by Ania Bo
Zeorgan jumped suddenly onto the back of the dragon. “This way. Come, come. You must be very tired. The village is close now. You can rest once we get there.”
“You mean we’re not there yet?” Han complained, and the others groaned in unison.
Zeorgan winked, and they climbed back atop the dragon. They found themselves trekking another mile through more snow and more ice—except this time they were able to ride atop Zeorgan’s dragon—until they found themselves on the edge of a cliff. The drop-off was steep and would have been impossible to climb down. Off in the distance, they saw the twinkling lights of the Zaend village. They climbed down from the dragon, peering over the edge.
“How are we supposed to get down?” Han asked Zeorgan.
“Let’s fly,” Shasta pleaded with childlike excitement. She had enjoyed flying on the back of the dragon and didn’t want to walk any more than she had to.
“Fortunately—or unfortunately depending on your mood—there is an even better way.” Without saying another word, Zeorgan sprinted to the edge of the cliff and jumped head first, his arms outstretched, and gravity pulled him down toward the ground. The four of them rushed to peek over the edge, looking for any sign of their guide. Yet, they were unable to see the ground as a blanket of mist and fog obscured their vision.
“Zeorgan?” Shasta called.
“Go ahead. Jump!” he called back. They all looked at one another to see who would volunteer first.
“I always lead, this time I will follow,” Violen said, not wanting to be the first.
Han and Dwade stared at each other, trying to determine which one of them would be the first to follow Zeorgan.
“I’ll go.” Shasta ignored their surprised looks and nodded to herself. She marched confidently to the cliff’s edge then turned her head to look at them. “See you at the bottom.” And she jumped.
When she started falling, fear exploded within her, the mist preventing her from seeing the ground. She quickly picked up speed, but then it felt as if the wind had picked her up by her arms and she was floating. Before her Zeorgan levitated with his legs crossed.
“Now see, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” Zeorgan chided. Shasta replied only with a nervous laugh.
The others followed shortly after—first Han, then Dwade, and finally Violen, who looked more than a bit perturbed—and they continued to float on the magical current all the way to the Zaend village.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The snow began to slowly melt and fade away as they approached the Zaend village on their invisible current of air. Here the land was lush and green, filled with meadows and the ever-present lotus flower. Zeorgan stepped out of the current and onto the ground first, and the others followed, some more gracefully than others.
There were people wandering about the village, but they immediately stopped when they noticed Zeorgan, and he greeted them with an enthusiastic wave. However, when the Readers and Dwade entered behind him, they fell still appearing terribly confused. Although they trusted Zeorgan, they couldn’t understand why such a large group of strangers had been let into the village.
“Our Protector is finally here!” Zeorgan shouted with happiness as though he were trying to draw everyone out from their homes. Smiles reappeared on the villagers’ faces, and some began shouting, “Thank the Balance!”
More people emptied out of their dwellings as several people continued to shout and make noise. They were all dressed in layers of brightly colored clothes, and each had a belt with a lotus flower centered right in the middle. Together, the Zaends resembled a flock of tropical birds or a school of parrot fish.
Strange, they really became happy to see the Protector who they were trying to kill in their maze a few hours ago, Dwade thought. Shasta laughed quietly beside him, and he guessed she’d heard him. He’d been worried for a bit that something was wrong with their connection. He expected her to read his mind during the time she was blindfolded. He thanked the Balance for whatever had kept their minds apart during those troubling times.
As they carried on through the village, Shasta found herself falling further and further behind until the rest of the group were far ahead of her. She frowned, uncertain what had stopped her, but then she gasped, and a strange hollow sensation struck her chest. The appearance of the Zaends triggered something within her, and she became frozen in place. Even her eyes remained fixed in one position as she stared vacantly ahead. A crowd formed around her, and it was then Zeorgan noticed her absence.
“Shasta!” he called out. Han and Dwade whirled around then sprinted toward her, pushing through the crowd to reach the Visionary Reader.
“Can you hear me, Shasta?” Dwade asked in a panic as he gently squeezed her hand, but he received no response. Her lips moved as if she wished to answer, but no one could make out or hear what she was trying to say. He shook her shoulders gently, even called out to her with his mind, but nothing seemed to work.
Suddenly Shasta grabbed his wrist, her hand icy cold, and pulled him toward her so she could whisper into his ear. “Release us!” she hissed in an unfamiliar voice. Then her head fell to the side, and she collapsed onto Dwade.
He attempted to hold Shasta as he dealt with his own pain. There was a terrible ache in his stomach he was certain felt like a stab wound. Han acted fast and took Shasta from Dwade before they both crumbled to the ground. Shasta’s power had changed since they left Atlantis. Before she was dealing with visions, but now, she caused earthquakes and spoke with strange voices. Even Dwade started to fear what the future might bring for her. Things were becoming strange and more dangerous.
The villagers had taken a few steps back, afraid of Shasta’s words, and Zeorgan was able to lead the small group safely away from the crowd and into a large cabin.
Inside, the smell of the lotus flower was overpowering. There was a fireplace along the eastern wall with a large sofa positioned in front of it. The many chairs and small tables indicated this was a communal space and not a single residence. Zeorgan motioned to the sofa, implying that Han should lay Shasta down there. He ran to a small cabinet near the stove and retrieved three jars full of different herbs. Taking some herbs out of each, he crushed them in a wooden bowl, all the while muttering a string of words. A burst of flames erupted from the mixture, and Zeorgan blew on it fiercely. He hurried back to Shasta with the bowl in hand and wafted the fumes beneath her nose. Her nose twitched then tears slipped down her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open, brimming with agony. Dwade was instantly by her side, taking hold of her hand.
“What happened?” he asked.
“They’re in so much pain. So much,” she said through her tears. Zeorgan was noticeably tense, and the others looked to him for an explanation.
“She must be talking about the Regenerators,” Zeorgan said.
They all stood still. “Regenerators? As in more than one?” Han asked confused.
“Yes, there are twelve of them,” said the old man as if he were addressing children as he replaced the bowl.
Violen desperately objected. “How can that be? The Regenerator is just one…isn’t she?”
Zeorgan looked at her wryly. “Not really. There have always been twelve, and always will be, but only one will give birth when a race has been destroyed. Only the one who can give birth to that specific race is called the Regenerator. In general, we describe the twelve as the Creators.”
Now they were even more confused than when their quest had first begun. “What happens to the others, the ones that aren’t identified as the Regenerator?” Dwade asked, sensing this was the information the Chancellor had neglected to share with them.
“The others will die,” said the old man indifferently, as if it were the most common thing in the world.
“They what?” Shasta shook her head horrified. “No, how can that be?”
Violen and Han both showed concern as Dwade glared at the far wall. How could the Chancellor not have told them everything? This was not what he wanted to hear
.
“Before the Founding Agreement, there were again twelve women pregnant, signaling the end of a race. The leaders of our world began to fight amongst themselves, as they often do, triggering the women’s pregnancies. But the leaders eventually settled their differences and ended the war before the Protector, or his Visionary Reader could arrive in our lands. The next morning, all twelve of them were found dead. They were so young, pure flowers of our race.” He rose in anger. “Those other eleven insatiable races out there, they took away twelve of our flowers. Do they not understand what their petty disputes cost us, the Zaend people? If our daughters must die, let them die fulfilling a greater purpose.” He looked into Dwade’s eyes and said, “Do you understand now why you are so important, why everyone was so happy to see you? You are proof that their sacrifice is not for nothing. Now, even if all the women die, they will shed not a tear. Once you’ve arrived, the sacrifice is not in vain.” His tone almost sounded like the rantings of a mad man. One moment angry, the other sad and then hopeful. Through his short speech, the travelers saw three different characters in one man.
Dwade nodded understandingly, but he could not ignore the irony in Zeorgan’s words.
Once satisfied that the guests understood the value of their presence, the old man walked to the door. “The commander will be here soon to transport you to our leader. Stay here and rest until then.” And then he left as if they meant nothing to him. The four of them waited in silence not knowing what to say about this new piece of information. Zaend people were strange, that was for sure.
“Twelve pregnant girls,” Han said, seemingly at a loss.
“Twelve,” muttered Violen as she fell into an armchair and desperately asked, “How will we find the right one and take her back to Atlantis knowing the others will die?”
“These people will never give them to us, so it might not matter,” Han replied.
Dwade had Shasta sit up straight and stared into her tired eyes. “What exactly did you see?” he asked her. This time he had been blocked from her vision.
She grimaced in pain. “There were hundreds of pregnant women in a large, completely white room. They were all begging me to save them, their hands grabbing at the hem of my robe. Then a knife appeared in the hands of each of them, and they stabbed themselves in the belly. They were begging for salvation.” She covered her face with her hands as the images replayed themselves in her head.
Desperation came over Dwade, and he sat down by Shasta to think.
“Our mission was to bring back the Regenerator,” Violen stated, feeling they were getting nowhere. “What do we do now that there are twelve?”
“We only need one, right?” Han answered. “It’s just humans who are in danger, not the others. All we must do is find the right girl. We can’t take all of them to Atlantis.”
“Yes, but perhaps two races will be destroyed. How can we know for sure? The war hasn’t started yet,” Violen objected.
“No, it has to be just humans. The Dvay are the ones who’ve started this war, and they have no other enemies,” Han countered. The whole situation seemed to unravel before them, and their simple task became more complicated.
“Let’s rest a bit. We can think about all this later. We are here now, that’s the important thing.” Dwade wanted to make Han and Violen shut up so Shasta could recover. They listened to him and stretched out as best they could on a couple of armchairs, while Shasta and Violen curled up on one of the sofas for a well-earned nap.
An hour or so later, Zeorgan entered the room followed by a middle-aged man with a white lotus attached to his white waistband. The portly man could hardly contain his joy. Thanks to the sound of Zeorgan’s cough, the travelers woke, rubbing their bleary eyes and covering their yawning mouths. The portly man bowed to his guests and said, “Welcome, all of you. It is an honor to finally meet you. I am Commander Rajeeh.” He shook Dwade’s hand excitedly. “Please, come with me. We have a carriage ready to take you to the center. It will be more comfortable there. This is nothing but a mere checkpoint.” He seemed in a hurry and rushed them out the door, hardly giving them time to truly wake up.
Outside, there was a very intricately designed carriage being pulled by two giant deer just like the ones they’d seen outside the land of the Hikar. They snorted and pawed at the ground as everyone stepped into the carriage decorated with ornate lotus flowers. No driver was needed to direct the deer, and the carriage took off at a moderate pace toward the city center.
Rajeeh had a genuine smile stuck on his face as he spoke to the Visionary Reader and the Protector. “Our people will be very happy to see you. We shall have a feast tonight to commemorate your arrival. It will be a grand celebration.”
“You will enjoy it,” Zeorgan added. “There are not many who can prepare a meal as skillfully as a Zaend.”
They smiled politely as they awkwardly bounced inside the carriage, but they were all a bit overwhelmed. They had not been told the Zaends would treat them as if they were royalty, and they were still unsure what to do about the twelve Creators, most of whom would die possibly soon.
Rajeeh saw the concern on their faces. “Please, put your worries to rest for tonight. You may return your minds to your task tomorrow, but this night we should honor the Zaends and the Creators, the keepers of the Balance.”
Dwade smiled at Rajeeh. It would be nice to relax and no longer think about Atlantis, the Chancellor, and the potential destruction of his people, even if it were just for a couple of hours. Besides, they hadn’t had a decent meal since they left Atlantis.
Through the window of the carriage, the small wooden cottages of the Zaends were visible. They contained quaint little gardens, and beyond them, children chased after goats they herded toward the meadows. Dwade couldn’t believe how similar this magical place was to his own mountain village. “You all seem to lead a very simple life here,” Dwade said to Rajeeh.
“Yes, the simple life is the most pleasurable. We devote our energy to strengthening our souls and less on the physical things life has to offer.”
“I see,” Dwade said. They were doing the same in his village as well, but it wasn’t their choice, they had no other option.
Han, still focusing on the mission despite Rajeeh’s request, broke in. “I didn’t see any soldiers stationed at your gates. There was only one gatekeeper. How do you protect yourselves and the Regenerator? You aren’t even armed, Commander.”
Shasta and Violen looked to the Zaend for an answer and were beginning to think the Chancellor was right to relocate the Regenerator. Dwade, on the other hand, found the question unnecessary. Wasn’t that Han who nearly died in the maze, didn’t he see the dead bodies on the way? Zaends didn’t need an army to protect themselves, they had magic. But still, he waited for Rajeeh’s answer to see how much Han would be embarrassed for asking.
“We do not leave our weapons out in the open, Reader,” he answered easily. “We assume those who can make it to our doorstep and can enter through are well-intentioned. The presence of an unused weapon only serves to corrupt the soul. One becomes a slave to its power without even noticing. It makes people think they are more powerful than they really are. Take his weapons from a man and you can see who he really is.”
There was wisdom in the man’s narrowed eyes, and although the Readers remained loyal to their Chancellor, Dwade appreciated Rajeeh and his words.
After a short ride, the carriage passed through a wooden arch covered in lotus flowers.
“Well, my honored guests,” Rajeeh said, “I believe we have arrived.”
Shasta looked with joy at the city as she peeked out the carriage windows, and Zeorgan gave a hearty laugh at her reaction. The city before her could only be described as an overload of color. The buildings, the roads, the plants, and the people looked as if they had just dropped out of a rainbow, and the city itself sat in the middle of a gigantic crater. Like the cottages built on the outskirts, the single-floor houses were built out of wood. Each had a
flower or vegetable garden planted in front, but unlike Atlantis, none of the buildings were more than two stories high, and besides the flamboyant colors, the Zaends did not depend on grand and complicated architecture to impress its people or its visitors. It was charming, just like something out of a storybook. Its beauty wasn’t in its advanced technology or planning, it was in its simplicity.
“Quickly, pull the curtains,” Rajeeh said as he waved his hands up and down with urgency. He didn’t want to draw attention to them just yet. The appearance of the Visionary Reader and the Protector would draw the entire city out into the streets.
The carriage continued without slowing down even as some curious onlookers approached to see who was hidden behind the curtains. After a short, bumpy ride through the cobbled streets, the commander allowed them to pull back the curtains again to reveal the first stone structure they had come across since they had entered this strange land. Like the other Zaend buildings, it was no more than two stories high but had two columns standing on each side of the entrance. Rajeeh climbed out first, while the others helped themselves out of the carriage. As if they knew their services were no longer needed, the giant deer pranced off, the carriage bouncing as it followed behind.
The first thing the newcomers noticed as they entered was the sound of chirping birds, which they thought was a strange thing since they were inside a building, and as they walked further, they found themselves surrounded by a variety of trees and shrubs creating an indoor forest. The birds were visible as they flitted from tree to tree and twittered to one another. The walls were covered with the leaves from a hydrangea along with its little, white flowers.
They followed Zeorgan and Rajeeh over a stone path that led through the forest. The tall trees and hydrangeas obscured the building so well the companions were unsure if they were still in the building or if they had been magically transported into a thick jungle.
