by C. K. Rieke
“Not all,” Lilaci said walking over to Roren’s side.
“Aye,” Burr said angrily.
“They’re going to return,” Roren said. “That’s what Kera is going to do, that’s what she was destined to do.”
“Aye,” Burr said. “That’s why I’m here as well. It needs to be done, and she’s the only one who can do it. I just want you to know that what we’re doing isn’t without consequence. We’re just trading one evil for the other. Dragons are mindless killers, but the gods are worse.”
“What about the traitor?” Lilaci asked. “Was that part true?”
Burr seemed to grit his teeth at that, and he continued walking again, brushing his shoulder past Roren’s. Lilaci could see the anger build up in Roren. “Easy—” she whispered to him.
“So, there was one, eh?” Roren said. “You didn’t sniff him out til it was too late?”
“Her,” Burr said. “She was a traitor, and no, she had turned before any knew it, and by the time we did— it was too late. The damage had been done.”
“Who was she?” Lilaci said. “Why?”
“All know her now, and when I say her name, you’ll probably be able to guess why she did it. All men seek power. It consumes. Greed makes the mind sick. She was given an offer, and when one is offered such power, most would take it I’d wager— unless, you know what consequences and curses that power brings. Her name was Eyreen, she was one of our greatest soldiers, greatest champions. It surely was a bitter blow when she turned, as it was she who killed Kôrran, that is after their wicked knight Gorg crashed a mountain onto him.”
“Wait a minute,” Lilaci said. “You said she killed Kôrran after the gods gave the Sanzoral to Gorg? It makes sense now. You may have called her Eyreen back then, but now, she’s known as—”
“Eyr,” Roren said. “For her treachery to the Knights of the Whiteblade, Dânoz made Eyreen one of their own, the sixth and last god, Eyr.”
“Aye,” Burr said somberly. “The gods, they offered her a stone of red. A stone that would make them one of them if she turned. “Now, Eyreen resides in the halls of Firen-Ar. She’s lived centuries now as her reward for that betrayal.”
I can’t imagine anything more seething than a betrayal like that. I know I have my bones to pick with Fewn, and that betrayal will mean her blood on the sands. But something like that, it’s had consequences for thousands of years. All of this, everything around us is because of that. I can tell by the way he tells the story that it cuts deep. If the Knights of the Whiteblade are like a family now, I don’t want to think how deep that cut back then. I can’t say I know many who’d turn down the chance to become a god if given the chance. The gods now are worshiped in every corner of the Arr. I almost feel bad for him, the pain still lingers after so many generations.
“Bet you want nothing more than to kill that bitch,” Roren said.
“Roren,” Lilaci said in surprise as his brashness.
“Aye,” Burr said looking in the direction of the castle of the gods, beyond the Dune of the Last Dragon. I dream of killing the bitch.”
“Well, I hope you get the chance,” Roren said. “If not, the dragons would gladly do it for you.”
“How’d she turn?” Lilaci asked as they continued walking east, as the winds swept across the sands. They began to climb up the next high dune before them. “If you don’t mind talking more about it?”
“After the armies of the gods had laid their massacre upon the dragons, both young and ancient, only one dragon remained— greatest of them all, with hot fire that would turn iron to air, and wings that could topple the sturdiest of man’s structures— Kôrran, stood as the last of the dragons. Like I said, there was no pact or alliance, we only followed the dragons in peace, never harming them or even making eye-contact. We followed them as they roamed the skies, and we fought the armies commanded by Gorg as they attacked the dragons. The Knights of the Whiteblade won many battles, staving off the dragon’s extinction. Yet, the war went on many years, and the gods grew keen in their murder. First, they killed the females, all of them. One by one they slaughtered them in their caves of gold. The Sanzoral that Gorg was given— the violet light— gave him the strength to collapse entire mountains down onto them as they slept. We . . . We couldn’t save them from him. Next, the babes, and the younglings were slaughtered. Then over the years, the eldest of the males were killed, leaving only the strong, raging with bloodlust for revenge upon their fallen kin. Those dragons were like nothing you could imagine. They wanted nothing more than the world to burn in every direction. Those dragons were worse than the scourge of the gods. They were devils in every respect.”
“But they didn’t harm your order?” Roren asked.
“No. They’d seen over the years that those with the swords of white tried valiantly to protect their race. They wanted only to kill any other who approached. The dragons killed many of them. I’d say hundreds of thousands over that time— who really knows. That last year though, our order began to lose ground, as our forces seemed to be scattered everywhere else but where Gorg struck out, killing the males one by one. We couldn’t figure it out until after, that Eyreen had been leading us out of the way of their attacks, until only Kôrran remained. There on the last battlefield of the war, we learned of the final deceit. As the fighting went on for a fortnight, Eyreen lured Kôrran away from the front lines to a mountain looming high over him. You may have heard the rest.”
“Gorg sent the mountain crumbling onto the Great Dragon, killing him. But wait,” Roren said. “You said she killed Kôrran.”
“It was at that moment, when the rumbling rocks covered all of his body, save his head that the veil of her deceit was lifted. My order watched in horror as Gorg stood over the beast’s head as it gasped for breath, its lungs surely crushed under the weight of the rocks. They watched helplessly as Eyreen walked over to Gorg, and dropped her whiteblade, she took Gorg’s dark sword in her hands. As she lifted the hilt of the sword over her head, a red glow began to fall from the sky.” I can only imagine what was going through the Knights’ minds as all that was going on. Especially at the end of a war that long. It was like their hearts being ripped out of their chests I’m sure.
Then, she thrust the sword into the dragon’s head, cracking through his thick skull, lining the sword with thick dragonblood. All watched as the glow glided slowly down in a straight line to her. All the way from the heavens fell a singular red stone. They watched as she held up a hand to gently embrace it as it floated into her palm. Once firmly in her grasp, and with the last of the dragons deceased and gone, she lifted her hand to her mouth and consumed the cursed stone. In a flash of bright white light, the stone was gone, and all that was left was Eyr, standing over Kôrran’s corpse. She was turned to a damned god then. Even Gorg had to turn his head upwards to see her then, she’d been transformed at that moment. May she rot when this is all said and done.”
“She’ll pay one day,” Roren said. “Her and the rest.”
“It’s Dânoz that needs to pay,” Lilaci said. “It was him that lured her away, tempting her to become one of them. He’s the one who started the whole war in the first place. His lust for power is unquenchable. He’s the one. He’s that one who caused all of this.”
“Aye,” Burr said with his fists clenched into tight balls. “Dânoz. He’s the one. I’ll not rest until that bastard pays for what he’s done. And if not in my lifetime, I’ll watch up from the burning of the Eternal Fires, waiting for him to join me down below. Down where he belongs. The Arr needs its revenge. Dânoz must die.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lilaci looked up at the crimson-colored skies above the sands. Sharp clouds tore through the darkening skies like claws ripping at the heavens above. The red clouds carried the color of the setting sun overhead and beyond, she imagined that was what the sky looked like constantly when the Serpentine Wars were at their height. Dragons roared through the skies sending plumes of unworldly hot fires burn
ing the sands and everything they held. She tried to imagine the sounds of dragon wings fluttering through the air as the winds flowed underneath their powerful frames.
Looking up at the skies as they continued their way forward, she tried to imagine a beast as immense as Kôrran soaring above. It must have been a terrifying sight. Even someone who seems as seasoned as Burr seemed scared when he was talking about it. I never really thought of the repercussions of bringing those monsters back to the skies here. All I knew is that it’s the only way to free us from this slavery we are born into. And if that’s our only option, then so be it. But now, I can’t help but think that this may not be the best strategy. I want the gods to feel my pain, but at what cost? Are the dragons going to destroy everything that’s been built since Dânoz and the others culled their young? In my lifetime, I wish to see the gods scream in agony and pain like those living with loss in these lands of poverty— scared, hungry and thirsty. Beyond my life though, what will the dragons do to these lands? They’ll become the new gods. Won’t they? I need to find Kera, she’ll know. She’s probably thought all of this through. We are close to the mountain, the Dune of the Last Dragon. Be there, Kera, you have to be there.
Roren had continued asking Burr about the Knights of the Whiteblade, and he even answered some questions about the Order of Drakon with vague statements of how they remained alive through the ages. But, he refused to reveal how, when, or where they found the Dragon’s Breath— Kera. It seemed that Burr had known of Kera’s existence for years now, and the Knights had long considered joining Roren’s group to help protect her. But the Knights had grown paranoid in their exile. Their dwindling numbers made them crawl further under the rocks- hypothetically and not. It was only since Burr and his family had heard whispers that the gods had sent out a specialized pack of Scaethers after the young girl that he knew the Knights had to return to the sunlight.
Lilaci listened as Roren asked Burr about how they’d heard of Kera at all, and he didn’t like Burr’s answer.
“All the sands of the Arr have heard whispers in the wind of the one who will raise the dragons,” Burr said under the red-burning sky. “The one who has the strength to stand up to the gods. It seemed the gods themselves were some of the last to hear of the coming of the Dragon’s Breath from the Old Serpentine Prophecies.”
“So, why’ve you come now?” Roren asked. “You come to single-handedly protect her with your one Whiteblade? Why not bring all of you if this is so important to you?”
“I could ask the same of you—” Burr said, Lilaci watched Roren’s angry reaction well up in his reddening face. “Where is your kin? I only see you, and this one.”
“We are enough,” Lilaci said.
“Are you now?” Burr asked staring out at her with his one good eye.
“Yes,” she said. “I lost her once because of a betrayal, but I won’t make that mistake again.”
“The Arr doesn’t give second chances very often,” Burr said. “You had better take advantage when you find her again.”
“If your arrows didn’t come in such good use,” Roren stammered, “I’d just as well let you back out onto the sands.”
“—If you had a choice in the matter,” Burr said with a grim smile. “I go where I wish, and you’d best not act as though you have power over me young man.”
“Young man—?” Roren scoffed, his temper brimming.
“Roren,” Lilaci interjected, and walked between the two, her long black hair whipping behind her in the winds of dusk. “Calm yourself, there’s no good to be bickering between us. We are all after the same thing, and we are but a day away from the sea, and the mountain of the headless dragon.”
Roren seemed to un-tense his body slightly, and Burr let out a single burst of a laugh. “You can fight Roren, that I’ve seen, and you’ve got a temper. I like that. We will need it later— for the fights to come. My arrows can do all of the fighting, we can do more damage together. And you— Lilaci— how good are you with the Sanzoral? I’ve heard you say nothing of it since we’ve walked. Do you not think of it constantly? Do you not practice it, hone its abilities? What can you do with the violet flame?”
Lilaci looked down at her open palm before her, her fingers dancing before her face. “I think of it all the time. I don’t feel as I used to, my body and head are different now. It’s like another person is sleeping inside of me now. An angry person, ready to unleash her wrath at any given time. I just need to awaken her when she is needed. It’s not so much me controlling her or practicing the Sanzoral— which I do admit I should do more of— it's that I need to meditate more to understand the awakening and putting to rest the sleeping giant inside of me.”
“The Sanzoral is like a sleeping giant?” Burr asked. “Not how I would’ve pictured it, but I think I understand what you mean.” He knelt and dipped his rugged fingers into the sand at his feet. Lifting his hand to chest level and watching the sands float down with his one eye he seemed to have thoughts flowing through his mind. “You know it has been an age since one walked with the light of the Sanzoral. The gods were fools to give it to you. I can’t help but feel a sense of vindication for your betrayal of them. They took one of our best, and now we have one of theirs.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Roren said, seeming pleased.
“You’re not wrong in that statement,” Lilaci said. “But I don’t think of myself as a traitor. I feel more as if I’ve been liberated from my prison. My master was a manipulative teacher. They did their work on me all right. There were years I don’t think I had a single thought for myself, let alone a fond memory. It was a sort of torture I wouldn’t wish upon another. To not know who you are— to not have an identity except the one given to you, it makes life like you’re floating through a dream. I was a weapon, that was all. I was an instrument, but no longer. Now I’m free.”
“—And hunted,” Roren added. “Now you’re like us.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way . . .” Lilaci said. If this is the one life I’m to live, then I rather spend one day as a free woman, than a long lifetime in their servitude. She caught out of the corner of her eye Burr with a great grin underneath his beard, and a tight smile crossed across Roren’s clean-shaven face.
“Well, we could rest tonight,” Roren said. “At least for a couple of hours. We know we could use it as we’ve been walking the entirety of the day, and we are low on water. Or we could press our luck and keep on.”
“I’ll not rest until we reach the Duen Utülm Drakon, if that where she be,” Burr said. “These old bones need no rest.”
“Well, that settles it then,” Lilaci said. “We’ll continue on through the night until we reach the mountain.”
The three caught stride again, as they were at the base of the backside one of the last dunes behind, they were now entering back down onto the rocky outcrop before them. The winds rushed down on them from the dune behind, seeming to push them forward. Lightning crackled loudly to their left, to the north, and the booming of thunder shook the rock at their feet.
“Storms heading this way,” Burr said.
“I gladly take some rain right about now,” Roren added.
Hours later, the three walked on through the rocks towards the looming mountain before them. With every step they took, the headless dragon seemed to creep higher towards the Great Realm in the Sky. Lilaci and Burr had their hoods over their heads to let the heavy rains pass, Roren let the rain fall on his bald head. He seemed to enjoy the cool deluge.
They’d continued walking in a straight line towards the mountain, as lightning occasionally flashed behind it in the storm, casting a silhouette of the mountain from the sea behind. None of them had spoken for hours in the storm. They all only watched their own footsteps and watched as the mountain rose before them. The rains had come with such a ferocity and had come so quickly that standing water had formed on the rocks at their feet, and they had to slush their way forward. The waters had nearly reached their
ankles, although it slowed them down little.
Save for the lightning streaking the skies, the night was dark. Lilaci looked down at her footsteps, as they grew darker under the night sky. She looked up at a mass of thick, dark clouds creeping before the moon above. As they moved past, they extinguished the moon’s light upon them, and a darkness hung all around them. A flash of lightning made the three of them flicker in its light, and they’d stopped in their tracks.
“Can’t see nothing,” Burr said.
“Should I try to get a fire going?” Roren asked in the pouring rain.
“Not sure you’d be able to son,” Burr said.
“Burr’s right,” Lilaci said. “Looks like we’re stuck here until the clouds move past.”
“What about your light?” Roren asked her.
“The Sanzoral?” she said. “Of course, good idea.” Another flash of lightning lit Lilaci as she had begun to summon the purple light inside of her. She reached deep inside to the slumbering giant, and just as she felt it began to awaken . . .
“Lilaci,” Roren said. “Lilaci, open your eyes.”
Her eyes shot open, and she immediately saw what the other two were staring at. Lights. In the distance it looked like a single light hovering in the air before them, four hundred paces off, give or take.
“What is that?” Burr asked. “That’s no torchlight. It’s white.”
“It looks as if it’s moving up and down slightly,” Roren said, unsheathing his sword. “Is it walking toward us?” The other unsheathed their swords. Lightning flashed again, illuminating Burr’s Whiteblade.
