Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 2
Claire let out a string of Myrosi and Haru-Taiki just about fell over backwards.
“I bet Sen would love to meet him,” I said. “Shall I go get her?”
“Aye. Don’t want to be missing the look on her face,” Kouris said with a grin, and I moved to push myself off the ground.
Claire caught hold of my wrist before I made it to my feet. She tugged me closer, kissed my cheek, and returned to her work with a smile on her face. It took me another moment to get up. I ran to Sen’s cabin with Haru-Taiki’s eyes on my back and skidded through the streets.
She wasn’t in. One of her housemates told me that she was probably with the little friend who wasn’t all that little. In most cases, Akela was usually with Kidira, but I poked my head into the great lodge and checked a few other public areas before relenting.
I shoved my hands into my pockets as I knocked on the cabin door, and it was just my luck that Kidira answered.
“Is Sen here?” I asked, not bothering with a polite smile.
Stepping back, Kidira tilted her head towards one of the rooms down the corridor.
Akela had settled in quickly. At one point, the room must’ve been as tidy and understated as what little I’d seen of Kidira’s chambers in Isin, but Akela had taken her toll and there were clothes strewn across the floor, along with more axes than one person could ever need.
“Northwood! Good afternoon,” Akela called from the bed, chick nestled comfortably in her hair. “I am hearing that Oak, he is here, he is returning to Kyrindval. Perhaps later, I am saying hello.”
“You should! He’d like that. He’ll probably be back in the sca-sino with the other dragons in a bit,” I said, and turned to Sen. “Come with me. There’s something you need to see.”
I did my best not to grin, but no biting the inside of my mouth stopped me from beaming. Sen furrowed her brow and did what she could to shake off the go-to feeling of concern I managed to evoke whenever I burst in, and glanced at Akela.
“Would you mind if…” she said, scratching her claws against the side of her neck.
Surprised that she felt the need to ask, Akela waved her off and said, “Go, go! Tonight, I am promising that I am making Kidira dinner, and after this dinner, I am making a cake. If you are here, then I am letting myself be distracted, yes?”
Sen got to her feet, the slightest bit more interested in what I had to show her than she was reluctant to leave Akela. She said goodbye to Akela and Milly alike, gently tapping the latter atop the head, and folded her book closed. She slipped it into the sky-blue sash wrapped around her chest and waist and followed me out of the cabin. On the way, Kidira placed a hand on her elbow and asked her to stop by in the morning, should she have time.
“What i-is it, Rowan?” Sen asked, frowning around her tusks.
“It’s nothing bad,” I said, walking backwards so that I could see her. I was somehow moving faster than she was. “And I can’t tell you! It’d ruin the surprise. And you’d never believe me.”
Having exhausted what little comfort the rock had to offer, Claire sat with her back against Kouris’. Haru-Taiki had taken to the sky again and Oak was nowhere to be seen. Sen stood, staring, entirely uncertain of what she was looking for. If the surprise was that Claire was reading the largest book in Kyrindval, it hadn’t been worth dragging her out of the tribe for.
A flash of plummeting purple stopped Sen from asking why I’d brought her there.
All too aware that a new set of eyes were on him, Haru-Taiki swooped as close to the ground as he dared to at such speed, and pulled back to create an arc of purple and gold in the sky behind him.
“Is that—?” Sen asked, gripping my arm.
“It is,” I said, and led her by the hand to Kouris and Claire before the questions could pour out of her.
Claire smiled up at her, set the book aside, and Sen reached out, almost in a daze, to help her to her feet. Claire kept hold of her arm for balance and held out the other.
On cue, Haru-Taiki swooped down and wrapped his talons around Claire’s arm. I’d spent all day staring at him and I wasn’t over how impressive he was. I likely never would be. His feathers were more vibrant each time I set eyes on him, and his personality seeped through, making his face cheerfully dignified.
“Sen, this is Haru-Taiki,” Claire said. “Haru-Taiki, Sen.”
Sen’s ears stood up straight and she bowed, mirroring Haru-Taiki’s movements.
“He’s beautiful,” Sen said quietly. “B-but, how…?”
Guiding Sen to the ground, Claire told her the whole story. She started from the moment she first laid eyes on Oak and didn’t skip ahead, didn’t hold back so much as a word. She smiled as she spoke, causing the parts of her skin that weren’t burnt to crinkle around her eyes, and took the time to describe every part of Myros, from the endless white to the stark colours surrounding the Phoenix Fire. She spoke of flames, memories sparking in my mind as the rich words poured out.
I was as entranced as Sen, and I’d been there.
I sat against Kouris, content to watch Claire. I took in the way her eye flashed as she searched for words worthy of describing what she’d seen, and my chest tightened in a warm, wonderful way. For so long, I’d thought I’d never see her again, and once I found her, I couldn’t imagine us ever being happy. Yet there she was, full of hope and content with us all around her, in spite of her scars.
Sen was more than eager to help Claire communicate with Haru-Taiki, and after far too long spent excitedly running their fingers under certain words, it seemed that Haru-Taiki at least understood that he had awoken into a new age.
Beyond that, it was anyone’s guess how much he knew. All that mattered to him was that attention of the best sort was coming his way, and he relished in it.
In the evening, but not so late that dinner could already be a thing of the past, Kidira and Akela joined us. I’d dozed off against Kouris’ chest and woke up when she bolted upright. I would’ve thought nothing of Akela’s arrival, had she been alone, but Kidira’s appearance struck me as a sign of bad news.
“Hah! If I am drinking today, I am certain that I am seeing things,” Akela said, and let go of Kidira’s hand to bound towards Haru-Taiki. “This! This is really a phoenix, yes? Or you are finding an eagle, and the feathers, you are dying those? No wonder Northwood is having something to show Sen!”
Cawing, Haru-Taiki beat his wings and circled her head. Sen told Akela that she was most certainly looking at a phoenix, and Akela rubbed her chin, introducing herself heartily.
Kidira wasn’t nearly as impressed.
“Wasn’t the chicken enough?” she asked, and immediately moved onto other matters. “We’ve a week before we leave. Arrangements – proper arrangements – need to be made.”
“Very well,” Claire said, but before Kidira would continue, she insisted that we were all there.
Which meant finding Michael.
I headed through Kyrindval for the hundredth time that day, hoping to find him in the library, having become wrapped up in a book he’d always overlooked until my visit had drawn his attention to it. If only I was that lucky. I went to the great lodge, the fire pit, his cabin and the amphitheatre, until I found him by chance, stepping out of a bakery.
He was frustrated by the lack of explanation I offered him – didn’t I know he was set to give a lecture in no more than an hour’s time? – but he settled down when I told him I was only there at Kidira’s behest. If he wanted to argue with somebody, he could argue with her.
By the time I returned, everyone had made themselves impatiently comfortable. Haru-Taiki was the most exhausted of the group and laid against Claire’s side, eyes closed. Claire traced her fingers along his wing and Michael’s jaw dropped as he pointed wordlessly towards the pair of them.
“Oh, right,” I said, squeezing in between Claire and Akela. “We found a phoenix.”
If Kidira wasn’t waiting to speak, there would’ve been no shutting him up. He took a seat next to Sen, lines scored into his forehead as he stared at Haru-Taiki in an effort to make the bird disappear.
“Meeting to discuss such matters would be far easier – and far more comfortable – were one of us not permanently exiled from Kyrindval,” Kidira began. With all eyes on her, she said, “But never mind that. Soon, we will be gone: out of the mountains, through the Bloodless Lands, and into Thule. I need not tell you how unpredictable it will be, no matter how we strive to stick to our plan, for the last few years have pulled the ground from under our feet. At least in that regard we shall be prepared.
“Our plan is as solid as it can hope to be. All I can think to say, all there is to say, is that all of us ought to take advantage of the relative peace the next few days will offer. Make the most of them. Remember that this is what we are fighting for: to spend time with family and friends without the weight of the world upon our shoulders or the fate of entire Kingdoms in our hands.
“We will not see peace for a long time, make no mistake, and it will not be easily won, but all of us have been through worse. We will see that the right thing is done.”
When Kidira finished speaking, my initial reaction was not to be moved or inspired, but to think: is that it? I had expected her to bark orders or to arrive with some new, terrible news. I had pictured her as the emissary of all that strove to work against us, and it took me far too long to remember that Kidira was not all she had always been.
She had been a Queen. At heart, that had not changed. When she said that we had all been through worse, she meant it. She felt it. If all that was unfolding around us was a turning point in my life, if these were the events that would overshadow all others, it was not so for Kidira. She had already lived through her own battles. She had been raised in a time of war, and so raised by it; an end to the territories’ struggles had seemed impossible, and so the only thing she could have been certain of was that it was the hardest thing she’d ever do.
And yet there she was. Fighting once again. It wasn’t that she knew there was a way out of this for us, but she knew she had to be the one to help us believe that there was an end to all of this. As I sat there, I understood that I knew nothing. Nothing about Kidira, about all that had happened so many years ago; nothing about what was bound to unfold.
I closed my eyes and let Kidira’s words stir something inside of me. She’d survived a war, alongside Kouris. Akela had survived Agados. Claire and Haru-Taiki had each been changed by fire. With them by my side, we would find a way through this.
If I could survive Katja, I could survive an army. That’s what I told myself. If I could survive her blade, I could take on theirs.
“I… don’t mean to ruin the moment,” Michael began, when no one else could escape their thoughts. “But I don’t believe I’ll be coming with you. To Felheim, yes, but not to Thule.”
“You won’t?” Claire asked.
“I won’t,” he said, forcing a smile. He looked my way and said, “It has been far too long since I’ve seen my father, and knowing that he is alone in a deserted village… honestly, I find it difficult to think of much else. I won’t be gone forever, of course, but I am very aware I have little to offer. I have not been through any of the things that Kidira implied, not beyond worrying sick about other people. Unless you want me to read from some book while the battle unfolds, I think I will be more of a hindrance than anything else.”
“Don’t reckon that’s the worst idea in the world,” Kouris said. “Your dad’s a decent man, and he deserves some company.”
“You’re passing up the chance to visit the castle in our capital?” I asked, as though there’d be nothing within but feasts and balls.
Laughing breathily, Michael said, “I know.” I could not help but feel something akin to guilt at being relieved by his change of plan.
It was best for all of us. For him, for our father, for me.
“If we are losing the other Northwood, we are still leaving as normal, yes? The plan, it is not changing?”
“It isn’t. It hinges on Claire, her connections, and the dragon; not the Northwoods,” Kidira said, and was content to leave it at that. She rose to her feet and said, “Come. We are only a little late for dinner, Akela.”
Akela was on her feet in a heartbeat, and headed back into the tribe with Kidira’s arm hooked around her elbow. Michael left shortly after, muttering something about still being able to make it to his lecture, and when Claire showed signs of moving, I rushed to her side before Sen had the chance to.
Claire nudged Haru-Taiki awake and said, “Home?” in Myrosi. Having no intention of spending his first night back on Bosma in a tree, Haru-Taiki blinked himself awake and bounced along as we walked hand in hand back to Kyrindval.
I gave Sen a look that hopefully conveyed I wanted to talk to Claire alone, and when we reached the dragon-bone gate, she was still sat in the long grass, mustering up the courage to answer whatever questions Kouris was firing her way.
Haru-Taiki caught the attention of plenty of pane in the street. At first they took him for a beautifully unfamiliar bird, but as soon as the first person murmured phoenix out loud, everything changed. The word sent ripples through the tribe, and soon people were peering out of windows, bowing their heads in respect and waving. Exhausted from a day spent showing off, Haru-Taiki couldn’t do much more than chirp in gratitude as he trailed behind us.
Claire’s mood hadn’t turned as rancid as it often would at the end of a day, but she had grown quiet and thoughtful. She focused far too hard on something beyond the steps she took and the placement of her cane.
“What is it?” I asked as we rounded a corner and reached her cabin. “And I know it isn’t nothing, Claire. Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”
Claire hesitated, as though Haru-Taiki had become fluent in Mesomium in the last few minutes.
“Rowan, I… I have a lot on my mind. That’s all.”
As much as I didn’t want Claire to have to suffer through her secrets alone, I didn’t want to force them out of her, either. If I couldn’t trust her, there was no point in any of this. She’d kept me in the dark years ago, and she’d had her reasons for that. She’d tell me what was bothering her in her own time, whether that was an hour or a week from now.
“It’s been a long day,” I said, relenting. “I think Haru-Taiki’s going to fall asleep on his feet.”
Inside, I made a nest for Haru-Taiki atop the table, using spare blankets and furs bundled into a pile. He yawned, cooing as he settled down, and fell asleep before he had the chance to tuck his wings against himself properly. Who was to say what he’d been through since his last death, or how it had even occurred. If phoenixes went to the Forest Within, it might take him weeks to properly adjust to the land of the living.
He wasn’t the only one the day had taken its toll on.
Claire sat on her bed, hands pressed just above her knees. She winced, all the day’s excitement melting away as the strain she’d put herself through caught up with her in an instant. I took what pain I could from her, but her joints remained stiff, muscles uncooperative. She didn’t look as though she knew how to find a way to lie down without aching, much less get ready for bed.
“Do you think you might fetch Sen for me?” Claire asked.
There were plenty of ways in which I couldn’t hope to help her, and that was alright. We did not have to be everything to each other to mean the world to one another.
“I’ll rescue her from Kouris,” I said, ghosting my hand over her leg to ensure there was nothing more I could do to wear the ache away.
“Thank you,” she said, and waited until I was halfway out of the door to continue speaking. “Of late, plenty of things I shall never forget are unfolding. I am glad that more and more often, these are slowly becoming good things.”
“Goodnight, Claire,” I said, knowing it was all she needed to hear. I took two steps down the corridor and two back, poked my head into her room and added, “I hope phoenixes don’t crow like roosters.”
I left her laughing and hurried to fetch Sen.
I spent the last handful of days with Charley. There was enough open land around Kyrindval to take him riding without fear of trampling their crops, and though I felt guilty about leaving him alone all over again, Charley was more than happy to stay with the tribe. He was something of a local legend there: Queen Kidira had ridden him out of a burning castle, fled across half a Kingdom and through the mountains, and then a necromancer was raised from the dead and delivered to Kyrindval on his back. The pane who worked in the stable kept him well fed and groomed, but I promised him that it’d be over soon. We’d have somewhere to live, far from anyone who might force us to flee.
Strangely, saying it out loud to a horse was all it took for me to start believing it.
The rest of my time was spent teaching Haru-Taiki all the Mesomium I could. I’d expected to take a pane on as a student, not a phoenix, but by that point, I was well versed in taking the paths life shoved me down. Claire and I taught him words in clusters: colours, numbers, and the world that surrounded him. Haru-Taiki was an eager learner and listened intently as he memorised the sounds we made. One of us would shout Rock! and he’d always be far too smug about being able to hop onto a nearby rock.
He already had the hang of simple phrases. He’d wave in response to a good morning, and chatter happily when asked how he was.
Between Oak and Haru-Taiki, the pane no longer knew what to make of me. Most of them took the presence of a phoenix to be a sign of good luck, though none were sure what we’d distill that luck into.
“Still here, huh?” Draeis said every evening.
The days dragged on. I was teetering on the verge of having to say my goodbyes, but in the interim, I had to act as though everything was normal. People lived their lives around me as they always had, and that wouldn’t change with my absence. I took my meals with Draeis, Maedir and Hafor, cleaned the cabin whenever my turn rolled around, but my thoughts were fixed on Thule.
I was itching to leave, until leaving was a reality.
