by C. K. Rieke
“We can’t fight them, with you like you are. But they will surely find us here eventually.” Tilda stood there in thought for a few moments. She brushed her hair back away from her face. “The tree line along the shore of the sea is our best bet. The sun will show its last light in an hour, then when the moonlight shines, we will make our escape.”
That hour seemed like a lifetime to Zaan. The thoughts that went through his head of the safety and whereabouts of his friends, as well as the thoughts of his family, and the current danger they were still in. He thought of Lily and where her and the children had gone off to, and if they were safe. This was all eclipsed by the intense guilt he felt for leaving them. The fact that Tilda and he were the first to leave the fight weighed heavily on him, even with his injury. He went through fits of rage with clenched fists as he paced back and forth and hit the walls, and he even struggled to hold back his tears at the thought of Gar’s possible death.
Tilda sat in silence with her head down. She mourned in her own way. While Zaan raged and let his emotions fly, she sat, and silently thought of her own regrets for their fleeing. Once Zaan calmed down, he went and sat on a stair. Tilda stood and walked over to him, sat on the stair next to him, and put her head on his other shoulder. There they stayed for the remainder or the hour, waiting for the sunlight to fade, and the cover of night to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
RUNNING through the damp, dark tunnels of Barrier Cliff was not only challenging on its own but helping a wounded soldier made it all the more treacherous. Gar made sure to find solid footing before helping Astor to step down to the next step. Zelestiana chanted lowly, and dim, blue lights appeared, lighting the pathway down. Cobwebs littered the downward, curving staircase.
The ground shook, and dust and small rocks fell from the ceiling above them. Gar looked nervously at Zelestiana. “Why did we leave? What is going to happen to Gogenanth and the others?”
“We had no choice, it was either flee or die.” She did not look back, but continued to walk down. “I had to make the decision. There is no going back.”
Gar fought back tears. “What of Zaan? Where did he go?”
“They went down another passage to escape.”
“Will we meet up with them?” Gar asked enthusiastically. Zelestiana continued walking down the stair. “Hey. I asked you a question,” he said forcefully.
Zelestiana turned around, and Gar saw the hilt of her sword glisten in the blue light. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Don’t you know these tunnels, and where they are?” He continued, and he shifted to lift Astor’s arm more onto his shoulders.
“These tunnels are vast and expansive. I do not know which way they took, and where they will end up.” She turned back and began descending the stair again. “We need to focus on our survival now; they are on their own, and we are not safe yet.”
Gar struggled with leaving his friends behind. “We need to go back, Gogenanth’s in trouble, and Zaan was injured.”
“She’s right, Gar,” Astor said softly. “Zaan will be safe with Tilda. Don’t worry for him.” He coughed into his hand and put his head back down. They continued walking down the stairway together. Zelestiana and Gar took turns helping Astor down, as the passageway was too narrow to have all three of them shoulder to shoulder.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Gar helped Astor down to the ground where he rested his back against the wall. Zelestiana walked over, she took out a small dagger and cut his shirt open on his side to inspect the wound. She brightened the light, focusing it on the wound. She looked up into Astor’s eyes, which were bloodshot and tired.
“It’s not that bad, Astor, a few broken ribs and a gash which I can mend.” She ripped a strip of cloth from her legging, and looked over at Gar. She held her hand out to him.
“What?” he asked.
“I need your flask,” she said, still holding her hand out.
“Oh.” He reached into his inside pocket, pulled out a flask covered in black leather, and handed it to her.
She doused the wound with the strong-smelling alcohol, and Astor squirmed in pain. She then gave the flask back to Gar, who swilled the remaining remnants, and she wrapped the legging around his midsection.
“Thank you,” Astor managed to say.
“What do we do next?” Gar asked.
“We need to head into the forest for cover. We are on the west side of the castle. It is a short distance into the tree line at the foothills of the Cascades. It is not yet dark enough, and I suspect the dragons are roaming the skies. We shall sit here until nightfall.”
There they sat for the next few hours. Astor slept, which helped Gar relax, as he was worried for his friend. For when Astor was awake, he was in great pain. Zelestiana sat silently in the corner. Gar assumed she was thinking, or meditating. Occasionally, the blue glow of the Azulūz would float above her and fade into the stagnant air.
Eventually, she got to her feet and wiped the dripping water from her hair. “It is time,” she said, as she reached over and hit a switch on the wall to crack open the door that was hidden next to her. As the door slowly opened, Gar expected to see the darkness of night, instead, the first thing he saw was the shadow of a flying beast shoot past the door’s entrance and disappear.
“That’s not good,” he said, as he lifted Astor from the ground, and back onto his shoulder. “Surely we will be seen if we go out there. It’s almost as bright as the sun. What do we do?”
Zelestiana stood in the doorway and let her arms slowly fall to her sides. She dropped her hand and began moving her lips. “Hallanal,” she repeated softly, and her eyes began to glow light blue, and then her hands. As she repeated the words, they slowly dimmed to a low murmur, and her entire body began to glow with the light of the Azulūz. Gar could not see out past her into the sky, but he could see the grass plains in the light of the moon. He and Astor watched as a creeping shadow appeared at the base of the mountains in the distance, and began creeping towards them.
Astor struggled to hold his head up and focus into the distance. “Impossible,” he whispered. Gar’s mouth dropped open.
Perspiration collected on Zelestiana’s forehead, and the veins in her arms began to show. She lifted her head to look out into the distance and up into the sky. The thick cloud cover was almost to the doorway in which they stood. “We need to be quick,” she struggled to say.
Gar and Astor stood there in awe as the shadow enveloped the castle of Barrier Cliff, and not a single shadow was cast out in the distance. The dragons above roared and screeched, and the three of them shuffled out of the castle, traveled across the grassy plains, and entered into the wooded foothills of the Cascades, safely.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
THE bright, white light of the full moon lit the surrounding fields of Barrier Cliff. Tilda looked off into the distance and watched as the shadows of dragons glided along the ground. She watched as the dragons flew high in the sky, scanning the area for any signs of life. “Damn, we would be spotted in a second out there. The full moon is too bright. We might as well run into the sunlight.”
“Not if those clouds have any say,” Zaan said. It appeared the clouds were more than luck at that moment to him, as they crept in fast and low. “I have a feeling the gods are looking out for us, finally.”
Tilda looked up with wide eyes. “Where did they come from?” She watched the giant, thick-gray clouds hover quickly over the high peaks of the castle’s wall and float towards the bright moon and its pillars of light. “This truly, truly is a blessing. Thank you, Ojiin.”
The air itself began to darken as the heavy cloud line passed under the white moon. Its long fingers of light were cut by the soft, thick clouds. They watched as the rocky foothills and grassy plains were immersed in darkness.
“Okay, let’s go,” Tilda said, as she crept out low and slowly at first. Zaan followed behind, hunched over, and
took clumsy strides as they moved down the rocky embankment at the base of Barrier Cliff. The dragons dipped below the low cloud cover, and hissed and screamed as they struggled to see the dark ground below, covered in the shadows of the cloud cover. “We need to make it to the tree line, then follow the path of the shore. We need to be quiet, and quick.”
Zaan followed closely behind her. They made their way off the rocks and their feet landed in soft grass; he fell to his side, but managed to keep from yelling out. She helped him back up, and their pace quickened. Soon, they were running low and fast. The dragons howled and screeched overhead. Once they crossed the short distance of the field and made it to the thin trees with heavy leaves, they stopped to catch their breath, and survey the area.
They looked out back to the castle behind them. Every blue torch had been extinguished, and not a single light shown, except one. The flames of the ax danced in the center of the city. They both looked in horror as the entire city was littered with the dragons, with Xelex standing in the middle of the raised courtyard. “We’ve lost, everything is gone,” Zaan said. Next to Xelex were the large bodies of two men, pinned to the high wall that lay behind the fallen statue of Gildur. The two bodies were motionless.
Tilda lowered her head and let out a whimper that made him choke up. Everything we’ve fought for, and all we’ve done, is finished. Zaan placed a hand on her back.
Tilda choked down her sadness and tears, and she cleared her throat. “There will be time to grieve later.” She turned away from the high, dark walls of Barrier Cliff and walked delicately through the light foliage under the cover of thick leaves, and dark clouds.
They continued to walk through the night, resting frequently, and hiding the entire time beneath the cover of trees that hugged the shoreline of the Rion. The shore curved south, and then east, so anytime they wanted to look back at Barrier Cliff, they would see more and more of the Rion in between them and it.
“Where are we heading?” Zaan asked as they stopped and drank the last bits of water from Zaan’s canteen. He had to fight to swallow.
“We are heading to Dillengrad. The Castle of New Kings.”
“Why there?”
“There’s a place there we’ll be safe, and we need to get you healed, I fear that wound isn’t natural, and is only going to get worse. We need time to figure things out. The nice thing about Dillengrad is it’s easy to live unnoticed there,” she said. Then, taking the last sip of water from Zaan’s canteen— the tiny bit of moonlight lit the last drops of it falling down her chin— she wiped them off with the back of her hand.
He grimaced. “How far away is it?” he asked, taking his canteen back as she handed it to him.
“If we travel well, it should take less than a week. After three days, we should reach the Rangk River, full of fresh fish, especially this time of year. Until then, it may be nuts and berries,” she said.
“I hope the rest of them are okay,” Zaan said. This wound is going to rip me apart. If I regain my strength, I’m going to return to Barrier Cliff and kill the Crooked Knight. Someday I’m going to kill Armoz too.
“As do I, Zaan, as do I.”
CHAPTER FORTY
THICK, hot iron rolled out from cauldrons, and hammers hit on anvils by the dozens. In the center of the machine that was the production center of Auracity, the kingdom Zaan had met Tilda, Gar, and Gildur, before he was captured by the king’s men and thrown in the Black Cave.
Two men walked along a ledge overlooking the many men and women operating the forges. One man strode tall with a red mane of fur over his silver-armored shoulders. The other wore a crown of jewels over his black hair, with long gray hairs scattered between them.
The king removed a seal that showed the symbol of a level scale and raven. He unfolded a small parchment and read the document quickly. Erolos the King’s Guard looked at King Hollon to get a read on what the tax collectors, the monaters, from the House of Publica and Excise in the Kingdom of Vallenhalen. Upon the king’s dismissal the two monaters, dressed in long, black robes exited the large, open room.
After he had finished quickly reading the parchment letter, he folded it back up. “They are increasing their disbursements to the kingdoms,” the king said.
Erolos responded, “This must be because of what’s happening in Barrier Cliff. Which Kingdoms are they sending more resources to?”
“All of them: Vallenhalen, Dillengrad, Garmos, and us. They are telling us to fortify our castles and support the surrounding villages and towns,” the king said.
They both stood there, looking out over the flowing red, hot iron and the people hard at work. Supposedly, Auracity’s industrial center was the main producer of all kinds of smithing for farming equipment and building supplies. Below them in the room were racks upon racks of all kinds of weapons: swords, spears, crossbows, as well as hundreds of suits of armor.
“They are requesting a meeting of the kings and queens from the castles, wanting us all to meet here in my Kingdom of Auracity,” the king said.
“Are you going to allow them to enter the city?” Erolos asked.
“Of course— to not, would raise suspicions. None of the Kingdoms must find out what we are planning here. We are close Erolos, and the death dragons at Barrier Cliff are the perfect distraction. With all eyes focused on the lost city up north, we will be free to place our attack. They will be none the wiser,” the king said, with the reflection of roaring, hot iron in his eyes.
Erolos nodded, “Your will be done.”
“These lands are lost, there needs to be a patriarch to lead Essill into a new age. The Age of Peace is failing. The corruption at the House of Publica will end, and the Four Kingdoms will become six once again, as they were in the Olden Age. We will rebuild the lost city of Celendrial and reclaim Barrier Cliff and revive its lost glory. All will be under the banner of Auracity, and I, will reign with wisdom and iron fist.”
“Your will be done, my Lord.”
“What news of the boy, Zaan, did he perish in the battle?” the king asked.
“Nothing yet of him, but the other fugitive who escaped us is being held at the fortress, Gogenanth of the Arr,” Erolos said.
“Good, let him rot . . . And what news of the red stone?” the king asked.
“Nothing sire, we have excavated nothing, and heard nothing. But if, and when, we find one, it will be brought directly to you.”
The king brought his shoulders back and puffed out his chest, and nodded his head in affirmation. “I care not what it costs. I need the power of the stone to claim my rightful role, as the ruler of this land, and to become the new Thousand-Year King.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
FORAGING through the tall grasses of the plains between Barrier Cliff and the Rangk River, Tilda and Zaan managed to find a surprising amount of raspberries and elderberries. They didn’t have to eat bitter dandelion greens Zaan hated the taste of. There were many fresh water streams that flowed out from the river to the sea, so they had plenty of fresh water, and weren’t forced to boil every batch. Zaan only found it harder to drink the water, and force down food.
Barrier Cliff had passed into the horizon behind them, yet not even a feast made for a king could lift their spirits enough to diminish their worries for their friends left behind. Tilda told Zaan about how Dillengrad would be their temporary home for the foreseeable future, until somehow they found a way to cure him.
As the grassy plains turned to rocky embankments, the vast spans of the Rangk came into view. It was known as a haven for all sorts of exotic fish, some even yet to be discovered. It had only been a couple of days of traveling on foot and the high towers of the City of Dillengrad peeked over the horizon line when the sky was clear enough.
They sat there and dipped their feet into the cool, dark water. Tilda took a couple of loose threads from her sleeve and tied them up to a strong stick she had found prior. She removed a metal ring from her boot, and sharpened one e
nd of it to form a small hook, and baited a thick worm on the end. Zaan lay on his back, holding his swollen shoulder, looking up at the sky and the wistful clouds as they slowly passed overhead. He watched as they flew back behind him, towards the direction they had come.
He squinted his eyes as the sky was as bright a blue as he had ever seen. Watching the fluffy, white clouds pass, he scratched his hairy chin, and an interesting question popped into his mind. “Tilda?”
She bobbed her hook and lure in the water. “Yes.” Her long braids had been undone, and her hair wafted in long, stray strands in the light breeze.
“You notice how the clouds are floating back towards Barrier Cliff?” he asked, still watching them float overhead.
She looked up at them casually. “Yes.”
“The cloud cover that rolled in that night, to block out the moonlight. Well, it was traveling the other direction.” He sat up and faced the tips of Dillengrad. “But the winds were blowing into us. I remember it, because it stung my face as we ran from the city.”
“Yes,” Tilda said, still watching her line float in the water.
“Well, isn’t that odd? Do you think it did have something to do with the gods?”
“Yes, I do.”
Zaan scratched his chin again, and furrowed his brow.
Tilda could sense his curiosity. “There was something happening that night, that was . . . unnatural. Whatever it was, I’m happy it happened.”
“As am I,” she said, lifting the line from the water to check and make sure the worm was still attached to the hook.
They sat there a few moments longer, Tilda eyed the line in the water and Zaan removed his bandages, and looked at the oozing liquid growing from the growing black scarring. “What do we do when we get there?” he asked.
