“It is rather odd. But certainly Silla would have shared the reasoning if it was relevant.”
“I’m not certain of that at all. Perhaps their behavior has soured my opinion of them, but I get the distinct feeling the elves only trust us with the information they believe we need. I can understand being ignorant of the continent to the north. After all, we in the Northern Alliance have barely given either of the Crescents a second thought since before the war began. But we are separated by a sea. They’ve merely been toeing a figurative line in the sand for all of these years. And some of the gaps in their knowledge seem a bit too convenient to be mere disinterest.”
“You think they are hiding something.”
“‘Hiding’ may be too strong a word. But I do think they know more than they let on. For a kingdom with countless residents who remember a time before the war, I can’t imagine none of them has ventured into the heart of their sister continent unless they had a very good reason to avoid it.”
“If such a reason exists, they must be very confident it won’t be found, as they are sending us unsupervised.”
“True. Perhaps I am overthinking things. This is a rare introduction that hasn’t begun with strife and tension. I shouldn’t be seeking to create it.… But I’m not pleased with the king’s attitude toward the D’Karon either. The man seems to relish the idea of a clash with them as some means of soothing the bruised ego of his people for being left out of the Perpetual War.”
“I’ve known a few elves. As they grow older, they do have the tendency to view the world and its people as some sort of ongoing game with a distant goal. Mortals tend to neglect the long-term consequences of their actions. Immortals neglect the short-term consequences. A bit of bloodshed now is a tragedy, but the glory and honor it brings will live on in song and story for ages.”
“I thought I was through with people seeking glory through war…” She clenched her fist. “It is honestly as though the world doesn’t know how to do anything else but squabble and kill.”
“Myranda, if I may say, since this trip began you have been rather more out of sorts than I’ve seen you in ages.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”
She took a breath and took his hand in hers. “I’m just feeling restless… Heavens, how long has it been since I’ve had nothing but time and no tasks to fill it? From my years wandering, looking for a place to say, then the discovery of the sword and my time on the run, then to Entwell, then in search of the Chosen… all of the battles, all of the trials. And when peace came, still more needed to be done. New Kenvard is a hive of activity, each day a new problem to solve. And yet here I am, at sea in a ship finer than most homes, pampered and spoiled as the guests of another kingdom. It feels so unnatural to have a chance to rest. I feel like I am neglecting my people back home.”
“There is a great task ahead, Myranda, and many great tasks completed. A few moments to pause and reflect are the least fate could offer you from time to time.”
“I suppose.” She turned her gaze from the horizon to the air beside the ship and smiled.
Garr was airborne over the water, facing the rear of the ship. His wings caught the same breeze that filled the sails. A well-placed flap here or there allowed him to hang beside the boat as if he were dangling from a string. Grustim stood on his back, one hand holding his pike and the other holding a coiled rope affixed to its end. Myn watched the pair as they held their place beside the ship, though she’d yet to work up the courage to venture over to the edge. She sat resolutely in the very center of the deck, much to the chagrin of the crew that needed to work around her. Though she craned her neck and struggled to get a better view of what her fellow dragon was doing, she held her position as though it was the only safe place in the whole of the ship.
Grustim hefted the pike, then thrust it toward the water. The rope drew taut and the Dragon Rider dropped down to grip Garr’s neck tightly. Garr flapped his wings and rose into the air. The pike emerged from the water, dragging with it a flailing fish speared by its tip. The fish was massive, nearly the size of a bull calf. Grustim secured the rope around Garr’s neck to keep from losing his grip, and the pair swept over the deck to deliver their catch. The stricken fish thrashed for a moment, but Garr thumped down and finished it with a deft snap of his jaws. Grustim climbed down and drew a knife, slicing a goodly portion for himself. What remained was easily enough to feed the rest of the crew for a day or two, but Garr had other plans for it. He collected the fish in his jaws, took a few purposeful steps toward Myn, and set the kill before her. She sniffed curiously at the potential meal. Garr sat and patiently waited to see if the offering would be accepted.
The Dragon Rider paced over, his share in hand, and addressed Myranda.
“May I have a word with you, Duchess?” he asked.
“We have fought beside one another, Grustim. I believe we can dispense with the formalities.”
“There are matters regarding Myn. The first, her fear of the water…”
“Yes. I’d hoped by this point in the voyage it would have begun to diminish. She’s braved the water before.”
“Rare is a beast who would take it upon herself to set aside what she perceives to be valid caution. The fear is genuine, there can be no doubt of that. On those times she ignored the fear, did she have good reason?”
“Once, at least, was to rescue me.”
“Yes. That would be sufficient, but it would not begin to cure the fear.”
“Why not?”
He beckoned her. “Come inside.”
She and Deacon followed as he stepped into the shelter of one of the ship’s corridors. When he spoke again, it was softly.
“In the generations that the Dragon Riders have worked with these noble beasts, we have learned much. It is not our custom to share what we have learned. But as you care for this beast, I am prepared to share some of our wisdom, on the condition that you do not share it with anyone else.”
“Of course.”
He lowered his voice further. “A dragon is a powerful beast. It knows this implicitly, from the moment it is born. There are few forces in nature that can truly be a threat to a dragon, beyond other dragons. They understand battle, and thus they understand that death can come by the claws or blades of a dedicated foe, but only at great cost. I… forgive me if I do not make myself clear. This is not something I’ve had to put to words before… Anything that might soundly defeat a dragon should have to work hard, should have to give it all, and furthermore should need more than a bit of luck. When something lays a dragon low without effort, this is devastating to the beast.”
“A dragon does not understand what it is to be powerless,” Myranda said.
“Yes! Yes. That is precisely the case. If ever a dragon is made to feel powerless, helpless in the face of something, it will shake the beast to its very soul. And if the creature cannot find its way through the fear, it can end poorly.”
“How so?”
“For some, it will simply linger as a weakness. If the source of the fear is rare, this may be of little consequence, but among the Dragon Riders, we would never allow it to stand. It would be a liability in battle. Some fears, fears more constant in the beast’s mind, they can fester. They turn to dark things or simply dominate the beast’s life. Best to work through them before that can happen.”
“Absolutely. I understand.”
“It isn’t enough that Myn would brave the water to rescue you. That your life was in danger only strengthens the threat water poses in her mind. This journey, to utterly surround her in water and show her she can survive unscathed, is a fine start. But she must be made to face her fear. It may seem unkind. It may hurt you to see her frightened. But she has a long life ahead of her. A bit of fear now is nothing to what the rest of her days will hold if you do not rid her of this.”
“I’ll do what I can. While we are on the subject of Myn’s well-being, I wonder if you could help me with
something?”
“If it is within my power and rights, I will do all that I can.”
“We do our best to keep Myn busy, and to keep her company. But ever since she met Garr, she’s… how do I say this…?” Myranda shrugged. “No sense being delicate about it. She’s smitten with Garr. We’ve known that since shortly after they met. But…”
Grustim shut his eyes and lowered his head with a slow shake.
“I take it this isn’t the first you’ve considered the issue,” Myranda said with a grin.
“It is an unfortunate complication. One that has no real solution.”
Grustim nudged open the door to the deck to offer a glimpse of the dragons. Myn was messily devouring the meal provided for her. Garr was patiently observing.
“The stone about Myn’s neck. I imagine you fashioned the pouch for it because she carried it wherever she went?”
“Ivy fashioned it, actually,” Myranda said.
“Regardless. A gift from Garr. There will be others. He presented it, pursuing her as a mate. She accepted. Until one rejects the other, there is no one else for either of them.” He turned to Myranda. “We keep the males and females separate. We breed our dragons. Garr’s mate was selected for him before he was hatched. The line has been cultivated for many thousands of years, as far back as our history goes. Three generations of dragons. Countless generations of Dragon Riders.”
“I am terribly sorry if this has spoiled an ancient tradition.”
Grustim shook his head. “Garr has clutch-mates. The line will continue. If I’d imagined this might occur, I would have taken steps to prevent it. But I have never seen a couple pair themselves so quickly. Myn is a remarkable creature. I only hope I live to see their offspring.”
“You believe it will go that far?”
“I don’t imagine we will be able to prevent it. When they both decide the time has come, I pity anyone who would try to come between them. At that point, they shall make their own decision, regardless of what we feel is right. Dragons, even properly trained, can be quite willful when it suits them.”
“Perhaps if Queen Caya and I have a word with your superiors, we may be able to work out permission for them to visit one another,” Myranda said.
“There would be no precedent for that.”
“Very little in my life has precedent these days.”
“Since our first encounter, I can say the same.”
“Whatever it takes, we shall find a solution. Family is too important to let something like this stand in the way.”
#
King Mellawin reclined in a chair of mystically woven wood and sipped at a chalice of fine wine. Set before him on the table he’d shared with the Chosen during their briefings was the rough map of the Northern Crescent that would serve as the guide for their investigation. A knock at the door stirred him from some self-satisfied thoughts of what praise he would earn upon his triumphant return.
“Yes?”
“It is I, Your Majesty. Silla.”
“Enter,” he said.
His subordinate opened the door and slipped inside. Since their arrival in Tressor, she’d been uneasy, but it was doubly evident since they’d begun their return voyage.
“Does something trouble you, Silla?”
“My liege, though the thought would never occur to me to doubt your judgment, I wonder if it might be wise to adjust your expectations regarding the capacity of our guests to perform their intended tasks.”
“Have they done something to illustrate themselves as something less than their exploits would claim?”
“The duke and duchess show at least the veneer of civility and dignity, but the others… they are beasts. The lot of them. That the people of Tressor and the Northern Alliance would entrust their safety to such creatures is perhaps understandable in light of their lack of options, but we of Sonril should know better.”
“Silla, please. Their behavior may be less than what we have come to expect, but their divinity cannot be questioned. It is evident to even the weakest of mystics and seers.”
“I do not argue that they are products of the gods.” She clutched her hands together and briefly bowed her head in reverence. “And I would no sooner question the will of the gods than slit my own throat. But… dragons? Two of them? And a malthrope? What next? Fairies? Dwarfs?”
Mellawin stood. “Silla, as elves it is our burden to perpetually associate ourselves with less dignified races. By virtue of our lofty place in the world, to reach beyond our borders at all is to find inferiority. But these warriors have proved themselves on the field of battle. War is a coarse enterprise that is served well by coarse creatures. And I have seen much to admire. Strength, loyalty. Even artistry. And, if nothing else, they bring the experience necessary to definitively determine the nature of the threat as D’Karon.”
“And if it is not D’Karon?”
“Then it will be a simple, crude task as ably achieved by them as any. Blood will be kept from our hands, and the novelty of their presence shall suitably distract and entertain the people. I do not think even you can dispute their capacity for distraction.”
“I only hope that distraction does not escalate to chaos.”
“I entrust the task of avoiding such things to you, until such time as they are well within North Crescent. Once there, I could not care less if chaos descends. It would scarcely be noticed in that savage land.”
“Perhaps if a small force of our people could accompany them…”
“Silla, on that there can be no debate. The Chosen and their Tresson associate shall not be accompanied or guided. You are the lore keeper, and thus your knowledge of our history and ways is second only to my own. But it is second to my own. Elements that shall not and must not be divulged have weighed upon my final decision. And that decision is final.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Now go. Our guests are curious to a fault, I have noticed. I believe it would be wise to remain on hand to indulge their questions rather than to permit their minds to wander.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course you are correct. I shall do so immediately.”
Silla hurried from room, leaving the king to enjoy his wine once more.
#
“Come on, Myn. It’s fine,” Ivy said, perched atop the dragon’s neck. “We’ve been at sea for days and nothing’s gone wrong. Just go near the edge.”
“No,” Myn rumbled.
“Seems like ever since you learned that word, it’s the only one you’ll use.” She hopped down and trotted to the edge of the deck. “You can fly, Myn. Compared to that, swimming is easy. You could even take a dip and you’ll be fine.”
“No.”
“But the sea is so nice and calm.… Except for back there…”
Ivy peered into the distance to the northwest of the ship. While she’d been impressed by the beauty of the sea when they’d first set sail, she’d quickly become disappointed by how little it changed as they traveled. During long trips overland, be they by foot or by wing, the scenery that greeted you at sunrise would be entirely different by sunset. Conversely, the sea was the sea. Perhaps a deeper green here, or a lighter blue there, but the change was terribly gradual. The only distinctive features were the odd glimpse of a distant shore or an island when the air was at its clearest… but right now the sea itself seemed to have something new to offer.
She glanced aside. Deacon had taken a seat in the shade of one of the sails. He was, as always, writing his thoughts and observations. The stylus in his hand was joined by a pair of others moving of their own accord.
“Deacon?” she said. “What is that?”
The books snapped shut, the styli stowed themselves, and he stood to address her “What have you found?” he asked.
She took him by the hand and led him to the port side of the ship. “There. In the distance there. The sea is so churned up.”
It was truly uncanny. While the surrounding expanse of water twinkled and ch
urned with the gentle waves, just at the edge of vision was a stretch of water that rippled violently. It looked like the result of a storm but was impossibly localized.
“Look at it,” she said. “So much wind, but just in that one spot.”
“Curious,” Deacon said. He held out a hand, and one of the books flipped open and revealed a small but carefully rendered map. A point of light marked their present location. “I am not as skilled as I might be at judging such things, but it would appear that calm patch is quite near the center of the Crescent Sea.” He summoned his stylus and marked the position.
“What matters trouble you?” called Silla, appearing from below decks.
“I do not find it troubling,” Deacon said, “but I do find it fascinating. Do you know what that rough bit of sea is? Is it a permanent fixture of the sea at that point, or some other phenomena?”
Silla gazed into the distance. “It is certainly not a permanent fixture of the sea. If I am correct, at this stage in our journey the only feature of the sea we are likely to see is Deep Swell, and only if our navigator has strayed too far north.”
“Deep Swell?” Deacon said, flipping to a fresh page and jotting down the name.
“The capital of the mer kingdom,” Silla said. The statement seemed to put a bad taste in her mouth.
“That’s where the mermaids live?” Ivy squealed. “Can we visit? Myranda and Deacon told me about their mermaid friend, Calypso. She seemed so nice. And she sounds beautiful. I’d love to meet some.”
“We cannot, for a great many reasons, pay a visit to that place,” Silla said. “And before you probe deeper, please be aware that it is not a matter relevant to your current visit, and thus not one I am at liberty to discuss.”
Ivy leaned aside to Deacon and whispered, “Sounds like the elves and mermaids don’t get along. Seems like no one gets along with the elves.”
Deacon nodded and gazed at the choppy bit of sea. He finally decided to shut his eyes and put his mind to work. The answer immediately became clear. “It is Ether.”
The Crescents Page 8