by C. K. Rieke
“That one really needs to take a cold bath,” Gogenanth belted. “Cool his hot head!”
“It wouldn’t hurt to wash the stench off of him either,” Lilaci and the others heard Veranor say in a serious tone. The laughter stopped instantly, and they all looked at him in bewilderment, and once Lilaci had determined it was Veranor attempting a joke, their roar of laughter exploded in the room. Even Kera had to hold onto her stomach as it seemed to ache from laughter.
They ate to their hearts’ content, and Lilaci felt as if she could have slept on that very same table afterward. As they stood to leave, and head back out into the light of the early morning sun, Erich stopped them at the door.
“We have one more stop before I escort you to the caravan,” he said, then ushered them out of the tavern and out into the bright roads of the city. Something was different this time once they left the tavern; scores of people were waiting outside for them. Women, children, men—young and old—all waiting for them to exit. Kera grew nervous in an instant, clutching onto Lilaci’s cloak.
The people standing around—some sitting on the ground, holding their knees to their chests, others standing on small boxes, and other children atop their parents’ shoulders—began to cheer. Many of the people threw their hands up in the air, going wild with a thunderous roar. The ones on the ground rose and began to jump up and down, and Kera came out from behind Lilaci’s tunic.
Lilaci looked up to Erich. “Was this planned?” she asked.
“No,” he admitted, but with a smile.
A group of women and children walked up to Lilaci, twelve in all, with necklaces of fluffy, colorful flowers of all different colors; yellows, violets, reds, and oranges. Then they went and laid the necklaces around each of their necks. They sang praises to them as they did so. The women were singing a song of thanks, bowing their heads many times. Each time they raised their heads and Lilaci was able to look into their eyes, it looked as if they were about to cry, and the cheers continued in the background.
“It appears we’ve made our mark in the city,” Ezmerelda said, laughing as the women laid flowers around Veranor’s neck as he irked back.
Lilaci herself was in a state of shock. After the plentifully flowing wine and with her belly full of hot food, this all seemed like a dream to her. The last time she’d been in this city, the people feared her as one of the scariest assassins from Sorock. Now, here, they applauded her as if she were a hero.
“What do you think?” Ezmerelda asked Kera, leaning over to speak into her ear in the noise of the loud crowd, still jumping up and down.
“I—I don’t know. I’m overwhelmed I think.”
“They’re here for you,” Ezmerelda said. “You and your dragons saved countless people in the city.”
Kera frowned. “It should have been more we saved.”
“There’s plenty of time to save more,” Ezmerelda said with a smile. “Just enjoy this for now.”
Fewn walked over to Lilaci, each with layers of the soft flowers draped around their necks. “You ever expect anything like this here? If you would’ve told me we’d expect this way back in the desert when we forsook the Scaethers, I’d have thought you’d gone mad. But here we are—like heroes to them.”
“We are no heroes,” Lilaci said, scratching her arm. “We only did what we had to do.”
“In Essill,” Gogenanth said, looking at Lilaci, “I had to get used to being a ‘hero’ after my victories that ended up saving lives. Whether you feel that way or not, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is how people see it themselves. Just stand back and take it in. It doesn’t last forever.”
“If we win this war,” Ezmerelda said, “it will last forever in these lands.”
“Please,” Erich said with an extended arm, “follow me. The queen has another gift for you.”
They all walked off, following the Queensguard farther down the road, with the roars and chants still echoing down the city. They made their way to another shop, and by the carved hammer and anvil in a waist-high rock by the entrance, Lilaci didn’t have to guess what their next gift was going to be.
Upon entering the armory, Erich introduced them to the smithy. A shorter man whose face was covered in soot, save for where his protective glasses had covered his eyes, which were beady.
“Take whatever you like,” the smithy said, looking around at the racks of newly forged weapons and armor. “We’ve even got things that’ll fit the wee one’s limbs and grip.”
Gogenanth went over and eagerly scanned the items—Veranor and Ezmerelda too.
“I don’t know what I need,” Kera said timidly.
“Here,” the smithy said, snapping his fingers behind him.
A young, teenaged girl walked over and knelt before Kera with a smile. “I’ll help you find some things.” She had curly brown hair and a kind smile. She held her hand out for Kera to take.
Kera looked up at Lilaci, for acknowledgment of what to do. Lilaci nodded, and Kera took the girl’s hand and they went off, over to the armor.
Lilaci and Fewn walked over together to the racks of swords. Each was handcrafted and with unmarked steel blades. They were all unique. Fewn pulled up a sword with a long, straight blade and a hilt that curled at the tip, in a sharp, floral-looking design. She let the blade whoosh around her in big arcs, and then placed it back on the rack.
“These are fine weapons,” she said with a sparkle in her eye.
“Yes, they are,” Lilaci said, running her fingers down the blade of one. “I don’t think I’ll find one here that is more suitable for the upcoming battles than Blackfire or Dragoneye here.” She patted them, resting in their scabbards at her side.
From behind, she could feel eyes watching her as she did so.
“Pardon,” the smithy said, walking casually up to her with his short legs. “May I inspect those weapons at your side? If only for a moment?”
Lilaci thought for a moment, but any worry washed away that he would try to take them. Worst thing that would happen here, is he would try to buy them—as there’s no way I’d let him take these from me. She unsheathed Dragoneye and flipped the dagger in her hand, extending the hilt to him, which he eagerly wrapped his callused fingers around.
Pulling a monocle from his breast pocket to his eye, he inspected the blade. He said nothing for a long moment, as his gaze ran from the tip of the blade to the bottom of the hilt, flipping the dagger over to inspect both sides. He then removed the monocle, placing it back in his pocket. He handed the dagger back to Lilaci, and took a deep breath, as if he’d just smelled an exceptionally sweet-smelling flower.
“Hold on to that now,” he said to her. “Don’t you ever lose that dagger. It’s worth more than a quarter Voru itself.”
Fewn turned to look at him, “How’s that?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“That dagger and yer sword are made from Elderstone,” he said. “I’ve never seen it before in person, but I recognized it in an instant. Unbreakable, and it can pierce stone itself if there’s enough force behind it.”
“It works on dragonscale,” Lilaci said, sheathing it again. “That’s enough for me.”
“Incredible,” the smithy said, his mouth hanging agape.
“I will take this,” Gogenanth said over in the corner of the room. Lilaci looked over to the dimly lit corner and saw him turn with a newly-crafted scimitar that was the same length as his normal one, only with a blade without a single notch or cut. Its hilt was made of a silver that shined in the candlelight. Finely inlaid gold florets and vines wove through it. He laid his old scimitar down on the rack in its place. “She has seen many battles, I hope you can re-purpose her in an honorable way.”
The smithy nodded with a grin, both eyes squint as he looked pleased to re-craft his blade.
“Burr sure is being ornery,” Fewn said, “but I’ll grab him this bow and these arrows.” She took them up in both hands. “If he doesn’t want them, then I’ll keep them.” She went and grabbed a
sword as well.
They continued to peruse the wares, each replacing their older, worn weapons with new, finely crafted ones. Lilaci watched as Veranor re-stocked himself with two swords, three daggers, a bow, a quill full of white-feathered arrows, a sling, a grappling hook, and a spear his height that brought a smile to his face as he hefted it over his shoulder.
After they all gathered new weapons, they went and browsed the armor. It was split into two sections; one of light armor, and one of heavy. If they were to be heading into an all-out battle soon, they may have picked some heavy armor. But they still had far to travel to the land of Arralyn, so each of them went and inspected the light armor. Lilaci let her fingers glide down the hardened armor of tan leather with beads of copper used as decoration, and as studs to hold the leather to the silver plate. The armor smelled of freshly-tanned leather. She pulled away and looked down at the clothes she was wearing. They were the same clothes she’d been wearing the entirety of her journey thus far with Kera.
She pulled on the linen of her shirt. Even though it had been washed many times since, it was still stained in faded blood, the tan color was sun-worn, and she could easily stick her fingers through the many holes in it that she’d meant to stitch up.
“Quite the upgrade.” Fewn laughed, feeling the dried blood on Lilaci’s shirt as well. She fiddled with the loose strands at her sleeves. “Can’t go killing gods looking like street rats, now can we?”
“No.” Lilaci smirked. “I suppose we can’t. We will need to be armored soldiers ready for war from here on out. We’ve earned it.”
Fewn nodded. Ezmerelda walked over to them, holding a helmet of dark-tan leather with golden metal strips arching from the forehead area back. “What do you think?” she asked, trying it on for them to look at.
“Looks fine,” Fewn said, “how does it fit?”
“It’s a little tight on the sides,” she said, pulling it off and inspecting it.
“I’ve never been fond of helmets,” Lilaci said. “Restricts view and muddles hearing. I find them more of a hindrance than a help.”
Ezmerelda gave the helmet one last twirl in her hands, and then placed it back on the rack.
“Let's get you in some of this armor,” Fewn said to Lilaci. “Then we will get Kera fitted.”
“I don’t know that we need to,” Lilaci said, and Fewn traced her gaze over to the other side of the rack to see Gogenanth and Veranor, together, helping Kera find an armor that would suit her.
Fewn laughed again. “Never imagined I’d see those two work together on anything.”
“War makes for strange alliances,” Lilaci said. “We’re all going to need to trust each other from here on out.”
Chapter Fifteen
An hour later they found themselves at the outer ring of the city. The cheers of the people that had been following them had settled down. Lilaci and the others found themselves with a silent audience as they were led through the thinning fog toward their new caravan. It took her a moment to realize the crowd hadn’t stopped their hollering and applause for them, but for the smoldering fires out in the distance—a half-mile off to the south. The bodies... I’d forgotten they’d burned the bodies of Tirilin’s victims.
“Oh my,” Kera said in a quivering voice. “There are so many.”
“Yes,” Veranor said, “but there would be many more if not for your dragons. That, Kera, is what war looks like. It's not honorable, or full of brave heroes and evil villains. Innocent people are the true casualties of our wars. It’s only going to get worse before it gets better, I regret to say. The path we are on will be plagued by death like this. I hope you are ready.”
Kera sighed, looking down at the ground. “I am... I have to be…”
“She’s so strong-willed for a girl her age,” Ezmerelda whispered into Lilaci’s ear. “Remarkable for only being eight years old.” Lilaci only nodded.
As they approached the caravan, they could immediately see Burr waiting impatiently as he leaned against the last wagon, smoking from a pipe of dark wood. He drew it from his lips, blew out a bellow of smoke and turned the pipe toward the sand and began to clap on its bottom, sending the ash to the ground. He packed it away and stood with his chest and shoulder puffed out. “Look at the lot of ya,” he said. “Shining like that in new armor with new weapons. I’d spot you off miles away from your reflection. Not wise.”
“Not as wise as wearing torn, blood-stained cloth?” Fewn gawked. “You do realize we’re going to be in a caravan with eight wagons, two dozen royal guards, and the damn banner of Voru flying above, don’t you? What about that says to you ‘traveling in secret’?”
Burr spat, “Well, you’re finally ready then?”
Lilaci looked around. Before them indeed were the eight wagons, each pulled by a freshly groomed Iox, with six others to spare that walked behind the wagons. The soldiers stood firm and tall on both sides of the caravan, and yes, the flag of Voru—with its three sand dunes and red sun behind—floated with the wind above the lead wagon. It wasn’t something Lilaci necessarily wanted to represent her, but the queen would never let her take it down she was certain.
Then she looked at her friends that stood on both sides of her, all facing the caravan that was about to cross the thousand-mile desert to the city of Scindír. They had all been transformed from a pack of heretics and ex-Scaethers draped in ragged, sun-battered clothing, into knights of the finest design. They were studded in brand new armor straight from the forge that made them appear to be the fine soldiers they’d proven themselves to be. They’d killed wicked wizards, beasts, and monsters they’d only imagined in nightmares, and they were real dragonslayers. One of them was even a god-killer. Lilaci felt reinvigorated by the sight.
Already such an impressive list. And by the time the list is complete, these lands will never be the same.
Lilaci approached the caravan, and the others followed. She felt an unease from the soldiers that lined both sides of the Ioxi and covered wagons. The soldiers stood at attention, looking at her and her friends as they approached. The knights were not in their normal armor from back within the walls of the city. They weren’t in their silver armor with the black plumes atop their helmets, no, they wore light tan linens draped over sturdy leather armor and dull copper-colored plate armor. They would blend in magnificently on the sands.
She turned to Erich. “I don’t suppose they will warm up to us over the weeks it's going to take us to get there?”
“Actually,” the head of the Queensguard said with a surprising smile, “they may seem against such a quest as you are on, and with those who were deemed heretics, but keep in mind, they want nothing more than to please the queen. It was from her mouth and her pen that this caravan was put together. At the top of her proclamation for this quest was the survival of Kera, and you. That is their mission now. They will die for you.” He gave her an intense gaze then, as if to let her know that the soldiers were hers now, and to protect them as well. “Does that make you feel better?”
She nodded. “Yes. Again, give Queen Lezeral our kindest regards. This would be a long struggle through the desert on our own, and we have even further to go to reach the land of the gods. It will be nice for Kera to let her feet rest, and not to worry about food or drink.”
He stopped walking and gave her another serious gaze. He fully turned to face her, and she did the same, unsure of what he was to say. “Lilaci, I wish I could go with you to aid you in this quest. Not only for your protection, but to assure that you are victorious. If you are not, you know what the consequences will be.”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m going to state it anyway,” he said, and Veranor came up to the side of them to listen. “These lands are going to plunge into chaos. There will be nothing to stop the gods from wiping away our civilization. They may wish to create a new one, rule with the most ruthless intentions, or create a new Arr without any left to revolt against them ever again. If you fail, we are all as good as
dead.”
“I hope that's not true,” Lilaci said, lifting her chin. “You forget one factor. The dragons have returned. Not only Kera’s dragons too. The mad dragons that roam the skies, if they can break free from the spell they are under, they may turn on the gods.”
“You fail to mention one thing though,” Veranor said, “the dragons cannot enter the land of Dânoz. They will be stripped of all their faculties if they fly into the skies of Arralyn.”
“We won’t fail,” Lilaci said, her brow furrowed. “Dânoz is going to die for all the death and suffering he’s wrought.”
“Then,” Erich said, “let me show you to your caravan, and may you find an easy journey to Scindír.” He led them up to their convoy. “These are not the ordinary wagons you would buy from a merchant. These were specially built for the transport of the queen herself. We’re not sending you with her personal carriage, as we are saving that in case we need to evacuate the city, but these are some of the finest wagons and Ioxi that Voru has to offer.”
“We’re grateful,” Kera said, eying the wagons closely. “I’m eager to get out on the sands once again.” Even with our war-pact with the queen, Kera seems to be most at ease in the desert. After all, that’s always been her home.
Erich extended his two hands cupped down at Kera’s knee, which she put her boot into. He hefted her up to the back of the wagon at the middle of the caravan. She smiled before disappearing behind the tan drapes at the back.
Veranor went and ran his hand up the wooden frame of the wagon. The wagons were constructed of a hardwood that matched the color of dry sand. There were twelve strips of wood that lined each side of the wagons vertically on each side, with the same number on the top, with which the tan canvas was lined on the inside. He examined the wagon wheels, the treads of which were a rough, hand-cut design that had proven to work well on loose, deep sand. The wheels were wide, much wider than a one that would tread through city streets. They each were a full six inches wide, with two spare wheels bolted to each side of the wagon. “These will do just fine,” he said with an approving nod. The Iox at the head of Kera’s wagon rustled and let out a low-sounding grumble. “Perhaps we should get aboard and be on our way.”