by C. K. Rieke
“You stay where you are,” Garenond said, his eyes darting all around. “I’ll do it, I swear to the Six. I’ll kill her.”
“No,” Lilaci said in a cold voice. Her eyes flared in purple flames, and sand shot in from over Garenond’s shoulder and down to his hand holding the dagger. It glided around his wrist, wrapping itself tightly around his arm.
“Lilaci!” he yelled. “Stop this madness!” He let go of Kera with his other arm and began to pull his sword from its scabbard. Sand rose from his feet and gripped his other wrist, holding both his hands in place. “No, you can’t do this!”
Without looking at them, Lilaci reached her hand out to the other two Scaethers and brought up quick streams of sand that gripped their wrists. “I warned you. I’m tired of giving warnings, giving second chances.” Kera slipped out of Garenond’s hold and ran over to Lilaci. In a warm embrace, Lilaci felt the young girl slip both her warm arms around her torso, and tears began to stream down Lilaci’s cheeks. “You held a god-damned knife to her throat?” The sand tightened around their wrists, and Garenond winced from the pain. “You threatened to kill the only thing I care about? The only thing I have left?” The sands tightened their grip.
“You betrayed us,” Garenond said, fighting off the pain. “You betrayed me.” His voice was shaky, like that of a man broken. “You killed them. You killed Foro, and then Dellanor. They were my family. They were all I had.”
“I warned them too,” she said. “But they wouldn’t listen, they did this, not me.”
“Then do it,” Garenond said.
“I don’t want to,” Lilaci said. When is all of this pain and death going to stop? I don’t want to kill him, but I’ve learned my lesson with giving second chances. “You’re making me.”
“I’ll never leave you alone,” he said. “I’ll hunt you to the far corners of the Arr. I’ll hunt the girl down until she’s in the hands of Dânoz himself. I’ll . . .”
Lilaci didn’t let him finish his sentence. Instead she erected a raging fire that erupted from the sands, engulfing Garenond. He screamed as the fire burned his flesh and bone. Three pyres rose into the air, searing the three Scaethers. The smell of charred, burnt human flesh entered her nostrils. The three men screamed in agony, and as they did so, Lilaci doubled her focus and raged the fires even hotter, even higher. I’ll not let you touch her again.
“I’ll burn every last Scaether that comes after her. I’ll bury any Reevin that stands in my way. I’ll strike down any god that thinks that she belongs anywhere but with me. I am the Bearer of the Sanzoral. I am Lilaci the Lazerine. And whoever— whatever— comes between me and what I want will burn.” The flames burned hotter, and the fires held a waving, white light at their cores, and the fires rose higher towards the skies.
“Lilaci,” Kera said, still holding onto her. “It’s okay, you can stop. They’re gone now.”
Lilaci looked down at the girl who looked up at her with her pale gray eyes. Lilaci’s body quickly un-tensed, and the fires faded off into the breeze instantly. The sun returned its light back to the sands, and three corpses fell limp, their armor clacking as they fell. Lilaci wrapped her arms around Kera.
“Lilaci,” a man’s voice called from behind. She turned to see Burr running towards her. “Lilaci, you found her!”
“Lilaci,” Kera said, gripping onto her tightly. “You came. I knew you would. You came back.”
“Yes,” Lilaci said. “I’m here.”
Kera held onto her, weeping in joy, but then Lilaci felt Kera pull away timidly. The girl looked back up at Lilaci, her eyes wet and her she appeared nervous. “Listen, Lilaci . . . I have to tell you something. It’s about Fewn . . .”
The fire roared up again in Lilaci instantly at her name. A fire that burned deep in her stomach and heart. All the pain that she’d gone through, all the grief and worry came back to her in that instant. She remembered herself at the brink of death back in the cave after her fight with the sandworms. “Fewn . . .” Lilaci said, looking over at her laying on the grass, struggling to undo her tight bindings.
“Lilaci,” Roren said. He held a look that asked her what she was going to do.
“Untie her,” she said. “And give her her sword.”
“Lilaci,” Roren said. “Don’t.”
Lilaci took a solid step away from Kera, with her sword firmly at her side. “Do it. I don’t want to kill an unarmed woman.”
“Lilaci,” Kera said. “Listen . . .” Roren went over and cut her bindings. Lilaci could see that Fewn was injured, she had a deep cut on her arm, and her face was bruised.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” Fewn said, rubbing her freed wrists. Roren grabbed her sword and threw it at her feet. “I’ve changed though. I want to help Kera.”
“Grab your sword,” Lilaci said.
“Lilaci, listen,” she said.
“I said . . . Grab your sword.”
“I told you she wouldn’t listen to me,” Fewn said, looking at Kera.
“She helped me,” Kera said. “She was going to take me, but then she . . .”
“Kera,” Lilaci said, not looking at her, but glaring at Fewn. “This is between us. Pick up the sword.”
Fewn rose to her feet, still rubbing her wrists. “No.”
Lilaci ran at her then, swifter than a rushing wind, and Fewn quickly dipped down and grabbed her sword, bringing it up just in time to deflect Lilaci’s blow.
“Lilaci!” Kera screamed.
Lilaci laid heavy blow after blow onto Fewn, who narrowly blocked each attack. Her sword flew over Fewn’s shoulder, narrowly grazing it, and Fewn sent her sword gliding past Lilaci’s hip, as each of them exchanged blows in a flurry of steel.
“You took her from me,” Lilaci said. “You lied to me. You lied to her and took her away. You tried to kill me, but you didn’t try hard enough. I crawled through the darkness, with death creeping towards me, but it didn’t take me. But I know the face of death, and it’s coming for you.”
The battled back and forth, with a clang-clang, thud, clang. Burr and Roren watched eagerly for Lilaci to strike her down. Kera continued to yell out for Lilaci to stop.
“I’m sorry, Lilaci. I regret what I did. I wasn’t myself. I thought the only way to survive was to take Kera. But I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to take her back to the oasis. I think it was all part of the plan. Kera . . . she had a vision to come here! Perhaps this was all part of fate.”
“Fate?” Lilaci said. “What do you know of fate? It's calling for you now Fewn.” Hate was on Lilaci’s breath.
She laid heavy blows onto Fewn, and Fewn began to take strides back. Her injuries were causing her to weaken under the heated battle. Whack, whack, thud. Lilaci’s blows reigned down hard as she grunted with each attack. A swipe of her sword whooshed over Fewn’s head, and Lilaci kicked her down as she ducked under the attack.
Fewn fell back to the sands in exhaustion, and quickly found Lilaci’s boot on the hand holding her sword. Lilaci looked down, her eyes burning in violet flames.
“I’ve promised my life for Kera,” Fewn said. “I’ve sworn to protect her.”
“There’s no protecting her while you’re alive. You’re vermin. You’re a liar. And she’ll be safer once you’re dead!” Lilaci reached behind her back and brought out the black dagger, raising it over Fewn’s chest. “I was a fool to trust you. I was a fool to think you’d change. You said we were going to be a family! You promised that you’d protect her, and then you tricked me! I almost died Fewn, I almost died because of you.” Tears began to roll down Lilaci’s cheeks. “It was your fault. You took her from me . . . You took her from me!”
“Do it,” Fewn said. Her eyes held a deep sadness as she looked up at Lilaci, then she closed her eyes, and lifted her head back, exposing her chest and throat. “Go on, Lilaci, I don’t blame you. I’m sorry for what I did. I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I don’t even know if I can trust myself. I never wanted to be this way. I never wanted
to hurt you or hurt her.” She began to cry. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I never wanted you to get hurt. You’re right. She’s safer without me. Just know . . . That I love her . . . And I love you . . .”
“Shut your mouth!” Lilaci cried, her dagger raised high. “Shut your lying mouth!”
“Go on,” Fewn cried. “Do it.”
Lilaci raised her dagger with both hands, and with a cry she let the dagger fly down towards Fewn’s heart. The dagger was only inches away from plunging into her chest, when suddenly Lilaci had to pull it back, as Kera had leapt onto Fewn.
“No, don’t!” Kera cried. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Kera, move,” Lilaci said. “I have to do this. She can’t be trusted. You’re not safe with her alive.”
“No,” Kera shook her head. “We need her. Trust me when I tell you this. You can’t kill her.”
Lilaci looked up at Roren and Burr in confusion. “What are you talking about? You know what she did, Kera. Don’t you remember? She took you.”
“I know, I know,” Kera said. “Just give me time to explain.” She looked at Roren, with her gray eyes littered with tears. “Roren, believe me. She will help us.”
Roren walked over to Kera’s side. “Lilaci, listen to her,” he said.
Lilaci then looked into Kera’s sad eyes, and Lilaci wrapped her arms around Kera as she burst into tears. I don’t know what to do. My heart tells me to listen to Kera, but my instincts tell me to kill Fewn right here, right now.
“Kill her,” Burr said. “Kill her before she has the chance to kill you again.”
What do I do? What do I do?
“Lilaci,” Kera said. “You can’t. I’m sorry. I know your heart desires it. I know you want your revenge, but I can’t let you do it. I had a vision, they told me Fewn has to live. We need her help still, and deep in her heart, she’s sorry, she’s ashamed, she’s broken. You need to help her. You need to help her find her way. You’re stronger than she, and she needs your light.”
“I don’t know if I can, Kera,” she said. “Even with how much I love you.”
“Can you try?” Kera asked. “For me? I know what I’m doing. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then try. There’s been enough blood spilt this day, and there’s still much to do before the sun sets. I know where we need to go next.”
“Kera—” Lilaci said, the memory shooting back into her head. “We’ve found something. Down in the cave you sent Roren to, we’ve found an egg.”
A smile came across Kera’s lips. “A dragon?”
“Yes,” Lilaci said. “We’ve got to go to it.”
“So, you’ll leave her unharmed?” Kera asked.
Lilaci glared down at Fewn, she looked beaten down and broken.
“I’ll— I’ll try, but only for you. And if she so much as hints at harming you or any of us, that’s the last breath she’ll draw. Mark my words on that Fewn. Do you understand me?”
Fewn nodded hastily. “Thank you.”
“Kera,” Roren said. “What did you mean we have much to do this day?”
Kera looked over at him, and then looked up at the mountain cliffs at it shot up almost endlessly at the sky. “We have to climb.”
Part IV
Kôrran’s Last Gift, and the Hunt Begins
Chapter Twenty-One
Howling winds bellowed as they wrapped around clay walls and shot down dark alleys. Nary a soul was heard on the dark cobblestone and sandy streets. Doors and windows were locked tightly. Linens were placed under closed doors to keep unwanted sands outside. The glow of warm candlelight from the inside of dwellings flickered as the blowing winds carried sands from the outlying desert. Voru was feeling the last remnants of a sandstorm as it blew through the city.
Preparations had been made, as they always were, for a sandstorm. The fountains were covered, that was always the first priority. Not one, two, or even three linens were placed on each— but four or five linens were mandated by the queen, and all were wrapped in heavy rope and sometimes iron chains. Next, all were ordered indoors, as there were no soldiers upon the streets, so no security could be insured. Hence, all doors and windows were locked tightly. Those without homes were left to the mercy of the streets, and the storm. Abandoned dwellings, and even the alleyways themselves became makeshift shelters.
There were whispers up and down the streets though. Whispers of a beautiful woman offering shelter to those in need, those that were less-fortunate in the city. She offered hot food and a soft bed to any in need. These whispers had spread through the city over the last few weeks, and many had sought her out— the tall woman with olive skin and long blond flowing hair. Her eyes were said to be as blue as the clearest water from an untainted sacred source.
This had two effects on the weak and hopeless of Voru before and during the storm— Most considered this woman’s beckoning a trap, and avoided her clear blue eyes, yet some— sought her out, and took her up on her offer. There was a chance they all remained with her because her promise held too wonderful of food and rest, but there was always the chance the opposite was true. In Voru, as in all the three cities of the Arr on the Great Oasi, if something was too good to be true— it was.
As the homeless tucked under piles of refuse in the alleyways, and families tucked their loved ones in tightly to weather out the storm, in the Pyramid of Erodoran, the day and night went on as if the storm were nothing but a gentle breeze. Behind the thick, carefully constructed walls of the pyramid, no sand could enter. Once the windows were closed and locked, the only breath of the storm was felt when the front gate and door was opened. Hence, the door wasn’t opened except in emergencies. That was one thing the Queen Lezeral was insistent about— she hated seeing sand within the castle walls, as she left the pyramid infrequently. Most assumed she despised the desert, so the pyramid was to remain as if no desert existed outside. It was a different world in the interior.
Along the west wall of Erodoran, was a rectangular room with burning fireplaces at both ends. From end to end it would take a normal man five minutes to walk. The room was brightly lit with many candles on long, wooden tables that stretched down the length of the room. And along its walls, were books— thousands upon thousands. Their tattered spines and covers were of every color imaginable, albeit most were weathered from the long years. In the room, at the tables, were a mix of scholars, enthusiastic readers, mages and occasionally the type that always stood out like a sore thumb— one of the Lu-Polini. This night was one of those nights.
Sitting alone at one of the long tables sat a man in light armor, made of dark metal. His long black hair fell down his back like a horsetail of silk. His pale skin and widow’s peak reflected warmly from the candlelight. Eyes drifted over to him curiously as everyone in the room, dozens of them, knew who the man was. Yet, he acted like he didn’t notice the wandering eyes. He sat with his back straightened and his chin high, as he examined each of the books in front of him. Holding each up, he inspected the front and back covers. He appeared to be a proud, strong commander. Not one person spoke a word to him, he may be living in the pyramid under an invitation from the queen herself, but as the commander of the Scaethers, Veranor was always to be an outsider, after all, he was born with the curse of his skin-color just as all of his disciples were.
The last book he scanned he laid down in front of him, squarely, as he ran his index finger down the edge. He then reached into his bag to the right of his chair and pulled out an old looking book, with the title long worn away from its cover. He placed this book from his bag next to the book in front of him on the table and compared the two— the size, the approximate age, and color. He then turned the covers and compared the first page of each text. The two were written in two distinctly different languages. The one from his bag was written in their modern tongue, the other in a much older dialect. There weren’t many that could read such an old language, but he was one of them.
The book fro
m his bag, the book he referred to as The Book of the Unknown, because of its missing title, was a book he’d read through from cover to cover countless times. It held stories and histories long forgotten through the ages. It held secrets that had been hidden for generations, and it held prophecies of things to come. From this book, Veranor studied the ways of the old world, as knowledge in the Arr was power. The unfortunate thing about the book was the years had done their work, and many of the pages were faded blank or missing entirely. Veranor had been scouring the library for the length of his stay in the pyramid, looking for another copy of the book, and as a smirk crept across his face as he leaned in close to the new book before him, he said softly, “There you are.”
Once he was fairly certain he’d found a more preserved copy, he first looked again at the title on its cover, still legible-
Ur Anum
Sua Ven Unandun Mag Deun
Translated to modern tongue—
Over Time
Soft Winds Move Great Dunes
He flipped quickly through the book, stopping roughly halfway through. He knew exactly to which part he wanted to find, but then— he felt a presence in the room. As he lifted his head to look around, he saw the dozens of other patrons of the library shuffling from the tables and moving to the exits all at once— even the mages. He closed the book and grabbed his copy from the table and slid it into his bag smoothly. He stacked the books on the table before him, with the new book at the bottom. He sat back with his arms crossed in front of his chest and let out a sigh. He folded one leg over the other and sat patiently with his head down.
As the patrons folded out of the doors in a rush, a figure in a long white dress walked elegantly through the line of tables, her fingers gliding along the tops of the chairs. In the openness of the library, not one of her footsteps produced a single echo. She was a serpent winding down the dunes.