by J B Drake
Mardaley smiled as he stared at his friend. “The highland barons up in arms again?”
Baern nodded. “It would appear so, but there’s been no word of any quarrel between the barons and the throne.”
Mardaley frowned. It was Baern’s tone, not his words, that put him ill at ease. “You think there’s more to this?”
Baern sighed. “I don’t know. The last time we arbitrated we found against the barons, and it cost them dearly. And now they’re asking us to return.”
“Wait, the barons are asking?”
“Yes,” Baern nodded.
Mardaley’s frown deepened. “That is irregular. You think there is a bigger play here?”
Baern nodded. “Without a doubt. Those barons aren’t fools, nor are they particularly forgiving. They would never ask us arbitrate again.”
Mardaley frowned as he licked his fingers. “So what do you think this is truly about?”
Baern sighed as he too frowned. “I think someone’s trying to get me out of Merethia.”
“Why?” Maline asked.
“Wait, let’s not jump to conclusions here,” Mardaley said. “They’d have no way of knowing it would be you who would be sent.”
“Who else would it be? I went last time because Naeve’s never liked arbitration, she doesn’t have the patience for it. And she’d never send Thuridan to the court of the highland elves for any reason.”
“I see,” Mardaley muttered as he stared into the ether. Then, all at once, he levelled his gaze at Baern.
“You think Naeve’s trying to part you from Tip?”
Baern shook his head almost at once. “If Naeve suspects anything, she’d confront me directly. We’ve been through too much for her to try anything underhanded. Someone is trying to part me from Tip, yes, but it’s not Naeve. ”
“Thuridan?”
Again, Baern shook his head. “He doesn’t have the reach.”
Then, Mardaley sat up straight. “The Fairshrouds.”
Baern sighed. “They would have the most to gain from parting me from Tip, but…I can’t see how a woodland noble could get so many highland barons agree to aid him in anything.”
Mardaley frowned. It was clear he’d seen the sense in his friend’s words.
“Then who?” he asked after a spell.
Baern sighed. “I don’t know. I know of nobody who can reach this far into the highland elves’ court, but I cannot see any other reason for this trouble would flare up now, of all times.”
“How long you gone for?” Maline asked.
Baern shrugged as he looked at her. “That is anyone’s guess. The last time, I was gone for three months.”
“That long?”
Baern nodded.
“I’ll see what I can garner,” Mardaley said as he helped himself to another serving. “If someone is trying to part you from Tip, I’ll soon find out.”
Baern nodded, smiling. “Thank you, old friend. And while I’m gone, would you mind continuing Tip’s training?”
Mardaley grinned. “Of course.”
Baern smiled in response, then looked down at the serving spoon in Mardaley’s hand.
“So, uh…” he began. “Are you quite finished with that?”
Grinning, Mardaley handed over the serving spoon.
“Why, thank you!” Baern chirped as he poured himself another helping
*****
With eyes wide and mouth ajar, Davian made his way deeper into the Summoner Pens. Granted, it was not his first time there, but each time, the same feelings of awe and splendour held him firm. Stopping here and there to pet an obliging snout or stare into an open stall, Davian’s progress was slow, but he was in no hurry. This was a pleasure to him, one he would not see end too soon.
But at last he reached his quarry, even though his quarry saw him first.
“What you doing here?” Tip exclaimed with a mouth full of apple as he sat cross-legged on a stack of hay.
Looking up, Davian grinned as he waved, hastening his steps as he did so. As he hurried to Tip, he turned his gaze to the attendant seeing to the pair of night mare heads jutting from the stall beside Tip.
“Hello, Marsha!” he exclaimed, grinning. Marshalla was staring at him, and as he spoke, she smiled before frowning at him.
“Sorry, who you again?” she asked.
A sheepish smile parted Davian’s lips as Tip giggled into his hands.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he said as he reached them.
“Yeah, you do,” Marshalla replied as she finished fastening the stallion’s feed basket to his harness.
“Well it’s not entirely my fault,” Davian protested, stopping just before the pair. “I truly have been quite busy of late.”
Marshalla grinned. “Yeah, heard your father’s been dragging you and Thalas all over the place.”
Davian nodded, smiling still. “Yes, father’s appointment as Magister has made him the toast of the town, just about, though I do wish he’d stop dragging me along. Those engagements can be such an insufferable bore.”
“That why you dressed like that?” Tip asked.
Davian looked down at his garb before nodding, a sad sigh escaping his lips.
“We’re having dinner with Lord Gladespell at his manor later.”
“Oooh,” Tip and Marshalla intoned, causing Davian to roll his eyes at them.
“Whatever,” he sighed, eliciting a giggle from his friends.
“So, what are you up to, then?” he asked.
“Came to help Marsha,” Tip replied. “Then Anise gave me apples. Want one?”
Davian looked at the large luscious fruit in his friend’s hands, then down at his garb once more.
“I’d best not.” he replied, shaking his head.
“Oh. Sure?”
Davian nodded as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Positive. I’ll only make a mess of things.”
Tip shrugged.
“More for me!” Tip exclaimed as he took a massive bite out of his apple.
Smiling, Marshalla stared at Tip a spell, then held Davian in a knowing gaze before picking up a grooming brush from the bucket by her feet.
“So what brings you here, mister?” she asked as she turned to the night mares.
“Well,” Davian replied as he looked from Marshalla to Tip. “Baern’s looking for you.”
“Why?” Tip asked, frowning.
Davian smirked. “Because you’re late, Tip…again.”
At those words, Tip’s eyes went wide as he leapt to his feet.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Marsha?” he demanded as he faced Marshalla.
“What you mean, tell you?” Marshalla barked, spinning to level a glare at the little boy. “You forgot how to keep time?”
Before little Tip could respond however, Davian’s laughter filled the air. As one, Tip and Marshalla turned to glower at the mischievous little elf.
“Why you little…” Marshalla began, but then sighed as she shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Davian replied, grinning at Marshalla before turning his gaze to a glowering Tip. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Not funny, Davian.”
“Sorry.”
“Not funny.”
“I said sorry, didn’t I?”
Tip glowered at Davian for a spell longer before scrambling back upon the haystack.
“In truth,” Davian continued. “I’ve missed you two. It’s been ages since we were together so I thought I’d come over and catch up.”
“Your father driving you mad again?” Marshalla replied with a smirk as she groomed the mare before her.
“Yes,” Davian replied, sighing. “And greatly so.”
“Well, you never guess what’s happened,” said Tip, a clear sparkle in his eyes.
“Oh, do tell,” Davian replied with a grin as he sat upon a nearby stool.
“Well,” Tip replied as he leant forward, a gleeful smile upon his lips. “Did you know Anise is adoptive?”
&
nbsp; “Adopted,” Marshalla corrected.
“Yeah, adopted,” Tip said.
“Of course!” Davian exclaimed.
“Oh, did you?” Tip asked. “How?”
“Well, she’s not shy about it, and her brother and my father are quite close; he’s been around our house for dinner a few times.”
“Oh,” Tip said, with a tinge of disappointment.
“Yeah,” Davian replied, smiling, but it was a smile swiftly chased away by guilt upon realising he’d just ruined Tip’s juiciest gossip. As his guilt grew, a thought wormed its way to the fore of Davian’s mind, and he latched onto it in an instant.
“Do you want to know something else about Anise?” he added.
At his words, the sadness in Tip’s eyes began to fade, replaced by a heart-warming glimmer.
“What?” he asked as he leant forward, a smile dancing upon his lips.
“Well,” Davian began, but stopped. What he was about to share he’d never shared with anyone. It was something he wasn’t even supposed to know.
“Come on, then,” Marshalla urged, her attention now upon the elven boy. “Can’t say something like that and not spill.”
Davian stared from Marshalla to Tip, but as his gaze fell upon Tip’s grinning face his reservations wilted, and with a smile, he too leant forward.
“Well,” he repeated, lowering his tone as he cast furtive glances about them. “Did you know Anise was expelled from the Tower once?”
“You what?” Marshalla exclaimed.
“No way!” Tip added.
Waving them to silence, Davian looked about them once again. His friends’ outbursts had attracted a few curious glances, but nothing more than that. Smiling, he nodded at the attendants staring at them till the attendants turned their attentions elsewhere.
“It’s true,” he near-whispered as he turned back to his friends. “I jest you not!”
“But why, though?” Marshalla asked in much the same manner.
“Because of Arenya, she—”
“Who?”
“Arenya Drakesong,” Davian replied. “Anise’s half-sister.”
The blank stares were all that Davian got in response.
“Wait,” Marshalla spoke up just as Davian was about to. “She not the one that … in the Library that time…with Tip and the void sphere.”
Davian nodded. “The very one.”
“Thought she sounded similar!” exclaimed Tip.
“Familiar, Tip,” Marshalla corrected.
“Yeah,” Tip replied.
“So she got Anise kicked out, did she?” Marshalla asked as she turned to Davian once more.
“In a manner of speaking,” Davian nodded. “It’s no secret that there’s no love lost between those two. They’ve been at each other’s throats since Anise was taken in by the Drakesongs.”
“Didn’t know that,” Marshalla muttered.
“Well, they have, though apparently not as badly as in years past.”
“Why, though?” Tip asked.
Davian shrugged. “Who knows? Ask a hundred people, you get a hundred answers. Father thinks it’s because of Daniton. He says Daniton and Arenya used to be close, truly close, and when Anise came to the family, Arenya felt threatened and turned against her.”
“Stupid reason to hate someone,” Marshalla sniffed.
Davian nodded, grinning. “It does sound a bit far-fetched, I grant you that.”
“So how did she get Anise kicked out, then?” Tip asked.
Davian shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t quite know the details, other than she did something to Anise, Anise did something back, and that something nearly claimed Arenya’s life and—”
“You what?” Marshalla exclaimed.
Davian nodded, staring at Marshalla. “It was all rather serious. But, and this is the weirdest part, she’s not the first to be expelled from here and return, but you won’t find anyone anywhere who will talk about it. I’m not even supposed to know about it!”
Marshalla and Tip exchanged glances.
“I know!”
“So, how you know, then?” Marshalla asked.
Davian grinned. “Daniton and Father get very loose-lipped sometimes, when there’s been too much firewine passed between them. I just happened to be in the room one night when they were reminiscing about the past, and it came up.”
Marshalla grinned. “Even rich people talk when drunk, eh?”
Davian grinned as he shrugged. “Evidently.”
“But they let her back though,” Tip added.
Marshalla nodded. “That’s true. Guess she forgiven.”
“I don’t know about that,” Davian shook his head.
“What you mean?” Tip asked.
“Daniton is Master of the Pens, but everyone knows he defers to Anise on most things. I think she was passed over because of her past.”
“Oh,” Marshalla and Tip said in unison.
“Precisely. You’ve seen it too, haven’t you?”
Marshalla nodded. “Just thought he didn’t know what he was doing.”
Davian grinned. “He’s probably the only person here who comes anywhere near Anise in terms of skill with the creatures here. I think he does it so she doesn’t feel too bad about him being in charge. Particularly since she’s older.”
“Is she?” Tip asked.
Davian nodded.
“Who’s younger, Daniton or Arenya?”
“Arenya.”
“So Anise the oldest.”
Davian nodded.
“Wow,” Marshalla said before turning to brush the mare’s mane. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” Tip chuckled.
With a large grin, Davian sat back. As his gaze wandered from Marshalla to Tip, Tip offered his friend an apple once more, and this time Davian accepted, snatching it out of the air after Tip had thrown it at him. Grinning, Davian sunk his teeth deep into it, the luscious juice within almost as satisfying as the smile on his dear friend’s face.
As Davian lowered the apple from his lips, so too did Tip. However, a mischievous grin parted the little boy’s lips. Casting a quick glance at Marshalla, whose back was now to them, he turned his gaze to Davian, raising a finger to his lips as he stared at his friend before turning his gaze upwards, to the top of the stable doors. Davian followed Tip’s gaze, but saw nothing. Frowning, he looked back at Tip, who was grinning at him.
“Watch!” Tip mouthed, and staring up into the darkness once more, he threw what was left of his apple in the air. As he did so, a shape, small and swift, darted from the shadows, snatching the apple from the air before darting back out of sight.
“Woah!” Davian exclaimed.
“Hrm?” Marshalla asked as she turned round.
With a sharp shake of the head, Tip looked from Davian to Marshalla, a grin upon his lips.
“What…?” Marshalla asked as she stared from one boy to the other.
“Nothing,” Tip beamed in response.
But as Marshalla moved to speak, an apple seed hurtled past her eyes from above. Startled, she looked down at it before glaring at Tip. Tip grinned at her still, though this grin now paled in comparison to that which he wore before. Shaking her head, Marshalla looked up into the shadows.
“Come on, out you get,” she said.
Her words were greeted with silence.
“Not got all day, you, out you get!”
For a time, the silence returned, but a low chirp drifted to Davian’s ears, and as he stared into the shadows, the tiniest, and indeed the most contrite wyvern he’d ever seen skulked out of the darkness. With its head bowed low, it took to the air before floating down beside Tip.
Marshalla stared from one to the other.
“What did Anise tell you?”
“Sorry, Marsha,” Tip intoned solemnly as he pouted, though the mirth within his pout was unmistakable.
“Sorry nothing, you never listen!” Marshalla exclaimed as she put away the grooming brush and undid the feed baskets of
the night mares.
Tip kept his head bowed low, but as he stole a glance at the wyvern beside him a short giggle escaped his lips, one that was matched perfectly by the wyvern’s cackling.
“Not funny, Tip, you know how she gets when she eats apples!”
“Is that Tip’s familiar?” Davian asked with no small measure of surprise.
“Oh, gods no!” Marshalla replied before glaring at Tip. “And if he doesn’t behave, he’s never getting one.”
At those words, Tip crossed his arms about him as his face fell.
“Is Tip up to his old mischief again?” a voice intoned.
Turning, all four watched as Archmage Anise Fairweather approached them, Magister Meadowview close behind her.
“Yes,” Marshalla replied as she nodded. “Just won’t listen.”
“Hrm,” Anise frowned as she reached them. “We’re going to have to find a way to keep those two apart, looks like.”
Both boy and wyvern stared at each other, their gaze speaking volumes. As Davian stared at the pair, his heart ached for his friend, and before long he found himself drawing breath as he turned to the Archmage.
“Would that be wise, Archmage?” he asked, prompting all to stare at him.
“Wise?” Anise asked.
Davian, stared briefly at his friend before turning to Anise.
“They appear to bond well. Would it not be better to nurture their friendship rather than end it?”
Anise stared at the little elf with the barest traces of a smirk upon her lips. “To what end?”
“Well, their bond might become permanent, for one.”
“I highly doubt allowing a wyvern as precocious as that bond with a boy like Tip would prove to be anything but trouble,” Baern replied.
Tip’s shoulders sagged anew.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
Sighing, Anise turned to stare at him. “I know you are, Tip, you always are. But that doesn’t stop you, does it?” Then she looked at the wyvern. “Or her. It’s like you encourage each other to naughtiness just by being together.”
Neither boy not wyvern spoke.
“Go on,” Anise continued, nodding at the wyvern. “You’d best get home before your brothers eat all the meat we just put out for you all.”
Raising her head, the little wyvern stared wide eyed before quickly taking to the air, and within moments was out of sight.
