Day Three Continued

Thepa scanned the room, weighing her options. None looked promising. Fifteen Galaks, male and female, surrounded her. Even if she could somehow break through their armored ranks, she had no clear path out—and she wasn't about to leave Fokin to suffer Zuna's fate. He might not belong to the Sisterhood, but fate had tied them together. She wasn't about to let him die. As long as she had breathe, she would do everything she could to protect him.

Just as the thought crossed Thepa mind, the image of an ancestral pyre from her vision flared up, its embers flickering like silent warnings. The ancestors were displeased, as if reminding her that her diversion into the desert pulled her further from her true calling. Despite her predicament, her mind began to drift towards her fate. Fokin had told her Chandeidra sent him to find her, but now she began to wonder if the ancestors had chosen Fokin for her as much as Chandeidra her for Fokin.

Resigning herself to both her fates, Thepa let her arms fall and straightened her stance. If she was going to die, it would be as the Matriarch, not as a prisoner in some foreign land. Locking eyes with the male Galak who held Fokin, she summoned the same unwavering confidence her mother had displayed when addressing the Sisterhood, the leaders of nations, even the archduke of Goldale.

"I acted for my people. I imagine you would do the same," she declared.

At first, the Galak leader regarded her with disdain, his eyes searching hers as if seeking a truth she might hide. She met his stare, unyielding. If they weren't afraid of her before bringing her in to the their dwelling, they certainly would have been now after her ascent from the dungeon. It wasn't until the young female Galak shifted beside him that his gaze softened slightly.

"The burden of leadership," he murmured, glancing back at her. "You see, Realmwalker, I have a problem—a problem caused by your kind. Normally, I'd kill you outright, but believe it or not, I think you might actually the solution to it."

"What makes you so sure I can do what you want me to do..." Thepa paused the sentence and gestured for a name.

"Exarch," he replied.

"You may call me Sister."

The Exarch folded his arms. "I'll call you what I please, Realmwalker."

"I am not—" she started, but the Exarch's rage erupted as he threw Fokin roughly to the ground.

"Don't lie to me, Realmwalker!" he bellowed. Thepa's anger surged, her heart twisting at the sight of Fokin in pain. She stepped forward, but the surrounding Galaks tightened their circle, the tips of their spears pressing against her throat.

"The Remembrant are the keepers of the realms. Their multiple stenches linger on you like a fly on a dead carcass. Some by your own power and some...," the Exarch sniffed at the air twice as if to confirm his suspicions. "...by someone else."

Thepa suddenly found she had a strong desire to grab Rory's pendent, but resisted. If that was what the Exarch was talking about, she couldn't risk him discovering its source.

"Let's say, I know what you're talking about," Thepa countered. "I'm still not sure how I can help you."

The Exarch reached into a leather-worn bag that dangled at his side in pulled out a vial of orange liquid Thepa did not recognize. "For centuries my people have been plagued by an ancient beast that roams the desert. It was with the power of the ionic crystal, we were able to put up a protection to stop its attack, that is until your ilk destroyed it half a completion ago. The female Youngling of the Stars came and went before my people even got a chance to greet her, but before we realized what was happening, the beast once more began to feast on our flesh."

Rory? Thepa thought, but kept silent.

"Yesterday, we watched you kill one of the creatures. Destroy its mate, and I will let you go—and give you this."

Thepa eyed the vial warily. "What's that supposed to do?"

"It's a magical anti-venom. But with the crystal gone, you'll need to reach the sea to use it."

"Who is this for—" she began, but her question was cut short as the Exarch withdrew a concealed dagger and drove it into Fokin's shoulder. Thepa's fury boiled over, and she took a step forward, but again the tips of the Galak's spears prodded her back.

"All right!" she shouted. "I'll do it. Just give me my weapons and point me in the direction."

The Exarch's wicked grin spread. He barked an order, and the guards pushed her toward a third door, leading her down a dim passage. From there, she came up to a small clearing in the cave where she found herself in front of a wooden platform attached to a crankshaft.

"Your weapons will be waiting topside," a soft voice said. Thepa turned and saw the young female Galak. Her compassionate brown eyes met Thepa's, and she offered a quiet, "Good luck. Our people are counting on you."

As two Galaks turned the crankshaft, she stared hard at the female. After what just happened Thepa wasn't sure the female's well-wishes of luck weren't condolences. Still, it was a small comfort and it gave her hope that if she made it through a second battle with a wyrm, the Exarch might keep his promise.

As the platform made its way up, Thepa could feel the heat rising. The sun's light broke through the top of the shaft and the faster she made her way to the surface, the more uneasy she felt. The last time she had faced the creature she had Roan and Fokin to distract it as she mounted its head and shot arrows into its skull. Now, she wasn't even sure, if she could out maneuver it long enough to fire a single arrow.

However, the Galaks had remained true to their word. Thepa broke through the sun-scorched surface and found her bag, daggers, and bow, and attached them to her body as quickly as possible. She took a quick stock of her belongings and found everything was there, even if in a different place.

"Rory?" Thepa said still resisting the urge to not grab the pendent. "What am I going to do?"

The ground around her started to shake. Thepa crouched low on the platform, hoping to stay hidden, but abandoned the plan almost immediately as the rockiness of the ropes threatened to give way of the platform beneath her hooves. Instead, she sprang up and sprinted toward the setting sun, which was soon obscured by a massive sand cloud bearing down on her.

Thepa didn't dare look back. A low roar sounded behind her, growing louder as the vibrations closed in, accompanied by the sharp stench of sulfur. Instinct took over. She folded her arms in and rolled to the right just as the creature descended on her position. The ground jarred her like a ton of stones, but fortunately the sudden dive had worked, rewarding her with a mouth full of sand. ignoring the taste, she knew she had to act fast.

The wyrm skidded to turn, its massive frame forcing a wide arc. Seizing her chance, Thepa grabbed one of its black barbs, feeling it slice into her palm. Blood trickled from her torn skin, but she clung on. The creature dragged her through the dirt, scraping her against the ground until she found leverage on a rock, vaulting herself onto its back.

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Panting and out of breath, Thepa stared at her torn hand. Her palm hemorrhaged, blood beginning to drip from her palm onto the scaley back of the beast. For the moment, the creature moved around erratically, attempting to find its prey, and as Thepa consider her next move, she felt the warm glow of the pendent tucked between her breasts and the fire of her ancestors spark in her belly.

"I will not die out here in this god-forsaken place," Thepa muttered to herself. Quickly, she pulled out a bandage, wrapped it a few times around the torn hand, then once again found her footing. Anger and determination swelled within, intensifying the fire that now enveloped her. With cat-like agility, she climbed towards the creature's neck, mounted its head, secured a rope around it and leaning in near what she guessed was its ear.

"YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" Thepa shouted. The creature feinted to the left in an attempt to shake her off, but with the help of the rope, Thepa managed to stay fixed. With vitriol, Thepa once again screamed at the beast. "I. AM. THE. MATRIARCH! Ruler of the Beachwick. You will submit to me. Esha demands it!"

With the final word, Thepa let her body slide along the neck of the creature until she was underneath hanging by the rope. With a fierce swipe, she slashed at its soft underbelly. Blood and entrails poured out as the creature faltered, its body lurching. Knowing it was going to fall, she swung her body to the right, cut the rope, and once more tumbled to the ground as the creature came crashing down around her barely missing her.

Thepa landed in a softer patch of sand, the impact jarring her but leaving her mostly unscathed. She was more concerned about the fact she was largely covered in bits of blood and gore. As she made it to her hooves, the sticky substance brought a small amount of bile to her throat. A deep need for a bath overcame her, but truthfully, she was impressed with herself. Again, she had survived an encounter with a towering beast. She had accomplished in one day what a large group of Saintians had not accomplished in many lifetimes.

The sound of approaching hooves interrupted her reverie. Taking cover behind the wyrm's carcass, she unslung the bow while notching an arrow in the process. In the distance five Galaks approached her. Ready for anything she trained the arrow on the Exarch determined to loose it in a moment's notice.

"I'm impressed, Realmwalker," the Exarch called out, reining his horse. "Part of me hoped you'd fail."

Her eyes fell on Fokin's limp form slung over a horse. Holding back a surge of panic, she shouted, "Lay him down. Place the antidote beside him. If he dies, I promise I won't miss."

The Exarch nodded his head to the left to signal one of the soldiers as the rest trained their own arrows on her. Carefully, the soldier placed the limp body on the ground and from there, Thepa could tell he was breathing. Relief washed over her and she called back to the Exarch.

"The antidote," she demanded. The Exarch tossed a small vial onto Fokin's chest, then turned his horse.

"Pray we never meet again Realmwalker. I promise you it will be the last."

"You can count on it," Thepa said as she slung the bow and dragged the body to the other side of the creature. Worry and grief overcame her. Her eyes started to mist as she stared at the hopelessness of her situation. She lightly caressed his face in hopes of helping him snap out of it, but she knew it wouldn't be long. His skin was cold, his breaths shallow.

"Please Fokin. I need you to get up. I can't carry you across the desert. You're going to have to help me," she muttered

He stirred, not much, but enough to give her hope. With a single whisper he uttered a word that jolted her to action.

"Roan."

As loud as she could, Thepa whistled. She listened to its sound travel along the sand hoping for a response. When none came, she did it again.

Then again. And again. And again, and again, and again until she ran out of breath. Her body clung to the pale form of Fokin as she wept tears of desperation. Hope was now slipping through her fingers and she made one feeble attempt that she doubted could have even been heard from behind the wyrm. Once more she stroked the pale face where Fokin looked up with powerless eyes that still glistened with the amber she had come to adore. With nothing left to do, she closed her eyes, bent down and tenderly kissed Fokin's dry lips.

"Owwwwwwooooooooooo," came a loud cry.

Impossible, Thepa thought as her blue eyes snapping open. Fokin's gave her a weak smile. Relief surged through her, her heart leaping at the sight of him and the howl of the wolf. Carefully, she eased Fokin's body to the side and rounded the wyrm. To her immense relief, she found Roan closing the distance, until she found herself face-to-face with the wolf who had given her trouble just days ago.

Your master's in distress," Thepa said, locking eyes with Roan, seeking a connection. For the first time, she noticed they shared the same amber hue. "Will you help me?"

Roan answered with a wet lick across her face, then trotted to his master, lying down beside him. "This won't be easy," she muttered, partly to herself, partly to her new furry ally, as she hoisted Fokin onto Roan's sturdy back. "But we have to make it to the sea. There's no time to waste. Think you can handle it?"

Silently, Roan bolted as soon as Thepa mounted him. Though she had ridden backside on the wolf just a day before, she now found the experience exhilarating. Thepa doubted even a god could match Roan's pace as they tore across the desert. The rush of wind whipped through her hair, grains of sand stinging her eyes, yet the thrill of the wild ride made her almost forget their urgency.

As they passed an oasis and crested a dune, Thepa spotted a small group in the distance. Her hand instinctively reached for her dagger, but with her grip on Roan and Fokin, she couldn't draw it. Worried at what lied ahead, she made an attempt to steer Roan in a different direction, but the wolf ignored her.

To her relief, she soon recognized Zuna among them, along with Gamma, Wilran, the Anchor, and a few sailors. They eyed her suspiciously as she made her approach, but Thepa made no motion to stop. The look on Fokin's face was starting to worry her and her heart now filled with panic. As she passed, she shouted, "Make for the boat!" but doubted they heard her over Roan's thunderous pace.

"Stay with me, Fokin," she murmured, feeling each beat of his heart falter like a knife twist. The wolf had reached a blinding speed. Thepa had to close her eyes to protect them from the biting sand and prayed that Roan knew the way back towards the boat. A short while later, a shift in the air changed and Thepa could taste the salty sea. Roan made his way up a hill and as he started to descend, Thepa chanced a look to her delight and horror. Delighted that they had reached their destination, horror that Fokin's eyes had rolled back into his head.

"NO!" She screamed as she started to shake him. Roan stopped just short of a skiff, where Thepa threw Fokin's body in rather unceremoniously, pushed the skiff into the water joined by a panting Roan, and rowed as fast as her tired arms and sore hand would take her. Each stroke felt as if it was taking a completion off her life, but if she died a young age, she would not let it be alone. As she made it half way, she stopped, allowed the rows to fall into the water, forced the contents of the small orange vial down the satyr's bearded throat, and held her breath.

With each passing moment, Thepa waited in an emotional turmoil. Her damaged hand had subconsciously grabbed the pendent around her chest as she tightly gripped his rough hand with her other. The hand was almost twice the size of her own, but it oddly felt like a perfect match.

As tears started to form in the corners of her eyes, she felt a small squeeze in her undamaged palm. A lump formed in the back of her throat where she waited beyond waited, wished beyond wished, hoped beyond hoped that she wasn't imagining things, and the Galaks had not screwed her.

"Thepa?"

"Yes," she choked.

"You stink."

Thepa half-laughed, half-sobbed, watching color return to his face. Without thinking, she leaned in, kissing him with more passion and intent than any two satyrs had ever had before in the whole history of Sainta. His taste was intoxicating. As she deeply drank in his scent, she wanted the two of them to stay that way forever.

"But seriously," he said, pulling back with a grin. "I'm not sure what happened to you, but you need a bath.

With a playful nip at his lip, a bold move for her, Thepa backflipped into the salty water, scrubbing away the grime of their ordeal. When she resurfaced, Fokin sat up in the skiff.

""I guess I was right," he said as she climbed back in.

"About what?"

"The one the Goddess had me seeking." He brushed a stray strand of her wavy hair from her face, sending a pleasant warmth down her spine.

"Destiny, I guess," she murmured, a blush warming her cheeks. "The gods have strange ways of getting what they want."

"Maybe," he replied, leaning in, their eyes inches apart. "Bur for the first time in a long time, I don't care what the gods want. So tell me," he paused, eyes glinting in the sun, "What does Thepa want?"

A vivid image filled Thepa's mind. She could once more see herself wearing the ceremonial white dress and diamond tipped crown walking through the Beachwick. However, as she crossed through the large gate into the jungle clearing, she looked down and found a blue-eyed youngling with brown-wavey hair smiling right back at her, filling her heart with joy. Grabbing the female's hand, she fixed her gaze on the lush jungle calling to the two of them in the distance.

"The future," Thepa said as she once more drank the male satyr in.