Final - Diandra Mordecai
Kylah and the Finding of the Dawn Amythyst
Duval idly twirled his pistol on his finger as he waited. The rock on which he sat was uncomfortable to say the least and the air, which had at first been cool, was now weighted down with an oppressive heat. Duval had never been accused to being a patient man, but nor was he much predisposed to complaint—not to any other sort of speech, Kylah though dejectedly—and so he sat, silently, as sweat trickled uncomfortably down both their backs.
She tried not to be disconcerted by the careless handling of the weapon—a melding of magic and tech that was controlled not only by trigger mechanic, but also by intent. She’d heard tales of humans foolish enough to’ve accidentally blown themselves to bits. She didn’t fancy a similar fate.
“Twitchin’ your wings ain’t gonna bring the blue sun any faster, fairy girl.” His tone was dry, matter of fact, but Kylah was certain amusement lingered beneath it. She swallowed a swell of indignation deciding, instead, to be pleased by the opportunity for communication—after weeks with only Duval for company, well, she was beginning to fear for her sanity.
“As I’m sure you know, we fairies are known for our patience,” she said as politely as possible. “I’m only concerned—“
He rolled his eyes. “Look, princess, the last sun rises, the light of the red and the blue suns mix, the violet light shows us the way in. Ain’t nothin’ left to go wrong.”
“Except, perhaps, goblins,” Kylah muttered, not bothering to set him straight about her true concerns. She trusted his skill set—he’d done the research and if he said the light of the twilight suns would get them into the ancient cavern, she wasn’t going to waste time doubting him. Plus, she knew from experience that he was more than just competent with a gun.
The man chuckled—a sound she hadn’t ever expected to hear. “Goblins, of course. ‘Cause while they’re busy at war with your people, they care to run off after some girl yearnin’ for a new trinket. Look, princess, I’m a treasure-seeker, not no pansy little steward or some such. Had my share o’ danger, an’ve always come out on top. Goblins sure ain’t nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”
“Just because the goblins haven’t mixed their tech with magic doesn’t mean they’re not a threat to humans!”
Duval just smirked and returned to twirling his gun—she was certain his smirk would only deepen if she let out an exasperated sigh, and so she held it back and returned to watching for the last sun’s rise.
Her excitement grew as the shadows began to lengthen over the dry, rocky terrain, as though the volcano by which they sat was erupting with darkness rather than magma. Luckily, she knew from its gentle rumble that it wasn’t due to spew its fiery hot insides at them anytime soon.
She knew that the sun, however, would crest the volcano-dotted horizon any moment, and the magical violet light would be born into the air—something that had never yet happened in her lifetime.
“Have you seen the violet light before?” she asked in a hushed voice.
He nodded. “When I was a young boy—a memory now half-forgot.” His eyes lifted to the far horizon. “Here it comes.”
Ever so slowly, blue light spilled over the edge of the world, slipping over rock and stone. Kylah held her breath as it washed over the world, creeping closer and closer to the slowly retreating tide of red light. There was a moment when it seemed they’d never touch, and then a violet flash grew between them, deepened, and then spread to bathe the world in the strange new hue.
Kylah might’ve stood and stared for hours, but Duval was already striding toward the volcano and so she focused on catching up instead.
“What are we looking for?” she whispered, not even noting the hush of her voice.
“Can’t be certain till we see it,” he replied, his eyes riveted to the edge of purple light that washed across the red on its way to the volcano’s rise.
A moment later there was no question as to what they sought. Kylah gasped and startled back, and Duval drew his gun, aiming it calmly at the Sphinx that had been summoned before them.
“Ain’t none too good at riddles myself,” he said in a bored tone. “Shall I shoot the thing, or—“
“No! You can’t kill a Sphinx,” she half-shrieked. “They’re… they’re legendary, they’re something right out of the myths…” She took a soft step forward. “I will try your riddle,” she said firmly.
“Riddles are not my domain.” The voice was soundless—in her head it seemed—and powerful, and also terrifyingly implacable, indifferent.
Duval scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “Not your domain, you say? Well now, there’s a riddle all itself. What, pray, is your ‘domain’ then?”
“My domain is scrutiny and measure.”
Kylah hesitated. “You mean… we must reveal our purpose and thus be judged?”
“It is so.”
Her eyes flickered to the treasure-seeker, who watched her with interest. She’d known he wasn’t stupid enough to believe she sought some mere trinket. “I seek the Dawn Amythyst,” she proclaimed, her voice stronger than she’d feared it might be, “that which was used to punish the races of this world, before being hidden away—lost to us for endless centuries. I seek to restore this magicked world to its natural form.”
The cold eyes bore down upon her, icy fingers of sight piercing her half-truth, seeking the rest. She swallowed thickly. “And so to restore the power of my people and end—win—the war against the goblin kingdom.”
The silence was a deafening roar in her mind and she tensed herself against her pending doom even as Duval’s grip tightened on his gun.
“There is honour to be found in victory,” the Sphinx said at last, and Kylah remembered that the Sphinxes had been born into a harsh period in history, that their views might be more vicious that others’. “You and your guide may pass, but take caution; those whose hands move with greed will not leave the cavern alive.” The Sphinx promptly faded back into the stone.
“Best get a move on,” Duval said, starting forward. “That door don’t exist outside o’ the violet light.”
Kylah shuddered at the thought of being trapped within the cave, and hurried after him.
It was a simple cave; the only thing that set it apart from others was its contents: mounds of gold and jewels, ancient armours and weaponry, scrolls that seemed to whisper half-heard secrets in Kylah’s ears. There was also, at the very centre and perched upon a roughly hewn pedestal, lay the gem she sought. The Dawn Amythyst, the key to breaking the barren enchantment that lay over all the world, flickered and flashed before her in the darkness.
There was no hesitation, no reservation that could have stayed Kylah’s hand in that moment. She lifted it carefully and strode straight back out the doorway, noting absently—and with surprise—that Duval took nothing.
There was a sinking moment in which nothing occurred, and then the flashes and flickers within the stone seemed to coalesce and intensify. They swirled beneath the surface of the stone for a moment, and then leaped from their crystal prison with a blinding light. Kylah blinked furiously, her vision clearing in time to see the light spread out around her.
Grass sprouted, trees grew, flowers bloomed in the wake of the Amythyst’s healing surge. Kylah watched as rivers trickled, then rushed over the land, as volcanoes disappeared or turned to mountains ringed in cloud.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Duval said, coming to stand beside her. The breath Kylah held was released in a sudden burst of laughter.
“We did it,” she sang, feeling the earth’s joy filling her heart.
“Now you just have to go win yourself a war,” Duval replied dryly.
But not even the thought of war could dampen her spirits. “Not today,” she grinned. “Tomorrow, perhaps, but definitely not today.”
Duval idly twirled his pistol on his finger as he waited. The rock on which he sat was uncomfortable to say the least and the air, which had at first been cool, was now weighted down with an oppressive heat. Duval had never been accused to being a patient man, but nor was he much predisposed to complaint—not to any other sort of speech, Kylah though dejectedly—and so he sat, silently, as sweat trickled uncomfortably down both their backs.
She tried not to be disconcerted by the careless handling of the weapon—a melding of magic and tech that was controlled not only by trigger mechanic, but also by intent. She’d heard tales of humans foolish enough to’ve accidentally blown themselves to bits. She didn’t fancy a similar fate.
“Twitchin’ your wings ain’t gonna bring the blue sun any faster, fairy girl.” His tone was dry, matter of fact, but Kylah was certain amusement lingered beneath it. She swallowed a swell of indignation deciding, instead, to be pleased by the opportunity for communication—after weeks with only Duval for company, well, she was beginning to fear for her sanity.
“As I’m sure you know, we fairies are known for our patience,” she said as politely as possible. “I’m only concerned—“
He rolled his eyes. “Look, princess, the last sun rises, the light of the red and the blue suns mix, the violet light shows us the way in. Ain’t nothin’ left to go wrong.”
“Except, perhaps, goblins,” Kylah muttered, not bothering to set him straight about her true concerns. She trusted his skill set—he’d done the research and if he said the light of the twilight suns would get them into the ancient cavern, she wasn’t going to waste time doubting him. Plus, she knew from experience that he was more than just competent with a gun.
The man chuckled—a sound she hadn’t ever expected to hear. “Goblins, of course. ‘Cause while they’re busy at war with your people, they care to run off after some girl yearnin’ for a new trinket. Look, princess, I’m a treasure-seeker, not no pansy little steward or some such. Had my share o’ danger, an’ve always come out on top. Goblins sure ain’t nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”
“Just because the goblins haven’t mixed their tech with magic doesn’t mean they’re not a threat to humans!”
Duval just smirked and returned to twirling his gun—she was certain his smirk would only deepen if she let out an exasperated sigh, and so she held it back and returned to watching for the last sun’s rise.
Her excitement grew as the shadows began to lengthen over the dry, rocky terrain, as though the volcano by which they sat was erupting with darkness rather than magma. Luckily, she knew from its gentle rumble that it wasn’t due to spew its fiery hot insides at them anytime soon.
She knew that the sun, however, would crest the volcano-dotted horizon any moment, and the magical violet light would be born into the air—something that had never yet happened in her lifetime.
“Have you seen the violet light before?” she asked in a hushed voice.
He nodded. “When I was a young boy—a memory now half-forgot.” His eyes lifted to the far horizon. “Here it comes.”
Ever so slowly, blue light spilled over the edge of the world, slipping over rock and stone. Kylah held her breath as it washed over the world, creeping closer and closer to the slowly retreating tide of red light. There was a moment when it seemed they’d never touch, and then a violet flash grew between them, deepened, and then spread to bathe the world in the strange new hue.
Kylah might’ve stood and stared for hours, but Duval was already striding toward the volcano and so she focused on catching up instead.
“What are we looking for?” she whispered, not even noting the hush of her voice.
“Can’t be certain till we see it,” he replied, his eyes riveted to the edge of purple light that washed across the red on its way to the volcano’s rise.
A moment later there was no question as to what they sought. Kylah gasped and startled back, and Duval drew his gun, aiming it calmly at the Sphinx that had been summoned before them.
“Ain’t none too good at riddles myself,” he said in a bored tone. “Shall I shoot the thing, or—“
“No! You can’t kill a Sphinx,” she half-shrieked. “They’re… they’re legendary, they’re something right out of the myths…” She took a soft step forward. “I will try your riddle,” she said firmly.
“Riddles are not my domain.” The voice was soundless—in her head it seemed—and powerful, and also terrifyingly implacable, indifferent.
Duval scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “Not your domain, you say? Well now, there’s a riddle all itself. What, pray, is your ‘domain’ then?”
“My domain is scrutiny and measure.”
Kylah hesitated. “You mean… we must reveal our purpose and thus be judged?”
“It is so.”
Her eyes flickered to the treasure-seeker, who watched her with interest. She’d known he wasn’t stupid enough to believe she sought some mere trinket. “I seek the Dawn Amythyst,” she proclaimed, her voice stronger than she’d feared it might be, “that which was used to punish the races of this world, before being hidden away—lost to us for endless centuries. I seek to restore this magicked world to its natural form.”
The cold eyes bore down upon her, icy fingers of sight piercing her half-truth, seeking the rest. She swallowed thickly. “And so to restore the power of my people and end—win—the war against the goblin kingdom.”
The silence was a deafening roar in her mind and she tensed herself against her pending doom even as Duval’s grip tightened on his gun.
“There is honour to be found in victory,” the Sphinx said at last, and Kylah remembered that the Sphinxes had been born into a harsh period in history, that their views might be more vicious that others’. “You and your guide may pass, but take caution; those whose hands move with greed will not leave the cavern alive.” The Sphinx promptly faded back into the stone.
“Best get a move on,” Duval said, starting forward. “That door don’t exist outside o’ the violet light.”
Kylah shuddered at the thought of being trapped within the cave, and hurried after him.
It was a simple cave; the only thing that set it apart from others was its contents: mounds of gold and jewels, ancient armours and weaponry, scrolls that seemed to whisper half-heard secrets in Kylah’s ears. There was also, at the very centre and perched upon a roughly hewn pedestal, lay the gem she sought. The Dawn Amythyst, the key to breaking the barren enchantment that lay over all the world, flickered and flashed before her in the darkness.
There was no hesitation, no reservation that could have stayed Kylah’s hand in that moment. She lifted it carefully and strode straight back out the doorway, noting absently—and with surprise—that Duval took nothing.
There was a sinking moment in which nothing occurred, and then the flashes and flickers within the stone seemed to coalesce and intensify. They swirled beneath the surface of the stone for a moment, and then leaped from their crystal prison with a blinding light. Kylah blinked furiously, her vision clearing in time to see the light spread out around her.
Grass sprouted, trees grew, flowers bloomed in the wake of the Amythyst’s healing surge. Kylah watched as rivers trickled, then rushed over the land, as volcanoes disappeared or turned to mountains ringed in cloud.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Duval said, coming to stand beside her. The breath Kylah held was released in a sudden burst of laughter.
“We did it,” she sang, feeling the earth’s joy filling her heart.
“Now you just have to go win yourself a war,” Duval replied dryly.
But not even the thought of war could dampen her spirits. “Not today,” she grinned. “Tomorrow, perhaps, but definitely not today.”