by A. Wrighton
A dream. A story. A misplaced hope.
She had been wrong about the owner’s good mood. The man came up yelling and shaking his fist, but upped his performance when he noticed all eyes were on him and the back table. He had grabbed her by the neck before but never thrown her. The sensation of brief, momentary flight was almost magical. She flew with her bunches of flowers and crumpled against the cobblestone impact underneath the men’s table.
His impressive burst of anger peaked with more yelling. “What did I tell you, wench?”
Callon waited for the cloaked peddler to draw a weapon on the shop owner, but the hunched, crumpled form did not. She pulled herself onto her hands and knees, promptly smacking her head into the glass underside of the table. Her ears rung. She tasted metal and heat. Her cheeks had to have been close to bursting into flames.
She pulled back, grabbed her scattered basket, and shoveled what she could of the flowers back into it. The last thing she wanted was a lecture and a punishment from Vee. Her hands still hurt from the last time, and Watcher help her if she did not bring back the giant purple and red iris. Vee would burn her alive for leaving that one. She quickly scanned the ground until she saw it lying beside her dark stranger’s chair, uncrushed. Holding in a breath of relief, she happily reached for it.
Alaister reached for it too, to help the broken woman out of sympathy. When their eyes and hands met, she froze – trapped by contracted muscles. There was a jarring hit of boot against ribs.
What breath remained after seeing the steel blue eyes, left with the owner’s metal-toed boot. She crumpled against the iron table base and gasped for air. The owner’s hairy hands grabbed for her and she had only enough time to avoid them, scramble out from under the table, and without another glance back, run for the gate. With a wince and a jump, she hurdled over the railing and took off limping towards the Outer Ring.
Lanthar and Callon watched after the strange girl, before glaring at the brutish owner. Alaister’s eyes remained transfixed on the flower the girl had struggled to retrieve. It was the only remaining flower unbroken, pristine. Its petals were a vibrant purple laced with delicate veins of red. He rubbed the velvety petals and then looked to Callon whose hands were far too close to hilts. Alaister nudged Callon under the table and, with an impressive display of speed and strength, rose.
Lanthar and Callon followed.
Alaister approached the laughing, self-pleased owner and looked down upon his balding, greasy head. When the owner acknowledged him, his pouting smile faded. Alaister kept his voice low, as they had already gathered enough attention, and let his insides burn as they did when he saw people like the owner. He was the very reason the Council thrived the way they did.
Dozens of propaganda posters decorated the walls, each depicting a horrid and terrifying caricature of Rogues – eating babies, raping women, burning monasteries. Most were framed. Some were prominently displayed. Alaister ground his teeth and buried his hatred inside his gut. This man, this place, could not be left as is. Even under the Council’s thumb, they still had some strength and some weight, if only in their hands and words.
Alaister glanced back to Lanthar, whose celadon eyes glazed with anger, and nodded. There was a splendid crash of the glass tabletop, tavi cups, and dishes against the cobblestones. It rang out clearly through the Middle Ring and pierced the bubbling atmosphere of happenstance wealth and frivolous merchants.
Leaning in close to the owner, Alaister smiled thinly. “I’d pick that up if I were you, and quickly. You’re disrupting your guests.”
With a side step and a rush of leather, the men made their way to the gate and back to the street. None spoke for a few scattered paces until Alaister broke the silence.
“Don’t look back. Don’t even put your hands near your weapons. Especially you, Cal.”
Callon grunted, but obeyed. Even he knew the futility of it. “On a scale of one to stupid, Al? That was pretty bretzing—”
“He had it coming.”
“No gavasti Lan, but still. Did you see the posters?”
“Any Guards tailing us?” Alaister asked calmly.
Lanthar glanced forward, Callon behind.
“No.”
“Not yet.”
“Good. We have to find that girl.”
Callon jerked to a stop. “Are you serious? We need to leave. Now.”
“Yes, but not without speaking with her.”
“For once Alaister, I agree with Callon.”
“Really? Thank you.”
Lanthar exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “What aren’t you sharing?”
“Cal, what is this?” He extended the iris and waited for the gasp he knew would come from Callon’s thin lips. It took one second longer than expected.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“Mind sharing?”
Callon grabbed the flower and shoved it in Lanthar’s face. “It’s a Caldenon Iris. They only grow in the Silent Desert at the Oytian Oasis. There’s no way it could be here without a hefty price tag.”
“She was just a poor peddler.”
“Exactly. It’s out of place. And so was she.”
“No offense, Al. But we didn’t exactly see what she looked like outside of a rather impressive human-sized rag doll.”
“Her eyes – they weren’t normal.”
“Oh, Gods… Here we go.”
“Metallic. They were the color and sheen of copper.”
Alaister dismissed Callon’s tone and latched on to Lanthar’s deep, thoughtful sigh, knowing that he would be easier to convince.
But, he did not need convincing at all. Lanthar recognized where he had heard Alaister’s description before. Alaister had recited Kai’s description of her eyes. Lanthar sighed. “She headed towards the Outer Ring.”
“Are we really doing this?” Callon asked.
“We have to,” Alaister replied.
Callon grimaced and nodded to the passageway through the Outer Ring to the Swamps. “Then move quickly and without attraction. We’re being watched.”
“Followed?” Lanthar asked.
Alaister knew he did not see whomever it was that Callon did, but he could not expect to. Even he did not know who Callon noticed, nor did he care. Callon was a paranoid duelist and their best tracker. He trusted his judgment and evaluation above all others on the matter. Lanthar nodded and surged forward. Callon quickened his pace to a steady, high-speed walk. A few strides into their fast pace Callon shook his head and glanced nowhere in particular.
“Watched.”
COUNCIL DRAGONIC BARRACKS
RYXIA, CAPITOL SQUARE, ALERIA
Marcus Higath ran through the halls of the barracks. His cape billowed behind as he pushed past young recruits and seasoned veterans. He stormed into the plush Officers’ Dining Room and froze at the immediate focus of attention on him. He found his tongue when High Commander Foxun slammed down his knife.
“High Commander, news.”
Foxun looked at him oddly, as Higath had expected. Normally, Druff reported on these matters, but lately Druff had been more concerned with the benefits and pleasures of being a Dragonic than the duties. Marcus, by nature of devotion to cause, had never been one to shirk duties.
“Report.”
“We had rumors of Dragons in the Outer Creitalli Swamps earlier today, but nothing turned up.”
“And…”
“A Keeper came forward and mentioned that some strange men and a swamp witch disappeared from the city into the Southern Creipan Swamp.”
A strong smell of spiced ale wafted over him as he spoke, and instantly Higath exhaled and turned to find Druff, slightly weaving as he approached him and bobbed into attention. Foxun’s face twisted into an annoyed, stoic rage.
“A swamp witch?” Druff scoffed as he struggled to straighten his rumpled shirt and vest. “They’re harmless. We have all been told those stories. Did this Keeper ask for a reward?”
“No, which is why I believe her. She was muttering something about how crazy the woman’s eyes were. And, she mentioned Dragon-topped hilts.”
“Rogues,” Foxun seethed.
“Aye, sir. We surveyed the targeted area, but I would like to conduct a ground search. We’ll need Alderon’s per—”
“Nonsense. He gave us full sanction to use whatever means necessary to find the perpetrators. Burn down that damned Swamp if you have to – but find me that witch and interrogate her until we have answers. If the Rogues are that bold and foolish, they will make another mistake. And we will catch it. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Aye, sir.” Higath saluted as he stared longingly at the food adorning the rows of smaller tables. He had not been an officer long and was still getting used to the richness of their fare over the regular Dragonics’ fare, which he normally ate alongside his men. But, the smell was intoxicating and unlike Druff, he had not yet eaten. He had been tending to his Beast and not his stomach and groin first. Foxun caught Higath’s gaze and tossed him a fat, shiny cuggle fruit.
“Druff, scout north of the swamp. Third Dredth scout south, Fourth to the east, Fifth to the west. Yours Higath, search on the ground. Signal Druff should you find anything. He will interrogate this so-called witch. The other Dredths will remain here on guard. Dismissed.”
“Wind with you, sir.”
“And you.”
NORTHERN CREIPAN SWAMPS
KNALL PROPER, CREITALL
She was not sure which was worse – Vee's impending rage for her confronting them face-to-face or Vee's rage for the loss of the iris. They had worked the hardest on the batch of irises and she had not even gotten a half coin for it.
Trouble – a world of trouble.
She stopped and silenced her thoughts. Her head whipped back to the disappearing buzz of the Outer Ring and she waited, judging the distances of the blurred patrons. She did not see anything, but she sensed it. It was the same for anyone being followed – hairs on end, tumbling stomach, the heat at the back of the neck.
Someone was tracking her.
She quickened her pace for three more yards before leaping up into the tree with too much ease. If anyone had seen her, it would’ve been yet another scolding and a guarantee for extra taskings, if she could even explain her way out of her extraordinary tree scaling abilities at all. If it were Palace Guards, or worse Council Guards, she could not only justify it, but would make sure to leave no need to explain. She had been careless enough for one day. Careless enough for the entire season. And the rub was that it was all over a pair of eyes. Gray eyes. And it had cost her the only thing she could not spare – the iris. If they were who she thought, they would surely have followed the instructions bestowed upon them, as Vee said. She had really no reason or business to confront them. She had broken an old protocol: never expose a cloaked ally.
Her heart thumped. She wondered what would happen if they did not come at all now. She shook her head and climbed two more branches. Perched halfway up the Mravgoth tree, she leaned against its trunk. Her perch allowed no sense of the middle ground between the tree and the Outer Ring but it provided the most sanctuary around. She waited and watched a small green lizard creep along the branch beside her. It was unperplexed by her presence and she took to rubbing its bumpy body until she heard heavy boot steps, coupled with two lighter sets of boot steps. It was too late to climb higher and far too late to get to a better vantage point. She waited, stilling her breath into her cloak’s hood.
The boots stopped just out of her sight.
She waited for the announcement that was standard with guards, but it never came. Heart in her throat, she warily stretched forward until she could make out the boot tips of one of her pursuers. Brown boots. Palace guards wore tan and Council wore black. She felt her lungs expand again, but she did not dare move. Whoever it was, they had tracked and followed her sinisterly quickly. In Knall, that usually meant one thing – a thing she would much rather avoid.
Another brown pair joined the first, but she could not track the third. She waited, eyeing the lizard and the upper branches. It would not take much for her to jump and be gone. Free. Three breaths would be all it would take.
One…
Two…
“I know you’re here,” Callon said. His bass voice was richer and kinder than expected.
“We won’t hurt you,” added Lanthar.
She rolled her eyes and carefully wrapped herself in her green cloak before flattening out against the thick branch. She could make out their forms, and before she could reason with a logical reaction, her heart saw the iris and urged her body down to the ground. She cascaded down in a swish of green fabric, landing perfectly in front of the two men. Straightening her cloak, she remained hidden inside the hood. They did not seem frightened by her sudden appearance, and she felt a twinge of heat in her core because of it. She thrust her hand out for the flower.
“Your name first,” Alaister said as he appeared from around the base of the tree.
She pivoted until her back was to no one.
Alaister smiled at her reaction, but did not question it. He knew the feeling all too well. What he could not understand was why the girl, or woman, or whatever she was stood unafraid and at peace with their presence.
She gestured towards the flower again.
“Your name please,” Alaister said.
“We know you can talk,” Callon added.
Lanthar looked from Alaister to Callon and then back to the Outer Ring in silence. Alaister had expected no different and often, for most people, the Lanthar’s stoic stance was enough to crack a hardened exterior. And, if Lanthar did bother to speak, it would only be with good cause, and something told Alaister from the smirk on the full lips that nothing Lanthar could say would matter much to her.
“Please, Miss. They’re following us. We don’t have much time,” Alaister said.
"Why are they following you? You didn’t…”
Callon waved the flower in her face and shrugged. “We seem to have a bit of a collective temper.”
Lanthar scoffed.
“My name is Kalyna.”
Alaister stepped forward and smiled. “My name—”
“Do they know what you are?”
“Pardon?” Callon stammered slightly.
Kalyna reached for Callon’s cloak and with a brush of her hand, flapped it open exposing two hilts, one on each side. She laughed. Vee had trained her too well. “Do they know?” Kalyna asked again.
“How do you know?” Alaister stepped closer to peer into her hood.
She exhaled and yanked it off. “Those who don’t fit in have a way of recognizing each other, aye?”
To their credit, none gasped at her untamed waves or metallic eyes. She knew she did not fit in, and for that she had become so used to her cloak that she sometimes forgot that she looked deeply different from Creitallis. Her hood was all that guaranteed her some semblance of belonging in the city, but in the forest, she was free to be herself. She could let her flaxen hair spill across her shoulders, dangling in waves that licked her waist. In the forest, her eyes did not have to fight to see out through darkness; they could greet the warmth of the sun or the glow of the moons.
“Well, you’re certainly not Creitalli,” Callon muttered.
“May I please have my ware back?”
“No,” Callon said.
“Pardon?”
“There’s no way this is yours. This would cost your entire life’s earnings to ship this here from Caldenon.”
Her swallow echoed.
“Do you deny it’s a Caldenon Iris, Miss?” Alaister said, softer than Callon’s harsh tone.
“No.”
“Then I will happily return it to where you stole it.”
She growled, low in her throat. “I didn’t steal it.”
“You’re far too pretty and well-nourished to have traveled with it yourself. So, if you didn’t steal it, tell us how you found it?” Callo
n asked.
“I thought you were being tracked.”
“We are,” Lanthar said. “Perhaps, you would be more inclined to explain it to us somewhere safer?”
“And who says I know somewhere safer?”
“Cut the gavasti. You spotted us and we you. At least be straight with us,” Callon said.
“You’re clever,” Lanthar said, “Or else you wouldn’t have found us the way you did. Return the respect Miss, and it will work much more in your favor.”
Kalyna ignored Callon’s quip, drawn to the stillness of Lanthar and the weight of his chosen words. There was something magnetic about him – calming. She waited for Lanthar to speak more, to challenge her more, but he merely stared into and through her. She received the gaze warmly. The bothered screech of a swamp owl broke Kalyna’s silent, growing smile.
“You were easy to spot,” she said. “I’ve been following you for a while now.”
Callon cringed, but Kalyna smiled at her triumph. Somehow, Callon had not noticed her tracking them earlier, at least not completely.
“Why?” Lanthar asked.
“She said you would come and you did.”
The wind rustled with enough force to stir the birds and pull at their cloaks. Return with them. Hurry!
Kalyna’s face scrunched. She looked at the three men with tight lips and wide eyes. They stared at each other and then collectively stared at her in mutated shock.
Callon looked once more to Alaister and then pointed at Kalyna. “Did you…”
“Summer winds,” she laughed, “weirdest things. Let’s move.”
“Where?” Lanthar asked.
“Somewhere safe like you asked. Or is that no longer a good idea, Rogue?”
Kalyna did not wait for an answer. She turned and walked off into the Swamps. Their silence was deafening. Only the stomping of the boots behind her let her know that they had conceded.