Palom (World of Linaria Book 2)

by L. L. McNeil

  Their snickering stopped, replaced by a scowl that could have stripped bark from a tree.

  ‘Run along then, kitty. We’re watching you.’

  Isa walked past them to the open gateway. ‘And if you ever address me as that again,’ she said, pausing. ‘I’ll make sure you never see your precious tunnels again.’

  *

  Isa combed through her hair with her fingers as she wandered through the bailey, watching movement but not really seeing people.

  The voice from earlier sounded in her head every few seconds, and she struggled to squash it. She had more pressing business and needed to keep an ear out to ensure she was on the right track.

  It didn’t take long for her assumptions to ring true.

  ‘…I tried to tell him the gate was shut, but you know what he’s like! Shoved me out of the way. Bruised my shoulder!’

  Isa darted behind a granary, watching a stable boy pull his arm through his shirt, so the gathered crowd could see his purpling skin.

  ‘I only heard ‘bout him from stories. But my mam kept a poster of his that I’ve seen at home and it’s him! He’s got a beard now but it’s Mateli for sure.’

  ‘Shut it lad. If Mateli got out the city’d be in uproar. Get back to feedin’ the horses,’ the stable master growled. ‘No more silly stories fer turnin’ up late fer work!’

  ‘But it’s not a story! It was Mateli. It was! I swear on Rhea herself!’

  ‘I’ve had it! One more word and I’ll dock your pay, lad.’

  Isa kept still, hidden behind the granary opposite the stable hands. ‘The gate was shut…’ she repeated.

  Dragons above, was Mateli going to force his way through East Gate?

  She raced towards the stables and jumped, landing on the roof smoothly. She transformed in a flash, her wild cat form large and sleek, a coiled mass of muscle designed to jump and climb.

  Isa leapt from building to building, gaining height until in one huge leap, she crested the outer wall of Taban Yul and landed upon it.

  The wind at such a height caught her, ruffling her fur and whiskers, but she had no time to lose. She immediately raced along the top of the wall, hurrying to East Gate as quickly as her body allowed.

  Trader’s Alley had always been a recognisable part of the city. The hexagonal blue towers at the street’s head rose above the drab buildings, a clear landmark below.

  Isa powered along, extending her legs in between leaps, half-running, half-jumping along the wall. When East Gate came into sight, she turned and leapt across to the inner wall.

  Panting, she stalked along the wall and looked straight down into the streets and alleys below. So close to the sealed East Gate, the streets were deserted. Isa had an excellent view from above, and it didn’t take long before she spotted him.

  Mateli.

  He marched towards East Gate, following a maze of narrow alleys in a confident stride.

  Isa hesitated. He wouldn’t have seen her from this distance—not that he could do anything to get to her even if he had—but seeing the famed criminal in broad daylight, especially after her encounter with the old Ittallan and the Varkain at South Gate, Isa was far less sure of herself than she’d been that morning.

  But if she didn’t do anything, he’d kill Palom.

  What kind of ally would she be if she let such a monster out of her city?

  She had to do something. Had to.

  Isa looked around again, but the streets were quiet, and only a handful of birds soared overhead.

  It was now or never.

  Bracing herself, she clambered over the edge of the wall, sliding down the smooth, marble side and then pushing off to land on the wide street a few paces in front of the sealed gate.

  She transformed as she landed and took in a deep breath, waiting for him to reach her.

  When he stepped out from the shadows, it looked as if he’d never left them—an aura of darkness followed his every step.

  ‘Mateli. I can hardly believe it’s you.’ She said, pleased her voice didn’t shake.

  At seven feet tall, he rivalled Palom in height, but carried more weight in his shoulders and chest, with loose jowls and filthy, matted black hair and beard. His ashen skin seemed to repel sunlight, and he stank of stagnant water and grime.

  Isa swallowed, wishing she had her knife, though she knew it would do little against someone like him.

  ‘East Gate is closed. You can’t come this way.’ She relaxed her hands, let them dangle at her sides.

  Mateli grunted, the noise a kind of growl. He waited on the road, watching her, his bulk blocking her view.

  ‘Turn around, Mateli. There must’ve been some mix up with paperwork. You shouldn’t be out for another fifty years.’

  He smiled at that. Just the corner of his lips. ‘You’re the Kitten Princess? Tacio released me himself. Gave me money.’

  Isa exhaled slowly, calming herself, controlling her breathing. She wouldn’t be intimidated or patronised.

  ‘I’m tracking the tiger. He’s been murderin’. Snakes want him dead.’ His grin deepened, and Isa saw something very reptilian in his expression. ‘I’m doin’ what I been told ta do.’

  ‘You won’t be doing any of that. Palom is an ally of mine, and Tacio doesn’t hold any authority here.’ A white lie. ‘Do I need the Guard to round you up again or are you going to go back willingly?’

  He grunted again, taking a few steps forward and leering at her, his stench growing stronger.

  Foolish.

  Why hadn’t she brought the Guard with her in the first place?

  ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere little cat. I’ll eat you for me supper and then I’ll take on Palom.’ He wiped drool from his lips and let his mouth hang open a fraction, his breath coming out as a low hiss that sent shivers up her spine.

  Isa pulled her onyx stone from her pocket and held it out to him. ‘This grants me anything I wish in Taban Yul. Anything. Anyone.’ Pulling rank was her last chance to avoid bloodshed. ‘I want you to go back where you belong, Mateli. Things have changed since you were free to roam the city. I am a queen. Disobey me, and your punishment will be worse than what you just escaped.’

  ‘I didn’t get a meal before I left. Not eaten in three days. I’m ‘ungry, and you’re definitely the nicest looking thing ta eat ‘round here.’ His fangs poked out over his lips as he rolled up his sleeves.

  ‘Don’t even think about attacking me!’ She snapped, forcing as much determination into her voice as she could, desperately thinking to how Sapora, or even Tacio, would deal with someone like Mateli.

  ‘Too late.’ He approached slowly, stalking towards her, raw strength rolling off him with every step, until he towered above Isa.

  There was no way she’d be able to beat him in a brawl.

  He sniffed deeply, savouring what he smelled. ‘Any last words, little cat?’ His fetid breath washed over her.

  Isa reacted on reflex, slamming her left elbow into his throat as he bent down to her. Her aggression seemed to catch him off guard, and she smashed her opposite palm up into his nose with as much strength as she could muster.

  The satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking, and the subsequent spout of blood made Mateli stumble, and he dropped to one knee, his hands covering his face.

  She should have run, then. Got away before Mateli could hurt her. But she needed to bring him back to the palace, otherwise Palom would suffer.

  She stepped back, her breath coming in short gasps, unwilling to flee despite her instincts screaming at her to get away from him. ‘You’re coming with me now. Do as I say, and I’ll save you from getting executed for attacking me.’

  Mateli groaned, his body heaving. He lowered his hands and looked at his palms, snarling at the sight. ‘You…’

  ‘On your feet, Mateli. We’re going back to the palace.’ She turned around to lead him up the road.

  Isa hadn’t taken a single step when something wet grabbed her left arm and yanked her to the ground.


  ‘You bitch!’ Mateli roared, spittle flying in his fury, his blood-soaked hands suddenly on Isa’s throat. ‘I’ll kill you!’

  Air cut off, Isa raised her hands to claw at his, scrambling desperately to get out of his grasp, tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes.

  As he squeezed, Mateli’s fangs grew longer, dark eyes shimmering to a dull greenish-yellow, his transformation slow and laboured. His hiss shifted into a deep bellow that shook the ground. ‘And then…I’m going ta eat you.’

  Adrenaline fuelled her panic, and Isa thrashed around, trying to wrench her body away from him, heart hammering in her chest.

  He leaned close, the stench of stagnant water masking everything else, even the fresh blood dripping down his face. With a growl unlike anything she’d ever heard, he opened his mouth and bit deep into her left hand.

  Isa screamed, high and chilling, the pain terrifying her.

  She couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t get away.

  ‘Ugh. You’re a dirty snake.’ Mateli spat out the mouthful of flesh he’d gouged from her hand and threw her to the ground in disgust.

  She cracked her head and back on the stone road, stars dancing in her vision.

  ‘You can rot here instead. I got a bigger cat ta hunt.’

  Isa’s whole body shuddered, overwhelmed by shock, adrenaline, and deep, burning pain. She watched as he marched away, heard the splintering of wood as he forced his way through the sealed gate, and passed out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Palom sat on the floor of his room and stared at the dragon egg. A fire burned in the hearth, and his sword rested against the wall beside it, sucking in flames every few seconds. He’d bundled the egg in one of his boots and raced back to the Waterside Inn barefoot.

  He’d glared at Chryo with such force that the young captain had stopped in his tracks, and Palom had retired to his room unquestioned.

  When safely away from prying eyes, he’d decided to do the only thing that made sense: he placed the egg in the hearth and withdrew his fingers as the flames licked his skin. Having spent most of his life as a blacksmith, he was no stranger to burns from his forge, but the sting was still painful.

  He didn’t know if it was even possible to rekindle the life within an abandoned dragon egg. But equally, he didn’t want to leave it if he had the chance to save it.

  For all the foreign magic now in his life, he knew the deaths of dragons would only cause more trouble. Perhaps saving the life of one dragon would redeem some of his failings?

  The thought gave him hope; the smallest sliver of it.

  For a long while, he watched the fire burn around the egg, licking at each of the scales, one question lingering in his mind: what were the Varkain doing in that cave? Had they been after dragon eggs?

  He had to warn Feoras Sol.

  Getting to his feet, he grabbed his Valta Forinja and sheathed it behind his back.

  Lathri was right, he should have returned home as soon as Aciel’s battle was over.

  He owed his father an explanation, if nothing else.

  *

  The path to Sol was familiar, and yet strangely different. It had been the better part of twenty years since he’d last set foot in his village. His mother had been alive, then. ‘Matera…’ He whispered as he passed under the shadow of the trees, dragging his feet a little to prolong his return.

  Solvi’s initial reaction had not faded from memory; surely the rest of the village would respond to his presence in kind?

  The afternoon was late before he sighted the village outposts; platforms built high into the trees where scouts could watch for approaching danger.

  A high, wooden fence ringed Feoras Sol itself. It served as a marker more than a defensive barrier.

  Sol nestled deep within the Rio Neva forest, tucked up almost to the mountains themselves; the eastern-most settlement in Val Sharis, only a stone’s throw from the Sereth border.

  His sword thrummed on his back, sending waves of warmth and energy coursing through him. Palom took strength from it and straightened his stance as he approached the open gates to Feoras Sol for the first time in two decades.

  He never once believed he’d return, not after all these years.

  Unsurprisingly, it was Solvi who came to greet him. Three of the five Archigo—elders—of the village accompanied her, wearing vivid blue robes and silver torcs around their necks to mark their rank.

  Palom bowed his head as Solvi reached him. She took his cheeks in her hand and raised his head. ‘Kali...Palom...I didn’t think you’d come.’

  ‘I must speak with Archigo. And…Manilo.’ Palom said, glancing past her to the three who stood in front of the tall gates. Already several Ittallan had gathered to see the new arrival, their faces familiar.

  Solvi withdrew her hand. ‘You haven’t forgotten us.’

  ‘Of course not! How could I forget? This is home. I remember it every day!’ Palom said.

  ‘You have always been welcome here, Palom. Since the day you left.’

  Solvi stepped to the side so Palom could see the three Archigo.

  The one who spoke was the oldest by far: his back stooped and his hair thinned to almost full baldness, though he wore a long, grey beard flecked with white that reached almost to his knees.

  Palom asked, switching into his native tongue to mirror that which the Archigo spoke. ‘Archigo Saltos. You are kind. I left in emonos. How can I return anything else?’

  ‘You were not banished nor shunned from our gates. You left with the raw emotion of a man who lost his brother. You blame yourself and refused comfort from those who needed you most.’ Saltos gestured to Solvi. ‘She has grown up with her pali and mali and has done well. But she needed you. We needed you.’

  ‘No-one could go after you! You’d got into a vendetta against Mateli, and then we lost you in Taban Yul!’ One of the Archigo said—a woman with snow white hair, her green eyes hard.

  ‘Then we hear your meraki flourished and bestowed you the strength of the tiger.’ Saltos’ brown eyes flashed yellow for a moment, a flicker of colour brightening his wrinkled face. ‘Surely you would have joined the Imperial Guard.’

  ‘Please, Archigo. May I enter Sol? May I see Manilo?’ Palom said, trembling at their words. He had no desire to recount those early months after Sol.

  Back then, nothing could ease the pain and grief. Fighting dulled it, and he regretted getting himself mixed up with Mateli, but nothing could ease it completely.

  Until he’d met Lathri.

  ‘As Archigo Saltos said, you have been free to come home as you desire, Palom. For all your fears, you return home a hero.’ The third elder said, a man several years younger than Saltos, whose beard still held the colour of auburn.

  He swirled his robes as he turned around and announced to the gathered crowd, ‘Feoras Sol welcomes home our strength, our tiger! The hero against Aciel! Manilo-son Palom!’

  There couldn’t have been more than thirty villagers gathered, but the roar they made at the Archigo’s words must have been heard all the way in Taban Yul.

  Palom cringed, and then allowed himself to smile.

  All the fuss he’d escaped from Chyro and the inn appeared to be tenfold at Sol.

  Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d be welcomed back to Feoras Sol.

  They’d hated him.

  Hated him for causing his brother’s death, hating him for running away, hated him for all the death he caused and mistakes he’d made wherever he went.

  Hated him for being a failure.

  Or so he’d assumed.

  ‘Manilo has waited so many years to see you again,’ Archigo Saltos said, his eyes wet with emotion. ‘Come with me and I shall take you to him.’

  Palom followed without question, wishing he’d brought a gift of some kind to ensure he remained in his father’s good graces.

  Manilo had been a loving father with a firm hand. He’d raised two sons and lost both when they’d been on
the cusp of adulthood, and his wife soon after that.

  Palom felt sick with fear at the shame he’d caused him.

  To hear that after all this time, he’d missed him, still loved him, wanted him to come home?

  His sword responded to his emotions; almost buzzing with power, and Palom ignored it as much as he could.

  Familiar sounds and smells cascaded over him as he walked along the winding path through the village. Buildings had grown extensions, or been knocked down and rebuilt completely, the trees had grown taller, the pathways a little more worn.

  Red seemed to dust everything—path or building—and the scent of iron carried thick in the air.

  Home.

  Palom was becoming used to the soft footsteps of Solvi as she trailed him, and more Ittallan joined her as he walked beside Archigo Saltos.

  These Ittallan didn’t care so much about his fight against Aciel, or that he’d forged Valta Forinja.

  They were just happy to have a son of the village back.

  Towards Sol’s northern side, a row of single-storey stone houses huddled together, joined in a central, communal space where the families could meet.

  Where he’d grown up.

  Memories of playing in the courtyard in front of the houses flashed in his mind; of hot, humid summers chasing other children around, climbing up buildings, and digging in the woods for undiscovered treasure.

  How he wished he could turn back time.

  Manilo emerged from the stone house on the end, his face world-weary and much, much older than he remembered. He wore a torc of silver above teal robes lined with yellow.

  Palom’s world stilled, he couldn’t look anywhere, move anywhere, his whole attention locked on his father’s eyes.

  Manilo’s features were suspended between surprise, confusion, and joy.

  Palom breathed, his body relaxing, and he ran across the courtyard and into his father’s arms.

  ‘My son…’ Manilo said between sobs. ‘You…you’ve come back! You’ve come home to me!’ His voice choked with disbelief.

  Palom felt his father’s frailness underneath his heavy robes, felt brittle bones and lost muscle. He loosened his embrace to avoid injuring. ‘Pali…’