by C. K. Rieke
“Wow,” he said, barely able to speak. “I guess I see . . . I guess I see what I believe I see.”
“Very good. You must remember this. In the world you are entering, there are monsters and demons who can manipulate the environment. They can create images to cause great fear,” she said. “You must move past your pain, and feel. You must feel yourself in the spot you are standing, and feel what the air feels like, and what the fields smell and taste like.”
Zaan closed his eyes, breathed slowly, and held his arms out. He felt the gentle breeze on his neck, and he smelled the dead, nutty grass. He breathed deeply and then opened his eyes. The view had reverted back to the way it was originally. It was a long plain of dull browns and grays, with hardly a cloud in the pale blue sky.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“So you see it for what it is; you worked past my illusion,” she said. “This is the trigger to the Azulūz: serenity and focus. You will have to learn to master your attention and willpower. If you are to become a warrior, the first step is working on your ability to focus.”
“Take this from me,” she said as she produced the twig she had used to lightly whip Zaan’s legs. She held it in front of her in an open palm, a mere couple of feet away from Zaan.
He extended his arm, and she withdrew hers. “Not like that.” She extended the stick back out in her open palm. Her auburn eyes focused on the stick. It was thin and gnarled and twisted.
“How? What do I do?” Zaan asked.
“Close your eyes. Think only of this inanimate stick, and picture it going into your hand,” she said soothingly. “And repeat this word softly: ‘hallanal.’”
Zaan closed his eyes and did what she told him. He spoke the word “hallanal” a few times, visualizing the stick in her hand, and then in his. He opened one of his eyes and saw the stick in her hand, unmoved.
“Think of something powerful when you speak the word, something from your past, something good: family or friend.”
He closed his eyes and spoke the word again, and again, and again, until he could feel the presence of the stick and he could feel the pull of its gravity in her hand.
“Hallanal,” he said softly, and then again. “Hallanal.” He repeated it until he felt the words about to overwhelm him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw blue flames illuminating the stick, which hovered in the air halfway between them. He stopped saying the word, watching as the stick floated down into his hand and the flames dissipated. He looked at Zelestiana, who gave him a nod of approval. He clenched his fingers around the stick.
“Good. Hallanal is one of many chants you can use. We will find which best suit you. What was it you thought of?” Zelestiana asked with a smile.
“My sister. There was a time when we were both young, and we were making drapes for the front door from long strips of cotton sewn with yarn. It was for the Equinox, if I remember right. I have this memory of her standing in the doorway hanging them above the door, but she couldn’t reach. I have this memory of her jumping fruitlessly, over and over.” He smiled and looked up at the pale sky. “She didn’t give up until I offered to help. She turned, frustrated, and with pouty lips held out the strands for me.” He looked into Zelestiana’s eyes. “That’s what I thought of, her like that. Innocent and beautiful.”
“Very good,” Zelestiana said with affirmation. “Let’s head back now.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
IT was a starless night on the outskirts of the city, and there was not a breeze to calm the uneasiness of the darkness. The family of four had been on their way out of Auracity when their horse-drawn wagon was suddenly halted. The mother and two children were asleep inside at the time, and were jolted awake by the voices outside.
“What seems to be the problem?” They heard their father’s voice from the front of the covered wagon, where he was at the reins.
“Where you headin’?” a strong voice asked. Neighs of horses sounded, accompanied by the stomping of hooves.
“Well, we were in Auracity for a spell, and heading on out east and south.”
“Please step down from the carriage,” the strong voice said.
“I didn’t do nothing wrong, sir. We are just a family looking for a place to stay for the night,” the father said.
“I said get down, hands behind your back. You, check the wagon,” he said, and two men in soldier’s uniforms from Auracity opened the back linen flaps of the wagon to expose the three passengers in the back.
“Out, the three of ya, let’s go,” one of the soldiers said, and the family began to cautiously file out. “I said out,” the man said, pulling at the mother’s arm.
“Please sir, we have done nothing wrong,” the mother said, and with that one of the men struck her with the hilt of his sword, knocking her unconscious.
“Mother!” a girl yelled out from inside the wagon.
The father ran over to his wife, who lay on the dirt road. “You sons a bitches, what did we do to—”
One of the soldiers slipped a cloth bag over the father’s head and grabbed his arms forcefully behind him, then tied them together with thick rope.
The other two men grabbed the girl and younger brother out of the wagon. Both children whimpered in fear.
“Not one peep out of either of you, got it?” the soldier with the strong voice said. And with that, a dirty cloth bag with air holes was slipped over the younger boy’s head, and then the girl’s. Her bright blonde curls hung loosely out of the sides.
***
The night had been full of shrieks and cries, cut short to end in a deep, dark silence.
When the bag was finally removed from her head, a faint fire blurred, then slowly came back into focus. She saw a sparkle of white fall to the side of the fire, and there was a terrible stench in the air. A figure in a long, silky dress walked to the side of her and placed cold, slender fingers on the side of her face.
“Such soft skin,” the woman said.
The girl looked up at the woman, who had silver hair falling below her shoulders, lavender-colored eyes shimmering with reds in the firelight, and sharp, exotic makeup of crimson.
Another flicker of white and red dropped to the side of the fire, bouncing heavily from side to side, then lying still.
“You have no idea how happy I am to meet you,” Angela Dragus the Righteous said to the girl.
“Who are you?” She cleared her throat. Dried tears were stuck to her pale cheeks. “What do you want? Where’s my family?”
“The only thing that really matters now is that you are going to go on a little trip with me. The rest—”
“Where is my family?!” the girl screamed.
Then the white flecks began to form together by the tiny fire, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together in a most terrifying way. Bones, many of them, all picked almost completely free of flesh and thrown scattered to the dirt.
Shock and terror filled Lily. Her golden locks fell in front of her face, and she brought up her hands to cover her eyes and began to cry, a deep, uncontrollable stream of tears. She could hardly breathe.
“The only thing that matters now is that you are coming with me.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“I did it! I moved the stick!” Zaan yelled as he ran into Gogenanth’s room. He was brushed on the shoulder by someone he didn’t recognize as they rushed past him, leaving Gogenanth’s room in the infirmary.
“Whoa, hold on, you did what?” Gogenanth replied.
“I moved the stick. Zelestiana taught me how to use my power!” Zaan said with wide eyes.
“Good, I’m proud of you,” Gogenanth said with a forced smile.
“I thought you would be more excited,” Zaan said earnestly.
“I am happy for you. I am . . . I’m just distracted, is all.” Gogenanth scratched his brow with his thumbnail. “There are things happening down in Auracity that are troubling. I was just heading out to a meeting. You wi
ll have to excuse me, Zaan. I really am happy for you.” Gogenanth put a hand on Zaan’s shoulder and stood up to leave.
Gogenanth walked past Zaan and out the door. Zaan stood there not knowing what to do, or what to say. An hour later, he was at the door to Gar’s room.
“Gar?” he yelled at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked a couple more times, and then assumed Gar was off at dinner somewhere.
Zaan went out of the lodge and sat up on the stone walls, letting his legs dangle some fifteen yards from the ground. He sat looking out at the sunset, thinking about what he had learned that day from Zelestiana: about how much focus was required to harness his power. And he thought about what she had done with her power. She had turned everything around him into beauty. He had never imagined something like that was possible. But most exciting of all was the thought of what he would able to do with his power next time, and the time after that. What is the limit of it?
As he sat there, staring down at the sea hitting the tall, talon-like rocks on the shore, he felt a tickling sensation, like someone running silk threads along his bare arm. He looked over, and she was standing next to him. Her long hair was unbraided, not at all her usual fashion, and it was brushing back and forth on his arm. His heart sank, as he wanted to reach up and touch her, but realized he couldn’t.
“Hey,” Tilda said to him with a shy smile. She lifted the side of her skirt and swung one leg over the edge of the rock wall, followed by the other. She was now sitting next to him, looking down at the sea. He didn’t know what to say.
“Hey,” was the best he could come up with, as he was still confused and hurt.
“I owe you an explanation,” she said, not looking up at him. A golden glow illuminated her with the sun setting past her in the crisp sea air. He was overcome with what he could best describe as a broken heart.
“I’m not a simple person.” She looked toward the sun, which was now burning gold, hanging over the blue sea. “The other night I had a great time, and I like being with you, but I guess, I . . . I just couldn’t do it any longer. It’s not easy to describe.”
“Could you try?” Zaan asked.
“I understand if you are hurt, and if you are angry with me. But there is a hole in my heart, one that hurts deeply every day.” She looked at Zaan, and then looked down at their feet, dangling high above the ground below. “You . . . you kind of remind me of him . . .”
“You mean . . . your husband?”
“That is what made the other night so nice, and so . . .” she said as she sniffled, and fought back tears. “I’ve been grieving for so long. It feels like I’m cursed to be alone forever.”
“But I want to be with you, Tilda. You’re all I can think about.”
Reaching over, she grabbed his hands in hers. “And I think about you, but this may take me some time. I wish I could explain to you the way it feels. When I look at you, I see you . . . and I see him. It’s like looking at the sky, marveling at the birds flying overhead, and then walking off a cliff and being torn to pieces by sharp stones.”
“But I’m not him. I’m me. You could be with me, and maybe remember him fondly.”
“Maybe . . . But right now, I can’t. I’m sorry, Zaan, but it’s too soon, and too much. I loved Brand more than anything, and I don’t think I can love like that ever again. I just need more time.”
“Do you know how long? I will wait,” he asked desperately.
“No, I wish I had an answer for you. But you shouldn’t wait. I’m sorry,” she said. She swung her legs back over the wall and ran off, disappearing around a corner of black, glassy stone.
Zaan bitterly brushed a tear from his face. He sat there for the better part of an hour, trying to distract himself from her, but everything he tried to think of always came swimming back to her. He thought of her golden, flowing hair and the taste of her lips. It had felt good when she was sitting there next to him, as all he wanted was to be with her, but she’d run off crying. The thought of her being alone—or worse yet, with someone else—made him want to jump off the wall. Of course he wouldn’t do that, but he was overcome with frustration and sadness. He got up slowly and lumbered back to his bed alone.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
OUTSIDE of Gar’s room in the warm sun a delicate breeze blew through Barrier Cliff, rustling thatch roofs and dead plants. Gar and Zaan were feasting on some delicious warm bread with sweet butter, along with soft-cooked eggs and fresh figs. Zaan’s newest lesson with Zelestiana was over for the day: She’d had him read about the history of Essill, their country. He’d learned about the earliest written scriptures from the first people who could draw in an old language, supposedly the ones who first came over from the Arr, Gogenanth’s homeland, ages ago.
They talked about the crusades that had enveloped the country sporadically for thousands of years, and how slavery became commonplace during those wars, as the victor put the losers into hard labor. Land disputes resulted in bloody battles often, and siege attempts were common. Zaan thought about how hard it must have been to live in the Olden Age that had ended with the Battle of Dürmant and the death of King Dür, the five-hundred-year king.
“Where were you last night?” Zaan asked with a mouthful of food.
“I was out at the tavern. There really isn’t much for me to do here in Barrier Cliff. I should get a job. Know of anything?” Gar bit into a fig, and its flesh fell out onto the side of his mouth.
Zaan swallowed his mouthful of bread. “Not really. You should ask Palanzal or Elindrill.” He took another bite. “There has been a pile of trash outside my house all day. Maybe there is a lack of trash collectors. That may be a good fit.”
“Hell, I would take it, if it paid and gave me something to do. Hanging out with you and drinking every night is beginning to bore me,” Gar said as he took a drink of water, trying to hide his playfully insulting remark.
Zaan said defensively, “At least I’m not a boring friend anymore.”
Gar laughed. “That’s the truth. You are a bit of a menace nowadays. What will your next big adventure be? I wonder what mine will be too. I want to be a dragon slayer or something cool. Since I don’t have the Azulūz, maybe I should work on swordplay and other fighting. Yeah, I’ll try to talk to Palanzal or Elindrill soon.”
Zaan looked around at the surrounding black stone structures decorated with now-dead plants the sun reflected off of the glassy tiles. He glanced up at the three tall towers and at the blue-and-black banners with a dragon’s head at the center that pattered against them in the brisk winds from the Rion. “What do you know about Palanzal?”
“Headmaster Palanzal? Why do you ask?” Gar asked as he took a gulp of water.
“No reason. He’s just a bit mysterious, don’t you think?” Zaan said, trying not to seem too inquisitive. “I’ve been waiting for him to be available to ask him about the red stone I found back in the cave.”
“I don’t know much about him. He is supposed to be a great and powerful man. No one seems to care about their safety while here. I suppose that’s because of him. He kind of reminds me of Gildur in that sense, like he can protect everybody, except Palanzal is much older.” Gar paused, “Remember, I’ve been here about as long as you, so I haven’t even talked to him much. He seems like a busy man.”
“Yeah, I get that feeling too,” Zaan said, now curious about what the headmaster did all day.
“How is it working with Zelestiana? There has been a lot of gossip about you two lately,” Gar said with a wry smile.
“What?” Zaan almost spat up the little bit of food in his mouth. “What are people saying? Why do they care?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing, really.” Gar got up and started to walk away. Zaan stood up and hit him in the arm with a hard-clenched fist.
“Don’t say stuff like that and walk away. What are people saying?” Zaan asked.
“The Lion and her protégé. You are the only one being train
ed right now, so naturally people talk about your abilities.” Gar turned back around and started walking down the stairs toward the gate to Barrier Cliff. Zaan followed.
“Yeah, I guess there isn’t much more here to talk about here.”
“What have you learned from Zelestiana?” Gar asked as they walked down the stairways that crisscrossed the town.
“I’m doing better, learning more, and I’m on time, which is really important to her.” Zaan quickly became enthusiastic. “And I moved a stick! I forgot to tell you!” Gar looked unimpressed and snickered. “Don’t laugh! It was a big deal!”
“I’m sure it was,” Gar said with a playfully doubtful gaze. Zaan was upset but tried to remind himself of what his lessons had taught him. Maybe it was not as impressive as he’d first thought.
“Have you tried to do anything big yet? Or are you just building toy houses all day with her?” Gar asked. Zaan’s eyes turned from dark blue to a teal blue and began to glow. “Yeah, dollhouses I bet.”
Zaan began to move his lips slightly and closed his eyes. Gar tried to make out what he was saying. It sounded like he was repeating a faint word. Gar looked behind him to see a large black stone block with swirling blue flames. Zaan opened his eyes and smiled at Gar. I’ll show you how I can build houses. The stone lifted up off of the ground and hovered low in the air. Gar’s jaw dropped open, as he could not believe what he was seeing. He thought the block easily weighed ten pounds. Zaan repeated his chanting, and the block went over a wall and hovered above a stone house with a thatched overhang above its front door.
“Want to see me build a house?” Zaan grinned and looked at Gar standing in disbelief. Zaan went to take a step forward, but missed his footing on the step below and stumbled forward. Gar let out a gasp, and before Zaan could react the stone went plummeting down from three feet above the stone building and crashed down into the thatched roof. It sent long pieces of straw and hay into the air, all along the ground. The stone rolled and knocked into a small chicken coop on the ground by the overhang. Chickens came out and began clucking and running around. Now Zaan’s jaw hung wide open.
