In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 15: Elusive Redemption

"...there she is. The little star-child!"

Fingers pointed; rumors flew. Eager women, who had spent most of the early evening at mundane tasks such as folding laundries or shaking out bedding covers, dashed to their meeting spots in front of lodge doors and gaped openly.

"They say she left the village all on her own--"

"But how could she have done that?" asked an older woman. Her sparse teeth looked like yellowing pegs in the pink maw of her mouth.

A younger woman bent close to her ear. "They say the gates were unguarded!"

"Impossible," claimed another, jouncing a muddy-faced little girl. "There are guards posted at the gate from morning til night. She can't have gotten out that way!"

"But get out she did," chimed Yellow Peg, "and Malaraq looks none too happy about it. See-- there they come now!"

The stricken Ziuta trotted along the inner edge of the palisade, her ruddied face blotched and streaked with dried tears. The glowering Malaraq followed closely behind; the rear of his tunic was stained darkly with rich, red bloodstains where the fire-haired child had managed to jam her earth-dragon spines into the small of his back. There were shocked gasps as the two of them passed and villagers assessed the severity of the wounds; try as he might have, Malaraq had been unable to extricate the spines, for the ends were barbed, and Pomoq would need to be consulted in the end. Malaraq would further lose face for having to admit that he had been wounded by a child holding a weapon-- something which was unheard of among the Evening Folk. (In Looks Thrice, women were never permitted to wield weapons, unless they were knives used for preparing food.)

Ziuta could not ever remember having been so miserable...not since she had still been a carefree girl at the Place of Great Waters on Kiwa, where her father, Ziutem, had broken the news that her precious mother had passed away in the night.

Ziuta was cold, lonely, and broken. Proud though she was, she could no longer stand the stares and whispering; and so she marched along with her bead bowed to the ground, grateful for the long hair that obscured her miserable features. Not even Dijaq would would speak to her anymore after this-- of that, Ziuta was certain. His foul-tempered brother, Toraq, would never allow it, and by the next morning everyone in Looks Thrice would have heard what a bad influence she was; how she had hexed the boy, and how she had used magic to conjure a water dragon to do her mysterious 'bidding'. What kind of superstitious folk were these People? How much longer would she have to put up with this loneliness?

Oh, Mother, why did you ever have to leave? Please, send me a sign! Speak to me in the depths of my consciousness! I promise that I will wait for you; just please, please send a sign!

But there was nothing. Ziuta knew there never would be-- not ever again. Instead, if she were lucky enough to be able to look out of the window once she was safely within the confines of Mother's Lodge, she could look up into the stars at night, and wonder which one was the beauteous Siuntla.

"You are not walking fast enough," snarled Malaraq, giving the girl a push. "Faster! You think I have all day?"

There was muted laughter from those who watched at their open lodge doors. Humiliated, Ziuta spun and faced him. Doleful or not, she would never allow any man to shove her around like a sack of onions! She was not only the daughter of Ziutem, who had raised her from birth, but the daughter of the formidable Rotem-- the most feared man on all of Kiwa. Never would he allow someone to treat his daughter with such disrespect!

"You'll not lay a hand on me, filthy animal!" Before Malaraq could react, she flew at him with fists pounding and knocked him flat on his back, driving the spines even further into his wounded flesh. Malaraq writhed like an injured snake and howled. Ziuta's rage was uncontrollable now; she kicked him, first in the stomach, then in the chin, and finally in the small of his back, until Malaraq wretched and vomited. The groups of villagers who had gathered to watch had difficulty collecting their jaws from the ground. A few of ran in the direction of Pomoq's lodge.