“You want food?” Ochnic said, emerging from his hunched position. “Yes. You must have a hunger. I brought you here before you sleepy ones normally arise and forget. Sorry, I am.”
Pel looked quite taken aback with this level of apology. “I don’t… I mean to say… It’s quite alri—”
But Ochnic began rooting through the bushes, along the embankment of the river, lifting fallen branches and scouring the earth. He moved around the area in such a frantic haste that Garon could barely keep track as he darted between the trees. In what seemed a matter of seconds he had returned, carrying a collection of wild plants on a giant leaf that was larger than most roasting dishes. He presented it to Pel.
“Food,” Ochnic explained. Garon braced himself for another outburst from her, but to his surprise she seemed to well up with emotion.
“You know what plants are edible?” Pel said. “I was never taught that like the other women. Just spear work for me.” She reached out for a honey-coloured alderberry, the only item on the flat leaf that Garon recognised.
“I know da wild.”
“And you did it so quickly…” Pel continued, chewing the berry with an open mouth and entirely forgetting her fairy etiquette.
“Always der is ways,” said Ochnic. “Try this.” He handed her a mushroom half the size of his hand with a thousand white strands sprouting up like a hedgehog and placed several delicate white flowers on top. Pel took it with only a small show of trepidation and took a bite.
“It’s creamy, earthy and garlicky,” she said.
“Feel better?” Ochnic asked.
“I’m starting to,” Pel said. Then with some effort she added, “Thank you.”
Garon sensed this was an opportunity to seize.
“So, are we all done having our moments?” He asked. “I ran away for the evening. I shall not do so again. Marus learned that sometimes you need help in life; Ochnic confessed his fears to us, and Pel has been fed. I’ve also learned that that none of us wanted to be here. Marus offended the Guardian; Fidelm forced Pel here; Ochnic would rather be back with his family and who could blame him. And I, your sorry leader, would much rather be with Cosmo and Darnuir because I haven’t been separated from them in twenty years and they are the only family I have.” He surprised himself with the outpouring. The others were all gawking at him. Garon realised he had best carry on now that he’d started. “There have been deaths and traitors already, and we’ve each come out with some choice insults for everyone else but I say it ends here. We’re all in the shit, and none of us wanted it. Best thing we can do is come together and go help Ochnic’s people and his daughter. Now does that sound agreeable?”
“Yes,” Marus said, bluntly but wholeheartedly.
“You speak true, Garon pack leader.”
They looked to Pel.
“Fine,” she said. “Yes, that’s agreeable,” she added with a little more enthusiasm. Then she took another greedy bite of the mushroom and flowers.
Chapter 8
ON THE SHADOW SPIRE
After the Second War, the humans under Brevia’s growing influence received help in constructing the mighty Bastion to help deter against future dragon aggression. One can understand why the humans of the Splintering Isles felt unfairly treated in this regard. The islanders received no such help from the new Dragon King, Dronithir. A fortress on Eastguard was built, but it was no true barrier to dragons. That Dalridia and Brevia entered a form of rivalry is also understandable.
From Tiviar’s Histories
Dukoona – Island of Eastguard – The former town of Errin
THE ISLAND OF Eastguard had been transformed. Dukoona had taken the town of Errin on the western coast and created a city for his demons. A sprawling mess of rickety shelters, stacked too high, too precariously and too close together; but what did those mindless runts care? Above it all loomed his Shadow Spire, facing outwards towards the rest of the Splintering Isles.
The Spire was a fortress built for spectres. As shadows gave spectres the most advantage, this is what the Spire created. Each portion of its walls had deliberately large gaps allowing light to enter at any time of day. Criss-crossing beams made from repurposed ship masts connected these walls, which would cast a web of shadows around the Spire and the surrounding lands. The Shadow Spire’s twisting walls curled inwards at the top, as though a hand of broken fingers was grasping at the sky. Here, where the gnarled fingers of wood and metal met, was a viewing deck overlooking the grey sea. Dukoona stood there now surveying his fleet with Kidrian and little Sonrid at his side.
“We can delay no longer,” Dukoona said. “If what you report is true, Kidrian?”
“I’m afraid so,” Kidrian croaked. “I fear we might have lingered on Eastguard for longer than necessary.”
“How heavily reinforced are the closest islands?” Dukoona said.
“Large forces on the islands of Ullasay, Skelf and Ronra, my Lord, though the numbers on Skelf are the greatest, despite being the smallest. From what our Trusted could gather, young Grigayne Imar believes we will strike there first, as it the weakest.”
“Does he indeed?” Dukoona said. “Fortunate you discovered this information.”
“We might have completed our missions sooner, my Lord, but travelling by boat to each island is so slow; and then we had to be careful not to be intercepted.”
“You are forgiven,” said Dukoona. “Our inability to meld over water is a most inconvenient oversight by our Master.” He and Kidrian exchanged smiles of pure white teeth.
“Might we speak more openly,” Sonrid said in his half-formed voice. “Only I wish to make my own report and—”
Dukoona silenced him with a wave of his hand. “It is useful, Sonrid, to learn to understand beyond what one merely hears. Just as it is useful to see beyond what only your eyes can see.” Yet Sonrid’s half-closed eyes was a reminder that he was not as adept as the rest of the spectres. Poor Sonrid suffered daily. He was small and hunched, and his shadowy flesh was wispier than a normal spectre’s. As one of the Broken, Sonrid had not been summoned properly to this world by their Master, Rectar.
“I will try my best,” Sonrid said.
“You have done well so far,” Dukoona said and he meant it.
“I am rarely taken notice of. That is all.”
“A trait I wish I had at times,” Kidrian said. “Yet all the spectres know I am too close to Lord Dukoona. Those of our kind who are False watch me carefully.”
“There have been murmurings,” Sonrid said. “Some say the Master will not be happy about this delay.”
“And what do others say?” asked Dukoona.
“Some are worried,” said Sonrid. “They feel the Master ought to have done something by now. Forced us to move on. They are concerned about his indifference.”
Yes, Rectar’s indifference worries me greatly as well.
It was as if Rectar simply wanted his demons out of the way, putting a buffer between his lair at Kar’drun and the Three Races. Whilst adding to Dukoona’s own unease, the news also offered some opportunity.
“Kidrian, perhaps we could seek out these troubled brothers and see if they are to be trusted?”
“You must be cautious,” said Sonrid, and Dukoona was surprised to hear a sternness to his voice.
“I’ve been doing this for a rather long time,” Kidrian said. “Don’t concern yourself with me, Sonrid.”
“You should be careful around Kraz,” said Sonrid. “You say you are watched, well he watches most closely.” Little Sonrid even jerked his misshapen head from side to side as if to check Kraz was not there with them.
“Kraz?” said Kidrian in disdain. “That flaunter can barely conjure a blunt sword from the shadows, never mind that double-headed axe he claims to do. Can’t trust him with those bright yellow flames on his head.”
Sonrid, however, appeared unconvinced.
“Do you fear him?” Dukoona asked.
“He talks of knowing how to better le
ad this invasion,” said Sonrid. “To his own small band of spectres. And he’s taken to keep more demons near him of late.”
“I didn’t ask what you know of him,” said Dukoona. “I asked whether you feared him.” Sonrid shuffled awkwardly but nodded.
“He often threatens me, my Lord. He speaks of hearing from the Master. That the Master would be glad to see the weakest of his servants culled.”
“He boasts,” Kidrian said offhand. “He exaggerates and he lies. None hear from the Master other than our Lord Dukoona.”
Dukoona, however, was not so sure. “Many things have changed of late, Kidrian. Spectres are dying or disappearing. Great deposits of starium stone at the Forsaken City go missing to some unknown end. We should not dismiss claims like this on a whim. Not anymore. We must hear beyond what we hear,” he reminded them both.
“I accept the possibility that the Master may speak to others now,” Kidrian said. “Possibly. But surely not Kraz.”
“He’d be ideal,” Dukoona said. “A puffed up, weak-willed spectre with little reason to question why he was suddenly being spoken to by the Master? A few words and some encouraging nudges and Kraz might really believe he was being singled out for extra power.”
“My Lord…” Kidrian began, “do you truly—”
“I do not know what to believe anymore. I doubt everything. That is why we must work carefully. Still, there is no reason Kraz cannot be dealt with.”
“Dealt with?” Sonrid asked, sounding both excited and terrified.
“Oh yes,” said Dukoona. “If the Master truly speaks to Kraz then I fear how that might develop. If Kraz is merely lying, well… removing an insubordinate is my duty as Lord of the Spectres. I cannot have my spectres second guessing me.”
“What can I do?” Kidrian asked.
“You can prepare our ships to launch,” Dukoona said. “I shall handle Kraz. Come, Sonrid.” He leapt into the nearest shadow and felt the presence of Kidrian and Sonrid close by. A few masts down and Kidrian deviated down a different wall of the Spire. The shadows were so numerous and connected that there was no need to jump from one shadow to another. When they emerged at ground level, Dukoona strode with purpose towards the ramshackle town of Errin. He heard Sonrid pad up behind him.
“I haven’t told you where Kraz can be found.”
“You’ll show me.”
“Will we walk there?” Sonrid asked as they entered the chaos of the demon city. The shrieking was almost unbearable.
“I thought so. I know shadow jumping can be difficult for you.”
“I am sorry to be a hindrance.”
Dukoona swooped around to look at Sonrid. He cast a clear thought to the demons around. Silence. Those nearby stopped their howling. He got down on one knee to be at eye level with Sonrid.
“Never say sorry for being as you are. Rectar decided to summon you to this world. You didn’t ask for it. He is the one who failed to do it properly; that is no fault of yours.”
“My Lord,” Sonrid whispered, “anyone might hea—”
“This is something every spectre ought to hear and know. The weakest amongst us need our help, not our scorn. For our Master will do nothing to help you.”
Sonrid nodded firmly. “You have given me purpose again, my Lord. I am grateful.”
“Thank me by helping me fight back. Now, we must find Kraz. Lead the way.” Sonrid shuffled on and Dukoona followed. The demons soon returned to their noise. Dukoona could sense their restlessness. It was well they would be shipped off to fight soon.
It was difficult to weave through the densely packed streets – if they could even be called streets. The entire demon town was becoming a mass grave. Human corpses lined the streets, left where they had fallen and exposed to the elements. Demons were not inclined to move them – they couldn’t smell and weren’t intelligent enough to care about blocked streets. Spectres could not smell either, but leaving the bodies had been an oversight. Now the Shadow Spire was built, Dukoona would have his spectres clear them.
He watched a crow fly down upon the soft, pulpy body of what had once been a young girl. The crow dove its beak into one of the girl’s empty eye sockets and ferreted around for a scrap of meat that wasn’t rotten. As Dukoona and Sonrid passed by, the bird yanked up a strip of greying flesh and took flight. Dukoona looked away. Death just didn’t please him anymore. Dragons, fairies, humans – they must all feel the same way about their own kind as he felt about his spectres. Every death was felt by someone. He thought of Kidrian lying dead, or even Sonrid, and felt as though a great weight was pressing against his chest.
I will not be able to save them all in this war but I must do what I can.
Eventually, Sonrid stopped outside a tent-like structure made of a torn sail draped across the gap between two earthen houses. Under the canvas, a large hole burrowed into the ground with the entrance uncovered. This was not unusual. When the demons had found it too hard to build upwards they began to dig down instead. They were decent excavators, Dukoona would give them that.
Sonrid had no need to crouch to enter the tunnel; he slid in easily. Dukoona ducked and descended after him. Light soon vanished as they left the entranceway behind. The darkness was total and Dukoona heard Sonrid move closer to him. Spectres despised complete darkness, for without light there could be no shadows.
Patches of coloured fire flitted here and there from the flaming hair of passing spectres. They would be patrolling the tunnels, checking on the demons and keeping the peace. Fiery heads of green, orange and red flames bobbed by, muttering courtesies to Dukoona. All bright in the darkness, except for a Broken, such as Sonrid. The feeble grey embers on the little spectre’s head were pitiful, like dying candles.
“It is just up here, my Lord,” Sonrid said.
“You go on. Let Kraz and his company see you first. I think you’ll appreciate the look on his face when I appear shortly after you.”
Dukoona followed close behind Sonrid for the rest of their journey, drawing back only when a luminous cavern shone ahead. Kraz and his fellows must have lit torches. Dukoona thought this an interesting choice; one that spoke volumes.
He let Sonrid continue alone and melded into the edge of a long shadow cast by a supporting beam of the room. He travelled along the shadow and nestled in a finger’s width of space. Dukoona stayed there, within earshot and sight of Sonrid entering the room.
“What do you want, scum?” came a voice.
“Apologies,” Sonrid said. “I must have taken a wrong turn.”
“Clear off then.”
“Wait,” said a new voice, this one sharper than most spectres. Another figure stepped into Dukoona’s view. Yellow flames spiked in short sharp flames over his head.
There you are, Kraz.
“I know this one,” Kraz said. “Come to take me up on my offer? Shall I end your miserable existence?” Shadows swirled around Kraz’s hand and a long dark dagger materialised there.
“No,” Sonrid said defiantly.
“What’s that?” Kraz said. “He says no? Look, err, Sonrid isn’t it? The Master has spoken to me again. Told me that this war is to be won swiftly and we can’t have anything holding us back.”
“I am not holding you back.”
“No, that would be our mighty Lord Dukoona,” said Kraz.
There were murmurs of agreement from around the cave.
“We’ve been stuck on this rock for too long,” Kraz said. “There are humans close by that need killing.”
More murmuring, louder this time.
Well, you have a point there Kraz, but I can’t stand your tone. Dukoona was about to emerge from his shadow and reveal himself but stopped, as he heard Sonrid speak up.
“You’re wrong.”
The room fell silent.
“Did you croak something, wretch?” Kraz said.
“You heard me,” Sonrid said. “You’re wrong. Lord Dukoona is wise and vigilant.”
“More like cowardly,” said Kraz. �
�The Master does not appreciate wisdom. Only deaths.” He stepped closer to Sonrid, raising his dagger.
Now was the time.
“What is happening here?” Dukoona asked, emerging from his shadow and sweeping into the room. Every dark set of eyes flicked frightfully between each other.
“Nothing, my Lord,” Kraz said, his dagger melting away into shadow. “Little Sonrid here was lost, weren’t you?”
Sonrid remained silent. Dukoona made a show of looking thoughtfully around the room, letting his gaze linger on some of the torches. “Fire and light? An interesting choice. Did you anticipate needing shadows?” No one answered him. “You are all very quiet. I thought I heard conversation as I made my way here but I must have been mistaken. Were you lost, Sonrid?”
“I may have taken a wrong turn, my Lord.”
“I do hope that was the extent of it,” said Dukoona, more to Kraz than anyone else. “We have too many battles ahead for our own to be divided. On that matter Kraz, I have an important request to make of you.”
“My Lord?” Kraz said.
“I have been trying to decide upon a lead spectre for one of our landing forces. I thought you might be up to the task?”
“Absolutely, my Lord,” Kraz simpered. “I would be honoured.”
“I am glad to hear it. You shall acquire for me the small island of Skelf.”
“The smallest island, my Lord?” Kraz said, unable to keep the disappointment out of this voice.
“A vital mission,” said Dukoona. “Take Skelf for me. Then we will flank the humans on Ullasay and Ronra. Succeed and I may grant you command of the assault on Dalridia.”
Kraz could barely contain his idiotic grin. “I am thankful you realise my potential. I shall not fail.”
Oh, you will, but that will be something which pleases me.
“I hope not,” Dukoona said. “Come Sonrid, let me help you find your way.”
A day later, atop the Shadow Spire, Dukoona watched the assault force bound for Skelf set sail. The force tasked to take the island of Ronra to the north of Skelf had also sailed earlier that day, led by other spectres he knew to be False. From a deep shadow cast by the curving wall behind him, Kidrian emerged to join him. Hundreds followed, all Trusted; some of their most loyal. He was pleased that he could count on most of his people.
The Dragon's Blade_Veiled Intentions Page 12
