by A. R. Cook
Desert Rain looked down over the city. “We have to go down to Vaes Galahar and warn the people. Even though Katawa has the council, he still enjoys causing pain in anyone he can get his hands on.”
The young Roc and its two riders landed in the courtyard in front of Ironhorn Hall, and this quickly caused a crowd to gather, including Borgoff Ironhorn, the master of the third reigning household of Stonebreakers. He was owner of Ironhorn Hall, and could get testy about what landed on his personal property.
“What’s the idea of bringing that oversized buzzard here?” he huffed as he shuffled across the courtyard. His horns were a bit crooked from old age, and he almost tripped on his gray beard in his hurry. He irritably stuffed the end of his beard into his belt. “Can’t get a minute’s peace around here. First I have to take in all these outsiders, and now I’ve got a giant turkey on my front lawn!”
“Master Ironhorn,” Clova spoke firmly, “The Wretched that attacked Syphurius is up in the Grand Chamber as we speak. He has subdued the other Hijn. You must spread the word as quickly as possible so you can get the people of this city to safety!”
Chatters of panic and fear reverberated throughout the courtyard. Borgoff, however, was not one to lose his cool. “We of Vaes Galahar do not run from a threat like cowards. My ancestors built this city, and no Stonebreaker is about to abandon it for some miserable devil! We will stand our ground. Let the Wretched come down and show his face! I’ll be ready to drive my axe straight into it!”
“You don’t understand—” Desert Rain began, but Clova shook her head.
“Don’t bother,” the Forest Hijn said. “Once a Stonebreaker’s made up his mind, you’re wasting your breath to convince him otherwise.”
Deep tones from polished horns blared across Vaes Galahar, the signal for the city guardsmen and masters of every household, dwarven and otherwise, to rally together. They assembled quickly, forming their ranks in front of Ironhorn Hall, keeping vigil on the Ascendance of Glo’Rath while they waited for their comrades. Everyone else hurried inside the nearest
buildings and locked the doors behind them, including the two Hijn who were ushered into Ironhorn Hall. Gust, due to its size, had to wait outside, and did so at the far end of the courtyard. Desert Rain looked out from a large arched window towards the cliff face, bracing herself for the moment Katawa would come forth from the door of the engraved castle. She was pondering why he had not emerged yet—it would have been hard to miss seeing him come out. Was he doing to the other Hijn what he had done to Rukna? Had he left the Grand Chambers through some other secret exit? Mostly she wondered what the dwarves and others would do if Katawa chose to
confront them—and what she would do.
Unfortunately, no one there was well-versed in fighting demons, and the Grand Chambers were too small, and too sacred, for a battle inside. This resulted in the men deciding to wait for the Wretched to emerge, rather than flooding in to fish him out, but they grew increasingly impatient as no demon made an appearance. The dwarven masters began to debate on who should go up there to find out what was going on. Naturally, each dwarf boasted that he could go and flush out the Wretched single-handedly, but not one of them attempted to prove their claim. Soon an hour had passed, and still there was no confrontation.
Clova Flor and Desert Rain looked on from the window, as the other guests of Ironhorn Hall clustered around them. Clova wondered aloud if she should offer her Roc to assist, since it could come in handy in helping a few people escape. It was too young and small, however, to transport very many.
“Is there another way out of the Grand Chambers?” Desert Rain asked. “A back way that we can’t see from here? The demon may have escaped out the other side.”
“Rukna would know,” Clova answered softly. She paused for a while before continuing. “There is still the one guard atop the cliff. He might be able to see if the demon left from the other side. He would surely give us a sign.”
Desert Rain glanced up towards the small watch tower at the top of the Ascendance. She could see the small figure of the watchman pacing—he knew something was up from hearing the horns. She felt a nudging at her elbow, and a familiar voice calling her Gila Gul.
“Did I hear the news right-tkk?” Mac asked her in a low voice, so as not to attract much attention from the others. “Is that Nasty out-tkk there?”
“Yes, Mac.” She wanted to tell him something consoling, but nothing came to mind.
“Then would you tell my hammer-happy friend that she’s-ssck loony for trying to go out-tkk there?” He pointed towards the main entrance of the hall, where two guards were doing their best to halt a warhammer-wielding Quetzalin from going outside.
“Outta my way!” Chiriku commanded. “I can help! You guys need fighters. I’m the best head-buster you’ll find!”
“Chiriku!” Desert Rain noted how the Quetzalin’s feathers were frayed and duller in color
from her desert travels. “What are you doing?”
Chiriku whipped her head towards Desert Rain, frowning. “Why does it not shock me that you’re here?”
“You know how dangerous this Wretched is. Stay in here with us.”
“So we can wait for him to do exactly what he did to Syphurius? Where will we run to then? I’m sick of running away. This time I’m going to do something.”
“Do what-tkk?” Mac asked. “I’ve seen what he did to some knights-ssck, and they’re trained to fight-tkk those Nasties.”
“So?” Chiriku attempted to make a running break through the guards, but they held her back. “Let me go, dammit!”
“What are you trying to prove?” Desert Rain demanded to know.
Chiriku glared angrily at Desert Rain. She stormed over, jutting her beak against the Hijn’s nose. “The way I see it, wherever you go, that demon seems to follow. Why aren’t you doing anything to stop him?” She walked away to lean against a wall, crossing her arms and looking on darkly. Desert Rain lowered her gaze to the floor.
The surrounding people watched this scene, murmuring to one another, but their attention was snatched away as a low rumble resounded from outside. Everyone crowded at the windows, raising their gaze towards the cliff. The rumble sounded again, clearly coming from inside the Grand Chambers. The men outside quit their debating and focused on the direction of the sound. From the door of the cliff-face castle, a haze began to stream out, a mist that was first gray but was slowly deepening into black.
Mac stood behind Desert Rain, clutching her shoulders. “What is that-tkk, Dez?”
Desert Rain shook her head in her uncertainty, but then a thought crept into her head. Her lips tightened. She lifted her eyes back to the cliff. “I think we’re in for a really big magic
show,” she commented.
As if confirming her statement, the Ascendance suddenly begin to thunder and shake, rocks tumbling down in a perilous hail. The watchman atop the cliff could not keep his footing, and before he could make it to the staircase, the peak broke apart, and he disappeared from view as he was swallowed by the rock beneath him. A jagged fissure rippled down the middle of the Ascendance, and thick black smoke poured out in ashen breaths. The engraved castle was split down the middle, and the staircase was smashed by plummeting boulders. Then the top of the cliff shattered, pushed apart by a great force, and from it sprouted a great cyclone of iron-black smoke. The smoke swirled high and snaked about like a python, slowly forming into a discernible shape. The form reared its great head, its eyes opening and flaring with white lightning. The smoke parted into a gaping mouth, thunder resounding from within it. Looming above the city of Vaes Galahar was the form of a black wyrm, the very essence of nightmares.
The guardsmen below, wide-eyed, scooted back a couple of inches at the sight of the wyrm. Even the dwarves’ brave countenances faltered, and they stood their ground on shakey legs. Everyone inside Ironhorn Hall gawked in terror at the rising smog serpent. A woman screamed, and this sent the rest of the people into panic, running t
o find safety under whatever furniture or huddling together so as not to lose family members in the scramble. The two Hijns remained by the window, but that was because Clova could not pull Desert Rain away from it.
“Is it the Lifescourge?” Clova asked. “Has it really come back?”
Desert Rain knitted her eyebrows. “No, it’s a storm cloud. It’s V’Tanna’s work.”
“I’ve never seen her do something like that!”
Desert Rain had a good idea of what was going on. This was yet another one of Katawa’s performances, but now he had distorted the Hijns’ minds to make his show all the more spectacular. Who knew if he intended his “show” to literally tear the city apart, all in the name of his sick notion of fun.
Clova wrinkled her face in anxiety. “If this place weren’t all made of rock! Even if I had any materials left to do my magic, I can’t do much good when I’m not surrounded by green earth.”
Desert Rain sympathized with Clova’s feelings of helplessness, but she agonized over the thought of Clova being swallowed into that cloud of darkness. She could not allow that to happen. She had not saved Clova from Katawa just to have her taken away again. She knew now she had to do, what she had refused to do for so long. She turned and headed for the front doors of the hall.
“Where are you going??” Clova nearly shrieked at her.
Desert Rain made no reply. There were no more guards at the doors—they had run for cover like the rest. Clova started after her, but when Desert Rain stepped outside the doors, she turned and looked at the Forest Hijn. Clova stopped before the door, as if an invisible barricade had been magically placed before her. With an out-stretched hand, Clova implored Desert Rain to come back in. Desert Rain’s stern stare told her not to follow. She closed the doors on Clova, turned away, and walked with purpose across the courtyard towards the small army of men and dwarves. She did not allow doubt to invade her mind. She kept her thoughts on the one task she needed to do. No one noticed her approach, for they were caught up in the fear that the great cloud wyrm was spreading. When Desert Rain broke through their lines, they finally become aware of her.
Borgoff Ironhorn stepped up to block her way. “With all due respect, milady, I’ll have to ask you to go back,” he told her gruffly. “Leave this to us.”
The mysterious glow flashed in Desert Rain’s green eye. She raised her hands to the churning snake cloud. She splayed her long fingers. The moonstone marking along her shoulders pulsated with a faint blue light. “Get behind me,” she calmly stated.
Borgoff did not know what this Hijn was up to, but it was sure to be some sort of magical spell. He ordered his men to fall back a few yards, giving the odd-looking girl plenty of space. Desert Rain locked her gaze on the black cyclone. The wyrm was looking at her now, rain drizzling down from its mouth like acidic saliva.
She looked up above the cyclone. She could make out a sliver of Ia Ternaut shining in the daytime sky. Her magic would be fairly weak now, for the moon was not in a proper phase, but she hoped she could still find the strength to make it work.
Bellaluna, please help me, Desert Rain thought.
Deep within the forgotten corridors of her mind, she searched for the ancient words she had not uttered for countless years. Even as she struggled to remember, her body was preparing itself, energy already building up in her arms and flowing into her fingers. She unlocked one of the many mental doors she had kept shut for ages, and it was the wrong one. An onslaught of screams attacked her mind. Images dashed through her brain like manic swarming insects. She saw faces she once knew and loved dearly, frozen in fear, swathed in a ghastly ice-blue light. There were horrid faces too, vicious and bloodthirsty. Those were the ones she had meant to drive away, but instead she had driven away those she loved, drove them away forever...
A woman’s voice pierced her consciousness. Desiree, what have you done??
Desert Rain dropped her hands. Sweat trickled down her brow. Her knees wobbled, and her breath was heavy. She was oblivious to everything except the dull ache in her head. Then she heard the screams again—but these were outside her head. They were the shouts of the men behind her. Desert Rain looked up, and saw the cloud wyrm descending down upon her in an avalanche of rain and thunder.
The storm serpent smashed into her body with such force that Desert Rain was lifted off the ground and propelled back a few feet. She landed on her rear, and would have continued to roll like a wind-swept leaf across the ground if she had not
collided with Borgoff, whose bulkiness and strong stocky legs
rooted him like an old tree stump where he stood. He drove his axe into the pavement for added stability against the storm, and held onto it in an iron-fisted grip. Wind howled savagely around them, and the pitch-colored fog obscured their view. Borgoff leaned into the gale, helping Desert Rain to stand and holding her by the waist to keep her from blowing away.
“Brace yourself, milady!” he bellowed. “We may not be able to fight a storm, but even a dragon has to run out of breath some time!”
Desert Rain tightened every muscle in her body, standing rigidly against the wind with Borgoff. Rain and hail pelted their faces, forming a skin of ice over their flesh. Blasts of lightning flashed before them, taking Desert Rain so off guard that she lost her footing. Borgoff clung to her with all his might, not allowing her to slip away into the raging storm, and momentarily Desert
Rain flailed in the wind before regaining her footing. There were sudden dark shapes near her, a flock of shadows that swept past so quickly that the zooming sounds of their flight trailed a few paces behind them. Desert Rain ducked instinctively, shutting her eyes from the unknown shadows. Then she felt something brushed through her hair—not a random piece of debris, but a very deliberate touch from cold fingers. They raked gently through her long dark hair, weaving into the matted tangles, and then the fingers gripped onto it and yanked her head back slightly. Desert Rain would have yelped, but the icy wind clogged her throat. A hiss burned into her ear.
“L’Teth Zurên…”
The presence was whisked away by the storm.
Desert Rain whipped her head around, but could see nothing through the darkness. Then the storm wyrm’s tail slithered through them, and the last screech of wind rang in the air as the darkness dissipated. Desert Rain and Borgoff keeled over head first onto the ground when the wind vanished without even a hint. They were soaked from head to foot, the ice rapidly melting in the now-visible sun. Desert Rain rose trembling to her feet, and she helped hoist Borgoff up to stand on his aching legs. They caught a glimpse of the cloud wyrm rising higher and higher above them, fading from sight as it blended into the sky’s natural gray clouds.
The other guardsmen and dwarves had been blown into the walls of houses, into lampposts, and a few unfortunate men had been blown into and injured on a fellow guard’s weapon. Some, like Borgoff, had been able to lean their weight into the storm and hadn’t been pushed back very far, but now they were slumped on the ground in disheveled exhaustion. Houses, taverns, and stores still stood, but several roofs had been peeled away and most windows shattered into oblivion. Carts were toppled over and smashed. Ironhorn Hall was mostly unaffected, being a well-built structure, except the windows were all broken, and the fine stone carvings gracing the roof were cracked and eroded. Borgoff gazed upon this with growing fury.
“By my great-grandfather’s beard!” Borgoff thundered as loudly as the storm wyrm had. “Centuries of stonework, passed down from generation to generation, ruined!” He looked up at the split face of the Ascendance, still crumbling rock by rock. “That Wretched’s in for it now! I hope that bloody bastard’s still up there so I can give him what for! Thinks he can scare me with a raincloud, hah! I’ve tackled hurricanes worse than that!”
Desert Rain absent-mindedly touched the back of her head. It still hurt a little. She thought of the shadows that had flown past her, and she knew who they had been. “He’s not up there,” she said. “None of them are up the
re now. He took the Hijn away, inside that storm.” Her voice dropped into a soft whisper of anguish. “They’re all gone.”
Borgoff wrinkled his brow. “Blast, I bet you’re right. Sneaky devil, that one is.”
The civilians of Vaes Galahar began to cautiously open their doors, although many doors had come off their hinges. The people inside Ironhorn Hall were not as daring to emerge. Instead
they gradually gathered at the glass-less windows, peering out from within the strong walls of their refuge. A few people ventured outside, including Clova, followed by Chiriku, Mac and a few others.
“Dezzy! Are you all right?” Clova hugged her friend close. “My heart stopped when I saw that terrible thing come down on you like that! I should have been there with you…no, I should have stopped you!” She pulled her arms out of the hug so she could shake Desert Rain by the shoulders. “What in the name of Earthbelly were you thinking??”
“Clova…” Desert Rain brushed away the Forest Hijn’s hands. Her voice became hard. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Mac Lizard was unusually laid back for someone who had witnessed a serpent-shaped tempest, but he tended to forget about fear quickly once the danger was past. “I’m glad we ain’t all blown to the Pond of the Beyond or nothing like that-ttk. Dez was down-right-tkk brave for standin’ up to that Nasty. Swamp rats-ssck know that I couldn’ta done that.”
Desert Rain smiled meekly at him. She did not know why Mac was always so nice to her. It was not as if she had ever paid him any extraordinary act of kindness.
“Brave, my foot,” Chiriku commented from behind the teeth in her beak.
“Funny, after that scene you made earlier, I didn’t-tkk see you actually go outside,” Mac noted.
Chiriku’s blue feathers ruffled up, the skin beneath them burning red. She put a hand to the warhammer strapped to her back. “I ought to bean you, Snot-rag! You don’t tell me that I’m…”
