The Legend of the Lightscale: Book Two of The Scale Seekers

by A. R. Cook

  “But we’re not fighters,” a Syphurian woman said.

  “No,” Desert Rain interjected, coming to stand next to Chiriku. “But you forget that you have two Hijn here. We aren’t going to let anything happen to you. We’ll find a way to hold them off.”

  “Oh no, you’re not cutting me out,” Chiriku declared. “I’m a fighter, and I intend to fight.”

  Desert Rain wasn’t sure how to feel about Chiriku’s sudden determination to battle. Chiriku was still in mourning, and this didn’t seem to be the right way to cope with her loss. On the other hand, it did not look like anyone else was willing to help. Even the few Falcolin in the room, who don’t like to be accused of cowardice, weren’t stepping up.

  Clova came to stand in front of the crowd. “Listen to me, everyone. I know you’ve all been through a lot. I know it must seem like the world’s turned upside down. But this is a sanctuary, a place of peace and security. There is no safer place for you to be. The elves will take care of you, and I’ll take care of the Zi’Gax. Everyone, stay inside. If anything should go wrong, the elves will take you to safety. The worst thing you can do right now is panic.” She donned a smile, to the best of her ability. “So why don’t you all go back and get comfy cozy, all right?”

  “Unless you would like to go out into the cold, dark forest this time of night, so the Zi’Gax can find and catch you before you even know they’re coming,” Desert Rain added.

  The Syphurians still looked doubtful, but they turned around and went back to their designated mats.

  Clova sighed in relief. “Dezzy, maybe you could play some music to calm everyone down. I’m going to go outside and grow a wall up around the temple. If I make the vegetation thick enough, the Zi’Gax will hopefully give up trying to hack through it before they get in here.”

  “But Clova, for you to grow a wall big enough and thick enough to cover this whole temple…that would take all the magic energy you have,” Desert Rain remarked. “Not to mention we don’t know how many Zi’Gax there are. A good number of them could slice through in a short time.”

  Chiriku snorted. “Yeah, really, a stupid wall? That’s the best you can come up with? Those Zi’Gax won’t give up unless we bash some heads.”

  “I’m not going to start a battle here,” Clova retorted, placing her hands on her hips. “I’m not going to let you start one.”

  “That’s because you’re a scaredy-elf!” Chiriku squawked.

  “Both of you, stop it!” Desert Rain stepped between the Forest Hijn and the Quetzalin. “We’re not going to solve anything by arguing.”

  “Gila Gul’s right-tkk,” Mac said, strolling over to them nonchalantly. “I don’t know much about these Zi’Gax-ssck fellows, but maybe there’s a way to deter them before they get-tkk here.”

  Desert Rain perked her ears towards Mac. “Do you have a plan?”

  “Well, I don’t mean to boast-tkk,” he said, tucking his thumbs into his belt, “but we folk-kk down by the Bayou have our li’l tricks-ssck of the trade. We get plenty of nasty critters-ssck that we have to bamboozle, and I might have something that’ll throw those Zi’Gax-ssck off track-kk. Now, do any of you know if there is some gigam spice and pop-buds-ssck around here, so I can make some blast-tkk powder…”

  The forest was soaked in shadows, the trees shrouded in obsidian black. The leaves shivered in the night wind, howling the coming of intruders. There was no clear path, even for the nocturnal sight of the Zi’Gax, who silently stalked past the trees. Everything was outlined in a reddish light to their eyes, sometimes the red bleeding blue or violet, depending on if there was an intense source of heat or cold close by. So far, everything was still, and they could smell no strong scent of living flesh.

  There were about two dozen Zi’Gax, half skulking along the ground, the other half traveling by hopping from tree to tree—their powerful legs being their primary appendages. They were mummified from ankle to neck in six-inch wide bandages, their typical clothing choice, for skin-tight clothing kept them streamlined and agile. One Zi’Gax, a grimy mud-yellow in skin color, wrapped in bandages of dark gray, hovered near the leader of their pack. He kept his sensitive ears warm with his stocking cap, striped gray and brown, settled low over his brow, and trailed behind him, almost scraping the ground. His bare feet and hands, like the other Zi’Gax, were used to extreme weather, whether hot or cold. His palms and soles were leather-tough, with sharp fungus-encrusted nails that could rip through the thickest flesh. His face, half-masked by a bandage that covered his left eye and forehead, displayed a smushed nose, blistered dry lips with protruding teeth, and beady eyes of black irises and red pupils, sunk into sockets rimmed with deep wrinkles.

  “Is that stupid device even working?” the stocking-capped Zi’Gax hissed to his leader. “We’ve been in this forest for days, and that blasted piece of junk hasn’t shown us anything.” His tone shifted into his usual whine, as he was prone to complaining and blathering. “I’m hungry, and my toes are freezing, and this is the most boring hunt ever.”

  The leader, a much taller Zi’Gax wrapped in the defining blood-red bandages of his position, snarled at his comrade. His skin shade was that of an older goblin, a gray-green, and he possessed two sickles hanging from his chain-belt. These were given to Zi’Gax who had proven themselves, compared to the stocking-capped Zi’Gax, an underling who wielded two iron daggers. The leader held a strange, compass-like device, enscribed with bizarre markings all around the inside rim. There was a small metal ball inside the compass that hovered in the center, and it was designed to levitate towards the presences of magic. Not the flimsy, flashy magic of common spellcasters, but the deeper, more potent Ancient Magic that a rare few possessed. However, the ball had slightly shifted one way or the other the last few days, not verifying anything concrete.

  “Watch your tongue, Spiggat, before I tear it out,” the leader spat to the other Zi’Gax. “They said we must use this device to find our prey. Do not question to orders of our employers.”

  Spiggat ground his crooked teeth. “I don’t doubt their power, Cryle. But that thing has led us to villages that have had no sign of what we are looking for. I don’t mind the looting, of course—” He licked his lips at the memory of enjoyment he had when pillaging a human village—“but I don’t like these woods. And what if we’re spotted by those elves?”

  Up to now, the Zi’Gax had tried to avoid any elven villages, since the elves were master archers and as good of shots in the dark as in daylight. The magical device had also not indicated that there was anything to be found in the Ahshi towns they passed, and they didn’t want to risk any elves escaping to warn the neighboring towns. But they couldn’t leave Juka Basin unchecked. It would be the kind of safe haven their prey would hide in, Cryle thought, and as soon as they found it, they would strike swiftly before the elves realized it.

  “Don’t worry about the elves,” Cryle assured his comrade. “If any are foolish enough to cross our path, we will dispose of them as we would anyone else.” He tapped his compass, wondering if, indeed, the device had ceased working.

  Suddenly, the metal ball drifted to the right, and slowly made its way to the edge of the compass, rolling upwards slowly. Cryle halted his pack, waiting for the ball to stop rolling. The other Zi’Gax sniffed the air, searching for any strange smells. Cryle scanned the trees, his eyes looking for any outlines of violet, an indication of body heat in the immediate area. They all quietly crept to hide behind trees, or stayed low to the ground, blending into the shadows of night. Their eyes glowed dimly, like those of wild animals. Cryle closed his eyes to focus his sense of smell, and he detected the potent smell of lilac.

  He inched forward slowly, crawling with his belly dragging along the ground. The others followed, and the ones in the tree tops jumped down, guarding the rear. They came closer and closer to the sweet smell, finding a wall of lilac bushes about twenty feet in front of them. Cryle wrinkled his nose, and lowered his brow. Funny, his sense of smell shoul
d have picked up something that stunk this badly from a mile off. It was as if these lilac bushes had suddenly appeared out of nowhere…

  A sudden blast of bright light erupted on the ground in front of them. The brightness blinded the Zi’Gax, causing them to scatter in all directions, screeching like frightened monkeys. Cryle jumped to his feet, shielding his eyes and baring his teeth. Another blast of light landed right at his feet, causing him to spring backwards and land on his ratty tail. He heard rustling all around him, as if the forest was moving of its own accord. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that vines were rising from the earth, curling around his legs and body. Enraged, he grabbed one of his sickles and sliced away the vines, freeing himself and jumping up into a tree before the vines could regrow. Glancing around, he spotted another Zi’Gax, ensnared in vines, pinned to the forest floor.

  “You fool!” Cryle leapt down from the tree, dashing over to cut his subordinate loose from his bindings. “Find whatever is doing this! NOW!”

  The freed Zi’Gax slithered away, staying close to the shadows. Cryle sniffed the air, trying to smell past the stench of lilacs. Whoever was responsible for this ambush must have placed those lilacs there, knowing their fragrance was strong enough to mask their own scent. He checked his compass again. Now the ball was rolling all around the rim, as if magic was coming from everywhere. There must be magic traps set up all over the place, but they were plants, for Hob’s sake. How could plants possibly—

  He heard a loud crack, not too far from where he was. He stayed low, scurrying silently towards the noise. His eyes caught the outline of something glowing violet, lying on the ground. It was a body—a Zi’Gax’s body, its head smashed in. The body still twitched, and the hand loosely clutched a dagger. Cryle inspected the lethal blow to the head. From the depth of the hit, it had been caused by a warhammer. He was more than confused, since dwarves were the ones who used warhammers, as far as he knew. What would a dwarf be doing here? Sniffing the air again, he did not pick up the scent of a dwarf, but that of a bird—no, it was either Falcolin or Quetzalin. He curled his lips back over his gums, and continued with a rapid pace through the woods.

  “We got-tkk them on the run!” Mac whispered, hiding in a tree next to Desert Rain. “Did you see their faces-ssck when that blast powder hit-tkk?”

  Desert Rain put a finger to her lips to shush Mac. “Shhhh. You stay here, Mac. It’s my turn now.”

  Desert Rain jumped down from the tree, her prehensile feet landing on the the forest floor soundlessly. Mac had done his part perfectly. His blast powder had caused all the Zi’Gax to be separated from one another. Desert Rain’s role was, to put it plainly, live bait—she was to draw each Zi’Gax into the plant traps Clova had devised. Her part was risky, but she was the fastest person in Luuva Gros, and it was very unlikely that any Zi’Gax was going to catch her. She prayed that if any of them was to throw a weapon at her, she would be fast enough to evade it. Chiriku had self-assigned herself to sneak attacks, hiding behind trees in wait for a Zi’Gax to come by and fall to her warhammer. There was the possibility of Chiriku taking a mistaken swing at Desert Rain, but Desert Rain should be fast enough for Chiriku’s swing to miss her and hit whoever was chasing her instead.

  Desert Rain moved swiftly around the trees, the night vision in her right eye guiding her through the blackness. Her ears were ever attentive, listening for any movement in the brush. She breathed through her mouth as to be more silent, but her breath was quick and short in her nervousness. She had no idea where Clova was at this moment. The Forest Hijn had created several pre-set traps, ones that triggered as soon as someone stepped upon them, but Desert Rain knew where they were and could easily jump over them. If these did not work, it was Desert Rain’s duty to lure the Zi’Gax into Clova’s “big” trap that was located near a small clearing.

  Judging from the number of Zi’Gax they had seen, this was to be no easy task.

  Something sharp zinged past Desert Rain’s ear, cutting off a few strands of her hair. It landed solidly in a tree trunk, and she could see that it was a dagger. She heard fast-approaching footsteps behind her, and without looking back, she took off with lightning speed. She darted towards the nearest trap she knew of, deftly leaping over it, not stopping until she heard a noise like several whip lashes and a quick yelp. Turning to look, she saw a Zi’Gax tangled up in a mass of vines, snarling as he wiggled helplessly.

  Desert Rain stopped to regain her composure, telling herself that she had to do that about twenty more times.

  After creeping around for two minutes, she stumbled upon three Zi’Gax grumbling in discussion. They were too involved barking at and punching each other to notice her at first. Desert Rain wasn’t sure if any one of Clova’s pre-set traps would catch all three of these goblins at a time, but she knew the big one would. Trouble was, she wasn’t close to the big trap from here, and she might run into more Zi’Gax on her way to it. Maybe that was a good thing, as long as none of them caught her. She picked up a stick with her foot, took it in her hand and flung it at the three Zi’Gax. The stick bopped one in the head, and instantly the three whirled around to face Desert Rain. She waved mockingly at them, and was off like a pursued rabbit.

  The forest blurred past her as she ran, and she heard the Zi’Gax cursing her as they gave chase. In her rush, she nearly tripped another of Clova’s magic traps, but remembered to jump over it in time. She heard another yelp behind her, but the running footsteps still followed. She saw the trees being to part, indicating that the clearing was coming up. She sped up—and then two new Zi’Gax jumped out from the shadows to block her path, daggers at the ready.

  Desert Rain veered sharply to the right to dodge the goblins before her. She was now being followed by four Zi’Gax—at least that she knew of—and she was going the wrong way. The footsteps and snarling was getting closer, and she felt a sharp pain in her arm as a flying dagger skimmed her. Clutching her wound, she kept running, her brain scrambling for a plan. She heard a loud smash, and the startled shrieks of the Zi’Gax behind her. Darting a quick glance back, she saw Chiriku, a bloody-headed Zi’Gax at her feet, and the three others baring their teeth at her like dogs ready to pounce.

  Desert Rain stopped dead. There was no way Chiriku could handle three Zi’Gax at once. Where was Clova when you needed her?

  Chiriku made a broad swing at the goblins, forcing them to back away. This didn’t deter them. One pounced at her, and she blocked with the handle of her warhammer. She kicked the beast in the groin, which sent him flat down, moaning. The other two rushed her at the same time, and she managed to crack the jaw of one with the head of her weapon, but the other tackled her, trying to yank the warhammer from her hands. He snapped his teeth at her, but she held him back by jamming the handle of her weapon under his chin. Then there was a crack, and the goblin went limp. Throwing the Zi’Gax off her, Chiriku looked up to see Desert Rain, holding a rock in her hand.

  “Nice one, Donkey Ears,” Chiriku commended her. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  A long, curved dagger dug into Chiriku’s ankle. She screamed, dropping her warhammer. The Zi’Gax, the one she had kicked, yanked his dagger from Chiriku and readied it to slash again. Desert Rain grabbed the Zi’Gax, throwing him away from Chiriku, but he grabbed Desert Rain’s arm, pulling her to the ground. He got up and kneeled over her, bringing his dagger over his head for a swift fatal strike.

  A thick branch whacked the Zi’Gax in the face. He tumbled backwards, holding his bloody nose, growling a whole slew of curses. Desert Rain sat up quickly, scrambling backwards. She saw the figure who was wielding the branch, who now faced the Zi’Gax. He was cloaked with a hat shrouding his face, his leather-bound hands handling his make-shift battlestaff expertly.

  “Gabriel??” Desert Rain couldn’t believe her eyes. What was he doing here?

  The Zi’Gax hissed, standing up and charging with his dagger high overhead. But before he could bring it down, Gabriel swung his battlestaff at the go
blin’s legs, tripping him flat onto his face. The Zi’Gax didn’t even have a chance to get up, for Gabriel brought the butt of his battlestaff down sharply onto the nape of the beast’s neck, snapping it like a twig. The goblin didn’t even twitch; he was instantly dead.

  Chiriku rolled onto her side, grasping her bleeding ankle. “Divine Beasts damn it!”

  “Chiriku!” Desert Rain went over to her, inspecting the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it was serious enough. She took off her bandana and wrapped it around the ankle tightly. “We need to get you someplace safe.”

  “Don’t coddle me,” Chiriku spat, leaning against a tree to stand up on her one good leg. “I’m not gonna let a little cut stop me.”

  “Then stay here,” Desert Rain ordered. She turned to Gabriel. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll come back after I make sure some more Zi’Gax are out of the way.”

  “You can’t go alone.”

  Desert Rain blinked, surprised. She hadn’t heard Gabriel speak before. His voice was soft, demure, the tone of a shy poet. Yet there was a hidden assertiveness in his tone, and his eyes locked steadily onto hers. “You can’t go by yourself,” Gabriel repeated.

  “We can’t wait here for the other Zi’Gax to find us,” Desert Rain argued.

  “I’ll go, then.”

  Desert Rain delved into those gray-blue eyes, looking for that glint of pride and valor that she once saw in another man. There was a flame of bravery, certainly, but it was small, surrounded by the smoke of self-doubt. It was the inner light of a young man who had a heart of goodness and generosity, but no faith in himself. It made her heart sink, for some reason. This was not the soul-fire of a Swordmaster. It was a normal pair of blue eyes.

  There was a rustling a few yards away. The three of them froze. Gabriel gripped his staff, holding up a hand for Desert Rain to keep still. He crept slowly, methodically, ducking low behind trees as he went. He suddenly darted out of sight. Desert Rain wanted to follow, to help Gabriel if he was ambushed, but she couldn’t leave Chiriku alone.