The Emerging Part I: Dream

Awakening from his nightmare, a man with tattoos covering every inch of his skin rises from his bed. He dons his dark cloak, pulling the hood over his head, obscuring his face completely.

He strides out of his room, his footsteps stomping louder than natural on the stone floor. He walks to a balcony he has erected to overlook the entire Eastern Range. He tightly grips the stone railing he has erected to mirror his Qigid of mysterious Abysmal, the railing never having a repeated pattern, dozens upon dozens of stringed stones threaded together tightly preventing all but the smallest of light to creep through.

He glares at the foothills of the Eastern Range, the memory of his nightmare forcing itself into his vision. He curses as he shakes his head, his thoughts turning to anger from his relative tranquility.

He opens his eyes not realizing he closed them, the nightmare playing before him yet again. He curses but allows the nightmare to continue to play before him. He watches the nightmare he has watched a thousand times over, still he cannot understand why the memory of his desire for vengeance against the Rniti continues to haunt him.

He watches the memory, seeing himself as a little boy, listening to his grandfather telling him, “My great-grandfather, your great-great-great-grandfather, was once king of Rizq, back when we still had the Order of Zkoait, the blessed Order, not this accursed Order of Xoait.”

He looks up at his grandfather with reverence, but sees sadness and anger still deep within his grandfather’s old eyes. His grandfather looks down at him from the chair next to his bed. His grandfather smiles, hiding the hurt he truly feels.

His grandfather continues, “It is a sad tale, I must admit, my young fire, but you need hear of it, especially on the eve of your twelfth year. My great-grandfather had the strongest Order of Zkoait we had ever seen, or so we thought.

“My great-grandfather’s Rizq was attacked by something frightening, we still don’t know what it was to this day. This force attacked with such numbers, with such hostility, the Order of Zkoait could never surmount a counter attack.

“My great-grandfather asked, no, pleaded for the Rniti to come to his aid. He sent dozens of messengers, he even pleaded to our very few Rizqians that were once Rniti to go to the Injhihato and plead our case.

“He was never answered.

“The Rniti left our city to be destroyed by this unknown force. We don’t even know why they attacked! Well, yes we do, they attacked because they are evil, corrupt. They wanted nothing more from our city than to see it destroyed. They hate fire. Rizq is the heart of fire in all of Munda Luna. They despised us. We control fire as no other. Those dark creatures always feared us. Whatever they were.”

He looks at his grandfather with an upraised eyebrow. He sees his grandfather has a foregone look as if he is seeing something else entirely rather than his grandson before him.

“Grandfather,” he asks, “is everything well?”

His grandfather shakes his head as if returning to himself from a deeply troubling memory, “What? Oh yes, of course, my young fire. Everything is well. Just remember, no matter what happens tomorrow, we are still proud of you.”

He shakes his head now, the memory of the next day fading as he conquers the obstacle course. He curses, then appears back in his bed instantly. He throws fire around him, scorching the walls, the heat warming his room, his mind, and his aura. He falls asleep smiling as he sees a blurring obscuring the flames set around the walls of his room.

The sun slowly creeps into the sky to shed its light down upon Munda Luna. Vaiqon leads the group through the plains of Munda Luna. They wind with the well-traveled roads, the hard, compact dirt showing where generations of travelers have once set foot from one end of Munda Luna to the other.

They pass through a peaceful forest. Deer, squirrels, bears, moose, and birds of all shapes and sizes eye them warily as they pass. The horses clop along at a casual pace, Vaiqon keeping tabs on the days they are away from the Injhihato. He smiles as they venture along the road, another day of travel completed.

They establish camp just off the road on the edge of the forest. They feed on the boar they roasted the night before, Vaiqon having conjured a protective air capsule over the boar, keeping the boar from spoiling.

They eat to their content, Vaiqon encapsulating the boar yet again and tucking it away into a cloth blanket. They then sit around the campfire, the children enjoying more of Fox’s acrobatics. Hawk attempts a few of Fox’s feats, and results in falling flat on his face, evoking laughter from them all.

The campfire dies to mere embers, allowing for the chill of night to set into their skin. The children shiver, Vaiqon chuckles, “Perhaps the cold will not be quite so prevalent in your tents. We do have yet another long day tomorrow.”

The children nod, then rise from their logs to walk into their tents. Vaiqon smiles and follows the children’s lead. Hawk follows Fox into their tent, but just as he is to close the entrance to the tent, he sees Santhemum still staring into the embers of the fire.

Hawk glances behind him to see Fox has already fallen asleep, his deep breathing already filtering out from him. Hawk smirks, then exits the tent. He closes the entrance to the tents and moves to sit next to Santhemum on her log.

The two stare at the embers of the dying campfire in silence. Their mutual comfort with each other not withstanding speaking to one another as of yet. Hawk’s thoughts swim through his head of what he could possibly say to her to initiate any form of conversation, but all thoughts fail on his tongue.

“Thank you,” Santhemum’s silky voice echoes through Hawk’s ears unexpectedly.

Hawk gapes in surprise as he looks at Santhemum.

“Wh, wha, what for?” Hawk stammers as he tries to compose himself.

Santhemum chuckles delicately, “For making me smile that one day in Southern. That was the first time I spoke in years.”

Hawk shrugs, “Don’t mention it, I just thought you could use some cheering up. You looked really sad when your mother left you.”

Santhemum glances at Hawk, frowns, then glances back at the embers, “I was sad, but not for my mother leaving me alone in my home. Plus, Tristan would have returned soon, I’m sure.”

“Tristan? The small man next to your mother when we left Southern?” Hawk asks.

Santhemum nods.

“You call your father by his name?” Hawk asks innocently.

Santhemum winces at the mention of the word father. She states, “Tristan is not my father,” with more malice than she intended.

Hawk’s eyes widen in surprise, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“My father is dead,” Santhemum bluntly states.

Hawk gapes, unbearable thoughts of losing his father tearing through his mind. He shivers next to Santhemum. He sees her shiver as well. He moves to wrap his arm around her to provide warmth, but her silky voice echoing through the air stops him.

“I killed him,” Santhemum states.

Hawk gapes in utter shock, his disbelief palpable enough through his aura to awake Vaiqon from his deep slumber. Hawk attempts to speak, but only incomprehensible noises emit from his mouth.

Santhemum turns her glare upon him, “Do not mock me, Hawk.”

Hawk gasps, his eyes wide, “I’m not mocking you. I just can’t believe that you-”

“Hawk, Santhemum,” Vaiqon’s voice sounds from behind the two children. “Why are you two not asleep? You know we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Santhemum glances at Vaiqon with her green eyes dancing with the flames that have suddenly sprung forth again in the campfire. Vaiqon notices the new flames and sighs inwardly.

“Hawk, it appears Santhemum wishes to reveal a dark secret of her past to you. If she chooses to disclose this information to you, you must promise to protect this secret until your last breath.”

Hawk can only stare wide-eyed at Vaiqon. He looks back to Santhemum to see an expression of disbelief upon her face. He smirks to himself, “Santhemum?”

Santhemum glances back at Hawk, then turns away completely to look at the flames that dance in the campfire. She knows the flames were just embers a thought ago. She grimaces to herself. She turns to Hawk, “I killed my father because he was a bad man. He did very bad things to me and my mother. Evil things,” she says as she brings her already closed legs even tighter.

Hawk hears the sadness and fury in Santhemum’s voice, and sees her tensing her legs even tighter. His mind can only understand partially, but he comprehends that Santhemum’s father was an evil man that brought this sweet girl before him an extraordinary amount of pain.

Hawk does inquire, but Santhemum continues regardless, “One day it just became too much. He pushed my mother into our home, slammed the door closed, then dragged me to an alleyway far away from our home where our mother could not find us.

“My mother had a dagger. She was gonna fight back, but he was too strong. I couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t really know what happened, but my mind turned into fire. Next thing I know, my father was lying on his back before me with three vicious burn marks lining the length of his body.

“But, he was still breathing. His eyes were looking at me with even more want. His smile was so brutal, so devilish... I don’t know what happened again. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, his face was burned so bad, I couldn’t even tell it was my father.

“That’s when I heard someone running. I looked behind me and saw that scholar that approached Vaiqon the day I beat the obstacle course. I thought he saw me that night, but I am glad he did not,” Santhemum concludes, her hand having taken Hawk’s involuntarily for support throughout her tale.

Hawk glances at their intertwined hands, his heart racing in his chest, his thoughts pulsing through his mind, his aura wafting with concern for his friend. “I, I am so sorry, Santhemum. I will protect your secret, but not only that, I promise to always protect you from any of who wish to hurt you.”

Santhemum smirks at Hawk briefly before saying, “That’d be nice, but don’t promise something you can’t keep.”

Hawk smiles confidently, his aura pulsing without his knowledge. He speaks with a voice far more mature than his age, “I do not make promises I cannot keep. I vow to protect you, Santhemum. Darkness will never find you again and take you to a place I cannot save you from.”

Santhemum stares at Hawk with an upraised eyebrow, “But, Hawk, that is not all of my secret.”

“Santhemum, you are a sigo, correct?” Vaiqon asks, interrupting the two.

Santhemum glares at Vaiqon as if she is disgusted the old man knows much about her without her explicitly stating as much. She nods slowly. Hawk releases Santhemum’s hand in shock, but Santhemum grabs Hawk’s hand before Hawk can pull his hand back to him completely.

“Hawk,” Santhemum says, “We’re about to be Rniti. We all will have special skills. Mine happens to be sigo. I can control fire, but don’t know how yet.”

Hawk appears downcast for a moment after Santhemum’s scolding. He frowns, “I understand, Santhemum. It’s just that most don’t know what they will be until after we arrive at the Injhihato. I’m a little shocked is all.”

Vaiqon appears confused, “Hawk, why do you believe that most do not discover their special skills, as Santhemum has described, until after they arrive at the Injhihato?”

Hawk shrugs, “I’m not sure, something tells me I’m right though. And besides, you don’t see too many that can control fire or anything else unless they are Rniti or trained by Rniti to be guards or something.”

Vaiqon nods, impressed by Hawk’s perception, “Ah, I see your point, Hawk. Now, both of you, off to bed, we leave at dawn. We have much ground to cover tomorrow.”

Vaiqon then stalks off to his tent where he throws the tent entrance closed with ire. Hawk and Santhemum rise together,their hands still enclosed with one another. They only part after Santhemum allows Hawk to enter his tent alone and places a soft kiss on his cheek before disappearing inside her tent. Hawk gapes in utter surprise. He walks into his tent, lies down on his blanket, and falls asleep with a wide smile upon his face.