by A. R. Cook
Cryle was being devoured by an unknown horror as that green eye bore into him. He had never felt this kind of dread from anyone, not man or beast, nor even the ones who had hired him to capture this Hijn female—and they had been the most terrible beings he had ever encountered. He did not like being afraid, and it made him loathe this girl all the more. He didn’t care if his employers had demanded that he brought back the Hijn alive. He was going to kill this one.
His sickles slid across the sword with a metallic hiss. He swept them to the right, bringing them around to slice her in the side, but his strike was met again by the sword. He thought he spotted confusion in the girl’s face, but it must have been a trick to lure him into a false sense of security. The sheer speed of her block showed that she was well-trained with a sword, and he did not become the alpha Zi’Gax by being fooled.
Desert Rain, on the other hand, had no idea what in Luuva was going on. She was seeing what was happening, but had no control over any of it. Every time the Zi’Gax lashed out with his sickles, her heart stopped for half a beat, every bite of blade on blade rang sharply in her ears. If she could feel anything in her body, her stomach would be churning from the fear of what gashes she was going to receive. Before any gash could be inflicted, however, Silverheart opposed the sickles, driving them back with excellent proficiency. The swordfight grew increasingly rapid, and the percussion of clashes and the whistles of razor-sharp blades cutting through air wove a gruesome battle hymn. The spectators—Zi’Gax, Hijn and human alike—watched in breathless awe of the raging opponents, barely able to keep up with the movement. Desert Rain would have vomited if she had been given a moment to do so, but the sword wasn’t allowing her to stop. It would have been frightening enough if there was nerve in her body while this sword dueled for her, but being completely numb gave her no amount of command whatsoever. For all she knew, she might have been sliced already and not even known it.
The head Zi’Gax snarled like a wild dog, his fighting growing more violent the longer they continued. “Not bad, for an ugly toad,” he spat.
Not bad, if I had any say over what I’m doing! thought Desert Rain. I’m possessed!
Cryle swung one sickle down on top of the sword, his other sickle came up from under, and he caught Silverheart in a claw grip. With a quick twist, he flipped the sword right out of Desert Rain’s hands, sending it off to the side, twirling like a windmill. It bounced once on its hilt, and then landed flat a few yards away. He could see the faltering panic in his opponent’s eyes. She was defenseless.
As soon as the sword left her hands, Desert Rain could feel again, and what she felt rack her whole being was the chill of approaching death. She shivered like a sheep ready for slaughter, her eyes hazing over as the Zi’Gax brought his sickles up over his shoulder, to swing them down in an arch to slice open her chest.
Instinct kicked in. She fell back, away from the Zi’Gax’s swing, but the tips of the sickles snagged her tunic and ripped it. She landed smack on her back, but then she reached her prehensile feet towards him, grasping his ankles and yanking with all her might. She sent him down onto his back, causing him to drop his sickles. She got up swiftly and scrambled after Silverheart, but the goblin gathered his weapons and was up on his feet, hot on her tail. He brought his sickles up to the right to slice at her again. Desert Rain lunged at Silverheart, scooping up the sword with one hand, using all her strength to lift it as she twisted around to face her adversary. Before the nerve left her body again, she swung that sword with all her might—
Silverheart met the two sickles, and sliced through the inferior weapons like warm butter.
To say Cryle was stunned would be an understatement. He gawked at his broken sickles, the sliced-off ends glowing hot orange. He looked up at Desert Rain, who was also gawking at the damage she had done. She was transfixed, as if waking from a dream. With the fight coming to a complete halt and the physical nerve returned to her, her body caught up to the extreme effort she had given. Everything ached and burned inside her, and she made the mistake of showing this by letting her body slump.
Cryle was aching as well, but he took this opportunity. The end of his split sickles still burning, he thrust the hot metal of one into the flesh between Desert Rain’s shoulder and neck. With a painful scream, she staggered back, fell, and grasped firmly at her excruciating burn. This was it. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that the Zi’Gax was over her, and was going to make her suffer before he killed her.
This would have been Desert Rain’s fate, but as she had been told before, there were forces that would keep her safe. One of these was the Forest Hijn.
Clova was still exhausted from her magic use, but her heart pounded as if she was running for her life. It was her friend’s life that was at stake, however, and she was twisting up inside as she watched helplessly from the sidelines. She had no idea Desert Rain could wield a sword like that—quiet, shy Desert Rain was fighting as well as any Knight! So well, in fact, Clova felt the seed of optimism grow within her, becoming ever more confident that Desert Rain would win. When she saw Silverheart decapitate the sickles, a burst of elation filled her, and she would have jumped for joy if she wasn’t being held. Then she watched as her friend was stabbed in the shoulder, and fell to the ground in pain. Tears filled her eyes as she witnessed the alpha Zi’Gax laugh in wicked delight, and used his broken blades to slice at Desert Rain’s tunic, cutting her arms and backside as the desert Hijn curled up into herself. There wasn’t intent to kill, yet. The Zi’Gax enjoyed wounding his adversary, scarring her with long red streaks along her skin as she flinched with each strike.
Clova couldn’t take it anymore. This was too cruel for her. Maybe other Hijn had seen this kind of brutality before, the ones who battled the Wretched, but she couldn’t bear it. Deep down within, she summoned up all the energy she had left, balling it up into a mass of aura-fire. It seered raw and hot in her chest, and she was about to explode from the intense magic she was mounting. She knew the words of Dragontongue to speak, ones she rarely if ever spoke, but she was shaking with such fury that she might not be able to pronounce the spell correctly. The Zi’Gax holding her must have felt something was wrong, for his grip slackened, and he inched away from her, keeping her at arm’s length. The words Clova spoke started out in a death whisper, for she was trying so hard to keep herself steady and mentally focused. As the words leaked out, her emotions took over. Her voice rose, her speech quickened, until she was hollering the spell at the top of her voice, and the final word, as well as all her remaining magic, was released in a scream of pure anguish.
The scream resonated like a banshee wail, the pitch warping into something otherworldly the longer Clova held it. All the Zi’Gax clasped their hands to their ears, crying in panic as they hunched over in agony. Desert Rain’s ears took it even worse, but it distracted her from the pain of her wounds. Clova’s wail was echoed by the trees that howled and writhed in reaction to Clova’s magic. The whole forest was thrashing about them, the icy wind stinging every body it blew against, rattling the leaves like hollow bones. The ground began to quiver. It deepened into a shake that caused everyone to wobble on their feet, and it worsened until a thunderous cracking erupted around them.
The earth beneath them was splitting apart.
Desert Rain managed to prop herself up on her arms, her senses returning as fissures rippled across the ground around her. She wasn’t sure how Clova was doing this. Rukna was the Hijn who commanded magic over stone and earth; Clova was mistress of flora and vegetation. She shouldn’t have the power to crack the earth like this. Then Desert Rain saw how it was being done—roots were crawling up from the fissures, pushing the earth apart.
The Zi’Gax were too bewildered to react at first, but then when one of them lost his footing and fell into one of the fissures, the others were triggered to move. Some attempted to run, but the ground shifted too violently beneath them and they plummeted down into the depths of the earth. Others had their legs
snatched by the invading roots, and were pulled down into an underground lair. Cryle snapped his head around, unable to budge from his spot. The earth split between his legs, and he moved aside before the crack opened wide enough to swallow him. Unfortunately for him, a root shot out of the earth and coiled around his arm, yanking him down so suddenly that he dropped his sickles down the fissure. Try as he might to pull the root off, he could not get free.
Nor did he get a chance to, for five seconds later, he had a sword lodged in his chest.
His black eyes froze open in his death. The last thing he ever saw was the woman standing over him, her green eye burning away his blackened soul.
Desert Rain pulled the sword from the goblin, her breathing so heavy that her body lurched with each gasp. She steadied herself against Silverheart, driving the blade into the ground, grasping tightly as the earth continued to shake. Then, as abruptly as it had all started, the earthquake stopped, and the screams of the trees faded into silence.
She could not move at first. Every movement was like knives piercing her muscles. She forced her head to rise, and she surveyed the clearing. There wasn’t a living Zi’Gax to be found. The earth was riddled with extensive cracks, and the roots had receded back underground. Gabriel had stood his ground, somehow—he held Chiriku in his arms, and the two of them were stranded on a chuck of ground surrounded by crevices on all sides. Clova was standing, paralyzed, her eyes blank and glossy. The muscles in her body relaxed slowly, and she breathed a moan of relief.
Desert Rain slid Silverheart back into the black pouch and tucked it into her pocket. She limped over the broken ground, and she tripped as she walked.
Clova, coming back to reality, blinked her eyes. She saw Desert Rain struggling to reach her. She moved, wobbling, but began making her way to her friend.
“Dezzy…” she whispered, her voice sore and dry from the scream. “Dezzy, don’t move. Stay there…”
A grimy hand slinked out of one of the fissures, clawing at the ground with chipped fingernails. Straining, Spiggat pulled himself up, freeing himself half-way from the cavernous gap below him. He panted as he rested his elbows on the ground, squinting through his dirt-caked eyelids as he lifted his head. He caught movement—the green witch was walking about twenty yards away from him. Spiggat bared his teeth, as he reached down towards his belt for one of his daggers.
Desert Rain knelt on the ground, her eyes closed as she rocked herself back and forth. She tried to calm her body, to relax every muscle so the pain would lessen. By closing her eyes, she amplified her other senses, including her hearing. She picked up a faint sound, a snarl. Raising her head and opening her eyes, she saw a Zi’Gax groping his way out of the earth, a dagger raised over his head, his gaze focused on Clova.
There was no thinking. There was no pang of panic. There was reaction, although everything seemed to be in slow motion. Desert Rain thrust a hand out before her, a word forming on her lips, a word she was not aware that she was speaking. The Zi’Gax let the dagger fly, the jagged rusted metal spiraling through the air, aimed right for the Forest Hijn.
Desert Rain uttered the final breath of Dragontongue as Clova turned, seeing the dagger coming, right at her heart. She had no time to dodge. The dagger’s blade hit her chest—
It shattered into a thousand pieces.
Clova did not move. Perhaps she thought she was dead on her feet. She felt the spot on her chest where the dagger had hit, but there was not the slightest puncture mark. She looked down, finding not a dagger, but thousands of tiny shards. They sparkled like diamonds, but were an ice-blue color. Yet it wasn’t ice or gem. It was more like glass, and when Clova bent down to pick up a shard, it disintegrated in her fingers. She looked over at the Zi’Gax, whose eyes were wide in fear and confusion. He pulled himself fully out of the fissure and ran off, disappearing into the forest.
Clova turned to Desert Rain, who still had her hand held out in front of her. After a beat, the desert hermit dropped her hand to her side. Both the Hijn were motionless for a full minute, and then a smile graced Clova’s face. It broadened into a joyous laughter, as she ran over to Desert Rain, helping her to her feet and hugging her close.
“Dezzy, you did it! You did it, Dez, I always knew… you…could…” Clova’s voice trailed off as her whole body went limp, and Desert Rain caught her before she fell over.
“Clova!” Desert Rain knelt again, cradling the unconscious Clova in her arms. The green hue of Clova’s skin was almost solid white, her body shaking from the result of her final spell. Gabriel, carrying Chiriku—who was regaining consciousness—gradually made his way over to Desert Rain. Desert Rain didn’t say anything. She held the Forest Hijn, praying to Guerda-Shalyr that she would be all right.
She checked her fingers, and saw the tips of them were encrusted in a glassy ice blue. She sighed, having expected this. It was like the last time…
“There you all are,” came the lighthearted voice of Mac, who appeared at the edge of the clearing. He had leaves stuck in his hair, and he plucked them out. “Leaving me up in that-ttk dang tree, with all those nasties-ssck running around. And I think-kk a storm’s coming, that-ttk wind was blowing mighty hard—” He immediately stopped talking when he got a look of the area in front of him. The ground was broken into chunks as if a herd of strongbacks had rampaged through there. His buddies were huddled together. Miss Clova was out cold, Gila Gul looked like she had wrestled with a croc, and there was a dead, bloody Zi’Gax lying on the field.
Mac raised his eyebrows, innocently asking, “What’d I miss-ssck?”
CHAPTER NINE
Designed Destiny
The cleric stepped quietly into the room, carrying a bowl of fresh rose water and a clean cloth. She glided over to the hammock, dampening the cloth as she approached. She removed the dried cloth on Clova’s forehead and replaced it with the new cold one. The Forest Hijn was burning up, her breathing uneasy as she lied in the hammock. The clerics had tried to make her as comfortable as possible, giving her the finest of their blankets and cushions to line her hanging bed. The medicines they gave her were easing the fever a little, but Clova’s ailment was mostly attributed to extreme fatigue. Rest was the best remedy for now.
Desert Rain was sitting on a mat beside the hammock. She had been well-tended to, the wounds on her arms and torso soothed in salves and wrapped in strips of cloth. She, too, was exhausted, but she had no desire to lie in her hammock in the adjoining room. She preferred to sit next to Clova, humming to calm her nerves. The elves brought her food and drink and offered her fresh salve and bandages every time they came by. The clerics may not have known what exactly had happened with the Zi’Gax, but Clova had told them in her moments of consciousness that Desert Rain had saved her life, and the clerics could not find enough ways to thank the desert hermit. They even gave her a beautiful pale-green tunic with a pressed-flower trim to replace Desert Rain’s shredded one. Desert Rain had never been given so much attention, and she wasn’t exactly comfortable with it, but she was glad that the ordeal in the woods was over.
Chiriku, who had been unconscious during the swordfight, couldn’t believe what she heard about Desert Rain slaying an alpha Zi’Gax. Gabriel confirmed the story for her, but the Quetzalin shook her head. As if Donkey Ears could take on anyone, let alone a goblin bounty hunter. Once she saw Desert Rain’s wounds, she changed her tune. She had to admit, Donkey Ears had guts, no doubt about that. If Chiriku had been awake at the time, she could have joined in on the fun and cracked open some skulls—maybe saved Desert Rain from a few of those gashes.
Mac, meanwhile, had already committed the story (at least mixing what he had heard from Clova and his own imaginative flair) to memory and was regaling the other guests of the sanctuary with the tale of Hijn heroism. He didn’t like to boast, but he had lended a hand in defeating the Zi’Gax—it had mostly been his plan, after all. He also didn’t mean to be a bother to Desert Rain, but he asked her if she wouldn’t mind saving her bandage
s when she replaced them with fresh ones—he bet he could get a coin or two selling “Bandages of Bravery” to a couple of the awestruck Syphurians.
Desert Rain crinkled her nose, thinking how gross that was.
She sat, deep in thought. The image of the dagger flying at Clova haunted her mind, including a vision of what could have happened if Desert Rain had not reacted in time. She was going to have to decide about what to do from here on out. The fight with the Zi’Gax had made one thing very clear—she couldn’t let something like that happen to Clova again. Clova may have more power than she did, but this had been a battle none of them should have had to get involved in. What the Zi’Gax had said proved that Desert Rain was the target— they had been sent to get the Hijn who had befriended Katawa. She had a good idea who had been the Zi’Gaxs’ employers, and her suspicions were confirmed when Gabriel came to her with an odd-looking compass in his hands.
“This was on the Zi’Gax leader,” he explained. “I thought this might help us find out who sent them.”
