Risha Interlude: Drake-Rider and Lalaila

Alexandra sat quietly, her fingers scratching the scales under her drake’s eye. The drake rumbled, almost like a purr, as it tilted its head into her hand. 

“I’m sorry Saya,” Alexandra said.

The drake opened its eyes to stare at its rider. “Why do you apologize?”

“It’s all my fault. My fault that we’re out here with slavers. My fault that you got poisoned like this.” Alexandra stopped scratching under Saya’s scales to lean against the head of her drake.

“I followed you willingly.” The drake huffed in annoyance. “You needed revenge, a feeling I understand well.”

“Was I right?” Alexandra asked, “What they’ve done… What I’ve done… the words of that creature haunt me. Bloodied children. Her anger was just as strong as mine, and today, I looked at the slaves we keep. Somehow I’ve been blind to it all. How is that possible? How did I not see?”

Saya snuggled into Alexandra, “You do not have to follow the same path forever, Alexandra.”

Alexandra looked up, “What do you mean by that?” 

Saya did not respond, but Alexandra already knew.

A commotion went through the camp, making Alexandra stand. She grabbed her sword from where it rested and drew it in a ready stance. 

Saya was still weak, unable to stand or fly, so Alexandra was her only defender.

Shouts made their way through the camp, then screams and howls. The sounds of fighting.

All the while, Alexandra stood there, ready to fight whoever came, ready to lay her life down for her companion.

But they did not come.

After what felt like an eternity to the human girl of barely eighteen, the sounds quieted. Only the shouts of humans remained as they yelled at each other. They weren’t prepared for such a direct attack. There shouldn’t be any force nearby strong enough to attack them directly.

Alexandra looked at Saya. Saya motioned with her head for Alexandra to leave the tent they rested in. 

She only hesitated a second before stepping outside. 

Men and women rushed by, putting out fires and helping the wounded. Alexandra looked around, trying to figure out what was happening, then she noticed the biggest change. The slave carts that had been at the back of the army, they were gone. 

A man walked through the chaos, his uniform well kept, and his rank proudly shown. The people parted for him, and Alexandra bowed as he stepped next to her to look at the same missing carts she’d been looking at.

“Alexandra. Are you still unable to fight?” The man asked.

“Yes, Colonel Harison.” She responded.

The man frowned, “Then I am left with little choice.”

Alexandra paused, then looked up at the imposing man. “SIr?”

“The monsters have gotten too bold. I am calling for the Saint of Death.”

Alexandra paused, “The saint? But the slaves…”

“I am well aware of his… opinions. But-” Colonel Harison paused, looking over the battlefield, “We do not have any slaves here that I see.” 

Alexandra’s mouth settled in a thin line, she looked at the man who watched the cries of death in front of him with an unfeeling gaze.

She spun around, and reentered her tent, joining her injured Drake.

***

Lalaila stood on the branch of the Great Tree, her gaze sweeping through the forests that her people protected. She contemplated the labyrinth, unseeable under her forest. Again, her people had been stopped, and Lalaila could not see what held the gates closed.

That terrified her, more than she could tell any of her children. She’d considered asking one of her Ancient Tenders to go deeper, but if something beyond even their power rested in the depths… she couldn’t risk it. 

The opening of a green portal brought her out of her contemplation. An elven man stepped through, covered in ornate silver armor with green trim. He bowed, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Lalaila turned around, “Tender.” 

“Ancient Mother, there is news from the southern mountains,” The man said.

Lalaila looked up with interest, a small suspicion growing inside her, “The humans there, they asked for our assistance with the local orc tribes.”

“Yes, Ancient Mother. But our people retreated.”

“Why?”

“A High Goblin claiming to be a Grand Mother captured several of our men, and spoke with them.”

“What did she call herself?”

“Risha, Ancient Mother.”

Lalaila let a small smile grace her face. “Interesting.” 

“They wait for your word, Ancient Mother.” 

“Have them observe for now. Do not engage the Goblin or her forces.” 

The elf across from her paused, a long silence filling the room. “It’s true then? A classless monster has become a Grand Mother?” 

Lalaila raised an eyebrow at the elf, he bowed his head in a silent apology for the disrespect. “I am told that Risha earned herself a class,” Lalaila answered.

“That’s impossible,” The Tender said.

“So it would seem, wouldn’t it?” Lalaila turned back to her view over the forest, “But I would not worry overly much. Sarah will soon notice her, and I suspect that we will see the truth of Risha’s existence when she does.”

“If monsters can gain classes, then everything-” 

Lalaila raised her hand, and the elf stopped. “I have met Risha already. She passed my judgement, and we will not take action.”

“As you say, Ancient Mother. I will pass your orders to the others.” The man bowed to her, then gathered energy to him, and disappeared into another portal.