Draykon

by Charlotte E. English

  'Who are you?' Llandry repeated, holding her ground against the woman's approach.

  'I'm your step-grandmother, or what they call it. But you can call me Mags.' The woman smiled gently, full of apparent kindness. 'I'm to take you home, duckie, and not a moment too soon I'd say. You look bushed. A good meal and a proper bed's what you need.'

  Bushed? Llandry supposed she meant 'tired'. 'I don't have a grandfather,' she repeated. 'Mamma's father died ten years ago, and Pa's...' She stopped. 'Pa said his father went through a gate one day and never came back. He said he was killed up here.'

  Mags looked sincerely surprised. 'Well, isn't that just like men. To think of that. Years, and him hiding up here like a spider all that time. I'll be giving him a thorough scolding, you mark my words.'

  Mags didn't look like she was capable of scolding anybody. 'You... live up here?'

  'Going on twenty year, now. Twenty years of Middles time, that is, near as I can tell.'

  'Just like that?'

  'It's not too bad, duck, if you know what you're about. Course, most don't, not these days. Come along, now, it's not far to the house.' Llandry watched her, her resolve wavering. Mags had made no move to push Llandry into anything; certainly she had not tried to attack her. Then again, the very mildness of her appearance and manner could be a trick.

  'How did you know I was here?'

  'Your Grandpa brought you through, dear.'

  Llandry's head spun. 'You were watching me?'

  'Now, dear, I think you ought to lie down before you do anything else. You're looking a bit peaky.' She was close enough now to furrow her rumpled brow at Llandry's face. 'What's that, tears? Had a bad day? I've got just the thing. Nice hot food on the stove at home. You come with me, now.'

  Llandry was aware of her tiredness like a physical burden, threatening to overwhelm all of her attempts to be wary. She was about to accept Mags' offer when a new voice spoke from behind her, a low, rather rough male one. She turned around so fast that she almost lost her balance.

  A man was approaching through the trees, slowly, using a cane to support himself. He was aged, but the life in him shone through his bent frame and shuffling step. He stopped a few feet away from her, looking into her face intently. He didn't smile.

  'Hello, Llandry, my dear. I've been wanting to meet you since you were born.'

  His hair was pale grey instead of blonde, and his eyes were hazel rather than blue, but she knew him nonetheless. The shape of his face, his broad shoulders, his short nose, heavy brow and thick eyebrows were all so familiar to her. If he hadn't had the cane - if he was, perhaps, a few years younger - he would walk with the same controlled power as his son.

  There was no question at all whose father he was.

  'Oh,' said Llandry, faintly. Her knees trembled. On top of everything else, it was far too much. The world blurred as more tears leaked into her eyes. She closed them, welcoming the darkness.

  'Mags,' said her grandfather warningly. Llandry felt Mags' plump arms catch her as she swayed, but when she opened her eyes again she saw only grey mist. She submitted gratefully as the mist closed around her and she lost consciousness.

  ***

  Llandry woke up under a patched duvet in a small bedroom. She opened her eyes to see whitewashed walls, exposed wooden beams in the ceiling and rag rugs on the floor. She sat up, feeling dizzy. Mags instantly stepped into the room, as if she had been waiting for Llandry to wake.

  'You feel better, duckie?' She bent to look into Llandry's face. 'Still a bit white, but you'll perk right up after some breakfast.' She left the room and returned almost immediately with a tray, setting it in front of Llandry. She had prepared some fresh bread, serving it with butter, cheese and fruit. A cup of hot milk steamed next to the plate piled full of food. Realising her hunger, Llandry ate quickly and well, feeling rapidly stronger. Mags watched with smiling approval.

  'If you come down in a minute, lovie, your grandpa's waiting.' Llandry couldn't help smiling back as Mags collected the tray and departed. She climbed out of the bed, moving carefully: she still felt weak. She stood still for a moment, testing her strength, and thankfully her legs held. She was wearing a voluminous cotton nightdress that she suspected might belong to Mags. Her own clothes had been pressed and hung up to air in the wardrobe, and she dressed quickly, enjoying the feel of fresh-smelling clothes next to her skin.

  But as she ventured downstairs, her stomach fluttered with nerves and she knew her old shyness had come upon her again. Her grandfather sat in a wooden rocking chair near to a homey stone-built fireplace. He had a patchwork quilt over his legs - was it Mags who made all these comfortable things? - and a book lay open in his lap. He looked up as Llandry entered the large, open-plan room. Mags stood at a large stone sink washing up the breakfast things; she threw Llandry a quick, encouraging smile before turning back to her work.

  Her grandfather looked up, regarding her over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

  'Hello, Llandry,' he said in his rough voice. He still didn't smile.

  'Hello,' she mumbled, almost inaudibly, busying herself with straightening her blouse. This stranger looked like her father, but his gravity and lack of warmth unnerved her. He did not feel like family. She hoped he would say something else, but he just looked at her.

  'I-I don't know your name,' she said. 'Pa never said.'

  'Rheas,' he replied.

  'Rheas...?'

  His mouth twisted. 'Ah yes. I forgot that Aysun took his wife's name. Rheas Irfan.'

  Llandry nodded. He was scowling at her as though his son's actions were her fault. She hovered nervously, finally taking a chair as far away from Rheas as possible. He grinned at her mirthlessly.

  'Afraid of me, are you? Timid thing. Must get that from your mother. It doesn't come from my line.'

  Llandry felt a hint of annoyance. Good, she thought. Annoy me and I'll stop feeling afraid of you.

  Rheas sat back, picking up his book again, but he didn't read it. He kept his gaze on Llandry.

  'Don't you have questions for me?' he said at last.

  Llandry did, but she didn't know how to ask them of this cold, fierce man. She looked down at her hands. 'Mags said you brought me here,' she said to her lap. 'Is that true?'

  'Certainly. I didn't want my only grandchild to be slain before I got a chance to meet her.'

  Afterwards would be all right, would it? Llandry cleared her face of all expression, steeled herself, and looked up. She felt a quiver of anxiety at Rheas's intent study of her, but she refused to look away.

  'How did you know I was in danger?'

  'Surely that's obvious, Llandry. You've had an irilapter following you for weeks - or did you think that was a coincidence?'

  'An irilapter?'

  Rheas sighed. 'Mags, where did the stupid creature go?'

  'He's here, lovie. I gave him a dish of honey and he's been happy as can be.' Mags approached, her hands cupped around something winged and colourful.

  'Prink?' said Llandry, in complete incomprehension.

  'Prink? Is that what you called it?' Rheas was amused. He allowed Mags to place the irilapter on his lap, then waved her away. He stroked Prink's wings, very gently, and the irilapter actually began to purr.

  'An old friend of mine,' said her grandfather. 'When the orting stopped speaking to me, I sent this little man to take over.'

  Llandry was slightly reassured by his gentleness with Prink. Perhaps he wasn't as fierce as she'd thought.

  'You were watching me through Prink?' Wait, that wasn't all. 'Through Sigwide?'

  Rheas nodded, obviously laughing at her. 'I'm surprised your father didn't guess. Quite a huge coincidence, wasn't it, for you to happen across a helpless baby animal in the middle of a rogue portal? I was hoping to bring you through, but your mother was too fast for me. No matter: you kept the orting.'

  Llandry blinked, nonplussed. She remembered that day clearly: her mother's fear, her own heartbreak at the prospect of parting with the
tiny orting, and her father's trepidation. And her grandfather had meant to take her? She added that to the list of his offences, feeling a comforting buzz of anger inside that seared away her timidity.

  'So... you're a summoner?'

  He shrugged indifferently. 'I suppose that's the label you might put on it down there. I never cared much about these things until I came here. Spend enough time up here, it matters. You pick it up.'

  'How?' Llandry struggled to understand. He obviously had considerable summoning talent - more even than anyone she knew, because she'd never heard of anybody using a companion as a spy before. Yet he also controlled the gates, apparently, or was it Mags who had opened the gate that she'd fallen through?

  'Think about it,' he said, watching her. 'You live up here year after year, breathing the air, drinking the water, eating the plants and the animals. It changes you.'

  Llandry backtracked. 'Sigwide stopped talking to you?'

  'He transferred his loyalty entirely to you,' replied Rheas. 'He wouldn't let me use his eyes anymore. I had to improvise something else. Now, it is my turn for a question or two. What in the world have you been doing, my dear, to attract so much ... negative attention?'

  'I thought you were watching.'

  Rheas grimaced. 'Irilapters are flighty. They aren't the most reliable spies. I missed a few episodes of your little drama.'

  Llandry stiffened. Little? She told him the whole story, blushing as she admitted her own mistakes. When she had finished, he opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

  'No. I have something to ask you now.' He lifted his bushy brows at her and waited. She realised she was clenching her fists in her lap, and made an effort to smooth them out.

  'Why have you been sitting up here, watching us, interfering with our lives and never telling anyone you were alive? You didn't even tell your own son! How could you do that to your family?' She was very angry now, and she knew that it showed. She didn't care: let him see how disgusted she was with him.

  Rheas's eyes glittered at her. 'Perhaps not everyone has the same value for family that you do,' he suggested. She snorted, turning her face away from him.

  'Your father and I didn't get along well,' he said, more quietly. 'We fought about a lot of things, particularly about your mother. When he insisted on moving to Glinnery to marry her, I cast him off. I told him never to come home. A year or two later I left Irbel forever and settled up here.'

  Llandry was too incensed to speak for several moments. 'How could you object to my mother?' she said at last, controlling her voice with an effort.

  'I thought her a silly, flighty Glinnish woman, fit for nothing but arranging flowers and decorating her hair. Like most of the rest of them.' He said it flatly, unapologetically.

  'She's nothing like that!'

  'Perhaps I was wrong,' he conceded. 'Nonetheless, for your father to turn his back on his Irbellian heritage - to just up and leave for her - was unforgiveable.' He paused. 'At the time.'

  Rheas's last words took some of the fury out of Llandry's anger. 'At the time?'

  'I tried to go back, once,' he said. 'I regretted what I'd done. I was going to explain, maybe even apologise. But when I saw Aysun, I couldn't approach him. I knew he wouldn't welcome me. It was shortly after you were born.'

  'Foolish male pride,' said Mags. Llandry realised she was standing behind her chair, listening.

  Rheas cast Mags an irritated look. 'Perhaps. But she's here, isn't she? I got her out in time. So you see my 'meddling', as you term it, has not been for nothing.'

  This speech puzzled Llandry, but she concluded that Mags had not approved of Rheas's spying on her.

  'Thank you for rescuing me,' said Llandry, rising decisively to her feet. 'But now I must go home.'

  Rheas's heavy grey brows snapped together. 'What?'

  'I need to find out what has happened to my... my friend. And to Sigwide.' Rheas's brows rose at her hesitant use of the word “friend”, then he frowned again, looking more fierce than ever.

  'You can't go back, especially not after everything you've just told me. You must stay here, where you will be safe.'

  Llandry snorted with laughter. 'Safe? Not even a full unit of guards could keep me safe. What makes you think you can do better?'

  Rheas chuckled grimly. 'Glinnery guards? Flimsy pansies, not soldiers at all. I could do better than that by myself.'

  Llandry looked pointedly at the cane that rested against his chair, and he scowled.

  'This is my territory,' he said. 'I have complete control over it. Nobody will enter without my consent. I'll show you.' He rose slowly from his chair, leaning heavily on his cane. Mags hovered, trying to grasp his elbow to help him up, but he waved her off irritably.

  'I'm fine, woman. Now, then.' He moved to the window, beckoning Llandry to follow him. She did so, unable to suppress her curiosity. What she saw outside surprised her. The glissenwol forest was gone, completely gone. The house stood instead in a pretty alpine valley, ringed with distant mountain ranges.

  'How far did you bring me?' she said, her heart sinking. She must be miles and miles away from where she'd come through. How would she ever find Devary again?

  'Not very far at all, in fact,' he said, glancing shrewdly at her. 'Watch.'

  She watched. Nothing happened for several seconds, and then all at once plants started to erupt from the ground before the house. They grew rapidly into tall vines with thick stems, growing and growing until they were taller than the house. They put out leaves and developed thorns. Within minutes the house was surrounded by a thicket of vicious-looking vegetation, blocking out the valley. Some of them then proceeded to grow mouths and began snapping at passing flies.

  'That's only the start of it,' said Rheas, his tone self-satisfied. 'So you see, you're safer up here.'

  Llandry shook her head. 'And my friends? Devary? Sigwide?'

  'The orting will be fine. He can take care of himself. As for your 'friend', he's a grown man, is he not? He can take care of himself, too.'

  'But that wouldn't be right. He was in danger protecting me. It was my fault that all of it happened in the first place. And he was carrying the pendant.'

  'Ah, yes. The istore. Do you have some of it with you? This is quite important, Llandry.'

  Llandry felt in the pocket of her trousers, suddenly anxious. She had pocketed the piece she'd taken from the ground a few hours before, but had the stone fallen out when her clothes were washed? No, there it was, cool and smooth in her hand. She drew it out and handed it to Rheas. When the stone touched his skin, he gasped and almost dropped it.

  'You're telling me you have no idea what this is?' He was glaring at her, brows drawn together, angry. She lifted her chin. He couldn't intimidate her anymore, not now that she knew how he had treated her parents. How he'd spoken of her mother.

  'I think I do.' She told him about the clearing with the gems embedded in the moss. He nodded grimly.

  'There are a few of those sites, scattered about.'

  She looked up at him, startled. 'How do you know about them?'

  'I've found many of them over the years, the same way you did. I can't help but sense them.'

  She took a deep breath. He spoke slowly, portentously, and she sensed that he knew more than he had told her.

  'Why do I sense them?'

  He looked at her seriously. 'It would be better never to know, Llandry. Believe me.' He sat down in his rocking chair again, settling into it with a sigh. 'If you've had as much trouble over it as you say, I imagine somebody else has been making some accurate guesses about it. Possibly several somebodies.' He regarded her carefully. 'You're a summoner yourself, I think you said?'

  'Yes... well, not really. I was never trained.'

  'But you have the ability. Any sorcerous talent?'

  'Of course not.'

  He laughed softly. 'Of course not. Spoken with such conviction. You've never even tried, have you?'

  'No, I...'

  'You
r mother is a sorcerer, yes? A strong one, I am willing to wager.'

  'She hasn't practiced in years, but yes. What does this have to do with...?'

  'So you've strong sorcerer heritage on your mother's side, summoner on mine. Why do you think it's hereditary? Why do only some people have these abilities?'

  Llandry was growing impatient. 'I don't know! It doesn't matter. I'm not a sorcerer, I'm not even a trained summoner. I don't have anything to do with any of this.'

  Rheas snorted. 'The ignorance is stunning.' Llandry bristled, and he raised an eyebrow at her. 'Not you personally. Well yes, you personally, but it's not your fault. Your society is ignorant. They've forgotten everything because they've lost their connection with it. Wilfully severed it, in fact. The so-called Seven Realms, so perfectly controlled and enclosed, everything relentlessly tended and deliberately designed. They've squeezed the life out of it and they don't even realise what they've lost.' His lips twisted into a sneer. 'Because they're afraid of it. Afraid! So they push it away, forbid travel to the Off-Worlds, limit and fiercely control anything that comes out of them. They fear the unknowable, and in the process forget almost everything they ever knew about it in the first place.' Mags was patting his hand, soothingly. She had probably heard that rant before.

  'I don't understand,' said Llandry.

  'You wouldn't, would you, because it's your world that I'm speaking of. You've grown up thinking everything can be neatly boxed and labelled. You're either a summoner, or a sorcerer, or neither. There are strictly prescribed options in each category, organisations to monitor useage of those talents, laws to prevent almost everything that could conceivably be achieved with the use of them, books to catalogue the two or three percent of the whole that they understand and if it isn't written in those books, it doesn't exist. In doing all this, they squandered a potent weapon and lost sight of their own identity.'

  Llandry stared at him, aghast. He sounded so terribly bitter. 'But you said yourself, only a moment ago, that it's better not to know.'

  'Yes,' he said heavily. 'It is, now. Because you're not equipped for it, you have no idea... It's too late to go back.' He sighed, looking very old. 'I've been watching you, my Llandry, and I fear for you. Do you realise how remarkable it is that you are essentially a capable summoner without a shred of training? Your father had no idea what he was doing when he forbade you to study. In fact, if my fears are correct, he had no idea what he was doing when he married your mother.'