Revenge Song

by C. K. Rieke

  “He’s a . . .” one of the Scaethers murmured, “. . . Whiteblade?”

  “Sounds like it,” Garenond said. “Not only are we going back to Voru with Lilaci, and with the whereabouts of the Dragon’s Breath, but we’re going bring back with us a white sword. This, boys, is going to be the greatest victory of our lives.”

  “Hold, Garenond,” Lilaci called out in the growing winds, “don’t fight him. Return to Voru, say you never found us. Say Dellanor was lost to a sandworm. Bury his body and walk away with your lives. You’ve heard the tales of the Whiteblade . . . You’re a great warrior, we all are, but unless you want to die today, just leave. Let us be on our way, and you can live to fight another day.”

  “You see what he did to one of us,” he yelled, pointing at Dellanor’s lifeless body, already beginning to be covered with a thin dusting of sand blowing in. “You know what it means to be a Scaether, although you may have forgotten. You cannot walk away with what you’ve done, Lilaci, and I certainly will not let him walk away from this alive. Whiteblade or Blackblade, I don’t give a shite, the sands are going to run with more blood this day.” He heaved his sword up before him, and the others behind him did the same. “For Dânoz, for the queen, for our gods!”

  As the Scaethers ran at the Knight of the Whiteblade, and he ran at them, a storm rushed in with the speed of lightning. Lilaci watched as a maelstrom of sand and wind blew in quicker than she’d ever seen. Her first reaction was to shield her eyes.

  “Lilaci, what are you doing?” Roren yelled out. “Let them fight.”

  “It’s not me,” she replied. She found her Sanzoral deep within, and called on it to calm the storm, but she was shocked to find it was useless in slowing the storm.

  “Stop it,” Roren said. “Make it stop.”

  “I can’t, I don’t know why I can’t.”

  “We’ve got to move,” Roren said, grabbing her arm, and as he began to pull her away, she felt a different hand grab her tightly by the other wrist. In the blinding sandstorm she looked back to see the old man’s silver hair blowing out from underneath his hood which he pinched tightly beneath his chin.

  “I’m coming with you,” he called out in the storm. “I’ll help you protect her.”

  “We don’t need your help,” Roren called back from the front. “We can take care of her on our own.”

  “Beg your pardon,” Demetrius said. “But I don’t share your confidence. You were almost slain back there, if you don’t remember. I’m sworn to protect the girl, just as you have, Roren of the Order of Drakon.”

  Lilaci looked at the old man suspiciously.

  “You need me, and I need you to find her,” the man said.

  She leaned in towards the Knight of the Whiteblade, staring deep into his eyes.

  “Well,” Roren called back, “whatever we do, we’ve got to get out of this storm!”

  Lilaci was inches away from the old man’s face. “You can come with us for the time being, but if I get even the slightest sense that you’re not telling me the truth, or that you’ve got other plans you’re hiding from me, not even the dragons themselves could spare you from my wrath.”

  Demetrius looked at her with a face of bewilderment and shock at her threat, then a great grin came across his face. “Splendid!” he laughed. “Pleased you’ve come to the right decision.”

  “What do you want to do about the three behind us still in the storm?” Roren asked.

  “If they come after us, they’ll learn to regret it,” Lilaci said. “Right now, we need to find Kera. We can deal with them later. Right now, let’s get out of here.”

  The three of them, Lilaci, the former Scaether, Roren, one of the last living members of the Order of Drakon, and Demetrius Burr, of the mythical Knights of the Whiteblade ventured off into the blinding sandstorm towards the Dune of the Last Dragon, to hopefully find Kera, the Dragon’s Breath, so that she may some way bring about a new age in the Sands of the Arr.

  Part III

  Dune of the Last Dragon

  Chapter Fourteen

  Whistling winds turned to howling swaths of biting sand. The storm had even blocked out the sun. She felt the crawling sensation of small thin legs on her thigh, she reached over quickly and brushed it off. Huddling her legs into her chest, she inched her way back into their makeshift cave. The walls were dark and hung low enough that they both had to duck their heads down squeeze their way in through a break in the rock only nearly wide enough for Fewn to fit through.

  “Do you want some light?” Fewn asked, her head was back against the wall as she seemed to be examining the rocks above them.

  “You mean make a fire? In here?” Kera asked, her legs still tucked into her tightly, and her chin hiding behind her knees.

  “I can make one if you get cold, or if it's too dark in here for you. Just a little one, there’s a small hole up in the entrance that should let out the smoke.” Fewn looked out the crack in the rocks before them, and the sands blowing sideways with a ferocious force. They were lucky to find such a shelter in the storm that seemed to come from nowhere. “I’ve heard of storms like this up here, coming as they do. But I never pictured them being anything like this. I wonder if they get worse the further north you go.”

  “You think it will be over soon?” Kera asked, her mouth still hiding behind her knees.

  “I honestly have no idea. As quick as it came, it could be over in a couple of minutes. Are you tired? You could rest if you want.”

  “Do we have any more food?”

  Fewn pulled over her pack and rummaged through it with a shuffling sound. “Look what I’ve got . . .” She pulled a wilting piece of prickle-less cactus. She raised it out of the pack and hovered it in front of Kera’s eyes. “Whose hungry? Open up wide.”

  Kera shook her head from side to side, closing her mouth tight.

  “Come on, open up,” Fewn asked with a kind tone. “Hungry girls need to eat.”

  She continued to shake her head, this time with her eyes shut tightly. “I’m sick of cactus. I don’t want any.”

  “You need something in your stomach, come on. Please, open up, it’ll make you feel better.”

  “I want something else, I can’t even look at that thing now,” Kera said. “I want some meat, or milk, or some sweet vegetables. I’m tired of not having anything.”

  Fewn sighed, and withdrew the cactus, cutting off a bite with her dagger and putting it in her own mouth. “I forget what milk even tastes like now.” She leaned over and looked at Kera. “Once we get to the mountain, I’ll find us some real food.”

  Kera looked over at her with an unsure expression. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” She chewed on the tough cactus with a smacking sound. “You do know what’s on the other side of the mountain, right?”

  “Nothing,” Kera said.

  “Wrong,” Fewn responded with a smile. “There’s no more land, but there’s the sea.”

  “So? You want to cross the sea next?”

  Fewn looked at Kera curiously, “You ever been to the sea before?”

  “No, nothing good comes from there.”

  “I assume that’s what you’ve been told, but actually, many good things come from the sea.”

  “Like what? I hear you can’t even drink the water, you’ll get sick. Another torture of the gods.”

  “That may be the truth,” Fewn said. “But even if we can’t drink it, there are animals that can, and they live in it, they swim in it, all day and all night.” She paused, and then leaned over whisper into Kera’s ear. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  Kera didn’t move, but her eyebrows upturned slightly, hardly noticeable.

  Fewn leaned back. “That’s fine,” she said with a sigh, and placed another piece of cactus on her tongue, and let it fall back into her mouth. “You probably wouldn’t appreciate it anyway.” She chewed on the cactus, smacking it loudly in her mouth again, and then she smiled. “It’s a really good secret though.”


  A few moments later, Kera removed her chin from her knees and murmured to Fewn, “Fine, tell me the secret.”

  “That’s alright, the time passed. I think I forgot it anyways. What were we talking about again?”

  “Fewn, you were talking about the sea. What is the secret?”

  “Secret? About the sea? I don’t remember. Were you going to tell me a secret?” she asked with a wide grin.

  “Yes, you were going to tell me a secret—” She looked over at Fewn, who appeared in no hurry to tell what that secret was. “Argh, Fewn, you are so infuriating sometimes. I forget which one of us is the child sometimes.”

  “Alright,” Fewn said, “I’ll tell you. No need to get so grouchy. So, the secret is, the animals that live in the sea. They’re fast, like lightning.”

  “You mean a fish swimming in water, yeah I know they’re fast. What’s the secret?”

  “If you don’t want to hear me tell it, then you can just continue . . .”

  Kera sat back quietly, with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “There, so the secret is that the fish in the sea— small and large— if we can catch one, we will eat like a king and queen for days. You see, the meat in the sea, imagine it's like the most tender, succulent, mouth-watering piece of meat you’d ever put in your mouth. It’s so juicy, the flavors just gush out of your mouth. You don’t even have to chew it, it’s like eating a cool, sweet butter. And after you eat it, you’ll sleep like you’ve never slept before. You see, there’s a magic to the meat that puts you into a sleep spell, rejuvenating your mind and body. You forget your pain, you forget the pain in your past, and your soul is set a rest. It’s only temporary, but it's a strong magic.”

  Fewn looked over at Kera who was looking at her with wide eyes. “I don’t know if you’re telling the truth, but if you’re even partly right, I want some now. That sounds so good.”

  “Well, once this storm is over, we should be there in a day, and then I’ll catch you all the fish you could eat.”

  “Have you been there before?” Kera asked. “. . . to the sea?”

  “Me?” Fewn scoffed. “Well, I mean . . . I haven’t actually been there myself. But I’ve heard plenty of stories about it . . .”

  Through the crack in the cave the winds continued to howl and bellow. The small fire’s light created a warmth Kera hadn’t felt in the last week. Normally she slept out on the open sands with one stone at her back to protect her from the cold winds at night. Now, she felt a sense of safety, not a common feeling for her, and now she had a destination, maybe there was something there at the mountain that would help her, something to guide her.

  Staring into the dancing fire’s flames, she let the other end of a long stick she held fall into the flames. Caressing the golden embers, the stick lit aflame. Kera looked over at Fewn, who Kera could tell was sleeping. Fewn was a subtle sleeper, it was difficult to tell at times if she was awake or not, except for her one tell— when her mouth hung open slightly. As she slept with her back to the wall, Kera stood up delicately in the cave, trying not to make a noise to wake her.

  The cave wasn’t big, yet it was half-buried under the sands on the outside. Once Fewn rustled them in to make a shelter from the ongoing storm, they’d been taking time to enjoy their break from the harsh sands, and the constant walking. About a half-hour ago, Kera noticed a crack in the rocks at the right side of the cave, not far from where she sat, and once her stick held the fire enough, she stood and walked over to it. She stuck the side of her head up to the crevasse, it was two-thirds her height. She didn’t hear anything, it was a stagnant darkness with no sound. She then turned her head and stuck her nose into it, yet she couldn’t smell anything except the odor of a cave that hadn’t seen light in who knew how many years.

  Then, she heard a subtle sound, like a faint whisper— a whisper too weak to hear. It was like a gentle breeze blowing through a hollow tree. Kera put her ear up to the crack again, and this time she heard the whisper again, but this time clearer. “Kera . . .” the wispy voice said.

  “Yes, I’m here she said. Who is it?”

  “Kera . . .” the drawn-out voice called again. “See . . . You must see with eyes open . . . Come . . .”

  Kera was startled by the voice calling from the darkness further into the crack. She thought about rousing Fewn, and looking back, she saw Fewn still sleeping soundly back by the fire. “I should get her,” Kera said to herself. “No, something tells me this is for my eyes only.”

  Lifting the stick, she slid it into the crack, examining the walls on the other side of it. There appeared to be a tunnel of sorts, and a solid floor of rock and sand. She lifted her foot high enough to squeeze it through the crack, and then looking back at the sleeping Fewn, she pushed the stick further into the crack. Her arm followed, then her head, and she struggled to get her chest to fit through, but she soon found she was standing on the other side of the crack, and in the tunnel, in which she had to hang her head with its low ceiling.

  Holding the light of the stick out, she tried to look further down the tunnel, yet it appeared to turn down to the left, and her feet began to creep further down it, the flames of the stick flickering as she did so. Her fingers caressed the bumpy rock as dirt fell to the floor as she glided past, further down the corridor, the stick’s light faint in the darkness.

  Her fingertips glided along the sandy walls, and suddenly stopped as they found what appeared to be an indent in the wall. Kera stopped her descent into the corridor and turned the stick’s light to the crease her fingers had found. She held the firelight close and leaned in towards where her fingers were. Up close to the rock, she saw a long-carved line stretch out in three directions, out of the light of the fire, and she saw what appeared to be a black color pressed into the crevasse. She dipped her finger into the thin crevasse and pulled it out to examine her fingertip, she smudged the black residue between her fingers.

  “Ash?” she whispered to herself.

  Standing back slightly, she inverted the stick to let the flames creep back up it, creating more fire. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and with the growing firelight, her jaw relaxed and fell open. The crevasse she’d found was only one of many, and they curved around the wall in a pattern, no— a carving. Before her was a beautifully carved body of a dragon along the entire stretch of wall. With the ash-laden lines dancing around the wall, she saw its mighty wings, outstretched and powerful. She saw every scale lining its body like the strongest armor imaginable, and its tail flowed down deeper into the darkness down the corridor. Then she brought the firelight up the dragon’s neck, and where its head was.

  The carving was of the side of the dragon’s face, its hollow eyes looking upwards, as if in flight up to the heavens. Long, curling horns ran at the back of its skull, and a strong jaw and wide nostrils framed its face. She’d never seen anything like it. Even just the carving on the wall of it was ten times her size, running down the stretch of corridor. Then she felt a strange sensation— what had been a feeling of awe, turned to a sharp feeling of dread— like a cold wind blowing on her ankles. She turned slowly behind her, letting the light of the fire turn from the wall before her, to the wall behind. More carved lines formed before her in the wall opposite the dragon. On the wall was not one figure, but many, and not a dragon, but the forms of man. Six men and women.

  In the carved mural, the six figures were portrayed in a frantic scene of chaos. This mural was not meant to portray the gods in the warm light they enjoyed being in. No, this was a murderous, vicious battle. The six gods held weapons out wide, cutting and slashing. They weren’t killing other men though, they were dragons, but not like the dragon flying high on the other wall. No— these were baby dragons. On one side, Eyr held a decapitated dragon’s head in her hand, while holding a sword in its heart with her other hand. The dragon was little bigger than a large dog.

  And Dânoz stood at the center, stoic and strong. At his feet were the shattered eggs of a dragon’s offspr
ing. Vigolos had his battleax drawn behind him, with an innocent dragon at his feet, and at his mercy. Kera felt a lump form in her throat, and she felt the terror the young dragons must have felt in that moment— helpless and afraid. Then, holding the firelight further down the corridor she saw what must have been Gorlen, the Witch Queen. She’d killed many dragons at her feet, but most disturbing of all, and what made Kera fall to her knees, was Gorlen appeared to be eating the heart of one of the dragons. It was half in her mouth as she bit down onto it. A red hue was painted on her face, blood dripping down her chin onto her chest. Kera felt nauseous, and a cold sweat formed on her brow.

  “What happened to them? What monsters. Killing babies? What kind of evil could do such a thing? They were only younglings.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Is that what you did? Is this how you started the war? Or how you ended it? How is it I’ve never heard this story? Did you hide the truth all these years? If the dragons had killed your young, the whole of the Arr would know that tale. You monsters.”

  Kera felt something eerie then, as if she was being watched. She peered up slowly back to the carving of Gorlen on the wall, and at two eyes that now seemed to be staring at her. Kera rose to her feet cautiously, and the eyes of the Witch Queen seemed to follow.

  “What?” Kera said in surprise. “What is this?”

  Kera watched as the lines in the sand wall began to move, like a crawl. A toe began to separate itself from the wall, then an ankle. Kera stepped back, but as the figure of Gorlen moved and began to emerge from the wall with a grim face, blood still dripping from it, Kera stumbled back to the ground, falling on her back. She watched in terror as Gorlen had fully removed herself from the wall, and a rock grew in Kera’s stomach as the Witch Queen took another bite from the still-beating heart of the baby dragon. As she chewed it, blood pumped down her face and chest, and she dropped the remaining heart to the sand, beating several more times until it stopped.