Dragonoak

by Sam Farren

  “I should never ask such a thing of you, Zentha. I assure you, I shall move on at the first sign of trouble,” Claire told them, and Akela looked to me, brow furrowed, confused by all the Svargan suddenly being thrown around. “If nothing else, we know the Felheimish will not bring their dragons here, for fear of retaliation from those that remain free.”

  Zentha rested their chin on their fist, sighing. For all that had just unfolded, they didn't seem particularly troubled; to them this must've been nothing but a human squabble that was bound to resolve itself, eventually. Even if that meant ending in the way most human squabbles did: with a sword through someone's gut and no lessons learnt.

  “If you'd excuse me, I believe I would rather stay out of your schemes,” Zentha said, rising to their feet. “Should you need me, you know where I'll be.”

  Zentha was twice my height, but as they moved across the great lodge, they didn't diminish the size of it. Akela discovered the biscuits as we waited for the door to thud closed behind Zentha, and Claire ran a hand through her hair, staring blankly ahead.

  “What are we to do about this? Orinhal was mine one moment, and now... now my brother has claimed it,” Claire said, left leg trembling.

  “The fact that we held Orinhal for as long as we did was more than any of us expected. It grew too large; any number of people within the city could have been working for Rylan,” Kidira said. “What became of Atthis and my daughter? Are they still within Orinhal?”

  Akela and Claire couldn't help but glance my way.

  “I believe so,” Claire said slowly, assuming that Kidira must know far too little about Katja. “We could attempt to extract them, but to what end? For now, they are safe enough. Ash, Galal and the other soldiers are still there. We have plenty of undoubtedly loyal to us in Orinhal. If we are to attempt anything, we must plan and coordinate properly.”

  Agreement came in the form of flat hums, and Claire leant forward, face buried in her hands.

  “How could I let this happen?” she asked, and the heel of her boot clipped noisily against the floorboards as her leg shook and shook. “I sent my soldiers into an obvious trap, and I fled, once more...”

  Fingers curling against my palm, I moved to the edge of my seat, but Sen's hand was already sprawled across Claire's back.

  “I-it's not your fault, Marshal. Prince Rylan, he's b-been trying to take Orinhal for... for longer than you've been there,” Sen said gently. “This doesn't mean it's over. We'll just... we have to work from Kyrindval, now.”

  “Yes, yes. You are listening to Sen, Ightham. Now that our vacation in Canth is ending, Northwood and I, we are helping set this all right,” Akela declared. “It is taking months – it is taking years – and still, it is not a problem! There are obstacles, and still, we are setting this right.”

  Even Kidira had words of comfort for Claire.

  “It isn't all bad news,” she said dryly, and turned to me, having already put far too much effort into soothing her. “Rowan... ?”

  I gripped the arms of the chair and sat up straight. I'd yet to come to terms with what had happened in the Bloodless Lands, and though I knew keeping it locked within me, making a secret out of it, would do nothing to help me process the events, I had to fight back the urge to fuse my jaw shut.

  “We went to the Bloodless Lands,” I said, getting it all out at once. Disbelief flashed across Claire, Akela and Sen's faces in the same instant, and now that I was talking, I didn't want to stop. “Me, Kouris, Kidira, and Oak. The, um. Dragon. His name is Oak. We went into the Bloodless Lands to stop the Felheimish from doing whatever they were doing to dragons, and you were right, Claire. They were using necromancers.

  “A necromancer. Iseul. They were using him to... I'm not sure, exactly. He was pushing his memories into dragons killed for that very reason and controlling them in that way, maybe? It's like... as soon as they're risen again, all they can think about is what the Felheimish want them to do, where they want them to go. But they'd had him locked up for decades. I don't think he even understood who he was, by the time we got there. And if he was the only one, that means they're going to have to stop using dragons, sooner or later.”

  The flood of questions I'd been expecting didn't come. The others simply stared and stared at me, not having the faintest idea of where to start. Had this news come a week before, when Orinhal was still ours, it would've been a sign that we were pushing forward, that we were winning; now it barely took the edge off what had happened.

  “What happened to the necromancer?” Claire eventually asked. “To Iseul?”

  “I... I don't know. Not really,” I said, frowning. “But he's gone. Dead.”

  That put a halt to any more questions rushing out of anyone.

  They continued to keep their eyes on me, missing the part where I'd said that Kidira had been with me, and Akela rubbed her chin, saying, “So—” only to be abruptly interrupted by the doors swinging open.

  We looked up, saw only clear skies and the tops of cabins, and adjusted our sights. The young pane who'd been playing with the goat came charging in, skidding to a halt and trying to hide behind one another when they realised that Sen was the only pane amongst our numbers.

  “Zentha recently left,” Claire said, before the pane could escape. “What is it?”

  It took them a few seconds to gather the courage to open their mouths, and a few more to find the right words.

  “There are... more little friends outside the tribe!” one of them declared. “I think they're soldiers.”

  Akela didn't need to speak Svargan to understand that there was trouble. Had the chair she was sat in been any smaller or lighter it would've been knocked over with the force with which she rushed to her feet, but she was still exhausted from the journey to Kyrindval, and I managed to overtake her in the streets.

  The pane watched us rush by, supposing it was just a human thing they didn't understand. The soldiers, by some luck, were too far from the tribe for any within it to have spotted them, hidden by a curve of a hill at the edge of the plateau that led down to the path.

  The sun glinted along the blade of Akela's forgotten axe, but she didn't need to pick it up to ensure the situation turned in our favour. There were six soldiers in all, brandishing spears, tips pointed in Kouris' direction. She'd risen to her full height, pushed herself up on the very tips of her clawed toes, towering over them like a wave about to break.

  The soldiers took two steps back for every one she took forward, growling all the while, deep enough to send rocks tumbling from the mountains around. There was the Queen Kouris the stories had always spoken of, lies kindled to life by a hint of truth. One slash of her claws and they'd be gut like fish; one snap of her teeth and she'd swallow them whole.

  “Look!” one of the soldiers called, spear doing all it could to leapt out of his hands. “Humans! Get over here, would you? Can't you control this one?”

  Akela and I glanced at each other, losing all momentum. Arms folded across my chest, I walked towards the soldiers, placing myself at Kouris' side as Akela propped herself on a rock behind.

  “Put down the spears,” I said. “She's not going to eat you. Not unless you keep coming towards Kyrindval, that is.”

  Kouris' mouth slipped into a smile so wide it was as though it had been split into her cheeks by her tusks. She continued to growl, unwilling to speak a word, to let them think she might be reasoned with.

  “We've got no qualms with the pane,” another soldier said, jabbing his spear in Kouris' direction and flinching when she didn't step back. “We've got some business with a Felheimer. Name's Ightham. We just want to speak with her, that's all.”

  The soldiers had only glanced at Akela and I for long enough to discern that we didn't have horns. Their eyes remained firmly fixed on Kouris' jutting fangs, but I recognised some of them. Three of them had been sent to track the necromancer through the mountains, and I stepped forward, wrapping a hand around one of their wrists.

  He
rolled his shoulder back, trying to shake me off without dropping his guard.

  “What're you doing?” he barked, and one of his companions lunged forward.

  Kouris caught the spear in one hand, snapped it easily in half, and I clung tightly to the soldier's arm.

  “Remember me?” I asked.

  He looked at me for half a second, then back to Kouris. It took a moment, but realisation settled in.

  Like so many people, he was convinced that a necromancer could only cause harm if there was contact.

  “Shit!” he said, and I let him pull his arm free. “Shit, shit. It's the necromancer.”

  The soldiers weren't pointing their spears at Kouris anymore.

  I moved towards them, and the ones that had cornered me on the mountain path stepped back. And why wouldn't they? They'd watched me throw myself off a mountain. After that, throwing myself against their blades to get to them would be as nothing.

  “You know, I think you're probably all good people. Well, you're probably not terrible, right? You think you're helping Kastelir and Felheim by doing what Prince Rylan tells you to, but anyway, that doesn't matter,” I said, holding my hands out in front of me, staring down at my palms and letting my eyes blaze. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my head, not about to blink. “Don't come back here. Don't bring more soldiers. This is the only time I'll tell you—just don't, okay?

  “If you hurt the pane, if you ever think about hurting or taking Claire, then I'll kill you and have your corpses march themselves back to Rylan.”

  The words were my own, but came out with a strength I didn't know I had. I felt no shame in what I said, did not for a moment try to convince myself that I was letting my powers twist me into something cruel. I was doing what I could to protect Kyrindval and Claire, and the soldiers only had to believe that I'd go through with the threats I'd issued.

  Akela clapped her hands together, laughing in time with Kouris' continued growls.

  “My friends, I am not thinking that you are getting paid nearly enough to deal with a pane and a necromancer, yes?” she asked the soldiers, slinging an arm around me. “Go, go. You are telling your Prince you are putting up a fight, but all is in vain! You are leaving us alone, and we are very kind, yes. We are doing the same.”

  The soldiers didn't need to be told twice. Half of them dropped their spears, not wanting anything to weigh them down, and set off at a sprint they wouldn't be able to maintain once they reached the path down the mountain. Kouris chased them a dozen feet for good measure, and I grinned, watching them disappear because of me.

  People were going to believe what they wanted about necromancers, regardless of what I said and I did. There was no reason I shouldn't use that to my advantage.

  “Hah! Northwood, with you, we are not needing an army,” Akela said, crouching down to retrieve her axe. “We are telling the others the good news, yes?”

  I let her go ahead, wanting to talk to Kouris.

  “You almost scared me,” I said, “You're not hurt, are you?”

  “Not a scratch on me,” she said, holding up her hands. “Go on, yrval. Get yourself back to Kyrindval, back to Ightham. And tell her she'd best be visiting me, sooner or later.”

  I wanted to drag Kouris through Kyrindval, to Zentha's cabin – to the cabin of anyone who'd been responsible for exiling her from the tribe – and scream that she was protecting Kyrindval in ways that the other pane couldn't, or wouldn't. I settled for squeezing her hand, aware I had to take things one step at a time.

  “Oh,” I said, stopping after a few strides. “What's the Svargan word for necromancer, by the way?”

  “Necromancer? It's fairly literal. Life-giver,” she said, and then repeated it, this time in Svargan.

  “Life-giver,” I said, smiling around the word on the way back into the tribe.

  Claire, Sen and Kidira had moved to the outside of the lodge, and Akela was busy telling them what had just unfolded. Kidira seemed no more or less enraged to hear about my necromancy than she ever did and Sen's ears had drooped low, hands clutched together in front of her chest. The ordeal with the soldiers had energised Akela and she spoke every word with a grin, leaning against the side of the lodge and puffing out a heavy breath.

  “I think we'll be safe for a while,” I said as I approached, taking my place next to Claire. “Kouris is keeping watch.”

  I expected to head back into the lodge, to make a real start on planning our next move, but Kidira caught Akela's eye, and after deliberating over it for a moment, said, “We are no good to each other exhausted, or indeed with the events so fresh in our minds. We ought to rest, that we might be of real use to Orinhal and all else.”

  Akela nodded firmly, and pushed herself off the side of the lodge.

  No goodbyes were shared. The group split in two without a word: Kidira and Akela headed in one way, while I remained by the fire pit with Sen and Claire. Once they were almost out of sight, I saw Akela reach for Kidira's hand, and Kidira made no objection to the motion, leading her to what I could only assume was her cabin.

  “Would you mind taking my things to my room, Sen?” Claire asked, and Sen couldn't gather the bags in her arms quickly enough. “I believe it is still set aside for me.”

  Sen bounded down the street, and before Claire and I could lapse into silence, I said, “I wouldn't really kill them. I just wanted to scare them, so they didn't come back.”

  “I know that, Rowan,” Claire said, distracted by something only she could see in the distance.

  As we stood there, Claire swapped her cane between hands, searching for some new way to rest her weight. Her leg continued to tremble, even as it endured the strain of standing, and I wondered whether she meant to head for her cabin, or if she was waiting for Sen to return to take her back. It was immediately clear to me that Claire was in no mood to talk, and I thought back to the cabin Zentha had suggested I might find space for myself in.

  I'd no intention of leaving her standing there, but wanted to give her all the tools necessary to be rid of me, if that was what she needed.

  “I went to see Zentha this morning, and they said—”

  I hadn't thought she was listening to me, but she cut me off before I'd finished forming the thought.

  “Stay,” she said, finally turning away from whatever dark thought had ensnared her attention. “That is, come to the cabin with me. If you wish to.”

  “Claire...” I said, stepping towards her, taking her arm. Her jaw was trembling, now.

  “I should not like to be alone, with only temptation for company,” she mumbled, eyes closing. “Only if you do not mind.”

  “Of course I don't, Claire,” I said, leading her in the direction Sen had headed.

  The cabin wasn't far, and one side of the steps had been converted into a ramp, as they had on many of the buildings. Claire kept hold of my arm as she made her way in, and we were met by a short pane with horns that rivalled Zentha's. She greeted Claire fondly, but knew better than to make a fuss. She shook my hand, welcoming me to Kyrindval and welcoming Claire back, introduced herself as Haval, and said she'd be in the kitchen, should we need anything.

  I followed Haval's lead and didn't say a word as we headed to Claire's room. She didn't want to talk about what had happened, not yet. What she needed was a distraction, not an interrogation.

  Sen wouldn't have left, had I not been there, and she shuffled into the kitchen, stopping to talk to Haval before leaving.

  Claire's room hadn't changed in the year she'd been gone. The bed, built for a pane, had steps leading up to it, but the rest of the furniture had been made with humans in mind. Two armchairs surrounded a table in the far corner, opposite a chest of drawers, but Claire took a seat on the bed, placing pillows between her back and the wall.

  I busied myself with unpacking her things, putting the few clothes she'd brought into the drawers atop those of a less human-minded design, slid her copy of The Sky Beneath The Sun between the other books, and left the wood
en box of bones between the carvings of birds taking up the rest of the shelf.

  All the while, Claire's eyes remained fixed on me.

  “Why are you dressed in Kidira's colours?” she asked. “Those lengths of cloth aren't supposed to substitute shirts, you realise.”

  I hadn't had the presence of mind to change last night, nor had I had anything to wear in place of the shirt Kidira had crudely constructed for me. The edges were already fraying, and though I'd washed myself since, there were dark stains between the creases. The sooner I was rid of it the better.

  “I know that,” I said, hooking my fingers around the hems, hoisting the fabric up.

  Claire didn't look away.

  The purple cloth unravelled, and slipped from my shoulders once I'd tugged it free. I gripped it between both hand and made a tight ball of it, unable to settle on something to feel as Claire's gaze swept across me.

  Embarrassment at standing there, half-naked, without prompting, without warning. Sickness at the new scars lining my gut, ridges raised by Katja's blades. More than anything, perhaps I ought to have been ashamed by the way my skin had regrown, soft and unblemished, while Claire was stuck with her scars.

  “Rowan...” Claire said, when I could not speak. “What happened?”

  I had no answer for her, none that my body couldn't give. Shoulder blades jutting out, I turned, showing her the jagged circle of flawless skin amongst the rest of my rotten scars. I didn't have the words to tell her how the stone had speared right through me, how I still remembered the scraping of my ribs regrowing against rock.

  I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest, darkness creeping into my blind spot, but none of the anger I wished to raise and draw into myself was reflected in Claire. She held a hand out to me and my new heart lurched.