“That is the wisdom of dragons,” Caron said, her hare forgotten on the table.
“It is,” Trysten said. “But I just can’t describe how that feels. It’s so...” She made a motion before her, splaying her fingers while cupping her hand as if grasping a ball too large for her. “I don’t have the words for it. The dragons do. But I can’t put it into words that I have. And it just... to be quite honest, it hollows me out some. Makes me feel helpless.”
Trysten replaced her hand on the page. “I was hoping to find something in here that would help me understand everything. The scope of my abilities. Something that would bring it into focus, you know? Because as far as I know, Adalina is the only one...”
“You can’t talk to anyone about it because no one alive knows what you’re talking about,” Caron said.
Trysten slumped back in her chair until the bottom of her skull rested on the top of the chair’s back. “Thank you. Yes.”
Caron sat in a chair next to Trysten. She reached out and put her hand upon her daughter’s knee. “I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for you, to feel and know the dragons the way that you do. And I’m sure it gets lonely for you. Frankly, I don’t know that you will ever find anyone to share this with. But I know you will manage. You will learn how to accept who you are and what it means. You are a courageous young woman, and part of courage is being able to go it alone, to be the one who blazes a path. The right path. The path others will follow.”
Trysten nodded but continued to stare at the pages of the book. “Thank you. But please don’t worry about me. I’m all right. I was just... I was hoping.” She looked up at her mother. “To be quite honest...”
“Go on,” Caron said.
Trysten’s hand moved up the page in front of her. Her fingers curled around the top edge of the book, clutching it.
“It’s Aymon.” She looked down at the book, and her grip tightened slightly. “I have a bad feeling about what he’s done.”
Caron squeezed her daughter’s knee.
“I hate for this to be the end of him,” Trysten blurted out, her gaze falling away from her mother’s face. “If he doesn’t come back, and these books are all that is left, then I want them to be worth it. And that’s what is at the heart of all of this.”
Trysten waved her hand absently at the front of the cottage to indicate everything around her. “I want everything we have lost to be worth it. And I want to know how Adalina did it. Why did she do what she did? What did she give to have what she had, and then how did she lose it? And why?”
Caron’s hand slid from Trysten’s knee. She nodded solemnly. “You want history to show you the path forward.”
“I don’t know where else to look,” Trysten said as her eyes returned to the tight script, the neat rows of numbers, a carefully drawn egg among a nest of straw.
“I think that history is important,” Caron said. “We can’t know where we are going if we don’t know where we’ve been. But as I said earlier, you are blazing a path of your own. History will not tell an explorer what lies ahead. Only moving forward will do that.”
“But Adalina—”
Caron put her hand over Trysten’s. “Read the book, Little Heart, but keep in mind that it is only a book. The ink is dry, and the story is told. But it is not the whole story by any means. Stories have a way of echoing what the storyteller wants to say. As much as I am grateful to Prince Aymon for his defense of the village, he is still the man who tried to strip you of your title and have you taken back to the mother city in irons.”
Trysten looked from her mother’s hand to her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten that. Believe me. But I want to believe he can change. If he cannot change, then what hope do any of us have that anything will ever be different?”
Caron drew a deep breath and looked away, to the cold hearth. She nodded slowly, then looked back to Trysten. “Well, then I think we can all have some hope. Prince Aymon has certainly changed his attitude toward you. The proof is there in your lap.”
Trysten looked down to the book. As her mother stood, she looked up to Caron. “Can I help you with those hares?”
Caron grinned. “You’ve done enough of saving the world today, I’m sure. Just sit there and read. Your mother can surely pull off dinner on her own.”
Caron winked, then turned away. Trysten grinned as she watched her mother return to the table and retrieve her knife.
The sounds of her mother preparing dinner, punctuated with some of her humming and a snatch of her singing old ballads beneath her breath soon lulled Trysten into a sense of ease. She felt her muscles relax and loosen until she nearly formed to the contours of the chair. Her eyes drifted slowly, like a log on the river, over the words before her. She read an account of a feast held in Adalina’s honor in the king’s hall at Ompetor. An alliance had been forged, and Adalina and her court arrived as guests of honor. An impressive feast had been laid out, the details of which went on for pages until it was mentioned that each of the twenty barrels of mead brought to the feast had gone bad, and it wasn’t noticed until Adalina’s lieutenant had accepted the king’s toast and drank first in his honor.
Trysten stirred and chuckled. “Oh, I will never forget the look on her face.”
“What’s that, Little Heart?” Caron asked.
“Jannis’s face when she...”
Trysten gasped and jumped to her feet. The book flew from her lap. It bounced off of the table in front of her, then slid to the floor with a thump.
“Trysten? What’s the matter?” Caron asked, hurrying over.
Trysten clutched a hand to her chest and jumped again when she felt the contours of the pendant next to her racing heart. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the book, its face down, its cover split and open, as if the story inside was a fire to smother.
“Trysten?” Caron asked.
The silence in the cottage welled up around her as Trysten tried to slow her breathing. She shook her head. “Sorry. I just...” She chuckled as heat blushed over her cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m fine. I must have dozed off while reading and had a bad dream.”
She bent over and retrieved the book from the floor.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Caron said. “You’re exhausted. Perhaps you should take a nap, rest your eyes? I’ll call you for dinner.”
Trysten opened the book and skimmed forward to the place where she had been reading. She started to read the page again but then stopped. She closed the book and grasped it by the spine.
“I think I will lay down for a while,” she said. “Thank you for understanding.”
She slipped into her room, placed the book on top of the book of the Originals, and stared at it, trying to recall what she had seen. But the memory was gone, a dream that fades upon waking but cannot be revived, leaving only an unsettled feeling behind. She placed her palm on the book for a moment, felt the soft leather of the cover.
Her mother was right. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. She crossed the room and settled onto her bed, hoping bad dreams would not follow her.
Chapter 14
After spending several days on the ground running the weyr and addressing the village defenses, Trysten was eager for some time in the sky. Although she welcomed days of peace, no matter how temporary, too many days on the ground made her restless. Elevera no doubt felt the same.
Vanon was scheduled to lead the morning patrol, but Trysten relieved him and took patrol duty herself. Based on what Rodden had said about the army not using the Gul Pass, she was eager to get another look at the area near the pass and the outpost. Maybe a dragon’s eye view, combined with the new information, would lead her to something she’d missed on previous trips.
To Elevera’s great relief, enough trees had been cleared at the outpost that the alpha no longer had to land in the water. As she settled to the ground beside the pool, the breeze from her wings rippled its surface, distorting the reflection of the pale sky overhead and the dark rockf
ace of the waterfall.
As soon as Elevera’s claws touched the ground, Jurdun jogged up to Trysten.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “I was expecting Vanon to lead the patrol today.”
“Everything is fine,” Trysten answered. “I just wanted to take another look at the area. Any word of Aymon or his swell?”
Jurdun looked up at the peaks towering above them and shook his head. “Nothing. No one’s seen a thing go in or come out of that pass since you dropped us off.”
Trysten looked at the mountains as well. From atop Elevera’s shoulders, she could nearly see the place where the two peaks joined at the pass. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach. Aymon had planned to return in three or four days. He should be back by now.
Wind gusted around her as Lucette approached and settled into the tight space between Elevera, Jurdun, and the edge of the clearing. Trysten squinted against the dust.
She remembered Mardoc’s advice to never plan for defeat. It was early in the day. Aymon could still come through the pass later in the afternoon or evening. He may have been held up tending to injured dragons and hordesmen before coming back.
Trysten swallowed, surprised to find her throat tight. She would hang onto her hope, despite her persistent feeling that something wasn’t right. She could nearly hear it in the wind.
She turned back to Jurdun, then looked out at the work site. “How goes the outpost?” she asked as she surveyed piles of logs around the area. Men who had paused to watch Elevera’s descent suddenly remembered the work before them. Ax heads thumped into trees, and tandem saws purred while shovels and picks rang against the stony ground. Even if the dragons had gone unnoticed, the noise would definitely announce their presence to anyone around.
“Well enough,” Jurdun said. He looked around as if to survey the site with Trysten but then turned back to her. “Truth be told, we’ve had a little difficulty with the locals.”
“Oh?” Trysten asked, sliding down from Elevera’s saddle.
“We’ve been catching sight of people out in the woods,” Jurdun said. “Glimpses. How could we not attract attention, right? Axes ringing all day. Trees being felled. We thought it was just trappers and hunters coming in to take a look at the noise, but whoever it is, they stay mostly hidden. Now, things are starting to disappear. Tools, mostly.”
“Mostly?” Trysten asked.
Jurdun shrugged. “A wheel of cheese disappeared.”
“I see,” Trysten said.
“I’ve told everyone to secure their tools at night, put what they can in tents, but it slows us down to have to pack up at night and unpack in the morning. And I feel like the thefts are getting a little bolder. If we don’t do something, I think some of us are going to find the tents we are sleeping in stolen from over our heads.”
Trysten nodded. “Do you have any ideas what you’d like to do about it?” she asked.
“Well,” Jurdun said. “I could use a few more men—some volunteers to come out here and keep watch. Some archers. A few hordesmen if you can spare them. I want the rogues in these woods to know that we prefer to be left alone, if you know what I mean.”
Trysten nodded again. “Sounds reasonable.” She looked up to the pass, then shifted her attention to Elevera, who stood with her head high, her attention focused on something in one of the treetops nearby, probably a bird or squirrel.
“You can come back with me,” Trysten said, then looked to Jurdun. “Pick your volunteers and arrange for their transport. Then you can bring Ambeoda back with you.”
A grin spread across Jurdun’s face at the mention of bringing his dragon back to the outpost.
Trysten smiled at his obvious joy. “You’ve done great work clearing out the area and managing this project,” Trysten said with a nod. “I know Elevera is certainly happy not to have to set down in the pool again. I think having a battle dragon on site, especially one as striking as Ambeoda, will help deter thieves and troublemakers.”
“Agreed,” Jurdun said. “Should we be off, then?”
Trysten grinned at his eagerness. She was glad he had eventually settled in with the rest of the Aerona hordesmen after Muzad’s death. He had relaxed some, but his discipline and attention to detail had made him a natural choice to lead the construction of the outpost.
“Perhaps you want to let the others know where you’re off to,” Trysten said. “And that’ll give Sera and me a chance to stretch our legs.”
Jurdun took off after a quick nod. Sera slid down from her saddle and paced back and forth along the length of Lucette. She raised her arms above her and did a full-body stretch as she stared at the peaks above.
Trysten followed her gaze and studied the passage between the peaks. What if something had happened to Aymon? What if he had taken massive casualties and was camped out in the woods beyond, waiting for the wounded to heal before retreating to the pass? Should she fly through? Just far enough to see the other side. If Aymon and his swell were close, then she’d be able to sense the dragons. And if she sensed Western dragons instead, she could slip back to Cadwaller quickly. If it were just her and Elevera, along with Lucette and Sera, then they wouldn’t be much of a threat. A horde of two was hardly an invasion force.
Trysten took a deep breath. The emptiness of the sky, nearly silver in the early summer heat, weighed heavily on her shoulders. As she slumped down under a sense of dread, she reached out and rested the tips of her fingers against Elevera’s hide to steady herself.
The alpha dragon lowered her head nearly to Trysten’s eye level, then flicked her tongue at Trysten as if to wave a hand before her face, to tell her to snap out of it.
“Sorry,” Trysten mumbled, then shook her head.
“What was that?” Sera asked.
“Nothing,” Trysten said. “I was just talking to Elevera.”
Sera smiled knowingly. “I talk to Lucette all the time.” She lifted her hand and held it out to her dragon. The violet dragon lowered her head to touch the tips of Sera’s fingers, then ruffled her wings slightly and looked back at the treetops.
Trysten looked up to the pass once more, took a deep breath, then turned to the bustle of work before her. She shook the weight off of her shoulders. Her place was here. For all she knew, Aymon had so completely caught the Western weyrs off guard that he had known nothing but victory, and had yet to come back because he had yet to meet any real resistance. He had made his choice, and it was his choice to make. The consequences were his to bear, although no doubt they would affect Aerona in some way. She’d deal with that when she had to.
“Fight the battle before you,” she whispered to herself, hearing her father’s voice in her head.
Shortly, Jurdun returned with a rucksack and the three of them were off again, Jurdun riding behind Trysten on Elevera’s back. It took all of Trysten’s willpower to keep her eyes forward and not glance over her shoulder to the pass more than two or three times. Each time she did look back to the mountains, Lucette remained the only dragon in sight. Neither Trysten nor Elevera could sense any others.
As they approached Aerona, Trysten noted a lone figure approaching on horseback along the road to the east. Merchants who visited to trade usually hauled their goods with mules. Horses were generally used only by the wealthy, and the wealthy never seemed to have a reason to visit Aerona.
Trysten spared a quick glance back at the mountains but saw nothing but the solid gray mass of stone, unbroken and vacant.
She turned her attention back to the man on horseback. Was he part of the caravan from the mother city but sent ahead for some reason? He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Whatever it was that the traveler wanted, Trysten was sure she’d hear about it before the sun set behind the mountains and probably then she’d wish she hadn’t heard about it at all. The man had mother city written all over him, and visitors from the mother city rarely brought her good news.
Chapter 15
Trysten barely had time to start grooming Elevera when Iven calle
d to her. “You have a visitor, ma’am.”
Her throat tightened as she turned around. This wasn’t going to go well. Hopefully, the man wasn’t here to tell her about some misfortune that befell the caravan.
The visitor approached with Iven. He was slightly taller than Trysten with thin, dark hair falling out from under the wide brim of a black hat. Despite his hat, his complexion was nearly scarlet with sunburn, and it clashed horribly with the scarlet tunic he wore.
“Welcome to Aerona,” Trysten said as she stepped forward, a smile on her face. She extended her hand. “My name is Trysten, Dragoneer of Aerona weyr.”
The clean-shaven man gave a slight bow at the waist, then after glancing at Trysten’s outstretched hand and back up to her as if to make sure she meant it, he gave her hand a weak shake.
“I am Cornyn of the mother city, royal historian of the court of King Cadwaller the Third.”
Trysten’s eyes widened. “A historian? Here in Aerona?”
Cornyn laced his fingers together and held his hands before him. The grin never wavered from his face. “I was sent by the head historian of the King’s court to take a full accounting of the events that have transpired here since the last time a historian visited.”
“That...” Trysten said, “was a very long time ago. The cornerstone of this weyr was laid at that time.”
Cornyn looked around the weyr quickly, then bowed his head slightly and spread his open palms in a slight shrug. “Then it seems that my visit is much overdue.”
“Of course,” Trysten said. “You came from the mother city, right?”
Cornyn nodded. “My place is in the royal library. I have lived in the mother city all my life.”
“Do you have word of the caravan sent by the King?” she asked.
Outposts Page 9