Serpentine Risen

by C. K. Rieke

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh yeah. Guess I hadn’t thought of it like that. But yeah, I guess I’m stuck with you all now.”

  “Not stuck,” Lilaci said. “We’re lucky to have one another. It’s just that one of us is gone, and we’re going to get her back, so we can be a family again.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A brisk, chill wind swept into Lilaci’s small tent, cold enough to wake her from her slumber. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and yawned. Stretching out her arms, and cracking her knuckles, she peered out of the tent’s front flaps. Roren stared heavily into the fire. She pulled her tan blanket up over her shoulders and stood on the other side of the fire from him.

  He looked up at her, his eyes were sullen and he let out a loud yawn that stretched out his mouth wide. “You’re not next on watch,” he said.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t that far into my sleep,” she said.

  “You were thinking about her?” he asked.

  “Always.” Lilaci looked up to the night sky, covered in a thick layer of dark clouds that blocked out the light of the moon and stars. I wonder if she’s sleeping now, and if so, what’s she dreaming of?

  “You can try to go back to sleep if you want. I’ve got another couple hours left in me before I wake Burr for his watch.”

  “It’s quiet,” she said.

  They both listened to the crackling fire, and the calm winds around.

  “Yes,” he said. “The sands are quiet under these clouds.”

  Then, another wind blew in from the east, as chill as the one that roused her. Roren’s hood rustled on his head, and he had to pull it back into place. The fire blew almost completely sideways in the rushing wind. They both looked east.

  “Strange winds,” Roren said. “Must be a storm approaching.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “A storm.” Then another gust of winds blew up and out of the canyon. Her gaze went from the canyon to their side up to the cloud cover above. “They’re moving quickly, if there’s a storm approaching, it should be upon us any moment.”

  Roren leaned back and put his hands up and behind his head. “I’d welcome some more rain. As long as the storm doesn’t bring with it those two again.”

  “I don’t think Dânoz will be back anytime soon,” she said. “At least I hope not. He’s probably sitting comfortably on his throne in Voru, expecting Kera to be brought to him.”

  As the clouds above floated westward, cracks formed between them, and what would normally be a white light that slipped through them, instead was a red glow. Lilaci looked up at the night sky with curiosity, as Roren lay back, relaxing with his eyes closed.

  Between the cracks and gaps in the clouds, Lilaci saw the source of the red hue, the moon was illuminated in an eerie crimson.

  Roren opened one eye to look up at the sky. “Harvest moon,” he said, and then closed his eye again.

  Lilaci heard a peculiar, yet familiar sound. It was a quick, fluttering sound of tiny wings in the darkness, just outside the reach of the fire’s warm light. What is that? It's too quick to be the wings of a bat, could it be another pixie? If it is, it's not leaving this camp alive. No, I don’t think it’s a pixie. Lilaci took a couple of steps in the direction of the fluttering sound. A sparkling light darted out from behind one of the tents then, and Lilaci found herself looking at a sleek, blue-lit hummingbird as it hovered in the air before her. It cocked its head as it looked at her.

  She heard Roren sitting back up to attention at the appearance of the bird. “A hummingbird? This time of night?”

  “Yes, unusual,” she said. “What are you doing here, little one?” She slowly reached up, extended her fingers and flinched visibly when the bird shot over and landed on her index finger. The bird was light, clasping on with its thin claws, like small sharp twigs. Its eyes were a deep black, and its blue feathers cascaded down it’s back almost like dragonscales.

  Then, under the red light of the harvest moon, it flew from her hand, over the fire, and hovered above the ground on the other side of the tents, with the western desert behind her. It cocked its head again as it looked at her.

  “What’s it doing?” Roren asked, as he leaned in to inspect the bird. “Curious . . .”

  “Don’t know,” Lilaci said, lifting an eyebrow while watching the bird’s movements. “Burr, get up.”

  The old man groaned back in the wagon. “What is it? It is my watch already?”

  The small bird darted out of view quickly, and as Lilaci wondered where the bird had gone off to, it flew back into view, watching Lilaci as it hovered once again in the light of the fire.

  “What you got there?” Burr asked, peering out of the wagon. “A bird?”

  “I . . .” she said. “I think it wants me to follow it.”

  “The bird?” Roren asked, scratching his beard and neck. “You’re . . . you’re not going off alone into the desert. I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you stay,” Burr said. “I’ll go, it’s probably nothing, just an ordinary, curious bird.”

  “If it is something,” Lilaci said. “We sure could use some aid in getting to Kera, so any help is welcome, and we’ve seen stranger things in the desert than this.”

  “That’s the truth,” Roren said. “Be quick, if you’re not back soon, Fewn and I will be out looking for you. Remember, the Reevins are still out there, and I don’t think they’re going to give up until they’ve got your Sanzoral.”

  “I’ll be alert, let’s go Burr, let's make this quick.”

  Burr attached his sword and scabbard to his hip and threw a white shirt on, then leaped from the wagon. Lilaci fixed her sword to her side and placed the dagger from the dragon’s lair at the small of her back, held there by her new red sash.

  Together, they followed the silver glow of the hummingbird as it flapped its wings. It darted from side to side, moving further from the light of the fire, each time it went out turning to wait for Lilaci and Burr to follow; they did so cautiously. Overhead the clouds separated more and more, letting down the red glow of the harvest moon above.

  “What do you think this means?” Lilaci asked with her arms folded over her chest, her foot lightly tapping on the sand.

  “Not sure, but this bird surely means for us to follow it. Could be a trap.” His fingers found the grip of his sword.

  “Well, let's be ready for anything,” she said, her eyes scanned the area inquisitively. She was looking for anything further out of the ordinary. Her gaze moved quickly around the sands as they were lit in a dull red haze.

  “I don’t deny that getting into a fight tonight sounds like the perfect thing to settle our nerves and help ease our minds of our current frustration,” Burr said, grinning on one side of his mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I won’t disagree,” she said, smiling back. “Killing some Reevins don’t sound that bad at all.”

  The hummingbird flew forward, curved up into the sky, then angled back down as it flew into the darkness, its silver glow quickly faded. Yet, seconds later, it reappeared. It shot over to them, fluttering next to Lilaci.

  “I think we’re here,” Lilaci said.

  “What is that?” Burr asked, peering hard into the darkness before them.

  Lilaci couldn’t see exactly what was in front of them that the hummingbird wanted them to see, but she did make out the slight red light of the moon lighting a subtle aura around a tall, round object. “I’m going to go in,” she said.

  “Aye,” he said. “Let’s do it, get it over with.”

  Lilaci strode forward in the darkness, Burr behind her, his sword unsheathed and its Whiteblade glowing red. What is that? It’s much larger than it seemed at a distance, at its top it appears to be delicately swaying in the breeze. I smell . . . It smells like musty leaves in Aturum, and there's a slight smell of sweet sap. Is it a . . . Tree?”

  Around its wide base was a winding grain that wound its way up its thick trunk. The grain was full of knots and bumps like vines being wrapped tightly around a
bumpy log. It was a gray color underneath its red hue from the harvest moon above, creeping its light through the thick, black clouds. At its top shot out hundreds of branches, littered with thin, wafting strands of leaves that flowed in the winds like thin-cut pieces of light cloth.

  There is something special about this tree, and with my Sanzoral as weak as it is, it still tells me this tree is more like a living being than a normal tree. I can feel its reach reaching into the sand, they’re like fingers extending deep down, crawling and grasping for it. The tree seems to be moving too, like its pulsing, like it has a heartbeat. But that impossible. Yet, I can almost see it with my eyes, it's expanding like it’s . . . breathing.

  “What is it?” Lilaci asked.

  “You don’t know?” he said. “This will most likely be the only time we see one of these, but you more than anyone should know exactly what this is.”

  When he said that, it shot into her mind immediately what they were standing before. An Everwendren Tree. “This is one of the three curse-breakers. ‘Two drops of sap from the Everwendren Tree.’ That’s what Veranor said.”

  “Aye. Isn’t she a splendor to look at?” he said, fixated on its leaves as they rustled back and forth in their red glow. The tree seemed to be breathing, pulsing in and out under the red harvest moon. “We’ve got to collect the sap soon, no telling how long the tree will be here.”

  Burr walked toward it, holding his sword out toward the tree to make a cut to draw the sap out, but then the tree expanding with a low, rumbling sound, like the ground tearing.

  “Sheath your sword,” Lilaci said, and he did so.

  They both approached the tree and found that its shiny reflection was created by the thick, amber sap flowing from the winding grains that ran up the tree. Burr pulled a small pouch from his belt, a smaller watersack, or a pouch for coins, and held it up to the tree bark, letting the slow-running sap flow into the mouth of the leather watersack.

  “There you go, girl,” Burr said. “That’s a good tree.”

  Lilaci let her hand fall to the tree trunk, and she felt the tree’s strong movements on her palm. She looked at the back of her hand, appearing to have more wrinkles at her knuckles. “I thank you great Everwendren for your gift. May your magical years be long and may stories of your greatness be sung throughout the ages.”

  A wind picked up then, Lilaci looked up at the sky to find the black clouds were growing thick again, and the cracks between them shrunk. As the red glow of the moon faded to the normal pitch-black of the starless sands, she returned her gaze back to the tree, and its high top, where the thin leaves were vanishing slowly from existence as they blew off and disappeared with the wind.

  “The tree, she’s fading,” Burr said with his jaw hanging open and his eye opened wide. “Magical.”

  The tree washed away from the sands as the light of the harvest moon disappeared. From top to bottom, the tree slowly faded, and like a statue of sand in strong winds, the Everwendren Tree washed away from the desert, leaving nothing more than the thick sap in Burr’s sack. Even the hummingbird that had brought them to the tree, had vanished from sight.

  “What a gift,” she said.

  “Aye, lass,” Burr said. “There are indeed forces at play here, something is finally on our side it seems.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “Let’s be getting back. Don’t want Roren to worry, and he’ll never believe what we just saw.”

  They went back to the camp and told Roren of the tree and showed him the sap as proof. It was quite an exciting night, full of hope, a relief in their current despair. Yet, it was still the middle of the night, and they needed rest before their continued journey the next day, so Lilaci returned to her tent. Burr was left on watch, and Roren went off to sleep in the wagon.

  Lilaci laid with her blanket covering her, and her head resting on her pack. Finally, a sign something wants us to succeed, maybe all isn’t lost. Maybe tomorrow will hold some more luck for us. Lilaci tried to stay awake, to think of finding Kera again, but the grip of sleep was too strong, and she was soon in a deep slumber, with a warmth of hope floating through her dreams.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In her dreams, Lilaci walked through the Hidden Garden, at the mouth of the cave that housed Herradax when she was still in the egg. She smelled the delicate aroma of wafting flowers of endless varieties and shades. She strolled through the majestic splendor of the varietals and greenery. The sound of crisp, flowing water filtered over to her from the other side of the garden, a magic in itself.

  Looking down at her shoulder, and down to her hand, she saw another small hand holding hers. A young, shining smile lit Kera’s face as she bobbed up and down as they walked with each other. It was the sort of dream with a sense of endless happiness. Lilaci felt no danger, no war, and nothing coming to hurt either of them. It was just the two of them as they walked together through the long rows of flowers of every warm and cool shade. Deep blues, sunlight yellows, and lush green plants.

  Neither of them spoke as they strolled through the garden, but Lilaci felt a warmth that was only known to her when she and Kera were together, and safe. It was a feeling like what she felt when she was first reunited with the girl after Fewn took her for the first time—an almost unbearable love, a love that once was felt, created a fear of losing that feeling. But there, together and alone with each other, there was nothing to fear.

  A raindrop fell to a large, flat green leaf to her side, it was a thick raindrop that landed with a splat. Then another, and another.

  “Rains coming,” Lilaci said. Kera only smiled up at her with a wide grin and her eyes shut with glee.

  They continued to walk around, admiring the beautiful white small flowers that grew in large batches to their side. Then, Lilaci saw the flowers begin to move, not from the rain, or from touch. Down the center of the large patch of flowers, they separated and bobbed back and forth. Instinctively, Lilaci went to grab Kera, but she was shocked to find Kera now stood in the patch of flowers, with a sullen look on her face.

  Lilaci went to call out her name, but no words came. She fought harder to yell for Kera to get out of the flowers, but again, no words. She tried to run to her, but as quick as her legs strode, she got no closer to Kera, and with dread filling her, she watched as a long, slithering black snake slithered up Kera’s right leg.

  Terror entered Kera’s eyes, and she gave Lilaci the all-too-familiar look of fear. Lilaci reached out with every muscle in her body straining, as she watched the snake make its way up Kera, wrapping around her waist, then up to her shoulders, and eventually winding its way around Kera’s frail neck. Kera fought to pull the snake free, but Lilaci watched as Kera’s pale skin turned an opaque white.

  No, Kera! Fight it off. I’m trying to go to you, but I can’t. My magic’s gone, and my legs won’t move. There must be a spell on me, I’m trying, but I can’t help. You have to fight, you have to . . .

  Kera gasped for air, and found nothing to breathe in, and she collapsed into the flowers. Once she was half-submerged in the bed of flowers, a mess of snakes slithered over to her from the surrounding garden, and all went and wrapped themselves around her, with their long fangs exposed as they all went in to sink them into the girl’s lifeless body.

  Kera! Lilaci’s eyes shot open wide as she yelled, and she instantly knew what she’d just experienced was a nightmare, and now realized the new nightmare she was in. Lilaci wasn’t in her tent any longer but on the sands with the side of her head shoved down to the sand, and six paces in front of her was Fewn, also pushed to the ground, a look of terror in her eyes. Burr and Roren were also out on the open sands, each flush with the ground. Yet, they weren’t alone.

  Around them and slithering on top of each of them were long, black snakes, each emitting a faint green glow. Lilaci tried to move, tried to grab her sword, but she couldn’t even move her head to look down at her hand. She tried to move her legs to get her back to her feet, but she felt nothing. Looking over a
t Fewn, she noticed pairs of little dots on her arm and leg. No, not dots, those are puncture marks. She’s been bitten, and not once, several times by the green-glowing snakes. She’s been poisoned, she’s been . . . No, we’ve all been bitten. We all have venom running through our veins. I can’t move, these are no normal snakes. Oh no, there they are, I can see them now. Standing behind Fewn, another behind Roren, and another behind Burr. Old men under red hoods, each with long beards and brittle, knobby staffs in their hands. There must be one behind me too, damned wizards. The Reevins must have attacked us in our sleep. This is bad. The Sanzoral is our only hope if we’ve all been poisoned. But its buried down so deep inside of me it feels only like a distant memory. Dânoz and Eyr caused its power to shrivel up inside of me, and I haven’t had time for it to replenish. That doesn’t matter. We’re going to die here if I don’t use it. These wizard cannibals are going to eat us—eat me and take what’s left of the Sanzoral for themselves. I can’t let this happen. I’ve got to do something.

  With dread welling deep inside of her, Lilaci watched as the three Reevins she could see each crept over to her three friends. Fewn and the others lay motionless with the snakes slithering all over them, they didn’t cry out, as they were all unable to move their mouths, but frantic eyes full of fear darted around. Fewn’s eyes looked over where Lilaci lay. There’s one above me, I can feel him.

  As the Reevins approached each of the downed sand-walkers, each reached to their side, drawing out a wavy, black-metal dagger, and knelt. Their eyes glowed a wicked, green hue as the snakes grew brighter in the haze. Then the Reevins chanted, a foreign language Lilaci didn’t recognize, but their words were laced with the intent of death. There was a tone of eager satisfaction, and retribution, perhaps for their fallen that Lilaci and Herradax had slain.

  Sanzoral, I command you, come to me now! Come to me now or never again. This is it! Flow to me as you did before. Save me at least this one last time, for it's my last if you don’t hear my call. She felt it then, not like before, not like the overwhelming feeling of power the Sanzoral had become in her, but more like a prick of a needle in her finger. A sensation enough to draw blood, but not enough to merit attention. The Reevins lifted their daggers above their heads slowly, their chants growing louder, and more trance-like. The sands glowed a very subtle hue of violet. That’s it, the Sanzoral has come! Thank you!