by David Angelo
Darancho raised his sword over his head, the reflection of its blade in the moonlight casting a dim glare onto Fin’s neck. But just as Darancho brought his sword down, Fin drew one of his claws and deflected the blade, causing sparks to fly when they hit. Fin kicked Darancho in the shin, causing him to trip and giving Fin enough time to scramble to his feet.
“I’m not going down that easily,” Fin said, drawing his second claw.
“You’re just making it harder on yourself,” Darancho replied, readying his sword. “You can delay the inevitable, but it will only lead you to a more painful demise.”
“We’ll see about that,” Fin said. He came in with a powerful jab, which Darancho deflected with an upward sword strike. Darancho reacted with a quick sideways swing, striking the back of Fin’s claw. This prompted Fin to try and stab him with both of his claws, but Darancho was able to hold back, locking them in a stalemate.
“Don’t you know when to give up?” Darancho asked.
“No,” Fin replied. “I’m done with letting you and your kind walk all over me, and your fearmongering isn’t going to change my mind.”
“You poor, helpless fool,” Darancho said, shaking his head. He pushed Fin away, attacking him with a downward strike. Blocking it with his right claw, Fin again locked swords with the pontiff.
“You forget,” Darancho said, “that in order for a society to work, there must be someone who suffers.”
“Your logic doesn’t make sense to me,” Fin said, shoving Darancho’s arm out of the way and moving to a safer position. Fin and Darancho circled each other like two bloodthirsty predators, each waiting for the other to flinch.
“My logic shouldn’t make sense to you,” Darancho said, “because you are a member of the sufferers. It will never make sense to you, nor should it ever, because if you had that knowledge, there would be no point to the system we currently have.”
“You mean the one where my friends, family, and loved ones are forced to toil under your oppressive wrath? How is that necessary?”
“Because if everyone comingled, the personal liberties enjoyed by my people, the Cullidons, would not be able to survive. The only way we can preserve our way of life is to make sure that the Faranchies pay the price with their lives, with their bodies, and, when the time calls for it, with their blood.”
“But what about the personal liberties that Faranchies want to enjoy? Have you, the holiest man in all of Edon, ever taken that into consideration?”
“Only the naive would consider the plight of those who were not made equal!” Darancho lunged forward and attacked Fin with a blow so powerful, Fin struggled to keep both of his claws up while blocking it. But the momentum behind Darancho’s movement proved too strong for Fin to bear, and Fin was forced backward. Eventually, Fin could feel his back resting against the side of Darancho’s coach, his attacker refusing to relent. Fin was pinned, trapped between the carriage and a painful death.
“Society rewards the winners,” Darancho whispered. “Your race lost the battle for supremacy long ago, and now it’s your responsibility to accept what society has bestowed upon you and to learn to obey.”
“That is,” Fin said, “until a rematch is called.” With every ounce of his strength, Fin pushed against Darancho, until he could feel his weight begin to lift. Finally, with one definitive shove, Fin knocked Darancho back, causing him to stumble. Regaining his composure, Darancho attempted to stab Fin, only to have his blade knocked out of the way by one of Fin’s claws. Realizing his opportunity, Fin knocked Darancho in the face with the back of one of his claws, leaving a deep gash across his nose. Darancho clasped his wound and backed away, blood trickling from between his fingers.
“There’s a winner and a loser in every conflict,” Fin said. “But there is also such thing as redemption, and this gives the loser the ability to take back what was once his.”
Anger flashed in Darancho’s eyes as he charged headlong toward Fin, the blade of his sword pointed forward. Fin also charged but came in low and, out of reach of the pontiff’s blade, struck his attacker’s side, leaving four deep gashes across Darancho’s flesh. Darancho wailed as he flew forward, the momentum of his charge and the pain from his wound preventing him from stopping, and he slammed into the side of his carriage. Bouncing off the white wood like a ball, Darancho sprawled out onto his back, bleeding, hurt, defeated.
Fin kicked Darancho’s sword out of reach. He placed his claws back in their scabbards, grabbed his victim by the lapels of his cloak, and pinned him against the wagon. Looking into the bloodstained face of the pontiff, Fin gave one final counter to Darancho’s logic.
“Society rewards the winners,” Fin said. “But what if there were no winners or losers? What if there was a society where everyone lived in harmony, with no oppression and no loss of liberty? Why can’t we just have our bread and eat it too?”
“It would never work,” Darancho gasped, his mouth filling with blood.
“Not with individuals like you around,” Fin replied, drawing one of his claws and placing the points under Darancho’s chest. “You, along with the rest of the old establishment, are like an infected limb. The only way for the body to thrive is by severing it.”
“You’ll never get away with this…”
“I already have.”
Fin plunged his claw of fate deep into Darancho. The bladed prongs came out of his back and stuck in the wood of the carriage. A gargling sound emanated from Darancho’s throat, and a torrent of blood erupted from his mouth and dripped down the front of his cloak. Fin felt warm liquid covering his hand as blood squirted from the point of his claw’s entry, coating the bronze weapon in red. Never blinking for a second, Fin watched as Darancho’s eyes slowly grew wider and wider, until the pontiff of Sebeth was no more.
23
WITH THEIR LEADER DEAD, Darancho’s guards and followers saw no reason to carry on with their fruitless fight and surrendered. The few survivors left standing were rounded up in the center of camp and forced to kneel, their hands placed squarely behind their heads, while the resistance pondered what to do next.
“I say we kill ’em all!” Chok said, grinning at the bloodstained blade of his ax cannon. “Baby here hasn’t beheaded no one execution-style yet, and I think now’s the best time to test her out.”
“Is ‘Baby’ your gun’s name?” Kyu asked with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Chok replied. “What’s your point?”
“You’ve beheaded enough people today,” Fin interrupted. “Let these live.”
“Wait, when’d you start makin’ decisions around here?” Chok asked.
“It was part of my vision, remember?” Fin said. “Blizzard wants to keep a handful alive so they can report back to Sebeth and strike fear in the hearts of parliament’s leaders.”
Fin walked over to the row of survivors and stopped at a particularly skittish guard. Removing the glove from his right hand and exposing his glowing burn, Fin asked the guard, “Tell me, do you believe in miracles?”
“Darancho says…” the guard started. “I mean, he said that miracles didn’t exist.”
“You were told wrong,” Fin replied. He reached down and ripped the guard’s cloak open, exposing the bare chest underneath. Fin’s comrades gathered around him, oblivious as to what he had in store.
“Hold him still, please,” Fin said. Chinaw and Chok immediately went around to the back and grabbed the guard’s arms.
“What are you going to do to me?” the guard asked, his voice wavering with fear and his being shaking like a leaf.
“You’ll see,” Fin replied, looking at the mark on his hand and grinning. “Keep him steady now; I don’t want to botch it up.”
Chinaw and Chok tightened their grasp on the guard. Fin knelt down and laid his hand upon the guard’s chest. At first, nothing happened, and the members of the resistance looked on in confusion. But then a strange smell filled the air.
“You smell that?” Chok asked.
“It smells like burning flesh,” Chinaw replied.
“Look!” Kyu gasped, pointing to the spot on the guard’s chest that Fin was touching.
To everyone’s amazement, smoke was rising from between Fin’s fingertips, accompanied by the sound of something sizzling, like meat frying in a skillet. The guard, who had been trying to keep his composure since the ordeal began, let out a bloodcurdling howl and tried to break away, but Fin continued to press down even harder. Finally, Fin removed his hand, leaving behind a smoking, Dragon Storm–shaped burn on the guard’s chest.
“Holy shit…” Kaw-Ki gasped, dropping her bow and clasping her hands to her mouth.
“What did you do to me?” the guard asked.
“I’ve just given you the mark of the Dragon Storm,” Fin said. “It is an event that will affect every dragon on Edon and bring the establishment that you serve so vehemently to its knees. Show that to Scaljon and all the members of the Cullidon parliament, and tell them that I, Fin, the fifth Faranchie prophet, gave it to you, and that every single one of them is next. And if you think for a second that you can just run off to another city and avoid detection, think again. Blizzard is watching all of you, especially you.” Fin poked him. “She’ll make sure you make it to Sebeth, whether you want to or not.”
When Fin was finished, the survivors were stripped naked and forced to make the long trip to Sebeth on foot, to an unknown fate. When the last of them had disappeared from view, the resistance looted the camp, taking all the things of value that their claws could carry before dumping it all into the back of Darancho’s carriage. Readying the pontiff’s horses and setting the coach on a course back to Notnedo, Fin and his comrades left the camp, leaving the bodies of their victims lying where they originally fell, waiting for someone to discover them in the morning.
A crowd of villagers greeted the resistance as they marched through Notnedo’s gate, carrying their spoils of war. To thank Notnedo for its hospitality, they left the carriage with the valuable loot in the town square for the villagers to take whatever their hearts desired. When everything was settled, Black-Tooth placed the resistance on temporary leave until the next evening and left with Kaw-Ki for some quality alone time in the pub.
Sitting at a table near the fireplace, Black-Tooth and Kaw-Ki were served warm cups of tea, which Cathwise had made for them on the house. They were the only ones inside the pub at this time of night, a time when all the oil lamps were extinguished and the only light came from the glow of the dying embers at the bottom of the fireplace. Quietly, they sipped their tea, lingering in the restfulness of the moment.
“We did it,” Kaw-Ki said. “Our first true stand against Cullidon tyranny.”
“I wouldn’t call it our first,” Black-Tooth replied, looking into his mug. “There were other times when we stuck it to the fat cats in Sebeth.”
“True,” Kaw-Ki said, “but you’ve got to admit that this was the biggest thing we’ve done yet. We just knocked off one of the most important figureheads in all of Edon. We’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I know,” Black-Tooth said, taking a sip of his tea.
“You okay?” Kaw-Ki asked.
“Yeah,” Black-Tooth responded. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re worried about something,” Kaw-Ki said, looking into Black-Tooth’s eyes. “I might not be Kemp, but I’ve lived with you long enough to know when something is eating you from within.”
Black-Tooth put his mug on the table and sighed.
“What we just did tonight is going to place us on the map,” he said. “We won’t be as invisible as we used to be, and the Cullidon parliament is going to try everything in their power to bring us down. What we’ve experienced in the past will be nothing compared to what’s coming our way.”
“But you knew that was going to happen,” Kaw-Ki replied. “You said it yourself; we can’t start a revolution without rustling a few feathers.”
“I know,” Black-Tooth said.
“Then what are you worried about?” Kaw-Ki asked.
Black-Tooth got up and walked toward the window near the front door. He looked out onto Notnedo’s dark streets, the flickering flames of street lamps casting shadows on the walls of nearby buildings.
“I’ve watched Fin over the last few months,” he said, “how he grew from a normal country boy into a full-blown warrior. I know he’s ready for the challenges and difficulties of being a prophet, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s up for the task at hand.” He turned his head back toward Kaw-Ki. “But there’s one thing that I don’t think I’ve properly prepared him for, and the reason why is because I feel I can’t.”
“And that is?” Kaw-Ki asked.
“How do I teach him to cope with the loss of someone near and dear to him in the line of combat? I’m sure he understands that by the time this is all over, there are going to be casualties on both sides, and people close to him will probably die. But is he really ready for all of this bloodshed? He’s still a kid, Kaw-Ki. What if one of us dies? What if Scarlet dies? How much can someone of his age take?”
Kaw-Ki stood up and joined her mate by the window.
“That’s something Fin needs to learn on his own,” Kaw-Ki said. “In order for him to get over emotional trauma, he needs to experience it himself. I know you want to be his mentor, but there comes a time when you need to step aside and let him deal with it by his own means.”
“It’ll be something we’ll all need to learn on our own,” Black-Tooth said. “As resistance fighters, we’ve all seen our fair share of death, but I don’t think any of us have experienced what it feels like to watch a close friend or a lover die before our eyes. But that might change, now that we’re a lot more visible in the eyes of the populace. No matter how tough or seasoned we are, if one of us dies in combat, I guarantee it’ll kill all of us a little on the inside.”
“Then we’ll deal with it in our own ways,” Kaw-Ki said, placing her hand on Black-Tooth’s shoulder.
“I guess,” Black-Tooth said. “Perhaps it’s not Fin I’m worried about, but myself.”
“Now’s not the time for worry,” Kaw-Ki said. “Now’s the time to savor our latest victory, and to let the future arrive when it’s ready.”
Near the old tree, Fin and Scarlet were taking a moonlit walk through the confines of their memories.
“I remember when you first kissed me here,” Scarlet said.
“I was so damn stupid back then,” Fin said with a laugh.
“You weren’t stupid,” Scarlet replied, taking Fin by the hand and giving him a kiss on the wrist. “Just a little foolish, that’s all. And now you’re a prophet.”
“Funny how things work out that way,” Fin said. “One minute, you’re just an awkward teen, and the next minute, you’re everyone’s hero.”
“You don’t seem to think too highly of your title,” Scarlet said, taking a seat at the base of the tree.
“It’s just a name,” Fin replied, sitting next to her. “It’s meaningless if I don’t do anything to back it up.”
“And you already have,” Scarlet replied. “You just sent Darancho to go see his boss.”
Fin sniggered.
“I’d certainly like to hear that conversation,” he said. “Although it’s probably not going to be very pretty.”
“Whatever happens to the souls of dragons who are too evil to enter into the Upper Realm?”
“According to the ancient texts,” Fin explained, “Blizzard disposes the souls of evildoers, at which point they’re no longer alive and no longer dead. They just cease to exist in a physical and spiritual form. Those who were neither good nor bad are reincarnated so that they have a second chance. The rest are allowed to live in the Upper Realm for all of eternity.”
Scarlet looked at Fin in amazement. “You definitely learned a thing or two when you were gone.”
“You can thank Rocklier for that tidbit,” Fin replied. “It was in the forbidden texts, otherwise known as th
e parts of the Elder’s holy books that the Cullidons don’t want you to read.”
“I met Rocklier today in the pub,” Scarlet said. “He was pretty nice, if not slightly…”
“Snobbish?” Fin asked. “He comes off like that when you first meet him, but once you get to know him, you’ll learn that he’s just very passionate about what he does. It’s sort of the same way with all the members of the resistance; they appear rather one-sided at first, but when you get to know them, you realize that there’s something more.”
“That’s good to know,” Scarlet said. She leaned her head on Fin’s shoulder and yawned.
“Am I boring you?” Fin asked.
“No, silly,” Scarlet said. “It’s just been a long day.”
“I bet it has.”
“But your return just happens to make everything better.”
“Aw, you’re too kind.”
“I’m serious,” Scarlet said. “I feel calm when you’re around, like the stress of the world is melting away.”
Fin gave Scarlet a kiss on her forehead. “That’s the same feeling I get when you’re present.”
“We’re just two peas in a pod, aren’t we?”
“Yep,” Fin said. “It’s going to take more than the wrath of parliament to tear us apart.”
After a brief pause, Fin wrapped his arm around Scarlet and edged a little closer. “Speaking of parliament, do you feel like breaking a few laws right now?”
“What? Here?”
“Why not?” Fin asked, caressing the side of Scarlet’s cheek. “We’re finally alone, and no one can stop us, not Alto, not the Cullidons. We’re…what did you call it?”
“Free as rabbits?” Scarlet asked with a smooth grin. “I think you’re right.”
“So?” Fin asked. “What do you say?” He wrapped his tail around Scarlet’s waist, revealing a line of red spines.
“Take me,” she whispered.
They kissed…
The stars in the night sky twinkled like white pearls against a dark backdrop, covering the countryside in a sparkling dome that stretched for miles. A warm, gentle breeze created green waves in the grass, and the leaves of the old tree rustled quietly in its wake. The chirps and squeaks of thousands of frogs and crickets filled the night air, while the last of the daytime animals settled down for the evening in their dens, nests, and holes in the earth. In those moments, in which time seemed to pass with the rising of the moon, two young souls lit the fires of passion, and the only witnesses were the sights and sounds of night.