Kaijin walked in silence, listening to the conversation of his friends and the survivors around him as he took in the new lands. It was just as he’d remembered seeing in books: clear skies, a sea of wind-rippled sand dunes, and very little water and vegetation. His mother had once told him she had come from this country.
Miele screeched, and Kaijin glanced upward, spotting her rapidly fluttering wings against the starlit sky.
Kaijin looked sidelong at Jarial, who had discreetly assumed his youthful appearance before they left the cave. Sable trudged alongside him, frequently shaking the sand from her paws as she walked.
“Does your father know anything about what’s going on, Omari?” Jarial asked.
Omari shrugged. “I am uncertain, but our family has been quarreling with the Beshara for years. Whether or not my father has put anything in motion against our family’s rivals has yet to be seen.” Percival, his ears swiveling about at the slightest sounds, sat atop Omari’s shoulder and observed his surroundings.
“I am rather intrigued about meeting your father,” Kaijin said.
Omari snorted. “Why?”
“You once told me a story about him, his travels to Ghaeldorund, and how he revived the Harran. He sounds like a man with a lot of wisdom.”
Omari raised his nose up at him. “Of course he is. But he does not speak to foreigners. He is very dignified.”
Jarial rolled his eyes. “You mean a self-centered, pompous ass? Hmm ... Like father, like son.”
Omari stared at Jarial, open-mouthed. “Do not speak ill of my father.”
“‘Ill’? Jarial raised his eyebrows. “I am merely stating fact. If he really is so heartless and selfish that he would not try to aid us all—or at least hear our news about the Beshara—because he supposedly holds some prejudice toward ‘foreigners’, then he would be a pompous ass. A foolish, pompous ass.”
Omari huffed then scowled. He strode ahead of them, setting his pace beside Jovi.
Kaijin looked to Jarial, who kept his gaze locked on Omari. Kaijin was about to protest Jarial’s harshness toward Omari when he heard a small rumble behind him.
“Oy! I’m ’ungry!” Nester held his stomach as he trudged along. “I ’ope they got food where we’re goin’.
Kaijin felt a smile tug at his lips. The thought of food had him suddenly feeling hunger pangs, as well. “You and me both, Nester.”
* * *
Aidan and Clarice walked behind the rest of group, chatting. Aidan had been so intrigued with the woman, he’d lost track of the time. It was a strange curiosity, meeting someone else like him, yet their lives had been vastly different. Clarice was seemingly a woman of adventure, where Aidan preferred to be grounded and consistent.
“So you have not always been a seafarer?” Aidan asked.
Clarice stared straight ahead and frowned. “No, but I chose the carefree life o’ the sea to get away from the shite on land.”
Aidan blinked. “You ran away?”
Clarice turned her head and glared at him. “No, I didn’t ‘run away’, ya dolt! It was time for me to go.”
Aidan tore his gaze from her and stared at the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t, but ... Licking his lips, he looked ahead at the rest of the group. They didn’t seem to pay the two of them any mind. He spotted Zarya amongst the group, talking with Hexi. She glanced over her shoulder toward Aidan, and for a moment, their gazes met. Aidan averted his eyes back to Clarice, and he asked in a low voice, in Draconic, “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”
Clarice looked at him pensively for a moment, then nodded absently as though she was trying to decipher what he said. She scowled and replied in Common, “I do mind! It ain’t none of your damned business.” She must’ve noticed the odd look on his face, because she then added in a low voice, “My Draconic ain’t as strong as it once was.”
Aidan nodded. “Aidan understands. And he is sorry if he got too personal with question.”
“Bah.” She waved her hand at him.
“So what will you do once we reach our destination?”
Clarice shrugged. “Help my remaining crewmates find a new ship. We’re not lettin’ one little bloody storm keep us from shovin’ off again.”
Aidan smiled. Her determination was incredible.
“We’ll have to find us a new captain, though.” She sighed. “I was quite fond of ol’ Tibbetts. He was the one who took me in and showed me the life o’ the seas.”
Aidan rubbed his chin. “Why can’t you be the new captain?”
Clarice blinked at him in disbelief. Then she laughed. “Ya think it’s that easy for some lowly deck-swabber to suddenly become captain?”
“Aidan does not think you are ‘some lowly deck-swabber’.”
“Flattering, Aidan, but it is what I am, and it is what I signed up for when I joined this crew. First Mate Crowley will naturally become the new captain, not me. He can be a bit of a sharptongue sometimes, but I’ll deal with it. Besides, he knows I can out-drink him if he ever challenged me.” She chuckled. “Anyway, I’ll be swabbin’ the decks of his new ship soon enough.”
Aidan frowned. Clarice had seemed to become a different woman, different from the brash, confident woman he’d first met on the ship, who’d beat him in drinking and arm-wrestling. Much of the crew respected her, it seemed, and those who didn’t, she easily put in their place. It puzzled him why she’d now become so hesitant—almost fearful—of aspiring to greater things.
“Look, Aidan. I appreciate the thought. I really do. But that’s just how things work in the seafarin’ world.”
“It doesn’t have to. You should change things.”
Clarice rolled her eyes. “It’s taboo enough that I’m a seafaring woman, and a half-breed at that. I was grateful when Tibbets took me in. Now, I don’t want to start trouble where there is none.”
“But you are devaluing yourself. You deserve to aspire to so much more than this. Aidan thinks you should take that chance and let your voice be heard.”
“No one’s gonna listen to me, Aidan.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’m not captain material! I’m better off swabbing the decks like I always have. I’m content with that.”
Aidan shook his head. “You don’t have to be. Aidan thinks you have proven yourself already. You not only know the seas well, but you are strong in both mind and body, determined, and not afraid to put someone in their place if they cross you. And if your previous captain took you in and personally taught you the seafaring ways, then Aidan thinks without question that you would be perfect one for job.”
Clarice fought down a smile. “Ya not gonna stop pesterin’ me about this, are you?”
Aidan shook his head firmly, failing to fight down his own smile. “Not until you accept, or at least think about it.”
She looked ahead and kept silent for a moment as if she were pondering something. Then, she said, “I’ll think about it.”
* * *
The moon had almost risen to its highest point by the time Kaijin and the rest of the group arrived the foot of a brazier-lined mountain path. Jovi stopped, signaling everyone else to do the same. He waved up toward a cliff near them, to something—or someone. Moments later, a light appeared at the edge of the cliff not far above the group. The source of the light came from the top of a thin staff that a robed young woman held. The light brightened, revealing her stern face.
“Good evening, Lady Leilanna.” Jovi swept into a bow.
She returned the bow. “Greetings, Jovi. A pleasure and honor to see you again.” Her voice held a rich accent. “Who are all those people?”
“Friends,” Jovi replied. “They were shipwrecked in a storm. I am hoping that your shak’ha will be so kind as to offer them a place to stay for the time being.”
Lady Leilanna assessed the group for a moment, then she disappeared in a burst of flame. Moments later, she reappeared in front of Jovi.
Scowling, Jarial inched closer toward the
m. Kaijin slowly followed.
“With all due respect, Great One,” she said in a hushed voice. “Shak’ha Amil is too busy to entertain the likes of these foreigners.”
Jovi chuckled. “Too busy to even see his own son?” He tilted his head at Omari.
Leilanna looked at Omari, who stepped forward. She blinked, and then gasped. “Y—Young master? Is it—Is it really you?”
“It is, my lady,” Omari replied with a polite nod. “I have returned.”
She bowed deeply and repeatedly. “It has been so long! Forgive me! Forgive me!”
“‘Young master’?” Jarial muttered, smirking. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think the stuck-up bastard actually had some distinction around here.”
Overhearing Jarial’s quip, Kaijin stifled a laugh.
Omari looked back toward the rest of the group, his eyes darting about as if he was nervous. He looked to Leilanna and put his hand on her shoulder to stop her bowing. “Enough. Just inform my father of our arrival, please.”
“Yes, of course!” She disappeared again in a flash of flame and appeared back on the cliff. “Please, continue.” Her eyes lit up in fiery magic, and she bowed her head, placing a finger to her lips. Kaijin recognized a message spell in progress.
Omari turned back to the group, looking guilty. Whispers about Omari rose from the crowd. Jarial walked up to him, and Kaijin followed.
“A shak’ha. Is that something like a king in your country?” Jarial asked, his brow wrinkling slightly.
“No, not quite, Master Glace,” Omari replied. “It is more like the elder’s status at the Citadel.”
Jarial’s smirk returned. “Is that so? And you are his son? How ironic.”
“Wow, Omari, I didn’t know you were that important,” Kaijin said.
Scowling, Omari crossed his arms over his chest. “And what in the confounded hells is that supposed to mean, Kaijin?”
“Uh ...” Kaijin scratched the back of his head. “Well, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Omari took a deep breath. Then, with a tempered huff, he spun and faced his back to them. “Come on. Let us keep moving,” he said sharply.
Jovi stepped back from the group. “And this is where I depart. It was an honor for me and my family to be able to aid you all. May the goddess protect and guide you.” In a shower of electric sparks, Jovi transformed into a majestic teal-colored Dragon that towered over the group. Behind them, Hexi and Graask also transformed, but they were smaller than Jovi.
The Dragons backed from the group a ways, then they stretched their wings and leapt in the air, drawing up wind and sand as they took off. They soared soared high in the night sky, the moonlight shimmering off their scales, and they wheeled toward the coast, disappearing in the night.
* * *
The trip up the mountain path was long and tiring. Kaijin, walking alongside Omari and Jarial, looked behind them. He could see the bottom of the mountain, as well as the landscape beyond, toward the coastline where the Dragons’ den lay.
I wonder how far we’ve traveled?
Miele screeched above him, and Kaijin looked ahead again, halting his musings.
The Harran’s massive stone building towered before them, almost comparable in size to the Pyre. Images crafted in gold and silver embellished the walls and pillars of the exterior. Large flags and banners, depicting an eye above an open book, hung along the walls of the corner towers.
Kaijin sensed strong magic surrounding the building—an invisible, protective prism. He was familiar with the simple spell, yet it had somehow been enhanced considerably.
The landscape around the exterior stood in stark contrast to the surrounding desert. Lush grasses, shrubs, and colorful flowers all grew in profusion from the sand and rocky ground, creating a neatly-lined path leading to the front entrance.
Omari banged the gold knocker of the building’s ornately carved wooden double doors. Moments later, a blue-robed young man answered it. His brown eyes widened when he looked at the group.
“A message was sent to the shak’ha about our arrival,” Omari announced. “I am Omari Batsuyou, son of shak’ha Amil. May we enter?”
The man scrutinized Omari. “Young master ... ? No, it—it cannot be ... It has been over twenty years ...”
Omari pursed his lips. “Indeed, I have aged, and I have returned. If it is proof that you require, then behold.” He held up his right hand, revealing the obsidian ring on his finger. “This is my father’s favorite ring that was stolen from him in Ostwyn many years ago, but I managed to find it again. He will be very glad to get this back.”
The man’s jaw dropped. “The Ring of the Twin Moons! That is his! Y-Young master! It really is you! Please forgive me for questioning you before!” He bowed several times.
Omari touched his shoulder, stopping him from bowing. “No need for that. Just let me and my convoy through.”
The man lowered his head. “Yes, of course. My name is Tariq, and it is such a high honor.” He escorted the group inside and led them through a massive foyer and into a library, where rows of books stretched as high as the vaulted ceiling. The smell of parchment and old ink tickled Kaijin’s nose. People in colored robes stepped quietly along the balconies high above them, holding books in their arms or searching the shelves. A few stopped and leaned over the railings to watch the group pass.
Miele happily soared to the ceiling, and some of the onlookers watched and pointed in awe. After getting a satisfying view of the interior from above, Miele dove back down and landed on Kaijin’s shoulder. As they passed the library and made their way to the main atrium, Kaijin overheard someone whisper, “What are those half-Dragons doing here?”
“Perhaps the shak’ha invited them,” someone answered. “He is fond of Dragonkin, after all.”
“No, they are obviously the young master’s friends,” another person said.
Nester jogged up beside Kaijin. “Wow! Will you look at all this!” His eyes looked as if they would pop out of their sockets.
Kaijin smiled. “It is something, isn’t it?”
“Look at that!” Nester pointed to a statuette sitting atop a pedestal as they entered the main atrium. He lowered his voice. “It looks like pure gold! You know ’ow rich we’d be if we brought it back to Aransiya?”
“I don’t think the people here will take too kindly to your sticky hands on their statues,” Kaijin replied in a low tone.
Nester arched an eyebrow. “What? But I just washed ’em, aye.”
Kaijin shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“I must say,” Jarial muttered, “not even the Citadel is this exquisite. I think this place is one of those hidden wonders of the world, yes?” He winked at Kaijin.
Tariq stopped before an older man who wore simple brown robes, not as lavish as the other aides’.
“Master Omari, please follow me,” Tariq said. “The rest of you, please follow the attendant.”
As Kaijin turned to leave with Jarial, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. The person—Omari—spun him around. “Come with me, Kaijin.”
Jarial stopped following the attendant and narrowed his eyes over his shoulder at Kaijin and Omari.
Kaijin helplessly looked back at his master, then back to Omari. “What?”
“My father would be very interested in speaking with a Firebrand of Ignis,” Omari continued.
Kaijin blinked. He would? “What about Master Jarial?”
Jarial huffed. “Don’t worry about me, Kaijin. Go see what the shak’ha wants.” He left, following the rest of the group down a corridor, lit dimly by lanterns hanging from the walls. Omari stared after him then shook his head. “As far as my father is concerned, Master Glace is still a Citadel mage. Perhaps later, once I have had time to talk to my father about certain issues, he will request Master Glace’s company.”
Kaijin nodded slowly. “All right. Lead on.”
Tariq led the two of them west out of the main room and to anothe
r lantern-lit corridor. Halfway down the corridor, Tariq stopped before two white marble doors on their right. As he slowly pulled open the doors, a strong aroma of incense wafted from behind them. Two flights of stairs descended into a lighted room below.
The walls of the stairwell they descended were decorated with exotic ornate tapestries woven with gold-threaded images of an eye over an open book—the same design Kaijin noticed on the banners hanging on the Harran’s exterior.
The room below opened up to what appeared to be a bathing room of some sort. Carved rocks and mini-waterfalls lined the perimeter of the large marble pool in the center of the room. The sound of trickling water soothed Kaijin, and the humid air softened his sun-baked skin. Ivy intertwined with white roses along the walls and rock faces. Hanging on the wall that was closest to the pool was a large, intricately carved silver mirror. Kaijin arched an eyebrow. “Are we to meet your father in here?”
Omari rolled his eyes. “No.”
Percival climbed down Omari’s body and scampered into the room after his master. He hopped atop one of the rocks by the pool and played with some of the ivy growing up the wall.
Miele flew to a high point on the wall where she began feasting on the nectar of a prominent rose blossom.
Tariq turned and left Kaijin and Omari alone. Kaijin watched Tariq ascend the stairs once more, and then he heard the doors shut moments later. Kaijin turned back and continued admiring the room’s dreamy atmosphere. “It’s very beautiful, Omari. All of this—the Harran—is really your father’s?”
Omari stopped at the water’s edge, set down his belongings, and began to undress. “Of course. He is the shak’ha. Enough questions. We need to be clean before meeting him.” After leaving his clothes with his belongings—including his ring, which he placed within his sight at the edge of the pool—he entered the water and sat down.
Kaijin followed Omari’s lead in undressing but kept his charm on. He started to take Ranaiah’s ring off his finger but decided to leave it on, too. He slowly waded into the water. A shiver ran through his body, and he nearly jumped out of the pool.
Flameseeker (Book 3) Page 22
