by A. R. Wilson
Pangs of worry prickled along her stomach. Had her instinct failed her again? She gripped her middle, desperate to smother the fatigue and fear that threatened to revive the seedling.
Rest, she needed rest. Yes, everything would make more sense after she slept. “I suppose the answers can wait.”
“Just up the road there is a home of three other humans who escaped The Master’s grasp.”
“Others?”
“Yes. Few ever make it as far as you did.”
Zander started walking, and Tascana fell in step behind him. They went past a few homes much larger than the ones in Hess Bren. The dallest stopped at one of them and knocked. Scrapes and thumps muffled through from the other side. Light cracked across Zander’s face as the door opened. A blond girl, possibly a few years older than Tascana, squinted over the lamp in her hand.
“Zander? What is it?”
The dallest stepped aside, gesturing toward Tascana. “I found someone.”
All in one motion the girl shoved the lamp into Zander’s hands, screamed, and flung her arms around Tascana. “Ahh! You’ll be living with us and this is going to be so much fun! What’s your name? I have waited so long for a sister!”
Under the flurry of enthusiasm, Tascana wriggled her hands up to push against the girl’s embrace. “I have no sister.”
The blond girl winced, taking a step back to look at Zander in confusion.
“We barely left the tunnels, and I don’t think she stayed with The Master long enough to learn much about him.” Zander held a hand out to Tascana. “How about a proper introduction? This is Dellia, the most skilled swordfighter in all of Tretchin Valley. And this is... oh, my, I don’t believe I even asked you your name.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She left the retort hanging between their baffled expressions. Who did they think they were? Assuming she would want to live here? And who introduces someone as “the most skill swordfighter”? Whether Zander intended it to impress or warn her, Tascana did not care. Getting enough rest to plan an escape was the only thing that mattered.
“So, what is your name?” Dellia twirled a piece of her long, blond hair.
“I’m really tired. I just want to get some sleep.”
Zander gave a shrug and returned the lamp to the girl. “She’s in your care now. Sunrise is almost here which means my shift is over.”
“I suppose your name can wait until morning. This way.”
Blond hair flipped behind the girl as she turned to go inside. Tascana followed her through the door and up the stairs to the right. A window at the end of the long hallway hinted at three doors on each side.
“The middle one on the right is yours. I decorated it myself, so I hope you like it.” Dellia opened the next door in the hall farther down. “I will do my best to ensure Revel and Chalance do not disturb your rest.”
Tascana’s hand paused on the handle to the middle room. “Who?”
“The others who live here.” The girl chewed her lip a moment, her face mostly obscured in shadow. “Sorry if I scared you at the door. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to see a human female face.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Longer than you would believe.” Dellia slipped inside and shut the door.
Pushing the handle the rest of the way down, Tascana stepped inside. A window opposite her allowed enough light to see a bed to her left. She turned to sit on the edge, feeling as though the darkness around her were a pressing force. What did Dellia mean by “longer than you would believe?” Was it so hard to believe someone had lived their whole life here?
Wrapping her arms around herself, Tascana eased onto her side and turned her face into the blanket. Everything felt so wrong. Like taking a bite of tainted meat and not noticing the taste until after swallowing. Should she try to puke or wash the taste out with water? At this point, neither option held any hope. Vomiting wouldn’t dispel the remnant of the seedling within her. That entity was little more than anxiety fueled imagination. It was all in her head. If only there was a way to throw up mentally and be rid of the idea.
Heaviness pressed into her chest, spreading along her throat and face. She passed out.
CHAPTER 13
Brisk night air tugged at Jurren’s clothing as he sailed over the Avian Expanse. He sat atop the dragon Logan referred to as Cale, watching the beast pump his massive wings to work with the air currents. Beyond the glint of moonlight reflecting off dragon scales lay the emptiness of night. Looking right and left showed hints against the night sky where Arkose and Kidelar rode on Logan and the other dragon, Helmsley. Everything else was infinite blackness. The closest thing they had to a reference point was the line on the horizon separating a scatter of stars from the dark nothingness of mountains on the other side.
A few moments later, Jurren felt Cale dip in altitude. On the horizon, the outline of solid black took on the characteristic dips and valleys of a mountain range. Cale continued to descend until he landed in a wide clearing. Jurren heard the hard pumping of the other dragons’ wings as they landed nearby.
Logan’s gravelly voice spoke. “Kidelar, we need you to read the map.”
“You don’t know where we’re going?” Jurren turned atop Cale to face Logan.
“I was given the information needed to understand the importance of your quest. The information to find the Sword of Einiko is in the map.”
Jurren couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Logan was offended by the question.
“I won’t be able to read this in the dark.” Moonlight showed the dim figure of Kidelar rifling through his pack. “We’ll have to light a fire.”
“I’ll get some firewood.” Arkose jumped down from Helmsley.
“No need.” A soft, popping roar issued a flame from Logan’s mouth like a torch.
The scholar slid down from Logan then unrolled a two-foot long piece of parchment on the ground. Moving to look over Kidelar’s shoulder, Jurren saw a line indicating mountain terrain littered with odd markings he assumed were lakes.
The flame snapped out and, Jurren looked up at Logan. “We’re not done.”
“Perhaps you would like to produce a flame?”
“I mean no disrespect, but it might take us a while to orient ourselves on this map.”
Logan shot a stream of fire, engulfing a tree stump near Kidelar. Jurren snatched the map off the ground with one hand and dragged Kidelar back with the other.
“What are you trying to do? Destroy our map before we even start?” Jurren shook the parchment at Logan.
“You are wasting valuable time in your feeble attempt to analyze the markings.” Logan lowered his head to get eye level with Jurren. “Try digging into your vision.”
A swell of anger pressed into Jurren’s stomach. Before he had the chance to retort, a wave of vision forced him to the ground. Individual moments flashed through him like beads scattering across a floor. One of them showed a map with glowing marks.
Jurren pulled back into a squatted kneeling position.
“Have a nice journey?” Logan tilted his head like a curious dog.
Breathing through his stomach clenching all the more, Jurren spat a response. “As soon as I find the images that show us parting ways, I will be done with you.”
Logan’s mouth pulled up in what seemed to be a grin.
Shaking his head and turning away, Jurren lifted the map and held it up to the sky. Nothing happened. Strange. The vision showed glowing symbols appearing when the map was held up to the moonlight.
“Jurren, here let me try.” Kidelar reached for the map.
The scholar walked several feet away, into the shadow of Cale, then held it up. As he lifted it skyward, twinkling green lines seeped through.
“These are welkin tracings.” Kidelar grinned at Jurren.
“That word wasn’t in my vision.”
“They exist in legend, old tales from before the goblin sighting. Only those studying to enter the Fortress
of Erudition are allowed to learn about them.”
“What do the lines show?” Jurren came alongside Kidelar.
“I can’t tell.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“I mean I cannot see anything that looks like information in any of these marks.”
To Jurren, it did seem like little more than a jumble of swirls and scribbles made by a young child. He thought back to the image from his vision but only saw the glowing marks on the page, nothing more. What was the point of a vision that gave tiny clips of details?
“Let’s try looking at it in the firelight again.” Kidelar walked over to where Arkose was warming himself by the blazing stump. “Maybe there is a note or something I missed.”
Jurren stayed next to Cale, watching Kidelar scan his fingertips over a map, the same as he had their whole journey to find the seer. And for what? To get a jumbled collection of random details swimming through their minds? If only Ellesha Shan Shair had given them practical advice on how to interpret it all.
Then he remembered the last words the seer had spoken. “If you are a seeker of truth, this vision will never fade.” Maybe it wasn’t looking for a direction that would guide them, but looking for truth.
He walked nearer the fire to peer over Kidelar’s shoulder. The splatter of symbols throughout the mountain formations on the map had nothing connecting any of the points to each other. But the truth had to be that it all meant something. There was a connection somewhere.
“I have an idea.” Jurren pointed to a section. “Hold your finger on those points then take the map back to the moonlight.”
Kidelar shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
The scholar put a finger on each of two circles then walked past Cale. Jurren reached out to take one side of the map so each of them held an edge. A glowing line of the welkin tracings passed between both of the points under Kidelar’s fingers, swirling into a spiral around a third spot.
“Would you look at that?” Awe radiated in Kidelar’s words.
“What are you going to use to write with?”
The scholar grinned at Jurren. “I have a couple pieces of charcoal that should work brilliantly.”
A few moments later, Jurren and Arkose were holding up the map while Kidelar worked to delicately trace the glowing lines. When he was finished, there were six groupings of lines on the map connecting the symbols of the visible text. The three men returned to the burning stump to look at the now completed map.
“There still isn’t anything telling us where to start or where we’re heading.” Kidelar sat squatted with his elbows on his knees.
“The vision said we had to travel to a castle with no name.” Jurren took another sweeping glance across the map. “I don’t see a castle on here anywhere.”
“That’s because there is no castle on that map,” Logan quipped.
“Unless you’re trying to be helpful, please keep your commentary to yourself.” Jurren stood, facing the dragon.
Logan lifted his neck, causing him to look down his nose in order to maintain eye contact with him. “I’ve never been too fond of repeating myself.”
Jurren felt a hand press against his chest.
“Logan, do you have any information about the map you believe to be helpful?” Kidelar took a step forward, keeping his hand on Jurren, to step between them.
“The seer did not see fit to give me any details as to the direction of your journey.” Logan turned to look at the other two dragons then moved his neck to the side to peek around Kidelar at Jurren. “Each of us was given what we needed to know.”
Feeling that familiar surge begin anew, Jurren clenched his fists to brace against the mental hurricane. But this one was different. Every other previous storm of images was a random splash of events. This one was a rerun of a previous storm. Trees, silver, water, and rings. An identical collection to a surge he had when he first spoke to Arkose after receiving the vision from the seer. This time, the trees were clearer, more distinct. The flashes of silver misted into chains. Water rushed around Jurren as though he were swimming. And then there were the rings. Tiny black rings etched in parchment within larger rings of gold and silver, some with stones.
He took a deep breath as the rush of imagery subsided. Something inside himself, somewhere deeper than his gut instinct, reminded him to seek truth more than direction. For now, the truth was he was tired. Exhausted from riding, climbing, seeing, and flying. It was late and, being in unfamiliar territory, he had no way to get his bearing as to where this clearing was on the map. Details would be easier to distinguish in the morning.
“We should get some rest.” Jurren rubbed a hand over his eyes to push the last images to the back his mind. “Even if we did know where to go, we have no way of telling which direction that path lies.”
Kidelar rolled up the map, sighing. “You are quite correct.”
“So, you’re giving up?” Logan’s tone sounded annoyed.
“Humans need sleep.” Walking closer to the fire, Jurren caught Arkose’s eye. “Am I right?”
Arkose took a long stretch, stifling a yawn. “Yes, we do.”
Jurren picked a spot to get comfortable. Closing his eyes made him aware of how tired he was. The map would make more sense in the morning. He was certain of that. Some rest wouldn’t set them back too much.
* * *
The sting of dawn came a few hours later. Jurren winced at the brightness. Turning away from the direct glare of the rising sun, he saw Kidelar sitting propped against Logan’s side, who was snoring softly. Sunlight gleamed along the dragon’s dark, metallic-purple scales. A similar shimmer of deep green covered Helmsley. Cale, the dragon Jurren rode across the Expanse, was a cobalt blue. The beasts had looked black when they first emerged from their dragon stones. Now they gleamed like precious gems where the sunlight caught the curve of their bodies.
Taking in the beauty of the dragons was a temporary distraction from the ominous trees surrounding the clearing. This was a foreign land. No one who dared venture into this country ever came back. The single thing guiding them forward was a piece of parchment and a supernatural gift from a seer priestess who claimed to have sight beyond sight. A nagging, a pull deeper than his gut instinct, compelled him to shed any trepidation. He was on the right path. Truth was of the utmost importance from here on out.
Jurren walked over to Kidelar. The map lay rolled and partly smashed under the scholar’s folded arms. Jurren eased the parchment out. As he unrolled the crinkles, he looked back and forth between the rock formations beyond the clearing to find a reference point to the map. The thick, gravelly voice of Logan nearly made him jump.
“Find anything?”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“So that’s a no?”
Clenching his jaw, Jurren guarded his response. “Just trying to get my bearing.”
From the corner of his eye, Jurren saw the dragon tilt his head in curiosity. “Aerial or ground?”
“What?”
“Is the map written from an aerial or ground perspective?”
He looked at the charcoal lines swirling through the landmarks.
“Do you not know what aerial means, Jurren? It refers to a view from the sky.”
Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he lowered the map to look at Logan. “Your insolence bores me.”
The dragon curled his lips into that odd smirk. “Worry not, Highlander, my amusement endures far beyond your responses.”
Heat pulsed at Jurren’s temples. “I am no Highlander.”
“You finished your schooling on Orison. Had Threnody not insisted on your banishment, you would still be in Ukiah, would you not?”
Each word the dragon spoke was like a branding iron against Jurren’s soul. The tortuous anger attached to all those memories helped to override the wave of vision that threatened to wash over him. How dare that dragon speak of something Jurren kept hidden from everyone, including his own family.
“Do not speak of such days. I walked away from that world a long time ago. It is finished.”
Logan tilted his head to the other side. “Who are you trying to convince? Me, or you?”
Jurren pulled out his sword. “I’m done with you. Leave.”
“If only that were possible.” Logan adjusted himself to overlap his arms on the ground. “I am as tied to this quest as you are.”
“Your purpose was to aid us across the Avian Expanse. We’re across.” He angled his sword more forward. “Now go.”
“You do realize dragon scales cannot be pierced by any sword?” The dragon tucked his wings a little tighter. “Your anger is expected but unnecessary. I am merely trying to help you understand that you have never been a mere man. There are many in the days ahead who have long awaited your arrival. You need to get used to your story being common knowledge.”
“That’s not possible. No one in Bondurant knows about my people or their island. How could anyone here be waiting for me?”
“Because I know Threnody convinced Lord Adkin to banish you while Neywan stood silent through the whole trial.”
Each name was another searing jab in Jurren’s chest. So many years had gone by since he thought about that day. The sting of betrayal was still as raw as it was twenty years ago when he learned the elders on Orison cared more about keeping secrets than preserving life. If this dragon knew about his trial, then it was possible others could know. But how?
“Who told you of that day?” Jurren returned his sword to its sheath.
“Ellesha Shan Shair gave me the details in a vision, though I know not who showed her.”
The dragon looked as though he was enjoying himself entirely too much.
“It may have been your vision, but it is my life. My story. I would thank you to never speak on this matter again.”
“Others will force it out of you whether I speak on the matter or not.”
Jurren’s fingers danced on the grip of his sword. Stupid dragon.
Kidelar shifted against Logan and slid into the dragon’s hind leg. “Oh! Sorry, is it morning already?”
“It’s been morning for almost an hour.” Logan’s tone with Kidelar was almost cheerful.
