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The Parables: The Groom & The Sword
Chapter 18: Lizard Riders

Chapter 18: Lizard Riders

Malin’s heart pounded as the Salamini Lizard beneath him stretched its wings and leaped forward, its powerful limbs propelling it across the sandy dunes. The force of the jump caught him off guard, and he clutched the reins tightly, his knuckles whitening as he adjusted to the creature’s rhythm. The lizard’s movements were swift and purposeful, its claws digging into the soft sand with each landing before launching itself forward again in a series of graceful, bounding strides.

The lizard beneath Malin, the one marked with a yellow stripe, moved with a surprising fluidity despite its stocky, muscular build. Malin could feel every contraction of its powerful muscles, every shift of its sinewy frame as it surged forward. It was nothing like riding a horse; the rhythm was less steady, more unpredictable, as if the creature were fully in control of their pace and direction, and he was merely a passenger along for the ride. The leathery wings at its sides opened now and then, catching the desert breeze and using it to glide briefly before the next bound. Each leap felt like flying for a split second, only to be brought back to earth by the solid impact of claws against sand.

“This… is… insane!” Malin shouted, his voice carried away by the hot desert wind. He wasn’t sure if his heart was racing from fear or exhilaration—or perhaps a strange blend of both.

Beside him, Maya laughed, a wild, carefree sound that echoed over the sands. She looked completely at ease on her own lizard, the one with a blue stripe. Her body moved in sync with the creature’s powerful strides, her hands light on the reins. She turned to Malin, her grin wide and mischievous. “What’s the matter, Baker Boy? Never been on a joyride before?”

“Oh, I’ve been on plenty of rides,” Malin retorted, his words bouncing with the lizard’s leaps, “just… none like this!” He tightened his grip, feeling his body lift slightly off the creature’s back with each bound. The movement was almost hypnotic, a rolling, bounding rhythm that seemed to lull him into a strange sense of harmony with the beast. And yet, there was an underlying tension, a reminder that he was riding a creature with its own mind, its own instincts.

Abel, riding his own red-striped lizard slightly ahead of them, glanced back over his shoulder, smirking. “Maybe Nahra should have chosen a warrior instead of a baker,” he taunted, his voice laced with mock amusement. His posture was flawless, his movements confident, as if he’d been born to ride these desert creatures.

Malin scowled, though the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Watch it, Prince! I’ll show you who’s out of place out here!”

Abel snorted, urging his lizard into a faster pace, the creature responding with a deep rumble as it surged forward, sending up a spray of sand behind it. “Good luck keeping up, then!”

Malin grit his teeth and gave the reins a light tug, feeling a rush of determination as he willed his mount to pick up speed. The yellow-striped lizard responded with a burst of energy, its claws digging into the sand as it propelled itself forward. Malin’s stomach dropped with the sudden acceleration, but he couldn’t help the exhilarated laugh that escaped his lips. He was starting to get the hang of it, finding a balance between leaning forward to match the creature’s movement and allowing himself to absorb the impact of each leap.

The desert stretched out before them, an endless expanse of golden sand dunes that seemed to shift and shimmer in the late afternoon light. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rippling sands and turning the landscape into a tapestry of warm hues. Occasional outcroppings of jagged black rocks jutted up from the dunes like ancient monuments, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of wind and sand.

Around them, the Salamini Lizards moved with a grace and speed that was mesmerizing. Malin noticed that every so often, his mount would dip its head to snap at a passing insect or small desert creature, catching it in its sharp teeth before continuing without losing a beat. The other lizards did the same, their powerful jaws snapping up tiny morsels as they bounded forward. It was an odd sight—these massive creatures pausing just long enough to snatch up prey as if they were merely snacking along the way.

Maya noticed Malin’s curious gaze and laughed. “They’re opportunistic eaters,” she explained, leaning over slightly to give Blue a pat. “Helps keep them going on long journeys. Just be glad we’re not on the menu!”

Malin shuddered at the thought, patting Yellow’s neck gingerly. “Thanks for the reassurance, Maya. Really comforting.”

The sun continued to sink lower, the temperature gradually dropping as the sky shifted from golden to a dusky pink. Shadows lengthened across the sands, and the desert’s oppressive heat began to give way to a cool, dry chill. As the light faded, the beauty of the desert transformed into something otherworldly, the sands taking on a ghostly, silver sheen under the emerging stars. Malin glanced up, awestruck by the vast expanse of sky above them, the first stars twinkling in the deepening blue.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the heavens.

Maya followed his gaze, her expression softening. “Yeah… it really is. The desert may be harsh, but it has a beauty all its own.”

Abel, however, remained focused on the path ahead, his face set in a grim expression. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “The desert can be as deadly as it is beautiful. Nightfall only brings different dangers.”

Malin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Even he could feel the subtle shift in the air, the sense of vulnerability that came with the onset of darkness. The desert was vast, empty, and indifferent—a place where even the smallest mistake could mean the difference between life and death.

As they continued, the lizards slowed their pace, their earlier vigor fading as the chill of the evening set in. Malin noticed his fingers growing numb from the cold, a stark contrast to the searing heat they had endured earlier in the day. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, glancing over at Maya, who seemed unaffected, her gaze steady and unyielding.

“How much further do you think we have to go before we can set up camp?” he asked, his voice slightly strained from the chill.

Abel looked back at him, his face shadowed in the dim light. “Not far. There’s a sheltered spot up ahead, near a rock formation. It’ll give us some cover from the wind.”

Malin nodded, grateful for the prospect of rest. His body ached from the relentless bouncing of the lizard’s movements, and he could feel the exhaustion settling in. Riding these creatures required an intense focus and physical endurance that he hadn’t anticipated.

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They soon reached the rocky outcrop Abel had mentioned, and the group dismounted, their legs wobbly and stiff from hours of riding. Malin stretched, groaning as he tried to work out the kinks in his muscles. The sand around them was cool to the touch, the heat of the day replaced by a biting chill that seeped into his bones.

Maya set about gathering small rocks to create a fire pit, her movements efficient and practiced. Abel unpacked a bundle of kindling and struck a flint, his face illuminated by the small spark that soon grew into a warm, flickering fire. The light cast long shadows over the rocky terrain, creating a cozy bubble of warmth and light in the midst of the vast desert darkness.

They settled around the fire, each of them wrapped in their cloaks as they shared a simple meal of dried meat and flatbread. The warmth of the fire was a welcome relief from the desert’s chill, and the three of them sat in a comfortable silence, watching the flames dance and listening to the quiet crackle of burning wood.

After a while, Malin spoke up, his tone contemplative. “You know, if you’d told me a month ago that I’d be out here in the desert, riding giant lizards and chasing after a mythical sword, I would have laughed in your face.”

Maya chuckled, her eyes reflecting the firelight. “Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

Abel smirked, leaning back against a rock. “Welcome to the real world, Baker Boy. Out here, there are no certainties, no safety nets. Just you, your wits, and the choices you make.”

Malin glanced at him, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “And what about you, Prince? Did you ever imagine yourself out here?”

Abel’s expression darkened, his gaze distant as he stared into the fire. “I didn’t imagine much of anything beyond the palace walls. But out here… I’ve come to realize that there’s more to life than titles and power. Sometimes, the things we think define us turn out to be nothing more than illusions.”

Maya watched him, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “We’re all out here for different reasons, but in the end, it’s the journey that matters. The path we choose and the people we meet along the way.”

Malin nodded, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie with these two people who, not long ago, had been strangers. Out here in the vast desert, with the stars as their only witnesses, they were bound by a shared purpose, a common goal that transcended their differences.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, they each found a measure of peace

Malin shifted uncomfortably as the fire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows across their faces. The silence had stretched a little too long, and curiosity gnawed at him. He glanced from Maya to Abel, sensing something unspoken lingering between them. Finally, unable to resist, he cleared his throat and asked, “So… what’s the story with you two?”

Maya’s gaze shot up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she quickly looked away, busying herself with a stick she was poking into the fire. Abel, however, merely smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered Malin’s question. He leaned back, crossing his arms, his voice a touch more guarded than usual. “You want the truth, Baker Boy? We courted. For a long time.”

Maya’s fingers stilled, her jaw tensing, but she said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed on the flames, as if hoping they would swallow up the memories that seemed to linger in the space between her and Abel.

Seeing her reaction, Malin hesitated, but Abel continued, his voice softer than usual, almost nostalgic. “We were in love. Once, a lifetime ago, before everything changed.” His gaze drifted to Maya, a complicated mix of regret and affection evident in his eyes. “Back when I was still a prince, and before I… before I was banished.”

Maya’s shoulders tensed, and she spoke, barely above a whisper, “I would have gone with you, you know. If you’d just asked, I would have left everything behind.”

Abel’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his gaze hardening. “I didn’t want that for you, Maya. I wouldn’t drag you into this life. The exile, the uncertainty… you deserve better.”

Maya’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with hurt and frustration. “Was that your choice to make, Abel? Or was it just easier for you to leave me behind?”

He met her gaze, his own expression unreadable, but a faint shadow of guilt crossed his face. “It was a choice I had to make. I’d already lost everything, Maya. I wasn’t going to take you down with me.”

The air between them grew thick, the tension palpable. Maya clenched her fists, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. “You didn’t even give me a choice, Abel. You just decided what was best for me, and I was supposed to accept it? You have no idea what it felt like to watch you walk away.”

Abel looked at her, his own pain evident in his eyes, though he tried to keep his expression stoic. “I thought it was what was best. For both of us.”

Maya shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “You were wrong.”

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words, and Malin, feeling the weight of the tension pressing down on them all, awkwardly cleared his throat. “So… Abel,” he ventured, trying to steer the conversation away from the painful topic, “why were you banished in the first place?”

Abel’s expression immediately darkened, and he looked away, his shoulders tense. “That’s… not something I’m ready to talk about,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for further questions. The firelight cast a harsh glow on his face, highlighting the shadows under his eyes, the lines of past suffering etched into his features.

Malin shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though he’d stumbled into a forbidden space. An awkward silence fell over them, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the vast, empty desert. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but before he could, he felt a sudden, chilling shift in the wind behind him.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned slowly, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond their small circle of firelight. Beside him, Maya’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of her weapon, her body going tense. Abel, too, had gone still, his gaze sharp as he peered into the shadows.

The wind picked up, carrying with it a low, eerie sound that seemed to echo across the sands. It was as if the desert itself had begun to whisper, a mournful, haunting melody that sent a shiver down Malin’s spine. The warmth of the fire felt distant now, replaced by a creeping cold that seeped into his bones.

“What… what is that?” Malin whispered, his voice barely audible as he gripped his weapon, his heart pounding in his chest.

Maya shook her head, her eyes narrowing as she strained to see beyond the firelight. “I don’t know… but it’s coming this way.”

Abel’s gaze remained fixed on the darkness, his voice low and steady. “Get ready. Whatever it is, it’s not friendly.”

They stood, weapons drawn, their backs to the fire as they faced the encroaching shadows. The wind howled around them, carrying with it the scent of something ancient and malevolent. Malin’s pulse quickened, and he felt the weight of the moment settle over him, the realization that their journey had taken a darker, more dangerous turn.

In the distance, just beyond the edge of the firelight, something shifted, a shadow moving with an unnatural grace, gliding across the sands toward them. Its form was indistinct, cloaked in darkness, but its eyes glowed with a cold, hungry light, fixing on them with a predatory gaze.

Malin swallowed, his grip tightening on his weapon as he steeled himself. Whatever was coming, he knew they would have to face it together—each of them carrying their own fears, their own regrets, but united in the battle that lay ahead.