Moroda (World of Linaria)

by L. L. McNeil

  ‘All will be taken care of. Amarah, you are like a daughter to me. Do not spoil your chance to help something far greater than yourself because of selfishness.’ Topeko hushed, one hand raised.

  ‘Selfish indeed. You won’t even save your own skin unless you profit,’ Sapora replied. ‘Shame you can’t earn gold fairly—you could have wowed the crowds in Corhaven with a few of your Samolen magic tricks, but even that was beyond you.’

  ‘What did you say, snake?’

  Sapora’s grin grew wider, exposing a few of his teeth. ‘Just because you were incapable of learning magic does not mean you need to insult me every time I’m in your presence. I am a prince, and do not take kindly to threats.’

  ‘How dare you!’

  ‘It’s very obvious. I now see where you developed that chip on your shoulder. You’re a worthless magician. I did wonder how a low-class peasant knew one of the esteemed scholars in Berel.’

  Amarah drew a small blade from her pocket and brandished it towards Sapora. ‘One more word and I’ll slit your throat!’

  ‘Amarah, calm yourself,’ Palom said, standing beside her. ‘Ignore his words.’

  Amarah’s hand shook where she held the blade, and Moroda stepped towards her sister, her heart racing as she watched. The sky pirate’s face was flushed, and she widened her stance, ready to attack.

  ‘Looks like I’ve hit a nerve, thief. It explains that little scar on your cheek, too.’ Sapora added.

  Amarah lunged at the Varkain’s next jibe, but was held firm by Palom’s swift action. ‘Let me GO!’ Unable to wriggle out of Palom’s grasp, she threw the blade at Sapora, who easily stepped aside as the weapon clattered to the floor. Moroda saw tears well up in Amarah’s eyes, and she felt a swell of pity for their captain.

  ‘Amarah…’ Moroda said.

  ‘I don’t need your fucking pity. Get your hands OFF me, Palom!’ Amarah yelled, still attempting to wriggle out of his hold and resorting to scratching the Ittallan before he relented. ‘Fuck the lot of you!’ she snapped, picking up the blade and storming off.

  Moroda watched her race back across the bridge. She saw the smugness in Sapora’s grin, and felt sickened. She was embarrassed for Amarah’s inability to use magic, and hated Sapora for insulting her so very publicly. It was shameful. She felt a knot in her stomach and wanted to follow Amarah to make sure she was alright—but knew the pirate’s pride would probably be injured even more if she did so. That, and she wasn’t even sure she would be able to comfort her. She risked another glance at Sapora, wondering why he felt the need to attack her so much. The two had picked at each other constantly, but Sapora seemed to enjoy feeling superior.

  Topeko seemed unflustered by their outburst, and was crouched in front of the nearest stone, set a little ways above him, on the altar. Moroda admired the stones as they glistened in the sunlight.

  If they provided so much power, why couldn’t Amarah use it? She hadn’t even realised the pirate was a Samolen, but it made sense for her to be, it must have been why Topeko referred to her as a daughter.

  She thought of the dragons they came from, and what an awesome sight they must have been alive. Moroda reached out to touch the side of the stone nearest her. She was amazed at how rough the edges were, almost sharp, and withdrew her hand swiftly as a tiny shard splintered off. ‘Oh, sorry!’ she gasped.

  ‘Haha, its good luck from Rhea. Keep it. Perhaps it’ll bring you good fortune,’ Topeko smiled, getting back to his feet and brushing his robes down.

  Moroda smiled and studied the thin shard for a moment, before pocketing it. As she looked up, she felt the atmosphere had shifted following Amarah’s exit, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable—wanting to return to Topeko’s house, where it was calm and safe.

  ‘Will there be anything else?’ Topeko asked.

  ‘Weapons,’ Palom said, raising his head. ‘I would like to see the ones you hold which have been made from your dragon stones. Are these real, or just stories?’

  ‘Using dragon stone as an ore in weapons is very real. Several of these exist, still, and some are on display within the university. If you would like to see them, return to my home and I shall have some brought there. I feel a lot of frustration and emotion with this group, and perhaps a rest would be best.’

  ‘Let’s go, Anahrik,’ Palom replied as his trading partner stepped up beside him.

  Moroda felt relief at the words, and she turned to Eryn, who shared in her happiness, and the two linked arms. ‘We’ll stick close to Topeko while we’re here. At least Sapora isn’t interested in us while Amarah is such an easy target,’ Eryn whispered as they made their way back across the bridge.

  Moroda felt a lump in her throat but nodded—she didn’t want anyone to be singled out, but she was quickly coming to realise that she could not control her world anymore, and all she needed to do was keep her promise to Eryn.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Moroda enjoyed the scholar’s home; it was warm and comfortable, vast yet cosy. Andel catered to their every need without so much as a whisper, and she and Eryn had talked at length about his “silent service.” Andel didn’t seem at all put out by it, but Moroda knew it made Eryn a little uncomfortable. They had grown used to doing things for themselves, and it was a little unnerving to have a servant cater to them again. But she was not here on a leisure trip.

  Her mind buzzed with questions—about compulsion, the dragons and their stones, and how to find them. The tour that morning, though brief, had opened her eyes and mind to the wonders of Linaria, and she yearned to understand more.

  When she and Eryn returned to Topeko’s home, she had found Amarah pacing the room, muttering and grunting to herself. She held a large tome in her arms and flicked impatiently through the pages, dust flying to the floor at her rough treatment. When Moroda and Eryn entered, Amarah slammed the book shut and threw it carelessly onto the table before storming off. Moroda found herself less and less shocked by the pirate’s abrupt behaviour, and paid it no mind as she and Eryn sat at the table.

  Kohl stood where he had been that morning, with his back to the room and his hands raised to the volumes lining the shelves. One was missing: the one Amarah had taken, but otherwise the scene was a mirror of earlier. She wondered why he was so interested in the books, what he hoped to find, but was not so bold as to ask outright.

  Palom and Anahrik had been chatting non-stop on the walk back, blind and deaf to all but the intricacies of their conversation, each getting more animated the longer it went on. Palom had mentioned weapons after the battle with the dragon back in Burian Forest, and in the knowledge he would see one of them, he could not contain his excitement.

  ‘Good to see him smiling again,’ Eryn said, watching the Ittallan. ‘Ever since they found out about Sapora, they’ve been so dark and angry.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean. At least Sapora is back to picking on Amarah instead of Anahrik. I don’t think Palom liked that at all,’ Moroda replied.

  Morgen sat opposite them and leaned forward. ‘He doesn’t like Kohl either,’ he whispered, glancing around the room. ‘Best keep a close eye on him, too.’

  ‘Kohl? Why?’ Moroda raised her eyebrows. Kohl had given her and Eryn a warning when they’d been in Niversai, and for that, she trusted him.

  ‘Well… you know,’ he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

  ‘No. We don’t know. Why isn’t he to be trusted? Has he said something?’ Eryn asked, her voice assuming a disdainful tone.

  ‘He’s an Arillian, isn’t he? Can’t trust ‘em.’

  ‘Morgen! If it weren’t for him—’ Moroda began, but Morgen shook his head.

  ‘I know, I know. Just saying what Palom said is all.’

  Topeko entered the room before Morgen had a chance to elaborate, clutching two longswords by their bejewelled hilts. His arrival hushed the room, and even Amarah stopped pacing to look up.

  Palom stepped forward to greet the scholar, his eyes on the swords, Anahrik
at his side. ‘I…cannot thank you enough, Topeko,’ Palom said, his voice cracking with emotion.

  Topeko allowed the Ittallan to take the weapons off him. He reached into a pocket within his robes and withdrew a small book about the size of his hand; it was burnt around the edges and there was a large hole through the cover. ‘This belonged to the last of the smiths who were able to imbue the weapons with such power. Treat it with care, please.’

  Anahrik reached forward to claim the book with both hands, immediately studying it and turning it slowly, while Palom stood holding the weapons as gently as though they were newborn children.

  Topeko wrung his hands and stepped away from the enraptured Ittallan, and caught Moroda’s eye as he looked up. ‘How are you feeling, child?’ he crossed the room to where she stood to meet him, embracing her in a warm hug and enveloping her in his robes, before doing the same to Eryn. ‘Are you both well? Are you hungry?’

  ‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Moroda said, straightening her own clothes and sitting down.

  ‘You’re a delightful host, none of us have wanted for anything while we’ve been here. We’re indebted to you,’ Eryn said with a broad smile.

  Moroda shivered as the air cooled around them at Kohl’s approach.

  ‘I wondered whether there was any way to break the compulsion Aciel holds on his... followers. There don’t seem to be any books on it,’ the Arillian admitted. Moroda was pleased to see him speaking freely among the others, he remained quiet for so long, though Morgen’s words troubled her.

  ‘If there was some way to break that, his forces would halve, or more! They might even turn on him. Do the job for us.’ Amarah said, tapping her toe against the stone floor, arms folded.

  ‘We’re not out to kill him!’ Moroda replied. ‘These people will be confused, hurt, angry. Do they have any memory of their actions or is it more like going to sleep? It’s such a cruel thing… They’re…they’re losing part of themselves. He’s taking it from them. Time. Their hopes and dreams. Memories and hearts.’

  ‘You should be a poet.’ Amarah smirked.

  ‘No. There’s no way,’ Kohl stated.

  ‘Not as far as we know, Topeko agreed. ‘Those who can resist it seem to have the luck of the Goddess on their side, but there have been so few with compulsion and even fewer who can resist, it’s not something there’s a great deal of study on.’

  ‘So your advice is, what, to avoid him?’ Morgen asked.

  ‘I think it would be for the best if you do.’

  Morgen shared a worried look with Moroda and Eryn. ‘But if he finds us? If one of his generals attacks and Anahrik misses their approach… How are we to defend ourselves?’

  Topeko closed his eyes at the mention of an attack. Moroda had noticed every time talk turned to anything resembling aggression or combat, the scholar would turn away or pretend not to hear. Even now, his back was to Palom and Anahrik—no, his back was to the swords they held.

  Topeko’s shoulders sagged, ‘Running and avoidance can only work for so long, if Linaria has come to war.’

  Moroda wondered why he was deliberating all of a sudden. She stole a glance at her sister before looking back to Topeko. ‘All magic comes from the lake, that’s the essence of our power. Our stones are formed from its water, which enhances our own power. But it can be greatened further through the stones of the dragons. They are both made of the same essence. We call it Rhea’s breath, the blood of Linaria, from which life itself derives. The Goddess is Rhea, the dragon mother and creator of our world. Our magic comes from her, and it has two forms; Ra and He, one to create, and one to destroy.

  ‘Ra is for new life, it’s why the traditional families add that as a prefix to their names when they have a child. It is also why the suffix He is used for a death or loss, or to signify mourning. We cannot use He, we only have access to Ra—the raw life and strength. It is this which gives us power,’ Topeko said. ‘Perhaps, before you leave, I can teach you a little of this power, to protect yourselves… should it come to a violent encounter.’

  Moroda grinned in spite of herself, Topkeo’s tone contained no joy or excitement, it was a necessary lesson, but one Moroda would be more than happy to learn. ‘It would be an honour, Topeko,’ she bowed her head.

  ‘Of course, non-Samolen students at the university study a minimum of two years to learn as much as we are able to teach, and those of Samolen descent study far longer as their capabilities reach greater depths. Khanna will be repaired in a matter of days, so I will give you books of theory to study on your way. I shall teach the practical side of things as best I can in the little time we have.’

  ‘I definitely want to learn,’ Moroda said.

  ‘And me,’ Eryn agreed, taking her sister’s hand and nodding to Topeko.

  ‘Good. Morgen?’

  ‘I can fight already. But I’ll learn whatever I can from you, too.’ Morgen said.

  ‘Anyone else?’ Topeko turned to the others.

  ‘We’ll listen to anything you have to say on these weapons,’ Anahrik said, still clutching the book with both hands. ‘To put the power of a dragon stone into a weapon… to make it stronger, awaken it, almost. It could be used against Aciel, couldn’t it? Wouldn’t that be our best attack?’

  Topeko’s cheek jewels pulsed again, and he smiled thinly at the Ittallan. ‘The real legends are not imbuing this raw magic into weapons and armour, but harnessing the power of the stones themselves. That was the turning point in the war. The power you seek is not within your grasp, I’m afraid.’

  Moroda saw Anahrik shrink away at his words, and understood then why Topeko, a man of peace, was so willing to give the bloodthirsty men the weapons they sought. It was not something they would be able to replicate. She thought to his words on using the stones themselves to turn the tide of war, and tilted her head to one side as she mulled it over. The stone itself, surely would do no greater damage than throwing a rock. But the powers within the stone… that was something quite different.

  ‘Can the dragon’s stones provide power not just to a weapon, but to a person, also? Like your stones from the lake do?’ Moroda asked, wondering whether she was thinking along the right lines.

  ‘Yes, they can,’ Topeko agreed. ‘Kohl took the power of a dragon.’

  ‘Yes, the death of a dragon, even in self-defence, is always saddening. But, Kohl has not stolen any power for himself. Please, rest a while. I will be back momentarily.’

  The Arillian nodded, but had drifted back to his silent ways following Topeko’s confirmation of his thoughts on compulsion, and Moroda wished to steer the attention away from him lest he was uncomfortable. She didn’t know what else to say on adding a dragon’s stone to your own power; perhaps it was something she could learn from one of Topeko’s books, and instead decided to think of more practical matters.

  ‘We need to think of a way of finding one of these old dragons you spoke of earlier. There must be a way to find one. Something that old and that powerful can’t live unnoticed, surely?’ ‘We need to do what Palom said and go to Val Sharis,’ Anahrik said, irritated. ‘As soon as the ship is good to go, we need to cross the sea.’

  Andel entered the room from the hallway as they sat down, bringing a large jug of iced water and a small wooden bowl full of fruit and cheeses, and Moroda was pleased with the distraction, when she was struck with a thought.

  ‘I wonder, do you have any books I can read on the history of dragons? Or about the Sevastos?’ Moroda asked the young apprentice. ‘I should like to read them, if you do. Finding one is most important.’

  With another bow, Andel turned and left the room. ‘Have you ever been to Val Sharis?’ Eryn asked Morgen, turning their attention to the trip looming ahead. ‘You must have travelled a lot, in the Imperial Guard?’

  ‘Actually, no. Up till now, I’d never even left Corhaven. I was born in a little village in the north of the country before I made the move to the capital. The king rarely leaves, and if he ever did, I’m prob
ably too low in rank to go along as part of the escort. If they need more members of the guard on a warship or the like, I’d probably be called up.’ He shrugged, finishing his drink and making a start on the cherries.

  ‘Same as us, this is the furthest we’ve been from home,’ Eryn admitted.

  ‘Moroda. Eryn. Morgen,’ Topeko called, entering his home and summoning them to the far side of the room. He held a large, gold-covered chest with rubies set in the lid.

  Moroda was on her feet at once. Was it another gift? Eryn touched her hand as she got up, and Moroda squeezed it gently.

  Topeko placed it on the edge of the table and lifted the lid of the chest as the three approached, taking out a small vial of silvery- blue clear liquid. He held it up to the window and Moroda watched the refracted light dance around the walls of the room. Turning back to the chest, Topeko produced a small ring of dark silver, at which Anahrik hurried over, suddenly intrigued.

  ‘I had a feeling you might want to see this,’ Topeko smiled, as Palom, too, joined them. Amarah and Kohl remained in their corners of the room, and Sapora, whom up until that point Moroda hadn’t even seen, seemed more interested in the food and drink Andel had produced. Moroda turned back to Topeko, and watched as he tipped a few drops of liquid into the small recess at the top of the ring. He then handed it to her, holding it flat so as not to spill any.

  ‘Hold your thumb over the top, Moroda,’ Topeko instructed, as he took out a second ring and repeated the process, handing it to Eryn when he was done. Eryn did as she was told, holding her thumb over the top to keep in the liquid, as Topeko took out a third and final ring, and gave it to Morgen once he was done.

  Moroda’s hand shook as she held her thumb over the small ring. She knew it was nerves more than anything else, and held her breath to calm her shakes.

  Topeko flicked his wrists to drop his long robes down his arms, and reached out with both hands, taking Moroda’s outstretched hand in his own. He crossed his thumbs over hers and closed his eyes, whispering something under his breath, an incantation too faint for Moroda to hear or understand. She felt the warmth from Topeko’s hands spreading through her own; it grew hotter and hotter until she could hardly bear it, and when he finally released his hands, flames licked at her skin.