Shatterwing: Dragon Wine 1

by Donna Maree Hanson

  Garan headed for bed, happy some lives had been saved by his actions. He often wondered if the general populace knew of the observatory’s deeds. He thought not. They were isolated, and had connections with only one town, Vanden, which in exchange for crystals and gems supplied them with goods and foodstuffs without having a true understanding of what they did. As far as Garan knew, the people there mostly thought of the observatory as some kind of mystical religious order, paying homage to pre-Shatterwing technologies. If they saw a beam of light flash through the sky occasionally, they probably raced home to bed and prayed. Garan didn’t really know what they thought, though. The denizens of the observatory relied on fourth-hand gossip for news of the world, so it was probable that news of the observatory was even less reliable. It didn’t matter to Garan. The Skywatchers’ purpose was so sure and real, he could never waver from it.

  After they had bid each other good night, Turnet turned toward his own quarters and Garan headed below to his. The corridor was roughly hewn from mountain rock and his sandals slapped against the flagstones, echoing as he went. He tried to be light footed as a courtesy to those who slept, but he was tall and bulky, having by far the largest stature of any of his fellows, so he never quite managed to be quiet.

  Gazing at the rock walls around him, he recalled that he’d read in his childhood, when he’d attended the observatory school, that there had been another observatory before Ruel split. But in the earthquakes that had followed it had fallen and been swallowed up by the earth. Perhaps he now stood on the remains of that original observatory; perhaps he was even descended from one of those first learned men. He squashed that thought. Thurdon had brought him here from a distant place and it was probable, given the severity of the upheaval here, that no one had been left afterward to sire descendants in any case.

  A few sleepy young children scrambled out of his way, chased by a tender, who appeared to be corralling them for their scope lessons. Astronomy was one of the principal classes in the school and at least some of the classes were held during the night. Some of the young ones were the children of Elders and others were from Vanden, which along with food and supplies sent two children to be trained as apprentices each year. It wasn’t a bad life. Garan could attest to that. He didn’t remember much about the time he’d spent out there before Thurdon brought him here aged about ten. The details of his memories weren’t precise, but he remembered the hunger, the cruelty and the fear. Those arriving who could not harness the power of the crystals worked in the mines, cooked, cleaned or became tenders. It was better than life in the world in general, if the stories he’d heard were to be believed.

  When Garan exited the stairwell at the main floor and turned toward the dormitory wing, he noticed the Master Elder with his listing gait ambling up the corridor ahead of him. He stopped and watched for a moment, wondering why the Master Elder was awake in the small hours of the morning. The old man stopped and entered his study. He must have spotted Garan, because before Garan had taken two more steps, the Master Elder called to him through the doorway. Framed in light so that his eyes were dark hollows, he lifted his hand and beckoned Garan to come closer. Garan felt his heart sink. Vibrating the crystal had left a metallic aftertaste in his mouth and a dull ache behind his eyes. He didn’t want to delay going to bed to chat with his ageing leader. Sleep and a big breakfast on waking was all he desired.

  Garan inclined his head, thinking it wouldn’t take long. “Master Elder, how may I serve you?”

  The Master Elder nodded once and said, “Ah, young Garan, that’s an interesting question. I have had some news. Perhaps you could come into my study. I have need of you.”

  “Now, Master Elder? I’ve just completed my shift. Can it perhaps wait until morning?”

  “Morning? You’ll be leaving in the morning. Come with me now to learn where it is you must go and why.”

  Garan’s mouth dropped open. “Me?” He hadn’t been away from the observatory since his arrival. He barely remembered the long and arduous trip that had first brought him there. To be sent out into the world at age twenty was a staggering thought, both exhilarating and frightening.

  Garan followed the Master Elder into the study and watched the Elder’s homespun robe billow as he walked in between the bookshelves. The Master Elder was only about fifty years old, yet he was as bent and gnarled as an old tree. A dark complexion, the texture of ancient leather, and a shock of white hair made him appear even older.

  Garan sat in the proffered chair. The Master Elder perched on the edge of his desk and stared at the younger man with bloodshot brown eyes. “News arrived from Vanden this afternoon instead of the expected food shipment.”

  Garan frowned, not liking how his heart beat too fast or the way the Master Elder was sitting on the desk rather than behind it.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. ’Tis as we feared. Lenk has made his move. His brother, the prince, is dead. But that is not all. Thurdon is rumored to have been poisoned and is believed dead also.”

  Garan’s eyes widened. “Dead? No!” Inside he felt a sudden stab of pain so intense he could barely articulate it to himself; such a mixture of feelings all vying for attention—anger jealousy, neglect. It was as if the floor beneath his feet had shifted, throwing him off balance.

  “This is most unfortunate. We needed Thurdon.”

  Garan started. “We did? I didn’t know he was useful to our work.”

  “Not in the way you think. Thurdon was a gatherer of knowledge.” Garan’s eyes went to the old books on the shelves. Thurdon had brought many of them back from his travels. The Master Elder saw where he was looking and nodded. “Not just these artifacts. He brought information from out there, in the world. He believed, and I do too, that the solution to our problem lies out there…somewhere. Until you are an Elder of many years you will not comprehend the breadth and depth of our role, nor will you have any inkling of the dire portents the Farsighters read in the cosmos.”

  Garan met the Elder’s gaze. “They have found the cause of the instability in the Wing?” In recent months, he knew, more meteors had been falling. Something had disturbed the delicate balance.

  The older man slowly nodded his head. “Yes,” he said. “Though knowing makes it no better.”

  “What is it? A rogue asteroid? That would be the worst thing of all.”

  The Master Elder rubbed his brows with his thumbs. “Yes …’tis the worst thing of all.” He sat back and met Garan’s gaze. “’Tis a large one, tracking straight into the Wing, and the probable cause of the instability we have noticed of late. Elder Yan suspects it is a piece of Ruel sent out into an eccentric orbit when the moon split. ’Tis now transecting Margra’s orbit. You know the rest. As it moves ever closer it will destabilize the Wing further, which will bring massive destruction.”

  “But how do we destroy something so large while it is still distant?” Garan’s mind ran through the possibilities and the ramifications of what would happen if the Wing did fall. It would be the end. Still, a part of him was struggling to understand what Thurdon had to do with any of it. “Even with all of us combined and the largest crystal we possess we could not harness enough power to destroy it, or all the remnants of Ruel moon as they fall. This could be the final moonfall …”

  The Master Elder narrowed his eyes and then he sighed. “Perhaps. Who can say? Belle moon may draw in the larger of the fragments. The astro-theorists are calculating as we speak. Thurdon was important to us, the key to unlocking greater mysteries.”

  “Mysteries? I don’t understand.”

  The Master Elder sighed and then looked him in the eye. “I don’t know precisely. There is information that is handed down from Master Elder to Master Elder. Over time it loses its precise meaning, but what I believe, and Thurdon did too, is that there is a means out there,” he jerked his head toward the window, “a means to save us from final moonfall. We just have to find it.”

  “Some pre-Shatterwing technology?”
r />   “Perhaps. I’m not sure.”

  Garan realized there wasn’t much point in pressing the Master Elder. The old man had probably told him more than he needed to know as it was. As far as Garan could tell, there wasn’t much besides luck that would save them from final moonfall. “And Laidan?”

  The Master Elder shook his head. “Not good news, I’m afraid. This letter says that Lenk most possibly has her.”

  It was all happening too fast for Garan. Surprise, anger, grief all commingled. “Lenk?”

  “Yes.” The Master Elder looked him straight in the eye.

  Garan swallowed. “You said you wanted me to leave in the morning?”

  The Master Elder picked up a letter from the desk, then laid it back down beside him and stroked away the creases. His eyes on the letter, he said, “Our agent in Vanden, Fillbe, says he will try and recover Laidan, but feels that it would be too risky for him to bring her here. His wagons have been impounded and he used his last burden beast and courier to send this missive. I want you to go to Vanden, meet Fillbe at his house and bring Laidan back by the most direct but circumspect means. While you are in Vanden, try to find out what happened. I don’t want to rely completely on rumor, and although Fillbe has good sources, he doesn’t know for certain. If Thurdon was poisoned, I want to know why.”

  “But why me?”

  The Master Elder fidgeted, then stood up and went to sit behind his desk, like he usually did.

  “Garan, I have argued long and hard about this with the other Elders. Of all of those with the strength and agility to do this task you are the only one who has come from outside but has no connection to Vanden. I don’t want families trying to regain those who were gifted to us or have a Skywatcher tempted to look in on his family. Besides, Laidan trusts you—and Thurdon was close to you once. I know you have never forgiven him for leaving you here, but he acted for the best.”

  The painful feelings Garan had about Thurdon arose—as bitter and strong as they had been when he’d first felt abandoned by the old man.

  “I will go, for Laidan’s sake.”

  “Go for more than that reason, Garan. Bring her back and be careful. Find out all that you can of the situation down there. We have stockpiled food, but if the politics turn ugly we may have to look to our defense.”

  “You think there is danger for us? But we work for good.”

  “Garan … I do not know anything, I can only anticipate and plan for possible outcomes.” The elder’s face creased, seaming it with more lines than Garan had seen before. “I am concerned for Laidan. She is important, now, too, and must be brought here at all costs.”

  Garan couldn’t conceal his sharp intake of breath at the mention of Laidan’s importance. A pesky, scrawny child when Thurdon had first brought her to the observatory, Garan had hated her on sight, had been consumed with jealousy. But without really trying, she had won him over during their annual visits. “Why? Lenk has no reason to harm her.”

  “Since when did that thug need a reason?” the Master Elder said with vitriol. He paused for a moment and calmed himself, stroking his unshaved chin. “I’m sorry for my outburst. It’s just that she has become a beautiful girl, gentle and sweet. What better prey for a man like Lenk? Your heart is good, Garan. You are not like the average man out there. The very thought of Laidan unprotected in his hands makes my heart weep.” The Elder swallowed hard, but then gathered himself. “Meet Old Seph at the Klester Valley gate at dawn. He will have money, a map of Vanden with Fillbe’s house marked on it and any other supplies you need.”

  Garan chilled at his leader’s words. It was not far to Vanden, he knew, not quite a day’s walk. Even then he was hesitant. The tales he’d heard about what the world was like out there were so terrible as to be like nightmarish fairytales invented to scare children. He stood to leave and said good night.

  “Come back to us whole, Garan. We will need you and your skill at the end. Thurdon did well to leave you with us, though he argued against it.”

  Garan halted and turned back. “He didn’t wish to leave me here?”

  The Master Elder looked down and spoke to the desktop. “No, he did not. But we tested you and you had skill with the crystals even then. It was with great reluctance that he left you in our care.”

  “But he didn’t explain. No one did.” He hated how hurt his voice sounded, how gravelly it had become.

  “And what would you have understood at such a young age? Had you known, you may not have taken to your studies. I must admit, your anger helped you let go of your affection for him and turn your attention to your learning. In spite of his objections, Thurdon knew it was the right course of action. And you are one of us now, and duty must outweigh other concerns.”

  Confused feelings warred within Garan. His eyes watered unexpectedly, then he swallowed the lump of regret and said, “I will do as you ask. By my life I will bring Laidan back to the observatory.” He paused on the threshold. “Master?” he asked quietly, conscious that his voice may carry down the hall. “How much time do we have?”

  The old man looked up, his misery quickly disguised by a smile. “Nothing is certain until it is. Though I would not tarry in Vanden if I were you. There is much work to be done.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Down the Mountainside

  Garan felt as if dust ground behind his eyelids. After the Master Elder had spoken to him, his thoughts had not let him rest. Giving up on sleep, he had packed his knapsack with everything he thought he might need—a flask of dragon wine, needle and thread to mend his clothes (just in case), his knife, some writing charcoal, a pan in which to boil water and prepare food and an undersized crystal. His pockets always contained crystal shards, which came in useful. Even after he had packed everything, sleep had still evaded him.

  Now, standing at dawn by the valley gate, his Skywatcher cape lifting in the breeze, he felt unready for this journey. Old Seph smiled crookedly, avoiding eye contact as he doled out some coin, along with bread and dried meat rolled up in cloth. Such behavior only increased Garan’s anxiety. He was an old, bent man nearing sixty years, or so Garan had heard. It wasn’t like him to be so silent and grave.

  “What about the map?”

  Seph limped over to the gate and unlocked it. He drew out a tatty piece of cloth from his pocket. “Here’s a map. Take care.”

  In spite of its ragged appearance, the map was neatly drawn. Garan tucked it into his shirt pocket, and with a nod at Seph, he stepped through to the other side. Beyond the slim path, the way opened into a narrow defile mostly clear of scree and larger rock fall. A worn trail marked by intermittently placed stones headed downward. In the distance, he noticed there were switchbacks aplenty. By midday, he could see right down into the valley floor and could make out Vanden in the distance. The river was a sickly streak of brown fanning out from the town. The remnants of a forest spread out below, though the trees were stunted and decorated with half-brown leaves. Great fields of orange cacti spread out in straight rows. That sight made him think of how hungry he was. He sat on the edge of the path, legs dangling over the side, and chewed on some meat and bread.

  He drank from the flask of watered wine and smudged the residue on his lips with the back of his hand. His eyes were riveted on the town where Laidan waited with Fillbe. Half-smiling to himself, he remembered her teasing laugh. She’d always been enchanted by his violet-colored eyes. “You stare at the sky too much, and now your eyes have taken on its color … or are you moon blind? Oh, Sky Eyes.” Recollections of her lyrical voice, her intelligent charm and the jealousy he felt every time he saw her made his face heat. Over time his resentment of her had lessened, though his confusion about his feelings toward her always remained.

  Pulling the map free of his pocket, Garan laid it on his knee and studied it. Vanden was a walled town, square in shape, with main gates and two other entrances—one on the dawn side and the other on the river side. Fillbe’s house was two streets off the main thoroughfar
e, close to the dawn side of the wall. Refolding his map, he brushed the crumbs off his legs and was soon on his feet, hastening down the path.

  As nightfall approached the town’s rusty iron gates came into sight. He crouched, hidden behind a broken-down wagon that had no wheels. The town looked larger up close and a strong taint wafted from it. After the clean halls of the observatory, Garan nearly gagged at the stench. The gates hung askew on their hinges and the walls were a hodgepodge of wood, stone, cement and metal sheets, as if thrown together from scraps. It was a marked contrast to the crafted stonework of the observatory. The wall had about eight stubby turrets that would provide shelter to the guards if the town were attacked. A dragon harpoon was visible near the main gates. Not that there were many dragons in the area as far as he knew.

  An eerie feeling washed over him. In the distance he saw men on the walls, guards, he suspected. He smelled something else in the air, slightly more putrid than the general stink of the place. Garan squatted by the side of the road, wondering how best to reach Fillbe. An innate sense of caution made him think twice about entering through the main gates. He decided to try the dawn-side entrance. There were a few shacks and dilapidated houses nestled near and around that side of the wall, which would provide adequate cover. He didn’t want to attract the attention of the guards.

  Using the growing darkness to disguise his movements, Garan headed away from the main gates, slipping from shadow to shadow. Further around the wall he saw the smaller gate hanging crookedly on its hinges, held up only by an old lock that clung solidly to the architrave. No one seemed to be guarding it. Unfortunately, there were plenty of guards walking along the top of the wall. Garan cursed his luck. He wasn’t familiar with the workings of the town, yet there was something strange going on. It was too quiet.