by A. R. Cook
Desert Rain studied the large compass, not being able to tell what symbols were engraved in the face of it. The little metal ball had been smashed into the surface of the compass. She remembered what that Zi’Gax in the stocking cap had said: “They gave us a device to find her and everything…” This must have been used to detect Hijn, or maybe their magic. She turned the compass over to look on the back, and there was a carved image of three waves of water over a ball of flame. The mark was frightening familiar, for she had seen it before, as a tattoo on a Wretched’s chest.
“The Darkscale,” she said to herself.
“What? Those Wretched sent those creeps?” Chiriku said when Desert Rain revealed the information to her and Mac outside of Clova’s room.
“No surprise-ssck to me, Eye-pecker,” said Mac, smiling as his term of endearment made Chiriku glare. “They all are Nasties-ssck, whether they’re demons-ssck or goblins. I’m sure they all are in cahoots-ssck with one another.”
“Don’t you understand?” Desert Rain held the compass out to them in a tight grip. “The Darkscale sent the Zi’Gax to capture me! I put all of you in danger!”
“Now that doesn’t-tkk make sense, Gila. Why would those Nasties-ssck want anything to do with you?”
“Because they think I’m working for Katawa. If they got me, they’d get one step closer to him.” She stuffed the compass into her pocket and wiped a hand over her face. Her head was throbbing.
Chiriku shrugged. “So why didn’t those Darkscale dummies come to get you themselves? Why send those stupid bounty hunters?”
Desert Rain paused. That was a good question. Surely, the Darkscale could have handled hunting her down. They would have beaten her, too, being much more proficient in magic than she was. Maybe they were afraid of encountering Katawa while looking for her. Or maybe…it wasn’t just Katawa they were worried about.
“It was a test,” she surmised. “They wanted to find out how dangerous I am, if I might be a threat. And that one Zi’Gax got away! He’s going to go to the Darkscale and tell them what I did—Great Guerda-Shalyr!” She plopped down on the floor, holding her head in her hands.
Mac knelt on the floor next to her. “Relax-ssck, Gila. We’re all safe now. Frankly, if I heard about someone who could take-kk down a whole pack of goblins-ssck, and make a dagger break-kk into li’l pieces with a word, I would stay as far away from her as I could!”
“Yeah, maybe you’ll make those Darkscale jerks break out in a sweat,” Chiriku said with a smirk.
Desert Rain sighed. “I doubt it.” She rubbed her sore arm, tightening her lips as she thought. “Now you see, I can’t be around anyone. I bring trouble wherever I go. The Darkscale will send someone else after me now, someone worse than the Zi’Gax. And Katawa…I know I haven’t seen the last of him.” She stood up, looking at the two of her friends in all seriousness. “That’s why I’m leaving. Right away. By myself.”
Mac and Chiriku looked at one another. The lizard sighed, shaking his head. “We’ve already been over this-ssck, Dez. You runnin’ off alone doesn’t-tkk do anybody good. And what about Miss-ssck Clova—”
“Clova is exactly why I have to go on by myself!” Desert Rain began pacing furiously. “Look what I did to her! Yes, I know that I would be dead right now if it wasn’t for her. But what if this happened again, and it’s another dagger, or arrow, or sword, and I’m not able to stop it from killing her? No, I won’t let it happen. This was never her fight. It’s always been mine, and mine alone.”
“If you wanna go and ditch us that badly, then go ahead,” Chiriku replied sharply.
“I’m not ditching you. But I…” Desert Rain let out a deep sigh, collecting herself. “You two shouldn’t have been forced into this either. For that, I’m forever sorry. I couldn’t have come this far without you guys—” She hesitated, knowing how true that was. She struggled to continue. “What I can do to repay you, as a friend, as more than a friend, is to free you from this burden, to let you go back to your own lives.”
“Go back? Back to what?” Chiriku crossed her arms. “What’s back in Syphurius for me?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned away, running off down the corridor.
Mac scratched the back of his neck, giving Desert Rain a sad smile. “If that’s-ssck really what you want Dez, then you do what you think is best-tkk. But don’t push us away ‘cause-ssck you think we can’t go down the road you have to walk-kk. If it’s one thing you learn growin’ up in the Bayou, you should never need to walk-kk alone. And, frog gone it-tkk, I’ve walked this far with you. What’s a few more miles-ssck?”
Desert Rain still could not understand why Mac wanted to stay by her side. No one ever wanted to stand by her, not in her entire life. Yet here was this kind lizard, someone who must have been taunted more than once by the Noble Races for being a Lejenous, but he was more understanding and patient than any Noble she had ever known. She put her arms around him and held him close, feeling tears of thankfulness run down her cheeks. “I don’t want to send you away, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Mac.”
“Dezzy…” A weary voice came from the room behind them. “Dezzy…are you there…?”
Desert Rain released Mac, giving him a smile of gratitude, and turned to enter the room. She lifted the curtain and walked through, seeing Clova sitting up in her hammock. She still didn’t look too well. Her greenish hue had returned somewhat, but there were dark rings around her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Desert Rain asked.
Clova sighed with a smile. “Better. A good sleep was all I needed. And you? How are your wounds healing?”
“Fine. I didn’t get cut too deeply.” Desert Rain came to stand next to Clova and felt her forehead. “You’re still pretty warm. You should keep resting. I’ll go get you some tea.”
Clova’s smile weakened. “No, I need to talk to you about something. That sword you fought with—that was Swordmaster Skyhan’s, wasn’t it? That was Silverheart?”
Desert Rain dropped her gaze. “Yes.”
“Then it really is true, what you said. Swordmaster Skyhan is…?”
Desert Rain closed her eyes and nodded. She felt Clova take her hand. When she looked at the Forest Hijn, there was a sad sparkle in Clova’s eye.
“And he gave you his sword,” Clova said wistfully.
The hermit’s ears went rigid, and the mismatched eyes shot wide open. “Wait, Clova, that’s not quite—”
“I always knew,” she whispered, donning that same dreamy grin she had when she had seen Desert Rain and Swordmaster Skyhan in Syphurius. “I knew he was in love with you. You always had a thing for him, I could tell. You two would have been so perfect together. And if he knew what a swordswoman you are, how excellently you wield Silverheart...”
“Please, Clova—”
“I’m glad that it was you who was with him in his last moments. He must have known that deep down inside, you had the same fire in your soul as he did. He knew that you could take up his sword for him. Oh, Dezzy…” She gripped Desert Rain’s hand tighter, her eyes brimming with tears. “He would be so proud of you, as I am.”
Desert Rain was quiet and squeezed Clova’s hand gently. It had been hard enough for Clova to accept Skyhan’s death. There wasn’t any point in telling her how awful his demise really had been. How in Luuva could she possibly explain what happened when she had held Silverheart, that she hadn’t really been the one fighting at all? Perhaps it was better to leave Clova with her notions. They were certainly sweeter than the bitter truth.
The dreamy look left Clova. “He was such a patient, honorable man. He held up his virtues undyingly, which is more than I could say for the rest of us Hijn. I wish he had been at the council meetings more, to remind us how we should have conducted things.”
Desert Rain raised her eyebrows at Clova’s words. “Things couldn’t have been that bad—”
“Dezzy, you saw how we were,” Clova said, her voice getting intense. “We were squabbling l
ike children! I don’t exclude myself—I shouldn’t let Fierno get to me. It amazes me that Merros can keep his cool, but he never liked having to head the meetings, I don’t think. And V’Tanna can be so…apathetic. Woasim doesn’t even send word of his whereabouts most of the time. And Fierno, oh, don’t get me started with him!”
“I know what you mean,” Desert Rain admitted.
“And that’s exactly why that Wretched got the upper hand. None of us are connected with one another like we used to be. With so few Hijn left in Luuva Gros, the bond has become so very weak.”
“I guess it didn’t help that I never went to the meetings.” Desert Rain hung her head.
“It’s understandable. The Hijn don’t gather at all anymore for fun. It’s when a crisis comes up. We don’t have the grand celebrations we used to have. We don’t dance the Summons of the Elementals, we don’t enjoy being with one another. That meeting in Vaes Galahar was maybe the first time in a long time most of the Hijn were in the same room together.”
Desert Rain found it all hard to believe, but Clova was serious. Then again, she understood what Clova meant by a “weak bond” between the Hijn. Desert Rain never really formed any connection with the Hijn, but now, her bond with Clova was the strongest it had ever been.
“We’ll have to reinforce that bond between all of us again,” Desert Rain decided. “Once we rescue the others, we’ll work together to stop Katawa.”
“I know,” Clova sighed. “But we still haven’t decided where to start. How can we fight a demon that we can’t even touch?”
“Perhaps I can offer some insight into that, Hijn Clova Flor,” a familiar voice stated.
The two women turned their heads to see the Great Philosopher standing in the doorway, a bundle of thick books under one arm.
“Lorihalynir Athro-kos,” Clova gasped. “What an unexpected pleasure it is to see you—outside of Kapokis.”
“It’s an equal pleasure to see you as well, although it saddens me to see you in such a condition. And you, Hijn Desert Rain—” Anthron gave her a bow. “I have heard the tale of your heroism from one of your enthusiastic companions—the red-headed merchant.”
Desert Rain blushed a little, not so much from modesty, but from embarrassment that Mac would make such a big deal over the story. His version must have been obviously exaggerated, probably with false details, since he hadn’t witnessed the fight firsthand.
“You’ll have to excuse Mac. He’s a bit of a bard,” Desert Rain said. “It’s so kind of you to come visit Clova. I’m surprised you heard about our confrontation with the Zi’Gax so quickly. Or was this another one of those ‘disturbing a thread in the web of magic’ sort of things again?”
“When the forest itself quakes and howls, it is hard not to notice,” Anthron replied. “But I was actually already on my way here when that occurred. While I do bestow condolences to Hijn Clova, that was not my primary intention in coming here.”
“Oh.” Desert Rain looked back at Clova, who rested her head back on her pillow and half-closed her eyes in weariness. “Sir Anthron, I understand if you have important matters to discuss with Clova, but she is exhausted right now. Perhaps it could wait until morning—”
“You misunderstand me,” Anthron answered, lowering his voice in confidentiality. “It is you with whom I must converse. If you would come with me, please. It won’t take too much of your time.”
Anthron led Desert Rain into the last room at the end of the corridor that was empty except for another, smaller door. It was covered by a jade curtain that blended almost seamlessly with the walls. Beyond this curtain was a staircase that descended into a passageway lighted by bioluminescent crystals, shimmering a hazy rose color. The walk down the passage grew chillier as they walked along. The room that Anthron brought her to was not a grand one. A large circular rug, woven and dyed with many hues, covered almost the whole floor, and in the center was a rounded slab of stone, polished and flat on the top. On this stone table were three more glowing crystals, this time shining the color cerulean. Upon her nocturnal eye adjusting, Desert Rain saw that this room was home to plants all around the edge of the rug. These were not like the flowers in the garden, however; these had no colorful blooms, and were all thorny and dark-leafed. It was like a greenhouse for a nightmare jungle.
“What is this place?” she asked. “How can these plants survive in the dark and cold?”
“Plants are not so unlike people, Hijn Desert Rain. While many in this world thrive on the warmth of light, some are born to the quiet and solitude of darkness. These plants have the crystals to supply them with the energy they need.” He went over to the crystals and touched each one of them, causing them to brighten considerably. The plants seemed less intimidating then. In the bluish light, they looked like art made of cobalt glass.
Anthron sat down at the table, and Desert Rain sat down opposite him. The elf placed his books on the table, taking one and leafing through the pages casually.
Desert Rain cleared her throat. “Sir Anthron, if I may be honest, I don’t see what you need to tell me that you wouldn’t want to tell Clova—”
“Do you believe that there is a design to the events that befall us, Hijn Desert Rain?” Anthron asked.
Desert Rain thought that was a bizarre question for him to ask out of the blue. “I—” was all she got out before Anthron cut in again.
“Most of my life, I did not believe so. As much as I studied the concept of Fate, I couldn’t find any conclusive proof that such a theory directed our lives. It wasn’t that Elf or Man was in constant control of his life, but that did not verify that what befell him was predestined.” He paused, looking up at her. “You, however, may change my opinion about that.”
Desert Rain lifted an eyebrow. “I’m afraid you’ll need to explain,” she replied.
“Do you know what it is that the Elfë Tiagas fear?” he asked.
The Hijn took a moment to change tracks in her mind. “No, I don’t. And what does that have to do with—”
“Nothing,” Anthron cut her off again. “The Elfë Tiagas have feared nothing in all their extensive, unchanging lives.”
“But Clova told me that you told her that Kidran told you…” Desert Rain backtracked, realizing how confusing that was. “Kidran said that the elves were keeping him confined up north because they were afraid of something.”
“That is true.” Anthron gazed upwards into space, sighing. “Many do not understand this, not having the longevity of our kind, but the Ahshi, the Elfë Tiagas, the nomadic elves, and the elves who live in the Noble Cities all once lived together in harmony. We lived in one beautiful city, a combination of our passions and knowledge. I remember that time, living in the same house as my northern cousins. I was a mere child then, but I remember my childhood as clearly as this moment. The last time we elves felt the unrelenting claws of fear, the deep shadow that instigated us to become irrational and even cruel, was because an age-old secret that I am about to reveal to you.”
Desert Rain’s jaw hung slightly. That was an awful big fact for her to accept, for the Philosopher to reveal a secret of such monumental importance to her. “Why tell this to me, if it’s such a deep secret? I would never reveal it, of course, but I’m the wrong person for this sort of thing.”
“I take a great risk in revealing this to you, I admit, one that defies a pact older than you can imagine. But I have weighed the options, and I believe this to be a logical action to take,” Anthron assured her. “I cannot tell you the deeper meaning of it, but it has to do with the Taming of the Wild Magic, and while you may think that it’s silly to take stock in a legend, there is much truth to it—“
Desert Rain shook her head like a fly-bothered mule. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re getting way too far ahead of me already, Anthron. What is this Taming of Wild Magic? Do you mean the Great Manifestation?”
Anthron got a perplexed look on his face. “You must know the legend of the Sage Dragons taming the wild magic of
Luuva Gros. It is the story all the Hijn celebrate during the Red Eclipse.”
Desert Rain suddenly felt small. “Well, I don’t really ever…talk to the other Hijn. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to the Red Eclipse Celebration. They’re every ten years, so I kept forgetting.” Of course, Desert Rain didn’t really forget—she found no reason to ever go.
“Surely your Sage Dragon mentioned something of it. It is part of the Dragons’ history.”
Desert Rain knitted her eyebrows. That was odd, Bellaluna had not brought this up at all, not that Desert Rain could remember. If this was part of the Sage Dragons’ history, why not teach her about it? Luna had taught her things about life before the Great Manifestation, and afterwards, but the Taming of Wild Magic was not something Desert Rain had ever written down, and she would have written about it if Luna had told her of it. Maybe Luna did not find anything of value in that legend—or maybe it was something she did not want Desert Rain to know.
“No, she didn’t,” was all Desert Rain could say in answer.
“I see.” Anthron was not disappointed; he looked suddenly eager. “To think you, of all the Hijn, don’t know the legend.”
“And I get the impression that you’re going to tell me.”
“For now, I’ll make it as brief as I can. But you will know it all someday, I am sure.” He took a deep breath. “When the Sage Dragons came to Luuva Gros, the land was fertile with a chaotic magic unlike their own. It was so fragile, that upon the Sage Dragons’ foreign presence in the land, it teetered on lashing out and uprooting everything. But the Sage Dragons, beings of pure magic, believed they could tame this chaotic energy and blend it into their own, so they could remain in Luuva Gros and maintain the balance. It took many years, but they were able to find a way to tame the magic and be linked to the land through it. Thus, could they mold the land and influence the forms of the inhabitants of it, to become the Luuva Gros it is now. It is believed that this period of magic-taming is what caused the Great Manifestation.”
