by C. K. Rieke
“The girl,” Lilaci said. “Like you said, she hasn’t moved.”
“So?” Fewn said, her tone condescending.
“The gods are afraid of that one little girl,” Lilaci said, “and she hasn’t moved an inch. She’s just staring at the fire.”
“What’s your point?” Fewn asked anxiously.
“You’re right about the girl,” Foro said. “There’s something different about her. She has a presence. I can sense it from here.”
Fewn looked away from Lilaci and Foro, and looked back down to the girl, sitting at the center of the circle of tents and hanging clothes, motionless with no wind. The girl’s hair was black and shoulder length, it wasn’t pulled back but framed her pale face, and Lilaci saw the distinct widow’s peak on her young forehead. The mark of the Lu-Polini. “She’s still just a girl,” Fewn said, spitefully.
“We’ll wait until they’re sound asleep,” Foro said. “Then we’ll each attack from separate angles. Three tents, three of us. I’ll take the one with the girl.”
“No,” Fewn interjected. “I’ll get her.”
Lilaci turned to the both of them, and in the sternest voice she could muster, she said, “No. I’m in command. I’ll get the girl.”
The light of the fire had dimmed as a small trickle of smoke floated up into the heavens. A slight breeze had arrived, bringing with it a subtle whistling and howling.
Lilaci felt the sand under her feet as she strode forward, towards the caravan. She crept low and silently, her sword firmly in her hand, and the dagger tucked into the back of the red sash at her waist. She slunk up to the front flap of the tent in which the girl and her family slept. Reaching her hand up slowly she let her fingers caress the tough canvas flap, and she delicately pulled it to the side.
She took another soft step forward and peered into the tent, dimly lit in the light of a single candle. Looking around she saw a man in the corner, snoring slightly, sound asleep. Next to him was a woman, frail and bundled up beneath a thick blanket. Then— there in the other corner, the body of a small girl, curled up into a ball underneath a brown, linen blanket. Her black hair was covering her face, as her pale skin was lit by the dying light of the candle.
Then— a faint thought drifted into Lilaci’s mind then. Something here doesn’t feel right. I feel like I’ve been here before. Not here though, I feel like I’ve been in this tent, only it wasn’t this tent— The pain shot back into her head, and she dropped to her knees, clutching both sides of her head in her palms. Again, she saw the writhing worms, slick with slime as they wrapped around each other— squeezing. What is it I can’t see in my own mind. Was I in this tent before? Another shot of pain. What is my own memory hiding from me? Was it a dream?
Then, while kneeling in the middle of the tent, Lilaci looked up to see the young girl, standing before her. Her eyes were piercing. Those same pale gray eyes she’d heard about before were staring into her, they seemed to be looking into Lilaci’s soul. Then like a strong gust of wind on the sands, the pain was completely wiped from her mind. The worms disappeared and the red glow of Veranor’s amulet faded. A memory began to form as she looked up at the young girl, standing silently before her.
“Lilaci,” she heard a man’s voice say in her memory. “What are you doing up still?”
“Father, I couldn’t sleep,” a young girl said.
Lilaci felt like a rock just formed in her stomach. She couldn’t breathe, she was completely taken by the memory. She lifted her hands up to her chest, still staring into the beautiful eyes of the girl. Then, she heard the man’s voice again, and before her in the tent, she saw him. “Come,” he said. Lilaci watched as a little girl went over and laid next to her father. “Why are you awake my daughter?” The girl snuggled into her father, as he wrapped his arms around her. “There’s plenty of time to be awake under the hot sun in the sands, and we begin our walking tomorrow again—”
Lilaci lifted her hands to the sides of her neck, and she felt as if she was about to faint from the feeling welling up inside her. “Father?” she whispered in disbelief. She covered her mouth and tears began to stroll down her cheeks.
The young girl was no older than six years as she held her father tightly. Her face was pale, and she looked as peaceful as any girl she’d ever seen. “I don’t know father, my mind won’t slow tonight. Sometimes I have trouble shutting away my thoughts,” the young girl said to her father.
Through her streaming tears, Lilaci was overcome with grief. She lifted her shaking hand slowly from her mouth and said to the girl in her memory. “Don’t let go of him, don’t you ever let go.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “What are you thinking of this time of night?”
“Tell him you love him,” Lilaci said through her anguish. Then she looked over on the floor of the tent next to the father— two small children. “Oh no . . . Darig, Elka. I’ve forgotten you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My brother and sister . . . I had a brother and sister . . . Please don’t let this happen. Please god, don’t let this happen . . .”
Then, the young girl with the pale skin asked her father, “I was wondering how long we have to walk the sands. Will it have to go on forever?”
The tears flowed down Lilaci’s cheeks in streams. “Oh god . . . Please, someone stop this. Father, they’re going to take me away. You have to run. You have to fight them off. They’re going to do things to mother . . .” Then she choked up. “My mother . . .”
“What’re you two going on about?” her mother asked as she sat up in the bed next to her, reaching out and running her fingers through the young girl’s hair.
Lilaci’s lips quivered as she reached out, her fingers outstretched and shaking. “M—Mother . . . I’ve forgotten your face.” A smile appeared across Lilaci’s face, yet her lips continued to quiver as she cried. “You are so beautiful. More beautiful than I could’ve ever imagined. I forgot your face, I’m sorry. I— I don’t want to forget you again. I don’t want to forget anymore. I love you. Mother, don’t leave me again. Please, don’t go.”
The little girl said to her mother, “I’m sorry. It's my fault we have to walk. I wish my brother and sister could live in one of the great cities, full of fresh water and food. It’s my fault.”
“Don’t you say things like that,” the mother said to the young girl. “You know we are out here with the others, because we are a family, and we need to stick together. The rest of the Arr doesn’t understand that you’re just a girl— just a normal girl. Just because you were born— different— from the other children.”
“Your mother is right,” the father said. “You’re our daughter, that’s it, so we’ll stick together. And you wait, you’ll see, that someday we’ll find a place to call home. The Arr is a big place.”
“No,” Lilaci cried. “No, you won’t . . . Tell them you love them, Lilaci. Hold on to them as long as you can . . .”
“You mean it?” the young girl said. “You think we’ll find a home that my little brother and sister can rest?”
Lilaci covered her face with her hands and let her head fall to the sand. Crying uncontrollably. My family. I had a family. I miss you so much. I’d give anything to be able to hold you now mother. I left them . . . Darig and Elka. They were left alone out in the desert. They must have been so scared. So alone. And I did nothing . . . Nothing! Oh father, you were so wrong. We were never going to be together, we were never going to be safe . . . because of me. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. It’s my fault you’re all dead.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lilaci then heard a muffling sweep next to her, then the distinct sound of sharp metal slicing through soft skin and muscle. The blood-curdling cries then rang out in the tent. Lilaci was suddenly swept back into the present, and she looked up in horror.
“Lilaci?” Foro said. “What are you doing?”
Lilaci watched as Foro tore the woman’s clothes from her body, as the father lay dying in the bed next to them. As the woman screamed in ter
ror, he tore her skirt from her waist, revealing her dirt-covered thigh and leg.
Lilaci was stricken with panic. She looked into the terrified woman’s eyes as she stared at the young girl standing in the middle of the room, crying as she watched her father slipping into death’s grasp.
“Get away from her,” Lilaci said. The panic had vanished, and a distinct clarity flowed through her mind. “Get away from my mother.”
“What in the gods are you going on about?” Foro said. “This is my claim as a Scaether. You know that. This is mine to take. Now leave this tent at once.”
“You touch my mother, and you’re a dead man.” Tears rolled down her cheeks again, and an intense fire burned inside her. “I swear upon the lives of the gods themselves if you touch my mother or me, I’ll cut you down with a fury you’ve never seen.”
Foro’s eyes focused with a keen intensity onto Lilaci, and he slowly stood away from the woman, crying and appearing to be in shock. He held out his hands to his sides, with his palms facing Lilaci. He still held the bloody dagger in his hand.
“You know that threatening me is against the code,” he said. “You could be hanged. In fact, I could even kill you— right here, right now— for such an act.”
“Step away from her if you want to keep your life,” she said. “I’m not going to ask again.”
He looked at Lilaci with an entertained expression, then he looked down to the woman, attempting to cover herself. “You want me to spare her life? Is that what you want?” He looked back up at Lilaci. “You want me to let your mother leave this place?” In an instant, without remorse, and with the same emotionless precision as threading a needle, he lodged his dagger into the side of the woman’s head. She attempted to scream, but it faded to silence, and she fell on her back, on top of her murdered husband. “Well, that’s not going to happen now, is it?”
“No!” Lilaci’s screamed in the tent, her voice cracking and breaking. That fire that burned inside of her had erupted into a roaring inferno. She was dripping with rage. “Mother . . .” Lilaci burst forth, letting out a roar out that echoed for miles in the dark desert.
Foro drew his sword from his side quickly. Lilaci’s sword cut through the air, and their swords collided with a sharp clang, and sparks flew when the two swords met. She pulled back and slashed at him again. Their swords flickering in the candlelight as they collided again.
“I told you not to do that,” Lilaci said. “You soulless bastard. I’m going to kill you for that.” She laid blow after blow with him, both of them appearing to be equally fast, although Lilaci could tell he had the slight advantage in strength. As her blade slid through the air like the breeze on the dunes, each time he defended wisely, and he quickly began to counter with his own blows, driving her back.
“I should’ve known not to trust you, you crazy bitch,” Foro said, his eyes grew wild with rage. “This is why women aren’t Scaethers. You’re soft. You’re frail. I should take you instead of her. Now that you’ve thrown our code out, you’re just one of them again.”
“You’re right about one thing,” she said, pushing him back with cunning blows onto him. “I’m one of them. I’ve never been one of you!”
He let out a loud yell and lunged at her with all his strength. She could sense he was going in for the killing shot, and with her senses heightened to the brink of exhilaration, she saw the move coming, and as it did, time had slowed. She inched her torso just out of the way of his blade’s path and shifted her weight to her front foot and began to spin. She spun around the back of his sword as his momentum carried him forward. A surprised expression lit his eyes as she hefted her sword from her spinning arc and stuck it into his back. She felt the blade’s sharp tip as it cut through his muscles and stuck through his heart. He was paralyzed at that moment. His eyes were fraught with pain and confusion as he looked back at her.
“You . . . traitor,” he muttered, blood flowing into his mouth. She twisted the sword in him, enjoying his anguish.
“You won’t take me,” she said. “You won’t take anything from anybody ever again.” She raised her foot up to his back and shoved him from her sword, to the ground. He clutched his chest and coughed up blood to the sand. Lilaci turned to leave the tent but stopped suddenly as she saw Fewn standing at its front flaps. Her mouth agape as she looked down at Foro dying in the faint candlelight, her eyes rose up from him to Lilaci’s sword, covered in fresh blood. Her gaze continued up to meet Lilaci’s eyes.
“Lilaci— What have you done?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Where’s the girl?”
“Lilaci . . . What have you done?”
“Fewn, get out of my way.” Lilaci looked around the tent frantically for the young girl. Where is she? I have to save her. I can’t let her be taken, not like I was. She has no idea what lies ahead for her if they take her.
“You can’t do this. What were you thinking. Foro’s dead. You killed Foro!”
“Fewn— tell me. Where’s the girl?”
Fewn slowly slid her sword from its scabbard, the blood from the others in the caravan was beginning to dry onto it. She held out the sword, her eyes darting around the room, she seemed unsure of what to do.
“Just leave Fewn. Leave me, leave here, and leave the girl. I don’t want to hurt you. But don’t make me do anything I don’t want to do. We can’t take that girl back to the palace. They’ll kill her.”
“I can’t let you take her, regardless of what you are feeling now.”
“Fewn—” Lilaci sighed. “I remember now. Something about seeing that girl made me remember what happened to me . . . To my family.”
“Yes, this happened to most of us. Only most of us were too young to remember. It probably happened to me too.”
“So, you don’t remember being taken from the arms of your parents as the Scaethers murdered them in cold blood?”
“Lilaci! Pull yourself together. It’s always been like this. This is the will of the gods, this is what our life is.”
“. . . Not anymore. They made me forget . . .” Tears rolled down Lilaci’s cheeks again, and her hands began to shake. She let her sword fall to her side. “Fewn . . . they took the memories of my family from me. I forgot what my mother looked like. They . . . they left my brother and sister alone in the desert . . .” She choked up again, and struggled to say, “They left my siblings to die, scared and alone. I can’t let that happen to the girl. I can’t let this demented cycle go on anymore . . .”
They stood there is silence for a few moments, neither knowing their next move. There they stood, both skilled assassin, Fewn still holding her sword up to Lilaci. There lay three dead bodies behind Lilaci, and the girl was somewhere out there, past Fewn. Lilaci knew that she’d disobeyed everything she’d ever been taught, and she disobeyed the gods, and Veranor. Yet, the weight of that decision wasn’t on her mind then. All that mattered to her now was the safety of the girl. She wanted to save her from what would surely be a horrific fate.
“What do we do now?” Fewn said.
“I don’t care what you do— Blame this all on me and go back to Voru.”
“And what would you do if I did that?”
“I don’t know,” Lilaci said. “All I know is I’m not going to let that girl endure what we went through. They’ll probably kill her, just an innocent girl, born with the wrong skin, in the wrong time, with the wrong birthmark. I just can’t let her go to slaughter Fewn. She’s already lost her family.”
“They’ll kill you for this Lilaci, or worse.”
“I know the consequences. I don’t care anymore.”
Fewn gazed around the tent once more, seemingly to analyze the situation again. “Okay, how about this? We say that Foro died fighting the nomads protecting the girl, and then— I don’t know. We have to bring back the girl or kill her. There’s no other way. We can’t go back without her in some sense.”
“Fewn. Listen to me. I’m not going back. Now I can see clearly. I�
��ve been under some spell from Veranor. He made me do—” She sighed. “I was a prisoner in my own body. But I’m free now.” She smiled wide, wiping her tears away. “I’m me again. Something about this place has removed my shackles. I’d rather spend one day as a free woman out on the sands than a lifetime as a slave back in the cities.”
Fewn shifted the sword in her hands, the parts of the blade not spattered with dark blood glowed from the light of the candle.
“You know I’ll beat you if you try,” Lilaci said, lifting her sword again.
Fewn shifted the sword nervously around in her hand. “That was years ago. I’m better now.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ve seen you fight. But I’ve grown too.”
Fewn looked around the tent anxiously. “If— and I mean if— I let you go. How can I return back to the city without you?”
Lilaci pondered that idea briefly. “If you were injured in a battle with the caravan, maybe a cut or something. You could say they killed me and killed the girl.”
“No. That won’t work. They’d want the body of the girl. That’s the dilemma.”
Lilaci’s mind darted around to what Fewn could possibly do to not be killed when she went back empty-handed to the king and queen. Every scenario she imagined ended up the same however. One thought did slip through though. “—Come with us then,” Lilaci said.
“What? Where?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to figure this out yet,” Lilaci said. “I just need to get her to safety.”
“Ha,” Fewn laughed. “Who are you kidding? Yourself? The gods themselves think she’s a threat to them. Where do you think she’ll be safe?”
“With our skills we could hide out on the sands,” she said. “We know the tactics of the Scaethers. We are the Scaethers. Or were. And if she’s not safe here. Then . . . Maybe I’ll take her across the Elden Sea.”