03-The Sea of Grass

Kaya rode the horse swiftly across the great grassland of Aldara, a single rider against the treacherous darkness, against the merciless unknown. She left behind all the people she loved, and anything she’d ever known, riding in their exact opposite direction, away from safety and security and toward the black heart of evil.

In the far distance before her, on the horizon, she saw the Mountains of Kull, and amongst them the tallest peak that was her ultimate destination. The sky was a dark purple over the mountains, and distant lightning flashed all about the craggy peaks. There was a muffled yet ominous thunder, like a leviathan breathing deep within the earth. The storm was far away yet, for she still had a great distance to travel. The Sea of Grass was far and wide.

Her horse’s name was Fred, and he’d been Kaya’s since he was a foal. Was it so strange to consider a horse your best friend? Kaya didn’t think so. Fred was as loyal and dependable as any she’d ever known, man or beast. He wouldn’t let her down. Not during such troubling times, not when Kaya needed him more than ever before.

Many of the village elders had foreseen the worst on that dark day, so many years ago, when the men had left to go fight the Ice Wars. When they departed, the village was left open and vulnerable, to be defended by women, and boys who were just children. She had been but a girl herself, just barely a teenager. She once had another best friend, a boy whom she’d grown up with, a boy named Nelson. Together they had spent their days freely and wondrously, running in the forests and swimming in the rivers, the two of them playful and laughing. He too was only a teenager when the Ice Wars began, just a year older than she, and Kaya had pleaded for him not to go, pleaded desperately. Nelson listened to her patiently, but all along she’d known her argument was futile. Nothing would stop him. He’d always been as stubborn as they came.

So many of the villagers had the nightmares, visions of the darkness that arose from an icy plain they had never tread upon, or even seen. It wasn’t just a barbarian offensive—there was more under the surface, something that had spawned in the wasteland, something that threatened all of Aldara. That darkness was only in its infancy, they said, but left alone to fester and strengthen in the icy nothingness, it would one day consume them all.

That was all Nelson had needed to hear. She’d seen the intensity arise in his face, the boyish charm vanish. She’d said he was too young to go, that he needed more training, more experience, but even as she’d spoken, she knew her argument bore no weight. Even as a teenager, Nelson was fully-grown, and already he stood taller, and his chest wider, than most of the men in the village. He had, on a few occasions, felled trees with one swing of his ax, something that even the grown men were in awe of.

She tried a new tactic, telling him not to go—because she loved him.

“What?” he asked, astonished.

“I love you,” she said again. Then, with her heart beating rapidly, she kissed him once on the lips, in a manner direct and forthright.

The complete awe in his expression made her wonder, how could he not have known? The carefree friendship they’d shared for so many years was only just a mask to the love that had been building and nurturing between them, a love that was strong and true. She had known this all along. But apparently, he had not.

Nelson hugged her then, tightly, for the first time realizing all that she was. He hugged her like he never wanted to release that embrace. But life was cruel, because it was only the very next day that the men were called away.

“Don’t go,” she’d begged, one last time, on that morning he left.

“I have to,” Nelson had replied, dutifully. She saw the sadness in his eyes though, and this spoke volumes, more than he could say with words. It broke her heart, and then they’d only time for a brief hug, as the entire village was around, watching, tearful as their loved ones departed. The men were in a rush to leave, to catch up to the other volunteers from the Baronies, to not miss the fleet of ships soon departing for the north.

“But I’ll be back,” he’d said.

It was the last time she’d spoke to him, and the last time she’d seen him. Perhaps it was naïve, but she’d always believed the last words he’d said to her, and she’d always held on to them, oftentimes tearfully, in the dark of night. Reports had swept through the Baronies of the horrific battles taking place, at sea and within the Northern Reach. They’d said that the barbarians had been driven quite mad, that a horrific plague had swept through them. Though they’d eventually been defeated, casualties had been massive. So few men had returned to the Baronies, and none to their village.

Yet still she held faith in her heart. There were some who said that the surviving soldiers had ventured even farther northward, for reasons she could not begin to speculate. She only knew that if there was a job left unfinished, Nelson would finish it.

All throughout the Ice Wars, the Baronies had fortunately enjoyed times of peace. Their village was on the very outskirts of the kingdom, adjacent to the Wild Lands, the Sea of Grass, and on the far side of which lay the Mountains of Kull. Had trouble stirred from the Wild Lands, their village would likely be the first one hit. But that hit never came.

Years passed by as the Ice Wars raged, and back in their peaceful, idyllic village, Kaya Cruz grew into a woman. She’d enjoyed friendships over the years, but none that matched her fervor for her boy, and for her horse. She had suitors come often and eagerly, for Kaya had grown tall and beautiful, and this was known far and wide. Men had come from the villages all around, and even some from the Barony City, to ask for her hand. Again and again she declined, sometimes to the disappointment of her mother, who had a keen eye and smile for those who were rich and well-to-do. But Kaya had never been ready to build a home and raise a family, these things that the men surely would want, even demand, from her right away. It was often the case that her suitors could not find her, as she was quick to escape any formality, and she found her peace and happiness while riding swiftly across the wide-open plains atop Fred. In the wilderness she’d practice with her bow and arrow, and she’d even swing an ax, both things that Nelson had taught her long ago during the lazy afternoons they’d spent together. She’d slip into the forest, into the Wild Lands even, and hunt. She’d bring her kill back to the village, where some praised her talents and others scorned them.

But quite suddenly, suitors and expectations were no longer her biggest problems. The luck of her people, and the time of peace they had enjoyed, came to a harsh end.

A soaring red fury, one that flew quietly through the night with great stealth and cunning, fell upon them. It descended upon their village, the crimson wings outstretched, blocking the sun, and rivers of fire spewed from its gaping maw as all hell broke loose. The serpent was of great length, its body and tail twisting and coiling as it weaved through the town like a bolt of lightning, leaving in its wake buildings felled from the air and aflame from its breath. Its scaled skin was red like the glowing coals of a fire, its horns like a battering ram, and the villagers ran and scrambled for safety as their homes and crops burned. A red streak across the sky, the dragon departed as quickly as it had come.

It was just a precursor, though, for what came next. The assault had not been random. It had been calculated—it had been planned. The dragon was but a mercenary, and the true orchestrators of such terror revealed themselves soon enough.

As the villagers mourned their lost and began to recover whatever they had left, a band of emissaries emerged from the Wild Lands. They rode under a bloodthirsty, treacherous shadow, their eyes narrowed and evil, their skin battle scarred and tattooed. They were of the Tribe, a group of fierce, dreaded nomads that dwelled within the Wild Lands. Typically they’d spent most of their time fighting amongst one another, but it seemed they had united under a leader named Balako. They were expanding westward and had their eyes on the plentiful lands of the Baronies. Normally this was a scourge that the kingdom could defend against, but this time they had employed within their service the dragon, who was a visitor to the land and went by the name of Nester. The beast had recently taken residence within the Mountains of Kull, and it seemed the Tribe had convinced the dragon to work for them in return for plundered gold and jewels. It was astonishing that the Tribe had been able to negotiate in this manner, for they were normally quick to fight and never to compromise.

The worst scenario had finally become a reality. The armies of the Baronies were still very much depleted and reduced from the Ice Wars. There was no protection against such a threat. With no other choice, the villagers packed their wagons and their horses and headed west, conceding their lands to the encroaching Tribe.

The westward road led toward Barony City, and the refugees sought shelter within the castles and courtyards. It would not be a pleasant journey, nor would it be a pleasant sanctuary, Kaya knew. The city had sections that were rich and plentiful, and many villagers dreamed of landing there, but Kaya knew that was a fool’s hope. As refugees, they’d have nowhere to go but to the poor and dirty neighborhoods, places riddled with scoundrels and criminals, slums of filth and waste. The poverty would likely be heightened, since the crowds would be swelled with the refugees. Worse yet, Kaya had heard horrific stories of rapists, be they ruffians in the slums or conniving nobles who could trap her into an agreement she didn’t wish.

No, she wanted nothing to do with the city. She only wanted her peaceful village, and sadly, everyone seemed willing to concede it to the Tribe.

Kaya refused.

Her mother had screamed for her to return, to join them on the busy roads leading west, toward the city and the castle. After a journey of just a few days, the gleaming towers would be shining in the distance, the spires and pinnacles symbols of hope and wonder. Kaya had disagreed earnestly, saying those towers would only cast an ominous shadow upon them all.

And so she departed before anyone could stop her, taking only a modest amount of food and water in her pack, her bow and arrow slung about her torso, a hatchet at her waist, and hopped atop Fred. Her mount seemed to share her sentiment exactly, and galloped away with great purpose, heading in the exact opposite direction of all other traffic, not west toward the city or the castle, but instead east toward the Sea of Grass, and beyond that, the Mountains of Kull.

She’d barely left the village when the nomad line came in sight. Two of those cruel scouts laid eyes upon her, she knew, because without hesitation, they came riding out to meet her. She felt a pit of fear and nerves deep within her. It marked the precise moment when she knew it was too late to turn back.

“What kind of madness has convinced you to ride this way, all by your lonesome?” one of them asked once close enough.

“Accompany us peacefully and we may spare your life,” the other said.

There was a downcast, defeated moment when their proposition seemed like the best option. Who was she kidding to have come this way?

Then her gaze returned to their grinning, evil expressions. She could see how eager they were to claim her as a prisoner.

In a harrowing instant, the call to action, to fight, consumed her entirely, as though all the sorrow and grief from the plight of her village and the suffering of her people lit a fuse within her. That charge exploded violently as Kaya struck swiftly, and without words even, drawing and then slinging her hatchet as Nelson had once taught her. It whirred through the air and an instant later one of the scouts lay dead in the tall grass, the hatchet entrenched in his forehead, his final expression a frozen shock and surprise.

With wide eyes, the other scout, quite alarmed by the ease with which she slayed his companion, raced to alert his brethren. His mount was no match for Fred though, and she chased him down with ease, once within range finishing him with arrows. A high, arcing shot felled his horse to the earth, and then, once closer, came two direct lines through the air in rapid succession, plunging first into his side and then into his chest.

Though her attack was skillful, and devastating, in its aftermath, Kaya could barely breathe. She’d needed several moments to calm herself.

The horse that tumbled was wrecked, with at least one of its legs broken and ruined. She slew him in mercy, and the other she sent galloping westward, hopefully unnoticed by the other Tribesmen. Kaya then retraced her steps to where the first dead man lay, and reclaimed her hatchet. She ran it through the grass, removing as much of the crimson stain as she could.

Climbing back onto Fred, Kaya continued eastward, the sky rumbling and sporadic drops of rain falling on her. Only then did the world stabilize and she seemed herself once more.

Kaya had never decided exactly what she intended; she only knew that she wouldn’t yield, and she would not run and hide like the rest of them. She’d passed through the line that the Tribe had set—that had been the first obstacle. Now it seemed she kept heading east. Was her path really toward Kull, toward the dark mountains and the dragon’s home? Did she intend to slay the beast, to fell the stinking bat with a precisely placed arrow? It seemed that way. The prospect had scared her, had sent a shudder through her, though her initial fright had dulled. Since slaying the men and breaking through their line, Kaya had felt a veil fall over her, one that shielded emotion and eschewed fear.

Steadfast, she continued her trek onward, into the ominous unknown, toward the sky of dark purple and flashing lightning, toward the rolling thunder and throaty growl of a dragon’s awakening breath.