Young Writers Society

Lataea woke up with a splitting headache. She felt miserable; her head was pounding, her mouth and throat were dry, her legs ached, and her feet were still tender from their burns. She’d been stuck out in the Atagian Desert for a week with very minimal protection, and now she was reaping the consequences.

The hut she was sleeping in was built of mud brick, but it was clean and well tended. Most of the Atagian homes were like that, regardless of how rich or important the owners. They were all a uniform three bedroom flat with an eating area and a shanty to the side for things like firewood, herbs, and dried goods. There was no glass in the windows, just heavy wood shutters to keep out the sand in a storm.

“Taea, are you awake?”

Lataea glanced over from the bed to see Lenel standing in the doorway, her pale blonde hair pinned up and her bright gold eyes shining.

“Kind of,” Lataea replied, her voice cracking a little. Lenel swept in with a grace that reminded her irresistibly of Star—Taea felt her chest contract and she felt close to puking.

“I’ve got more broth,” Lenel said. “Mom says you have to eat it all this time. She says you can’t afford to miss anymore meals, no matter how awful you feel.”

“Try telling that to my stomach,” Lataea mumbled, turning away. She wished she could just go back to sleep and never wake up again.

Lenel’s voice grew suddenly sharp. “Get your sorry royal backside out of bed,” she said. “You’ve been sick for the past week and you’ve been lethargic ever since you came to us four years ago. Your sister didn’t give up her life so you could waste away feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not like Princess Taelem was all you ever had, anyway. What about Ashbel? Or your parents? Things may seem hopeless, but they’re still alive and you can do something about it.”

Rage flared in Lataea and she threw herself from the bed, bristling. “Shut up! You don’t know what it’s like! You have no idea!”

Lenel raised her eyebrows. “See, you feel something after all. Come on, Lataea. I’ve known you since we were six. You’ve got more in you than this! Star would be ashamed of you. Four years, Taea—that’s too long.”

Just as quickly as it had come, Lataea’s anger drained away, leaving her empty inside. She sat down, dizzy.

“I…it’s not like I’ve been doing nothing, Lenel,” she whispered pathetically.

Lenel’s hands went on her hips. “Yeah, right. Nothing really productive, anyway. When you haven’t been ill you’ve been having nightmares and when you aren’t falling over from exhaustion you’ve been throwing yourself into training without stopping until you collapse. Not healthy, Taea. And not what I was talking about, either.”

Lataea stared at her hands. “But it’s my fault, don’t you see? It’s my fault that Star is dead.”

Lenel sighed and sat next to the princess. “Look, Taea, I know you blame yourself. And I know how hard this is for you. I spent two weeks of every year with you, Taelem, and Ashbel. I saw how close you were. But Taea, this is more than just you. Your entire kingdom needs you now more than ever. You’re what’s left to save them. There are only a few Dark Elf tribes and my nation that’s still independent of Emberon. You—and Ashbel, if he’s still alive—are the best chances billions of people have. I know it’s a lot, but you have to recognize that. That was what Taelem was thinking of when she didn’t give her powers up to Emberon, I’m sure. She let herself die instead of doing that….”

A tear slipped down Lataea’s cheek, but she turned away before her friend could see. “I know that,” she replied softly, closing her eyes for a moment, remembering her sister and brother. Star had been the strong one; optimistic, smart, kind, and mature. There had been many days where she had helped in the kitchens, greatly easing the workload for everyone else. She’d been an intense learner, however, and had spent nearly all her time with the palace tutors. Lataea would join for as long as she could stand—art, arithmetic, science, alchemy, history, music, and many of Earth’s languages, especially English. As royalty that might have to one day deal with human governments, lots of time had been taken up with learning what were considered the major languages; English, Chinese, Arabic, Japanese, and Spanish. Star was fluent in all of these, and Lataea and Ashbel were both fluent in English. Star had proved herself a genius, even more so than most elves.

Ashbel was more into learning how to fight. He’d had friends that would team up and have archery contests. Those were more Lataea’s speed; she would learn archery with her brother and brawl with the boys. The courtiers had considered her a very improper princess. Of course, neither Ashbel nor Lataea could measure up to Star’s skill on the battlefield. She had been an incredible fighter! Garen, their trainer, had said he couldn’t believe a little girl could fight with such precision, speed, skill, and creativity. After all, she’d only been training from ages five to ten.

But more important than all of that was the time she, Lataea, and Ashbel all spent together.

“I’ll be fine in a while,” Lataea finally sighed. “Can you tell Darumi I’m well enough to train again?”

Lenel grinned. “Certainly. He’ll kick your butt.”

-

Lenel hadn’t been entirely right about Lataea getting her butt handed to her; she was quite good, almost an even match for the Atagian martial arts master, Darumi. She had been since she turned twelve. Darumi just did his best to keep her in shape whenever she wasn’t too sick to train. Lataea probably wouldn’t have made it through the depression that had followed the Rebellion’s attack if he hadn’t been there to keep her going; he wasn’t the sort to take no for an answer. As soon as she was capable of walking, he’d burst into the hut in the early hours of the morning, yelling for her to get out of bed. If Lataea didn’t get up within the next two seconds, he’d seize all the covers on the bed and haul her out of it.

Which is why Lataea rather suspected Lenel had asked him to give her a break after he had abandoned her in the desert for a week. Darumi believed in learning through experience, so Lataea would always get banged up before learning what he was trying to teach her. The last time it was how to survive in the desert without being properly covered or equipped. Darumi had dropped Lataea miles away from the village with nothing but an indoor dress. She hadn’t even had shoes! She’d gotten back all right though. She knew where to look for water and how to summon it, she knew the signs of a desert wyrm and how to avoid them, and she knew how to navigate in the endless hills of sand.

If only she’d known how when she was ten.

Now she was outside again, on her way to Darumi’s hut on the outskirts of the village. Even with her feet wrapped in a cooling salve and put in comfortable moccasin shoes, she winced every time she took a step. Lataea had let her hair grow long over the past four years, so that it fell past her waist. She had it braided around her head to keep it out of the way. And despite her long time under the blistering brightness of the desert, her skin remained stubbornly milk-white—except for when she forgot to be careful and it burned deep red. She was just recovering from such burns now. No tans for her….

Darumi’s hut was one of the few largely different buildings in the area, since he was the martial arts master. It didn’t look like it from the surface, of course—he had a massive basement. The reason it was a ten-minute walk to his house was because they had to find thicker bedrock to build down into. The basement had no windows, just little magical lanterns floating in each corner. Lataea knocked on the front door and, when receiving no answer, entered without invitation.

The flat was empty, as she suspected it would be. Darumi was most likely downstairs getting a new training session ready for Lataea. She opened the hatch to the basement and scurried down the ladder, flinching as he feet landed hard on the cold stone floor.

It was dark—pitch black, once the hatch was closed. Lataea knew from experience not to try and light the lamps. She’d have to figure this out on her own. Closing her eyes, she held perfectly still and listened, trying to silence even her own breathing. Something became vaguely discernable in the stillness; there was a horrible but faint rasping noise in the back of the training room, and Lataea realized something smelled of blood.

The princess’s heart had started pounding, and her body was filled with a foreboding that chilled her blood. Her hands fumbled as she crawled back out of the hatch, dug through Darumi’s cupboards for a lamp, and lit it. Going back down with the oil lamp to illuminate the darkness, Lataea leapt lightly into the basement. It was empty, as far as she could see, but the small lamp did not brighten the room all the way to the back. Heart in her throat, she forced herself to walk quickly forward.

The sight that met her eyes was one she would have done anything to change. First, the light fell on a pool of scarlet so dark it was nearly black, then over the mangled body of Darumi.

Lataea cried out and leapt away, but the rasping noise was louder now that she was close to her trainer. Darumi was still alive! Overcoming her horror, Lataea dropped to her knees at his side, holding the lamp so she could see what had happened.

She knew instantly there was nothing she or any other could do. They’d need a true Healer, a gift that hadn’t been seen in thousands of years. His flesh had been viciously torn open along his chest and torso, and his ribcage was in pieces. It must have barely happened, or else he would be dead all ready. “Darumi!” Lataea sobbed. “Darumi, who did this?”

His face turned towards the girl jerkily, his eyes wide and staring. “P-princess…” he gurgled. He was starting to choke on his own blood as it filled his lungs.

Lataea laid her hand softly on his cheek. Using what magic she could to soothe the pain and hold back the blood clogging his lungs, she leaned over him again. “Darumi, who or what attacked you?” she asked again, her voice more steady. “Can you tell me?”

“E…Evrahn….” he breathed. Lataea felt as though her heart turned into ice; Evrahn trained with her sometimes. She’d thought of him as a friend! “P-Princess…run…betrayed….” He raised his hand and touched Lataea’s face. He smiled. “Save you kingdom, Princess,” he said in one last moment of strength and lucidity. Then his hand fell to the ground and Lataea felt his heart stop.

Lataea’s face was tearstained. She couldn’t believe what was going on. Darumi, dead? How could he be dead? And was Evrahn a traitor? Then her heart stopped as she realized the full truth.

Not many of the Atagians knew Lataea was the princess; everyone had thought that would be too dangerous. Darumi did, and Lenel and her parents (because they were the leaders of the Atagians), as well as the old priest who had first found her in the desert. In public they only called her “Taea,” because it was too common a name to be incriminating. But a week before Lataea was sent into the desert, Evrahn had caught Darumi lecturing her on what her duties were as a Princess, trying to wake her from her apathy. Lataea had been reasonably sure he could be trusted at the time, but…had he sold her out?

Lataea stood, wiping the blood on her hands into her tunic, then helplessly rubbing away her tears. She had shed enough tears for a lifetime. She was terrified; what would happen now? She left the lamp beside Darumi’s corpse, saying a quick prayer to Emtipha to guide his spirit to the afterlife, then climbed up the ladder. She had to be careful now, more careful than she ever had been in her entire life. She didn’t have Star to save her this time! She only opened the trapdoor an inch, peering out and listening hard before deciding the flat was still empty and it was safe for her to emerge.

The princess’s heart was thundering against her chest as she looked out the hut windows. So far everything seemed calm, but she knew something was horribly wrong because steadfast and dependable Darumi was lying dead in his own house, his body perverted from its original shape in the ferocity of the attack. A lump was in the girl’s throat; it was a horrific thing for a fourteen-year-old to witness.

I have to find Lenel! Lataea realized in sudden panic. She could be in danger. The whole village could be in danger! Lenel’s father, Kyrn, was the leader of the Atagians since his older sister, Merixyn, had denied the throne in order to live on Earth with her husband and children. Kyrn was powerful, intimidating, and clever. If there was any danger for the Atagians, he was the person to tell. And it was a race against time.

Lataea burst into action. She felt almost as though her sister was there beside her, urging her on. Lataea raced out of the hut and back towards the square, yelling for her friend, her desperate voice piercing through the scorching afternoon air. Her sore muscles burned and her feet ached, but Lataea raced right up to Kyrn’s hut. “Kyrn, Lenel—anyone!” she cried, racing inside.

The hut was empty. Lataea felt her heart sink; the village was probably working in mass in the humidity fields where they grew their crops. She went back outside. Should she just leave? Would Emberon leave the Atagians in peace if Lataea wasn’t with them, or would he be angry that she wasn’t where he thought she was? Of course, that was assuming he knew she was here. She thought he probably did. Any information regarding a member of the royal family surely would be sold to Emberon immediately. Should she wait there and see what happened? No, waiting wasn’t Lataea’s style; it made her fingers itch and blood boil. The only other option was to go find Kyrn and Lenel and whoever else could help her find Evrahn and find out what happened. The secret was out anyway, so Lataea decided to fly to the fields, which were half a mile away.

Lataea just stood still for a moment with her eyes closed. She hadn’t used her wings since she’d abandoned Taelem to die in the desert without her; to her, they were a reminder of her guilt. But then she summoned her energy from deep inside her so it flowed through her veins, being pumped by her very heart, and she felt her form changing. Her bones became strong and hollow, like a bird’s. The extra matter was magically transitioned to her back, becoming wings that spread from between her shoulder blades. Then she was still for a moment longer, remembering the feel of warm air lifting against her wings, the shifting of her feathers as she read the air currents.

When Lataea opened her eyes, they held the same intensity as her sister’s had, burning with silver-blue fire. She leapt off the ground and beat her wings, dragging herself into the sky until she caught a warm draft and soared towards the humidity fields.

-

When Lenel saw Lataea soaring towards the work fields, she knew something was wrong. The fields were deep pits dug in order to reach the more fertile soil, watered from a deep well and complicated aqueduct system, and then covered with soaked canvas to keep out the sandstorms. There was an entrance near where Lenel stood, so she ducked back in. “Father!” she yelled as loudly as she could. “Father, trouble!”

Kyrn, a massive elf with a serious face and penetrating eyes, emerged from the tall wheat. “Lenel? What’s wrong?”

“Father, Lataea is flying towards us!” she hissed so other Atagians wouldn’t hear. Her gold eyes were panicked. “Papa, something’s wrong—she’s supposed to be training with Darumi!”

Kyrn’s mouth tensed and he squeezed his daughter’s shoulder briefly. “Come, Lenel,” he said simply as he brushed outside, waving to let the others know they could continue their work.

Lataea landed lightly in front of them. Lenel seized her shoulders, because she looked as though she were about to topple over. “Taea, what happened?”

Lataea’s wings folded against her back and tears began to cascade down her cheeks; she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Darumi’s dead!” she cried, looking at her friend and then at Kyrn. “He’s been murdered! I got there—he was still alive—he mentioned Evrahn, and then told me to run—”

Kyrn, of course, had been told when Evrahn had discovered the truth about Lataea. He understood immediately and his face when stone hard. “Evrahn didn’t come to work in the fields today,” he said. “And he was gone for two days last week. You must fly, Taea; you are no longer safe here.”

Lataea shook her head. “No! If Emberon’s coming here, he’ll kill you all! I have to be here so he doesn’t tear this place apart looking for me!”

Kyn didn’t argue. Even the independent Atagians pledged their allegiance to the Phoenix, and some of that was automatically deflected to Princess Lataea. “What do you suggest?” he asked.

“Keep your people here—all of them. I don’t want anyone left in the village. Doubtless that’s where Emberon will arrive if or when he comes. I’ll wait there for him. I’ll do my best to escape, but that way he won’t hold you responsible for knowing where I am.” Lataea was confident this was the right thing to do.

Lenel’s eyes watered. “I don’t want you to leave, Taea,” she said. Lataea hugged her friend briefly.

“Thanks for putting up with me, Lenel,” she said fondly. “Stay here with your father!”

Kyrn took Lataea by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Thank you for your bravery, Princess,” he told her quietly. “I am proud to call you our princess. Now go, and do not tell us where you go when you leave.”

Lataea nodded. She looked at them both one last time, her heart longing for their company, but then she turned to the village. She did not look back.

When she reached the little sprawl of mud-brick huts, it was all empty. Kyrn had blown on the wyrm horn mounted atop the distant Atagian temple, which called everyone to its safety. None ignored that call. Lataea drew in her wings and sat down in the square, crossing her legs and meditating to pull out her own energy. She’d need all of it to escape from Emberon.

She was there for probably half an hour before she felt it; an irrepressible dark thirst for power pushing in on her and making it hard to breathe. The aura was so thick she could see it before Emberon even arrived; once-blue magic tainted red and black with blood and evil. Then he simply materialized there in front of her, a towering elf with dark brown skin and fathomless black eyes. Lataea glared up at him, hiding her fear.

“So, the little whelp spy was correct,” he smirked, looking down at her. “Here is the little princess Lataea at last, the dastard who abandoned her sister to my tender mercies.”

He’d managed to hit a sore spot within the first two seconds. Lataea stood, trembling in her effort to stay calm. “Emberon,” she said coolly.

His eyes danced darkly. “You know, I had my suspicions you were being harbored by these outlander peasants. I could have come a long time ago. You’ve been living on borrowed time, Princess.”

She already knew that! She smiled thinly at him. “Well, you should have come sooner, then. I have been waiting an awfully long time.” She was throbbing with her own power; she had to make her move soon. “But that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you’re nothing but a dirty-blooded traitor and usurper. You’ll never be a real king, Emberon. Emtipha knows it. You cannot win against her. Even if I die here today, you are no closer to becoming the real ruler of the elves.”

His face contorted in momentary rage, but he had control again almost immediately. He stood there, staring at her, his jaw ticking as he judged her. The atmosphere was charged, like lightning ready to break from the sky.

And then everything exploded at once. Emberon lunged at Lataea, his magic slashing at her like blades. She dived to the side but felt pain burst in her side. She didn’t waste any energy fighting, however. She summoned her magic all at once and, in a burst of silvery light, she had vanished completely, leaving Emberon standing alone in the abandoned square. A sadistic smile twisted his lips as he looked down at the drops of Lataea’s blood. “So you want to play it that way, little princess….”