Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  Part of him wanted to close his eyes, but as Risper banked into a current, he saw Tsaisa laid out below them. From here, even the Dragonhall and annex looked tiny. The tavern looked deserted, but people the size of little bugs, wandered the streets. Out to the west he saw the long expanse of beach stretch for kilometres in both directions. Beyond that was the vast, blue ocean, rippling before it disappeared over the horizon.

  He heard laughter and realised it was coming from him. He was free, like a bird, like the sound of notes soaring from a trained voice.

  "This is incredible!" he shouted into the thermal as they flew. He felt Laynin shake, and knew she was laughing too, a low, husky sound.

  "Thank you for letting me come."

  "You're welcome," she replied.

  Risper dropped a metre or so, losing one current and gaining another. Travin's stomach fell and rose with the movement. Would his magic work on dragons? Maybe he should try touching him, just to see if he'd turn a little. No, it might endanger them if it worked.

  Could Risper read his thoughts? He expected so. Just in case, he closed his eyes, screwed up his face and thought, Thanks for the ride.

  He got no response.

  "Where are we going?" he called out over the sound of rushing air. The noise was greater than he'd expected. On windy days, the wind blew loudly, moaning and shoving at buildings and people, but this was a constant roar. A cacophony, as though the sky was being forced apart so they could fly through it. The higher they rose, the more it protested.

  "Koo," she shouted back. At least, that was what it sounded like. He pictured a map in his mind and nodded. The small town was on the coast, a few days south by foot, if one was walking quickly. For someone like him, who might be inclined to stop at every farm or hamlet on the way, it could take weeks.

  "We're almost at the border," she added.

  "Already?" He looked back down in surprise. "How can you tell?"

  "Risper told me."

  "All right, how does he know?"

  She didn't reply for a moment, then shouted, "He said he just does. Maybe he knows the landmarks."

  The land below was laced with hills and roads, fields dotted with the occasional farmhouse. Travin too would learn the lie of the land if he overflew it often enough. The fact they'd covered so much of it so quickly was incredible. Tsaisa wasn't far from the border, but far enough that it would take hours if they'd walked.

  "Risper says you're welcome by the way," she added, surprising him further. "He likes you."

  "He has good taste."

  "Yes, he does." Her laughter faded quickly. She pointed diagonally downward.

  "What?" He squinted in the direction she'd indicated.

  "Oh."

  There, just ahead, was the first sign of where the border was. Men in leather armour stood on, and to either side of the road. Their presence wouldn't stop anyone who decided to skirt around them, but no wagon could pass without going this way. Judging by the handful lined up down the road, none had been allowed through this morning.

  He hung on more tightly to Laynin as Risper veered to the east and dropped rapidly. They flew just over the tops of the trees, close enough to touch them.

  "Do you think they saw us?"

  Laynin shook her head. "I don't know. We're hard to miss, but I didn't hear anyone shouting, or see anyone pointing, did you?"

  "No." But he hadn't been looking out for either. Would the dragon ducking away so quickly have been construed as threatening if they had been noticed? If he was a guard, he'd find it extremely suspicious. But then, the very presence of a dragon might be considered so. Either way, it couldn't be helped now.

  Risper flew inland for a few minutes, then banked and headed back south, before winging west, toward the coast. They stayed in sight of the ocean, but far from the road. An occasional track passed below them, but with no one on them. If anyone was going around the border checkpoint, they weren't going this way. Or, Travin mused, they were hiding as Risper passed overhead.

  With that in mind, he squinted downward, looking for signs of anything which looked out of place. He thought he caught sight of a flash of red, but they were over it and gone before he could be sure.

  For the first time, Laynin's warning about the potential danger of coming here sunk in. Another king had invaded this kingdom and killed people. And he, Travin, had come here to satisfy his curiosity. He grimaced.

  "Maybe we should turn back," he suggested.

  He felt her stiffen.

  "You can go back," she said over her shoulder. "I can drop you off here, but it might be a long walk."

  "Just a bit," he agreed. "Ara might be right though. It may not be safe."

  "I'm not leaving without seeing my family," she replied. He saw her chin jut out, determined.

  "All right, all right." He'd have thrown up his arms had he not been holding on. "It was just a suggestion."

  For a moment she didn't respond, but then her body relaxed. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried."

  "I know." He hadn't thought she had much cause to, but he'd since revised that assumption. The reach of Tarlu Rosharias was clearly further than they'd guessed. His army had reached the border with Marth. How long would it be before his eyes turned that way too?

  "Risper needs a rest," Laynin said. "I know a place. It should be deserted."

  He heard what she left unsaid. Nothing had been as they supposed. This might not be either. His palms and underarms prickled with sweat, in spite of the cold wind, a sure sign of his anxiety.

  Riding a dragon might not be much consolation if he died today.

  12

  "There." Laynin pointed toward the ground. Rising up out of the trees was a structure made of stone. Not a natural landmark then.

  "It looks like—" As Risper descended and landed neatly, Travin saw exactly what it was. Or rather, had been. "Another Dragonhall?"

  He undid his straps and slid down before turning with the intention of helping Laynin. She arched an eyebrow at him and dismounted unaided. Risper trudged a few steps and plopped onto the ground under a tree.

  "Apparently, hundreds of years ago, there were dozens of them all over the continent," Laynin said, picking her way toward it. "This one is only visible from the air, which is fortunate."

  "People would take the stone and use them to build fences," Travin said with a nod. While leaving it here might be considered wasteful, it was a piece of history. History, he soon discovered, which was covered in animal dropping and dirt. Some sections still stood three stories high, stones curving where stairs had long ago crumbled away. One side had collapsed entirely, letting in the rain and the surrounding forest. Trees grew in the centre of the structure.

  "Kaylis is a few kilometres from here," Laynin said, stopping beside him. "The draakin must have been more isolated than we are."

  "There must have been a lot more dragons then too," he said, nudging a free stone with his booted foot.

  "So they say, yes." She looked wistfully toward Risper.

  "What happened to the rest?" he asked softly.

  She twitched and her eyes glazed over. He reached out a hand, but stopped short of touching her.

  "Laynin?" His voice shook.

  "She is here, but she is allowing me to speak to you." Her mouth moved, but her voice was deeper, her tone more formal. For a moment Travin was confused, his mind flicking back to the soldier's mention of a ghoul. It had seemed funny then, but now…

  Then he understood. "Risper." He was aware that dragons sometimes spoke though their draakin, but he'd never seen it. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  "Yes. I apologise if I concerned you. You asked what happened to the dragons, I thought I would answer."

  "All…all right." Travin lowered his arm. "So—"

  "They died," Laynin-Risper said. "Dragons breed so rarely, we can't keep up. We bonded our servants, but—"

  "Wait, your what?" Travin blinked hard.

  "Oh yes, people served dragons, broug
ht food, guarded our eggs. They saw us as a kind of… deity, if you will. Others saw us differently. They threatened our young. In order to communicate with humans, we had to bond them. In time, we had no choice but to bond. Alas, our numbers dwindle."

  "I see."

  Laynin jerked, blinked twice and then sagged.

  "That was about a thousand years of history in a matter of minutes," she said, giving Risper a rueful look.

  "Is that—" Travin hesitated. "Did that hurt, or…"

  She shook out her arms as if shaking off the effects and smiled. "Risper would never do anything which caused me pain. It's unsettling, but that's all."

  She sat down on a fallen stone that lay with a flat side upward. "I know what he's saying as he says it, and I can think for myself, but I have no control over my own body. Every time he does that, I try to move, or speak, just to see if this time I can. I'm never able to, though."

  He chewed his lip and sat beside her. "So, he has magic?" He'd never given it much thought, but magic explained both the bond and this.

  "Of sorts," she replied, "Ara once suggested they have all three magics, at least to some extent."

  He nodded slowly. "So that was his version of touching? Only, without the touching." He scratched his head.

  Laynin chuckled at his confusion. "I think the bond serves as a kind of touch. The bonding itself is a bit like singing, but done with the mind. It's—" She frowned. "It's like using words to control the mind of someone else. Singers need a tune. Dragons just… do it." She shrugged.

  "And he's a seer too?" Travin eyed the dragon.

  "Not in terms of getting visions of the future, no, but dragons know a suitable person to bond, from one who might cause them problems. They're usually not wrong."

  "So, you think they see the person the hopefuls will become, and choose accordingly?"

  "Something like that, yes," she agreed. "Risper told me once that a man wasn't chosen and died that very night. But then, he got drunk and fell off the roof of the Dragonhall, so perhaps that was coincidental."

  Travin gave a short laugh. "Maybe the dragon saw that he drank too much?" He thought back the night before last. It seemed like long ago already. Could the dragons have seen that in him? He didn't drink to excess often. Even as he had that thought, he heard Laynin laugh.

  "Have you seen how much some of the draakin drink? I don't think the dragons are too judgmental there. Although sometimes I do wonder if they should be."

  "You don't seem to indulge too much," he remarked.

  She cocked her head at him. "Oh, have you been watching me?"

  He blushed and had to take a moment to avoid speaking with a stutter. "I make note of all the draakin. I thought if I was lucky enough to be one someday, I should pay attention. Besides, I'm a bard. It's my job to watch people. How better to write a song about them?"

  She shook a finger at him. "No writing songs about me," she said, her tone scolding. "Ara, certainly, maybe Luthin. They're far more interesting than me."

  "I disagree," he said. He hesitated for a moment. "Can I ask you something?"

  "I don't know. You have me worried now, about what you might want to know." Her eyebrows rose in speculation.

  He tried to ignore his body's response to her and didn't help himself by asking, "Have you ever been touched?" He blushed. "I mean, by a magin. I mean… Oh, All the Gods!"

  She laughed. "You mean under their control, like with Risper? No, never. Unless it happened without me knowing, and that would be rude."

  He nodded his agreement. "It would."

  "You're a toucher?" she guessed.

  "Yes."

  "You're wondering if what you do feels the same as what he does?"

  "I suppose so." He itched to know.

  She looked toward Risper. "He needs a few minutes more, so I suppose we have time to find out." She licked her lips. "Just promise you won't ask me to do anything I won't like. If you do, we'll leave you here."

  He believed her.

  He held up his hand, palm outward. "I swear." Tentatively, he reached out and touched the back of her hand. Her skin was soft and warm, but trembling slightly. Was that because of him or concern over her family? If having to stop was chafing her, she hid it well. Although, it stood to reason that Risper would come first with her, always. Even before her family.

  "Raise your other hand," he said softly, letting magic flow from him, into her.

  Her hand rose a few centimetres.

  "Wriggle your fingers."

  She wriggled them.

  "I'm going to ask you to stand, but try to fight me." Keeping his hand on hers, he stood slowly. She moved with him, although her brow furrowed.

  His hand dropped and he stood back. "Well?"

  She lowered her hands and looked at them as though she thought they weren't hers.

  "That was just as disconcerting. I was trying hard to stay sitting, but my body wouldn't respond at all. But it was different too. You weren't in my head. I had no idea what you were going to ask, except what you were telling me to do. Can you do that without speaking?"

  His fingertips lightly rested on hers. Shake your head.

  Her head moved slowly from side to side, but it moved.

  She looked disconcerted, so he stepped away, sensing her need for space and time to process what he could do.

  "That felt very odd," she said. "No offence, but I think I like it better when Risper does it."

  "None taken." He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed, just a tilt forward, while his eyes never left her face. "I swore I would never make you do anything you didn't like, and I meant that."

  "Good. We should continue on." She turned away and he wondered if his curiosity had destroyed a potential friendship.

  13

  Laynin watched the ground as Risper flew low over the trees. The stop had unnerved her. Not just because of Travin's magic, but because the idea that her family might be suffering while she hid out near a crumbling relic itched at her. She couldn't blame Risper; carrying two people for a period of time was wearing, especially if he couldn't fly high enough to glide. At this altitude, he had to rise and fall, and weave around treetops. They couldn't risk flying much higher. They were already visible enough.

  We are approaching the road again.

  She squinted. The wide expanse of coastal road unwound before them. They'd avoided Kaylis, veering away from the town before resuming their southward journey. She estimated their location to be halfway between there and Koo. Close enough for her heart to flutter with anxiety.

  The road bears many travellers, Risper remarked, but I suspect they do not travel for leisure, or indeed, for work.

  "Are there soldiers?" she asked, speaking aloud for Travin's benefit.

  I see none. Many men, women. Many children. Their minds are fearful.

  "He said they're refugees," Laynin said, surmising from the dragon's description. She chewed her lip.

  "Do you want to talk to them?" Travin called out, his words drawn away by wind, but audible nonetheless. "They may have news."

  She wanted to refuse, to go on and find her family. Rationally, she knew the moment Ara found out where she'd been, she'd want details. Anything they could learn here might be pertinent.

  "I suppose so." People fleeing for their lives were unlikely to stop and tell soldiers a dragon dropped by. At least she hoped that would be the case.

  Risper back-winged and landed on a patch of dirt beside the road, causing a group of refugees to startle. A baby started to cry and several small children hid behind their parents.

  One of the men carried a pick he looked ready to use.

  You should stay on my back, Risper warned, they're scared and angry.

  I can see that. She spoke softly over her shoulder. "Don't unstrap. I'm not sure why they think we're a threat, but they do."

  "Risper is big," Travin whispered back.

  She couldn't disagree.

  "Good day," she called out politely. "We mea
n you no harm, we're simply seeking news of the—the troubles in Alvarios."

  "Troubles?" The man with the pick spat on the ground. "Is that what you northerners are callin' it?"

  "Steady, Yallif," an older woman said, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Good day, draakin. The troubles have been many these last months." She pursed her lips before continuing. "Indeed, they go back further. There has been unrest—"

  Yallif snorted loudly, but she ignored him.

  "—for a good year or two. First whispers, then rumbles, then soldiers."

  "Whispers and rumbles of what?" Laynin asked.

  "And they call us ignorant," Yallif began. The woman hushed him with a wave of her hand.

  "War," she stated, "but more than that. King Tarlu is an ardent follower of Euru."

  Laynin waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, the draakin said, "I've heard the Cult of Euru is popular in the south."

  "More than popular," the woman said, "compulsory."

  The word hung in the air for several moments.

  "He's insisting people follow Euru?" Travin sounded disbelieving.

  "He's forcing people to abandon their gods and believe in Euru. His soldiers, many of them magin, have killed people who refuse."

  "Whole families," Yallif interjected.

  Laynin's stomach turned. Apart from invoking all the Gods at opportune moments, her family had never held much faith in any deity. Her hand rested on Risper's neck, comforted by his warm presence.

  "We prefer to choose who we worship," the woman stated, tilting her chin up proudly.

  "Of course you do," Laynin replied, "as is your right." She didn't approve of anyone telling others who or what they could or couldn't worship, but another aspect of this was much more pressing.

  "You said magin are killing people?" She glanced over her shoulder at Travin. He looked as perturbed as she felt. Having experienced the kind of power he had, she felt chilled. For those few moments, she'd been solely in his power. Her thoughts had been nothing more sinister than having him make her touch his manhood. Now, that seemed laughable. He could, had he wished, have told her to stop breathing.