Summer’s Rise
The twin suns rose, bringing hotter and longer days to the province, followed by warmer nights. Their hunting party grew and fell varying on the day’s success. Edible plants had dried up and receded into the soil since the arrival of summer. Even the animals began disappearing. The few who knew about the hunting trips kept their silence to the other settlers, eventually ceasing the trips altogether. However, Gul never participated on the trips. His tent had been emptied since the discovery of the dead zealot. This didn’t cease her worries. She prayed that the drunk had drowned in the saltwater or a large winged lizard had caught him, but there were no signs of him. As if the land itself had swallowed him.
Kan felt his absence the hardest. He pushed to find his whereabouts yet was no closer to finding him. Von-wratha tried turning away from Kan’s deteriorating form, in both spirit and body, an all too familiar sight. She had every intention to find the drink-afflicted Girian. However, she wanted to be the only one for that honour. If Gul still breathed, he would forever remain a threat, both to her chance to return home and to the minor reputation she earned as a healer in the settlement. Kan’s rejuvenated lips couldn’t remain shut, she thought.
It didn’t take long for the citizens of New Giria to consume their emergency supplies and they had begun thinning, while Zenin and those closest to him remained unaffected by the growing famine. Had the supplies been saved, by this time the fruits of the Girian blackberry bushes would have cushioned the hungry crowds. Many would pray to the Twins, yet the dual suns in the sky fell deaf on the people’s calls. Some even prayed to the tiny effigies of Xolrin but were met with the same silence.
Hope dwindled as Von-wratha used every bit of her strength to keep the strongest alive. Hunger turned into starvation as people openly attacked each other and the zealots. Zenin would have none of it. The numbers shrunk as executions became a regular occurrence. Through the rising chaos, Von-wratha had found new forms to supplement her energy, something she neglected to mention to others. In turn, she kept to the tent to conserve her energy and only emerge when an animal wandered too close to her circle or when a particularly vicious brawl would break.
“Can you move it up?” she said as she retracted her telekinetic power from her patient’s shoulder.
The male slave winced as he slowly lifted his arm above his head. “It’s better than before.”
Von-wratha nodded. “Next time, if you’re going to climb a steep wall of the canyon: don’t.”
His head gave a short and awkward bow before skipping out of the small tent. She eased her back into the thick quilts, a slit of her dark robes revealed a portion of her hip and thigh. It took a moment for her to see that her once muscular and defined leg had shrunk to thin straps of meat on her gradually protruding hip and knee bones. Before the pang of hunger entered her mind, her senses picked up a fight beyond her tent. She focused her mind on the energy being thrown about outside, but it was more chaotic than usual.
She hopped on to her feet and shouldered the curtains out of the way. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the powerful beams of the suns in the blue heavens. Crowds packed around several dark caravans in alignment. Zealots stood around the carrier’s edges, kicking hands of those who tried to claw their way in. Shiny reflections from the bald slaves bounced as they cleaned and oiled the wheels, while others shifted heavy equipment. Her heart skipped a beat when she realised, they were preparing to go.
A smile worked its way to Von-wratha’s mouth as she turned to the newly completed town hall. Zenin stood tall over the only balcony as he overlooked the chaos. His wide form almost grazed the railings of the balcony. He wore a rich scarlet cape with a gold chain holding the piece together as his belly pressed against the metal. His face was stone, unmoving as his dead eyes watched over the valley. The cruel wily youth she knew was replaced with something more horrendous.
“Von, so happy to see you out!” Kan’s voice broke her stare. His long and lanky body shambled towards her, “They’re finally gonna do a supply run from home!”
Her cheeks squeezed out a grin, but it tightened into a wince as she watched the crowd push the wagons hard enough to make the wheels groan with duress. “Why are they so restless? Don’t they realise if they continue disrupting everything, they will only delay eating?” she said. Her eyes narrowed to the loud horde.
“They’re starving, can’t expect them to think normally,” he leaned close to her ear and snuck a glance to Zenin’s balcony, “Between us, I’m surprised that he’s not calling for all their heads.”
“Don’t give him the idea, I can’t repair lost heads. Do you know who will get to go or when?” her voice almost drowned out from the others.
Kan violently shook his head. “By light set and only a skeleton crew, from what I’ve heard. Keep the carts fast and light, but also stop people from trying to leave. Too many want to quit this place,”
Von-wratha gently chewed on the skin of her lip. Her eyes glazed across the carriers, catching all the gaps and pockets she could hide in. Her attention was grabbed by a wet guttural clearing of the throat; several heads turned towards the balcony, and so did hers. Zenin’s thick fingers wrapped around the railings, his upper body slightly hunched over as his cheeks puffed in a confident grin.
“Citizens of New Giria, the last several days have been the most trying times, but remember we are pioneers that the Twins have chosen to tame this wild place. I understand that many of you allowed hunger to take your minds, but don’t let it diminish our dreams. When the suns set, not only will our convoy depart for Giria, but also you will have the opportunity to unleash your rage on the one that did this to us. The Twins watch over.”
The crowd of living bones chatted excitedly amongst themselves. Their pursuit of climbing on the caravans had seemingly been forgotten. Von-wratha glanced as Zenin swiped his cloak around and disappeared into the open doors before slamming them shut behind him. Worry poked through her mind as she replayed his last words. No one knew it was her so there wouldn’t be any suspicion her way. She was somewhat a healer after all.
“Wouldn’t that be something? I’d want the monster that did this to still be alive by the time the caravans return so I can eat while kicking them in the jaw. I wish Gul could be here to see this,” Kan said as he twisted his hands into fists.
Von-wratha chuckled. “It wouldn’t be difficult to prolong the culprit’s suffering, but considering everyone would want a piece of them, they’ll succumb after the first night,”
“They would know who it is by now, why haven’t they done anything about it yet?” he said.
“Might already be a prisoner, who knows,” she said as blood started to rush to her head and her vision slightly blurred, “my energy’s low. I need to rest,”
“I’ll escort you,” Kan lifted his elbow, which she immediately took.
“Something that bothers me though,” he said once they were beyond the loud camp, “the night when everything happened, I feel like I have this black hole inside my head that I’ve been trying to make sense of,”
Von-wratha’s cheek involuntarily twitched before she turned to Kan putting on a mask of concern. “A black hole?”
“I don’t know if I can explain it,” they stopped at the front of the tent before he turned to her, “were we… together that night?”
“Of sorts, though you fell asleep immediately after. Why?” she said.
Kan sighed as he placed a hand over his temple and a small smile crept in. “It’s just, maybe I could’ve sensed the person who did this outside and blocked that thought because I was ... I’m sorry I can’t remember, but I’ll try to.”
“Don’t stress yourself. You would probably wish you didn’t remember.” her eyes rolled as she pushed the tent curtains aside and slipped into its shade.
The outline of Kan’s shadow lingered outside the cloth. He shuffled his feet before wandering away. A part of her had hoped he would follow her in, like she had grown accustomed to, but his dark figure grew fainter the further he walked. Von-wratha settled inside her sleeping sack. She lifted her hands over her covers and watched a dim red outline resonating from her thinned fingers. The lids of her eyes felt as if they had a stone pressing against them. It’s been far too long since she had fed from life force. She was forced to indirectly feed on those who had died in the town and the raw discord when a fight would erupt. Considering how much energy she had been using, it wasn’t enough to sustain her, and she was worried she might be too drained to sneak onto a carriage.
She rolled over to the tent’s edge. A tiny frayed opening in the fabric showed the long line of convoys getting ready for their emergency trip to Giria. Von-wratha’s time in the Barrier Hills had come to an end. She was going to be on that convoy on her way home and finally meet with those who forced her out here. Before her eyelids rolled down, she had hoped that the convoy would return in haste with fresh supplies for New Giria, at least.
~
Beyond the safety of her tent, she could hear the crunch of gravel and a screech from metal wheels. Voices called to one another, but their words unknown to her mostly unconscious mind. It took her a moment before her eyes sprung open. The convoy was readying to leave. However, it was a heart-pounding slap of large hands that finally woke her from a dreamless sleep. Von-wratha’s tired head drifted to the opening in the tent held by two dark metal fingers. Her eyes travelled to the head to whom the fingers belonged. A faceless zealot peered at her, its menacing orange eye socket. “Are you the healer?”
Von-wratha licked her dry lips and nodded as she rose from her bedding. The zealot straightened and moved from the opening, making space for an engorged belly with a deep hole in its centre to appear in her sight. Zenin’s jewellery on his chest slightly jingled as he struggled to bend through the curtains. His round form took most of the space inside the tent as he plopped down on Kan’s empty bedding.
Zenin’s breath wheezed as his wide rump tried to find comfort on the blankets. “Heard amazing things about you, healer,”
Her head slightly bowed as her eyes remained cast downwards, trying to assume respect while thinking of ways to rid him from her presence before hopping on the carriages.
“There is a delicate matter that needs attention,” Zenin grunted as his thick thigh moved to the edge and his hand lifted a fleshy roll. It was the stench that hit her nose first. Blackened tissue sat in the nook of two meaty stomachs with small droplets of blue liquid seeping from the opening.
She kept herself from recoiling in disgust. A lump in her throat jumped in her neck as she pulled out a torn napkin from Kan’s satchel. “How long has that been there for?”
“Quite a few years and there are many more like that on me. Not even the oracles’ personal healers could remove this blight. I had almost given up until I heard rumours about your exceptional gifts,” his eyes were as bright as his grin; however, they were barren of warmth.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she muttered as she kept her eye on the unusual wound before her mind reached beneath his skin. There were tiny living creatures, too small for the naked eye to spot, which thrived inside his flesh. The scarlet light had appeared around the wound as she pulled them out one by one before discarding them inside the cloth in her palm.
Zenin remained silent throughout the procedure, even when she tightly sealed the opening and forced the skin to attach over it. His eyes and smile never left her.
“This was what was living in you, master,” she said holding open the cloth containing a small wriggling lump of the tiny creatures.
Zenin glanced down at her hand. His face remained unmoved by the disturbing discovery. “That explains a lot,”
Von-wratha wrapped the lump in more cloth. Her hand squeezed it until she felt every one of them die before discarding the wet material.
“It’s completely healed. How curious, I’ve only ever known one who had a gift like yours,” he said, releasing his thick roll as it flopped back into one mass.
Her head twitched to the side as she forced her mind blank. “Who?”
Zenin’s thin lips curled. “Someone from when I was just a small fledgling, though they didn’t use their power to heal. Tell me, do you feel fatigued after using your gifts?”
Von-wratha nodded, which Zenin mimicked.
“Will, that be all you need of this servant, master?”
A powerful chuckle escaped his odorous mouth as his thick hands slapped his knee. “I think not! You are to be my prime healer for New Giria, all good leaders need one and deserve to be inside stone walls and not filthy tents,”
Her face cracked into a smile; her nerves began simmering in her chest. “Thank you, master,”
“Well, I don’t want to tire you too much. However, I request that you join me in the town hall tonight,” he said as his body rolled on to his feet.
“To continue work on you, master?” she said warily. If he lost his balance, he could crush her.
“Not for the moment, but for a close associate of mine that needs attention. Come,” he said with a wave of his hand before disappearing outside the tent.
Von-wratha silently groaned as she pushed herself out of the quilts and followed behind him. The braziers were dim in the early night because they were left with fewer things to burn. Her chest tightened as she stared out into the night to see the line of carriages moving slowly out of the valley. Time was at a close. Several zealots closely walked beside her and Zenin, two at her sides and three circling around him. However, there were no others wandering the growing village. She contemplated whether to create enough distance between both groups and put the guards beside her to sleep and dash to the convoy, but that was far too risky. Von-wratha cursed herself for not putting Zenin to sleep sooner in her tent and having not snuck out instead of agreeing to his commands.
The town hall was the only completed stone and metal structure in the hills. It certainly didn’t hold the same majesty as the spiralled towers in Giria, but the craftsmanship was to be admired – even more so as it was constructed by starving slaves. The metallic doors that mimicked snake scales swung open before Zenin and his guards stepped inside. She followed them into an amber-lit room which was fully furnished by upper-class decor. Even the doors were lined with wooden carvings of snakes.
“Once you have finished your work on my associate, I’ll have you stay in here with us instead of some drab tent. We already have a place prepared,” Zenin said, his arm outstretched to a closed wooden door to the far corner of the hall.
Von-wratha politely nodded. This seemed to please him before he turned and beckoned her to continue down the room. As space narrowed, the light seemed to thin, and the zealot’s armour clanked as they followed closely behind her. Fear began billowing in her chest, but she maintained her calm aura before Zenin stopped once more before a wooden door and clicked it open. His guards entered the dim room first. Zenin looked back at her and motioned for her to enter with them.
“I promise it’ll only take a moment for a check-up, please,” he said, his thoughts were completely hidden behind his thick forehead.
Von-wratha straightened her back and slowly entered another pleasantly decorated chamber, but this one was much smaller, and a bed sat in the corner with moving mound wrapped under the blankets.
“My associate has fallen ill, and we cannot say what the cause might be,” Zenin’s voice spoke from behind her. She heard the clanking armour enter the room as well.
“I can only remove infections, seal wounds and mend bones, but little else,” she said as she glanced back at him and the five Zealots.
Zenin’s mouth thinned, and a small ‘hmm’ escaped through his nose. He nodded at one of the guards who walked over to the sleeping figure, rousing him in the bed. A violent cough emanated from him as the blankets fell away from a pair of arms followed by a torso sitting upright on the mattress. Von-wratha’s heart felt like it stopped beating and a high-pitched ringing flew through her mind as she looked upon Gul’s face.
“Is this the one?” Zenin said. His voice was like a loud bell in the silent room.
Gul nodded with a twisted grin on his cheeks. “That’s her face.”
The zealots leapt on her in one breath. Their cold gauntlets gripped around her frail wrists and neck. She unleashed her psionics in every direction, slowing their pursuit, but her power was too drained to do little else. Von-wratha swung her leg up and bashed her foot against one of the serpent-heads, forcing them back, but the others already had a good grip around her waist and legs. She screeched as she pushed another guard against the wall with her energy, but every use made her more exhausted.
With one arm free, she reached out to Gul, who was now standing on the bed with his back to the wall and began sucking out his life force. Her palm switched from a scarlet light to deep violet and to black shades as she pulled the former tavern tender’s life from him. Gul’s body contorted and collapsed in a heap on the blankets as she drunk deep of his energy, but it was not enough to overwhelm all of them.
“Pin her down!” Zenin called. The zealots did as commanded, and she felt her body tumble to the polished stone. Zenin’s large form rushed over to her as his thick fingers grabbed at her scalp. He was going for a deep scan. “Who are you,” his greasy lips whispered.
Von-wratha pushed Zenin’s hand back, but his other hand clamped around her temples, sending her into a dark passage of her mind. Though her body stilled, her mind fought Zenin from pulling every shred of her being. Her time in New Giria, her exile from the city, the earning of her name ‘The Black Blade’, her love for Nalax, the Trials of the Sands and her life in the Academy. He saw it all. She screamed as her mind felt it tore into pieces, but her mouth was silent. Zenin’s eyes widened with glee as he pushed off her. His breath was raspy as he was helped up by one of his guards.
She tried commanding her muscles to rise, to continue the struggle, to run away and hop on the convoy, but her body ignored her demands. Von-wratha lay there, with several zealots still laying on her arms and legs as she watched Zenin turn around and throw a viper’s smile; for a moment she thought it was Matron Aeos’s. “I’d never thought I’d see you again, Von-wratha.”
Blood rushed back into her numbing arms and legs as the guards lifted her limp form from the cold floor and dragged her out to the main chamber. Her mind was torn and unable to tell between the past and present. She could only watch as the other guards pulled Gul’s lifeless form off the bed and Zenin standing wearing his revolting grin. The guards kicked open the wooden door Zenin had pointed to earlier and tossed her inside a cold, windowless room barren of any furniture. Von-wratha turned to her side to see a zealot taking up most of the door space before slamming it shut. A loud thump of heavy metal bashed against the door, locking it from the outside and a faint murmur of voices beyond. At least in this cell, she could still hear the world outside.
~
Meditation was useless. Von-wratha’s mind was still scrambled by Zenin’s deep scan. She couldn’t hold her focus long enough to enter a state of mind stillness that one aims to achieve in meditation. Voices called beyond the thick door moments before her dark cell was flooded by the morning sun. She instinctively shielded her eyes from the sudden barrage of light before focusing on a figure in metal scales and a wide snake’s helmet. A groan escaped her throat as the zealot entered followed by another in the chamber. She wasn’t up for another fight or scan, but they never fight fairly. Their cold gauntlets grasped her sore shoulders, holding her in place while the other guard placed a tight black sack over her head. She could still suck in air through the material. She realised it was just cloth, but it had an odour of spit and faint hints of sick inside.
“This is the worst way to suffocate someone,” she whispered, but the zealots kept their silence as they hauled her from the floor and out of the cell. Her feet scraped against the warm floor as the guards held her close to their armoured chests. She heard Zenin’s booming voice calling from outside followed by a moan from a crowd. Another door opened, and she sensed her body bathing in warmth. The crowd began hissing at her entrance.
Von-wratha sensed a thousand thoughts piercing her mind, all loaded with hate and rage. Being in their presence alone was enough for her desire to return to the dark cell. One of the zealot’s kicked her leg down, forcing her knees to graze against the sandy floor.
“As promised, citizens of New Giria, the one who had caused us great misfortune since our arrival to the Barrier Hills!” Zenin called.
She felt a zealot grab the scruff of the revolting sack and yanked it from her head. Her eyes once again were bombarded by the powerful sun as her vision focused on a large group of people surrounding her. Gasps and outraged shouts were all that the horde could muster at the sight of her. She sensed the great wave of betrayal emanating from them: their trusted member of the collective, their healer, was the cause of their misery.
Zenin chuckled before continuing. “I trust you desire nothing more than to tear the former ‘Black Blade’ to pieces, some of you may even want her on your dinner plate-,”
“She’s too skinny for me!” a male called from the crowd, followed by some laughter.
“Worry not, my people, you will get your stomachs filled with food and with revenge when the time comes. However, I ask you to conserve your strength and avoid making direct contact with the prisoner until execution,” he said.
Von-wratha looked up to Zenin who stood in the narrow balcony, his eyes wild with joy as the town erupted with satisfied roars. She quickly scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long for her to spot Kan’s stone face among them. His eyes were filled with pure hatred. She tried to send an apologetic look, but the zealots picked her up and took her to a pole where the banner of the Twins hung. They forced her arms up and wrapped chains around her wrists, locking them in place as they did for her ankles. It didn’t take long for a rock to meet her cheek, followed by another striking her in the belly. She looked around, trying to siphon as much energy from their rage to escape, but the stones continued arriving.
Several members tried charging in to get a punch or a kick in but were all warded off by the guards. Zenin’s laughter echoed through the valley as the crowd hurled abuse and pieces of metal at her body. One bit even struck her in the lip opening it up. A large and lanky figure emerged from the group; Kan pushed through with a fistful of stones. His eyes locked on to hers.
“Monster!” he threw the first one, striking her in the temple.
“Kan, please,” she called.
“Killer!” another hitting her jaw.
“I had no choice,”
“Butcher!” a sizeable pebble slammed in her elbow. She heard a crack inside her bone, but the pain was held at bay as her body grew numb.
“I was just their tool, just like all of you are!” she screamed. Several members of the group even jumped back.
“Damn the food, I want revenge. Rip her head off!” Kan screeched before charging in followed by several people behind him. The zealot’s psi blades burst from their gauntlets and started slashing through the horde, but even they were overwhelmed by their numbers. Von-wratha opened her hands and sucked in all the life force bleeding from the chaos. Despite physical injuries, her body was rejuvenating and growing stronger with each second. She didn’t even care when they tore her from the banner pole and swarmed around her like insects.
“Damn you all,” she whispered before a red aura enveloped her body and melt the bondages from her wrists and ankles. She threw her arms out. A wave threw the group back as she felt her feet leave the dirt. Scarlet light bent around several heads, and with a flick of her wrists, their necks cracked. Even the guards abandoned keeping the peace and charged at her, but they were met with several long psi-spikes that punctured through their chest plates as if they were gelatine.
Laughter erupted from Von-wratha. She showered in the carnage with every slay revitalising her tired bones. The flailing wretches tried running, but her pull was too strong for their legs. This was what true power felt like, she thought. But the fun didn’t last long. She saw his face again. Kan stood before a few terrified people. His long arms were shielding them from her, and his teary eyes were wide with terror and confusion. Wait, Von…
I’m a monster. She closed her eyes and clapped her hands together. Warm liquid sprayed her arms and cheeks. She looked to see that Kan and those he defended were little more than smears on the sand.
Von-wratha smiled as she stared at her hands. She was now surrounded by piles of people, none of them survived – except one. She turned to an empty balcony seeing the building’s doors swinging open. She lifted herself to eye level to find Zenin huddled behind a velvet lounge chair. With her arms out, she gripped on to his leg and began dragging his plump form across the floor.
“No!” he called as his hands desperately tried clinging onto the chair’s metallic legs, but they fell through his fingers.
“Yes,” she hissed, dragging him closer. He tumbled over the balcony railings as his legs dangled over the drop, still clinging to handrails.
“It’ll only be a moment, Zenin!” she said before releasing him from her telekinetic grip. His weight too heavy for his hands pulled him to the grounds with a lovely crunch. Von-wratha glided to the floor, feet away from Zenin where he tried to crawl away from her.
“Pathetic,” her foot clocked back, and she swung it with all her might into his diaphragm. A howl of pain flew from his mouth followed by raspy coughs.
“How easy it was to halt the mighty Girian expanse with a simple push,” she grabbed the collar of his jewelled cape and pulled him up. A mix of blood and saliva dribbled down his lips and his pained eyes staring back.
“Go back and tell them what happened here. Tell them they failed again.” she whispered before kicking his rump out of the valley. Zenin collapsed as dust clouds formed around him and without a glance he scrambled to his feet and waddled out of the Barrier Hills. His raspy breath drew with each step, losing speed under the beating hot suns until his dark figure was lost under the shaky waves of the horizon. The desert will take him.
Alone in the dead valley, Von-wratha was once again doomed to a life of solitude, but now of her own making. She hauled all the corpses from the centre and plastered them around the canyons as a macabre décor for her new home. Sealing their torsos with bent metals or stuffing them in the nooks of the canyons, displaying them for carrion eaters. She telekinetically lifted and hung every commoner, slave or zealot of New Giria. Another piece of compassion broke away from her heart and fell into the void.
She skipped up the sides of the high canyons overlooking the empty town. The convoy will return to nothing and no one. She scanned over the braziers that will never burn again, the tents that will never be slept in and the barren frames of buildings. All waiting to be swallowed by the sands, following the ancient settlement that came before. Von-wratha pulled the hood of her black robe over her scalp and washed her hands of her people.
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