by C. K. Rieke
Before going in, they both looked back out to the sky to see Wrathwing flying back out into the air, his great wings outstretched, flying swiftly away.
“Thank you!” Kera yelled out, waving her hands at him.
“Well . . .” Veranor said. “Are you ready?”
With her eyebrows lowered and a hard glare in her eyes, Kera took a strong step forward into the cave, quickly disappearing around a sharp turn.
Veranor took a deep breath and followed Kera into the cave.
Part V
Where Evil Dwells
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A sweet, pungent floral aroma wafted down the long rows of flowers of lush reds, vibrant yellows and the purest of whites. Planted in dark, rich soil held in rectangular boxes of heavy light marble with black streaks like spider’s silk, the flowers flowed with the high winds as they flowed over the golden pyramid of Erodoran. The greens that were held in the royal garden made this place look like they were on a different continent completely. It was made to be that way, long ago.
Queen Lezeral Serinaas walked slowly down the center row of flowers, gazing at the tall statues on each side of the garden. Statues carved masterfully in white stone of kings and queens of ages past. She paused to look up at the freshly carved statue of the late King Gofgenden Serinaas, first of his name, and her late husband. Only recently was he killed by Gorlen, the late Witch Queen.
“Oh, Gofgenden,” she said. “So much blood shed already. That girl is going to bring about open war upon us. How many are going to die because of this war? At least before she was born, and there were no dragons, the gods lived by certain rules. They seemed content in the way things were.” She sighed, looking down at the soft, green grass that crept up through her toes and bare feet. “You could have lived to be by my side in all of this, had Gorlen not killed you.” She clenched her fists. “I don’t care if the gods hear me now, I always despised that goddess. So much evil in her. She enjoyed poisoning you. You could have lived, and she still would have died at the hand of the Dragon’s Breath.”
The queen stood there in her long black robes of soft silk that fell to just below her ebony ankles. Her long, voluminous auburn hair bounced and tickled at her left shoulder in the winds, beneath her thin, golden crown. She then heard the creaking of a door behind her and looked over to see one of her advisers approaching out from behind the dark-wooden door.
He approached quickly, with his bald head and robes of blue and yellow, pausing in a kneeling position in between the two Queensguard that had been following her. “My queen,” he said. “A raven from the city of Godan.”
She extended her hand to him. “Bring it here, then.”
He rose and rushed over, handing the roll of parchment to her only a few inches wide and with the royal seal of Godan still unbroken upon it. She broke the seal and unrolled the thin parchment, scanning the fine calligraphy thinly-spaced down the roll. After reading it, she reached up and rubbed her right temple with two fingers in a circular motion.
“What does it say?” the adviser asked.
“Leave me,” she said.
The adviser paused, bowed, then went off to the door that led back into the golden palace.
“I require some space,” she said to the two Queensguard in their heavy silver armor with long spears and a single black plume on their helmets. “Light the blue torches.” They took large steps in unison backward toward the door, as to not turn their backs to their queen. They went and lit four blue torches that surrounded the royal garden.
Queen Lezeral went over to the statue next to that of Gofgenden, it was a statue of her father, the king before her late husband—King Pyrus Isile IV. A good king who led in the ways the gods required, but he always held a quiet disdain for their ways. He was the king who found Veranor as a young boy and reared him to be the great commander he became.
“Father,” she said to the statue. “Things have become so complicated. I often think now of what you would’ve done—what you would do—in these days. You fought in great battles, conquered heretics and foes in the names of the gods. But I always knew you never truly trusted them. Now, I have to make the choice to forsake them, forfeiting not only my own crown and life, but the lives of countless that live within my walls.”
She pulled the raven’s parchment out once more and read it again to herself. She walked over to one of the blue flames that flickered in winds as a strong gust blew in from the west. She held a corner of the roll to the fire and watched as the fire caught the parchment. She tilted it up and watched as the letter burned away, and she dropped it into the flame as it neared her fingers.
“Father,” she said to herself. “A dragon roams the skies once more. A dragon that seems to double in size every few days. Soon, it will be too large to easily defeat, it will take many lives to kill a single one. I’m tempted to let the gods handle this on their own, but their fear for the girl prevents them from going after the dragon directly. They’re going to come to me anyway to send out my army eventually, after the girl is brought to them. King and Queen Marindírr and King Warrgon have already had their kingdoms taken up by the gods. In Godan, Vigolos, and Fayell have taken up quarters in their palace, and Arymos has moved from Arralyn to Scindír. They are already making their moves to take back control of the Arr from inside and are preparing for another grand-scale war that will consume this entire continent.”
Queen Lezeral moved from the side of the blue pyre and stood with both her soft hands on the golden ledge, to look down upon her city. Her hair whipped past her, over her shoulder as she looked on at her city that scattered in every direction clear off to the horizon. “All these people . . . One dragon could wreak so much death upon them, but that’s only in a lifetime. Over many lifetimes, how many have the gods killed without wars? How many more have to die?”
With a sigh, she turned back around and walked past the long rows of colorful flowers to stand before the statue of her late husband. “Gofgenden, I always loved you. You were caring and a good king when the time came, but you were too weak for what’s to come. It’s for the best that I’m the one to lead during these times. There’s a hidden battle going on under the veil of war, a secret mission—a mission for true power—and I fear you wouldn’t have the stomach to enter into it. Word has gotten to me that our scouts who’ve gone to the corpse of Gorlen, have found nothing.”
Lezeral looked down the line of statues, and at the many kings who’d ruled up until that point. “They ripped the half-decomposed mortal corpse to pieces, searching each rotten piece of flesh for the red Adyte Stone that gave Gorlen her powers and ‘immortality,’ and found not a trace. They scoured the area for any signs of an animal or beast that may have made their way off with the stone, but I dare say that is extremely unlikely. Such a stone, with all its power, doesn’t just go wandering off in the belly of some insect. No, someone has taken the Adyte, and is holding it in secret—whether they know what it is or not. It could be Dânoz, but I’d wager he would let the kingdoms know about the power he held, if for nothing more than pure vanity. It could be the Dragon’s Breath, or one of her kin, but I doubt they know of the stone’s existence. It may be more possible one of the Reevins from the south found it scavenging the carcass of the fallen goddess. But the fact remains, if someone consumed the stone and took the power for themselves, all of these lands would know about the new god. No, someone carries it for an unknown purpose, and I’ve got to find out why. If there is to be another god in these lands, there is only one who should bear the responsibility of that power: me.”
Looking back out to the blue sky and far-reaching city roads and buildings, she said, “King Garrond would want it for himself in his lust for power, and King Borr and Queen Eza would want it if for no better reason to relieve themselves from the reach of death, or at least one of them. But me . . . I would use the stone as a weapon to create peace and grant prosperity to these lands once again. I would kill the dragon, by my own hand if need be. I
would force the gods to relinquish their constraint of the water into the three Great Oasi and let the lifeblood of these lands travel back out into the deserts. I would grant freedom back to the people, and they would love me for it. I would be known as the one kind and just goddess. Lezeral . . . the goddess.” A wry smile crept up on her face as she looked down at her city.
Then the wooden door opened once more, and the same bald adviser peaked out from behind the door. “Your Highness,” he said in a timid voice. “The Great God and Eyr wish to see you in their quarters. They wish to speak with you in private, alone.”
The queen sighed. “I’ll be right there.” The adviser bowed his head and slipped back into the shade of the palace. She turned and looked back up to the statue of her father. “An ant can easily be crushed under the weight of human’s thumb, and the human thinks himself impervious to harm from the ant. But the ant can bite, and if that ant can gather enough to her side, she can create an army strong enough to wait until that human is asleep in their bed. While the human sleeps soundly, the ants can crawl up its bedposts, slip underneath its soft linen covers, and silently mount an attack. Before the human knew it, he would be bitten, thousands of times at once. We would enter their ears and nostrils, biting from the inside. It only takes one to lead them.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Throughout the darkness, the barking and chattering echoed loudly within the depths of the bleak canyon. Pitch-black beyond Gogenanth’s mystical blue veil occasionally broke with the tip of a wing from one of the imps as they flew by. All the while, each of them held their weapons ready as they continued tiptoeing silently across the ground, far beneath the desert floor high above, at the top of the canyon’s walls. Lilaci only hoped they’d been continued in a straight line forward, toward the cliff on the other side of the gorge.
Not one of them spoke, even Gogenanth, who continued moving his lips to continue the chant and spell, without uttering a word. Another wing entered the orb, but not just a fur-covered tip, a whole wing which Fewn quickly moved aside, so the imp wouldn’t feel their presence. It would only take one of the who knows how many of the creatures to find them, then it would call the rest. Even with Lilaci’s Sanzoral beginning to return, how long would that protect them from an onslaught of the imps with wretched claws and teeth.
So they trudged forward. They seldom looked at one another, each of them peering out into the black, ready to strike, but only if need be. Lilaci’s heart raced. Whatever had created that pathway down into the canyon had granted them a wish, and she desperately hoped that on the other side they may be lucky enough to find a way back up the other side. A way that would lead them back to Kera.
Her heart pounded, all she wanted to do was slice through every part of an imp that entered into the orb, but she refrained, for she knew the end result of that would be dire. She looked back at Gogenanth, and worried for him, as the big, strong man was beginning to perspire as his shoulders slumped. Even he, with all his power, was beginning to fatigue, and none of them knew how much further they had to go to get to the other side.
To whatever god is out there who is any sort of good, let us find the path to the other side. I fear Gogenanth may not keep us hidden much longer, and as much as I’d love to send the fire of the Sanzoral out into this dark horde, burning them from the inside out with its hot flames, we need his magic to get us all safely across. Kera needs us—all of us, and we need her. If there is any good in this world left, give him the strength that he may continue his spell. And grant us the luck we need to find our path in the darkness. I have nothing to give in exchange but my thanks, and a promise I will try to make these lands a better place for all. If the dragons return because of Kera, then the waters will flow once more, and a dark abyss like this may turn into a great river that would create a source of fresh water that would grant life to untold amounts of life in the Arr. That would be my gift to you, whoever you are that may be helping us.
Lilaci sensed Burr move up to her side and he beckoned for her to drop her ear to him with a wave of his hand. She leaned in close, as he whispered as quietly as he could muster.
“To find the way across, I have an idea, but I don’t know if you are capable of it,” he said. She nodded, signaling for him to continue. “Take my bow, it’s as quiet as they come, but not silent. Fire an arrow forward, but I wonder, could you instill the tiniest bit of the Sanzoral in it, so that it may not emit light, until it is far in the distance? So that we may see which direction to travel?”
She turned her head to whisper, and he moved his ear toward her lips. “The imps will be drawn to the flame. I suppose I can extinguish the light, and fire an arrow out somewhere else to draw their attention.” She motioned for him to hand her the bow.
“What are you doing?” Ezmerelda whispered, motioning for her to not take the bow.
“Trust her,” Roren said, blocking her hand with his. Another pair of imp legs shot through the top of the orb.
Lilaci took the bow, and a single arrow, pulling it taut. Hear me, Sanzoral, with your dimmest light, endow this arrow with a spark of your light, nothing more, just enough deep within it to carry your might far, and show us the way.
She couldn’t see the light, but she felt the life of the Sanzoral within the shaft of the arrow, and she let it loose. It did create a muffled snap as it let out, and the barking sounds around them got louder instantly, and they heard the flapping of more wings all around them. Lilaci listened to the whistling of the arrow at it flew high in the darkness. Now!
Out in the distance, high in the sky, the arrow lit ablaze with wild, purple fire. It was so bright it lit the surrounding area. It was so bright it showed to them there were indeed dozens of the imps flying around just that area, all of them at once rushing to the arrow. Then the arrow plunged into the chest of one of them, causing the imp to catch on fire from the hot flames, it screeched and moaned as it plummeted to the ground with a dull thud.
The fire raged on the beast, consuming it, and as many imps flew toward it to inspect the magical flame, Burr handed Lilaci another arrow. There was no sign of the canyon wall. She took the new arrow and fired it to their right this time, and once it reached the height of its grand arc, she let it burn in a hot blaze. This time the arrow completed its full trajectory and landed in the hard ground with its hardened tip. Again, Lilaci’s hopes diminished from no wall. There was only one direction left, as assuredly, the wall wouldn’t be behind them.
“Let this next one fly far, and true,” Burr whispered as he handed her the third arrow.
She drew the arrow back and let the spark of the Sanzoral rest deep within the wood shaft. Come on, give us a sign. She let the arrow fly, and the bowstring clicked as it went taut. She watched the arrow soar through the air, and as it began its flight, an imp shot wholly into the orb, its mouth biting and its claws slashing. As it was about to bite into Gogenanth’s arm as it flew in, a golden sword made its way into its eye, and Roren grabbed its scaly body before it could fall to the ground and create a loud sound from its fall. It twitched and shook as the sword was pulled from it, and then it fell silent.
Lilaci watched the arrow, and when it was to the point that was almost just out of range of the light of the other fires, she told it to light. With an eruption of violet fire, Lilaci was held in awe of a wall of solid stone—the wall to the other side of the canyon. Thank Burr for this idea, we were traveling the wrong direction, we turned somewhere in our path.
Burr handed her another arrow, and she knew what to do. She loosed the arrow to what had been the direction behind them, and let the arrow go ablaze. She then extinguished the arrow that had landed at the base of the canyon wall, and they started to walk in that direction. She looked up to Gogenanth then, who looked to be on the brink of exhaustion.
“Hurry,” Lilaci whispered.
They picked up their pace, as finally they had a destination, and after another twenty minutes Lilaci placed her hand upon the rock wall—the other
side of the canyon. Behind them were lit three purple flames, each surrounded by hordes of the imps as they flew past each light, causing the lights to flicker from their silhouettes in the dark.
“I think they’re preoccupied with the lights,” Lilaci said to Gogenanth. “You can ease the spell. I think we are safe for the moment.”
Gogenanth let the spell fade, but he did not sigh or seem weak. He stood tall with his shoulders back and inspected the wall with his hands for any sort of grip.
What a gift, to have him back with me after all these years. He may be one of the most powerful of all men in these lands. I hate to admit it to myself, but for all the pain and misery we endured becoming Scaethers, I can’t deny that their methods worked—as cruel as they were. If I had a choice, if any of us had the choice, we would all choose to have our families back instead of these skills. But—in the coming war—these abilities will serve us well.
“Spread out,” Roren whispered. They separated then, all feeling along the wall in both directions, searching for something—anything with their fingertips. This went on for a long time, far too long for Lilaci to feel comfortable. After so long, they were thinning out the group too much, with every passing minute they grew further and further apart at both ends, and still no sign of a way up.
The arrows had burned up long ago, but Lilaci found she could spread the flames of each to an imp if it dared get to close to her fires. She caused it to reach out like tendrils to the coarse fur of more of the flying beasts. They would carry it into the air in a violent surge, eventually falling back to the desert floor in a motionless heap. Once that flame was almost extinguished, she would re-create the same fate for another. The imps did not seem to be that intelligent of a species.