by C. K. Rieke
“I’m sure he’ll bring water for you,” Lilaci said. “Just lay back and rest.”
Fewn came over and sat next to Lilaci. “I’m starving, do you think he’ll be back soon? I wouldn’t eat the skin off an Iox, I’d just take a big bite out of its side.”
“Is this a new saying you’ve come up with?” Lilaci said. “I mean, you two.”
“What?” Fewn asked, her face was tilted to the side with an eyebrow lifted.
“No,” Kera giggled. “I suppose hunger just sent us to thinking the same gross thing.”
“There,” Roren said, looking up from the crackling, fresh fire.
The three girls looked up as well to see Burr out in the distance, northward. He walked heavily along the slope of a dune of hard sand, the tails of his tunic rustling to his side. They eagerly awaited his return.
Once back at the camp, he sat by the fire with a grunt and untied his tunic and threw it to his side.
“Well?” Lilaci said.
Burr sighed and reached into his pack, the rest of them were brimming with anticipation for what he’d brought for food. He produced three pulpy cactus fruits, and a half dozen dead scorpions. He handed them to Roren, who placed the scorpions on the rocks lining the outside of the fire. Lilaci took the cacti and started trimming them.
Burr leaned out with his watersack and handed it to Lilaci, who quickly gave it to Kera. Kera shot up and took small sips, letting out soothing groans of ecstasy.
“These are some barren lands,” Burr said. “If we would’ve gone north I could’ve brought us some real meat. There’re herds roaming this time of year. But here we are. Cactus again.”
Lilaci put her hand on the old man’s gauntlet. “It’s fine,” she said. “This’ll do. Thank you.”
“I would love some meat right now,” Fewn said. “Even when we were back in Sorock, we’d have all the meat and vegetables we could eat to keep us strong. Remember, Lilaci?”
“I try not to,” she replied. Even the fond memories of food in that place can’t wipe away the pain that took place within those walls. “They fed us heavily to keep us strong and keep us from resisting them I’d wager. A full belly keeps the mind weakened.”
“I’d give anything for a stew,” Fewn said. “A stew of deren meat, thick and juicy.”
Lilaci looked over to see Kera’s eyes were opened as wide as she’d ever seen. “I want some of that.”
“Stop it, Fewn,” Lilaci said. “Best not to think of such things right now. There’s always tomorrow.”
“Aye,” Burr said, with a sarcastic tone. “Always tomorrow. We’re heading further into this wasteland.”
“It will get better,” she said. “You should all just get some rest for now. I’ll take first watch.”
“I don’t have to talk about it,” Fewn said. “But you can’t tell me not to dream about a lavish meal before bed.”
“You’ll just be tormenting yourself,” Roren said. “Best to think of a soft bed when going off to sleep on the sands, that’s what I do at least.”
“What do you like to think of, Kera?” Fewn asked.
“My . . . my family with me,” the girl said. Lilaci’s heart sank. I know the feeling, all too well. The thoughts of a loving mother and father to keep you safe, make you feel like you belong somewhere. It’s a warming feeling like no other, and bitter cold at the thought of them gone, taken from you, and hardly remembering their faces. That’s my nightmare.
The group went off to sleep that night, bitterly hungry and spirits low. Lilaci had much to think about while she stayed awake, scanning the distance. She worried mostly for Kera, although she was only a little girl, she was also the most important in their group, and Lilaci had to worry about her getting more food soon. Kera acted strong in front of her, but Lilaci knew all too well if Kera got too weak to walk, she may get sick. That would be a tragic turn in their mission. If she grew ill out on the desert sands, diarrhea could wreak havoc on a dehydrated body. “There’s always tomorrow . . .” she told herself.
Lilaci was off in a deep, dreamless slumber when she heard Fewn’s call. “Wake up,” she said in a loud, strong voice.
Lilaci leaped to her feet and unsheathed the sword from the dragon’s cave. Her eyes darted around but didn’t take long for her to spot the figure out in the light of that day’s dawn. The figure cast a long shadow on the sands. But it wasn’t only one shadow cast. There were many behind him, they loomed large, especially one at the rear.
“I . . . I can’t believe it,” Roren said, his arms hung limply at his sides as he took slow steps forward.
“Veranor,” Lilaci said. She then looked over to see Kera sitting up, her jaw hung open. “He’s brought us aid.”
Watching Veranor approach from the south, he was high atop an Iox, its curling horns framed the commander. Behind him was a string of other Ioxi, enough for each of them, and at its rear, pulled behind was a wagon, with a thick canopy wrapped over it. They all sat eagerly, watching as the new caravan approached. Once within speaking distance, Fewn came over and ran her hand down the thick hide of one of the Ioxi, it let out a neigh.
Veranor held a look of stoic pride, as was usual, but once he met Lilaci’s face, as she couldn’t help but smile wide, he seemed to have a glimmer of light in his dark eyes. She nodded, and he nodded slightly back. That was the first time in her life, he’d ever done that. It was a symbol of equality in their former ranks. I feel as if I want to cry. Stay strong, keep it together.
“Lilaci,” Veranor said as the Ioxi stopped before the group.
“Veranor,” she replied.
He then looked at the others in the group. “There’s food and water in the wagon,” he said. “Burr, why don’t you go along and get some for Kera?”
Burr grimaced, but Lilaci could tell he secretly was quite happy that supplies had arrived for their long walk. His pride was strong though. Fewn went running to the wagon. She pulled the flaps out wide at its back.
“Lilaci!” she called. “It’s brimming with food, and there’s three barrels back here.”
“One of them is wine,” Veranor added, as he dismounted the Iox. “Kera,” he said as he bowed to the girl. “I bring you this gift for your journey.”
Kera rose, ran over to the commander, and wrapped her arms around him tightly which seemed to catch him off-guard. “I knew you would,” she said. “Thank you!” She ran off to the back of the wagon to inspect its contents with Fewn.
“Veranor,” Roren said in a voice strong, but strained slightly. “Thank you. She will need this.”
He nodded back. “Tell Kera don’t pay any mind to the blood stains in the wagon. Tell her it’s just wine.”
Chapter Nine
I’d almost forgotten the feeling of having a belly full of food. And a quenched thirst— perhaps the best feeling on the sands. To have my mouth rough like grit, the sensation of cool water coating every part of my tongue, it’s like magic. That's the best way to describe it, water is like magic for the body.
Atop the back of an Iox, as it strode mightily along the sands, Lilaci dug her fingers into its coarse fur, and she felt a great grin come across her face. She then let her hands glide up its thick neck and she felt its horns as they wound back, they were gnarled, yet strong and sharp at their tips. Perhaps the best feeling of all, was the thought of Kera sleeping soundly in the wagon at the center of their new caravan. She was like a royal queen being escorted to her new palace. Kera was told to eat and drink all she wanted after Veranor returned with their new assets. She did. Her thin stomach bulged from a welcome gluttonous, ravenous gorging of salty, fatty jerky and a thin crisp bread they called lavak. There indeed is little like the feeling in your stomach of bread, and Kera nestled herself to sleep soon after. Lilaci nearly wept from joy at the sight of the happiness on the girl’s face. She swept her smooth black hair back from her face. Kera’s pale skin and silver eyes showed a glee rarely seen.
At the lead of the caravan was Veranor, sitti
ng strong, and mysterious—yet full of pride for the acquisition of the Ioxi. Fewn rode behind, who found herself brimming with enjoyment to be atop of the greatest beasts in all of the Arr. For what was a somber atmosphere the day prior, all of them couldn’t help but feel . . . blessed, finally. Even Burr, who rode behind Lilaci, who rode next to the wagon, mounted his Iox eagerly. He knew that their journey that was to take forty days, would easily now be a week shorter.
Lilaci looked back at him, his hood covering his head as they rode. He was swaying back and forth slightly, she thought he was drifting off to sleep himself. Behind him was Roren, who caught Lilaci’s gaze. He peered up at her with his bright blue eyes under the light tan hood. His gaze was unwavering. Under the midday sun, Lilaci turned back to look forward. She kicked the Iox on its side with her heals, and it picked up the pace, until she rode next to Fewn. Lilaci noticed that Veranor shifted slightly his posture to his right, as to listen.
“Fewn,” Lilaci said. “I know you already feel this too, but we’ve got to come up with a more defined plan. We could be attacked any moment by the Reevins or those dragons Kera saw in her vision.” Fewn took a deep breath and nodded. “We are at an advantage of easier travel now, but we still stand little chance of fighting off an army, should one come.”
“Or dragons,” Fewn said.
“Or dragons,” Lilaci agreed.
“We need to find another egg.” Veranor turned his head back to them.
“We don’t know where it is,” Lilaci said. “Until we have some better idea of its location, we are merely at the mercy of the sands, and Kera’s vision said she’d be alone. There is no way in the Eternal Fires that is going to happen again. Something is coming. Whatever it is, we can’t let our guard down.”
“We’re stronger together than you may think,” Veranor said. “If a dragon comes, we will do whatever it takes to defeat it. You have the gift of violet fire, you can control the sands themselves. Why do you worry so for what comes? Let it come. The sooner an attack, the sooner our victory.”
“You have only arrived at this new world we are in. You lived in your fortress eating grapes and reading texts,” she said. “What fight have you been in since you were deemed commander? What have you had to protect? All you ever did was take what you wanted.”
“Fair point,” Fewn said.
Veranor spat on the sand. “I’ve been at war my entire life. You would not understand.”
“You’ve been at war?” Lilaci said and spat herself. “I lost my family. Fewn lost her family. We were forced into slavery—by you!”
“No, that’s not correct,” he said. “I did not invent the way of the Scaethers, that was well defined before my own family was killed when I was taken.”
There was a silence then, and Lilaci and Fewn looked at each other curiously.
Fewn leaned forward on her Iox, toward Veranor that still road in front of them. “You . . . were taken?” He didn’t respond. “We all thought . . . Well, I suppose we never really thought about it. You always seemed like you were born commander.” Again, no response.
“So what plan do you want to make?” he asked Lilaci after a few moments.
“Well, for a start, we are going to be getting dangerously close to Voru, even if we are south, and a Lu-Polini under the sun stands out like a golden rat in a pack. Say, when we reach the Xertans, and there is an egg in those mountains . . . They stretch out for hundreds of miles in every direction. Are we going to have to rely on another of Kera’s visions to lead us to it? After all, that's the only way Herradax was born.”
“I suppose so,” he said. “Yes, that’s the plan. Until then, we should focus on our defenses. You are right that we are vulnerable now. But that’s the new reality of walking the sands with the Dragon’s Breath.”
“Riding the sands,” Fewn said. “And does it ever feel amazing!”
“Well,” Lilaci said. “The Reevins. Every time they attack now, they are in greater numbers, and with a new manner of beast each time.”
Veranor spat again, and took his watersack up, uncorked its top with a pop, and drank. “Reevins,” he said sneering “Failed mages, let them come. Best to exterminate their lot anyways. You’ve killed them every time, right? There then. Why worry about such trivial things, Lilaci? It’s a waste of focus. I thought I taught you better than that.”
“I killed every one of those bastards, yes,” she said. “But I’ve been nearly killed as well, they’re cunning, as all wizards are.” They weren’t easy battles, you weren’t there. You don’t know. Has he ever had to survive against those powerful wizards?
“Yet, here you are,” he said, “while they rot and feed the vultures. Better worry about dragons than Reevins.”
Lilaci hated to admit it to herself but being around the commander sent a strange sense of security in her, and she could tell in Fewn also. It was ingrained in them, deep. He’s so sure of our victory, and of whatever lies ahead. If he were the one to wield the Sanzoral, he truly would be a ruthless, and historic warrior. He would probably suggest that we simply wipe the city of Voru from the map, bury it in a sandstorm of epic means.
“How do you fight a dragon?” Fewn asked. “That wasn’t something we were ever taught.”
“That’s old knowledge,” he said. “Buried in old texts. The best offense against a dragon is sheer numbers. Armies are what the gods used to defeat them. And best to have a commander at their helm with the Sanzoral. Gorg the Knight of the Blackblade, the Sanzoral was created by Dânoz for him specifically. He was perhaps the most powerful knight that ever lived.”
“Don’t mention that bastard’s name in my presence,” Burr said from behind Lilaci, as he spat on the sand. “The Arr is the way it is because of him. You want to know how to fight a dragon? Let's have Kera send her dragon out upon some Scaethers or Reevins, and let's see what that serpentine risen can do.”
“You think she breathes fire?” Fewn asked him.
“She will,” Burr said. “But she may be too young still, even with her rapid growth.”
“Is she ready for war?” Fewn asked.
War? I know war is the endgame of this all, but the reality of dragons versus the armies of the god's war will cause untold death and destruction. Is there another way? No, the only way this all ends is with the deaths of the gods, and they’re hiding in their palace in Arralyn. Could a dragon reach their palace of Firen-Ar and kill them?
“Burr,” Lilaci said, “back in the old Serpentine War, why didn’t Kôrran go out to Arralyn and fight the gods there?”
“There’s a strong magic that floats through the sea air of that island,” he said. “A magic that extinguishes dragonfire, and a magic that drives them mad. Every dragon that tried to fly to the island went into a wild fury, and all ended up drowning from the spell.”
Veranor’s Iox stopped suddenly, and the others followed. Then the caravan was fully stopped, as Veranor fully shifted around, looking back at the party with a spark in his eyes. “Yes . . .”
The notion then shot into Lilaci’s mind like wildfire. “Kera,” she said.
“Yes,” Burr said, with the same spark of inspiration.
“What?” Fewn said. “Am I the only one who doesn’t . . .” Then her eyes widened. “Oh wait! I get it. Kera could remove the spell.”
“Yes,” Veranor said. “Kera could ride a dragon to Arralyn and battle the gods there, without starting another great war.”
“No,” Lilaci said.
“I agree,” Roren said from the rear. “She’s not doing that on her own.”
“I’m not suggesting she do that now,” Veranor said. “But when’s she grown, and the dragon, too.”
“That may be years,” Roren said. “And even then, I’ll not leave her to her own safety.”
“You trust her with yourself more than with a full-grown dragon?” Veranor said.
Roren didn’t respond in his frustration.
“She’s not going off on her own,” Lilaci said. “If
and when that time comes, we will all go to Arralyn, to fight.”
“Again,” Burr said. “That’ll be years from now. But then again . . .” A curious tone lined his words then. “There is a way . . .”
“Don’t you dare mention it,” Lilaci said. “I don’t want to hear another word about that fabled curse.” Just the thought of cursing Kera so she’d grow old quickly is sickening. We are not going to hurt her just to let the odds drift a little further in our favor. She’s just a child.
“Well,” Fewn said. “If it is real—”
“This conversation is over,” Lilaci said, brushing away the discussion with her hand.
“How would we even find another Garen Pixie?” Fewn asked.
“Fewn . . .” Lilaci said walking over to Fewn, glaring at her with the corners of her mouth curled downward.
“There are ways,” Veranor said. “Although notoriously difficult, as rare as they are.”
“Well, if we find one, or a pack of them,” Lilaci said. “I’ll kill them before they can say a single word to her.”
“It’s not a terrible plan,” Burr said to Lilaci.
“We’re wasting time,” she said. “Ride on.”
“I’d do it,” Kera spoke up. All of them turned and looked back to the wagon, where Kera’s face had popped out from the canvas. “I’d do it if the opportunity came. To avoid all the death of war. I’d take the curse.”
Chapter Ten
Four days passed, overall a calm, welcomed ease of travel was given by Veranor and their new convoy. Even Lilaci’s nerves settled as they continued eastward, with the vigilance of Veranor at their lead, and Roren at the rear as their group of Ioxi wound through the maze of dunes like ants traversing through breadcrumbs, only on a much larger scale.
They’d all remained well-fed and nourished, never succumbing to thirst, and Burr even had begun to fall to an ease of mind, finding the barrel of wine in the wagon to be a welcomed gift. He’d gone to laying under the wagon’s canopy, drinking the thin wine with notes of elderberries. When he dozed off under the shadows of the canvas covering the wagon, he occasionally let out a loud, gruff snore. Kera seemed to be entertained by his newfound slothfulness. Lilaci not so much. Lilaci knew they were still out on the open sands, and with every new step of her Iox’s hoof, they grew closer to the cities, and the gods. Every step drew them closer to danger.