by C. K. Rieke
“Blood?” Zaan asked.
“Blood!” Palanzal said excitedly.
Zaan sat there for a moment, and then came up with the courage to finally ask what had been running through his head. “Excuse me, Mäezer Palanzal, but why are you so excited about that? Isn’t that a bad thing?” He didn’t like the thought of having any weakness.
“Well, yes, it is. But, that fact that you were able to work past it is exciting.” Palanzal seemed to relax, and gather that Zaan was confused and even concerned now. “You see, Zaan, all of us who wield the Azulūz are susceptible to something that weakens our powers. Blood, you see, is one of the most powerful of our weaknesses.” Palanzal saw in Zaan’s expression that he was even more concerned now. “Zaan, the important point I’m trying to make is that you were strong enough in that moment to push through one of our greatest weaknesses and defeat a great and powerful enemy. You pushed through the weakness of blood and killed Reizenthrōgz! Don’t you see the beauty in it?”
“I only kinda killed him. Gogenanth killed him.”
“Yes, that is what I heard.” Palanzal set down his quill, “Listen Zaan, we must communicate this new information to Zelestiana. This has to become a part of your training: how to work through blood.”
Palanzal saw concern and weariness still written on Zaan’s face, so he decided to change the subject. “There is another reason I asked you come to my study, Zaan. Did Zelestiana tell you?”
“Yes, the red stone.”
“Did you bring it?” Palanzal asked. Zaan reached into his shirt pocket, dug in deep into the very bottom, and produced the shining-red, perfectly-cut stone. He held it out for Palanzal, who grabbed it with three fingers and put it in the palm of his other hand. “Curious. Why is this stone so important? And why can’t I find anything written on such a stone? Curious . . . ”
Zaan sat looking out the window at the Rion Sea and the tide washing out, thinking about his dinner date with his best friend, Gar, and the new girl in town, Lily, and a new guy named Stave.
Palanzal sat there for another twenty minutes, peering at the stone in the sunlight, rolling it around on his table. He sketched it and even bit down on it once. Time seemed to drag on for Zaan. Finally, he broke the silence, “Mäezer Palanzal, how much longer do you require of me?”
“Oh, Zaan, I forgot you were there. Sorry, you may go,” Palanzal went back to studying the stone.
Another moment passed, “Can I have my stone back?” Zaan asked.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry, my son,” Palanzal said as he lifted the stone off of the desk and dropped it into Zaan’s open palm. On the way out of Palanzal’s study, Zaan made sure to wipe the stone off with the bottom of shirt before he put it back in his breast pocket.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“SO where are we going?” Zaan asked Gar as they walked through the dark streets of Barrier Cliff. The scattered blue torches glowed dimly under the star-filled night sky.
“We are going to Stave’s to have a drink, and then to Folk’s Inn to meet up with Lily,” Gar said. “Watch this.” He stopped in the alley and pulled out a dagger six inches in length with a strange bronze tint Zaan had never seen, yet looked brand new.
“That’s a nice dagger. Who’d you steal it from?” Zaan asked.
“Haha. You are excruciatingly funny. The Major gave it to me,” Gar said. “He offered to train me with weapons, too.”
“Did he ask you what you wanted to learn first?” Zaan asked.
“Yeah.”
“What did you say? I doubt you said the dagger,” Zaan laughed.
“I told him I wanted to learn them all. But he told me a good way to start is to learn stealth tactics first. But we’re going to work with swords too,” Gar said.
“That’s an interesting idea. I’m guessing he thinks you’ll need to be stealthy. He probably thinks you’re smart because you read so many books,” Zaan said.
“What does that mean?” Gar asked defensively.
“Nothing bad. It’s just that more educated folk can usually avoid a fight, or seem more non-threatening. So stealth would be a good trait to have,” Zaan said, raising his hands chest level and shrugging his shoulders.
“It’s like everything you are saying right now is to cover up that you think learning to use a dagger worthless,” Gar responded with a laugh. “But you are not going to make me feel bad about it. I’m going to learn everything there is to know about it.”
“Alright, well don’t blame me when you pull that out later, after you’ve had too much to drink, and I pull out a real sword,” he said, as he flashed a bit of steel from his slaver’s sword.
“Well, let all tremble in fear at Zaan Talabard, the giant-killer. Looking into his eyes alone is enough to turn you to stone, or bore you to death. Us regular folk down here aren’t worthy of thine presence,” Gar yelled, into the alley, as if he were proclaiming it to the world.
“Alright, enough, I get it. Where does Stave live anyway?” he asked, trying to change the conversation.
“Hey, come on in Gar. You must be Zaan, the one everyone is so interested in?” Stave said as he opened the door, candles lit the inside of his place.
Stave Gentry, at first impression, seemed clean-cut and well dressed. His clothes seemed to fit well, as if careful consideration was given to each of them. The leather shoes he wore were without a speck of dirt, and his brow length dark-brown hair was highlighted against his lightly sun-touched skin. Once his door was opened, Zaan caught a subtle smell of frankincense from inside his home.
“This is the Zaan Talabard. Don’t piss him off or he will turn you into a pig,” Gar said.
“Ah, it never gets old. You really are funny, Gar. You could make a great jester somewhere, someday,” Zaan said. “Anyways, nice to meet you, Stave.”
“Nice to meet you. You want something to drink, or some water?” Stave asked and walked into his kitchen.
“I’ll have whatever you guys are having.” Zaan walked and took a seat in a chair by the main table. It was a unique wood Zaan had never seen, and the room was well lit with hints of candle smoke wafting in the air. “Nice place, I don’t even think I’ve been over to this side of town before.”
Stave’s voice answered from the kitchen, “Yeah, this side of town can be pretty surprising. They just put me in this place, but I like it. I often go out in the morning and look out into the forest.” He came out with a couple of mugs of ale.
Zaan took a sip. “This is good. It doesn’t taste like any of the ales from Folk’s Inn. Whoa, and it’s pretty strong.” His eyes watered, and he choked down his first taste.
“Stave gets this delivered to him from his hometown,” Gar said.
“Sorry, should have warned you,” Stave said with a smile. “I guess I forget how intense it can be at first.”
“It’s okay, it is good, once you know what to expect,” Zaan said, after swallowing a second gulp of the cool, semi-thick ale. “So where is your hometown?”
“Dillengrad,” Stave said, as he began neatly stacking the various books scattered on the small table in front of them.
“Dillengrad. That’s interesting,” Gar said, “I didn’t know you were from there.” Stave didn’t reply, but kept organizing. “What’s it like there?”
Stave polished off the last bit of ale from his mug, “Anyone care for another?”
“Sure, I’ll take one,” Zaan said, taking a last swallow before Stave took the empty mug.
“I’m okay for now,” Gar said, and Stave went to the kitchen to, presumably, pour more ale.
Gar looked at Zaan with a curious upturned eyebrow. “Did I say something?” Zaan shrugged his shoulders.
Stave came back in the room. “Well, let’s polish these off and meet up with Lily.”
“Sounds good,” Zaan said. The room sat uncomfortably silent for the next few moments.
“Zaan, you mind if I ask you a question,” Stave said breaking the sil
ence. “I’m positive you are tired of people asking you bothersome questions but . . .”
“No, it’s okay. What’s your question?” Zaan responded.
“What was going through your head when you were fighting that ogre? I’ve heard the story a dozen different ways. Were you scared? I mean, after you escaped the Black Cave, and only a few weeks later being in a battle like that. I can’t imagine.”
“Well . . . I just did what felt right at the time,” he said. He could tell Stave was sitting in attention waiting for more, even Gar sat in anticipation. “You see, if there is one thing I’ve learned through this whole mess it is that when it comes time to do something, I mean, actually do something, there isn’t really a question in your mind about whether to do it or not. Instinct kicks in and takes over. I feel like anyone in my shoes would have done the same thing.”
“You might not give people enough credit.” Gar laughed and swallowed the last of his ale. “Most people would have been scared stiff at the sight of Reizenthrōgz, and for good reason!”
“You’re right, Gar, but people don’t understand I’m talking about life and death. Anybody would do anything they could to save a friend or family member, right?” Zaan said, twirling the foam in his mug with his index finger. “It does change you though.”
“Hmm, well I certainly feel privileged to have such a celebrity in my humble abode,” Stave said.
Zaan let his dark hair fall in front of his eyes, shook his head, and let out a sigh. “I’m no celebrity.”
Gar looked at Zaan’s humbleness. “He doesn’t really care for talk like that.”
Stave replied, “Sorry.”
“I’m fine, it’s just a little bothersome that people talk about me like I’m a great warrior like Gildur or something. The truth is I can barely use a sword.”
Gar stood up quickly and unsheathed his shiny, new dagger. “Ha, I’ve caught him off guard— Zaan Talabard the Swordless.”
“Okay, let’s get going before you two both start playing with your swords in the house,” Stave said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE three of them approached the warm exterior to Folk’s Inn. The air was brisk but felt warm compared to the recent wintry months prior. It was early in the evening and the moon hung in the sky, hovering over the peaks of the mountains to the west.
A warm feeling welled up in Zaan’s stomach as each footstep brought him closer to the welcoming presence of Folk’s Inn. He was the first to open the swinging door to the interior of Folk’s and his eyes darted back and forth scanning for the curly, golden locks of Lily’s hair. His eyes rested on a patron at the bar with blond curly hair, but it wasn’t Lily. He looked back at Gar and Stave, who were pulling up chairs to a table behind him. Zaan went over and pulled up a chair himself. A warm fired popped and crackled in the corner of the room, and the room bustled with its loud clientele.
“I guess she’s running late,” Stave said. “We should go ahead without her.”
Hours later, after a couple drinks too many, Zaan reached into his empty pocket and pulled out six slits of change. “Well, I guess that’s it. Show’s over.”
“What? We just got here. What are you talking about? You want to go home?” Gar asked, as he reached into his pockets. A surprised look came over his face, as he pulled out his pockets and a few coins scattered and rolled across the floor. “We could always start a tab.”
“How long have we been sitting here? I need to get some fresh air,” Stave said, as he stood up and stretched his arms out wide. He walked over to the swinging front door and a gush of cool spring air came in as he left.
“How you doing, Zaan? You seem kind of distracted tonight,” Gar asked as he motioned for the barkeep.
“I'm fine,” Zaan responded. He was feeling disappointed about not getting to talk with Lily.
“Okay,” Gar said. He had a tone of disbelief in his voice. The barkeep came over and laid three beers on the table and took the empty glasses. “You can put them on my tab.” The barkeep gave Gar an inquisitive eye and left the table with a subtle groan.
“They love me here. Don’t pay any attention to that,” Gar said. “So, what do you think of Stave? He fits in pretty well, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m really curious about the Dillengrad thing though. I wonder why he didn’t want to talk about it.” Zaan said.
“Me too, but I’m trying not to assume anything. He’ll probably tell us about it sometime. I do hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe he was an assassin but got caught and is on the run from King Manice Mordoth. That old man is known for his temper,” Gar said. His eyes grew, and he leaned towards Zaan with this last statement. “Maybe he’s got a bounty on his head . . .”
“Trying not to assume, huh? Well, maybe he’s the runaway bastard son of the king but ran up debts so high even the crown couldn’t pay them off,” Zaan replied.
“Ha, we may be in the presence of royalty. He should probably get the next round then,” Gar said.
A cool breeze entered the room once more, and a glimmer of gold lit the entrance of Folk’s Inn. Zaan looked over and saw Stave walking back towards them. She was behind him. “Look what I found,” Stave said.
Lily elegantly strode through the room. Her skirt hardly swayed as she came over. Stave motioned for the barkeep, who was already en route. The barkeep brought over a chair from another table and pulled it out for her as she sat. He helped push in the chair after.
“Young lady, what can I get you?” he asked.
“The usual please,” she responded softly, and the barkeep went off. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay. We’ve been having a good time. Lily, you know Zaan, right?” Stave said, waving a hand towards Zaan, who peered thoughtfully into her everest-green eyes. Zaan got lost looking into their unnatural mossy color.
“Yeah, we’ve met a couple of times. Anyway, everyone knows Zaan here.” Lily gave a slight laugh. Zaan’s cheeks began to flush. “Not to mention, he helped save me.” He lowered his head to her.
The barkeep laid a glass of rose-colored wine for Lily, who held it up for the others. “To health,” she said.
The three boys followed suit. “To health!” they said, and took a drink.
“What have you three been talking about?” Lily asked as she took another sip of the floral wine. It left a rose ring on the front of her lips.
“I have absolutely no idea,” Gar said laughing. “Nothing worth remembering or repeating anyway. Sorry, guys.” They all gave a quick laugh.
“You’re probably right,” Stave said and took a sip of his ale. Zaan followed suit. “Lily, what were you doing to make you so late? And what were you doing walking around at night by yourself?”
“You worried about me walking around by myself? That’s silly. Who doesn’t feel safe here in Barrier Cliff?” she said.
“I guess you’re right,” Stave said. “But . . . what were you doing?”
“I am sorry I was late, I got caught up in something,” she said.
“Very mysterious. Let me guess, you found some of the hidden pathways throughout the city and got lost,” Gar said. She gave a brief laugh at that.
“No, nothing like that,” she said, as Gar reached over and pulled a small twig from her hair. He held it out in front of her, for her to see.
“What?” she asked defensively, yet playfully.
“Nothing,” he responded, and sat back and took a sip of his ale. It left a foamy residue on his short mustache.
“So, Lily . . .” Zaan started, and everyone placed their gaze upon him. “Have you started training with anyone here? To work with your Azulūz?”
“No, not yet. Palanzal and Elindrill did tell me I would start soon. I think they are trying to find who is going to train me,” she responded. “Right now, I’ve just been meeting with Elindrill daily.” I wonder who they’ll pick? Zelestiana? Astor? Or someone else?
“Do you have any idea what you can do yet?”
Stave asked.
“No, not yet. I kind of hope it’s a mistake and that I don’t have anything special like that. I’d rather remain normal like you boys,” she said. Zaan expected some sort of humor with this statement, and he expected to laugh, but it came out almost somberly. “I don’t want to ever see things that dreadful ever again.”
Stave reached over and put his hand on Lily’s. “It’s going to be alright, Lily. You’re safe here with us.” She took her hand away and wiped a tear from her eye.
“I’m sorry—” she said with a quivering lip, and as quickly as she arrived, she ran out the door back into the dark alleys of black rock.
The three of them sat there in silence, not needing to speak. Zaan wondered about the origin of her Azulūz, and at what cost she had acquired it. She hadn’t spoken openly with them yet about her family, but they all knew what had happened. He took a drink of his ale and thought of Oscar.
CHAPTER NINE
“HE was shorter than that,” Gogenanth said to his friends, as they sat in the main courtyard of Barrier Cliff drinking dark wine. The courtyard was lively with fresh-smelling flowers of a dozen varietals along the black stones.
“I don’t know. He may have been that tall at one time, although it makes sense they would make him look bigger than a normal person,” Astor said, and then stood up next to the monument of Gildur that had just been built in the courtyard. He put his hand up to the top of his head, which showed he fell close to two heads shorter than the statue of Gildur. Tilda and Gogenanth laughed.
“Maybe you are just shorter than you used to be,” Gogenanth said.
“Now that you say it, Gogenanth, yes, I think you are shrinking, Astor,” Tilda said, not trying to hide her smile. Astor lifted his palms as if giving up and went and sat back down. “Oh, come now, we were just playing with you.”
“I think we found a sore spot,” Gogenanth said. He took a sip of wine, and his widow’s peak and dark eyes reflected the sunlight.