Edge, p.3
EDGE, page 3
Dola still finds something to critique though. “You will address me as Lady Dola, and please bow when you do, Captain, is it?”
Flaz goads, “Ho-ho.”
Gati apologizes, nodding curtly, and leaves after bowing to both the king and lady and addressing them properly. Captain it is, Gati thinks. Dola needn’t know his title. Captain is fine. He was wearing a captain's sword, so it would make sense for that to be the assumption.
“Go, dear, prepare yourself for the venture.” Flaz waves Dola off.
Dola stands up, placing her still-full cup on the table and marches through the front doors.
“Do not fail us. I will be sure to keep Karna well looked after until your return,” the king calls out, just before Dola steps over the threshold. One last reminder of what hangs in the balance. What would be the point in ruling, if there was no one to rule over when she returned? She had nothing but the belief that the king valued this alliance as much as she did.
Her heart sinks. She feels more trapped than ever before, even as she steps out into the sunny daylight hours. There is a ball and chain of remorse strapped to her. How is this any different than it was? Will I ever have the power I seek, or am I doomed to forever be Dola the dog? I want to rule this land. I will rule Zoriya.
~
Dola is fastening on her bag and ensuring all her gear fits comfortably for the long ride when Gati sidles up to her.
He holds out a waterskin for her to loop onto her bag.
She accepts it without thanks, walking up to the largest horse. She ties the bag and swings a leg up to mount the imposing animal.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Dola,” Gati speaks evenly. “That horse is fitted for me. I have this horse tacked for you.” He points to a small spotted mare behind the large black stallion.
“Begging your pardon, Captain, but this horse belonged to the late High Lady—my dearly departed friend—and that, in turn, means it now belongs to me.” She speaks the last part with a note of finality, to assert that she will be the one in charge of this expedition. “I will ride in front. Who are our escorts?”
At that moment, two other elves trot up on a pair of tawny stallions.
Gati does the introductions. “This is Niha and Naly. Two of my best.”
“We shall see about that.” Dola sneers at all three of them.
Niha and Naly are identical. Twins, Dola notes. Both elves have azure skin and pastel blue hair, round faces, deep blue freckles, and eyes so light blue they appear eerily white. Their hips blossom out in soft curves and seem to cushion their uncomfortable saddles. The way they are both simpering makes Dola want to retch.
Dola finds herself envying the two. She often wishes she could be curvier, rather than being all bones and angles. She can feel everything from her hamstrings to her tuberosities. This is going to be a long, painful ride, she thinks as she fears the bruising her tailbone is about to receive.
They set off at a canter until they exit the city, then their horses move up to a full gallop, as the four elves head west toward the mountains.
~
By the end of the day, they hit the desert sands on the other side of the base of the mountains. The tracks stop as soon as they hit the sand on the other side of the pass. Tracking in the Vexian wastelands is going to be difficult.
Dola searches the soft ground for any signs of travellers. Noticing one patch of ground is slightly darker, she moves the sand aside to reveal the campfire that she suspects had been buried only a few days ago.
“We will camp here for the night,” Dola barks at Gati. “Gather us some firewood.” The Silver elf points at Niha. “You, prep food for cooking.” She sneers at Naly. “And you, take care of the horses.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” Gati says in a miffed tone. But a part of him secretly likes being the one getting bossed around for once. He has grown tired of elves either fearing or adoring him. Something about Dola annoys him, but also has him wanting to crack a small devilish smile. Her severity is almost comical to him. It is a stark difference from the king’s laid-back personality.
Dola sits and does nothing as the three Sapphire elves toil away.
Chapter 7
SEVERAL MOON CYCLES LATER
Vali kicks a piece of dusty firewood. No hot coals left, she growls in time with her empty stomach. She sits down and opens Ilva’s bag, searching with her hands for what they have left to eat. She finds a bruised apple and a softening carrot. This is it? Frustrated, she takes the apple. Ilva can have the carrot, she thinks with spite. Then guilt over her choice of actions pinches at her soul. But something else tugs at her, and agitation weaves like snakes into her mind.
Ilva wakes to Vali grunting and packing. In a meek tone, Ilva apologizes, “Sorry, Vali. I’m up.”
Vali already has everything cleaned, and the firepit lies buried in the sand. All that remains is Ilva’s bed roll and bag.
Ilva scrambles to pick up her bed, spinning it up tight, looping it onto her bag, then running to catch up with Vali, who is already a good twenty feet ahead and moving fast.
She’s been so grumpy the past few days. Maybe she’s angry that I fell asleep and the fire went out? I fail to see why that matters, all we have left to heat up is tea, and there’s barely any wood out here. Is she struggling with her condition? She did say sand made it even harder to navigate without any sight. Maybe it’s something else. What is it? Something specific? Everything all at once perhaps?
As Ilva annoys herself with all sorts of what-ifs, Vali is thinking about how she can get Ilva to understand that they are not on a vacation, they are on a dangerous quest. Utter laziness! You’d think an elf who lived all alone in the woods would have developed better survival skills. She has no idea how to travel, the importance of time, or the dangers of the Vexian wastelands! The biting voice in her head does not feel like her own.
“Move!” Vali’s tone is sharp.
The single word from Vali feels like an attack. Ilva’s muscles tighten in response, her mind putting up blocks against the oncoming argument they are sure to have. Ilva wishes now that she had stayed behind. She feels like a burden, unwanted and troublesome. She is unhappier than she can ever remember being.
Vali clears her paper-dry throat. Why does she have to act afraid of you? You’re not what she should be afraid of. Starvation, burning to a crisp, or being killed by the beasts lurking in the dunes are real fears to have.
Vali decides to try and force responses out of Ilva. “Well, do you have any ideas about how we should continue? You didn’t want to follow my advice about making a travois. We could have taken turns pulling it, or finding more food before setting out. Do you realize we could actually starve if we keep going? Are you taking any of this seriously?”
Ilva swallows hard, her tense jaw aching. She is getting a headache. The blame Vali is flinging at her is worse than the avoidance she is used to. She looks toward Vali and, in her most passive voice, says, “I feel like I’m taking this just as seriously as you are.” The last few words are higher in pitch. She lets out a tiny shivery sigh. An action that is preventing her from crying, and putting her on the verge of it at the same time.
Vali is uncomfortable with Ilva’s management of her emotions. She finds herself frustrated with how candid and rational Ilva is because it is something Vali is struggling to do. She has never gone so long on so little food. She has always had plenty to eat, so she was not aware of how the absence of food could corrupt her into something very much not herself. That, and create sinister voices in her head. The angry impatience of her grandmother slips over her. It makes her dislike herself in entirely new ways.
Ilva, still trying to be the hopeful voice of reason, reassures Vali, “I’m sure we’ll find the Vexian kingdom soon.”
“Whether we do or not, we just have to keep going. Now tell me which way is west,” Vali demands, somewhat less aggressively. Unease shudders through her when she realizes her voice sounds like Dola’s.
Ilva tenses her shoulders tightly and releases them. Softly, Ilva reminds herself, It’s not my fault. We’ll be okay. Then she leads them both west.
Chapter 8
“Livy!” A small ball of leaves the size of a walnut rushes through the foliage of the Nilfin forest.
“What ya yellin’ for, ya pippy li’l squeaker?” old Livy barks as she maintains her focus. She is still attempting to use magic, with a sad and lost kind of desperation.
The old elf has never had any of the Stone Souls' powers, and the tiny ball of leaves that flits above the scene is beginning to feel sorry for Livy, her good friend.
This small friend is an ix—a pixie-like creature that resides on Ixisle with all of the old gods and goddesses. Her fluttering leaf-like wings shine with skeletal luminescence. Her body always trembles like a harsh wind is blowing through her. This particular ix has deep brown skin and hair as black as black can be.
“It’s Meliae, the nymph of the forest, they’re here for you!” trills the creature Livy referred to as a squeaker. Her name is Zi.
Zi is a curious but cautious ix. She loves Livy dearly and has watched over her for many ages. She loves to observe the old elf working. They have built a strong foundation of trust over the years, and Zi is happy to assist Livy in communing with the nymphs and other creatures of Zoriya. They have a comfortable way of talking that Zi treasures. She does not need to be proper here. With Livy, she is free to give in to her impulsive ix nature.
Zi repeats, “Meliae is almost here!”
Livy sits down. She takes a deep calming breath. “Are they now? I s’pose we’ll be seeing each other soon then. It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed, it has,” comes a scratchy voice from the trees.
Chapter 9
We are alive, uninjured, together. We have a bit of water left from the last time it rained. We are sure to be getting close now. Ilva keeps thinking over and over about the things there are to be grateful for. She is quite practiced at finding bright sides.
Vali normally is too, but right now, she is fighting invisible demons that are blocking out the light. She is so tired of being strong. Her bow and sword and backpack are heavy. Her shoes feel too tight. The heat is drying out her skin.
Ilva, becoming learned from her experiences and, most especially, her losses, is growing through the suffering. The pain she lives with is harsh and she wrestles with it constantly. It has been nearly half a year since Syli’s death, and still, the memory of her mother’s passing haunts her. She wonders if these wounds will ever heal.
Vali’s experiences and losses have a different effect on her, and she often finds herself filling with anger. Which is only exacerbated by wandering through this sand, in constant darkness, hands always slightly out in front. She is becoming accustomed to keeping her eyes closed, which strain whenever they are open as if they just need to adjust. It is giving her headaches, along with the sunlight that penetrates her improperly dilated pupils, while wind and sand assail her sockets. She is utterly miserable. Her feet ache, but she is numb to it. To top it off, she is ravenous.
“I think I see something,” Ilva says with a hint of cheer.
“I swear to the gods and goddesses of this world, if this is another ‘oh, never mind’ moment, I’m going to lose my minerals on you.”
“No, this time I mean it! I really see something. It’s way out there. A rock maybe? A tall thin black rock… I think.”
“You think?” Vali says through bared teeth. “Talk to me again when you know what it is.”
Ilva goes silent, not letting her optimism fade. If it is the Vexian kingdom, then they have finally made it. If it is not, at least she was not making it up: she did see something.
This something is in fact the tower where the Wraith Wan waits. It is also, despite being in view, hundreds of miles away. Being without food is affecting them both, as is being cooked by this sun, ploughing through this sand, without firewood, water, or any intimacy. Things are heating up between them in a whole new way.
~
Vali stumbles. She is so tired that she fails to catch herself. Falling flat-faced into the waving dunes while Ilva races to her side, Vali lets out a curse of deep-seated frustration.
“Are you okay?” Ilva squeaks.
“No! I am not okay, Ilva! Do I seem okay to you? Does anything about this damned situation seem okay? How can you be so optimistic? How?” Vali is shaking.
Ilva is afraid to respond. Burning with frustrations, manipulated by hunger and pain, she chooses a less cheerful response this time. “Better than the alternative. Would you rather I be full of doubt and pessimism like you?”
The words sear Vali like dragon fire. I don’t think I’m that. She is just a realist, considering the problems that need solving. “I want us to always be vigilant. There are a lot of risks in our situation. Do you disagree?”
“I do not,” Ilva answers.
“Then can we talk about them?”
“I would rather talk about solutions. Clearly, we are both already aware there are problems we need to solve.” Ilva feels the heat of her anger probing at her.
While this course is wise and their best chance, Vali is not happy that Ilva has to rationalize this for her. Of course I want to think of solutions! But how can we think of any solutions if we haven’t thoroughly discussed the issues we face? Ahhh! She just doesn’t understand! She keeps making me feel like the things bothering me should not bother me. Why do my feelings not matter? Maybe she just can’t handle the reality of our situation.
Ilva waits for a response, and while she picks at a piece of sand-encrusted dandruff, she notices she is not the only one picking at herself out here. Vali’s arms are bloody and scraped. She has scratched her skin so hard she has broken it. Over and over. Ilva is not much better. The sand is itchy, and for once she desperately wants a bath. There is dirt in places she does not want it, and there is so much dust in her hair that it is dry and brittle enough to break. She even has dirt in her teeth, which rubs against her molars and grinds under her bite. She is almost accustomed to the gritty sensation in her mouth.
Vali decides not to reply. Shutting herself down. No matter what she says, she will be seen as the complainer out of the two of them. She does not want to be that. She does not want to be the one bringing them down when Ilva is trying to bring them up. But she also does not want to ignore the trouble they are in. It is real—the danger—and she will not ignore it.
When Ilva realizes that they are back to being silent with each other, she decides to get back on track. Noting the position of their shadows, she faces their heading, which appears to be the black landmark on the horizon. She pokes Vali and says, “Let’s keep going then. No time to stop, right?”
The serious tone that edges Ilva’s voice actually brightens Vali’s mood. She is pleased Ilva is the one to push for a change. She is tired of being the pushy one.
Chapter 10
Zi flaps her wings furiously, zipping around amongst the treetops, staying close to the elf and the nymph as they speak.
“Meliae. Always a pleasure.” Livy welcomes them with a comforting tone.
“Likewise, my friends.” Meliae uses a voice that sounds like a rooting animal.
“I won’t pretend I don’t know what ya want. Ya want me to get involved in this mess don’t ya?”
Meliae knew Livy would understand.
Livy looks down at her hands, still covered in clay from trying to work magic the way her mother could.
“Let us be off. We have much to do.” Meliae swishes their long branchy arms upwards, giving off a signal, which the wind takes up and carries off toward the Vozrek mountains.
~
Deep in the caverns under Evevale, full of steam and a constant dripping, Uroborus’ bright eyes snap open. A breeze rolls over her. In seconds she shakes her wings open and her claws drag her out of the mouth of the chasm. She flaps hard off the ground, snaking over the tops of the trees in the Nilfin forest, then dropping down into the small space where the elf and the nymph are waiting for her. She slithers down the trunk of a tree, tongue flicking in and out, eyes knowing and determined, before lowering to the ground and allowing Livy to mount her.
Meliae uses a deep throaty call the dragon seems to understand.
The nymph of the Nilfin forest tells Zi she must return to Ixisle, for another new spirit is going to cross the threshold. Zi is the only ix with the ability to transport young spirits across the way. She cannot stay in this realm. It feels like Meliae is slightly scolding Zi for being present with Livy when she has other work to do. But they understand how fond Zi is of her few, secret elven friendships, and allows them a moment to say farewell.
Zi nuzzles Livy’s hair affectionately, and Livy smirks as her eyes glisten. Then Zi slips through a small triangular doorway—magically suspended in the air.
Livy wonders what it all could mean. She never paid much attention to the happenings of the world around her, but when the nymphs spoke to her she felt compelled to listen. Whether that was due to their nature to enchant, or her desire to be useful, she did not know.
In a flash, Livy finds herself soaring over the vast sea on the back of Uroborus. Manic Bolla serpents thrash in the water below. They writhe against the crashing waves, like giant scaly worms spasming across upturned soil. Livy cannot help but notice how much the serpents resembled Uroborus.
The large black dragon flies hard and fast, and soon the massive water creatures are gone from sight, far behind them.
~
Livy wonders if she and Uroborus are really going to make it all the way to Razrok, a continent far to the east. Without any land in sight, she huffs heavily; neither one of them has slept or eaten in days.
Finally, their destination looms right ahead. A thin dark blue line on the horizon, blending into the sea. The closer they get, the more obvious it becomes that they have indeed spotted land.
