“Sotet. Sotet, wake up,” Adahlia pats Sotet’s side as she lies on the ground next to him. When he doesn’t respond, Adahlia pats him a little harder and raises her voice slightly. “Sotet!”
Sotet sighs and stretches out both his wings—his face flat in the sand. The sigh is almost muffled. After a moment, he finally raises his head and glances around.
“What? I was playing dead. Can’t fool you, can I?” Sotet responds playfully. Rolling over onto his back, Sotet stares up into the blazing sunlight of the world's dual suns. “Paradise. I’m overjoyed. What more could a shrike want? Boiling sand, probably no water for miles, a torturous trek ahead, and it looks like the suns will be up for many more hours. Wonder how long our supplies will actually last in this little desert oasis we find ourselves in? Oh, the joy. I’ve got shrike pimples all over.”
Sotet sighs again and shuts both eyes tightly. He hides his face with one wing.
Adahlia sits up on the sand and crosses both legs. She takes in their surroundings, a concerned expression creeping onto her face.
“What’s a Fria bug?” Adahlia inquires.
Sotet opens his eyes and reclines his head. Adahlia repeats her question.
“A Fria bug? The guard at the Portal of Constants said that the transition between worlds would feel like a bunch of Fria bugs crawling inside and outside of your body. So what’s a Fria bug?”
Sotet grows very uncomfortable. He opens his beak once and then shuts it again. He shakes his head at Adahlia. Adahlia shoots him a stern look and places both hands on her hips. “What’s a Fria bug?”
“A Fria bug…” Sotet slowly begins, “…Is a parasite. Similar to an Earth flea. They were accidentally brought to Shretonia by an otherworlder long ago. An outbreak of Fria bugs killed hundreds of shrikes about forty world cycles ago. During the reign of Gytil and Jotk. Every shrike learns about it. Gytil and Jotk watched over Shretonia for almost eighty world cycles. It was the outbreak which led to a new Monoch being chosen. Jotk died of the disease spread by Fria bugs. The throne is meant to be shared. And every shrike mates for the entirety of our lives. When a mate dies, the community bands together to care for the grieving mate. Be they male or female. No shrike suffers alone. Jotk’s sudden death… And Gytil’s relinquishing of the throne…Is why we have the First Law. Gytil and Jotk were noble. They were fair. Shretonia was in chaos. And so the First Law was born: No otherworlder is to enter Shretonia save members of the Olotir alliance. There was no First Law before Jotk’s death. Otherworlders came and went without restriction. No shrike has ever dared break the First Law. None, save me. If not for the plague of Fria bugs…We wouldn’t even be having this discussion.”
This is not the answer Adahlia was expecting. She was hoping a Fria bug is the emerald-spotted bug she’d witnessed on the trees the other night. Sotet’s soliloquy is slightly disturbing. Even so, the idea of glowing ladybugs crawling under her skin isn’t much better.
“No shrike suffers alone?” Adahlia questions with a hint of disillusionment. “So what would you call this, Sotet?”
Sotet simply looks away—words failing him. Adahlia reaches over and touches Sotet’s wing. When he turns back to her, she smiles widely.
“But you’re not really alone, Sotet. I’m with you. I won’t abandon you. We’ll both see our families again. But we’re going to have to be strong…For each other. Like you told me last night. And it was true. You know a little about this place, right? You’ve heard the stories since you were my age…Or younger. You can do this. We can do this. We’re a team now. And we’ve got six world cycles to figure out how we get back.”
Sotet’s eyes moisten and he prepares to thank Adahlia for her support. He is halted in his effort by the loud flapping of wings. Adahlia and Sotet turn to look behind them. A large wyvern flaps excessively. Out of one wing juts a large spear. The wyvern flaps her useless wing in an effort to stay aloft. Finally the pain becomes too much and she spirals to the ground. She crashes noisily to the sand—a loud crunch accompanying the impact. Adahlia glances at Sotet and they both climb quickly to their feet.
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“I guess we’re really not alone,” Sotet utters with a puzzled smirk.
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Zorobo storms into a large room. Weapons, potions, and other artifacts cover almost every inch of the walls, tables, and cabinet shelves. Even the floor is not spared. Zorobo crosses to an old trunk. Placing his wingtips in position above an oblong sensor on the trunk, Zorobo activates the automated locking mechanism. The trunk springs open.
Zorobo groans loudly at the sound of scraping talons. Someone is coming to request an audience with him, and he is not in the mood. Zorobo turns just as his assistants enter the room. He stands in such a way that his body is partially obscuring the trunk.
“Security Master Zorobo…An order from the Monoch,” the first assistant says through ragged breaths. He hands Zorobo a rolled up scroll. Zorobo nods and takes the scroll. After taking a moment to read the message within, Zorobo reaches into his bandolier and removes a vial containing a blue liquid. He closes the trunk before crossing to a table on the other side of the room. Placing the scroll inside of a bowl on the table, he adds a couple drops of the blue liquid. The scroll goes up in flames and crumbles to nothing. Zorobo returns his attention to his two assistants. A cruel smile parts his beak and his eyes narrow with violent energy.
“We have work to do,” Zorobo says cryptically.
_
_
Adahlia and Sotet are racing so quickly in the direction of the downed wyvern that they kick up clouds of sand and dust behind them. As they draw closer, the dragon panics and tries to stand. A new wave of excruciating pain drops her back down onto the sand. She roars in warning and pulls back her head. A gout of flames erupts from deep within her throat. Adahlia and Sotet dive to the ground just in time. The flames pass so closely over Sotet’s left shoulder that he trills in agonized surprise. Adahlia attempts to touch his wing reassuringly, but Sotet draws away. His attention is on the wyvern on the ground not far away.
“This doesn’t make any sense. What is a lix doing here? The Wandering Sands is an barren world. Only those who are found in violation of the Olotir Alliance are ever sent here. The Lix home world left the Olotir alliance almost thirty world cycles ago. They disagreed with some of the statutes of the most recent treaty. So who is she? Why is she here?” Sotet wonders aloud.
“She? How do you know it’s a she?” Adahlia questions.
“The coloring. And size. Female lix are much larger than their counterparts,” Sotet replies.
“And why do you keep calling her a lix? That’s a wyvern,” Adahlia states matter-of-factly.
Sotet tilts his head in mock disappointment. “That’s a human word. I’m not human. On Shretonia, a wyvern…Is called a lix. Their world is called Lixuwon. So, they are lix.”
Across the sand, the wyvern—lix—growls a second time. No flame follows. Only a biting sarcasm. “Oh, shut up already! I’ve got a spear through my wing, and you’re debating what you should call me? Keep going on like that and I’ll burn you both to a crisp. I might anyway. Just to make myself feel a little better. Ouch! Ouch! Ouuch!”
Stepping a lot closer, Adahlia appraises the injured dragon's wing. She shakes her head resolutely. "We can't move her. Not yet. We've got to remove that spear and clean the wound. Some of the water packets in our supplies. We can use those.."
Sotet politely but sternly cuts Adahlia off. "Wait a minute. We're going to need those supplies. We have no idea whether there is even any water nearby to replenish our stores. We can't use them unwisely."
The dragon moans softly. "Oh please. Don't tell me you bought into all that...'The Wandering Sands is a barren world' nonsense? The leaders of the Olotir Alliance have been spreading that rumor for longer than I've been alive. It's simply not true. I should know. I've been living in this world for twenty-one life lines now. Sure, there's a heck of a lot of desert. But there's lush greenery too. I was shot taking a bath in a hot spring not far from here. Well, farther than you'd think an injured old lix like me could fly. But can you imagine what an old lix is capable of when their life is on the line? There's water here. You simply have to know where to look. And I do. So, now...You gonna help fix me up? I mean, if I show you to all the really great watering holes?"
Sotet eyes the dragon suspiciously. The lix simply draws her lips up into a pained smile. Sotet is not reassured. He can almost imagine her opening that same mouth to swallow him whole.
"We'll help you. But first, we need to get out of this sun. We're going to have to build some sort of lean-to. Adahlia, lets see what we have in the supplies that will be useful."