by C. K. Rieke
“Well . . . Here we go,” she said to herself.
She stared into the shimmering grains of sand. They lay there unmoving, there was no wind or breeze in the room to even shift the mound the slightest. She tried to feel the sand, she tried to feel any different feeling in her body or mind. Searching throughout her being, she thought she felt something. Reaching out towards it with her mind, it quickly faded to nothing again.
Lilaci, watching the unmoving sand, grew frustrated. She placed both of her hands on the pedestal. She looked up to see the queen now standing next to the king, playing her with her fingernails. Veranor had taken a step forward, trying to peer into the bowl. Lilaci’s fingers gripped the bowl tightly, and she felt herself begin to sweat.
“Come on—” she whispered. “You can do this—”
Staring at the sand, now covered in her shadow, she searched herself for the Sanzoral. Scouring her mind, she was ready to move even a grain of sand, just one would do. A drop of sweat fell from her forehead, and landed in the dry sand with a soft thud. Her knuckles grew white from her holding the bowl so tightly, and her jaw grew tired from her clenching her teeth so tightly. She did not want to disappoint the king and queen, her master, or the large audience behind her. She would lose a great deal of respect, so she continued trying. She lost track of time, she didn’t know how long she’d been standing there over the pile of sand.
“Come on, you have to do this,” she whispered. “You don’t have a choice.”
Lilaci peered up to see the queen was once again seated and looking up to the crowd behind her, and the king wasn’t peering down at her, but looking over at Veranor, seemingly looking for an explanation from him why it was taking so long. She looked over at her master, who gave a disapproving frown. He was disappointed, and surely heavily embarrassed. Lilaci slowly released her grip from the bowl, and took a slow step back, hanging her head. She dishonored her master, and herself. She hadn’t felt shame like that for many years, and to disappoint her master, that was a disastrous blow to her pride.
She didn’t look up, but could hear the king rustling above.
“All rise for the king and queen,” the soldier’s voice called out.
Again, the shuffling of everyone in the room standing, and the king and queen walked off, out of the room without a word, and without acknowledging Lilaci. She’d disappointed the royal family, that would not bode well for her, especially coming from the high praises of the gods only days before.
Veranor walked over to her, with her head down, still staring at the pile of sand.
“I tried— I just couldn’t do it. I don’t know how,” she said.
“Come, let's return home,” he said. His voice was gruff and tried to hide his anger, but Lilaci could tell it was there. He grabbed her by the arm forcefully, and led her out of the room. She looked back to see the group of mages standing in their rows. One of them at the front gave her a wide smile, showing his yellow teeth, further deepening her hatred for them. Mages— conniving, demented, tricky mages. I’d love nothing more than to wipe that grin off his face with a knife. They still haunt me in my dreams, a nightmare where I’m under their constant spell.
“I’d love to cut that smile right off his face,” Lilaci whispered. “One day I’m going to make one of those bastards bleed. One day.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
With her slender finger, Lilaci felt the fine, powder-like sand outside of the complex Veranor trained her in. The sun was showing its last light as she dipped her palm down to the soft sands. She scooped up a handful of it, and watched as it drifted back down, flowing in the quick, biting winds.
I’ve shamed my master. All because of this stupid sand. How am I supposed to use this power I was given when no one alive has it? The gods didn’t give me any information, and Veranor only wants me to figure it out, so he’ll look favorable. I don’t know what to do. What should I do? I’ve disappointed the king and queen. Maybe I should leave— She looked up to the fading light of the bright-red sun. Surely, they’d hunt me down, and probably execute me. But, my only other option is to find how to control this power, and use the sand itself. Who am I kidding? I couldn’t ever leave him, he’s the one who has made me what I am. I’m nothing without him.
A small lizard poked it’s head up from over a mound of sand to her right. She poured the remaining sand from her palm, and she let her fingers dance in the sand in front of the lizard. It had blue spikes along its black body.
“Hey there, little one,” she said. “What are you doing out this late—”
“Lilaci,” Veranor said. She hadn’t noticed him exit the complex, as he was standing back by the front gate. “Come.”
She stood quickly, and ran back toward him, and dipped back inside the musty interior of the complex.
They walked together, side by side back down the torch-lit hallway.
“We will speak in the morning,” he said. He opened the door, opening it out wide for her. She walked into the room, only lit by the faint light from the corridor. He shut the door behind her with a thud, and she heard the key enter its hole, and the door was latched and locked.
As she’d done one thousand times before, she felt for her flint and struck it, lighting three candles on the small table by her bed. She went over to her vanity and mirror, and hummed a song she knew not where she learned it. Gently she plucked the wooden pick from her hair, and laid it on the vanity, parallel to its front side. She then unwrapped her hair and let it fall to her shoulders. Humming the sweet melody, she took up the brush from the vanity, and made long strokes with it in her silky, black hair. This was the most pleasant part of her day, every day. She was alone, in the safety of her room, with the soft light of candles. No one was watching her, no one was judging her, and no one was touching her. It was her safe place. She continued to hum, and as she looked at herself in the foggy mirror, she had a brief memory flow into her mind. It was a memory of herself in a dark corner, sitting next to a boy. Neither of them spoke, but she felt the same next to this boy as she did brushing her hair alone. A brief memory, but a warming one. Once done combing her hair, she stood, and changed into her nightgown of soft, white linen. She tried to let that memory re-enter her mind, but it was distant. She lay in bed for several hours before sleep found her.
The following morning Lilaci sat across from Veranor at the large round table. The first meal that day was of duck eggs, fresh dates, and two slices of a smoky rye. She drank small sips of her black tea as she watched him from over the lip of the mug. He seemed calm and collected, not at all angry or spiteful. Once he was done with his last bite of food, he wiped the corners of his mouth with the cloth from his lap and laid it on the table.
“I’ll be showing you off today,” he said.
“What’s that, master?”
“Your training is done here. It’s time for you to fulfill the wish of the gods.”
“But—”
He shot her a mean glare. “Don’t ‘but’ me, Lilaci. It is time. After you’re done with your food, you’ll be expected to collect your things. You’ll be introduced to your search party, and you will find that girl.”
Lilaci didn’t know what to say, that didn’t seem to be a discussion he was willing to have.
He stood to leave.
“Master— I haven’t found the Sanzoral. I fear I will disappoint you and the gods.”
“Then don’t,” he said as he walked out of the round, stone room briskly.
Lilaci ate the remainder of her meal slowly, as the guard at the door watched her, eager for her to finish so that he may escort her back to her chambers. She looked up at him, as he stared impatiently at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him, and continued to move the last bites of food around with her fork on the plate.
Eventually, Lilaci gave in, and she was led back to her room where she was given one hour to collect all she wanted. This did sadden her, as she wanted to appease the gods, but this had been her home for the last few years.
It was her only safe place.
Looking around, she saw her few possessions, and had to decide which to leave. She went and put her comb in her pack, and then realized that nothing in the room was intrinsically valuable to her. There was soap, a mirror, candles, clothes and a few other sundries that wouldn’t be worth carrying. She put a few backups of clean clothes in her bag, wrapped her red sash around her waist, and fitted her sword at her hip. She looked into the mirror one last time, she checked to make sure her hair was in proper fashion, which it was.
She ran her hand along the side of the oval-shaped mirror, and spun it slightly. It’s back was a tan wood. She drew her dagger from her pack and began to dig its tip into the hardwood. She drug it down until there was a straight angle of an ‘L.’ She finished her carving, and placed the dagger back in her pack. As she left the room, she’d done one thing that was forbidden to her in her training— Never leave a trace of yourself in her profession. The back of the mirror, now facing the wall again, had her name ‘Lilaci’ freshly carved into its back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Leaving the training camp behind them, Veranor, Lilaci and another guard rode out under the hot sun directly overhead. Sweat had already begun to mist her arms, face and neck. On their Ioxi, they didn’t ride directly into Voru, but to the outskirts of the western territory. The ride took the better part of two hours, and Veranor said not one word to her as she rode behind the two.
There was an instance where he said something softly over to the guard, and they both laughed. She couldn’t hear what the comment was, but it hurt her, whatever it was. Once they pulled up to a mid-size hut at the outer part of the city, she felt her stomach turn to a ball instinctively. Before them sat a group of Scaethers around a small fire, eating cooked meat from the bone and sipping alcohol from waterskins. They were laughing and joking as the three of them rode up.
“Commander,” one of them said up to Veranor, and stood to meet his attention. He bowed, and the others quickly did the same, although slower than Lilaci was expecting. It could almost be seen as disrespectful, how slow they were. There were three of them around the fire.
“Foro, Garenond, and Dellanor,” Veranor said, still atop his Iox. “Well met, you may sit.” They went back to their spots around the fire, and Veranor dismounted, shuffling his long cloak’s cape-tails behind him.
Foro, assuming to be the main Scaether, offered up a waterskin to Veranor, who gulped down a mouthful of the liquid. He passed it off to the guard, who did the same. He weakly offered it to Lilaci, who declined. Foro was lean, with strained muscles and thick veins in his arms. “We’re ready to get back out on the sands, commander. We’ve been wasting away for two weeks now. We’re itching for some action.”
“Hmpf,” Veranor grunted. “Well, your time has come to get back out there. May I introduce my pupil to you, this is Lilaci.”
Lilaci dismounted and stood before the three Scaethers, who neither stood nor bowed. She reciprocated with the same. These three don’t look like much. Why do I need their help? I could kill the lot of them before they could even draw a sword. Look how sand-worn they are. They’re filthy and bulky, like they haven’t trained in ages.
“What you want us to do with her?” Dellanor said, his bearded face crammed with food.
“She will be leading you out into the sands,” Veranor said.
“Leading?” Geranond said, he was a strong man with a bald head, and silver piercings. “She’s going to be leading us?”
Veranor nodded. “Yes.”
Foro gave him an upturned eyebrow. “This is the second female you bring us, what is the need for all these girls? We’ve been doing this almost as long as they’ve been alive.”
Second female? What other girl is he speaking of?
“It’s the will of the gods,” Veranor snapped back. “You dare question their design? I heard Dânoz with my own ears. I saw him with my own eyes!”
Foro put a hand up. “I apologize. You are ranking officer here. We will do the will of Dânoz and the others.”
“Speaking of,” Veranor said. “Where is she?”
Garenond whistled loudly with his fingers at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, you done in there? We’ve got company.” There was no response from the hut behind them, where he appeared to be whistling.
Dellanor stood, and looked back at the hut. “Hey, Fewn! Come on out and meet the commander.”
Did he say Fewn? That girl I’ll never forget. She’s the one who watched me in Sorock, the one who fought me and lost, and in the end, betrayed me somehow . . . I can’t remember. There’s something inside of me, twisting in my stomach telling me to kill her here and now. But I can’t remember what.
The cloth flap opened at the entrance of the hut, and out emerged a familiar face, but older, and she’d grown taller. She strode out confidently and walked straight up to Veranor, and bowed to him before meeting his eye.
“Fewn,” he said. “You look well.”
“Never been better,” she replied. “And I’ve never been more ready.”
“You remember Lilaci, don’t you?”
She looked over at Lilaci. “Yes, I remember her. She was quite the warrior back in Sorock. Good to see you again, friend.”
It took every bit of Lilaci’s self-control to not wince in disgust, or attack the girl. She forced a slight nod of her head. Best keep my composure, at least while Veranor is still around. Why do I have such a bitter taste about her? Is it because we were forced to fight so many times? No . . . that’s not it. It’s something else. Something more mischievous. Something more deceitful, but I don’t know what.
“Lilaci will be in charge of your expedition,” Veranor said. “She carries a power, a rare gift of the gods. It will aid you in your search for a girl.”
Foro stood again, “Alright, let’s get packing.”
While the others went about collecting their things, and loading up their one Iox, Lilaci watched as the Scaethers moved smoothly to pack up as a unit. Even Fewn was quick and professional. These three Scaethers may seem worn and tired, but I can already tell they know the sands well, and are well traveled. They’ve probably lived like this for years now.
As she watched them, she was also waiting for Veranor to bid her a goodbye. After all, he wasn’t only her master, but they’d been together, training for many years now. He was the closest thing to a friend she had, as sad as that thought was in her mind. She watched as he turned back towards his Iox, about to re-mount.
“Master—”
“Yes, Lilaci,” he replied.
She was unsure what to say. She only looked up at him, as he had his hands on the reigns. “Will we see each other again?” she asked.
“That, Lilaci, is in the hands of the gods now.”
He put a boot in a stirrup, and was about to mount.
“Have I let you down?” she asked, softly.
He paused, not mounting yet, but lowering his head, and let out a sigh. “Just bring back the girl, that’s all you need be concerned with.” He looked into her eyes. “Don’t come back without that girl.”
Lilaci felt the amulet that hung around his neck. She could see the encircling worms in her mind.
“I won’t fail you in this, master.”
He mounted the beast, and the guard did the same. They took the reins of the Iox she’d ridden to their camp and with a rustle of the leather straps, they led it back with them. Back towards the training camp, and Lilaci’s ‘home’.
With the sun hanging low over them, Veranor rode back out onto the sands, where he’d have a warm meal with a roof over his head. Lilaci turned back around to see the band of Scaethers and Fewn finishing up the last bit of their packing. Foro stood by the fully packed Iox, and waved at Lilaci for her to join.
“Ready, girl? We’ve still got some sunlight. You’re not afraid of the dark, are ya?”
Part IV
Return to the Sands
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lilaci
walked the sands for the first time since she was a child that night. It was a confusing night for her. Her mind seemed to be racing with the excitement of being out in the world again, not confined by anyone or anything. Yet, there was a part of her that was saddened by the feel of the soft sand under her feet, the openness under the star-filled sky, and the sight of the Scaethers that she was accompanying, leading even.
Worst of all, she couldn’t shake her apprehension of Fewn walking behind her along the tall winding ridges of the dunes. There must’ve been a reason that Veranor picked her to accompany me, but why? It doesn’t make sense. I’m strong enough to find and capture a young girl. Why bring a girl I beat repeatedly back in Sorock? Is she here to watch me? Is she some sort of failsafe, to make sure the mission is carried out in case I fail? Is she supposed to learn from me? Veranor is wise and can be conniving. All I know is I need to keep an eye on her. The others, they seem so fascinated with the hunt and being back on the sands— their motives seem simple enough.
The three men talked among themselves along the long walk, and they walked all through the night. Their spirits were high, as they seemed to thrive on the hunt. Back in their camp, they seem slovenly and gross to Lilaci. Yet, here on the sands, their posture was well-trained, there was no alcohol, and little horseplay. They were professional Scaethers, with much experience, Lilaci gathered.
She would guide them, and while they were busy picking up tracks, she would be able to work on finding the power inside that had eluded her. Looking down at the fine sand as it cascaded down the dune to her left, she knelt and scooped up a handful of it. She let it flow from side to side in her palm, watching it, and trying to feel or see anything different about it. Focusing hard on it, she grew annoyed at her inability to cause the sand to do anything but want to fall back to the dune. She threw it from her hand at her side and grunted.