Graevale (The Medoran Chronicles)

by Lynette Noni

  As soon as they were all in place, a mini dome appeared around them and lifted them off the ground, like a spherical glass elevator.

  Higher and higher they moved up the pillar, with D.C. giving a faint groan and even Bear murmuring his concerns about how safe their bubble-like elevator was.

  Repressing a smile at their distress, Alex locked eyes with Blake and saw that he wasn’t trying to hide his humour, but rather grinning wickedly. He sent her a sly wink, knowing she was just as amused.

  When they reached the top, Alex was transfixed by the sight of the city stretched out at their feet. Nialas appeared all the more incredible from the bird’s-eye view their position at its centre afforded. She only tore her eyes away when Glyn cleared her throat, gesturing for them to follow her into a glass-walled, circular room that spanned the very top of the tower.

  In the centre of the room sat four Flips, two male, two female, behind a marble bench, all of whom were staring unblinkingly at Alex and her friends.

  Feeling like she’d entered an underwater courtroom, Alex looked to Blake for guidance, but her focus moved to Glyn when she left them to take the only remaining seat behind the bench.

  The five Flips all looked at each other and began to make humming noises in the back of their throats. Alex realised they were communicating, but her inner translator wasn’t interpreting the hums, which meant Xiraxus had never learned their language. Not surprising, since they lived underwater and he in the clouds. But that left Alex feeling fidgety as she waited, thankful when the hums stopped and the Flips faced forward again.

  “We offer greetings to you and your fellow representatives, Ambassador Blake,” said the male with yellow tribal markings seated in the centre of the five.

  Looking at him more closely, Alex realised that she knew him. He’d come to the academy last year and spoken to her Species Distinction class.

  “Tork?” she said, remembering his name and unable to contain her surprise enough to wonder if there was some kind of etiquette she should be following.

  The Flip—Tork—looked at her with bright, thoughtful eyes. “You are a student at Akarnae.” His gaze swept over D.C., Jordan and Bear. “You all are.”

  Shocked that he remembered them, Alex only nodded.

  “What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

  It was exactly the opener Alex needed, but now that she was before them, she didn’t know where to start.

  She turned helpless eyes to Blake and he, fortunately, took the lead.

  “Honourable members of the Clan,” he said, “I would like to introduce you to my companions: Alexandra Jennings, Jordan Sparker, Barnold Ronnigan and Del—uh, Deluh Coselle.”

  Blake’s near slip with D.C.’s name would have been entertaining if it hadn’t been so potentially catastrophic. With their visit risking political complications, the last thing Alex needed was for the Flips to know the human princess was one of their number.

  “Warm greetings to you, representatives,” the other male said with a polite dip of his head, his blue tribal markings complementing his luminescent green skin. “I am Neiko, and these are my fellow Clan leaders, Ayva and Eefi,”—he motioned to the two unknown females, one who had pink markings and the other purple—“and of course, you already know Tork and Glyn.”

  Alex bowed her head in turn with each consecutive introduction, wondering at the end why Glyn—a leader of her people—had been sent to collect them in person. But perhaps that was the way of the Flips; she didn’t want to risk asking and appearing more naïve than she already was.

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice,” Alex said, stepping forward. She was grateful that there were no other chairs in the room since she was already looking up at them, seated as they were behind the tall, judicial bench. It would have been even more intimidating had she been asked to sit.

  “Vee ver led to believe zer vas an urgent matter zhat needed our attenzion,” Ayva said, her words heavily accented. “But you are no more zhan younglings. Students, still, if vhat I ’ear is correct.”

  “I assure you, what I have to say is urgent, and it does need your attention,” Alex said, her tone careful but also firm. “My age shouldn’t factor into my credibility as a witness.”

  “And yet, you come in ’ere already mizleading uz to believe you are reprezentatives of your people,” Ayva said, “vhen you are nozhing but children to zhem.”

  Before Alex could offer a defence, Blake jumped in.

  “Clan leaders, you have known me for a number of years now,” he said, stepping up beside Alex. “My companions may seem young, so I understand you might not be inclined to trust them. However, I’m asking you to trust me. What they have to say is of vital importance. Please listen to them.”

  Humming arose as the Flips looked at each other and communicated in their wordless language. A minute or so passed before they turned forward again.

  It was Eefi who addressed them next, her voice almost as timid as Glyn’s. “Speak, humans, and we shall listen.”

  Releasing the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, Alex felt D.C. reach out to quickly squeeze her hand in support. It was enough to give her the courage to begin her tale.

  “So it wasn’t a total win.”

  Alex looked up at Jordan who was sitting across from her in the food court and said, “It wasn’t any kind of win. I’m surprised they didn’t make us swim back up to the surface, considering how fast they wanted us out of there.”

  She picked at her food, frustrated by the failure of their morning. While the Flips had accepted her announcement that Aven was now ruling Meya, they didn’t see how that was any concern to them, given that their city was protected so deep beneath the ocean. As such, they had been wholly unreceptive to her warnings, even so far as humming out their laughter—something Alex hadn’t needed a translator to understand.

  No matter how hard she’d tried to convince them, they were confident in their own safety. And because of that, they weren’t willing to so much as entertain the idea of providing support should the time come when it was needed.

  “We are a careful race, Alexandra Jennings,” Tork, the most diplomatic of the five Clan leaders, had said. “We avoid enmity at all costs. That requires us to avoid meddling in the affairs of others. I am sorry, but we cannot help you.”

  When D.C. had cautiously stepped forward and asked what they would do if Aven did target them, the Flips had all laughed again, with Ayva saying, “Zhat vill not ’appen.”

  Her certainty had alarmed Alex. The only thing worse than them not respecting her warnings was if they ignored them entirely. But short of screaming at them to wake up and look outside their goldfish bowls, there was seemingly nothing Alex could do to convince them they were in danger.

  The only thing that helped ease her concern, if slightly, was that once they’d returned to the Tryllin harbour after a silent, miserable trip back in the Airlock, Glyn had caught Alex’s eye and visibly summoned the courage to speak.

  “My brethren speak true when they say we are a careful race,” the Flip had said, her timidity even more acute with Alex’s full attention on her. “We’ve heard whispers of a coming threat which is why we closed our borders. We are nothing but cautious, and despite what you believe, your warnings will be taken to heart. I’m sorry we cannot offer more.”

  Alex had been grateful for the Flip’s acknowledgement, even if the result wasn’t what she would have liked. She only hoped Medora’s other three most powerful races would be more willing to ally themselves with the humans—or at least consider her warnings to be more urgent.

  “Chin up, Alex,” Bear said, passing her a bowl of ice cream. “So the Flips weren’t all that fired up to jump on board—it’s not the end of the world.”

  Alex winced, and she heard Bear give a hiss of pain when the table jerked after either D.C. or Jordan had presumably kicked him in the shin.

  “Bad choice of words, mate,” Jordan murmured.


  Leaning down to rub his leg, Bear sent a scowl towards D.C.—his apparent attacker—before arguing, “Maybe so. But think about it. If they’re as careful as they claim, they wouldn’t be much use fighting Aven and his army, anyway. They’d be just as likely to run back to their ocean and swim as far away as possible.”

  Perhaps Bear was right, but Alex still wished the morning had produced more encouraging results.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about them reporting us or Blake to my parents and their council,” D.C. said. “One of the benefits of them not taking us seriously.”

  That much was true; it was one of the few positive outcomes of their morning. The Clan had let them off with a warning, claiming they wouldn’t be lodging any formal complaints with the ISDS. Alex and her friends, along with Blake and Jeera, were in the clear.

  “It can only get better from here, right?” Jordan encouraged, swiping Alex’s ice cream when he realised she wasn’t going to eat it. “We’ve got Maroo next. And we know the Jarnocks are anything but timid and careful. I’m sure this afternoon will go much better.”

  Alex’s only experience with the Jarnocks was again from Species Distinction, when one of them named Mareek had visited the class. The small, dirt-covered man had remained behind a barrier during his stay because, while he had mostly been civil and happily answered questions about his race, he had also started screaming at them on a whim in between shooting poisonous darts.

  As Jordan had said, if the rest of the Jarnocks were anything like Mareek, then they would definitely be neither timid nor careful. And perhaps that was exactly what Alex—and humankind—needed.

  The only extra knowledge Alex had learned from her meeting with her teachers was that the tree dwellers’ canopy city, Maroo, was located on a small island to the northwest of Tryllin. The entire island was warded against Bubbledoor entry, meaning the only way to get there was with a transport vessel. Alex was confident the Library would offer her direct access to Maroo without needing a vessel, but the teachers—Darrius in particular—had warned her to take note of where the door they arrived through was located in order to travel back using it, otherwise she and her friends would be stranded without the means to return.

  Alex had promised she would do so, and while she wasn’t worried per se, she was certainly on edge about how their afternoon would proceed.

  “Here’s the plan,” she said to her friends. “One hour from now, we’ll meet in the Library’s foyer and head straight to Maroo. Fingers crossed we’ll have a better outcome than this morning.”

  “Fingers crossed you still have fingers to cross once Kyia and Zain are through chewing you out,” D.C. said, spooning up some of Alex’s—now Jordan’s—ice cream.

  Alex cringed, fully agreeing with D.C.’s statement.

  The reason she and her friends weren’t heading to Maroo straight away was because as soon as they’d arrived back from Nialas, Alex had found a note on her bed in Kyia’s elegant script: three words, followed by her name.

  Where are you? – Kyia.

  The note, Alex knew, wasn’t referring to her Saturday morning location. Instead, Kyia wanted to know where Alex had been all week. But between her morning and evening training sessions, not to mention her actual academy classes during the day, Alex simply hadn’t had the time to return to Draekora.

  Desperate to keep her training with both Niyx and Athora a secret, Alex knew she needed to visit her Meyarin friends and ease their minds. She also wanted to keep them from seeking her out again, since she was concerned Kyia had left Roka’s side to deliver her note. She wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t worried—or very, very annoyed.

  “One hour. Foyer,” Alex repeated to her friends, not responding to D.C.’s comment lest she give away her own apprehension.

  After receiving their nods of agreement, she took off and swung by her dorm to collect the laendra she’d hidden in her wardrobe—to avoid having to explain to D.C. where, and who, it came from—and headed directly to the Library.

  As soon as she stepped through the doorway to Draekora, she headed swiftly towards Roka’s tent, not making eye contact with any of the Meyarins wandering around the settlement. She made it to her destination without being attacked this time, and didn’t hesitate before entering.

  The moment she did, she realised she should have found a way to announce herself first. Because inside the tent, Kyia and Zain were in the middle of a yelling match that had been soundproofed by the Myrox.

  … And they weren’t alone.

  Sixteen

  Three others were in the tent, all of whom turned silent at the sight of her—and all of whom were on the royal council.

  The first was Loro Gaiel, who glared daggers at Alex upon her unannounced entry.

  The second was Loro Roathus of House Lorenn, who she had first met during a formal dinner with the royal family in present-day Meya. Even after Alex’s weeks spent wandering the ancient city and meeting those inhabiting it, the wisened Meyarin was still the oldest of his race that she had encountered, his grey hair and lightly wrinkled features paying tribute to the many, many years he had lived.

  The final Meyarin was Loro Cykor, who Alex had only encountered during her time in the past. He had met her as Aeylia, so he had no idea who she was in the present or that they had been acquainted once upon a time. Even in the past she hadn’t known him well, but she did know that he was the head of House Raedon—and Niyx’s father.

  “What are you doing here?” Gaiel snapped at Alex. He was so incensed that she was surprised he didn’t bare his teeth at her. “I thought I made it clear that you weren’t welcome amongst us.”

  “And I thought I made it clear that I don’t care what you think,” she returned, striding further into the room.

  “Alex,” Kyia admonished, a quiet warning in her tone.

  Alex couldn’t read the look on her face, nor could she understand the caution in her voice.

  Before she could think of a way to ask without revealing her obvious confusion, Zain exhaled loudly and said, “There’s certainly something to be said for your timing, little human.”

  Alex dumped her sealed satchel containing the laendra on the floor and asked, “What’s going on in here? Why are you arguing?”

  When no one answered, she placed her hands on her hips and stated, “I haven’t had a good morning and despite my fervent hopes to the contrary, with my luck of late, my afternoon is bound to be even worse. I can’t stay long and I don’t have the patience to put up with any crap right now, so someone had better answer me.” She leaned in meaningfully and hissed to finish, “Now.”

  It was Cykor who responded, though he didn’t actually answer her. “I can see what Astophe meant about her spunk. Tel de sondrae nevara sesa dom.”

  Alex only just kept from jumping when the four others repeated his words: a murmured, ‘May the light guide him home,’ in their native tongue.

  Figuring it was the Meyarin equivalent of ‘May he rest in peace,’ Alex felt uncomfortable and unsure about what to say next, let alone if she should attempt to address Cykor’s ‘spunk’ comment. She decided against it, and waited for one of them to speak again, tapping her foot with deliberate agitation.

  Reading Alex’s mood loud and clear, Kyia, looking as tense as a brick wall, said, “Gaiel went to see Aven.”

  Alex stopped breathing. Then she gasped out a gargled sound of disbelief, unable to articulate how she felt at the very idea of him doing something so idiotic.

  “The norot thought he could barter with the false king,” Zain said through clenched teeth.

  Alex turned blistering eyes to the insufferable council member. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  Gaiel crossed his arms. “I did. And I’m sure it won’t come as a shock to hear that he is willing to negotiate.” He shot a glare at Kyia and Zain before finishing, “Unlike some.”

  Alex released a harsh-sounding laugh as she recalled what Gaiel had said the last time they’d crossed path
s, now understanding why Kyia and Zain were so tense. “You offered me up, didn’t you? You said you’d deliver me on a silver platter.”

  Gaiel didn’t answer except to raise his chin imperiously and look down his nose at her.

  “Tell me, Loro Gaiel,” she spat his name, balling her fists to resist summoning A’enara, “am I worth more to Aven dead or alive?”

  “When we hand your useless human hide over, Aven is going to allow us back into our city with the guarantee that he won’t Claim us,” Gaiel hissed.

  “There is no ‘when’, Gaiel, nor is there even an ‘if’,” Zain ground out. “We’ve already made that perfectly clear.”

  Alex didn’t attempt to debate the matter of if versus when versus at all. Instead, she said, “Aven won’t hold up his end of the bargain—the moment you hand me over, you’ll have lost any bargaining power you had. He’ll Claim you on the spot. In fact…” Her eyes skimmed his body, searching for any silvery scars. She found none, but anything could be hidden under his clothes. “How do we know he hasn’t already? If you met with him in person, how can we believe anything you say? You could just be his messenger right now.”

  “I am no fool,” he snarled at her, despite all evidence to the contrary. “I waited until he was alone on his balcony and I remained on the Valispath in open air where he couldn’t touch me. We spoke. That is all.”

  “We only have your word on that,” Alex pointed out.

  Tersely, he said, “My word is more than enough, human.”

  The only sure way to know if he was Claimed was for her to personally force her will upon his, just like she’d done with Jordan, and Release him if need be. But there was no way Alex was going to get close enough to him to risk something like that, not if he was liable to snatch her away on the Valispath and deliver her to Aven, regardless of whether he was already Claimed or not.

  Besides, she was… mostly… confident that if Gaiel truly was Claimed, he wouldn’t be so antagonistic towards her. If Aven was the puppet-master, he’d be more inclined to lull her into a false sense of security and nab her when her guard was down. Instead, Gaiel’s prickly attitude was causing her hackles to rise enough that she refused to trust him, and that wouldn’t work in Aven’s favour at all.