There was no overtly visible entrance, or hint on how to get in. Maerek smiled, reminded of a mind game and lesson Moving Mountain had given him.
“How do you open an openable, unbreakable, three-times-forever locked chest without hinges?” Maerek said to himself. There was only one person who knew how to open the chest, and he was now dead. Maerek began to search his surroundings, looking for materials, tools, to get up on the roof, or dig under the wall with. The area was empty save for rocks, sand, dust, and refuse. He smiled at his initial endeavor. Those types of answers never opened the chest and left him only scowling and frustrated while Moving Mountain smiled and chuckled.
There was a mental challenge somewhere on the walls of the warehouse, some three-times-forever locked mechanism that was suited just for him, but where was it? Maerek walked from one side of the structure, where it met the water, to the other side again, slower this time, taking specific care to look over every surface that was within his current reach. Next to one of the metal plates, there was a thin gap. Something in that gap caught his eye. It was too narrow for him to pry out with his fingers. Conveniently, there were two thin pieces of wood at his feet. He picked them up, and delicately pulled and pried the object out of its place. It was a small, rolled up, canvas note. Maerek opened it, brushed off the dust and sand, and then read it… twice.
“You’re getting closer”
That was all the note said. A note like that, from her, a dragon, was not a tease or platonic hint for the dim witted or aggravated. If Maerek read into it too much, the meaning would be lost, but if he took it at face value, he would miss the whole picture. In a moment, he determined that she was complimenting his way of thinking. If he were to look at the small, then he was on the right mindset. He folded the note and placed it, as well as the two thin sticks, in his pocket.
Carefully, and with even more focus, he scanned each square inch of the building. Dust, sand and lose plaster rubbed off the wall as he rubbed every porous section. He rubbed his fingers and thumbs along the surface quickly, as if dusting, but with more pressure. A few minutes later, he closed his eyes, seeing the structure with his fingers, each divot, and crevice and pour engraved in his mind.
Eight feet down the wall from where he found the note, he came across a vertical line, only a hairsbreadth wide. It was even and straight starting from the base of the wall to about eight feet high. There, it bent left at a ninety-degree angle and continued for another three feet before bending down again and meeting the ground. Maerek brushed the dust and dirt away from this line as best he could and then began to brush the surface that the lines surrounded.
It was a door, and in the middle of the door was another thin crevice and a note folded inside. Maerek fished out the sticks from his pocket and pulled out the second note.
“Time may claim all except one.
For this, I open.”
Maerek smiled, struck at both the beauty and presence of the riddle. Time did claim much. Mountains over millennia would turn to gravel hills, buildings would collapse, bodies would decay, all things of the earth would eventually return to it. At first, Maerek was tempted to whisper love, but that pure, beautiful emotion ended with death and the soul’s return to the Faye. Yet there was, as far as Maerek knew, only one thing that could, theoretically, pass through time unscathed. The answer was the memory of a dragon. The door opened for a song.
Maerek quickly recalled his memories, thinking of the songs that struck out to him strongest. The ones that sang the truest in his heart were the ones of his family, of sacrifice, of endurance, of patience, the stories of selflessness. All of the stories were too long and would take too much time. Someone might hear him and question what he was doing. There was one memory he had, one brief song, only a few notes long that almost made him cry.
The memory and song took place before the ambush on Moving Mountain. It was when Maerek was perched high in the cliffs of the Keep, looking down at the hatchlings and Vaalkún circled around them. Maerek took a breath and came closer to the wall, lips almost touching the sandy surface. Quietly he sang, the images of the youngest generation coming to his mind as sharp as a fresh cut. In his mind, he could see one of the youngling’s yawns, and curl tightly against Moving Mountain. Tears came to his face. He sang to that little dragon between stifled sobs, a sweet song, a hushing song, a soft song, a lullaby. When the song ended, the door slowly swung open. Maerek wiped the tears from his face and walked in to the dark warehouse.
When the door shut, a light flickered in the center of the room. It was one of Mearto’s lights. Beneath the light was a small box about a hand span wide and tall. Maerek walked toward the box and picked it up. It was light and seemed extremely fragile. The scent of lilac and sea salt emanated from the box. There were distinct markings showing that the box did have a lid, but no hinges were visible. Maerek pushed and pulled at the lid, but it would not move. He looked at the box again, turning it over in his hands, examining each of the sides, sighed, and then smiled.
He flared his scent, the smell of apples and tree sap, mixing with the lilac and sea salt. The box clicked and Maerek slid the lid open. Inside the box, laying on a fluff of cotton, was a necklace with the same bronze talisman and symbols as Mearto’s. The cord was triple-braided wool strand.
“You have given me freedom, I in turn offer you protection.” Mearto stepped into the light across from Maerek.
“This is the just like the one you made for yourself,” Maerek replied, turning it over in his hands again, feeling the unusual coolness of it. The metal coin was chill to the touch, more than the night air, and reminded him of the winter nights in Moving Mountain. Mearto took it from his hand and put the necklace on him.
“It is the one I made for me, and now I give it to you.” Maerek was about to say something, but Mearto put her finger to his lips.
“If we are to be a mated pair, then your fate will be bound to mine. I want you safe by my side.” Mearto wrapped her hands around the back of Maerek’s neck, gently stroking the scruff of his hair.
“I have no gift for you. Had I known, I would have prepared.”
“But you do have a gift for me.” Mearto placed her palm on Maerek’s chest. “Your song. I would hear it now.”
Thoughts, memories, and desires all raced through his head like a storm. Happy memories, of mating ceremonies, of hatches, of flight, of hunts, of new scents, of family feasts. Sad memories, of recent death, of murder, of captivity, of the Broken Blades. Hopeful memories, of his time in captivity, and his oath to Boshk, of finding Mearto, of a better future. All of these things came out jumbled and rapid fire. Maerek sang out vivid memory after vivid memory in a discordant tune, nothing at all like he imagined. Even with the melodic, key, and time signature changes, the memories flowed into Mearto, becoming her own. This song was all too similar to hers, and probably to dozens of other dragons. The rough, disjointed, erratic tune was his own heart, raw, unrefined, unadulterated, and Mearto accepted it gladly.
Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours. When Maerek finished, he wiped his nose with the back of his hands and wiped the tears from his eyes. The keenness and sharpness of the memories brought both a smile and heartache to Mearto as well.
After she regained her composure, she began to sing. A strong, even alto voice, reaching back to her own beginning. They evoked emotion in Maerek that he didn’t know he had until then, violation from a distance, constant leering eyes followed by a temporary reprieve in solitude. Those brief memories of humans lusting after untouchable flesh made his insides crawl.
There was the memory of teaching Kosai, his pride, his talent, his downfall. Then came the personal fulfilment when Erith arrived. There was the joy and self-sacrifice of motherhood. There was the feeling of pride and accomplishments with each of his successes. And then there was the horror and fear when he revealed who he really was. The fear compounded when she escaped, knowing that she was being hunted and the fear that she might be fo
und when Maerek came.
When she finished, Maerek wrapped his arms around himself, chilled by how the memories cut at him. Those memories became his, and they carried with them the constant feeling of failure, of inadequacy, and of fear. By contrast, his memories carried a sense of determination, of hope, of purpose, that together, things would be better.
They smiled at each other and then embraced. His memories were her memories, and her memories were his memories. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, not as two clinging to the other for survival, but as one, holding on to hope together.
CHAPTER 25
The wedding was as loud and raucous as a welcomed thunderstorm. The owner Kelp’s Catch closed his doors to the public for the day and allowed only the regulars, and those who knew Maerek and Mearto on a first name basis. Japeth and the traders, save for Keane who was ill with a summer influenza, all came from Ruiska with gifts for the wedding. Both Maerek and Mearto agreed that a formal human ceremony should be done after their own song sharing to solidify their relationship in the public eye. To have the ceremony at the tavern also seemed fitting as it was where their lives together first began.
A placard was placed on the door that read “Closed for Private Party”. There was a large sailor who stood at the door to keep out any unwanted visitors, and a new serving girl who filled beer mugs and laid out food for the guests. The guests were not as large in number as an evening of common business often experienced, but their jovial attitude and general merriment made it sound that way.
Aromas of chicken stews, grilled vegetables and fresh bread combined nicely with the sea salt and lilac. Mearto’s scent was emanating more potently than usual. There was a subtle hint of smoke that came from her as well. A stage was built the night before and placed at the back of the room. A single long table with two high backed chairs were placed there. At the moment, the chairs were empty. They had taken the first drink, toasts of how they met, a story of love at first sight, and the first meal together. It was all part of the ceremony the tavern owner had told them. As soon the ceremonial necessities were performed, both exited the stage and began to socialize with their guests, accepting their congratulations each in turn.
After some light conversation, a group of women began to surround Mearto, complimenting her dress, a white full gown from neck to ankle with lace trim on the sleeves, neckline, sides, hem, and decorative stitching on the back. She smiled and laughed, thanking them for their compliments on her handiwork. That alone received even more accolades. She glanced over to Maerek, smiled, and gave an ever-so-soft eye roll.
“This may be a while,” was the look. Maerek understood. Softly, and casually, he made his way over to the bar, and then then turned to look out over the crowd. Drinking, laughing, smiling, eating, slurping, burping, more laughter, snippets of conversation, snippets of stories. Maerek didn’t listen to any of it, and at the same time, heard all of it. This moment was one he wanted to capture and put to song for his children.
When this is over, Maerek thought to himself. It had been three years since their own ceremony, the chase, the mating ritual of their kind. Mearto had searched the desert each night since then, searching for a sign, anything pointing to Erith’s or Kosai’s location, but found nothing. Maerek had kept his ears open at the Tavern, listening to stories from other traders, stories of nomads, of pirates, of fortunes gained and lost, but there wasn’t a telling of a sorcerer in the desert, or even of a desert wolf.
Maerek pushed those thoughts from his mind, and instead focused on the events, the smells, the sounds of a celebrations, their celebration. It was not as grand as one would have anticipated in a keep, but this was wonderful to him. He smiled again, watching people he knew laugh, smile and converse with one another. He looked to his wife, her smile, her autumn hair, stormy eyes, the whole of her was undeniably beautiful to him. He saw her for who she really was. She was compassionate, considerate, fierce, protective, intelligent, and independent. Looking at the crowd, friends and acquaintances saw her for a woman who worked at the tavern, but she was so much more than that. She was a part of him, and he a part of her. Their memories, their entire beings were one, yet separate.
“This will make a good song,” Maerek thought.
Mearto caught his eye and she started to make her way over to him. Once at the bar, they kissed, and then looked over their crowd again, hands held, and fingers locked together. Her touch sent ripples of emotion up Maerek’s arm.
“Already less than a day into our marriage and you begin to tune me out,” she said teasingly.
“You, everything about you, about this, I want to relish it for…”
Mearto placed her other hand on his forearm.
“I know. I need to tell you something before another human female pulls me away for some marital advice.” Maerek turned and looked at her directly, concerned. “It’s nothing to be concerned over,” she said. Maerek sighed in relief. She leaned in closer, and Maerek did likewise. “We will need to do something to accommodate one more.” She whispered and then quickly brushed a hand past her mid-section.
Not long after their initial mating ceremony they talked about the potential for offspring, and all of the complications that implied with Erith and Vilheim. Their child would be hunted and sought after, and if captured, to be twisted around like some puppet to resurrect Vilheim. Only a dragon Conduit would have the physical endurance needed to perform such a dark ritual. Only one controlled and manipulated by a sorcerer would consider it. That fact was not enough to still their passions on a larger family. Erith would come for the hatchling, and when that happened, Mearto made a vow that she would be ready. She would end him.
“How soon until we need to…adjust?” Maerek asked, searching for the right word. As dragons, the word that was used was ‘nest’, but that word in this setting didn’t seem appropriate to any eavesdropper.
“We have time, and I think it would be best to ‘adjust’ in our warehouse, make things more accommodating.” Maerek looked down at the ground and scowled. Mearto picked up his chin gently and smiled at him. “This is a happy thing, Maerek.” Maerek took her hand in his and smiled softly, kissing the palm of her hand.
“Yes, it is. It is one worth celebrating even.”
“Maerek,” Mearto gripped his hand firmly. “You are going to be a sire.”
“A sire,” he whispered.
CHAPTER 26
Mearto spelled the same door that opened for Maerek’s song, to only open for the blood or spit of the two dragons. She insisted that blood be a key, in case either of them were injured, they would have a quick entrance. Inside the warehouse, the humble layout of a cot surrounded with pillars and stacks of crates and barrels was rearranged for a large play area. The boxes and crates formed a large square enclosure, where one corner included blankets, straw piles, and wood shavings for nesting, another corner contained lindworm bones, and another corner were some logs and a small length of thick rope meant for holding a ship at the dock.
Maerek slept in the last corner, chest rumbling with even breaths. Within the pile of straw, blankets, and wood shavings, Drake slept and cooed, the higher sweet sound of sleep complimenting his father’s snore in a melodic tone.
Maerek woke groggily to banging on the door. He shook the sleep from his face and looked around. Mearto was nowhere nearby, but Drake still slept inside his nest. Her scent wafted in their keep, but she was gone, Maerek was sure of it. He leapt out of the enclosure and headed toward the door.
“Who is it?” Maerek asked sharply.
“It’s Keane. We need to talk.” Maerek cringed. It sounded like Keane, and it smelled like Keane too, but what was he doing here? Maerek hadn’t heard from him since before the wedding.
“What did you tip the spear with the night Rollin’s was killed?” Maerek asked, asking a question to situation that never happened.
“It was nightshade, on an arrow, and it was Simmons. Open, quickly!”
Maerek heard the anxiousness in
his voice and opened the door. Keane stepped in, oil lamp in hand and slightly out of breath.
“What are you doing here, and why in the Faye are you hear at this hour? It’s nearly dawn!”
“No time to explain. I’m not sure how it happened, but you and Mearto need to leave, now! We have a boat waiting for you down by the dock.”
“What’s going on?” Maerek was confused, unable to see through the urgency in Keane’s voice.
“I swear, Maerek, not a one of us said a word, not a one.” Keane started to breathe quicker, panicked. Maerek grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.
“Talk straight!” he commanded. Keane stopped shaking for a moment, and then shook his head.
“The Faye help us, I don’t know how they found out, but they did. Someone named Erith has been living in this city for three years unseen, unknown, silently gathering out-of-work hunters again. He knows what and where you are, Maerek. They are coming this way. You need to leave now!”
Maerek looked back at the enclosure. Drake was too young and too weak to handle the cold of prolonged flight. He needed to eat, constantly. The boat made sense, and hopefully it was well provisioned.
“Mearto isn’t here and I… I can’t leave.” Maerek ran over to the enclosure, jumped over the barricade, and came out again, holding Drake in his arm. “His name is Drake.”
“That complicates things, ” Keane said. “I mean, he is beautiful, but it makes sense now. It all makes sense. Now I get what she meant. Quickly, get dressed and I will explain on the way.”
Maerek shifted and changed into some brown trousers and his white tunic. Still holding on to Drake, he walked into the small warehouse office and came back wearing the talisman around his neck, and Iserum’s sword strapped to his hip with a new scabbard. Carefully, he grabbed a blanket and swaddled his still sleeping son and held him tightly against his chest. Maerek turned, looking back at the warehouse before he followed Keane out the door, scowling at the enclosure, and sniffing the scent of his mate before entering the city.
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