by B C Penling
“Sorry, Arley,” Zen said. “Need any help?”
Arley grumbled something in lenolden and waved his hand before adding more kindling. He blew on it again to encourage the little flame to heat up and consume more wood. It was soon crackling happily and Arley sat on a rock beside it proudly watching the flame grow.
“Let him warm before we leave,” the old man said. “We can’t delay for long though.” He pointed to the lowering storm clouds advancing toward them. “That’ll be here sooner if the winds pick up.”
The grass and bushes along the forest line suddenly began to quiver. Zen spun around immediately and poised himself to attack. Arley had sprung up from his rock with clenched fists. The rustling stopped a moment.
Zen curled his lip in a scowl as he watched something within the grass move toward them. It was small, whatever it was, and likely not much of a threat, but he didn’t much like sneaky surprises.
“It’s alright,” Kijo said. “Come on out. They won’t harm you.”
The grass was slowly parted by miniscule hands. A face appeared shyly and looked around nervously. The hair on its head was black and its skin was a pleasant, earthly brown.
Zen stopped scowling and raised a brow. It was quite curiously the smallest human-like creature he’d ever seen. What they were, he didn’t know.
Arley cocked his head to the side and his fists relaxed. He was silent for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter and returning to his seat on the rock.
“More small than Arley,” he said to Zen, thumbing his chest.
The tiny human wasn’t amused by that comment and sent Arley a furtive glance.
“Come here, child,” Kijo said.
It moved quickly to the old man’s side and said, “Napi, we are frightened,” it said in a sweet, singsong voice.
“You don’t have to be scared of them. These two are my friends. They won’t hurt you.”
“Not so much of them,” the small human continued. “There’s a beast that weathered the storm near our home. We’re afraid to enter, in case it sees us. We’re so thankful to find you here. Can you help us?”
“What is this beast?” Zen asked.
The little human jumped and hugged Kijo’s leg. Her green eyes peered at Zen from around the old man’s calf. She was below knee height and about as petite as anything could be.
“Miya,” the old man said quietly. “You can talk to him. He’s big but he’s a friend. Go ahead. Answer him.”
Miya stepped out cautiously, her hands fidgeting nervously and she wouldn’t look at Zen. She shuffled forward a little and muttered something to the dirt in a squeaky soft voice.
“Miya,” Zen said. “I won’t hurt you. My heart isn’t one of malice.”
Miya looked up demurely and held her hands in front of her. “There’s a monster. It’s bigger than Napi.” She pointed to the old man. “It has small wings but can’t fly. It looks like a dragon but walks like a man.”
Anger boiled hot in Zen’s chest. It must be the last one in the party, he was sure of it.
“Little one,” Zen said to Miya. “You will have nothing to fear shortly. He may be bigger than Napi but I’m the biggest one here. I’ll happily rid you of your problem; just point me in its direction.”
Miya’s little face grew hopeful. “They’ll help!” she cried excitedly.
A cheer from hundreds of small people erupted from the tree line.
“It’s right beyond that stretch of trees. When we saw the animikii come down last night, we knew it must’ve been for you, Napi. I’m glad we came here now.”
“Let’s not waste any more time, then,” Zen said. “We have a Warisai to kill.”
He grabbed all the packs and hung them on his spikes. Arley trotted to Zen’s side and waited for a hand up to his back. Once seated, he waved at Kijo and called him over.
“Your home will be safe soon,” Kijo said to Miya. “Take care and be wary of more creatures like that.”
Miya nodded and stepped back into the tall grass. “Farewell, Napi, and thank you all,” she said.
The old man strode to Zen, nimbly scaled his foreleg and seated himself behind Arley. Zen told them to hold on tight and then heaved himself into the weathered sky. Arley made his usual sounds of excitement that told Zen that he loved flying almost as much as he did.
The hunt for the Warisai began. Zen flew through the canyon and scanned the ground. He drove himself to fly hastily and willed the wind to push him even faster. They flew sunwake over an expanse of trees. In any other situation, Zen would have enjoyed the mix of coniferous and deciduous trees which gave the earth a beautiful coat of colors. The towering redwoods were twice as tall as the oaks below. Shorter spruces provided a rich green opposite the aspens with their golden leaves.
There was a break in the woods and in the middle of the clearing was a large, dark figure. Zen growled and swooped in low. He grabbed the Warisai with his hind feet and flung him. It flew through the air, head-overheels, before landing heavily on its head in the wet grass.
Zen landed on top of it and pressed his hand hard against its chest. The Warisai made no effort to escape, no attempt to counterattack, and it didn’t struggle. It couldn’t do much of anything since Zen had thrown it so hard it hit its head on a rock in the grass and was knocked unconscious.
Arley leapt from Zen’s back, ready to attack their enemy until he saw it unconscious. Zen was exhaling streams of light blue smoke. His eyes were aflame with anger and his teeth were clenched in a snarl.
“Leave him alive,” the old man said. “Don’t disintegrate him yet.”
“Conflagrate,” Zen growled.
The man chuckled. “He could help us.”
“Or slow us down.”
“He has answers. He might prove useful. He might know details about Lana.”
Zen’s snarl faded to a scowl. There was a possibility that the Warisai knew. Maybe he should wait to kill him.
“Why should I show him mercy?”
“You shouldn’t,” the old man said firmly, “but, he’d possibly be useful, is all.”
Zen glared murderously into the bloodied face of the Warisai. Its head was bleeding profusely and it was already beginning to swell. Zen, as much as he didn’t want to admit, felt the old man was right. There was a chance the Warisai could be useful and it should probably be kept alive. That also meant that he’d have to carry the creature, too, and that would likely slow them down. His anger was frothing over into his impatience and he felt he was getting close to forsaking reason and torching the Warisai to ashes and bones.
“Good hit, by the way,” the old man commented. “I couldn’t have put that rock in a better place.”
“I know you’re older than dirt, or somewhere around there, but don’t try to take credit for placing the rock in the grass.”
The old man chuckled, then said, “Well, are you going to kill him or not?”
Zen growled. “I want to. I want to really bad.”
He pushed on the Warisai’s chest. The soggy earth squelched around him. The Warisai’s breathing grew labored beneath Zen’s weight. He so badly wanted to squeeze every last bit of oxygen from the creature’s body. He wanted it dead. His kind killed Magnen. His kind killed Mailaea. His kind took Lana and, for all he knew, killed her.
His anger was choking his rational thoughts. He felt that Lana’s ruined life would never be avenged until Dagan was liberated from every last one of them. Smoke billowed from his nostrils, he snorted plumes that rose skyward and dissipated in the wind.
The man moved forward and grabbed the Warisai’s thick wrist, lassoing it with leather.
“Since you’re standing there fuming and not acting, I’ll initiate imprisonment so at least we now have a direction,” Kijo said. “Sit him up.”
“I’d rather crush the life out of him,” Zen said in quiet rage. He pushed down. The Warisai stirred slightly, unconsciously sensing death was near. If he had opened his eyes at that moment, death wou
ld have been staring him in the face.
“Well, if you must,” the old man said, releasing the leather on the Warisai’s wrist. “He might be able to tell us details about where Lana is being held, the troop numbers and combat tactics. He might even come to help us, if we treat him right.”
Zen coughed a laugh, his own smoke catching in his throat. “A Warisai be helpful?” Zen snorted smoke discontentedly. “They’re about as helpful as thistle in sheep’s wool.”
“In numbers, I agree, but a single Warisai could prove of value.”
“I kill,” Arley said gruffly. “Take too long.”
“No, we’re keeping him alive,” Kijo said.
Arley frowned in disappointment.
Zen growled. “He should die.”
“You had your chance,” Kijo said. “You shouldn’t hesitate, dragon, remember that for the future.”
Zen picked up the Warisai and stared at its pathetically limp body. Maybe he shouldn’t kill it. Maybe he should shake it, a lot, until he’s slightly satisfied.
Looking at the Warisai enraged him. Maybe he should kill it. He could have been the one that killed Mailaea or Arloen, shattering Lana’s life permanently. Zen squeezed him, making the Warisai groan. A rib snapped beneath the strength of his hand.
“Don’t damage him too much,” the man said. “He should be capable of the basics. I don’t want to have to spoon-feed him if you break his arms. And if you break his legs then you’re stuck carrying him.”
Zen rolled his eyes and threw the Warisai over his shoulder like a rotten piece of food. It landed heavily on the wet ground and its face slopped into a muddy puddle where it lay gurgling for a few moments.
It coughed, spluttering back into consciousness, and rolled onto its back. The Warisai held its side where Zen had cracked a rib and took shallow breaths.
“No move!” Arley demanded.
His smaller stature made for a comical scene, given the circumstances. The little dwarf was poised to attack an ugly, battered Warisai that was nearly three times his height. The Warisai rolled to his side and pushed himself up to a sitting position.
Arley told him not to move and he meant it. His little fist landed right on his head where it had struck the rock.
The Warisai fell backwards; unconscious again.
“Told you.” Arley said, pointing at the Warisai. He spit beside its head.
“Good hit,” the old man commented. “Next time let him answer questions.”
Arley smiled stiffly, “I told it no move. Not my fault he dumb.”
Zen barked a laugh, in spite of his rage within. “Maybe it will be fun to keep this thing around.”
“As much as I’d like to sit around and watch things happen to it, and his kind has a lot coming to them, we need to fix it up. Won’t be much good if he’s always unconscious.”
“You ruined the moment,” Zen said.
“Well, we’re limited on moments,” the old man replied. “In case you forgot, we have a storm following us and unless we get moving quickly, we’ll be stuck in it for another night.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” Zen grumbled.
The old man opened his satchel and pulled out a leather pouch about the size of his fist. He walked over to the Warisai and examined its injured head. Blood seeped from a gash beneath the scales on his forehead. The old man took his knife and lifted the scale as much as he could and dumped a yellow powder into the wound before letting the scale back down.
“That should help,” the man said. “Not with looks, obviously.”
He stood and walked toward Zen to hang his satchel on his spike.
“Ah, Amara,” he said, looking past Zen and holding up his arm. “Were you successful?”
Zen looked at him peculiarly but a rush of feathery wings swooped up beside him. A large eagle landed on Kijo’s arm and he stroked her head affectionately. The eagle chattered softly.
“I’m glad,” he replied. “Enough warning?”
The eagle chattered softly again. Zen raised a brow.
“I need you to do another task, if you’re up to it,” Kijo said.
The eagle replied with a short, soft squawk.
“Have them meet us by the lone tree. Have them hurry. They’re needed.”
The eagle nodded and took a quick glance at Zen with its sharp, blue eyes before leaping from Kijo’s arm and going airborne. It flew away, riding the tailwind that pushed her quickly over the woods in a sunwake direction.
“You talk to eagles,” Zen commented.
“Yes, she’s an excellent messenger,” Kijo said.
Zen opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again.
“She’s my companion,” he continued. “She helps to keep things timely. Especially when I need to be in two places at once.”
Zen stared at him. The eagle seemed like it knew what it was doing. Perhaps it was more intelligent than he gave it credit for being. He always liked soaring with eagles but never gave much thought to their trainability or comprehension of language.
“She was up warning your friend of Warisai,” Kijo said.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Kijo began. “After the Warisai army parted ways with you, they sailed north to Meridsani.”
Zen’s breath caught in his throat and his heart became burdened with worry. Barator…
A moment of panic set in. Could he be of any help? Barator never hesitated to help Zen and he felt that he would be a poor friend if he didn’t reciprocate. He felt it was his fault that the Warisai had followed them there. He felt responsible for their return to Meridsani.
“Don’t worry much,” Kijo said. “Barator is fine. You'll see him in Ouris. She warned them well in time. The wind wasn't in the Warisai's favor and the riotinans now know that the Port Eyzin ships aren't to be trusted.”
Zen closed his eyes and sighed. “I feel like it’s all my fault.”
“It is.”
“That didn’t make me feel better.”
“Well, it is,” Kijo said. “You put things in motion the moment you took Lana away from Arbortown. Had you left her there, she would’ve eventually been killed and she would’ve never come across the Septum.”
Zen stared at him. If Lana was taken by the Warisai to Genetricis like she had been, then she would never have gotten to the coast for the Septum to find her. Sadly, the old man was right again. If he left Lana there to suffer an uncertain fate, then none of that would have happened. If he flew away without looking back, then none of that would have happened. He never would have known Lana. He never would have known how to love and protect.
“She would have been killed and with her, all hope for Dagan. I wouldn’t change what I did.” Zen’s deep voice rumbled sincerely. “And I will go to the ends of this earth to find her.”
Muzh U Kijo smiled at him. “I know. Now let’s go. We’re wasting time. You get to carry Ugly.”
It was a small price to pay as long as it yielded information. Zen walked over to the Warisai. His head had stopped bleeding and it was still unconscious. Arley smiled at Zen.
“I hit.” He punched his left hand with his right.
“Good job,” Zen whispered. “Come on up.”
He extended his hand, Arley jumped on, and Zen lifted him onto his shoulders where he seated himself. He then knocked the Warisai around a little until it was prone and dragged him around until they faced sunwake.
“Climb up, Kijo,” Zen said.
“No thanks,” he replied. “You have enough to carry as it is.”
“Don’t tell me we’re walking,” Zen said grudgingly.
“No, are you joking? If so, I don’t find that funny,” Kijo replied stiffly. “Have you seen how old I am?”
“You’re spry for being old as dirt,” Zen complimented. “I hope I’m that energetic and mobile when I’m your age.”
Kijo laughed. “Dragon, your flattery is always welcomed.” He then faced the woods.
Th
ey stood quietly, waiting for nothing as far as Zen was concerned. Moments passed. Nothing happened. It was quiet, minus the wind from the oncoming storm growling at their backsides.
“What are you doing?” Zen finally asked.
“Waiting for my friend,” Kijo replied.
Zen looked at him sideways. "You're being weird again."
"I'm as old as dirt," Kijo replied. "I'm deserving."
Just then, a large black horse leapt over a shrub and exited the forest with excitement. It thundered across the clearing and right into Kijo’s welcoming arms. He hugged its big head and stroked its face.
“Good to see you, Xaf,” he whispered in the horse’s ear. He patted the horse’s shoulder and Xaf bowed for the old man to hop on. He was a tall horse with a thick body that was rounder than any Zen had ever seen.
“Hopefully he runs fast,” Zen said.
“He’s fairly quick.”
“Not as fast as flying,” Zen reminded him.
Kijo chuckled and pulled his legs up behind him. Xaf reared and spun around in the direction he came from. Kijo was nearly lying down on his back with his knees drawn up to the horse’s whithers. His hands held tightly to Xaf’s mane. With a few powerful kicks, the horse was in a full gallop across the clearing with his long black tail trailing straight out behind him. His huge hooves thundered loudly on the wet ground.
"Impressive! But it's still not faster than flying!" Zen yelled.
Near the tree line, in one smooth motion, Xaf jumped high into the air. His thick sides extended wider to form two large wings. Xaf and the old man were airborne over the forest and moving away quickly.
Zen, surprised to see a flying horse, stood and watched in disbelief for a moment. He studied many things in Bledsoe since there wasn’t a lot to do there but he was now discovering how little he really knew.
“Oh!” exclaimed Arley. “Fly! Fly!” He kicked his little legs excitedly.
Zen spread his wings, got a good grip on the ugly Warisai, and took to the air to catch up to Kijo and Xaf.
