The Armor of Dusan

Amanda Porter

 

 

Human.

Those words had been spat in Zanna’s face since she was a child as if it were a curse. Her life amongst the fair folk was full of enchantment and wonder, but there was an underlying resentment from those around her. While her adoptive family loved her, she knew in her heart she would never truly be one of them. After all, she was only human.

Still, her father, Dorthran, was a High Lord and trained all of his children in the ways of Vaelkesh. It made no difference, he said, what was in her blood, it mattered what was in her heart. She clearly had the heart of a warrior.

“Move it, Little Fire,” a sharp voice yelled as she hit the ground. “You’re being outmatched.”

Zanna knew that. Her father had pitted her, once again, against her oldest sister, Keres.

Just as the air returned to Zanna’s lungs Keres’ sword came down towards her head. She only had a moment to stop the blade from severing her head from her shoulders. Anger wheeled inside her chest and she pushed the sword away with all her strength and somehow made it back to her feet.

“Are you yielding so soon, Little Fire,” Keres used the nickname like a taunt, still Zanna could see the stunned look on her sister’s face.

“Never,” Zanna smiled and lunged forward, swinging wide.

She knew that it left her wide open, but the move was so sudden that Keres was surprised. Zanna’s blade came down hard, hitting Keres directly on the shoulder. The sound was loud, metal clanging against metal. It jarred Zanna and threw her off balance. Keres rounded on her, flipping her over her shoulder.

Keres’ sword tip was inches from her throat. Both of them were breathing heavily.

“That was stupid,” Keres gritted her teeth.

“I bet that shoulder stings,” Zanna smiled.

“You gave me your neck so you could get in one feeble blow?” Keres growled.

Zanna shrugged her shoulders and then winced. She knew her body would be sore if she didn’t go see the healers.

“Keres, lower your weapon,” Dorthran said.

“I should give just a tiny cut,” Keres sneered. “To teach her a lesson.”

“Keres!” their mother gasped.

Zanna didn’t like it when she came. Eira, her mother, had always been a beauty and was treated as such. Her long blonde hair was nearly as white as her skin. She was delicate and fair, like all of her daughters, except Zanna.

Zanna was tall, and beautiful in her own way, but she was not an elf. Where the elves were fair skin, she had a natural golden-brown color, where their hair was blonde, hers was red like fire, and where their eyes were either blue or sea green, she had eyes like a night’s sky. They were deep and dark, but the light seemed to always find them as if it reflected every star in the universe.

All of her sisters, all five of them, including Keres, looked like their mother. The only difference was Keres’ body was lean and powerful from the extensive training. She didn’t have to do the extra classes, but she chose to. She wanted to be in the king’s guard. If she succeeded, she would be the first she-elf to make it.

Zanna couldn’t fault her for her ambition. She knew what it was like wanting something that others said you could never have. In their world, she-elves were great warriors. Still, none of them had been allowed to enter the king’s guard. Even if she hated to admit it, Zanna knew that if anyone could make it, it would be Keres.

Keres glared at her, but then lowered her blade and walked away. Zanna lay there for just a moment longer and stood to her feet, brushing the dirt from her pants.

The arena was rather full today. She glanced around and noticed how Keres’ friends were congratulating her. They made sure to look back at Zanna and sneer.

“You must control your emotions, Zanna,” her father came to her side. “You will never master the sword if you never master yourself.”

“I don’t know why you make me do this,” Zanna sheathed her blade. “You know that I am no match for Keres.”

“Zanna,” her father took her face in his hands, making her meet his eyes. “I am well aware that you are human, but you are still my daughter, the daughter that I chose. You may not have our strength or our magical inclinations, but you have something all your own, and that is passion, it is your heart. That is one thing that I admire about humans. You must work so much harder for the things you want in life. Once you obtain those goals, it means something. Do not let these things be considered your weakness, for they are your greatest strength. What will be your downfall is not harnessing the abilities you do possess.”

“Yes, Father,” Zanna told him.

“I love you, my daughter,” he kissed her gently on the forehead.

“I love you,” she suddenly wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

She could feel him chuckle and then embrace her in return.

“Zanna,” her mother glided to her side. “It is time for you to travel. You have much to study in your time away.”

Zanna groaned internally. She enjoyed her lessons at Vaelkesh Academy, but the Instructors required that their students wear constricting attire. The girls had to cover their entire bodies and wear fabric on their heads, the males, it was nearly the same, and no one could enter the library with a weapon.

“Yes, mother,” Zanna said, releasing her father.

“Go clean up,” Eira told her. “Keres, you as well, take your younger sisters with you.”

“Yes, mother,” Keres came forward, and her sisters followed.

Zanna hesitated for only a moment and then followed the line of girls like a good little gosling.

Vaelkesh Academy was of great magnificence. It wasn’t just a place of knowledge for children. Elves from all over came to study from its many books and learn from its highly trained teachers. It held every book ever written in any language. It was levels upon levels of knowledge. It was a castle, a fortress of immense power if you knew what you were looking for.

Each year Zanna and her sisters would spend the fall and winter months there working on their studies. Children from all of the upper-class Elven families were sent there as well.

Soon, all five young ladies were cleaned, dressed, and leaving in the family carriage to the school. Zanna sat beside her youngest sister, Esin, who had just turned eight. She was spirited and Zanna loved her deeply.

“You did well at your match today, Zanna,” Esin said to her.

“Thank you, Esin,” Zanna patted her head.

“Oh, stop that,” Esin said, swatting her hand away. “I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Sure you are,” Zanna tickled her and the young girl laughed.

“She only got in a hit because Keres got overconfident and Zanna cheated,” Cielle, the middle sister, chided.

“I did not cheat,” Zanna rolled her eyes.

“I am not overconfident!” Keres defended herself.

“I think your skills are increasing at an exponential rate,” Siofra added, she was the second to youngest and one of the brightest elves in all of Vaelkesh. “It is very interesting. Only a month ago, your swing was wide and a bit wavering. Today, it was more focused and targeted, you had better control as if the weight of the blade didn’t affect you as much. Very impressive.”

“It was not impressive,” Keres laughed. “She got lucky. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m telling you she cheated!” Cielle said again.

“She did not cheat!” Esin argued.

This went on for a while, but Zanna decided not to join in. She didn’t care if they thought she cheated. She also didn’t care if Keres thought she got lucky. What made her sit and ponder was what Siofra had said. Her skills were increasing. Of course, she had trained for years, but her level of abilities paled in comparison to Keres’. It was unlikely that she would have become that much better in just a month’s time. What could have changed since then?

Upon their arrival, Zanna’s younger sisters were escorted away by their teachers. Keres would be finished with her studies at the end of term, so she had her own class as well. Zanna had another year which meant she had to venture to the fifth level.

The fifth level was dedicated to the study of Vaelkesh History. There were bits of history taught to them in levels 1 through 4, but the 5th level left nothing out.

Zanna took her seat at her study table and opened the history book to the place she had marked the previous day. Her Instructor, Avra, was at the front of the room, writing an assignment on the board.

“You’re bleeding,” someone said to her.

Zanna looked over at her best friend, Javaid. His twinkling blue eyes always had an air of mischief to them. She tried not to jump out of her seat and hug him in front of everyone. He had been gone the past year, recruited to the King’s Guard early. Zanna didn’t think they would let him return to finish his studies.

“You’re back,” she said.

“And you’re still bleeding,” he smiled.

She looked down at her hand. A scratch she thought had stopped bleeding was still a bit raw.

“It’s just a scratch,” she shrugged. “When did you return?”

“Last night,” he said.

“And you didn’t come to see me?” she felt slightly affronted.

Javaid meant so much to her, more than anyone in her life. There was a moment when she wanted that to mean something more, but she quickly pushed it away. He was an elf and she was human, after all.

“It was late,” he laughed, the sound making her feel more at home. “I’m sure you would have been asleep.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” she punched him.

Javaid waved across the room. Two girls from a ruling class giggled. One was a former fling of Javaid’s, Enessa. Zanna tried not to let it bother her.

“Oh, I see,” she said. “You were...busy.”
“No, I…” He turned to her, but then Instructor Avra began the class, putting an end to their conversation.

Their assignment was a bit different today. They were actually leaving the classroom and searching the shelves.

“You must learn to use the library to its fullest potential,” Instructor Avra told them. “Swords and bows can only help you so much. Your mind is your greatest weapon. We are using the library today.”

Zanna and Javaid began looking through the shelves for their assigned books. The thing was, they didn’t know which books they were assigned. Instructor Avra said when they found the books, they would know. She told them that the library had a way of guiding one to what they seek. At this moment, Zanna wanted her bed.

She was always exhausted after her lessons with Keres. Her sister pushed her to her limit. Keres, on the other hand, never seemed to be the least bit tired.

Zanna knew the difference was because she was human and Keres was elven. Elves had more stamina, more strength. She couldn’t help but feel a bit resentful knowing she would never be able to outmatch her sister.

“What book is speaking to you, Zanna,” Javaid laughed.

He clearly thought the assignment was silly. She rolled her eyes. Javaid had never taken his studies seriously. He was too busy practicing his bow and chasing after the fairer sex.

Zanna hated him up until they were in their second-level classes. After they were paired up for an assignment, they had been inseparable.

“I suppose you’re too busy looking at Enessa to know which book is calling to you?” Zanna teased.

“You mean, she’s looking at me,” Javaid said slyly.

Zanna rolled her eyes just as Enessa walked over to them. She was beautiful, but not just in the way Elves were beautiful. It was more than that. She had an inner light, a delicate beauty, soft and warm.

It was something that Zanna could never obtain, even if she went to the fabled transfiguration masters. Enessa had something that could not be replicated.

“Good day, Javaid,” she greeted him, saying nothing to Zanna as if she weren’t even there.

“Good day, my lady,” he said respectfully.

Enessa was, after all, a part of the royal family. She was very far down the line, but royal, nonetheless.

“Javaid, you can call me by my name,” Enessa seemed to blush, with a slight giggle.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, my lady,” he was laying it on thick and Zanna nearly burst out laughing but recovered by playing it off as a sneeze.

“It’s awfully dusty in here, my lady,” Zanna said when Enessa looked at her. “Excuse me.”

“Yes, well, I haven’t noticed,” her smile was strained.

Zanna wasn’t surprised. Elves didn’t seem to be affected by mundane things the way she did. Every winter Zanna became ill and only her. She spent at least a week in bed with a high fever. And every Spring she would stay with a headache and sneezing for the first few days of the fresh blooms.

Enessa had turned to talk to Javaid again. Zanna wasn’t really paying attention and moved her way down the rows of books. Soon, she found herself far away from her classmates and in a part of the library she had never been to before.

“Can I help you find something?” A voice said to her.

Zanna jumped and turned to face one of the library staff. She was a much, much older Elf. It was always hard to tell because once an Elf reached maturity their aging process slowed down. An Elf could be over a hundred and still look 35 in human years.

Still, she was clearly older, her face a map of lines and her blue eyes a bit hazy with age. She even walked a bit slow and with a slight limp. Zanna supposed this was proof that even Elves finally had to face the signs of time and age.

Still, there was a liveliness to her eyes. They were dark, not like the ice blue eyes she was used to seeing. It was welcoming and refreshing.

“No, thank you,” Zanna finally said. “I’m supposed to, um, let the book find me.”

“Oh, yes,” the old elf smiled. “Instructor Avra enjoys this assignment. It gets you young elves out from under her for a moment.”

She must have lost her good eyesight as well, Zanna thought.

“I am not an Elf,” Zanna told her. “I’m human.”

“Oh, my eyes are not what they once were, but I can normally tell one from the way they carry themselves,” she told her. “If you are indeed him, then you are the daughter of Dorthran and Eira. I am pleased to meet you. I am Mavka.”

“It’s a pleasure, Instructor,” I told her.

“Oh, we are both mistaken today, my dear,” she smiled. “I am no Instructor, just an old lady who enjoys helping.”

Zanna smiled. She liked Mavka. It was rare meeting an Elf who didn’t gawk at her for being human. She also noticed that Mavka had called her the daughter of Dorthran and Eira; just “daughter,” not “human daughter,” not “adoptive daughter,” just “daughter.”

“It was nice to meet you, Zanna,” Mavka told her. “I’ve always found this part of the library to be the one place that has what I’m looking for.”

She sort of waved her hand to the row of shelves right down from them. Zanna smiled and then turned in that direction. Mavka, besides Javaid, was one of the only Elves she had ever met that made her feel welcome.

She was Dorthran’s daughter so there was a sense of protection that came with that. However, there were those who didn’t care who her father was and they let her know it. There had been many times she was denied entry to a shop or spat at as she passed someone in the street.

The Humans and Elves have a long history of bad blood. Zanna learned there really were no innocent parties involved in their feud, but it was universally known who had spilled the first drop of blood and it wasn’t the Elves.

A long time ago, well before she was born, Humans came to the land of Mirstone. They sailed here on large ships from a distant land. They were hardened and cold beings who were determined to take up root wherever they chose. Unfortunately, they chose Vaelkesh. The Humans were accustomed to taking everything they pleased with little repercussions. They were not prepared for the power of the Elves.

Many of them were killed in a war that didn’t last that long. After all, how could humans face off against the Elves of Vaelkesh? It was known as The War of Hours, for that’s all that it lasted. When the human armies were decimated, their King surrendered to the Elven King of Vaelkesh. The Elves were benevolent beings even if they defended their land without mercy. They allowed the small group of humans that were left to stay and even gave them a small portion of their land.

Humans are prideful and vengeful, however. There have been times since that day that small bands of them have tried their hand at raiding Elven villages or stealing from their outposts. Sometimes they may make off with a few coins or trinkets, but for the most part, they are stopped, tried, and punished by Elven law.

However, for the most part, humans had made a thriving city in the land that was given to them. They have their own ruling class, schools, libraries, and more. They lived a quiet existence and often traded with the Elven and Dwarven communities.

There were towns and clans that had broken off from the main city of Halesford. Some were nomadic, living off the land and never letting go of their ancestors’ tendencies of pillaging and taking what they wanted. Zanna’s family was part of one of these tribes.

When the Clan moved close to the base of the dwarven mountains of Rachdale they thought they could sneak in and steal some of the jewels that had been mined. On their mission, they came across a band of Elven Riders who were in the midst of trading with the Dwarves. The human thought this must have been their lucky night. Not only could they steal from the Dwarves, but they could take the Elves’s horses for there were no finer breeds in the land.

To their peril, they were wrong. Assuming they could raid the Elven party while they slept, slitting their throats as they were unconscious, they snuck in and were instantly caught. A fight broke out and the humans were killed. After the dust settled the only humans alive were a woman and a small child. She had been carrying the baby on her back. The woman was mortally wounded and so close to death, but she clung to her infant.

“Please,” she had said to Dorthran. “She does not deserve to die out here. Take her. Help her.”

Dorthran had told Zanna the story many times. He had told her that she was the most beautiful baby he had ever seen, with a head full of red hair and skin like the fertile soil.

That was what Dorthran had done. He and his wife Eira had already had Keres when he brought Zanna into their home. Both of her parents loved her, but she had asked many times why they had not given her to the humans in Halesford.

“How could I?” her father had said. “I had already fallen in love with you.”

She knew his words were true, but there was more to it than that. Having a human child living amongst them was somewhat of an advantage. The humans of Halesford knew of her existence. They knew she had been spared. It was the Elves’ way of showing the humans that yes, they could end their lives in a blink of an eye, or they could spare them. In other words, the humans were at their mercy.

Zanna often wondered what her parents were like. Would she like them? Would she have been like them? If they had never raided that camp, would she have grown up a nomadic human and thief?

She continued to move along the aisle, running her fingers across the spines of the books as she walked. Suddenly, she felt a tingle in her arm. She stopped and looked at the book that had caught her attention. It was a large, green leather-bound book. There were gold letters that decorated its spine. She pulled it out of the shelf and a surge of electricity ran the length of her body.

The book was large, but she was surprised at the lightness. It was probably some magic the Elves used to make their job easier. She found a secluded corner and sat down on the dusty floor, the book in her lap.

There were no markings other than the letters on the spine. They were Elven letters, ones she didn’t recognize, yet the book didn’t look that old. Touching the spine, she sounded out the words. With that combination, the words slowly formed into something she could read.

“The Armor of Dusan,” she read out loud.

Zanna opened the book and the strange letters began dancing around the pages at her. They seemed to be moving with some sort of energy. The movement made her eyes hurt as she struggled to focus on them. Whoever had written this book wanted to be sure that only the determined could read it. That made her highly suspicious and curious.

Closing her eyes, she steadied herself. Taking a deep breath, she held the book and willed herself to concentrate. If she could read the title, then she could read the rest of it. The title. That was bothering her. She had heard that name before, “Dusan,” but where?

She searched her memory, but nothing came to mind. After a few more minutes, she opened her eyes, and to her surprise, and relief, the words were a bit calmer. They moved, but it was more of a vibration. As she began to read, the words slowly started to form and make sense to her.

By the time she was finished, Zanna couldn’t breathe. She stood up, the book still clutched in her hands. There were footsteps in the distance and she faintly heard a voice, it was Javaid. He touched her shoulder and she bolted, running from him and what she had read. Javaid called after her, but she didn’t stop.

Zanna ran and ran. She needed air. The problem was, she was on the 5th level and she either had to run down all of those stairs to the courtyard or go up, to try and reach the roof, which was just as many floors, if not more, up. Not wanting to pass her Instructor, she entered a place she was never supposed to go, the Librarian’s offices.

“Zanna!” she heard a voice, but still didn’t turn around.

She continued to run. The offices were empty. The Librarians were out on the floor, helping their students and patrons. She vaguely took in the fact that she was running down a long stone hallway with doors here and there. There was sunlight coming from the end of the hall and that was her goal. She didn’t know if it were a window or if it would even open, but she needed to try. She had to breathe.

At last, she finally reached the source of light and realized it was a door. Bursting through she found herself on a terrace, a large balcony covered with all sorts of vegetation and small birds. Finding a weeping willow in the center, she ran to the sturdy tree and clung to it, taking in large deep breaths.

“Zanna!” Javaid came to her side but didn’t touch her. “You’re scaring me. What is the matter?”

Zanna said nothing, but she handed him the book as she continued to try and control her breathing. Javaid gently took the large bound book from her and she couldn’t help but think of all the trouble she had just gotten herself into. First, she had read a book from a section of the library she was not permitted to enter, then she took a book without permission, and now she was in a location she clearly wasn’t allowed to be in.

“I don’t understand,” Javaid said. “Why has this book upset you? What language is this? I can’t even read it.”

She turned to face him, shocked, “You can’t read it?”

“No,” he said then looked at her. “Can you?”

“I can,” she said, almost fearfully. “The book is called The Armor of Dusan.”

“Who is Dusan?” Javaid looked at the book again.

“He is…” For the first time, Zanna could feel tears fall from her eyes.

Javaid finally got down on his knees in front of her and touched her face. He pulled her close to him, comforting her. What he didn’t know was that there was nothing at that moment that could take away the pain and betrayal she felt.

“Zanna, please don’t cry,” he said, releasing her and wiping away her tears. “Tell me what is the matter.”

“I have been lied to, Javaid,” she told him, tears falling down her cheeks. “I have been betrayed.”

“How? What happened?” he looked concerned.

“This book,” she took it from him. “It tells the story of Dusan. He was an Elven Knight who was promised to the princess of Vaelkesh. To prove his worth, he was sent on a quest to slay the dragon of the Ash Mountains that was terrorizing a neighboring town. He slew the beast but was horribly wounded in the process. The village that was being terrorized was occupied by humans. A kind villager found him and took him to the village healer. There, the healer and the healer’s daughter, Ianthe, nursed him back to health. During that time, Dusan fell in love with her. He wanted to marry her. When he healed, a local priest wed them. Afterward, he took her and a section of dragonhide, back to Vaelkesh. He expected his father to welcome him and his new bride. His father was furious. You see, if an Elf marries a human, if they decide to bond their lives with a human, they give up their immortality. He ordered Ianthe to be banished from the kingdom and the marriage annulled by the Elven wizards. When Dusan refused, his father ordered the execution of Ianthe. Seeing no other way, Dusan rescued her and fled across Mirstone, hoping to find shelter somewhere. For a few months, they did, hiding in The Feywilds. While there, Ianthe gave birth to a daughter. Their happiness was not to last for the King’s Guards found them. Dusan was not going to give up his wife and child easily, he fought, begging for Ianthe to run. She tried but was struck down by none other than his own father. Dusan was mortally wounded and was thought dead after throwing himself off a cliff. His father returned to the fallen body of Ianthe and saw that the infant was still alive. He drew his sword because he could not allow a half-blooded child to live. Dusan’s father, however, was turned to kindness when he saw her face and took her as his own. His father was Dorthran. That child was me.”

“Zanna,” Javaid didn’t know what to say. “Are you...are you sure?”

“I am,” she said. “It is all here. This book contains the history of my fath…Dorthran’s house.”

“But, why is this book here? How did you find it?” he wondered. “Why would your father lie to you about this? Who would leave a written account of what happened?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “It happened rather oddly. It read more like a legal account of what happened. I think it’s a copy of that account. It looks as though it is royal documents, but they have been spelled so that not just anyone can read them. Someone wanted this account kept secret, but someone else also wanted it known.”

She told him about the strange woman and the way the words didn’t seem to want to focus for her. Javaid opened the book and looked at the words.

Finally, Zanna stood up and walked toward the stone railing of the terrace. She took in a deep shaky breath. There were many emotions fighting for dominance inside her. If she were being honest with herself, betrayal was winning. She had always known that Dorthran was not her father, but she never knew who he truly was to her.

“What happened to him?” Javaid skimmed through the pages. “What happened to Dusan? You said they thought he was dead.”

“He made his way back to the town he had met Ianthe and found her father,” Zanna told him. “Both were filled with such anger and pain that they sought out a witch. Dusan combined his remaining Elven powers and her magic and made a suit of armor from the dragon scales of the beast he had slain. The suit was to give Dusan unimaginable power.”

“Was?” Javaid wondered.

“Yes,” she continued. “The witch’s magic was dark. In order for her spell to work, there had to be a blood sacrifice. Dusan had to kill the one person in the world he loved the most though he did not know this at the time. He put on the armor, marched back to Vaelkesh, determined to slay his father, and lay waste to the kingdom. After all, he believed his wife and child were dead. The person who he had loved the most was his father. However, upon fighting his way through an army of guards, he found his father with a child, a child he knew to be his and not because of her fiery red hair. It was because the armor wanted her life, her soul. The only way to complete the spell and gain the full power of the armor was to kill his infant daughter. He wanted to do it, but somehow he overpowered the armor and resisted. Pleading for help, his father had the mages of the city encase his son in magic in the Ash Mountains. According to that book, he’s still there.”

“He’s still alive?” Javaid wondered.

“I don’t know,” she turned to him. “But I’m going to find out.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” He followed after her as she pushed herself from the ledge and headed back to the door.

“I’m going to find him,” she said.

“You’re going to find the man who asked to be encased in magic so he wouldn’t kill you?” Javaid stepped in front of her. “You do know how insane that sounds, right?”

“He is my father,” Zanna told him. “I have to.”

“No, you have to stay alive,” he argued. “And how do you suppose you’re going to find him? The Ash Mountains go for miles in every direction.”

“Did you not see the map in the back?” she asked him, opening the book.

“No, I see only gibberish in that book,” he looked frustrated at the thought.

“It says here that he is at the base of the Dragon’s Eye,” Zanna told him. “Isn’t there a dragon statue there? One that we all call Dragon’s Eye? That must be where he is. I must go. I have to.”

“Or, you could stay here,” he offered.

“Javaid,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. “You don’t understand. How could you? You’re just as strong, just as fast, just beautiful as the rest of them with your long life ahead of you. You don’t know what it’s like to be me. Eventually, once you reach of age, you will stop aging, probably marry Enessa, and find a place amongst the royals. You will forget me.”

“Zanna,” he grabbed her shoulders. “I will never, never forget you. You must know what you mean to me.”

“It won’t matter when I’m old or dead and you still look like this,” she gestured to him. “Javaid, you are my friend, I adore you, but in reality, one day we will not be together. If I can find my father, then maybe I can help him and I won’t be alone.”

She could tell Javaid wanted to say something, but she walked away, leaving the words unspoken. Hearing his footsteps behind her, they entered the library. Now that she was a bit calmer, she realized exactly where they were, and her nerves started to eat at her.

They snuck down the hall, trying their best to be as quiet as possible. For Javaid, it was second nature to be stealthy. For her, she had to try with her all might. She couldn’t help but wonder why that was. If her father was an Elf from a talented family and was also a King’s Guard, how had she not inherited his abilities?

Was it possible she had? Her sister believed her skills had increased in a way that wasn’t humanly possible. Zanna was almost sure that with a bit more practice, she could finally beat Keres. She would be of age soon, even before Javaid.

She explained her thoughts to him, and he seemed to think she might be onto something. Besides, if Siofra had noticed a difference, perhaps it was true.

As they finally made it back to the library stacks, Zanna relaxed slightly. Not enough though. Her stomach was still in knots. Her shoulders felt tense and a headache was forming at the base of her neck. She knew that she would never truly feel the same again. She had to find her father.

With that thought she raised her skirt hem until she reached the tight white undergarment she was made to wear. Javaid’s face went red and he turned around.

“What are you thinking?” Javaid whispered.

“I have to hide this book,” she told him.

He peeked back around and saw that she had slipped the tights off and was now using them to strap the book to her inner thigh.

“You have gone mad,” he told her.

“Perhaps,” she said, not really paying attention to what he was saying. “Keep a look out for me, will you?”

He turned and looked down the aisle and when it seemed like she was done, he turned back to face her.

“I love you, Zanna,” he told her.

“I love you, too,” she told him. “You know that. You are my best friend. That is why I need you to understand why I am doing this. Put yourself in my place, Javaid. If he can be saved, I have to try.”

He looked at her for a moment. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he clenched his jaw. For a moment, it made her feel uncomfortable. They had been friends for so long, but he had never looked at her like that.

“I am going with you,” he said at last. “You are not to argue with me. You said to put myself in your place, and I am. I understand. Now put yourself in mine. Would you let me go alone?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Besides,” he told her. “I know ways in and out of here that you do not. We can leave this evening.”

“How you do you...never mind,” Zanna rolled her eyes. “All of your rendezvous, right?”

“You think so little of me,” he smiled down at her.

“I know you,” she said.

“I wonder about that sometimes.” He looked serious again and once more she saw that look in his sky-blue eyes. “Come, we must at least pretend that we’re not going to sneak out after nightfall and go on a quest that will kill us both.”

Zanna sat at dinner that night, her legs bouncing up and down in anticipation. Male and Female students were separated at every opportunity, which included meals. She sat a little down from her classmates, but close to Enessa and her friends. Every once in a while, she would look up and catch eyes with Javaid. He would give her a reassuring nod.

“Where have you been?” Keres sat down in front of her just as she was about to get up and clean her area.

“Excuse me?” Zanna looked at her, confused.

Keres never spoke to her while they were at the academy. She was sure that Keres pretended she didn’t exist for the most part, especially in public.

“Your Instructor said you were missing for half of the class,” Keres continued.

“I don’t see how she could know that when all of her students were spread across the library on assignment,” Zanna shrugged, but she suddenly felt suspicious. Had someone seen her?

“Were you off with Javaid?” Keres questioned rather forcefully.

“I was with him, yes,” Zanna told her. “We’re often together if you haven’t noticed.”

“It is forbidden to fraternize with a fellow student,” Keres told her. “You could be expelled.”

“Fraternize?” Zanna was confused for a moment and she couldn’t help but notice that Enessa was listening. “You think Javaid and I are…”

“You’re always together, as you said,” Keres told her. “And you were missing this afternoon.”

“Keres,” Zanna laughed and then was suddenly angry. “Javaid and I are friends. Besides, is it not against the law for Humans and Elves to...fraternize?”

“Stranger things have happened,” she said, eyeing Zanna. “Besides, I see the way he looks at you.”

Zanna suddenly wondered if Keres knew anything about her father, her real father. Why else would she have said that to her? Perhaps that was why she hated her so much. It wasn’t just that was human, it was because she was a half breed.

“Does that bother you that much you had to come say something to me?” Zanna felt her temper rising. “The thought that an Elf could look at a Human that way? Does it disgust you because Humans are so beneath you?”

“I only said…” Keres began.

“I know what you said.” Zanna stood up, glaring at her sister, and stormed away.

As she did, she thought about that word, “sister.” Keres was not her sister, she was her aunt. Though some might not think that much of a revelation, it was one to her. It meant that she and Keres actually did share blood. Would that change the way Keres treated her? Zanna doubted it. If anything, Keres would probably be appalled, revolted, that she had a half-human niece.

Zanna could feel the tears burning at the back of her eyes but refused to let them fall. She didn’t have the capacity to even talk to Javaid. They had their plan laid out, there was no reason to discuss it further. Her focus was to get out of the dining hall and away from Keres.

She laid in her bed that night waiting for the Instructors to make their last rounds. There had never been an incident of a student trying to sneak out and being caught, that she was aware of. Javaid claimed to have done it plenty of times. The Instructors were so sure of their ability to keep the students in line that once they made their last round, they either went to bed or stayed in their offices.

When Zanna was sure that she would have the halls to herself, she made her way out of the door. She had packed a small bag of provisions to take on their journey. She would need more food and water than Javaid, but he would bring some as well.

The stone hallways were eerily quiet. The flames from the torches that lined the halls flickered in an unseen breeze that tickled at the back of her neck. Her boots only made soft tapping noises as she moved as silently as possible around the corners and across the floors.

Reaching the armory, she looked for Javaid, but couldn’t find him anywhere. A sinking feeling filled her stomach. If he had decided not to accompany her, she wouldn’t begrudge him. This was her quest, after all. In fact, she had planned to go alone from the start. It was him who insisted on coming with her.

“Your steps are so loud I heard you coming from your bedroom,” Javaid whispered into her ear.

Zanna jumped, whirling around, facing Javaid in the dark. He was mere inches from her face. His white-blonde hair reflected the torchlight, the flames dancing in his eyes.

“You’re a monster,” she said, shoving him back.

“And you’re loud,” he snickered.

“I was quiet,” she insisted.

“To human ears, perhaps,” he handed her sword to her. “If you really are half-elf then we need to learn how to tap into that side of your abilities.”

“Do you think that is possible?” she wondered seriously as she sheathed the blade.

“It could be,” he shrugged. “Now, let’s move before we’re caught.”

They moved through the massive school, taking staircases and hallways that Zanna had never seen. Javaid was right, he did know places in and out of the structure that not many were privy to. However, Zanna didn’t think it was merely for his escapades with his fellow classmates. Finally, they were out of the building and running across the grounds. The grass was wet from recent rain, it clung to her boots and the dampness extended to the air. She breathed it in, not exactly hating it because she had to run with all her might to keep up with Javaid. By the time they reached the edge of the property, she was panting.

“Do I need to slow down?” he smirked at her.

“Shut up,” she told him.

He smiled and quickly climbed the tree beside them and gracefully leaped over the high wall. Zanna looked up in shock. When he said he knew a way out of the academy, she didn’t expect him to take her on an impossible route.

Eyeing the tree, she gauged she’d have to take a running leap to reach the lowest branch. That’s if she could even jump that high. Then she’d have to pull herself up the tree, through very precarious-looking branches. After that, she would have to make a 6-foot leap to the gate wall.

If she did actually pull this off, she already envisioned the swift kick to the shin she was going to give Javaid once she caught her breath.

“Are you coming?” Javaid called down to her.

“You must be really enjoying yourself,” she hissed at him.

“You are half-elf,” he told her. “Perhaps, it is time to start acting like it.”

“It’s not as if I can just snap my fingers and become an elf,” Zanna glared at him. “If I had these abilities, don’t you think I would have been able to use them by now?”

“You’re about to be of age,” he told her. “You said yourself, you felt stronger in your fight against Keres. How else do you explain that you were actually able to get in a hit? Besides, you didn’t become an Elf. You are an Elf.”

Zanna, sighed, not really sure how to take his words. She backed up as far as she thought was needed, bent her knees, took a deep breath, and took off. She ran as fast as she could and jumped, pushing up from the ground with all of her might. And she missed.

Zanna landed, hard, on her feet and went into a roll. She managed to stop herself before she crashed into the wall. She lay on her back, staring up at the sky for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Her entire body was tired and ached. She told herself when she did make it up the wall, she was going to kill Javaid.

As she laid there, she noticed that the wall wasn’t as smoothed as it seemed. There were pieces of missing brick and some of the stone jutted out from years of settling. Zanna grabbed some dirt and rubbed it on her hands, stood up, and grabbed the first stone. She made sure to secure her foot and then began climbing.

“What are you doing?” Javaid called down to her.

“What…does it look like?” she said, as she found another place to pull herself up.

“You’re supposed to climb the tree,” he said.

“We both know...that...isn’t going to...happen,” she said through movements and breaths.

Finally, she reached the top and Javaid helped her to the ledge. She was winded, but not as much as she thought she would be. Perhaps she wasn’t able to scale a tree and leap 6 feet across onto a wall, but she could admit to herself that she did feel a change in her abilities.

“Can I ask you something and I need you to be honest?” he questioned, as he turned her to look at him.

“Alright,” she told him.

“Are you going to find your father or are you going to find the armor?” Javaid’s ice-blue eyes burned into hers.

“I’m looking for my father, Javaid,” she told him, unsure of what he meant by the question.

Javaid said nothing for a heartbeat. He merely gazed at her, squeezed her shoulders, and nodded his head. He turned and gracefully jumped from the ledge and landed on the ground below.

“Arrogant showoff.” Zanna muttered under her breath but was sure he heard her based on the deep laugh she heard from below.

Zanna was thankful to find thick vines had grown on this side of the wall. She used them to work her way down and punched Javaid in the side when she approached him. He flinched, not expecting her jab, and laughed even harder.

They headed down a small, overgrown path, but it was indeed well-traveled at some point. Zanna suddenly felt Javaid grab her around the waist and pull her back just as an arrow whipped by her shoulder. She hit the ground like a bag of bricks. When she looked up. Javaid was already coming to blows with an unknown assailant.

“Javaid!” Zanna yelled as his sword clashed with the attacker’s.

Zanna jumped to her feet, drawing her own blade. As she did so, another man came out of the shadows and then another man. They surrounded her, circling like predators.

“Where’s the book?” one asked, he had on a green cloak, she was sure he was human.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” the other said, he was heavy set and broad. “But we will if we have to.”

Zanna could feel herself shaking. She had trained for moments like this, but nothing could really prepare for fighting for your life. The men seemed to sense that she wasn’t about to give up the book, so they moved in at once.

Zanna took in a deep breath, time seemed to slow down and then suddenly sped up. The men slashed at her with their blades. She clashed with the man on her right and narrowly missed a hit from the man on her left. Zanna brought up her leg and kicked the man in the green cloak in the knee. Screaming, he went down. Without hesitation, she jabbed her sword through his chest.

She tried not to think of the force she had to use, or the sound it made, or how it felt. The only thing she allowed to pass through her mind was her next move. Removing her sword swiftly, she brought the blood-stained blade back around in time to stop the fat man from cutting through her face.

He sneered at her but glanced at his fallen friend. Zanna could tell he was overcome with emotion. She had to use this to her advantage. She swung her sword, again and again. She was smaller than him, lighter, faster. He was too slow, but he was strong.

The man caught her with the back of his hand across her cheek. She hit the ground, her ears ringing. He came charging toward her, bringing his sword down. Zanna rolled out of the way just as the blade slammed into the dirt.

Seeing her opportunity, she brought her sword up quickly, swiping the blade up the man’s inner thigh, knowing she hit the spot she intended because hot, thick blood spilled onto the ground. It took the man only a few seconds to fall down and bleed out.

Zanna stood up just as Javaid came to her side. He helped her to her feet and they both took off at a high speed. They didn’t have time to stop. The men were dead, and they didn’t want to wait around to find out if anyone else was there to try and stop them.

They continued to run for a bit longer until they reached a small farm. Javaid apparently knew the man, a human, and his daughter lived in the tiny home on the property. Javaid paid him for two horses and saddles. As they left, Zanna couldn’t help but notice how the farmer’s daughter watched longingly after Javaid. Despite all that had just happened, Zanna felt something form in the pit of her stomach; something ugly. She pushed it away and focused on their current situation.

They rode quickly for a few hours. Soon, they arrived at Halesford, a human town of Mirstone. It was a bustling place at all hours of the day, but especially at night. Zanna had been just a few times. As they approached the gate, people moving in and out freely, she pulled her cloak over her head.

Many knew of her flaming locks, but it would still shock people who were not accustomed to seeing it. She didn’t realize how unusual her hair was until she was here with her father, with Dorthran, and a woman rushed to her and touched it. It was the only time she had felt special.

Dorthran had explained to her that her mother’s people were the last known human clan to have that particular feature. When they were wiped out, Zanna became the last human to have it.

Javaid went ahead. He knew the place better than her, so she didn’t mind. They stopped at a rickety-looking pub near the port. Without saying anything they entered the loud tavern and made their way to the bar. He ordered them two pints and they settled on the stools.

“What are we doing here?” she asked him, not drinking her mead, and looking around.

She held her hands in her laps, trying to stop them from shaking. She didn’t want Javaid to see her falling apart. In all honesty, she didn’t want to watch herself be so frail either.

“If we want to cross the sea to get to the Ash Mountains, we either have to book passage here or keep traveling and cross the bridge,” he told her. “Booking passage will save us days of travel.”

“Alright,” she nodded. “How do we book passage?”

“We find ourselves a captain,” he told her.

Zanna suddenly felt very grateful that she had let Javaid accompany her. There was so much about this world that she didn’t know. There was only so much one could learn from books and study. Dorthran kept his daughters as sheltered as possible. She could feel anger well up inside her. She loved him, she knew she did, but by keeping them locked up at home or the academy had put her at such a disadvantage.

“Oy, Elf,” an older man who smelled of smoke and drink came up to him.

“Yes?” Javaid tried to contain his anger.

“Ya lookin’ for passage for yerself and the female?” he asked as a few other men joined him.

“Ay,” Javaid nodded, but his nostrils flared. “We just need to cross the sea.”

“Whatcha willin’ to pay?” asked the man.

“What are you asking?” Javaid returned.

“50 silver,” he said. “Got me a good ship, good crew. Won’t be no funny busy with the female if yur worried ‘bout that.”

“I’m not worried,” Javaid smiled, a look flashing in his eyes that Zanna had never seen before.

The man was silent for a moment. His crew exchanged glances with one another. He took a long drink of the ale in his hands and nodded.

“We be leavin’ at first light in the mornin’,” he said. “Name’s Wislow. My ship is The Black Briar at the end of the dock. I expect half payment when we leave, half when we get there.”

“Fair enough,” said Javaid. “In the morning.”

Wislow nodded and left them. Zanna reached out and touched Javaid’s hand. His head whipped around and looked at her.

“You’re holding the hilt of your sword,” she whispered to him.

He looked down and then back at her. Slowly he moved his hand to the bar. Zanna stared at him, for a moment, it was as if she didn’t know him. He had looked so angry, so feral. Was this him when she wasn’t around, when he was on one of his assignments? She supposed he had to be different in places like this. Perhaps, she needed to be as well.

Again, she felt that anger rise in her. If only Dorthran had let them out now and then, maybe she would know how to handle herself in situations like this. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate Javaid or want his help; she just wanted not to need it.

“Barkeep,” Javaid said suddenly, and the old woman came huffing over.

She was a middle-aged woman with a round face and an even rounder bosom. She had curly blonde hair and rosy cheeks. The green of her eyes matched that of some of the brew she handed out to the patrons. Zanna did not want to know what that concoction was, just the smell made her stomach turn.

“Yes, dear?” the large woman greeted them.

“Is there a place nearby we can obtain shelter for the night?” he asked.

“Just so happens we have a room out back,” she told him. “It isn’t much, but it is clean and will keep you and the missus from the cold and rain that’s coming in. Just 1 silver and it comes with breakfast in the morning.”

“We’ll take it,” Javaid slipped the woman a coin and she gave him a key.

“Come, Missus,” Javaid said, and Zanna saw the smirk on his face.

Zanna was tempted to punch him in the back of the head. It if weren’t for the full tavern, she would have.

On their way out of the door, someone grabbed her wrist and whirled her around. A tall man with long, jet black hair pulled her toward him. She instinctively put up her hand and stopped their bodies from colliding.

“Where ya runnin’ off to, girlie?” he asked, his breath laced with mead.

“Unhand me, sir,” Zanna warned him.

“What proper talk,” he laughed and so did his party of six. “Are ye a lady, then? High born, I bet. Why are ye here, then? Lookin’ for a good time?”

“You’re going to be looking for a new hand if you don’t take yours off of me,” Zanna felt anger rush through her.

“Oy, a feisty one, boys!” he laughed. “Let’s see what’s hidden underneath that hood.”

He reached up and as he did Zanna brought up her knee, catching him in the groin. When he leaned over in pain, she brought her knee up once more, connecting with his nose. He fell back, blood sprouting from a clearly broken nose.

Another man went to grab her, a big burly man with a mop of white-blonde hair, but Javaid was there, grabbing his wrist and easily lifting him off the ground.

“We don’t want trouble,” he told him. “Your man put his hands where they were not wanted, and he paid the price. What’s done is done.”

The blonde man looked from Javaid to his friend on the floor. For a moment Zanna thought this fool was actually going to try and take on an Elf while he was drunk. Being drunk would be his only excuse.

“Fine,” the blonde man said and raised his hands in surrender.

Javaid let him go and before he, or anyone else for that matter, could change their minds and go to blows. Zanna grabbed him by the hand and led him out of the door. They made their way out of the tavern and toward the one-room shack they were staying for the night. On the way, they grabbed their horses and tied them to the post outside of the thin wooden door.

Once they were inside, Zanna began lighting the lantern and then helped Javaid throw wood in the fireplace. It was cold in the small room, but she shivered from more than that.

They had only been gone from Vaelkesh for a few hours and they had already been nearly killed and now in a tavern brawl. Her nerves were shot, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from making it to the Ash Mountains, even though someone clearly didn’t want her going.

Was it her father, Dorthran? Would he kill her in order to keep the secret of his son and her birth? Surely he loved her? He had always treated her like his own.

Once the fire was going well, Zanna sat at the small table and pulled out the book. She read through the account once more. It seemed like something from fables, but Zanna knew in her heart it had to be true. Her father must still be alive.

There was a knock at the door, they both tensed and quickly grabbed their weapons. Javaid went to one side and Zanna went to the other side.

“Yes?” Javaid said.

“It’s Lila,” a cheery voice said, “The barkeep. I thought you might like some hot soup I had left over.”

Javaid opened the door slightly while Zanna was ready to back him up if needed. Once he was satisfied that no one was with her, he opened the door a bit wider.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she smiled and walked in, putting a tray down on the table.

Zanna was there in a flash, grabbing the book from out of her reach. She had already had to kill someone for it, she didn’t want to have to stab the cheery barkeep.

“My stars!” Lila said, looking at her. “Oh, forgive me, ma’am. It’s just...I haven’t seen a head full of hair like that since I was a little girl.”

Zanna had forgotten she had removed her cloak. Her hands automatically went up to her hair and pushed it back.

“You must be...Oh, dear, I’m so sorry,” Lila bowed, but Zanna stopped her.

“Please,” Zanna said to her. “Don’t do that. I am not royalty, that is my...my father.”

“Lila,” Javaid said gently to her. “We thank you for your hospitality, but we must ask that you not inform anyone of our presence here. It is of vital importance.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “I may be a lot of things, but a traitor is not one of them.”

“Thank you,” Zanna squeezed her hand. “And thank you for the food.”

Lila bowed, even though Zanna had asked her not to, and left the shack. Zanna released a pent-up breath and looked at Javaid.

“Do we trust her?” she asked.

“I hope,” he said. “As of now, your father doesn’t know you’re missing. Whoever wants that book isn’t associated with him.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, sitting down at the table.

“He loves you, Zanna,” he turned to look at her. “He would never hurt you.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, she listened to the wind blowing outside, thankful they had four walls and a fire burning to keep them sheltered. She chose to enjoy it because all she knew this might be their last night with these comforts.

“You should eat,” he said, pouring some soup in a bowl and handing it to her.

“So should you,” she told him.

“I don’t require as much food as you,” he reminded her.

“Be that as it may, take a hot meal when it is offered to you,” she said. “Besides, when was the last time you and I had supper together? Sit down and have a meal with me.”

She could see the edge of a smile creep into his mouth. He poured himself a bowl of the steaming soup and sat across from her. After a moment they had relaxed enough to talk and smiled a little. Zanna needed it. She needed to laugh. She needed to push away the face of the dying men. The men she had killed.

“Rest,” Javaid said after a moment. “I’ll take watch.”

“What about you?” she asked as she yawned.

“I’m not tired,” he told her.

“Well, if you do begin to tire, come to bed,” she began and then realized what she had said. “What I meant was…”

“I know what you meant, Zanna,” he stifled a laugh.

Zanna had never felt uncomfortable around Javaid. They had been friends for so long, and he had so many admirers that she had long removed any thoughts of them being anything more. They had slept in the same bed as recently as last year when they went out stargazing. When she’d awoke, he’d been asleep beside her and while she had enjoyed his beauty, she didn’t feel like anything had changed.

Now, as she stared at him standing across the room from her, she was wondering if something had. After that evening, he had left for an entire year on a mission for the King. He had been through much in his travels, and now, he was a different elf. He had that same light smile she had always found comforting, but there was something dark that swam beneath the surface of those ice-blue eyes. She had a feeling tonight was not his first kill.

She managed to nod and removed her sword from her waist. Feeling the weight of it leave her body was both reassuring and frightening. She leaned it against the bed so she would be able to reach it quickly if needed.

Laying down, she watched Javaid blow out the lantern light and stand guard at the window. He didn’t move for so long he almost looked like a statue. She watched him until her eyes grew heavy with sleep.

It seemed as though no time had passed when she was jolted awake by Javaid. His hand was over her mouth. She could imagine what her expression looked like, her eyes wide with fear. His face, on the other hand, was severe but collected.

He placed a finger to his lips. Then he pointed to the door. Zanna looked as she raised up, her heart beating wildly in her chest. The knob was turning left and then right. It was slight. If you weren’t paying attention, then you would hardly notice at all.

Zanna stood up as quietly as she could and put her sword sheath back on her waist, quickly, and then drew her sword. They both went and stood on either side of the door. She reached over and gently took the handle in her hands. When Javaid nodded, she yanked the door open.

The man on the other side was so surprised that he stumbled into the room and fell to the floor. Javaid was on him before he knew what was happening. Zanna scanned the outside and as soon as her head was out of the door, she caught a fist to her chin. Staggering back, she threw her sword in front of her.

Blackness crept at the edges of her vision, but she saw a figure move into the room.

“Hand over the book, girl,” a voice said, and the way he said “girl” made anger swell inside her.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts and her vision.

“Come and get it,” she challenged.

As the man lunged forward, her sight came back into focus. She may not have been an Elf, but she had been trained with them her entire life. She knew things, combat moves, that this man only wished he had learned.

He was fast, but she was faster. His size and form worked against him as she darted past him. It took him a moment to whirl around and when he did, Zanna struck a blow to his chest. He wore a breastplate, so he didn’t go down, but he was shocked that she had managed to hit him.

Her eyes momentarily darted to Javaid who was still fighting with his own assailant. She looked back at the man in black.

“Who sent you?” she asked him, circling around him.

“No one sent me, girl,” he said. “We’ve been looking for that book for a long time.”

“Why?” she questioned.

“You know why,” he said, inching closer. “It will lead us to the armor and with it, great power. Anyone who wears it will be invincible. Not even your Elf King could stand in its way.”

“It was stopped once before,” Zanna told him. “It can be stopped again.”

“That was because your Daddy didn’t want to hurt you,” he said. “That much of the story, I do know. What I need to know is where they have it hidden. You wouldn’t want to tell me that, now would you? I might even let you live if you do.”

“And what about my companion?” she asked. “Will you spare him as well?”

“Sure, I’m feeling generous,” he smiled, his teeth stained yellow, and lowered his sword slightly.

Zanna took that moment to pick up the lantern on the table and throw it at his feet. In the next moment, she reached in the fire and pulled out a half-lit log and flung it toward him. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but by then it was too late.

The bottom of his cloak caught fire and quickly crawled up his back. He screamed, fighting to remove the garment, but now the flames were attacking his boots. The man began to panic and batted this way and that. Now that he was completely distracted, and the flames began to singe his hair, Zanna stepped forward and swung her sword quick and hard, severing his head from his body.

In the next moment, Javaid’s sword went through the other man’s chest. It made a sickening wet sound as Javaid twisted it, ensuring death.

Without saying anything, they grabbed their belongings and hurried from the cabin. Quickly they mounted their horses and headed for the docks.

The captain, Wislow, was there already, ordering his men to load large barrels of what looked like mead onboard.

“You be early,” he narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll pay you double if you let us on now,” Javaid offered.

“Fine,” he muttered after a moment and gestured toward the ship. “There be a cabin I set aside for you. It’s only the one, so hope ye both don’t mind bunking together. We’ll square away payment when I’m done here.”

They left their horses at the stables. Zanna gave her’s a quick kiss in thanks and rushed onto the ship with Javaid. When they found their cabin, they entered quickly and closed the door.

It was small and cramped. It only had room from a very tiny bed and a round table. Standing, they were practically nose to nose, so Zanna sat down on the bed. When she did it felt like the weight of what just transpired came crashing down her.

She swore she wouldn’t give in to nerves like she had the first time. It was either him or her and she would always choose herself, always. She reached inside her shirt and found that the book was still there. Pulling it out, she studied the green leather, wondering if all of this was worth the secret inside.

“Are you…” Javaid started.

“I’m fine,” she said harshly and instantly regretted it.

He was only being her friend, but she couldn’t have him be sympathetic at the moment. She had killed a man, cut off his head. The last thing she needed or deserved was to be coddled.

“I’m fine,” she said a bit softer. “Any idea when we’re leaving?”

“The sun should rise in about an hour,” he told her. “The captain said they were leaving at first light. We’ll just have to wait until then.”

Zanna nodded. She moved herself back to the head of the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, waiting. As Javaid paced the room she read the story again and again. Her father had to still be alive. All of this had to be for a reason. There was a purpose in her finding this book and learning his story. Otherwise, why? Why was this happening? Why was she headed to the Ash Mountains with a trail of bodies in her wake?

There was a knock at the door. She jumped up from the bed. Both she and Javaid had their swords out.

“It’s Wislow,” the old man said. “We’re bout to be sailing off. Come to collect me payment.”

Javaid fished out the coins and opened the door. He handed the man the money. Wislow counted it and then looked at him and then at Zanna, his eyes growing large at the sight of her red hair.

“Breakfast be served in an hour,” he told them. “It ain’t much, but it will fill your bellies. I do suggest you wash up though. Ye both covered in blood. There’s a water basin there on ye table, small mirror ‘bove it.”

With that, he left them. Zanna finally looked at Javaid and he looked at her. Blood had dried on his face, neck, and hands. There were spots all over his shirt as well. Luckily neither one of them had been wearing their cloaks at the time so they were clean. Zanna assumed she looked just as bad. When she looked at her hands, she realized they were flaking with dried blood.

She tried not to rush to the basin, but she wasn’t sure how much she succeeded in that endeavor. Pouring water from the jug into the basin she nearly spilled it all over the floor. Javaid came to the side and grabbed the container.

“Slow down,” he said soothingly.

She wasn’t sure why, but this enraged her. She ignored him and poured the water faster and then slammed the jug down on the table. She took a cloth from the table and began scrubbing her hands vigorously, wishing she had her many soaps from home because even though the blood was gone, she didn’t feel clean.

“Zanna,” Javaid said, but she continued to ignore him.

There was just too much blood on her hands, on her arms, on the sleeves of her shirt. She ripped off her cloak and began washing her face and neck. She washed and washed, splashing water all over the wooden floor.

“Zanna, please,” he said, but his voice sounded distant.

A large stain was on the hem of her shirt and it sent waves of nausea through her. She hurriedly pulled the shirt over her head and dunked it in the water, trying her best to wash it away. When the water was bloody, she threw it on the floor, filled the basin, and began washing her shirt again. The stain wasn’t coming out and she was mad, enraged. She began beating the shirt against the wall.

Finally, Javaid grabbed her arm and turned her around to face him. His icy blue eyes were full of something she couldn’t understand at the moment. He pulled her into his embrace.

“Stop!” she yelled, struggled against him. “Let go of me!”

He said nothing, just held her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her bare back, the wet shirt pressed between them.

“I said let go of me, Javaid, I mean it!” She hit his chest with her fists.

He held her until she didn’t have the strength to hit him anymore. Zanna wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t let the tears come. This was her journey, not his. She had to be stronger than this. She had been ridiculed and stigmatized most of her life. That took every ounce of her emotional capacity to survive. She could survive this.

“May I have my shirt?” she asked him as she stood taller, realizing she was standing in front of him practically naked with nothing more than her long hair shielding most of her flesh from his gazing eyes.

“It is drenched,” he told her, staring hard into her eyes.

“It’s fine,” she took the soaking wet shirt from him and put it back on, though not easily.

The ship began to pull from the port and as it did so, Zanna stormed from the room. She needed fresh air. She needed this shirt to dry. It was once a soft teal, now it looked more like a muddy brown. On her way above deck, many of the sailors jumped out of her way in surprise. Surely they knew they had passengers, but they were not expecting the daughter of Dorthran.

When she made it to the top, she was glad to see that there was already some distance between them and the shore. The air was a bit cool, but she didn’t complain. It felt nice on her skin. She brushed her hair out of her face and noticed she was getting stares from the crew.

She was tempted to turn and ask them if they had something to say, but she knew it would be unfair. None of them had done anything to her. It wasn’t their fault she was being chased down by a group of people determined to find her father’s armor.

That was when she noticed about five or so riders storm up the harbor. One of them dismounted their horse and ran the length of the dock. It was Keres. Her long white hair was tied back in a braid, but Zanna knew it was her. She wore her armor and her sword was unsheathed at her side. Even though there was quite a bit of distance between them, Zanna knew that Keres saw her with her keen eyes. Keres pointed her sword in the direction of their vessel and then regrouped with her companions.

Zanna wasn’t sure how long she had stood out there, but eventually, her shirt dried and her stomach gnawed with hunger.

“Zanna,” Javaid’s voice sounded from behind her.

She turned and saw he was guarded, unsure of her reaction. Zanna didn’t smile at him. She was tired of smiling. That’s what her mother would always tell her, even when she didn’t feel like it, “Smile, Zanna.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “You missed breakfast, but I saved you some food.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.

“I know,” he responded and handed her a bowl of porridge.

She took the bowl and ate it. It was bland, but she finished it, knowing it would be hearty and keep her strength up.

“I can take that, Miss Zanna,” a young crew member came forward and offered to get the bowl from her.

She saw it on his face and the way he said her name, he recognized her. It didn’t surprise her, but it was annoying. It made her want to hide, to find somewhere that no one knew her or Dorthran.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

She never knew what to expect from people. Sometimes it was this reaction, this groveling as if she has done something other than being born with red hair. Other times it was as if she had the audacity to be born at all. The humans, for the most part, adored her. There were those who thought she should be ashamed, living with Elves. Maybe it was jealousy, but it was also their fast-held beliefs that the two races should not mix.

Zanna caught Javaid staring at her. When she looked at him, he didn’t look away. There was that look again. She recognized it. He was angry. She was shocked. Was he angry at her? For what exactly? She traced back in her memory, trying to recall a moment when she could have done something to warrant his hostility. Nothing came to mind.

She pushed past him and the boy and went below deck to their room. Surprisingly, she fell into a deep sleep. Her dreams were full of dark shadows and faces of people she had never met. Strong hands gripped her shoulders, calling her name. She fought, but still, they held on.

“Zanna! Wake up!” It was Javaid, he was shaking her.

“What is it?” she was disoriented, but jumped out of the bed, ready to fight.

“You’re safe,” he told her. “You were screaming in your sleep.”

Zanna looked at him and then at her surroundings. They were still on the ship. She felt it rock back and forth. Even though she couldn’t see outside, she knew many hours had passed since she had fallen asleep. Zanna moved out from under his grasp, her heart in her throat, the phantoms of her dreams still playing in her mind’s eye. When she felt like she could talk, she looked at him.

“I... you missed dinner,” he said to her. “I brought you some of the food.”

“You don’t have to take care of me!” she snapped. “I can feed myself!”

“I never said you couldn’t, Zanna,” he looked as if she had slapped him.

“I saw her,” Zanna said finally. “Keres, she was on the dock when we departed. She’s following us. Do you think she knows? Do you think my father...Dorthran sent her after me...to kill me?”

“They love you, Zanna,” he said to her. He lingered for a moment and then opened the door to their tiny cabin.

With that, he left the room. She stood there, an uncontrollable anger rushing up to her chest. Without being able to stop herself, she punched the cabin wall. She felt her knuckles give, but more surprisingly, so did the wall, if only slightly. Zanna looked at her hand. It hurt, but it wasn’t bloody or bruised. She was a bit shocked. Just a few months ago that one action would have surely broken her hand. Perhaps they were right, she was coming into her abilities.

The next few days were tense. The ship was heading for a storm and Javaid had barely spoken to her, except for when it was necessary. She finally decided to join the crew at mealtimes. None of them said a word about her hair or who she was, for which she was thankful. In fact, they treated her and Javaid as one of their own. It was mainly due to the fact that both of them had done their fair share of work around the ship.

Javaid helped heave in and lower sails while Zanna did other deckhand work. She had never worked so hard in her life. Her body was tired, but she felt better for it at the end of the day. It almost made her want to stay right on this ship, officially become a part of the crew, and forget her plans of finding her father who was more than likely dead.

The thought sent pain and longing shooting through her soul. While it might be exciting to escape into the role of a sailor for a few days, she knew that’s all it was, an escape. They would reach the shores of an unknown land soon and she would have to focus on the task at hand.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Javaid would continue on the journey with her. Zanna knew she had given him no reason to want to stay. They would have to get over this rift and soon and the thought made her angry once again. She didn’t even know why he was upset with her. Sure, recently she had been cold, but he was mad before then.

That night she laid awake in her cot while he sat at the table, the ship swaying back and forth. She could feel the storm brewing outside, but it was nothing compared to one inside her heart. Javaid worked on a piece of leather with his knife. The constant scraping seemed to seep into her mind, pouring into her marrow.

“If you do not speak on why you are angry with me, I may just take that piece of leather and strangle you with it!” Zanna jumped up from the bed.

Javaid looked genuinely shocked. He slowly put the knife back in the sheath at his ankle and the leather strap back in the small purse at his waist. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Sorry if I disturbed you,” he said, closing his eyes and propping his feet on the table.

“Are you a child?” she knocked his feet down, nearly causing him to fall.

He stood up angrily and picked his chair back up, “I could ask you the same,” he growled.

“Why will you not tell me what is bothering you?” she asked, moving closer to him. “We will reach shore in the morning and I am wondering where your mind is.”

“Where my mind is?” he gruffed, inching closer to her. “Where else could it be? Right here and a thousand miles forward in the Ash Mountains, wondering what the hell we’re getting ourselves into exactly.”

“I never asked you to come, Javaid,” she said to him angrily. “So if your sour attitude is because I took you away from your privileged life and latest conquests then by all means, when we disembark tomorrow, you don’t have to come with me. I am accustomed to being on my own.”

“There, right there,” he put his finger in her face. “That’s it, right there. Those words.”

“What are you raving about?” she swatted at him. “Get your gigantic finger out of my face, Javaid.”

“Or what?” he challenged.

Zanna didn’t even think about what she was doing. One moment she was glaring at him and the next she had grabbed his finger, bent it, and then twisted his arm behind his back. He called out in surprise but quickly gathered his thoughts because she was suddenly on her back on the bed.

She punched him in the gut, causing him to bend over, gasping for breath. Zanna kicked up and wrapped her legs around his head, using his hair to pull herself up, and then wrapped her entire body around his head and neck, squeezing. Using her elbow, she delivered several blows to the top of his head.

Javaid turned and bit her inner thigh. She screamed and tried pulling away from him, which gave him enough room to grab her legs, pull her off of him and slam her against the wall. He pinned her there, using his weight to hold her place.

“Enough,” he said to her.

“Get off me!” she spat at him.

“Not until you listen to me, you selfish brat!” he yelled back.

Those words seemed to douse the fire burning insider her. She looked up at him and that light that had been fading in out of his eyes seemed to be aflame.

“You have always acted like you were alone,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “And I understand why. I will not pretend to know what you have felt all these years growing up as an outsider wherever you go and then finding out the truth of your lineage. That is something I cannot touch. But, Zanna,” his voice was tense, yet tender, “You have never, never been alone. I...I have been there, right by your side...waiting for you to notice. I would follow you to the ends of Mirstone if you asked me. I am and you didn’t even have to and you never stopped to ask yourself why? I do not care about my riches or my conquests, as you put them, they mean nothing to me. You, Zanna, you have and you will always mean everything to me. I told you standing in the library beside those old dusty books, I love you.”

He let her go then and stood back, looking at her. If she weren’t mistaken, there were tears in his eyes. Javaid said nothing more and climbed into the bed, rolling over on his side. Zanna stood there for a moment, just staring at him. Slowly, she made her way over and slid into the bed beside him. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. Javaid turned to face her, Zanna wiped the tears that stained his cheeks. He kissed her gently on the forehead and pulled her closer.

*

They spent that night in each other’s arms, feeling safe there in the rocking ship, not knowing what lay on the other side of the sea.

*

After departing Wislow’s ship, Zanna and Javaid spent only enough time in the tiny port village to purchase a few supplies and horses.

It was dingy, and smelled damp, despite being baked by bright sunlight. Perhaps it was because it was so close to the sea.

Children with dirty faces and no shoes crowded the harbor, asking the sailors about treats and their adventures. Zanna wondered where their parents might be but then thought maybe some of them might be the sailors themselves.

They were warned by some merchants that crossing the desert was certain doom, but none of the village folk seemed sad to see them leave.

While they clearly wanted a clear conscience, they didn’t want an Elf residing in their town for long. Zanna had made sure to pull her under her cloak, despite the overwhelming heat.

She wasn’t certain if she would be recognized beyond the Blackridge Sea, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Ensuring her identity was secret would make it harder for Keres to track her.

As they mounted their horses, which were surprisingly well taken care of and healthy, Zanna couldn’t help but wonder how far behind Keres might be. Perhaps it was days, or merely hours. With that thought, she was glad they were continuing their journey without delay.

The desert was harsh and unforgiving, as were most places designed to be wild and free. Still, there was something dangerously beautiful about the poisonous reptiles and hellish sun. It made sense to her. There was a purpose to their existence when she couldn’t find one for her own.

Their first two days of travel were relatively uneventful. They traveled at the early hours of the morning until they could no longer take the heat, retreating into the heavy canvas tent they purchased at the port village.

Neither one had spoken about the night on the ship when they had taken comfort and refuge in each other’s embrace. There were moments Zanna felt as though he were about to say something to her, she could feel the tension rolling from his body, but instead he would say he would take first watch or ask her if she were hungry.

Zanna thought it was for the best. Her future was unknown at this point. Perhaps, if their moment had happened at another point in time, there could have been further discussion. Now, it just seemed pointless. That didn’t stop her heart from aching, or her body longing for his touch.

They had reached the edge of the desert city. Lights could be seen from the distance, but the desert sand muted any noise. It was like looking at a beautiful painting doused in all the colors of a deep red and golden sunset.

Their supplies were diminishing so Javaid made a quick trip early the next morning. He was in and out of the city before the sun rose and then they moved forward. Soon they could see the Ash Mountains in the distance. Zanna felt like a fire had been set aflame inside her. She wanted to keep moving, but it would be another full day before they would even reach the base and they needed rest.

The closer to the mountains, the darker the sky became. It was an eerie setting with dead and dried vegetation scattered here and there. The horses seemed hesitant to venture forward and it took much coercion to guide them toward the mountain. They, too, felt the heaviness that seemed to thicken the air.

After their meal of dried meat and fresh bread from the city, it was time to rest. However, Zanna was unable to beckon sleep to her tired mind. It was racing with thoughts of what they might find tomorrow. They would reach the mountain by dawn if they set out in a few hours.

She tossed around on her cot in the canvas tent. It was hot, so she moved the heavy blanket from her body. She stayed fully dressed at all times in case they needed to move quickly. It made her miss her thin and cool night dresses from home. She doubted she would ever have those comforts again. Things had changed beyond recognition. She had killed. Her sister was hunting her. Who knew what her father, what Dorthran would do with her once he found her.

“You’re not asleep?” Javaid asked, coming into the tent. A brief stream of moonlight filtered in behind him before they were doused in darkness once more.

“Is it my watch?” She asked.

“It is, but a storm cloud is moving in,” he told her. “There will be nothing visible for a while.”

Zanna could just make out his form in the dark as he sat down in his cot. At that moment she heard thunder in the distance.

“I spotted a cliff not far from here,” he said. “It looks as though there might be a cave. We should head that way. I’m afraid where we are might be dangerous for us and the horses.”

“Alright,” she told him.

They quickly packed up the tent and moved toward the cliff. Javaid was right, there was a small cave in the rocks. It didn’t go back into the stone very far, but it was enough to put a considerable distance between themselves and the coming storm. The horses, unfortunately, would have to withstand the onslaught, but at least they wouldn’t be in danger of getting washed away.

The rain came quickly and fiercely. Thunder bombed and the lightning lit up the night’s sky. The horses were terrified and Zanna felt terrible there was nothing that she could do for them.

“They’re fine,” Javaid told her for the hundredth time.

“Do you think this will pass by the morning?” she wondered, wanting to leave as soon as they could.

“I’m not sure,” he told her. “From what I saw, the storm cloud was large and moving in our direction. If it keeps up with this speed and doesn’t slow down, we should be able to.”

Zanna nodded and stoked the small fire they had set. The rain had brought with it a chill and she was eager to rid it of her skin. She wound the blanket on her shoulders a bit more tightly. The thunder seemed to be louder and the rain picked up speed. This was doing nothing for the anxiety building in her chest.

Javaid came and sat next to her, warming his pale hands and she couldn’t help but stare at his perfect skin. Then she noticed, the closer she looked the more she saw the fine lines of scars that danced along his knuckles. She looked up at him and could make out just the slightest imperfection of his nose where it had been broken a few times. A thin scar, not visible to most humans lined his jaw down to his neck. She had never seen him like this before now.

They were clearly onto something. The closer she got to her 21st year of birth, the more her elven abilities seemed to enhance. Her stomach lurched when she realized her day of birth was only two days away. What would happen when she actually reached her full potential? Was this why Dorthran had wanted her to train just like her sister? Because he knew one day she would grow into her true self?

And how she was seeing Javaid, this had to be proof that she was indeed an Elf. And he had loved her before knowing that. He had risked everything, his own life, to come on this quest based solely on what she had told him. He couldn’t read the book. He just trusted her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked her when he noticed her staring.

Zanna leaned over and kissed him. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. Perhaps she needed somewhere to focus her emotions, or perhaps she just wanted to feel his lips on hers. She pulled away and Javaid stared hard at her for a moment. Even though her eyes were seeing things differently for the first time, it didn’t change the vibrant blue of his eyes. They were still as beautiful, still as marvelous.

Javaid grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her, deeply, pulling her to him. The night on the ship had been amazing. She had found peace in his embrace. Still, that was all it was. He had held her as she drifted off to sleep and when they awoke, it was as if that moment had only been a dream.

This was different. This was the first time they had truly expressed how they felt. This was the first time that she felt his lips on hers and it opened up feelings she had long ago repressed.

Javaid kissed her as if he might never get the chance to do it again. In the back of her mind, she wondered if that were true. With that thought she kissed him harder, pulling him closer until she was wrapped around him. They needed no words. It only took a look to know what each of them thought, what they felt. At that moment, the storm outside could have destroyed the world and they would have been none the wiser. In truth, they would have never even cared.

Early the next morning, Javaid awoke her with a kiss on her shoulder. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling into his chest and breathing in the fresh scent of his long, white hair. For just a moment, she lay there, listening to the rain that was still falling, tracing her finger across his bare skin, and accepting every kiss he offered.

For a minute more, she could see herself letting go of this quest to find the armor. If he would ask her, she would turn away from it all and go. Then, a cold gust of wind washed over them, and that moment was gone. She still laid there, taking in his beauty, but knew that they had to leave. She kissed him once more and then stood to get dressed.

“I love you,” he said to her as she put on her shirt.

Zanna froze. What had happened between them had a name, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to give it one. Javaid came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head, hugging her to him.

“I love you, Zanna,” he told her again. “I just want you to know that.”

He let go and got dressed himself. She didn’t say anything to him as they packed up their belongings and headed out of the cave. The storm had passed, but there was still a steady rain. Their horses were soaked but in good condition. Zanna felt bad having to put her mare through another journey, but they had to keep moving.

For hours they made slow progress through the rain and mud. When Javaid asked if she was hungry and wanted to rest, she told him to keep going. There really wasn’t anywhere to take refuge from the downpour and even though she did feel a bit of hunger gnaw at her stomach, she didn’t think she could eat.

The mountain formation was so close. If they kept this pace they would be there by dusk. Although it seemed nightfall was eons away. Just when Zanna didn’t think they would ever make it there, the ground became a little less muddy and when she fought the rain to see and looked up the mountains were there looming over her.

They dismounted and tied their horses to a scraggly tree. They would have to climb, and it was far too steep for the horses.

“And the map says we climb until we see the Dragon’s Eye?” Javaid asked.

“That’s what the book says,” she told him. “I’ve been thinking and I don’t think it’s literal. I don’t think it’s the statue, that seems far too obvious. I think it means the volcano.”

“You want to climb the volcano?” he asked.

“I really think that’s what it meant,” she told him.

“There is a perfectly good dragon statue right up there with a ruby eye that’s sure to be some kind of magic,” he told her as the rain beat down on them. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” she nodded.

“Alright, up the volcano we go,” he shrugged and they turned in the direction of the fiery rock.

Zanna could feel the anticipation build inside her. She wanted to run up that volcano. She wanted to burst through it and find her father. She would free him from the armor that encased him, and they would leave, start a new life somewhere else.

She thought for a moment. Is that what she really wanted? She knew she had to free him. He had been encased for so long. And she would do all that was within her power to help him accumulate to his new life. But now that she was coming into her own abilities, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to spend them stationary. She needed to move, to breathe, to be free of the rules that had kept her bound to the walls of her home for so long.

As they reached the base of the volcano the air became thicker, heavier, and the rain seemed to leave dark stains upon their skin. The volcano had been sleeping for over a thousand years. Still, there would be reports that it rumbled from time to time. Zanna prayed to the gods that it remained a sleeping giant.

Up and up they climbed as the rain beat down upon their shoulders. Zanna was sure they would drown before they would reach the top, if they ever did. She wasn’t sure how long it would take them.

The incline became steeper and the rocks were slick with rain and mud. Still, Zanna found her footing was sure and was able to stay on her feet. She wasn’t as fast as Javaid, but this was another sign that her father was indeed Elf and she was reaching her abilities quickly. If they had taken this path a year before, the trek up the volcano would have been nearly impossible for her.

“Zanna, look!” Javaid called.

He was pointing behind him and when she turned her head, her eyes finding where he pointed, her heart gave a quick pang. Four figures were headed in their direction. They were several hours behind, but even in the rain, she knew who they were. Elves from Vaelkesh. Keres was amongst them, she had to be.

“We have to hurry,” she turned and quickened her pace.

“Maybe if we just talk to her,” Javaid offered.

“No,” Zanna said. “Dorthran sent assassins after us. What makes you think Keres isn’t another one.”

“Because she is your family,” he said to her. “And she loves you.”

“Loves me?” Zanna couldn’t help but laugh. “She doesn’t love me, Javaid. She did everything in her power to make me miserable, every day of my life. If she had an excuse to kill me, believe me, she’ll use it.”

“But, you love her,” he said to her.

“What?” Zanna stopped walking and turned to him.

“You love her,” he told her. “She is your sister. And despite your differences, and how much you fight, you love her and she loves you. I see it.”

“You can stay and talk to her if you want,” Zanna felt that same sudden rush of rage. “I’m going.”

Zanna turned and continued up the volcano. It wasn’t long before Javaid was beside her. Occasionally she would turn to see that Keres and the other soldiers had made great progress. She wondered if they would make it to the top before they reached them. And when her resolve seemed to almost give in, she saw it, the plateau. It stretched further than she thought possible. The volcano was indeed sleeping, but there was a large cavernous drop a bit further ahead of them. They walked to it, peering over the side. It was too far down for even Javaid to see the bottom.

Zanna looked around and saw that there was no life here. There were no plants, no birds, it was barren and felt as though a creeping pressure were building up from somewhere, pressing down on them.

“What now?” Javaid asked.

“I...I’m not sure,” she looked around again and suddenly a woman was standing a few feet from them.

They both drew their swords, backing away. She was tall, with long flowing black hair and pale skin. She wore a form-fitting gray dress with a black cloak to protect her from the rain. She stared at them with eyes like coal. She was so still that Zanna wasn’t sure if she was breathing. That’s when she recognized her.

“You’re from the library,” Zanna said. “You showed me the book. How do you look so young? Mavka.”

Javaid looked from Zanna to the mysterious woman. He brought his sword up a bit higher, clearly not trusting her.

“I did,” she said, her voice was crisp and ringing, even over the rain.

“Why?” she asked.

“Is that what you really want to ask me?” the woman took a step forward and Javaid did as well, but acted as though she didn’t even notice.

“Where is my father?” Zanna asked.

The woman glanced at the crater and Zanna’s heart dropped.

“Down there?” she asked.

“It was the only way to seal him properly,” Mavka told her.

“Who are you?” Zanna didn’t trust her.

“Your sister is nearly upon you,” she told Zanna. “Do you really want to waste time on useless questions?”

“I don’t trust you,” Zanna narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Now answer me. Why are you helping me?”

“He came to me so long ago, broken in so many ways.” She began walking toward the edge. “He had lost his family at the hands of someone he thought he could trust. He was angry. I helped him because he saved my village from dragon fire. Now, I am trying to help you. Your father, your true father, is at the bottom of this chasm and only you can free him.”

“If only I can save him then why have there been so many people trying to find him first?” she asked.

“They could take the armor, but it would kill him,” the woman said to her. “And do you think they would care? Only you care enough to save him.”

“And you care? That’s why you helped?” Zanna said incredulously.

“Like I said, he saved my life,” Mavka told her. “And I do not want to see that armor in the hands of just anyone. The armor he wears is unbreakable, unbendable, and holds a power none other has held before in all of our history.”

“And you helped him make it,” Zanna said.

“I did,” she admitted.

“You’re a witch,” Javaid sneered at her.

“I am far more than that, boy,” the woman spat at him. “I was here when this rock was formed and your people were created from dirt and dust.”

“Are you a goddess?” Zanna wondered.

“I have been reviled and revolted, child,” she told her. “I have been known by many names, but for the past thousand years your people have called me Mavka.”

“Mavka of the Forest,” Javaid said. “You are a witch then.”

Mavka sneered at him but said nothing.

“Why are you helping me?” Zanna asked again. “It’s more than what you’re saying.”

“She needs something from you,” Javaid sneered. “Something you have to willingly give.”

“I don’t like you,” the woman said to him.

“I’ll give it,” Zanna told her.

“Zanna!” Javaid rounded on her. “You don’t know what you’re even agreeing to.”

“I’ll give it, if you can give me my father,” she told the woman.

“Oh, sweet, innocent child,” the woman smiled sweetly at her. “I cannot give you your father. You must take him, but in order to do so, without harm coming to him, must be done carefully. You see, the magic that created the armor was blood magic, the strongest known in every realm. If someone else were to take the armor, it would work, but not like it would for someone in the same bloodline. It was also blood magic that bound him to his tomb. He gave up his soul to be bound to that armor. Your grandfather gave a piece of himself to bind him to it, to save his son, and to save you. If you want to free your father…”

“I have to be willing to give up a part of myself as well,” Zanna finished.

“Zanna, no, you…” Javaid seemed to freeze, his body went rigid and his eyes went wide with fear.

“I’ve grown weary of you, boy,” Mavka said. “It’s time for just us girls to talk.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Zanna stood in front of Javaid.

“He’s not in pain,” she said and seemed a bit disappointed at the thought. “He just can’t interrupt anymore. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, the price you’re willing to pay to save your father. What are you willing to give the magic in return for him?”

“What does it want?” Zanna asked, feeling the weight of this decision as if she were holding the volcano up herself.

“Blood magic is strange, indeed,” Mavka said, walking toward her. “You never know what is asked of you until you have offered yourself.”

“That hardly seems fair,” Zanna narrowed her eyes at the woman, if that is what she truly was.

“Is life really fair, Zanna?” Mavka offered.

Zanna watched as the woman moved closer to her. Her dark eyes seemed so lifeless, her form so rigid as if she hadn’t moved her body in such a long time that she had forgotten how. Or, maybe it was because this wasn’t her true form at all. She wondered what she might actually look like under the facade of beauty that covered her.

She looked behind her and saw that Keres and the other soldiers were making good progress up the volcano. It wouldn’t be long before they reached her. As if her sister knew what she was about to do, she called out to her, “Zanna! Wait!”

“I offer the magic what it wants in exchange for my father’s freedom,” Zanna finally said.

She made a point not to look at Javaid. She knew that if he could move or if he could speak, he would be doing so. He would do anything to try and stop her. But this is what she wanted. She had come so far to find him, to free him. After all, she had been through, there was no turning back now. Besides, if she did not free him, who would?

“Very well,” Mavka smiled.

She placed her hand on Zanna’s chest. She wasn’t sure what to expect. Perhaps she thought it would be a spell, or maybe something else, but instead, Mavka used unimaginable force and shoved her backward. Zanna didn’t even have time to think before she fell over the side of the volcano.

She wanted to scream, but her voice was caught in her throat. Her arms flung wildly, trying to find something to grab on to, but of course, there was nothing. She was too far from the sides and the hole was just that, a dark chasm ready to swallow anything that came too close.

She felt like such a fool. Mavka must indeed be a witch and Zanna must be her sacrifice. If she could have stopped and shot back up to the surface like a bird of prey, she would have ripped Mavka’s heart out with her bare hands.

Zanna fell and fell until there was only darkness. Even the dimmed sunlight was gone. It was so pitch black that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face or any of her surroundings. It was true darkness. Suddenly, Zanna hit something, hard and painfully. She waited for death to follow, but it didn’t come.

Instead, she rolled over on her side, in pain, but otherwise unhurt. It didn’t make sense. She had fallen from a great height. No one should have been able to survive that fall. The only thing she could think of was that magic was at play.

She was afraid to move. The darkness pressed in around her, suffocating her, making her feel as if it were a coffin. Still, she couldn’t just stand here. Moving her arms out in front of her and shuffling her feet, she slowly moved forward. She had only been moving for a few seconds when a voice boomed out.

“You have come for the armor,” it echoed off the walls, bouncing back to her.

“I have come for my father,” Zanna called back, loudly.

A bright light flooded over her causing her to shield her eyes in pain.

“No,” it said. “You seek your father. You have come for the armor.”

“No!” Zanna said to the voice, her eyes still closed. “I have come to free my father of the armor.”

“Your father is not here, child,” it told her.

“But, the book said he was imprisoned here,” she felt panic rise in her chest. She wanted to see who she was talking to. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

“Very well,” it said, the light becoming something she could withstand.

Zanna cried out and fell backward. A dragon with a hide as red as fire loomed above her. Its long body curled on the bottom of the volcano floor. Its body was covered in large scales and sharp horns. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

“You are here for the armor,” it said to her again.

“I...I am here…” Zanna was finding it difficult to find her voice. “For my father. The book…”

“I know nothing of books,” the dragon told her.

“And Mavka,” Zanna started.

“I do know of that witch,” the dragon rumbled. “She helped your father make the armor with her blood magic. The armor you have come for.”

“I’ve already told you, I am not here for the armor,” Zanna said. “I just want my father.”

“He is not here,” the dragon said.

“Where is he?” Zanna asked. “I have come a long way to find him.”

“It is,” the dragon told her.

“Then if it is here, how is he not?” she wondered.

“Your father left not long ago,” the dragon said.

“Where did he go?” Zanna was starting to feel afraid.

“He passed on to the next world,” it said and Zanna fell to her knees. “Just days ago.”

“How?” she asked. “The magic, the armor was supposed to protect him.”

“It would have,” it said, “forever perhaps, but those were not his wishes. Do you know what your father used to make his armor? Dragon scales. The scales of my mate, the dragon he killed. Do you know what can easily pierce a dragon’s hide? Other dragon claws or diamond weapons. Your father used a sword made from diamond, something beautiful, to murder my companion.”

“I am so sorry,” Zanna didn’t know what else to say.

“When your father was sealed in this prison, I was the only one to keep him company,” the dragon said. “I came to kill him, but first to torture him, knowing he had a long life to live. Instead, he became my friend. He knew the mistakes he made when this armor was made. He lived with regret for a long time. Eventually, I didn’t want to see my friend in pain any longer. So, I asked him if he wanted me to help him pass. He said yes because he knew that one day his daughter would come to find him and he didn’t want to ever be in a position to hurt her.”

Zanna hung her head, letting the tears fall, her chest heaving up and down. He had sacrificed himself again, to protect her. She had come so far for nothing. She just wanted to know him. To return the favor of loving her, of saving her.

“But I could not do it,” he said to her.

Zanna looked up at him.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“He was my friend,” the dragon said. “I wanted to save him. I tried to convince him to hold on. That perhaps you or someone else could find a way to free him from his prison. I finally convinced him. I sought out the witch who had made the armor and asked her to find you. I told her that if she found you and you were able to reverse the blood magic and free your father, I would give her something in return.”

“What were you willing to give?” Zanna wondered.

“My heart,” he said.

“Why?” she was shocked.

“A dragon’s heart is very powerful,” he told her. “And I am old and lonely. I want to be with my mate. My time in this world is over. I would do that for my friend and his daughter.”

“What happened to my father?” she asked him. “If there were these plans, then why is he...why has he passed?”

“I was too late to save him,” the dragon lowered his head sadly. “I leave from time to time, to hunt or be with my own kind. I left one day in search of food and when I returned...I saw him leave and your father was dead. He had been run through with a diamond blade.”

“Who?” Zanna felt anger coarse through her body.

“His father,” the dragon said. “Dorthran.”

Zanna wanted to scream. She wanted to punch the ground and break it open. If she could reach through time and space and grab hold of Dorthran, she would and she would hurt him. Why? How could a man who claimed to love her, and her father, kill his own son.

“I have offered myself to the blood magic to free him,” Zanna said suddenly. “Now I offer myself to avenge him. Will you, dragon, show me the armor?”

The dragon unfurled its large red wings and a suit of armor, frightening and beautiful, stood before her. Zanna walked toward the armor, unsure of how to go about what she wanted to do, but her mind was made up.

“I understand your mate was slain for this armor,” she said to the dragon. “It was wrong and vile. But I ask that you not hold it against me to use it to avenge not only her death, but the death of your friend. For there is one nation of people responsible for both.”

The dragon nodded its head. Zanna reached out and placed her hand on the cold metal. She closed her eyes and in her mind she said,

Take what you need of me. Give me the power of The Armor of Dusan.

The armor seemed to start to melt. She stepped back and watched it whirl and puddle at her feet. Without really understanding how, she knew she had to step into the inky blackness. As she did so, the pool of hot metal began to creep up her boots and onto her legs. Zanna felt searing pain as if it burned through her clothes and melded with her skin, forming to her body.

It inched up her chest, covering her neck and face. The pain was unbearable, but she didn’t scream, not until it poured into her mouth and eyes. That was when everything went dark.

When she regained consciousness, Zanna opened her eyes. She was still in the chasm with the dragon. Her sight was clear, sharp, and focused. Her body was light, freeing, despite the fact she had just been melded to magical armor. In fact, everything about her felt alive. She felt strong, powerful, more in control than she ever had in her life. She turned to look at the dragon.

She could see him, all of him, even looking through his scales to his beating heart. The armor had given her abilities that no one in Mirstone could even dream possible. She looked down at her feet and her hands. Every last inch of her was covered in hard, black metal.

She touched her face and it was as if she wore a horned helm atop her head. The armor fit her perfectly, aligned to her shape, and moved fluidly with her. She saw that her sword had been covered in the armor as well. She pulled it from its sheath and held it in her armored hands. It was magnificent. She was ready.

“I thank you for this gift,” she said to the dragon. “Now I must ask you for one more favor.”

“Anything,” he said.

“Take me to Vaelkesh,” she said.

Zanna climbed onto the dragon’s back. It beat its mighty wings and shot up through the chasm with fire and a loud roar. They burst into the night’s sky just as Keres and her men reached the top. The group stared up in fear as they landed next to them.

“Zanna?” Javaid looked at her, terrified at what he saw. “Why?”

Zanna stepped from the dragon’s back and walked toward them. She looked at each one in turn, seeing them, truly seeing them for the first time.

“Did you know?” she asked Keres.

“Zanna, I…” her sister began.

“Did you know?” she yelled, and power rolled from her voice.

“Father told me when he learned that you found out,” Keres answered. “And I was angry, Zanna. I was angry at him for what he had done. I didn’t know I had a brother. I didn’t know any of this. He sent me after you…”

“To kill me,” she finished.

“Of course not!” she said. “To bring you home. To talk. To explain.”

“To explain why just mere days ago my father, your brother, was still alive,” she said and Keres looked shocked. “To explain why he returned here and murdered him? Was that what he wanted to explain? I don’t need an explanation. I know and it is time Father answered for what he’s done.”

“Zanna tread lightly,” Keres warned.

“Or what?” Zanna laughed.

“Zanna,” Javaid walked slowly toward her. “I know you’re angry. It’s understandable.”

“Don’t try to reason with my humanity, Javaid,” Zanna glared at him. “It’s gone.”

“Zanna,” Keres said.

“Enough!” she threw her hands out and everyone around her fell to the ground by an unseen force.

Zanna looked at her hands, unsure of how she had conjured up something without thinking about it. For a moment, it scared her. It frightened the girl she once was, but it was fleeting.

“You are very powerful now,” Mavka said from beside her.

Zanna had nearly forgotten about the witch. She looked at her and couldn’t believe she had once thought she was powerful and beautiful. Zanna could see past all that now.

“I know that,” Zanna snapped, keeping everyone penned to where they were.

“But you have yet to unlock the armor’s true potential,” Mavka said. “Remember, it is blood magic. It requires a sacrifice of heart and soul. You have given it a soul, yours. But you still need a heart.”

“I could just take yours,” Zanna threatened.

“It’s not so literal,” Mavka sneered. “You must sacrifice the one thing you love the most, or person, to complete the spell. Then, you truly will be unstoppable.”

“I haven’t forgotten, witch,” Zanna spat.

“Then why do you hesitate?” she asked.

“It isn’t easy,” Zanna said. “I know what I must do, and I will, but it doesn’t make it easy.”

“Yes, matters of the heart never are,” Mavka told her. “But you will live a long life, you’ll get used to it. I have. So, are you off to kill dear old dad?”

“No,” she said, walking toward the group. “I love him, but I don’t love him more than anyone else.”

“Oh, your lover then?” Mavka smiled. “This is interesting.”

Zanna looked down at Javaid. He was terrified. Any other time she would have felt sorry for him. Now, he just seemed pathetic. He disgusted her.

“I do love him,” Zanna said. “I always have. Maybe I always will. I’m not sure. But I do not love him most.”

“Then who is it?” Mavka asked.

“The one person whose approval I have sought from childhood,” Zanna said. “The one I looked up to. The one I wanted to be. The one who I followed after but didn’t love me in return. My sister.”

She looked down at Keres. Her sister was struggling against the power that held her to the ground. Zanna’s heart broke. How she adored her sister, how she loved her. It took until this moment to realize that she loved Keres above all others.

“Zanna, please,” Keres said, crying. “Don’t do this. This isn’t you.”

Zanna knelt beside her. She took her hard, armored hand and caressed her sister’s face. Zanna felt herself cry. She wondered if Keres knew that tears were falling behind the armor on her face.

“I love you, sister,” Zanna said to her. “I always have.”

“I love y….,” Keres didn’t get to finish.

Zanna shoved her hand into her sister’s chest, seizing her heart. She pulled it out in one quick movement. Blood splatter her face and arms, but it was hard to see against the black of the armor that covered her body.

“Zanna! No!” Javaid screamed. “No!”

Zanna felt the magic swell inside her as the spell was completed. Power washed over her, more power than she had ever felt. She smiled though only she knew it. Zanna threw Keres’ heart down and walked away. She climbed onto the back of the dragon without a backward glance. As they flew away, she saw Javaid scramble to Keres. She laughed, thinking his actions pointless and futile. Her sister was dead.

Riding the back of the dragon to Vaelkesh took hours instead of days. She knew that the guards would see their approach, but she didn’t care. She wanted them to know they were coming. She wanted her father to be afraid. When they were only minutes from the palace, a large spear went flying by the dragon’s head.

“We’ve been spotted,” Zanna said. “Let’s put on a show.”

The dragon began flying in erratic spirals and spins. Any arrow or spear they shot at them didn’t come close. When they were close enough, the dragon released a volley of fire on the palace. They burned through guards and terraces. The palace was not expecting an attack from a dragon. There hadn’t been one in over a thousand years. The element of surprise was on their side and they took advantage of it.

“This is where we part ways,” Zanna told the dragon. “I must go find Dorthran. Do your best.”

“And you,” the dragon bowed its head, and Zanna dropped to a palace terrace.

This was her home, she knew her father would be here, waiting for her. He had killed her real father, surely he knew she would come for him. She walked in as the dragon continued to reign terror outside.

Her mother screamed as she entered the living space. She was clinging to her father. Her sisters must still be at the school. Zanna was a bit disappointed in that. She wanted to take them all out at one time.

“Mother, don’t scream, it’s just me,” Zanna laughed.

“Zanna, what have you done?” Dorthran asked.

“What have you done, Grandfather?” she hissed. “What have you done?”

“Please, Zanna,” her mother said. “You must understand. We did it to protect you. If they knew you were half-human, you would have been put to death.”

Zanna didn’t want to hear her “mother” anymore. Her grating voice, giving excuses as to why her parents were even killed to begin with. In her mind, she imagined pulling a piece of her armor and forming it a jagged blade. The magic seemed to be guiding her on how to use it.

She hovered her hands over each other and the armor obeyed her movements. Zanna smiled as small pointed blades formed in her hands.

“Zanna, if you will just give us a chance to explain,” her mother was still saying.

Zanna flung the blade at her mother, hitting her in the chest and neck. She went flying backward, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Dorthran stood up, shock and anger on his face, as he watched his wife dying.

“Where is your sister?” Dorthran asked her, his voice solemn.

“How do you think I have this much power?” Zanna asked. “Don’t you think I love my sister more than even you?”

“Zanna,” Dorthran seemed to crumble then, but he still stood.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll send all of you on your journeys soon. You’ll all be together, but not before I make you suffer.”

“I am not proud of what I have done,” he said. “But I did it for you and my son.”

“You did it for yourself!” she yelled at him, sending black blades through both of his legs.

Dorthran screamed, falling to his knees. He looked up at her.

“You didn’t want your king to know your son has produced a halfbreed!” she yelled again.

“Are you listening to yourself, Zanna?” Dorthran cried out. “The armor has warped your mind. I am willing to be held accountable for what I have done, for your mother, but I tried to do right by you and your father. I made my mistakes, horrible, terrible mistakes. My prejudices made me blind, but I loved your father. I love you! I knew it the moment I saw you. I have spent my whole life trying to make it right.”

“Then why?” she asked. “Why did you kill him?”

“Kill who?” He looked confused.

“My father!” she flung more blades, hitting him in the thighs.

“I didn’t!” he cried. “He was encased in the armor. He was supposed to be in slumber until I found a way to release him. Do you not think I have tried? I have! I have searched this world high and low for a solution. Please, you must believe me, Zanna. Please!”

“The dragon saw you,” she told him. “He saw you kill him! He told me!”

“It wasn’t me, Zanna!” he was holding his legs, crying in pain. “I haven’t been there in years. I haven’t been there. I couldn’t face him unless I could find a way to release him!”

“You’re lying!” she yelled. “He saw you!”

“He saw me,” Mavka came walking forward.

Zanna turned and looked at her. She looked even more lively, more comfortable in her form than she had before.

“Witch!” Dorthran spat.

“Hush you,” she laughed.

“You killed him?” Zanna began to advance on her.

“Slow down,” Mavka put up her hands and Zanna stopped. “Surprise, I’m the bad one here. Look, Zanna, your father made a powerful blood oath with me and reneged on it. That doesn’t sit well with me. I need my blood magic to work. That’s how I get my power. Your grandfather was getting too close to breaking that spell entirely, so I had to get things moving. I tricked you with the book, tricked the dragon with my cloaking charm to look like Dorthran so he would tell you who your father’s killer was, all that. It was all me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Zanna threatened.

“That’s sweet,” Mavka said. “But you can’t hurt me. That’s one of the caveats in my spells.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Zanna asked her.

“Because I want you to know your place,” Mavka said. “I also want you to realize something. Even if he didn’t kill your father, he did, in so many ways, kill your entire family. I mean, if it weren’t for him, you’d have loving parents. So, either way, we’re still here. You’re still getting your revenge. And I’m getting my souls because every time you end someone’s life, I get a taste of that magic. It feeds me and I thrive. I like it. I see this as a partnership. Just think, you can rid this world of all the prejudices that killed your parents. You can reshape it, start over, rebuild it how you see fit. Just wage a few wars, kill a few people, and there you go. What do you say? Do you want to remake Mirstone with me?”

Zanna looked at the witch. She was partly angry at her audacity. More than anything she wanted to kill her for tricking her and a number of other reasons. Mavka was a manipulator and Zanna didn’t trust her with anything, but she was powerful. She had given Zanna great power of her own. Together they could reshape Mirstone. Zanna could build a world that was big enough for people like her mother and father. She would allow the witch to think Zanna was her puppet, her soul collector. And when Mavka was fat and comfortable, stuffed full of sacrifices, Zanna would get rid of her as well.

At that moment, with the moon highest in the sky and sounds of screams in the air, Zanna felt another rush of power wash over her. She looked toward the open window and could see smoke and flames. It was her day of birth, she was now of age. The age when, as an Elf, all her magical abilities came to fruition. She took in a deep breath, reveling in the magic, in her power, for just a moment.

Zanna pulled her sword from her sheath and severed the head from her grandfather’s body. She turned to look at the witch, “What are you waiting for?”

 

THE END