Dragon Speaker

by Mugdan Elana A.

  “One,” Lerofern began, raising a finger to count. “Two . . .”

  Run now!

  There they were again—someone else’s thoughts in Roxanne’s head. A pressure in her left temple and some hitherto submerged instinct lured her gaze toward the wolf-creature. It locked eyes with her and tilted its snout toward the door.

  “Three . . . four . . .”

  Go!

  Roxanne ran, heeding the advice of the tame wolf. Assuming it had spoken to her and she wasn’t losing her mind. First the drachvold, now this?

  Her headache faded when she left the building. She took several calming breaths before heading for The Olde Dragyn. It was late and she was unwell. Plus, she had no derlei, and if there was one lesson she’d learned today, it was that you couldn’t get anywhere in Allentria if you didn’t have derlei. Food, clothes, necessities, shelter—on this side of the mountains, all the means of survival cost money.

  “Pst!”

  Roxanne jumped and peered down a narrow side street. She spotted Cezon lurking behind a waste barrel. He flapped his arm, gesturing for her to join him, but she was in no mood to deal with his antics. She rolled her eyes and marched away.

  Master Treeskon hailed her when she entered the inn. “Ah, Miss Leafshield! Your cousins have been looking for you. I’ll have housekeeping fetch them to the common room if you’d like some drinks—”

  “No,” she said brusquely. “I want to rest.”

  She hurried to ascend the spiral steps. Someone emerged from the back stairwell as she reached the second-floor landing. It was Cezon again. He bounded down the corridor and grabbed her arm.

  “Let go,” she grated, struggling against him. The sinister chill of fear froze her heart as he yanked open the door to her room.

  Keriya and Fletcher were inside, and Roxanne exhaled a quick sigh of relief. The chill receded from her chest, giving way to liquid fire.

  “Take your filthy hands off me,” she snapped, kicking at Cezon’s shins. He yelped and let go, leaning down to massage the spot where her toe had collided with his leg.

  “What are you doing?” Keriya demanded of Cezon.

  “What am I doing? Do you know what your idiot friend did? She chatted up a bunch of Imperials! Waltzed right into their little hive.”

  “A bunch of what?”

  “Imperial Guards,” Cezon spat, sounding out each syllable as if he were talking to a group of toddlers. “Ugly gray getups, government employees—ring any bells?”

  “I can talk to anyone I want,” said Roxanne.

  “Not if you want to stay in Allentria you can’t. Imperials ain’t like local soldiers. They’re elite warriors, all Tier Seven wielders and higher, and they got jurisdiction throughout the whole empire. They make sure no one does nothing illegal, and they make sure no one from outside gets in.”

  Roxanne wasn’t familiar with the terms ‘soldier’ or ‘warrior,’ but the Imperials sounded like a cross between Aerian Hunters and Elders. Hunters protected the village from threats like drachvolds and wolfcats. The Elders, of course, were the ones who made all the rules . . . and the ones who punished rule-breakers. A shiver ran through her at the thought.

  “So? What’s the problem?” asked Keriya.

  “Helkryvt’s blood!” Cezon tossed his hands in the air. Roxanne dimly registered the interesting fact that the Allentrians must share some of the Aerians’ theological beliefs if Cezon was using the name of the Aerian god of evil. “They’re the ones who keep foreigners out of our country. If they find out who you are, it’s only a matter of time before they track you down and ship you back to where you came from. It’s a tronkin’ miracle they didn’t arrest you on the spot!”

  Lerofern had threatened to arrest Roxanne, but she hadn’t known what that meant. Did he have the power to force her to go back to Aeria?

  “We need to leave. Gotta get you to Noryk before you get yourselves deported. You!” Cezon pointed at Fletcher. “Go downstairs and tell Treeskon to hitch up Winni. Give him this to keep him from flapping his fat lips about it.” He tossed Fletcher a gold derlei, which Fletcher caught clumsily. “And you!” He pointed at Keriya. “Find a bag to put over your head before we go!”

  Keriya’s face darkened and Roxanne groaned. She didn’t want to get deported—she would rather die than return to her father.

  It sounded like she would be stuck with these lunatics a little while longer.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Contrition is meaningless without forgiveness.”

  ~ Yalon Monkier, Second Age

  Fletcher hurried to the common room, clutching the gold coin derlei. The evening crowd was already trickling in, and Fletcher scanned the patrons before he spotted Treeskon bustling around near the front of the bar.

  “Excuse me,” he gasped, running toward the innkeeper. “We’d like you to get Winni ready. Cezon needs to leave.”

  “So soon?” Treeskon raised a bushy eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

  Fletcher hesitated. There was definitely something wrong, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know who the Imperial Guards were, nor did he understand why it was so important to stay away from them.

  “Everything’s fine,” he lied. “Cezon said to give you this for your trouble.” He offered the derlei to Treeskon, who pocketed the coin with a mirthless laugh.

  “I’ll bet he didn’t say it that politely. The wagon will be out front in a few minutes.”

  The sky was deepening from purple to slate gray when Fletcher left the inn. A warm breeze whispered through the streets, carrying the fresh scents of the meadowlands and lake. Sounds of music and laughter drifted toward him.

  An unexpected pang echoed in Fletcher’s heart. He’d only been here a day; why was he upset about leaving? Maybe it was just too soon after leaving the only home he’d ever known.

  The telltale clip-clop of hooves roused him from his thoughts. A servant boy led Winni out of the inn’s side alley.

  “Give my regards to Sir Leafwhit,” he said, offering Fletcher the reins before vanishing once more.

  More clip-clopping echoed along the street as a group of riders turned the corner ahead. Their horses were outfitted with shiny metal plates across their chests. Fletcher screwed up his eyes to get a better view and his stomach dropped. All the men were garbed in gray robes.

  “Hey, are we ready? Where’s Cezon?”

  Fletcher spun around to see Keriya and Roxanne emerging from the inn. Neither of them had noticed the riders. He dropped Winni’s reins and leapt at Keriya.

  “Quick, hide!” he hissed. “Where’s your bag?”

  “My—what? Are you kidding? I’m not putting a bag over my head!”

  Fletcher reopened the door and pushed Keriya inside. He closed it not a moment too soon, for a sharp voice cracked through the air behind him.

  “Here! Boy!”

  The riders had drawn level with them. They halted their horses and gazed coldly at Fletcher and Roxanne.

  “Can I help you?” Fletcher asked.

  “It’s a code violation to leave your animal unattended,” said the lead rider, pointing at Winni.

  “Sorry.” Fletcher hastily scooped up the reins.

  “Are you leaving Senteir?” said another man. “The nearest town is more than a day’s journey by land. Where are your parents?”

  Fletcher opened his mouth, but no words came to him. He looked at Roxanne for help, but she remained silent, half-hidden in the shadows.

  As if on cue, Cezon burst from the inn with a flourish. He’d traded his eyepatch for a bulky scarf, which he’d wrapped around the lower half of his face. Keriya was behind him, her unnatural hair and eyes hidden beneath the cowl of a traveling cloak.

  “There you are, children! I’ve settled up with Master Treeskon and—oh! Good evening, Officers. Is there a problem?”


  “This boy left your horse unattended.” The lead rider’s voice was filled with suspicion.

  “Tsk-tsk. I apologize. He’s not the sharpest sword in the armory,” Cezon chortled, slinging an arm around Fletcher’s shoulders in a fatherly manner.

  “Where are you headed at this hour?” the rider persisted.

  “Been traveling to Shudrash. My poor sister has fallen ill. We stopped here so I could restock our supplies, but we’ve gotta be on our way. The children do so want to see their aunt,” said Cezon.

  The lead rider rolled his eyes and heeled his horse forward. “Keep a better watch on your wards,” he told Cezon.

  Cezon waved after them, watching until they rounded the corner. When they were gone, he ripped off his scarf.

  “Get in,” he growled. He grabbed Fletcher and Keriya and dragged them to the back of the wagon. “You too,” he told Roxanne. Though her hands curled into fists, she obeyed.

  Fletcher clambered through the wagon’s canvas flap and settled down on a pile of lumpy burlap sacks. He heard Cezon jump into the front seat and whistle to Winni.

  “That was close,” Roxanne said as the wagon lurched into motion. “At least they left without a fuss.”

  Fletcher nodded. The tension in his gut ebbed away. The danger was past and Cezon was taking them somewhere they’d be safe. The only one who didn’t seem relieved was Keriya. She sat rigidly on an empty crate.

  “You okay?” Fletcher asked.

  “You hid me,” she said. “You wanted to keep them from seeing me.”

  “Well, yeah.” Fletcher thought he’d been doing a good thing, but it was clear Keriya didn’t agree.

  “Do my eyes frighten you?”

  “What? No!” he protested, perhaps too forcefully. He’d grown accustomed to their shocking color, but he couldn’t deny their weird aura of power unnerved him.

  “You still think I’m a witch, don’t you? I never consorted with any dark spirits—not that there are any. You know that’s all garbage the Elders made up to keep people scared.”

  “Quiet back there,” Cezon snapped, banging on the wagon’s wooden frame. “We’re near the main gate.”

  Fletcher leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If you remember, even when I did briefly think you might be a witch, I stuck by you. You’re the only family I have left.”

  “We’re not family,” she said softly, hugging her arms around her stomach, unable to meet his gaze.

  Fletcher scowled. After everything they’d suffered and survived together, what were they, if not family? A flash of pain lanced through him—an echo of Asher’s betrayal.

  “Not by blood,” he argued, heat rising in his throat to burn his cheeks, “but we’ve been through enough that we may as well be.”

  “Oh, for Shivnath’s sake,” Roxanne groaned, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.

  “Will you three shut up?” Cezon squawked.

  Fletcher turned away from the girls. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d acted when he’d first seen Keriya’s eyes, but how could she not see that he had her best interests at heart?

  They left the town without further incident and spent the next few days trundling along a sandy path nestled between a fresh green forest and the river that flowed out of the Senteiri Lake.

  Fletcher couldn’t have meaningful conversation with Keriya, who was pretending their argument had never happened. When he tried talking to Roxanne, she told him that her head hurt. With no one else to turn to, Fletcher settled on speaking with Cezon.

  “How long til we get to Noryk?” he asked, scooting closer to the Allentrian as the wagon rattled along.

  “We’ve a ways to go,” grumbled Cezon, “and whining about it ain’t gonna get us there any faster.”

  “Is it a big place?”

  “Most impressive city you’ve ever seen. A hundred times bigger than Senteir.”

  “What will we do once we get there?” said Fletcher, leaning against the backboard to admire the spotless sky.

  “We’ll start by fixin’ it so you ain’t arrested,” said Cezon.

  “I mean after that.” Fletcher began imagining the city: friendly people, plenty of excitement, and ample opportunities, even for a group of unnamed Aerians.

  There hadn’t been a future for him in Aeria—he’d known that all along, and the Elders’ refusal to let him participate in the Ceremony of Choice confirmed it. Here in Allentria, a world of shining possibilities had blossomed before him. It put a smile on his lips.

  “After that, with any luck, you ain’t gonna be my problem.”

  “After that, some of us have important things to do,” Keriya announced from where she sat in the back of the wagon.

  The smile slipped from Fletcher’s face. Part of him couldn’t wait to get to Noryk, to find a new place to call home. Another part of him feared reaching the city, because he didn’t know what would happen there. Would Keriya and Roxanne want to go their separate ways?

  Cezon noticed the change in his mood and smirked. “What’s the story with her, eh?” He jerked his head toward Keriya.

  “I don’t know,” Fletcher admitted in a low voice. “Something changed between us. And I’m not sure how to fix it.”

  “Women are more trouble than they’re worth,” said Cezon. “It’s why I don’t bother with ‘em. They’re easy enough to wrangle, but you gotta be patient. Gotta tread lightly.”

  “Oh?” said Fletcher, feeling lost.

  “Just tell her she was right and you’re sorry. Don’t matter if you know what you did, or if you didn’t do nothin’ at all. They just like to think they win all the arguments.”

  “I already tried apologizing and it didn’t work.”

  “Her loss. There’s plenty other fish in the sea, if you catch my drift.”

  Fletcher didn’t catch Cezon’s drift, but his spirits lifted nonetheless.

  When they made camp, Fletcher stuck close to Cezon. He brushed Winni, which Cezon appreciated, and started to organize the wagon, which Cezon didn’t like one bit.

  “Out! Get out,” said Cezon, grabbing Fletcher by the scruff of his shirt and yanking him away from a cluster of sealed wooden boxes. “Ain’t anyone ever told you not to stick your nose where it don’t belong?”

  “I was just trying to help—”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t care. Go bother your little friends.” Cezon pointed at Keriya and Roxanne, who were sitting by the small fire he’d made in a sandy grove.

  Fletcher cast them a doubtful glance. Keriya was watching him, and when he caught her eye she beckoned him over.

  “Why are you talking to Cezon so much?” she asked when Fletcher sat on her mossy log.

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because you cannot trust anyone. I don’t like the way he looks at my eyes. I think he’s up to something.”

  “Cezon’s alright, Keriya. Give him a chance. The whole world isn’t out to get you.”

  Her pale cheeks flushed red in the firelight and she looked away. Fletcher regretted the harshness of his words, but he was too tired to pursue the point and risk getting into another argument.

  Cezon passed by and gave Fletcher a knowing look. He pointed at Keriya and twirled his finger in a circle next to his ear.

  With nothing else to do, Fletcher rose and followed Cezon as he prepared their supper. It was then that he realized he was clinging to the Allentrian because it eased some of the loneliness that had taken up residence in his heart.

  And while Fletcher was glad he was forging a new friendship, he felt a twinge of regret when he thought of his crumbling friendship with Keriya.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The man who does not dream will never be happy. The man who dreams too far will never be content.”

  ~ Virix Temperflame, Seventh Age

  “C’mon, W
inni. There’s an old girl. C’mon, you stupid tronkin’ donkey!”

  “It’s her left hind hoof,” Roxanne said from her seat on the wagon. Cezon glowered at her before walking to Winni’s hind leg. He clucked and she lifted it obediently. Sure enough, he scraped out a sharp pebble stuck in her shoe.

  “How’d you know that?” Keriya whispered as Cezon clambered into the wagon.

  “Lucky guess,” grumbled Roxanne, hunching down and crossing her arms.

  They’d been traveling for a fortnight. During the trek, Roxanne had heard more voices and had suffered hallucinations similar to the one in the mountains. She no longer feared she was crazy, but the truth of the matter—that she could speak to animals—wasn’t much better.

  You have great power, two-legger. Do not fear it.

  Another voice inside her head—this one belonged to Winni. The animals’ voices weren’t really voices; they were images and colors and concepts that her brain translated into human words and sounds.

  Leave me alone, she thought dully.

  “What’s that?” Fletcher asked, interrupting Roxanne’s silent conversation. He pointed to a shape shimmering through the humid haze.

  “That’d be Noryk,” said Cezon. “Not much longer, now.”

  As they neared the city, excitement seeped in to replace Roxanne’s surliness. No matter how worrisome—or irritating—the circumstances of her journey were, this was worlds better than being in Aeria.

  She set her sights on the horizon, feeling her heart grow lighter. Beside her, Keriya and Fletcher were buoyant with anticipation. Noryk perched on impressive, gleaming white cliffs. Tower peaks and turrets were visible over its grand stone walls.

  “Did you ever think buildings could be so big?” asked Keriya, leaning forward on the wagon seat.

  “Look at that one,” said Fletcher, pointing to a lone, thin spire that dwarfed its companions. “How can they build something like that?”

  “Combination of magic and mathematics,” said Cezon. “And believe me, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  They left the country hills of the Smarlands and crossed a flat expanse of ground. Beyond, a river moat coiled around the base of the cliffs. Floating vessels dotted the glittering water, their sails fluttering like butterfly wings in the warm breeze.