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

by A. R. Cook

  Desert Rain looked at the ring, and nodded. This time, she couldn’t reply, for if she opened her mouth, she knew she would cry. She paused, wishing there was something else she could say or do, but then she turned, and left the room. She heard Clova whisper a soft “goodbye” behind her. Desert Rain mouthed the word, but couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud.

  She was half-way down the corridor when she heard a child’s voice. “Miss Lute Lady?”

  Desert Rain turned to see the little human girl, Alana, coming out of her room. She quickly gained composure, wiping away a tear from her eye. “Hello there, Alana. How are you feeling today?”

  “Much better, thank you.” Alana went up to her, shining a youthful grin. “Gabriel told me how you fought the goblins. You must be very brave.”

  Desert Rain smiled but shook her head modestly. “Gabriel fought very bravely himself. You’re very lucky to have him with you. Is he in your room right now?”

  Alana nodded happily.

  The Hijn thought a moment, and then bent down to be more eye-level with Alana. “Could you tell Gabriel goodbye for me?”

  “Okay.” It took Alana a second to realize the meaning of that. “Are you leaving?”

  “My friends and I have to leave in the morning, and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to say goodbye to Gabriel, or thank him again for all he did to help us.”

  “Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Alana took Desert Rain by the hand, but Desert Rain slipped quickly out of her grasp.

  “It’s…” Desert Rain stood at full height, wringing her fingers. “If you could tell him for me, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.” Desert Rain turned and glided down the hallway, keeping her gaze down at the floor. Why she couldn’t tell Gabriel herself, she couldn’t say. Maybe one goodbye was all she could handle right then.

  She went to her mat in the main hall, to find Mac already snoring away on his, and Chiriku sitting on hers. The Quetzalin looked up at her but said nothing. She looked weary and seemed to be in deep thought. Desert Rain lied down on her mat slowly, for her back wounds still ached even with the salve the elves had put on them. She shut her eyes, but her mind continued to work for a while. Tomorrow was going to be the beginning of a whole new chapter in her life, one that was going to lead her down a trail she had never trodden. Questions persistently echoed in her thoughts. Was this going to work? Could she really do this? Was there really a twist of Fate directing these events? But there were also the voices of affirmation mingled in with her questions. Time was of the essence. Katawa was getting nearer to his goal with every passing day. She had been the one to return his memories, who gave him the power to spread his poison. The Knighthood must be out there right now, trying to stop him, but it was her responsibility. She would keep her vow. She would find this Lightscale, and find out how to use it to undo the Distortion.

  Interlude: The Birth

  Ninety years ago.

  Desiree stood with her toes planted in the warm sands, facing the ruins of the temple she had visited so often in the past. Even now, she felt the comfort that Grandma Luna gave her, even though the temple was now empty, and had been for some time. Desiree had not been here since the night Luna had passed away, after giving her the gift of Blueshine. Now Desiree had wished she hadn’t come on that evening, had not been here when Luna had died. For then, she would not have gained Blueshine, which she discovered was not a blessing, but the greatest curse of her life.

  There were images still fresh and vibrant in her mind. They did not quite link up somehow, the events between the images blurred in her desperation to forget. But she still saw the faces—all the faces. The ones she loved: her mother, her father, her sisters and her brothers. These faces were twisted in fear, because they had come. The event replayed again and again in her head, in a neverending cycle that filled her with ever-increasing pain. It was so clear, that she may as well have been living it all over again…

  ***

  She awoke on the ground, her body aching, her fingers burning as if stricken with an intense frost bite. She was lying on her stomach, and she slowly raised herself up on her shivering arms. Everything she saw upon waking— the wagons, the sleeping tents, the clearing around it all—was awash in glassy, bluish crystal, like a tidal wave had tumbled through and paralyzed all it touched. Even the fire that had been crackling in the fire pit had become a jagged statue of shimmering glass. She looked at her sore fingers, which she swore looked a bit elongated, and even a bit yellowish. The tips of her fingers were caked in the crystal that swathed the artists’ camp, and it hurt to flex them. She rubbed her fingers together, the crystal dissolving off in a fine powder. Looking around the crystal-stained clearing, she did not see anyone at first, not her family, not the other artists that traveled in the company, not even the rogues that had attacked their camp.

  Then she spotted them. The thieves were still here, but they were no longer a threat. They, too, had become encased in the wash of crystal, frozen in their last moment of shock and fright as the magic had swept over them. Desiree had not been able to tell who or what they were when they had first assaulted the camp, but now she could see their horrid, inhuman faces petrified in the blue glass. They were goblins—two had gotten away before the Blueshine had caught them, but the unfortunate ones would never harass another traveling cavalcade again.

  Desiree was bold enough to touch one of the goblins, to see if it was still alive underneath the crystal, but it crumbled into a pile of tiny shards as soon as she laid her hand on it. The goblins had not been encased in the Blueshine; the magic had completely altered their bodies into the strange, gem-like glass.

  This was not supposed to have happened. That was not what the Blueshine should have done. It was supposed to have driven away the evil, protected the camp in the moonlight aura of goodness. But it had devoured everything with its crystalline touch, and she had been left alone. Where was her family? Where were the other artists? Had they all, too, been entrapped by the Blueshine?

  She heard something shatter. She turned to see the door of one of the wagons had been kicked open from the inside, but the crystal-coated door had crumbled into pieces, like the goblin had.

  “Desiree, what have you done??”

  The voice was her mother’s. The middle-aged artisan, still as exotic and beautiful as she had always been, crept out from the wagons, along with Desiree’s haggard father and little sisters, and the others hiding in the giant canvas-covered carts. The artists gawked at the scene before them, at the landscape eaten away by glassy blue crystal. Some let out short shrieks and they stepped on patches of crystal and it gave way beneath their feet, dissolving into sparkling sand. They all turned to stare at Desiree, a new sense of fear in their eyes.

  Desiree was speechless and scared. She had never been the most popular performer in the company, and had spent a good deal of time trying to stay out of sight when not on stage. But now they all stared at her, so transfixed, so scrutinizing. All Desiree could do was look down at her feet, which she had noticed had started to change during the past few months—they were starting to look more like hands. She had hoped it was her imagination, but others had noticed it too.

  Then she realized who was missing. The ones who had refused to hide from the goblins, the young men who had stood their ground and tried to fight them off. Those boys included her older brothers. Where were they all? Where had happened to Andeas, Lionel and Tandre?

  They found the boys quickly. At the very edge where the crystalline wash ended were six figures, three of which were her siblings. The force of the Blueshine must have pushed them away, instead of washing over them. They weren’t frozen because they are good people, Desiree thought, and the Blueshine won’t hurt good people. But she saw how wrong she was. Her brothers had not been left unharmed. They lied in the frost-tipped grass, shaking, gasping for air. Their skin had turned ice-white, and their veins were visible through their skin, outlined in crystal-blue. It was as if all the color had been drai
ned from their body—even their hair and eyelids were caked rigid with powdered crystal. Most of their clothing was broken off, having succumbed to the same brittleness as everything else touched by Blueshine.

  Desiree rushed to her fallen brothers, falling to her knees beside them. She ventured cautiously to touch Tandre, the youngest of the three, and to her relief, he did not shatter like the goblin had. Yet it was painful to touch him—it wasn’t like a burn or frostbite, but it sent a surge of sharpness through her arm that made her withdraw her hand with a yelp.

  Desiree couldn’t describe the horror that swallowed her as she looked at that terrible sight. How could this have happened? Her Blueshine wasn’t supposed to do this to good people! Unless, she wasn’t worthy of the power; she wasn’t good enough to use it.

  There hadn’t been any sympathy for Desiree as someone yanked her away from her brothers, and others came over to the young men and wrapped them in blankets. They lifted and loaded the boys into the wagons, placing them onto their shabby cots. Desiree heard the raspy, furious voice of one of the elders, a stout old woman who jabbed her wooden cane at her.

  “What have I been telling you all along? This child is cursed! I knew it as soon as she came home with that mark on her forehead! Bought the stone from a jeweler and stuck it on with face gum, she says. I’ve never seen her take that stone off. It’s the mark of Demons, I tell you!”

  Desiree backed away from the prodding cane. “No! That’s not true!”

  “That’s not all that’s wrong with you. Look at your skin! I swear, you’re turning more sallow by the day.”

  Other voices blended into the cacophony of anger. “And her hands! She’s got the cursed ice on her hands!”

  “She’s been with demons!”

  “They’ve turned her into one of them!”

  “She’s become a Wretched!”

  The girl held her hands up, as if to ward off the verbal attacks. “No, I’m not! You know that’s not possible. Please, listen to me, this was an accident…It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…” Desiree ran over to her father and mother, who were standing by the wagon that their sons were lying in. “Mother, Father, you believe me, don’t you? That I didn’t mean to do this? I meant to help. I would never do this on purpose. Please, say something…”

  Her parents didn’t look at her. They both looked so shaken and upset, even the colorful beauty of their costumes and makeup would not be able to mask their emotions. They did not seem angry or afraid, but heartbroken. Desiree tried to take hold of her mother’s hand, but the woman jerked away from her touch. That shudder made Desiree feel as cold as the crystal on her fingertips.

  Her mother and father both slowly turned and walked into the wagon. They sat down on one of the tattered cots where their half-frozen sons lied. They didn’t look back at Desiree—they never looked at her again.

  Desiree whimpered, “I’m sorry…”

  A small rock hit her in the shoulder. She whipped around to face the rest of the artists and artisans, who had now gathered into a tight mob.

  “We don’t want demon witches here!” yelled one of the artists.

  Desiree made one last attempt to defend herself. “I didn’t mean to…I was trying to stop the thieves. I was trying to protect us!”

  “Look at what you did! The goblins would have taken our money and some of our possessions. You’ve gone and destroyed everything!”

  “You’ve hurt your brothers with your dark magic, witch!”

  Desiree was blinded by her tears. She wrapped her arms around herself as each accusation pierced her like prodding spears.

  “She’s gone and killed her own brothers!”

  “We can’t have a wicked changling live with us!”

  “Get rid of her!”

  “We don’t shelter witches!”

  “She’s a Wretched!”

  “Demon!

  “Witch!”

  “WRETCHED! WRETCHED! WRETCHED!”

  Desiree had run away from the accusing voices and the pelting stones, fleeing with an inhuman speed that no other in Luuva Gros could match. She did not plan where to go at first, and for some time hid in the dark corners of towns she passed, without a home and without money. Even the beggars faired better than she did, for her gradual physical changes made her too afraid to speak to anyone. Eventually she had found her way back here, to this temple in the desert. She had sought refuge here before, and now it was her one haven. She couldn’t live anywhere, not in the cities, not where people would fear her or mock her. After what she had done, what pain she had caused, she could not risk living among people. She could not hurt anyone like that again.

  Bellaluna had made a mistake. Desiree shouldn’t have been her heir. Something with the Blueshine had gone horribly wrong, and it wasn’t the magic’s fault. It was Desiree. She wasn’t fit to use the magic. She was not strong enough, was not good enough. There must have been a great wickedness inside her to make the Blueshine act like that. She feared this power. She couldn’t control it. Without Luna, she would never learn how to control it. As she stood there, staring at the remains of the temple, feeling the warm sand between her toes, she made a firm resolve:

  She would never summon Blueshine ever again.

  A cool drop fell on top of her head. Desiree thought she imagined it, but then she felt another drop land on her ear. Looking down at the sand, she watched as tiny dark spots began to freckle the landscape. Lifting her eyes to the sky, she saw gray clouds gather overhead, but not the dark ominous ones of a storm. The rain trickled down softly, the gentle weep of a light shower, cool and refreshing in this desolate land. Desiree could not understand it. Luna had told her rain almost never came here in the desert, maybe once or twice a year. Of all days for it to rain, when Desiree had returned after all this time.

  Peace descended upon her as each raindrop bathed her hot, golden ochre skin. She would be all right out here. This was a sign. Luna had taught her how to survive in the desert, how to find food and water, how to avoid dangerous animals, how to bring them to her trust. Desiree had thought Luna taught her these things for the sake of knowledge, but maybe there was more to it than that. Maybe Luna knew that Desiree would return to this place, and the desert was to be her new home.

  As Desiree watched the rainfall, she decided to relinquish everything about her old self, to begin anew out here in the Golden Dragon Desert. She would shred away every last detail, as much as she could bring herself to do. Some things about her she may never discard, but the being of Desiree would be sanded away.

  Desiree…the name had never been right for her. Her mother had always said it was perfect, that it meant “Desire,” or “Love.” Look what love had done. The people she loved, she had hurt. Even as a little child, she had always felt the name was somewhat off. It was close to who she might be, but not quite.

  She would become what was around her. She would become part of this place Luna had once held domain over, the place bequeathed to her.

  Desiree…

  She would endure the heat of the sands. She would rebuild this temple to be her home. She would become a mystery, something that could appear and vanish in the blink of an eye, like rain in the desert.

  She inhaled deeply, and stretched her arms out to welcome in the new self, the birth of the spirit she had created within.

  I am Desert Rain.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Meeting in the Woods

  Desert Rain…

  She could feel his presence pressing down on her.

  Desert Rain…I’m here…

  She couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t move at all. She felt a chill invade her body as his breath stung her neck. His teeth raked over her throat, his lips brush against her ear. A trembling filled her chest as the frightening and intoxicating presence overwhelmed her. Suddenly she felt his hands plunge into her belly, and the electrifying pain of the Distortion twisted her inside out.

  You are mine!

  Desert Rain
awoke with a start. She was drenched in sweat, and the trembling in her chest was still there. The presence was gone. She sat up on her blanket, one of the several provisions the Ahshi had given her for her journey through the forest. She looked around, finding no one other than her two companions. Chiriku was asleep, her warhammer in hand. Mac was still awake, although it must have been late, judging from the placement of Ia Ternaut in the sky, which could be seen through the gaps in the canopy. He sat by the campfire, roasting pieces of an apple on a stick, popping the pieces into his mouth happily.

  She instinctively checked herself, feeling her stomach for any sign of deformed skin or muscle. There were none. She checked her pockets, making sure she still had her possessions. In one pocket was Gothart’s black pouch—he had been quiet as of late, but he could entertain himself, she was sure. In the other pocket was the Darkscale compass, which Anthron had figured out how to fix after a few hours of inspecting it. The inner workings were much like a normal compass, as he had predicted, and there had been a small crystal prism inside that had been knocked out of place, but not broken. After shifting and securing things back into their alleged places, and tapping out the dents, the compass had the appearance of being functional. The little metallic ball hovered in the center of the compass, which Anthron could deduced that this was how the device would be in a neutral state. There was no real way to test if the compass was working, although the ball did occasionally hover towards Desert Rain. She hoped that up north, the compass would be more responsive to the presence of the Elfë Taigas’ magic.

  She winced slightly as she moved, her wounds still burning a little, but they were healing well thanks to the Ahshi medicine she had been given. The medicine had healed Chiriku’s ankle wound as well, and she could once again walk without limping. It had also helped that she had kept off her feet the last few days, since they had been riding on elkback with the Ahshi up until yesterday.