"If you don't move a little faster and talk a little less we're sure to get caught." Alkemena made her way over the rooftops expertly, knowing exactly where to step. The two boys behind her, however, were a bit more rambunctious than her usual partners. Though they were equally as stealthy and moved without being seen, Jax was always stopping momentarily to make some remark or other, and Abrax always had some response to him.

"Pshh, we are not going to get caught," Jax said, waving a dismissive hand. In the tavern he'd seemed so serious and untrusting, but once she'd agreed to help them his true colors had shown through a bit more. He was playful, a nice guy to be around. She might have enjoyed his sarcastic comments more had they been doing anything else.

"Even if we do, I'm sure Mr. Sweet Words here can talk us out of it." Abrax was also quite talkative, though his words had some undertones of calculation underneath them. She could tell he was observant and thoughtful.

"What did I just say about the talking less?" Alkemena crouched at the edge of a rooftop, looking down at the well. Abrax and Jax squatted on either side of her, all three of them surveying the situation.

There were three guards circling the well, a few feet away from it so they would be able to see down the surrounding dark alleys. They moved with heavy steps. They're tired and don't even want to be here. That makes this significantly easier.

"Alright, follow me." Abrax reached forward and hooked his fingers around a thin, barely visible string that Alkemena figured must have been a clothesline. The guards really should have banned lines that went directly over wells, but to be fair it was so thin it might have been invisible.

"Are you kidding?" She whispered. "First of all, that line will never hold all three of us without snapping and dropping us right at the guards' feet. Second, we still have to come up with a plan."

"We have a plan," Jax told her as Abrax hooked his legs around the wire and began to pull himself forward, hanging upside down like a sloth. "Get as much water as we can and get the hell out of here."

"Horrible plan, if it can even be called a plan. It's a miracle you haven't been caught."

"Eh, they never learn. No one ever looks up. We'll be fine."

"They may not look up but they'll certainly look at the well when he inevitably lowers himself down." Alkemena pulled the bow off her shoulders and nocked an arrow. "Hold on."

She squinted and aimed carefully, trying to pinpoint a precise place in the darkness. She let the arrow fly, and watched it soar soundlessly through the night until it snapped a string holding up a round metal pot. The pot fell and sped down a ramp below it, its stubby handle beating the sandy ground and it rolled away. It sounded like footsteps running. The guards' heads snapped to attention and two of the three ran after the diversion.

"Neat trick," Jax said quietly. "But you missed one." He dropped a small rock over the side of the building and let it bang against the walls on its way down. The remaining guard was not fooled for long, but he was distracted long enough for Abrax to lower himself. Alkemena had thought at first that he would land next to the well and use the bucket to fetch water, which he never would have had time for. However, to her surprise, he actually lowered himself into the well. She listened for the splashing sound of his body falling down the dark hole and the spluttering of him drowning, but no such noises came.

"Ladies first." Jax motioned for Alkemena to follow Abrax. She gave him a dry look but then made her way along the wire, carefully dangling above the well's opening. Looking down, she saw Abrax with his back and legs pressed opposite against the well's walls, keeping him up. She copied his position, descending carefully and slowly.

Inside the well was dark and humid, the heat kept in by the stone walls. The stones should have been moist and covered in moss, but in the drought the moss had shriveled and the rocks turned dusty.

"Is this your usual practice?" Alkemena asked as she followed Abrax. She heard Jax do the same above her, a few pebbles falling around her and light disappearing.

"Unfortunately." Jax took a few deep breaths. "If only heights weren't so high."

"You're afraid of heights?"

"Jax chose the wrong job, honestly," Abrax said. He was talking a bit louder now that they were down a hole in the ground and out of earshot. "He hates heights, and small spaces."

"And people who go around telling everyone my personal secrets," Jax said with a bit of edge. "If this is the game we're playing, Abrax has to be home before the third bell."

"Hey! That was a low blow."

"You have a curfew?" Alkemena asked, looking down to meet Abrax's eyes. "I knew you were young, but that's too funny."

"I do not have a curfew. Though I do have a big brother, which is basically the same thing."

Alkemena tried not to be jealous. She tried not to wish she had some semblance of family at all. "So," She said, "Is this the drill? We just slowly descend into a hole in the ground as you two affectionately spill each other's secrets?"

"Usually it doesn't take this long," Abrax admitted. "The water levels have dropped."

"Even better."

When Abrax finally stopped, the other two stopped as well. "Pass me the bottles," he said.

Alkemena undid a belt around her waist, neatly stocked with empty glass vials and small ceramic pots. Jax, however, reached all over his body, pulling bottles out of folds in the fabric that Alkemena hadn't even seen. Abrax took each one and dipped them in the water, filling each one with as much water as it would allow.

They packed up the bottles quickly and began to climb back up, though feeling significantly heavier with all the water they now carried. However, when they neared the exit, they heard the footsteps of the guard who had not run off.

"Great, what are we supposed to do now, make a run for it? 'He can't catch all of us' style?" Alkemena looked at the two expectantly, praying that they had some kind of an escape plan but knowing better than to trust as much, knowing them.

"Don't worry," Abrax said. "I still have a few knives up my sleeves."

"You mean tricks?" Alkemena asked.

"He does not," Jax said.

"I do not," Abrax said, pulling a small throwing knife out of his left sleeve. He held it expertly between two fingers, using his other hand to hold himself up while he adjusted his legs to be underneath him instead of level with his torso. "Let me up." He climbed past Alkemena and then past Jax. She couldn't see precisely what he did, but a few seconds later she heard a cry and a thump.

"Go, go go!" Jax shouted suddenly, pulling himself out of the well and rolling in the sand on the ground. Abrax stuck a hand down and helped haul Alkemena out as well. The three thieves dashed into an alley before the fallen guard, who had a knife mysteriously embedded in the back of his knee joint, could follow.

Her bottles heavy with stolen water, Alkemena escaped yet again.

❂

"Mother?" Rosalind rapped softly on her mother's door with one hand, the other supporting a tray of a few bread rolls and a small vial of water. "Mother, are you hungry? I brought you some food."

The queen of Ailica, Yleke Vastatio, had not left her rooms in the castle in a very long while. The only people she ever saw anymore were her family and her maids. The people thought she might be ill with some obscure and grotesque disease and she was afraid to show her face in public, but Rosalind knew it was because she was ashamed to face the people she knew she had abandoned. Yleke had once been a good queen, a queen of the people. When the drought came about, she had no water to give them and could not bear to look at them and know that she was helpless to offer relief. She did not hide because of any shame of how she looked or some illness. No, Rosalind suspected the disease was only in her head. She was so quiet now, so hopeless. Yleke was almost entirely gone.

"Yes, darling, come in." Rosalind entered, and dropped the tray at the foot of the bed. Yleke sat at her dressing table, looking sadly in the mirror. She was not terribly old, but she already bore the wrinkles and sad expression of many years.

Rosalind made eye contact with the young serving girl- Evie, Rosalind often called her- and waved for her to leave the room. She curtsied hastily and closed the door behind her as she left.

"Mother, I wanted to talk to you. I have a question."

"What is it, my darling?"

Rosalind pulled up a chair and sat opposite her mother, who did not meet her eyes. Instead Yleke gazed only at the mirror, at her own face.

"Why does Father hate me?" Rosalind asked hesitantly. She'd been waiting a long time to ask that question, but never had the guts to ask her father. She finally decided that her mother might have the answers.

"Your father does not hate you," Yleke said. "At least, not specifically. He hates everyone."

"But he seems to hate me the most." Rosalind leaned back in her chair. "He never listens to me. Why does Jasper get to attend meetings while I have to sit outside and smell the dead flowers?"

"Life will always be harder for us, Rosie. We are women in a world of men." Yleke picked up a hairbrush and began to run it through her already-combed hair. "Your father thinks we have no place in politics. It's your job to prove him wrong."

Rosalind looked deeper into her mother's eyes, wishing she would look away from the mirror. "Why did you marry him, mother? Why subject yourself to living with him? To obeying him?"

"I felt that I could do the most good as queen."

"I want that too. To do good, as queen. I just-" Rosalind took another shaky breath as her thoughts wandered where she never let them go. "-I can't think about how I'm going to get there."

"Oh, baby." Yleke finally turned to look at her daughter. "You're thinking about the arena fight."

"He's my brother," Rosalind breathed, trying to hold back tears. "I can't kill him. I love him, mother. I could never..."

"I know," Yleke whispered, reaching out to pull her daughter into a hug. "I know, darling. You shouldn't have to."

But she could offer no more comfort than that.

"Why is this the way things are? When was it decided that this was how the throne would be passed down?"

"Our royal bloodline is strong, it always has been." Yleke stroked Rosalind's hair. "People used to say we had the very sands of the desert flowing in our veins. I'm sorry you and your brother were born into this family. I'm sorry you two were chosen to be the strongest. No one should have to be strong alone."

"We have to find some way to stop the fight," Rosalind whispered. "But I don't know how."

"You will find a way, darling. You always have."

❂

Ecthelion made his way quietly down the hallway, his boots falling softly on the stone. It was uncommon for the king to ask for him specifically. He usually gave his orders through a higher-ranking guard captain or through one of the royal twins.

He pushed past the thick curtains that seemed to block out all the sunlight. The room was dim apart from torches lining the walls. The king sat on a cushioned chair, a glass of Redious cactus wine being swirled in his hand. "Ecthelion. Thank you for coming."

As if there was a choice. "You said you had new orders for me, sir."

"I do." The king sat up slightly, leaning on his knees. "You are the swordsman training my children, are you not?"

"I am, sir."

"Then I have a request for you. I want you to change Rosalind's training program. You should teach her to fight a larger, stronger opponent. She should learn that."

"Sire?" Ecthelion had to process what was being asked. "You want me to train her to fight a large opponent? I'm training her to fight Jasper, your majesty. He is hardly a large-"

"You heard me." The king gave Ecthelion a steely look. "I know what I want for my children, Ecthelion."

"Your majesty, I cannot," Ecthelion said breathlessly, still a bit baffled. "You are asking me to sabotage the way that the ruler of our kingdom is chosen, not to mention a sibling relationship, not to mention the unfair gender stereotypes that are already in place for the monarchy, not to mention the image of the royal-"

"Ecthelion!" The king shouted suddenly. "You realize you are speaking against your king, do you not? You realize this could be treason, do you not?" Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted. Ecthelion, for a moment, allowed himself to think of his own safety, before hardening himself again. He would not let the king interfere with a tradition that was meant to be fair and just.

"I cannot do as you ask, sire. It would be a breach of everything I stand for, and everything this kingdom claims to stand for. If this results in my suffering, so be it."

The king's eyes held fire. "Very well. If that is your decision." He pulled a slip of parchment from the table next to him. "Of course, if you were to do what I asked, I'm sure Daragon would be overlooked for the new draft law I'm putting in place."

Ecthelion felt his face go pale as all the blood in his body dropped to his stomach. "W-What?"

"Yes, I believe he's old enough to wield a sword, isn't he? We need more guards to help protect the wells from thieves and the like. He seems like a perfect example of healthy youth, and would do fine in my military. It's a shame, though. To think that poor Elonomira will be left all alone and without her brothers. And your father is getting old, isn't he? I'm not sure he'll be able to work the forge on his own." The king shook his head. "A shame."

Ecthelion shook with rage and fear. He clenched his fists, trying to keep himself composed. "You are threatening my family? Is this what you have come to? You would stoop so low just to keep a man on the throne instead of a woman?"

"Your words do not aid your cause, brave swordsman."

Ecthelion took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to stay calm. "And if I choose to do as you ask, Daragon will not be drafted?"

"No, I should think not. Not yet, at least."

Ecthelion met the king's hazel eyes, which burned like hot coals. He could feel them scorching his skin, the pain an unwelcome sensation. "Then I will do it."

As if there were a choice.

❂

The Underground Oasis was the most sacred place in the entire kingdom. It was a small cave underneath the castle with a pool of water in the middle of a circular cavern. In ordinary circumstances trees, ferns, and other plants would not thrive in such a cave, without any sunlight to feed them. However, the Oasis was special. The walls of the tall cavern consisted of reflective crystals, like they were made of hundreds of little pink mirrors. The small hole in the ceiling of the cavern let a thin beam of sunlight in, but it bounced off the surface of the pool and off the walls, so the whole room glowed as if it were above ground.

Rosalind was the one who often accompanied Kimera here when the girl felt useless. Jasper's sister loved to keep the lonely seer company, but lately she had seemed so busy and stressed. Jasper sensed that Kimera missed her, but there wasn't much he could do about it save keep her company in Rosalind's place.

"I know you come down here every day, but it's starting to get hopeless," the prince said solemnly. "The sacredness does not seem to bring out your prophecies any more than other places."

"Even so, it's not like I have anywhere else important to be." Kimera sat down in the sand that formed a small beach at the side of the pool. All the plants had shriveled and died when the water levels began to drop, but what remained was so salty from the salt crystals lining the floor of the pool that no one in their right mind would drink it. "On the odd chance that the vibes in here might trigger a prophecy, I owe it to the people of this kingdom to at least try."

"That's not true," Jasper said. "You don't owe them anything, Kimera. You're doing it because you're nice, not because it's your duty. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"Is it being nice if I'm not doing it out of the goodness of my heart? If I'm just doing it because I feel guilty?"

"You shouldn't feel guilty. You don't control it, and you can't make it happen. Giving out prophecies any time it's convenient isn't your job. My father just made you think that it is."

Kimera let out a humorless laugh. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if my uncle had actually managed to get me out of the kingdom. Where would I be now? Would I be happier than I am now?"

Jasper sat down next to her and dragged his fingers through the sand. "I think you would. But me and Rosalind would have been deprived of such a great friend. And the castle would have been deprived of one of the best healers it has." He smiled at her. "So in a weird, twisted way, I'm glad you're here."

Kimera smiled back at him. "Yeah, I guess it is better that I stayed. I don't know what I would do without you guys."

All of a sudden, her smile fell into a neutral expression. Her eyes emptied of emotion and her head flew back, so she was staring up at the cave ceiling. Jasper scrambled for a parchment and pen, having been told what these actions meant. She was about to deliver a prophecy.

"Oh gosh, please be quiet for a little longer," he whispered and he fumbled with the writing utensils that he was required to carry when he watched her. "Don't start yet, don't start yet-"

Her mouth opened, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her golden hair fell in a cascade down her back, rolling like waves as her thin body trembled. Her mouth began to form words.

Jasper readied his pencil, preparing to write down whatever she was about to say. He didn't expect it to be anything of significance, as she hadn't delivered a truly monumental prophecy since the age of ten. However, he was wrong.

"Live for years in desert sun

Pass the throne from parent to child

Regions gained and spoils won

Sacred lands and sands defiled

Unworthy is he who inherits power

Upon the throne he sits and sneers

The lands around him fall or cower

A man whose people love in fear

He chokes the ones who feed from his hand

He punishes those who are loathe to kneel

He brings about drought that will stifle the land

That only the Blood of the Desert can heal."

Kimera snapped out of her trance like waking up from a nap. Jasper was still jotting down the last of her lines, his mind already going over all she'd said, trying to decode what it meant. Unfortunately, from what he could tell, it was mostly exposition.

"What happened?" Kimera demanded. "What did I say? Was it important?"

"Not most of it," Jasper admitted. "Most of it is just describing a corrupt king. I'll give you three guesses who it's referring to."

She gave him a dry look. "Gee, I wonder. What else? You said most of it was junk, but what was important?"

"The last line," Jasper said, showing her what he'd written.

"'The Blood of the Desert'," Kimera read aloud. "That can end the drought? What is it?"

"Beats me," Jasper said. "I'm guessing it's some kind of metaphor for something we can find in the desert. Hopefully the palace Conjurer can help decipher it."

"Ugh, I really don't want to ask him for help. I don't think he likes me. And don't tell anyone, but I can't say I'm particularly fond of him either." Kimera scowled.

"But he's also the most knowledgeable about magic stuff like this." Jasper tapped the parchment with his pencil. "He's probably our best chance at decoding whatever this prophecy is telling us to do."

Jasper began to stand, but Kimera grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "Wait," she said in a low whisper. "What are we going to tell your father?"

Jasper froze. He hadn't thought about that. His father would likely react very badly to a prophecy that called him corrupt and unworthy. He might punish Kimera and claim she delivered a false prophecy to speak against him, or he might regard their only clue as to how to fix everything as unreliable or untruthful. Any way he thought about it, the reaction was bad.

"We don't tell him anything," Jasper said finally. "No one heard it except for us. We'll only tell people we trust about it, and my father never has to know. If we can end the drought successfully, then we can tell him and he'll have no choice but to accept it. If we fail... well, if we fail we'll be dead, so there's no point in exploring that outcome."

"But then that brings up my second question," Kimera continued. "You said we should tell the people we trust. But who can we trust?"

"We'll start with Rosalind and Balthazar," Jasper said. "We know Rosie is trustworthy, and Balthazar never misses a chance to go behind the king's back." He stood and then helped Kimera to her feet. "We may not have all the answers, but now we have a plan. We're going to end this drought."

Word Count: 3795

Character Appearances:

Alkemena Irving by TheShortBosmer

Rosalind Vastatio by sofififlowers

Ecthelion Finweson by WingedWarrior1731

Jasper Vastatio by EstelElfstone

Kimera Relicem by me

Balthazar Evander by Cynarr (mentioned)

Also Featuring Appearances From:

Ariel Seghal by Avengers14

Abracius Senakhterne by SincerelyLoki

Hazel Evolet Yolie by Ashgreenleaf (briefly)

A/N: Ahaha! I actually got this chapter out a lot sooner than I thought I would. I'm afraid that the next one will be a pretty long while, though, since I now have to do all the summer schoolwork that I procrastinated on for the past three months. Wish me luck. In the meantime, vote and spam the comments as much as you please! My notifications have accepted the challenge! Point out any errors if you find them. To be clear, I don't think you're being 'that person' if you do, it's just helpful!  

My question for you today is: What would be your weapon of choice? (Disregard your actual physical ability since if we were going on that, I would be able to use a butter knife, maybe) What weapon would you want to use? Personally I think I'd be pretty bad ass wielding twin long knives :)