Dragonoak

by Sam Farren

  “Please don't tell Kouris,” I whispered. “She's worried enough already. I don't even know why I did that, Akela. Honestly.”

  “As long as I am thinking you are safe, I am not saying anything,” Akela said, frowning. “I am wanting to ask you something. If you are not wanting to answer, that is okay. If you are not wanting me to ask it, that is okay, too.”

  A dozen questions sounded in the back of my mind, all of them scathing. If she didn't ask me now I'd never stop wondering what she was going to say.

  I nodded, wiping away the water that dripped from my hair.

  “When I am returning to the apartment, you are looking so scared, Northwood. Are you truly thinking I am hurting you?” Akela asked in a voice that sounded too frail, too wondering, to be her own.

  My gaze snapped onto her and I realised that I was being selfish, selfish, selfish. Of course I wasn't the only one who was hurting, the only one who'd been affected.

  “I-I...” I stuttered, knowing it would be all the answer she needed, if I didn't find a way to continue. “Katja said things. She said that you'd help her because of what I am, because you... because of you and Queen Kidira. She said you loved her, so of course you'd take her daughter's side. And after all that she'd... after everything, I started to believe her. She made sure I did.

  “I'm sorry, Akela. I know that you'd never hurt me, but at the time, I... I was confused.”

  Wiping her wet hair out of her face, Akela nodded to herself, and claimed another ale from the basket she'd brought along. She handed me the last of the cake we'd been picking at all morning – not chocolate, as per Kouris' request – and I thought that was to be it. I thought she had nothing more to stay to me.

  But a third of the way into her drink, she said, “I am coming from a very bad place, Northwood. My village, it is rich. Richer than most cities in Kastelir, and yet it is... it is a product of Agados, yes? It is thriving because it is forcing people into roles, and it is valuing gold over those people.

  “When I am born, the doctor, he is looking at me, and saying, this is a boy. Ridiculous, yes? But my mother and father, everyone in my village, they are all agreeing with this, no matter what I am telling them, when I am old enough to tell them such things. At first, it is only annoying my mother. I am eight, maybe nine, and she is saying that I am not allowed to be helping her cook anymore; that it is not for me to do.

  “My father, he is not caring. And not in a good way. He is telling me that I am supposed to fight or hunt or gather wood, and I am liking all of these things, so why is there a problem? I am trying to enlist in the army, but suddenly, I am not enough of a boy for them. Just as I have always been telling them! Secretly, they are threatened because I am better than them all, and so I am taking my axe, and I am making firewood of every tree I find. For years, this is my life.

  “There are not many ways out of Agados. They are not liking it when we leave, as if we are all possessing secrets to spill. But one day, I am hearing about a celebration in Kastelir. I am hearing that diplomats from all over Agados are going, and I am hearing that each town and village is sending off someone to fight. And so I am asking if I am allowed to go. My mother, by this point, she is only ever embarrassed of me. She is not caring if I stay or leave.

  “My father, I do not even talk with him. I am travelling to Isin, and I am fighting in the tournaments to celebrate twenty years of Kastelir. I am taking only a lodging axe and armour that does not fit, and I am winning every round. The Kings and Queen, they are taking notice. Queen Kidira, she is asking to speak with me, but I am not knowing Mesomium. I am patching the words together I do have, and she is using the ones she knows of my tongue, and she is very, very patient.

  “And though I am not able to make myself clear, all of the truth, it is rushing out of me. I am telling her why I came to Kastelir, and I am realising how afraid I am of going back, and do you know what Queen Kidira is saying to me? She is saying how strange it is that settlements along Kastelir's border are speaking Agadian. She is never telling me I must leave, or that I must be something I am not.

  “Yes, yes. Lady Kouris, she is right. Her mother, I loved her very much, for the life she is giving me and the woman she is. For ten years I am serving her, and for ten years, she is the most important person in all of Bosma.

  “But you are my friend, Northwood. I am not betraying that when I see how you are hurting, I am not making a mockery of Queen Kidira like that.”

  My chest swelled like the sea beneath us as we spoke, and I slid across the deck, wanting to be at her side.

  “So. That means...” I began, running the story through my head once more, “You're Agadian?”

  “Ah. My body, it is born in Agados, but my heart, it is in Kastelir all along,” Akela said, chuckling. “I am thinking you are the only one who is believing me about being Kastelirian, Northwood. But see, see! I am your friend, I am telling you anything. Everything. You are doing the same for me, yes?”

  Wrapping an arm around one of hers, I rested my head against her shoulder, hoping it was enough. Hoping she understood.

  We sailed back towards Mahon before the midday sun could do its worse, and Kouris didn't stir until we made port. She yawned so widely I thought I might tumble in, then promptly hopped onto the edge of the pier, pulling me up so we could wave Akela off.

  “Glad you went out?” she asked as we headed back to the hut.

  “Glad I got to see Akela,” I said, and then, making a promise of it, added, “... Atthis next.”

  Revitalised by her nap, Kouris made her way into Mahon to handle some business for Reis, and I slipped into my room, looking for a few loose coins I'd been saving. I hadn't been rifling through the drawers for more than a minute when a knock at the door garnered my attention. Braver than I had been in weeks, I hurried over to peer through the inch-thick gap between my door and its frame, hoping to see Atthis.

  I could get it over and done with in one day, if it was him.

  Cane in hand, Reis made their way over to the door, none too pleased by the disturbance.

  It wasn't Atthis. It wasn't even someone I recognised.

  Two women stood at the door. One of them was around my age, black-skinned with red scales tattooed up both of her arms, gripping a spear in one hand. The other woman, dark in a way that was similar to the Myrosi people but entirely Canthian in nature, was easily fifteen years older than she was, and wore a three-point hat that would've put any of the captains in Mahon to shame. So much hair spilt out from beneath it that I had trouble comprehending how she didn't topple backwards.

  A bow and quiver rested on her back, and both of the women were dressed in the same uniform. They wore too much to belong to Port Mahon, and their red leather breastplates and high black boots were far too neat for any pirate.

  “Varn,” Reis said to the woman with the tattoos running up her arms, halfway between surprised and unimpressed. “Managed to scurry through Mahon without anyone sticking a knife in your back, eh?”

  “Leave it out, alright?” Varn huffed back, shoulders up by her ears. “I'm here on official business. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be. Trust me, I wanna get out of here as quickly as you want me gone.”

  Reis chuckled, but I couldn't tell if they were antagonising Varn in a friendly way or not.

  I kept my eyes fixed on them, ready to dart back the moment they looked around. Funny how pirates were the least of my problems, these days. I'd gone this long without running into a Canthian soldier and had no desire to engage with one now.

  “You must be Atalanta,” Reis said to Varn's companion, offering out their hand.

  “Quite so!” Atalanta said, grasping Reis' hand firmly as she shook it. “And you need no introduction, Captain. Varn's told me plenty about you.”

  Groaning, Varn splayed a hand across her face and mumbled, “Didn't want to take this job, didn't want to take this job, but the Queen said... gods, please don't become friends.”

  Endeared by Va
rn's apparent distress, Atalanta rolled her eyes fondly and Reis managed a laugh.

  “Now, it ain't like you to pop in for a chat, Varn. What can I do for the pair of you?”

  Varn refused to answer. She leant against her spear, purposely looking away from Reis, and left Atalanta to speak for the both of them.

  “As Varn said, I'm afraid we're here on official business. Orders from Queen Nasrin. We're looking for someone.”

  “They in trouble?” Reis asked, voice taking on a serious edge. “We've got an agreement with the Queen. She doesn't come sniffing around here for runaways.”

  “Oh! No, no, it isn't anything of the sort,” Atalanta hurried to explain. “It's quite the opposite, actually. Afraid we don't have a name, though. Awfully sorry about that.”

  “Who you after, then?” Reis asked. “The Queen wanna give a medal to whoever's put most of Gavern's men's heads on spikes?”

  “Not quite,” Atalanta said, sighing as though it was a terrible shame, “We do have a description, as it happens. A rather... unique one at that. Varn?”

  Varn had done such a good job of pretending not to listen that she really had stopped listening. Missing her cue to speak, Atalanta was forced to get her attention by clearing her throat, motioning with a hand for her to hurry it up. All of Varn's body language screamed that some monumental task was being asked of her, and with a sigh, she said, “Alright, alright!” hands thrown in the air.

  Reis did a far better job of remaining patient than I did, and the door almost creaked open as I tried to get a better look at what Varn was doing. She rummaged through her bag, and eventually dug out a scroll, eager to read from it so we realised that she wasn't speaking her own words.

  “We've been sent to find... a young woman whose eyes could burn with stars, a Daughter of Isjin from distant shores. And no, I'm not kidding you. It's all written right here. That's what I have to say.”

  The moment the words were out of Varn's mouth, I retreated back into my room. Into the darkest corners, as though shadows could hide the way my skin glowed; the way my eyes burnt with stars, leaving trails of light behind.

  CHAPTER VI

  Reis led Atalanta and Varn away from the hut to talk with them, and I didn't attempt to escape. Where could I go? Back into the ocean? Ear to the wall, I waited for the three of them to return, expecting the door to be kicked down for the sake of dramatics, but it swung open on its hinges and Reis' distinctive footfalls filled the hut.

  “It's just me,” they said, and I pushed the door open inch by inch, finding Varn and Atalanta were nowhere in sight. “Didn't tell 'em you're here, of course. If you want 'em to know, you can go ahead and deliver the news yourself.”

  I moved cautiously into the living area, trusting Reis, but not knowing Varn and Atalanta nearly well enough to trust that they wouldn't burst in through the open windows. Reis returned to the table and continued where they'd left off on their leg, pushing their glasses atop their head and then trying to readjust them on the bridge of their nose.

  “What did they want?” I asked, slumped in a chair opposite them. “Other than me, I mean.”

  “They just wanna talk to you. Or the Queen does, anyway,” Reis said.

  “Do you really believe that's all they want?”

  “Aye,” Reis said, and because they'd always been able to spot a threat a mile off, I listened. “It's like we've been telling you all along, kid. This ain't Asar. We've got a lot of problems, but we ain't so backwards as to think that there's something wrong with necromancers. There'll be a lot of pressure on you, that's for sure, but people will respect what you do. I've no doubt that the Queen just wants to meet you, to have you as an acquaintance. Might be good for Mahon.”

  The thought of people knowing what I was had become more and more appealing, until it was scrawled across my skin. If I headed into Port Mahon, the choice was no longer mine to make. I didn't want praise, didn't want to be held in awe. All I wanted was for people to treat me as Reis and Kouris did; for them to know that I was a necromancer, in the same way that they knew what my favourite fruit was or what sort of animals I liked the best. I wanted it to be part of me, not all I was.

  “You think I should go with them?”

  “Like I said, it's up to you,” Reis said, shrugging. They'd never asked anything of me before, and I trusted that they weren't about to start now. “They said they're gonna be in town until tomorrow morning. You wanna go with 'em, then go. If not, I'll get 'em to clear off.”

  I clutched my hands together under the table. I didn't know why I was acting as though what I had to do wasn't clear enough. I'd said it myself: the only way we were going to leave Asar was if we managed to befriend the Queen, and we weren't going to get a better chance than this.

  There was only one thing for it. I'd go to Varn and Atalanta, have them take me away and let the Queen ask anything of me, so long as she was willing to return the favour. I could do it; all I had to do was march into Mahon and the sight of me alone would be enough to make my intentions clear.

  Standing up, I stared at the door and knew that if I went into Mahon now, all eyes would be on me. I found it wasn't being seen as a necromancer that frightened me; rather, I was convinced that one glance my way would tell everyone exactly what had happened to make me that bright.

  “Was that really the Varn everyone's always talking about?” I asked Reis as I retreated back to my room. “She seemed kind of... Are you sure she'll be okay in Mahon?”

  Reis looked up from their woodwork, grinning.

  “Oh, aye. That's Varn alright. Don't go underestimating her, just 'cause she's a complete brat,” they said. “You know how everyone's always looking at Akela? Like they gotta hire her, in case someone else does and they end up working against her? That's who Varn used to be. She only left a few months before you turned up. Everyone's a little bitter, that's all.”

  Doubting that the woman I'd seen slumped against the door frame could best Kouris in a fight, I headed back into my room and wondered what was to be done about all of this. I'd found myself with two options: either I faced Mahon and got to meet the Queen, or I stayed in my room day after day, waiting for something to change. What I had to do was obvious, and the option that terrified me the most happened to be the easiest one.

  Late that night, as the full moon stared out over the sea, Varn and Atalanta came to me.

  Or they strolled across the beach and came within earshot of me, at any rate. Creeping over to the window, I hooked my fingers around the sill and watched them idly traipse across the sand. Perhaps Varn really was all people had made her out to be if she dared to come so close to Reis' hut.

  “Why haven't you brought me here before?” Atalanta asked. “It really is quite a charming port, and as close to a home as you can profess to have.”

  Atalanta held her arm out to Varn, who dug her hands into her pockets and stepped to the side.

  “What are you on about? We met here, Lanta.”

  “Oh, certainly. But we never come here together,” Atalanta said, and I climbed through the window, dropping almost silently onto the beach. “Are you embarrassed of me? Is that it? Worried your pirate companions will think less of you for being entangled with a keeper of the peace?”

  Varn laughed flatly, swayed towards Atalanta and bumped the side of her arm with her shoulder.

  “Peace in Canth? Didn't know you were so funny—or so bad at your job.”

  Atalanta feigned a look of pure indignation, but before I could eavesdrop any further, I blurted out, “Excuse me. I think you're looking for me.”

  Spinning around, they reached for their weapons, but at the sight of me, they relaxed so quickly that I didn't have time to take in the enormity of what I'd just done.

  “Finally!” Varn said, falling back onto the sand. “This means we can head back to Chandaran, right?”

  Ignoring her, Atalanta rushed towards me, offering out her hand. At no point did she reached out to touch me, and not because the
light caused her to hesitate; she waited for me to reciprocate the gesture out of respect, never seeming predatory, no matter how close she drew.

  I shook her hand, bemused by the formality of it all. The standard greeting in Mahon was a slap on the back or an elbow to the side, and though Atalanta's gesture was no less hearty, I hadn't felt the need to stand that straight since being in Isin's castle.

  “You're the one, there's no doubting that,” Atalanta said. “You must forgive me. I've grown accustomed to thinking of you as the necromancer. Afraid we didn't have much more than that to go on for a while. I am Atalanta of the Sworn Blades, and this charming creature is Varn, belonging to the same order. It's a real honour to meet you, truly it is.”

  “Rowan. Rowan Northwood,” I said, translating my surname into Canthian when Varn pulled a face. I'd prepared myself for a lot of things, but I hadn't been expecting the degree of civility Atalanta paid me. “Not exactly linked to anything like your, um. Order.”

  “Whatever,” Varn scoffed. “You're a necromancer living with a dragon-born and Reis. I'd say that makes you wrapped up in plenty already.”

  Atlanta sighed, distraught by Varn's behaviour, and started walking along the beach, gesturing for me to join her. Varn scrambled to her feet and caught up a few moments later, and as we walked across the sand, I was convinced they'd seize hold of me from either side and drag me all the way back to the capital. Atalanta, however, seemed more interested in staring out at the horizon, and Varn kept glancing back at the town she'd left behind.

  “We knew you were staying with the good Captain, of course. They were rather eager to protect someone they claimed not to know,” Atalanta explained, “Well, what do you say? Would you like to come back with us?”

  “Do I really have a choice?” I blurted out, wanting to believe them.

  “You do, indeed you do! Her Majesty has simply extended an invitation to you, Rowan. Nobody's going to force you to do anything you don't want to, if that's what's concerning you.”

  I looked away from her, teeth grit, and only then did Atalanta realise that I'd expected them to take me away by force. Her face fell, wounded that her intentions had come across as anything other than honourable, but Varn was decidedly less interested in the whole ordeal. She'd taken to digging the toe of her boot into the sand, prying shells free.