Serpentine Risen

by C. K. Rieke

  “It felt—warm. Like there was a warm breeze flowing through you. It was as if, all you thought about during a long day, was wanting to sit next to that person, if only to be with them. Nothing else really mattered.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Why do you ask?” she asked Roren. “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Who, me?” He laughed. “No never. I’m here for Kera and nothing else.”

  There was a silence then as they walked on, side by side behind the others.

  Lilaci felt her stomach drop suddenly when she saw Kera flop to the sand.

  “Kera!” Fewn shouted and ran over to her, Roren and Lilaci followed.

  “Kera,” Lilaci said, holding the girl’s head up as she laid on her back on the sand. Her silver eyes were bleak and unfocused. “What’s wrong, Kera? Burr, water, we need water!”

  “I see them,” Kera said softly. “They’re there, many of them. Tooth, claw, and all. They’re vicious, wild.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Fewn asked.

  “Shh,” Roren said. “Listen, she’s having a vision.”

  “The sky turns black,” Kera said. “An empty, deep stretch of desert. And then they come. I’m alone- no- not alone, but I feel that way. There’s one other with me, but it’s dark, very dark. They come biting and clawing, loud shrieks of pain and anger. Wings flapping, wretched wings they are. Their breath wreaks of death. They’re coming for me, and they’re coming for Veranor.”

  “What Kera?” Lilaci said. “What are they? What is coming?”

  “Dragons,” Kera said. “Evil, wretched dragons.”

  “That’s not possible,” Fewn said. “There’s only one dragon, and she’s not coming after Kera, that’s for certain.”

  What does that mean wretched dragons whose breath wreaks of death? That couldn’t be the dragons of Riverend that Kera spoke about back then, those dragons are off in Essill, far away to the west. What could these new dragons be? And why would they be after Kera?

  “We need more,” Kera said. “We’ve got to get to the other egg, quickly.” Sweat pooled on her brow, and her face grew pale.

  “Kera,” Roren said. “What else do you see? Tell us . . .”

  “It’s not only dragons that will come,” she said, her eyes full of terror. “Armies too. I fear there’s no way we’re going to survive through this. There’s blood and death. Oh, Lilaci, Roren, Fewn . . . I’m scared.”

  Part II

  The Great Divide

  Chapter Seven

  Old, vast, and sinister was the city of Voru. Placed atop the Great Oasis of Noruz, the city glows with orbs of soft light along its sprawling roads. The roads reached out like the silk of a spider’s web, and at the center of that web stood the Palace of Erodoran. A six-sided pyramid with a fine, magnificent statue of each of the gods at each corner, glimmering in splendid gold. Down the sides of the pyramid were thousands of triangular golden structures that shimmered like the scales of a dragon.

  Thousands of the citizens stood along the main road, eagerly watching a royal convoy inch its way toward Erodoran. Mighty Ataron steeds towered over the citizens with their muscles glistening in the soft glow of the orbs that loomed high over the road. These white steeds pulled behind them wagons of soldiers of black armor. Some carried grand lances of intricate design, and others swords from fine forges and lastly archers with keen eyes. Two steeds pulled an armored carriage of silver and black metals. Flowing along behind it were long, plush purple silks, and at its top waved the flag of the Kingdom of Scindír. The flag bore a white sun with a black sword and shield on its golden cloth.

  The convoy made its way down the long road, eventually entering into the mouth of the pyramid’s base. Disappearing into it, as the crowds watched on, not cheering, but muttering and gossiping about the first gathering of Kings of the Arr in a decade.

  An hour later, another convoy ran down the same road. In the last light of the fading sun, the convoy mightily rolled down the road. Another armored carriage, this one with a banner of a white hammer and crescent moon on its royal blue cloth. It was the flag of the Kingdom of Godan. The small army ran down the spider’s web, tossing small coins down to the people of Voru as they clamored to wrap their fingers around the coins as they sparkled in the air. As the last pinch of light slipped away on the horizon, the convoy entered the Palace of Erodoran, and the great gate closed with a thud, while people scattered back to their homes.

  With the early-morning sun reflecting off the golden walls and thick glass windows of the palace, a meeting of royal lines was beginning deep within the palace. In the middle of the round room of fine white bricks sat Queen Lezeral Serinaas of Voru. Her long brown hair was braided and wrapped atop her head, nestled in her royal, jeweled golden crown. She sat, surrounded by her royal guard, with eyes heavy with burden.

  The heavy, wooden doors split at the entrance to the room with a loud creak.

  A man walked through the doors, he was an orator for the king that walked stoically behind.

  “Queen Lezeral Serinaas of Voru,” he said. “I present to you King Garrond Warrgon of the Kingdom of Scindír, and his son Prince Garrond Warrgon the second of his name.”

  The king entered the round room with sturdy footsteps, he held his chin high with his thick black beard framing his dark-skinned face with beady, thin eyes. King Garrond was a war king, he’d fought for the gods for many years, enjoying the fight himself, always entering a battle with himself at the lead. He bowed slightly to the queen, as did his son, and they went and sat at two chairs of fine-red upholstery and dark-stained wood.

  Moments later, another orator entered the room and announced the arrival of the king and queen of Godan, King Borr Marindírr and Queen Eza Marindírr. The royal pair as much a staple of antiquity in the Arr as any other symbol. Both reaching into their eighties they’d ruled Godan for most of their long lives. Both walked into the room slowly, the king with his dark skin, darker than most anyone else in his kingdom, and long white beard streaked with blond hairs. His face was wrinkled and withered, but his brown eyes showed a keen tenacity and alertness his body did not. The queen faired better than her husband, she walked without the use of a cane, and wore lavish white robes that draped over one shoulder and caressed the warm stone at their feet. Her silver hair wrapped up around her head and flowed back out down the length of her back, a tiara of green emeralds sat on her brow. Her skin wasn’t as wrinkled as her husband’s and seemed as smooth as satin. Her arms were slender, and the dozens of sparkling silver and gold bracelets shimmered on her dark skin.

  “I welcome you to my palace,” Queen Lezeral said to the royal pairs. “King Borr, Queen Eza, King Garrond and Prince Garrond. May you find your furnishings to be suitable. As I appreciate the length of your trek to come here.” A pair of young female servants ushered in with their heads lowered, each with a vase of clear water, and a decanter of rosy red wine. King Garrond and his son both accepted the wine, King Borr was poured a water, and his wife a wine. She sipped it delicately, and nodded to the servant it was acceptable, a rosy hue colored her lips.

  “It’s been many years since we’ve walked within your walls,” King Borr said. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Yes,” Queen Eza said. “One of the Six is dead.”

  “Light the torches,” Queen Lezeral said to her guards. Two of them both struck a flint to the sides of the queen and lit two torches. Each began a warm glow, but then, slowly the flames turned from a burning orange to a light blue. They went and lit six torches on the circular walls. The candles in the room were extinguished then, and the guards left. The kings and queens of the Arr sat there, alone, lit in a cool blue light.

  “Gorlen has been killed,” King Garrond said. The normally stoic king had his eyes opened wide, and he gripped the armrest on his chair tight.

  “Who’d have ever thought one of the Six would perish,” King Borr said, his voice clear and strong for his age. “Never in my wildest dreams w
ould I picture the Witch Queen falling to the hands of mortal men, especially within my lifetime.”

  “To be clear,” Queen Lezeral said. “It wasn’t mortal men. It was women.”

  “Aye,” the prince. “That rat Lilaci, and the Dragon’s Breath. I’d have them both skinned alive if they were foolish enough to wander into my kingdom.”

  “There is another matter at hand,” Queen Lezeral said. “Commander Veranor has flipped. He is crude and mean but he is one of the most cunning to lead the Scaethers. I fear with his guidance; the Dragon’s Breath will move forward in her mission with more haste than before.”

  “And there’s a damned dragon roaming the skies!” the prince said, his face reddening. “There’s not been one in these lands for generations, we’ve got to kill the beast before it comes reigning down a firestorm on our capitals.” King Garrond raised his strong hand and waved for his son to calm, who sat back in his seat, as his knee bobbed up and down anxiously.

  “All these events lead to one inevitable conclusion,” Queen Lezeral said. “War is coming. Real war.”

  “Aye,” King Borr said. “This’ll be a war we’ve not seen since The Great Serpentine Wars. The gods surely realize this, as one of their own has fallen. They’ll not let that treachery pass without their full wrath and fury being unleashed.”

  “That does beg the question, then,” Queen Lezeral said.

  “Yes,” Queen Eza said, setting her wine glass to her side, and raising her fingers to her chin. “Which side will we support—?”

  “That’s…that’s treason,” the prince said.

  “Sit back, son, and shut your mouth,” King Garrond said, he shook an angry finger at the prince.

  “If you don’t wish to hold a civil conversation,” Queen Eza said to the prince, “you may leave. This is a serious matter, on which the fates of thousands of lives hinge. That is why we have the circle of blue flames, so that we may hold this discussion in private, even the gods can’t hear us speak now. We need to be honest with each other, and ourselves.”

  “We need to decide which side will win in such a contest,” Queen Lezeral said.

  “Aye,” King Borr said. “With a dragon flying the skies, the water held within the Great Oasi will slowly begin to drain back out onto the empty sands. People may begin to believe they can live outside of our walls, and this would change our situation greatly. We’d lose much in taxes, and labor.”

  “We could reinstate Defarian Nocht,” King Garrond said. “Make it law that none leave the safety of the cities, or else be slain where they stand.”

  “Yes, we could,” Queen Eza said. “But that only solves one of our problems. Our real concern should be the wrath of the gods that is coming, and the danger that lies in dragons. If the Dragon’s Breath should raise more dragons, or dare I say, a mate, we’ll have a full army in the skies. A handful of dragons could turn this palace to ash if they chose.”

  “So,” Queen Lezeral said, resting her hand on her cheek, “do we side with the gods, or the dragons?”

  “Another factor is the gods themselves,” King Borr said in a low, raspy voice. “Not until now did we know that a god could be defeated, sent to the afterlife. This is a major revelation.”

  “The gods can die,” Queen Eza said, lowering her hand to caress her chin. “So can dragons, though. We’ve not talked about why we would fight alongside the dragons. To what goal of ours would that serve?”

  “I’ll tell you,” King Garrond said leaning forward in his chair. “Real power. Not this ‘rule by these laws’ shite. I’m talking about you owning your kingdom and everyone who dwells there. If the gods are slain, then that only leaves you as the people’s divine ruler.”

  “You are young Garrond,” she said, brushing him off with a wave of her hand. “If there is one thing that age has taught my husband and me, it’s that we are temporary. We will turn to sand, and so shall you one day.”

  “Not if we become gods ourselves,” he said, a wicked glare grew in his dark eyes from the blue torch light.

  “What do you speak of?” Queen Lezeral asked, sitting back and crossing her legs.

  “Ah,” King Borr said, looking away and swatting his hand at King Garrond, “he’s going to talk about the stones. The Adytes.”

  “The Adyte Stones?” Queen Lezeral said. “They’re gone, haven’t been seen in millennia. The last was given to Eyr when she turned on the dragons.”

  “Aye,” King Garrond said, “but what happens to the stones when the gods perish? Does the stone disappear? We don’t know. It’s never happened. And with Gorlen gone, where was the stone she consumed? Gone forever? I’d wager not.”

  There was a heavy silence in the room. Queen Lezeral stared at the flickering blue flame at her side. King Borr and Queen Eza looked at each other with a puzzling look, and then looked down at their wrinkled hands in their laps. King Garrond scratched his chin beneath his black beard, his son sat eagerly waiting for one of the king’s or queen’s responses.

  Finally, Queen Lezeral of Voru answered King Garrond’s theory. “Say you’re right, that simply means there is a stone out there in the desert, possibly where Gorlen was slain. We would need to head out there—now.”

  “I’ve already sent out my own,” he responded quickly.

  “I hope they’re cunning,” Queen Eza said. “You’re sending them out now with not only a dragon in the skies, but Lilaci equipped with the Sanzoral, and Commander Veranor operating at his own will.”

  “I doubt they’ll even be seen,” King Garrond said, running his fingernails through his beard. “These soldiers slither like snakes in the moonlight. The dragon would be hard-pressed to find these men.”

  “Who else would know of the stones?” King Borr asked, fidgeting with his hands.

  “I’d bet the crown that sits on my head—” King Garrond said, raising his hand to touch its cool metal, “that none other than we who sit here, and the gods themselves know this. We only know because of the ancient knowledge passed down to us. Words have never been written about their existence, the gods forbade it.”

  “So they’d be out after the stone,” Queen Lezeral said, twirling her long hair in her fingers. “They wouldn’t let it fall into the hands of an ordinary man.”

  “But they’re afraid,” Queen Eza said with wide, curious eyes. “They’re afraid of the girl, even with all of their fury.”

  “They will come to us,” King Borr said. “I know them well. They’ll not sit in the halls of Firen-Ar much longer. They’ll come to the three cities, using our resources and power.”

  “That’s why we’ve got to decide now,” King Garrond said, clapping his fist into his hand. “We won’t have any other time to come together, even with the circle of blue flame.”

  “So,” Queen Lezeral said. “To be clear—we side with the gods who will shower us with more riches and power if we help them win. Or—we side with the dragons, helping them to kill the gods, and taking the stones for ourselves, to live a life eternal with untold power.”

  “Dânoz and the others are cruel and spiteful,” King Garrond said. “We would rule with strength, but we’d be fair, and bring honor back to these lands, if we were to take the stones for ourselves. It’d be a new era in the Arr. An era of new prosperity.”

  “Queen Lezeral,” King Borr said, “what say you? This is your kingdom.”

  She fiddled with her long brown curls that hung at her side, eyeing the blue torch again. “We will retire for the night to our own chambers, and in the morn, we will decide here together. We must all agree to either turn on the gods in secret, facing their full wrath, or life will continue as it has for our lifetime—which I will add, has not been that bad.”

  “We will meet again once the sun has risen,” Queen Eza said. “Until then, we all have much to contemplate.”

  Chapter Eight

  Three days passed out on the sands. Hot thin air washed through their thin clothes as they walked east, back toward the city of Voru, wh
ere Queen Lezeral Serinaas reigned. After Kera’s latest vision, the group seemed heavy in thought. After the rising of Herradax, their spirits were lifted high, and now with the thought of new dragons coming after Kera, their hopes dampened.

  Lilaci was riddled with worry, as she’d promised her life and soul to protect Kera, who now felt like a daughter to her. The part that worries me most of this whole vision she had wasn’t the dragons, or the armies—she carries the Stones of Geminos to protect her—she said she was alone.

  The travelers were used to walking the long, hot sands. Their feet were all callused and weathered. Even Kera, in her youth, could walk the entirety of a day on the flowing dunes. In their haste to reach the egg, there was little time to scout for food or water, as they were heading in a straight path. So, they decided that Burr should leave their ranks to scout for nourishment. The small group walked together, Roren at the lead, Kera walking before Lilaci, and Fewn at the tail of their convoy.

  After the long day of walking, they finally stopped to make camp, and as Roren went to making the fire under the last light of the orange sun, Lilaci took Kera’s boots and massaged her small feet. Her stomach grumbled as she did so.

  Kera looked around into the distance, searching for someone.

  “He should be back shortly,” Lilaci said. “He doesn’t stay out much later than twilight. I wonder what he’s going to bring for us this time, what do you think he’ll bring you?”

  “I hope it’s something good this time,” Kera said, her pale face warm in the last rays of the sun’s light as it dipped over the flat desert to the west. “But really, I’d eat the skin off an Iox right now.” Her dry lips smacked from thirst.