Keeper of Life - NaPoWrMo Entry

Broken pleas from the canvas wrapped against her ears, struggle with a wind that would never die, the desert kept echoing torment back. Even though she could see nothing inside the swirling cloud of dust she held firm her bearings, the stars told her so. The iron tube strapped to her side jutted from the flowing robe. She checked it again, paranoid.

“Lady.” She knew his voice even past the crimson scarves that shielded the dust. “It's Brother Yoke, he... The sand took his eyes,” he said. His fangs caught the fleeting glint of the sun as he looked into the horizon and caught the puff of his breath.

She nodded and tore herself from the void of dust, away from the tree that lay beyond. Fang led the way through the flap allowing barbarous wind to play games with their small tent.

She nodded, turned and entered the tent. “Brother Yoke,” she said in a high tone.

“Lady,” his voice creaked from the ground. Empty eyes attempted to search the bereft world around him.

'He looks dead, he's beaten us all to it.' Her heart twinged, but she controlled herself, as she always had, as she must.

“Too long in the sands, the poison. Lady Coal I've failed you, I...” Wrinkles formed as he spoke. His words pulled against her cutting shallow lines.

Fang shook his head and placed his hoof out, as if to stop her concrete stare from turning him to stone.

“No, Brother Yoke he-” She cut his voice with her ember eyes before her voice could lacerate the rest.

“He's given his rations to the others, it was foolish and now I am without another underling,” she boomed. Inside her cold words her own nerves wove braids, they tied her heart in bondage, subtle songs played for the others who'd fallen along the path. She knew his sacrifice, he knew his end and choose to meet it head on.

“Lady, please tell the others back home I-” Her eyes glowed, the soft emerald hue filled the tent like a whisper. Her muscles flared and trails shot out from her horn like vipers. Yoke's head twisted, his body shook violently, and finally he stilled. 'Fool, none of us will return to speak your words,' she thought. She hated him for his self sacrifice, for his empty hope.

Her legs felt unwelcome as she stood above her dead underling and again her stomach attempted to revolt the little food that remained, there was no more moisture left for spit. The sands poison burned through them all, leaching strength and slowly their own soul. The tar colored blood that dried on her lips and tongue a remembrance of the sacrifice her people paid for a war they had lost.

Turning she said, “Son Fang, deal with him and meet me outside.” With efficient ease they began their work, cutting into his body, as she exited.

The wind skipping along the sand muffled their movements inside. The death of an elder underling filled her with only greater anger toward those cuddled under the soft glow of the city barrier. Those that needed not to know sacrifice as they had.

“Lady,” Son Fang said exiting the tent. “You wanted me?”

“Brother Fang, I will not accept this measure of carelessness in my underlings,” she said. He gained his rank back once again. The sun now painted her dark scales in a crimson hue, the wind already carrying a brisk cold that ripped any warmth from the sands. “Ensure they prepare properly, their discipline has been slipping, we set out soon,” she said without turning.

He made to retort, to remind her the journey had been long, that they had lost four others along the path but held his tongue, he knew her better. “Yes Lady,” he replied and returned to the tent.

Like a stone skips over a pond the light trailed off the barrier in the distance. The failing sun slowly draping the earth in a dark blanket. Darkness, it was something she was used to, something they were all used to. She was eager to continue.

“Soon I'll see that city burn,” she said allowing a smile to creep along her face until she too was covered by the darkness and only the stars remained.