by C. K. Rieke
Dânoz’s gaze moved around the room, scanning the soldiers, the king and queen, and then let his eyes rest on Lilaci. “My huntress, you may rise.”
Lilaci stood slowly, yet hung her head to shield her eyes from the eyes of the great god that seemed to look inside of her, it made her feel vulnerable.
“I bid you welcome, Lilaci,” he said. “We have long wanted you to be in our presence. This is a great day for you, a day to remember.”
Fayell, with her soft features and welcoming smile approached Lilaci, who looked up at her. What do they want with me? Why not Veranor, my master? Or the king and queen themselves? Should I be worried? No. It is my duty to serve my master and my gods. Whatever they wish, will be done, with all the strength I have in my body.
Fayell walked around to Lilaci’s back, scanning her, looking her up and down, and letting her godly fingers drift along Lilaci’s shoulders and back. Her fingers felt like fresh rose petals. “Do you worship your gods?” Fayell whispered as she appeared again over Lilaci’s right shoulder.
Lilaci nodded.
“Would you do whatever we wished?” Fayell asked in her sweet voice. “Whenever we asked? Without question? Without doubt? Only the most loyal will be rewarded in the afterlife.”
A flash of memory shot into Lilaci’s mind then, the afterlife . . . Something about the mention of the afterlife makes me want to go there. There’s someone there— but I can’t remember who. She nodded again, with her head down still. “Look up at me, child,” Fayell said as she softly gripped Lilaci’s chin in her two fingers. Even if Lilaci wished to fight it, Fayell’s two fingers were the strongest things alive she’d ever felt.
Her eyes were soft, yet held the power of the infinite in them. Lilaci could see the majesty of swirling distant stars and they had the hue of a great, golden sun. Lilaci felt her mind being consumed by an urge to do whatever she asked, it was an urge that she could feel in every part of her body. “Whatever you wish, whatever you ask of me, will be done, and done with all my strength.”
Fayell smiled at her, and then turned and walked back to the other gods. Lilaci could feel the gaze of Veranor next to her, but she was still overwhelmed with the power of the gods.
Vigolos, the half-height god, spoke down to her. “There’s something we need you to do Lu-Polini. There’s someone we need, someone who carries something we want, and we need you to find this one.” His voice was harsh and gruff.
Then Eyr spoke, “This person we want, this person we need, is of grave concern to us. There is nothing I want more than to drink the blood of this one, and consume their soul. But by fate, we are not allowed to mettle with the affairs of the Old Serpentine Prophecies. However, you can, and you will.”
“We want her alive,” Armymos said in a grave tone. “Pain will be her last thought, as I pluck her soul from her body once she is with us in our realm.”
Dânoz looked into Lilaci’s eyes, and she had to lower her head again, as his gaze was almost painful— his eyes burned into her with a searing light that touched her soul. It was as if he was seeing her for everything she was in that instant. As if he was staring into her past, her deepest thoughts and fears. She peered up briefly to see he was now looking over at Gorlen, who lowered her head in affirmation, and she began to walk toward Lilaci. She could feel the sorceress’ presence, and she felt cold, and Lilaci began to shiver. She didn’t know if it was from the cold or fear of the witch-god.
Gorlen began a chant. The words she spoke were of another language, an old language. “Heromin, Ganthrow, Havensale . . .” she repeated. The sorceress began to encircle Lilaci with smooth, short steps.
“Lilaci of the sands,” Dânoz said. “Lilaci of Sorock. Soldier and Oncur of Veranor— You will carry a gift of the gods with you in your quest. This is the only thing of importance you will ever do in your brief lifetime. You will bring us this girl back to our land of Arrallyn. Once you have completed this quest, you will have the thanks of the Great Gods, and you will be remembered for the next thousand years as a High Knight of the Gods.”
Even with Gorlen walking slowly around her, Lilaci could feel the glare of Veranor, and his rage. The sorceress continued to chant in a low voice, and the words danced through Lilaci’s mind.
She heard Fayell’s voice then. “The gift we bestow on you, is the first gift we have given to man in over one-hundred years. You are the first in a century to be gifted the power of the gods, the Sanzoral.”
“Use it to defend your gods, and fulfill our wish,” Eyr said.
Lilaci’s mind swirled with bright colors and the shapes of distant, burning stars as Gorlen chanted louder. “Heromin, Ganthrow, Havensale . . .” Her words echoed throughout Lilaci’s body and soul. “Heromin, Ganthrow, Havensale . . .”
“You, Lilaci—” Danoz said. “Will have the strength to control the infinite reach of the sands themselves.”
“Heromin, Ganthrow, Havensale . . .” Gorlen’s chant raced through Lilaci’s mind. “Heromin, Ganthrow, Havensale . . .”
“You won’t be able to harness the sands at first—” Dânoz said. “—But you will become the most powerful Scaether in the Arr. You will be able to move the greatest of dunes with only a thought. We give you our greatest gift, the Sanzoral, in exchange for bringing us the Arr’s greatest gift, the girl of the Old Serpentine Prophecies, the Dragon’s Breath.”
Chapter Eighteen
My dream has come true. After all of my years of training, I will not only do my gods honor by becoming one of their soldiers, but now they are telling me I will become their greatest— their greatest in one-hundred years. I’ll be better than all of the girls of Sorock, even better than the boys who would have become the Scaethers. They must not even trust their best Scaethers to find this girl out on the sands. They’re entrusting me with a power to find her and bring her to them. I will accomplish this task. I will go from coast to coast if need be, scouring the lands for her. I will find her.
Gorlen had ceased or finished her chanting, and Lilaci’s mind returned to its relaxed state. The Witch Queen returned back to her ranks by the other gods, and Lilaci felt that same static charge as when they first appeared.
Lilaci heard Dânoz speak as small strands of lightning shot and crackled between the gods, and strong wind gusted through the room. “The girl,” his voice boomed in the storm. “She is with a small caravan, in the Bompart region. She is of fair color, with silver eyes, and the mark of a dragon’s tooth on the back of her shoulder.”
The winds picked up and the lightning danced throughout the gods, who stood expressionless and unfazed by the storm encircling them.
“I will find the Dragon’s Breath, and I will bring her to you. It is my primary mission, for my ultimate target,” Lilaci yelled out in the gushing winds.
Dânoz gave a hint of a smile, and as the storm increased in its ferocity, a blinding light emerged from the pedestal. Once the light faded and Lilaci’s eyes were able to look out into the royal room again, it had reverted back to its original state. The king and queen looked exhausted, but they were no longer lit in the red hue.
Lilaci looked and saw the gods had vanished. She looked over and saw Veranor scanning the room, and then looking back at Lilaci. He had an expression she’d never seen on him before. It was a mix of excitement, desperation, and anger. Anger was not a new emotion on the face of my master, although excitement was rare. However, desperation was something I’d never sensed in him, it must have been a fear in him, being in the presence of the gods. Or, perhaps he didn’t want them to leave. Maybe he wanted them to acknowledge his presence, which they did not.
The king and queen walked over to their thrones, and both sat with a sigh.
“Always exciting to see our saviors, is it not?” the king said, trying to catch his breath.
Lilaci nodded, “Yes, my king.” She bowed her head. That was the most incredible experience of my life. I’ve never felt such power. The Six, they truly are spectacular. I’ll treasure thi
s memory the rest of my life.
“You’ve been given a gift,” the queen said. “An extraordinary gift, the Sanzoral. It’s been extinct in the Arr for, as they said, a century. I trust you are worthy of it, otherwise, it would not have been gifted to you.” The queen leaned forward on her throne, and gazed into Lilaci’s eyes. “Learn to use it, but don’t wait to master it. Find the girl with the dragon’s tooth birthmark, and take her to Arralyn, in the east. Put us all in the god’s great favor, and you will become a High Knight of the Gods, the greatest honor to be bestowed upon your kind.”
“Yes, my queen.”
“Now go,” the king said. “And do not fail the gods! They are generous and empowering, but ruthless and spiteful when things don’t go their way.”
“Yes, my king.”
“Come,” Veranor said, and grabbed Lilaci’s arm. He squeezed her arm through the long stretch of the room, and led her out the high doors opened by the royal guard.
Once the doors behind them were shut, he spun her to face him. “You?” he shouted. “You have the Sanzoral inside of you?” His eyes fumed with anger.
“I’m sorry master.” Have I upset him? I’ve done nothing. Is he . . . jealous? I’ve only ever tried to please him with my service and strength.
His top lip shut down firmly. She could tell he wanted to berate her, even beat her when he was normally like that. But he withheld his fury, as he turned towards the front gate of the palace, the tips of his violet cloak brushed across her shin as he continued walking.
I’ve never seen him like this, its as if he's . . . Jealous. This is a bad place for me to be. Veranor only accepts things when he is on top of the food chain, at the top of the pyramid. Yet, he still carries the amulet with the three worms encircling each other, and the red gem at the center, I am sworn to obey his every command. If he wills it, I will follow. If he wishes to beat me, I will submit. If he wishes to kill me, then that’s the will of the gods, and my fate.
Chapter Nineteen
They walked back to their home together, not speaking a word to one another. She only followed him, through the densely packed streets of the city. He walked at a quick pace, and expected those shopping in the markets to move out of his way. At one point a small boy didn’t notice Veranor walking through the crowd, and he pushed the boy nearly over, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him out of the way.
Walking through the market district, Veranor took an unusual right turn onto another side street they never took on their way back to their barracks. Lilaci followed him as he continued walking down unusual streets she didn’t recognize. Her eyes darted up to the tops of the buildings on these streets, at the many people looking down from the crowded rooftops. She thought it was a vulnerable position they were in low on the road.
He didn’t flinch. He only continued walking down the roads, his cloak’s tails gliding along the ground. Then she caught a familiar scent, and there was a faint tingling in her mind. She couldn’t place the smell, but she recognized the high walls covered in vines, as soon as they rounded the corner.
Lilaci stopped in her tracks.
Veranor turned impatiently to look at her. “Come,” he said, forcefully.
She was hesitant, and took a slight step back, looking up at the high walls. The sounds of combat were faint on the other side of the walls, and she recognized now the smell. The scent was of their furnace burning hot on the inside of Sorock. She hadn’t seen those high walls since she was taken by wagon, years ago. “I’m not sure— I want to . . .”
Veranor reached for the thin leather strap around his neck, and pulled out the amulet from underneath his cloak. Lilaci looked at it, and she saw the red stone at the center of it give off a faint glow, and she felt her mind relax. She watched as the three worms began to encircle each other, wrapping their thin bodies around each other, it was hypnotic. “Come, Lilaci. I won’t ask again.”
Lilaci found her legs and feet moving on their own as she followed him up to the gate of Sorock. He banged on the door three times with his fist, and quickly the door was unlatched from the other side.
“Commander,” one of the guards said in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you.” The guards opened the gate’s door widely.
Veranor entered, then Lilaci, and the doors were shut behind them with a thud. Lilaci’s mind was partly soothed, but the sight of being trapped within those walls, and seeing the young girls walking around the encampment, she felt an anxiety course through her. A line of girls was walking out of one of the bunkrooms to one of the buildings were they would teach them of combat.
They walked close enough to Lilaci that she could have reached out and touched them. They’re so small. They’re just young girls. Was I that small when I first came here? She then looked over at the tiny hut in the corner. That’s where I was taken when I first came here as a young girl myself. I remember something about that place. Shadows? There were shadows on the wall. Shadows. Shadows on the wall, there’s something about those shadows in the candlelight that reminds me of something from my past, something even before this place. There’s a man in a tent, and then . . .
“Lilaci, come with me,” the commander said abruptly. She felt the presence of the amulet around his neck. She didn’t speak, but her mind shot back to him, and she followed him as he walked over to his old office. Once they arrived at the door, he slid a skeleton key into the lock, and opened it with a click and pop.
He entered the dimly lit room littered with light cobwebs that bobbed in the gentle breeze that entered with them. Striking a flint, he lit a half dozen candles around the room. He went over behind his desk, and pulling out the wooden chair from behind it, he wiped the dust from the seat. She watched him remove his cloak and place it on a tall rack at the corner of the room before taking a seat.
She stood quietly before the desk as Veranor rustled through its drawers, producing scattered pages, and one thick book, that landed with a thud. He examined the cover, running his fingers along its spine.
“This is an important book for me, Lilaci. Have I ever told you about it?”
“No, master.” If the book was that important, why is he only showing it to me now? I thought he’d shared all of his knowledge with me.
“It has no title,” he said. His eyes gazed upon its weathered bindings. “The sands have worn through the words on the cover over the ages. But I’ve come to call it The Book of the Unknown. Unknown title, unknown authors, unknown origin. You know what I do know about this book however?”
“No, master. What?”
“Within this book, and hidden throughout the text on these pages is knowledge from the past. Knowledge of the gods, knowledge of their prophecies, knowledge of the time before our gods, and knowledge of the Sanzoral, the power you now carry.” Lilaci caught a bitterness in his voice when he said that last part.
“The Sanzoral? What does it say?” she asked.
“Patience, my child, I’m getting to that. But first—” he said, as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of sand. With it firmly in his palm, he cupped his hand and let the sand trickle onto the table. “Can you feel it? Can you feel it as it falls to the wooden desk before you?”
Lilaci looked at the sand, and tried to feel it. She didn’t feel a thing. “No.”
The last of the grains of sand fell to the desk, and Veranor wiped his hands together, letting the last remnants of sand scatter around the desk, and he rubbed his palms against his pants to clean them. “Hmpf—”
“What does the book say of the Sanzoral? If you don’t mind my asking?” she asked again.
“I’m getting there, but first, there is another section I’d like to read you,” he said, and flipped through the sheets of papyrus to a marker three-quarters of the way in. “Here we are. Its written in a language, not unlike our own, but old and outdated. It reads ‘Ou Sisen Allan val a Grandendeur en dan pur Donera, au avel Repenturen. Vou a lux, lu Lu-Polini Hur ven sur Reizenfell en Curz’.”
Lilaci tried to follow the old language, and ran the foreign words through her mind, trying to make sense of them.
“Did you make out any of that?” Veranor asked.
“Yes, a bit. I know Lu-Polini, that’s us. Sisen Allans is the six gods, and I recognize Reizenfell from somewhere, but that’s all I can make out. I’m sorry if I disappointed you, master.”
“The text says . . .” he began. “The six gods are Great and possess supreme power, but also they are spiteful. Through their light, the chosen Lu-Polini will be given a gift of their magic, and given a curse.”
“A curse?” she asked in surprise. “What curse?”
Veranor skimmed further through the pages, and deeper into the book. “Here is the text written of the Sanzoral, and the supposed last Lu-Polini to carry it. It says here, and I’ll simply translate it for you—”
“In the dusk of the Knights of the Whiteblade, the armies that fought the gods in defense of the dragons, a great battle was raging with the Great Dragon Kôrran. The battle lasted a fortnight, and eventually the gods grew impatient and gave a portion of their own powers to the commander of their army, Gorg. Gorg was the first recipient of the light of the Sanzoral. Through him, the Sanzoral with its violet light, made the earth crack and burn. With Gorg’s rage for his fallen comrades, he smote the dragon by bringing down a part of the Arr itself onto the mighty beast, felling it, and saving the lands from Kôrran’s Scourge.”
Veranor stopped and looked up at Lilaci, scanning her eyes and mind.
I’ve heard of the Knights of the Whiteblade, and everyone knows the dragon Kôrran, the last of the great dragons, and I’ve heard of Gorg, the commander of the Knights of the Blackblade, but never the Sanzoral being given to him. What of the curse though? Was he cursed?