Serpentine Risen

by C. K. Rieke

  “I did it to make you strong!” he said. “Now let your rage loose, show the gods what you are capable of. Let Dânoz know that Kera is yours, and no one else’s!”

  “Dânoz,” she yelled. “Hear me, see me. I’m not yours anymore. I’m not another tool of yours, not a plaything. I’m the bearer of the Sanzoral, the most powerful on all the sands, and hear me when I say this, if you come near me, or her, you’ll feel a wrath only told in old tales. If you come for her, I’ll unleash a fire that would burn the flesh off even a god. You hear me, Dânoz? Eyr? Arymos? You hear me, Vigolos? Fayell? She’s mine!”

  The fire of the Sanzoral erupted in a crackling boom, and fire sparked to the desert floor. There it is, I can feel it. The dune, it feels like it has deep roots in the ground like an ancient tree. I can feel them, wrap my fingers around them. I just have to move them, they are snug and tight, but I think I can . . .

  “That’s it,” he whispered behind her. “Just like that.”

  Lilaci opened her eyes and looked up to the great dune in the distance, and tears again came as she watched huge swaths of the sand begin to cascade down it like an avalanche. It shook violently as she cried. Father, I did it. I did it. I hope that makes you proud of me. She choked up. “I hope this makes you proud of me, and I hope you forgive me.”

  “I—” Veranor said, brushing his hand over his head. “I am very proud of you.”

  A burning hatred shot into her like a sandstorm of sharp daggers.

  “You’re . . . What? You are proud? I don’t want your pride. I hate you! I hate what you did to me, to my family! I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for her!” she said with tears streaming down her cheeks and her teeth gritting.

  “I knew you had it in you. You’re strong, stronger than you know. I am proud of you. You don’t have to like it.”

  Lilaci took a strong step forward, to stare deeply into his eyes. They were only inches away with a growing tension. Her hands moved up quickly and grabbed him by the collar of his tunic. He didn’t flinch, he only stared back into her eyes. I want to hurt him. I want to rip his lying tongue from his mouth. I want to watch him bleed. But there’s something about him. He’s like the father I never wanted, but the father I deserve for being so weak back on the sands when I let my real father die. Yet, in a disgusting way, he’s also like the abusive lover who won’t let you move on. I feel like he’s going to follow me into the abyss and the afterlife just because I’ve become his project—his star pupil.

  “Go on,” he said, his strong jaw tensing. “What do you want? A fight? Mentor against pupil? Is this one of those tales of the pupil rising above the master? Only one way to find out I suppose.” His mean, dark eyes glared menacingly at her. “But know, I’ll hold nothing back. I’d be a fool to let the one with the Sanzoral gain any other advantage on me. Strike now, and strike hard . . . If you must.”

  Lilaci pulled him in close with her white knuckles clutching onto the tunic at his neck. Their noses were almost touching. “I’d kill you where you stand. It would be a brilliant fire. A brilliant, hot fire that would burn your flesh from bone, if I could. She shoved him back from her, he staggered back, but only a single step. “I promised her I wouldn’t.” Turning back, she trudged back toward the caravan.

  “I’m still proud of you,” he yelled out to her.

  She walked on, trying not to listen to the voice of the man that caged her and took her memories from her those years back. Yet, there was a chilling feeling in her, one that she despised feeling. The commander had rarely ever told her he was proud of her. That feeling she hated then, was that of the contentment of pleasing her mentor.

  Chapter Twelve

  Seven Days Later

  Pat, pat, thud, pat. Lilaci looked down from atop her Iox down at the sandy desert floor below. Pat, pat. Thick drops of rain fell to the sands like drops of blood on a fresh, soft cloth. She lifted her fingers out before her face and let the drops of rain fall to her palm, and slide down her dirty hands, making tiny streams, and washing away the thin dirt and sand.

  “Kera,” Fewn yelled to the wagon being pulled behind. “Come on out!”

  The little girl’s head quickly popped out from behind the canvas flaps of the wagon pulled by the biggest of the Ioxi. Her eyes lit up with delight and she leaped to the desert sands in glee. Spreading her arms out wide she looked up at the sky, thick clouds loomed over, blocking out the hot sun. She opened her mouth wide to catch the sparse raindrops as they hit her face and shoulders.

  The light rains picked up their tempo, like a song on an organ with millions of keys being played around them. The rains on the sands were such a welcome sound, a miracle, that those lucky enough to be caught in them usually danced and sang like Kera was now, or they sat and watched as if listening to an old story. Lilaci leaned forward on her Iox, and put her chin on her hands, watching with delight as Kera ran and sang. Fewn swayed back and forth on her Iox, also watching Kera. A streak of lightning cut across the thick, dark clouds above, and thunder boomed through the air.

  Lilaci looked back at Roren, who sat atop his Iox, watching his Dragon’s Breath run through the heavy rains. Burr, she assumed, slept soundly back in the wagon—the older man had grown quite comfortable not walking the sands.

  Veranor, however, was the only one who didn’t seem to be enjoying the miracle on the sands. His shoulders were tensed to his neck, and he clutched onto the reigns of the Iox tightly. Lilaci jumped down from her Iox and walked over to Fewn’s side.

  “You see it?” Lilaci asked, scanning Fewn for a sign of uneasiness.

  “Yes,” Fewn said, her eyes laid heavily on the commander. “He’s got something on his mind.”

  “What do you think it is?” Lilaci asked, scratching her forearm.

  “Maybe he’s in awe of it—the rain,” Fewn said. “He hasn’t left the city in, I don’t know, perhaps most of his life. Maybe he’s uneasy about the rain.”

  Lilaci let out a “Hmpf.”

  “Everything alright, commander?” Fewn called out to him in the deluge. He didn’t turn, and he didn’t move. He only stared straight forward. “Commander?”

  What is he doing? He should be enjoying this. Is something wrong? Or is he just being mysterious as always?

  “What’s the matter?” Roren asked, riding up from the rear.

  “Not sure,” Fewn said. “Veranor, seems off, he’s tense.”

  “How far off from Voru are we?” Lilaci asked.

  “We should be two-hundred miles out still,” Fewn said. “Why?”

  Lilaci noticed Burr had made his way from his cot to the sands and was walking toward them. The storm picked up in strength again, and another singeing line of lightning darted across the clouds, then a boom of bursting thunder.

  “All well?” Burr asked.

  “Veranor?” Fewn called out again.

  “What is he doing?” Burr said, wiping the sleep from his eye.

  Lilaci walked over to the commander. Kera still sang and danced in the falling rains. He didn’t turn to see her, but he then looked up to the dark clouds flowing in, darkening the afternoon sky. She was then at his side, looking up at him, he glared at the sky, heavy raindrops falling on his head. He pulled his hood back, revealing his long black hair with thin streaks of gray.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Veranor sighed, then closed his eyes. Lilaci felt a knot in her stomach, she could feel something was wrong with the commander. He then looked down into Lilaci’s eyes, there was worry in them, he was nervous. “Lilaci,” he said. “Listen to me carefully. You need to let me take Kera. Now.”

  Lilaci drew her sword instantly on the commander. “No way. What are you talking about?”

  “Lilaci,” he said, his voice deeper and grave. “I’m the fastest rider. I know the sands better than any. She’ll stand the best chance with me. They’re coming.”

  “Who’s coming?” Lilaci said, standing in a stance ready to defend or strike at any moment.
“What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t feel it?” he asked. “You were there in the palace that one day those months ago. Can’t you remember the feeling?”

  No. It can’t be.

  “If not me, then it has to be you,” he said, his eyes at the brink of dread. “Now. It has to be now. But I ask of you, it should be me. She has to get to the egg, and I know the Xertans better than any of you. We need to move quickly.”

  “They are coming?” Lilaci said, scanning the horizon all around them. The others noticed Lilaci’s actions, and each drew weapons. Roren ushered Kera over and placed her back in the wagon, Kera was startled and confused.

  Then Lilaci looked back at Kera, who seemed to be becoming scared. “What is it?” Kera asked.

  Lilaci didn’t want to respond. Too many things were going through her mind. Why separate our group? So Kera can move more stealthily through the desert? Would Kera be safer off with Veranor? No, that’s crazy. I wouldn’t trust him to care for a pet bird, let alone her.

  “Lilaci,” Fewn shouted in the pouring rains. “What is it?”

  “They—They’re coming.” Lilaci’s gaze shot back at Kera in the falling rains. “No, not now!”

  “Who?” Fewn said, “Who is coming?”

  Then, like lightning glowing behind the clouds, a silver light glowed off in the distant clouds. It was a bright shimmering light, high in the sky, to the north.

  “No,” Lilaci said, her sights darting back from the bright light ahead, and Kera back behind her.

  Veranor looked down at Lilaci hurriedly. “It’s almost too late, let me take her.”

  “No way,” she said, holding her sword up. “Over my dead body.”

  “We won’t have the luxury of making that choice soon,” he said.

  The others watched as the silver glow drifted through the clouds toward them, inching its way closer and closer every second.

  “Lilaci,” Roren shouted. “What is that? What is coming?”

  Burr growled, “I know what that is . . .”

  “There’s no time for this!” Veranor shoved his boot squarely into the side of Lilaci’s face, which not only shocked her, but knocked her down to her side. By the time she got back to her feet, Veranor was circling back toward the wagon.

  “Stop him!” Lilaci yelled.

  Fewn was so startled by his actions, she did nothing as he rode by her. Roren and Burr ran back toward the wagon, both with weapons drawn.

  “No!” Roren yelled, as Veranor leaped from his Iox into the wagon like a bitter wind.

  “Traitor!” Burr said. “I knew your wretched, lying tongue couldn’t be trusted!”

  Veranor quickly emerged with Kera over his shoulder and mounted his Iox with unnatural speed.

  “Lilaci, stop him!” Roren yelled.

  Lilaci reached down inside of her, searching her mind for the strength of the Sanzoral, to reach deep down into the sands to make them rise up and pour down onto the commander, or create a wall of sand that would impede his ride. He began riding southeast.

  “Lilaci!” Burr yelled. “What are you waiting for? He’s getting away with her! Dammit, girl, what are you doing?”

  Lilaci looked down at her hand, devoid of purple fire. “The Sanzoral,” she said. “It’s gone.”

  All the while the silver orb illuminating the clouds drifted closer until it was almost on top of them.

  “It’s them,” Burr said, his teeth clenched. “This was their plan all along, they wanted him to take her.”

  “No,” Roren said. “Kera trusted him, she’s not wrong about these things.”

  “There’s one thing that’s for sure,” Burr said. “She was wrong about this one.”

  “It can’t be,” Fewn said, staring up at the sky as the orb of silver stopped in the clouds above, and slowly drifted down from the cover of the clouds. A bright, glowing magical orb of silver with specks of golden fire. The orb flashed a brilliant light of power that turned the desert white, blinding Lilaci and the others, and they all had to close and shield their eyes.

  When Lilaci opened her eyes, the light of the orb had dulled, and inside it stood two forms. They were two forms Lilaci recognized.

  “I can’t believe it,” Fewn said. “They’re real.”

  “Believe it, girl,” Burr said. “And be ready for the battle of your life.”

  A strong, echoing voice floated down from the high clouds. “Lilaci,” the male voice said. “My Lilaci the Lazarine.”

  “Dânoz,” Lilaci said in a low voice. Damn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The dark clouds of blues and grays swirled ominously above the silver orb that had descended from their cover. Shimmering in the pouring rain high above Lilaci and the others were two gods—two gods Lilaci wished she’d never have met again, unless with an army of dragons at her side. Now, standing in the whirling storm, Lilaci felt completely helpless. Dânoz, standing tall high in the air, with his silver armor and golden robes, stared with a wicked, divine glare down on the party. His eyes glowed a gleaming blue under his crown of silver, adorned with majestic diamonds and red rubies. Next to him stood Eyr, the last to come into their fold, she was laden with a bright silver armor with her golden helmet with eagle’s wings hovering over her blue eyes as she glared down on them as well.

  My Sanzoral is gone . . . Not gone, I can still feel it inside of me, but it’s as if it can’t hear my call. I fear if we’re to survive this day we’re going to have to figure out another way.

  “It has been too long,” Dânoz said down to Lilaci. “I expected you to return, not abandon your duties.”

  “I couldn’t do it,” she replied. Lightning struck in the distance. “I couldn’t take an innocent girl to be tortured by you and Gorlen. She’s just a child!”

  Dânoz looked over to Eyr with a slight grin on his face. “Just a child,” he scoffed to her. Then he turned his attention back to Lilaci. “A child, what’s the difference between a child and a full-grown woman? A few years? A lifetime of man is but a speck of dust in time. A mortal life is a grain of sand in the desert. I don’t expect you to understand your emotions blind you.”

  “You’re wrong! I was blind, but now I can see! I can see the real evil in the Arr, and it's you!”

  “Evil,” he scoffed again to Eyr.

  “You speak as one of them,” Eyr said to Lilaci, her voice clear and crisp like a cold sea wind. “We thought more of you, but in the end, you’re just another one of them. We enjoyed your future as a relic within our palace walls, but your betrayal cannot be forgiven.”

  “You’ll have no chance to take her!” Roren yelled up to them in the pouring rain. “Kera won’t let you! You’re powerless against her.”

  “Kera—” Dânoz said. “So that’s her name.” He smiled a wicked smile under his long, smooth beard down at Roren. “I gather you are one of the ones who’ve been hiding her from us all these years. I’ve dreamed of your death for an age now. And now I see you.” His blue stare burned into Roren, in a threatening gaze. “I know you now, there’s no running anymore from me.”

  “We’re not hiding from you,” Burr said, walking toward the two gods, as they slowly drifted down toward the party. “Here we are, we’re not afraid of you. And you, Eyr . . .” His tone was nasty, dripping with hatred. “You, you’re the one that created all of this misery. You’re the one who ran the desert dry and gave these damned gods their unchecked power. You fucking bitch! You’re the sole traitor to the Knights of the Whiteblade, you killed Kôrran! Why don’t you come down here, so my blade can have some words with your lying heart!”

  “It seems like I made the right decision.” She laughed. “I see your knights are all but dead now—a dwindling lineage of a fading army, growing old and withered with time. You, old man, will die like the rest of them. You matter not to me, your death is only a step toward our complete rule, for we only want to create everlasting peace in these lands. We are doing what is right and just.”

 
; “You—” Fewn said, her voice shaky. “You killed our families when we were just children. Dânoz, why would you do such a horrific thing?” Tears welled up in Fewn’s eyes in the pouring rain. “Why’d you kill my mom? She didn’t do anything to you . . .”

  “Fewn, my child,” he said, his voice strong and echoing, “You were not born for mortal men, you were born for me. Your skin, your strength, that was a gift I gave you at birth. Your ‘mother’ and ‘father’ were only vessels to deliver you to me. I love you, I loved you. You are my child.” The soft blue haze in his eyes turned to a burning blaze. “Until you turned on me, your own father!” The air shook with wicked lightning and roaring thunder. “You betrayed your real father!”

  “They were my parents,” Fewn cried. “You let them be murdered right in front of me. They raped my mother! You’re evil. You’re not gods, you’re devils!”

  “A babe is born weak, in a weak world,” Eyr said. “To turn a babe into a strong woman, the child must see this world for what it is, so they may overcome it, surmount it, become stronger than it. That was your first lesson, a difficult one perhaps, but one you had to endure to become the soldier you are today.”

  “Soldier?” Lilaci spat. “You torture children, so you may have an army of soldiers with pale skin? Your superstitions are going to be your undoing, what you thought you were training were going to be soldiers for you, but you were wrong. All these years you’ve not been training us but planting the seeds of your own deaths! Now we have your wisest, Veranor, commander of your Scaethers, and a dragon has come to our aide! A dragon has returned to the skies for the first time since you murdered Kôrran all those years ago!”

  The two gods stood stoically above, watching the group below with an intense gaze littered with hate and fury.