Jherog could barely see in front of him as he felt his feet hit the earth below with such force, propelling him to move faster. He knew he had to move quickly before anyone was the wiser to what was happening. Sure, Gahllagh’s death would be difficult to explain, but he’d figure it out. He suddenly saw him. He looked so stupid, just staring at him with a blank look on his face, his eyes empty. He probably doesn’t think of me as a threat in any way, he realized and felt his anger grow. Well, neither did Grodan, he laughed. He was only steps away and held his stick out like a short sword, ready to penetrate his skin and make him bleed out. But something suddenly crashed into him. It was hard, and cold, and threw him several feet across the way until his body was thrust against a thick tree, forcing him to stop and land on the ground. He felt his breath being forced out of his lungs just before they felt as though they were being crushed. Once on the ground, it took him a while to catch his breath again and to be able to move and look up. What had hit him? He searched near him to see who it could’ve been, but there was no one. He slowly stood and looked back to Gahllagh, but he wasn’t alone. Devra stood next to him, her right hand out by her side, palm out. Her stance gave away her intention. She looked ready to fight.
“Devra? What are you doing?”
“I ask you the same,” she demanded, her voice stern, strong, unwavering. It was impossible to see from the distance, but Jherog was certain there were flames in her eyes. She was angry.
“I…” He moved toward her and felt a blinding pain in his left hip. It made his leg buckle, forcing him to his knees. “Devra…” he didn’t know what to say, and before he knew it, he was overcome with emotion. He could feel a deep and intense pressure building in his chest and tried to breathe through it. Devra relaxed her stance and turned toward Gahllagh. They whispered and though Gahllagh seemed to hesitate, he finally walked away. Devra watched him for a moment and then turned back to Jherog. She seemed to sigh and then finally move toward him. Jherog was afraid to meet her eyes. He truly didn’t know what to say or do. When she reached his side, she kneeled down.
“What is happening to you?” She asked him. A part of him wanted to feign confusion, or surprise, or make some sort of joke, but he couldn’t. He was still struggling to breathe and feel anything but the blinding pain in his hip. It coursed down his left leg and up the left side of his body. Though the pain was constant and strong, it also felt as though the entire side of his body was numb.
“What did you do to me?” He asked her, whimpering. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her.
“What are you trying to make me do?” She responded and he looked at her, confused. Why must she always speak in riddles? She let his face go and sighed. “You know, ever since the day I discovered my powers, I’ve wondered what I was capable of. You can’t imagine the amount of times I’ve pictured using them for a plethora of reasons, and I always wondered what it would be like to use them on someone.” He felt his breath continuing to return and could feel tears streaming down his face. “And now I know,” she finished. He looked at her, shocked, hurt.
“You used them against me?” He couldn’t believe it. How could she? He felt betrayed and beyond confused. How could a woman he held so lovingly and who gave such tender responses to his touch suddenly use such power against him? And to hurt him? The constant erratic and unpredictable moods and responses from her were becoming too much. He didn’t know if he could take it anymore. “Devra…” he started, a whisper as it hurt to talk. She grabbed his face again, pulling his eyes toward hers. He finally looked into them and was glad to not see any flame. He tried to look away.
“Look at me!” She yelled, and he obeyed. He felt compelled to. She gave him a smile, though it wasn’t a happy one. She was clearly frustrated. “Things have changed,” she told him. He cried, confused, hurt, unsure. “Perhaps you believed I needed you. Perhaps you thought I was this poor, lost, little creature in need of a father.” He swore he could feel his heart breaking. “Perhaps you thought we could be a family.” She squeezed his jaw in her hand and he was surprised at her strength. She stared into his eyes as though searching for something. “Truth be told,” she squeezed a little harder. “I don’t quite care what you believed or believe now,” she let go of his jaw, tossing his head to the side so forcefully, he fell further to the ground.
“Devra…” he whispered. “You don’t understand,” he started. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her about his relationship with her mother. How he’d tried to save her from her father. How losing her had been the worst thing that had ever happened to him. And how he’d found her again, in her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her and was sworn to protect her and stay by her side. But he didn’t know how. When he looked back up, she was standing over him, a look of disgust spread across her face. This wasn’t his Devra, he realized. For clearly there were two, if not more of them. But still, he couldn’t stop the words from escaping his lips. “I love you,” he whispered.
“How unfortunate for you,” she sighed. She moved closer to him. “You came for my family,” she hissed. He cried and took a deep breath.
“I’m your family,” he whimpered. She scoffed at him, stood back up, and walked away. “Devra!” He yelled after her, but she ignored him.
For the next few weeks, Jherog remained in the wagon as they moved South. He could barely move from the makeshift bed on the floor, and every day he felt more and more like a weak and lame prisoner. Every day he hoped Devra would come to see him, but every night he readied to sleep, severely disappointed. The only visits he ever received were from one of the Riggan girls, Galrea, who would bring him tonics to help alleviate the pain and help him sleep. She barely spoke with him, despite his constant efforts to obtain news from her - news of where they were headed, and of Devra. But she barely ever said a word. Devra no longer slept at his side and he feared he’d lost her forever. His dreams were worsening as each night passed, each nightmare having something worse happen to Devra, oftentimes at his own hand, if not Gahllagh’s. The only way to notice the passage of time, other than the wagon’s movement, was the small view of the sky from the window. Most nights had been clear, so he watched the stars.
He was finally beginning to feel better when he was surprised to find Devra at his side. Midday, he’d fallen asleep for a bit. It was now dark out, and the wagon was still. He opened his eyes to find her kneeling next to him, watching him, a slight smile on her face. He kept silent, unsure what to do or say, afraid she might leave if he upset her somehow.
“My love,” she whispered, leaned down and kissed him. It was a gentle but desperate kiss, as though it had been too long for the both of them. When she pulled back, she smiled down at him.
“Derina?” He asked, unsure. She laughed as she climbed into the bed next to him.
“Of course,” she said. “Were you expecting someone else?” She joked and then stopped and waited for an answer.
“Of course not,” he lied. It was his love. He pulled her close to him and felt an overwhelming sensation of pleasure and excitement take over his body. What little pain remained in his left side seemed to disappear.
“What happened to you?” She asked as she began carefully undressing him. The left side of his body was marked. Jherog wanted to cover it back up, ashamed of how it looked, but she pulled the clothing away and removed it. She traced her fingers up and down the markings, like traces of black lightning burned onto his skin.
“Nothing serious,” he assured her. He pulled her hand away from the markings, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers. “I’m so relieved to see you,” he confessed. She smiled as she began removing his trousers. He winced as she pulled the left leg down. The markings on his left hip and down his left leg were the darkest.
“You know it’s getting harder and harder to sneak away from Grodan. I fear he’s suspicious,” she confided.
“How could that be? No one knows about us.” He pulled her close and comforted her as soon as she lifted her undershirt over her head. Her soft skin felt so good against his own. How he’d missed her. He’d been so afraid he’d never see or feel her again. “I’m sorry.” The words were out before he realized it. She smiled at him.
“Let’s not talk about Grodan or the mess that is my life.” She kissed him. “Let us just be together once more,” she whispered as she climbed on top of him.
“Be gentle with me, my love.” And she was. Oh so gentle. He could feel the tightness in his hip worsening, but he didn’t care. They made love so passionately, though quietly. Jherog threw himself into her fully and completely, caressing and enjoying every part of her body. Derina seemed just as enthralled and engaged. And somehow, it lasted longer than it ever had. By the time they were done, they were both drenched in sweat, their hair sticking to their necks and faces. Derina finally lay at his side and he kissed the top of her head.
“How I wish my life was with you,” she confessed in a whisper and he held her tighter.
“We are together, my love. I’ll always be yours,” he professed. She sighed and moved to his shoulder so she could look up at him.
“I know, and I yours,” she kissed him deeply. “But you know what I mean.” He squeezed her once more but didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Even when it had been real, eons ago, it had been in secret, and so dangerous. And now, it wasn’t even real. She kissed him and nestled back into his chest again. “Promise me something,” she interrupted his thoughts.
“Anything,” he vowed.
“Take care of Devra.” He almost jerked at her name but remained calm. “And Rhosh, and Daline…” He didn’t know what to say, and so she squeezed at his silence. “Do you hear me?” He finally nodded. “As though they’re yours, like we’ve always dreamed.” He hesitated and she looked up at him. “Do you promise?” He finally smiled at her and nodded.
“Of course. Always,” he promised.
“Thank you.” She kissed him deeply and then moved back down to his chest and sighed. It wasn’t long before he could sense her slumber, the steady breath of someone in a deep sleep. The pain in his side was beginning to throb throughout his entire body again. He gently pushed her to one side of the bed and gave himself space. He could tell by the color of the sky that the sun would be up before too long. He sat up and reached for his clothing, slowly dressing himself though it hurt. He thought it best to be dressed when Devra woke up. He looked over when he heard a big sigh. The moonlight streaming from the window was hitting her perfectly and there was no doubt it was Devra laying next to him. Her flaming red hair, now dry, was caressing and covering her, as though protecting her somehow. He smiled and moved to lean over and kiss her, but the pain in his side stabbed through and stopped him. Once he got his undershirt over his head, he leaned back down and readied to try and sleep. He turned and looked at Devra and a tightening formed in his chest. Why was this happening to him? Why was he getting these confusing but magical nights with her? Why was she coming to him as Derina? What did it all mean? He wanted to understand, for more reasons than he could count, including the desperate need to keep seeing his love, but also in hopes of stopping for fear of being caught. What would happen should someone see them? He felt a cool breeze sneak into the wagon and gently pulled the covers up over her. She looked so peaceful.
“Jherog?” Jherog practically jumped out of his skin. He turned to the wagon door. The window was open and there stood Gahllagh. “Is Devra with you?” He asked and then quietly opened the door. Jherog wanted to protest but didn’t have time. Gahllagh looked in using a small torch he was carrying. He saw Devra and his face relaxed. He sighed and looked back at Jherog. “I wasn’t sure where she’d gone.”
“She’s here. She’s asleep,” he told him. Gahllagh nodded and looked back at her.
“These last weeks have been agony for her,” he whispered as he watched her. “She cares for you a great deal, you know.” Jherog didn’t know what to say and so nodded. “I may not really know what a father is, but she’s lucky to have one who cares about her so.”
“Um… Uh…”
“Don’t worry,” Gahllagh assured him. “She told me everything.” Jherog continued to be at a loss for words. “About why you attacked me.” Jherog stammered, wanting to ask him to clarify, to explain what he was talking about. “I have no such intentions with your daughter,” he told him. “She’s more like what I think you would call a sister.” Jherog nodded and Gahllagh nodded back, turning to leave. “I’m glad she has you.” He finally closed the door, and the window, and Jherog was left perplexed and slightly afraid. What had Gahllagh been talking about? Had Devra told the Riggans he was her father? Why? Is that what she believed? He looked over at her sleeping form. But how, he wondered. She knew nothing about his relationship with her mother. There was no way she could think he was her actual father, was there? Perhaps it had been a ruse to simply explain his wanting to kill Gahllagh, as Gahllagh had said. But what now? If everyone believed he was her father, there was no way they could lie together ever again. What would others think? A million thoughts and worries coursed through his mind until the pain in his side vibrated all the way up to his head and he was forced to take deep breaths. And before he knew it, he was asleep.
A few more weeks passed, and though the pain in his side wasn’t gone, Jherog decided it was time he rejoined and rode with Devra and the Riggans. It was a rather dull and dreary sky when he opened the wagon door, but he took a deep breath, as though he’d been without fresh air for too long. The air felt good but was thick and wet. He stepped down onto the ground and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There were tents and fires by the dozens surrounding him. Where had everyone come from? He slowly moved away from the wagon and walked around, searching for Devra. Riggans and Goridians of all kinds were collected in small groups, packing or cooking over a fire. Jherog felt like he’d been walking for hours when he finally heard a familiar voice.
“Jherog?” It was Galrea. He turned toward her and smiled, though she didn’t smile back. “How are you feeling?” He nodded.
“Fine,” he lied. The pain was still present, though it wasn’t nearly as strong or painful as it used to be. She nodded.
“Good to hear,” she said and turned.
“Where is Devra?” He asked. Without a word, Galrea pointed further down toward the direction Jherog had been walking. “Can I…” but she was moving away from him, though he couldn’t tell if she was ignoring him, or simply couldn’t hear him. Overlooking her reaction, he continued forward. There were so many, he realized. He couldn’t even begin to count as each time he saw a small site of three or four, there were more behind, in front, and to the side of them. And they all looked ready for war. Weapons amassed by the fire, being sharpened or fashioned. Jherog couldn’t believe any of it. He finally found Devra at a fire with Gahllagh, speaking with three other Riggans he’d never seen before.
“Devra?” He called to her and she turned to him and smiled.
“Father!” She yelled back with a strange tone. It sounded and felt like forced relief. “You look well!” She came up to him and hugged him tight. “I’m so relieved.” He returned her hug but couldn’t help the look of confusion on his face. “How are you feeling?” She asked as she pulled herself back from him.
“Uh…” he stammered, searching for words. She kept looking at him, waiting for a response, her eyes blank. As did Gahllagh and the other Riggans with him. “Much better, thanks,” he finally answered and smiled.
“What a relief,” she said as she turned back to the others. “Brox, Delix, and Bradehr, this is my father, Jherog.” The three Riggans finally stood and nodded. They were each tall and slender, with the tops of their hair tied up on one side, while underneath was kept short. Jherog could see the markings on the side of their necks, just as Gahllagh and the others had. He smiled at them and looked to Devra.
“What’s happening?” He asked. Devra smiled at him and then back at the three Riggans.
“If you’ll excuse me. He’s been rather ill as of late,” she apologized and then moved to Jherog’s side, pulling him to walk with her. “Come, father.” They walked until they were a good enough distance from everyone when Devra let go of his hand and turned to him.
“It’s been some time,” she confessed. “You’ve missed a lot.”
“I can see that,” he chortled. Had he really been gone so long, so much could have changed. He finally looked at her and met her eyes. They were cold. Dark. “And what is this father business?”
“I know.” She smiled at him. “I had to come up with something to excuse your behavior when you attacked Gahllagh.”
“Which you’ve clearly not forgiven me for…”
“We shall not discuss it,” she ordered. “Besides, as we’ve said before, you are like a father to me. It just… fits, doesn’t it?” She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled to the brim with anger while her face held a severe smile. Jherog nodded begrudgingly.
“I guess so.”
“I know it complicates things a bit… other matters… matters you were hopeful for.” She kept staring at him. He looked confused until she moved closer and touched his face. He began to fall, feel weak in the knees, and longed to kiss her, but shook the thought from his head.
“Never mind that,” he told her.
“No,” she yelled, looking right at him. “I know it’s been on your mind for some time now, but I have to tell you…” she suddenly looked away. She almost looked and sounded disgusted. To him, neither made sense. He took her hand, trying to reassure her she could tell him anything. She pulled her hand away from him and glared at him.“I can’t,” she finally blurted, and though it hurt, he nodded. “Ever,” she clarified. She was certainly sure and aiming to be very clear.
“But surely…” he wanted to talk about it. Was she not aware of their nights together? Could she really just pretend they’d never happened? Or perhaps to her, they never had. He knew the fact that everyone thought her his father complicated things greatly, but still he couldn’t help but desperately hope. He felt too much love for Derina and couldn’t lose her again. In that moment, he didn’t care about Devra. He simply wanted his Derina when he could have her, the consequences be damned. He’d earned it, hadn’t he? Caring for and loving her so deeply? And then caring for her daughter? That’s why the stars had aligned to make it happen, no? Surely she couldn’t just take that away? He reached for her again and she stepped back and pushed him. She was so angry. Perhaps, he realized, she was indeed aware of their nights together and was angry about them. Perhaps, she was now suddenly aware and felt as though he’d betrayed her by laying with her as Derina. He sighed.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her tone dripping with contempt. “It will not happen. Ever.” She was looking right at him and there was no doubt, fear, pain, or sadness in her eyes. Only anger. He wanted to cry out in protest, but simply shook his head, yes.
“I understand.”
“As I understand that I am beyond favored and grateful that you are with me. That you can in every sense of the word, be my father and help guide me and care for me as I step into my destiny.” Her tone was overly dramatic, full of sarcasm. Jherog was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Clearly, he’d lost Devra, as he had Derina. She spoke to him, and looked at him, as though she hated him.
”Devra,” he stammered. “I never meant to hurt you.” She looked around and then turned into him, bringing her lips to his ears to whisper.
”You’ve done more than you can ever imagine, father,” the word dripped with hatred and felt like a dagger slowly penetrating his heart. She grabbed his arm, holding him in place.“And I will keep you by my side until I feel you’ve made reparations.” Jherog’s heart went cold, his body stiff. He felt a fear he’d never felt before, not even when his village had been attacked. Not even when he’d received word of Derina’s passing. Devra’s hand moved down to his hip and for a split second, he felt excitement, but it quickly changed to blinding pain as she dug her thumb into it. He winced and began to fall until he felt her grab his other arm and hold him up.
“Devra,” he struggled to speak. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about? I…”
“You will,” she hissed and suddenly pulled away as two Riggans walked by. “So much has happened since that day, father,” she began. “Word about me has spread throughout Serenia, and they’ve all come.”
“What? Who?”
“The Riggans, even the Goridians. Word of my power, my purpose.” She turned toward all of the camps and fires, smiling. “They’ve all come to join me.” She turned back to Jherog, her smile even wider. “We march to Efevra, father.”
“Efevra?” He couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. The pain remained and he was unsure if he could be hearing correctly. She nodded.
“I am to bring the light to all Serenia, and this,” she spread her arms wide, gesturing to everything and everyone around them. “Is my army.”
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Ⓒ June 2023. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.