Moroda (World of Linaria)

by L. L. McNeil

  ‘I guess I should thank you,’ Amarah said to the Arillian, stepping over to him with folded arms. Her skin was damp with sweat, blood and ash, but she ignored it all. ‘If you hadn’t come along, my ship might well be gone. I should be able to repair her after that heavy landing.’ Khanna, still smoked in the night, but was no longer aflame; the Arillian’s icy winds had seen to putting out most of the fires surrounding the crash site. Amarah would need to fix the damaged sails at the very least—until then, Khanna would not be winning any races.

  Moroda approached the downed dragon, mesmerised. She ran her hand over the dragon’s rough scales, which were hard as stone, and over the ice still formed on its chest and front legs. ‘Why did you act that way? What did Niversai ever do to you, dragon?’

  ‘You worry too much, girl,’ the Arillian said, appearing next to her, not the least bit out of breath despite the intense battle. He still held his icy blade and was dusting off his long cloak with his free hand. ‘Just stay away from them and you’ll do fine.’ He gripped his weapon tightly and plunged it deep into the dragon’s chest.

  Moroda jumped back, hands to her mouth, and watched him sink his arm in, all the way up to his elbow. When he drew his arm back, his fist was clenched around a small, brightly glowing rock.

  ‘Is that its heart?’ Sapora asked, slinking forward without making a sound.

  ‘In a way,’ he said, holding the stone close to his face and examining it closely. He ran his other hand over the edges, and Moroda could see it was not completely smooth. ‘It is their strength and magic. The source of their fire, their power.’

  ‘Dragon stones,’ Amarah said, also watching the Arillian. ‘I’ve seen ones just like them in Berel. Much, much bigger, though.’

  ‘The power of Berel is from dragons?’ Sapora asked.

  ‘Sort of,’ Amarah shrugged. ‘Nothing like what is in the city of Berel still lives.’ She turned her focus to the Arillian, and asked the question on everyone’s minds. ‘Who are you?’

  Looking up, the Arillian pocketed the stone inside his cloak and brought his hat out. He spent a long moment picking at a fraying thread on the brim, then placed it on his head. ‘My name is Kohl. I’m a dragon hunter. I was in Niversai during the attack and thought I might help…The Imperial Guard didn’t seem able.’

  ‘Of course we weren’t able! There are so few of us!’ Morgen declared, also stepping forward. ‘Your Arillian friend took most of our strength this morning, and there were hardly any soldiers left with the airship races going on! The priority was the safety of the people.’

  ‘Hah, since when were you here, Morgen?’ Amarah said, her eyes narrowing at the officer.

  ‘Since the end of the fight,’ Morgen said, raising his hands in defence but leaving his sword sheathed. ‘I’m outside Niversai, I’ve no authority here. Just watching a bizarre occurrence is all.

  We’re all permitted to do that.’

  Palom and Anahrik approached the group. ‘I’ve heard of the power of a dragon’s stone,’ Palom said, watching Kohl and Amarah carefully. ‘You say there are more of these in Berel?’

  ‘But much bigger,’ Amarah replied. ‘At least as tall as a man.’

  As they discussed the fight, the dragons and their stones, the darkening clouds above finally let loose their bounty and the temperature dropped with it.

  ‘We should be getting back, Ro,’ Eryn whispered, pulling her sister off to one side.

  ‘It’ll take all night to get back to Niversai,’ Moroda said, pulling her scarf tighter around herself. ‘We’re near that little town, Burian, aren’t we? Perhaps we should stop off at one of their inns, instead?’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Morgen said. He stepped up to the Arillian and nodded to him. ‘I’d like to offer to pay for you, Kohl. On behalf of the Imperial Guard of Corhaven, and the city of Niversai, you have my thanks for ridding us of the threat. We are indebted to you and grateful for your support.’

  ‘I am tired, and will need time to recover,’ Kohl responded. ‘I would like to see these other stones in Berel. It’s not somewhere I’ve been before.’

  Anahrik looked at Palom, having collected their satchels of weapons from the edge of the clearing. ‘This is the power of the dragon stones you were looking for, Palom? The old legends?

  Sounds like something like ‘em could be in this Berel city.’

  ‘It sounds like it, yes. And whatever trade left in Niversai will be gone after the dragon’s attack,’ Palom said, folding his arms. ‘Moving on sounds like a good idea. To Berel?’ he nodded to Anahrik.

  ‘If dragons are on the turn here, I’m happy to get going,’ Anahrik said, brushing away soot from his clothes. ‘Trade was crap in Niversai, anyway.’

  ‘I’m done with Corhaven, the stupid country.’ Amarah huffed, still watching Morgen. ‘Arrested by you Imperials, having my ship locked up. No way of getting any coin back here. Damn it. If you’re willing to pay, I’ll take you to Berel. Palom, I’ll ferry you across for my scythe. Passage out the country is worth more than three florins, isn’t it?’

  ‘How are you going to do that? The ship is half burned,’ Sapora sneered.

  ‘What do you know about flight, snake? She’s recoverable. I’ll sort her out, right now.’ She said, before returning her attention to the Ittallan traders. ‘Palom. My scythe.’

  Anahrik glanced at his colleague, hesitant to hand over the weapon without payment, but it seemed the tables had turned and they now owed her. The traders shared a glance, and they nodded.

  ‘Done,’ Palom said, though he looked away as Anahrik fished out her weapon.

  Morgen shivered in the falling rain and brushed water from his hair. ‘I will need to report to the town guard at Burian. They’ll have seen the dragon’s approach, and I can inform them of the attack in Niversai. They might need to prepare if this dragon attack isn’t a one-off. Shall we get out of the rain? A hot meal will do us all good, I’m sure.’ He checked his equipment, and once satisfied, made for the edge of the clearing and the forest path just beyond the trees.

  ‘I’ll move out just after dawn,’ Amarah said, clambering back up onto her ship. ‘If you’re here, I’ll grant you passage through Corhaven and into Ranski, all the way to Berel.’

  ‘You’re not resting tonight? What about… bandits or… forest creatures?’ Moroda asked.

  ‘I can defend myself, easily enough, little girl,’ Amarah cackled, twirling her scythe, silver glinting in the darkness. ‘Nighty night.’

  Moroda ran to catch up with Eryn and the others. They hurried to get out of the rain and have something hot to eat. Talk focussed on the dragon, primarily, or on Niversai and the races. Moroda realised the dragon’s attack held much greater relevance than she had initially thought. Of course, the timing was incredible—Niversai was full almost to capacity with the airship races, and she couldn’t bear to think of how many people burned tonight. Coupled with the sudden appearance of the King’s foreign visitor and the removal of a large portion of the Imperial Guard that morning, the dragon attack became much more significant. No-one could quite say why, or how, but it felt to Moroda like a signal. Her mind kept drifting back to the crystal Kohl retrieved from the chest of the beast, how it glowed softly blue, reflecting the dying flames.

  The party were met at the gates of Burian, which were tall and carved of wood, rather than stone and iron as in Niversai, but well-manned and lit by a dozen burning torches. Morgen stepped forward to speak for the group, and a few words passed between the guards before the heavy gate was lifted by a steel crank and chains.

  As the wooden gate rose, Moroda cast her eyes on the town of Burian. She and Eryn had been here once or twice before, when they were little more than babes in arms, but she had no recollection of the place or the people who lived in the small town. Despite the late hour, with the torches lighting the streets and hung off the sides of buildings, she felt the place was warm and inviting.

  ‘Were you caught in the dragon’s fire?�
�� one of the guards asked Morgen, as he stood by the gate with a flaming torch held high for the group.

  ‘No. Luckily, Kohl brought it down,’ Morgen replied, nodding to the scarred man, who once again covered himself with his long cloak.

  Kohl touched the brim of his hat to the guard in acknowledgement, but said nothing about the battle.

  ‘We are in a state of panic; thought the thing would come down on us. We’ve had a good harvest, but the boys are still bringing it in. If that dragon had attacked the fields, we’d not likely survive the winter,’ the guard said, his round face puffy in his too-small helmet. ‘Any friend of Burian is welcome here, especially one of the Niversai guards. Stay at the lodge on the town’s east side, and none of you will go without. I’ll make sure of that.’

  Clapping one arm to their chests, Morgen and the guard parted, and Morgen rejoined the others. ‘Looks like we’re guests of honour at the Fourth Moon for bringing down the dragon.’ He headed down the street and led them through the town.

  ‘Fourth Moon? I thought there were only three?’ Moroda muttered, glancing up. Palom gave her a look, but said nothing as the party followed Morgen. Moroda lowered her gaze and followed, keeping close to her sister. ‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing?’

  ‘We’re doing it. There isn’t any point to worry now, I suppose. We can return to Niversai in the morning and see what damage there is,’ Eryn said, stifling a yawn. ‘You’re the one who wanted to leave, I’m trying to keep us safe.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Moroda shook her head. ‘Of course staying here tonight is the best thing to do. I meant…tomorrow…not going back to Niversai. Going to Berel with everyone.’

  ‘Ro you cannot be serious! We don’t know these people. The airship pilot is a murderer, you heard her yourself!’

  Moroda sighed, suddenly doubting herself and her dreams. ‘What if they’re right? What if this is…the start of something? Don’t you want to know more? Else we’ll end up stuck in Niversai for the rest of our lives…or until the next dragon or Arillian comes to burn us down.’

  ‘Ro…’

  ‘And Amarah still owes me my florins. Maybe I’m tired. We’ll have something to eat, and then rest. We can work out what we’re going to do in the morning.’

  The creak of a metal hinge in the wind caused Moroda to glance up, a smile forming on her lips as she saw a dark green, weathered plaque with a pale grey moon depicted on it. Food and warmth. The top of the plaque was rusty, but the building it attached to was tall and made of stone and mortar, with a heavily thatched roof. As Morgen opened the low wooden door, a wave of warmth washed over her, and she heard the crackle of a fire over the raucous laughter from the patrons within.

  ‘Ah, finally. Good food,’ Palom roared, following Morgen inside, though he had to duck to fit through the narrow entranceway. Grateful for the warmth, Moroda and her sister followed, with Anahrik close behind and Kohl bringing up the rear.

  Before entering the inn, Kohl paused, looking back into the quiet town, listening to the rain patter gently on the cobblestones. One or two of the townsfolk could be seen scurrying home, covering their heads with shawls or other garments. It was cold and quiet, save the noise of the rain. Stars glistened brightly where they could be seen between the heavy clouds, and Kohl caught just a glimpse of one of the three moons, before it vanished behind a cloud again.

  ‘Fourth Moon indeed….’

  His hand went to his pocket, where he grasped the cool stone he had claimed from the young dragon, his teeth gritting together. His free hand scratched at the old scar which tore his lip. Inhaling deeply, he turned and pushed open the inn door to follow the others.

  Chapter Seven

  Once Moroda was seated with the others at a large, circular table nestled in the warmth of the inn, she felt better. Though it wasn’t a high class inn, the sort she had grown used to as a child, it was warm and comfortable, and the smell of food and fire instantly put her at ease. She found the fear and worry which had plagued her that morning through to the dragon attack had vanished, and she was eager to learn more about the dragon and the people with whom she and Eryn had found themselves.

  Morgen had spoken with the innkeeper on their arrival, presenting him with the parchment from the town guard who had let them through the gate earlier, and secured food and lodgings for the entire group. It seemed the soldiers of this village were as good as their word, and Moroda relaxed in the knowledge they would be safe tonight.

  Despite the circumstances under which Moroda had met Morgen, the man was more than likeable now he was out of his jurisdiction. He had expressed his remorse for her arrest and treatment that morning, and though Eryn was still suspicious of his apology, Moroda believed it to be genuine, and bore him no ill will. He was also a valuable source of information, having been stationed in Niversai while Aciel had stayed, and present when the orders from the king were received about many of the Imperial Guard leaving the town with the Arillian.

  ‘What exactly does he want with them?’ Anahrik asked, slurping from a bowl of steaming vegetable broth, his bright blue eyes focussed on Morgen. ‘If he’s putting an army together, we need to know for sure, and we’ll need to be ready!’

  ‘I couldn’t say what he wanted them for. Our orders were vague,’ Morgen sighed, poking at his own bowl with his spoon, cheek resting on his other hand. ‘It was the most bizarre thing.

  Everyone was in full preparation for the start of the races, guards doubled at the city gates…But there was a weird atmosphere.

  Everyone seemed on edge, even the other soldiers at my level. Couldn’t get a word out of any of the captains.’ He played with his food as he mulled over what to say next.

  ‘Then, one of the captains gathered us all up…This was yesterday morning, when we were just about to open the races for that day. We thought something had happened.’ He paused and took another sip from his bowl. ‘He said orders from the king had arrived. That’s news in itself—the king leaves orders to the captains, he never commands us officers directly. But he said the king had made a direct order and we had to keep to it as we’re under oath.

  There was a very important visitor coming. We thought maybe a Goldstone family, or a rich trader from Val Sharis, maybe even royalty. But then it turned out it was just some Arillian…except he had a hundred others with him.’

  ‘One hundred Arillians? I did not see Arillians in Niversai,’ Palom said, having drained his first bowl and already starting on his second. ‘I would have known.’

  ‘Yes, well, neither did we. We didn’t even realise they were there,’ Morgen admitted, finally finishing his bowl and reaching for a hunk of warm bread to mop up the remnants. ‘They apparently were in some of the airships above the city. Never landed or anything, just floated above the castle, waiting for this man—Aciel, his name was—for his business to be finished.’

  Palom and Anahrik glanced at each other, but did not interrupt.

  ‘See, we’re not allowed to question anything. Orders are orders. You get punished otherwise. But one of the others my level tried to ask the captain who he was and what one of those damned Arillians was doing here—no offence,’ he hastily added, glancing to Kohl, who gestured for him to continue.

  ‘He got a real beating, so we just decided we didn’t need to know. He stayed in Rosecastle with a couple of his men, kept real quiet. The next morning, Aciel went out to give that speech…and after Moroda’s outburst, he carried on talking to the townsfolk and then took two hundred Imperials off in his ships.’

  ‘Rubbish. I don’t believe any Arillians were there at all,’ Anahrik scoffed, folding his arms and looking away from the officer back to Palom. ‘Everyone would have known! You know what they’re like! All storms and devastation. There was hardly a breeze in Niversai.’

  ‘We’re not all like that,’ Kohl said, his low voice quiet among the laughter and talking of the tavern around them. ‘In the same way you Ittallan are not all savage beasts, or the Vark
ain soulless killers, hunting down people wherever they go.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence at the table following his words, but Moroda was confused. ‘I’ve never met an Arillian other than you, Kohl. What storms?’

  Morgen glanced warily at Kohl, but said nothing, focussing on getting the last morsels from his bowl with his remaining piece of bread. The others behaved similarly, taking great interest in their empty bowls and mugs of drink.

  ‘Anahrik means the war,’ Kohl said at length, taking his hat off with a sigh and setting it on the table. ‘I’d be interested to hear what sort of history you learned as children, Eryn, Moroda,’ he chuckled, his scars in full view now he had removed his hat. ‘I did not fight in it; we’re not quite as long lived as that. But many of my forefathers did. The scars left on Linaria are worse than these of mine.’ He smiled despite his words. ‘We have three moons now.

  The scholars at the university in Berel would have you believe we caused one of Rhea’s eyes to close to us, that our behaviour as a race caused all Linaria to lose favour with this supposed Goddess who created us. Parts of Linaria were left shattered and the fourth moon disappeared. This tavern is ironically named, but I suppose Arillians aren’t seen much in this part of the world. I take no offence from it.’

  Moroda hated to sound stupid, and she felt increasingly so since her life had changed so dramatically and she no longer socialised with her childhood friends. Her father had been incredibly successful trading in Val Sharis, a far off place somewhere across the ocean. He traded mostly with the Ittallan, in teas and coffees.

  His business trips kept him away from Niversai for months at a time, leaving his daughters to grow up independent, without a care in the world. Money was never a consideration for them, though they knew they were fortunate in that respect, and their family friends were much the same.

  Their father had been returning from one such trip the previous winter and had been somewhere out to sea when his ship crashed. It had been incredibly sudden, for it was a journey he had made countless times before, and his navigators and captains were always experienced. Lives and bounty were both lost in the accident, yet word had spread through Niversai that the trading vessels had been beset upon by pirates who held no consideration for life.