The Crimson Dawn
Scorched Flesh

Scorching sand filled their boots and into their eyes and hair as the wind blew on their faces once again. The sun beat down upon them, Altair covered his eyes and squinted ahead, nothing but waves of sand was before them. There was no way to know where exactly they were heading and already, he was hearing mumblings of insanity coming from his companions. The constant panting from the Dragons was driving Atlas insane as another gust of hot wind blew into their faces, drying Altair’s throat.

Vale patted her brother’s neck as she walked beside him, Eden laying on the front bench with her arm covering her eyes, muttering about how hot it was coming from under her breath. Vale and Cyra hadn’t left the side of Bastien and Idris since they had crossed the gate. Cyra seemed little affected by the heat being released from the sun.

Atlas trudged forward in front of him, he shot forward when she stumbled, and she gripped onto Icarus’s scales as he caught her. “Atlas!” Zale and Altair called at the same time, drawing the eyes of the rest of their companions.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Atlas shook off, but Altair gripped her as they knelt in the sand. “Altair, I’m fine.” You could hear the dryness of her mouth in her words.

“When was the last time you drank?” Altair asked as her cousin knelt beside them, feeling her forehead.

“Is she delirious?” He asked Altair and Altair shook his head. Atlas grumbled at their hen clucking. “No, Icarus,” Zale shook his head as he gave the dragon a look. Altair gave him an inquisitive look. “Ignore the Dragon, he’s giving silly suggestions.”

“We need to ration. I don’t need to drink,” Atlas interrupted, and Altair growled at her words.

“I’ll go get a waterskin,” Zale whispered, kicking a little sand as he stood.

“Rationing water is how you die of heatstroke, dear Red, you know that.” Altair’s finger brushed over her cheek before going over her forehead. “You should ride in the wagon until nightfall.” Altair shushed her as she tried to protest and he picked her up, his arms under her legs and back. “There are only two hours until dusk. Maybe a little less. You’ll survive.” He put her in the wagon and Zale gave her the waterskin to drink from.

“I’ll watch her,” Zale nodded to Altair.

As Altair went around the wagon to tell Idris and Bastien to keep going, Eden gave him a smirk and there was a twinkle in her eyes.

“What?” He asked, stopping to look at her questioningly.

“Dear Red?” She asked with a knowing look. Altair squinted his eyes at her.

“Do humans not give their companions affectionate names?” Altair inquired and Idris stomped his hoof, nickering at him as if he was making fun.

“Not as affectionate as dear,” Eden explained. Altair shook his head. He didn’t understand what either of them meant. Perhaps if they understood more about Elven friendships, but Atlas had expressed how weird Elves seemed to humans already. He wasn’t sure if they would understand.

“We should leave footprints before night falls.” He told them and it seemed to have ended the conversation for now.

✧

“Are you doing okay, bat?” Vale asked, sitting in front of him as he drank from the waterskin. He nodded as he tore the drink from his lips, wiping the water dripping from his skin.

“Yeah, just thirsty,” Idris shrugged, and motioned over to Bastien who was already asleep. “The spell takes a lot out of you.” Vale smiled, and a worried look wormed its way into her eyes. “No, I haven’t had any cravings since Lady Raven healed me. I’m fine, stop worrying.”

Altair grunted behind them as he sharpened his sword. “I’ve been hearing that too much lately.” He gave Atlas a glance as she slept on Icarus, curling up at his side.

“We might all need Dragons, if this night gets any colder. It was so hot,” Idris shivered, and Vale brought him into their arms, cradling him like they did when he was small.

“The Shaken Sands are unpredictable in weather it seems. I wonder what else it has in store for us,” Altair muttered, sheathing his sword after giving it one last look over. Cyra walked over and handed Altair the last of the chicken, he took it without much fuss.

“The heat nor the cold seem to affect you much,” Vale stated to Cyra. “I noticed that while we were talking earlier.”

“Blessings of the White Sun, I burn at the temperature I need to be,” Cyra guessed, although the way she said it made it sound more like a fact. Idris stared at her, maybe there was some sort of spell that would emulate her abilities. Eden came out of the dark and Altair looked up at her.

“You shouldn’t wander off by yourself,” Altair told her, and she smiled.

“I wasn’t alone.” Esmer walked out behind her, and Altair went back to finishing up his food, giving it his attention. “Now, where is Prince Zale?”

“Here.” Came his voice and Apallon rumbled, moving over so they could see Zale, orange and yellow slightly flickering across his skin so they could see what he was doing. Idris watched curiously as his hands were buried in the sand, the prince was fully concentrated on it.

“We’re traveling with a bunch of anomalies,” he muttered, and Vale gave him a little unappreciative nudge. He smiled up at them, his mischievous grin met with an unimpressed glare.

“Zale…” Eden sighed, “why are your hands in the sand?”

“I feel something…”

“Yes. Sand. Interesting,” Esmer muttered and that earned him his own glare from Zale. Idris snickered. Esmer had been miserable away from the sea, and the sandy dunes hadn’t made anything better. But he still kept that scent of salt and citrus.

Altair got up and moved Zale’s hands out of the sand. “You’re searching for something dead,” spoke the Elf and Gods did that man sound wise. As if they could hear his thoughts, Vale nudged Idris again, this time harder, receiving a small grunt of pain from Idris.

“You abuse me,” Idris whispered, and Vale smiled a little but continued to watch the Elf and the Prince curiously. Maybe they’d finally get along. It wasn’t such an impossibility as Cyra and Esmer were.

Altair moved Zale’s hands, so they hovered above the spot of sand between them before he put his own hands-on top. “Close your eyes, imagine what was once there and imagine it regrowing, emerging again after a long slumber.” Altair told him, his voice soft, there wasn’t any residual harshness. Idris made a sound and stood, feeling the magic thrumming through the ground like beats of a drum, it woke Bastien and even Atlas opened her eyes.

A small sprout fought its way out of the grains of pale sand, a light glow, almost moonlight in color, came from the palms of Zale and Altair’s hands. The sprout grew, a small fern evident between them. Altair opened his hands and smiled. “Zale, open your eyes.” Zale did as he was told, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Amazing,” he whispered under his breath, removing his hands from underneath Altair’s to touch the fern. As their magic disappeared, Idris felt a wave of another’s magic, darker and colder, wafter over to the fern. The plant withered in on itself, crumbling into nothing and blowing away in the wind before Zale could even touch it. “What-? What happened?” Zale asked, as if a piece of him had died along with the small plant. He looked to Altair for guidance, but Altair looked just as lost.

“I think we figured out why the Shaken Sands are so unpredictable,” Idris whispered, the dark magic had retreated but he still felt it, just waiting like a predator for its prey.

“It’s magically made,” Bastien finished, and looked at Idris. “You felt it too?”

Idris nodded numbly. “It felt like addiction. That dark pit of need in your stomach that you get from an unnatural hunger.” Vale looked at him concerned and took his hand, shocking him out of it and pulling back into reality. “Sorry… I still feel it. It’s almost like it’s watching us- or something at least.”

Bastien nodded in agreement and Cyra wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and he took her hand. “I’m fine, Angel, I don’t need protection right now.”

Atlas stared at the spot between Zale and Altair, nobody even noticing she was awake until she spoke. “Move.” She whispered, causing everyone to jump.

“Atlas? Are you okay?” Zale asked, both him and Altair got to their feet to check on their Red.

“Move!” She screamed, shooting forward to grab their hands and pull them back as something shot out of the ground. Idris widened his eyes at the hand, burned, bony, and all-around disgusting as it reached towards the sky.

✧

It started as tiny whispers, etching themselves in her brain as they got louder and louder in her head. She couldn’t make them out at first as she stared at the small plant, the green little life breathing for the first time in centuries. Millenniums. But its voice wasn’t among the voices in her head, it wasn’t part of her domain. Her domain? Her head was so full of so many different voices, she wasn’t sure what she was thinking or if they were even her words. Her hands covered her head and she leaned against her sleeping dragon. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Help me.

I’m burning! This voice was different, and they all bombarded her.

World-Bearer, help me!

Grim Wolf, release us! You abandon us here in the sand! An angry voice screeched louder than the rest. No, not louder, closer. Her eyes darted in between Zale and Altair, where the plant had grown. They’d attracted something with their magic. Beings filled with rage and desire and desperation, dangerous emotions. I need air! So close, Master! It gasped for air.

“Move,” she whispered, taking a few steps towards them, everyone’s eyes went to her, but it didn’t matter with everything in her head. She saw Zale’s mouth moved and their faces crease with worry as they stood. “Move!” She yelled this time, but it wasn’t even enough to drown out the rest of the voices. She grappled onto their wrists and yanked them from whatever was crawling its way to the surface.

Air! It screamed as it crawled up through the sand, the decaying, burned undead stumbled to its feet. Death’s servant… come to take me at last. It paused and it seemed to revert back for a moment. Its soul was showing through. It was a young man, 22 or 23, short black hair and sunny brown eyes, he was handsome and then she saw his dead form again and she cringed back as it stumbled forward. No… Master wants you too. I can’t… He stumbled backward, almost trying to fight it and Atlas saw the young man again, red thread tightening around his neck and wrists and ankles connecting to a faraway destination. He was fighting against his control. I must.

“Atlas!” Someone called and she turned and saw more of them, she had been focused on the young man’s voice that she had blocked out the rest, but they all came rushing back as she saw them all.

“They’re not friends!” Atlas called back and threw off the young man as he rushed forward, hissing with his hands clawed forward. She rushed over to her sleeping bag beside Icarus and quickly unsheathed her sword as the undead man ran towards her again, his bones and flesh considerably resistant to her silver sword for the undead being called up from magic.

I’m sorry, came his whispery voice.

“Me too,” Atlas whispered back, kicking his chest and stabbing him through the heart.

His mouth opened in a gasp and the young man smiled up at her.

Thank you, Death.

Atlas didn’t have time to be disturbed as another threw itself onto her back, its arms at her throat and squeezing. Its body was small, and she flipped it forward, gasping for breath as she looked up. It was a child.

It burns! It burns! Momma, help me, please! It screamed as it rushed forward, the little girl wore blonde pigtails that bounced and a light blue dress. Altair cut off its head as Atlas continued to stare.

“Atlas! Get your head out!” He shook her and she stared at, tears filling her eyes.

“She was a child.” Atlas whispered, as the little girl’s soul smiled at Atlas and then ran into the darkness, finally free.

“What?” Altair looked at the body and swallowed. “Focus. She’s no longer alive, she doesn’t feel anything anymore.”

Atlas nodded, knowing it wasn’t true as the voices filled her head again now that the little girl was gone.

“Apallon, no!” She screamed as he breathed out fire onto the undead. Atlas fell to her knees, as the screams pounded into her head, she wailed and hid her head.

“Atlas! Atlas!” Altair yelled, holding her as she hit her head, trying to get the screams out as she cried.

“Now, we got burning corpses, Dragon!” She heard Esmer’s voice growl, annoyed.

“Douse them!” Atlas screeched at Esmer, and he looked at her.

“What!?” Esmer shouted.

“Put them out, pirate!” Still holding her head.

He groaned. “Cover me, Elf!” Altair reluctantly left Atlas as Icarus’s breath brushed against her back, but she couldn’t hear his voice under the screams of the others. Atlas heard the rumble of a storm, and she looked up to see Esmer with his hands towards the air, his hands emitting a gray light with the occasional crackle of white light. Huge water droplets hit Atlas’s face and the screams died down as the cool water soothed their skin. Their voices quieted to nothing.

They were easy to dispatch after that, unable to move as they got relief, it washed over Atlas, their relief and their every death. But Atlas didn’t dare look at their souls anymore, fearing there was another child among them, another sad, longing face. But they still thanked her. Even though she couldn’t give them the respect they deserved from her.

Atlas? Icarus’s soft voice filled her head.

“I hear you,” she whispered, relieved to hear his voice and only his in her head. “Gods, I finally hear you.”

Altair helped her stand. “Red…” He whispered, looking at her in concern.

“I don’t want to hear it. Don’t tell me to sit in the wagon or… or sit on Icarus or-”

“I was going to ask if you were alright,” he interrupted, and she looked around at everyone’s curious or concerned faces.

“I could hear their voices,” Atlas told them before turning to Icarus. “They were so loud; I couldn’t hear you.”

“You can’t hear them anymore, right?” Idris asked, looking around, he was holding Bastien much to Cyra’s visual displeasure.

Atlas shook her head and turned to Esmer. “The water soothed them; they went silent after the storm came.” She didn’t know if that affected the pirate in any way, if he even cared. “The fire however,” she turned to Apallon and Zale. “Did not.”

Zale rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry, Atlas, if I had known it would hurt you…” and Apallon told her his own apologies.

“Hey…” Altair whispered and brushed her hair out of her face, along with a stray tear. “Let’s get you someplace quiet.”

“The wagon?” She asked as he dragged her there and he chuckled.

“Only for a moment.” He responded. He climbed into the wagon, and she stood in the wet sand. “Food’s dry.” He told her and Atlas looked up at the covering above the wagon.

“Good,” she smiled at him, he was trying to distract her with normal things to worry about. Elves were so odd. He smiled back at her but frowned and Atlas jumped when she turned and saw Eden had crept up beside her.

“Cyra was wondering if everything was dry. She would’ve come herself but she’s fussing over her ward,” Eden said, giving Atlas a small glance before staring at Altair. Maybe this is where Jaswyn learned some of her odd behavior.

“Yes.” Altair answered shortly. Eden nodded and looked at Atlas.

“Let your mind scar quickly. Now is not the time for open wounds,” Eden told her, she blinked, and Eden was already walking away before she could even question it.

“She’s an odd duck.”

“She’s not a duck,” Altair said simply, searching through the crate of herbs until he’d collected what he wanted. Atlas sighed, too tired to explain to him that she hadn’t meant it literally. She silently watched him as he mixed his herbs together into a fine paste, then he added honey from the food crate. He handed it to her. “To help you sleep.” He slipped from the wagon and landed on the sand in a small fall.

“I don’t need help sleeping,” she tried to hand it back, but he pushed it in her chest.

“Take it or I’ll make you sleep in the wagon,” he threatened, she took it, lifting the pestle to see the green paste slowly flow back to the bowl with a frown. “Stop looking at it like it’s going to eat you.”

She gave him a look before licking the pestle and the stuff didn’t taste bad, so she had a little more until she was told to stop.

“I’m trying to get you to sleep for a few hours, not days,” he told her, taking the mortar and pestle and setting them in the wagon. “Go back to bed.” She nodded and yawned, taking a step but almost falling as her legs gave out. He caught her and lifted her up into his arms. “Humans,” she heard him muttering before she slipped away into sleep.

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