by Zora Marie
“That’s enough rest. Get up!” Asenten demanded.
Zelia dragged herself to her feet, her sword already in hand. She didn’t take the time to think of her actions while in his presence. Instead, she let her instincts take over as if she were a wild animal in a never-ending struggle to preserve her existence. In her weakened and starved state, she couldn’t help but shake under the weight of the small sword. Part of her wondered how long she had been there, but then it didn’t matter much anymore.
“Hm, this will never do. Put the blade down, child.” Zelia gave a slight shake of her head. “I said put it down!” he commanded and slashed the sword from her hands.
She fell back against the cave wall in surprise and clasped her bloodied hands. “P... please don’t hurt me… I’ll be good,” she pleaded through muffled sobs.
“Good,” he replied with a rather pleased and amused tone. “Now, first things first, no more crying.” His staff raked across her ribs as he pried her away from the cave wall.
When she moved, the gleam of the sword caught her eye. She lunged for it but stopped short when something hard slammed into her side. Even the echoes of her own ribs cracking didn’t stop her. Her hand clasped around the cold leather hilt of her sword, but it didn’t budge. She looked up to see Asenten’s foot planted atop her only weapon and the butt of his staff flying towards her.
It slammed into her stomach, forcing her to release the sword.
“Now, we won’t be doing anything like that again, will we?” Asenten asked with a wrench of his staff deeper into her side.
The rags she wore pulled tight around her, threads popping under the tension. She gasped through tears and pain and shook her head. With one last thrust for good measure, Asenten left the cave.
Again, she found herself left to grapple with her new reality in the pitch black of the cave. Darkness, that’s all she had left now.
Huddled in the corner, Zelia watched Asenten lay the wood for a small fire. While she would be glad for a change from the blue light of his staff, she couldn’t help but feel that the fire wasn’t for her comfort.
“Go on, start it,” he demanded, the corner of his mouth curled up in a wicked sneer. She saw no harm in starting the fire and plucked her red and black speckled fire stone from the floor. The logs crackled to life. With a smirk, Asenten scurried from the cave, and Zelia wondered what he was up to now.
She wasn’t at a loss for long. Asenten returned with a young boy. The boy was pale and his light-colored hair shimmered in the firelight as the wizard slammed him to his knees with a sickening thud. Asenten held the boy so close to the fire that the flames would lick the boy’s skin with the slightest change of position. The boy winced at the heat and stared at the flames with wide eyes.
“Do it! Or I’ll do it for you, and it won’t be as quick.” He held the struggling boy’s head closer to the flames.
“What? No, I won’t. I won’t kill him! He’s just a boy!”
“You won’t do it? Fine.”
The boy screamed as Asenten shoved his head into the fire.
She clenched her fists so tight blood dripped from her palms. She bent the flames around the boy’s head, and into Asenten’s chest.
Asenten shoved the bound boy into the hot coals and struggled to rip the flaming tunic from his chest.
She bolted towards the screaming boy, but just as she reached him her chest burned. She looked to Asenten as he ripped the tunic from his chest, revealing blistered flesh where her own pain came from.
Asenten muttered some chant, and a blast from his staff slammed her against the cave wall. She struggled to break free, but his magic held her tight.
“Never forget, you did this to him! You caused this! All because you refused to do as I asked.” He pushed the boy further into the hot coals. “Remember, he died this way because you were too weak to do it yourself!”
Her head snapped to the side, and a loud CRACK echoed through the cave. The last thing she heard was the faint screams of the boy as the world went black. Once again, she faced this other darkness and pain filled every agonizing second as her body struggled to repair itself.
“No! Please! I’ll never do it again! Just please let me go!” a girl’s voice cried from the tunnel outside her cell and shocked her from her slumber.
Zelia drew a deep breath and stood to meet her captor, the lashing from his last visit still burned as a reminder. Sometimes she wondered why they didn’t heal like the blows that killed her, but part of her was thankful for it. At least the scars were proof that what she was going through was real.
“Good you’re awake. Get your stone,” he said when he rounded the corner.
“Oh, great Asenten, the mightiest of the wizards, which would you wish for me to use on this glorious day?” she asked with a grand bow. Over the years she had learned that he liked flattery and he would sometimes leave without hurting her if she did as he asked.
“Hm, what do you think? Fire or ice?”
“Uh… I… ice?” the red-haired girl stammered.
Zelia fought back the urge to save the girl. She knew all too well she’d only make matters worse. At least if she did it, she could spare her some pain and make it quick.
Asenten’s face looked even more evil when he grinned with wicked delight. “Fire it is!”
Zelia’s gut wrenched at the sight of his glee, never would she get used to that sight. She spun around and snatched the red and black speckled stone from the cavern floor. With a deep breath, she withdrew behind a wall in her mind and it left a dead look in her eyes. She numbed herself to the world, it was the only way she could cope with what she was about to do.
Asenten flung the girl to the floor, and the girl pleaded from her knees. “Please, please don’t do this. I just stole food for my little si—” the girl saw the look in Zelia’s eye, her plea cut short.
Zelia held back the tears that threatened to spill over and clenched her fist around the stone as her open hand raised towards the girl.
In a flurry of panic and fear, the girl leaped at her. She knocked Zelia to the ground and landed on top. Zelia’s breath whooshed out, and the stone rolled from her grasp. The girl jumped up and ran. Before Zelia had even caught her breath, Asenten dragged her to her feet by the hair of her head.
“Go get her, kill her!” Asenten demanded with a shove towards the cave entrance.
She caught the girl stumbling around near the dark entrance of the cave and lit her ablaze. When Zelia realized something was different, her gaze dropped to her empty palm. She staggered back. With the cold cave wall at her back she looked back to the girl, who gave one last scream and collapsed.
“But… but, how? I didn’t have the stone.”
She raised her gaze to Asenten’s as he towered over her.
“You’ve lied all these years, decades.”
She raised her hand towards him. She didn’t care if burning him killed her, she wanted him dead. But his staff connected with the side of her head before she could burn him, and she collapsed in a heap. In that still moment before unconsciousness all she wanted was to get away, to be free of this place.
A warm light shined through her eyelids as she stirred. “Where am I?” she wondered. A shadow moved across her still closed eyes and dimmed the warm light.
“Do you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“The presence of someone else.” It sounded as though it came from her, only it wasn’t her voice.
“Steffon, I think Rog has lost it.”
Rog? Who’s Rog? Where am I?
Her eyes flicked open, and she glared at the strange, yet familiar, boy, the urge to loathe him fell over her. She tried to look away, but her gaze was unmoving.
“Who’s there?” the unfamiliar voice sounded through her head as if it were her own. She tried to reply but he didn’t seem to hear her.
Am I dreaming? But why would I dream this? Where am I? An arena? She pulled as much of her surroundings in as she co
uld, blurred forms dotted the huge stone stairs that led up to the blue sky. Sky, oh how she missed seeing the blue of the sky, even if all she could see now was from the corner of her vision, as she continued to stare at the strange boy.
“Rogath, sword up!” yet another voice interrupted her train of thought. Her head shook. “No more games, come on.”
“I’m not playing, I feel someone else’s presence!” There was that voice again, the one in her head. She felt her irritation with the blond-haired man rise, only it didn’t seem to be her own irritation.
“Maybe if you didn’t play tricks on everyone all the time someone might believe you. Now, raise your sword.” The tip of the sword gleamed in the midday sun before her. “Well go on, back to the pells. Good job Terik, go again.”
Rage swelled up and splinters of wood flew away with each hack at the post.
So I, or whoever’s head I’m in, must be Rogath, the other boy must be Terik, and the boy, Terik, called the man Steffon. Why and how am I here, and where is here?
Steffon’s coaching faded into the background, she wasn’t sure if it was her doing or Rog’s. With each turn, she focused on as much of her new surroundings as she could, the chipped and splintered posts, the wooden racks of weapons, the large wood targets, and the glorious white stone seats that sprawled in all directions.
They were on the verge of exhaustion when Steffon released them. “That’s enough for today boys. Try to be a little more focused tomorrow, Rog.”
With a roll of his eyes, Rog slid the sword into the wooden rack. It amazed her how he seemed to glide up the stadium stairs even when exhausted. They skirted the edge of a strange, yet familiar city and she marveled over the beauty of the stone buildings and enormous carvings of god-like men.
Rog glanced down the river and traced the line of a bridge. A pang of joy fell over them, a mix of emotions from her and Rog. A round building seemed to float at the end of the bridge that jutted out past the edge of a waterfall. Something about it drew her to it, but they continued to move towards the golden building. Guards dressed in gold armor gave a curt nod as they passed and she, or rather Rog, returned the gesture.
She couldn’t help but feel odd, and out of place in such a building, yet it felt as though it was home. They passed column after column. Hallways led in every direction. Each one appeared the same as the last. Soon she wondered less about where she was and more about how much Rog could feel of her, as she felt his every emotion.
They sat through a dinner with barbaric men who spoke of wars long since passed. She found how they spoke of death as this glorious thing to be off-putting. Part of her wished she could see death as they did, but she knew better.
Halfway through his meal, Rog pushed back from the table.
“Where are you going?” Terik asked.
“To speak with Mother.”
“Okay… have fun with that.”
Their eyes rolled again, and they returned to the hallway. They soon came upon a brown-haired woman wrapped in rippling waves of silvery cloth.
“Mother?”
“Yes, Rogath? What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Mother, I feel someone else’s presence as if they are a part of me, yet not.”
“Oh, Rogath, you and your overactive imagination. How about you just go get some rest, I’m sure the feeling will go away soon enough.”
“Alright, Mother.”
The kind and gentle women leaned over and kissed them on the forehead, a warm feeling fell over Rog. Zelia longed to revel in the feeling, but her heart felt heavy with memories of a time she once felt love directed towards her.
Rog laid down in his plush bed and she stirred awake, back in the cave.
Was that real? Her head spun with a hollow ache.
She rubbed the back of her head and her vision focused, only to fall on the charred remains of the girl she had just killed. She recoiled at the sight, looking down at her own hands and recalling what had happened.
She swallowed back the knot in her throat and raised her hand towards the girl’s charred remains. The chill of the cave had long since stolen the heat from the fire and yet the flames sparked to life to eat the last of the girl’s body until nothing but her charred teeth remained in the darkened spot.
A single tear ran down her cheek. It wasn’t just a nightmare. She was the sole reason behind their deaths. No longer could she blame their deaths on these objects the wizard had led to believe were the source of her powers. She knew she was always to blame, but she needed something, anything, to ease the guilt.
She recalled her past in search of any shred of information that could explain her powers. Time and time again all she could recall was the screams of those she’d killed, like the chorus of the dead screaming from the depths of Fregnar’s realm. For hours, maybe even days, she sat and stared at her shaking hands, sick of her actions, yet knowing that the wizards would make her kill more in the future.
4
Click, click, click. What used to be her fire stone made a weird hollow noise as she made a new mark for her height. She couldn’t track the days, or even the years, so her growth had become the tale of time. She was now maybe a foot or so shorter than Asenten, about the same height Alrindel had been the last she had seen him.
With a sigh, she sat and picked through the rest of the food Asenten had left her. When she heard a yelp and the crack of a tree just outside the mouth of the cave she jumped, it was rare to hear something so close. A little black pup stumbled at her feet as she rounded the last bend of the cave.
“I’ve got you now!” a deep and garbled voice boomed.
A thick hand as big as her waist pushed through the vines.
“Why do you even bother with such a little thing?” an almost feminine voice asked.
“Pack leader’s pup, leave no one to get revenge.”
“Enough!” Zelia yelled.
The wolf pup cowered behind her. As the hand pulled back, she stepped closer to the entrance, being careful not to get too close to the barrier that held her there.
“Who’s there?” The ogre separated the vines so he could see. “Oh look, the main course.”
“Oh, shut up.” The other ogre shoved him aside. “It’s just a little girl. Come here darling, we’ll keep you safe.”
“Or you could wait, and there will be more. Someone bigger, more flesh to eat.”
Zelia thought of Asenten, she couldn’t hurt him, but the ogres could.
“We don’t have time to wait, get out of the way.”
A hand reached in again and this time grasped her waist before she could move away.
“No!” she screamed as she hit the barrier and the parts of her that touched it burned to ash.
She let a wall of flames erupt in front of her and the ogre threw her away as he drew back.
“Why you little…” the feminine voice half growled as another hand reached in and swatted at her.
It too she lit ablaze as she pressed her burnt shoulder against the cold stone and waited for all to be still outside the cave.
“Wha... what are you?” the little pup asked as he backed away from her.
“It’s okay.” She drew a deep breath and suppressed her pain. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Wait, you understand me?”
“Yes. Are you hurt?”
The little pup shook his head, and his stomach growled.
“You’re hungry I take it. Well, give me just a second.”
She pushed herself to her feet and held a flame out in front of her as she went back around a bend in the cave to retrieve the last of her food.
“It’s not much, but you can have it.”
The pup sniffed it before gobbling it up.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Dain and yours?”
“Zelia. How far off is your pack?”
As if on cue, a faint howl sounded in the distance and the pup’s ears perked forward.
“I have to go
, mum’s calling. I’ll be back though. Thank you for saving me.”
The pup squirmed through the vines and left her alone once again.
“Look, ogre tracks. There must be a cave around here somewhere,” a deep voice spoke with a tinge of disdain in the dwarven tongue, not far from the mouth of the cave.
“More like a pile of ashes.”
Something stirred the ashes of the ogres and she coughed as the breeze blew them into the cave.
“Shh, did you hear that?”
Zelia grabbed the leather bag at her feet and moved deeper into the cave as metal scraped on metal, the telltale sound of a sword being drawn. If someone found her Asenten would make her kill them, even if he had to track them down first. The vines parted, and she froze in the blinding light.
“You there.”
“Shh, you’ll scare her.” The young Dwarf pushed past his grey-haired companion. “It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. I’m Prince Connan, what’s your name?”
“Prince Connan?”
She shook her head. The young Prince gasped when she turned, revealing her ash covered burn. For a moment she thought of lying, but what could the truth do to her now.
“I’m Zelia.”
“Why are you in here?”
“I...” Her shoulder burned and reminded her why she couldn’t leave. “I like the cave,” she lied.
“The ogres are gone. You needn’t hide here. Come, where’s your family?”
“I know they are. I killed them.” She glanced at the charred remains of another she had killed and lowered her head. “And my family is dead, they have been for a long time.”
“You could come with us.”
She shook her head. She knew she couldn’t pass the mouth of the cave. She had tried, and the ogres were just a reminder. Prince Connan reached for her and she bolted deeper into the cave.
“Leave her.” There was a bit of a struggle behind her. “I’ve never seen this cave before, and we have no light. We’ll come back.”