Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6)

by Andrew Hunter

  “Hi, Diggs,” the centaur girl greeted the ghoul as she brushed a strand of her long brown hair from her eyes. The sleeve of her oversized green woolen sweater slipped down her slender arm to bunch around her elbow as she did.

  “Hi, Merra. Where’d you get that?” Diggs greeted her, pointing at the sweater.

  “Gammi Boots thought I looked cold,” the centaur girl said with a shrug.

  “It’s summertime,” Diggs said.

  “I know,” Merra said, “but I kind of like it.”

  “It’s pretty,” Haven said with an amused smile.

  “Yeah,” Garrett agreed, lifting his arms as he became the centerpiece of an impromptu game of ring around the haystack for the children.

  “Gammi still cooking pies?” Diggs asked.

  “I think they’re working on supper now,” Merra answered.

  “They?” Garrett asked.

  “She has some more help now,” the centaur girl replied with a smile, “We thought these girls could use a little break.”

  Garrett waved politely at the two Astorran girls in white sundresses, but they seemed utterly oblivious to the necromancer as they fled, giggling, from the young faun whose turn it was to be it.

  “Come on,” Diggs said, waving for Haven and Garrett to follow as he mounted the creaking steps of the old woman’s porch.

  Garrett shielded his face with his hand against the glow of hundreds of wisps crowded together in the rafters of the small cottage. The air inside was thick with the warm smell of baking bread and roasting meat, and the voices of at least a dozen fae creatures filled the one-room house with laughter and gossip.

  Gammi Boots perhaps took her name from her oversized boots that clomped loudly on the floor as she moved around the kitchen, a room that seemed to occupy at least a third of her home’s floor space. The worn leather of her boots might once have been red, and judging by the confidence with which she commanded her fae conscripts, she might very well have been a deserter from the Chadirian army.

  Fauns and dryads hastened to obey her every command as they prepared the evening meal for the camp. Even a few fairies, who didn’t even eat human food, seemed content to help with the work, driven, Garrett expected, more out of curiosity than anything else.

  “Stir the potatoes!” the gray-haired woman shouted as she slapped a long wooden spoon across Garrett’s belly.

  “I’ve kinda got a...” he said, lifting his splinted wrist in excuse.

  “That’s why the gods gave you two hands, innit?” the old woman demanded.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Garrett said, wincing slightly as he rubbed the hurt spot on his stomach with his splinted right hand and stirred the pot with his left. The bubbling froth in the blackened cauldron subsided to a manageable level as Garrett dredged his spoon around among the softening chunks of chopped potatoes.

  “How can I help?” Haven asked, grinning at the sight of Garrett’s frown.

  “Get that mutt out of me kitchen!” the Astorran woman said, poking her pudgy little finger toward the brindle ghoul.

  “Hey!” Diggs protested as Haven ushered him toward the door.

  “You’ve eaten three whole pies already!” Gammi Boots huffed, “You’ll get fat!”

  “But I wanna get fat!” Diggs whined, raking long claw marks into the doorframe as Haven pushed him out.

  “Shoo!” the old woman cried, “I’ll feed you again later.”

  She turned and glared at Garrett. He stirred faster in response, giving her a nervous smile. Her hard little eyes fell on his dirty fingernails as he clutched the handle of the wooden spoon.

  “What is the first step to a clean kitchen?” she called out, loud enough to be heard above the chatter of the fae.

  “Clean hands!” they all answered in unison.

  Gammi Boots pointed toward a large basin of soapy water on a bench against the wall, still glaring at Garrett.

  Garrett abandoned his potato pot and hurried over to the basin. The old Astorran woman watched him intently, only relenting and returning to her duties with a slight huff once he had begun to scrub his nails clean in the warm soapy water.

  “I don’t think she’s in any danger,” Haven whispered as she joined Garrett at the washbasin. She dipped her hands in the water as well, scrubbing them quickly and pulling them out again before the thin crust of ice, spreading from Garrett’s hand across the surface of the water, could touch her skin.

  “I think I found the assassin,” Garrett muttered, giving the old woman a dark look.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Island

  Marla awoke late the following evening to the sound of surf and wind whipping at the canvas of the black tent. She opened her eyes to find her jacket, now mended with a tight stitch of coarse black thread, lying folded next to her head. She looked up to find Alyss seated with her back against the tent wall, playing with Zizi, as she had named the little flying creature. Alyss giggled as the shimmering little ferret-bird bobbed up and down in the air, playing peekaboo around the sides of the vampire girl’s jacket that she held up between them.

  Marla sat up, rubbing at the soreness in her side, where Claude had wrapped bandages around the wound beneath her shirt. “Thank you for fixing my jacket,” Marla said, looking at the boatman who sat in the far corner of the tent, watching over Nerrys as she lay, still unconscious.

  James smiled and nodded before turning his attention again to cleaning the lenses of his goggles.

  “Where’s Claude?” Marla asked, noting his absence from the crowded tent.

  “He went out again as soon as night fell,” Alyss said, screaming with laughter as Zizi dodged past the upraised jacket to burrow between her braided hair and the back of her neck.

  Marla ignored a little pang of jealousy that her strange pet had already deserted her for a new master. Whatever the thing was, it was Alyss’s problem now. Let her figure out what to feed it.

  “How long ago was that?” Marla asked.

  “About an hour ago,” James answered.

  “Why did you let me sleep so late?” Marla sighed.

  “You needed it,” Alyss said, pushing the little floating creature away as it nipped playfully at her ear.

  Marla shook her head as she picked up the blood canister to have a drink. She hesitated as she realized that it was almost empty.

  “Go ahead,” James said, “We’ve all had breakfast already. I’ll refill it as soon as I’m finished with these.”

  Marla nodded and then drained the last of the cave troll blood from the canister. The stale taste of it sickened her, but she needed its strength to face the night ahead. She sealed the canister again and set it aside.

  “I’d better get out there,” Marla said, shrugging on her jacket. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. She really needed a bath. They all did.

  “We’ll come with you,” Alyss said, slipping into her jacket as well.

  “Are you sure?” Marla asked.

  “I’m sick of being stuck inside,” Alyss said, “and Zizi needs to go for a walk.”

  “It’s dangerous out there, Alyss,” Marla protested.

  “Really?” Alyss scoffed, “I didn’t notice!”

  “Both of you be careful,” James said as he held his goggles up to his eyes and then frowned. He lowered them again and spat into one of the lenses before working at it furiously with a scrap of black cloth.

  “Help me suit up,” Alyss asked as she handed Marla her goggles.

  A few minutes later, they emerged from the outer flap of the tent, buttoning it shut behind them.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” Alyss complained as she put her hand to her cheek.

  Marla quickly helped her adjust the seal between her goggles and facemask in the blazing light of the moonsand shore.

  “Thanks,” Alyss said as Zizi nuzzled curiously at her leather-clad cheek.

  Marla looked around at the empty beach and the foggy lake beyond. “Where’s the troll?” she asked.

  “Over there,” Al
yss said, pointing further down the shoreline.

  Marla turned and waved toward the massive cave troll who was trying to catch something that he saw in the water, but he did not seem to notice her as he continued splashing in the surf.

  “Do you see Claude?” Marla asked.

  “He went that way, judging by the tracks,” Alyss said, pointing up toward the inland.

  “I didn’t know you were a tracker,” Marla laughed as she fell in beside Alyss, walking up the slope toward the bluff. Zizi fluttered along in the air behind them.

  “It’s quite simple, actually,” Alyss said, “as long as you are following someone across a bunch of sand.”

  They found Claude coming back down, about halfway to the spot where they had found the valley on the previous day.

  “You need to see this,” Claude called out as they approached.

  Marla could tell by the set of his shoulders that the strain of their predicament was beginning to wear on the young gaunt pilot. She imagined that she probably looked about the same to him.

  “What is it?” Marla asked as they reached him.

  Claude twisted his head to the side as Zizi fluttered up to nose at the strap his goggles.

  “Down, Zizi!” Alyss said, and the little flying creature slunk back to her shoulder with a guilty look on her cat-like face and a flick of her feathery tail.

  “The area of shadow is expanding,” Claude said, turning to lead them further up the slope.

  “How far?” Marla asked, and then she gasped as they crested a rise to find an entire slope of dead gray rock before them.

  Zizi hissed at the sight.

  “Look!” Alyss said, hopping quickly down the far side of the rise to reach the leading edge of destruction. She knelt in a sandy depression and watched in fascination as the light slowly faded from the shining white powder at her feet, leaving a cold gray dust in its place.

  “We don’t have much time!” Marla said, stooping to lift a handful of the shining sand in the palm of her glove. By the time she had brought it to the level of her chest, the light had already faded from it, and she let the ashen powder spill from her fingers.

  “And there’s no way of stopping this?” Alyss asked.

  “We can’t risk touching the stone that the Volgrem left,” Marla said, “I think our only hope is to find a way off the island before the stone destroys it.”

  “But what if the magic of the island is what keeps the fog in place?” Claude said, “What if, once the island goes... dead... we can use a smoke bomb and call for help?”

  A low rumble beneath the earth cut off Marla’s reply.

  “I’m not sure we want to stick around long enough to test that theory, Claude,” Alyss said once the trembling subsided.

  “Then what?” Claude sighed in exasperation.

  “We need to find the Dragon Queen,” Marla said.

  “You really think she’s here?” Alyss asked dubiously.

  “I saw her,” Marla said.

  “We all saw something,” Alyss said, “but I’m not sure I’m ready to call whatever that was the mother of all dragons.”

  “The Volgrem said she was here,” Marla said, shuddering at her recollection of the thing in Simms’s body.

  “You spoke to it?” Claude asked.

  “What did it say?” Alyss asked.

  Marla shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “We just have to find that dragon.”

  “Doesn’t matter?” Alyss laughed, “Trust me Marla, now is not the time to be all mysterious! I think Claude and I both have a right to know what that thing said to you.”

  Marla stared at them both in silence for a moment as Zizi darted back and forth to either side of Alyss’s goggled glare, watching Marla intently.

  “It said that I’m the Dragon Queen,” Marla answered quietly.

  Claude flinched visibly, taking a step back.

  Alyss did not move, but continued to stare in silence as Marla regarded her, awaiting her response.

  “That is so much better than Dawnfacer!” Alyss said at last, “Can you imagine what people are gonna say when they find out you’re really her?”

  “It’s not true!” Marla groaned.

  “What if it is though?” Alyss said, raising her gloved hands in excitement as she circled Marla in the basin of lightless sand, “After all these years, you’ve come back to us, to lead us... into the future or somewhere! Marla, you’re bigger than the Thrin!... Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.”

  “Look,” Marla interjected, “even if I am somehow the Queen reborn, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to get us off this island, or what I’m supposed to do for our people, once we do get off the island! We need to find the dragon that I saw!”

  Zizi’s little ears pricked up, and she bobbed up and down excitedly in the air at Alyss’s shoulder.

  Marla stared at the little flying creature in wonder.

  “Do you know where the dragon is, Zizi?” Alyss asked.

  Zizi did a little somersault and then darted a short distance away before turning to look back at them.

  “I suppose we follow the floating weasel,” Claude said.

  *******

  Marla and the others scrambled to find steady footing as another tremor shook the crumbling slope of the westernmost peak of the mountain. Marla felt the entire face of crystalline rock beneath her feet begin to shift and slide away.

  “That way!” Claude shouted as he stumbled toward a jagged outcropping to their left.

  Zizi chirped and trilled as she flew circles around the tip of the great faceted crystal point of the outcropping.

  Alyss cried out as she lost her footing and began to slide down the glossy face of the shifting slope. Marla seized the girl by the belt and pulled her to her feet again. Claude reached out to pull them both to safety as the rock face sank away, sliding down to smash into a thousand bright shards in the valley below.

  “That was not fun,” Alyss gasped as she clung to the glowing crystal outcropping.

  “No,” Marla agreed, catching her breath as the earthquake subsided.

  “Are you certain that this thing knows where we’re going?” Claude asked.

  Zizi trilled again and flew further up the slope before turning to look back at them again.

  “We have to follow her,” Marla said, kicking at the stones of the mountainside, testing their stability before she resumed her ascent.

  “How do you know it’s a her?” Claude whispered.

  “Because I named her Zizi,” Alyss said, “I always wanted a pet named Zizi.”

  “What does that have to do with it?” Claude demanded as he and Alyss followed Marla up the slope.

  “Find your own pet, and then you can call it whatever you want,” Alyss said.

  “You didn’t find her!” Claude scoffed, “We did!”

  “Yes, but you just admitted that Zizi is a girl,” Alyss said.

  “No I didn’t!” Claude said, grunting as his boot slipped on a patch of loose gravel.

  “You called it a her,” Marla pointed out as she reached back to help her friends over the slippery spot.

  “You know, I don’t even care anymore,” Claude sighed.

  “I’m glad that’s settled then,” Alyss said. “How much farther, Zizi?” she called out to the little flying creature.

  Zizi bobbed up and down, making a chirping noise at the top of the next rise.

  Marla and the others put their hands on their knees and rested their aching legs as they looked down at the great triangular scar in the mountainside beyond the rise. Columns of steam rose from an enormous vent in the shining stone, nearly six hundred feet across at its widest. Dark patches of algae covered the moonstone near the edges of the vent, and the air shimmered as though a strong current of hot wind was rising from below. Even through her mask, Marla could smell a fishy reek, mingled with a strong metallic odor.

  “Doesn’t really seem like the place one would expect to f
ind the Queen of Dragons,” Alyss said.

  Zizi chattered excitedly as she flew down the slope toward the vent.

  “It doesn’t look safe,” Claude warned as they carefully picked their way down between the massive boulders that surrounded the cleft.

  Marla did not hear him. Her thoughts now swirled with strange visions... a shining city beneath a stormy sky... the mountainsides shimmering in the orange light of a great fire that descended from the heavens.

  Her heart began to race as she felt ice particles stinging her face. Her wings beat hard, almost exhausted, as she fought to climb through the thin, indigo colored sky. She gasped for breath as the orange fire grew to fill her vision. She had never flown this high before, but she had to go higher. She had to turn aside the fire that would burn her children to ash. She had to undo what she had done... what she had brought upon them all. She had to...

  “Marla!” Claude shouted, shaking her to her senses again.

  She was on her knees, weeping uncontrollably now. It was gone... all gone! She had failed, and her children were dying! Her world was dying, and it was all her fault!

  Alyss fell to the ground beside her. “Marla, are you all right?” she cried, putting her hand on Marla’s shoulder.

  Marla blinked through her tears and was suddenly herself again, as though the roaring of the ocean of sorrow in her mind had instantly fallen silent. The screams of a multitude of voices ceased, leaving her only a shaken girl on the side of a trembling mountain.

  “I think it’s passed,” Claude sighed, rising to his feet again as another earthquake died away.

  Marla watched as a shower of loose rocks skittered down the slope, disappearing into the rift with a series of rattling concussions. She sniffed back her tears and got to her feet.

  “We’re very close,” she said hoarsely. She started down the slope again toward the rift, but Claude caught her arm.

  “Marla,” he said, “... whatever we find down there... It won’t change who you really are... not to me.”

  Marla felt very alone. She embraced him tightly, holding onto him like an anchor that might somehow keep her from drifting away, lost forever in the bottomless sorrow of the dying island. She shut her eyes against the sun-bright glare and held her breath against the rancid fumes of the dragon’s lair.