The sand felt warm in her hards, even if the sun hadn’t risen yet; a herald to the heat that Asharan, the Sun God brought with him. She let the sand pour out of her hand, and the soft breeze blew it away.
“The time has come, Niya”, the frail voice of master Oshowa was intent enough to pull her out of her thoughts.
Niya touched the golden ring around her neck, where the name of her son, Ahewa, was carved. Once, she had hoped that it would bring her son good luck. Although she didn’t dare tell anyone, she had come to question whether the Aruelli, the golden ring everyone wore, could truly protect against the evil influence of the Sun God. It hadn’t protected him.
“Yes master”, she replied and bowed her head to the old man.
If not for his hard teachings and wise words, master Oshowa could easily be mistaken for a simple, frail old man. If the amulet of Idira’s Star hanging from his Aruelli wasn’t a clear sign by itself. He caught her eyes lingering on his neck, and he smiled at her, a warm gesture she always found made her uneasy. He could always see through her. Were others saw grief, he saw intent and a fool’s plan.
Yet, as always, he asked no questions but continued the ritual as is tradition when a trainee undergoes their last trial, and their chance to earn their own Star and become a full-fledged Asulo. This was a festive event, and usually many people accompanied the trainee to the beginning of the trial. Niya herself remembered when her son had taken his own path into the desert to become an Asulo. He had returned with a twisted ankle but at the same time with a wide smile as he held his own Star amulet.
Now, Niya stood alone, save for master Oshowa, who leaned on his staff and gazed towards the sunrise.
“Asharan, the Sun God, will soon rise. Be careful, young one, for his influence is stronger in the deep of the desert”.
He always called her young even if she had seen nearly forty years. She remembered how she used to cuddle Ahewa nearly half her life ago, during the start of the year, when the Sun God leaves the sky to contain Idira, the Great Mother and creator, in her prison, and the world falls into darkness for a day or two. The thought tasted bitter now.
Thankfully, master Oshowa wasn’t looking in her direction and he continued his speech.
“The last trial to become an Asulo is the hardest, but also the one with the greatest reward; an amulet of Idira’s Star, the last token left by our Great Mother before the tyrant, Asharan, imprisoned her. But remember, this is a gift not taken lightly. You can turn back now and you will keep your pride and honor. But once you take one of Idira’s Stars, you are bound to it. Only in death can you abandon it, and its end also means yours”.
The last sentence stung, but she was used to it by now. She knelt before master Oshowa and lowered her head. He put a bony hand on her Aruelli and tapped where Niya had carved her son’s name.
“Make him proud”, he said and pulled her to her feet.
She tried to hide the tears from him but failed. It was the first time in years that someone had referred to her son. Master Oshowa, unmoved as always, nodded towards the sunrise.
“Go”, he simply said and pushed her.
It was an expertly executed technique, not a simple shove. Niya felt the world turn and shuffle as she twisted and rolled on the sandy hill, sand getting into her eyes and her mouth. She put all the training into use and righted herself, taking control of the slide. Master Oshowa was growing distant and shorter, yet he waited there as he would until the next sunrise; Niya would either return with her own Star or not return at all.
She had been informed before hand, as she presumed all trainees had in their time, that a handful of the Asulo waited in the desert and guarded the free Stars. She would not only have to find one of them in the vast desert, but also pass a test imposed by them in order to be allowed to take the Star.
Or best the guardian in single combat.
She wondered how any trainee could do this, when the only equipment they were allowed to carry was a carving knife, an empty bowl, and a flint stone.
The sandhill finally ended and she rolled to her feet, taking all her nimbleness to remain on her feet. The first rays of the Sun God had already started washing the vast desert, and she cringed as they fell on her skin, the heat making her shiver with disgust. I need to find some bloodroot… she reminded herself. Without the bloodroot, she wouldn’t be able to survive the day walking in the blistering heat and Asharan’s influence.
The sand was beginning to warm ever so slightly, even if the sun was still low on the horizon, Asharan’s fiery light coloring the sky a deep orange. As the time passed, the desert would reach such an intense heat that the soles of her feet would blister and burn, the grains of sand touching her calves would feel like burning coals. The Sargal Desert was said to be where Asharan’s tyranny started, and how the rest of the world would end if her people let the Sun God take over the world.
Most Asulo came into the brotherhood because of that, to fend off Asharan’s influence and protect the world from the Sun God. But not her. She was not a teenage apprentice who wanted to explore the world and prove themselves. She had seen her share of it, and found it lacking and greedy. The world took away happiness, wealth, people.
She fell to all fours and began to carve the earth with her knife. The bloodroot was a small plant, just a short, thick, red stem jutting out of the sand without any petals, ending on a round bud like an eye and surrounded by long, crimson roots. It remained under the surface of the desert during the night when the temperature was low and only poked out of the sand when the sun was high in the sky, attracted by his influence. By then, even if she could spot the bloodroot stems from a stone’s throw distance, she would have already fallen under Asharan’s influence.
She might not have been the best student when it came to combat, and the Asulo trained to be excellent fighters, but she was very keen and sharp of mind, remembering every little detail on the subject of bloodroot extracts and the side-effects of the potion. Part of the training to become an Asulo was to grow accustomed to the side-effects and the potency of the bloodroot.
By the time she managed to find two bloodroots, one huddled under the shade of a rock and the other under the sand in plain sight, Asharan had rose and shone brightly. She could already feel the need for water, but knew that making the extract was more important.
She cut down a small, spiked bush to make a campfire and carved a weeping cactus for its juices. She only allowed herself to drink one gulp from the juices she had gathered in her empty bowl.
The bloodroot extract was surprisingly easy to make, given how dangerous it was to improper use. Smoking it was the most common; her late husband was one of the people who always had a pouch of dry bloodroot with them and she also partook from time to time. But drinking it like she was about to do when the cactus juices boiled, that was dangerous to the uninitiated. She remembered how she worried when Ahewa, her son, told her that the Asulo trainees took bloodroot extracts before each practice and teaching, to better train their bodies to withstand the narcotic. When her time came for her own training to become an Asulo, there wasn’t much left to worry about.
The bowl was boiling hot as she took it out of the fire and brought the bubbling juices to her lips. The bloodroot extract was bitter and pungent at first, and the heat burned her tongue and gums. She pushed the elixir down, even if the water was hot enough to feel cold, and if not for her training, she wouldn’t be able to force herself to swallow it.
One gulp was enough to drift a man into a drunken stupor. Two gulps knocked a man out and not even a hard slap could wake them before the influence of the elixir have passed. Three gulps meant death.
The effects of the elixir took some time to appear, and she started counting to two hundred to give time to her body to get used to the drug’s influence. The first sign of the bloodroot elixir taking effect was the change of colors around her. The sky seemed to darken into a deep purple and the sun took on a red hue, like the Sun God was painted in blood. It was said that Asharan turned red from fury, for the bloodroot brought the people closer to understanding the secrets of the world and escaping his power.
She reached her count of two hundred and brought the bowl of the elixir to her lips again. The second gulp was still hot but not enough to hurt. As soon as she lowered the bowl again, the started to count to a hundred.
She let her gaze travel the now blood red desert, over the crimson dunes and the purple sky. She was sure she could hear a low whisper in the soft breeze now. The second gulp was taking effect quicker than she expected. The fire next to her, were the bowl with the remaining bloodroot elixir rested seemed to yawn and murmur something; she only had to lean close to hear the secret the flames whispered.
This was where the doses of bloodroot stopped during the training, and even these two were most than what most people took. The first time she dared to try two gulps of bloodroot, she had spent the next days in bed, the headaches and dizziness worse than any she had previously experienced. Yet with enough training, she had learned to withstand such high doses and even learned to function properly and fight while under the influence of the drug. An Asulo was expected to survive even more.
When she counted to a hundred, she brought the elixir to her lips for the third and final dose. This was the one that would keep away the influence of the Sun God. And the most dangerous of all, even with her training.
The elixir was boiling, yet it felt only slightly warm. She let the bowl fall from her hand, spilling the content on the sand, shaking her head and resting her face in her hands to fight off the rising dizziness.
The distinct change on her body took her by surprise, even if she had seen other Asulo as the height of their bloodroot doses. Especially on elven Asulo, whose skin was usually lighter than humans, their veins glowed with a crimson color, covering their whole body and even their face. Her darker skin turned the glow into a deem, beautiful mahogany.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Mother to none, why do you come here?”
She jumped to her feet at the sound of the voice, brandishing her knife around, ready to pounce. The drug had made her feel young again, the ache on her nape had vanished as the bloodroot took effect.
Or maybe it was the fear of the unknown voice.
Yet she could see no one in the dunes around her. She heard the fire whisper a plea for help and she knelt close to the campfire to hear the muffled words. The flames licked at her braided hair and burned at the tips of her fingers as she leaned so close to the fire that she touched the cindering twigs.
The fire danced in front of her, signaling danger, and slowly, like a child learning to speak for the first time, she started to understand the voice of the flames.
“Why do you walk the lands of fire, mother to none?”
“Why do the flames speak?” she murmured.
She had heard strange sounds before during her training, and she knew that the mind needed as much training as the body to withstand the bloodroot elixir. But talking flames, that was a new one. Indeed, the fire danced again and its hissing voice continued.
“Everything speaks, mother to none, but you don’t listen. Everything has a voice, for better or for worse”.
“Can you help me? I am looking for something. Have you seen other people like me in the desert? People waiting for something”.
The fire shivered in the breeze, cowering under the wind. The voice seemed to shiver as well, as if weak and frightened.
“You walk the path of death, mother to none. I have no help to give you. You walk alone”.
With a sudden gust of wind, the flames were snuffed out, leaving behind the weak cinders and the smoke dancing on the burnt twigs. She let out a sigh and gathered her things, choosing a direction at random and starting to walk.
Now that the bloodroot had taken effect, the heat of the desert, the influence of the Sun God himself, seemed to be a distant thought, the sand didn’t burn her feet as it should now that the sun was high in the sky.
A bird flew high in the sky, no more than a distant shadow in the purple horizon. It let out a shrill cry.
“Niya!” the bird called and she looked up, noticing it was an eagle.
Long ago, when Asharan imprisoned Idira the Great Mother, the eagle was the creature that flew high in the sky and cried the loss of Idira and the reign of the tyrant. Now, it called her name.
“Niya!” the eagle cried again, “You walk towards the tyrant, mother to none”.
“Cursed be the Sun God!” she shouted back.
The bird circled around her and let out another shrill.
“Cursed be the name of all who fall to Asharan’s feet. Cursed be those who fell, and cursed be those that will”.
She felt the words of the eagle bite deep, but she steeled herself, as she did all these years after Ahewa… No! She blocked the thoughts with the strength only a mother could find.
“Go away, eagle! Go and scream your wrath for Asharan to someone else!”
And with that the bird gathered its wings close and dove towards the ground, disappearing behind the crimson dunes in the distance. Amongst them, she could spot the tall shadows of ruins of old. The Sargal desert was full of them, and they served as sought-out shelter against the influence of the Sun God. As luck would have it, the ones Niya spotted proved to be empty of unwanted guests. Some were homes to beasts, others hide bandits and outlaws.
But this tower, broken in the middle and its upper half resting half submerged on its side in the sand, was empty save for the same eagle that perched in one of the highest windows on the still standing part, its gaze fixed on Niya as she approached the ruins. She wondered if the bird found her countenance strange, a human with glowing veins walking towards its nest.
Yet the bird didn’t seem to care.
“Niya!” it cried yet again, “Asharan has seen you and is coming for you”.
“I don’t care for the Sun God, bird”.
“But he does care for you. He has taken great interest in your family, has he not? I see much from this high up in the sky. I see the tyrant tempting your people, and I see your people falling to his influence. Is this not why you are here, mother to no one”.
“Leave me be”, she murmured and shooed away the eagle.
It ruffled its feathers and took to the skies, flying towards the east, away from the sun. Niya climbed the tower and sat on the same window the bird was, letting let her feet dangle over the edge. Above her, the remaining ceiling hid her from Asharan.
She stayed there until the sun was traveling towards the west. Even with the bloodroot extract in her body, protecting her from the heat, the midday sun was a rival she didn’t want to risk facing. She was sure that other contestants dared continue without as much as a short rest, but the resilience of youth wasn’t a privilege she still enjoyed, and she could already feel the ache in her nape return as the bloodroot extract weakened.
Before she continued her journey, she searched and readied another bowl of bloodroot, which she sipped with care. It was easy to find some stems; now that the sun was high and the heat was overwhelming, the bloodroots rose above the sand to gaze at the sun. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she took more, the lessons under master Oshowa never said anything about taking more than three gulps. Most trainees started their lessons from a very young age and trained their body to be under the effects of the bloodroot for extended periods of time. Some, as her own Ahewa did, didn’t ever truly lose the red glow in their veins, as the extract never truly parted from their body.
She could still hear the enthusiasm in her son’s voice when he returned one day from training, gazing at his glowing veins with awe. He was so…
NO! She screams in her head and, as always, she pushes the memory back. Keep focused… remain composed. Worrying that gazing at the violet sky might bring back memories of her son, she stood up and walked back inside the ruined tower.
But she was no longer in it. Around her was the familiar living room of her home, back before that place was a ruin of its own. She could smell the pungent aroma of a saffron thorn, the essence burning near the window. Her eyes welled up with tears but she fought them back, straining herself to control her panicked breathing. Control yourself. Remain composed…
A quyata leaned against the wall next to the hearth, the weapon probably belonging to Ahewa. She felt drawn to the double ended polearm, and she took it in her hands with revelry. It was almost as tall as her, with one end armed with a pointed metal hook, the other extending to a wide, single-edged blade. Two metal rings hung from the unsharpened side of the blade; she remembered her son revealing one time that one ring was for her, the other for his father.
A sigh slipped from her lips, the breath strangely visible as it caressed the blade she held in front of her. Like watching time accelerating, she saw the blade and her husband’s ring on it begin to fill with rust and grime.
“Mother to none”, an imposing voice vibrated around her, shaking the room with each syllable, “You carry death with you, and you bring it in my domain”.
She turned, the weapon falling to the ground but it made no sound. Instead of hitting the sandbrick floor of her house, it fell to the sand of the desert which now somehow stretched around her as far as her eyes could see. The sky seemed to pulse as fast as her heart, the purple color deepening and darkening to a deep magenta before lighting again to purple and pink.
A man was standing next on the top of the nearest dune, hands behind his straight back and face bright and intent. He had the same light skin color that elves in the desert had, but his ears were round like hers. Yet his eyes, they shone with a fiery light akin to…
“Tyrant!” she screamed and threw herself to the man, “Murderer and tyrant!”
The man easily side-stepped her, his hands never leaving his back as he avoided her fist. Niya stumbled and rolled down the dune. She came to a stop on something hard, and she gasped from the pain and shock, tasting blood as she bit her lip. She saw stone below her hands, most of it covered with blown away sand but still visible nonetheless. Around her, ruins of old rose as tall as the tallest building she had ever seen; a forest of stone taking the place of the desert she was just a moment before.
“You are really interesting, for a mortal”, the same male voice sounded, and the man appeared behind a lone marble pillar, “I see you roam my lands. But where others look for strength you pray for death. Why is that? There are easier places to find it”.
“You took him from me…” she groaned as she forced herself to stand, “I lost him…”
The man looked at her with a curious look, as if she was speaking a language he couldn’t understand.
“I don’t take anyone, mother to none. They come to me, drawn by my power and brightness. My way to escape this torturous life into bliss and servitude”, the man with the burning eyes said and walked towards her, “I always wonder, why do you people burn them? The ones that see the truth that I offer? Is it because you are scared they might come back and tell you that all your civilization is wrong to deny me? Or is it because you can’t stand to see them in peace when you still have to remain here and suffer?”
“Go away…” she growled, stepping back, searching for something, anything in this dead city of ruins.
“Why don’t you come with me, mother to none. You could see him again if you wanted. You could become mother to Ahewa again if you wanted. No more denying your son’s existence, no more suffering those lingering eyes from the rest of the people when you passed by. No more being alone, Niya”.
He was now only a step away, extending a hand in her direction. She could feel the heat pulsing from him, suffocating her and making her skin itch. For the first time, she truly realized she was face to face with the Sun God. Her knees buckled under the pressure and she fell down, scraping them on the rough stone.
“Yes”, Asharan hummed, “Your son awaits you, Niya. Bow to me and let the heat take you”.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the Sun God’s imposing voice. Control yourself, Niya. Remain composed! She clenched her hands and she was surprised to find them grasping her son’s quyata.
“Go away!” she shouted and lunged.
The Sun God looked at her wide eyed, his heat now singeing her hands as she held the weapon firmly. The blade was almost a hand in Asharan’s chest and the metal was starting to turn orange from the heat.
Asharan gazed down at the weapon for a moment, more confused and impressed than pained, and he looked at her again, his smile gone and his eyes intent as always. He only let out a disappointed sigh, but it was enough. The heat around him rose in an instant, and Niya cried in pain as she jumped back, turning her back to him to cover her face.
The heat disappeared as fast as it appeared and she opened her eyes, turning quickly to find the man holding the weapon in his hands, another one somehow in her own. The day was coming to an end now, the violet sky giving way to darkness towards the east. It took her a moment to realize the man now standing in front of her, holding the quyata raised to the side with one hand, was not Asharan. He also didn’t have a pierced chest, but a slight cut on his left shoulder.
As soon as she noticed he was someone else, the man lowered his double-sided weapon and extended an open palm towards her. Reluctantly, she approached him, he own weapon, a dagger not a quyata, still in hand. Now she could get a better look at him, she could see the same mahogany light coursing through his veins, and a silver eight-sided star hanging from his Aruelli around his neck.
“You have passed your test, Niya”, the Asulo man said, “You have battled both in mind and body”.
She quickly remembered her training and fell to one knee, raising her hand to take the Idira’s Star the man was offering her, keeping the blade of her weapon close to her wrist as was custom.
“Once you take Idira’s Star, you are bonded to it. Lose it and you are the Sun God’s. Find it again and you are forgiven. Die without it and you are cursed until a star is brought to you”, the man said with a deep voice, “Do you accept this gift and burden?”
“I do”.
It was early in the morning when she found the courage to walk to the small unmarked grave on the edge of the village. For two days she played with the Idira’s Star on her neck, ignoring the people congratulating her for becoming an Asulo. The same eyes that before her trial avoided her now prayed for her wellbeing.
She had only spoken to master Oshowa, and the old man seemed for the first time sad. Yet, as always, he said nothing to dissuade her.
She stood there for a nervous moment, finally letting the tears she held back these past two years flow freely on her cheeks. The Star unbuckled surprisingly easy from her Aurelli, now dancing in the air as she held it in front of her.
“Ahewa, by son”, she had years to speak of his name, and she felt her voice crack from the emotion, “your curse is lifted. I give you my star, so you may escape Asharan’s influence”.
She let the star fall on the grave and, with tears of joy running down her face, she carved her son’s name on the tombstone. No more cursed, no more brandished an outcast that not even his own mother was allowed to mourn.
She stood up and turned her back to the village, walking towards the east.