by Aderyn Wood
Yana turned to Saraf and asked her to collect scraps from the kitchens for the ducks.
Saraf gave her a slight frown as she too glanced at Sargan. “I can do that later.”
Yana lifted her chin. “No now. I prefer they have them in the afternoon.”
Saraf nodded and left them, and Yana’s heart sunk a little when she saw the look in Sargan’s eyes as he watched Saraf walk away. “Sargan,” she said a little too loud. “What are you talking about? You hate warring. You hate being a soldier.”
Sargan frowned. “Well, I’m never really going to be a soldier. I know that, but at least I’m starting to understand it all now. Ibbi told me the odds have actually changed, and he’s considering including me on his wagering lists now. Though, I think he just said it to be nice.”
“I don’t like it. And I don’t see how you’re improving if you keep coming back like a wounded duck.”
Sargan shrugged. “I thought you’d like my new attitude. I may as well find some enjoyment in it. Father still won’t allow me to join the temple.” His face crumpled a little. “Even with my sister gone.”
“Well, he should give you some other role than mucking about with the soldiers.” She lifted her chin. “I will speak with him.”
Sargan’s eyebrows shot up, and then he bent over to put his hands on in his knees and let out a loud belly laugh. “You will speak to my father?” He stood up to breathe and place a hand on his stomach. “Oh Yana, you do entertain me.”
“What’s so funny?”
Sargan wiped his eyes and inhaled a deep breath before stepping closer and putting a hand on Yana’s shoulder. “Yana, my friend. Don’t you see? No one tells my father what to do.”
“Well, it’s about time someone did. Otherwise you’ll end up with a part of you chopped off!”
Sargan’s smile faded, and his eyebrows drew together as he looked at her in that way that made her warm inside.
A bloom of warmth tickled her cheeks and she stepped back out of Sargan’s reach, and his hand fell to his side.
Yana cleared her throat. “Why did you want to see me?”
He smiled then. “Qisht has made arrangements for us to explore the desert tomorrow. We leave at dawn. Be ready!”
“Yana! Not so fast.” Qisht’s voice wafted to her over the desert sand. “Your camel will tire. We’ve more ground to cover yet.”
Yana turned her head to yell over her shoulder. “My camel’s picked up the scent of water. It is up ahead, yes?”
Qisht did not answer. Yana was about to turn around a little more, but her camel started to trot, and she faced forward to cling to the ropes. She sensed the camel’s excitement, just as she did with any animal. Whether it be one of her ducks, or the goats back in her village, or even with the wild animals, she could sense their mood by reaching out and connecting through her shade-self.
The camel lumbered over the hot sands before it gradually returned to a steady walk. They’d made it to a lagoon hidden among sandy rocks. A famed place called the Sacred Oasis. A number of date trees stood in various places along with cacti and grasses, and it all looked greener than the wide expanse of desert. Down in the oasis’s valley a rocky hill stood prominent and reminded Yana of the beacon atop the tallest mount in Varg Isht. A cooling breeze blew over the blue water of the lagoon. “Beautiful,” Yana whispered.
Her camel continued down the slope into the little valley and drew closer to the sparkling water. Yana patted her camel’s back. “You were right, my friend.”
The camel meandered a little way down the slight incline and Yana dismounted. She followed the camel to the lagoon’s shore, and waited for the others.
Qisht soon arrived with two servants close behind. Sargan came last.
Qisht dismounted and turned to face Sargan. “Come along, my Prince.” He then walked the short distance to Yana. “How did you know the oasis was here, Yana? It is well hidden by the rock cliffs either side. Only those of us who know its location can find it. Usually.”
Yana looked at Qisht’s eyes. The line of kohl was always perfectly aligned, even after a day in the desert, and it fascinated her as to how he achieved such perfection. She shrugged. “I didn’t, but the camel did.”
Qisht squinted, as though trying to understand.
Yana pointed to the spring. “Can we drink the water?”
“Of course. Fill your water bag here. The water is sweet with nourishments.”
“Sweet Phadite!” One of the guards was yelling and pointing as he backtracked up the bank. “Qisht!”
Yana snapped her eyes in the direction of his pointed finger and her mouth fell open. There on a rock basking in the sun was a serpent. Longer, fatter and more formidable than any reptile she’d seen in the baskets in the bazaar. Its scales glistened in multiple hues. It would be larger in height than one of the camels, and longer than all four camels put together. “What is it?” she whispered.
“Step back, Yana, as quietly and as softly as you can.” Qisht’s voice was at her side and it held raw fear. “We need to leave, now.”
She glanced back to see Sargan gesturing wildly for her to hurry away from the serpent.
“Is it really so dangerous?” she asked quietly as she took a soft step back. The snake appeared rather harmless curled up as it was, basking in the sunshine. The blue and purple shimmer of its scales were nothing short of beautiful and Yana wanted to stay a while to watch it.
“Do not talk, Yana,” Qisht hissed. “Step back quietly. Keep going, that's it. We must leave now.”
“What about the camels?” Yana whispered back. The four beasts were all standing by the water, seemingly oblivious to the dangers.
They will follow us.
They all made steady progress until one of the servants stumbled on the rocky bank and fell, causing stones to tumble and fall down into the lagoon with a splash.
Yana held her breath as she jolted her attention back to the serpent.
One eyelid flew back to reveal a large vertical slit for an eye, black on the inside, and like fire on the outer ring. In another heartbeat the creature had snapped its head up, and forked tongue flicked out as it stood. It wasn’t a serpent at all. It had legs.
“Run!” Qisht screamed.
Yana spun and ran over the rocky ground as best she could. Fear coursed through her veins making her light, a familiar effect of her shade-self rising came to the fore. Everything intensified. The bright colours, the sounds, and she detected the fear of the others, as though she could smell it in the air. Everyone of them was frightened, but so too was the serpent, or lizard, or whatever it was. He was protecting something. Something in the rocky cavern beyond the lagoon.
Yana risked a glance back. The creature pursued them. It moved so quickly, there was no chance they could outrun it. She stopped and turned to face it.
“Yana, what are you doing?” Qisht screamed at her. “Run!”
Yana stood on the rocky ground and watched as the creature came ever faster, tearing over the ground toward her. Its huge teeth were on display as it hissed and roared at them.
“Yana!” someone screamed.
Her vision swirled the way it did sometimes when she communed with animals. She raised a hand, and it appeared a smokey blue before her.
The creature’s fear fed its rage and Yana could almost taste it.
She focused her mind, took a deep breath and sent one unyielding thought to the creature. STOP! She opened her mouth and yelled the word out loud, and it echoed round the valley of rock.
The great beast came to a halt, its head reared about five paces from Yana. Her heart beat with her own fear but she forced it to calm.
“We mean you no harm,” she said. “You may return to your home and we will not disturb you again. Your treasure is safe from us.”
The creature swayed its head one way then the other, the black scales on its maw shone in the sunshine, and its tongue flicked out once more.
Yana focused on sending her calm
ing essence to the creature. Whisps of her shade-self, like blue smoke, flew through the air and wrapped around the serpent’s body, feeding it tranquility. “We only wish to use the spring, for we are thirsty. We shall drink from it and bathe in it, and then we shall leave you in peace.”
“Bathing?” she heard Sargan hiss.
The creature swayed its head again, and then, ever so slowly, it turned and stalked back to the rock ledge. Its scales glimmered prettily in the sunshine.
Once it was at a safe distance, Yana let go her breath and relaxed her outstretched arm. Her limbs felt heavy and numb and she longed to crumple to the ground, but slowly she turned. The two guards, Sargan and Qisht all stood with their mouths agape.
That night, Sargan invited Yana to dine with his father in the king’s suite. Hadanash wasn’t with them, nor were any of the king’s brothers or their wives. It was just Yana and Sargan. She much preferred it to eating in the dining hall with the other royal residents. The royal cousins still giggled behind their hands and cast furtive glances at Yana, and she grew tired of their malice.
Sargan was filled to the brim with excitement from their excursion. He’d barely drawn breath. “It was like a story from one of the ancient epics,” he said, with grease making his chin shine in the lantern light. “Like Zoaras himself battling the great desert dragons. I’ve never seen anything like it!”
The king raised an eyebrow. “I wish I could have seen it.” The king wiped his mouth with a linen cloth, and stood. “I shall retire now.” The king turned his fiery eyes to Yana. “Yana, please come and sit with me a moment.” He gestured to the settees in the middle of the room.
Yana nodded and stood. She glanced at Sargan who gave her a pout, before he, too, stood and took his leave.
She followed the king the few short steps and took a seat on a settee. The covering was cool and silky. Qisht approached with a tray and poured two cups with wine. Yana thanked him and took a sip, her tongue tingling with the sweetness of it.
“Thank you, Qisht. You may leave us,” the king said quietly.
Yana raised an eyebrow. The king’s servant was never far from his side. Though Sargan had mentioned something about the king not including Qisht as much as usual in important matters.
Yana wondered about Qisht. Now and then she sensed an intense hurt from him that bordered on resentment, but she didn't probe too much. It felt rude to impose like that.
Once Qisht left them, the king looked at Yana, his eyes direct as usual. “It was quite a feat what you achieved today. How long have you been aware of your gifts with animals?”
Yana took a breath. “I’ve known all my life.”
The king narrowed his eyes at her. “You seemed to downplay your part when Sargan was regaling us with the tale tonight.”
Yana clenched her hands together in her lap. “My grama always told me to keep my gifts secret. I’m not sure why, but I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“You have power, and there are those who will use it to their advantage, if they can.”
“Including kings.”
“Especially kings.”
Yana chewed her lip.
“We should downplay today’s events. As much as possible you are to keep to your duties with your ducks. I’m beginning to believe Phadite sent you to us. When the desert seer returns, perhaps you, too, should enter unto his tutelage.”
Yana nodded, but her thoughts went to her grandmother. Grama was supposed to teach her the ways of her gift, not a stranger.
The king looked at her again. “And have you had any more… prophecies?”
A surge of heat flushed through Yana’s cheeks. She’d told him of that particular prophecy in anger.
“Well?”
Yana shook her head. “I’ve had no more omens or dreams of your death, or anything else, King. And if you want to know, I am grateful for it. Not everything I foresee will occur. My grandmother has told me that. She says I must come to learn that there is an art in reading the omens and the dreams, and I wish you wouldn’t take so much faith in what I said to you. In truth, I said it in anger and I am sorry for it.”
The king looked down at his wine that remained untouched. “How many of your foresights have come to pass, Yana?”
“Well…” Yana looked up at the impossibly high ceiling and chewed her lip. She’d foreseen her father's death. And the Khannassa’s. She’d foreseen Old Fenja’s death, but it was Dark Wynter, and then there was… She swallowed hard as her mind flicked through the past and she returned her gaze to the king. “All of them.”
The king nodded. “Be sure to report to me as soon as you have any further information about my death. I am not so much afraid for me as for the kingdom and all I will leave behind.”
“I will. And until then I shall focus on my ducks.”
“Be sure you do. I look forward to our first meal of the finest duck meat Zraemia has ever known.”
Yana smiled as she stood to leave. She put her cup on the table, and then remembered something she’d wanted to bring to the king’s attention, despite what Sargan had told her.
“What is it?” The king looked at her quizzically.
“It’s Sargan. You must stop him from ring practice. From all practice to do with warring. He’s no soldier and never will be.”
The king’s eyes widened as though surprised. It was clear he wasn’t used to people telling him what he should and shouldn’t do. “It is not so simple as that. He must be seen to be a soldier. It matters not whether he is good at it.”
“But he is injured every time.”
For a fleeting moment the king looked pained, but he soon restored his calm demeanor.
“Why not let him enter the temple? Now that the princess has gone—”
“Sargan is a prince of Azzuri,” the king said. “Sword practice, at the very least, is expected of him. Good night, Yana.”
Sargan
Sargan sat on the bank with Yana, watching the ducks play in the stream. Another quarter-moon had gone by and palace life had returned to normal. And so had Yana. Sargan huffed as he gave her a sidelong glance. Her hair was longer now, and she wore it unbraided and unbound in the Zraemian style. He couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be a light dusting of rouge on her cheeks. She wore a linen dress with blue threads, and it was clear she had more womanly curves than she had a year ago. Though she was still on the skinny side.
She was staring at the stream, lost in her thoughts of ducks probably. Two hens each had a clutch of eggs, and Yana said it was only a matter of time before they set.
Occasionally, she would eye off the native ducks that visited the stream, and she’d mumble some nonsense about stealing their eggs to put under one of her hens.
If he was to be honest, Sargan was bored with all her talk of ducks. He wished she’d explain what happened at the lagoon. It was the most extraordinary thing he’d ever seen, and he longed to know how she’d done it. How she’d controlled the desert dragon. She had some kind of power, and he burned to understand it. Perhaps it was not unlike his sister’s power. He’d begun a poem on the subject to fully regale the day a young woman stood up to a fiery desert dragon and survived. He yearned to get Yana’s perspective on the feat to help him understand it.
But whenever he raised the subject, Yana avoided his questions and before he knew it he was in yet another conversation about ducks.
In the distance, the temple bell gonged the noon hour. Sargan stood with a huff.
“Where are you going?” Yana asked, shading her eyes to look up at him.
“Sword practice, remember?”
Yana frowned. “You mean your father hasn’t stopped your training yet?”
“No, why would he? We’ve been over this.” Sargan let out a short breath. Sometimes he wondered if Yana listened to a word he said.
But she had already returned her attention to the stream.
Sargan squinted at her. “You didn’t say anything to father did you?”
“I told you he wouldn’t listen. And now you’ve brought his attention on me.” Sargan’s throat tightened. “I don’t want my father’s attention, Yana. Please, keep out of my business.” He’d raised his voice and immediately felt bad for it. But Yana had no right to interfere in what she didn’t understand. He turned and stalked away.
“Sargan, I’m sorry…”
Sargan kept walking. He had to get his head in order for the ring. Danael had made it more tolerable for him, teaching him the fundamentals of defence, but underneath the bravado he’d attempted to fool Yana with, Sargan still hated sword practice and he’d give it up in a heartbeat. Every practice was filled with humiliation, and if that wasn’t enough, the mounting injuries filled every day with some sort of pain.
But war strategy was another matter entirely. Sargan considered his last conversation with Danael as he made his way out the palace gates and to the barracks. The way the Drakians battled while still on their longboats fascinated him. He could understand why. With all those mountains, it would be hard to find enough ground to do battle the way the Zraemians did it. But he had a hundred burning questions. Like why didn’t they simply fortify their homes? Why go out to meet an army on the sea anyway? Most Drakian isles were similar to Estr Varg, he’d been told, so their tall cliffs would act as an effective barrier if anyone tried to enter for hostile purposes.
Hopefully, there’d be time for more talks after ring practice today, as long as Sargan wasn’t too sore.
He was also spending more time in both the palace and the temple libraries, reading various accounts of famous battles in Zraemia and beyond, especially those from Zyrria. He was interested to see how Zraemian armies fared when faced with an altogether foreign force like the Zyrrian’s once faced with Tarzyshta.
