The Savage Peak: A Morgalla prequel Read online

  “Come,” Delilah said to her ward. “Hold out your hand.”

  Morgalla was confused but did as she was told. Delilah took hold of her, making sure the girl’s hand was directly above the medallion. Velleau stood a few feet away, picking something from between his teeth with his pinky claw.

  “Now close your eyes.”

  Again, the child did as she was instructed though her pulse quickened. With the speed of a bullet and the precision of a surgeon, Delilah removed a small blade and made a razor-thin cut on the child’s palm. Morgalla opened her eyes and let out a slight cry of pain. Delilah held her wrist, making sure a drop of blood fell on the trinket at her feet. Morgalla frowned at her palm, realizing the cut had already healed itself. Demonic powers. Delilah took the decoration by its tiny chain and lifted it from the ground.

  “Excellent,” Delilah said. “Here, take it. It’s yours.”

  Morgalla held out the gift.

  “For me?”

  Her teacher smiled and nodded. Morgalla was shocked to watch the metal in her hand turn into a blade as long as she was tall. The sudden weight change surprised her, and she dropped the weapon.

  “Easy there,” Delilah said. “Not to worry, you’ll get used to it. Soon it will feel as if you’re carrying no weight at all.”

  With both hands, the young girl held the sword up. Morgalla could see her reflection in it. She lost strength in her shoulders, fell to her knees and set the blade on her lap, still marveling at the craftsmanship…a work of art meant to kill.

  “There are few things in this life you can trust, Morgalla.”

  Morgalla stared up at her mistress with a smile. Delilah did not return it but studied the weapon instead.

  “I trust you,” the child replied.

  “Others cannot be trusted. But this…is a weapon in your hands, under your control. You are its mistress. That you can trust.”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “First, though. I will teach you how to use this.” Delilah pointed to her forehead. “That is your most important weapon. I will not always be there for you,” Delilah said as she stood. “Do not look to another to save you. Do not ask a male to be your hero. This sword will be your hero.”

  Morgalla gazed again up to her mentor and then back to the gift in her hands. It took only a moment to decide a name for her new friend.

  Hero.

  Velleau watched the child with curiosity as she strolled into the courtyard, mesmerized by the weapon in her hand. He couldn’t help but notice that the sword might even be even taller than its owner.

  “How old is she? Five?” he asked.

  “Nine.”

  He was surprised. “Really? She’s so small.”

  “Don’t let Zorach hear you say that.”

  “Hell forbid. But I was curious why you chose to get her a blade so large. My first weapon was more…”

  “Yes, yes, I know—” Delilah interrupted. “More your size. Mine was the same way. But I have orders from Zorach, and I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

  “Back?”

  “We’re being ordered off-world.”

  The two of them turned towards the child who was swinging…or at least trying to swing…the sword around. When she raised it above her head, she lost her footing and fell backward.

  “She seems weak for one her age. Nine years old, really?”

  “Yes, really. I know why we’re being ordered to leave. Isn’t it obvious?”

  “A little,” Velleau said with a smirk.

  “She’ll grow into it. The sword, I mean.”

  “When will you be back?”

  Delilah shrugged. “That, I couldn’t tell you. But we won’t return until I think she is ready.”

  “I have a feeling it will take years.”

  Delilah checked around the area, from the dark mountains decorating the horizon, to the black trees surrounding them in the valley. She walked to an area of some red flowers that bloomed in the garden and knelt to smell one before whispering a single word to herself. “Years.”

  2

  The Long Good-Bye

  Morgalla would soon forget all about the look, feel, and even the smell of Hell. Her dreams were sometimes filled with a sky on fire and the roars of warriors, but she’d wake every morning to the peaceful forest. Delilah occasionally took her down to the ground…but not for long…due to the predators in the area. The rivers and streams of Jadewood were filled with life.

  Meeko fish soon became a delicacy that Morgalla and Delilah enjoyed on a regular basis. Delilah often grumbled as she ate them because they were not red meat. Morgalla liked to watch the fish swim and was always depressed when it came time to feast. Delilah explained that they were prey and never to be pitied. What Morgalla adored most about Meeko fish was that they changed colors. She never understood how or why, but it was amazing to see them shift from red to gold to blue and back again. Her own powers were just emerging, and everyone around her sometimes to change color, much like the Meeko fish. Morgalla was mesmerized.

  “When you face an enemy, you should never show mercy. Morgalla? Morgalla, are you listening to me?”

  “Huh? What?” she said, snapping out of her trance. She was sitting on a fallen log and gazing into the stream.

  “Are the fish more interesting than me or what I’m explaining?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Delilah. I thank you for bringing me.” Morgalla’s voice was filled with gratitude as she peered back at the stream. “It’s just…do we have to study today?”

  “Every day is a lesson, young one,” Delilah said, extending her clawed hand and helping her young apprentice to her feet. “I’m trying to teach you something important. Now, in life, as with all scenarios, you must strike first if you are to gain the advantage.”

  “Yes,” Morgalla said. She trailed behind, her eyes still concentrating on the stream as they walked along the riverbed. Every now and then, her hand moved to her temple, giving it a scratch.

  “This is true with all creatures, whether they be animal, demon, or…lesser beings.”

  Their black cloaks flowed in the spring breeze. The two figures—one with red scale-like skin and the other a light orange—both stuck out among the green and brown of the forest. Delilah had entered the stream with water coming up to her knees. She held her sword steady, ready to strike at her prey in the water.

  “Will I be able to breathe fire like you someday?” the child asked.

  “No.”

  “Aw, how come?”

  “I can breathe fire because my grandmother was a dragon.”

  “Do I have a grandmother?”

  The child’s question made Delilah pause and look down at her. Morgalla sat on the fallen log, her violet eyes inquisitive.

  “It only makes sense that you do have a grandmother. But who that might be, I do not know.”

  “What about a mother? A father?”

  Delilah pondered a moment. “I’m sorry, child. I do not know who your parents are.”

  “But…I have them, right?”

  Their eyes locked on each other. Morgalla’s shined like polished glass.

  “Surely you must have parents, child. But again, I do not know their identities.”

  Morgalla hung her head.

  “Chin up,” Delilah commanded. The child complied. “What is important is the here and now.” Morgalla scratched at her temple again, and this time her tutor noticed. “What’s wrong with your head? Come, let me see.”

  Morgalla stepped back, but just for a moment, knowing that Delilah expected to be obeyed, and meant it. Delilah removed the young demon’s hood and pushed away her long hair to reveal a small bump on her temple.

  “Horns. You’re growing horns.”

  “But I don’t want them,” Morgalla said with serious disappointment. She scratched at the two bumps on either side of her head again.

  “Nonsense,” Delilah replied, standing straight. “They will be a thing of beauty. I can show you how to pol
ish them. Oh, and you’ll be able to wear jewelry on special occasions too.”

  She brought attention to her own pair of white horns. They were small and subtle, but she’d always found them to be a sign of power. Delilah turned and continued to ramble a bit, giddy like a schoolgirl, about doing her nails and all the fun she and Morgalla were going to have. Morgalla, on the other hand, pulled the hood back up and gave the bumps another scratch as she ran to keep up with her mentor. They walked on a fallen log across the river, where Morgalla caught the attention of the Meeko fish again. She stopped and gawked at two who turned a bright pink when they swam up to each other.

  “Hey,” Delilah yelled. Morgalla’s trance was broken again when she noticed her tutor approaching…“What is it with these damn fish, anyway?”

  “Well, they just seem so happy, I guess.”

  Delilah scoffed, and her upper lip raised in a sneer.

  This is going to be tougher than I thought.

  She sat on the log next to her student, searching for the words to convince her otherwise. Morgalla was still quite young, and Delilah could manipulate the child’s soul to follow her own, but years ago she’d decided she wasn’t going to do that.

  Surely there must be some way to convince her.

  “Morgalla, they have nothing.”

  “They have each other and the river.”

  “Until we come along with a craving for fish.”

  “But until then—”

  “Stop it.” Delilah interrupted Morgalla’s thought by kicking the water. The Meeko fish changed to bright red and swam away in a flash.

  All Morgalla could do was watch as they disappeared out of sight. She frowned. Delilah knew she had been hard on Morgalla, but she couldn’t worry about it. She was doing the girl a favor. Delilah’s face lit up when she noticed a large trout swimming their way. Silent and still, she let her prey swim closer. With lightning speed, her blade plunged into the water, and it emerged with supper impaled on the tip.

  “Ah ha,” Delilah cheered. To her, the catch was a small victory, but a victory nevertheless.

  The wilderness would be home for them for a long time. Away from civilization, demon or not, the child needed to learn all Delilah had to teach. The first lesson was survival. Finding water, hunting, gathering, and learning how to make fire was necessary.

  As Morgalla struggled with two rocks to make a spark, she finally gave up, dropping them both. “But you can make fire. Why do I have to learn this too?”

  “And what if I’m not there, child?” Delilah noted.

  After more trial and error, Morgalla finally became disgusted and gave up completely. Delilah, having a rumbling stomach, started the fire with her breath.

  During many months of searching from world to world, Delilah had found sanctuary on the planet Usteron. Among the forest of Jadewood, she and Morgalla made their home among the monks of the Xanxur. The trees, which grew taller than a hundred feet high, provided a quiet and safe atmosphere for Delilah to educate the child.

  Morgalla grew in size and strength and was fully grown by the time she was twelve, still no more than five feet tall. Delilah became concerned.

  Delilah’s red skin and Morgalla’s orange stood out among the brown and green terrain. The Xanxur clan, with bright blue flesh, were also difficult to miss. The two demons kept their distance from the others even though the child often enjoyed watching them meditate from afar.

  “Their souls are peaceful,” Morgalla noted.

  Delilah was quick to correct her. “It makes they’re weak.”

  “But why?”

  “This environment, child, is soft and easy. They would not survive among their own people outside of this forest.”

  “But we need not fear them. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Perhaps, but their weakness…I somehow feel infected by it.”

  Delilah gave a sneer as she watched them. Morgalla was confused with many things Delilah said. As time went on, neither of their attitudes towards the Xanxur changed.

  Deep within the forest, the monks chanted their morning prayers. Often the monks’ attention was diverted by the sound of metal clanging and echoing from the trees high above. They knew it was the demon woman training her young apprentice. The monks didn’t know why the pair had chosen their forest, but as long as they were peaceful and shed no blood, they could stay.

  Morgalla was too curious one morning after the chanting. Delilah had taken a nap in the trees, so the young demon girl took the opportunity and made her way to souls below. She was unable to be stealthy because of her coloring. Morgalla snuck nearer as quietly as she could, aware of the souls around her. She spotted an adult kneeling on a wooden floor in the late morning mist. Two young ones, a boy and a girl, accompanied him. If she had to guess, they were not much older than her. What were they doing? She had to know.

  The elder responded to a creak of wood by glancing over his shoulder. All three pairs of eyes scanned the area until they saw the young demon girl’s pale violet eyes looking at them. Having been caught, she hid behind a large leaf. The elder appeared curious too. His focus jumped between the two young ones and then back to Morgalla. He motioned for her to approach.

  Through the peace of his soul and the lack of fear, Morgalla knew she was not in danger, but she snuck up on him slowly, nevertheless. He reached out with a piece of white chalk and a large slab of wood, dark and flat. Morgalla noticed the two young ones held similar items. She accepted them, sniffing and even tasting the chalk.

  “Bleh.”

  The young ones snickered.

  As it went with many mornings after her sparring with one teacher, she would creep down to another one. The elder looked at the work the two blue students were doing, approving of what he saw. Morgalla struggled to figure out problems that she was given with numbers. She scratched her head, sometimes counted on her fingers. She wrote down an answer and showed it to the elder.

  He looked and frowned, shaking his head. Morgalla returned the frown. She checked her work and rubbed all the chalk off the board with her sleeve. She thought about the problem again, grunting out of frustration. One of the other students said something quietly to another, and they both snickered. Morgalla shot a glare of anger at them.

  “Shh…” the teacher said and cast a watchful eye at the two youths.

  Morgalla pondered the situation some more and scribbled down something on the board. She showed it again to the teacher who studied it and nodded in approval. Morgalla smiled.

  It was then they all heard a thump on the wooden platform where they were sitting. They noticed Delilah standing there, her golden eyes blazing at her young apprentice.

  “So, this is where you’ve been going after breakfast, young one?”

  Morgalla smiled, showing her hard work on the board to her mistress.

  Delilah frowned but managed to raise an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose brains is a useful weapon.”

  Time passed, and each day Delilah moved faster, pushing her student. That particular morning, Morgalla decided to block the coming attack and was thrust back, landing hard on the wooden practice platform.

  Delilah scowled. “Best to parry or even dodge an attack like that, until you are strong enough to block it.”

  “Now you tell me.” Morgalla groaned, her tailbone aching.

  “Up.”

  “Gimme a minute.”

  “Your opponent will not give you a minute.”

  Delilah thrust forward, and Morgalla screamed, ducking out of the way. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Your enemy will, that’s for sure.”

  They sparred more, and finally, Delilah disarmed her. Hero, the sword, was tossed over the edge. Morgalla stood motionless, frozen and not knowing what to do next.

  “What are you waiting for?” Delilah asked.

  “What? I have no weapon.”

  “You are a weapon. Continue the fight!”

  Delilah attacked again, although it was clear she wa
sn’t fighting at full strength. Morgalla dodged. But without a weapon, her feet and hands would have to do.

  “You’re holding back,” Delilah shouted and continued the attack.

  Finally, Morgalla swept her legs, knocking her teacher on her back.

  “Ha,” the teacher called. “Good.”

  She was on her feet in an instant, and they continued to fight. Morgalla leapt down to a large branch. Among the foliage, she clearly spotted her medallion hanging from a twig. She jumped down, and with the medal in her hand, it changed back into her sword. The change happened just in time since Delilah had cut the branch she was on, and her student was in a freefall.

  Morgalla was able to land on the next wooden platform, nearly crashing on one of the monks who’d ran away, fearing for his life. Delilah was quick on her heels and disarmed her student again. With a simple sweep of the leg, Morgalla lost her footing and landed hard on the wood. She curled into a ball, nursing the bump on the back of her head.

  With the pain came anger. The young demon stared up at her mistress who had neither a smile nor a frown on her face.

  “There is no shame in falling, child.”

  Morgalla breathed the anger out of her heaving body, but Delilah still sensed the rage within her.

  “There is shame, however, in remaining on the ground. Get up.”

  Morgalla heard the words and felt the influence her teacher had on her soul. Despite the pain in her back and head, she got up. The sharp ache that stung through her body was soon gone, but her ego was still bruised. Morgalla picked up her sword again, and the lesson continued.

  Delilah wasn’t all business every minute of every day. Between lessons from her and the monks, the forest was Morgalla’s playground. Delilah often took her for flights through the trees and across the plains of Usteron. There were, however, places they would not venture. Delilah forbade it.

  “The rest of the Usta’s domain is beyond that border,” Delilah noted.