by Chris Fox
Nara laughed at that. She couldn’t help it. Where was this woman the last time Eros had droned on about his “lady”? He’d become obsessed with the tree since he’d been named Tender. She’d love to see Jocasta take him down a peg or three.
“I didn’t,” Nara said. “If you have a book on Nurse Shaya, I’d be happy to read that, too, but can we start with one about the Wyrm Father or Wyrm Mother of Life?” She kept her tone sweet, and it wasn’t all that hard.
If Jocasta was being rude because she disliked Shayans, she wasn’t losing any points with Nara for it.
“Ismene, help this poor ruffian find what she needs. I have more important work to tend to.” Jocasta gave an exasperated sigh and glided off with that fast little walk she did.
“That was amazing,” Ismene whispered. She eyed Jocasta out of the corner of her eye. “You wielded sarcasm like a spellblade, and I don’t think she knew what to do about it. Sorry about her. She can be a little, uh, abrasive. Especially toward Shayans. I don’t know why she hates you so much, but you were really good-natured about it. Thank you for that. I didn’t want to have to throw you out, and she’d have made me do it.”
A winged form drifted down from the ceiling like a falling leaf. Nara took a large step backward and her hand shot up instinctively to cast a defensive spell. She hesitated. The drake couldn’t have been larger than a meter from tail to snout. It landed gently on Ismene’s shoulder and nuzzled her with its scaled snout.
“Nara, meet Pytho,” she scratched behind the drake’s ears, and it pressed its head into her hand. “He’s afraid of mother, too.”
“I can’t blame him.” Nara forced herself to relax, a little at least. It was hard not seeing every dragon—and anything that resembled one—as a threat. “So can you really help me find the books I need?”
“Of course. I’ve already picked out the first one. Mother could have done that immediately. Follow me, and we’ll get you some answers.” She gave Nara a warm smile, and hurried off between rows of shelves.
Nara hurried after. At least she had a starting point.
24
First Step
Aran slept fitfully that night, despite how comfortable his armor was. He dreamed of being chased, and of darker, more nameless things. He finally rose a little before dawn and started cleaning his gear.
The sergeant snored softly in one corner, while Astria lay unmoving on her tiny cot. She rolled over suddenly, and the whole cot creaked. “You move quietly, at least. That will help you out there.” Astria rose, stretched, and headed to the chopping counter. She withdrew another bunch of tubers and began slicing.
“Can you give me any other advice? It would be helpful to know the terrain, and the local fauna. Are drakes the only thing to watch out for?” Aran asked quietly. Might as well let the sergeant sleep as long as possible.
“Primarily drakes, in the beginning,” Astria said. “They are the dominant predator in this area, and the larger ones are quite dangerous. They’re also highly aggressive, and if you start fighting one, others will come to investigate. But drakes are also lazy. If one attacks you, flee. Make it chase you. But stay low. Drakes can’t resist aerial targets, and if they see you flying you’re done for.”
Aran considered all that. “So hug the ground, and if a drake comes after me lose them as quickly as possible. Will using spells draw their attention?”
“Only if the spell is particularly flashy.” Astria scooped the tubers into the bowl and passed it to Aran. He accepted it gratefully.
“When do you think my ‘enemies’ will attack?” Aran asked. “Who are they, even?” That last part was the most troubling, because it was difficult to prepare for an attack by unknown assailants.
“Most will come from Aetherius’s flight. They are the most vocal critics of our flight, and of our Wyrm Mother, Olyssa.”
Aran passed the bowl back to Astria and began munching a tuber. He chewed as he considered how to attack the problem. “It sounds like Wyrms are unlikely to intervene directly, because they consider Outriders beneath them.”
“We are beneath them,” Astria corrected. “But yes, they are unlikely to intercede directly.”
“So they’ll send other Outriders, and what else? Enforcers?” Aran asked.
“Enforcer?” She asked, cocking her head.
“The bipedal draconic guys that the Krox use. They usually carry spellrifles. Most are war mages, but I’ve run into a true mage.” Aran wished he had illusion magic. Nara could show Astria exactly what he meant, without sounding nearly as lame.
“Ahh…you mean hatchlings.” Astria shook her head in amusement. “I forget how little you know now. Yes, there’s a chance they could send a hatchling. That’s rare, since the hatchling will get little honor from killing a mere Outrider. In your case, because of Khalahk, some hatchlings may take this personally enough to intercede.”
Aran finished the last of the tubers and licked his fingers clean. He dried them on his armor. “Is there anything else you think I need to know before getting started?”
“No. I can lead you to the path whenever you are ready.” She set the empty bowl on the counter and dusted her hands.
“Sergeant,” Aran called loudly.
Crewes stopped snoring, and his nostrils flared. His eyes snapped open. “I don’t want anymore, ma.” Then his eyes focused and he seemed to recognize Aran. “Oh, thank the gods. Just a dream.”
“I’m taking off.” Aran offered him a hand and the sergeant took it. “Take care of them for me.”
“You know I will. Good luck out there, LT.” Crewes slapped Aran hard on the shoulder, but his armor shimmered and his hand passed through the other side. “Man, that shit is fancy. Hope it keeps you alive.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Aran rose and walked to the curtain.
Astria followed. “Put that away before you exit. Remember, only what you can carry.”
Aran hid his armor, counting the precise four seconds again. He stepped out into the chilly predawn, and was surprised by the level of activity. Dozens of people moved off alone or in pairs, each heading to a different crevasse along the edge of the valley.
Astria led him to the south, up a path that carried them to the ridgeline. It was hard hiking, and Aran enjoyed it. This world had an austere beauty to it. It lacked trees, but the ridges came in a riot of colors, from deep reds to bright purples.
The sun crested the horizon, and those colors leapt into clarity. Dragons winged above, screeching in the distance as they wheeled through the air. The temperature spiked immediately, enough that Aran wished he could put his armor on.
A crowd of people waited at the top of the ridge. They stood clustered around a woman atop a boulder. That woman wore a simple white dress with blue trim. Her long, grey hair had been pulled into a bun, and though her face was lined with age, her eyes glittered powerfully.
She stared hard at Aran as he approached, unblinking and full of judgment. “An Outrider comes before me wishing to walk the path of honor. Is this true?”
“It is.” Aran shot Astria a glare. She hadn’t mentioned anything about a ceremony.
She shrugged innocently, but her smile was anything but innocent. Welcome to life with an older sister.
“Do you come with only what you can carry and a blade of your own fashioning?” The priestess demanded.
“I come with only what I can carry.” Aran reached into his void pocket and withdrew his spellblade. “I guess you could say I fashioned this. I’ve brought it to several Catalysts.”
The priestess’s face darkened. She leaned forward and tapped Aran on the chest with a bony finger. “Carry your blade openly, Outrider. Do not hide it away. Others must know you.”
“I’ll wear the sword openly, then,” Aran agreed. He waited to see what else was involved in the ritual.
“Well, go, then.” The priestess made a shooing motion. “Get out of my face.”
The crowd began to disperse with disappointed
murmurs. He had no idea what they’d been expecting.
“Good luck, little brother.” Astria tousled his hair. “It’s too short now. You used to get so annoyed when I’d mess it up. Especially if one of your little girlfriends was around.”
“Astria, I wanted to thank you.” Aran considered hugging her, but feared losing a limb. “You’ve risked a lot to help me. I don’t know why you came to Shaya, and I don’t know why you changed your mind about killing me. I do know I would have stood no chance without you. So, thanks. I’ll try to make you proud out there.”
“You’d better.” She pointed down into the canyon below. “Follow that ridge into the canyon, and, like I said, keep low. Resist the urge to fly. It will seem like a good idea, because it is so fast, but you do not want to aggravate an entire flock.”
Aran activated his armor and counted a precise four seconds as it flowed over him. The instant the HUD lit he dove into the canyon, flying just above the deck.
25
Drakes
The first few hours had been surprisingly fun. Aran had kept low, as instructed. He’d hugged valley floors, flying a few meters above the ground. He ate up the distance and had made twenty kilometers by the time he stopped for breakfast.
He sat in a hollow behind a pile of boulders, and was fairly certainly nothing could see him from below. If something came by from above, he hoped the shadows would hide him.
Aran removed his helmet and withdrew an MRE from his void pocket. The concept of meals ready to eat had been new to him, but the Ternus marines had made him a believer. Despite what he’d said to his sister, he’d take an MRE over just about any other meal. Especially one of the lasagna packets.
He tore the seal and waited.
The wind played low over the valley, rising and falling every few moments. During one of the lulls, Aran heard something. A clack clack of rocks falling. The sound had come from above, not below.
He pulled himself deeper into the shadows and peered up above. He didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t there.
An urgent vibrating came from his spellblade. Aran dropped a hand to the hilt and could feel the heat even through the armor. “What is it? What do you see?”
There were no words, but he could sense what the blade was feeling. It was alarmed. It detected a threat, one Aran couldn’t see.
He froze and strained to catch any sound. Any hint that something was out there.
Nothing came.
Aran waited several more minutes, until a little streamer of steam came from his MRE indicating it was ready to eat. He sat down, fished a spoon out of his void pocket, and began to eat.
Something was out there, of that he had no doubt. But he couldn’t detect it, and unless it attacked, there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he strongly suspected he knew who it might be.
He’d only met one person who could cloak her presence. If she were out there, then she’d reveal herself when she felt like it. Maybe this was her way of helping without helping, since she’d said she couldn’t take part.
Aran finished his meal, then summoned a bit of fire to incinerate the packaging. He replaced his helmet and started flying through the valley again. The sun hadn’t quite come up, but the predawn offered a much better view of his surroundings now. A mighty river roared beneath him, which seemed like perfect cover so long as he flew close to the water.
He dropped down to the deck, zipping over the water as he made his way south. He’d gone perhaps another kilometer when the sun finally crested the horizon. The high canyon walls kept most of it out, but he caught glimpses as he rounded bends in the river.
A scaly creature burst out of the water beneath him in a flurry of teeth and claws. A tail snaked outward to coil around his right ankle, and it yanked him toward the ocean of teeth. Aran pressed both hands together and aimed them at the creature’s face. He pulled deeply from void and launched a level three bolt at point blank range. It sizzled into the creature’s eyeless face, and the beast recoiled with a shriek.
Aran kicked off the creature’s bulbous body, knocking it back into the water with a huge splash. He poured more void into the armor and willed it to maximum speed as he soared away, and angled his flight to the right until he passed over the riverbank.
He had no idea what that creature had been, but it was possible there were more of them, and steering clear of the water seemed like a great idea.
Aran flew low and fast along the rocks until he rounded another ridge and got his first look at the next valley. Hundreds upon hundreds of drakes in all sizes littered the valley. Some roosted on the lower slopes of hills. Others sunned themselves in the meadows along the valley floor. There seemed to be a hierarchy to the gathering, with the largest drakes toward the center of the valley.
One of the bulls rushed a rival, and the two began to grapple. Boulders were flattened, and their trumpeting calls were deafening.
“Boy,” Aran said to no one in particular, “I sure do wish someone was following me so I could ask them whether or not crossing that valley was suicidal.”
Astria’s disembodied voice answered almost instantly. “If someone were following, they’d have to stay silent, because no one can help you on this march.”
“If that were true, why would someone follow in the first place?” Aran wondered aloud.
There was no answer.
“Fair enough.” Aran took a few running steps then leapt into the air. He flew low, as usual, but didn’t feel the usual thrill. How had Astria kept up with him? And why follow, if she couldn’t or wouldn’t help? He didn’t want her to break her oaths or anything, but didn’t understand what she hoped to gain. Still, he appreciated her support.
He dove into the valley and followed a small ridge along the north side. He skirted the edges to make sure he didn’t pass any of the largest drakes. He’d nearly made it to the far side when one of the bulls below looked up. Its head tracked his flight, and it began to flap its wings.
The creature leapt into the air, and half a dozen drakes joined it. The lead bull flapped in Aran’s direction. Crap. He kicked off a rock and dove into a steep fall toward the water below. The drakes followed—a whole flock of them, now.
Their angry screeches followed Aran up the river, but most refused to approach—most, but not all. The largest bull had nearly caught up and was flying no more than three meters behind Aran.
Evasive maneuvers weren’t going to work.
Aran dove into the water. He swam beneath the surface, going as deep as he could. The current was strong, and dragged him along the bottom. He rebounded off a sharp boulder, and a yellow warning light appeared on the paper doll in his HUD.
He grabbed a passing outcrop, and pulled himself beneath it. A shadow passed by above, then another. Aran calmed his breathing, clinging to the rock as he watched. More shadows passed. They were circling.
They’d probably go away soon. He hoped.
The idea that they sent people to do this without spellarmor made him damned grateful for Kazon’s gift. If he survived this, he was sending that man flowers and chocolate.
26
A Clue
This time when Nara made her way back into the temple she did it by a side door, and she went straight to the table in the back that she and Ismene had used last time. Ismene had made it very clear that the best way to deal with Jocasta was not to, and now that she knew why Nara was here, she was adamant that Jocasta couldn’t find out.
Ismene was already waiting, Pytho curled over her shoulder, asleep. Little sparks came from the drake’s snout whenever she snored. Ismene looked up with an excited smile and waved Nara over.
“I’m so glad you got my missive. You’re going to be so excited!” Ismene whispered as she struggled to contain herself. “Come sit down. Take a look at this.”
She hurried back to her seat, and Nara hadn’t even sat when she pushed a book under her nose. “There. Bottom paragraph.”
Nara scanned the
contents. It talked about the Wyrm Father of Life, and the Wyrm Mother of Air. “They were a mated pair?” She leaned back in her chair, staggered by the flood of implications. Her mind flew through possibilities.
“Think of what it could mean!” Ismene’s voice had grown louder, and she cringed and lowered it. “It would require both aspects to create a wonder like the vessel you’ve described. It’s very likely the wonder was constructed here.”
“That’s amazing news,” Nara whispered. She reread the paragraph, considering. “If the vessel was made here, what did they do with it? We know it’s hidden somewhere on this world. If you’re Virkonna, or this mysterious Wyrm Father, where do you hide the vessel?”
“I don’t know.” Ismene drummed the fingers of one hand on the table, and used the other hand to toy with Pytho’s tail. “There’s so little about the Wyrm Father, not even a name.”
“That confirms what I found on Shaya.” Nara pushed the book back with a frown. “It’s as if he eradicated all memories of himself, all mention of his name.”
“The legends make something like that sound almost trivial to a true god.” Ismene stopped drumming. “So let’s assume he did. And let’s assume he made the ship here, with the Wyrm Mother. I do not possess magic, but I know the theory well. Every sub-archivist does. An eldimagus that powerful would create a signature to match. If you have magic, could you perhaps use divination to locate it?”
“We’ve tried,” Nara admitted. She knew it gave away the fact that she was a mage, but even though she’d only spent a few hours with Ismene, she knew a genuine soul when she saw one. There wasn’t a shred of deceit in the girl. “I can’t find anything. The only signature of any note on this world is Virkonna herself.”
