Reading · A New Breed of Dragon

Previously on Sea Dragon Apocalypse … 421 explores thousands of scenarios to determine Sky’s best chances at survival.

AS KEILIKI APPROACHED THE GNARLY, POSSIBLY ANCIENT COTTONWOOD at the edge of camp, she was surprised to see not only the elderly woman, but a half dozen other naked women waiting behind a variety of bushes adjacent to the huge tree, their robes loosely stacked at the base of the cottonwood, a testament either to their discipline or more likely, fear. Keiliki’s instant concern was that the women must be freezing. Although the temperature was undeniably mild, she knew all too well what it was like to have even a small portion of the robe falling past the shoulders.

With hawkish focus, she scanned the area for soldiers, council members, possibly even Ken Toya whom she had not seen at the skirmish on the other side of camp. She summoned chi for the fifteenth song, the chi for enhanced sight, began to hum as she continued surveying the area for any danger.

“We’re safe for now,” she said. “You may return to your robes. I know you’re unreasonably cold. Thank you for trusting me.” Her long feathery eyelashes, caught by the wind and gently stretching her eyelids, distracted her attention long enough that the women rushed to don their robes without any effort to keep quiet or potentially avert drawing attention to themselves.

“I’m guessing some of you saw why you took them off,” Keiliki said. “Others may not have seen. There is a rune on the back of the robe that allows council members to blow you up … literally,” she added. “We may be hours away from safely setting up a new camp and we need to stay off of the main paths so that will slow us down, but we also need to leave immediately. If you’re too scared to follow, no one will judge you. Your lives are at risk no matter what you choose. We understand,” she said, meaningfully nodding her head, pursing her lips, and turning slightly to being the journey as her instinct dictated.

“Keiliki,” one of the women said.

Keiliki slowed her step, made eye contact with the woman who’d called her name. After these many weeks and months, there were still so many she recognized but didn’t have a name to attach to the face. This one may have been beautiful once, Keiliki thought. Now, her visage looked permanently contorted from fear, abuse, and constant uncertainty.

“We’re too scared to stay,” the woman confessed, her eyes slowly closing and her head drooping in what may have been a gesture of shame.

“You have every right to be,” Keiliki answered. “Come, we have to hurry. And … smile,” she added, forcing her own face to adopt some cheer, “you’ll be healed from the Darkening soon and I’ll teach you ancient powers.”

She winked for good measure and finished turning before her own visage morphed into something less confident. She had to be a leader now, even if only for a few straggling, desperate women. For the next several minutes, she breathed methodically and deeply as she took great, confident, striding steps. However, being slight of build, her gait proved little more than an average gait for the other women.

Daylight turned to dusk as the fiery sunset lit the tops of the trees and then slowly surrendered their embers of light. The illusion of treetops on fire reminded Keiliki of the fires at Alaire. She hoped they’d gone out on their own. Alika hadn’t created many explosions but the few Darkened she’d killed had been next to tents and trees that could have easily spread the fire if a breeze hit them just so. Keiliki had been aware of small fires during the fighting but hadn’t given them much thought given the immediacy and pressing needs she had to address. Now, in retrospect, she wished she’d had the mental presence to verify those fires died out before causing more pain and suffering to an already overburdened community. Deserving as many of them may have been, she knew those individuals would not be the ones rebuilding or suffering the most and all of that suffering was the result of her own actions.

Time gruelingly slogged alongside their journey, a heavy, unwelcomed companion whose presence proved constantly intrusive. Night would soon come and still, there would be no comfy, cleared patches for rudimentary beds tonight, only the hard ground, perhaps with some softer branches to lay upon if they were lucky enough to find any before dark. Keiliki slowly developed a plan to leave her small group of followers along the far edges of her now familiar area for practicing while she traveled to Toma. She had no way of knowing if that trip was nothing more than a diversion to drain her energy, a wasted effort that might leave her too exhausted to defend herself in the morning, but she had no choice but to try.

At the very least, for all of his sacrifices, she owed him that. She wouldn’t be here without him. Her new followers wouldn’t be here without him. Soon, perhaps, none of her people would survive dragon fire without his quiet sacrifices. His shame, the beatings, and his final torture might get lost in history, she knew, but they would never be forgotten by her, whether she was able to save him or not.

As the shadow of dusk oozed over the landscape until only faint, occasional spears of moonlight pierced the canopy, the eight women finally wound their way through the forest into Keiliki’s secluded practice area. Instead of arriving from the southwestern side as she was accustomed, they arrived from the eastern side where the dim lighting made observations of fine detail nearly impossible.

Still, evil omens were immediately evident. Grasses, shrubbery, and all forms of mold and lichen were notably absent. The trees appeared insatiably thirsty, their leaves resembling the crusty stage of fall rather than the healthy greenery of late spring one would expect from adjacent landscapes. The bark on some had turned charcoal gray, or perhaps black. It was difficult to tell with so little light. Shrubs here were grotesquely contorted, winding and curving branches interlacing and piercing one another until it appeared they’d been warring with themselves, some sort of bizarre, forced suicide. Few had any remaining leaves. Others had veins that looked like they were bleeding, having turned an unusual, burgundy red color, oozing a sticky liquid at the edges of their strange, misshapen appendages.

Worse, the energy of this place disquieted all of the women. No words were spoken but Keiliki quickly intuited that if she didn’t assure them of their safety, they would turn around and run to whatever fate might await them wherever they ran. Indeed, she felt like running away. Something here wreaked of evil, things worse than death, worse than physical suffering. Something here spoke evil energy to the soul, promised corruption and destruction, the silent conversion of a kind soul to unspeakable evil deeds. Though the women kept their distance from the dark depths of this area, walking near the edge proved quite enough to unnerve all of them. Yokai would fear these woods, Keiliki thought, imagining these demons nervously scouting the area the same as she did.

Quickly, she turned her back to the grove of dark trees and made contact with each woman as she spoke. “I’ve not seen this side of the valley nor this strange copse of death,” Keiliki began, “but I recognize the landscape around us. We’ll soon be in a friendly area.” Her words met uncertain glances from women clinging to the faintest of hopes. Their trust in her was all they had and clearly, that wasn’t much. A few visibly shivered, probably the result of dark energies more than the near chilly weather, Keiliki surmised. Still, she was grateful for her own lacy shawl and readjusted it more tightly around her shoulders. That reassured her little.

Donning a resolute, cheerful countenance, Keiliki resumed her path and led them further west as if nothing was wrong. Inwardly, she cowered as much as any of them. What was this evil omen? What could it possibly mean? Now, of all times, she could use a little encouragement from anyone, anything. Instead … death loomed over them like a jaguar hunting a newborn deer.

Soon after, she found her own sacred little copse, a nestling of trees encircling a quaint grassy area depressed no less than twice her height below the surrounding landscape. When daylight was strong, this area could only be seen after winding along a path invisible from the main road, covered and obscured by dense foliage and, this time of year, flowers of purple, yellow, and white. When she stumbled into a row of creeping woodsorrel, she knew precisely where she was. The flowers were small but their citrus scent was unmistakable. Having grown in a row, she originally thought someone had carefully planted them but in the sparsely inhabited area, that seemed intolerably unlikely the more she visited. Still, she’d received the gift with unwavering gratitude and had made tea of it on several occasions.

Keiliki rejoiced that the energy here was precisely how she remembered: peaceful, flowing, invigorating. The grassy area adjoining the row of creeping woodsorrel would accommodate sleeping quarters for her new friends and she’d made a small fire pit near the edge that would provide nominal warmth.

She’d tested smoke from the fire in the past. If it remained small, the landscape obscured the smoke during the daytime, hid it from whatever stray travelers might pass through here. She presumed the same would hold true at nighttime but would check on her way to find Toma to be certain.

“If you’re tired like me, you’ll rejoice to know we’re here,” she said in as cheerful a tone as she could summon. “You,” Keiliki began, pointing to a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties but who sported two scars spanning from her left temple to below her jaw that made that observation questionable, “we haven’t met, though I’ve seen you tending fires. What is your name?”

“Aihua,” she answered with a bow.

“You’ll find a small stash of kindling behind that large, fallen log over there. I don’t know if you can see it from where you’re standing but it’s the direction I’m pointing and not a dozen meters away. Please,” she emphasized the last word both in volume and in length, “be certain to keep the fire small tonight. I’m sure none of us want to draw attention to ourselves. I have to do something even at this late hour so I’ll check to see if the fire can be seen from the main road. I expect backup troops will not be tracking us at least until tomorrow so we’re probably safe anyway but … let’s just be safe. I’ll cast some large illusions to misdirect them first thing in the morning.”

As she spoke, she yearned for feedback, any response, even a meaningless socially polite words, a gesture of encouragement, anything. Nothing came. That time was far spent and all were too distressed for chit chat. Unlike Keiliki, they socialized daily. They didn’t suffer her debilitating need for companionship and so, they each began placing their belongings in orderly piles along the edge of the tiny meadow where the ground grew more flat and inviting for sleep. Keiliki noticed most of them chose somewhere close to the fire pit. Though disappointed, she felt content knowing they’d finally made it. A new era of life was about to begin.

“Okay,” she said, “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but I hope to be back long before anyone awakens in the morning. Thank you for your bravery, for coming, for trusting me,” she said, and finished with an uncustomary deep bow of respect. “You honor me,” she added, then turned and headed toward the main road without any further explanation.

She strongly hoped, half expected someone to object or to volunteer to go with her but no one spoke another word. This too, hurt her feelings, though she knew it was foolish to accept those emotions. She resolved herself to better thoughts but they quickly drifted back to loneliness. Moments far past bedtime are not the best for summoning discipline, she thought.

Her first several steps therefore proved powerfully lonely as she defeatedly trudged along the forest canopy. She had no reason to suffer hurt feelings nor vanquishment but the emotions clung to her nonetheless, and they struck far deeper than they had any right to.

These were women accustomed to being beaten any time they grew disagreeable, she reminded herself. They were disallowed expressions of disapproval, no matter how slight, any furrow of their brow, any pressing of the lips or rolling of the eyes could summon a fierce blow to any part of the body. Any spark of rebellion or ego had long been drained out of them, one bruise at a time. She had to allow them that space, couldn’t expect bravery beyond what they’d already shown. Still, she yearned for a companion, lied to herself that she’d bring Toma back with her, comforted herself with hopes she knew were beyond futile. If he hadn’t died hours ago, he’d be far beyond her skills by now.

Although the trek to the Deck of Mirrors wasn’t especially far from her practicing grounds, Keiliki nevertheless felt like her thoughts had been wandering for days by the time she arrived. There was so much to do in such little time and she had no strong pathway carved before her to garner confidence that she would succeed.

Timidly, she hovered at the outskirts of the battle, half expecting a predator to be munching on a free meal, but nothing moved. Of course, she thought, the hour was far too late. There were, however, some species of fireflies hovering over the area, glowing unusually bright purples and blues, colors she’d never seen in fireflies before. She’d never seen any in this area or anywhere around Alaire and yet, here they were, just like the legends said. Nothing alerted her to danger.

Apart from the gruesome presence of corpses, the area looked as beautiful and safe as ever. By morning, the area might not prove safe but for now, all scary creatures will be sleeping, she lectured herself. At least, she reconsidered, non-mutant, scary creatures. For a moment, her heart panicked as she imagined some nocturnal predator hiding in the shadows, renewed her humming of the fifteenth song, and assured herself her mage vision would alert her of any true danger.

Mutant creatures. Legendary, fearsome beasts. The thought came unwelcomed and yet it clung to her like sap from a tree and refused to grant her solitude. Slowly, tears welling, she dragged her feet toward Toma. Between her fatigue and lack of mental preparedness, she only nominally controlled her body. Only some vestige of visceral resolve kept her meandering forward, one step at a time toward his corpse. Saya was nowhere to be seen. She’d undoubtedly fled after accepting Toma’s death, a death she likely and justly felt responsible for, Keiliki thought. Nevertheless, Keiliki continued until her feet nearly touched Toma’s fallen body. There, she stood motionless, unable to convince herself to do what she knew came next.

Passingly, she noted that she continued to faintly hum the fifteenth tune. Her vision remained notably better than normal. Still, he didn’t move and Keiliki estimated that night vision would no longer serve her in this endeavor so she shifted to the seventeenth melody. She was least talented summoning this chi but she knew not what else she could do so she knelt down, placed one hand gently upon his forehead, and the other over his sternum, and began singing the song.

The melody broke as Keiliki lost her voice to sobs, failed to discern any chi of any kind whatsoever. She felt numb to it, numb to life, numb to Toma’s life force. What was the use of any of this? Then, she scolded herself, commanded her mind to remain resolute. If she could discern any life in Toma, she’d raise him to the waters above and let their magic do their work on him, but several minutes later, she still felt nothing. No chi, no energy, no breath, no signs of life.

She lost herself in a torrent of tears and sobbing but maintained some semblance of humming, though broken and disjunct at times. Soon, she felt a familiar chi coursing through her body, unmistakably strong energy intuitively guiding her through variants of the third song. But why? Continually humming, she wiped her eyes, tried to discern her surroundings as best as she could, found herself above the Deck of Mirrors, Toma at her side.

Surprised, Keiliki nevertheless guided the chi, moved their location to the only grassy edge of the waters that would accommodate them both. When they were safely on the ground, Keiliki followed her instinct, reached for Toma’s hand, recoiled in disgust.

How or why his hand had become so lacerated and bloody, she didn’t know, but then she noticed parts of his hand were torn, chewed on. When she realized one of his fingers was dangerously close to falling off, Keiliki nearly heaved. It took every last corner of her resolve to govern the nausea and revulsion from what she saw. When she’d governed those feelings, she gathered resolve to grab his hand, this time by the wrist, and gingerly placed it into the shallow edges of the waters.

Immediately, a small mist arose, as if acknowledging something foreign had entered and its presence was being reported. For a moment, Keiliki feared spiky thorns would appear out of the water to chase them away but instead, the waters themselves began to gently swirl and faintly glow a color so dark and profoundly blue that it was barely discernible but it was there, moving with unmistakable beauty and grace.

In awe, she watched the barely submersed hand repair. The nearly severed finger rotated as if moved by some unseen healer and visibly grew new bone that extended and attached to the joint where it was designed to attach. Sinew, muscle, and flesh followed. The dark blue swirling mist now emerged from the water, traced the skin of Toma’s forearm as if hungrily searching for any slight injury. Undeterred by his garment, it flowed in and out of the fabric as if it wasn’t there at all, unwaveringly focused on fulfilling its purpose.

Keiliki sat silently, no singing, no humming, no sobbing, only watching, waiting, observing the impossible. Runes on her legs pulsed, glowing and then fading, randomly alternating between nine, seven, and four and then sixteen, seventeen, and twenty, as if responding to some choreographed light show she’d seen the tech people do. As each one’s glow pulsed from feint to strong and back, she remarked at their ethereal beauty.

They now seemed carved onto her leg by nature itself, perhaps modified and perfected during Kyangku. None of the greatest masters had never produced such beautiful calligraphy as these, she thought, wondered who had created their innate beauty in the beginning. What mortal was capable of crafting such beauty? She remembered they’d been created to imitate human form and then it intuitively made sense to her. Nothing in the world was more beautiful than a healthy, human figure, she thought, and nothing could have dissuaded her from believing so.

Clouds above were too low and dense for her to discern the stars so she had no idea how long she watched the waters heal Toma, wondered how long it might take, when she should pull his hand out. When he started breathing? Would he start breathing? She assumed so. When he opened his eyes? When he recognized her so she’d know his eyes were healed too? She had no answer, only questions, possibilities. Peaceful chi continued to surround her and course through her so she trusted she would know when the time came.

As if from nowhere, Keiliki strongly wished she had some of the blue powder. She yearned to taste it, to feel its power, and then, briefly panicked that she couldn’t verify it remained in its safe place. She ached just to smell it, recognized she was growing addicted to the strange substance, but also didn’t care. She could recreate it using magic. She had an unlimited supply and it increased her powers every time she ate some. Only the awful gagging sensation that came with it had kept her from eating too much.

Keiliki scolded herself for the distraction. There was no use thinking of such things here, now, but the craving didn’t leave, despite the intense, peaceful chi coursing through her soul. Maybe she could try a drink of the water instead, she considered. This, she determined was too risky. She remembered how she felt after being healed here. It wasn’t good to outstay your welcome. Nevertheless, her hand, in cupping shape, reached down and gathered some water to drink as if acting on its own. She paused, desperately wanting to drink it, but governed her impulses, poured it into Toma’s barely open mouth while holding his head up so he wouldn’t choke. Nothing happened. He didn’t move at all.

When only moisture remained on her hand, she licked it, sucked every tiny droplet way. This, she initially did without thought. Then, she recognized tingly sensations on her lower calf, looked down to watch a few scratches slowly heal. A burn on her other hand and forearm, the result of residual fires during the battle, lost some of their redness. She’d barely noticed either, had been too preoccupied to remotely consider focusing on such trivialities.

Too cautious to cup her hands, Keiliki dipped her hand in the water and licked off droplets a second time. As she continued, skin on her cheek and forehead tingled, an ache in her hips that had been there since riding the elk relaxed and dissipated. Distracted by the relief she felt from these minor healings, she repeated the process until she felt, in the dark of the night, that she must be whole and perfect again. She didn’t dare take an extra sip after she felt well.

Only then did she refocus her attention on Toma and when she did, she recoiled in horror, nearly kicked him as she pulled away.

His hand, submersed in the water, grew rigid and had the appearance of Chinese paper bark. The plantlike texture extended up his forearm, disappeared under his linen shirt. Panicked, she touched higher up on his arm, felt that it was already unusually firm. Toma was strong but this … this was notably different. Without considering what she was doing, she tugged at his hand, tried to get it out of the water but it held fast, as if his hand had grown roots into the water.

“No!” she gasped in dread, running her hands all over his body to see how far this magic had progressed. “No, no, no, no.”

The swirling, dark blue mists continued their healing work on other parts of his body while areas closest to the waters had changed or were changing, transforming him into something new, something she’d never intended. Still panicking, Keiliki cupped her hand in the water, lifted his head, and poured the water in his mouth, repeated the process, wiping his face with the waters, watched various injuries heal quicker from the process, and then tugged at his arm again, this time with far greater effort.

Clearly futile, she shifted her position, began splashing water all over his body, put her arms under his shoulder and arm and tried to leverage her strength from new angles. Nothing happened. Desperate, she tried one more cupped hand full of water and briefly beamed with a huge smile when Toma opened his eyes.

It quickly dissipated as she began speaking to him. “I’m so sorry, Toma,” she cried. “I’ve done everything I can. I need you to pull your arm out of the water so we can go home.”

His right shoulder shifted. His right brow furrowed slightly in response. His eyes blinked, threatened to close.

“No. Don’t give up. Wake up. Keep trying,” she instructed at breakneck speed, her voice constricting and exposing her panic. “Please, Toma, keep trying.”

He grinned slightly, only enough to communicate he was trying but Keiliki knew it wouldn’t be sufficient. And she wasn’t strong enough to help. That was it. She needed more strength. The twelfth song! Keiliki began singing the twelfth song as boldly as she could, summoned chi like a greedy squirrel stuffing its cheeks with an unreasonable stash of nuts. When it raged through her body, she wrapped her arms under his shoulders and arms again and tugged as hard as she could. Already, his shoulder was beginning to feel wooden. Tears blurring her eyes, she struggled harder, exhausted every bit of strength she could summon until she heard cracking sounds.

His fingers were breaking. She shifted her gaze to Toma’s face, discovered an unmistakable grimace. She stopped, dropped her head, slumped her shoulders, and fell to her knees.

“Toma,” she cried, caressing his face and turning his head slightly so he could see her better. Tears freely flowing and voice constricted, she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” and kissed him far longer than she intended. Momentarily, his lips froze in a smile, relaxed into a more wooden expression. When only his eyes showed any signs of humanity, Keiliki took a deep breath and spoke again, her voice shaking uncontrollably. “I’ll come back when I figure out this magic,” she promised. “I’ll heal you somehow.” Then, she kissed him again, only this time, his energy had changed and his lips partially peeled away like Chinese paper bark.

Keiliki, still kneeling, rested her upper body on his and cried until she discerned that his entire body had grown wooden. Then, she slowly stood, summoned chi, said goodbye, and then hesitated. Was there anything else left to do? When she grew certain the answer was, no, she levitated nearly the entire journey back to her companions, taking special note to ensure that the fire remained invisible from the main road.

Sea Dragon Apocalypse || Deathly Copse

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