by Ryan Cahill
“Rebels looking to seize the keep,” she heard one woman whispering to another.
“No, no. Spies from Varsund, looking to steal correspondence from the High Lord,” the other woman said, with a sly wink and a nod. “My Tamwell knows a man who works in the blacksmith around the corner. He’s friends with a maid who serves under Lord Karnel, and she’s heard things.”
Whatever it was, Ella was overjoyed when Rhett told her that there was a merchant travelling to Midhaven who would take them in his cart for a reasonable fee.
She let out a deep breath of air and nestled herself back into Rhett’s chest. He smiled down at her, then turned his eyes back to the fading silhouette of the city, which had become barely a speck on the horizon. Ella closed her eyes and took in a deep breath as the cart bounced over a particularly rough patch of road. She was going to have a sore back by the time they got to Midhaven. She would be almost as happy to get out of the cart as she was to leave Camylin.
CHAPTER 21
A Change of Plans
“Well, this changes things,” Aeson said. The small dragon was still curled up in Calen’s lap. It twisted and turned as it slept, nuzzling its head into his leg. It was hard to believe that it could ever become anything like the creatures of legend. Calen had never seen one himself – the empire’s dragons hadn’t been seen south of the Darkwood since long before he was born – but it was said that they could grow as large as ships, with teeth as long and as sharp as swords. Their fire could burn entire cities to the ground and turn nations to dust. It was hard to see that in those curious, lavender eyes. It took a moment to register what Aeson had said.
“What do you mean?” Calen replied, looking up from the small creature slumbering in his lap.
“You cannot go chasing after your friend, Calen. Not now.”
“I—”
There was a firm, immovable look on Aeson’s face. “Calen, my sons and I risked our lives to bring that egg across the ocean from Valacia. That dragon – and now you – are more important than you may ever know. We need to get you to Belduar. It is the safest place right now. The empire cannot find out that you exist. An egg is one thing, but a Draleid is another thing entirely. You can’t just go traipsing off across the continent. What do you think will happen if you show up at Gisa or Falstide with a dragon?”
Calen’s voice was stuck in his throat. He couldn’t just leave Rist. Abandon him. It was his fault the empire had Rist. He never should have left him.
“We can go after Rist, but not now. We must get to Belduar, and we must keep you safe. You saw what the empire did to your village – to your family.”
A shiver ran up Calen’s spine.
“This might not have been your cause, Calen, but it is now. You are part of this. You said you wanted revenge for what they did. You will not get that revenge if a knife is slipped into your back while you go chasing the wind.”
Dann’s voice was probably the last one that Calen expected to hear. “He’s right, Calen.” There was a solemn look in his eyes. “Not that I want to admit it, but what can we do if we go after Rist? We wouldn’t know the first place to look, and even if we found him, what good are we against a Fade? Against the empire? What could we even do?”
Calen gazed at the dragon curled up in his lap. The feeling that had been scratching at the back of his consciousness did not stir. The small dragon just yawned in its sleep, revealing rows of small, razor-sharp teeth.
“Calen.” He turned his gaze from the sleeping dragon to Therin, who was staring straight at him. “You are a Draleid now. To be a Draleid is one of the most sacred callings in all of Epheria. Your soul is now bound to that creature by a magic older than the mountains and the skies. For nearly three thousand years, the Draleid and The Order were the protectors of the free peoples of Epheria, until they were betrayed by the man who now calls himself Emperor, and his followers. You do not understand yet what it is to be a Draleid, but you can be taught. Come with us to Belduar and help us right the wrongs that have ravaged these lands.”
Calen’s heart sank low in his chest. He never asked to become a Draleid. He was happy in The Glade. He sighed heavily. It felt like the weight of a mountain was on his shoulders. He was only fooling himself, thinking that he had a choice to make. All his options had been taken from him. They were right, he couldn’t go after Rist. What good would it do? He would never find him. Even if, by some divine intervention, he managed to find him, he didn’t stand a chance against a Fade. Calen let his head droop. He gazed over at the small creature that had just changed his life even further. And then there is you. “Okay,” he sighed. “To Belduar.”
“It is decided, then,” Aeson said. “Erik, Dahlen, will you saddle the horses? We will get moving as soon as they are ready. There is no point in dallying. The sun will be up soon, and it is best that we are already clear of the woods by then.”
It took three days of riding before the outline of Midhaven came into view. Its multitude of towers pierced upwards into the sky, with the near twilight sun bouncing off their red slate rooves. Calen had never seen Midhaven, but travelling storytellers often told of its picturesque white walls and sprawling city streets.
The massive towers had walls as thick as Calen’s arm was long, with wide open platforms on each side – landing towers for the dragons of old. That was what the storytellers said, though Calen had a feeling that they may have been making their own truths to suit their tales. It was yet another question he could ask Therin.
Calen glanced over at the elf, who rode only a couple of feet in front of him. He didn’t look old – forty summers, maybe – but then again, Calen had never seen another elf. He didn’t know what an old elf would look like. Aeson had said that Therin was a mage since long before the title was claimed by the Circle of Magii in Berona. That meant Therin was at least four hundred years old. That couldn’t be possible.
Calen squinted his eyes as he examined Therin more closely. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Therin’s neck snapped around. He stared straight back at Calen, who nearly leapt out of the saddle. Calen twisted his head to the north, pretending that he had been gazing out at the Lodhar Mountains.
“I think you and I were thinking the same thing,” Dann said as he pulled his horse up alongside Calen’s, before whispering. “He seems in good shape for a walking sack of bones.”
Calen glimpsed back at Therin. He could have sworn he saw the elf throw an unimpressed look towards Dann before turning back to the landscape in front of him.
The journey had been longer than expected. Aeson had decided that it was best for them to stay clear of the roads and villages. Not only would the empire be searching for them along the roads, but it was also difficult not to draw attention when Calen had a baby dragon riding on the front of his saddle. It was worth taking the extra time. Calen didn’t fancy running into any more imperial soldiers anytime soon.
The dragon didn’t move much as they travelled. It mostly slept, curled up at the front of the saddle at the nape of the horse’s neck, only waking for food.
Calen had no idea what dragons ate, but he soon found out that the answer was anything that used to have – or still had – a heartbeat. It didn’t eat too much at once. A few chunks of rabbit meat a few times a day seemed to keep it happy, but Aeson said that would change as it grew. It was already starting to look bigger. Aeson also said that it would probably sleep for most of the first week or so as it started to grow, but that would change once it got hungrier. Calen was not sure where Aeson’s knowledge of dragons came from, but it seemed to have no end.
To his left, Calen saw the foothills of the Lodhar Mountains creeping away into the distance. From the maps that his father used to show him, he knew that the mountain city of Belduar lay just over that ridge. He never thought he would see it with his own eyes. The city of legend that withstood siege after siege and repelled imperial armies time and again, through dragonfire and catapults.
The world just didn’t s
eem like the same place anymore. Everything had changed. Only a few weeks ago, he had spent his days helping his father in the forge, drinking mead in The Gilded Dragon with Rist and Dann, and pining after Anya Gritten. He didn’t suppose he would ever see her again, nor anyone from The Glade, for that matter. The smell of honeysuckle drifted through the back of his mind as he remembered dancing with her that night. It was a memory he would hold on to.
He looked down at the small dragon curled up at the nape of the horse’s neck, then at his companions. All of that seemed inconsequential now. It wasn’t something that he asked for, but it had found him.
The idea of leaving Rist, abandoning him, still clung to Calen’s conscience. They would find him as soon as they were able. They just couldn’t do it right now. I will come for you.
Aeson’s informant in Camylin had mentioned some troubling rumours of a Lorian blockade at Belduar. After a bit of discussion, they decided that only Aeson and Erik would venture into Midhaven. If they couldn’t find any reliable information, Dahlen would scout the northern plains between the forest and Belduar. Between them, they would know for sure by the end of the day. Taking an elf or a dragon into Midhaven was not an option, so Calen and Therin were left to set up camp for the night.
“Okay, we will see you all in a few hours. Stay within the tree line and don’t go wandering. Dahlen, scout only. Do not engage.” Aeson nodded at Erik, and both of them broke off into a gallop towards Midhaven, their black mantles billowing in the wind as they rode.
“I will be back as quickly as I can,” Dahlen said as he turned north, towards the plains. He and Calen hadn’t really talked since Dahlen came back without Rist. Everyone else had noticed the atmosphere between them, whether or not it was spoken about. Calen knew it was mostly his fault, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Dahlen, or at himself. He had left Rist just like Dahlen did. Just like he wasn’t there for Haem. Just like he couldn’t help his family. Not now…
“You know,” Calen said to Dann, trying to pull himself out of his own thoughts, “you can go with them. Neither of us have ever been this far from The Glade, and before Camylin, you had never even seen a city. I would go if not for…” Calen gestured towards the sleeping dragon that lay curled up on the saddle.
“No.”
Calen raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Calen, we just lost Rist. We have no idea where he is, and it’s killing me that we can’t just go and get him. I’m not letting you out of my sight. We’re in this together. Plus, if anything happened to you, Rist would never let me live it down, and he’s already a bit of an ass as it is.”
Calen couldn’t help but laugh. Dann did always have a way with words. The journey through the forest would have been a silent one, were it not for his ramblings.
“Where do dragons come from?”
“Why do elves have pointy ears?”
Or Calen’s personal favourite: “Can mages use magic to make people taller?”
Therin did not answer a single question. The elf seemed a bit lost in thought, but Calen was sure he saw an amused smirk more than once. Therin’s silence didn’t deter Dann, even in the slightest. “You’ll answer, eventually. I know you will. I’m like a weed – I’ll grow on you.”
Calen shook his head and laughed to himself as Dann continued.
“Can you grow a beard? I heard Elves can’t grow beards.”
This is going to be a long night.
“Here, this spot will do fine,” Therin said as they entered a small clearing of level ground. The forest wasn’t as dense as Ölm. The air was lighter, with a sweet twinge of fresh pine leaves. The warm orange glow of the setting sun sprayed through the tall, slender pine trees to create a criss-cross of shadows along the ground.
“Okay, while you two set up, I’ll see if I can catch anything before the sun goes down completely,” Dann said, grabbing his bow from the saddle of his horse.
“Well, thank the gods for that,” Therin said with a sigh when Dann was out of earshot. “Does he ever stop talking?”
The change in Therin’s demeanour caught Calen off-guard. He struggled to stifle a laugh as he dismounted. “Wait, why did you not just answer his questions?”
The look of disbelief on Therin’s face answered Calen’s question. “Can elves grow beards?”
“Okay, okay. I understand.” Calen laughed. “He can be a bit much, but he means well.”
“I’m sure.” Therin chucked his saddlebags to the ground, then fished out a bowl and a flask of water for his horse.
Calen shifted his attention to the dragon. It still lay curled up on the saddle of his horse, its white scales a stark contrast to the dark green and mottled brown canvas of the forest. The feeling at the back of his mind when the egg hatched had only grown more noticeable over the past few days. It slept most of the time, but as soon as its eyes opened, Calen knew. Whenever it was hungry, he just knew. It was just… there.
Just as he had done each time they had stopped for the night, Calen slipped his hands under the sleeping creature’s belly. Being careful not to wake it, he scooped it up and off the horse’s back, and lay it down on a set of blankets he’d folded on the ground. The spines and horns that framed its face and ran down its back were small and rounded, but Aeson and Therin had insisted they would lengthen and sharpen.
“Therin… Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” Therin said. The elf had just finished piling a mound of wood for the fire and was dragging a log out from under a bush to use as a seat. He moved the log into place, then dropped himself down onto it. “What was it you wanted to ask?”
Before Calen could answer, the elf waved his hand, and the pile of wood erupted in a plume of roaring flames. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.
“I…” The elf’s magic had taken Calen out of his train of thought. “Sorry,” Calen said, shaking his head. “How do you and Aeson know so much about dragons?”
It was not the burning question that he wanted to ask, but it was a start.
The elf paused for a moment. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t asked more questions already, but I suppose you’ve had enough to process.” Therin shuffled in his seat. “When someone is connected to the Spark, they age differently than other people. I have lived to see entire nations rise and fall and cities burned to ash, only to be rebuilt and razed once more. Many lifetimes. A long time ago, when The Order was at the height of its power, dragons roamed all over these lands. From the walls of Eselthyr to the towers of Ilnaen; from the Rolling Mountains of Valtara to the Sea of Stone.
“In this time, I was the Elven Ambassador to The Order. I counted many of the Draleid among my closest friends. I have had more than one lifetime to learn of dragons, my boy.” Therin looked down at the dragon that had now crawled back up onto Calen’s lap. “Though until the other night, I never thought I would see one again. At least, not one that I would be happy to see. As for Aeson, that is a story for another time.”
Calen nodded. “My father, you—” The sound of footsteps drew Calen’s attention. Dann strolled into camp, two rabbits slung over his shoulder, already skinned and ready to cook. Calen sighed to himself, letting his question hold in the wind. He turned his head towards the fire and let his mind get lost in the chaos of the flames.
“There wasn’t much choice, I’m afraid,” Dann said. He knelt in front of the fire, preparing the spit. A pang of hunger washed over Calen, from almost nowhere. Then he felt it. He looked down. The dragon was awake. It tossed its sleepy head from side to side, making a short, metallic chirping noise as it lifted itself to its feet.
“Holy shit. The thing’s awake again!” Dann yelped and fell backwards onto the ground.
“You are such a baby,” Calen said. He ran his hand down the back of the dragon’s neck. The scales had much the same texture as a coarse stone, but were a lot softer than Calen initially thought they would be.
“A baby?” Dann s
coffed. “That thing wakes up every time I bring food back into the camp. It nearly took my hand off last night!”
“Well, learn your lesson then.”
As if to back Calen up, the dragon stood up straight, fanned its wings out, and let out a high-pitched screech towards Dann. Even at the size of a small dog, it looked fearsome.
“Oh, fuck off!” Dann cut the leg off one of the rabbits and tossed it on the ground in front of the dragon. It screeched again, then shook its head from side to side as it tore into the meat. “Little savage…” muttered Dann. Calen saw Therin smirking out of the corner of his eye.
Calen coughed as he choked down a lump of stale bread, following it up with a draught from his waterskin.
Rabbit meat and stale bread was becoming a staple of his diet. It was better than nothing, which is what Calen would be eating if he had been out there on his own. “Therin, why Belduar?”
“Belduar has been a thorn in the empire’s side since the fall of The Order. It was the only independent city of men in all Epheria that withstood Fane’s advances. The king of Belduar, Arthur Bryne, is by all accounts a good man. He is a friend of mine and Aeson’s and probably one of the few people who we can trust right now. Arthur is the one who sent Aeson to Valacia in search of the egg. Well, I suppose he is not an egg anymore.” Therin gestured towards the dragon. It now lay contently at Calen’s feet, its tongue flicking back and forth as it picked pieces of meat from its mouth. He.
“At Belduar,” he continued, “we will find sanctuary. A place to rest without having to look over our shoulders, and then we can decide what is next.”
“I see,” Calen said. “And then? When can we search for Rist?”
Therin sighed. “I don’t know, Calen. That is the truth. Rist can touch the Spark. That much we know. That is probably why the Fade took him, and if that is the case, then he will be on his way to the High Tower. But to guess the reasons a Fade would do anything is like trying to catch the wind in your hands. They serve the traitor god, Efialtir, and in doing so, their interests align with Fane Mortem. Beyond that, I know as much as you do.” Calen looked at Dann, who was staring absently into the fire. His chest rose and fell in heavy sweeps. Therin must have noticed. “If there is one thing that the emperor appreciates, it is the power of magic. Rist will be safe. They will want to train him, recruit him – not kill him. That means we have time. I told you that I don’t know when we can search for him, and that is the truth, but we will search for him. That, I promise you.”