Wyatt thought to question her, but the stable hand returned leading a massive, slimy lizard, nearly twenty feet long. Its skin was jet black, all but it’s stomach which was blazing red. A long-forked tongue shot into the night as it slithered alongside the stone wall.
“This,” Vela said. “Is Firewind. He’s the fastest ‘mander in all of Ouranos.”
The nimble Astronian leapt atop the wall and vaulted onto the lizard’s back. The great beast reared and flicked his massive snout from side to side, but Vela quickly reined him in with tug of the ropes. She motioned to the curved leather saddle behind her.
Wyatt smiled weakly and clambered onto the wall. With a deep breath, he jumped. It was far less graceful than Vela and he ended up perpendicular to the great beast, lying on his stomach in the saddle. He grunted and managed to shift into position.
“Hold on, Master.”
Wyatt just grasped at the ridges of the saddle with one hand and wrapped the other around Vela’s thin form as Firewind lunged forward, darting nimbly through the open gate. Once the racer touched the stone street he accelerated, tearing at the stones with wide knobby feet and swiping its meaty tail behind.
The many odd buildings warped into a blur and the air bit at Wyatt’s face. He tucked his head against Vela’s back and clung tighter. Firewind didn’t bother to slow at corners and turns, instead skidding across the stone like a drifting street racer and lashing at the air as Vela urged the great beast on with jerks of the rope strung through its maw.
Astronians shouted as they raced by, but they were long past before Wyatt could see them or hear their words. Vela frequently shouted, “I’m sorry,” and “Pardon us,” as they weaved amongst pedestrians and buildings.
Just as Wyatt thought he would pass out Firewind skidded to a halt and collapsed against the ground, panting heavily. Vela let out a victorious shout and patted the giant beast lovingly on the head as she slid to the ground and helped Wyatt down as well.
His feet hit the street and he nearly fell. “That was wild,” he said, steadying his steps and bringing his eyes to focus. The world spun for a moment, though he could not be certain if it was the trip or the essence that was to blame.
“Good ol’ Firewind,” Vela said, patting the slathering lizard again. “Best be off, Master, the sun has nearly vanished.”
Wyatt looked to the sky and saw it was true, only a sliver of red hung at the horizon above the lower city. “Thank you, Vela. And you too, Firewind,” he said as he hustled up the bright white steps to the keep.
“Slay a Regent for me,” Vela called after him. “And one for Firewind,” she added with a gleeful giggle.
* * *
An Astronian guard colored yellow and blue escorted Wyatt through the stifling keep to his room in the upper northwestern wing where both Henrick and Mikell were waiting. The human servants greeted him with shallow bows and set to dressing him in a bright green tunic of silk with long sleeves of sea foam green, a thick white sash around his middle and billowing white satin pants. They pulled fingerless black gloves over his hands and slid his feet into stout black boots that came nearly to his knees, clad in a dozen wide straps and buckles. The fit was flawless, each piece of clothing clinging to his thick body as if it they meant for him. And he supposed they were.
After the servants had left an armed Astronian soldier entered to escort him to the Grand Hall. His skin was a mosaic of reds, blues, and browns. His slender fingers curled around a narrow and barbed spear, his face a blank facade. The rest of his companions were waiting in the hallway as he stepped out from his room.
“Oho,” exclaimed Gareck at once. “You look dashing, young Master.”
“Aye, my Dear has the right of it,” cooed Mareck. “What a gorgeous young man. Don’t you think, Rozen?”
Wyatt’s eyes went to the stoic Draygan and they nearly ruptured. “Rozen, you… uh… your… um…”
Rozen hissed and gnashed her teeth at him, her hands fidgeting with the azure silk dress that clung perfectly to her slender body. It hung delicately from her strong shoulders, a shallow neckline preserving her modesty. The bottom edge hung just a whisper from the floor. Flawless white fingerless gloves covered her hands and ran past her elbows and a dazzling emerald swung from a thin metal chain about her neck. Her vibrant fire braid was loose, trailing down her back, but it was clear she wanted nothing more than to wrap it around her neck.
“Isn’t she stunning, young Master?” said Mareck, beaming.
“Oh, aye, Darling, who’d have thought such a beautiful creature was underneath all that warrior garb?” Gareck’s face looked like it was bound to crack and fall to pieces.
Rozen hissed again and shifted uncomfortably. “They refused to give me my armor. It was either this or go to the festival naked.”
Wyatt’s eyes bulged all the more at the thought. “Uh, Rozen, ah… well… I think…”
“Spit it out, Druid” she said, fixing Wyatt with her piercing golden eyes. Her skin shone clean and delicate in the flickering torch light.
“You look… really nice,” he said with a nervous swallow. Where had his courage gone?
Rozen rolled her eyes. The soldier bid them follow his lead to the Grand Hall and the party fell in behind him, Gareck and Mareck cheerily conversing at the lead, Wyatt following from the rear, pairing his stride with Rozen’s.
“They took my blades as well,” she said. “I have never been so… naked.”
“Huh, I think they took my staff too,” he said, just realizing its absence. “Well, I think you look beautiful.”
Rozen smiled weakly. “I don’t want to look beautiful. I am exposed here. What if the Regency should happen upon us?” Her gloved hands had found her braid and were frantically picking over the strands.
Wyatt shrugged. “How would they find us in the middle of a swamp? Relax, Rozen. They’re throwing us a festival.” He grinned and let out a haphazard skip that nearly sent him sprawling.
“They’re throwing you a festival,” she corrected, steadying him with her strong arm.
Wyatt smiled and shrugged again. “Well, you got some new clothes out of it.”
Rozen grunted. Wyatt gave her arm a playful shove, but the Draygan did not respond. Wyatt sighed and they walked the rest of the way in silence.
Chapter Thirty-Three
THE GRAND HALL was situated on the ground floor, not far from the entrance, seated in the middle of the mighty stone keep. Wyatt gaped in awe as they passed beneath a towering archway of carved stone serpents into the enormous room. The room had high vaulted ceilings dressed with swaying braziers set ablaze. Tapestries hung from the walls, amid creeping vines and blooming flowers.
“You could fit like, three football fields in here, maybe more” he exclaimed at the grandeur, but Rozen remained silent.
The soldier of red, blue, and brown led them through a slowly shifting crowd of finely dressed Astronians to a length of tables that ran perpendicular to the rest atop a dais at the north end of the room.
A wrinkled and weathered Astronian sat on a magnificent throne of carved wood and plush velvet cushions at the tables center point. Snakes, frogs, and other bog creatures littered the thick arm rests and grew from the corners. The High Keeper looked like a child in such a massive chair, swallowed up by the sculptures
“Ah, Master Wyatt,” she said with a deceptively full voice. It echoed, rich and vibrant. “Come, honor me, and sit at my side, you and your trusted companions; Rozen, Gareck, and Mareck.” The old matriarch gestured to the much smaller, but equally as intricately carved wooden chairs at her side.
Wyatt skipped around the stone table and stumbled into the chair at her left hand. Rozen slid in beside him with stunning grace and the Children climbed into the next two chairs, their girth spilling over the sides.
“Very good,” the High Keeper said with a nod. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tucana Orion, High Keeper of Ouranos and Lady of the Sodden Bog. This,” she said gesturing to the green an
d yellow striped Astronian at her right, “Is the good Lord Draco Orion, my grandson and lone heir.”
The young Astronian leaned forward to look Wyatt in the eye. “It is my great honor to meet one such as yourself, Master Wyatt, and also, your companions. Grandmother and I are deeply honored with your presence. Surely, it is a sign of things to come.”
“Greater things, perhaps,” said Tucana with a wry smile. Her skin was striped in greens and yellows, with a rich swatch of gold running from her nose over the top of her bald head. “I trust you have been adequately accommodated?”
Wyatt nodded. “Oh yeah, I love getting new clothes. Oh, and thanks for turning the heat down.” The air in the Grand Hall was certainly still warm, driving a sweat from his forehead, but it was far cooler than Wyatt’s initial arrival.
Tucana nodded and smiled. “It is our pleasure, Master Wyatt. It is nothing for a few Astronians to shiver if it should mean our Druid is more comfortable.”
“Are you cold?” Wyatt said, suddenly feeling ashamed.
Tucana laughed. “Don’t fret, young Master. These old bones feel naught the cold anymore. Should a stiff snow fall I think I’d hardly notice.”
Wyatt nodded uneasily, but the High Keeper did not seem to be uncomfortable atop her giant throne, clad in a flowing silk dress of bright yellow trimmed with green lace.
“And you, young Rozen,” Tucana said. “Are a portrait of loveliness. We have yet to have the company of a Draygan, nor that of the Children. We are truly honored by guests such as yourselves. I thank you.”
Rozen smiled. “Thank you, your Majesty.”
Gareck and Mareck hadn’t heard the compliment. The Children were far too busy remarking on all the colorfully clad Astronians milling about the main floor and shouting out their amazement at the stone architecture.
The crowd soon settled, finding seats along the giant stone tables and a swarm of human servants spilled from doorways behind the dais to fill the many tankards and chalices with sweet raspberry essence. When they had been filled to the brim Tucana nodded to a nearby guard who produced a curved horn and sent a sharp blast echoing off the high stone walls. A hush descended at once.
“Lords, Ladies, and warriors of Ouranos,” Tucana bellowed. Her voice continued to amaze Wyatt as it reverberated around the giant room. The folds of skin at her neck filled and pulsed. “We have gathered here to celebrate an arrival we have all long awaited. It has been many generations since the last Druid vanished from the realms, banished by the Regency, or worse, but at long last, they have returned.” Tucana paused as a ripple of raucous cheers flowed forth. “A lone Druid, young of age, has come to us at the Mother’s behest. His purpose is not for us to know, but it is our duty to welcome him and his followers with the warmest reception Ouranos can provide. I have no doubt that a change is in the air, my children, if you listen carefully, you can hear it on the winds. If you still yourself, you can feel it in the ground. So, let us raise our cups to the Druid, Master Wyatt, Justice of the Mother, and Keeper of the Guise. Let the realms not forget from whence they came.”
A cacophony of cheers and banging mugs erupted from the masses. An electric tingle lit across Wyatt’s skin and a wide smile split his face. Essence sloshed over mugs and many an Astronian hugged their neighbor and all called out in rampant joy; “To the Mother, To the Druid, To Master Wyatt. Here, Here, to Master Wyatt.”
When the cheering had subsided, the meal commenced. Servants brought forth the first dish, a salad of bog greens, topped with a poached egg. Wyatt didn’t bother to ask what creature the egg came from, for its yolk was purple and he was too hungry to have his appetite ruined.
“How long will you grace us with your presence, Master Wyatt?” Tucana said as the salad plates were cleared.
Wyatt wiped at his mouth. “I, well, I’m not sure.”
Tucana nodded. “Do not feel you need tell of your intentions, Master Wyatt. It is not necessary that I know.”
“No, it’s OK,” he said and sat straight, trying to rise to the expectations. “I am going to bring down the Regency.”
Tucana blinked slowly, each pass of her giant lids unnerving Wyatt a little more. “So, the Regency is to fall?”
Wyatt couldn’t read the wrinkled face. “Yes,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. “Will you stand with us?”
This time Tucana laughed, her folds of skin shaking jovially. “It is not our place to become involved in such affairs. Should the Mother crumble the Regency then we will follow. Should the Regency remain in power, then we will follow. It is not our duty to sway the Mother’s will. We are her children, nothing more.”
Wyatt frowned. “Don’t you hate the Regency?”
“Hate? Hate is such a strong and wasteful emotion. No, I do not hate the Regency. They are a wicked group of fiends to be sure, but the Mother would not raise them without purpose. And I would be a fool to argue with her good judgment.”
The second dish arrived before Wyatt could think of a response. It was a stew of pickled herring served in a thick bog water broth. The smell was repugnant, but as he pushed the bowl away a dozen eyes fixed on him and he reluctantly ladled a spoonful past his lips, not wanting to appear ungrateful. The texture was that of mud, thick and gritty, with bits of bony fish that more than once impaled the inside of his cheek. He swallowed half the bowl, fighting a grimace with each taste.
He turned and caught Rozen’s eyes. Her face was plagued in much the same grimace that he imagined his was. Mareck and Gareck however, were grinning from ear to ear, spooning the stew in as fast as their thick clawed hands would allow, and making a wretched mess of the table in the process.
The third dish was what Wyatt could only describe as the largest beetle he had ever seen, steaming and slathered in a rich spiced sauce. He stared at it in stunned silence for several moments before his hunger and curiosity got the best of him and he jabbed a knife into the hard carapace. It cracked like a steamed crab. Wyatt clumsily hacked at the giant insect, freeing up chunks of dense meat from beneath the shell. He locked eyes with Rozen again and they took a bite together. They mirrored grins in pleasant surprise.
“Is the pincer to your satisfaction?” Tucana asked.
“Oh, yes,” sputtered Wyatt as bits of shell and meat sprayed from his mouth.
“Very good,” she said with a curt nod.
Three more courses arrived soon after; a small braised bird of some sort glazed in honey and served atop wild mushrooms, another soup- this one of light vegetables and herbs- and a final dish of candied ginger and spiced cider.
The conversations continued long after the last bit of ginger was cleaned from plates and the casks of cider had been drunk dry. Astronians of all colors lined along the front of the high table to greet Wyatt and pay their respects to the High Keeper. Wyatt nodded and smiled as best he could, but found his neck hurt from all the niceties. When he thought his head was surely to tumble from his weakened neck the festival slowly faded. The many Lords, Ladies and Astronian warriors drifted out of the Grand Hall like the tide, until only the High Keeper, a handful of personal guards, and Wyatt’s party remained.
“Did the meal serve your needs and desires, Master?” Tucana asked.
Wyatt opened his mouth to answer and a rumbling belch echoed off the silent stone. He slapped a hand over his mouth in horror.
Tucana Orion, High Keeper of Ouranos, and Lady of the Sodden Bog, stared at Wyatt a moment in pained silence. Then a wide smile spread across her face. “Very good,” she said with a nod.
Gareck and Mareck let out belches of their own and fell the raucous laughter, banging the stout table with empty tankards and voicing their appreciation whenever they caught enough breath to do so. Wyatt grinned and looked to Rozen. The dark Draygan looked mortified. Her golden eyes flashed among the group, trying to silence them with only a gaze.
“An intriguing party to be sure,” Tucana said, wiping a mirthful tear from her face. “As to how you will dethrone the Regency, I haven�
��t the slightest clue.”
The joy fell from Wyatt’s face. “You don’t think we can do it?”
“Oh, I never said that, Young Master. The Mother works in ways that simple creatures like myself could never understand. Listen to her words, Master Wyatt. Wield her judgment as only a Druid can. She will guide you. Whether against the Regency or not… That is at her desire. You must only follow, as we all do.”
Wyatt wasn’t sure it made him feel any better about what he was doing. He couldn’t listen to her words, the whisper held only feelings and emotion. What do you want? he thought, hoping to get a clearer answer. Nothing came but more merriment from the Children. It was clear the heavy meal did little to dissuade the effects of the raspberry essence. For Wyatt, it served only to make him dizzy and muddy his thoughts.
“Well, it has grown late,” said the High Keeper. “Fornax will escort you to your quarters. I bid you a sweet respite.”
“Goodnight,” Wyatt said. “And thank you.”
Tucana nodded and smiled as she rose slowly from her throne.
Rozen stood as well, bowing deeply to the High Keeper. “Your Majesty,” she said with the utmost grace.
The Children stumbled to their feet, knocking back their chairs. They too, attempted to bow, but on doing so bumped heads and fell to laughter. Mareck hit the ground first, quickly followed by Gareck, stumbling over Mareck’s legs. The pair snorted and guffawed as they rolled around the floor, slapping at each other in merriment. Rozen turned away and covered her face. She looked likely to burst into flames.
“An intriguing party, indeed,” Tucana said, shaking her head, the smile never fading.
Wyatt could only return the smile and shrug.
Chapter Thirty-Four
HALF A DOZEN torches were lit around the border of Wyatt’s chambers and fragrant flowers had been staged in tall vases in the corners. The air was calm, soothing, and a fresh breeze blew in from the balcony. Wyatt changed into the satin pants and sleeveless shirt that were laid out on the bed. The fabric was jet black and light, drifting around his body with no more weight than the air. He crawled onto the giant bed and sank into the billowy blankets, but found his eyes refused to shut and his mind refused to quiet.
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