Moroda (World of Linaria)

by L. L. McNeil

  Moroda and Eryn were never told more than that, just that he would not be returning and his trade for that season had been lost.

  In the weeks following his death, it became apparent their father owed a great deal of money to a great many people; his reputation as a Goldstone had shielded them from it. But that shield had disappeared along with his death. Too naïve to know otherwise, Moroda paid half a dozen people when they visited their home, demanding various sums of money. It did not take long before they ran out of coins to give away, and they began to trade their jewellery and trinkets.

  The demands finally dwindled when the trinkets ran out, and she and Eryn could take stock of where they were. Moroda had been in the depths of grief, bombarded by important-looking people with famous family names, demanding the one thing from her which seemed to never run out: money. When it finally did, sometime near the beginning of summer, the weight of his loss finally hit her, and she struggled to come to terms with it.

  Eryn had been invaluable, rationalising their loss and coming up with a plan to open up a stall to make money from their remaining valuables to try and keep some business going. Moroda felt abandoned and betrayed, terrified that whatever dreams she had would never come to fruition now she was considered little more than a peasant. Everything she had known, all her securities, had been taken, and she was left with the realisation of how little she knew and how incapable she felt. Joining a conversation with these common people highlighted that, as she struggled to think of what she had learned of the war as a child.

  ‘I don’t remember going into the histories in any depth,’ she mumbled, thinking back to her schooling. ‘Just that it happened a few hundred years ago. The Imperial Guard was formed then to fight back, and it’s still around now…’ She skipped over the violence, who fought whom, and over what. In truth, she didn’t know much, and what she had been taught was biased, but she did not wish to draw attention to that fact, and left it there.

  Kohl clearly felt at ease talking about the history of Linaria and his Arillian race, but Moroda was relieved when he chose to step away from the conversation.

  ‘The past has passed,’ Kohl said, closing his eyes. ‘Grudges are a poison better ignored and forgotten.’

  ‘How did you know the dragon was going to attack?’ Eryn asked, holding her mug of rosemary tea with both hands and changing the subject back to the question lingering on everyone’s minds. ‘Back in Niversai, you warned us about it hours before it arrived.’

  All eyes returned to Kohl with renewed intensity.

  ‘There aren’t many dragons in Corhaven. Val Sharis has many more,’ Palom added, his eyes locked on the Arillian. ‘They’re common in my home. They live close to the Ittallan, but I’ve not once heard of an attack like that. You sure that woman didn’t steal from it? An egg? Some treasure?’

  Kohl shook his head, ‘No. That was a young one. A drake. Too young to have eggs of its own, and I doubt it would have a territory, much less a hoard. No phoenixes either, did you realise?’

  ‘Why then? Couldn’t you have reported it to the guard so we would have been better prepared?’ Morgen asked. ‘Our defences were so small, we didn’t stand a chance! Notice of a few hours would have helped ready weapons, clear townspeople, secured the stables!’

  ‘I wouldn’t have had that stupid race and gotten singed!’ Anahrik added, pounding his fist on the table.

  ‘I needed to bring the dragon down, not any of your Imperials or townspeople. They weren’t my concern,’ Kohl said, taking a sip of water from his mug. ‘I think we’ll find more answers about the dragons in Berel.’

  ‘I want to see their dragon stones,’ Palom’s eyes dancing with enthusiasm. ‘I’ve heard of weapons used through the ages, forged with dragon stone. The strongest. The most value. They won the war.’

  Moroda cringed as talk again turned to the history of Linaria; it didn’t affect her directly, but she felt uncomfortable given Kohl’s presence. As far as she could see, the only reason they were all still alive was because he had been able to slay the dragon. To then belittle his race and discuss the bad things they had done centuries before seemed in poor taste.

  What also surprised her was the fact no-one seemed at all concerned about travelling across the country in the sky pirate’s airship. She would have been far more comfortable in a regular chartered airship, though she didn’t think the little village they were staying in had a dock. The nearest city was Niversai, and she couldn’t recall seeing another town anywhere near Burian this side of the mountains. It seemed she and Eryn would have no choice but to accompany the group on Khanna, and hope they didn’t get into trouble.

  Less than a year ago, she and Eryn had had enough money to travel to the farthest corners of Linaria in the height of luxury. Now, she had barely a penny to her name and was effectively hitch- hiking across countries in the company of a thief. It had not taken long for her to realise she could no longer think like a Goldstone— that title of nobility had been taken the night her father died. To continue to believe you were something you were not was the quickest way to get into trouble, as she had found when friends she had grown up with suddenly turned their backs on her and Eryn

  Had a title and money meant so much to so many people? That was all your worth was judged on? She had been sickened by the realisation, and Amarah’s taunts in the cell that morning reinforced the fact that she was no longer worth very much. Perhaps it was fitting, then, that she and Eryn travelled with thieves and killers.

  The chatter descended into several conversations, and Moroda felt herself losing track. The heat of the tavern and a full belly made her sleepy, and her eyelids drooped.

  ‘What happened to the Varkain?’ Anahrik asked, when a break in the conversation appeared.

  ‘I saw him head into the forest,’ Palom replied, his arms still folded as he leant back in his chair. ‘He’s not the type to stay at an inn. Not in Corhaven.’

  ‘He disgusts me,’ Eryn shuddered. ‘He was in the dungeon with Ro! I would have left him there but she insisted on releasing him.’

  ‘There are few who would do that for a Varkain,’ Palom noted.

  Moroda’s face flushed immediately. ‘Well… I felt bad. I don’t know what he’d done…he may have been wrongly accused…And…I couldn’t just leave him there.’

  ‘Ro, honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with you sometimes,’ Eryn sighed. ‘They’re awful creatures. Frightening killers. They terrorise people for fun! If it was the other way around, he would have left you to rot, or worse.’

  ‘Maybe. But I did what I thought was best,’ Moroda said, suddenly feeling awful. Yes, it had been brave and she hadn’t wanted to leave him behind, but she was more afraid of his wrath if she left and he had later escaped. Selfishness more than selflessness. She let the others talk over her, and decided not to mention the topic again.

  ‘That was brave what you did before, though,’ Morgen said. ‘In front of the whole city. With the Arillian. I wouldn’t have thought a Goldstone would speak out like that against a king’s visitor!’

  At the mention of her earlier actions, Moroda glanced up. A sudden rage washed through her at the thought of Aciel, and she remembered his smug grin and cold eyes, even from halfway across the town square. She balled her hands. ‘I can’t remember his words or even the sound of his voice. Everyone seemed hooked on what he was saying. It was belittling and cruel and…and I hated the fact no-one was doing anything, just listening like obedient dogs.’

  ‘Can’t blame the Arillian for trying to get into everyone’s good books,’ Anahrik shrugged. ‘Don’t see why he had to make such a show of it. Could’ve just taken the soldiers and left and no- one would have known.’

  ‘But that’s just it—he wanted everyone to know,’ Moroda said. ‘He needed all of Niversai, the capital of Corhaven, to see him and the influence he had over our ruler. Don’t you see? That’s why I couldn’t stand it. Talking down to us like that.’

  Anahrik laugh
ed, ‘Don’t be silly. He’s just some crackpot Arillian. It won’t be long before those soldiers see that and head back to Niversai. Especially after the dragon attack.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Morgen disagreed. ‘There wasn’t any mention of when they’d come back.’

  ‘So your captains and our King just let this Arillian walk off with over half his guard?’ Moroda was shocked.

  ‘No, no, there are more soldiers in Niversai. Of course there are. The ones he took were just the…Well, I guess the best trained.’

  ‘Amarah would find that hilarious. The whole city burned, looked after by handful of trainee soldiers who have never fought. Niversai is easy pickings. Shame she’s too busy fixing her ship. Some great capital.’ Palom snorted, unimpressed.

  The words of her companions made it clear to Moroda that the place that had been her home all her life had quickly become dangerous, even without the dragon still around. The realisation dawned on her suddenly, and she wanted to get away from the others to think things through.

  ‘Ryn, I’m going to bed now. Will you come?’ Moroda said, getting up and rubbing her eyes. She still felt exhausted from everything that had happened, and half-hoped that when she woke, she would be back home, in her own bed with the events of the past day having been a nightmarish fantasy.

  ‘Yes,’ Eryn agreed. ‘Thank you again, Morgen, Kohl…well, everyone.’ She stood up beside her sister. ‘See you in the morning.’ Their companions nodded to them as they made their way to the back of the inn, picking through the gathered townsfolk, already thinning as the night wore on, and up the wooden staircase at the back of the tavern.

  Thankfully the air was cooler and clearer as they climbed to the second floor. Morgen had arranged for the sisters to share a room at the end of the hallway, and Moroda was sure to lock the door behind them.

  ‘Worried?’ Eryn asked, as Moroda placed the key on the small cabinet next to the door. The room was small, but clean, with a large window opposite the door, a bed to the right, and a cabinet to the left. Above the cabinet, a large map was secured to the wall, faded with time, but still legible.

  ‘A little. We’re not at home after all. Better to be cautious and careful.’ Moroda shrugged out of her thin, outer cloak and took her scarf off. ‘I really think something has started here,’ she said, as Eryn climbed into the bed, and drew the sheets about her to keep warm.

  ‘Not this again,’ Eryn yawned.

  Moroda walked over to the window of the small room and opened it, allowing the night breeze to circulate. She could hear the rain still falling outside and took a moment just to listen to it. ‘But it’s true, don’t you think? So much has happened. This Arillian, Aciel, taking so many soldiers, the dragon’s attack…it’s all so unusual. Kohl knows more, I’m sure of it.’

  She got into the other side of the bed and lay flat on her back, staring up at the timber roof and playing with the ends of her hair as she spoke. ‘I think we should go to Berel and learn what we can. You know I’ve always wanted to go there. The Samolen who live there, the university, the histories, the magic…Why not now?’

  ‘What about home?’

  ‘Home is gone. You saw the dragonfire. Even if it hasn’t burned to the ground, Niversai is dangerous right now. Remember what Palom said about easy pickings?’

  Eryn took a little more convincing. Moroda felt more comfortable with their companions than her sister, and Eryn’s reluctance wasn’t surprising, given she had always been the more sensible of the two.

  ‘I want you to agree, to promise, that we get the first ship back to Niversai if anything goes wrong. Promise me?’

  ‘Of course!’ Moroda sais. ‘We’ll return by ship or train, if it comes to it. The train journey would be longer, but it’ll be less expensive, better if we’re keeping an eye on what coin we have left.’

  Eryn remained quiet. Moroda took the opportunity to set out a plan. ‘I know the train doesn’t run too far into Ranski, but if we’re only in Berel…’ She got out of bed and walked over to the wall map, pointing to a city marked on the southern half of the western continent. ‘All we’d need to do is get a ship up to the town of Zona.’ Her finger moved further north to a small circle depicting the most northern town in Ranski, right by the Corhaven-Ranski border. ‘I’m sure that’s the end of the southern line; the train runs back into Corhaven from there. A couple of stops, lone inns, mines, straight back to Niversai.’ Her finger followed the marked tracks north to the Corhaven capital, where she tapped it a few times.

  ‘If only the train ran from here to Niversai,’ Eryn sighed.

  ‘Perhaps if it did, we wouldn’t be going to Berel,’ Moroda

  said, taking a step back to take in the map’s details. Though the distance did not seem great on paper, she knew there were many days’ travel between towns, and especially between countries.

  Moroda felt better now she had a plan for the next few days; she now knew where she was going and where she had to get to, and was convinced Eryn would come around to her plan. Perhaps once they reached Berel, her sister would even enjoy the trip. That’s all it was, a trip into Berel. She would decide then what would happen after.

  ‘Can we sleep now?’ Eryn asked, snuggling into the thick linen.

  ‘Yes, Ryn,’ Moroda grinned, shaking her head and climbing back into bed. A lovely inn, good food, and nice, warm bedding. I don’t think the airship will have such facilities, so we’d better enjoy this while we can.’

  ‘Especially if we’re up before dawn.’

  ‘Goodnight, Ryn,’ Moroda pulled the sheets over her as she curled up and got comfortable.

  ‘Night, Ro,’ Eryn snored, exhaustion taking over as they both entered a world of dreams.

  Chapter Eight

  Moroda was awake before dawn, unfamiliar birdsong breaking through her dreams and rousing her far earlier than normal. It took a few moments to realise where she was and remember events from the day before. It came back to her piece by piece: Aciel lecturing the townsfolk of Niversai; her arrest; the fear of the sky pirate and the Varkain in the cell; Eryn rescuing her; the dragon attack; the flames; the Ittallan; the Arillian; and the Fourth Moon Inn in the small town, Burian. It had all been real.

  Through the open window, Moroda could not yet see the light of dawn, but knew it was not far off with the bird’s commotion outside. She got out of bed and went to the basin to rinse her face and hair. She still couldn’t quite believe where she was and the journey she was about to embark on. She wondered now whether they were making the right decision, despite having been certain the night before.

  Eryn began to stir. ‘Do we have to be up yet?’ She yawned, both eyes still shut tightly.

  Moroda smiled, ‘Almost. I’m going into the town to get some supplies before we go.’ She pulled on her boots and fastened the buckles.

  ‘Mmm,’ Eryn replied.

  ‘Don’t fall back asleep. Dawn’s almost here. I’ll meet you back downstairs as soon as I can.’ Moroda secured her small satchel over her shoulder and held it tight against her hip.

  Unlocking the door, she exited the room. Torches burned low in brackets along the walls, providing a little light, and Moroda reached the end of the corridor easily enough. Carefully, she entered the familiar tavern room, seemingly larger now that it was empty of the night’s patrons.

  A serving girl was working her way around each table, wiping away spills with a thick rag and laying down fresh tablecloths. The innkeeper himself stood behind the bar, thumbing through some parchment with a deep frown.

  Moroda spied Kohl sitting at one of the tables beside the bar, a flask in his hand as he read notices nailed to the wall opposite. He still wore his hat and thick travelling coat, which gathered at his feet.

  ‘Good morning, Kohl,’ she greeted, following his gaze to the notices. Many were old and faded, mostly requests for odd jobs. Moroda noticed a recent addition, a request to drive out or kill a dragon local to the area, and wondered whether it was the same one fr
om last night or another.

  ‘Moroda,’ Kohl replied, without taking his eyes from the wall, engrossed in the notices.

  ‘Are you the only one up?’ she asked. She thought of Sapora hiding, and shuddered.

  ‘Palom is awake, as is Morgen. I have not seen your sister or Anahrik.’

  ‘Good, I have a little time, then. I’m going into the town quickly to sort out something before the journey. Will you be leaving once everyone is here?’

  ‘I believe so. I’ve flown into the forest already. Amarah is almost ready to travel.’

  ‘I’ll hurry back.’ She said to the Arillian before turning to head out of the inn. She dreamt wistfully of having her own wings as she made her way into the town, its vendors already awake and getting ready for the day.

  Moroda wanted some new, hardy travelling clothes for herself and Eryn. Trade started early during the tourist season, and many Linarians stayed in the cheaper towns and villages outside Niversai to save on coin. She was grateful to be in a small town as the prices would be less than a third than in Niversai.

  By the time she returned to the Fourth Moon, Moroda’s high spirits had dwindled. Dawn had arrived; a thin line of orange- red lighting the horizon as inky black sky gave way to deep navy blue. The sky was clearer here than above Niversai; fewer buildings and less smoke allowed the rich colours of the dawn to be seen more clearly. She had bought two thick travelling cloaks, influenced slightly by Kohl, two pairs of soft, fur-lined gloves and matching boots, and a small knife. Moroda counted her remaining money while she waited outside the inn—four pennies and a handful of shingles. It could buy a small sack of potatoes, or maybe a bushel of apples. Hardly anything.

  She felt sick. She was still unsure whether or not Amarah would return her three florins, and even if she did, it was hardly anything. If the journey lasted more than a day or two, she and her sister would surely starve, or be forced to return home. They would be lucky to get one train ticket back, let alone two. And if they had to walk, they’d surely go hungry before they made it back. She considered the idea of just making their way home instead, to just give up on this silly dragon-chasing adventure and accept their fate in the bowels of Niversai.