Drought of Aeges

The tall, yellow grass blew in the warm wind as clouds swirled in the blue sky above. While many would believe a storm was approaching, Mylta knew better. 

It had been a year since rain fell had fallen. A year filled with famine, fire, fear. She couldn’t quite remember the feel of rain on her skin, couldn’t recall how her lips once felt before they became cracked. 

Drought is all there was, all it seemed there would ever be.

Some said it was a curse. Others believed it was just “their time”, an overdue break in the long streak of good fortune they’d been having. 

Mylta inhaled shakily, pressing herself against the dry, brittle ground below, her eyes trained steadfastly ahead. Her parents were struggling to keep their farm open, and she became what was referred to as a “Hydranger”, an almost vigilante whose sole purpose was to find new sources of water before someone else. 

She had thrown herself to the ground when she saw shadows crossing the hills across from her.

Water was the most important currency here-some would argue it was the only currency. While some Hydrangers, like Mylta, took on this quest for legitimate reasons, others were greedier. Knowing the worth of that which they sought gave them a ruthless edge she herself could never adopt.

Her palms burned slightly from the cracked earth as she steadily pressed herself up, just enough to see over the tips of the grass. The shadows were searching carefully for any possible pools or small streams hidden in the field. 

She remembered this land once having a small creek running through it, one which fed into a longer stream, then into the river. 

Now, all that remained of these once powerful bodies of water were dry, empty ruts in the earth. 

She knew how they felt. 

Her entire life shifted as the drought carried on; her life, once lush and full of potential and promise, became much like these streams, rivers, and lakes-

Dry and empty. 

Keeping her parents’ farm and family safe became her only purpose in life as the weeks turned to months, the months quickly lapsing into a year. During that time, Mylta had encountered other Hydrangers, some friendly others not so much. She learned how to sense when water was near by paying attention to the air around her, how heavy it felt, if the temperature dropped, much like how to tell if a ghost or spirit is present, or so it was described to her by a Hydranger she met about a month ago. He had come from several cities over, his clothing hanging off his thin frame in tatters, dirt smudged on his cheeks, twigs in his overgrown hair. He was kind to her, giving her several pieces of bread he kept in his pack and agreeing to share the bounty of the small pond they stumbled upon. After taking turns draining the pond with Purifiers, long, clear tubes attached to an engine with a tank attached, they parted ways. She never got his name, and he never knew hers. 

He was a Stranger and she was a Shadow, fleeting and undefined. 

Something told her the figures scouting nearby weren’t as kind or generous as the Stranger. She often found herself wondering about him, if he was still alive, if he’d managed to find his way back to the city he briefly talked about, one where the drought hadn’t hit nearly as bad as it had where she lived. Very rarely did her mind wander to anyone apart from her family; she kept them at the front of her mind in everything she did as they were the reason for her actions. 

No one ever asked her to become a Hydranger, yet no one had asked her to set this identity aside. 

She heard low voices growing closer as she pressed herself back down, heart hammering as she swallowed. 

The drought had made people more unpredictable than they were before. She never had been able gauge someone’s intentions, whether they were pure or self-serving. Now with the drought, it became even more unclear what someone meant to do. The crime rate in her city skyrocketed as people broke into homes searching for hidden bottles, reserves, any sort of water they could take to either bring home to their families, take for themselves, or sell for a high price in the underground markets which had become increasingly prevalent. To try and stabilize the economy and decrease the crime rate, the nation’s government placed restrictions on how many bottles a family could have in their home, capping at six regardless the size of the household. Every two weeks, a representative was sent to each home to do inventory, confiscating additional rations to prevent them from being stolen or sold at a high price, something Mylta was certain was happening anyway. 

She had a hard time believing the confiscated reserves were being placed with families who actually needed the water; she had seen one too many demonstrations to disprove that theory. 

“This is a waste of time, Lenox.” She heard a quiet voice mumble from her left. Footsteps were now audible as the figures grew closer. “We haven’t seen or felt any sign of water in days. No animals, no humidity-nothing. We should head back; I heard Jon saw some deer about ten miles out.”

Widening her eyes, Mylta struggled to remain still. Deer haven’t been seen in these parts for about nine months. They once roamed freely through the plains surrounding the city, yet after the first three months of the drought, they began to become scarce. She still remembered the first time she saw one lying dead next to what had been a stream. The sight had been unnerving because she felt an uncanny empathy toward the creature. It had probably come so far in search of water, journeyed to a place which once felt safe, only to realize a moment too late it had been in vain. 

She too felt remaining in her city akin to staying near an empty stream, hoping for rain to fall any minute and restore its depth, her hope. 

“Jon’s always seeing deer.” A deeper voice replied from her right. “For months we’ve been following his empty leads and getting nowhere but empty plains and riverbeds.”

Mylta furrowed her eyebrows as she lifted her head slightly; there was something familiar about the voice. 

“Maybe we should think bigger than chasing streams.” The other voice said after a long pause. “Maybe it’s time to do the one thing everyone seems too scared to even attempt.”

Silence trailed his words as Mylta’s mind raced. 

“Surely, you don’t believe in the old wives’ tales, Henry.” Lenox said, the familiarity washing over her once more as she lay still, listening. “This isn’t a curse. Curses don’t exist beyond the pages of fairy tales.”

A scoff followed as footsteps crunched through the dead, fallen grass. 

“Then tell me what you think this is, Len.” The other voice, Henry, muttered.

The men were quiet and Mylta began to wonder if anyone else was close by or if perhaps the others were just passers-by. She heard a heavy intake of breath followed by footsteps. She hadn’t registered which direction the steps came from until an intense pressure fell upon her splayed fingers causing her to yelp. 

“Holy-.”

Mylta jumped to her feet, shaking out her hand as the two men fell back, quickly bringing out what appeared to be a bow and arrow each. 

“Don’t-please!” she plead, lifting both hands as a dry wind swept through the plain again. Both men were wearing dark green hoods and tan pants, caked with spots of dirt. 

“Give us one good reason.” A voice she recognized as Henry’s growled, the bow growing tauter as he pulled back. Trembling, Mylta glanced between the men, struggling to come up with some possible reason which made her valuable to keep alive. 

“Because-because I-I know the way.” She said faintly, not even following her own words at this point. The other figure slightly lowered his bow, his head tilting. 

“What way?” he asked quietly. Henry kept his bow at the ready. 

Swallowing, Mylta fought to think quickly of what she could possibly navigate them to that would be worth allowing her to remain alive. Her mind wandered back to tales her mother once told her of the last drought that happened over four centuries earlier. The tales centered on an angered god who was sent to earth to protect the land. Legend says he dwelt behind a waterfall called Aeges, whose waters showed him all which transpired around him without having to leave the safety of his cave. After a group of explorers burned down a stretch of his forest to build what was now her city, the god cursed the land with a drought as punishment, which only ended when the city planted a forest as a peace offering to show they acknowledged this was not their land.

“The way…to Aeges.” She finally said, not sure if this tale was as widely known as her mother made it seem. Henry slightly lowered his arms as Lenox moved forward, his hood still drawn over his face. 

“You know about Aeges?” he asked, almost incredulously. Swallowing, Mylta nodded.

“And you know how to get there?” Henry added skeptically, his arms lowering all the way. Mylta wanted to exude as much confidence as possible, however she didn’t even know how far she would be able to take this lie, yet she nodded anyway. 

“Yes.” She said to add even more certainty to her claim. Henry and Lenox exchanged a glance before they replaced their weapons. 

“What’s your name?” Lenox asked carefully, as though he wasn’t fully trusting her. 

“Mylta.” She said without thinking. Giving herself a swift mental kick to the shins, her eyes watched as Henry and Lenox lowered their hoods. 

“Seeing as you listened to us for a spell, you already know I’m Henry.” Henry stated, his dark, narrow eyes watching her intently as she nodded once. She glanced over to Lenox, her eyebrows furrowing as she took in his face. Dirt covered most of it, his brown hair swept back and littered with twigs and bramble, his jawline overlaid with dark stubble. 

He looked strangely familiar and based on the way he stared at her he was thinking the same. 

“You two know each other or something?” Henry asked, his hand gesturing back and forth as they continued to stare at one another. 

“You-you’re the Stranger.” Mylta breathed, her eyes widening as she rebuilt the face she had seen so many months ago in her head. Smiling, Lenox gave a slight bow of his head. 

“You’re the Shadow.” He muttered, recalling the name she had given him. Henry glanced between the two of them before shrugging. 

“And I’m ready to leave-so if you’d lead the way, that would be great.” 

Mylta cleared her throat before turning away from them; she had no idea how she could even lead them to a waterfall to begin with, let alone convince them an angry god dwelt behind what would most likely be a blank rock face with a dried-up pool at the base. 

“This way.” She said, as confidently as possible while leading them toward the woods just beyond the plain. They were silent for a while, crunching footsteps the only soundtrack as she led them through what was once a lush, dense forest. Now, skeletons of trees surrounded them, bare branches and dried pine needles stark reminders of the world beyond, the world they created. 

Her parents firmly believed this was a curse; her mind wandered to her father praying endlessly to the god of Aeges for rain. Yet day after day there was nothing but sun and the occasional empty cloud, teasing those below with the stale promise of rain. The ponds, rivers, and lakes had emptied slowly, until everything had either evaporated or been claimed by a Hydranger. 

“Glad to see you’re still alive.”

Blinking, Mylta gazed over to her right where Lenox had caught up with her long strides. Giving a slight nod she looked ahead. 

“Likewise.” She muttered, blush creeping along her cheekbones. “I never thanked you for your kindness that day-offering to split the find and all.”

Shrugging, Lenox reached into his pack, drawing out a flask.

“Speaking of the find.” He offered it to her first. Knowing she had no reserves herself, she took a small draught, having to control herself from draining it in one go. She handed it back to Lenox who took a sip before passing it to Henry. 

“Now tell me-.” He asked as they stepped over a fallen tree. “Do you even believe in the god of Aeges? Because if memory serves, you didn’t believe in spirits or ghosts, so why would you believe in an angered god?”

Mylta almost stopped walking as she processed his words; he was onto her, moments into their trek. She glanced quickly at Henry, who was thankfully several steps behind.

“I believe this drought has gone on long enough to not leave any possibility unturned.” She muttered, starting to walk again. “My mother used to tell tales of Aeges, saying it was located in these woods. She claims to have seen it once-actually saw the god.”

Lenox gave her a look of disbelief yet said nothing. 

“What happened when she saw him?” he finally asked after moments of silence. Mylta smiled as she remembered the story. 

“Nothing.” She said with a slight laugh. “He let her continue on her way-after all, he’s a god. What would he want with someone as lowly as her?”

Those had been her mother’s words; her father had kissed her cheek, saying the god would have been lucky to make her acquaintance, that there was nothing lowly about her. A severe ache pooled in her stomach as the forest floor took a sharp, downhill turn. 

The temperature around them dropped, the air felt heavy as the trees went from bare to providing a vast canopy of leaves overhead, blocking out the intense sunlight which had followed them for most of the journey. Mylta glanced over to Lenox, who paused, holding out a hand to stop Henry, whose crunching steps came to an abrupt halt. 

“What the-?”

“Shh!” Mylta and Lenox hissed, eyes narrowing as they carefully listened to the silence around them. A slight roar came from somewhere ahead, a thunderous sound which seemed to almost shake the ground below. Henry’s eyes widened as all three of them glanced ahead. 

“I don’t believe it.” Lenox whispered as they carefully made their way down the rest of the hill, the roaring becoming stronger every step they took. Their pace quickened as the ground began to level out, the earth becoming damp and muddy the faster they walked. 

Breathing heavily, Mylta detected a scent she hadn’t smelled in ages and before she could identify it, they were standing below a waterfall rushing over a sharp rockface, splashing heavily into a pool below, flowing into a stream she desperately wished to follow yet she felt oddly rooted to the spot. 

“This is it.” She breathed, walking forward. Lenox followed, but she shook her head.

“I think I’m supposed to go alone.” She muttered, continuing on as the waterfall parted slightly, creating a space for her to walk through. She didn’t feel the water as she entered. 

“Why have you come, Mylta?” a deep voice called, echoing around the cave, from nowhere and everywhere all at once. She pressed the fear down as she tried to stand tall. 

“To end the drought.” She replied, the echoes unsettling. 

“Hmmmmmm.” The voice replied. “The drought is not mine to end.”

Mylta fought the urge to collapse, exhaustion sinking into her bones. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. “The last drought-.”

“Was also not mine to end.” He interrupted. “You created this world, only you can repair it.”

Mylta wanted to cry as she squinted through the dark for any sign of the god. 

“You’re wrong.” She finally managed. “We didn’t create this world-you did. And you’re killing it-just look around. You want me to plant trees? Fine, I’ll plant a forest. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. Because I can’t have my family die in whatever twisted game you’re playing. You claim you’re here to protect the earth-then prove it. Because right now, it’s really hard to believe in you when everything you’re doing goes against all you supposedly stand for.”

Mylta turned on her heel, unsure whether her words had any sort of impact on the god of Aeges or if she had managed to make things worse. Finally, she emerged from behind the waterfall, Lenox and Henry looking at her incredulously.

“How are you not soaked?” Henry breathed as she walked back up the sloping hill, warmth falling over her the higher they climbed. Lenox remained silent as they continued on, Henry’s questions unrelenting. 

“Enough!” she finally snapped, turning to see Henry stop dead in his tracks. They were back on the edge of the plain, wind still skittering through the grass under a now overcast sky.

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore-let’s just part ways, scout our water, go to the seas if we have to. Nothing makes a difference, nothing-.”

She paused as a shiver fell down her spine. 

The wind was no longer warm. The air felt cool, weighted as she inhaled heavily, her eyes sliding over to Lenox who gave a slight half smile, following her into the plain. Henry tentatively approached, looking slightly concerned as the winds picked up, the trees behind creaking as they swayed dangerously. 

Laughing, she looked up, the dark clouds swirling rapidly overhead as she closed her eyes, waiting. 

Finally, after months of famine, fire, fear, Mylta felt a single drop of hope splash across her cheek, quickly followed by another.