by D. E. Morris
“Cai?” Needing no prompting from Jaryn, Connor left his post to crouch beside Cailin and push her hood back. “Cailin? Are you okay?” Her skin was ice to the touch, her lips more blue than pink. “Cailin!”
“What's wrong?” Jaryn demanded.
The one eye not swollen fluttered open and took in Connor's face, focusing on him before closing again. This made him jump up and stare at Jaryn with wide, anxious eyes. “She won't wake up.”
“Is she still breathing?”
“Yes. She opened her eye but then closed it again. She's so cold.”
Thinking quickly, Jaryn started undoing the clasps of his heavy tunic and urged Connor to take the cloak from around Cailin's shoulders. Slowly, painfully, Jaryn extracted his arms, leaving him in nothing more than trousers and an undershirt. “Here.” He pushed the tunic through the bars, hoping his body heat would be enough to warm her even a little. “Get her into that quickly. Make sure her arms go in the sleeves.” The grumble of protest from the other side gave him a bit of encouragement. “Cailin, you've got to stay awake now.”
“I am,” she moaned, frowning like a grumpy, half-asleep child as Connor tried to dress her in Jaryn's tunic.
“Good. That's good.” Jaryn searched for things to talk about, anything that would keep her engaged and not allow her to fall asleep again. Latching onto the one thing he knew had gotten a rise from her before, he took a breath and grimaced to himself. “I think it's high time you told me the truth about what happened when you were a girl.”
No answer came for a moment, then a low and mumbled, “What are you talking about?”
“I let it go when we were in Ibays but not anymore. You said Tasarin saved you and that you were taken to Oceana with Kenayde and Ashlynn. I want to know everything you can remember. How old were you?”
“Four. Why does any of it even matter?”
Jaryn watched Connor rise and give him a nod, letting him know she was wrapped in the tunic and waking up, even if it sounded like she would rather not. “It matters,” Jaryn continued, “because there really is not much I know about you other than that you used to be a servant, but you worked your way into the royal household at Lerranyth. Why did Tasarin save you?”
“I don't know.” She paused and shifted her position, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I didn't even know it was Tasarin until I came to Siness. When I met him last year, I felt like I knew him somehow. I asked King Wessely about him later, after Ashlynn was home safe and was healing. He told me Tasarin was the elf who had saved the three of us and found us safe passage to Oceana.”
Jaryn looked through the bars to the top of her head again. “Why wouldn't Ashlynn know you were rescued as well if you were on the same ship?”
“We never saw each other. I had been there for a few days and was already in the care of someone by the time he brought Ashlynn and Kenayde aboard. They were kept in a separate part of the ship than I was.” Cailin lifted her face to look up at Jaryn. “I've been told that I didn't talk to anyone for three months after I got there...that I was shuttered away with the rest of the servants' children. They wanted to send me away to a convent where I wouldn't have to speak to anyone ever again.”
“Why were you kept at the castle?” It was Connor who posed the quiet question, back at the door with his hands on the bars, but his head turned to the side to look at Cailin.
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “King Wessely said that if Tasarin saved me, it wasn't to be cloistered away; it was for great things.”
“Over the years, you and Ashlynn became friends,” supplied Jaryn after a few minutes of quiet.
“Eventually I started talking and learning the duties of a house maid. Because I was only a year older than Ashlynn, she always took interest in me when we were in the same room together. The other children either worked in the kitchen or the stables. I was only allowed to learn to be a house girl because one of the older women was sick and knew she wouldn't last many more years; she was training me to take her place.” Cailin smiled, tired but wistful. “I remember the first time Ashlynn and I were in a room alone together. You know how she is, Jaryn, always asking questions about things she doesn't understand and never letting anything go until she's got a firm grasp on it. She asked me all about who I was, what I did, where I came from. She followed me around as I cleaned one fireplace after another, caring little about the ash that settled on her fine gown when she stood too close while I worked. We talked a lot that day, and every day after that when we saw each other. We were secret friends.”
Jaryn tilted his head back, one corner of his lips turned up. “That's my wife, going against the normal societal rules.” He chuckled, then returned his attention to Cailin. “Did you ever ask Tasarin about it?”
“There wasn't really any time, was there?”
“No, I suppose not.” He let go of a long, labored sigh, finally registering Connor's near statue-like position at the door. “What has you so enraptured, lad? Each time I look at you, your eyes are somewhere off in the distance.”
He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Haven't you looked outside?”
Thinking about it, Jaryn realized he really hadn't. The only time he'd even looked out his own cell door was when he was yelling for someone. Curious now, he left the window to peer out between the bars, under the cavernous ceiling above them and out over the balcony wall. For a moment he wasn't sure what held Connor's attention so greatly. Then, with a breath of wonder, he muttered, “Would you look at that?”
Far on the other side of the island, the three snow capped mountains stood tall and ominous against an early spring sky. Dragons in all different colors sat like glittering jewels in a crown in the mouths of caves and on rocky perches, soaking up the warmth cast down by the setting sun, preening, or simply watching. Others flew in lazy circles in the air, some coming, some going. “Cailin, you've got to see this.” Though she groaned, she eventually got to her feet and joined Connor at the door. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” the boy asked.
She watched a few moments before giving a slow shake of her head. “I honestly can't say that I have.” Among the dragons, they could see people moving like stablehands among a herd of horses. Wheelbarrows were being pushed and carts of hay were towed by cattle. It even looked like one of the dragons was being given a bath by someone. “What is this place?” Cailin asked in a whisper.
“I don't know,” Connor admitted, “but I kind of like it. Minus the whole everyone being beaten up and Misuzu stuck somewhere away from us, thing.”
“I wonder if those caves are man-made as well.” Jaryn caught the look of confusion from the others and nodded. “If you look at the rock, it's obvious it was dug into with tools, probably no more than three or four generations ago by the look of it. These caves and the ones their houses seem to be built into weren't here, they were all dug out for a specific reason.” With a wrinkled brow, he regarded the mountains across the island. “I wouldn't be surprised if it is much the same over there.”
“With the purpose of breeding an army?” Cailin questioned, but Jaryn only shook his head, uncertain of the answer.
The sound of approaching footfalls stole their attention from the view and brought it back to the harsh reality of their circumstances. All of them watched as the woman who seemed to be in command approached, four men trailing behind her. Though Connor and Cailin took a step back from the door as two of the men came to stand before their cell, Jaryn only regarded them with mild disinterest, his focus mainly on the woman.
“If you intend to keep us alive then you might want to give us a fire, or at the very least, some blankets and warmer, dryer clothing.”
The woman said nothing, but seemed to take note that the tunic he had been wearing was now wrapped around Cailin. “Step back,” she commanded. Cailin and Connor acquiesced, but Jaryn didn't move. For a moment it looked as though she would threaten him, but instead, she gave a look of permission to the two men before the othe
r cell. The door was opened and one of them went in while the other stood in the doorway, eyeing Connor in a silent challenge. The boy, however, stayed back against the wall. Jaryn watched the second man approach Cailin, ready to raise a fuss if he was going to harm her in any way, but saw him not really looking at her, but the injuries on her face.
“Step back,” the woman said again to Jaryn, “so that my medic can take a look at you.”
Jaryn was reluctant only because of the rebellion rising within him, but he eventually did as he was told and moved away from the door. His cell was also opened, one man coming to look him over while the other guarded the door. The woman stood there, watching Cailin and Jaryn be cleaned up and, in Jaryn's case, have his torso wrapped where bruising was quite evident. When both men were done, they left the cells and the doors were locked once again. They were ordered to leave but to send someone up with food and provisions.
“We're to be kept in here for a while then, are we?” asked Jaryn, shrugging his shirt back on with a pinched expression.
The woman said nothing for a moment, taking turns in watching her three prisoners. When Jaryn was fully clothed, she looked at him with a curious tilt of her head, her multi-colored mohawk still managing to stick straight up. “You have a beautiful dragon. How did you come by her?”
Jaryn blinked, surprised at hearing more than a few words coming from her mouth. He thought quickly, hoping to come up with a reasonable answer. “A friend of ours found her in the northern Shihouzen forests and gifted her to us.”
The woman nodded, accepting the answer easily. “She is a beautiful creature indeed. I have not seen an air dragon even close to her size since I was very young, long before I came here. It is rare to see them this far west, rarer still to see one so large, though none quite as sizeable. It was always my understanding that air dragons were the smaller of the drags. Since she has not shifted to try to escape, I assume she is either a feral Gael or a full blooded dragon.”
“Full blooded,” Cailin supplied, pulling Jaryn's tunic tighter around her. “Was she taken care of as I asked?”
“She has been undisturbed for some time, though my men occasionally check to make sure she is not in distress. Your dragon is well taken care of.”
“Well at least one of us is,” Jaryn jibed.
Once more, the woman looked them over with careful scrutiny. She did nothing to hide the way her eyes traveled over each one of them, seemingly taking in every last detail from their shoes to the tops of their heads. Eventually she turned to Jaryn and asked, “Where did you get that map?” Jaryn's reply was a regretful smile and a shrug. This appeared to annoy the woman, and she shifted on her feet. “Perhaps we will begin with an easier question.” She walked closer to the second cell, all of her attention on Connor. “What is your name?”
Cailin looked at him with urgency, but the boy hardly withered under the woman's expectant stare. “Tell me your name and I will give you mine.”
Something like amusement lit the woman's dark eyes, though her expression remained emotionless. Considering, she dipped her head a fraction. “Very well. I am Gianara, though most call me Gia, and this is my island.”
“So you are the queen?”
She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “We have no need for such titles here. The strongest lead, the weaker follow. This is my island because no one is stronger than me.” She bent closer to the bars to be at the same eye level as Connor. “Now, tell me your name.”
“Are you aware of the high ruler of Ibays?”
Jaryn had to bite his tongue to keep himself from groaning, Cailin looking like she was doing the same. The question, however, made Gianara scowl at the boy. “Who claims what throne in which country has no bearing here. We care very little for those who do not live on the island.”
With a cheeky grin, Connor glanced at Jaryn before looking at Gianara with a shrug. “Well I was named Connor after the high king of Ibays.”
Jaryn grinned at the boy only until Gianara looked his way. Inside he couldn't have been more proud of Connor for asking such an intelligent question. If this woman didn't care who the high rulers were, she certainly wouldn't know their names. On the outside, however, he remained serious and unwavering in Gianara's gaze. “I'm Jaryn and this is Cailin.”
“I see Cailin wears your tunic.” Straightening, Gianara moved back to her place between both of the cells. “That is fine embroidery on the fabric. It is the same with the boy's clothing. You must come from wealth. You, however...” She nodded to Cailin. “...you are dressed far below their station.” Looking at the tunic Cailin wore again, she narrowed her eyes, then turned her head in Jaryn's direction. “She is your mistress, is she not?”
Cailin opened her mouth to object, but Jaryn latched onto the cover by throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “Yes. Yes, she is. Connor is my brother, though our father would never acknowledge having a child out of wedlock and sent him to Ibays to be fostered. We fled my country and my lunatic wife in hopes of making a better life together elsewhere. Connor came with us to avoid a similar fate.”
“I was to be married to a Caedian girl with buck teeth and a strange mole on her forehead,” Connor supplied, grimacing.
“The map was given to us by a friend,” Cailin added, casting a meaningful glance at Jaryn. “We were also told of this island, how it was safe from ships and any that might come looking - that it would be a place we could start fresh.”
Gianara said nothing for a moment, but searched their faces for hints of deception. Once more her eyes narrowed. “Why would you also be given an old map infused with elvish magic? Why, I must know, would you be led here and by whom?” Before any of them could answer, she frowned in thought. “Unless it is because of your air dragon.”
“That's exactly why,” breathed Cailin, relief evident in her voice. “Our friend told us that, while some believed this place to be nothing more than a haunted island, others believed it was a sanctuary for dragons. We came here in hopes of a new beginning, not only for ourselves, but for our air dragon as well.”
Jaryn nodded, glad the two of them could piece a story together so quickly. “As you said yourself, our dragon is much larger than any old air dragon. She's been hunted and there is a prize for whoever finds her and slays her. We had to leave in order to protect her.”
Gianara's jaw flexed in anger. “I will not tolerate anyone seeking to harm a dragon in such a needless way.”
Connor looked up at her, a small smile of curiosity on his face. “You really care about the dragons, don't you?”
She met the boy's questioning gaze and nodded. “Of course.”
“Is that a dragon tattooed on your neck?”
Tilting her head to the side, she pulled the fur around her neck down to expose more of the intricately detailed markings Connor looked at. “It is a mother dragon protecting her hatchlings. Were it not as cold as it is, I would show you the rest of it. There are three smaller dragons under her, looking to her for guidance from my upper chest.”
“How many do you have?”
The question made her smirk. “I lost count several years ago. Suffice it to say I have many. This was my first one.” She untied the thin leather strips wrapped around her left wrist that held thick gray and white fur around her arms, all the way down to her fingers. As she pulled the fur back and stepped closer to the cell, Connor got closer to the door as well and tilted his head to get a better look at the small design on her wrist.
“That's a Celtique design,” exclaimed Connor.
“No matter how far you may stray from it, you should never forget where you came from.”
With keen interest, Cailin took a few steps forward as well and asked, “May I?” Gianara turned her body to give them both a clearer look. The tattoo was faded with age, but still much darker than the rest of her skin. It was easy to make out the trinity knot with the heart woven into the middle of it. “Such an interesting design,” Cailin said quietly. “Is there a special significance?”
Something in Cailin's expression must have caught Gianara's attention; she regarded the shorter woman with calculation, taking her time before answering. “I do not mark my body for pleasure. Every one of my tattoos has significance.”
Cailin nodded, keeping her eyes locked with Gianara's. “Each one tells a story. Some may mark a loss or a gain, others an important time or person, while others still can bind a person to an oath.” Gianara's eyes widened the smallest bit and Cailin gave a nod that the men wouldn't have seen unless they were looking for it. She pulled Jaryn's tunic off of her and let it fall to the ground. With fumbling fingers that were numb with cold, she worked at the buttons on the wrist of her left sleeve.
A call went out in the distance, the sound of a horn being blown. Gianara's head whipped around and she ran out to the balcony to look over the edge. “What is it?” asked Jaryn, but she didn't answer. Her attention was so concentrated in the distance that he was sure she would launch herself over the edge at any moment, despite the sheer drop off. Lucky for everyone, an older man came rushing down the open hallway and doubled over before her, catching his breath.
“Gia...there's a problem.”
“What is it?”
“The dragon...the one they brought in...she's going mad.”
“What happened?” Cailin demanded, flinging herself at her cell door and wrapping her hands around the bars. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing! We left her alone as asked for most of the day, but when the Master arrived...”
Gianara inhaled sharply. “He is here?”
“Only just. We took him in to see the air dragon and she began writhing about in anger. We tried to use the pipes on her, but they had absolutely no effect. She's going to collapse the breeding barracks!”
Cailin rattled her cage door, urgency on her face. “Take me to her. Please. I can calm her if you take me to her.”