.”
Fewn continued to cry into Kera’s shoulder, her face streaked with tears. “No. She’s dead. I killed her. It’s all my fault.”
“She’s not dead, Fewn. I can feel it. Lilaci is still alive.”
“How do you know?” Fewn asked, raising her head, her wet eyes looking for an answer.
“I know,” she said. “I have these ‘visions.’ That’s what the Order of Drakon called them. But it’s more like someone is whispering into my head sometimes. They’re speaking to me now.” Kera’s eyes grew wide. “They’re telling me that Lilaci is alive, and that she’s coming for me.”
“They’re speaking to you now?” Fewn said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “What else are they saying?”
“They’re saying . . . you need to take me somewhere. You need to take me to . . . Duen Utülm Drakon. There’s something there. Something high up on the cliffs, in a cave. It’s in a box of Whitewood with golden hinges. There’s something inside— something placed there long ago. I’m the only one who can open it. There’s something in the box I need to bring the dragons back.” Then Kera’s eyes closed and her chin dropped to her chest, as if she was exhausted.
“Kera . . .” Fewn said softly. “Kera? Are you alright?”
Kera took a long pause. “I know what I need to do now. You need to take me to the Dune of the Last Dragon.”
“What about Lilaci?” Fewn asked. “Shouldn’t we wait for her?”
“No, she will find us.”
“Lilaci’s alive?” Fewn looked surprised, and then laughed, throwing her head back and clapping her hand to her forehead. “She’s going to kill me!”
“Probably,” Kera said with a straight face. “But it’s not too late. You can change, everyone can. It’s about the decision you make now. I trust you’ll find it in your heart to make the right one. Will you take me?”
“So, you can forgive me?” Fewn looked longingly into Kera’s eyes.
Kera seemed to ponder that moment. “You’ve got to start trusting in yourself more and trusting me. You once said you wanted to be a family, and family can make mistakes and be forgiven. If you truly want my forgiveness, this can be the first step. But I’ll say this— if you ever betray me again— you may as well take me directly to the gods after, because I may be forgiving, but I’m no fool. I’ll give you a second chance, but only one. Hopefully Lilaci will be as merciful when she comes.”
“Lilaci,” Fewn said. “You’re going to have to talk with her before she sees me, if she really did make it.”
“When Lilaci comes,” Kera said, “I'll be lucky to get out a single word before she wreaks her revenge on you.”
Chapter Ten
“What was that? Did you see that? Over there, up on the hill. You didn’t see it?”
“You sure you saw something? What was it?”
“It was just out of the corner of my eye, but I thought I caught a shadow or something moving along the top of that long hill,” he said.
Lilaci stared at the hill. It carved elegantly along the corner of the flat desert they were walking. She surveyed keenly for any sign of life. Her and Roren both watched, waiting for something, anything.
“It’s been days since we saw them on the other side of the mountain,” she said. “If that pack of Scaethers was following us, I would think they would’ve attacked us by now.”
“Unless . . .” he said.
“Unless what?”
“If they are still following us— what’s more important, us or her?”
Lilaci thought about that statement for a minute. “So, let's assume they are hiding out there from us, and they’ve seen that Kera isn’t with us. You think they might be thinking we would lead them to her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that if that’s the case . . . I don’t want to lead them to her, as I’m sure you wouldn’t want either. But we don’t even know if they’re out there, let alone following us.”
“That’s a risk I’m not willing to take,” she said. “I would rather die than have those bastards lay their hands on her.”
“Aye.”
Lilaci sighed. “But we haven’t even seen a trace of her. All we have is the word of your spirits. The longer we don’t have her, the longer she’s in danger.”
“I hate to say this, but even when we are together again, she will still be in danger, even with us.”
“We are stronger together,” Lilaci said, her violet eyes dancing wildly in the sunlight’s reflection.
“Agreed,” Roren said. “Shall we press on?”
They continued on the hard sands, hot winds biting their faces under the midday sun overhead. They were walking northeast, past the Zont-ils. The ground in the Gorx region was turning from sand to rock slowly, and the flat, desolate stretch of the desert behind them was turning a rocky outstretch, as if the mountains far in the distance grew roots that stretched for hundreds of miles. Long winding roots that protruded from the sand, weaving their way in and out of the sands.
Roren didn’t catch any other sign, or false sign, of anyone following them that long day. Eventually, a few hours away from dusk, they made their way up a rocky outcrop that carved up over another rock like a gigantic dragon’s claw. Lilaci reached down and Roren grabbed her hand, and she helped heave him up to the top of the rock with her. They were reaching a high vantage point so they could survey the area. First, they both immediately checked the area behind them.
“Nothing,” Roren said. “That’s good.”
Lilaci didn’t respond, she only continued staring out into the horizon behind them. She examined the thousands of rocks scattered across the desert floor. With the sun behind them, they cast long shadows towards them. It reminded her of a graveyard at twilight.
Roren turned to look to the east and shot his hand over and grabbed Lilaci. She spun around instantly to see what had caused him to react so. She saw then what he did.
“How many are there?” he asked.
“Hundreds, easy,” Lilaci said.
Four miles out, they both were staring at a migration of deren, slender animals of light fur with long curling tails. They were mostly prey in the desert, killing all vegetation in their path. But they made for a good meal, but were difficult to kill, especially in such numbers.
“There are so many of them,” Roren said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Nor have I,” she said.
“We could get enough food for a month if we just got two of the beasts,” he said, licking his lips.
“Then two we’ll get.”
Lilaci knew the deren were agile animals with keen senses, yet at night they lay in packs, and although their senses were still alert even when asleep, they were vulnerable. They ran the better part of three miles to catch up to the pack as the sun slowly sunk into the hills behind. A smile crept across her face, she’d missed the hunt. Once the pack was in sight aga
in, they both watched it as they lay on the desert floor like a royal carpet decorating a great hall.
The pack hadn’t noticed them— yet— but they had to be cautious. They were still hundreds of yards out.
“We need to get close enough for you to use that bow, Lilaci. We can creep low along that rocky ridge over there,” he said. Lilaci watched as his pointed finger followed the ridge like a great animal’s spine poking up out of the sand. She nodded, and they both went off, creeping low. They were both careful to make their footsteps as silent as the wind. They reached the end of the ridge and Lilaci poked her head out to the side.
“They’re still out of reach of an arrow,” Roren said. “We’re going to have to get closer.” He began to inch past Lilaci, ready to run out into the open to hide behind another rock.
“Wait,” Lilaci said. “I can shoot from here.”
“There’s no way you could make that distance, that’s twice an archer’s maximum.”
“I’m no royal archer,” she said, and her eyes glowed in a purple haze that crept up around her head like a small fire. Her shoulder lit in the same majestic glow, and it flowed down her right arm as she reached back and pulled an arrow from the quill at her back. Roren watched as the moment she placed the arrow on the bowstring and pulled it back taught, the arrow lit in a violet fire. He inched back as he felt the intense heat, yet it appeared Lilaci felt nothing. Then she stood, exposing herself behind the rock, and hundreds of pairs of eyes shot over at her and the purple fire. There was a long pause, like the moment two armies felt when they stood before each other on the battlefield, nervous with anticipation, and with death surely to follow.
She loosed the arrow, and instantly the herd began to move as if the trembling’s of an earthquake had begun, as every deren leapt from their rest. Roren watched as the arrow flew towards the heavens. He was speechless at its incredible arc into the night sky. Lilaci quickly drew back another arrow and flew after the other, its flames whipping behind it. He was in awe and looked over at Lilaci, who stood without drawing back another arrow, she only watched as they began their downward descent. They were nearly as small as the stars as they loomed down on the deren.
