The nearby flail and winnowing basket suggested that the slab of wood that Kaia and the others had been standing on functioned as a threshing floor. The wall opposite them featured another great door, before which was parked a wagon. To the left of the threshing floor was a sea of grain-filled sacks ready to be delivered to the miller. To the right were a couple of stalls—each housing a horse—and an impressive pen sheltering multiple sheep and goats.
“There is one here, too,” said Kaia, peering through a thin slit in the barn’s main door. “We are surrounded by dragons.”
“They are farmers. They probably thought that we were sabotaging their crops,” said Elania.
“That’s ridiculous,” countered Pelliab.
“Lyon! Stop feeding the grains to the goats,” said Warrin.
Lyon withdrew his hand from the pen. “They don’t mind it. They’re goats. They’ll eat anything.”
“It’s not the goats I worry about.”
“No one will notice. It’s not as if I emptied out an entire sack.”
“Sabotage? How?” asked Bennett, returning to Elania’s conjecture.
“By releasing crop-eating insects into their yield,” offered Lyon.
“By setting their crops on fire,” added Warrin.
Pelliab shook his head. “Neither of those are particularly discreet.”
“Which is why we needn’t worry,” reassured Aylin. “As soon as they realize that we have done them no harm, they’ll release us.”
“We haven’t time for this.”
“That isn’t exactly true,” said Lyon, flipping his wrist to expose his palm. “We’re not operating on a fixed timeline.”
The kingsman looked at the Speakers. “You have let us be taken by a pair of infants.”
“What would you have had us do?” asked Thomas.
“Entrapped the dragons so that we could have fled!”
“Ah, I see! And do you know of anything strong enough to contain a dragon?”
“Now what? We sit here waiting for the infants’ parents? You two are Speakers!”
“An escape is too risky,” said Aylin. “If we are left with no other options, then of course we will attempt one. For now, yes, let’s wait.”
Pelliab heaved a sigh of annoyance and took refuge in a corner of the barn. He picked at some straw, avoiding contact with the others, who, in turn, spoke little, lest Pelliab’s anger be amplified.
***
Nahv and Cahn reentered the barn with their dumbfounded parents in tow. Kaia and the others shot up to their feet and approached them.
“What are we to do? They will report us!” said Mrs. Meadacker, lifting a hand to her face.
“Report you? For what?” asked Warrin.
“Don’t feign.”
“For the dragons, of course,” said Mr. Meadacker.
“The dragons. What about them?” asked Thomas.
“Stop it!” said Mrs. Meadacker.
“Honestly, we don’t want to get you into trouble,” said Aylin.
“And refuse the reward? Doubtful.”
“Why were you on our land?” asked Mr. Meadacker.
“We didn’t know that it belonged to anyone,” said Aylin.
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why were you on our land?”
“We left Ricaan just this morning. We were travelling north.”
“You thought you’d cut through.”
“Where north?” asked Mrs. Meadacker. “Where? To Enbeck? It is to Enbeck! Look at their faces! We can’t let them go! They will tell the king.”
“We have no interest in your dragons,” insisted Aylin.
“I don’t believe you.”
“When we arrive at Enbeck,” said Pelliab, “for, trust me, we will be leaving this place, your dragons will have been forgotten by us all. Another matter entirely beckons us to Enbeck. A matter so grave that it makes your illegalities seem trivial by comparison.”
“People become most resourceful when they find themselves trapped.”
Kaia leaned towards Aylin and whispered in her ear. “Just tell them.”
Aylin looked down.
“Tell them before it gets worse,” pressed Kaia.
“My friends and I are not from here,” said the fire-haired Speaker.
“Aylin!” called Thomas.
“None of us are Marians.”
“Don’t!”
“We are from Zavonia, Greyland, and Darlbent. We were sent here to deliver a message to King Richard regarding the curse.”
“King Richard?” asked Mr. Meadacker.
“Let her finish,” said Mrs. Meadacker. “What about the curse?”
“It is possible to lift it,” said Aylin.
“Really?” asked Cahn, taking a step forward.
“Yes.”
“How?” asked Mr. Meadacker.
“I don’t think we can say. Very specific instructions were given. The message must be delivered to Enbeck.”
“I believe you,” said Mrs. Meadacker, her eyes welling with tears.
“You shouldn’t,” said Nahv.
“Nahv!”
“If Zavonians are in your company, then surely at least one of you is a Speaker. Show us.”
“What would you like us to produce for you?” asked Thomas.
“A three-legged stool,” answered Nahv, after a short pause.
Thomas spoke in hushed tones. The requested item materialized in the center of the threshing floor.
“Look!” exclaimed Cahn.
“That was unnecessary!” scolded Mrs. Meadacker.
“You believed them too easily,” said Nahv.
“Nonsense! One can’t possibly be from here and not know who the king is.”
“Is King Richard not your ruler?” asked Bennett.
“King Richard died years ago, on the very day that the curse fell. King Sol now reigns. You will spend the night, won’t you? Dusk is falling.”
The three princes deflated; their shoulders dropped, as did their chins.
“Yes, thank you,” said Aylin, “missus…”
“Meadacker.”
“The Zavonians’ transcription of the utterance that created this curse is incomplete,” said Pelliab. “What can you tell us about it?”
“About the curse? My, where to begin?”
“The people—why do they turn into monsters?”
“Here, all are condemned to become the immorality sheltered within. It’s a gradual process. The more often you behave immorally, the more—and the faster—you change.”
“Except for killers,” said Mr. Meadacker. “They are the sole exception. For them, the transformation is instant.”
“The turned ones always stay in the dark; they loathe the light.”
“They keep to the woods, mostly. Don’t worry. You’re safe here. We have nineteen dragons on our farm. The turned ones don’t dare come near them; the few that have gotten too close have been killed.”
“Your dragons have managed to kill the beasts?” asked Kaia.
“Yes. The terms of the curse only seem to affect humans.”
“And dragons are quite powerful creatures,” added Mrs. Meadacker. “Though they are marvelous to behold, they are absolutely lethal; their bite is pure poison and their quills paralyze. It is almost impossible to defend oneself against them, too, for their skin is impenetrable.”
“Yet, you keep them.”
“They can be extremely loyal and protective.”
“Oh! Whatever you do, do not attempt to kill the turned ones yourselves,” stressed Mr. Meadacker.
“You’ll turn if you succeed.”
“Good to know,” said Lyon, taking a seat on the three-legged stool.
“From what we were told, the curse made it so that none could leave Mar and so that the land would be condemned to misery. Anything else?” asked Pelliab.
“Not from what we’ve observed,” said Mr. Meadacker.
“What happened between the Marians and the Tivmic
ans to make the curse fall?” asked Bennett.
Mr. Meadacker exhaled deeply. “Ten years ago, Tivmica was set to be annexed to Mar. A great festival—hosted by King Richard and his court—was to be held in Tivmica to celebrate the union. Everyone knew of it, and after King Richard set out from Enbeck, those who could afford to peel themselves from their work even joined his train. In accordance with the king’s wishes, though, they numbered in the few. He did not want to overwhelm the Tivmicans. But I digress,” said Mr. Meadacker, rolling his eyes and raising his arm. “Once the celebration got underway, games and feasts were held for days. There was merriment all around. It ended when a group of Tivmicans killed King Richard. It is unclear if they were acting under the direction of their king or if they acted independently. It is unclear why they did it, too. Regardless, fighting broke out. It was atrocious. All of the Tivmicans were killed. Many Marians perished—including the queen—and many more turned.
“When the curse fell, there was a lot of confusion. We who hadn’t gone to the festival all wondered who had attacked whom and which kingdoms were involved. Flirds were sent abroad; none of them could reach their destination. That’s when we knew. The horror. It was so unexpected.”
“And survivors?” asked Kaia.
“Only one.”
“Tulip Filira,” said Mrs. Meadacker. “The poor child was found a few paces away from the bodies, hiding in the bushes. King Phillip and Queen Elinor took her in. She lived in Enbeck with them for a while.”
“King Phillip?” asked Warrin.
“King Sol’s late father. As King Richard’s brother-in-law—and Queen Josian’s brother—he assumed the throne after the curse fell.”
“And Tulip Filira? What became of her?” asked Elania.
“The girl was traumatized by what she had seen. She became a very nervous, reclusive person. King Phillip and Queen Elinor decided to gift her Kionar—a smaller castle here in Mar—so that she could recover in peace. No commoners were to travel to Kionar without Tulip’s expressed invitation.”
“The king and queen sent a servant with her, and, at least once a week, they’d visit,” said Mr. Meadacker. “They lost their lives during one of those visits.”
“It’s believed that they were attacked by turned ones. Only their shredded, bloodied clothes were found.”
“Does Tulip still live in Kionar?” asked Kaia.
“No. No one knows for certain where she went. Some say that she and the servant resettled somewhere west, closer to the ocean.”
“After King Phillip and Queen Elinor died, Sol took power. He’s been king for nine years now,” said Mr. Meadacker.
“What’s he like?” asked Warrin.
“As a king, tolerable. It’s not that difficult of an office to maintain when your kingdom is being kept separated from the rest of Acu.”
“What’s that?” asked Cahn.
“This is Ani,” introduced Elania, pulling her canonipom out of her bag. “She hid when she saw the dragons.”
“Why, good evening,” greeted Mrs. Meadacker.
Ani bowed.
“What an odd looking thing,” said Nahv coolly.
“It’s been years since I saw one of her kind,” said Mr. Meadacker.
The family’s reaction to Ani was lacking in enthusiasm and excitement. They were unfazed by her; they had seen much stranger things in the preceding decade.
Mrs. Meadacker glanced out of the open barn door. “It’s late. I imagine that you intend to rise with the sun tomorrow. Our cottage is rather small, and we haven’t any extra beds,” she said sheepishly.
The Meadackers’ straw-roofed home was cramped. It had only two doors—one which led outside and one which led to a single bedroom. The ceiling was low and nearly everything inside the dwelling was stacked to conserve space. It was not at all adequate for accommodating guests.
“That won’t be a problem,” said Thomas triumphantly. “We need only space. This area here is most suitable.”
“Very well. We will see you in the morning, then.”
“Just to be safe,” said Mr. Meadacker, “do not venture outside; the dragons roam freely. We will come for you in the morning.”
Aylin accompanied the Meadackers to the barn door. “It is imperative that you not tell anyone of our encounter. We need our presence in Mar to remain a secret. Please.”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you.”
After the Meadackers retired to their home, Thomas set about fashioning beds. Bunks were decided against; it would be too difficult to dispose of them, and, surely, the Meadackers had no use for eight bunks in their barn. Instead, Thomas produced several layers of blankets for the group to sleep on top of.
***
While the group filed out of the barn and prepared to leave, Mr. and Mrs. Meadacker approached Aylin.
“We would like for you to allow Nahv and Folken to escort you to Enbeck,” said Mr. Meadacker.
“Oh!” said the Speaker.
“Voinett and I…we have a son that was travelling abroad when the curse fell. We want to see this curse lifted. Let us ensure your safe passage.”
“I—”
“We can help,” said Mrs. Meadacker.
Aylin hesitated. She looked to the group. They were standing a few feet away, within earshot. Discerning no objections, she nodded her head. “Alright.”
“Excellent! Nahv!”
The young Meadacker woman was seated in front of the cottage, on top of a pile of logs. Seeing her father waving at her, she stooped to pick up her bag and went to rouse the turquoise-grey dragon that was sleeping alongside the home. He let out a deep, guttural sound.
“Folken is one of our most docile dragons,” said Mr. Meadacker. “He’s exceptional, truly. He’s the one that we use in the majority of our training sessions with the younger dragons to model behaviors.”
“We acquired him when he was still inside the egg,” said Mrs. Meadacker.
“He may seem sluggish, but when the situation calls for it, he just about becomes another.”
Nahv and Folken approached the group.
Mrs. Meadacker hugged her daughter. “Be careful,” she cautioned.
“And remember, try to keep Folken unseen,” said Mr. Meadacker, rubbing Nahv’s cheek with his thumb.
“And if he is seen—”
“Don’t lead them back here,” said Nahv. “I know.”
“Be careful,” reiterated Mrs. Meadacker.
“Cahn?”
“Off with Enay and Dire,” said Mr. Meadacker.
“Well, tell him—”
“He knows. He’s just upset.”
“Hopefully we will all meet again,” said Mrs. Meadacker, addressing the fire-haired Speaker.
“Yes,” agreed Aylin. “My friends and I would like that very much.”
Chapter Eleven
The Black Field
There was some furniture in the streets—mostly chairs. Doors had been taken off of their hinges. Shutters dangled, creaking in protest every time the winds rocked them. Columns had been snapped in half. One home was so badly damaged that the entire structure slanted to the left. Kaia imagined that if she pushed on it with her pinky, it would fall. Holes as large as doors punctured the sides of some homes. Kaia craned her head to look inside of one as they passed. A tingling sensation travelled up her spine. How strange it was to see the normal mingling with disorder.
“This is Torsnem,” said Nahv. She was near the rear of the group, close to Folken.
“Where is everyone?” asked Pelliab.
“When people started turning, it was decided that a few towns would be evacuated and used to house the severely affected. Torsnem was one of them.”
“The affected?” asked Kaia.
“Those who show physical signs of change but are still human.”
“Why were they separated?”
“Have you seen what happens when a person turns? They have no memory of who they were or of the lives they led
. They slaughter all who cross their path. Sometimes the affected start ebbing away even before they turn. Would you want one of them for a neighbor?”
“Does everyone who is on the verge of turning come to one of these towns?” asked Warrin.
“No.”
“Well?”
“When people are more monster than human, they have two choices. They can come here, or they can choose death. Often, they choose the latter; they go to a cliff and jump.”
“Why?” asked Aylin, disturbed.
“It’s the honorable option. The turned ones are a bane to humanity. Death is the only way to ensure that they never harm anyone.”
“But if an affected person stops doing whatever made them start changing—even if their condition is advanced—can’t they live the rest of their life peacefully and avoid turning altogether?”
“Yes.”
“I see confinement is looked down upon, then,” murmured Lyon.
“Do you smell that,” asked Thomas, as a breeze combed through the group. “It smells like food.”
“Wait!” yelled Nahv, bringing the party to a halt.
“What is it?”
Nahv and Folken pushed past everyone and strutted to where the road bent. Folken rose and lowered his head, squaring his shoulders in the process. Nahv said something to him, motioning all the while for the group to approach.
Further down the connecting road was an assemblage of children. Their games having been interrupted, they stood perfectly still and kept their eyes on Folken. They were all affected. Some had two mouths. Others were saber-toothed. Yet others had far too many arms or limbs embedded with quills. None were colored as are humans; their skin was dull and cracked, and the veins underneath could be seen in certain places.
“Mama! Mama!” screamed one of the little girls, as she ran into a battered house. A small boy did the same, dashing into a separate lodging. The rest held their ground whilst adults—some affected and some not—poured outside.
“What do we do?” asked Lyon.
Nahv did not answer.
Aylin fronted the group. “We wish only to pass through,” she said to the strangers.
One of the adults whistled. Three children ran to him and went inside. The rest of the children cleared the road and watched Kaia and her company file through. The street was not in as bad shape as was the other. Yes, the homes showed signs of injury, but not of disrepair, and there was neither furniture nor litter strewn on the road.
Capering on Glass Bridges (The Hawk of Stone Duology, Book 1) Page 10