They walked all day through the wet sands, only stopping for a quick break to eat what was left of yesterday's gathering. The ground shifted underneath Mel’s feet and her legs ached from walking. Hanon trudged on beside her, quiet as usual, and Mel didn’t understand how he was still going when the sun set on the horizon.
His body had been beaten and his face still looked like one giant bruise, but still he kept on walking. Perhaps for fear of what was hunting them or perhaps for hope of what was waiting for him in Krazaa.
Her mind traveled between exhaustion and thoughts about Austin. Had she been too harsh on him when they’d said goodbye? Or had she just done what was necessary?
A part of her felt like what she’d done was inevitable. They were always bound to break up. Nothing in this world lasted, not even the good things. Her mother had taught her since early childhood that who she was wasn’t enough, it never was. She needed to be special, to be a chosen one to deserve love. And Austin didn’t know what was happening in her mind when the night grew dark. When the worm slithered inside her skull and she lost control. No one did.
She was right in that he didn’t know her. She hadn’t told him about these things and she doubted he would be so quick to call what was between them for love when he found out. She needed to fix herself, to go to Krazaa and find out the truth. About her past and the dragons, but also about her future and the darkness that covered her vision sometimes. She needed to know if she was beyond saving. If she would turn into one of those shadows any day now.
Somehow, it felt like what had happened between her and Marcus all over again. He’d wanted her to be someone she wasn’t and when she refused. When she told him she couldn’t be that, he’d accepted it. But then they’d drifted apart anyway and Mel had left him in Aldrion to fend for himself. A knot tightened in her stomach at the thought of Marcus and how angry he must be with her. How much she must have hurt him by just leaving without a word.
A hand came up to rest on her shoulder, and Mel stiffened.
“We should rest for the night here,” Luthel said, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s better to hide during the night than to wander around, making noises when the shadows come out to play.”
A shiver went down Mel’s spine, but she nodded at Luthel and brought her backpack to the ground. It was a heavy weight that lifted from her shoulders, but Mel still felt pulled down by the pressures of this world. She wanted to be someone else now. Why couldn’t she be Minnie instead? Getting to stay in Windbrook with her nice family and eat apples every day.
A smile tugged at the corners of her tired face at the memory of her former best friend. It had been a while since she’d thought about Minnie at all. The pang of sadness that usually accompanied Mel when she thought about home wasn’t there anymore. It was like time had smoothed out her edges and the thought of going back to Windbrook felt safe now.
Even the dragon cult and her mother didn’t seem so bad in the harsh wasteland. She missed sitting at the table listening to her parents bickering and smelling the sweet sticky scent of an apple pie baking in the oven.
Mel brought up the tent close to a small rock formation, sheltering them from the wind. Luthel gave her a helping hand while Hanon sat down on one of the stones, looking out over the expanse. They got the camp set up in no time, since there was no fire to be lit or cozy logs to be spread out for seating. Only the bare minimum to not draw any more attention to them than necessary.
The three of them hid inside the tent, seated a small distance from each other. They were shrouded in darkness, everything was, and now they only had the waiting part left of the day. They needed to wait for their minds to grow tired, as their bodies already had. They needed to wait for the sun to loop around the earth and come back to them once more.
Mel’s hands rested in her lap, creating a tight knot as she wrung her fingers back and forth. Her body didn’t want to relax, her shoulder still stiff around her ears.
As if Luthel could feel her tension, he spoke in a soft voice. “We have other stories than those about the dragons. Stories of our own, of the brave people that live in the wasteland. Not everything can be seen through the lens of evil. Some things and some stories are only cautionary tales for common problems.”
Mel tuned into his words and felt ease settling into her body. She remembered a time when she’d been a kid and Andrew only a baby. Home in Windbrook, her father had told them stories when Melissa had trouble sleeping. Stories about great destinies and the people of the dragon cult. They often involved someone being chosen and fulfilling their destiny through heroic actions.
Mel had used to envy those people, the ones who’d gotten out of Windbrook on an adventure. She’d used to think that one day it would be her, when her destiny was revealed.
Now she could only wince at the memory. Here in her own adventure, in the darkness of the night, with two travel companions and a world full of wet sand, she didn’t dream of adventures any longer. She dreamt of insignificance.
Luthel dragged in a deep breath, Mel could feel it in the closeness of their confine. “There are some stories from that time still alive among those who wander. It is the stories that tell the tale of common people. No magical beings, no shadows or dragons, but before all that. Before we became greedy and traveled into the valley.”
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“It was a time of peace and prosperity, some say. Others say it was the time of tiny squabbles among the great cities. A small war there or a big battle here. Nothing to be accomplished by it. Only another piece of land to be gained or lost. During these times, Krazaa stood large in the distance. The greatest of all the cities, with its high walls and giant golden gates. It was the city no one dared to fight against and the city where they all came to settle their differences.”
“It was where the king hid and where he wielded his scepter with god-like determination. The story begins there, with a young man called Diramon. He was but a lowly soldier, a guard at the king's side on his good days and on others, someone who guarded the doors into the plaza. He was a quiet man, just like most guards, and hid behind his uniform on almost all occasions. Except for one, when he walked during his days off down to the market and into the pub to drink his troubles away.”
“One night a few drinks in, a man approached him for a game. It was usual among the patrons to practice gambling, but this man didn’t propose any game that Diramon had ever heard of before. He proposed a game of dare.”
“Diramon accepted, not one to decline a good time. But as the dares grew bolder during the night, Diramon suspected he might have gotten himself into trouble. On one dare, he showed his bottom to the bartender and almost got himself thrown out. Only when the man he was playing with explained to the barkeep what they were doing did he let him stay. Diramon wanted revenge now and said to the other player that the next dare would be for him to secure a kiss from the already angered, burly man who kept the bar.”
“To Diramon’s surprise, the man got a kiss on his cheek and when he returned to their table, Diramon swallowed his entire beer in anticipation of his retaliation. But the man only said, ‘I dare you to go to Bahlan and back escorting a merchant friend of mine.’”
“So, the next day Diramon did. He went with the merchant, a strange looking fellow with long gray hair and tattered clothing, out of the city and onto the road. Back then, the wasteland was different, no waste at all, in fact. There were said to have been trees here, bushes bearing berries and green grass as far as the eye could see. Diramon loved the trip to Bahlan, but the troubles came when they got back to the gates of Krazaa.”
“For Diramon had never been outside the city before and found he had no idea how to get inside. He looked up at the big golden gates with awestruck frustration and asked the merchant, ‘How did you get in last time?’ The merchant shrugged and pointed up at an eye carved into the top of the two heavy doors of the gate. ‘The eye will let us in.’”
“Diramon didn’t know what the merchant meant, but no matter how much he yelled, banged and cried at the gate, the doors didn’t budge. Diramon spent days camped outside with the merchant, not knowing if he would ever get back inside the great city. How could Krazaa be built this way, with no means of getting inside? He didn’t understand. He kept wishing and thinking that soon there would come another merchant traveling along the road up to the gates, helping them inside. But no one ever came. The road was empty all night and day.”
“At last on the twelfth day, the doors creaked, and the gates swung open, welcoming Diramon and the merchant inside. The merchant's only comment to the event was, ‘I told you, the eye will let us in.’ Something Diramon never understood. But after that trip he vowed to never set his foot outside the gates of Krazaa and to never play a game of dare with one smarter than himself.”
It was quiet in the tent after Luthel had stopped speaking and outside only the howling wind could be heard. Mel didn’t know what to think about this tale. Somehow, she didn’t like it as much as the others. Perhaps because it gave her no answers at all. It only seemed contradicting, and it frustrated Mel.
“How did Diramon get inside, then? Who opened the gate?” Mel asked.
Luthel and Hanon gave out a low and simultaneous chuckle. Like she was cute for asking these questions. Something that only made Mel’s frustration grow.
“What?” Mel said.
“Nothing,” Luthel said. “It’s only that every kid who’s ever heard this tale has asked the exact same question. It is just one of those things. I think I asked my father why Diramon was stupid, too.”
It was quiet for a beat. It was clear they expected Mel to laugh or something. But after the terrible day she’d had, or more like the terrible month she’d had, she wasn’t in the mood for tales without meaning.
“There is no answer,” Hanon said. “Or maybe there are a lot of answers, only we don’t know them. Who let Diramon in is a question still debated to this day among our people. Was someone watching him through the eye and deeming him ready to come inside? We don’t know. I’ve wondered about the story for many years, but there are no answers to be found, only speculations.”
“Couldn’t the eye be a person itself?” Mel asked. “Like the void or the dragons, an entity. Like the merchant implied.”
“It’s not possible,” Luthel said. “During those times, there was no magic here in the wasteland. The dragons, shadows and even the void came from the valley. It was when the people of the wastes became greedy and traveled over the mountain pass into the valley that their troubles truly began. Before that, we were just normal people. Before that, no one had destinies or stars that meant anything.”
Mel felt the tension returning. Like the tent had been opened and a cold wind had blown in between the three of them. It was the dragons and people like her with destinies that they truly hated. Her people had brought the darkness here. They had killed their great cities.
Mel didn’t know anything about these stories or about the history before the valley, really. Not more than that, the wastes had once been flourishing before the void came here and plagued the land. Mel understood why they hated her, why they hated the valley and Aldrion. They blamed them for all of this, for the entire war.
“How do you know that is true? Hanon has magic inside of him, right? And he is from the wastes. Couldn’t magic and the void been here all along?”
“Hanon has been tainted by the energies, things that weren’t here to begin with. But now only live here and with the people of the wastes. It’s hard to explain to someone like you. But some things are just known. If there is a way to cleanse Hanon’s stars, it is in Krazaa. It has to be.”
Mel swallowed back the fear that bloomed in her stomach. She seemed to have hit a nerve with Luthel and she didn’t want to lose her companions. She needed to keep her tongue in check if she didn’t want to be left alone out here. She didn't know enough about these things and maybe Luthel and Hanon were right, maybe the void had come from the valley. It wasn’t like the dragon cult only preached good things.