Tempest

Tempest

The Seer

Zakiah was said to be the most beautiful creature in ten thousand years. She was as tall and thin as the young trees in the cool forests to the North; her hair was dark as obsidian, her skin the color of rich river mud, and her eyes the color of cloud shadows.

And she knew it.

Today, she sat on a rock turning her head this way and that, admiring herself in the river that flowed through the desert. Once again she had lost track of time and forgotten to make it rain – which was quite problem since this was the desert and the people got rain so infrequently anyway – but what did that matter, really?

She examined a single graying hair and scowled, carefully plucking it out. It wouldn’t do to be aging so quickly! Eleven hundred and forty seven years old was hardly a time for a goddess to be withering.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?”

The flawless reflection in the water instantly gained wrinkles as Zakiah spun to scowl at her older sister Juvela. Juvela was as pale as Zakiah was dark, her skin pale as cream and her hair the same gleaming gold as the sand around them. Her eyes were a fierce blue and were currently glittering in annoyance.

“What do you want?”

“You have forgotten to make it rain. Again.”

A slender hand flicked the air carelessly and soft grey clouds heavy with rain conjured themselves up out of the previously brilliantly pale blue desert sky. “There. Satisfied?”

Juvela’s stern expression didn’t soften. “That is the eighth time you have forgotten. Must I dry up this river?”

Zakiah smirked. “If you did that, your precious little city would dry up and die. Wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No we don’t!” the older goddess snapped. “Maybe you have forgotten, but I still recall when the first king offered his life blood to us in exchange for our protection of his people.”

“He only offered to you,” pouted Zakiah. “Not to me.”

“Are you still complaining about that? It was three hundred years ago and if you had taken your pretty behind from that rock to pay attention to what was going on around you, he would have seen you and sacrificed to you, too.”

“Dun, dun, dun, du-dun, da dun, dun, dun, dun, du-dun, da dun…”

Both women flinched as Cyrus, god of seers, tragedy, and memory, came stumbling towards them. He was small and lithe with black, feathery hair that fell into his unfocused pale brown eyes. Like all gods, his footprints left no mark in the sand and he seemed only interested in the strange tune he was singing.

“Hello, cousin!” Juvela said, stubbornly trying to sound casual. “What have you seen today?”

“Listen, baby, ain’t no mountain high!” he warbled terribly.

“Cyrus!”

“Ain’t no valley low…”

“Cyrus!”

“Ain’t no river wiiiiiiiide enough –“

“CYRUS!”

Abruptly – to their utmost relief – Cyrus stopped singing and looked at them blankly.

“Hello, Zuvela,” he said in his high-pitched voice. “Hello, Jakiah.”

Zakiah bared her teeth. “It’s Zakiah, you twit!”

“That’s enough, Zak! Hello, Cyrus. How are you today?”

“Seeing.”

“That is what you are doing, Cyrus, I asked how you are doing.”

“Seeing.”

Juvela changed tactics. “And what are you seeing?”

“A car…”

“A what?”

“With girls inside.”

“Cyrus, what is a car?”

“They’re eating ice cream…”

“What in the Holy Realms’ name is ice cream?” demanded Zakiah.

“And now they’re gone. Sad. So sad. I liked them.”

“I thought gods were supposed to be flawless.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Of course not, Zakiah. Haven’t you heard yourself talk? You may be beautiful but your head’s emptier than a dry water jug.”

Meanwhile, Cyrus was still muttering to himself.

“Well, you’re a fine one to talk, Lady of the Desert and Goddess of the Lights Within!”

“Is that supposed to make me look bad?”

“You just think you’re so perfect, don’t you? Juvela always knows best – everybody has to listen to Juvela!”

“Oh, lights within, not this again.”

As the two goddesses began arguing in good earnest, there was a small pop and a tiny fairy-like creature with a pointed face, quick hands, black eyes and silver hair appeared. This was Tethan, spirit of whispers.

“Hello, Cyrus,” he said softly, perching on Cyrus’ shoulder. “Heard anything troublesome lately?”

“Murkgal is on the move,” the prophet God murmured. “He comes for the Krys of Grace.”

“Lights Within! The curse of oblivion on his wretched head! What will happen? Surely even he would not dare to attack Juvela’s favorite city! Never mind that she will bury him alive in sand, her champions live in that city and the Three are more than enough to hold off that son of a sow!”

“He has the Black Army.”

“The Black Army? The fire pox and black fever upon him! They answer to no one!”

“They answer to the one who holds the Scepter of Nox.”

Tethan nearly fell off Cyrus’ shoulder. “Does the council know of this?”

“Once you tell them, yes.”

The spirit moaned. “Do we have any chance of defeating them?”

Cyrus tucked his hands into his sleeves and looked out across the dry wasteland. “If all mortals – every man, woman, child, Priest, Priestess, witch, wizard, and champion – fight, they will lose. The Black Army will destroy them all and mortals will be lost to the sands of time forever.

“If we Gods and Spirits fight alongside them, they have a chance. They may leave behind just enough young to repopulate the world in several thousand years. And we ourselves will be decimated, but the enemy will be utterly destroyed.”

“And what if we let them dull their fangs on the mortals and then fight the Black Army?”

“We will be slaughtered.”

“We are gods! We cannot be killed!”

“And yet we will be.”

“Isn’t there some way to stop this?”

“There is only one way.”

“What must we do?”

“We can do nothing. It is up to her.”

“Who?”

“The champion.”

“Juvela’s champion.”

“No, my champion.”

“You have a champion.”

“I will.”

“Will? As in you don’t have one now?”

“She is coming.”

“And this she is trained, yes?”

“She will be.”

“Oh Lights Within! Tell me you see a victory.”

“I am a God, I am not all knowing.”

Tethan’s swarthy face had gone pasty. “Lights Within!”

























Terror

She ran.

The sun was in her eyes.

The sand burned her bare feet.

Her clothes were chafing her.

She clutched something to her chest.

And she screamed.

She knew it was her because her throat was raw. She knew it was her because she was terrified.

She knew it because she knew it.

She also happened to know that if she didn’t keep running something would catch her. She didn’t know what it was, but she could feel it breathing down her neck. It would catch her.

It would catch her.

The slope of the sandy ground changed and she found herself half-crawling, clawing with one hand at the side of the dune while her feet dug in to push her higher.

She knew she was slowing down and that knowledge sped up her breathing and heart rate, shooting more adrenaline through her system. In moments, she was over the top of the hill and racing down it. But racing up the dune had been so much simpler than trying to go down it.

Sliding down through the hot sand was agony on her feet and above the sliding sounds of her body descending she could hear her own ragged breath.

She was going too slowly!

With a fierce heave, she managed to pull her feet from the sand and run down the slope.

This was not a good idea; less than six strides down, she lost her balance completely and tumbled down the rest of the way down.

She landed at the bottom with a thud.

She wasn’t moving – her body could do nothing more than lie still and pant and gasp and sob for breath.

It was going to catch her now for sure.

She wasn’t moving.

It was going to get her.

Just like it had –

She screamed again, though she had little breath to spare. But this scream was louder than anything she had managed before.

It was the sort of sound one made when one was being tortured or killed or some such.

And she was making it.

-

The Nubithene Canyon cut through the desert as neatly as if the Gods had stuck a knife into the sands of the desert (and perhaps they had, there was no way to know). It was in this great ravine that the city of Reeh was located, built into the multicolored walls of the canyon. Each house was a work of art, decorated with columns and engravings of fantastic creatures, tropical plants and baroque-like curls and designs. Everything was built around the lazy Ramadi River and bridges of all sizes and styles stretched across the water to allow people to hurry along through their errands and lives.

At the heart of the whole arrangement, at the end of the canyon, where the edges of the ravine collected and joined together, sat the palace of the Lord of Reeh. It was the largest and grandest building in the entire city and the center of all politics in the whole desert. Aside from the living quarters of the Lord and his family, there were the courtrooms and halls where the city council of elders came together with the Lord to govern the entire country.

At one time the living quarters of the Lord of Reeh had been teeming, but that had been a long time ago. Now the only ones who lived there now were the three children of the late Lord.

And right now the three heirs to the city were fighting.

“A fire pox on you, Sendoa! Why did you have to do that to him?!”

“What? Your suitor can’t take a joke?”

“You upended him into a pit of snakes!”

“Garden snakes! All of them together couldn’t hurt the idiot even if they all bit him at once.”

Tara, the eldest and only daughter of the late Lord of Reeh, was ready to strangle her younger brother. Known as the ‘Blossom of the Desert’, the young woman had bright blond hair that was considered lucky by the dark-haired population of the city and large dark green eyes surrounded by long, thick black lashes.

“But the snake pit? Couldn’t you have pushed him into the garden like you did with the last one?”

Sendoa was the second eldest child; a tall, broad-shouldered young man with wild dark brown hair and quick dark eyes. He rolled his eyes. “That klutz fell into the garden on his own. And it was only because Eran and Haani came out of nowhere.”

“Leave me out of this, please.”

Sendoa and Tara both jumped at the sound of their younger brother’s voice. Eranodoa was the youngest and most reclusive, due to his bright red hair which was seen as a sign of the Dark God Murkgal. He was slender and had sharp pale blue eyes. At his side was Haani, the great white-gold dog with a solid body, lean, muscular legs, a curling tail and high, triangular ears.

“Lights Within!” gasped Tara, rubbing her chest. “Don’t do that, Eran! My heart nearly stopped!”

Eran raised a wry eyebrow. “You say that every time I walk in a room when your back is turned.”

“That’s because you’re so accursedly quiet, runt,” Sendoa snapped. “You and that ball of fur.”

Haani leaned his formidable bulk against Sendoa’s leg and the young man staggered. “Ow! Damn it all, Haani!”

Tara laughed and rescued her brother, grabbing the thick leather collar around the dog’s neck and pulling him away. “Were you going somewhere, Eran?”

“Riding.”

“Now?” Sendoa cast a dubious glance at the fierce sunlight streaking through the veils spread across the windows. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“I need to get out of this house.”

His siblings traded knowing looks.

“You met Mana?” Tara asked flatly, referring to their new, elderly maid.

“She took one look at me and started praying to Juvela.”

“Murkgal be damned,” Sendoa groaned. “You want us to fire her?”

Eran started pulling on a light, sand colored cloak. “Wait until she tries to exorcise the demon or evil spirit that’s supposedly inside me.”

His older brother ran a hand through his dark hair. “Runt. We saw you trip over Haani and fall in the duck pond six times in one day; you’re as human as the rest of us.”

“Thank you, Sendoa.”

“Don’t mention it, now get lost.”

“And be back by sunset!” Tara called. “I’m trying a new recipe tonight!”

Eran made a note to get lost – really lost. He wondered if he could disappear until tomorrow without her noticing.

-

Shatter was one of the finest horses in the city. He had a dapple grey coat and a clean white mane and tail.

But what Eran loved about him was not his looks, nor his speed and strength. It was his loyalty and the way he didn’t flinch when Eran came near.

This time was no different, as Eran entered the stables, Shatter looked over the stall door and neighed louder than thunder.

“Hello, my friend, are you up for a gallop?”

He was and Eran quickly had him saddled in the light saddle designed especially for desert riding.

“Going out, Master Eranodoa?” asked the ancient stable hand Saul.

Eran happened to like Saul very much. The old man no more believed that he, Eran, was a demon than he believed a person could fly.

“I am.”

“Be sure to take out a bag of water – the sun is hot today. Jilosh must be angrier than usual.”

“Jilosh is always angry. That is why he so brutal on us.” With an easy leap, the young man mounted and turned his horse towards the road.

Saul forced two leather water bags into his hand. “Water, Master Eranodoa. Even if you do not think you will need it, the horse will.”

There was nothing to say to that, so Eran carefully tucked the precious containers away in a spare saddlebag and rode out.

There were few people out today at this time – everyone preferring to hide in the safer confines of the shade in their houses – so he didn’t have to keep Shatter at a walk. It took only a few minutes, one bridge and two roads to reach the trail that would take them up past the oasis and waterfall and to the great expanse of desert that stretched out as far as he could see.

For the first time all day, Eran of Reeh smiled.

-

The sun had just passed its zenith and was making its steady way to the horizon when Eran stopped to water Shatter. The desert-bred horse panted and his sides heaved as he greedily, but tidily, slurped up water.

“You, my friend, must have camel in you.”

Shatter lifted his head to cock his ears and suddenly reared in panic as a noise unlike anything Eran had ever heard tore at the air. The closest thing he could compare it to was the time he had gone hunting with his father. They had been attacked by a desert jaguar and one of the other hunters had been thrown from his horse and been mauled. The screams he had made were similar to the ones Eran was hearing now.

Grabbing the reins, he pulled down the horse. “Whoa, boy, easy there.”

It took several moments but at last he was able to remount. He steered Shatter towards the sound, though it took several good kicks to get the stubborn horse to go towards it. At last they ran across the dunes, the horse’s powerful legs eating miles effortlessly.

The screaming abruptly stopped and Eran drew his legs up, loosened his grip on the reins, hunched slightly, and squeezed Shatter’s sides with his thighs.

A falcon would have had trouble catching up to them; if they had been going any faster, they would have taken flight.

And then, just as suddenly as it had halted, the screaming began again, this time there were no words for just how… he couldn’t begin to describe it. It was the sound of a soul in pain, as though someone had reached into another’s breast and wrenched out the heart.

As they got closer and the shrieks reached a feverish pitch, he wondered if this thing was even human. Surely nothing human could make that sound?

He put his hand to the sword that was strapped to Shatter’s saddle. Instantly, the horse’s wheezing quieted and his hooves fell even faster.

Shatter was a warhorse.

But what they found at the source of the terrible noise was not war. At least, no war Eran had ever seen.

It was a body, a human body, lying flat in the sand at the bottom of a dune, staring up at the sun and screaming as though it was being tortured.

As Shatter went closer, Eran could see that it was a girl. And a stranger and sadder sight he could not have imagined.

Her skin was turning bright red as it burned under the sun and her hair was stiff and caked in sand. The clothes she wore were utterly ridiculous: a pair of faded, blue trousers that were probably baking her legs and her shirt was of a thin green cloth with the oddest design he had ever seen. She had no shoes and her feet were raw and blistered from the heat and coarseness of the sand.

Out of all of the strangeness about her, it was her face that caught his attention. It wasn’t that she was beautiful, it was that she was staring up at the sky as though it was coming down to devour her and screaming as though it was already starting to eat her alive. Her eyes were filled with such horror that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Girl!” he shouted. “Stop screaming!”

The crying continued as steadily as ever he knelt beside her.

He touched her.

The screaming she had done before was barely a whimper to what she was unleashing now as she leapt to her feet – he noted she held something in her hand at the same time he noticed that she was completely unsteady on her feet.

Four steps brought her to her knees, at which point he approached her. She looked at him as the villagers looked at him, though her look spoke more of a nameless terror, a monster she couldn’t name and probably didn’t understand. In any case, she didn’t look as though she was going to survive much longer out here. Especially if she kept up that screaming.

“It is alright,” he yelled at her. Did she speak his language? “I will not hurt you! My name is Eran! You must stop screaming!”

She closed her eyes and continued as though she hadn’t heard him. If she kept this up, he would have to knock her out.

“Shatter!”

Shatter came to him, not looking very happy to be getting so close to a human that lay on the ground howling like a wounded animal.

Eran slowly and carefully removed his cloak and placed it over the girl.

The screaming stopped as though he had staked her through the heart and a trembling shook her whole body. She was trying to get up. And failing.

“It is alright,” Eran told her quietly. “Everything will be alright. I am going to take you to my home, do you understand? We will look after you there.”

The girl was now shaking so badly he was shocked she didn’t roll herself over. As it was, he was able to slip his arms around her body and lift her. She was shockingly light and he could feel her hipbones poking at him even through the cloak.

Her entire body twitched wildly as he set her across his saddle like a dead animal and she made a soft, whining squeak as he poured a bit of water on her face.

“I don’t suppose you can understand me, can you? Well, you are safe with me and you will be safe with my brother and sister. Do not worry.”