by C. K. Rieke
“You can have it back,” she said. “Go ahead, keep it. Any other speak of that bitch girl, I want you to end their miserable existence too.”
He took it sloppily from her hand, as he almost dropped it, but caught it before it did.
“You can go now,” she said, turning her back to him again.
“What of the others?” he asked, looking around the room, and at the many painful eyes on him. “You wish me to show them the same justice?”
She slinked back into her bed, and under her sheets. “No, their souls have more cleansing that must be done before they can depart to The Eternal Fires.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll take my leave then.”
“Oh, Veranor,” she whispered from her bed, looking innocent as she appeared to be half-asleep.
“Yes, Gorlen.”
“We’re going to kill that girl. I want to taste her fear. She’s all I want. You’re going to help me find her, and then, you’ll have everything you could ever dream of.”
“I am here only to please the Six. May your will be done,” he said. Then he turned to leave, but paused, and turned back around toward the goddess. “May I ask you a question, goddess Gorlen?”
She seemed perturbed but feigned and waved her hand in a gesture to insinuate her permission.
“Why do you come now?” he asked, his voice trying to remain firm, yet calm. “Why send out Lilaci with the others before? Why don’t the Six all just go out after the girl?”
“The others fear her,” she said. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes, it does. Do you not? Not that this girl could ever harm one so powerful as yourself, but I’m just curious.”
“Oh, you mortals, and your curiosity,” she said with a sigh. “You know what curiosity leads to right? Yes, our prophecy vaguely says the Dragon’s Breath will attempt to raise the dragons, and the others fear the girl herself a danger to us. Dânoz told me to stay back with them, while your best assassin, Lilaci, would bring the girl back. When she did not, I asked Dânoz that I be the one to capture her. In exchange, when I bring her back the castle of Firen-ar, she’d be mine to . . . play with. There’d be no ceremonial kill, no easy death for this one. She’d be mine for a lifetime of pain, and anguish. She’d be my pet of pestilence, my greatest trophy. I’d make the girl suffer a fate worse than you could dream in a nightmare. And as I feed on her pain, my powers will only grow stronger as I live on forever, once the prophecy is dead.”
“It will be my greatest honor to aid you in this quest,” he said, with a deep bow.
“You can go now,” she said impatiently.
He then turned and hastily exited the room. Once he was down the alley, he darted around a corner, and with his back against a wall, he slid down to the sandy cobblestone. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked down at the dagger he held, which shook in his quivering hand.
Chapter Twelve
Ten days later.
The Dune of the Last Dragon tore towards the sky with an ominous splendor. Lilaci watched it constantly as it grew slowly closer, step by step, in the far distance. It was nothing like the surrounding mountains, they were shorter, and wider receding than its near-vertical cliffs. It was called a dune, but it was nothing of the sort. Along the sheer side that faced them appeared more and more the carving of the dragon. It rolled all the way down its face, snaking delicately down. Its wings wrapped wide around its sides and curved around to the back, and its strong, winding tail hung nearly down to the desert floor. Yet at its top where its true splendor should reside, was an empty space where the beast’s head would go.
How in the gods could such a thing be made? Those cliffs look nearly unscalable, how could one— or a thousand— go about carving such a massive thing? I’ve never seen anything like it in all my days. The wicked irony is that past it, and out into the sea is Arralyn, home of the gods. An island housing a palace the likes of any mortal should never behold. Its majesty is said to only have been seen by the heroes the gods collect as trophies after their many victories. I wonder now if I would’ve given them Kera, if I’d be one of those statues by now. Now that I think of it, I’ve never appreciated my life like I have now. I was always a weapon, a tool, used by others. This feeling I have for it, it’s different— more exciting— than anything I’ve ever felt before. I want to live, for her, she needs me. We must be getting close now. Or at least I desperately hope so.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Roren said, marveling up at the Dune. “I wonder how many eyes have seen this marvel in this corner of these barren lands? How long has it stood? A thousand years? One-thousand centuries?”
“What do your people say?” she asked.
“They only say its old, and sacred. We don’t know the mysteries it holds, but we’ve had many travel to it over the years. A pilgrimage of sorts.”
“They find anything interesting? Anything you can tell me about it?” she asked.
“Well, it's difficult to climb,” he said gruffly. “But I’m sure you can tell that just by looking at it. The other curious thing is the head, or lack of it. It should be on the desert floor somewhere, withering away from the winds, but there’s no trace of it.”
“Maybe it fell into the sea,” she said. “Not much of a mystery there.”
“That is possible, yes. If it fell and somehow rolled to the other side of the mountain. What is more curious than that is Kôrran’s Cave, or what we think was his . . .”
“Or her,” Lilaci interjected.
“Yes— or her— cave.”
“Go on.”
“You see the cave’s entrance is about halfway up on the southern side of the mountain, and a few of our Order made it up to the cave around a century ago. But they could not enter. They told stories of a wind so strong blowing out of the cave they couldn’t set one foot into the entrance of it, it nearly blew them clear off its face.”
“Wind blowing from the cave?” she asked, with an upturned eyebrow.
“They gathered three possibilities whilst climbing back down. One— there’s a dragon in there, breathing hard in its slumber— assuredly not the case, as all the dragons are dead. Two— there’s an opening at the back of the cave somewhere else on the mountain that causes an air stream through the cave that blows out to the southern exit.”
“And third,” Lilaci said. “Magic, right?”
“Yes, there is a spell protecting the cave from outsiders.”
“Who would create such a spell?”
“We have two guesses,” he said. “Care to guess?” He looked over at Lilaci as they walked, waiting for an answer.
“The gods obviously, but not obviously. They alone have the ability to create an enchantment that would last over a century. But why? If the dragons are dead, what use do they have to protect a cave that's abandoned?”
“A valid question,” he said. “And rightfully asked. Do you have another guess as to who would set a spell like that?”
“Other than your Order, not really.”
“I assure you we didn’t.” He looked back up at the mountain curiously. “I suppose we would have if we found something worth protecting in it, but that was not the case. Their other guess was the dragons themselves placed an enchantment of protection on the cave, hiding what it contains. It is said the dragon’s magic was so potent, so strong, even the gods could not dispel it. Their magics never worked on the other. There is a theory both of their magics were of the same origin, that’s a brain-racker isn’t it?”
“Yeah, we may not want to go down that rabbit hole, who even knows if there’s an answer to that question we will ever know. Were the gods and dragons made from the same cloth. Unlikely,” she said.
They continued walking down a corridor-like area in the Gorx. As the region became rockier, they found themselves weaving in and out of massive rocks that seemed to shoot up from the sands. Almost suspiciously, they were walking down a path that held no rocks in it. It was like a pathway to the Dune of the Last Drag
on.
Minutes later, Lilaci suddenly stopped walking, and looked down at her feet.
“What’s the matter?” Roren asked, stopping himself and looking back at her.
“Something occurred to me just now,” she said. “If it indeed is a spell protecting the cave— and it was a spell made there by the gods—”
“Yes?”
“Then wouldn’t Kera’s magic be able to counteract their magic?” She walked over to Roren eagerly, with wide eyes looking into his. “If they’re hiding something there, Kera can make it through. She can discover their secret in the cave.”
Roren cupped her shoulders with his hands and smiled. “Yes, we’ve considered that. Theoretically you’re right. But that’s a big risk to take, carrying a young girl up a mountain like that. We lost one of our own back then climbing up it, and one on the way back down, and they were seasoned climbers. It’s always been far too big of a risk.”
“We wouldn’t need to get her all the way up there, just close enough to dispel their magic, and then we could go inside.”
“Yes, again, you’re right.” Then he turned to look back at the mountain, at least one hundred miles in the distance. “But look at it, if the cave is halfway up, you’d need to get her nearly halfway up. I wouldn’t risk her life on a chance like that. Would you? If it came down to it?”
She sighed. “I suppose not. But what are those bastards hiding in there?”
“We may never know, again, it may be one of the greatest mysteries of our lifetime. Or— there may be nothing in there, and it's just a stream of strong winds blowing through. I’m not sure I want to bet my life on it.”
Just then Lilaci’s head shot back behind her, and her hand fell to the hilt of her sword. Roren noticed and grabbed his sword.
“What is it?” he whispered to her, surveying the rocks on both sides of them.
Lilaci’s keen eyes stared directly down their footsteps in the direction they’d come.
“We’re not alone,” she whispered back.
“What? Who? What do you see?”
She drew her sword from its scabbard, and a sharp ringing sound sang through the air as she did so. He followed her lead.
“Damn, we’ve been followed,” she said.
“Well, well, well,” a strong voice called out from behind, following by a slow cap by thick, strong hands.
Lilaci watched as a brown-bearded, burly man emerged from behind a rock thirty paces away. He was clapping his hands slowly, and had a scimitar hanging at his side.
“Stay close to me,” Lilaci whispered to Roren.
“It feels like it’s been a long time, Lilaci,” the man said. Then another figure sulked out from behind another rock, standing twelve feet to his side. The man was bald, with lean muscles in his arms, and silver piercings hanging from his ears. They’ve finally come for me. I knew the Scaethers wouldn’t let my betrayal go unpunished. I didn’t know they’d send him though. The Scaethers are a bitter lot, and for the one Scaether I killed back when I first met Kera— Foro— they’ve sent out his old pack after me, and my former friends and companions.
“And yet it seems like just yesterday we were all fighting alongside each other,” the pierced man called out, he was angry.
“That was a lifetime ago,” Lilaci called out. “We were different people.”
“Wrong!” the bearded man said. “You are different, we are the same.”
Lilaci scowled at them. “We were friends once, it doesn’t have to be like this.”
“You killed Foro!” the pierced man yelled in fury, he pointed out his long sword at her. “You killed one of your own in cold blood.”
“He murdered innocents, he was going to take an innocent girl to be tortured,” she called out. “I know that what the Scaethers are, but somewhere inside of you, you have to know that’s wrong. It’s evil. It makes us the bad guys, the ones that people fear.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” the bearded man said. “Your life is forfeit. You need to come with us back to the capital. The queen and Commander Veranor both wish to see you— dearly.”
“Garenond,” Lilaci said. “We fought together, I know you are a good man, somewhere inside of you. You have to let me go on, there is something I must do. I can help end all of this pain and misery we’ve lived through. We can stop them from harming so many more. Help us, we could use your strength, and your courage. You too Dellanor, let us just talk this through, I can explain everything that’s happened. I can show you what I’ve seen, what the future can look like.”
“You don’t have a future,” Dellanor said. “This ends right here, right now for your friend, and you’re coming with us Lilaci, even if we have to chop off your feet and carry you.”
“Garenond, listen to me,” she said. “We have a chance to make a difference in the Arr. We can bring back its former glory. We can make the lands prosperous again, just like the old stories tell, before the gods brought their spite and misery with them. I know I wronged you by killing your friend, but he was going to kill me. I did care for him, it wasn’t an easy thing for me, and I knew the risk. But if you’ll just listen to reason, instead of what they’ve filled our heads with, you may see what I see, and it’s beautiful.”
“You saved our lives once, Lilaci, and for that I am grateful,” he said, and then sighed. “But your actions have brought the ultimate penalty of treason and desertion upon your head. That cannot be ignored. We are Scaethers, that is all, nothing more. If you come with us, we will spare your friend, if you so wish.” Dellanor looked over at Garenond with a look of bewilderment and rage.
There’s little chance they’re going to listen to me. Their hearts yearn for revenge for their fallen. I can’t say I blame them. I’d probably be feeling the same rage if I were one of them. I can tell there’s no way I’m going to reach Dellanor, he’s wild with a lust for blood. Maybe I can get to Garenond though, he’s wiser. We were all friends once, before I met Kera and found my way. I’ll try to reach Garenond, but if he can’t be reasoned with, there is no way I am going back with them. No way in the Eternal Fires.
“Like hell that’s going to happen,” he said. “Kill the man and cut Lilaci’s hands and feet off. Let her suffer.”
“If you come with us, his life is spared,” Garenond said again. “You have my word.”
Lilaci looked over at Roren, “Well, what do you think?”
“I think these two have no idea what is about to happen to them,” Roren said.
Lilaci laughed slightly. Roren’s confident this will be an easy fight, probably because I have the Sanzoral with me, but I don’t know if he’s ever fought a Scaether in combat. They are the fiercest of warriors once the battle starts. This won’t be easy. “You know there are more of them,” she said. “We counted six of them way back on the sands. They’re surely behind us and on both sides. We’re surrounded.”
“Good,” Roren said. “I’m tired of being the hunted.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dellanor stood with his sword at the ready, his feet firmly planted in place, his body swaying side to side, eager for his revenge on the death of his friend Foro. Garenond stood with his sword held behind his back, the other hand was extended out towards Lilaci. He was willing to barter with her, if only she would come voluntarily. Maybe he remembered her as a friend, or perhaps he remembered her strength, and the power she wielded of the Sanzoral.
It was merely weeks back when she first used the Sanzoral, and the first time she’d seen a Reevin. She was in the pack of Scaethers with Garenond, Dellanor, Foro and Fewn as they searched the sands for Kera. In the middle of the desert they were attacked by one of the Reevins, and a swarm of wild black birds with no eyes. Dellanor was gravely injured in the battle, and after Lilaci used her powers to kill the wizard, Garenond took Dellanor back to the capitol for aid. Afterward, when the remaining three of them found Kera, and Fewn and Foro had killed all those protecting her; Lilaci remembered her past, and her family being slain
by the Scaethers, and she asked Foro to stop, which he refused. They had a bloody fight and Foro was left in the sands, never to leave. She’d convinced Fewn to join them and to protect Kera, later realizing that was a grave mistake.
“I cannot go with you,” Lilaci said to the two. “There’s too much to be done, and these are dire times. Don’t make me do this Garenond. Your men are going to die, and we were once friends. I don’t want to have to kill you.”
“You are outnumbered girl, even if you somehow managed to kill all of us— which isn’t going to happen— there will surely be more sent out— after you— after her.” Garenond said.
“You’re going to meet the gods for your treachery,” Dellanor added. “And when we find the girl out here, we’re going to be heroes.”
Roren leaned over to Lilaci. “They don’t have her yet,” he whispered. “We may be on the right track if she’s not in the capital yet.”
“I’ll give you one last chance,” Lilaci said, her black hair whipping past her as a strong gust of wind blew in. “Turn around and just say you never found us. It’d be best for all involved. One day we may see each other when this is all over and we may join as friends once again. The gods are going to die, Kera is going to help us defeat them. The dragons are going to rise. The Old Serpentine Prophecy is true— there is one that can resurrect the dragons to defeat the gods. Water will run through all the lands once again, not just in the Great Oasi where the gods rule. Life will flourish. You could start a life outside of the cities. We could all be free.”
“Blasphemy! Heresy!” Dellanor yelled out. “This is exactly why we should just kill her here! With every breath she takes she spreads her poison.”
