Fury Lingers: Book One of The Foreseen Trilogy

by Ethan Spears

  “You live here?” Aoden looked around. “This close to the wall? I don’t mean to cause offense, but isn’t it a bit ramshackle? Surely there’s somewhere nice deeper in Verka—”

  “No, Aoden,” interrupted Reggy. “I’m not saying this is my home. I’m saying our home. The lizardfolk live here.” He checked Aoden’s face for some recognition of what he was saying. When he didn’t find it, he added, “All of them.”

  Aoden frowned. “What do you mean ‘all of them?’ There’s barely enough homes for two hundred people.”

  Reggy nodded. “And half of them are empty. Come.” He stepped away, following Cadalei as he made his way towards the small village.

  “What does he mean by that?” Aoden asked Mergau. “Surely he can’t mean that this is all that’s left of the lizardfolk.”

  Mergau looked at him, no small discomfort in her eyes. “I think he does,” she said.

  They followed the brothers, passing by the first huts and into the alley leading through the village. The two chatting lizardfolk paused and watched the group, their faces unreadable, then fell back to conversation when they passed as if the sudden admittance of two strangers was of no concern to lizardkind. Aside from their quiet chatter and the party’s footsteps, the place was deathly quiet.

  “Reggy?” Aoden asked. “What happened here? Is this really all that’s left of your race?”

  Reggy nodded without turning back. “There were eighty-three of my people when last I lived here.” He asked Cadalei a question, which the other answered concisely. “There are seventy-eight left. Four died during the Fury.” More speaking in the lizard tongue. “The last succumbed to illness brought on by age.”

  “I had no idea.”

  Reggy seemed to find that idea funny and let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the point. We don’t want people to know.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Mergau. “Can you tell us what caused this?”

  Reggy shrugged. “If Cadalei sees fit to free me from my geas, then yes.”

  “Wait, your brother is your superior?”

  “We’ve so few people to choose from, so I don’t complain. Who better to work for than family, anyway?”

  The others didn’t answer. They walked through the village in silence, only the faintest noises from within letting them know people lived in this house or that. There was something eerie and sobering about this news mixed with this lifeless town, making the whole place appear not just poor, but morbid and dreary.

  They reached the cul-de-sac, walking past the stone pillar in the center. The side facing them was etched with runes that emitted a soft blue glow, though it was hard to notice in the sunlight. As they circled toward the far side, the pillar began to take shape, the stone surface chiseled into some visage. As their angle improved and they got a clear view of the carving, Mergau came to a halt and stared.

  She reached out and grasped Reggy by the shoulder, pointing. “Why is there a statue of an orcish woman here?”

  Reggy smiled. “I thought you might get a kick out of that. What you’re looking at right now is the face of Hetipa.”

  “That’s Hetipa? The Hetipa?”

  Reggy nodded. Mergau looked up at the large black face, weathered from unknown years exposed to the elements yet clearly cared for. She was thin-faced and stern with large tusks protruding nearly up to her eyes, a feature that would have been considered hideous to most orcs. The statue was mostly ugly, in fact, what with her large lower lip and piggish nose, attributes that made it clear this wasn’t some mawkish depiction but an accurate portrayal.

  For all the harshness of the face, however, her eyes were enchanting. Even carved in stone, there was an undeniable, piercing intelligence behind them, yet they were still soft and welcoming, seeming to invite those around her to civil discourse of a deep and philosophical nature. “She looks”—she struggled to find the right word and was forced to settle— “impressive.”

  “She was, by all accounts. Posed for this herself, supposedly.”

  Mergau turned. “Hetipa was here?”

  “Oh my, yes.” He made a face. “I’m feeling the tug of my geas. I suppose that’s all I can say.”

  Mergau had a dozen questions: about the statue, about Hetipa, about the lizard people, about their reason for being here, about how everything was supposed to tie together; in the end, however, she knew the strange magic binding Reggy would force them to remain ignorant until the lizardfolk deemed. She and Aoden continued following until Cadalei came to a particular hut and opened the door without knocking, ushering the others inside.

  Inside were three more lizardfolk sitting on cushions on the floor before a small stone fireplace. They were aged, showing patches of stark white where their scaly green skin had flaked off. The one in the center looked at them with one good eye, the other replaced by a jagged scar.

  “The closest thing you’ll find to leaders among my people,” Reggy said, indicating each lizardman in turn. “Touy, Jaris, Mazam.” Cadalei made a motion and Reggy fell silent. Cadalei spoke briefly to the three old lizards, gesturing toward Reggy and his companions. He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly, keeping his movements and emphasis to a minimum. After a few minutes, he beckoned Reggy forward.

  “Wait here a moment. I think I’ll be speaking for a good while.”

  “No, you?” said Aoden dryly. Reggy offered him a quick smile, then proceeded to stand next to Cadalei and address the old lizardmen.

  For a few minutes, he spoke in an animated fashion, gesturing this way and that, pointing to his two companions and rambling on. One of the elders asked a question, prompting Reggy to go off on a long-winded tangent about some subject or other. His companions wished they could understand what was being said, for they had traveled all this way after resolving themselves to this end yet were standing here with nothing to contribute and found it raked their nerves.

  Mergau jerked backward like an insect had flown too close to her face. “What’s wrong?” Aoden whispered.

  Mergau blinked and raised a hand to her face, then let it drop again. “I don’t know. I thought I felt something touch—” She paused when she saw Aoden likewise react. “Like it touched your mind, right?”

  “I-I guess.” He looked toward the sitting lizardmen, finding the one-eyed one in the center watching him intently. The lizard shifted his gaze away and the odd feeling in his head vanished, though as soon as the eye rested on Mergau, she winced again.

  “They’re probing our minds,” she said while Aoden was still piecing it together.

  “To check for the truth?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t tell what they’re doing, exactly.” She scrunched up her face a moment, then frowned. “I can’t lock him out of my mind.” She became frustrated with her inability to overcome his powers and turned towards the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away from him. They can come get me when they’re finished.”

  “That seems rude.”

  “And probing my mind without permission isn’t?”

  She pulled the door open and stopped. Before her were arrayed thirty or forty lizardfolk, all standing or sitting around the entrance to the hut, silently watching, unblinking. Mergau took one look, felt a creeping shiver run up her spine, and immediately closed the door. She and Aoden exchanged a look, then she returned to his side and waited, complaining no further as she felt the mental probes on her mind.

  After nearly an hour of Reggy talking—with only the briefest of pauses for the elders to ask questions—the old lizardmen stood as one. They beckoned Cadalei over, and when he stood before them, all three laid their hands upon him. An odd sensation passed through the room, like a release of pressure. The elders removed their hands and walked past Aoden and Mergau, leaving through the door and closing it behind them. Once they were gone, Cadalei turned to Reggy, likewise resting his hands upon him. He said something softly, and Reggy nodded understanding. Mergau could barely sense a pulse of magic as a powe
r was disintegrated within Reggy. Reggy smiled, patted his brother on the arm, and turned towards his companions.

  “We’ve been given permission to tell you all you need to know. Ask away.”

  The elf and the orc exchange glances, then looked back at the two lizardmen. “I’ve got so many questions, I’m not even sure where to begin,” said Aoden.

  “I do,” said Mergau. “Why are we here?”

  Reggy laughed. “To think you’ve come all this way and you don’t even know why. Fate is so very strange sometimes.” He turned to his brother and spoke, at which point Cadalei nodded and left. “He’s going to get some food for us. Now that I’ve been temporarily freed from my geas, he doesn’t need to watch me like a hawk. As for why you’re here, well, that takes some explaining. Fortunately, it ties into some other questions that I’m sure you have. Tell me: have either of you heard of the goddess Diemossa?”

  “Never,” said Aoden.

  Mergau frowned. “The dragon-singer?”

  Aoden looked over at her in surprise and Reggy clapped his hands. “I thought you might have, Mergau. It makes sense that an orc would know.” At Aoden’s puzzled look, Reggy laughed and added in a singsong voice, “She knows something you don’t know!”

  “What’s a dragon-singer?”

  “Not a dragon-singer,” corrected Mergau, “the dragon-singer; there was only one of her. She’s a character of legend among the stories of my people, an old orcish woman who could call to dragons and they would fly to her and do her bidding. We would never have called her a goddess, though.”

  Reggy visibly deflated. “Oh. That’s disappointing. I thought you actually knew who she was. Sounds like the story got butchered in the retelling over the years.

  Mergau hmphed. “Are you making light of our oral traditions?”

  “On the contrary,” Reggy said, “I doubt your people forgot. If anything, I’d wager their stories were tampered with and changed over the years on purpose.”

  Mergau gave him an inquisitive look, so he waved for them to sit as he plopped down on the dirt floor. “I want to be very clear about something before I continue and want you to take this warning more seriously than you’ve taken anything in your life, alright?” He looked between the two of them as they nodded for him to continue. “Just holding the knowledge I’m about to impart will put the two of you in incredible danger. All you need for proof of the current condition of my people. We used to… I wouldn’t say ‘thrive’ exactly, but we got on well enough. For thousands of years, we’ve held this knowledge and protected it, keeping it alive despite all their effort put towards stomping it out. Once you know, there’s no going back.”

  “That’s rather dire, Reggy,” said Aoden.

  “Good. You should take it as dire. I mean it. Are you willing to shoulder that risk?”

  Aoden shrugged. “A lot has happened since last I saw you, Reggy. I don’t have anything left that I cherish. The only thing I care about now is stopping the Fury because that is all that’s left to me.”

  Reggy was clearly concerned. “That sounds like a story for another time,” he said, looking to Mergau.

  “A long and confusing story, yes. We can tell you later, but now I’d rather have my questions answered. Just know that I feel the same way as Aoden.”

  “Very well,” said Reggy. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Reggy waved a hand in the air and the light from the fireplace dimmed. In the space between him and his companions, a silver silhouette appeared, a tiny recreation of a dragon, though it was bulbous and sinewy; even miniature, it gave an impression of gargantuan proportions. “Diemossa, whom you called the dragon-singer, was a goddess. According to our records—which I assure you are accurate—Diemossa did, indeed, sing. In fact, she’s said to have sung the dragons into existence, as well as some of their lesser kin, like we lizardfolk.” The little silver silhouette opened its mouth and little silver creatures popped into existence around its feet.

  “So, she has to do with your creation tales,” said Mergau.

  Reggy waved away her comment. “Not tales. These are the facts. We know this for a certainty. It was once a well-known truth but has long since been stamped out. Apparently, they couldn’t cover it up completely for it still exists, if distorted, among your people.”

  “You keep saying ‘they,’” observed Aoden. “Who are ‘they’?”

  Reggy leaned forward. “The gods.” His companions gave him skeptical looks. “That’s why this information is dangerous: because the gods themselves don’t want people to know about Diemossa.”

  “Why? And if they wanted to stop people, why does lizardkind know?”

  “Because much like how Mergau doesn’t worship Kenta and is therefore outside of his sphere of influence, so to do my kind give no worship to any gods, for if we were to choose one, it would’ve been Diemossa, and she’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  Reggy turned to Aoden. “Are you sure you wish to continue? Mergau is safe thanks to her deific apathy, but you still have attachment to Wasuku, among others. I don’t know if they hold enough sway over you that they may harm you.”

  Aoden thought a moment but shook his head. “What more can they take from me but my life? I have no home, no family, and only one or two friends left.”

  “If you say so,” said Reggy slowly, again looking distraught at this admission.

  Turning his attention elsewhere, Reggy twirled his finger, and the silhouette of Diemossa flew into the air, staring down at her creations, acting out Reggy’s words as he spoke. “Mergau, you may think of Kenta as a warlord, a bloodthirsty, maniacal monster with no regard for his creations, a slave driver more than a father, but Diemossa was so much worse. Whereas Kenta has been happy enough to beat and torture his children and send them to their deaths, Diemossa didn’t even think of dragons and lizardfolk as ‘her children’ so much as ‘her food.’ She didn’t create us so we would worship her and work for her, but so she could devour us, feeding off our bodies and our blood and our spirits. Kenta may be a poor father, but he is still the orc-father, favoring those who love him: Diemossa loved no one. She was our creator but also our worst enemy. Madly, despite all this, we still loved her.

  “That’s how we existed for tens of thousands of years, cowering from our own mother, seeking only to live in hiding to escape her gluttonous jaws, just thankful we weren’t huge, obvious targets like the dragons whom she devoured whole. We loved her and hated her, wishing for freedom and safety, but we couldn’t turn to the other gods for help, for not only did we offer them no obeisance, but she held favor among them for her power and wisdom. Truly, we thought ourselves stuck forever in a vicious cycle of being devoured and growing our numbers, only to be devoured again.

  “Mergau,” he said, turning to her. “Would you be so kind as to tell me what Hetipa’s title was?”

  She hesitated, fearing the obvious answer was the wrong one. “The Dragonslayer?”

  “Correct. And can you guess which dragon she slew?”

  “But you said Diemossa was a god.”

  He smiled slightly. “You’re right on both counts. Yes, it was Diemossa, and yes, she was a god.”

  “You’re saying she killed a god?”

  “Well, she didn’t, technically, but she was the one who found the method. Like most amazing leaps in magical research, how she came about the process is unknown, even to us, and she never told anyone how she discovered it, taking that information to the grave. As for the method itself, that is stored safely in my people’s minds, waiting to die with the last of us. And you two, shortly.

  “It wasn’t an easy decision, from what I understand—this was over ten thousand years ago, so I wasn’t there, but I don’t doubt there was much deliberation. Though my people loved her, they hated and feared her more, persuaded in no small part by the appearance of the key to their ultimate freedom. Of course, even with that key, the task required bloody war.” A tiny silver army appeared on the floor, calling up challenge
to Diemossa. She flew down at them, devastating the soldiers with her massive claws.

  Reggy watched the silver panoply play out for a moment. “Unknown numbers of my kind perished during the battle, trying to get the weapon close enough to slay her. Finally, after days of fighting, they succeeded.” The silver dragon, gigantic compared to the minuscule silver particles that made up the army, swooped down with a claw. A single spear stood upraised, glowing bright gold among the sea of silver, her claw crashing down and obliterating the wielder, but also driving the spear into her hand, the merest pinprick to a creature that size; but she reared up and fell back, her body slamming into the ground and writhing violently across it, crushing thousands beneath her bulk. At length, she came to rest and did not stir again, and gradually the silver images melted away.

  Aoden shook his head. “I don’t understand how.”

  “Because the gods, for all their preening and self-aggrandizing, are as mortal as you or me—though, I’ll grant, with far fewer things that can kill them.”

  “But she also had a physical body to attack.”

  “Yes, she did.” That was all Reggy had to say on the matter.

  “You probably already guessed this part, but the gods did not take kindly to this act. Those not of lizardkind who partook in the battle were slain immediately by their gods, simply falling dead where they stood. Those with any knowledge of the events had their knowledge tainted. It doesn’t happen often, but there are bits of knowledge that people try their hardest to forget: think of necromancy and how it resurfaces every few centuries. But the art of deicide was suppressed by the gods themselves. Hetipa’s discovery brought fear to the gods for the first time, but they could do nothing to her thanks to divine law—she didn’t worship any of them, you see. Safely outside their influence, she could enact the steps necessary to bring low Diemossa. Diemossa’s death drove them to extinguish all attempts to replicate this action. The gods commanded Hetipa dead, forcing her to live with us for the rest of her days lest someone carry out that order.