by D K Drake
Micah planned to identify himself as Omri’s son and demand food and shelter. If the people didn’t comply, he would threaten to have his father wipe them out with a Justice Unit. The plan sounded simple enough.
Then he met the people of the Clartritch Village.
Chapter 17
A Hostile Welcome
The stream led Micah right to a village of about thirty or so round huts built side-by-side in a large semi-circle under the rain forest canopy. The identical huts were all made of bamboo and topped with reed-thatched roofs.
Micah couldn’t imagine living in such a hut, but he was going to have to endure sleeping in one for the night. He already knew it would be too small and simple to suit him, and he suddenly couldn’t wait to return to the castle. He missed the luxury and extravagance of his huge room and soft bed, but at least a night in a hut would be better than another night under the stars.
An arched sign made of vines identified the place as the Clartritch Village. No wall bordered the property, which Micah found odd. Every city and village in Zandador had to be enclosed in and guarded by soldiers. Without those walls, people would meander from place to place, talk to each other, and not do the jobs they were assigned by law to perform. That’s how Omri maintained productivity and order. Micah thus concluded that the people of Keckrick were not productive and lived in chaos.
His suspicion was confirmed when he spotted a handful of shirtless, barefoot boys with black hair, tan skin and brown eyes kicking a coconut around a fire pit in the middle of the village. Kids shouldn’t be playing. They should be hunting or farming or cooking or learning a trade. He had to put an end to this nonsense right away.
He invaded the circle of kickers, stopped the coconut ball with his foot, and cut it in half with his sword. “Play time is over. I demand to speak with your leader, or this coconut is not the only thing I will destroy with my sword.”
After a few seconds of frozen, confused fear, the boys dispersed, each one running to a different hut. Micah smiled, put his sword away, and crossed his arms. He enjoyed scaring kids.
In a matter of moments, men and women began exiting the huts. All of them seemed to share the same tan skin and dark hair, but unlike the boys, the adults were fully clothed. Their clothes, however, didn’t match. How was he supposed to tell the leader apart from the commoners if the commoners didn’t all wear the same type of outfit like in Zandador?
Maybe they had no leader. He would just have to take charge himself and address the entire tribe. “I am Micah, thirteenth son of Omri, King of Zandador.” He pointed to the hut closest to him on the right. “I am going to secure this hut for my own tonight. Whoever lives here will provide my meal this evening.
“The rest of you will entertain me with dancing and music while I eat, and then I am not to be disturbed while I sleep. I expect to eat in one hour. Now get to work preparing my food and entertainment.”
With his speech completed, he sat down on one of the benches near the fire pit. But instead of hearing a commotion among the people to comply with his demands, he heard a litany of voices bouncing around the village.
“Spy!”
“We’re not fools. We know Omri would never send his son here.”
“Which one of the southern tribes sent you?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll never find out how many humminglo plants we have.”
“He won’t find out because we’re going to hang him!”
“Whoa! What?” Micah jumped to his feet but didn’t have a chance to grab his sword before being tackled from behind by three men. One of them sat on his back and proceeded to put a noose around his neck. The other two pinned his arms and tied his wrists together.
“For the record,” the noose man whispered in Micah’s ear, “our humminglo supply is thriving. We will prevail on Transport Day, and your entire region will suffer the consequences.”
“What are you talking about? I am not a spy, and I don’t care about your humminglo supply! I just want a place to eat and sleep for the night. And I really am the son of Omri. If you hurt me, he will find out and send a Justice Unit to destroy this village!”
“Silence!” The noose man pushed Micah’s face into the grass and tightened the rope around Micah’s neck. “Men, this one is strong. We need all available hands to carry him to the trees and string him up.”
Micah heard a throng of footsteps and felt himself being picked up by dozens of hands. He kicked and screamed and jiggled his shoulders, but he couldn’t shake free from his captors.
◊◊◊
“No.” Javan kept walking south along the deserted beach with Varjiek following behind him like a little puppy and nagging him to get back in the air. Ever since Varjiek had regained the ability to fly, Javan couldn’t keep the dragon on the ground.
Please, please, please let me fly us around while we still have some daylight left. He leap-frogged over Javan and tried pleading with him face to face. I’ll go slowly so you won’t get sick, and you might even find the Dawn Stalker.
Javan shook his head and once again said, “No. We’ve had a rough couple of days. Let’s just chill the rest of today and start fresh in the morning. Besides, I’ve never seen the sun set over the ocean. I want to be here on the ground and sitting in the sand to watch it when it does.”
You’re boring.
“I didn’t say you had to sit here and watch the sunset with me.”
You mean you want me to explore on my own and find the dragon for you?
“You really want to fly, don’t you?”
Varjiek’s eyes lit up as he nodded his head. I feel like a new dragon now that I can fly again, and I’m too excited to stay on the ground. Plus it’s all kinds of fun to use my invisibility to scare the animals here.
“That’s mean. And something I’ve gonna have to watch one day.” Javan laughed and decided to give in to Varjiek. “Go. Fly. Have your fun while the sun is still out. Just let me get my backpack first so I can eat while you’re frightening the animals.”
It won’t be all fun; I’ll be searching for the Dawn Stalker, too. Varjiek waited for Javan to untie his backpack from the gear stored on his back. I haven’t forgotten that we’re on a mission.
“I was trying to forget, but I suppose I’ll keep an eye out for any dragons while I walk. I’ll stick to the shore to make it easy for you to find me when you get back.”
Yes, sir. I shall return by dark. Varjiek took off with a whoosh, sprinkling Javan with both water and sand.
He brushed himself off and continued his walk. Since Varjiek was out looking for the dragon that may or may not be living somewhere along the northwestern shore near a family of Dragon Protectors, Javan felt free to walk down the beach without thinking of what he needed to do, where he needed to go or how to collect a Dawn Stalker that could teleport away from him at the slightest hint of danger.
He was also free to explore his surroundings, and his surroundings appeared worthy of exploration up ahead. The palm-tree lined beach gave way to a ragged cliff hundreds of feet high. The rocks of the cliff were as clear as glass and shimmered in the bright sunlight. And the strangest, most beautiful flower he had ever seen covered the base of the cliff, the hill leading to the top of the cliff, and all along the top of the cliff.
Wanting to get a closer look at the flowers, Javan began jogging. He soon found himself past the palm trees and in the midst of head-high flowers with green stems so thick that his fingers barely touched when he wrapped his hands around them.
Thin leaves as long as his arms grew sporadically up the stem leading to the round top that leaned to the side like sunflowers. The petals that lined the perimeter of the circle also reminded him of sunflowers, but these were purple instead of yellow. What truly mesmerized Javan, though, was the web of neon blue strings that burst out from the center of the flower.
Each individual string originated from the base of a petal and stretched downward for about a foot where it intertwined with all of the o
ther strings. Curious about what it felt like, Javan touched one of the strings with his finger. It felt soft and smooth and alive. As soon as Javan touched it, the web immediately retreated to its base where the petals wrapped it in a protective covering.
“Cool,” Javan said, touching each flower as he walked by so he could watch them all coil up.
Then something else caught his attention: the sound of a waterfall.
He abandoned his ploy to frighten all the flowers and sprinted ahead. He cut through the last of the flowers right before the land started rising, fought his way through about fifty yards of thick foliage he couldn’t identify and stood in stunned silence at the sight of the most majestic waterfall he had ever seen.
He stood at the right corner of a U-shaped canyon. White water flowed down the curved end of the canyon into a pool of water so clear he could see the bottom and all the fish in between. The straight edges of the U formed the walls of the canyon, were topped with those bizarre flowers, and were made of the same shimmering rocks as the cliffs bordering the ocean.
The clear rocks also formed an island in the middle of the water, and laying on that island basking in the sun was a living, breathing, white-scaled Dawn Stalker. It looked at him, scowled, and said, You’re not Taliya.
He was about to respond when a female burst through the trees right in front of him and cut him off. “Kisa, leave!” The dragon obeyed and immediately teleported herself away.
Javan sighed and turned his attention to the woman who had delivered the orders. She was about five inches shorter than Javan and wore her black hair in a braided crown atop her head. A machete dangled from her tiny waist, and she held a slingshot in her left hand and a dart in her right.
She had on an unbuttoned long sleeved green shirt over a green tank top and matching green pants. Her outfit allowed her to blend in with the trees, but it didn’t camouflage her short, slender figure, gorgeous tan face and bright blue eyes.
“You must be Taliya.” He extended his hand to introduce himself but didn’t have the chance. Because right after hearing her name, she lifted the slingshot, loaded it with the dart, and shot him in the neck.
◊◊◊
They made it halfway across the clearing of the village center toward the trees when shrieks louder than his own pierced the late afternoon air. The shrieks came from the women behind him as three bloodied men burst through the trees in front of him.
One beast of a man carried two smaller, unconscious men. “We need help,” the beast said. “It’s Cheel and Thia. They’re in bad shape.”
The men carrying Micah dropped him. He scrambled away and hid under the porch of the nearest hut while his former captors focused their attention on helping the injured.
“We were ambushed by the Negutia tribe,” the beast said. “We fought them off, but we’re all hurt. Cheel and Thia are the worst. Somebody has to get the healer.”
Micah saw a wave of tension wash over the entire village at the mention of the healer. It took a minute, but noose man finally responded. “We have medicine. We can treat them here.”
“You can treat me here. Cheel and Thia won’t survive without her help.”
“People who seek her help return with acid burns, if they return at all. It’s not worth it.”
Acid burns? Dawn Stalkers breathed acid. The healer must live near the Dawn Stalker Javan was after! Micah stopped trying to untie his hands and listened to the unfolding debate.
“It is if she’s their only hope.” The beast’s voice was stronger now that the villagers had released him from his burden by carrying the injured men into one of the huts.
“No.” Noose man stood his ground. “I won’t allow it. By trying to save these two, we risk losing more of our own.”
“I will go.” A woman with a muscular build and long braided hair spoke up. “I can get there by nightfall and have her back here by midnight. She will listen to me.”
“I cannot let you go alone.”
“Then my sister will accompany me, but we have to leave now. If we delay, Cheel and Thia will be even beyond her help.”
“You are sure you can get past her acid-breathing monster?”
“I am certain. She owes me a favor.”
“Then get your sister and go. We will do our best to keep Cheel and Thia alive while you are gone.
“Thank you, Swur.”
Micah took that as his cue to leave as well. He dashed into the trees and ran back along the stream as fast as he could with his hands tied. When he was certain no one was following him, he stopped, used a sharp rock to cut through the string that held his hands and removed the noose from his neck.
If he hurried, he could retrieve Mertzer and return to the village in time to follow the healer back to her home. Ironically, he was about to become the spy they accused him of being. This time, though, he wouldn’t get caught.
Chapter 18
A New Enemy
The first thing Javan noticed when he regained consciousness wasn’t that his body lay on a hard wood floor in an uncomfortable ball on his left side, courtesy of his hands being tied to his feet, or that a tight gag around his mouth prevented him from talking.
He didn’t register any of that because the burning pain in the right side of his neck made the rest of his predicament irrelevant. He felt like he was being stung with a thousand fire ants all the in the same exact spot at the exact same time, and the stinging kept increasing in intensity.
Since he couldn’t scream, he began thrashing his body on the floor instead. All he wanted to do was make the pain stop, but the movement just seemed to make the pain worse.
“I tied you up like that so you wouldn’t move.” The small warrior woman from the woods talked in a bored tone from across the octagonal room. She was stretched out on her bed reading a book by lantern light. A giant tree dominated the middle of the space, leading Javan to presume they were in some sort of glorified tree house.
“Every time you do move,” she continued, “a dose of poison from that dart in your neck enters your system. Once too much poison floods your bloodstream, there is no amount of antidote I can give you to counteract its killing power.”
Javan immediately stopped thrashing about and glared at his captor. How could she talk in such a nonchalant way about his possible death? Who was she? Why did she tie him up? What did she want with him?
She appeared to be in her late teens or early twenties. He had a hunch she hid a soft innocence behind her tough exterior, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, because he hated her. Although he could get used to looking at her beautiful face, he hated the way she talked, the way she lived, and the way she made him feel like a pitiful, weak, trapped victim.
“All right, trespasser. Now that you have wisely decided to remain still, it’s time to talk.” She closed her book, plopped it on her bed and glided on her bare feet over to Javan. “What are you doing on my land? Every inch of ground from here to the coast belongs to me, including the humminglo fields you saw. I will not allow them to be harvested, so trespassing on my land will not help you win the war.”
Javan tried to tell her he had no interest in humminglo fields but did want to collect the dragon she called Kisa. The gag, however, turned his response into an unintelligible grunt. She seemed to enjoy the fact that he couldn’t speak and waited a moment before reaching for the gag.
She had the knot loosened on the cloth covering Javan’s mouth when a pounding sound from below them caused her to pause.
“Taliya, it’s Anita.” More pounding. “I know you’re home. Open up!”
“What is she doing here?” Taliya shook her head in obvious frustration as she retied Javan’s gag and patted his cheek. “I guess I’ll have to wait to hear your sweet voice. Remember, moving will kill you. Staying still will keep you alive.”
With those comforting words, she left the room through a hole in the floor by the tree. Javan assumed a set of stairs wrapped around the trunk, but thanks to the poison dart lo
dged in his neck, he wasn’t about to scoot himself over to the hole to test his theory.
He strained to hear the conversation playing out between the women, but all he could hear were faint whispers and mumblings.
The conversation did not last long or make Taliya happy. She stormed up the steps a few minutes later carrying a cup. “Apparently I have to take a little trip. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t need you dying on me before I get back.”
She put the cup on the floor, dragged him over to the tree and cut the vine holding his hands and feet together. His hands remained tied behind him while she propped him against the trunk and used a longer, thicker vine to tie him in a sitting position against the tree. The movement multiplied the pain caused by the dart, and he felt himself start to pass out.
Taliya grabbed the cup she had brought with her, removed the dart and Javan’s gag. “Stay with me, stranger. I’ve got to get you to drink this or I’ll never find out who you are.”
“Yeah,” Javan said, noting that his voice sounded raspy and groggy. “That’s why I should drink your mystery beverage. So you can find out who I am.”
“Exactly.” She smiled, opened his mouth and poured some sort of liquid down his throat that had the consistency of gravy and tasted like sewage. He wanted to throw it up until she encouraged him to keep it down by saying, “I know it tastes terrible, but what it lacks in taste it makes up for in keeping you alive.”
Javan forced himself to swallow every drop. It dulled the pain in his neck but made him feel woozy. And sick. And tired. So very tired.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was watching Taliya cover him with a blanket and stuff a small pillow behind his head.
