“When Vilheim created Erith, he took what was left of the tainted blood and created a child in his image, molding the child and placing his own intelligence and life into him. That is why Vilheim is as weak as he is, as a portion of the power he needs to thrive is buried within Erith. And planted within Erith, was the seed of an idea, a drive, a sense of purpose, a calling as it were, to create understand where he came from. Once he discovered that Vilheim was his father, something came alive within him, and he resolved then to resurrect his father to his former glory.
“To do that, he needs a Conduit of immense strength and power, one that could withstand the pressures of such a channeling, one who has more endurance than himself, and there is only one type of Conduit that can do so.”
“A dragon,” Maerek whispered to himself, now beginning to see what Erith was hinting at, and the true danger Erith posed to the dragon race. “He intends to capture a drake, and then subdue it to his will to perform this ritual.”
“Yes,” Mearto replied. “If we become a mated pair, he will either come for our offspring, or he will seek out a keep and take a drake for himself. And with the blood of the Faye tainted by dragon-Conduit, Vilheim will become nearly unstoppable.”
“But what will Vilheim do? Why not just let the humans be?"
“Vilheim will want, and has always wanted, to subjugate all life unto himself. To do that, he needs all blood from the Creatures of the Faye, as well as any individual who is attuned to it. He would then take their blood, store it, taint it, and distribute it with his oaths to those he sees fit. If he accomplishes this, he would become the ruler of life and death. Not one soul would pass or be born without his approval.” Maerek was about to ask another question, but Mearto held up her hand for silence and continued. “The end of Vilheim has been Seen by the Seer, and there is only one individual who can kill Vilheim, as they are brothers. Yet, Vilheim has bound this individual to him, and from what I gather, made him his primary disciple. That was the wolf that Erith spoke of during our confrontation, the one who has forgotten his path.”
“Forgive me of my ignorance,” Maerek paused and scratched the back of his head, thinking of how to ask his question. In that moment, he attempted to understand how a canid could be related to Vilheim, and settled that some transformation must have occurred, given that being the only possibility, but that left more questions. “But how is a wolf, committed to the individual who wants to control all life, supposed to be the one who kills him?” Maerek's mind was racing now. Logic, motives, people, strategy, those were things he could understand and truly grasp. Adding in this mysticism about the Faye added only more complicated layers to an already complicated problem.
“You have probably already inferred that the wolf was not always a wolf. The wolf’s name is Kosai, and he was cursed as Nameless. His memory wiped, even his name, left only as an instinctual beast with the faintest of generic memories. In essence, he has truly forgotten who he is and what he is destined to do. The future is changeable, malleable, like water, and the future previous that was viewed by the previous Seer is quickly slipping away.”
“What then is your plan?”
At this, Mearto paused, and looked up at one of the lights, not meeting Maerek’s eyes. Mearto clenched a fist and tapped it on one of the crates. Dust shot up from the wooden planks and hung in the air, swirling and dancing in the soft amber light. She then took a deep breath, waved her hand, and the dust swirled into the pattern of a bird. The bird fluttered up to the rafters, and then sat on one of the beams, before disintegrating into dust again.
“I don’t know if I have one,” she sighed, seemingly weary. “The most important thing that needs to be done is the restoration of Kosai to his former self. Without that, Vilheim will continue to survive, teaching others how to gain immortality. He will continue to prey on our kind, as well as others until he becomes a god.”
“What if we kill all those he has bound to him? Would that end him?”
“That would involve the assassination of most of ruling members of Tessír, Erith, and also Kosai. Even in that weakened state, he could still only be truly killed by a member of his own family. If Vilheim is not killed, he could convince or influence someone else on how to create the tainted blood, and perhaps we would be doing more harm than good to ourselves.”
“It is obvious to me, that we need to construct a method to separate Kosai from Erith and Vilheim, so that the wolf can be restored, as you said.” Maerek said this with the confidence of finding an unseen piece of information. “I assume you know the ritual to restore him?” Mearto simply nodded and then smiled gently at Maerek. It was a genuine smile, a smile of affection, of tenderness, of appreciation, a motherly smile.
“I know the ritual, but as I said before, I am not sure if I have a plan. I need time… to think, research a little more, make sure I haven’t missed any facts. Right now, the best option I can come up with is to search the desert and find the wolf.”
“A wolf is an odd creature to find in the desert,” replied Maerek, looking down at dust. In his brief time through the desert, he recalled the arid environment, and how sharp the scents were in the open. From what he could see and recall, there wasn’t much to eat on a daily or even weekly basis. Perhaps there were rabbits, or other small mammals that a wolf could survive on as it traveled between watering holes, but that sort of lifestyle seemed extremely dangerous for a warm-blooded predator. At least the lindworms could go a month, or six weeks without a meal. “There was a group of traders that took me in when I escaped the caves, after Boshk gave me my oath. Erith threatened them if I did not do his bidding. The traders on their way to this port and are traveling with a nomadic tribe. The leader of their group had a canine companion, a wolf. Iserum was the name of the tribal leader, though the wolf was not named.”
“It would be interesting if the wolf of Iserum’s is indeed Kosai. Iserum and I have a history.”
Mearto stood and began pacing the small room. One of the candle lights jumped up into the air and began to follow her, bouncing just behind her in time with her footsteps. Maerek thought about pressing her further on what she was thinking but decided against it. If she had suddenly come up with something, some course of action, she would have shared it already. He thought again of Moving Mountain and his wisdom. More and more he found himself reflecting on his grandsire, wishing for his council. It made him feel inadequate for the tasks before him. He had fulfilled his oath, and Mearto had released him in traditional fashion. Logically, he could go north and search for his Keep without regret, but his heart anchored him to Mearto’s side, to staying at the port to meet the traders when they arrived. There was so much going on around him that he didn’t know or understand. He had accepted what Mearto told him about Vilheim’s plot on the basis that she was one of his kin, that much he could trust. Beyond that, there wasn’t much Maerek felt he could do to help stop… everything from happening.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a fireplace, or a burning pit of some kind that I could use?” Maerek asked.
Mearto stopped midstride, the candlelight suspended perfectly behind her.
“No need of one, why?”
“I think better with a fire around, something to look into and lose myself in.” At this, Mearto smiled and gently nodded her head. She took one more step and stopped again.
“That would work,” she whispered so quietly, her words were lost in the storm. She shook her head and sighed, thumb and little finger rubbing her temples. “I should have seen it before, but it would work.”
Maerek understood that she was not talking about a fire pit, and that with what he said had stirred within her mind some idea. Maerek held his hand out calmly, gesturing for her to continue.
“It’s… It’s easier to sing to you, but not here, not right now. There is so much that involves my knowledge, my past, and it would take some time, even in song to convey the whole of it. Explaining it would take weeks, maybe even months in this language. For no
w, when your friends arrive, I will want to visit with each of them individually.”
Maerek hummed and nodded in agreement, and then looked back down at the ground, the sand and the grooves in the flooring where the sand collected. He knew he could trust her. There was peace in her words, her confidence in… whatever it was she planned. Even if she would not desire of him to be her mate, he was assured at the kinship, and of her understanding. The least he could do was be there for her as an emotional comfort.
“It’s a lot to take in, I said,” Mearto said in a slow and firm tone.
“What? Yes, yes, it is,” Maerek replied, looking up, coming out of his thoughts. “There is too much going on. Even with who we are, who you are, I can’t help but think that our part is insignificant compared the events that are about to transpire. Vilheim’s plot, to me, seems that it will only…”
Maerek trailed off and stared at the ground again. The storm grew in strength, the sand hitting the ceiling and rattling like hail on a mountain side. He knew he could trust her, but something in him, some emotional warning writhed and twisted inside him.
“I have spent too long in the company of humans,” Maerek said finally. “You and I both have had a long ordeal, and not without a long good night’s rest either.” Mearto nodded in agreement.
“I only have one blanket here. I can set out for you if you’d like to sleep in here in your current form, or you can sleep out in the loading bay.”
“You can have the blanket. I’ll take the loading bay.” Maerek nodded in gratitude. Mearto insisted that he take the blanket, but after a few minutes of overly polite comments, she yielded and let Maerek go out into the loading bay. She walked out with him and spelled up a dim red light to be suspended near where Maerek slept. Goodnights were shared, the door to the living area was shut, and Maerek almost fell to the ground, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Eyes grown instantly heavy, and refusing to open, sleep came within seconds.
[][][]
Something pressed against Maerek’s wing, a familiar scent and calming feel. The dim red light still shone, and slowly, Maerek opened his groggy eyes. Mearto had shifted into her true form and laid next to him, her wing tip touching his. It was a simple touch, one done between family members within keeps for comfort and gentle affection. It was akin to a brief hug, or a quick kiss on the cheek from friends.
“Can’t sleep,” Mearto said softly, almost humming. Maerek grumbled and then let out a yawn, trying to wash away the tiredness with his breath. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I should have been firmer, kept you isolated, kept you away. There is nothing more you can do to help me.”
“I can be here,” Maerek replied, pressing his wing against hers. “I can at least support you, be someone to talk to.”
“I am going to end up getting you killed. You could leave tonight, and I wouldn’t hold it against you. I am so sorry.”
Thoughts raced through his mind faster than he could iterate them, faster than he could filter them. It took all of his weakened mental inhibition to keep his mouth closed until the right words came across.
“You are all that I have left of my kin, and I, you. I will not lose that again.”
“Till the end?” Mearto whispered.
“Till my last breath.”
Mearto smiled, closed her eyes, and started to fall asleep. Maerek forced himself awake until she was sleeping. The storm began to subside, the wind began to lessen, and the sand did not strike the warehouse with as much ferocity. After a few minutes, the two dragons slept, breathing in sync unknowingly, wing tips overlapping a little more than before.
CHAPTER 24
The traders arrived the next morning, relatively unscathed. Erith had kept his promise to do them no harm. Maerek found them on the docks and brought them to Kelp’s Katch to meet Mearto. She smiled and embraced each one of them. Food was provided for all, courtesy of the owner. One by one, she interrupted their meal of leftover soup and bread from the night before and took them into the alley behind Kelp’s Katch. She visited first with Ledría, and spent the most time with her, and then called each of the other traders by name to visit individually. As each trader came back from their talk with Mearto, they smiled at Maerek, and either shook his hand, hugged him, or placed a hand on his shoulder.
When the meal was finished, and the traders left to find work, Maerek leaned over into Mearto’s ear.
“What, exactly, did you tell them?” he whispered as he waved good bye.
“I told them thank you, for taking care of you. I also told them to watch out for each other, and to hide Ledría as soon as they get back to Ruiska.” Mearto paused for a moment and leaned on Maerek’s shoulder. “I also told them to keep a watch for Erith, and that if ever they see him, to tell Ledría and she’d know what to do.”
With each of their specific skill sets, it didn’t take long for the traders to find work and save up enough money to buy passage back to Ruiska, the small lumbering town that they hailed from in the Western Wiles. Long farewells were shared and promises made that once things settled down a little more, that Maerek would come out to see them again.
Maerek took on additional responsibilities at the tavern, namely learning how to cook and present meals on a plate so that they were as appeasing to the eyes as they were to the taste buds. Mearto continued as a hostess and server, with Maerek fending off unruly sailors during the evening revelry.
There were other developments too, over the years. There were desert flights, where Maerek and Mearto soared on the night sky, sometimes in silence, and sometimes to hunt. On one particular flight, Mearto explained her plan on defeating Vilheim.
“If Erith suffers enough physical trauma, either a decapitating blow or some other equally fatal attack, he would die,” Mearto said flatly as she scanned the desert ground. “Tooth, tail, and claw would very easily render him apart. The only precaution I need is to create a defensive ward, a talisman of sorts. But it will take time, and I cannot be interrupted, else I, and whoever caused the interruption would suffer an untimely and painful death.”
It took two months for Mearto to create the talisman. During that time, Maerek had continued to tell the tavern owner that she was away of family business which wasn’t too far from the truth.
The night Mearto returned to the tavern from her needed seclusion, she wore a necklace of braided metal holding a rectangular, bronze colored token. There was glyph encompassed by a circle that had various designs on it. Maerek glanced at it, wondering what powers it granted. Mearto closed her hand around it gently and tucked it inside her shirt. Then, without another word, she came up to Maerek and gave him a tight, prolonged hug.
That evening, she was more affectionate toward Maerek than what he remembered. The affection was not overly flirtatious or frivolous, but more mature. A slight tap of the shoulder, a smile, sitting a little closer than usual. She would purposely brush his hand with hers as she walked by, rest her hand on his arm if she asked a question or talked and she smiled more. For once, her smile was weightless. There was no remorse, no regret or deep, hidden anxiety. It was a smile that was not covered by past fears. Those fears were finally broken and gone. That smile struck a memory Boshk gave to him during his imprisonment. Mearto was at peace, truly at peace, calm, and emotionally free as she once was in her youth.
That night, after the tavern had closed, she was off again, but not to search the desert. Instead, she left a scrap of her fabric tied to Maerek’s door handle, drenched heavily in her scent of lilac and sea salt. Prior to this, Maerek had completely and totally honored his agreement with her that he would not make any advance in that type of way. Courtship would be on her terms, if and only if, she was ready. That scrap of fabric, the little piece of cloth drenched in her scent, was an invitation to begin that courtship. But where did she hide off to?
The answer to that question was at the heart of all dragon courtships. If the male was intelligent enough to find where his prospective ma
te had gone, he was worthy of her. The hour was late, and the gates to the city would be closed. Mearto wouldn’t take a path that he couldn’t follow. There were a couple ways he could circumvent the gates by swimming out and around the wall. He had strength enough to do it, but the risk of being seen swimming the ocean was too great, and that meant she was within the walls of the city.
At first, Maerek dismissed the warehouse, thinking that swimming was out of the picture, but thought about her time she spent making the talisman. There was a chance, a small chance, that she created a second entrance suited just for him, to test his mental capacity to a point that she found worthy of her intimate companionship. It would be something only he could solve, a puzzle worthy of a prospective mate.
The night air, cooled by the wind from the ocean, pricked at his skin. He shook once, craning his neck quickly to one side, shucking off the cold. His body was radiating off heat from the day, and sweat and burnt skin, combining with the sudden chill was an uncomfortable feeling. By the time his body adjusted to the sudden change in temperature, he was at the warehouse. He welcomed the chill openly as it cleared his mind and sharpened his senses. A fresh kill and full stomach would have been preferable, but he had to do with what wits he had.
He walked the perimeter of the warehouse once, save for the part where it opened up into the sea. He was careful not to overlook some easy mode of entry, all the while looking for any inconspicuous pregnable areas. Windows and doors were covered and bolted with steel or iron plate. The exterior walls were made with cement and reinforced with wood and metal poles. Breaking in would make a simple entry, but any dragon could break in with brute force. Damaging the exterior would also open Mearto’s keep to prying eyes, youthful adventurers, and the impoverished who sought shelter.
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