Drakon Book IV: Butterfly

by C. A. Caskabel

  “What are you wearing?” I asked.

  “The Reghen have appointed me Guardian of the Goddess, Da-Ren. That’s how I rule over this land. How do you think I got a thousand Archers to obey a hundred Blades? I had to ask for the Voice of Enaka,” he said.

  “And she spoke.”

  “She did, Da-Ren, and she still does.”

  You must tell me about the Dasal.

  “You’ve done well, Sani. I feared I would return to a camp of death and hunger.”

  “Your fears are not far from the truth. We lost many. The old, the children. The first winter was mild, but you didn’t leave many supplies behind. That first summer was the coming of Darhul himself. Our darkest time, but I praise Enaka for the mosquitos. The fever purged the camp of the weaklings and the old. And the Rods. We didn’t stop burning bodies. Those few Rods who were left behind are all dead. Then I offered myself as Guardian to the Ouna-Mas.”

  “How many are still alive?”

  “Half maybe. Barely twenty thousand. And there are more enemies now. Northmen that we’ve never seen before.”

  “Many of them?”

  “No, they are mobs of looters, but they are tall, fearless, hay-haired beasts with battle axes. They’re raiding the northern outposts. Word’s gotten out that there are not many of us left here.”

  “You have food though.”

  “Yes, the crops were good, and I had many of the women and the old helping.”

  “The crops?”

  “You passed by the wheat farms on your way here. That’s where we found you.”

  “The wheat farms.”

  “They have started harrowing and plowing now,” he said. “It’s that time of the season.” He passed me a piece of flat bread, and it was warm and surprisingly soft despite its dark color. It smelled of honey as I brought it to my mouth.

  “This is a new Tribe, not the one you left behind. We have many farmers; we have wheat and barley fields even within Sirol. I don’t need many pastures for horses and riders. And we are fortunate that the Southeastern Empire has not brought a great army to cross the Blackvein. Because them, we couldn’t stop.”

  “What do the Reghen say? About farming.”

  “The Reghen have to eat too. This land by the river is fertile, richer than the northlands that we feed from. I brought the peasants down here, and they showed us how to farm. If I didn’t, we’d all be dead along with the Reghen. I am not proud to rule over farmers, oxen, and plows, but that’s the fate you chose for me.”

  Unlike the bread his last words were bitter.

  Sani had done much better than I ever dreamed. But my thoughts were running fast, and I was staring away from him. He had talked of the North, the East, the South…

  “Da-Ren, you look worried. If it is the farming, I know that our Legends—”

  I cut him short.

  You must tell me about the Dasal.

  “You think I am worried about farming? No, it is another battle that burdens my mind. I promised Malan.”

  “I found the road to the West, Firstblade.”

  “The Forest?”

  I bit my thumb hard, trying to say as little as possible.

  “Yes, we crossed it. We found the southern passage up the river that the Dasal had told you about. Do you remember?”

  “I remember. How?”

  “We captured a few of them. Filthy forest savages. The others escaped to the north.”

  I crossed my arms as if I were shivering. I was dreading every word of his.

  “Tell me.”

  “There are two villages to the east of Blackvein that are known for their boat makers. I raided and captured their craftsmen. We sailed the river to the west and passed the southern cliffs. Toward the end, the waters turned wild, we couldn’t cross. I came ashore with a few Blades and two Dasal for my guides, and we climbed craggy slopes. This is no land for horse and battle. It took us six days to cross the mountain paths. But we made it to the West. We found their settlements.”

  And the Dasal.

  “What did you find in the West?”

  He didn’t seem excited or eager to share a lot.

  “If you ask me, there is nothing different there. Same as the South.”

  “Yeah, the two empires are very much alike. I was told the same by the Cross Sorcerer. The one we brought with us.”

  “You should get rid of him. The Reghen are talking already, and the Ouna-Mas are marking yoau. What are you doing with this othertriber dog? Yes, there are farming villages, herds, women out west. And not many soldiers, just a handful. The side of the Forest is unguarded but farther out there are larger castles that surround stone buildings, cross temples, and hovels, all packed together.”

  “Cities,” I said. “You found their cities.”

  “I don’t know what you call them. I saw their walls twice, but I had only a few men with me. The bigger castle is a place they call Lenos. Glanced at its torch fires from far away at night.”

  Get this over, Sani, tell me about her.

  “We can’t raid those castles without machines or horses. Once we reached a peasant village near the Forest, neckroped some of them and brought them back. We brought some wine, the wine is good. There must be other passages to the West. But we need more men to invade there, now that Malan is returning—”

  “So, you just found a path through the river, but you haven’t gone that far into the Forest? North?”

  That same moment Baagh came uninvited into Sani’s tent. He sat next to us as if it were the most natural thing and started to rub his hands together to get warmer.

  “Your autumns are colder than many winters I know,” he interrupted us casually, with a smirk on his face.

  “Did you go north to find the rest of the Dasal?” I asked Sani again, too shocked to reply to Baagh.

  Sani looked at him and then at me, his eyes questioning whether he should continue.

  Baagh made another gesture, encouraging Sani to speak up. Sani was grasping his blade now.

  “You can speak, Sani.”

  “I hate the Dasal and their damned Forest. Demon spawn, appearing out of the darkest wood. They are hiding in the lair of the wolf and the snake, I tell you. I led my best men in the summer with fire and blade and reached the northern caves, where the Forest ends and the mountains rise. There is damnation in these caves; you know the Legend. Bat caves. Thousands of bats, I tell you. We hunted the men down and ripped the eyes out of their evil witches, but some escaped.”

  A black cloud of despair fell over me, heavier than the Stories of the five summers. I wanted to run away to dive into the woods and scream her name. I needed a reason to leave Sirol.

  “And the Reekaal?” I asked.

  “I never saw a Reekaal, Da-Ren. Enaka protects me.”

  “Mad witches with foolish stories,” said Baagh laughing.

  “The Reekaal are there,” Sani answered.

  “Pff,” added Baagh still chortling. I didn’t know if he was drunk or had gone mad himself.

  I turned suddenly and slapped Baagh hard, with the back of my hand. He huddled, protecting his head with both arms. I got up ready to kick him in the ribs but stopped short of doing so.

  “You will never again talk over a Chief, you damned Sorcerer. Get lost!”

  Whenever Baagh spoke, everyone looked at me, their eyes asking why I allowed him. I kicked Baagh out of the tent and asked Sani.

  “The Dasal you captured?”

  “Killed most of them. Some are slaves at the crops,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll go ride; I’ll show you the wheat fields.”

  He ripped the eyes out of the Dasal witches.

  I tried to say something, but no words came.

  “Da-Ren, you are not well. Did you even listen to a word I said?”

  “Yes, we’ll do that…” I answered looking west.

  We’ll go see the damn crops.

  I dismissed the others and tried in vain to get some sleep in Sani’s tent. The nightmares w
ere short and muddled. It was still night when I woke him up. Along the way, as we rode through the farms, I kept asking questions.

  “Why do you care about the Dasal slaves?”

  “I want to see all of them, see how many we have. We may need hands to dig moats, raise palisades,” I answered.

  “What are palisades?” Sani asked.

  We continued over to the new farmlands, but I didn’t see anything that drew my attention other than unearthed soil.

  “We harrowed and plowed a moon ago; there’s not much to see now. It rained a few days ago, and we are sowing now. The earth is sleeping with seed. If the crops die from the frost, we’ll sow again in spring. These are all harvested fields, wheat and barley, some peas,” he said. “There you see the winter storage huts for the hay. Not like the old days when they let it rot in open sheds.”

  As I watched Sani speak and gesticulate, I realized that I was not needed in Sirol. He was expecting my praise, and I faked it repeatedly, yet I wanted to warn him also.

  “Our Tribe has the hunger of gold now, Sani. If Malan comes back, he won’t care for your peas.”

  “Look, Firstblade. There’s only one hunger I know, and we all die from it here. Farming is power. We farm, we live, we grow strong, and then we can fight. The few Blades I have left don’t farm, but the women and the older men do. Children help. Works better for everyone. If you try to change this, we’ll die.”

  “Change this? No, no,” That man really thought I was there to keep him from farming. “I’ll soon have to leave you once again, Sani. I am on a mission from Malan,” I kept lying.

  “But, shouldn’t you wait for the rest of the men to come from the campaign?” Sani asked.

  “I can’t wait for them,” I said.

  No one is coming. I just told you so to keep you in fear, until I was sure I could trust you. Can I trust you?

  I saw an elderly woman who was sowing the field and looked othertriber from afar. Her eyes were green.

  “She is a Dasal.”

  “Yes, those eyes.”

  “Have you found anyone with blue eyes?” I asked him.

  “If we did, we’d keep them for the Feast of Spring. You know the Truths, Da-Ren.”

  I spent another couple of days roaming the farms alone, asking after a woman with blue eyes. No one seemed to know or have seen one. I went back to find the old Dasal woman, and she started saying words and pointing at me. I wondered if she had recognized me from the old days. But there was no one to make sense of her words, and I left. She kept pointing at me and then west at the Forest, shouting, “Dasa, Alia, Dasa, Alia.”

  “Zeria?” I asked when I pulled her away from all other ears.

  She shook her head. I grabbed her by the dress and raised my hand as if to hit her. She pointed to the Forest one more time.

  Six long days and nights had passed since my return. At the twilight of the sixth day, I saddled my horse for Kar-Tioo. The second full moon of autumn was fast approaching, but the sky had stayed clear of rain and cloud, and the stars would be illuminating my way.

  “Are you leaving alone? Again?” asked Leke.

  “Yes, I will be back soon.” No, I won’t, no matter what I find. “I have to see what is going on with the Reekaal; we might be in danger,” I said to him.

  “The Reekaal, yes. You know the Cyanus Reekaal, means ‘blue-skinned.’ You think he has blue eyes too?” he said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he exists, Da-Ren?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’ll wait for you,” Leke said.

  He was the only one of the Tribe who suspected the madness that I carried inside me, and that was eating away at me. Baagh knew too, and I had to take Baagh out of Sirol. I took two blades, two bows, and three full quivers and bid my comrades farewell.

  “I have promised Malan that I’ll find the north passage to the West. Sani, you are good here, you know what to do and how to take care of Sirol. Alone,” I threw my lies at them.

  Sani didn’t insist. He had struggled hard to rule over Sirol while I was away. He welcomed my words.

  Baagh was the last one to bid me farewell.

  “You have to go there alone, Da-Ren,” Baagh said.

  “Yes, you are the one who knows that. What are you going to do?”

  His cheek was still bruised, but that was the only way I could save him—if the others thought that he was my slave and not someone I took advice from. My arm had healed like new. He had brought me back in a moon’s time as he had promised. I owed him.

  “Leke will hide you in my tent. The Ouna-Mas are not going to accept a Cross Sorcerer who speaks to a Firstblade. You have to stay out of sight until I am back. And put on some of the Tribe’s clothes.”

  “I’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”

  “Baagh, you know… I may not return.”

  “I hope that you don’t. But I am afraid you will.”

  “You can ride with me, find the monsters of the Forest,” I said, chuckling.

  “I can smell them from here.”

  “You believe in monsters, now?” I asked.

  “You know, Da-Ren, I could have abandoned you in Thalassopolis. Any time. I had so many chances. But I wanted to come here, to witness your final battle, to see the monsters of your tribe, their birthplace, and their lair. For so many years I have wandered to all of God’s secret abodes, from the monasteries of the East to Noria, the Holy City of the South, the Castlemonastery of Hieros and Thalassopolis. I’ve seen God in all his triumph. This time I wanted to crawl into the Devil’s cave. Sirol.”

  It was my horse and me again; I had chosen a gray-white stallion. It was a sturdy animal, but too old to be burdened with the name of O’Ren. I turned my back on Sirol galloping hard toward the north with a song on my lips. For many winters, I had sung it to myself in the steppe and the desert. It had no music and no joy, only wish and agony.

  I swim Selene’s rivers, deep inside the Forest.

  Torch and bow are my only spells, Reekaal.

  Branches bending, embracing.

  Dawn brings the blue, the green, and the bronze.

  Bluebell and moss, leaves and earth.

  No rest before the pond.

  I swim.

  To Kar-Tioo.

  LXX.

  The One Rule

  Twenty-Fourth Autumn. “Firstblade”

  “I’ll call you O’Ren as I did your brothers before you. You don’t have the vigor and the heart of the great one, you did not even make it to the battles, horse, but so be it. I will name you O’Ren the Third if only to remember and pay homage to the one whose blood runs in my veins. I will not drink from your vein, or cut you open to sleep in warmth, no, I promise. But I can’t take you into the Forest with me tonight, you are worthless among the dense wood, and you’ll slow me down. I leave you here at the outpost, the same one where I found your brother, the greatest of all, O’Ren the Second, the stallion. It is the same outpost, same spot, after so many winters. Even that man—the only one left—is the same. That lanky son of a bitch, who slaughtered my horse for meat. But I paid him back; I stole O’Ren from him, a stallion he was raising for a Khun. And I will pay him back some more; I’ll slit his throat when I am out of the Forest. I promised that to myself a long time ago. He doesn’t remember me. He was even excited to hear where I came from. He didn’t recognize me, that I am certain of. Maybe because he is half-blind and lives on belladonna and milk spirit, the fool, maybe because I don’t resemble that young boy anymore. But I warned him, don’t worry, that I did. ‘You kill my horse, and I’ll skin you alive,’ I said to him and twisted hard his arm to make sure he wouldn’t think any different. No matter how long I am away for, you’ll be safe here. If there is still a heart in my chest, and hope in my heart, I will come and find you again, O’Ren. But I must find her first. I told your brother a long time ago: “We abandon the Forest only to long to come back.” All those winters in the steppe and Kapoukia and Antia
make this moment more important, sweeter. My sacrifice. I can’t sacrifice another life to earn my Story. No. Once I sacrificed O’Ren’s life, but that’s as far as I got. No. I will only sacrifice my life. You say what? Death comes for all? No, she is not dead, if she were, I’d know. I’ll know because out of the Forest will come a bone-chilling breath and blow down my soul, my feet will be numb, and I will not wake up the day. No, she is alive, all I need to do is get in there, find her, even if I call out her name a thousand times. Zeria will answer my call. I leave you now, O’Ren. I hope to see you again…Or not. I won’t lie. I only hope for her. Graze here in the fields of freedom. We’ll meet again triumphant. I walk in the Forest now. ‘No matter what he calls it, a man worships in a temple,’ Baagh said. This wood here, the raindrops sparkling on the bronze leaves, the crimson foliage heavy and grim like the blood of my Blades. This is my temple; I kneel in there. My Holy Church of Wisdom and Damnation. I walk in there now. Alone. For love.”

  The cool autumn day found me inside the sacred temple that had haunted my dreams for so long. It did not embrace me with warmth and light. A drizzle of rain escaped among the branches and slapped me, punishment for all I had done. In the deep of autumn, the songbird was sparse, punishment for all I hadn’t done. The eternal battle was still going on in the woods. Death fought against life on each leaf as it yellowed and fell defeated. Death was victorious. He had laid before me a carpet that even the palaces of Thalassopolis would envy. The ferns had taken on the color of rotting flesh; the bushes bent heavy with red berries.