Revenge Song

by C. K. Rieke

  Lilaci stood back up and looked down at the three dead Reevins. “We best search them for anything we can use.”

  Roren went over and inspected the arrow protruding from the second Reevin’s head. He grabbed it by the arrow’s head and yanked it through his skull. He held it up to inspect it, and Lilaci walked over to look at it as well.

  “What do you see?” she asked.

  His eyes moved up from it, to look out in the direction it was shot at. “This is a fine arrow, its thin obsidian tip, its shaft is of Whitewood, and its fletching is of feathers of a rare bird from the south. Wherever this came from, they know how to craft fine weaponry.”

  “We’d best stay alert. Now, we’re not only being stalked by these damned wizards, but now we’re being watched from the shadows,” she said. She scanned out on the horizon, looking for any sign or trace of the origin of the arrow of Whitewood, but she found nothing— not even a footstep left in the sand.

  “Do you think they may be trying to help?”

  “If they were trying to help, why wouldn’t they come out into the light?” she asked.

  “I suppose we’ll find out eventually. In the meantime, I won’t mind a little assistance from the shadows,” he said as he began to search the bodies.

  “If they’re not on our side, they’re just another body we’ll leave behind us on the sands. For their sake, they’d better not get in our way.”

  Chapter Two

  “Come on, stop you’re crying. Just keep walking. If you move those little feet, I’ll get you something sweet once we get there. Argh! Come on,” Fewn said as she grabbed tightly onto the young girl’s arm. “It’s not hard, you just put one foot in front of the other.”

  “No, I’m not going any further with you. You lied to us,” the young girl said.

  Kera agonized at the mere touch of the bigger, stronger girl with the deep cut on her chin. Kera knew she had little chance of resisting the Fewn, but Kera was still brimming with anger. Fewn had ripped her away from Lilaci, leading Lilaci into a trap. She led her into a dark cave where she knew she’d be stuck in a mating nest of massive sandworms, each of them hungry to sink their fangs into her. Fewn had lied to Kera that she’d help them, but now, Kera found herself being taken back to the cities, where the gods would be waiting to take her to their castle and kill her. She wanted to believe that Lilaci was still alive out there, she wanted to believe that she was coming to rescue her.

  “Alright, I’ve had enough of this,” Fewn said. She knelt and looked into Kera’s eyes and shook her slightly. Kera’s dark hair jolted in front of her pale gray eyes, and she clenched her teeth in frustration, and her eyes grew wet from tears of rage. “You are either going to walk, or I’m going to tie you up and drag you over the sands, hot as they are rough.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Kera replied, her mouth barely moved.

  “Try me.”

  “Fine.” Kera pulled away and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  Fewn had a furious look on her face and pulled back, standing up again, staring at the young girl. “You’re just like her, you know— stubborn as you are selfish.”

  “You left her to die.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’s fine,” Fewn scoffed. “I’ve seen that girl do things . . .”

  Just then, Kera watched as Fewn’s eyes shot over to the southeast. She pulled her hood down closer to the top of her eyes. She peered hard out into the distance. Fewn looked around to see only sprawling desert all around them, with the sun beginning to fall slowly at their backs. Fewn grabbed Kera’s tan cloak by the shoulder and jerked her down hard. Kera didn’t fight it. Fewn pushed her back behind a jutting brown rock sticking out of the sand like it’d fallen from the Great Realm in the Sky. Then Fewn rushed behind the rock herself.

  “What is it, Fewn? What did you see?”

  Fewn peeked her head out slightly from the side of the rock with her hood pulled down low again. “It appears the gods aren’t patient enough to wait for you. They’re sending others out to find you and take you.”

  Kera thought about that for a moment. She didn’t see who or what Fewn had seen, but her entire life she’d been hiding from those that sought her out at the will of the gods. She knew, and was told that the gods feared her, and what she was destined to do. Her destiny was the bring back the dragons to the lands of the Arr, for they were the only ones with the strength— and power— to fight the corrupt divine beings that ruled the deserts and cities with iron fists.

  “Stay out of sight,” Fewn whispered. “I don’t think they’ve seen us. We may need to stay here for the night.”

  “Scaethers?” Kera asked. “Is it them again?”

  Fewn looked down at Kera, a bit of remorse fell over her pale, white face, and that gave Kera the answer.

  Kera didn’t understand why Fewn wasn’t simply calling out for them, to hand her over to the group of hunters. After all, Fewn, and even Lilaci were both Scaethers before they came to capture her but ended up killing their friend who killed Kera’s family. Kera wondered if Fewn was worried about if she’d be punished for desertion, even if she hadn’t Kera over willingly. Perhaps Fewn figured if she delivered her to the king and queen in the capital of Erodoran in the Great Oasis of Voru, she thought the gods might pardon her for being part of killing a Scaether. She could maybe blame everything on Lilaci if she wanted.

  Fewn’s eyes darted back and forth, looking at the sand at her feet. Kera assumed the same thoughts she had were running through Fewn’s mind.

  “It’s not too late Fewn,” she said. “You can still change your mind and take me back. I’ll forgive you. We can still be a family like you said you wanted before. Let’s go back. Let’s go and find Lilaci, she can help us. She can help you.”

  Fewn laughed a quick laugh. “You don’t know her like I do. She’d try to kill me the second she saw me. I can’t blame her, I’d do the same thing if she’d done that to me. I don’t think there’s any going back, Kera. I’m sorry. This is the only way.”

  “That’s not true. You’re only doing this because you think you’ll be in the favor of Dânoz and the other five gods if you take me to them. But you’re wrong, they aren’t forgiving, or kind. They’ll kill you anyways, if not for anything more than spite. I need to go back out and find Lilaci, Fewn. We need to stop them. The Arr is forever going to be like this— full of pain and countless death— until I can stop them.”

  Fewn looked at Kera curiously then. “How long do you think we’d survive out there? Really? Two people— actually one person, and one kid— against an entire desert looking for us? Don’t be so naive. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes and takes you to them. By then, I’ll be killed, and you’d end up in a place worse than the Eternal Fires.”

  “Is that why you tricked Lilaci?” Kera said spitefully. “Because it would’ve happened to her eventually . . .?”

  Fewn raised her voice. “Lilaci couldn’t protect you forever. She’s just one person.”

  “One person with the magic of the gods. She carries the Sanzoral. She’s more powerful than any one other person on the sands.”

  “If she was so powerful then how’d she get trapped so easily?”

  “Because you used me for bait!” Kera yelled at her, with her small fists balled up.

  Fewn seemed caught off guard, but then casually laid her back to the boulder behind her. “You’re a smart kid.”

  “Then why drag me around the deserts like this?” Kera asked. “Why not just take me to the other Scaethers? You want to give me up so that you can take a reward or something?”

  Fewn seemed deep in thought then. “No. I mean yes. Well, not exactly.”

  “You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met,” Kera said.

  “It's not about a bounty,” Fewn said. “I just— I don’t want anyone else to take you. They may hurt you.”

  “You are so bullheaded, you’ve hurt me and Lilaci more than anyone could ever do,” she said. “I hate
you.”

  It looked like Fewn tried to hide a vague look of disappointment on her face as she closed her eyes. She laid back, trying to look casual, but it looked like she was almost trying not to cry.

  “This isn’t the way things were supposed to turn out,” Kera said. “We were supposed to stick together. You lied, that makes you a liar.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Fewn said quickly, her eyes wide open again looking at the young girl. “I just didn’t know that what I promised you, wasn’t going to be what I ended up doing— until after I already changed my mind about it.”

  “That is exactly what makes you a liar,” Kera said in frustration. “You are so crazy.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Fewn said through her clenched teeth. Her brow furrowed, and she had a wicked glare in her eyes.

  “What? A liar? Or crazy?” Kera said.

  “I’m not crazy.”

  “Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. You’re crazy!”

  “You’re a brat!” Fewn said defensively.

  “Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!”

  “Brat! Brat! Brat!”

  “You’re crazy!” Kera continued. “Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!”

  Fewn continued calling her a ‘brat!” as they two both tried to yell over each other.

  Kera then out of exhaustion, gave a quick laugh, but was embarrassed she did so, as she appeared that she wanted to stay mad. Fewn looked at her and a small smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth, and she gave a quick laugh.

  “This isn’t funny,” Kera said.

  “Then why are you laughing?”

  “You are more of a child than I am,” Kera said. “If I were bigger, you’d be in trouble.”

  “Too bad you’re not.”

  “I almost want to just walk out there and hand myself over to those Scaethers, so I don’t have to see you anymore. Then there’d be no chance the gods would forgive you for your treason.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Fewn said, tensing up, ready to stop Kera from walking out from behind the rock.

  “Try me.”

  “Brat.”

  “Crazy.”

  They sat there the rest of the day, drinking what little water Fewn had been carrying with her in her watersack. Ever couple hours she’d peer around the side of the rock, looking for any other signs of the group of Scaethers searching for them. They spoke little the rest of the day, and as the sun began to slip away under the hills of unending sands, the desert cooled, and Kera fell asleep quickly. Fewn looked over to see Kera begin to shiver underneath her thin, canvas blanket. She untied the string at her chest and lifted her own cloak off her shoulders and back and laid it over Kera as she slept next to her.

  Chapter Three

  “Why are we walking back north?” Kera asked Fewn under the midday sun. She had her tan hood drifting just over her eyes, her thin canvas shoes burned from the heat, and she had rashes between her toes from sand. She was used to the unpleasantness of the desert life— it was all she’d ever known. She looked up at Fewn to her right side as she took longer strides, with her longer legs. Fewn didn’t respond.

  Kera was still angry with her, for Fewn had betrayed her, more so than anyone in her few years. All those that raised her were gone. The Order of Drakon had reared her and protected her. They constantly walked the sands, covering their tracks, making low-burning fires at night that were shielded from sight from far off. They were experts at spotting hidden water sources and finding food for them, and her. They told her the prophecy of her fate. She was to resurrect the dragons of the Arr, long dead or taken from the desert by a man named Riverend hundreds of years prior. They didn’t know specifically how she’d bring them back, and so Kera didn’t understand how she was to do this. She guessed that she needed to go to the lands to the west and bring back the dragons from there. But now, with Fewn taking her to the gods before she could fulfill her part of the prophecy, she had little hope that anything could save her then. She walked on sullenly.

  “Are you thirsty?” Fewn asked after several minutes.

  Kera sniffled and shook her head.

  “Here,” Fewn handed the watersack over to Kera, who took it, uncorked the top, and dumped its contents onto the dry sand.

  “Hey!” Fewn reached out to the other side of Kera, grabbing the watersack, with just a few drops of water remaining in it. “What are you thinking? Damn— Now we’ve got to find more. Why did you do that?”

  Kera sniffled again and wiped away the snot running down from her nose. “What does it matter?”

  “You want to die out here?” Fewn asked, shaking Kera’s shoulder.

  “I don’t want to die there,” she sniffled again. Then wiped a tear from her eye.

  Fewn didn’t respond immediately. Then she turned and said in a softer voice, “You don’t know they’re going to do that.”

  Kera’s direction shot over at Fewn in anger. “What do think they’re going to do? Make me one of their High Knights? What else are they going to do to me? I don’t want to die. But if I have to, I’d rather do it out here.”

  In her stupor from that statement, Fewn didn’t realize that Kera had reached over and puller Fewn’s dagger from the small leather sheath at her back. Fewn began to reach out for it, but then surprisingly, Kera held out the handle towards her.

  Kera’s eyes burned into Fewn’s then. “If you ever cared for me, even a little bit. If you meant anything you said back then when we were with Lilaci— and you’re still taking me to the capital— have the decency to do it, right here, right now.”

  Fewn was taken aback, with a baffled and disgusted look on her face. “I— I can’t . . .”

  “Yes, you can. You’re a killer. That’s what you are. You’re a traitor, you’re a deserter. You’re a liar. You murdered innocents. What about you can’t kill me? What kind of coward are you that you’d rather send me to the gods to torture me or worse? In my eyes, that makes you just as bad as them, and just as evil.”

  Fewn’s eyes darted around at Kera, who stood with wicked intensity, and Fewn’s fingers slowly extended and wrapped around the handle to the dark-colored dagger. Kera dropped to each knee and with her hands behind her back, she lifted her chin up and closed her eyes. “Do it.”

  There the two of them stood, out in the middle of the open desert. One, an assassin with the decision that would make her an executioner. The other— a young girl whose only fault in her youth was being born, as all of the Arr was after her for her ‘gift.’ Fewn stood like a statue, as still as stone, as the thoughts of killing or not killing Kera raced through her mind. Then Kera caught what looked like a quiver in her lower lip, she didn’t know if it was from anger, sadness, or just frustration. Whichever it was, Fewn grunted and placed the dagger in its sheath at her back quickly. She grabbed Kera by the elbow and dragged her to her feet.

  “Come on,” she said, pulling Kera next to her as they began walking again. “We’ve got to go find water now that you threw it all away.”

  “Stop,” Kera resisted. “Fewn, just stop!” She pulled her arm from Fewn’s strong grasp. “I’m serious. Either end it now, or I’m not taking another single step with you. You have to know what’s going to happen to me if you take me to them. You’re not even taking me in the right direction. You know they’re down southeast from here. You don’t know anything about what you’re doing. You don’t want to give me to the Scaethers, and you don’t want to kill me. What is it you want? What is your plan? Tell me . . . Tell me!”

  Fewn looked at her sternly, holding a stone-cold glare at Kera, but she feigned, and sighed. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she looked up at the endless sands on the horizon line.

  “You ever hear the story of the golden wizard and the nightbird?” Fewn asked, not looking at Kera.

  “No, what does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s a story I remember from my father, who told it to me a long, long time ago. You see, one day the wizard was toiling with his potions and enchantments up in his high t
ower. He had no friends, yet everyone below in the town asked for his help with their ailments. He worked tirelessly to help those below him, but none of them offered what he needed— someone to talk to— friendship even. Until one evening when he was working on a potion to turn the ordinary fabric to gold, he mismeasured the elements and it exploded, covering him from head to toe in gold. He could not wash it off, he couldn’t even burn it off. Hence he became the golden wizard.”

  So now that he was the golden wizard, there were many that wanted to be his friend. They wanted to know the secret of his botched potion, so they could create their own gold. Every day he had visitors, and he quickly began to miss his isolation. One day, after the wizard was weak from sadness, and as his tower was full of people eager for a piece of him, a nightbird the size of a large dog flew to the windowsill and perched there. It’s long black feathers and empty glassy, dark eyes watched the men and women in the room. Now everyone knows that a nightbird is an ominous sign, a symbol of death. That day and night, there was not one sole in the tower, save the golden wizard, who slept better than he had in weeks. The next morning, he awoke to find the nightbird still perched upon his windowsill.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked the bird.

  Now this wizard was trained in the ways of bird’s speech, and he heard the nightbird reply that his name was Ezgohe.

  ‘Thank you for scaring all of those unwanted people,’ he said.

  ‘Golden wizard,’ the nightbird said, ‘aren’t you afraid of me?’

  ‘Why, no, Ezgohe, should I be?”

  ‘I’ve heard of your accident from afar, and as you are blessed with skin of gold, I have come because it is seeping into your skin and veins, and you will soon die from it. I am here to eat your body when you are gone.’