by C. K. Rieke
He did the same with his hand, fighting with all his might to not reveal the constant pain. He removed his glove, faced his exposed palm towards the guards. “My name is Janos Titanus, from Vallenhalen as well. I too seek to be a successful smithy in your fair city.”
The guard with the white plume cocked his head. “Titanus, from Vallenhalen? Were you related to Gildur Titanus then? Did you know him?”
Zaan was caught off guard. Why’d I pick that name? How’d these guards know of Gildur? My shoulder feels like it’s about to burst, and I can tell I’m starting to sweat. “No, no relation here. I wish I were. He was a great man I hear.”
“Aye, that he was, and a good friend,” the guard said, eyeing Zaan suspiciously. “You say you are from Vallenhalen, yet we spotted you traveling from the west, not the south. There is no chance you came from the city of Barrier Cliff after what happened there? No one is allowed entrance to the city from that decaying fortress,” he said, peering at Zaan with hard eyes. “Why are you sweating young man?”
“Janos, is your headache acting up again?” Tilda asked him. “He gets migraines badly after long travels.”
“Yes, I fear my migraine is coming on. No sir, never been there. We headed over to the Great River for some fresh fish before we came to your city. Why, did something happen at Barrier Cliff? I thought that city was empty.”
“Hmm,” the guard mumbled as he watched the two briefly, then looked behind them. He then looked down at the long line of entrants waiting behind them to reside behind the walls of Dillengrad. “Alright, move on inside. First sign of trouble from either of you, and we will lock up so quickly you will wish you had never entered our gates. Understand?”
They both nodded, and the guards walked past to another couple with a wagon entering the city. The guards began to interrogate the couple with the wagon, and Tilda and Zaan walked inside. Zaan was holding his head. Tilda leaned over to Zaan and whispered, “Why in the world would you pick Gildur’s surname?”
“It was the first one that came to mind.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THE troupe walked single file through the Yelden Forest, with its thick canopy shielding them from any unwanted, peering eyes. Zelestiana lead, scouting their pathway minutes before the group. Gar and Lily, were at the head of the party of children and elders, and Astor, slowly regaining his strength, covered the rear.
Gar, Stave and Lily struggled through the soft whimpering of the children, as they missed their homes, and all of them were hungry. None of the friends knew how to gather enough food to support and nourish over fifty people. They did know all too well how hunger pings at the stomach while on a long march, burning so much energy.
“What was it like up there? In the battle?” Stave asked Gar as they walked next to each other, Lily at Stave’s side.
“It was like nothing I’d ever expect to see. Thinking about it now, it was more like a dream, or rather, like a tale out of a book.” Gar’s eyes saddened.
“I’m happy the three of you managed to escape, and you are all safe now,” Lily said.
Gar looked over at her. Stave fell back a step so they could see each other better. “I just can’t stop thinking about the others though, and Zaan. I know he can defend himself, but I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen.”
“Don’t worry. Zaan will be fine, he’s with Tilda. I’m sure they are safe,” Stave said, trying to reassure his friend. Gar looked forward at the ground as he stepped over roots, and avoided walking into the small streams at his feet.
“We know Zaan escaped. But what of the others?” Lily asked, placing her hair back behind her ear with her slender fingers. “What happened to Gogenanth and Palanzal?”
Gar looked over surprisingly. “It never even occurred to me about the Headmaster. I have no idea if he is still there, or escaped. He was in his high tower shouting down at the demon knight, last I saw him. Gogenanth however . . .” He clenched his teeth and his eyes glazed over with anger. “I don’t know what became of him. He was fighting like I had never seen anyone fight before with everything he had, and Wollen too.”
“Wollen was there?” Lily asked in surprise.
“Yes, he jumped in with Gogenanth to save us. There were two others with them I didn’t recognize. One, a woman covered in tattoos with a golden sword, and another, tall, stout, completely bald lad. They had great courage to stand before that mighty, rotting dragon.”
“What are those dragons? Do you have any idea?” Stave asked.
“We think they are the Dragons of Riverend. The old tales of Riverend invading the city with his fifty dragons and occupying it for one hundred years seem to be true. Albeit, that story dated back hundreds of years ago. So they must have been brought back from the dead by the Devil King,” Gar said.
Stave wanted to ask another question, as he searched his mind for a follow-up, but this was all so unreal, he felt any more questions would seem insignificant after that.
Lily’s mind then began to wander towards Zaan and the moment they had shared together, just before the siege. She thought about the way they embraced each other, the way he held her, gently, yet passionately. Longing for his presence and touch, she put her arms around herself as she walked, praying he was safe, and that they would be reunited again soon.
The three of them continued walking, all deep in thought, and the whimpers and quiets sobs from the children followed behind. Through the trees before them came Zelestiana, walking at a brisk pace, she dragged two does behind her, both bled out, and intestines removed. “Get a fire going, let’s get them fed.”
Moments later, Stave was sparking the flint and working to fan the small flame. The children sat around him in a large circle, waiting for the warmth of the fire, and the feeling of warm meat in their bellies. Astor patrolled around the group, watching out into the woods. Zelestiana walked beside him.
“How are you my friend?” Zelestiana asked him, looking down at his side. His blood-stained shirt covered his bandaged side.
“Good. I feel much better. Don’t worry for me though, we need to find shelter for these people soon. It is going to be difficult to fend off any attack, with such large numbers out in the open,” he said. Zelestiana looked on, the light of her eyes acknowledged the truth of his statement.
“We can continue our way to Holdenbrook, but you know that may be in vain,” Astor said, Zelestiana continued walking, peering into the forest with her hardened stare. “It gives the children hope to be moving in a direction, but the chances of any town or city, no matter what the size, letting us in, is . . .”
“I know,” Zelestiana said.
“Nobody is going to take in refuges from Barrier Cliff. They would all fear the dragons of Riverend attacking their homes,” Astor said, holding his hands at his sides in exclamation of his point, and in his frustration. “And with good reason.”
They continued circling the group. Astor looked toward the center and saw Stave and Gar standing by them, each on separate sides of the growing fire, hoisting the skewered first doe over the flame.
Stave and Gar had gotten the first carcass over the flame, and then the second. They gave each other a look of accomplishment, as both carcass began to smoke and crackle. Their expressions of happiness faded as they looked around at the worn and dirty faces of the many children. They licked their lips and sat motionless, watching, and waiting for their meals to come. Stave knew an animal of that size would take over two hours to cook enough for it to be safe for the children and elders to eat. He walked over a few yards, and lifted up a stone, the size of a large melon, and brought it over to the center of the circle. He stood up on the rock, elevated just enough to see all of the faces watching him. He even saw Astor and Zelestiana’s faces look over at him in the distance. “I’m going to tell you a tale, it’s an old tale. Are you ready?” Many of the children nodded in agreement, some of them even smiled.
“This is the story of Llairr
iall.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
LLAIRRIALL lived in a small village west of the Yelden Forest with her three daughters. In their small village, they fished, wove baskets, and made tiles in their fires. One day a Man of Gold came to visit them in their tiny house. He knocked two times, solidly on their door painted white.
“Llairriall, are you home, may I come in?” asked the Man of Gold.
The door opened and warm sunshine burst into the room. Llairriall stood there with her three daughters and smiled pleasantly. “Yes, please, come in.”
The Man of Gold, who was a fat man with a fake head of hair, which looked awfully close to a raccoon laying on an egg. He held out his hand to Llairriall and asked her for more gold. When Llairriall said that she was sorry, but she had none to give the Man of Gold, he pushed her and her daughters out the door, and locked it behind them.
“Please, Man of Gold, can we please go back into our house?” asked the youngest daughter of Llairriall as he stood by the window. He shook his head no.
“Please, Man of Gold, we beg of you, may we go back into our house?” the middle daughter of Llairriall asked. He shook his head no again.
“Please, please, Man of Gold, if you are kind at all, may we please enter back into our home?” the eldest daughter of Llairriall asked, begging on her knees.
The Man of Gold looked down at her and shook her head. “Young lady, if you would have given me gold earlier, you would still be in your home.”
“I don’t understand. Why would I have given you gold earlier?” The eldest daughter asked. The Man of Gold only looked at her coldly, put his key in the key in his pocket and walked off.
The three daughters cried and asked Llairriall what they were to do then, without their home. Llairriall thought long and hard about it, and prayed to the gods for them to tell her what to do.
The next morning, after the four of them slept on the streets, Llairriall awoke quickly and told her daughters she knew what to do. She said the gods had spoken to her in her sleep and said they were to travel into the desert and find the City of Elunadin.
“But mother, isn’t the City of Elunadin a fable?” the youngest daughter of Llairriall asked. Llairriall nodded yes.
“But mother, isn’t the desert dangerous?” the middle daughter of Llairriall asked. She nodded yes again.
“Mother, if the City is fabled, and the desert is dangerous, then why would we do those things?” the eldest daughter asked.
“My three daughters, we must go because the gods have told us to,” Llairriall said.
So Llairriall and her three daughters walked into the Bolgivish Desert, underneath the hot, bright sun. Following them was a small, thin legged man, who wore smooth silks and carried a heavy pack.
One day the youngest daughter of Llairriall fell to her hands, and began to sob. “What is wrong, my daughter?” Llairriall asked. The little girl told her mother that she was thirsty and needed water. Llairriall looked at her daughter with tearful eyes. “Here in the desert, I’m sorry, I do not know how to get us water.
The small man with the big pack walked up to Llairriall. “If you need water, you can have some of mine,” the man said, with a forced smile. The youngest daughter reached up to grab the canteen in his hands. He pulled the canteen back towards himself. “Sadly, if I am to give you water, you must give me gold, that is the way of things,” he said.
Llairriall told the man they had no gold, but if he was so kind, he could have the ribbon in her youngest daughter’s hair. He agreed, and they drank water then.
The next day, the middle daughter fell to her hands, and said her shoes had worn through, and her feet burned on the hot sand. “My daughter, I’m sorry, there are no shoes in the desert,” Llairriall said, and she began to sob.
The small man with the large pack came over and offered a nice, new pair of shoes, but they would need to trade something for them. They offered the middle daughter’s earrings as trade. He agreed, and she wore the new shoes as they walked in the desert.
On the next day, the eldest daughter dropped to her hands. Llairriall asked what was wrong, and the eldest daughter said her sleeves had torn and her arms were burning under the hot sun, causing large and painful sunburns. “My eldest daughter, I’m sorry, there is no fabric in the desert,” she said and began to sob again.
Again, the small man came over and offered a sheet of nice, soft cloth for her to cover her arms. Llairriall offered him the sash around her eldest daughter’s waist. He agreed, and handed them the cloth, with his forced smile.
“May I ask you a question?” Llairriall asked the small man with the large pack on his back. He nodded. “Why have you followed us so far into the desert?”
“My lady, I have come because the Man of Gold told me to.”
“Why would the Man of Gold ask you to follow us into the desert after forcing us from our home?” Llairriall asked.
“Because, my lady, he said you might need my help,” the man with the large pack said.
“Thank you for your help, sir.” Her smile faded to a frown. “But sir, we have nothing left to trade, except for my ring, which was given to me from my husband.” The small man walked over and eyed the shining ring in the light of the sun.
“What do you want for it?” the man asked.
“I do not want to trade away my ring,” Llairriall said. The man began to walk back towards the city.
“Sir, where are you going? I thought you were here to help us?” Llairriall said.
The man turned back to her. “Yes, I am here to help, but if you have nothing more for me, then I have no more help to give.”
Llairriall sighed, and knowing full well her daughters would not make the voyage much further asked, “What will you trade me for my ring?” The man scampered over quickly and eyed the ring.
“This is a fine ring, set with a fine stone. I will trade you my whole pack for it,” he said with an uneven smile.
Llairriall reluctantly gave the man the ring, and he laid his pack on the ground. Then he walked briskly back towards the city and faded into the distance. In the pack, Llairriall found a ribbon for hair, a pair of earrings, and a sash.
Llairriall looked up the sky and asked. “Why Gods, why did you send us out into the desert?” She received no response. “Please, Gods, why did you send us into the desert?” Again, no response.
For two more days Llairriall and her daughters walked in the desert, dry were their mouths and ragged was their skin. In the distance, Llairriall caught the sight of a grand city. “That must be it. That must be the City of Elūnadin.” Llairriall and her daughters pressed on with every bit of strength they had towards the gate.
Once they arrived, the gates opened up to beautiful gardens with many exotic beasts, and a cool spring at the center of the lavish botanicals. “Mother, we made it,” said the girls, with wild excitement.
“Yes girls, we have found the City of Elūnadin, just like the gods told us to,” Llairriall said.
An old man in gold silk, with a cane of ivory walked over and looked at Llairriall. “Beg your pardon, my lady, but this is not the City of Elunadin, as you hoped.”
Llairriall gave a confused expression. “Are you sure, sir?” The man nodded.
“Yes, this is the city of Typrus, here we have an abundance of food and water, and the Man of Gold is not welcome here. You are welcome to stay here if you’d like,” the man said with a warm smile.”
“Thank you for the offer, your city is indeed grand, and your offer is generous. Do you mind if we simply drink some water before we travel back out to find the City of Elūnadin?”
***
“And so the girls went and drank as much water as would fit in their bellies, and walked back out into the Bolgivish desert to find the City of Elunadin,” Stave said, his eyes wide. He looked out at the faces of the children, all of their backs hunched as they sat, eagerly waiting for more to the story.
One o
f the children finally spoke. “Did they find the City?” she asked.
“I don’t know, what do you think?” Stave asked.
The child looked around, “I don’t know either.”
“Why did Llairriall leave the garden and take her daughters back into the desert?” another child asked.
Stave shrugged, “I don’t know, why do you think she did?”
The child thought, putting her hand up to scratch her head. “Because the gods told her to?”
“I think you might be right,” Stave said.
“Is the Man of Gold one of the tax-collecting monaters?” asked one of the children.
“I’m not sure, it’s possible,” Stave said.
Behind the children, Astor looked at Stave, as he stood answering the children’s barrage of questions. “What the hell kind of story is that. That is so sad, that a mother would take her daughters back out into the desert to die like that,” Astor said to Zelestiana.
“I don’t take it that way,” Zelestiana said.
“How could you not? Isn’t it obvious that her blindness caused her to lose everything?”
Zelestiana smirked. “I like to think she found the City of Elūnadin, and lived there in happiness with her daughters, and her gods for the rest of her life.”
“I hope you are right, but you might want to tell the children that. Some of them may lose sleep over that story,” Astor said, “I think I might.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AS they walked along the long, straight roads of Dillengrad, Zaan noticed stark differences between this city and that of Auracity. Auracity was made of streets that jutted, and carved around the city, as if the people who built it changed their minds every other day while building. There in Dillengrad, Zaan could see many blocks down at a time. Each street seemed to be a mile long, and they all followed the shape of the perimeter itself, in squares, each smaller, as they encompassed the center high tower, with its wide base.