In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 3-- Fairy Dust

"Sashek!" The two young Evening maidens glanced up from their harvesting at Hallow's Creek, where the eldest had been wearily dragging her fingers through the river-bank in search of the season's straggling mushroom growth. Sashek had been at it for two hours and had barely found enough to coat the bottom of her harvest basket.

"What is it this time?" Sashek stood, gazing at the perpetual blackness of the night sky. A few dots of twinkling brightness sparkled between the two twin moons of Weema-- but this time, there was something different.

Young Amek hopped up and down and pointed excitedly. "I saw them!" she cried. "Two bright streaks, and they were purple, like fairy-sparkles!"

"Hush!" Sashek slapped the palm of her hand against the back of her sister's head. "I have been allowing you to assist my harvest now for the last seven days, and in all that time you still haven't learned that you mustn't speak in more than a whisper!"

"But--"

"There is no such thing as fairy-dust," Sashek hissed, shoving the basket into her sister's hands. "And in case you've forgotten, this is the most dangerous time of the decade! Don't you realize that those winged beasts are going to begin searching for us? It is the time of the Sacrfice! They are coming, and when they find the one of their choosing--"

"Mother says you aren't supposed to scare me." Amek pushed the basket back and crossed her arms, pouting. "We're still close to the village! Mother says we are safe if we stick to Hallow's Creek and harvest what we can. I don't have to believe your scary stories!"

Sashek huffed with impatience and looked around, the stress of her fear and near-constant hunger working overtime on her weakened heart. She was a lovely girl, but weak due to a heart birth defect that the Village Medicinal Elder, Pomoq, told her mother had resulted in two holes. Sashek actually remembered the day she was born...if only because Mother talked about it to no end.

"A beautiful child, but weak," the withered Elder, seemingly older than Time itself, had proclaimed. He'd wrapped the bloodied infant and handed it to the the frightened young mother. "This child will not be able to handle the stress of fright or starvation. She will be a prime target for Dragura's Sacrifice unless you work as hard as you can to keep her safe! She may not have been your first child, but she will almost certainly be your last if you do not heed these most important instructions!" He'd wagged a gnarled finger in the shaking mother's face.

"What must I do?" she'd asked, looking with great anxiety around their square-shaped lodge as her two older children and husband, the hollow-eyed Gormaq, huddled in the far corner.

"This evening of your child's birth is the dawn of the Sacrifice Dragura demands every ten years," he'd whispered. "She and her flying demon-offspring, the Draca, will be on the lookout for this infant. Only the weakest will do--and if she is not successful tonight, she will try again when your child is has reached the age of ten years...and still again if she is lucky enough to reach twenty. How many of our village's children are still alive to bless the place with laughter, young mother?"

She and Gormaq had exchanged tight glances. They knew the answer; they did not need to speak the words. Not many.

"Ah, yes," the Elder had agreed, "and farther and fewer in between are the young maidens that should be flitting through the place with laughter and charm, capturing the hearts of young men who cannot find wives because those vicious beings assault us as every chance!"

The young woman had looked down at the infant, still slick with birthing fluids, and gripped her tightly in a ragged swaddling cloth. "Not this one," she had asserted firmly, through clenched teeth. "Not my precious Sashek! I shan't let them make a victim of my daughter and further tear this village apart! I shall protect her, dear Pomoq. Gormaq and I will guard this new little one with our lives."