by C. K. Rieke
“That’s it?” Foro said. “One girl?”
“Yes. One girl,” Lilaci said.
“So why are we here?” Fewn asked. “Surely these Scaethers could handle it. Does this have to do with your new gift?”
Lilaci stood in brief contemplation. “The two are linked, yes.”
“So we’ve got the power of the gods on our side, eh?” Dellanor said. “This girl must be worth her weight in gold.”
“Listen, I’ve been given the task of finding this girl, the Dragon’s Breath as she’s known, and bringing her back to the gods. I’m going to complete this task, and truth be told, I’m not sure why you are all here to assist me. I could surely acquire the girl quicker, and quieter, alone.”
Fewn shot up to her feet. “That’s just like you. You’ve always had to go out and be the best, do everything on your own. You know what? We don’t need you either. That’s your curse, you’ll never have a team. You’ll never be part of a family. You’ve always got to be out on your own.”
When Fewn said the word family, Lilaci felt a fire begin to build in her. “You think you know what it’s like to be me? You got to be one of the other girls. You got to hide in mediocrity. You think I enjoyed waking every day not knowing who was going after me that day? And after all the times I beat them, any of them. After every time I beat you—” Lilaci stared hard into her eyes, “—I knew the commander was sending more, bigger, better after me. But you know what? I beat them all.” Then an image flashed through her mind; she was on the ground being pummeled by a boy. She was scared and vulnerable. She remembered she was waiting for the commander or masters to call the fight. Then a shadow of a man leapt before her, knocking the attacker off her. There was a boy, a different boy— Then the pain shot in again like salt on a fresh burn. A pain that dulled every other sense in her body. Then the image of slithering, slimy worms writing around each other came to the forefront of her mind, and the other image vanished.
“You may have beat me then—,” Fewn said, putting her hand on the hilt of her sword, and shifting her feet to a wide, defensive stance, “but you wouldn’t best me now. After you left Sorock, I became Oncur, and I was the undefeated.”
“I bet you were,” Lilaci said, drawing her sword from its scabbard with a sharp ringing sound. Please, come at me. Strike first so that I can take you down in defense. That’s the only way I can fight you without the harshest of penalties. It’s against our code to strike our own. “What a privilege that must have been; to become Oncur once your better was taken away. How convenient for you. I beat you then and I’d beat you now.”
Foro stood with arms outstretched. “Alright, alright. Do not draw swords. You both know that’s forbidden within ourselves. Save it for the ones who harbor the girl. We’ve got a job to do.”
Fewn released her grasp from the hilt, and her scowl turned to a half-smile. “Ha! I was just getting a rise out of you.” She walked over to Lilaci and clapped her on the arm. “Your temper hasn’t changed a bit.”
Lilaci calmed and stood back up straight, sheathed her sword and removed her hand from her own its hilt. Getting a rise out of me? I just about cut you in half, girl.
“Bompart region, ay?” Foro said. “That’ll be due northwest. Two weeks time, give or take, and looks like there’s a storm brewing.”
Lilaci turned and looked to see the distant— yet unmistakable— wall of dark clouds on the horizon in that direction. “The sooner we’re off, the sooner we’ll return.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” Garenond said, lifting his pack to his back. “You say to walk into a storm, we walk into a storm.”
They walked with the Iox packed full of supplies for close to eight hours before the winds blew past and made their way forward slower. Lilaci held up her shawl to cover eyes, nose and mouth from the blowing, grainy sands. With the winds blowing in stronger, and their feet disappearing into deeper and deeper sand, Lilaci held up a hand for them to stop. They went to unpacking the Iox quickly, before the storm was fully upon them.
Foro and the other two set up the tents in a low fashion, to let the winds fly past as best they could. They put the tail of the tent in the direction of the wind, so each tent looked like an arrowhead. Lilaci dipped into the other tent after they assembled it. Just after she was inside, Fewn came in and sat on the other side of it. She quickly began removing her cloak and garbs, leaving them at its entrance, to leave most of the sand down there.
She cracked her neck and back and laid back on the canvas, sinking into the soft sand underneath. “Nice to be out in the world? Isn’t it? You know this is the first time I’ve been out on the sands since I was a child. I always dreamed of getting out of Sorock when we were older.”
Lilaci slowly removed her cloak and laid it by the tent’s front flaps. She looked over at Fewn curiously.
“You know things were different after you left,” Fewn said. “The commander was gone, and Elan was promoted to the role of a temporary commander. She was much less strict, and the fighting wasn’t like it was before with Veranor. Maybe once a week we sparred. There was never anything like that day where two fought one, and boy fought girl. That day was remembered sort of like a fable, a dark tale. When the new faced came into Sorock, they wouldn’t believe the story.”
“How long was I gone?” Lilaci asked.
“You know, I actually felt bad for you, being gone . . . With him. I always knew there was part of him that seemed infatuated with you. None of us ever made his eyes gleam like when he watched you fight. You were gone for years Lilaci. I assumed he was turning you into something, his weapon, his toy.”
Years? How many years? Fewn felt bad for me? “I thought of you and the other girls often. As much as we were all trained to be in competition with one another, there was a bond. It was the closest thing to friendship I knew.”
“Yes, I agree. That is except for your relationship with Gogena—”
The same sharp pain drilled into Lilaci’s mind then, and she clasped both hands to her head, and the writhing of the slick worms from Veranor’s amulet squeezed each other. That name, why is that name so familiar, but distant? The blinding pain grew more painful, and she dropped to her knees and drove her forehead to the sand. Why can’t I remember that name? What is going on in my head? Is there a poison in my mind?
“Lilaci? What’s wrong?”
All Lilaci could see were the worms wrapping around her, squeezing her mind. “It’s just, these headaches I get sometimes.”
“Veranor did do a number on you, didn’t he?”
Veranor? All he did was train me . . . make me strong. It’s because of him I’m the assassin I am today. All he did to me was help me.
“I suppose he did,” Lilaci said. “But I’m stronger because of it.”
Fewn gave her an inquisitive glance. “Sure, Lilaci, sure.”
“Do you doubt the intentions of the commander?” Lilaci asked, looking up at Fewn as her pain was beginning to subside.
“I’ll just say you’ve been living in a hole if you think Veranor did things to you for your good,” Fewn said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d throw down my life for Elan or the commander, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind. Veranor serves Veranor. There’s no denying that. If you don’t see that, you’re blind.” Fewn then turned and walked back over to the others. Lilaci heard her say softly to herself, “Poor Lilaci,” as she walked away from her.
Poor Lilaci? I’m the best of all the girls of Sorock. He picked me for a reason . . . He picked me because I was Oncur, right? Because I was the best, because I was worthy . . . right? Yes of course that’s why. Poor Lilaci, nonsense. I feel bad for you, Fewn. You’re just jealous. I was blessed to be chosen. Veranor would never do anything to me that wasn’t for my benefit. Right?
The winds outside the tent blew over loudly, whistling and howling. The never-ending sands pelted the canvas tent throughout the night. After Fewn was well-asleep. Lilaci lay with her eyes open, half-way in a daze as she watched a sm
all mound of sand before her eyes on the canvas. She blew it softly and it began to trickle down. As the sand fell, and in her daze, she noticed something in the sand. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it appeared to be a grain of sand the color of a deep, violet lilac. It glimmered as it rolled down the dune. Her eyes opened wider and she stared down at the sand.
“What are you?” she whispered as she extended her hand towards it, then paused, and lowered her hand back down. She stared at it and it glimmered purple light. Looking at it, she felt as though it was not just a grain of sand, but more like a part of her, like the small toe on her foot. She focused like it was a toe, and began to try to wiggle it. She strained, like moving a body part she had never moved before. It was so close, just a shrug is all she wanted, just a little— then . . . The purple grain of sand rolled slightly up the small mound of sand. While the rest of the sand lay still, that one grain rolled up, causing more to fall down beneath it.
The Sanzoral. There it is. I can feel it now. The Sanzoral is inside me. What will begin with a single grain of sand, will grow to me being able to move the dunes themselves.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lilaci didn’t sleep that night, because two things weighed heavily on her mind; the Sanzoral, and the name Fewn had said to her the night before. As for the Sanzoral, every day she would work on her power, controlling the sand itself. She was also curious why every time she tried to think the name that Fewn spoke, her head became a whirlwind of pain and agony. There was something in that name, some memory that was hidden from her.
They walked the long, winding sands of the Dakaran region, en route towards the Bompart region of the Arr. The Dakaran region was over six hundred miles across, and surrounded by a shallow collection of mountains called the Zont-ils. Past those would be the Bompart region of the Arr. Bompart itself was nearly four hundred square miles, so it’d be no easy task finding a small caravan. Lilaci had been taught the geography of the deserts of the Arr, and excelled in tracking. Although the Scaethers were more trained in it, Lilaci found herself as more of a natural than they.
“If we make good time, and travel dusk to dawn, we should reach the mountains in just over two weeks,” Dellanor said to Fewn as they sat under the early morning sun. The sands were still cool, with a delicate dew collected on their tents.
“Fine by me, I was growing tired of the rank smell of defecation in the cities,” Fewn said as she bit into a piece of dried meat warmed by the fire. “What about you, Lilaci? Good to be back out into the wild?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, looking out at the endless dunes surrounding them. Even the city of Voru was out of distance behind them then.
“Aye, you girls are fresh from training, ey?” Garenond said. “Those camps can be a headspin. I remember knowing nothing of time passing where I was.”
“Where was that?” Lilaci asked. “Back in Voru?”
“No,” he replied. “I was in Godan, near the southern Sea of Barrakka.”
“I assumed you were from Sorock, like we were,” Lilaci said.
“It was a Sorock— my Sorock, but in a different place.”
“How long have you been out?” Fewn asked.
“Oh,” he said, looking over at Foro who was sharpening his sword with his whetstone. “What would you say? Eight years?”
“Seven years, four months, and seventeen days,” Foro said.
Dellanor laughed, “If you wanted an exact answer, there it is.”
“So,” Lilaci said. “You two were in Godan, in the Great Oasis of Zōn together. What of you Dellanor? The same? Did you train together?”
“No, I’m older than those two, and I’m from the other part of the Arr,” he said. “City of Scindír is where I trained.”
“You’re from Scindír?” Fewn asked. “I’ve heard the roads are paved in gold and lined with ever-burning torches that never fade.”
“Part of that is true,” Dellanor said. “But in the Sorock there, there’s little gold to be found. Aye, it's a magical place, as vast as an ocean, and the Great Oasis of Azgobinandan is as fruitful as she is generous. I haven’t been there since I left Sorock, twelve years ago, give or take.”
“Look at us here now,” Fewn said. “Five, collected from the greatest cities. Out in the desert, looking for a caravan for the gods. Isn’t this what we were trained for? How exciting.”
Lilaci looked at her and saw Fewn’s passion. She enjoyed the hunt just as much as Lilaci did. The other men looked more worn, as if this was just another mission, another prize. But this appeared to be the first time Fewn was thrown out into the wild, and she had a thirst for blood.
“We should get moving,” Lilaci said.
Foro stood and wiped his blade clean. “You heard the girl.”
Why does he keep calling me girl? I’m a woman now. I’ve killed and even met the gods themselves. How’d he feel if I called him boy? But, I suppose I am younger than them— and I doubt they’ve been on the sands with a woman. He’d better learn I’m more than a mere girl, and quickly.
A strong gust of wind blew past them as they were rolling the tents back up and strapping them to the Iox. “Looks like a storm's brewing,” Foro said, looking over his shoulder back to the east. “We’d best find a low spot to wait it out.”
Lilaci looked back a the gathering dark clouds, blowing immensely high behind them. “No, let's continue. I want to make it to the Zont-ils in the two week time.”
“Whatever you say,” Garenond said as he strapped the tent firmly on the Iox’s back. “Let's get moving then. You heard her.”
They continued down the long dune they were atop, with sand falling down it like water on a hill as their feet fell deep into it. As Lilaci walked up at the lead, Fewn came running down next to her.
“You know, you don’t have to be like that all the time,” Fewn said.
“What do you mean, Fewn?”
“You’ve always been so above everyone else,” Fewn said. “We always hated it back in Sorock.”
“This is my mission,” Lilaci said. “You’re just along to help.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Fewn said. “Condescending, arrogant,—”
“And better,” Lilaci interrupted.
“I used to hate you,” Fewn said. “I’m struggling to get over that.”
“I could care less if you did, that was a long time ago,” Lilaci said. “This is about the mission. I was asked by the gods to deliver this girl to them, that’s all that matters.” She then looked inquisitively at Fewn. “By the way, why did Veranor send you along? Did he tell you?”
“Yeah, he told me alright,” and Fewn stopped walking, so she fell back to the ranks of the Scaethers.
What is wrong with that girl, first she berates me, then has a casual conversation, then tries to tell me how to run this mission? There’s something wrong with her, there’s something new about her. She’s not the same quiet, jealous girl. Perhaps when she became Oncur in Sorock after I left, she lived in my shadow? Who knows, but I’d better keep an eye on her.
The gusting winds suddenly picked up with a furor as they whistled past them. The sand at their feet blew all around them, biting their faces and exposed skin. Lilaci held her shawl tightly to her face and continued on, trudging through the deep sand as they continued down the long dune. The storm howled around them and it blocked out the sun.
“Do you want to continue on?” Foro, asked. “This seems to be a long one. You want us to wait it out?”
“No—” Lilaci yelled back to him. “It's just another storm. Continue. As long as the Iox is keeping up, we’ll walk.”
“Very well,” Foro said, who fell back into the ranks with the others.
“Damned girl has heart—” Garenond said. “I’ll give her that.”
The winds continued to howl and shoot through the air around them.
“I can see what Commander Veranor saw in her,” Foro said. “She’s strong, that one.”
“She
’s not that strong,” Fewn said. “I’ve seen her beaten before, I’ve seen her bleed.”
“Aye, I’ve heard that tale,” Dellanor said. “What was it? A Scaether group had her fight six boys at once? And she almost beat them— except another boy interrupted the fight? Ha! I would’ve enjoyed seeing that one.”
“Ugh, it was just one boy she fought! And she would’ve lost!” Fewn spat. Lilaci could vaguely hear her say that from up front, even with the whistling winds.
Yes, I remember that like it was but a week ago. That was one of my most vulnerable moments. I don’t ever want to be in the state again— being as helpless as a mere child. I also remember how good it felt to beat Fewn and the other girls in the pit.
“Someone’s got a little vinegar in their blood for her,” Garenond said. “Don’t they?”
Fewn lunged at him with remarkable speed, and drew her dagger’s tip up to his throat before he drew his sword from his hip. “Go ahead— say that once more. I’ll cut that serpent tongue from the front of your throat.”
“Hey now,” Foro said. “Easy girl . . .”
“I’m no girl! You bunch of scoundrels!”
“Hey,” Lilaci yelled back. “You hurt him, you know the cost. Get back in line.”
“Who are you to—” Fewn started to yell up, but then noticed something in the sand around them.
Lilaci caught her gaze and looked around to see black specks floating in what seemed to be a circle around them. They were moving quickly through the roaring winds, and they shot in all directions. Lilaci fell slowly back into the group of the other Scaethers. The Iox let out a moan like Lilaci hadn’t heard from her, and it began to shuffle its hooves nervously in the sand.
“What is it?” Foro asked.
“Not sure,” Lilaci said.
Then one of the black specks shot in at them, it was fast. Faster than any of them had the time to react to. It flew through like a rock through a sling but Lilaci saw it’s black feathers as it darted in. Foro tried to react but found the creature slice into his shoulder as it flew back, and disappeared back into the sandstorm.