by Sarah Cathey
“Enough!” Ittar shouted, an anger Aput had seen many times before, but this anger, his vibrations were far more obscure and difficult to dig into. Was this stranger correct? Was Ittar more jealous than he was concerned about the population? Is that what this had all been about?
“I will only warn you one time, Ittar. Speak to me that way again and I will make certain your punishment is more severe than you could possibly imagine, and I assume you can imagine a lot considering your anger.”
“I apologize to my prince. It will not happen ag…”
The strange Drjeen stepped around to the other side of Aput, noticing Ittar’s pause. “Fear not. It does not matter if this youngling knows who I am. He will not live long enough to say a word.
“Thank you, my prince. How long do we have? We must move deeper into the palace.”
“We have time. Amanna has shown me a path when we were much younger. It goes deep within the palace mountain. You may come with me.”
“I thank you, my prince.”
Princess Amanna? She is involved. That is impossible, thought Aput. He had met Amanna before. She carried the best of both her parents and Aput recognizing that the strange Drjeen was now Agkhor, realized that the devious prince may have shared one similarity as Ittar. They were both jealous creatures. It was a common enough trait to the Drjeen, but one rarely exposed to others, for it was a crime to act in jealousy, even for a royal.
Agkhor slid a liquid against Aput’s scaled chest. “Curious.”
“What?” interrupted Ittar. “What is curious.”
“These chest scales are not as deteriorated as the others.”
“He has been banished to his quarters; I doubt he has come in contact with the particles.”
“No,” Agkhor bent over, pressing a horn to Aput’s chest scales. “He was exposed, maybe more than you or I. My guards notified me that he stood out on the balcony in the initial falling. The particles covered him to near invisibility.”
“Then, why…”
Aput’s eyes suddenly opened, large black and glistening. Ittar jumped back startled leaving Agkhor to laugh. “It happens. His senses will start to come back quickly, first his eyes, then his taste of smell and then taste. He will have feeling in his talons, and then the full feeling of his other extremities and chest-scales. I wait until he has a full feeling. Then I begin.”
Aput could feel the vitriolic vibration of hatred seeping over him understanding that Aput will be fully awake and in full capacity when the pain would begin.
“Why do you need me?” Aput cried out.
“Calm,” Agkhor slid a talon against the chest-scales again. “Your body may die, but your life will live within me. Your blood shall sustain me immortal.”
“My blood?”
Aput knew that, as Agkhor had said, all of his pain receptors and feeling was back. He could see, hear, feel and taste this acrimonious poison filtering through the air around him. His mind was fresh and even his strength appeared to return. For the first time, Aput saw his soon-to-be assassin. Agkhor was smaller than Aput would have imagined, and where his sister, the princess, was stunning in beauty, Agkhor was as dark inside as one could imagine.
Ittar had since regained his composure and stepped to the table. He slid his talon close to Aput.
Agkhor in a single and broad stroke smashed his wing against Ittar throwing him to the ground. “Do not touch. He is mine.”
Ittar said nothing, likely fearing the worst if he had. In that single action of Agkhor’s anger, Aput saw for the first time the impulsively reckless and devious potential hidden within Agkhor. Perhaps death would be a better existence than life in the bowels of this kingdom.
Agkhor took a slender blade from his side and positioned it in the center of Aput’s neck. “This will not hurt as long as you might imagine. But, feel free to struggle, the blood will flow better for me.”
Ittar, despite his nature, could not watch what was about to happen. Aput knew that blood made him queasy. His old supervisor was only there to ensure Aput’s death was certain.
As Agkhor raised the blade, remeasuring the position by lowering it again, he then lifted the blade high treating Aput as a sacrificial beast. The knife tightly clasped in Agkhor’s talons dropped and Aput watched as something flashed from the corner of his eye, struck and cut off one of Agkhor’s talons. The blade fell to the side, falling harmlessly to the ground. Another object struck the prince in the wing pinning him to the wall.
“Amanna!” Agkhor bellowed, rage filling his body as he thrashed trying to pry his wing from the short spear stuck inside him. His talon lay on top of Aput, the sharpened claws still exposed and finger closing in on their self.
Aput watched as Ittar quickly backtracked into a corner of the room far from Amanna. The princess was adorned in a warrior’s armor. She carried a short blade in one hand and a quiver of smaller spears strapped to her leg. She raced up to Aput and without a word sliced through the straps and pulled him from the table, “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I believe I can do anything.”
“Good. We are escaping to the Cavern of the Ancients.”
“But that is where the sick—.”
“That is where we will be safe.”
Together they escaped the room, Agkhor screaming insults and Ittar quivering, though as he took Agkhor’s blade and the power stick he was formulating a plan. One, which did not include the young prince.
Ittar slammed the power stick against Agkhor’s chest-scales. Agkhor’s body began to convulse until he finally collapsed, the bulk of him being hung up only by the spear pinning his wing to the wall. “You failed me too many times. Now I must take care of this myself.”
***
Shook had taken the lead of the long lower settlement procession as was imposed upon him as the highest-ranking officer of the elite Daken-riders.
All of the Daken had been corralled outside of the lower settlement between the settlement and the forest which they would ride through on their journey to the Cavern of the Ancients. The riders had taken up flanks along the sides of all the migrants who ranged in populations consisting of nearly all castes up to, but not including the Royals. The sickness had befallen all levels and as Shakja was bound in chains for her own protection she realized that this may mean the end of the Drjeen.
She was at the lead position, following Dharma, Shook’s Daken whom he road, his back strong and stoic in his Daken’s saddle. Shakja wondered how long it had been since he had ridden Dharma.
The Daken riders surrounded the migrant population, as Shook led the effort forward. On occasion, the sound of screeching could be heard in the distance as riders either hunted for food or killed attacking creatures. Walking behind Shook, Shakja felt as safe as she could considering the circumstances.
“Ugh!” was the first time Shakja had ever heard Shook utter any sound in pain. Shortly after he began to slump.
A Daken rider rode up on him and after a short conversation, the rider led Shook and Dharma from the front and by default Shakja went with them, strapped by a chain to Dharma. The other rider took the lead slowing the caravan’s pace, one that had been fit for Shook, but too difficult for most.
Shakja now walked along Dharma and Shook. “Are you sick?” she asked.
“No. Well, yes, but it is not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks bad.”
As she looked up at him, she could see his face drawn and his loss of weight drew a gauntness along his eyes, snout and the corners of his mouth. The thick skin of his forehead was thinning and loosening on his skull, creating loose mounds of flesh.
She said nothing, but reached into her satchel, digging through the small bags inside. The elderly woman told her that the juniper mushrooms would not dry if they still contained poison. Shook was slipping from his saddle as Shakja quickly filtered through the satchel hoping beyond hope that the elderly woman had indeed left her even a single dried juniper mushroom.
Two Daken rider
s pulled up alongside Shook forcing Shakja to stop her digging.
“Sir, are you alright?” One asked.
Shook did not respond, and it was quickly evident that he could not respond.
The second moon was now coming on the latter end of its cycle and the well-canopied forest was now growing darker than it had been before.
The two Daken riders rode on either side of Shook and both helped him sit more erect on Dharma, although it was obvious, he had little control of his own movements. After some whispering, one of the riders pulled out a horn and blew it letting out a loud groan that immediately halted the caravan. Two younger riders quickly rode up.
“Pass the word that we will be resting here until the third moon. Half-rations will be dispensed.” Said one of the riders.
The two younger riders quickly took off paying no heed to the sick Drjeen which had to jump aside and dodge their powerful mounts.
The two riders then slowly brought Shook to the ground. They created a small area for Shook who, in the rider’s loyalty considered him as their king and respected him as much. A tent was drawn, a fire built, and Dharma taken care of. After Shook was moved into the tent one of the riders unchained Shakja who was waiting outside.
“If you can use the medicine in your bag, I implore you to do so now.” Shakja then recognized the Daken-rider as the one who helped the old queen from Shakja’s hut. “You and Shook will remain undisturbed. Notify the guard at your tent if you need anything.” He turned, weariness on his face, similar effects of the sickness enveloping him, “Anything… He must survive or the men will lose their strength.”
“Come on, you must run faster.”
“I apologize for my princess. I am not equipped for running.”
“Can you fly faster?” Princess Amanna asked. “If we fly can you move faster?”
Aput waited for a lengthy period of time before succumbing to the unfortunate realization that multiple turns behind a telescope did little to improve his speed or endurance. “No, my princess. I am not physically strong.”
If she heard him, she gave no sign and merely kept her talon clasped in his as they made their way through the long corridor.
“Where are we going?” Aput was panting, and struggling to keep up with Amanna, though he did push himself onward, knowing there was little time to waste, though he had no idea where they were going, the haste, nor the consequences if he stopped.
“We do not have time to talk. I would love to probe your mind sometime but now is not then. When my brother escapes, he will come for us.”
“But you are the princess?”
“And he is the prince. And his savagery is in favor with my father.”
“Then we will not escape.”
“Are you always so pessimistic? I am the princess.”
“And it is the prince who is in favor with your father.”
She did not reply to his suggestion of favor, one that she had given him herself. “Keep moving.”
Behind them, they could hear the noise and clamor that was likely Agkhor trying to chase after them. Though it sounded more like he was throwing his body from one side of the corridor to the next knocking over everything he possibly could.
“Faster,” the princess demanded, nearly dragging Aput farther into the corridor and deeper into the royal palace.
“I have never been here…” Aput exclaimed as he noticed the sudden change from industrial to opulent and now to the wet stone facade that was the vast dungeon.
“Few have.”
Aput tried to keep up but found himself slipping on the wet floor and eventually the princess slowed her own pace to not do the same. “This way,” she whispered as the two moved down another corridor that narrowed to half. They followed one corridor after another, each aging as they went deeper until finally, the princess stopped.
The room had a wide opening at one end leading to the outside. Aput could only imagine how high they were up the mountain. Aput looked around seeing the what looked like an old throne room and nearly fell over at the wealth piled throughout.
Amanna looked at him, “It has no value anymore. You may take the armor and a weapon. You may need them.”
But her words did not come fast enough, and a wild Ittar slammed his body, horns first into Aput.
Amanna was already on the other end of the cavern when she heard the screech from Aput and the ensuing crash of Aput and Ittar against the cavern wall. She raced to help, but as Ittar and Aput wrestled she could find no clear way to use her blade or the spears she was now holding up waiting for an opening.
Aput was thrown to a pile of gold and jewels, his face was ravaged by Ittar’s sharpened talon claws. Aput tried to stand but was blinded but the blood pouring onto his face and quickly fell against a column and to the ground. Ittar raced back at him and Amanna had to withdraw her spear.
Just as she did, Ittar drove directly at her, striking her chest plate armor with his horns. Though the damage was minor, the force was enough to knock the wind out of her and throw her back. Ittar pulled a blade from a sheath strapped to his leg and with a quick thrust cut Amanna’s arm. Aput was on top of him, mindlessly throwing his arms trying to strike in Ittar’s direction but aimlessly missing his target.
Ittar was able to throw the youngling to the side and again raised his blade. The blade came down fast and driven, aimed directly into Amanna’s primary heart.
The massive shadow that reigned over the cavern shook the walls so hard that stalactites began to fall and crash on the floor. Ittar was thrown against the far wall, enveloped in darkness as his cries and screeches were torturous to listen to even for Aput who could imagine no Drjeen viler and whom he hated more.
Aput managed to clear his eyes of blood and raced to Amanna. He lifted her from the ground and helped her to her feet. The sounds of flesh being ripped from bone and scales snapping and shattering among the malady continued as Aput helped a limping princess to the opening on the far side.
“What is that beast?” Aput asked, pushing the princess to the opening as fast as he could hoping not to be the next victim.
Ittar’s screams had died away, but the sounds of bones crunching, and flesh tearing continued. “Do you know what that is?”
“I do.” the princess finally said, stepping a foot on the edge of the opening. “Can you fly?”
Aput looked at her, concern on his face. “Will it come for us?”
“I doubt it,” and she turned in the direction of the beast that had just devoured Ittar.
From the shadows emerged the creature. Its fangs were still dripping in blood, fragments of flesh were lodged in its teeth. The beast’s entire body was painted in red.
Queen Neparon had the head of Ittar in her teeth as she took a final bite leaving only his horns which she allowed to fall at her feet. She wiped away the blood from her face and looked at her daughter, the princess.
With an urging nod, she told her daughter she loved her.
“I know she will not come because my mother has freed me from my royal bonds.”
At that, the princess leaped to the sky.
“Protect her.” the queen ordered Aput, “I can do no more.”
Chapter 15
Aput leaped from the opening into the mountains, his last image of the palace as that of the queen covered in the blood of his former supervisor. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind as he searched for a fleeing princess. Was Amanna a princess anymore? It seemed as if she and the queen had a secret discussion he couldn’t interpret. A discussion that told both the princess would not be returning.
Far off in the distance, Aput could see the silhouette outline of the princess flying off and creating more distance with every flap of her delicate wings. Aput quickly spread out his wings, trying to mimic the thrust that Shook had been able to create. Whatever happened to Shook? The last Aput had seen him was when they departed upon their arrival from the Cavern of the Ancients. And now, laughingly, that is exactly where Aput was ag
ain heading.
He drove himself upward and then when at least a hundred lengths above the princess he dove down hard at a slight angle to set himself in line with the princess who obviously just knew to fly in the direction of the banished forest. So much had happened in only the past few days that Aput was having trouble digesting it all. He wondered what was to come of his future. He would no longer be looking to the stars for his career. But, what would he be? A fisher? A farmer? And do those occupations even exist within the bowels of a cavern, if that was indeed where they were heading? Where were they heading? He only assumed that…
“Princess!” Aput cried out as his descent brought him on a near collision with the princess who was only now slowing her pace. “Where are we going?”
She didn’t respond at first, whether that was her in thought or her not hearing Aput for the rush of wind moving passed them he didn’t know, but upon his fourth request, she finally turned.
“The caverns. I’d heard that you…”
Aput managed to fly up next to Princess Amanna, allowing his wings to spread as the two soared well above the banished forest. “You heard that I what?”
Images of Shook and Shakja raced through the princess’s mind as she too wondered what had happened to her friends. The praised warrior had nearly been on his deathbed and despite his recovery, he was far from divesting himself from this sickness. And from what she’d heard there Shakja had since been banished and may not even make it to the caverns.
“I heard that you discovered the caverns. I was told by Shook.”
Shook? When did the princess see Shook? He put the thought aside, at least for the moment. “Yes. We did find them.”
“Then I am certain that is where we shall go. It is the only place we will find safety.”
Aput didn’t doubt what she’d said, and his black eyes gave way to his agreement.
“You shall lead us there.” The princess said as she slowed her flight separating herself from Aput by dropping back only a length which was the traditional latitude given to the flight leader.