Revenge Song

by C. K. Rieke

The wizard thought a few moments.

  ‘Well, if I’m to die, would you make a bargain with me?’ the wizards asked, and the bird cocked his large head. ‘I’ve been told that the nightbird not only is a cursed sign, but also they know of things of alchemy.’

  The bird nodded.

  ‘If you teach me a way to reverse this cursed golden prison I live in, I’ll give you anything you wish.’

  ‘What could you give me that I cannot get myself?’ the bird asked. ‘And why would I want to save you from your curse? I am here to consume your golden carcass.’

  ‘I know the one thing that the nightbird cannot do . . . You nightbirds cannot bear offspring, from a curse put on your line long ago.’

  The nightbird spread its wings out far and it cawed so loudly the old wizard fell to the ground.

  ‘This curse has plagued me and mine long. How could you lift the curse? Tell me now!’

  The wizard slowly rose back to his feet, aching from the weight of the gold.

  ‘Tell me!’ the bird roared in furious anger.

  ‘That is the bargain, great nightbird,’ the wizard said. ‘You can either heal me, kill me now, or wait for this poison to finish me, and you’ll never know the cure for your curse.’

  ‘It is not my place to make that bargain, wizard. The golden curse you bare was brought on by yourself. It’s not my place to change the winds of fate.’

  ‘But you have changed its course by flying to my windowsill. You are here with a choice, just like anyone and anything else. Fate comes, yet fate can change, just with one little shift of the wind.’

  The bird thought long and hard.

  ‘I understand,’ the bird said. ‘You believe that if I cure you, and you help me then your fate will be changed?’

  ‘That is what I believe.’

  ‘Then that is what we will do,’ the bird said.

  The nightbird cured the wizard of his golden skin by teaching him a new potion, and the wizard helped the nightbird to lift the curse of infertility in their family with a spell of his own. Weeks later, after the two had returned to their normal lives full of hope and joy, the blackbird returned to the wizard’s windowsill, to find the wizard covered in gold from head to toe once again. This time his room was full of soldiers in armor, who fled quickly at the sight of the bird.

  ‘You’ve come again, thank the gods,’ the golden wizard cried. ‘They made me do it, they told me I had to replicate what I’d done, and I’ve repeated my mismeasurement. You’ve come to help me.’

  ‘No, wizard. I’ve come to watch you die, and then consume your golden carcass.’

  ‘What do you mean, bird? I helped you.’

  ‘No. You made it so that we can lay eggs once again yes, but the birds that hatch are not our own. There are white and pale with no feathers. You’ve replaced our curse with one of your own.’

  ‘I did no such thing. I lifted the curse!’

  ‘You see, I was right,’ the nightbird said. ‘You can’t change the winds of fate. Here you are, standing in shining gold, and here I am, unable to have young.’

  ‘I do see your point, but we can try again,’ the wizard said.

  ‘No. This all is going to end the same way, no matter how hard you fight time. Fate will come in the end, we were all born with our own destinies. You will be gold again, over and over until the end comes. I will not save you this time, wizard, your fate is in your own hands now.’

  Over the next few days, the nightbird watched the wizard scramble frantically trying to replicate the potion the bird had helped him to create, but eventually as the bird had said, the wizard died in the night. The bird picked the meat from his bones and flew back out the window back to his nest, full of little wingless birds.

  “That’s a sad ending,” Kera said.

  “These are sad lands,” Fewn said.

  “So, you’re trying to tell me that I can’t be saved?” Kera asked.

  “I just told you a story is all,” Fewn said. “We can’t stop fate.”

  “So, my fate is to die at the hand of the gods?”

  “I don’t know that,” Fewn said, her expression somber and bleak. “But it looks that way.”

  “What’s your fate then?” Kera yelled at her. “Tell me. What’s your fate?”

  “I was raised in Sorock to be a weapon of the gods.”

  “That’s not what I asked,” Kera said. “That’s what you were forced to become, can’t you choose what you will become?”

  “Like the nightbird said, you can’t change the winds of fate,” Fewn said. “We could fight the inevitable, but for how long? How much torment would we endure? Soon, there will be armies out searching for us. The gods will not give up their search for you. They’re going to find you.”

  “You could choose to fight!”

  Fewn laughed. “Fight the gods? That’s your plan? Tell me then, how are you going to bring back the dragons? They’re all dead. How long does it take to bring back the dragons? One year? A hundred years? And you are going to hide from them that long?”

  Kera’s silver eyes flickered in the sun’s light, and her hair drifted from a small gust of wind that blew in. “I just discovered something, recently— something that can change the winds. I have the power to nullify the magic of the gods. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. If they come after me, they’ll only have the strength of a normal man or woman. I don’t know if they know this yet. But if they come, you would have a chance of fighting any one of them just like they were any other soldier.”

  Fewn was taken aback by that. “How do you know that? If you’ve never been around them?”

  “I felt it when I was around Lilaci,” she said. “I could feel their magic dissolve when we were together. That is how I know.”

  “That’s a lot to think about,” Fewn said. She looked up at the hot sun above. “Anyways, we’ve still got to find water, because you tossed it all away. Let’s get going.”

  “Which direction?” Kera asked.

  “North. Let’s just continue north for a while.”

  Chapter Four

  Roren followed Lilaci’s footsteps up the long dune, his feet sinking into the soft, hot sand. He had his thin, tan tunic across his shoulders, and he clasped his hood tightly to his bald head. He took long strides to match Lilaci’s. He wasn’t used to walking the sands like she was. He’d been in that cave waiting for her for longer than he cared to remember, but he did it for her. He did it for Kera.

  As Lilaci reached the highest tip of the dune, she watched as the sands rolled down both sides like a shimmer of water on the endless sea. She scanned the horizon on all sides. Roren caught up breathing heavily and reaching to down lift his leathery watersack from his side, he removed the cork with a pop, and took small, lavishing sips of the warm water.

  “What do you see?” he asked. “Anything? Any sign of them.”

  Lilaci continued her scan. She looked like a tiger hunting an elk. Her pale face was covered with a thin layer of sand. Her hair, long and black, although tied back and under her hood, was thick with sand. She was used to it, as she’d been on the sands ever since being let out of Voru at the will of the gods. Her time training with the commander Veranor in the cleanliness of her old quarters was a distance memory. She didn’t even think of the servitude and torment she was forced to endure at the commander’s will. She was a slave to him, a gift he gave her with the help of a group of mages Lilaci despised. She held all of that pain and anguish in her gut, but now her heart was pumping with fire and brimstone to keep her moving her feet, pressing forward.

  “To the east,” she said. “The city of Voru. I can’t see it, it’s still hundreds of miles out, but I can sense it. I know that place all too well. That’s where I was taken . . . When my family was killed.” A sharp pain like a hot dagger shot into her mind then, as the spell of the mages kept her from remembering her past. Kera was the only relief from their spell.

  “They must be going that way then,” he said, looking to the s
un behind them, hanging over the horizon just as it began to slip down past the endless sands behind them. “Should we get down off this dune and light a fire tonight? I sense it's going to be a chilly one tonight. I sense the seasons changing. Sonna will be coming to an end in the next couple of moons, and aturum will bring the cool winds and the coloring of plants. We will need to acquire thicker clothes if we are to stay on the sands.”

  “Aturum?” she said quietly. “How long have I been back out in the deserts? I feel like I’ve been looking for her for a lifetime now.”

  “Do you think we could catch them before they make it to Voru?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied firmly. “But—”

  “But?” he asked with an upturned eyebrow.

  “I— There’s just this feeling inside of me, telling me they’re not heading that way. I can’t describe it. It’s like . . . A ghost whispering inside of me.”

  “A ghost?” he asked, taken aback by that comment.

  “I know it sounds strange,” she said.

  “No, not to me,” he said. “To the Order of the Drakon, a ghost presence is a sign. It is a symbol from the other side, the voices of those forces from the light of passing. They’re the ones who gave us the knowledge to find Kera. They’re the ones heralding the new age, an age without the gods pounding their fists on these lands. Lilaci . . .” He walked over next to her and stared deeply into her eyes. She saw a light in him she’d never seen. Framed by his dark skin and sand-worn wrinkles, his eyes were lit a brilliant blue from the light of the setting sun. “What does the whisper say?”

  Staring back into his eyes, she searched her mind, even trying to use the Sanzoral to feel out into the sand, like dipping fingers into a handful of it. She closed her eyes and listened. She listened to everything and felt out deeper into the mountain of sand beneath her. “I see . . .”

  Roren leaned in, listening intently.

  “I see, a mountain. Not one of sand, but one of stone, reaching high up to the heavens. I’ve seen it before, with Fewn. Its high peak reaches up to the heavens like the finger of a god. Its sharp, dark rock winds up to a point where man cannot reach. It’s where only winged beasts could linger. That’s what I see.”

  “Duen Utülm Drakon,” he said, his voice was soft, as though he couldn’t believe what she’d said. “Dune of that last dragon. That place is sacred to us, that was the home of Kôrran, the greatest— and last— dragon. You’ve seen it? You’ve been there? Do you think they are heading for that mountain?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, unsure. “That doesn’t even make sense why they wouldn’t just head out straight for the city, and to King Serinaas.”

  “Maybe, she’s had a change of heart.”

  “I doubt that is the case,” Lilaci said. “You don’t know Fewn like I do. She’s spiteful, and temperamental. But she’s also fearful. She’s thinking of preservation. She knows the fate of anyone helping the Dragon’s Breath, Kera.

  “So why would they go there?”

  “I think there’s probably still some doubt in her mind. Fewn can be rotten, but she’s not stupid. She knows what will happen to Kera if she hands them over to the gods. The Witch Queen Gorlen would torture her body and soul, giving her essence to the other gods. Dânoz the king of the gods would enjoy every second of her torment.”

  “So again, why would they go to the great mountain?”

  “I don’t know, and like I said, it’s just an image in my mind. It might not mean anything. If I’m wrong, we would be heading in a completely wrong direction, with no way of getting to her in time, if they’re heading for the castle.”

  “No, you’re right. Visions like that—” he said, “—with the sensation you described to me, is a sign. Those from the afterlife are telling us where to go. There is no question, this is our destination.”

  She sighed. “I hope you’re right. That would be good news, it would buy us time.”

  “We will head northeast in the morning,” he said, as a chill wind bit at them as the sun just slipped behind the desert sands. The moon’s crescent arc glimmered from high above, and the light of the stars began to shine.

  If we’re not heading in the right direction, and Fewn’s actually traveling back down to the kingdom as we speak, I’ll never forgive myself. Kera would arrive there in only the next couple of days, to what end I can’t bear to imagine. Roren seems convinced enough, but Fewn is unpredictable. If I find that girl, she’s going to wish she’d never crossed me, and betrayed Kera’s trust. I’m going to cut her throat from ear to ear for this.

  “How far do you wager it’ll take?” Roren asked, the following morning after they’d made their start back out onto the sands. “Until we reach the mountain? I’ve never seen it.”

  “I think we’re at least five hundred miles out,” she said, her hood draped in front of her eyes.

  “That’s a ways,” he replied. “We should find someplace to rest a night and gather supplies if the chance arises. I could use not sleeping on cold sand, just if even for one single night.”

  Lilaci thought about that statement, and the last time she’d slept in a bed. It was while she was still the apprentice/captee of Commander Veranor. She seemed to think she preferred sleeping on the sands. It reminded her of her freedom, even if she was a traitor to the god’s will, and soon to be hunted— surely.

  Midway through the day, Lilaci’s stopped her steady pace climbing up the high dunes of the Dakaran Region, as they were walking towards a break between the Zont-ils mountain range. Once they passed through the gap in the high-reaching mountains the Duen Utülm Drakon would be distant in the region of Gorx. To the left she looked up at the sky, thick with low hanging, dark clouds that caressed the mountains highest peaks.

  “That’ll be a good storm,” Roren said. “We should head that way— collect some rainwater. We need to get some food as well. Mountains can make for good hunting.” Lilaci heard her stomach growl after he said that. The only food they collected from the Reevins was some dry mutton, which they’d finished the day prior.

  “I haven’t had good luck with mountains as of late,” she said, and then sighed. “You’re right though, as I couldn’t enter a city, even if we had the time to head towards one. Let’s be cautious though. Remember the arrow. Someone may be watching us.”

  “Not likely,” he said. “The Order of Drakon are all more than adequate at hiding on the sands. I would’ve noticed if someone was following us. I’m sure you’re trained in some form of stealth too. If there were someone out on the sands, I would know.”

  Lilaci’s eyes darted south, and Roren’s eyes seemed to scan out for what she was looking at.

  “Down!” she said, as she grabbed his left sleeve and pulled him down to the sand with her. “Oh really, you would notice anything? How’d you not sense that group of six down there?”

  Roren poked his head up from the hot sand, and after wiping the grains of sand from his face, he seemed to notice. “Scaethers.”

  Chapter Five

  “Damn,” Lilaci said, in the howling winds blowing in from the oncoming storm. Sand was lifted and blew off the top of the great dune, swirling through the air like dust from a windmill. “Six of them. We should move.”

  “You think they spotted us?” Roren asked, his usual calm tone had turned to a concerned one. Roren, as one of the Order of Drakon, had a paranoia about the Scaethers— like an agile deren always vigilant to avoid a hungry sandwolf. The Scaethers were hunters of women, children, and men. Lilaci had heard their Order mainly consisted of older men and women, Roren was one of their strongest. She doubted the Order ever won a battle against such hardened soldiers as the Scaethers. “Let’s be on our way. I don’t want to linger here too long.”

  Just then, as if the gods themselves were signaling the group of men with pale skin and sharp widow’s peaks, a bolt of lightning shot to the sand, striking the dune just beyond Lilaci and Roren. Their bodies both tensed from the exploding sound it made
. They both looked over at the bright light as it roared in furious thunder. Then Lilaci looked down at the Scaethers below. They’d stopped walking. They were huddling together, staring up at their direction. “The lightning drew their eyes up at us,” she said, in a grim tone.

  Roren looked down and seemed to agree. “They’ve spotted us. What do you want to do?”

  Lilaci didn’t answer. As much as she despised the Scaethers, in all honesty, she pitied them, they were murderers, yes, but so was she. She knew what was going through their heads then, ‘glory for the gods, punish those who betray and desert.’ After all, she’d been in that same state of mind only weeks prior. Though, she knew trying to convince them would be out of the question. She had the Sanzoral, yes, and she’d had lots of practice in fighting recently, but the Scaethers weren’t like Reevins. The Reevins were weak, old men with magic. They didn’t know how to fight, and she’d outmatched them every time— so far. But these were Scaethers, men trained the same way she was, even more so at hand to hand combat. And they were men, stronger than her, and there were six of them. Even if Roren and her fought as hard as they ever had in their lives, they maybe had a fifty-fifty shot of beating all six of them, and she wasn’t excited about those odds. Besides, there was something more important than fighting them, and probably getting injured— Kera was still out there somewhere, and she needed Lilaci’s help.

  “Lilaci— what do you want to do?”

  She watched the Scaethers to their right, as they casually began heading up in their direction. Her eyes then shot over to the gap between the mountains straight ahead. Her head then moved to look directly into Roren’s eyes.

  “Run,” she said.

  Sand poured down the side of the high dune— like water flowing down a long hill from the rains. They both took long strides rushing down the side opposite the six Scaethers. They were still plenty far off— a mile at least, but Lilaci knew they needed to make it to the far-off mountains to have any chance of escape from the pack. Otherwise it would turn into a bloody fight, with no stealth to aid her. It would be skill versus skill, and strength versus strength, and they were outnumbered. She knew Roren could fight, but against her own, she didn’t know how much of a chance he stood. As they ran, she looked up to guess the mountains were still three miles out, with the storm collected over their jagged tops.