by L. L. McNeil
wondered whether he was embarrassed or knew he wasn’t needed any more.
Morgen watched as Palom explained how the weapon worked, pausing frequently while he thought how best to explain it to the inexperienced girls in a second tongue. Palom clearly understood the weapon, its strengths and weaknesses, but he was used to selling weapons, not training people to use them.
Finishing his drink, Morgen decided to assist. ‘Simple as point and shoot,’ he said, walking up to Moroda and taking the crossbow gently from her. ‘The bolts are loaded here,’ he pointed to the smooth recess, ‘and then the string is pulled back slowly.’ He gestured for Eryn to pull it back, ‘then secured into place here, you see the clasp? Simply aim, and pull the trigger here, to fire.’ He finished. ‘Shall we fire it?’
Moroda looked to Palom for an answer, who nodded in response.
‘Then let’s aim off the edge of the ship, far into the distance,’ Morgen guided Moroda, who took the loaded weapon back from the soldier. She stepped over to the side of the deck and peered out to the empty fields below. Palom, Eryn and Anahrik watched eagerly from the side, careful to keep their distance.
Moroda took a few breaths to steady her shaking, more to do with the weight of the weapon than nerves, then pulled the trigger and released the taut string with a sharp twang. The whole weapon recoiled and Moroda let go, pulling her hands back as a short, sharp pain tore through her fingers.
Morgen caught the crossbow before it crashed to the floor, and Anahrik leaped overboard, transforming and folding his wings back immediately into a dive. He returned a minute later, the metal bolt held tightly in his talons.
Moroda and Eryn both watched him return to the ship with wide eyes, amazed at his swiftness and the speed of his reactions.
‘You’ll need to practice that a few times—learn the strength, learn how quickly you can reload and fire, learn how far you can carry it,’ Morgen reassured the sisters, echoing Palom’s earlier words.
‘And just hope the Arillian kills any dragons we come across,’ Sapora breathed, having watched silently from the edge of the covered deck.
‘Sapora!’ Eryn gasped, taking a step back.
‘I doubt you’ll need to use that before we get to Berel,’ Sapora said, stepping away from the edge of the ship. He sat on the crate next to the hamper and watched the others, a small smile on his lips. ‘I have no need of weapons to defend myself…or attack.’
‘We don’t all have your skills,’ Morgen said with a frown, glancing back to Moroda and Eryn.
‘I am most interested to see what we learn in the scholar’s city. I’ve not visited Ranski before. I thought it was nothing more than a desert,’ Sapora continued.
‘It is nothing more than a desert,’ Amarah agreed, turning away from the wheel to face them. ‘Berel has an old and new town, with a lake surrounding most of the old. Hah. The old town is falling apart, and the new ain’t much better. Bits of it have been rebuilt over time. They were trying to rebuild some of the real old buildings when I left.’
‘When did you leave?’ Moroda asked, grateful for the conversation change. She flexed her fingers to try and rid herself of the pain from firing the crossbow.
‘Ages ago, I was ten or eleven.’
‘You were born in Berel?’ Eryn asked. ‘Nearby.’
‘It’ll be an experience,’ Palom said. ‘I’ve always longed to travel there, to learn of the old legends, but there is no trade for my merchandise.’
Amarah shrugged, ‘There’s nothing duller in the whole of Linaria than Ranski. It’s a whole country of nothing. Berel is the capital, but it’s no Niversai. It’s always preaching peace. But, I’ll be able to get Khanna fixed, which is all I want.’ There was venom in her voice as she spoke of the country she was born in.
‘I’ve always wanted to visit Berel,’ Moroda said, sitting down on another of the crates as she tried her best to ignore Sapora’s piercing gaze, and allow the pain in her arm to subside. ‘Their knowledge is incredible. I dreamt of being a scholar as a child.’
‘Knowledge indeed,’ Palom agreed, taking the bolt Anahrik had retrieved and checking it for damage. ‘A nation to keep out of war, but with ferocious weapons. Agrio Machar. Legendary weapons. The dragons, I understand now, have lot to do with that, and I need to know more.’
‘Legendary weapons?’ Eryn asked, sitting beside her sister. Palom’s face split into a wide smile. ‘Unlike anything you’ve ever seen…As a boy, I grew up on stories of their power. It sparked a fire in me, a passion. Deep. Burning. The only way I felt release was by forging my own weapons.’
‘Sounds like it’s your destiny,’ Eryn said.
‘Something like that, perhaps. But they do exist. Or, they did. Whether they do any more, I do not know. I’m sure the Samolen of Berel will tell. They were critical in the war.’
‘Does Anahrik have the same passion?’ Eryn queried, glancing past Palom to the deck, where the other Ittallan stood at the side, watching the land below as they flew gently past.
‘In a way,’ Palom struggled a little for the words. ‘But we are almost like brothers. One will go where his heart leads, and the other will follow. When I arrived in our trading city few years back, I had no…path. He helped me find it. If not for Anahrik, I would have been lost. We were competitors, first, but he had idea to work together for more profit. But for him it was always new idea, next thing to do, more, more, more. It was his idea to come to Niversai for the races. He says it is his instinct.’
‘I feel like that’s just what I’m doing,’ Moroda said to Eryn. ‘Following my instinct: my heart. I’ve always wanted to go to Berel, and now the opportunity is here, I just have to take it.’ She was anxious about it too, but thought it a bad idea to mention that with Sapora lingering nearby. Her heart fluttered at the thought of his words to her the previous day, and she tried to push her sudden fear away.
‘We call it meraki,’ Palom said. ‘It is your…essence, your soul, your heart, all together. Not unlike the destiny word you used, Eryn. It is deep in Ittallan culture. It is our blood, our life. Meraki allows us to transform.’
‘Can you tell me about that?’ Morgen asked. ‘The transforming?’
‘There is not a lot to tell,’ Palom answered with a shrug. ‘Family history tells what form you will take, but your meraki tells the specific. It is innate…calling. Anahrik needed speed. It was part of his essence, his soul. When he came of age, his meraki, his true form, was a falcon. It was clear to everyone that’s what it would be.’
‘So he could have been another animal?’ Moroda asked, leaning forward.
‘If his family were not birds, yes. Maybe he would have been a deer or cheetah or something else for the speed. You are not completely free to choose. Your meraki comes from your family, from your blood.’
‘Why did you choose a tiger?’ Morgen asked.
‘I needed strength and power…to protect and fight. That’s what I chose. I could maybe have been a bear or a bull. But there are many…felines in my blood. My brother was a…leopard,’ Palom explained, pausing every now and then to work out the right words to describe his heritage. The common tongue was a second language to him—one he had to learn to trade—and he often struggled with specific words, despite being relatively fluent, if a little formal, in his speech.
‘Was?’
‘He died twenty years ago.’
‘I’m sorry, Palom.’ Moroda apologized for Morgen, an instinctive response, her eyes dropping in embarrassment.
‘Things happen. It was my fault. I was young. I did not have the strength to save him at the time, and meraki permitted me to take the form of a tiger when I came of age. Too late to protect my brother, but I can look after Anahrik…and now these group of travellers from what the dragons and Arillians are doing.’
‘Have the Ittallan always been able to transform?’ Morgen asked.
‘As far back as anyone knows. It is our nature.’
‘Don’t the Varkain transform as
well? I’m sure I’ve heard that. What’s the difference?’ Eryn ventured, chancing her luck at talking about their decidedly unwelcome companion.
‘The Varkain are fucking dirty creatures,’ Amarah said, still eavesdropping on the conversation. ‘Only snakes. That’s all they change into. What does that tell you!?’
‘Very rich coming from a thief. I’ve never stolen anything in my life,’ Sapora retorted, riled once again, by the captain’s comments. ‘We are just as different from the Ittallan as they are to anything else,’ Sapora turned his attention to the younger sister. ‘Just as ancient, with our own customs, culture, languages. We are nothing alike.’
‘Some would have us believe we were once the same, but the oldest Varkain split away centuries ago, cursing them to take the same form over and over,’ Palom explained, shaking his head and watching Sapora carefully. ‘A lost, sickened meraki.’
‘Not true,’ Sapora replied. ‘Snakes, yes, but different types. We do not fly or prowl as Ittallan can; but we have just as much diversity…of more significance.’
‘What…type are you?’ Eryn asked.
Sapora blinked slowly, but did not entertain a response.
‘We’re coming up to Niversai now, if you want to have a look off port-side,’ Amarah called, distracting the group and bringing them back to the present.
Moroda made her way past the controls and onto the uncovered deck beside Anahrik. With the clouds lifting, blazing sunshine filtered onto the charred wood, lighting it up along with Corhaven below. Niversai sat near the horizon, perhaps five leagues away. Even from such a distance, with the early morning sun, Moroda could see the rooftops were blackened from the dragon attack the night before.
Streams of people, carts, and horses were flooding out of the city. Moroda knew if she hadn’t perished in the blaze, she and Eryn might well be among those now trying to escape Niversai and find safety and shelter in neighbouring towns and regions. There were a few members of the Imperial Guard among them, mounted on horseback and carrying flags and banners high to signal the way as they wound past farmer’s fields and crops.
Surrounded by trees, Niversai’s natural beauty was tarnished in the wake of the attack. Moroda could not distinguish people from this distance, but she could tell it was a large crowd. They seemed to be making their way to the station outside the city’s walls, on the other side of the forest, perhaps hoping for a train to take them to a less ravaged part of Corhaven, perhaps seeing off relatives before heading back to the city to try and rebuild what was left.
She signed, watching as thousands carried their only belongings in search of security elsewhere. In the fields closer to where the ship flew, a large herd of aurochs grazed nonchalantly, and Moroda thought how simple a life they had in comparison. The aurochs were so enormous she wondered whether they ever felt afraid of anything.
Anahrik didn’t stand still for long. He eagerly jumped off the side of the ship, transforming as he did so. The speed of the transformation was incredible; a blinding flash and half a heartbeat was all it took for the young man to become a falcon. Moroda watched him beat his wings several times, riding on the rising thermals to gain height more quickly.
Though her eyes were not as keen as Anahrik’s, Moroda could still see the damaged outer stone wall, the castle towers, and the tops of tall buildings. The Imperial flags, which had once flown proudly in the sun, were now black, or gone completely. It was a sorry sight, and Moroda felt awful just by looking at it. ‘We were there, Ryn,’ she murmured, bumping her arm into her sister’s. ‘We could have been there, in the thick of it, if we had stayed.’
‘Sshh, Ro. We’re okay, we’re not hurt. We’re going to learn more about what happened and how, so we know what to do if it happens again.’ Eryn nudged her sister back. ‘That’s even if it happens again. It was probably a once in a lifetime experience. A freak occurrence. Try not to worry, Ro.’
‘Freak occurrence? You are more stupid than you look,’ Sapora said, arms folded as he surveyed Niversai with narrowed eyes and a frown. ‘This is the start of something great. I only hope I can understand it before all of Linaria is destroyed by dragon flame.’
‘Palom?’ Moroda asked the Ittallan, who so far had been the voice of reason and experience, and the only one other than Eryn whom she trusted.
‘I agree with the Varkain. Linaria is disturbed, and the dragons are centre. Corhaven’s King has fallen to this, I fear. Perhaps we should go to Val Sharis instead.’
‘Khanna wouldn’t make it across the sea in this condition’ Amarah replied. ‘I’m going as far as Berel, then you’re on your own.’
Moroda looked back to the sky above, searching for Anahrik. She could barely make out the dark speck circling high above, but it was so far away, and the sun was so bright, that when she blinked, he disappeared from her vision. ‘I wish I could do that,’ she sighed. ‘To go anywhere you like, whenever you like… How free that must feel.’
‘He enjoys it far too much,’ Eryn added, scowling as she tried to spot the bird. ‘He should be far more humble with that gift. Such a show off.’
‘Don’t be jealous. I’m more free than him. More comfortable, too,’ Amarah laughed from the wheel. ‘I can carry food and water, coin and clothes, I can travel far longer than him, farther and faster, too. You need to get yourself an airship, girl, then you can be better than the birds.’
‘But you have to pay for that,’ Eryn said. ‘Air taxes, too, and money to dock at port. Not to mention someone to maintain it.’
‘Learn how to do it all yourself and you’ll never be dependent. I don’t believe in air tax, either,’ Amarah turned away from the burned city and headed for the blue river glittering below, cutting through the land and ribboning slowly south.
‘I suppose there are always compromises,’ Eryn said, shaking her head at Amarah’s outrageous words. ‘How can you not believe in paying taxes?’
‘That’ll be one reason she’s a thief.’
Having turned away from Niversai, Moroda enjoyed the views below, of farmers in their fields, sheep and horses grazing, trees dotting the edges of one field to another. Even in the midst of chaos, work still had to continue. Wildflowers, though diminishing as it grew colder, still filled the green fields with spots of purple and yellow. The river below was a great landmark, and as the airship followed its gentle flow south, Moroda returned to the covered area.
Palom sat on the floor of the open deck, his back against the side, eyes skywards as he watched the other Ittallan dance on the wind, trying to coax Kohl into a race. Smirking, Palom returned his attention to the others, for talk had come around again to dragons.
‘I wonder what the stones in Berel are like,’ Moroda yawned, leaning back on the crate and brushing dust out of her hair with her fingers. ‘Amarah said they stood tall in the ground.’
‘Yes, it’ll be incredible to see. Most impressive. That’s at least one positive to come out of the trip,’ Eryn said.
‘It’s powerful, clearly, but I don’t understand. Is it the dragon’s heart?’ Morgen wondered, brow furrowed as he thought, trying to remember Kohl’s words from the night before.
‘Like…the dragon’s meraki?’ Moroda said, looking to Palom for confirmation.
‘It is possible, I suppose.’ He replied, after a long pause while he thought about the idea of it. ‘When Kohl returns to the ship I will question him.’
Before Moroda had time to think over what lay ahead, Anahrik hurriedly landed on deck in a blaze of light and feathers as he hastily transformed. ‘Arillians!’ His breathing was ragged from panic and exertion. ‘Arillian scouts ahead!’
‘What!’ Amarah shouted, angered at their sudden appearance. ‘Great, caught out in the open and with Khanna damaged, too.’ She folded in her side sails and tried to accelerate— her default response to a threat. The ship juddered and her engines whined, a far cry from their usual, silent flight. The speed increased a little, but it was hardly anything, and the dark smoke rose from
her left engine.
‘I can’t outfly them like this!’ she said, lowering her throttles and returning Khanna to quiet, slow flight.
Palom got to his feet and drew his broadsword, ready for any eventuality. ‘You may need to try that crossbow sooner than we thought,’ he said to Moroda, stepping to the edge of the deck and looking into the sky, trying to see for himself.
‘Fantastic, I’ve not killed an Arillian in years,’ Sapora cracked his knuckles as he stood up, eager for a fight.
Palom glared at the Varkain, ‘We don’t want to kill anyone. With Aciel somewhere near…We don’t want to turn his attention to us. We want to defend ourselves.’
Sapora scowled back at Palom, ‘I’ll do as I please, Ittallan. I defend myself in one way only.’
Palom raised his sword, the tip pointing at Sapora’s throat. ‘Not at the risk of this ship!’
‘I’m not putting Khanna in danger again. Another bad fight and she won’t fly at all!’ Amarah called back. ‘Can we avoid them, Anahrik? How far are they?’
The young Ittallan held his thighs, leaning forward, trying to get his breath back.
‘Doubt it, they’re only a few fields away. I reckon if we can’t escape, we’re going to have to fight.’
‘Oh perfect,’ Amarah huffed, slowing her ship to a crawl and picking up her scythe, spinning it in her hands and readying herself. ‘Looks like this might well be a short trip. Knew it would be too much to ask to get to Berel before being spotted by something.’
Kohl landed on deck a few moments later, arms raised in defensive peace. ‘Hold it, put your weapons down. I will deal with my kin. It may not even be anything to do with Aciel.’ He glanced over his shoulder into the distance. ‘Amarah. Get the ship low and out of sight. Land, if possible. They haven’t seen you yet.’ With that, he took to the wing again and flew rapidly in the opposite direction.
Amarah did not need telling twice, and immediately folded in her remaining sails, aiming downwards, where she landed on the edge of a field, using a line of conifers for cover. ‘We wait here.’
