Palom (World of Linaria Book 2)

by L. L. McNeil

  She’d spent far too long on the floating rock. ‘No more secrets, Kohl,’ she said. ‘Don’t let me down this time.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Kohl said. He’d managed to procure a new hat, whether that had been from Tymē or another Arillian, Amarah didn’t know. Somehow it didn’t suit him – she was so used to seeing the old, faded one.

  ‘Perhaps I should go first,’ Kohl said. ‘Find an airship, have it brought back up here?’

  ‘Don’t start any of that. I’m going. Now. I’ll be able to cope! I don’t expect you to carry me the whole way back,’ Amarah said.

  Tymē leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Amarah. ‘Good luck on your journey. If you see Jato…Be gentle with her.’

  Amarah patted Tymē’s back but said nothing of what she’d do were she and Jato to cross paths again. Amarah liked Tymē and didn’t want to antagonise her.

  Kohl hugged Tymē next, and Amarah rolled her shoulders. The world looked so different through one eye, off-centre, somehow. At least she’d have time to get used to it before she could fly an airship again.

  A crowed of Arillians had gathered again as they stood near the edge of Oren. She supposed nothing much ever happened up here, and she’d created all sorts of entertainment for them.

  As much as she felt welcome among Linaria’s outcasts, she wouldn’t miss the place. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Kohl,’ she called, and the Arillian reluctantly pulled away from Tymē.

  ‘We have to pass the Golems again,’ he said, walking over to stand by her side. He looked down, expression grim.

  ‘You got me past them before. If we’re leaving, should be even easier.’

  ‘Ever the optimist,’ he sighed.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  Kohl picked her up, one arm around her back, the other under her knees. Amarah wrapped her arms around him, scythe clutched tight. She took a deep breath.

  Flying was easy when you had a ship under your feet.

  With Kohl, the descent would essentially be a freefall.

  He raised his wings and leapt, and Amarah bit down on the urge to scream.

  Wind rushed up around them, stinging her skin as they descended. Her hair whipped around her face and Amarah squeezed her eyes shut – partly to lessen the stinging, and partly so she wouldn’t see the ground rushing up to meet them.

  She gripped onto Kohl rightly, her fingers digging into his cloak. Going down was so much scarier than coming up.

  Finally, the wind quietened, and she opened her good eye.

  They were greeted by the two mountains she’d flown through, and at their base, the Golem army.

  Beyond, the snowy tundra went on and on into the distance.

  Gently, Kohl set her on her feet. ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ In truth, she thought she’d vomit at any moment.

  Amarah patted herself down, pulling loose fabric that had been blown around during the descent back into place. By the time she’d finished, the initial wave of nausea had passed.

  ‘The Golems await,’ Kohl said. ‘Shall I carry you again?’

  ‘I’ll walk for a bit,’ she said. ‘Get my bearings, y’know.’ She gestured to her eyes, and he nodded.

  Her first few steps were shakier than she’d have liked, and she bumped into Kohl more than once, but eventually she fell into a kind of rhythm, and the two of them walked across the snow to the Arillian guardians.

  From such a distance, the Golems looked like toy figurines. Amarah knew her sight was playing tricks on her as it was, but it felt like all of a sudden, they appeared before them, taller than anything she could have imagined.

  She had to tilt her head back as far as she could and even then, she could barely see the tops of them. ‘What…what would they actually do if…If they attacked?’

  ‘They’d move,’ Kohl said. ‘If they’re still, they’re happy.’

  Amarah puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. ‘Good to know. If they stepped on us, we’d be dead!’

  Kohl smiled. ‘Pretty much.’

  They cautiously moved forwards, past the enormous ice sentinels as they stood guard silently.

  Amarah bit her lip, held her breath, tried to walk across the snow as quietly as possible. It was silly, really. From what Kohl had said, the Golems knew she was there. But she couldn’t help but try to make herself smaller, quieter, and hope she could slip past them undetected.

  It took the better part of ten minutes to walk past them, creeping forward step by slow step. Kohl had fluttered his wings once, the movement making her jump, but otherwise the Golems remained impassive to their presence.

  ‘We’re okay…?’ Amarah asked, when they were finally in front of the Golems.

  ‘Yes. We’ve a long way to go until the mainland,’ Kohl said, and she heard the relief in his voice. ‘I’ll fly us as long as possible.’

  Though she didn’t like it, Amarah knew what he said made sense. He could fly much faster than they could walk, especially while she was still unsteady on her feet. ‘Okay. But not too high. Dragons above, I don’t like flying with anyone else in charge.’

  Kohl attempted to hide his smirk at her words, and she resigned herself to being carried for the next little while.

  ‘A shame those Golems of yours couldn’t help,’ she muttered, looking back at them as Kohl flew off. ‘Would’ve made losing Khanna worth it.’

  ‘I am truly sorry.’

  ‘She’s a spiteful one,’ Amarah replied. ‘I just hope this other Sevastos helps. If not, I’ll be in debt for the rest of my life, and that just don’t sit well with me.’

  She sighed, resting her chin on Kohl’s shoulder, as they flew towards the mainland, and her hope of resurrecting Moroda.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Palom had little experience with babies—of any type—and spent the best part of an hour simply watching the dragon hatchling as it explored its surroundings of the hearth and the remnants of Palom’s room.

  He knew he needed to leave, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the hatchling now it was here. He’d taken the old egg to look after it more than anything, he hadn’t actually thought that a dragon could still somehow be alive and hatch.

  The young dragon’s scales were a smooth, sea blue, with a pale underbelly, white, downy mane, and sharp black talons. It watched Palom, curious, with bright golden eyes.

  About the size of a house cat, it followed Palom as he walked around his room, investigating his belongings and sniffing at his sword when he picked it up.

  Irritated at his new “shadow,” Palom lit the fire again and watched the hatchling settle happily into the flames as if it were a bed.

  Content that he’d have peace—for a little while, at least—Palom continued to gather his belongings and what supplies he could find in the Waterside Inn.

  Flies had gathered around the corpses, and Palom held his breath as he walked back through the dining room and into the kitchen, where he helped himself to whatever food hadn’t gone mouldy.

  He had no real idea of where to go or what he would do next, but he knew it would take him a long while to figure things out.

  From the inn’s stock, he plucked an apple and munched through it as he moved from room to room, taking what he needed, no longer caring what he did. He knew it was ransacking, but as Amarah would say, the dead didn’t need their things.

  It didn’t matter, anyway.

  Nothing mattered anymore.

  Palom carried his haul to the inn’s entrance, bundling up what he could in a large bag. It would be midday before long—he needed to get going soon, so he could cover as much ground as possible while he still had light.

  Clouds had gathered through the morning, and they threatened to unleash more snow over Val Sharis. ‘Is fitting weather…’ Palom muttered to himself, knelt by his bag as he tied it up.

  Now he just needed to grab his Valta Forinja and decide what to do with the baby—

  Palom thought he’d been hit by a boulder.

  He
crashed into the side of the inn, a booted foot pressing his chest down to keep him pinned, knocking the breath out of him.

  ‘You recovered quickly,’ Mateli hissed.

  Palom looked up and saw him properly for the first time.

  Heavier than he remembered, Mateli seemed to have broken his nose some time recently, and his jaw had been shredded to ribbons.

  ‘You…should be…in prison,’ Palom wheezed as Mateli pushed down harder on his chest.

  ‘You should be dead,’ Mateli retorted.

  Palom grabbed Mateli’s boot with both hands and shoved him back. He got to his feet in the same movement, wishing he’d had the foresight to bring his sword outside with him.

  They leapt at one another, punching and kicking, kneeing and grappling. The threw each other around, grabbed hold of each other and wrestled, with neither the stronger one.

  Palom landed a strong punch to Mateli’s chest, felt ribs crack under his knuckles. He fought on instinct, on reflex. Dodging attacks and landing his own when he could.

  The very act of killing Mateli to protect his family seemed completely unimportant now.

  ‘No more friends to help you out?’ Mateli asked with a sneer, when they’d parted for a moment. ‘I’d have had ya last night if that girl hadn’t turned up.’

  Palom glowered. ‘I can beat you by myself.’

  ‘Sure, sure. That’s why I always kicked the shit outta ya when ya mouthed off to me as a kid,’ Mateli grinned, as though relishing the memory. ‘We would have changed Taban Yul! You and me. Woulda kept everyone in line. We’d have been kings of the city!’

  ‘You are monster. Even Sapora is better king than you would be.’

  ‘Anyone is better than a snake!’ Mateli spat.

  Palom laughed, mirthless. ‘You are worst kind of scum, Mateli. It was mistake to follow you for so long. Sapora made mistake to let you out.’

  They grappled again. Palom grabbed at Mateli’s long hair and pulled the man’s face into his waiting knee.

  Mateli grabbed Palom’s legs and pulled him down with him, both kicking snow and dirt into each other’s faces.

  Mateli snarled, shifting form, and Palom responded in kind.

  Palom wouldn’t let Mateli grab hold of him again, and there was no more Lathri to help if he got injured.

  That thought fuelled Palom’s rage as the two of them came together, slashing and biting at one another.

  Kill Mateli.

  Kill him, and then he could get away.

  Snow began to fall, slowly at first, just a snowflake here and there, and then a flurry soon masked Palom’s vision.

  Their roars echoed through the trees, and Palom lunged again and again, trying to land a bite or swipe at Mateli’s eyes or nose—the only weak spots in his armour-plated body.

  He considered running inside, grabbing his sword.

  But then he could bring Mateli onto the hatchling, and he didn’t want to do that—the young dragon had only just emerged.

  The crocodile snapped faster than a creature of his size had any right to. Even with his bulk, his tail delivered a strong blow when it landed, and Palom felt his muscles bruise.

  Though refreshed from Lathri’s healing, Palom’s mind had yet to rest. He’d not slept all night and became aware of his reactions slowing down.

  He struck Mateli in the face with his right front paw, and Mateli took a few steps back.

  Palom panted, the explosive energy he’d had at the beginning of the fight all but gone. He couldn’t afford for Mateli to wear him down. He needed to bring the fight to an end, one way or another—and there was only one way he’d be able to do it.

  He approached Mateli from the side and withstood two blows in quick succession from Mateli’s armoured tail. He leapt and landed on Mateli’s back, immediately clawing his way along Mateli’s body.

  Mateli bellowed again, the sound as deep as a pit. Even under his meraki, Palom’s blood turned to ice, and the crocodile rolled.

  Palom dug his claws in and held on, but the sheer weight of the crocodile almost crushed him, and he cried out in pain.

  Mateli whipped his jaws around, snapping them inches from Palom’s face as he leaned out of the way and pulled himself free from under the crocodile.

  Immediately, Mateli charged forward, putting on a burst of speed that brought him within striking range. Palom bared his teeth, snarling and snapping at Mateli’s jaws.

  He leapt again, straight up and over Mateli’s teeth to land on his back. Palom turned and lunged forward, sinking his teeth into the back of Mateli’s head. His front canines pierced the crocodile’s skull, and he bit down as hard as he could.

  The half-scream, half-roar that Mateli produced was deafening, but it faded to nothing as the crocodile finally stopped struggling.

  Breathing heavily, Palom staggered off and transformed back. It was over.

  He’d beaten Mateli—and he hadn’t used his Valta Forinja to do it!

  He’d been strong enough alone.

  Hardly able to believe it, Palom sat for a moment in the falling snow, watching at the crocodile slowly shifted back, revealing Mateli’s glassy eyes.

  If he’d done one good thing recently, Palom knew it was this.

  Once he’d caught his breath, he limped back into the inn and his old room. The dragon chirped happily at his return, flapping its wings and snapping its tiny teeth. It had no idea that Palom had been on the brink of death just a few minutes ago.

  He smiled a little, then picked up the gold brooch that Lathri had returned to him, kissed it once, and put it back on the mantle.

  He grabbed his sword and turned to the dragon. ‘Are you coming or staying here, little one?’

  The hatchling growled, then leapt out of the flames to follow Palom as he left the inn.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised, really.

  He suspected it might be hungry, but Palom didn’t have any meat, and any he’d found in the kitchens had spoiled.

  ‘We will go hunting soon. You will find life can be hard. You may be hungry a lot.’ Palom wasn’t sure why he was talking to the hatchling, but it felt better than ignoring it.

  The snow was coming down heavily now, and from the looks of the grey clouds overhead, it would be snowing for at least the rest of the day.

  He sighed.

  ‘Farewell, Lathri. I am sorry I failed you.’

  He turned away from the inn and started up the stone path, towards the north of Val Sharis. He’d barely taken ten steps when he heard boots slapping on the stones, and stopped to look back.

  Chyro was running up the road. He looked like he’d recovered a little, but the healers of Sol were nothing to Lathri’s standards.

  ‘Chryo. Why are you here?’ Palom asked, raising an eyebrow as the young captain reached him.

  ‘I wanted to help you against the crocodile,’ Chryo said, one hand on his chest as he caught his breath.

  ‘I told you to stay. Is everyone in Sol okay?’

  Chryo nodded, still too out of breath to speak.

  ‘Good. It was Mateli who attacked you and Waterside Inn. He should be in prison. Looks like King Sapora released him early for good behaviour. You can clean up this, yes?’

  Chryo swallowed and peered round Palom, his eyebrows lifting when he saw Mateli’s body on the ground. ‘Y…Yes. I’ll need to get help from Taban Yul, first,’ he said.

  Palom picked up his bag. ‘This is good. I am leaving now. Stay clear of Varkain, they are trouble.’

  ‘Wait, wait! Palom!’ Chyro called after him. ‘Where’s Solvi? Please tell me Mateli didn’t get her? I told her not to leave Feoras Sol, so did your father, but she wouldn’t listen…’

  ‘Solvi is in Taban Yul,’ Palom said, trudging along the path, his boots already crunching in the settling snow. The young dragon bounded after him happily. Every so often it would dart forward and nip at his boots, but Palom ignored it.

  ‘How come she’s in the capital? Why…is that a dragon?’


  Palom glanced over his shoulder as Chyro hurried through the snow to catch up with him. ‘Yes. It…Is long story.’ He sighed, unwilling to recount the details to the overenthusiastic Ittallan.

  ‘Wait a minute, Palom! Please?’ Chyro asked again.

  With a sigh, Palom turned to face him. ‘What do you want, Chyro?’

  ‘What I just asked! Why’s Solvi in the capital? Is she hurt? I can ignore the dragon for now,’ he gestured to the hatchling, who hopped between Palom’s feet as though it were some kind of game.

  ‘What about your father? Manilo? The Archigos? The rest of Sol? Are you leaving them again?’ Chyro pressed.

  Palom regretted stopping for him.

  If he left now, he didn’t have to explain anything.

  Didn’t have to think about what he was doing—rightly or wrongly.

  ‘I am leaving because it is better if I go.’

  ‘Better for who?’ Chyro asked. ‘You just protected Feoras Sol—no, this whole region—from Mateli. And now you’re leaving? I’m sure you could be rewarded for that!’

  Palom sighed.

  Considering Sapora had been the one who’d released Mateli, he highly doubted the king would reward him for slaying the crocodile.

  A fact seemingly lost on Chyro.

  Naïve boy.

  ‘I am not interested in rewards or gold or…or…people telling me I am hero!’ He felt his rage build and his Valta Forinja pulsed again. ‘I am danger to people. I am threat. I am causing problems and deaths everywhere I go!’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No! I am done. People do not need me, apparently. So, I am going. Now.’ He took another step along the path.

  ‘Going where?’

  ‘Away!’ Palom bellowed.

  He was angry now. Or was he upset over Lathri? Over Mateli?

  It didn’t matter.

  Nothing mattered anymore.

  ‘I don’t understand. You’ve just come back into Solvi’s life and now you’re leaving…’ Chyro tried again.

  ‘She has you. She has Manilo. Archigos. She has everyone she has always had. I have not been there for her before. She can live without me now.’

  Palom wouldn’t speak of it anymore.

  It was just too painful.