Dragonoak: The Complete History of Kastelir

by Sam Farren

  Claire hummed, straightening out her left sleeve.

  “I'm free until midday, however,” she added, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

  I shook my head, doing what I could not to trip over my feet on the way to the pantry.

  “The pane said I was to help myself—I'll be sure to reimburse them before we leave,” Claire reassured me and she started to rummage around the shelves. They were too high for her to comfortably reach across, but she didn't let that stop her; Claire pushed herself onto her tiptoes, one palm on the edge of the shelf, and managed to hoist herself up far enough to reach what she'd set her eyes on.

  It quickly became evident that Claire had no intention of staying in the lodge. I'd been dreading the prospect of chairs I couldn't have been expected to scramble in when Claire wrested an empty basket from one of the cupboards lining the floor. She filled it with rolls the size of my head, and cut great slices from a wheel of cheese so large that she had to put all her weight on the knife to cut through the rind.

  “What?” she asked when I smirked at the basket.

  “... nothing. Nothing!” I said, propping the door open for her as we left. “I wasn't expecting to go on a picnic, that's all.”

  Claire frowned, glowering down at the enormous basket filling the width of her arms.

  “It's nice out. It seemed a shame to waste it,” she grumbled. “Did you want to carry the food loose in your arms?”

  Claire was seconds away from putting the basket down and embarking on a quick meal in the corridor, so I waved my arms in front of myself and rushed out of the cabin, luring her out into the sunlight.

  She was right. It would've been a shame to waste the morning inside. It wasn't as warm as it had been in Isin, but everything around us more than made up for that. The bustle of Kyrindval served as constant, relaxing background noise, and friendly faces knocked the last of the morning chill out of the air.

  As we strolled through the tribe, Claire pointed here and there, saying, “This is where the apothecaries work. There aren't healers among the pane, leaving them to rely solely on bitterwillow,” – “One of the schools, though they only gather a few times a week,” – “A library. Your brother will be pleased.” There was no doubt in my mind that I'd forget what was where within minutes, but I listened intently, looking at Claire more than I did the buildings.

  She seemed happier than she had before, now that we were in Kyrindval. Perhaps Queen Kidira had been willing to hear her out.

  We stopped on the edge of the tribe, where a crescent of steps were carved into the hillside. Claire sat down, and the steps served as seats well enough; they arched around a flat, paved area, and Claire was too busy attending to breakfast to explain its purpose. I would've been sorry for the tour to end, had I not been ignoring the way hunger dug its claws into my stomach for the better part of half an hour.

  “Was it like this?” I asked, taking a slice of the bread Claire had carved from a roll using a knife verging on the size of a short sword. “The pane tribe you stayed in?”

  Claire popped a crumb of cheese into her mouth before slicing a generous portion free.

  “As similar as Eaglestone and Praxis are to one another,” she settled on.

  A handful of younger pane crept up on us. Their leader, a girl with the first signs of a right horn showing, inched her way to the edge of the steps, but when I raised a hand to wave, they shrieked and scattered like ants. It wouldn't be long until they towered over us, and I wondered what stories pane were raised on; whether they flinched at the thought of humans, ever-warring, ever turning on each other.

  “Why did you go there?” I asked through a mouthful of bread. The crust was so thick my jaw instantly ached, and I tried to swallow too much at once. “Were you studying the dragons?”

  “Not quite,” Claire said. She wasn't struggling with her food—but then again, she had experience. “I had a very... sheltered up-bringing, in many senses of the word. Whatever I needed or wanted was mine; I never had to worry about there being enough to eat, or somewhere safe to sleep. The King and Queen decided that I ought to experience something of a more rugged way of life, in order to make me a better... what is it?”

  “That's not it,” I said, squinting at her. Claire was in the habit of carefully selecting her words and holding back what she could, but she was burying the truth deeper than ever, this time. “That's not why you went to stay with the pane, is it? You're not telling me something.”

  Claire tightened her jaw, tore a chunk of crust off the bread, and didn't bring it to her lips. I went on chewing my own breakfast, legs crossed, eyes fixed on Claire as I waited for her to continue.

  “Fine,” she eventually huffed. “I was sent there in order to instil myself with a sense of discipline.”

  “Really? You?”

  Claire turned to face me, more eager to defend herself than she had been before.

  “I was raised alongside two Princes. I grew up in a castle, my every whim catered to; I thought I could do as I pleased. I was nineteen,” she protested.

  I laughed into my breakfast, and the absence of a voiced response was worse to Claire than anything I could've said.

  “Well, I doubt you were much better at that age,” she grumbled.

  “That was only four years ago for me. Besides, I was working! Far too busy putting people back together to get myself into trouble,” I said cheerfully, catching sight of the impossibly large village around me, giddy with the realisation that this was my life now. For the first time, I'd brought up my past and hadn't found reason to grimace.

  “You must've got into some manner of trouble before that,” Claire stated, as though it was impossible for there only to have ever been one abrupt, all-consuming trouble in my life.

  And because it sounded as though she was genuinely interested, I said, “I got bit by a wolf, once. I got bit by wolves plenty of times, actually, but the first time it happened, I nearly lost half my torso.”

  “Really?” She was more curious, now. Less demanding. “How does one accomplish such a feat?”

  “Well—” I pivoted to face her in earnest, breakfast laying forgotten in my lap. “There are always wolves around farms, right? With a forest so close to the village, they were sneaking in every night, no matter how many fences we put up. They always found a way around them, or under them. My dad, he used to hire people from the village to patrol around, but they only ever scared them back. They weren't getting rid of them. So one day I figured that I'd start fighting them off.”

  “You thought you could fight wolves?” Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. “How old were you?”

  “You thought you could slay dragons,” I returned, and she nodded, conceding the point. “Anyway, I was twelve—and it seemed like a good idea at the time! So I made myself a spear out of a rake handle with a kitchen knife tied to the end, and patrolled the edge of the farm. I waited for hours, but no wolves showed up. Michael came over, dragged me back home for dinner, and didn't even ask me what I was doing.”

  I was talking with my hands. I was saying too much, stretching the story out too far, I was sure of it; Michael was the storyteller, not me, but Claire was listening and I found it hard to make myself fall quiet.

  “It took a few nights, but a wolf showed up. I thought it would circle me, trying to work out whether or not I was worth eating, but it was growling straight away. So I—I just lunged, and I think I hit the wolf! But it was moving too quickly and the knife came off, and then I, sort of...”

  It felt as though I was wincing and grinning at the same time, if such a thing was possible.

  “Sort of got bit. A lot. My dad and another villager were out patrolling and turned up in time, but—but this was before I'd figured out what I could do, and there was a lot of blood, a lot of everything, and bitterwillow could only help so much.” Despite the years that had stretched out between me and that moment, a shudder ran through me. I shook it off, trying to regain my footing. “Back then, it was the
most exciting thing that had happened in the village.

  “I'm not... I'm not really sure, but I think it might've triggered my powers. Maybe,” I said, lowering my voice to confide in Claire. The fact that she'd let me speak without talking over me made me a little bolder than I ought to have been. “I didn't heal fast, not exactly, but it was faster than it should've been. And then I sort of... well, started putting lambs back together. I tried to get rid of the scars because they took up the whole of my torso, but—it doesn't work like that! The wounds had healed over, so I couldn't do anything about them. I just made them look weird. All red and yellow and raised.”

  I let out a breath, tale winding to a close, and Claire said nothing. I bit on the inside of my mouth, looking away; I'd said too much, of course I had. It'd been fine when I was talking about the wolf, but just because Claire knew I was a necromancer didn't mean she needed to hear about it. I was dizzy, fingers digging into the dirt. I'd never been given the opportunity to tell anyone that before, and I'd rushed and stumbled at the first chance I had.

  After a moment, Claire bowed her head, catching my eye.

  “May I see?” she asked, but despite how gentle her tone was, I wrapped my arms around my waist, gripping the edges of my shirt.

  I hadn't meant to, but I was convinced she could trace the shapes of scars right through it. No one had ever seen them before. They weren't even scars, not really. I'd twisted them beyond recognition, and they rose from my stomach and chest like strips of rotting fruit, dark and grotesque, wholly irremovable.

  And there was Claire sat in front of me, and she could never be described as nothing less than beautiful.

  When I gave no reply, she pressed her fingers to the side of my arm and said, “Never mind. I shouldn't have asked,” smiling at me warmly. Only then did my arms fall slack against my sides once more.

  “... how old were you when you finally killed a wolf?” she asked, roping me back into the conversation.

  “Fourteen,” I told her. “I'd figured a few things out, by then.”

  “I didn't kill a dragon until I was twenty-six,” she returned. “You have me beat there.”

  We finished our breakfast and spent the rest of the morning idly wandering through Kyrindval, distracted by curious pane. When the time came for Claire to meet with Queen Kidira, she handed me a few coins and asked me to see that the horses were fed. The challenge of scaling my way back down and around the mountain was less prominent than dealing with a language barrier, and if not for the threat of the horses going unattended, I might not have gathered the courage to step into one of the shops.

  Once I was through the door, there weren't any problems. It was exactly like a human shop, though the vegetables there were bigger than any I'd seen for sale at market, and I communicated with the shopkeeper through a series of laughs and hand gestures. I left with a grin on my face, carrots bundled in my arms, full of confidence.

  I'd ask Kouris to head down the mountain with me. I'd ask her why she'd done what she'd done, to tell me her side of the story.

  I reached the dragon-bone gate, but she was nowhere to be seen. I put the carrots down by the remnants of our fire from the night before, and though hours passed, she didn't return. My resolved weakened. I convinced myself I didn't want to hear what she had to say, dismissing her truth before I'd learnt it, and left the carrots by the ashes, hoping she'd know what to do with them.

  CHAPTER XIII

  I awoke to the sound of Commander Akela roaring with laughter in the corridor.

  I'd been welcomed into the same cabin as Claire, given a room with a bed big enough to lose myself in, as well as all the food needed to send me into a deep, dreamless slumber. I started at the sudden noise, hopped out of bed and opened the door, not yet awake enough to compose myself. I poked my head into the corridor, hair all askew, and didn't have to wonder what all the commotion was about any longer.

  Commander Akela wasn't there alone. She'd escorted Queen Kidira, presumably to speak with Claire; Claire who was dressed in the clothing of a pane. I understood why Akela was laughing, but didn't dare to smirk around Queen Kidira.

  Claire was dressed in tough leathers, a swathe of sky-blue cloth draped over her shoulder, crossing her hip, feet bare. She straightened her the collar, pointedly not looking at Akela.

  “Tell me, you are not thinking of returning to Isin like this, no?” Akela asked, not feeling the slightest need to compose herself in front of her Queen. “And where are you finding one that is fitting?”

  “I dressed like this for years,” Claire returned, pushing irritation down for the sake of the current company. “... it was presented to me by Zentha. I'm surprised you weren't asked to wear one.”

  “Hah! They are liking me enough as I am, Ightham,” Akela declared cheerfully.

  Claire said nothing more, and Akela followed her gaze. I didn't get the chance to slip back into my room. The three of them stared at me – Queen Kidira stared through me – and so I said, “Good morning,” mussing my hair back into place.

  “Northwood!” Akela boomed. I'd little doubt that she'd wanted to know all about the company Claire kept, in order to ensure her Queen was truly safe. “Your timing, it is perfect!. Ightham and Queen Kidira, they are going for a walk, they are talking about—” She paused, waving a hand as though to banish boredom. “They are talking about important, official things, and I am following them like an infant dog—you are coming with us!”

  A glance at Akela made it impossible to believe she had any ulterior motives. She smiled brightly, genuinely friendly, asking me to come along more for my sake than the sake of company.

  “Um—” I looked to Claire for my answer. For all I knew, those important, official things were exactly the sort of matters she didn't want me overhearing.

  Claire, in turn, looked to Queen Kidira for an answer. If there were ever two people entirely opposite in their demeanour, it was Akela and Queen Kidira; the Queen barely glanced at me, and could not muster the force of will necessary to regard me as some mild irritation. She was not the woman she'd been yesterday. Whatever softened in her at the sight of Kouris was as stone once more.

  “If the Commander insists upon it,” was her eventual, grudging reply.

  I thought it better not to stay behind, having troubled Queen Kidira so.

  I tried to catch Claire's eye on the way out of the cabin, to no avail. She hurried ahead with Queen Kidira, while Akela and I trailed behind. I was glad of it. I had no idea how to compose myself around royalty, but Claire had been doing just that for her entire life.

  It wasn't as pleasant out as it had been the morning before. The skies were grey, filling the air with a constant drizzle, and the pane were less lively, less enthused by all there was to do. There were far fewer of them out, but Queen Kidira had no such desire to retreat inside. We headed away from the great lodge, through the rain-soaked streets, and though we walked leisurely, I doubted that Queen Kidira ever went anywhere without having a very good reason.

  “Listen to them! Queen Kidira, she is bringing me here, and then she is leaving me out,” Akela said, clicking her tongue. I'd been wrong to fret about hearing something I shouldn't; the two of them were talking in Svargan, voices hushed. “At least we are both being left out together, yes?”

  “I hadn't met a pane until six weeks ago,” I told her, “I think the only word I know is—yrval?”

  Akela rubbed her chin.

  “For some reason, I am quite certain that harva is meaning foot! Do not ask me why, it is just seeming right.”

  As we walked towards the edge of Kyrindval, it occurred to me that Queen Kidira must've learnt Svargan from Kouris. I tried to let that thought stir something within me, but it didn't; after all the venom that had run through my veins upon finding out that Kouris had deceived me for a matter of weeks, I didn't understand how Queen Kidira could be so calm, so still, unless she was unfeeling.

  “You are a Felheimish, like Ightham, yes?” Akela asked, roping
me back into the conversation. “I am thinking it is good. She is coming all this way, unsure of what is happening, but she is having a companion for the travelling—although, honestly, to me it is a surprise that the Kings are letting you leave the castle.”

  I wondered if we would've had to go through Akela first, had she been in the capital when we arrived.

  “I think Claire's surprised, too. We only got as far as we did because of—” I lowered my voice, tilting my head towards the outskirts of Kyrindval. “Kouris. They probably wouldn't have let Claire in without her.”

  “Hmm,” Akela breathed, eyes narrowing in. There was a darkness to her expression that hadn't ghosted across Queen Kidira's face, as though Akela felt all of the anger she ought to have in her place. “Indeed.”

  “What about you?” I hurried to ask, dragging the topic away from Kouris. “Your accent, it's kind of—thick. I mean, I can understand you, but...”

  “My accent, my words. They are rough, yes!” Akela said, instantly perking up. “Where I am coming from, it is close to the border. So close that I am stepping out of my door and sometimes I am walking into Agados by accident, yes? My family, my neighbours, we are not speaking Mesomium. All I am knowing is Agadian. The first time I am in Isin, perhaps I am knowing... one hundred of the words? Ten years later and I am much, much better. But I do not think I am wanting to learn Svargan.”

  “Much better,” I agreed, though I wanted to at least learn some words, to properly thank the pane for their hospitality.

  Ahead was the hollowed-out mountain Kouris had taken me to the day before. Claire and Queen Kidira had gained a considerable lead, but as they navigated the rockier terrain, Akela and I caught up with them, and their conversation died down. It didn't gain speed when the ground flattened out and they were able to pull away, either. They were both deep in thought, busy mulling something over.

  “Are we going to see the dragons?” I asked. My question was meant for Akela, but Claire looked over her shoulder, brow-furrowed, demanding an explanation. “... I went there yesterday.”