Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir

by Sam Farren

  It wasn't so easy to shake the fear of pane.

  As though the prospect of the one from Eaglestone having given chase wasn't bad enough, an old woman on the back of a cart had a few words of warning for us.

  “Careful, girls,” she'd said, cart creaking as a frail looking donkey pulled it towards Eaglestone, “Saw a couple of pane a few miles back.”

  From that point on, there was a pane lurking behind every tree and rock, no matter how hard of a time it'd have hiding. It was bright out and I could finally take in my surroundings, but I was too busy trying to pick out horns and claws and blood-stained tusks to appreciate any of it in. Not that it mattered: Sir Ightham made a point of avoiding any and all settlements we could've passed through, and I was treated to field after field.

  I tried to match her horse's pace, to have Charley run alongside her, but every time we caught up to them, she'd tug on the reins, pulling away from us. By the time late evening was upon us, we'd cut through a forest, and though the sun had yet to be lured to cinders by the horizon, there wasn't as much light as I would've liked. Shadows grew darker, longer, and tales of Queen Kouris rushed to the front of my mind.

  Long-since executed though she was, everyone in Felheim knew that her ghost wandered the forests, severed head clutched in one enormous hand, searching for the eyes that had been gorged from it; searching for any eyes she could claw out. It was a story, I told myself. Just a story, though why the pane would've been any different in death than she was in life was unclear.

  Charley was starting to get skittish by the time we reached a clearing and stopped for the night. We'd travelled for much of the day, only stopping to eat and drink, and Sir Ightham hadn't said a word to me since Eaglestone.

  I saw to Charley, reassuring the both of us with a few forced, up-beat murmurs, then sat by the fire she'd built, shivering. I wrapped my arms around myself and Sir Ightham kept her eyes on what she was writing.

  “Do you think we're really going to run into one?”

  Without looking up, Sir Ightham said, “Run into what?”

  “A pane,” I said, making gestures of concern with my hands she didn't catch. “That woman said she'd seen two, and there was one in Eaglestone. It could've come along this road...”

  Sir Ightham put her quill down on the parchment and met my gaze, sighing to herself.

  “They.”

  “I'm sorry—?”

  “They. They could've come along this road,” she said, eyes flickering down to the ink that had yet to dry. “He, she, they. Not it.”

  “Right,” I decided to agree, brow furrowed, “But i—they could've, couldn't they?”

  “Unlikely. Pane always travel alone, outside of their tribes,” she said. She didn't put any effort into reassuring me; it was simply a side-effect. “I highly doubt the woman saw one pane, let alone two.”

  “You're saying she was lying?”

  I dropped my gaze when Sir Ightham did nothing beyond stare at me without blinking, and saw that she'd set out a portion of food on a scrap of brown paper for me. I assumed it was mine, at any rate: there was a second, larger pile of food next to her, and she was idly tearing apart a piece of bread while I waited for my answer. I reached out, pulled the food into my lap, and set about pushing crumbling chunks of cheese into my mouth.

  “I'm saying the woman didn't see what she thought she saw,” Sir Ightham eventually said. “And pay no heed to the pane you saw in Eaglestone. After all, you know what they say about pane.”

  I knew plenty of things that plenty of people said about pane, but most of those involved tearing flesh from bone, and that was of no comfort to me. I raised my brow, eager for an answer, for Sir Ightham, as brief as she was, phrased things in a new way. I'd never heard of pane living in tribes before: in all the books Michael had read to me, they were said to live in herds, like wild animals. Like the dragons they lived amongst.

  “They never attack without being provoked,” she said plainly. Looking back down at another letter, Sir Ightham murmured, “And even then...”

  The scrawl of her quill against parchment said she was done humouring me, and I picked at my meal of bread and cheese, missing the morning's offering of pie, now that there was ample drink available. When it became evident that I really didn't have anything on me beyond my horse and my knife, Sir Ightham procured a second waterskin from one of her bags and allowed me to fill it from a nearby river.

  Those bags of hers were the reason my back was aching. I rolled my shoulders, shoulder blades pushing together, wondering why she needed four bags, each weighing as much as I did. I didn't know what went into dragon-slaying, beyond heroics and courage and all the padding of a good story, but it seemed as though Sir Ightham had packed up the entirety of Thule. I wouldn't have been able to scrounge together as much from my house, unless I broke down my bed and the kitchen table.

  And then, as though our previous conversation hadn't come to a close, I blurted out, “But Queen Kouris—”

  Sir Ightham's head snapped up. She wasn't frowning – her expression had never been anything but even – but the fire made her eyes shine like steel in a forge.

  “Queen Kouris? What are you—afraid of ghosts?” she asked, clicking her tongue. “Why should you concern yourself with what the pane may or may not do? You're a necromancer. Push it from your mind.”

  Sir Ightham spoke the word easily, but I wasn't glad of it. She said it with the same overwhelming force that my village's silence had roared with; she used it to silence me, to belittle me. I tore the paper my food had been on between my hands, feeling heat rush to my face and throat, fumbling with the implication that being ripped to shreds shouldn't bother me.

  “Look, just because I can heal doesn't mean that—” I began, voice already straining before she cut me off with a look.

  “Go to sleep,” she said.

  So I did.

  I tried not to throw myself against the ground, already versed in not giving a reaction. I laid with my back to the fire, stubbornly kicking off my boots, scuffing the sides with the soles. All in all, she did little to sour my mood; there'd been a bitter taste in the back of my throat for months, and after a full night and day of travelling, simply clenching my jaw wasn't going to stop me from falling asleep.

  I dreamt of nothing, but slept soundly enough to convince my waking mind that I was at home, in bed. It was dark when I awoke to the feel of something jabbing against my ribs, and the hard ground had yet to form beneath me. I blinked my eyes open, saw a figure looming above me, and started. I realised that it was Sir Ightham as I scrambled back, realised that I really had run away, and she didn't laugh.

  “You slept for too long,” was all she said as she climbed atop her horse.

  Dawn was making a commendable effort to get itself started, but the sky wasn't tinged with enough light to be considered particularly useful. I reached blindly for my boots, trying to pull them on and hop over to Charley all at once. The fire had been put out, charred wood and cinders thrown into the grove beyond, and I didn't feel as though I'd slept for more than five hours.

  “Where to today?” I asked, once I'd climbed onto Charley's back and was confident that I was mostly awake. I didn't care where we were headed, so long as it wasn't into the maw of a dragon. Yesterday had introduced Eaglestone, and I couldn't shake the feeling that today would have greater things in store.

  “Praxis,” Sir Ightham said.

  “Praxis?” Even I knew where Praxis was. It teetered along the very edge of Felheim, acting as a centre of trade and a gate in and out of Kastelir. “What's in Praxis?”

  “Plenty of things.”

  “What's in Praxis that we care about?”

  We might've been too strong a word to use. Sir Ightham gave her horse's reins a sharp tug, and I followed them through the thicket of trees.

  “I need somewhere to store my belongings,” she eventually said. She didn't need to tell me that; my back was already protesting over the bags I was lumbered with
. “And I am expecting a raven from a contact.”

  “Who? Someone helping with the dragon?”

  “Someone helping with the dragon,” Sir Ightham repeated flatly, coming to an abrupt halt. I stopped as she did, wondering what I'd done wrong that time, and saw her brow furrow in concern. I heard what she did, the sound of feet against brittle twigs, and she hissed, “Say nothing,” at me.

  Light broke through the trees, matched by a cheerful whistling. My first instinct was to run and I didn't know why. We were far from the only travellers making our way through the woods. Sir Ightham stood her ground, for having our horses set off at a sprint would only draw more attention to us.

  “Well, well,” a man said, imbued with confidence by the four companions behind him. “Up early, aren't you?”

  My hands tightened around the reins, leather biting into my palms.

  Bandits.

  I'd been so frightened of imaginary pane that I hadn't stopped to consider the possibility of running into bandits in the woods. All of them were dressed in clothes I suspected weren't as fine as they appeared at first glance, and they made a point of letting us know that they had weapons. The man who'd spoken, their self-proclaimed leader, drummed his fingers against the pommel of the sword resting against his hip.

  “Good morning,” Sir Ightham said, words coming easily as two of the bandits behind the leader clumsily drew their swords. “Might I be of assistance?”

  One of the women who'd drawn her blade snorted a laugh, and the man scowled without turning to her, thinking it no way to conduct business.

  “That you can,” the leader said, “Heard there was a Knight around these parts, and I reckon a Knight would have a wealth of treasure on 'em, gold least of all. Don't suppose you've heard anything about that, have you?”

  “I don't suppose I have,” Sir Ightham said, and sounded sorry to admit it. “But a Knight, is it? What do they look like? I should like to meet them.”

  The bandit gave a dry laugh, not finding it funny at all, and those behind him slowly joined in the mockery. Sir Ightham dismounted her horse and passed the reins to me. I winced, as though the bandits hadn't noticed me until she'd made a point of interacting with me, and tried to calm Charley down. He knew something was wrong and kept clomping one hoof and then another against the ground, trying to pull away. I wrapped my arms around his neck, doing what I could to soothe him without taking my eyes off Sir Ightham and the bandits.

  “If yous can't help us on that front, ladies, would you be so kind as to leave those rather hefty bags on the ground here?” the man said, met with a murmur of agreement from behind. “Jeb, if you'd be so good as to help 'em out...”

  One of the bandits rushed forward, sword clasped between both hands. Charley was making such a fuss that I had to climb off his back, lest he throw me to the side, and Jeb took this to mean that I was going to comply. Sir Ightham set the record straight by drawing her sword – a steel one; she'd packed the dragon-bone blade away – and swung it in her hand as though it was part of her arm. Not something she could run straight through the bandit.

  “Awful bold, ain't ya?” Jeb asked, ducking down low. Sir Ightham hadn't shown any intention of striking, but the bandit was under the impression that it was a formidable fighting stance. I'd drawn closer to her and saw the corners of her mouth tug down, bemused.

  “I only wish to warn you of your folly,” Sir Ightham said, grasp still relaxed, unaware that the sword was a weapon at all.

  “Boss?” Jeb asked, letting go of his sword with one hand, trying to determine whether or not he'd lose any fingers if he tried to snatch one of our bags.

  “Oh, that's right, is it,” the leader mused, rubbing his chin. All of his bandits had drawn their weapons, but Sir Ightham only stared down at the blade of her sword, trying to gleam something of her reflection in the dark. “Reckon you can cut your way through all of us?”

  “If I must,” Sir Ightham said, sighing. Her feet remained stuck fast to the spot, and she used the tip of her blade to point at the bandit's allies, one by one. “Your companion here – Jeb, wasn't it? – hasn't the good graces to hold his sword properly. Try it in the other hand, boy. This young woman's blade has come loose in its hilt – the tip isn't facing the exact direction her grasp suggests she's aiming for – and the gentleman by her side doesn't think anyone will notice that he's trembling, if he stands back and merely looks threatening. And as for you, I've no doubt you can fight. But only so well as to appear threatening to unarmed individuals caught unaware and ambushed in the middle of the woods”

  Jeb clasped both hands around the hilt of his sword, wincing. The man Sir Ightham accused of cowardice was betrayed by his own torch, flames licking the air, showing how red his face had turned. The leader responded with a snarl that fuelled his movements. Lunging forward, he thrust his blade straight at Sir Ightham's throat.

  I recoiled from a strike that didn't land, and Sir Ightham took a swift step back, rendering the blade's reach ineffective. Hand balled into a fist behind her back, Sir Ightham brought her sword against the bandit's three times, forcing him to step back with each clatter of steel. It was the first time I'd seen her fight, yet I knew she could've disarmed him with a single blow. She lashed out in order to startle the other bandits, who mimicked their leader's movements.

  “Well?” Sir Ightham asked, when she had seen to it that he'd tripped over a root and slammed his elbow into a tree trunk.

  “C'mon!” he spat, turning to his companions. “Useless louts—give us a hand, already.”

  There was no strength in numbers. Sir Ightham had already picked out their faults – not a difficult task, when there seemed to be an abundance of them – and no group of wandering thieves could've compared to a dragon. Sir Ightham didn't fight thoughtlessly, though she did fight fluidly; it was over as quickly as it started. She weaved around their weapons, disarming some, knocking others into trees, and she did so without spilling a single drop of blood.

  If any wounds had been rent, I would've felt them.

  With her point proven, Sir Ightham lowered her blade. For a terrible moment, I thought the leader might've been humiliated enough to put his all into one final strike, but he wasn't so stubborn as to forfeit his life. He grunted, “Back down,” and Sir Ightham let him and his bandits scamper into the woods.

  Charley was still panicking. Sir Ightham's horse hadn't reacted in the least, and I tried to follow in his example. If nothing else, I'd managed to stay perfectly still, even if it was fear, not courage, keeping me grounded. My heart raced faster once the bandits were gone, once I had the time to imagine all that didn't happen, but could've.

  I put a hand to my face, forehead clammy, and Sir Ightham passed me by, patting Charley between the eyes before climbing onto her own horse.

  “They're gone,” she said when I didn't move, as though there was something disagreeable in being frightened by bandits. “—why are you smiling?”

  I hadn't realised I was, but I answered easily enough.

  “Because—because that was incredible!” I said, holding my hands out for emphasis. “You fought off five of them, all by yourself.”

  “They were bandits,” she said, almost offended by the notion of finding the quarrel worthy of remark.

  “They had swords!”

  “So did I. Now, might we leave, before we're stumbled upon by more of the same?”

  So much for paying her a compliment.

  Another mile of woodland stood between us and open fields, and with Charley still skittish, it was light by the time we weaved our way out of the trees. Sir Ightham's compass led us off a road as soon as we were on it, and we headed west, to the border. I'd known a wall stood between Felheim and Kastelir, but in my mind, it had always been like the wall of a house, or the cobbled wall wrapped around the village, little more than waist-high, where it hadn't crumbled.

  But the wall that kept the Kastelirians out cast a shadow that seemed to cover half of our Kingdom. Kastelir wasn
't a decade older than I was, and had been split into four ever-warring territories before that; the wall had stood for hundreds of years, age evident in its stature. I craned my head up in order to see the top, certain that the clouds drifting by on a slight breeze would crash into it. It was worn by the elements and creeping vines had done what they could to scale the stones, but the sides were too smooth for any person to scramble their way over.

  I watched the wall until my neck ached, and returned to what else was strewn across the landscape. We didn't venture too close to any villages or towns, but I saw them from a distance; they looked just like my own village, only misplaced, dropped onto the side of a hill or by a river instead of being nestled in a valley.

  My fear of pane was replaced by a fear of bandits, and that fear was washed away by Sir Ightham's presence. We travelled for no fewer than ten hours, exhausting my supply of bitterwillow near the end, stopping a handful of times in order to stretch our legs and eat. Sir Ightham said nothing, responding to questions that were barely worth asking with a grunt or a shake of her head, until I stepped over and tentatively brushed a hand against her horse's mane.

  He didn't mind the contact. He leant into my touch, well behaved, but not beyond indulging himself in a little affection. Sir Ightham watched me like a hawk.

  “What's his name?” I asked, scratching behind his ears.

  “Calais,” she said after a cautious pause, not wanting to spill too many secrets at once.

  “Nice to meet you, Calais,” I said to him, and he made the sort of noise that tended to mean yes, but what are you going to feed me? when Charley made it. “My horse is—”

  “Charley. You already said.”

  She said no more, but ran her fingertips across the diamond of white fur on Charley's forehead.

  The wall curved with what I thought was the border, but it soon became evident that Praxis was built into the wall itself. From where we stood, leading our horses by the reins in an effort to get through the crowds, I couldn't see where Praxis ended; the horizon cut it off prematurely, towers and spires pressing against the sky. There was more of a jump from Eaglestone to Praxis than there had been from my village to Eaglestone, and I'd convinced myself that the whole world had come to gather within that town.