Drake

The Kianne-bred horses were not appreciating how far Drake had strayed into the desert. To be honest, he, too, disapproved of his dangerous route, but if he kept up his pace, he could be through this corner of the desert by sunset. This area was full of nocturnal creatures who loved large, sleeping animals—or rather their tasty, soft, unsuspecting flesh. The desert was best traveled at night in a well-stocked caravan, but as long as Daniella could stand the heat, crossing this northern chunk during the day was relatively safe. Anything with any sort of common sense or survival instinct was sleeping.

“You’re doing surprisingly little complaining,” Drake pointed out. Daniella was doing a fair bit of looking hot and uncomfortable, but it was plenty hot and uncomfortable, so that was just evidence she was Terran.

“It makes little sense to complain about something I insisted on,” replied Daniella, shaded from the sun by the linen tablecloth they had borrowed from the Taragonian inn. She fanned herself with her map, eyes not straying from the volume she had been perusing on horseback.

“Any clues where we’re headed?”

“Possibly. I left a code for myself in the corners of some of the pages. If I could just find the missing—” She tapped her finger on one of the pages. “Ask me again in a few minutes.”

They were making good time, but the horses needed water. He squinted in the sun. The flat stretch of brilliant orange sand followed by more sand wasn’t exactly a landmark, but he thought he knew approximately where they were. He was going to have to dip further south. He made the adjustment.

“There’s an oasis up ahead, but after that, I’ll need to pick a direction.”

“Hmm,” she pondered, half listening. “You know Bayselle.”

“It’s a rather large protectorate, and Rosaliy won’t be announcing her presence to everyone she meets.”

“Then we’ll need a good bit of luck on our side, I imagine.”

“Neither of us deal in luck,” he pointed out.

“The opposite, it does seem,” she mused, still only partly acknowledging him. “So where would you least like Rosaliy to end up in Bayselle?”

That was not even a question that necessitated a moment of consideration. “Via Maritima.”

“Might as well start there, then,” she said.

She was probably right.

Daniella jabbed her finger at the book in front of her. “Ah ha!” Her eyes drifted up for the first time in hours, squinting against the sun she may have just noticed. “We need to stop. I thought you said we were near an oasis.”

“Not far,” he assured her.

Her eyes scanned the empty, shimmering orange sand. “How can you tell?”

He could smell the water, but he had been laughed at more than once for insisting so. He preferred to find the oasis rather than discuss his extrasensory desert abilities. When he was young, he had spent as much time out in the desert as he had in the grimy streets of Via Maritima.

As they crested a sand dune, a patch of green was finally visible in the sands below them.

Water bubbled like a fountain, creating a sad pond of murky water. Spiky desert plants battled for a home here, and tufts of nibbled desert grass ringed the pool like it was hoarding the water for itself. Drake had not located the friendliest of water sources, but it would do for the horses.

“Underground springs snake through this area. Watch out for quicksand,” he warned. “And keep an eye open for anything feeling possessive about its water supply.”

“Nature is so charming,” Daniella sighed, slipping from her horse and adjusting her covering.

“You figured out the message already?” he asked, leading the horses to the edge of the water. The hot animals lunged for the murky water. Drake kicked at a few of the grass tufts to make sure a hidden scorpion or a dozing snake was not lying in wait to leap out at their transportation. Having to travel on foot would make this trip a new level of dangerous.

“I did,” she agreed.

The horses would have no more of his caution. They pulled out of his grip and guzzled the water.

“Just like that, you were able to read a coded message?”

“No,” she disagreed. “I had done it before, and I remembered how…without remembering. I left clues only I would notice. It’s all rather impressive, but irrelevant.”

He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. When riding through the desert, stopping always seemed like such a good idea until one actually stopped. The created breeze of movement was better than nothing.

“What does the message say?” he asked. “Unless you’d rather the secret stay secret.”

“I considered that, but I don’t think you’re a Flifary spy or very likely to give away information under pressure.”

“Really?” he mused. “I told you my whole life story back there.”

“It would take a dozen more kidnappings to hear your whole life story,” she replied dryly.

“At least,” he agreed.

Daniella opened the book, eyes scanning words only she understood. “In anticipation of an attack by rogue Flifary forces—I’m assuming we met those.” Drake nodded agreement, and Daniella continued, “Arlana, the Flifary Seer, has hidden an important magical object, something called a divination stone. The stone is in plain sight, but magically concealed. Arlana knew she would have no time to move the stone from the temple, so she disguised it. Following so far?”

“That’s a lot to take in,” he replied. “Important stone. Flifary civil war. Disguised as what?”

“The note isn’t specific, nor does the Seer specify the type of magical concealment. The note was clearly intended for someone with more knowledge of the situation at large. I’m reading into the bare description as it is.”

“Seems prudent for her to be as vague as possible,” he acknowledged. “What does the stone do?”

“That’s an excellent question. From what I gather, in the hands of those miscreants hopefully still buried under a mountain, the stone could see the future paths of everyone who might stop them. In the hands of Arlana or a Sorceress, it might have the power to bring them to their knees.”

“Useful stone.”

“Yes,” she murmured, eyes drifting back to the note. “I’m left with so many questions. She’s talking about preventing a powerful force of destruction as well as an attempt to lure Rin to Flifary Island. I don’t have the knowledge to make sense of half of it.”

“Maybe Rosaliy had the answers—has the answers,” he corrected. He would feel so much better once he saw her alive. He was far too cynical to trust the evidence of her likely survival, so he decided to stop making Rosaliy a conversation topic. “Why did the Seer send you the message? Why not the Queen herself?”

“I gather I have experience thwarting the Flifary, which makes me wonder why I sent Rosaliy to Bayselle instead of the island.”

“I imagine you had your reasons.”

She considered this. “Is there a way onto the island from Bayselle?”

There were wild rumors of magical objects circulating all the time. Who knew which ones really existed? “If there is one, the pirates would have seen it as valuable and locked it down in their palace vaults.”

“We have our destination, then,” said Daniella.

He would take Seavale over Via Maritima any day. Drake could break into the palace in his sleep. Plus, he could check in on Cliff and make sure his hapless friend had not managed to get himself into trouble. Maybe he did have a little luck on his side after all.

“Let’s get moving,” he said cheerfully.

Daniella shot him a scathing look for his chipper tone. Not complaining did not mean she was enjoying their trip. “Not to second-guess your travel plans, but shouldn’t we refill water or something?” She waved a hand at her surroundings just the way Drake would expect from a queen.

“Not here,” he disagreed. “Without having to water the horses, we have enough mountain water for ourselves. We’ll pass right over a creek on our way out of the desert. If you drench your head covering, you’ll be able to tolerate the mid-day heat a while longer,” he advised, moving to dig his own makeshift head covering out of his saddle bag to do the same.

Drake heard the soft splash of Daniella wading into the dirty water, and then he heard a giant splash of a woman tumbling headfirst. She must have been suffering from heat exhaustion. He splashed in and scooped her up, spotting the purple mass on her arm right away, sucking greedily. Before he could panic, which would have been an appropriate response to the situation, he grabbed for the knife at his belt to pry it off.

The estrellmar had five pale, stubby arms and an amazing suctioning ability, but instead of feeding on shellfish, the mutant desert variety of starfish fed on blood. It waited in pools like this to prey on thirsty victims by injecting them with a paralyzing venom. Drowning unconscious was usually the cause of death from an estrellmar, but being drained of blood would cause death eventually. As most blood sucking creatures were this close to Naxturaen territory, this one was supposedly magical. Drake had heard a few victims ranting about seeing dead wives or reliving old battles, half sure the creature had really brought back the dead person or transported them to another time and place.

All in all, this creature needed to come off Daniella’s body fast. Drake dug his knife between the creature—rapidly deepening from a pale white to a flushed red—and Daniella’s skin. The fleshy mass squealed in protest, blood spewing from its red maw and running down a gash in Daniella’s arm. He stabbed the creature into the sand, and a pool of blood gushed from it as it writhed. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiped sweat off his brow. He just needed to get Daniella farther from the water and give her a minute to recover. He jerked his eyes open. Why was he lying on the ground with his eyes closed? He felt a tingling on his leg.

“Drake?” called a voice. His arms and legs were numb, and he was half asleep, but he struggled to stay conscious. An arm grasped his and helped him to his feet. “I’m so glad I found you.”

“Rosaliy?” A white flare from the overwhelming desert sun stung his eyes until they focused in on Rosaliy, right there in front of him, sunny-smiled and lemon-scented. “How did you find—?” he slurred.

She threw her arms around him. “I was so worried about you,” she said, muffled by his shoulder.

“Back at you,” he said, equally relieved.

Rosaliy being on the fringes of the desert did not quite make sense, but he had no time to figure it out. She grinned her smile that lit up her whole face, and then she kissed him. And kissed him. She was well past the point of misinterpretation of the gesture as a friendly greeting. His mind gave up trying to find reason at that point, ceding control to his lips and fingers. Eventually, he had to breathe, and half a thought crept its way through the desire to keep kissing her forever.

“You’re not actually Rosaliy,” he murmured.

“But that’s good,” she said brightly. “No guilt!”

She made an excellent point. He kissed her again, and her hands slid around his neck, toying with the collar of his shirt. Of all the disastrous relationships he had in his life, all the fake ones with Rosaliy were easily the best of them. She was like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold night. Unfortunately, there was that nagging fake part.

“That’s enough of that,” he sighed, sliding his hands to her shoulders.

She whimpered. “What’s wrong?” she asked, lips still touching his.

“Wrong?” he chuckled. “Not a thing, but I’m going to die if I don’t wake up.”

She leaned up to whisper in his ear, pressing even closer if such a thing was possible as this point. “It’s really so much worse for you if you fight,” she said, voice dripping with concern. “Wouldn’t you rather die happy?”

“Sorry, very tempting fake Rosaliy in my head,” he sighed, “but Daniella has information you need, and I have to get her out of here.” He pushed imaginary Rosaliy away, and she stumbled backwards with an annoyed cry.

He struggled his way back to consciousness, forcing the adrenaline of panic to kick in. That was a bad idea. The venom fed off this new sensation, turning soothing pleasure into something more sinister. The bright desert melted, shifting into a dark cave.

“Oops,” Rosaliy said, watching the cave solidify around them. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

He grabbed for Rosaliy by instinct just before the cave cracked and rocks fell on them. A boulder fell, pinning her, and the ground split in front of him, creating a chasm between them. Just before he could convince himself none of this was real, he was standing on a darkened street. Even before he was fully aware of where he was, he backed away instinctively, running straight into Zara. Just the sight of her gave him chills. She was pale-faced and cold, eyes white and clouded, the dead walking.

“Something’s not right,” Zara muttered, narrowed eyes taking in the empty street.

“You’re dead,” he told Zara, “and I believe I’m the one who told you something was wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed his objections. “You really were a crashing wave on the whole plan from the beginning. What did you think I was going to do with the information you brought me?”

“Talk, threaten—not bring half a militia to strong-arm some merchants,” he answered. Why was he bothering? None of this was real.

“Oh, please,” she said, rolling her cloudy, unnatural eyes. “Who’s the delusional one here? You’re lucky I put up with you and your naysaying.” Her head swiveled. Her neck was broken, jutting out at odd angles. “What was that?”

They were inside now. There was screaming and a wall broken open by a cannon ball, and people trapped under a crumbling building. No. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he be anywhere else?

“Do something!” Zara snarled.

“You know there’s nothing I can do for you,” he said, frozen to the spot. He needed to get out of here. This was all in his head. Just in his head.

Dead Zara cried out with blue lips as a shattered support beam snapped and fell on her. Drake shuddered as he heard the crunch.

“You didn’t try,” she choked out with her last breath. “You didn’t even try.”

Then she was Cliff’s father, Vicente. Drake tried to run, but his feet would not move. A knife with a mottled black handle stuck from Vincente’s side. Blood poured from the wound, pooling on the floor, rising like high tide. He must have been stabbed in the fight between the pirates streaming in through the shattered wall and Zara’s band of Scorp militia. There was so much death and confusion, a building falling down around his head and desperate people, fighting to stay alive.

“Drake,” Vincente coughed out weakly. “What’s happening?”

Drake dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry,” Drake half pleaded with the man. “I promise I tried. There was so much blood.”

Cliff’s father reached out a blood-streaked hand to grip Drake’s arm. Words came out of his mouth, but they were barely more than a whisper. Drake knew what they were. He’d heard them often enough in his nightmares. “Tell my son I’m proud of the man he’s become.”

“I can’t,” Drake insisted. “I can’t be here.”

“Why didn’t you stop this?” demanded Cliff behind him. “He shouldn’t have died. He wasn’t like you. He was a decent person. You couldn’t even tell me what happened. Coward.”

“I know,” Drake said. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hands.

“Wake up,” he heard. He moaned. He could not take any more.

“You are heavy, and you’re sinking,” the voice insisted. “Get up.”

He opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by the sun. He was lying on his back in the sand. He felt the effects of the creature’s drug still pounding through his system, but the sand was real, as real as the fact he was being slowly sucked into it. With a start, he jerked up. His legs were nearly under the liquid, collapsing sand, but Daniella had managed to keep his head above ground. He saw the remains of an estrellmar nearby, lying in a red puddle, hacked to pieces.

“A rope,” he barked.

She lurched to get it while he slowly pulled his legs out of the sand. The estrellmar had cut straight through his pants on one leg, leaving behind a bleeding gash. As he stared at the wound stupidly, a rope landed on his chest. Through much effort, Daniella managed to pull and he managed to twist until he rolled onto solid sand. They fled to the horses, Drake half dragging his numb leg. His mind was still full of the last words of Cliff’s father. How could a person tell someone he watched his father die before his eyes? How would that conversation start? Good people died, but Drake always survived. Where was the justice in that?

Somewhere in his spastic mental rambling, he realized Daniella was silent. She was sitting in a heap on the sand, trembling.

“Are you ok?” he asked stupidly.

She shook her head and squeezed the gash on her arm, either to put pressure on the oozing wound or to cause herself more pain. Either way, she was not well.

“What did you see?” he asked.

She jumped like his words had been a strike to the face. In hindsight, that question was worse than the one before.

“What kind of a monster murders her own children?” cried Daniella, with wide, crazy eyes. “I’ve probably killed them, too—the boy and the two girls. It’s my fault.” She continued ranting like he was not there. “Death surrounds me. I wield it like a siren’s song, blanketing all who come near.”

Death, death, death. They would be dead if they didn’t get out of here. They were the only ones with Arlana’s message. Death was not a luxury they had.

“You’re not that simple. No one is. You saved my life just now.”

“The children,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I saw the children. The ones you’re looking for. What if I hurt them?”

“You didn’t hurt them.”

“How do you know?” she yelled back.

“I know evil, and I know what people are capable of. You didn’t hurt those kids.”

She pressed her hands to her temples, almost like she was trying to hold herself together. He knew the feeling. He was on his own self-loathing high right now.

“You never killed your children,” he argued. “You didn’t kill your grandchildren.”

“I met with the Malum. I agreed to turn over my daughter. Armies—I led armies of men to kill each other. Who does that?”

Her question was valid, but she was in no condition to ask it. “You’re only seeing pieces—fragments. Your daughter survived. The armies hardly lost a man.”

She shook her head, probably trying to match up his words with the mess of memories the estrellmar had forced on her.

“All I really know is if we don’t get out of here, those things, all those things you saw, are the sum of your life.” Both of their lives. He shuddered.

Daniella allowed herself to be shoved back onto her horse, and she and Drake bolted from that place without a backwards glance.