Dragonoak

by Sam Farren

  DRAGONOAK

  The Sky Beneath The Sun

  Copyright 2015 Sam Farren

  Published by Sam Farren via Smashwords

  Cover art copyright 2015 Alice Jooren

  Smashwords Publishing Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to smashwords.com or your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For my wonderful friends who have read my endless, typo-ridden drafts, endured me bouncing ideas off them at 3am, and have met me with enthusiasm, feedback, and book-altering suggestions; for those who have kept me motivated with art, fic, and rampant keysmashing; and for anyone who has delved into a fantasy novel and not seen themselves reflected in the world therein.

  Table of Contents

  PART I

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  PART II

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  PART III

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  About the author

  Other titles in the Dragonoak series

  Connect with the author

  PART I

  CHAPTER I

  The women of Port Mahon wore their scars with pride, and the tattoos inked across their backs and arms told the tales they weren't interested in leaving behind. There was only one season in Canth, the season of the phoenix, and along the coast and out at sea alike, it was impossible to hide anything beneath shoes and shirts without suffering for it.

  I wasn't as brave as the women of Port Mahon. I learnt to adapt, learnt to keep a flask at my hip and sleep through the hottest part of the day. I worked bare-footed, trousers cut off above my knees, but my thin vest stuck to my skin with sweat. The pirates who called Port Mahon home made half their coin on the decks of fishing boats, and I let them drag me out to sea when one of their own had spent too long at a tavern the night before. One day, I woke up and there was no distinction between my place in the port and the pirates'.

  The Canthian heat was relentless, from dawn through to dusk, and I returned home smelling of fish guts and sea-salt, clutching a handful of scuffed silver coins I didn't need.

  For all the discord that made up Port Mahon, its white, square buildings were laid out in a neat grid, with fierce swirls of murals painted on the side of every home, every tavern and inn; even along the edges of the temple at the centre of town. I wandered past them all, hopped off the sun-baked flagstones along the length of the beach, and hurried over to the wet sand at the water's edge.

  Home was a hut with its own wooden pier, jutting off the end of Mahon, where the rocks rose sharply and formed cliffs. Lights burnt within as the sun sank into the sea, and I pulled myself onto the pier, towards the front door. It was never locked, and with good reason; no one in Port Mahon had the guts to wander in, let alone steal anything.

  “Alright, kid,” Reis said from the table in the centre of the room, back to me. Their glasses were pushed atop their head, wooden leg placed on the tabletop as they leant in close, carving intricate waves into the inside of the shin. I dropped the loose coins into a bowl by the door, and Reis grunted at the sound, saying, “What did I tell you about that? Don't need none of your money. If you're that desperate to be rid of it, go throw it at the temple.”

  “That money just comes back to you, anyway,” I pointed out, and fell on the sofa at the far end of the hut, between two doors leading to bedrooms. The other sofa, by the entrance to my room, was covered in the books Reis had been working on when I left that morning: Mahon's accounts, lists of the ships currently making port, the names of those down in the jail and the names of those soon to join them.

  I covered my face with my arms, feeling the sea rock beneath me as I heard the waves rake against the beach, close to drifting off until Reis said, “Hungry?”

  Bolting upright, I saw Reis lean back in their chair, glasses coming to rest on the bridge of their nose as they set down their carving knife.

  Reis didn't like to cook. I usually took care of things in that regard, and leftovers from the breakfast I'd made were still sealed in a hefty steel pan, atop the long-cool stove. I dragged myself over, pulled bowls and chopsticks from the cupboard, stirred life back into the rice and vegetables, and served it up with two bottles of ale.

  “You'd go hungry without me around,” I said, and settled down at the table. Reis huffed out a dry laugh.

  “You're supposed to feel sorry for me,” they said, patting the empty space where their left thigh abruptly ended. “Practically defenceless.”

  I raised my brow and they said, “Don't be bloody cheeky,” pointing their chopsticks at me. Rolling my eyes, I sunk into the chair, and ate with my bowl awkwardly propped atop my collarbone.

  “I guess Kouris still isn't back,” I idly commented between mouthfuls.

  “Wouldn't get your hopes up.”

  Six days had passed since she was supposed to return to Port Mahon, but neither Reis nor I had succumbed to worry, just yet. There'd been whole weeks where I couldn't account for Kouris' whereabouts, and she always made it back, in her own time.

  I reached for my drink without sitting up, fingers stretching across a gap of feet, and a knock at the door almost sent my dinner tumbling all over my lap and the floor. Grabbing the bowl and propping it on the edge of the table, I looked to the door and then to Reis, quickly discerning that they weren't expecting company.

  Nobody knocked at the door. Kouris least of all. If someone was there unannounced, it meant trouble of one sort or another.

  “Get that for us,” Reis said, dragging their leg to the floor and reattaching the straps to their thigh.

  Doing as they'd asked, I pulled the door open, more curious than afraid. I was almost disappointed when I saw who it was.

  A cluster of five pirates had gathered outside of Reis' door. I recognised all of them from the taverns and long days spent out at sea, and they all looked more apprehensive than aggressive. Tae, a woman with a phoenix's talon tattooed across the side of her face, grinned sheepishly. For a woman who I'd once seen cut off another's fingers for accidentally drinking out of her stein, she was far from confident when it came to taking the lead.

  “Oi oi, Felheim,” she said, pushing herself onto tiptoes in an attempt to look over me. “The Captain got a minute?”

  “You know how it works,” I said, not opening the door an inch wider than I needed to. “You can't just come up here and bother them.”

  “Felheim!” Tae said, and threw her hands in the air. “Come on, I thought we were friends! Do us a favour, alright? The Captain's gonna want to hear this, trust me.”

  Still possessing an ounce of sense, I absolutely didn't trust Tae, but knew she wouldn't have come here without good reason. The group in front of me looked meeker than pirates rightly should, and quickly averted their gazes when Reis stepped forward and pulled the door all of the way open. />
  “What's this all about, then?” they asked, leaning against the door frame. They were met with a wave of silence. Tae no longer considered herself the leader, and the other pirates waited for someone else to speak. “Well? You know we've got a healer in town if someone sliced out your tongues.”

  “Captain!” Tae said, speaking up at the prompting of several elbows to her ribs. “There are men in Mahon.”

  “So? There are always men in Mahon, acting as though we've never set eyes on one of their kind before. Give 'em a few days to realise that we ain't gonna stop being uninterested, or point 'em towards the brothels for work. You know how this goes, Tae.”

  “No, Cap. Gavern's men,” Tae stressed as Reis was in the process of closing the door on her face. Reis paused, took a deep breath, and the door creaked back open. “... swear to the gods, Captain, you know none of us would bother you unless there was real trouble out there.”

  Reis stared at them one after the other, rested their forearm against the door frame, and let out a heavy sigh as they buried their face in the crook of their elbow. At the mention of Gavern, my curiosity turned into something a little more unsettling, and I glanced across the beach to the town and its bright-burning fires, ears straining to make out a hint of anything that was happening within Mahon.

  “Four years. Four bloody years I've been dealing with this,” Reis said, pushing off the door frame. “What's with all this, anyway? Gavern sends his men here to frighten you, and you come running to me for help. How do you lot reckon that's gonna look, huh?”

  Not giving anyone the chance to apologise or explain themselves, Reis headed back into the hut, collected their cane and holstered their flintlock pistol at their hip.

  Reis walked slower than almost anyone else in Mahon, and every other step they took was a heavy one, but nobody so much as thought about hurrying them on. They were in no rush to speak with Gavern's men. If anything, they were content to leave them waiting, surrounded by residents of Mahon and visitors alike.

  In the eighteen months I'd called Mahon home, Gavern had been the most relentless of the pirate captains intent on taking Port Mahon for themselves. His men would sabotage supplies on their way into port, send out ships to strike down fishing boats and those leaving on expeditions, and sometimes, assault the port head-on, cannons blazing. Not once in all that time had I known him to send men into town who weren't promptly cut down, which meant only one thing.

  They were here to talk, to negotiate.

  Gavern's men had gathered in the centre of town, outside the old temple. It had been built under Yin Zhou's orders when she founded Mahon, one hundred and eighty-seven years back, but had been hollowed-out in its old age, and market was held within it. Had Gavern's men chosen to gather outside the newer temple, none would've taken the insult lightly.

  We passed Siren Song, a tavern that ran the full length of the street leading to the old temple, and I'd never seen the place so empty. All had come to gather in the centre of town, young and old alike, and everyone stood so wholly and terrifyingly silent that I didn't understand how Gavern's men were managing to grin quite so insufferably.

  The three of them were beyond pleased to have been chosen by Gavern for the task, and the crowd parted for us at the sound of Reis' cane clipping against stone.

  Reis stood in front of the men, hands folded atop their cane, and I sunk into the front of the crowd as they refused to give Gavern's men an inch.

  “You in charge here, then?” a bald wall of a man asked.

  “I retired, settled down, and this lot decided they wanted me as a leader,” Reis replied curtly. “Reckon that gives me the right sort of authority.”

  “Thought this was a town full of women,” a second man tried, covered from head to foot in tattoos, none of them worth remarking on.

  “Nah. All sorts are welcome here—just not your kind, mate,” Reis replied flatly. The man didn't know what to say, having been unable to rile them up. “Gonna cut to the chase, are we?”

  A cheer of encouragement boomed out of some of the less sober spectators, and the man who'd yet to say anything held out the scroll he'd been carrying under his arm. Reis waited for the man to step forward and place it in their hand, and didn't take their eyes off our unwelcome guests as they unfurled it.

  If there was an assassination attempt wrapped up in all of this, it was a foolish, futile effort. Any one of the pirates surrounding the men would've snatched at the frailest reason to slice them in two, and over the years, Reis had proven theirself to be an elusive target.

  At its full length, the scroll was almost as tall as I was. Everyone behind me leant forward, trying to take in a sentence or a phrase, and I found myself straining to see it, too. Canthian had a flowing script, curves and swirls where Mesomium was all sharp angles, and I almost thought that had I started out there, I might've stood a chance at being able to read. The language itself had certainly settled down well enough within me, flowing as words and thoughts easier than my mother tongue did, these days.

  “Ain't your boss ever heard of being concise?” Reis asked, skimming the text. Gavern's handwriting was small and meticulously neat, and Reis would need to sit down in broad daylight with a magnifying glass to understand it all.

  “The terms are simple,” the tattooed man said, “Gavern backs off. No more attacks on Mahon, no more sinking merchant ships in the area. We let you go about your business, and in return, Gavern gets to dock here whenever he needs to. Gets to make use of any of the town's resources.”

  Incredulous laughter rippled through the port and Reis nodded their head to theirself as they continued to pretend to read. When they said nothing more, the man who'd handed Reis the scroll said, “You've got a week to decide.”

  Reis held out the scroll, and with a furrowed brow, the man went to take it. Reis released it before he could reach over, and let it clatter against the ground, parchment creased.

  “There's your answer,” they said, tapping the gun at their hip. “Woulda taken a vote, but I reckon I knew how it was gonna go.”

  “Listen here,” the tattooed man said, stomping forward and jabbing a finger at Reis' chest as he stared down at them. “You're gonna be sorry if you don't read that over. Should be kissin' the ground around my feet right now, 'cause I'm gonna give you one more chance to change your mind.”

  Tae drew her sword the moment the man approached Reis, but Reis held out an arm, keeping her back.

  “Easy,” Reis said, then lifted their chin. “Think you'd better be leaving before my friend here stops listening to me.”

  “One week,” the man said, jabbing Reis again.

  With a wave of Reis' hand, the crowd parted to let the men through, and they took slow, certain strides out of the town centre, as though the task they'd been charged with made them untouchable. As though Gavern's authority extended to Mahon, and we wouldn't dare to harm them, knowing how they'd been hand-picked.

  I stepped forward, watching Reis out of the corner of my eye, waiting for what came next. Something always came next.

  Sure enough, when the men had walked far enough to think themselves safe, Reis raised a hand, fingers slowly curling towards their palm. Sword still in hand, Tae rushed out first, eager to prove herself, and those who understood the signal charged after her.

  Ten women ran out, dived at the men, and knocked them off their feet. Those around cheered as the men roared out, women grabbing their arms, pinning them to the ground; raising their blades and hacking their sword-hands off. They were hardly clean cuts, either.

  It was too dark, and I was too far away to take in the details, but I saw the blood rush out, saw the women kick the men in the ribs as they curled around their wounds. Nothing flickered within me. No pain rushed through my wrist, nor did my fingers twitch in sympathy; nothing sparked within me. It hadn't in a long time.

  With another slight gesture from Reis, the assailants backed off. Reis approached the men slowly, and stood over them as they curled in on the
mselves, beating the ground and screaming out incoherent threats they were in no state to go through with. The clamour of the crowd faded to an excited thrum, all eager to hear how Reis would conclude the evening's entertainment.

  “You know what the problem with your sort is?” Reis asked, tapping the bald man on the side when he seemed more interested in seething at the ground than listening to them. “You're so wrapped up in this being a haven for women that you forget it's a port made by and for pirates. Go on, lads. Off with you.”

  Rightly believing it was their only chance to escape, the men scrambled to their feet, charged off into the night, and cursed Mahon as they went. Their severed hands went forgotten, until a few of the pirates rushed forward and threw them at their backs. The only thing that stopped people finishing what Reis had started was the satisfaction of knowing that the men were going to have to explain what went so horribly wrong to Gavern.

  “Nice one, Cap!” someone called out, and the pirates cheered in agreement as they scattered, heading back to the taverns and inns and brothels they'd previously been occupying, having much more of a reason than Mahon ever needed to celebrate.

  “Mind if we take care of this... ?” a woman younger than I was asked, grinning bashfully as she gestured to the scroll discarded in front of the old temple.

  Reis gave a sharp nod, and with a grateful bow, the woman snatched the scroll before anyone else could and skipped over to the torches lining the streets. Her friend took hold of one end, and they stretched it out between them, watching it burn over the flames.

  Reis wasn't about to smile over such a small victory, but they looked pleased with theirself and proud of the town.

  “That's that. I'd best be heading back,” they said to me.

  “Heading back?” Tae asked, skidding to a stop in front of them. “Captain, no offence, but come on. If this ain't worth celebrating, what is?”

  Wiping her sword on the sash around waist, Tae looked to me for support and said, “I know Felheim's not calling it a night yet. Right?”