The water was cold, too cold for most, but the red skinned, horned child remained half sunk, her chin upwards unexposed to the cold water, her tail sometimes peeking above the surface when it emerged. She remained cool, calm, collected, though every so often, as though to ground herself to the world, her tail brushed along the woman’s leg, sometimes coiling herself around the woman when she bobbed too far away.
The loud splashing nearby did not disturb the girl, for though the water rocked as though a storm was upon it, the name of that storm was Kirot, and thus they knew the storm would not cause too great of trouble.
“I am the best at swimming,” Kirot said, bobbing up and down as her tail pushed against the floor of the bath, which was more like a pool, full of such cold water, the kind which invaded deeply within her elder’s bones.
“You swim so we, even I cannot keep up,” Mulrot said, and as the little girl blinked towards her, the girl slowly turned her head to the side, smirking. Mulrot smiled in return, watching as the girl continued to swim through the chilly water, and she inhaled sharply, focusing her mind on resisting the cold once more.
“Babo…” little Karot called.
“Yes?” the old Jarot asked, running his fingers through his greatson’s silky hair, applying the shampoo gently, massaging it into his scalp.
“I can wash my own hair.”
“Oh? Have you grown so big, my Karot?” the old Jarot asked, his fingers gently rubbing his grandson’s head.
“Yes,” the boy replied, his lips twitching slightly. “I am a big boy now…”
“Oh my, oh my…” The old man smiled, withdrawing his hands, and the boy flushed, reaching up to his hair, rubbing through it, until he accidentally wiped the shampoo across his face and let out a cry. “Karot! My boy! What is this? How can the shampoo do this? I will protect you!”
Karot’s heart remained wounded, even as he pressed his face against his greatfather’s chest, the old man having managed to wash his eyes of the wicked shampoo, and within those strong arms, the boy could no longer feel the pain of the world.
It was he they called the Mad Dog.
“It was your grandfather, who you call the Mad Dog, who defeated Sun Sword Zachary?” an older man asked from within another estate, reaching up to his small white hat.
“It was my grandfather who did so,” Jurot confirmed. “They met in their youth, in which my grandfather defeated him then. A few years ago, we went to deal with the Vice Commander who slew my nephews and wounded my niece. Grandfather slaughtered a companion of his on the way, another Vice Commander, and before he could kill Sun Sword, the reason for fighting changed.”
“What do you mean?”
Jurot paused a moment. “We completed our task, and grandfather, and our elders, fought to open a path for we of our generation to leave.”
Pious Sword slowly bowed his head upon hearing the tale, and he considered the rumours of the Iyr, and considered such would pass on to their youth, not just their children.
“It was fortunate so many of our other elders had arrived, including my grandmothers and others,” Adam said, flashing a wide smile, though the light did not reach his eyes.
“You mentioned your grandfather defeated the Full Moon too?” Pious Sword asked, who would have been able to clash with the Full Moon, but he would not dare to even suggest he could defeat her.
“I mean, she cleaved quite the set of scars on him, but he loomed over her in the end,” Adam confirmed, his eyes beginning to sparkle once more. “He wanted to show off in front of his greatchildren, so what could I do but allow him to claim such a heroic victory?”
“To think we had not heard of your grandfather…” Pious Sword admitted, reaching up to his beard, brushing it gently, and he wondered if there were other monsters within the Iyr they did not hear off. ‘To think…’
“You probably heard the name of Flame Brand instead, since she was making her way through this land at the time, and the two shone so brightly in their lands, and ended their careers around the same time.”
“Flame Brand?” Pious Sword called.
“Now that is a name I have not heard in quite some time,” Navid said, reaching up to scratch the side of his neck, and trailed along the edge of his beard with a finger absentmindedly. “A warrior who cleaved her way through the land and…”
“Noorshukhur, she retired so swiftly,” Pious Sword.
“The orders conspired to force her away,” a figure called, emerging from the shadows, causing Adam to half step aside, but her voice, though rarely heard, did not strike so deeply within his heart. Kitool ignored him.
“Ah, well, who is to say of what occurred so long ago.”
“My grandaunt, who was exiled away due to the lack of the Order’s abilities,” Kitool stated firmly.
‘Damn!’ Adam’s eyes grew wide, not that he would admonish the woman, because he would have threatened them playfully, and would not have scorned them as deeply as Kitool had.
“Exiled, never to return…” Navid whispered, noting the way the young woman glared at Pious Sword, and then behind her, the red skinned girl, who had watched the fights. ‘Is she…’
“It was only until the start of the millennium,” Jurot informed. “She has joined us.”
“Flame Brand is with you?” Pious Sword asked, his eyes darting to the young man suddenly.
“Of course!” Adam declared, waiting a beat. “Since I wished to step out with my family, why wouldn’t I bring along my grandmother?”
“Your grandmother?” Navid asked, his brows raised.
“I told you, didn’t I?” Adam let out a huff. “I am related to so many legendary figures, I have to put in the work or I’ll be overshadowed.”
“Your grandmother is Flame Brand, and your grandfather is the Mad Dog?”
“My grandfather from my brother’s side is Mad Dog, my grandmother from my children’s side is Flame Brand,” the half elf replied.
“Yes,” the red skinned teen said, and it was only then that Navid felt his hair stand on end, for the teen was certainly a child of the Iyr, and yet there was no…
Pious Sword, too, turned his gaze upon the half elf, who was flushing slightly after speaking so proudly of his relations.
“How are your children finding Aswadasad?” Navid asked, for his heart threatened to explode, and with every passing moment he spent with the half elf, his chances of mortality increased tenfold.
“They…” Adam paused a moment, and his smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained complicated. “They enjoy it. Their aila and ahm are from this land, this land of black and gold, and so I’m sure they feel comfortable because of it.”
“I hope they enjoy themselves within our humble capital,” Navid said, although he could feel something else within the half elf’s words. He obviously missed something, something obvious, but what was it?
“The Amira is taking good care of us, and already, the garden is such a delight for my children, whose hearts are full of such ease,” Adam replied, though his neck pulsed, and his smile became difficult, holding a hint of darkness.
“Noorshukhur, I hope their hearts are healed, for the gardens of Aswadasad are said to have been blessed by even those of the fae,” Pious Sword said, holding up his hands in prayer. Navid turned to face him, and Pious Sword slowly returned to looking at Adam. ‘Ah.’
‘Is he…’ Adam furrowed his brows, but his lips turned into a gentle smile. “You’re funny, Kal Pious Sword.”
“Noorshukhur, I am blessed,” Pious Sword replies, his own lips forming a wide smile.
They were suddenly glad the Amira had forced them to come, in the sense that she said it was optional, but had highly recommended they appear, for it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, something she hadn’t used before during any of their letters to them.
“To think you have already defeated the Fariq of High Garden…” Navid mused. “How old are you?”
“Twenty five.”
“Did you not slay him last year?”
“I think so? A little while after I turned twenty four.” Adam smiled, for he understood what he was saying, and he understood what they were hearing, and though the mask slipped, the others remained somewhat demure.
“You have made quite a name for yourself already, for I recall… did you not defeat the Elder of Amber?”
“Officially, the Fariq Thanwi of the Amber Blades,” Adam confirmed, and a coy smile took to his lips, the half elf’s brows twitching. “However, I’ve also fought others, and defeated those no less than the Fariqi of an Order too.”
“Do you intend to conquer Aswadasad?” Navid finally asked, for who else could the half elf have defeated? He did not dare to ask, however.
“I only intend to send a message, no more,” he replied, in such a way that denoted it was all in good fun, but he had already defeated such legendary figures.
“What message is that?”
Adam smiled, and at first, he turned to look towards Taygak, and he cracked his neck to the side, his neck tensing up once more, his smile devoid of humour, but after calming his heart, his eyes, for just an instant, darted to the Amira before returning back to Navid. “Do not forget. I have shown you mercy.”