Trials of the Twiceborn (The Songreaver's Tale Book 6)

by Andrew Hunter

  Marla watched as Mae rummaged through several stacks of scrolls, settling at last upon a large wooden scroll case that she then pulled from the shelf, sending a little swirl of dust motes spinning through the sunbeam light of the crystal window above their heads. She used the scroll case to shove aside a few loose papers on a nearby table and then popped the carved wooden cap from the top of the case and pulled a yellow roll of parchment from within.

  Marla’s heart thrilled at the sight of the mapped continent of Lapria that Sister Mae now unfurled across the table in front of her. The tips of her fangs pressed into her lower lip when she saw the swirling draconic name-runes that marked every city and town on the map. The largest rune now lay beneath the tip of Mae’s finger.

  “Maizan,” Sister Mae proclaimed as she pointed at the impressive circular rune in the heart of the continent, “Seat of the Cedar Throne!”

  “And where are we now?” Marla asked.

  Mae tilted her head slightly as she dragged her finger across the map toward the eastern coast. “Here we are,” she said, touching a small rune with but a few circles and dots orbiting its central loop.

  “The Emissary must have traveled far indeed!” Marla said.

  “He has strong wings,” Sister Mae said, pinning down the corners of the map with several carved jade figurines that lay scattered around the large table.

  “Is it all right if I study this map a while?” Marla asked, “I find all of this... rather fascinating.”

  “Of course,” Sister Mae said with a shrug, “I will leave you with it, if you do not mind. I must make a few preparations as well, before the Emissary’s arrival.”

  “Of course,” Marla answered, trying to hide her relief, “How long... I mean, when do you think the Emissary will arrive?”

  “By sunset, I think,” Sister Mae said.

  “Oh,” Marla said, “So it would be all right if I stay here for a while?”

  “Oh, yes, child,” Sister Mae said, already heading for the door, “Just put the scroll back in its... box... Is that the proper word?”

  “Case,” Marla corrected her.

  “Yes, thank you,” Mae laughed, “Put it back in its case before you leave... but Brother Hilo will be angry if you try to put it back on the shelf without his guidance. Just leave it on the table when you go.”

  “Yes, Sister Mae,” Marla answered, bowing toward her as she took her leave.

  Once the draconic woman had disappeared down the shadowy hall again, Marla turned and studied the ancient map once more. She glanced toward the small stack of blank parchment nearby and the ink-stained brush lying beside it. She smiled then, wondering if the wayward Brother Hilo would mind if she borrowed a piece.

  *******

  Marla awoke from a brief nap, curled atop a broad wooden bench. She blinked at the golden light of the sun that peeked just above the top of the western wall of the garden. She hadn’t wanted to disturb Alyss by slipping back into their shared room while the girl slept, and the garden bench had proven comfortable and shady enough, until now.

  She started suddenly when she saw Brother Tye sitting motionless on the grass nearby. The silver-haired man sat, cross-legged, with his back straight, his eyes half-opened, and his hands stretched out to either side, his fingertips just touching the bowed blades of grass beneath them.

  Marla sat up slowly, wondering if she should speak, or if it would be better not to disturb the monk’s meditation. She straightened her hair and her robe and bent to remove a stray leaf from the heel of one of her silken shoes before slipping her toes back inside them.

  Brother Tye let out a long, whispering breath, and his eyelids fluttered open. His ice-clear eyes settled upon Marla then, and he smiled.

  “I’m sorry,” Marla said, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Nor did I wish to disturb your rest, Princess,” Tye said.

  Marla gasped. She stared at the smiling monk, trying to guess his motive.

  “Have I given offense?” Brother Tye asked.

  “No,” Marla answered, “but I am not a princess.”

  “The spirits of the earth would disagree, Princess,” Brother Tye said with a broad grin, “They have betrayed your secret to me in their most... exuberant joy at your arrival. Those whom the very stones beneath us would worship, I will honor as well.”

  Marla looked around, but she saw no one else in the garden. “I don’t know what I am,” she admitted, “This has all happened so fast...”

  “No,” Brother Tye disagreed, “Such things happen slowly, like the rise of mountains or the carving of valleys, it is only our perception of Truth that seems to come upon us like a flood.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone else yet,” Marla said. She rose to her feet, hugging herself against the chill of approaching night.

  The monk rose from his seated position in a single fluid motion and bowed his head. “I do not need to report the rising of the sun, Princess,” he laughed, “The world will feel its warmth soon enough, and waken to its golden light.”

  “Well, could you at least stop calling me Princess?” Marla chuckled.

  “Of course,” Tye said, “What title would you prefer?”

  “What do you call my father?” she asked.

  “Berrol,” he answered.

  “Then just call me Marla,” she said with a smile.

  “As you wish, Marla.”

  “Thank you,” she said, rubbing her upper arms with her hands.

  “You are cold,” Tye said, beckoning for her to follow him, “I will find a coat for you. The Emissary will be here soon, and I would be honored if you would greet him at my side.”

  “Of course,” Marla said, following the silver-haired monk back inside the nearest dome.

  The sun burned low upon the western peaks when Marla emerged again from the warm interior of the monastery. She followed Brother Tye along a broad path that zigzagged up a jagged ridge, lined with twisted cedars. The first winds of night whistled over the broken stones at the peak of the ridge, and Marla tightened the collar of the down-filled, shin-length coat that Tye had given her to wear. The breeze teased strands of her dark hair from beneath her fur-trimmed hat and whipped them across her lips as she turned her face away from a particularly chilly blast.

  The draconic monk showed no sign of discomfort. He ignored the wind as it plucked at his long, silvery hair and fluttered his white silk robe. He scanned the horizon for any sign of the approaching Emissary.

  “There!” Marla cried, her voice muffled by the high collar of her rust-colored coat as she lifted a mittened finger toward the skyline.

  An enormous, winged shape approached rapidly from the west, and Marla’s heart thrilled with a touch of fear.

  “Let us go to meet him,” Brother Tye said, gesturing down a short path on the far side of the ridge to a broad open area of sparse vegetation at the snowy foot of the great mountain to the north.

  Marla watched her step closely as they descended the rocky path, only looking up again when they stopped at the edge of the clearing. She gasped when she realized the true size of the great dragon that now soared ever closer to the mountain monastery.

  Fiery sunlight glistened on silvery scales as the huge dragon beat his wings to slow his descent. The creature opened his long jaws and shrieked out a monstrous roar that shook the stones beneath their feet with tremors of draconic power. Then the Emissary tilted back his crane-like neck and breathed a gout of blue-green flame high into the star-dotted sky. The flames trailed above and behind him like an aurora. They shimmered and twisted like a ghostly banner that slowly dissipated into nothingness as the massive dragon spread his claws and landed in the clearing, shaking the earth with his impact.

  “The Emissary announces his arrival,” Brother Tye whispered with a tiny smile.

  The great silver dragon snorted as he swiveled his long head around to face the monk and the girl. He drew in a long, rattling breath and bared his slender fangs, hissing steam.


  “Welcome, Travelling Star,” Brother Tye greeted the Emissary in Gloaran. He bowed deeply from the hip toward the dragon, and Marla did as well.

  “Your throat is choked with dust, brother,” the dragon rumbled in Draconic, “Wash the filth from your lips before you address me again.”

  Marla drew in a sharp breath, more amazed that she had understood the insult than stung by it. Her mastery of the Draconic speech had never been that advanced.

  “I spoke thus as a courtesy to our guest,” Brother Tye answered in Draconic.

  The dragon’s ice-blue eyes flared as he took a step toward them, sniffing the air again. He leveled his gaze on Marla now, and she felt the pressure of his scrutiny like a physical weight, crushing down upon her.

  “There is no need for such courtesies,” Marla answered in a thrumming Draconic voice, “Even the dust may recognize the sound of thunder.”

  The Emissary blinked in astonishment, and Marla fought the urge to grin back at him.

  “Is this the one?” the Emissary demanded, his burning gaze still locked on Marla.

  “Yes, noble Traveller,” Brother Tye answered, “She has come here to find her father.”

  “Her father?” the Emissary exclaimed, turning his fanged grimace toward the robed monk.

  “The anomoke,” Tye said, “She is the daughter of Berrol the half-born, whom you brought from across the sea.”

  Marla’s eyes narrowed now, as she regarded the very dragon who had torn her family apart so many years ago.

  “The half-born has spawned another abomination!” the great dragon seethed, “It was forbidden by the Empress’s decree! Why have you allowed it to mate?”

  Brother Tye took a step back as blue-green flames splashed across the stones at his feet. He reached out one hand protectively in front of Marla.

  “Great Traveller! I would explain!” cried the voice of Marla’s father as he crested the ridge behind them. Marla turned to see him rush to her side, shielding the face of his eyeless red hood from the fading sunlight with his gloved hand. The golden threads of his name sigil glinted from the breast of his red robe as he stepped past Marla to throw himself prostrate on the ground between the dragon and his daughter.

  Marla’s cheeks burned with rage to see her father on his knees before the Emissary, but she kept silent as Berrol Veranu spoke again.

  “This girl is my daughter,” he cried with his forehead pressed to fire-scorched stones, “but she is from the old world, Noble Messenger. I have not broken the Empress’s decree in all my years of service to her throne!”

  The dragon’s eyes lifted to Marla again, his silvery brows furrowed in rage. “Why did you not tell us of this child?” he demanded.

  “I knew nothing of any child, Great Rider of Winds,” Berrol insisted, his voice muffled as he brought his hands together before him, pleading with the great silver dragon above him, “She must have been born after you carried me across the sea.”

  The dragon’s long snout drifted ever closer to Berrol, sniffing him as if it might smell any dishonesty. At last, the Emissary withdrew his head, and lifted his face skyward, listening to the crystalline song of the sunset that now whistled across the mountains.

  “I hunger,” the dragon rumbled, “Bring me a goat and wine.” He retreated a few steps and settled his scaled bulk onto the stones of the mountain clearing, wrapping his long, spiny tail around his legs as he lay down.

  “As you desire, Noble Traveller,” Brother Tye answered as he stooped to touch Berrol’s shoulder, signaling the time for departure.

  “We will discuss the matter of this... child, when I am properly rested,” the dragon hissed before tucking his head under his wing.

  Berrol rose silently from the dirt and put his arm around Marla.

  She resisted his gentle tug momentarily, sparing the great silver dragon one last, hateful glance before her father could pull her away.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “How many of you can speak Draconic?” Berrol Veranu demanded as he addressed the vampires assembled around the breakfast table.

  Nerrys and Alyss both lifted their hands.

  “I speak a little,” Claude said.

  “I know a few words,” James mused, “Most of ‘em not very polite.”

  Berrol shook his head. “If you don’t speak it fluently,” he said, “It’s better just to pretend that you don’t know any at all.”

  “They’re not gonna wanna talk to us anyway, are they?” James asked.

  “They might,” Berrol answered, “but I’ll tell the Emissary that you’re both servants, and he might think you unworthy of his attention.”

  “Fine by me,” James laughed, “Unworthy is my maiden name!”

  “What about you, Lady Arkadi?” Berrol asked Alyss.

  Alyss pressed her pearly fangs into her lower lip as she considered it. Zizi gave an annoyed trill as the distracted girl stroked her fur a bit too roughly.

  “I think I can manage well enough,” Alyss said at last, “Just let me know my cover story, and I’ll play my part.”

  “Cover story?” Berrol scoffed, “You’re as bad as your mother! Your cover story is that you are a young lady of House Arkadi. Answer any question put to you truthfully, and I assure you they will lose interest in you soon enough.”

  Alyss looked almost as offended as she seemed disappointed.

  “You, however, may be a problem,” Berrol sighed, looking at Nerrys.

  “I’ve dealt with dragons before, Valedan Veranu,” Nerrys said, “I know my place.”

  “Valedan?” Berrol chuckled, “I left that title behind a long time ago.”

  “What about Lump?” James asked.

  “What?” Berrol grunted.

  “The cave troll,” Marla explained.

  “Those holy men told me they took him down to the valley,” James protested, “I haven’t seen him since the first night we got here, and I wanna know what happened to him.”

  “I’m certain your troll is fine,” Berrol sighed, “There are a great many fae creatures living in the valley, and, trust me, he’s safer there than any of us are up here with the Emissary around.”

  “How much danger are we in?” Claude demanded.

  Berrol gave the young gaunt rider a silent look and then shook his head. “I wish I knew,” he sighed, “A Laprian will offer you a compliment with one breath and incinerate you with the next.”

  “We aren’t in any danger,” Marla said, speaking up at last from the far end of the table.

  Everyone turned to look at her as she lifted her head and brushed back her hair from her eyes.

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you... any of you,” she said.

  “Marla...” Berrol whispered, “You don’t know these people... You have no idea...”

  “No,” she cut him off, “and they don’t know me either... but they will soon.”

  “Marla!” he said, his voice suddenly hard, “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here. You will listen to me, and you will obey...”

  “No, I won’t let them treat us like this!” she said, “They have absolutely no right to...”

  “I am your father, Marla,” Berrol shouted, “and you will...”

  “My father?” she spat, rising to her feet, “My father was the Drinker of Sorrow! He would never crawl on the ground before some stupid dragon, begging to save his own skin! My father killed dragons bigger than that!”

  Berrol stared back at his daughter across the table, his jaw tensing with rage.

  “What other titles did you leave behind when you abandoned us, father?” she demanded.

  The veins of Berrol’s forehead throbbed, dark and swollen beneath his leathery skin. His fangs glistened behind his twitching lips, and his iron-hard eyes bulged.

  James was suddenly at Berrol’s side, his arm draped loosely across the ancient vampire’s robed chest. “Come on, mate,” he whispered, “Let’s walk it off.”

  Marla met her father’s rage with h
er own blazing glare of defiance.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” James whispered with a sympathetic smile, “The air’s nice outside.”

  Berrol at last relented, allowing the younger vampire to pull him away from the table. James put his arm around Berrol’s broad shoulders and continued to whisper soothing words as he led the big man through the door.

  Marla did not look at the others as she lifted her cup with a trembling hand and poured the cold blood down her throat.

  *******

  Marla heard footsteps on the narrow path outside the little cave where she had spent the rest of the night. She tucked her knees up tighter inside her heavy coat and drew further back into the shadows of the rocky fissure. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.

  A silhouetted figure darkened the dawn-lit sky at the mouth of the cave, one hand braced on the overhanging rock that formed the cavern’s roof.

  “Marla?” Brother Tye called out.

  She thought about pretending to still be asleep. Perhaps he would just go away and leave her alone. Then again, that had never worked with her mother. She doubted a dragon would be any easier to deceive than a vampire.

  “Yes?” she called out, her voice a bit more hoarse than she had expected.

  “The Emissary has summoned us,” the monk said.

  “All of us?” she asked.

  “You and I alone,” he answered, “He wishes to speak with you.”

  Marla rolled to her feet, dusting the flecks of dirt from her coat and combing through her hair with her fingers as she emerged from the cave beside the draconic monk.

  “Should I go clean up first?” she asked.

  “Sister Mae awaits you in the dormitory,” Brother Tye said, “She will see to your preparations, though we must act quickly. The Emissary does not enjoy a long wait.”

  “Of course,” Marla said flatly. She shrugged out of her down overcoat and offered it to the monk. “Would you hold this for me?” she asked.

  Brother Tye took the coat and gave her a perplexed look.

  “Thank you,” Marla said, and then she sprang cat-like up the side of the hill, jumping from tree to tree with vampiric speed rather than waste time on the winding path that led from the cave to the center of the monastery.