by B C Penling
CHAPTER 29
FACE OF ADVERSARY
“Who are you?” the old man asked.
They landed beside Bledsoe Lake shortly after the Warisai had awoken. Zen was impatiently hopeful for answers but the creature didn’t reply to the old man. It sat, propped against a rock, rubbing its head and blinking vacantly at the three individuals standing in front of him.
“Answer,” Arley said, poking it on the shoulder sharply with a stick he had found. "Or I hit again."
The Warisai closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He exhaled noisily which earned him another sharp jab on his shoulder.
“Answer, fiond!” Arley demanded.
“Dooley,” he grumbled. “The name’s Dooley.”
“Dooley,” the old man repeated. “I know who you are.”
Dooley looked at him, void of emotions. “Perhaps.”
Zen took a moment to examine Dooley with increased scrutiny. He had old wounds on his arms and his tunic was torn in many places. Evidence of old blood, partially washed away from the rain, stained the leather. He had no weapons, something he was very curious about.
“What happened to you?” Zen growled. “Why are you alone?”
The Warisai shook his head and lowered his gaze. Dooley was silent for a while and right before Zen was about to knock him over in frustration, he spoke.
“I was cast out by the party I led. Apparently, they were loyal to my brother. His orders included more than just finding you and that elf, which I half expected. Those additional orders included my assassination.”
Zen snorted.
“If I had brought along someone I knew I could trust, I wouldn’t be your prisoner.”
“Yeah,” Zen said, sardonically. “You’d be dead.”
Dooley looked questioningly at Zen.
“He made a few small campfires of your companions,” the old man commented. “I’d have to say they were a bit overdone.”
“Nothing but ashes and bones,” Zen said with a threatening eye on Dooley.
Zen took umbrage at Dooley's reaction when he threw back his head and laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh to listen to. It sounded devilish. He coughed a little then returned to the conversation.
“I suppose I should be thankful,” Dooley replied.
Zen scowled. “I doubt you know the true meaning of the word.”
“Weren’t you listening? They weren’t my companions. They tried to kill me on my brother’s orders.” Dooley held out his arms to show his old wounds. “They were my enemies, too.”
“Savage how your own kind will turn on you in an instant,” the old man said.
“Such is the way of the Warisai,” Dooley replied with detest.
“What? You don’t like it?” Zen asked.
“They tried to kill me,” Dooley growled. “How fond of them do you think I am?”
“Well then, maybe you can help us out,” Kijo said. “Why were you after the elf?”
Dooley shrugged. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Zen pressed.
“Can’t. There were no reasons behind it except my brother’s personal drive. His high rank allows his actions to go unquestioned. If they’re questioned and it’s not to his liking, he’d just execute you.”
“You’re Donovan’s brother,” the old man said. “He told you nothing?”
“Just because he’s my brother, doesn’t mean we have a good relationship.” Dooley took a deep breath. “Jealousy runs deep and breeds hatred. I thought that was established already. He wanted me out of the competition.”
“You’re certain he tried to have you killed?” Zen asked.
“Very certain,” Dooley replied. “Our father didn’t want Donovan to lead. He was going to confirm me as his successor and I was to banish him. Father and I don't like his black heart.”
“That sounds ridiculous coming from a Warisai,” Zen scowled.
“That’s the thing,” Dooley said. “My father was seeking to change. He noticed the destruction we’ve caused and how much we’ve killed Dagan.”
“I doubt your kind could ever change,” Zen sneered.
“I agreed with him, dragon,” Dooley replied softly. “I’ve noticed how fast the world is dying at our hands. We kill so fast and so frequent that nothing can replenish. We’re a plague on the lands and civilizations. In a way, I’m glad I escaped their murder attempt. I don’t have the blame of the world on my shoulders.”
Zen snorted. “You’re still a Warisai.”
“Not any longer,” Dooley said. “I’m on my own now and I choose not to be like that. There are better ways.”
Zen raised a brow. “If you’re just saying this to appeal to my beliefs, you’re not going to succeed.”
“I’m not trying to flatter you, dragon,” Dooley said. “I’m giving you insight as to the change my father was trying to enact. I fear for his life, actually. Donovan didn’t want to be soft. He wants to rule Dagan with fear. If he ordered my death, then what has he done to our father?”
“Grave thoughts,” the old man said.
Dooley nodded, brows furrowed angrily. “If he kills my father, I’ll tear him to shreds and enjoy every moment. His blood would be the last blood I’ll spill with intent.”
“That’s all interesting but more pressingly, I want to know where the bird took Lana,” Zen said. He heard it from the other Warisai but he didn't entirely trust that creature to be honest.
“I'll assume the bird was my brother's phoenix, Beond," Dooley replied. "Don't hold a grudge against that creature, dragon. She's tortured even if she follows his commands."
Zen's face soured even more.
“She was likely taken to Dansrivan, the castle in Dinsmore, unless my brother had other plans.”
“Where’s that?” Zen asked
“Genetricis,” Dooley answered. “South of Magnen’s Chain and sunrest of Magnen’s Folly. Magnen’s Chain is a mountain range with a series of volcanoes. Magnen’s Folly is where my father slew Magnen; it was his gravest mistake, regrettably so.”
Zen stared at him harshly. It was weird to hear him say that. The thought of Warisai having regrets, or any kind feeling, was foreign to him. Dooley’s father had killed Magnen which set into motion Dagan’s catastrophic future. To Zen, their slaughtering was second nature and not fit for remorse of any caliber. The second oddness of his statement was, if what Kijo and Angpeitu the animikii had said was true, Dooley’s father had killed his father. It was an eerie thought to be staring into the face of the son of his father’s murderer.
“Why the strange look,” Dooley inquired. “He regrets the past behaviors that he cannot undo. Dagan needs Magnen. Without him, we’re all lost.”
There was a brief silence that was broken by Kijo. “Magnen was Zen’s father.”
Dooley’s eyes widened a little and stayed fixed on Zen. He searched the depths of the intense amber eyes that returned his gaze. Dooley took a deep breath and sat up straighter.
“I apologize for my father’s actions. Let’s not allow the errors of his past determine our future.” He slowly rose to his feet. He stood tall, proud and firm. He took a few steps forward and put his fist upon his chest. “I will fight them with you, Son of Magnen.”
Zen blinked and looked sideways at the old man, who smiled wryly.
“So it begins,” he said.
“How can I trust you?” Zen asked.
“After the crimes against this world, you can’t,” he said. “But, hope for a peaceful future should reign in your heart. Hope for your friend, the elf.”
Zen squinted, trying to read into Dooley’s sudden turn of mannerism. Was he trying to fool him? Did he have ulterior motives?
“Why do you want to help us? We would be your food on any other day.”
“My brother’s cowardice led him to order my dispatch. Too cowardly to kill me himself,” he scoffed. “How else can I return the favor, with my own hands, if I don’t go with you? I have subjects loyal to
me amongst their ranks. Infiltrating their minds could turn the tide against Donovan. Watching his world unravel around him would be my satisfaction.”
Zen considered Dooley’s commitment. An ugly ally he’d be but perhaps looks aren’t everything. He was sure of himself, sure of his next step, and even determined to enact revenge upon his brother. No matter what, Zen didn’t think he could ever trust any Warisai but perhaps having an enemy as an ally could be beneficial, granted that he supplied information.
“Know this, Warisai,” Zen said, lowering his head to look Dooley in the eyes. “I will end you the moment you step outside your allegiance with us.”
“Fair enough,” Dooley replied. “I plan not to.”
“Well,” the old man drawled. “Aren’t we an odd bunch?” A smile pushed his gray mustache up into his cheek.
“Very,” Dooley said, looking down at Arley who was glaring at him with mistrust.
“Fiond,” Arley muttered.
“I admire his fighting spirit. He's small but unafraid. He'll be a good ally,” Dooley said. "There is one request I’d like to make.”
“What’s that?” the old man asked.
“There’s a deformed Warisai in Dansrivan. He’s very small with a twisted, hunched spine and very easy to recognize because of that. He stays in the dungeon mostly but if we cross paths with him, please spare his life like you’ve spared mine.”
“Why?” Zen asked.
“He’s my brother, Duncan, but many call him Turtleback for his appearance. Unlike many of the Warisai, he enjoys the things that we’ve destroyed. His soft heart and simpler mind were what caused our father’s slow change of mind and his wish for the betterment of the world. Duncan has never killed anything, man or elf or dragon.”
“Hmm,” Zen hummed. “So, he’s the way you all should be?”
Dooley pursed his lips together. “I’ll admit. He’s much better than me. He even keeps a managerie of creatures and plants in jars." Dooley shrugged. "Never made much sense to me until our father started grooming me as the new leader."
"He sounds delightful," Zen replied. "And normal, I'll add."
"As firstborn, I'm Donohue's successor. He planned to announce the change in behaviors upon my return and step down as leader. Afterwards, those that wouldn’t comply with the new standards would be culled.”
“That would be difficult for the minority," Zen scoffed.
“There are many who are smart enough to see the damage we’ve done to Genetricis. We come to Ancienta and see the beauty. The mountains aren’t bare. The animals are plentiful. The civilizations are peaceful and prosperous until we arrive. I enjoyed the solitude in the forest." Dooley paused and looked behind him. "You won't find a lake like this where Warisai live."
"That's a shame," the old man said.
"It is, so many must be culled," Dooley replied.
"Sounds like old habits," Zen commented.
"Don't misunderstand me, dragon. Some Warisai enjoy the kill but others do so only to eat because they were not taught other ways. The actions of good Warisai might seem unchanging, but culling those that love the kill is a cruelty to benefit Dagan.”
“That’s a cruelty I can support. I loathe the Warisai,” Zen growled. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”
“If our positions were swapped, I would’ve killed you without hesitation,” Dooley said. “You are better than I am dragon. For that reason, not only do I owe you my life, but I also will follow you, Son of Magnen.”
“And what’s your gain?” Zen inquired.
“If you fight them, I get the culling my father and I had planned. I have those loyal to me who will fight alongside us to a common goal. The Warisai would be no more. Dagan won’t have to fear us anymore.”
“Because you’d stop murdering and stealing and your kind would finally be peaceful?” Zen asked.
Dooley nodded. “Yes. With me leading them, we’d forsake the ways of old.”
“For your future, I hope you’re honest,” Zen said.
“You can kill me slowly if I stray from the path I’ve pledged to follow.”
“I don’t need your permission,” Zen commented with a deep, sincere rumble to his voice. “And I’ll rip you to ribbons if I feel you’re a spy or if I feel you’re a threat to my goal.”
“As long as I’m alive, I promise I’ll serve Dagan the way it should’ve been served all along.”
Zen looked at him with sternness. Dooley’s light green eyes were honest and determined. Whether or not he could be trusted was yet to be established.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Zen stated.
“As you should,” Dooley answered.
A raindrop spattered on Zen’s nose, reminding him that the storm was still not far behind them.
“I think we’ve stayed here long enough,” Zen said to the old man. “Don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he answered. “It’s time we depart. The weather will be our greatest hindrance.”
“Arley.” Zen motioned with his hand for the dwarf to get on his back. Arley gave Dooley a dirty, untrusting look before backing to Zen’s side and getting a lift up.
“Climb up,” the old man said to Dooley.
“Gross! No,” Zen said sternly. “Have you smelled him? He’s in desperate need of a bath. He smells like death and rot. It's bad enough I had to carry him.”
“I won’t deny that,” Dooley agreed.
The old man dug into his pack. He withdrew a piece of linen and unwrapped a tan item within. It was a lump of soap that was slightly smaller than the size of his fist. He split it in half easily enough and returned half to the linen, replacing it in his bag. The other half he placed in a rag and tied it closed.
“Here,” the old man said, handing it Dooley. “There’s the lake.”
Dooley stared at the rag then looked at the lake. He appeared to be puzzled, unsure of what to do. He drew back his arm to throw it.
“No, no, no,” Zen said quickly. “You take it into the water and scrub the stench off of you. It’s soap.”
Dooley brought his arm down and opened his hand. “Soap?”
“You wash with it, dummy,” Arley grumbled from Zen’s back. His arms were crossed and he was frowning.
Zen chuckled. “Get it wet. Get yourself wet. Rub it all over your body. The smell will be gone, I hope.”
Dooley removed his tattered tunic and walked into the lake, unfazed by the cold water as he fully submerged. He came up and began lathering his scales with the soap. He scrubbed everywhere; his face, neck, arms, chest, and as much of his back that he could reach. His stubby, imperfect wings got their fair share of attention as well, as did the black hair on the back of his head and neck. He was covered in soap suds that were a disgusting grayish-black color. He then reached down into the water and scrubbed his legs and tail before he immersed himself in the lake, leaving a floating island of scum on the surface.
“I’m sure it’s not going to be a perfect job but will be an improvement, at the least,” the old man said.
“Let’s hope,” Zen agreed.
Dooley resurfaced and wiped the water from his face. He looked at Zen and the old man.
“Like that?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“Emerald green?” Zen asked. “I was not expecting that.”
Dooley looked at his arms and hands. A smile slowly spread across his face. “I guess I am like the trees.”
“I can’t believe you were that filthy,” Zen said. “You’ve never bathed before?”
Dooley shook his head. “Maybe if the other Warisai did, they’d realize they don’t have to be monsters. They can realize there is beauty beneath.”
“Your hearts determine your beauty, not appearance,” the old man said.
“Although that is quite an improvement,” Zen said. “You look better. You smell much better, too.” Zen gave him a cheesy grin.
Dooley exited the lake, his green scales glistening with water droplets. “Had I known I could
look like this, I would have. This is symbolic. I have new allies and a new look. It’s like washing away the grime of my past. This is a good thing and I will fully embrace it.”
“Here, embrace this as well,” the old man said. He tossed him one of his blankets and a rope. “You’ll look more presentable.”
Dooley looked down at the cloth and noticed there was a slit cut into one end. He slipped it over his head and then tied the rope around his waist to hold it in place. It didn’t look half-bad for a improvised tunic.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Manners?” Zen asked. “I was not expecting that, either.”
Dooley looked at him. “I know I’m not what any respectful race would want to have as a companion. I hope with time I can prove to you that I am worthy of your friendship.”
“You’re definitely not remotely close,” Zen replied. “As far as I’m concerned, you killed my friend in Arbortown and orphaned her daughter. She became my friend, and then you stole her from me.”
“I wasn’t there,” Dooley said. “That was Donovan's doing. He sent the raid to Arbortown without the approval from our father. I didn’t accompany them. Neither did that lazy oaf. I believe he sent his phoenix to catch that elf. When Beond returned to Dansrivan he tortured her for failing, even though she was already injured.”
“That elf? Her name is Lana and she means more to me than your tainted heart can fathom,” Zen said lowly with a threatening tone. “I need to find her. I need to save her. If you help me achieve that, you will earn my respect.”
Dooley's light green eyes acknowledged Zen’s request and he nodded.
“We will help each other, Son of Magnen. For Dagan.”
CHAPTER 30
COMING STORM
Panthigra lifted her arms above her head and arched her back. The suns were shining brightly and a cool breeze from sunrest ruffled her fur. Felions all around her were sunbathing and grooming. Tigthero was laying in the dirt beside her, soaking up the warmth from the suns.
She couldn’t help herself. She pounced on him.
“Got you!” she shouted.
Tigthero laughed. “That doesn’t count!”