Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 3
I had no more desire to leave Kyrindval than I had Canth, but something was urging me on. Something that wouldn’t let me rest until I’d finished what so many before us had started.
I put on the clothes Kouris had spent the last few days making and packed the rest. If we were going to make it to the castle through whatever carefully-constructed plan Claire and Kidira had concocted, we needed to be inconspicuous. Rugged leathers and brightly coloured spools of fabric wouldn’t cut it.
“Go on!” Draeis called from the kitchen, when he caught me lingering in the doorway. “Go do whatever it is you little friends get up to.”
He waved me out, but I ran over and hugged him in the face of his playful dismissal, and did the same to Maedir and Hafor.
I let them return to their breakfasts and gathered the last of my things. Claire’s dragon-bone knife was tucked into my back pocket and the key hung around my neck on its chain, just as ever. I met the others by the sca-sino. Kouris had taken the long way there, and Zentha, having come to see us off, pretended not to notice her.
Sen, Claire, Michael, Akela and Kidira stood around them, waiting for me to arrive.
“I’m sorry to see you go, but not sorry to see you take your troubles with you,” Zentha said, but not unkindly. “I hope you are able to put an end to this, and more than that, that none of you are compelled to do anything you cannot live with.”
Before the weight of Zentha’s words could sink in, they held out a neatly wrapped parcel and said, “Yes, yes. Biscuits for your journey.”
Sen took them, mumbled her thanks and bowed her head, and Haru-Taiki descended to perch on her shoulder and peck curiously at the parcel. He’d learnt the word biscuits on his second day.
“To Thule,” Claire said, gaze fixed on Oak at the end of the sca-sino. “I have spent far too much time away from home.”
CHAPTER II
The trip to Thule was as dull as any journey on dragonback could be.
We’d gone over the plan a dozen times and Kidira insisted on going over it once more. Oak couldn’t keep himself still, overwhelmed by the sudden company, and Haru-Taiki hopped on top of his head and squawked until he settled down with a grumbled roar.
I headed off first, sat between Akela and Kouris, to spread the party’s weight evenly. Akela acted as though she’d never been near a dragon before, let alone on one, and cheered and whooped all the way. Her blindfold didn’t hinder her in the least. She kept Milly tucked safely in her scarf, and I kept my arms around her waist as I watched the Bloodless Lands tear past. Even with them in front of me, I was unable to describe what I saw half as well as I had to Claire.
The building Iseul had been chained up in marked the end of the journey, dozens of miles north of Thule.
“This is…” Akela said, looking, for the first time, across the Bloodless Lands. She turned her back on them with a frown. Just like that, they were out of her mind. Its lure was nothing to her, while my eyes and thoughts remained locked on the hollow buildings haunting the landscape.
“Hmph. The sooner we are getting over the wall, that better it is being, yes? Oak, he is heading back for the others?”
I heard the words but couldn’t respond. With my eyes fixed on the Bloodless Lands, on the single gash of colour where Iseul had faded in my arms, I forgot that there were others wrapped up in this. I forgot that I was there for any reason but to stare.
My chest ached. I missed Kondo-Kana, and it was like missing my hand.
Akela reached behind herself and grabbed my shoulder, shaking me.
“Right. The others. The others…” I scrubbed my hands against my face, coming back to myself, and knelt by Oak’s head. “You’re going to go get them, right? Claire and Sen and Michael and Kidira?”
His great, glassy eye lit up at the mention of Claire, but only for so long as it took me to get to Kidira.
“Hey! No eating her, okay? Akela would be upset if you did,” I said, and it just about won him over.
Rising to his feet, he knocked his nose against my chest and took off, shielded by the mountains.
“Looks like we’re gonna be here for a while,” Kouris said. Her blindfold hung loosely from two fingers, and she took in what little there was between the Bloodless Lands and the mountains. “Wanna help me scout ahead?”
Akela was quick to take Kouris up on her offer. They both knew that if there was anything worth scouting for it’d come in the form of unruly dragons, but it meant putting distance between them and the Bloodless Lands. They scaled the wall and peered over the top, and Kouris took easy steps up and down, discerning the most accommodating path for humans to take.
“Yrval, you sure you should be staring like that?” Kouris called, words scattered by the wind.
The others wouldn’t be with us for hours, and the building Iseul had been kept in was right there. I had more questions than there were empty towers in Myros, and there had to be answers in the place Iseul had been held prisoner for decades. I’d overlooked something. I’d only been able to focus on Iseul and the light that spilt onto the stone around him, last time.
One of the doors was ajar. I hadn’t thought to close it after myself, but I stepped in, expecting an ambush. The place would be teeming with Felheimish soldiers somehow able to endure the white around them. But all that remained were the chains hanging from the ceiling. I touched them and they swayed, links of pure white brushing against my fingertips.
There was nothing there. Not now that Iseul was gone.
There were no messages entwined with the faded carvings on the wall, nothing hidden in any crack or on any windowsill. It was empty, and had become emptier still as Iseul’s memories left him one by one.
It’d only been weeks since we’d given him the chance to free himself, and the Felheimish hadn’t found any reason to come here in the interim.
Using Claire’s dragon-bone knife, I cut off a few of the chain links and slipped them into my pocket as I said my goodbyes. If Kondo-Kana had been there, she would’ve known what to say. She would’ve known what to say if Iseul had laid glowing in her arms. She would’ve…
No, no.
She was responsible for all of this. I couldn’t lose sight of that.
I left the building and closed the door behind me.
Kouris and Akela were sat atop the wall, playing a game with a handful of loose pebbles in lieu of cards. Judging from all the grumbling and incredulous gasps, Akela was losing. And badly, at that. The moment Oak swooped into sight with Haru-Taiki flying alongside him, she leapt off the rock she was sat atop and bounded down the wall as though she had Kouris’ feet.
She helped Kidira off Oak’s back and offered Sen a hand, but Claire remained sat atop the dragon. It was difficult for him to land on the other side of the wall, where the undergrowth was thick and the paths narrow, but he managed it for Claire’s sake.
Once we were all safely within Felheim and the Bloodless Lands were but a persistent, aching memory, we sat in the long grass to check our belongings and catch our breath. That was the first leg of the journey over. A mile south, the mountains stretched further apart, and a wide valley twisted its way towards the flat, open lands. Once there, all that remained was to head through the forest scattered across the north of Thule and hope that Claire’s faith wasn’t misplaced.
“There’s a pane tribe not far from here,” Claire said softly, not wanting to pull anyone from their thoughts. “Vraljang. I spent many years there, a lifetime ago.”
“Really?” I asked, smiling at the thought of seeing part of Claire’s past, as though something other than Thule awaited us. “It’s a shame we can’t stop there on the way.”
“Alexander’s birthday is in three days,” she said, sighing. “Traditionally, the royal family invites all of Thule into the castle grounds as part of the festival. It’ll be our best chance to get in unnoticed, even if doing so only earns us hours or days to get our affairs in order.”
“We can head to Vraljang later. Once this is all fixed,” I said.
I took her hand and didn’t let go until Kidira decided it was time to move towards Thule.
“This is where we leave you,” I said, pressing my face to the scales lining Oak’s neck. “I’m sorry. I wish we could take you with us, I really do, but… not yet. Not yet.”
He whined, and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t console him. It wasn’t until Claire ran a hand across his snout that he stopped grinding his jaw against the ground and digging his claws into the dirt.
“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” she said. Haru-Taiki perched on her shoulder, nodding in agreement with the sentiment. “We shan’t leave you for long, Oak.”
With a growl of understanding, Oak nodded his head and climbed back over the wall with his wings tucked against his back, shoulders slumped.
I wished we could’ve kept Oak by our side, both for his sake and our own. Heading to Thule was far from an easy journey: paved roads were treacherous enough for Claire, and the valley floor was uneven. It was littered with loose rocks and thick, tangled shrubs, and no matter how patient we were, Claire held onto enough frustration for all of us. She grit her teeth with every step she took, and had to stop for minutes at a time after each abrupt incline.
I drained the pain that throbbed through her without a word. Sen offered to help and Claire snapped at her, declaring that she was fine. An hour and barely half a mile later, she quietly apologised and asked Sen for her arm. By the time evening fell, we were nowhere near our destination and far too exhausted to muster up anything like conversation around the fire.
I thought back to those long, cool nights sat around a campfire with Claire, Rán and Michael, but it was Sen who took the pan and prepared dinner for us. Kouris caught a deer before it could skirt around a mountain and shared it with Sen and Haru-Taiki. Other than the occasional would you like any more? and no thank you, we ate in silence.
I watched the others fall asleep one by one, until only Claire and I were left.
And I was only awake because she was.
She’d barely touched her dinner. I sat staring into the flames, mind full of more thoughts than I had the energy to process.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing. I hope it works,” I said softly. “I feel bad about leaving Orinhal and Atthis behind. I hope Goblin and Ash and the others are safe, as well.”
Claire hadn’t spoken in hours, but managed a handful of words for me.
“I’ve no doubt that they have made plans of their own, Rowan. We would do them a disservice if we were to underestimate them,” she said. “I believe that this will be the culmination of all we have worked for, and it will be easier for me to maintain such faith if you do as well.”
“You’re right,” I said, thinking that would be the end of it.
As though we had been talking about it the entire time, Claire suddenly said, “I cannot stop thinking about her. About what she will think of me.”
It took me a moment.
“Eden, you mean?”
Claire nodded.
“It is absurd. After all that has happened, it is these scars and burns and missing parts that make my stomach sink. It is not all that we have been through or all that has led to them. It is the fact that they are there, plain for her to see. There is no escaping them. I can explain all else that has happened in my own terms, in my own time, but I do not get a choice in revealing all that I am. Eden remembers me as a Knight. She remembers the way I would run through the forest each morning. Yet I return half-blind, fingers missing. Body working against me. If only it was burns and nothing else…
“Eden is not a vain woman, yet my own fear paints her as such.”
I inched closer and took her hand in my own. I curled my fingers around those missing parts she could not escape or reclaim and held on tightly.
“How long were you with her?” I asked.
“Seven years,” Claire said, and I did not know how to process that number.
I had pretended to be a healer for seven years. When that came to an end, I was convinced I’d lived the entirety of my life in those seven long years; that there was nothing else left for me.
“Claire. You chose her. You did. You were with her for all that time for a reason. She must be trustworthy. She must be worth having on our side. Whatever she thinks of you isn’t going to change because of how you look,” I said. “She’ll just be happy you’re alive. I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, Claire said, “I hope so.”
Her frown did not fade, but her shoulders weren’t as hunched, after that.
We cleared the mountains the next day. Villages began to crop up, and though I knew we were in Felheim, it wouldn’t have been difficult to convince me that it was Kastelir. Or what it would’ve become, had dragons not descended upon it. Michael left us when the roads began to form and fork, and I hugged him tightly and made him promise to let our father know that I was safe, and that Atthis would be back with us before he knew it.
We moved in pairs, for the law still forbade Sen and Kouris from travelling together. We couldn’t afford to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. A few miles in, a passing merchant took pity on Claire and offered us a ride in the back of her cart.
The offer couldn’t have come at a better time.
Claire sat in the back with her eyes closed, glad of the bumpy ground that made the waggon rattle. All the jostling was worth not having to spend another moment on her feet. She came back to me by measures and allowed herself to take in Felheim all around her, rather than stare blankly ahead as she forced herself to take one more step, and then another.
The merchant went as far as a village located on the outskirts of the forest above Thule. We had little coin to pay with, for much of it had gone to Michael in order to buy him a horse, but the woman was glad to have been of assistance. Claire took note of her name and that of the village she was from, and I knew she would not forget it.
Claire and I took refuge on one of the village’s benches as we waited for the others.
“I suppose I’d best get this out of the way,” she said, and opened her bag to retrieve her writing supplies.
She’d known she was going to have to write to Eden for over a week, and I’d expected the ink to have long since dried. But for all of the drafts she’d likely gone over, Claire had yet to put a single lasting word upon parchment. She sat with a length of it unfurled in her lap, and stared down at the yellowing surface. She didn’t do much more than occasionally exhale.
“Do you want me to find something to do?” I asked gently. “It’s okay if you want to be alone for this.”
“No, no,” Claire said, and wrapped an arm around me.
I thought something might follow, but she said nothing more. She rested the parchment on a board she’d brought along, and I leant against her and used a hand to hold it in place as she wrote. The first words came slowly, and her hand was on the verge of being unsteady, but once a single line was down, the rest flowed from her.
I watched her write, meaningless swirls of ink saying all that Claire had kept inside these past few years, and turned my attention towards the village. I had no right to stare at the words Claire was putting down, whether I understood them or not.
The village was a small one, comprised of no more than three dozen buildings. Only four of them were shops, from what I could see. The merchant we’d travelled with was likely one of their lifelines. Everywhere I looked, people were pulling back curtains to stare at us, unused to receiving visitors. I understood what it was like to be from an isolated village, yet I was still put on edge. I was far too aware of the way they were staring at Claire; at her burns.
But she was too caught up in her letter to care, or at least acknowledge their wandering gazes.
She struck out entire sentences, intent on finding a better way to express herself, and wrote two full sides of parchment. I had to believe she hadn’t written anything that would hinder our efforts, should someone other than Eden stumble across the letter, but I wished the words would stop flowing from her.
“There,” she said, finally. “If that does not aid our cause, I cannot say what will.”
Claire folded the pages in half, opened them back up and scanned the text twice before sealing them with a length of twine. I took her arm and we made our way through the centre of the village, where a dried-out fountain was surrounded by children. There was a statue in the centre of a man holding a vase on one shoulder, and water only ever fell from it when it rained.
Uncertain how to act around strangers, the children scattered at the sight of us. I remembered being their age well enough, and running to hide behind Michael whenever someone new wandered into our village. Now that I was on the other end of it, I made sure we attended to our business promptly.
It wasn’t difficult to find ravens.
They were caged by the bakery, and judging by the way an old woman hobbled out of the shop when we approached the birds, she was in charge of both services. She wiped her hands on the front of her apron and didn’t say anything for a few long moments. She adjusted her glasses and squinted at us.
I’d become used to the quick turnover of business in larger towns and the boisterous markets of Mahon. The woman was hardly going to lose our patronage to competition and knew it. Back in my village, long before I’d claimed to be a healer, I often headed down for a loaf of bread or a pie and found myself swept up in conversation for an hour, tea included.
“Do any of your birds fly to Thule? To the castle, specifically?” Claire asked.
“That they do, lass,” the woman said. She placed her hands on the side of the cages and beamed proudly. “Half the village, young and old alike, have been paying through the nose to get a letter to that Prince Alexander of ours. You know how generous the royals get around this time of year. Throwing a party for the whole city, actually listening to our demands. Too bad that Prince isn’t sat on the throne, I say! He’s doing a sight more for us than that brother of his. And let’s not even get started on the Princess, or lack thereof. Everyone around here wants the funds for a dozen more cows, but I said to them, I’ve been saying, we don’t need them. We’ve always had the exact same number, give or take a few, depending on how rough the winter was, and we’ve always got on just fine.
