by Zoey Draven
She went back to the table to retrieve a pitcher and poured me more water, which I drank.
“You have been here almost five days now,” she said, going to rummage through her case.
I looked into the empty goblet and whispered, “Five days?”
How was that possible?
“I gave you a sedative,” she explained. “It kept you sleeping most of the time so your body could heal.”
I’d never heard of such a medicine, one that could make someone sleep for days.
When she looked back at me, she had a small green vial in her hand, a black liquid inside. When she refilled my goblet, she tipped a little of the black liquid into it and swirled it around.
“I don’t think I want to sleep anymore,” I told her, looking into the goblet, wondering how to refuse it politely without offending her.
A small smile touched her lips, her yellow eyes studying me. Somehow, she looked both old and young.
“This is not for sleeping,” she told me. “This will help with pain.”
“Oh,” I said before eagerly raising the goblet to my lips.
“You are much more cooperative when you are awake,” she noted, a hint of amusement in her tone. “You must be hungry. Would you like to eat?”
My breath hitched and I licked my lips when my mouth immediately began to water. “Yes, please.”
Something changed in her eyes. Pity? I didn’t care. When it came to food, I could handle pity. I watched as she turned to the entrance, poked her head out, and murmured something in Dakkari to someone on the other side.
When she returned, I asked, “Where are my clothes?”
“Gone,” she said before retrieving a bundle from her case. “The Vorakkar had these made for you. They should fit.”
She held up a pair of fur-lined pants, the darkened hide expertly tanned and sewn. Then she placed a pair of fur boots on the ground next to me, durable, with thick soles. Next, she showed me with evident excitement an impractical tunic of shimmering silk—which I couldn’t help but notice was grey, like the demon’s eyes—and a much more practical black sweater made of what looked like kinnu fur.
My eyes lingered on the kinnu fur and I remembered why the Dakkari had come to my village in the first place.
I shook my head. “I need my clothes. There are some things of mine in a pocket and I need them back.”
“What are they?” she asked, lowering the sweater.
“Feathers,” I said.
Her brow furrowed, her lips turning down. “Feathers? Why do you need those?”
“I just...” I huffed out a breath. I realized right then that I had nothing. Not that I had much before, but I at least had my clothes, my bow and arrow, and Blue’s feathers. Now, I had none of those things. “They are important to me.”
Her lips pressed together when she saw my expression. She looked a little uncomfortable as she said, “I am sorry. Your clothes were burned. They…they smelled quite terrible.”
I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do. It was done. The feathers were gone.
“Alright,” I whispered. I knew I should feel embarrassed about the state of my clothes. That was what a normal person would’ve felt. But I just felt sad that I’d lost the last things I’d ever had.
My eyes must’ve gone a little watery because the Dakkari female blurred.
“I am sorry,” she repeated. “I did not know.”
I nodded again.
“Come,” she said, shifting a little. “Let me help you wash your hair while we wait for your food. Then you can get dressed in your new clothes. They are nice, are they not?”
“Yes, they are,” I agreed, wanting to assure her since she’d seemed excited to show them to me. I felt her hand on my arm as she helped me stand on wobbly legs.
She helped me over to the bathing tub and though the water was a little cold, I climbed into it gladly, keeping forward like she told me so I didn’t get my back wet.
When I bent forward, she helped me wash my hair, lathering it with a soap that made the water white and bubbly. She had to wash it twice, as dirty as it was, and then I scrubbed at my skin with the leftover soap until I grew tired from the exertion.
Even still, when I rose from the bath and dried off, I felt lighter and better than I did before. I didn’t remember the last time I’d bathed in an actual tub. I usually just tried to rinse my body by the stream in the Dark Forest. No one ever went there.
“I will bandage your back and then you can dress,” she told me, having me sit on the bed. It felt strange to be naked with someone, but she didn’t seem bothered by it, so I told myself that I shouldn’t be either. “Unless you wish to sleep again, after you eat,” she added hesitantly, peering at me.
“No, I want to get dressed and get some fresh air,” I said.
“I will have to ask the Vorakkar,” she said quietly.
Her words reminded me of an exchange I’d had with him, one that was just returning to my memory.
He’d told me, “You will not leave, kalles. Not until I say you can.”
Was I to be a prisoner there? Was that my purpose?
My lungs squeezed just thinking about it but I remained silent, pretending I did not hear her words as she wrapped my back with a length of cloth, winding it around my front, binding my breasts before securing it.
“Does it look very terrible?” I asked softly when she appeared in front of me. “My back?”
“Your wounds look much better than they did before. It will scar, for your skin is very delicate, but it could have been worse.”
I nodded and she handed me the stack of fresh clothes. New clothes. And they were nicer than any clothes I’d ever seen.
Even still, I’d trade them for my old ones in a heartbeat if I could have Blue’s feathers back.
“How did you get whipped?” she asked next, surprising me as I began to tug on the pants, though I was sitting. “Was it…your village?”
“No,” I said, frowning. “It was under the horde king’s orders.”
I heard her suck in a breath and she cocked her head at me in confusion. “Neffar? Our Vorakkar?”
I nodded, feeling my wet hair drip over the fresh bandages.
“But…why?”
“Because he saw me hunting in the Dark Forest, outside my village’s walls,” I told her, slowly pushing up from the bed to tie the pants.
They were a little big, but they were so warm and the fur tickling my legs felt luxuriously soft.
“You are a hunter?” she asked me, still blinking, trying to understand.
“I’m good with my bow,” I said softly, thinking of the grounder’s three eyes that night. “The job was assigned to me when I was young.”
“But you are a female,” she argued, frowning.
“I can assure you that females are still capable of hunting,” I told her. “I did not like it, but it kept me fed.”
Most of the time, at least.
The healer went quiet and watched as I slowly pulled on the silk tunic, followed by the black sweater. My back felt tight and tender, but whatever the healer had put into my water seemed to be working for the pain.
Just then, a Dakkari male’s voice sounded outside the tent and the healer went to the entrance, returning with a tray of food. Desire grew in my heart as I watched the healer set the tray on the low table and beckon me over.
“Go slowly, vekkiri,” she warned. “Except for some broth I managed to get down you, you have not eaten much for a while.”
A pale, silky broth steamed from a small bowl and she thrust that into my hands first when I came to sit at the table. But my greedy eyes were already looking at the chunks of braised meats, piled neatly in a small mound on a plate, and a steaming loaf of something that looked like bread, though it was a deep purple in color and looked slightly wet.
But I took it as slowly as I could. When I was finished with the broth, it warmed my empty stomach, and I was startled by a strange sensation of fullne
ss.
When I plucked one piece of braised meat from the plate and popped it into my mouth, flavor burst on my tongue, delicious and warm and spiced. My eyes went wide because I’d never had anything like it.
I ate another and another before tearing off a small piece of the bread and stuffing it into my mouth. It had a strange, spongy texture, slightly sweet, nothing like the dry, brittle bread from the village, but I decided I liked it very, very much.
There was still half a loaf and a small pile of meat left when I couldn’t eat anything more. My belly churned from the sudden influx of food, but I would not vomit. My body desperately needed the nutrients.
“I think I’m done,” I told the healer, looking up at her. “Can I…” I trailed off, unsure if what I was asking was appropriate. Jana had always told me I asked inappropriate things when I shouldn’t.
“Lysi?” she asked, staring at me. She’d been staring at me since I first started eating and I wondered if she thought my food manners were deplorable. I had been a little too eager and it had been a long time since I had eaten with anyone.
“Nevermind,” I said quietly, looking down at the uneaten food. I’d wanted to ask if I could wrap it up for later, but then realized I didn’t know when ‘later’ was or what it meant for me. I didn’t know anything about why I was there, eating this rich, almost sinfully good food, dressed in new clothes that would keep me warm during the cold season, in a luxurious tent that I was very certain was the demon king’s.
“I think I’ll get that fresh air now,” I said softly, looking up at her, my stomach tight and stretched.
She gave me a small smile and rose. “I will need to ask the Vorakkar. Wait here. Drink the tea while I am gone,” she told me, pushing the small cup that came on the tray towards me.
When she exited the tent, my eyes went back to the food and then I looked over at the healer’s case. Standing, I slowly made my way over to it, digging inside until I found a small, clean scrap of cloth. Then I returned to the table, wrapping up the last of the meat and the bread, squishing it until it was small enough to fit into my pocket.
Once it was safely tucked inside, I relaxed, feeling better that I had another meal at the ready. My eyes strayed to the tent flaps and then to the fur boots at the end of the bed. Going over to them, I slipped my bare feet in, wiggling my toes inside, and then walked to the entrance, wondering if I would be punished again for disobeying the horde king’s orders.
I didn’t like being cooped up inside, which was why I hated the cold season so much. My need for fresh air and my curiosity about the horde camp won out, so I ducked through the tent flaps into frigid air.
I won’t go far, I told myself, knowing I shouldn’t push my body too much, especially since I’d been sick and bedridden for the last five days.
When I straightened and took my first look at the horde encampment, my lips parted and my eyes widened.
“Oh,” I whispered, my breath fogging in front of me, given the coolness of the early morning.
Close to sixty or seventy domed tents stretched far and wide in front of me. The encampment was tucked close to a mountain range, which jutted up directly behind the horde king’s tent. There was a clear entrance to the encampment, a tall fence with a gate, much like my own village’s. When I looked to the west, past the rows of tents near the entrance, I saw a river, and when I looked east, I saw a large enclosure almost equal in size to the entire camp, the Dakkari’s black-scaled creatures roaming within.
As I studied the camp further, I saw training grounds. I saw what looked like a crop field beyond the walls. I saw a massive domed tent, ten times as large as the rest, with steam curling from a hole at the top. Actually, I saw that there were a handful of tents that were larger than the others, though I couldn’t guess their purpose from that distance.
The horde king’s tent was set apart from the rest, up on a small incline, so I was able to see the entire camp with ease. And I could see beyond the walls from that vantage point. Lonely plains met my gaze, which would soon be frozen over.
“Vekkiri kalles, juniri ta voliki,” came a male’s gruff voice behind me. I jumped and turned around. I’d been so surprised by the sight of the camp that I hadn’t noticed a Dakkari male standing guard a short distance away.
He was a horde warrior, judging by his size and the scar that ran down his cheek.
“Oh, hello,” I said, a little hesitantly, eyeing his bulk and the tail that flicked behind him.
He frowned, stepping towards me, studying me as carefully as I was studying him. “Juniri ta voliki,” he repeated, this time more slowly. And if I had any doubts about what he was saying, he made a sweeping motion towards the tent’s entrance with one of his massive arms.
“I just want to walk a little,” I responded. His frown deepened and when I took a step down the short incline, he stepped towards me. “I’ll come back, I promise.”
He was speaking in rapid Dakkari the further I ventured from the tent, but he didn’t move to grab me, simply stayed close, no doubt trying to urge me back towards the tent in a language I didn’t understand. But the cold air felt good across my cheeks and it smelled fresh and crisp. I almost smiled with how good it felt.
I didn’t notice the stares at first when I began to venture into the camp. Staring didn’t bother me. I’d been stared at before. I just walked slowly, curiously inspecting the tents, and shamelessly attempted to look inside any open flaps I saw. I came across Dakkari along my way, females and males and children, from young to old.
It was all so new, so vibrant, so exciting.
An older Dakkari male was watching me closely from the entrance of his own tent, munching on the same purple bread I’d had earlier. I looked at it, perhaps too long, because I saw him hold it out to me in offering. When I looked into his eyes in surprise, I said, “Oh, no. Um, nik. I already ate.”
“You look hungry,” he replied, his voice raspy with age, his accent the deepest I’d heard. Behind him, I saw movement and a small boy appeared, looking around the older male’s legs at me. The irises of his yellow eyes went rounder, widening.
“I have some already,” I said, patting the pocket of my new pants, feeling the weight of the food at my thigh. Even still, a part of me was tempted to take the offered food and add it to my stash. “But thank you. That’s very kind.”
All he did was grunt and chewed off another chunk before handing the rest to the boy.
“Are you from Dothik?” I asked. Behind me, I heard the guard break into another tangent of Dakkari, but I ignored him.
The older male cocked his head to the side at me. “How do you know that?”
I swore he looked amused as I said, “I learned today that if you grow up in Dothik, you learn the universal language, though I don’t quite understand why.”
It made me wonder for the first time if the demon king was from Dothik too, since he spoke the universal language.
The male guffawed and I jerked a little at the sound of the deep laugh. “Lysi, kalles, I am from Dothik.” The boy said something in Dakkari and the older male translated. “He says your eyes are odd.”
“You can tell him I think his eyes are odd as well,” I said gently, my lips quirking at the corners when I looked down at the boy. When the male translated my words, the boy’s own odd eyes went wide again. For a moment, I feared I would make him cry and I bit my lip, unsure and worried. But then he too broke off in a strange little high-pitched laugh.
Something rose in me at the sound and right there, for the first time in what seemed like years, I chuckled too. Brief and short, but a laugh nonetheless.
A smile lingered on my lips but then I heard heavy footsteps approach behind me. I saw the boy’s eyes dart to whoever approached and then his eyes went wide for a different reason entirely.
“Vekkiri,” came a familiar voice, deep and harsh. His presence was unmistakable, overwhelming. I would’ve known it was him even if he hadn’t spoken.
The smile died
from my face. I looked at the boy once more and then I turned to face the demon king.
Chapter Seven
“You should be resting,” I growled out at the female, halting before her, the kerisa trailing behind me.
The healer had informed me the kalles had woken, bathed, dressed, and eaten. Hearing the news filled me with relief, but when I reached the voliki and found neither the guard or the female inside, I’d grown irritated…and worried.
She hadn’t gotten far. I’d heard her laugh before I saw her…and that laugh, as small and quiet as it was, made my pace quicken towards her.
“I’ve been resting for five days, apparently,” she told me when she turned to look up at me. I couldn’t help but notice she took a step away, putting distance between us, but I hid my scowl as best as I could. “I needed some air.”
I’d forgotten how small she was, how delicate she seemed. I hadn’t stood next to her since I’d ordered her punishment.
Nostrils flaring at the memory, I looked past her and saw Arusan, an older male who’d been with my horde since the beginning. He looked after and crafted our weapons…an accomplished blacksmith. One of the masters trained in Dothik.
I inclined my head at him and noticed his daughter’s son, Arlah, peering at me from behind his legs. How had they made the kalles laugh, I wondered?
“I apologize, Vorakkar,” Neeva said, coming forward. He was the guard I’d posted outside my voliki. “I tried to have her return, but she—”
“I know,” I said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. In Dakkari, I told him, “She has a will of her own, it seems.”
I watched as her dark gaze fluttered between the guard and I, her expression unsure.
A small crowd had gathered, I noticed. Vodan had been right when he’d told me that whispers had begun through the horde. They were curious about the vekkiri I had brought into the camp.
“Come,” I told her, gesturing her forward.
“I still intend to see that enclosure over there,” she informed me, pointing towards the pyroki pen. “I can meet you back at your tent if you wish to discuss something.”