Etania's Calling, page 8
“Anyway, we’ll be praying for your safe journey,” Cephas said. “With the Vexli by your side, I’m certain it will be a simple task.”
At the word “Vexli,” Etania looked away. What is going on with my daughter? Jakin wondered. He’d need to find out soon so she could focus on the task ahead.
“Thank you for coming to say goodbye,” he told them. “I’m grateful for your support.”
“Anytime.” Cephas leaned over, gripping Jakin’s shoulder and lowering his voice. “Write to me if you ever need someone to talk to about Tala. I may not know what it’s like, but I’m here to support you.”
A lump formed in Jakin’s throat, making it hard for him to speak. He nodded once. Cephas leaned back and released his friend. After their farewells, Tevan introduced other dragon riders who would help to transport them. Etania and Keyel would ride with Tevan on Flamir, while Bayanna and Zaden would be with Tevan's friend. Jakin would go with the third dragon rider. Thus coordinated, they climbed onto the dragons’ backs and soared into the crisp, morning air.
Despite taking this trip previously, Jakin couldn’t help but admire the passing landscape—tall mountains covered in trees, lava fields, and cliffs. As the Draconians passed by their capital, several dragons on the ground roared in what must be a greeting. Jakin’s mount and their other dragons roared back, the riders shouting replies as well. They continued their flight over the vast mountain range until, at last, the desert swept into view.
The noon sun felt hot as they landed in Strata, a Pyros town close to the Draconian mountain range. Strata stretched about a kilometer’s length, with a large oasis of water in the center. Sandstone homes lined the main street. The Pyros who lived in Strata hardly blinked at Tevan and his fellow dragon riders. As a trading town, Jakin reasoned that they probably saw the Draconians and their dragons often. The Pyros were like Jakin in appearance, with tan skin and black hair. They wore light, long-sleeved clothing and cloaks which protected them from the sun. Even though it was the beginning of spring, the sun beat down upon Jakin, bringing a warmth that contrasted starkly with the coolness of Khartome.
“I can’t wait to get to sleep!” Bayanna exclaimed once they alighted on the ground. “Riding a dragon is exhausting.”
“Any bed is better than one of the Draconian’s beds!” Keyel said.
"Hey! They're comfortable enough," Tevan countered.
Keyel returned the gaze of the red-haired man. “They’re made of stone.”
“Not just any stone,” Tevan retorted. “The best stone—hewn and smooth—is perfect for back pain.”
Jakin and Etania laughed while Keyel rolled his eyes.
“Thank you for the ride,” Jakin told Tevan.
“You’re welcome.” He clambered onto his dragon’s back. “Unfortunately, we can’t stay long. Flamir and I have to get back to Lord Saigon to escort him home. Melchizedek be with you on your quest.”
Before anyone could respond, Tevan and his fellow dragon riders launched into the air. Their wings created a gust of warm, desert wind. Jakin lifted his hand in farewell.
“Come,” Prince Zaden said, “I know just the place to buy good-quality camels and supplies.”
He led them to a small, sandstone hut on the edge of town, where they bought camels for the journey across the desert to Gotha. They also stocked up on food and water. Once they loaded all their camels with supplies, they began their journey into the wasteland. The camels took them forty kilometers into the desert in half a day, so Jakin had high hopes they would reach Gotha within three days. They pitched camp that night in tents, and Jakin handed out thick, woolen blankets.
“What are these for?” Keyel questioned. “It’s way too warm for them.”
“It’s warm now, but it’ll be cold soon,” Zaden said.
“Zaden is right,” Jakin agreed. “We’ll have to build a fire.”
Although his previous apprentice looked skeptical, Keyel took the blankets and began pitching tents with Jakin. While he had the Leici to himself, Jakin tried to question him.
“Keyel,” he whispered, “what happened between you and my daughter?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Keyel tightened a knot quickly, and it snapped back, smacking his hand. He cursed.
“That,” Jakin commented, “is what I mean.”
Keyel avoided his glance. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“Really? What if you lose your concentration in battle?”
Keyel looked up, his blue eyes practically sending lightning bolts in Jakin’s direction.
“You have trained me well. I will protect Etania with my life, regardless of my feelings.”
The coldness of his words sent shivers down Jakin’s spine. What had happened to the young man who ardently defended and loved his daughter? Jakin was almost too afraid to find out. Once the tents were up, he joined Etania by the fire to see if he could get the whole story. She was cooking dinner while Bayanna, Keyel, and Zaden gathered brush to keep the fire going.
“Etania?”
“Yes?” she asked nonchalantly, turning the goat meat. Maybe she will be easier to talk to, Jakin thought. He cleared his throat.
“Have you noticed anything wrong with Keyel?”
“Keyel?” Etania repeated. “No, not really. Why?”
Am I just imagining things? Jakin wondered. Maybe Keyel was just grumpy from riding a dragon. He changed the subject.
“What about you? How are you feeling about battling Jazel?”
Etania avoided Jakin’s penetrating gaze. “I’ll be fine.”
Jakin had a feeling this wasn’t the case, but he didn’t know what to say. Tala was always better at this, he thought.
“I have confidence in you.” Jakin reached over to squeeze his daughter’s hand.
Etania gave him a small smile. He hoped that meant she was going to be fine. He would need to keep observing Keyel and Etania to confirm his suspicions.
UNEVENTFUL DAYS PASSED as the travelers journeyed across the desert from Strata to Gotha, the capital city of the Pyros. Jakin happily observed that his daughter didn’t suffer a single nightmare while they traveled. This was an indication to him that all was well. The camels took them over the dunes during the daytime, their long and plodding steps as monotonous as the never-ending landscape. On the evening of the third day, they reached Gotha. The city looked similar to Strata, with sandstone huts and mansions, yet these were scattered around a tall mesa crowned by a palace. A stone wall also enclosed Gotha for protection.
Zaden led them into the crowded capital city. Hundreds of men, women, and children filled the dusty streets, all wearing cloaks over loose, thin clothing. The men carried woven baskets of glass creations which jingled loudly as they walked. Women painted the surfaces of the glass with colorful mixtures to decorate them and increase their value. Children ran everywhere, crying after each other or throwing tiny flames at one another like they were tossing a ball. Jakin took this in nonchalantly, used to the hustle and bustle of an active city.
The travelers reached Desert Spring Inn located beside an oasis in the center of town. The innkeeper insisted on hosting the prince and his companions for free. Once they deposited knapsacks in their rooms, they readied themselves to face Jazel. Each donned armor and weapons. Jakin had to admit even he felt nervous as they made their way to Narak’s grave.
Everyone was quiet while Jakin headed west through the streets. The hairs on his arms stood up as the crisp night air swept through the city. Eventually, it grew so dark that the only light came from Jakin’s flames and Etania’s torch. As they walked, Jakin considered the history of what he sought. This was the grave of the demon, Narak, who had once possessed a dragon and used its strength to assist Malstorm in battle against Melchizedek. After being defeated, Narak kept possessing person after person, slipping out of Jakin and Cephas’ grasp. Finally, they could bind his spirit to a gravestone using the Sword of Zimita, a weapon Melchizedek had designed to separate spirit from flesh.
At last, they reached it—the entrance to Narak’s gravesite. It was a tunnel leading to a cave that opened beneath the palace. Jakin turned toward his companions.
“Alright,” he said. “Before we enter, I need you to promise me you won’t speak.”
“Why?” Bayanna asked.
“Because Narak can use your words against you. He can curse you if he wishes.”
“Curse you?” Etania repeated, her voice high-pitched. Jakin nodded solemnly.
“Yes. A curse that can consume you from the inside-out. However, he has to know your name in order to do so.”
“Doesn’t that mean you’re at risk, Jakin?” Keyel questioned.
“Yes,” the Lehrling said. “But Etania can heal me with her Neuma.”
Etania paled. From fear or lack of confidence, Jakin couldn’t tell.
“My goal is to bury Narak by collapsing the small cave in which his grave is located.”
“How will you do that?” Bayanna asked. “This mesa is made of rock and sand.”
“By melting the walls?” Zaden suggested.
“Exactly! I’m a Lehrling.” Jakin grinned. “My fire is even more powerful than yours, Prince Zaden.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t fight that much.” Zaden shrugged.
“Then why do we need you again?” Keyel questioned.
“Keyel!” Etania chastened. Jakin interrupted before they started arguing.
“Everyone ready?”
They nodded. Jakin took a deep breath and entered, following the tunnel down until it opened into a wide cave. Those in Gotha used this cave as an underground junkyard, so it was littered with glass. In the dim light, the glass looked like a horror house, reflecting a warped depiction of Jakin’s appearance.
“Careful!” Jakin called back to his companions. “Our boots should protect us from most of this glass, but it is always wise to be cautious.”
They nodded in acknowledgement, and Jakin went toward the far wall of the cave. There, barely visible, was a lowercase t—a symbol of Melchizedek’s followers. If he pressed against the t, it would open the entrance to an adjoining cave.
Right next to this entrance were bones and remnants of armor. Jakin’s lip curled in disgust. Based on the rate of decay, those who had ventured into the cave had been dead for quite a while. This was a relief—it meant no one had recently discovered Narak’s grave. He pressed the t, and the wall moved into a slot to his left, cranking and creaking. A few feet away from him rose a funnel of inky black, twirling above a stone slab set in the ground.
“Lehrling Jakin,” Narak said, his voice chilling the air. “Did you miss me so much that you wanted to see me one last time?”
“One last time?” Jakin scoffed. “I’m not near death. I’m here to make sure your grave remains undisturbed.”
“Undisturbed? Don’t you see the bones?” Narak retorted. “Many have tried to hold my spirit, but their strength was... inadequate.”
“It’s pitiful that your foolish fanatics sacrificed themselves to possess someone as vile as you!”
Something like a growl emanated from the funnel.
“I will be free, Jakin! You’ll see!”
“No, you won’t. I’m going to destroy this place!”
“How much you underestimate me!” Narak hissed. “I haven’t gotten weaker in two hundred years. I’ve gotten stronger!”
“We’ll see about that,” Jakin snapped. He gathered flames into his palms and placed them against the walls of the small cave adjoining the junkyard. The rocks melted under his touch.
“NO!!!!” Narak screamed. “I curse you, Jakin!”
The funnel of inky black sped toward Jakin. The Lehrling attempted to dodge, but was too slow.
“Father!” Etania yelled—too late!
Jakin was pierced by the demon’s curse.
Chapter Eight
Keyel watched in horror as Jakin collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Immediately, he grabbed Jakin and slung him over his shoulder, shouting commands.
“Press the t!” he said.
Bayanna quickly pushed the letter, sliding the wall shut and cutting them off from Narak. They heard chilling laughter as they swiftly made their way out of the cave. Keyel paused. With only the light from Etania’s torch to guide them, it would be difficult for him to lead them through unfamiliar territory. They needed to get back to the inn and have Etania treat Jakin as soon as possible. An idea came to him.
“Zaden, lead us to the inn!” Keyel said.
The prince did as instructed, leading them back to the Desert Spring Inn as quietly as they had gone. When they entered, most of the patrons had gone to bed. Only a few still ate and drank in the dining area. Zaden asked for somewhere private they could gather, and the innkeeper all too happily obliged the prince. He led them away to a room in the back that he usually reserved for special guests. A single table stood in the center, with chairs surrounding it. Keyel laid Jakin on the table and pulled off the man’s tunic and armor to reveal his bare chest.
Everyone gasped. A dark black thing slithered across Jakin’s chest, shying away whenever Etania brought the light toward it. As Jakin breathed, it moved like a parasite. Keyel gulped and tried to steady his voice.
“Etania, go ahead.”
Etania’s hands shook as she reached out. The thing lunged toward her and she jerked back.
“I’m sorry!” She turned away. “I’m sorry, Keyel!”
“What do you mean?” Keyel questioned. Was this about the secret she keeps? “Now’s not the time. You need to heal him!”
Etania’s lower lip trembled, and a single tear escaped from her left eye.
“I can’t,” she admitted. “I don’t have my Neuma.”
Keyel felt like his heart was being squeezed in his chest. His mind reeled as memories flashed: his mother’s letter, whispers with Grace, the meeting with Zaden. They all pointed to one conclusion: Etania didn’t have her Neuma. Worse, she had been lying about it this entire time.
“Etania!” Bayanna exclaimed. “That would’ve been good to know before we entered the cave!”
“So that’s what you were talking about in front of Etania’s tent?” Keyel accused.
Zaden put up his hands. “I thought she was going to tell you two. Especially since you’re her friend and suitor.”
Zaden’s words felt like they squeezed Keyel’s heart even harder. He tried to steady his breathing.
“You were at my tent?” Etania questioned. “Why?”
“I heard you screaming from a nightmare,” Bayanna explained. “I was concerned.”
“I saw Zaden go toward your tent and I was worried as well,” Keyel snapped. “But that’s beside the point! How long did you keep this from me?”
“Six months,” Etania admitted. “Ever since I used the gauntlet to defeat those Skazic... well, I haven’t been able to use my Neuma since.”
Six months. Six months Etania had hid this from him! From her own suitor! Keyel’s fists clenched at his side and blood rushed to his cheeks. He turned away. He couldn’t lose control. He allowed ice to surround his broken heart, and logic took over. When he met Etania, Zaden, and Bayanna’s expectant gazes, he knew what to do.
“None of that matters right now,” Keyel declared. “Decide among yourselves who will watch over the junkyard. We can’t let Jazel have Narak, and none of us are strong enough to collapse the grave ourselves. Plus, it’s too dangerous.”
“Wh-What will you do, Keyel?” Etania whispered.
“I will try to heal him,” Keyel resolved. “Maybe I can bring him back into consciousness.”
She nodded, chewing her lip. Keyel looked away from her, and Bayanna pulled Etania away. Zaden followed them, and Keyel turned his attention back to Jakin. Rolling up his sleeves with clinical precision, he called his Neuma to his palms. The light green glow surrounded his hands, and he moved toward Jakin.
The shadowy curse hissed as he drew nearer, and Keyel urged more power to his hands. The curse shrieked as his Neuma lapped over it, dissipating into the air and leaving a sulfuric smell behind. Keyel worked for half an hour trying to destroy all of it, but no matter what he did, one small piece seemed to slip from his grasp.
Utterly exhausted and dripping with sweat, Keyel decided to rest for the night. Perhaps, when he was stronger, he could get rid of enough of it for Jakin to wake. The Lehrling already had color returning to his skin, and his breathing seemed less labored.
Carefully, Keyel pulled Jakin’s tunic back on him and slugged him over his shoulder again. He carried him back up to the room they shared and placed him on one of the beds. Zaden entered shortly after.
“I have the last shift,” the prince said. “Etania took the first and Bayanna took the second.”
Keyel dipped his head in acknowledgement and yawned. He stumbled into his bed. Etania’s tear-stained face was the last thing he saw before sleep overtook him.
IT WAS CREEPY SITTING in the cold, alone, with only a torch for company. Etania hated it, but mostly, she hated the guilt-ridden heart she carried.
Grace was right, Etania thought. I should’ve told them.
If she had told them, would her father be lying in bed right now, cursed? No, he wouldn’t. He would be awake, not sleeping his life away. Etania shuddered and drew her knees to her chest. What if he dies, like my mother?
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She had stood by, unable to do anything about her mother’s death. She should’ve tried to regain her Neuma. She should’ve told them the truth from the beginning.
Why didn’t I try? She asked herself...Yet; she knew the answer. She had never wanted Neuma. Never wanted to be a Vexli. Sure, she had been willing to do it for a little while. It was always forced upon her, like an itchy coat from a loving relative. Melchizedek had told her he needed her. That she could work without her Neuma. So much for that idea, she scoffed. Her Mark burned a bit with those rebellious thoughts, so she apologized.
