Fire and Fate: Part 1 & 2 (Dragons of Galicia)

by Simone Pond

  “So … won’t you at least tell me a little bit about why you chose to live a life of debauchery?” she asked.

  Doran glanced sideways with a slight smile curling his lips. “Why are you so curious about my past? It’s really not that interesting.”

  She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, using the spear to steady herself. “It’s not that important. I was just making small talk while we waited.” Even she heard the quaver in her voice and she wished to shut up now before she embarrassed herself any further.

  “If you must know,” he said, turning to face her, “I came from a rather wealthy family in the eastern regions of Galicia. My father was a nobleman and a very important merchant of the finest silks. His exotic products reached as far south as Wessingham and beyond, all the way to the Russex Empire. Kings and queens spoke his name. And everyone in royal courts throughout kingdoms near and far requested my father’s silks.”

  Evelyn couldn’t imagine anything much farther away from the measly radius she had ventured outside her hamlet of Ocelum. She hadn’t even seen the seaside, which wasn’t that many miles away. Where she stood now with Doran in the foul-smelling forest at the foothills of the Vindius Mountains was the farthest she had ever traveled in her almost eighteen years.

  “And so what happened?” she asked.

  Doran didn’t have a chance to answer. One of the slave women trudged onto the path. He whipped around and grabbed her, covering the woman’s mouth and yanking her into the trees. She dropped her buckets of dung, and Doran kicked them away.

  “Shh,” he said.

  Evelyn got a closer look and saw this wasn’t a woman, but a girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. Though the strain in her eyes and the pallor of her papery skin aged her severely.

  “It’s okay, my dear lady. We’re your friends. We’re here to help.” Evelyn stroked her shoulder and smiled. The girl’s brown eyes sparked with a flash of hope as she took in Evelyn and the words of possible escape. “But you must be silent. Can you promise us you won’t make a sound?”

  The girl nodded feverishly, muttering what sounded like yes, yes, please, please. Doran released his hand and stepped away from the girl. She pulled down her scarf and released a loud sigh, then leaned against the tree and slid down until she sat with her back pressed against the bark. “Oh, thank the heavens and every good living thing on earth. I’ve been saved …” Her voice carried a delicate accent Evelyn couldn’t decipher.

  “What’s your name?” Evelyn asked.

  She looked up and smiled. “Regan.”

  Still no recognition on the accent. “I’m Evelyn and this is Doran. I’m from Ocelum, a coastal hamlet in the northern region of Galicia. Doran here is a free spirit who steals for a living.”

  Doran chuckled, light of heart. “Only when I need to eat.”

  “How long have you been … in this situation?” asked Evelyn.

  “Since I was a young girl. I was stolen by these beasts during a summer vacation in the Palisades,” she whispered, staring off into the trees.

  The Palisades were a group of islands located much farther south of Galicia in the warmer regions of the neighboring Russex Empire. A region mostly known for their sophisticated cuisine and architecture. Regan must’ve hailed from somewhere within Russex, thus explaining her elegant accent.

  Doran knelt down next to her and rested his large hand on her bony shoulder. “Do you know anything about a new girl? She would’ve come in earlier today. Black hair … um … Evelyn? Any other details?”

  Before Evelyn replied, Regan nodded. “Yes, definitely. Loud-mouthed, kicking and screaming, entitled brat. They put her in the isolation den. They put all the non-cooperators in there to break them down and such …”

  “Her name is Ciara,” Evelyn said.

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  “Do you know how we can get to her?” asked Doran.

  Regan nodded, looking at Doran. “You look familiar.”

  He stood up and looked around a moment. “I have that kind of face. I propose that I go after Ciara while the two of you gather up the other women and plan the quickest route out of here.”

  “Are you sure?” Evelyn asked. “I’m the one with the spear.”

  “I’m quite sure. If I’m found wandering about in their caves, they’ll have no interest in capturing me. You, on the other hand, they’ll go after in a heartbeat.”

  Evelyn held up the spear. “Let’s not forget, I have this. But I do agree, we should gather up the women while you search for Ciara. She’s a handful.” She looked at Regan. “Do you know if these varmints can swim?”

  Regan shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever encountered any zeevils by bodies of water, which might explain their need for assistance with cleanup,” Doran said, thoughtfully.

  “Then we will gather the women and meet down by the river. Go find Ciara. Make haste, Doran.”

  He smiled when Evelyn said his name, then gave her a curt, professional nod and darted through the trees toward the caves. Evelyn helped Regan stand up and they covered their faces. Regan motioned for Evelyn to follow her down the path.

  “Tell me how many women are at this encampment,” Evelyn said.

  “I’m guessing around fifty or more. The numbers vary because some of the slaves drown themselves in the river. Others climb the rocks and plummet to their deaths. No one has ever made a successful escape.”

  “Why is that?”

  “One cannot get very far without being chased down by these awful creatures. They’re incredibly fast. When I was younger I made many attempts, but after several trips to the isolation den, I learned my lesson. The den is not for the faint of heart.” Regan continued walking down the dirt path back toward the reeking foothills where the other women were busy shoveling dung into large buckets.

  “This is atrocious,” Evelyn muttered.

  “Yes, it’s been nothing short of a miserable existence. What’s worse is their nest.”

  “Their nest?” Evelyn asked, confused.

  “It’s at the heart of the cave and it’s where they keep some of the women for … I don’t know how else to explain it other than … well, entertainment purposes.”

  The idea of women “entertaining” these repulsive insects was not only confounding, it was beyond Evelyn’s imagination. Suffice it to say, she knew whatever they were doing to those poor women was inhumane and had to be stopped.

  “We’re going to make sure these horrible things never do this to another woman ever again,” Evelyn said.

  “It’s impossible to stop them, my lady.”

  “Not by the spear of Gorias. I assure you.”

  6

  Evelyn stayed back a healthy distance as Regan stealthily approached the working women, whispering instructions into their ears. The girl’s words were met with skepticism and some brief laughter. From the looks of it, these women were well acquainted with the isolation den and punishment for any attempts at escape. “Why bother putting forth any effort only to be thwarted” was the overall mentality the slave women embraced.

  Regan returned to the brush where Evelyn waited, bringing with her only a handful of willing participants.

  “This is all I could persuade to leave,” Regan said, somewhat dismayed.

  Evelyn studied the four women flanking the girl. Their bodies were as sturdy and sinewy as any man’s. They each kept their hair tied back in long braids that flowed down to their waists, having had no access to scissors or knives for upkeep. Though they kept their ragged scarves up around their faces, Evelyn could see their skin was weathered and ruddy from years of toiling in the sun. They might have once been beautiful or perhaps stately women prior to their capture, but now they were too rough and rugged to be considered as such. A deep sadness hung in the hollow of Evelyn’s chest as she considered the injustice of their deplorable circumstances. Could she simply take this small group from the sl
ave encampment and leave the others behind to rot in the piles of dung?

  “Are you ready, my lady?” Regan’s soft voice snapped Evelyn back into the moment.

  “We’re not leaving here without every last one of these women,” she stated boldly.

  One of the women stepped forth and yanked down her scarf to reveal her entire face—a jaw so square it could balance a stone and lips so thin they looked glued together. She stood at least six feet tall and towered over the others.

  “Listen to me, girl. We must leave before these vile beasts make an appearance. If these other fools choose to stay prisoners in this dung hole, so be it.” Her tone matched the chill in her slate gray eyes.

  The woman did not mince words, but this didn’t deter Evelyn from what she knew to be the right thing to do. “They’re terrified. Choices made from fear are not the right ones. We must give them reason to not be fearful. Clearly, you are not. Might you have a suggestion?”

  The behemoth sneered. “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Evelyn. I’ve come from the hamlet of Ocelum to be joined with Prince Kieran at Verubri Castle. But first I must save my … my colleague from these disgusting creatures. And save all of you as well.”

  “Well, Evelyn of Ocelum, wherever that is … where I come from the weak are left to the natural order of things.” The woman chuckled, bumping shoulders with one of the other ladies.

  Another woman came forward and pulled down her scarf to reveal a much softer and more delicate countenance. She smiled politely at the tall woman and said, “The girl is right, Prudence. We cannot leave the others behind.”

  Prudence? Evelyn thought the name quite fitting. She cracked a slight smile in Regan’s direction upon hearing the woman’s name. How was Prudence still being held captive? Surely the zeevils were no match for the giant. Prudence—not one to miss a gnat landing on a leaf—noticed the exchange and huffed abruptly, then addressed the soft-spoken lady.

  “You want to risk escaping with a hoard of unskilled, ill-prepared saps? You of all people know how difficult that will be.” Prudence glanced down at the lady’s leg for a brief moment. “We will proceed without them. End of discussion.” Prudence folded her muscular arms across her chest and said nothing more.

  The spear began to heat up in Evelyn’s hand, alerting her to oncoming danger. Not wanting to appear as though she didn’t understand the intricacies of the spear—she didn’t—she held it before the women with confidence. A silence fell over the group. Prudence eyed the spear with a peculiar admiration and bowed her head slightly, backing down and giving Evelyn the floor.

  “My father killed dragons with this spear, and I’m quite positive a few pesky zeevils will be no match. Now, before the vile beasts get wind of our plan, gather up the women—drag them if you must—and get them down to the river!” Evelyn didn’t wait around for any rebuttals or arguments. She grabbed Regan’s hand and pulled her toward the caves.

  “Where are we going?” Regan asked.

  “I’m going into those caves and destroying their nest. I’m exterminating every last one of these foul creatures so they never capture another innocent child or woman ever again.”

  It took a few yards before Evelyn realized that Regan had stopped walking. She turned around and marched back over to the girl, who cowered next to a tree.

  “I can’t go back in there,” she muttered, her chest trembling.

  “We have the spear. It will protect us,” Evelyn said.

  Regan shook her head. “I can’t go back in there … I’m sorry, my lady.”

  The girl’s fright was palpable and Evelyn knew she couldn’t force Regan to go into the caves. But she also knew she had to destroy the nest if any of the women were to successfully escape. “Run back to the others and wait for me at the river. But before you go, tell me how to find their nest.”

  Regan sighed with relief, leaning back against the tree. “It’s deep in the heart of the mountain. You must go in through the opening and spiral through the tunnels until you reach the bottom. You’ll know you’re close when you hear the hum. They hum while resting.”

  Evelyn nodded. “Where do they keep the girls and women?”

  “In the cocoons.”

  Good Galicia. Evelyn’s stomach roiled. “Cocoons?”

  “You can’t miss them,” Regan said.

  Evelyn steadied herself and pulled the scarf up around her face. “Off you go. Perhaps wade in the water. You’ll be safest there.” She stalked toward the cave opening, feelings of trepidation aching in her bones. Breathing was becoming difficult. Was she actually prepared to take on an entire zeal of zeevils? The spear glowed an opulent blue as if trying to reassure her for the task, but she questioned her sanity. Had she gone completely mad?

  “Evelyn,” Regan called out.

  She turned around. “What say you?”

  “You must not kill the queen. She’s the only one who can free them from the cocoons.”

  Evelyn nodded with confidence, though her earlier resolve was now beginning to wane. The spear heated up in her palm and she continued forward. No turning back now, it seemed to say.

  She stepped through the dark hole into the dank cave. The spear illuminated the spiral of tunnels leading below the massive mountain like a guiding light. The farther down she tromped, the colder and mustier the air became. She shivered from the chill as well as the anticipation of what was to come. Waging war against a hoard of the reeking, fast-moving beasts would result in one of two outcomes: death or victory.

  The cave walls dripped and oozed with black sap that made gooey puddles on the ground. Evelyn’s impractical shoes slurped through the muck, making each step more grueling. The length of her dress proved to be another annoyance as the layers snagged on jagged rocks. Multiple times she stepped on the material, nearly tripping herself with her own feet.

  “Enough of this nonsense.”

  She stopped and removed her cloak, then used the tip of the spear to poke a hole in the bosom of her dress. She ripped the vexing hindrance right down the middle and threw the pieces to the cave floor. Though she didn’t want to go barefoot, she knew this would be the most efficient way to move through the tunnels. So off came the shoes. Rather than a warrior prepared to slay a nest of zeevils, Evelyn looked ready for bed, standing shoeless in her undergarments. Still, she continued forth through the tunnels until at last the hum of the zeevils came upon her ears. As she broached the nest, the hum vibrated in her body.

  “I’m relying on you to assist me,” she whispered to the spear.

  The spear glowed and pulsated, pulling her toward the left. She followed the instructions without question and headed into a smaller section of the cave where she came upon the most gruesome of sights yet.

  7

  The tomblike room Evelyn stepped into was off the main tunnel. She gasped at the horrendous display before her eyes, then held her breath for fear of calling attention to her presence. At least twenty or so cocoons hung from the ceiling; each slimy, translucent sac contained a girl no older than twelve or thirteen. In some instances, probably younger. These girls were bound with some sort of webbing and their hands were strung together above their heads. The most heinous part was they were fully naked, their innocence and vulnerability exhibited for all zeevils see. Evelyn winced at the pain that exuded from their wide, terrified eyes. They were completely conscious and aware of everything.

  “By the hand of God, I will correct this!” she whispered to the showcase of hanging cocoons.

  Instead of relief settling over their faces, terror escalated. Why weren’t they relieved to be removed from these circumstances? Surely they wanted to be free. Had they been so deeply traumatized that they couldn’t imagine liberation and another way of life? Evelyn vowed before them that she would free them from the zeevils, as long as they listened carefully and cooperated. But when she approached the first cocoon, the young girl trapped inside began to kick and wail.

  “What is it, girl? Don’t
you want to be set free?” she asked in a hushed tone.

  The young girl’s eyes grew into saucers and she shook her head frantically. Evelyn needed to understand the mentality of why they didn’t want to be rescued. Were they being poisoned? She had to release one of the girls to get to the bottom of the conundrum, but each cocoon she approached, the habitant inside fought back. Finally, she found one cocoon at the back containing an older girl she guessed to be about the same age as her.

  “You’re the calmest of the group. May I open up your sac and discuss this situation with you?”

  The girl’s wan face moved in a faint nod of approval. Evelyn got to work, using the spear to slice an opening down the middle of the casing. A flood of sticky goop rushed out and covered the floor, Evelyn’s bare feet included. She found it far more disgusting than goat’s milk, but she held her composure and reached out to help the prisoner. The girl tugged away at the gag around her mouth and gasped for air.

  “You’re okay now,” Evelyn said, stroking the girl’s sticky, wet hair.

  “No … I’m not … I have about a minute left to live … Don’t open the cocoons. If you do … they will die.”

  Die? How was she supposed to free the girls from their prisons if she couldn’t open the cocoons? “I don’t understand,” Evelyn said.

  “You must get to the queen …” The girl whispered out her final words and fell back against Evelyn, dying in her arms. She had sacrificed her life for the others, thus having parted this life in a noble death.

  Evelyn thought for a moment. So this is what Regan meant when she mentioned the queen. Somehow in her naivety, Evelyn had imagined a set of keys or something more humanly tangible. But how was the queen the sole means by which the girls were to be saved? Would they have negotiations or make a peace treaty? Evelyn sat on the cold, goopy ground, staring at the cocoons and wishing she could telepathically communicate with the girls trapped inside. Letting Regan go off to the river had been a foolish decision. She knew very little about the zeevils and nothing about the queen or how she was the key to freeing the prisoners. The only way to find out would be to venture further into the cave and confront the queen.