Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 68
“I'll see what she says,” I promised.
I'd expected to need Kouris to stop me from diving aboard the ship to Canth, but to my surprise, I didn't long to leave. I didn't feel as though Canth was being kept from me. I wanted my friends close and I wanted to spend long days out on the clear ocean, but there was no shortage of things I longed for in Felheim.
“There is much for Rowan to do here,” Kondo-Kana told her wife. “She will travel these broken lands, healing those who see the light of the stars reflected in her touch. She will travel to Agadia, now that the walls are crumbling.”
It was no longer a faraway dream, or the only passing thought that gave me reprieve from what reality had become. People were still far from accepting of necromancers but I could roam as freely as I pleased and offer aid to any who'd accept it.
“A noble endeavour,” Queen Nasrin said. “It shall certainly help with the restoration process.”
The wind picked up and we all knew we were delaying the inevitable.
“Gods. C'mon, if we don't get out of here now we ain't ever gonna leave and Kondo-Kana will get emotional. No one wants to see that,” Varn said, punching me square in the shoulder. “Later, North Woods. Thanks for the swords, Your Majesty!”
Varn bowed to Claire as she stepped backwards towards the ship, spinning on her heels as she reached the gangplank. Atalanta followed, and Queen Nasrin and Reis each took one of Kondo-Kana's arms as she edged towards the ship.
We stood in silence as the ship set off, a gust of wind helping Oak pull out of the harbour. Varn leant against the railing of the stern and pretended to be too nonchalant to wave, until I scrambled onto Kouris’ shoulders and held my arms high above my head.
They were gone in a matter of minutes, lost to the horizon. In lieu of tears, there was a smile on my face that made my breathing come heavy. It wouldn’t sink in until I was back at the castle and Varn wasn’t knocking on my chamber door at all hours of the day, whining until I went to a tavern with her and Akela.
“It looks like rain,” Claire said as I slipped from Kouris’ back. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and said, “We ought to head back. I’d hate for these people to be caught in a downpour.”
The citizens wouldn’t have minded a sprinkling of rain in the least, but I nodded. Staring at the horizon wouldn’t cause them to change their minds and abandon their responsibilities in favour of Felheim.
Claire, Kidira, Akela and Eden returned to the carriage and I headed for Charley.
“Hey, boy,” I said, holding out a handful of bitterwillow for him. “Doesn’t look as though you’ll get much of a rest. Sorry.”
He nickered, tail swishing as he chewed the dry leaves.
As we made our way out of Ironash’s crowded streets, the people didn’t only cheer for their Queen. Their eyes fixed on me and a whisper ripped through the port: I was the necromancer they’d heard tell of. One of them, at least. But no one said that my being there would poison the ground, or that next season’s crops would fail. They spoke of the dragons I’d slain and how I’d driven the Agadians out of Thule.
I lifted a hand and people waved back.
Kouris ran alongside Charley and together, we led the carriage and guards back to Thule.
Asar was already changing around us. The Old North had been given to the pane in its entirety and all that stood north of Thule was returned them, as well. They’d started to come down from the mountains and immediately put themselves to work, building effortlessly tiny cabins for the former Kastelirians as they waited for the ground to thaw.
It hadn’t been easy and we weren’t moving forward quickly enough for some. But Felheim was making itself into something greater than its past had allowed it to be, and the territories were starting afresh. Ash and Goblin were working beyond the wall, coordinating our efforts as it was slowly being taken down, each stone put to a greater cause.
Claire was determined to stop us from becoming the next Agados and it came across in action as well as intent.
Everything was working in our favour. Everything was unfolding as it always should’ve. Yet as I looked ahead to a city that was still countless miles away, my heart grew as heavy as the storm clouds overhead. It wasn’t the pull of Canth that made me uneasy and the sudden gap in our party hadn’t yet made knots of my stomach.
It was Katja. It was always Katja. She was still in Thule, still in the castle, that Atthis and Kidira might watch over her.
Katja could be behind bars and it wouldn’t matter. She’d always have a constant, visceral hold over me and I couldn’t escape that.
Kouris saw my face fall and knew better than to ask what was wrong.
A drop of rain struck her on the nose, giving her reason enough to skid to a halt.
“Reckon there’s a big storm coming,” she called back to the carriage. “Might be worth calling it a day.”
My village wasn’t far off and we’d pushed our horses hard on the way to Ironash, not changing them as often as we could’ve in favour of making good time. Claire readily agreed with Kouris and we altered our course.
The weather made the landscape grey and miserable but I saw my village in a new light. Wooden planks had been pried from the doors and windows had been scrubbed clean, and life thrived once again in the small, cosy houses.
The villagers hadn’t returned. Hadn’t dared to. Weeks ago, I’d made certain no traces of the plague lingered and refugees from the former Kastelir had been given a new start.
People wandered the streets and smoke rose from the bakery. They saw our convey make its way down from the top of the valley and approached cautiously, keeping a respectful distance.
Only my farmhouse remained empty. The carriage stopped in front of it and I led Charley to the old stables. He settled down with glee, nudging his nose against the familiar pen.
Outside, the guards had seen fit to allow the villagers to come closer. They shook Claire’s hand, bowing their heads over and over as they thanked her for all she’d done for them, all she’d given them, and Claire told them to think nothing of it; it was the least they deserved, after all they’d been through. The people beamed, offering our guards a place to sleep at the old inn Claire had once stayed in.
“I am making us a stew, yes?” Akela asked, pulling one of our bags from the roof of the carriage. “And then, Ightham, you are seeing why the best thing for this Kingdom is leaving me in charge of the army and the kitchens.”
“I’ll be in in a minute,” I told Claire.
I kissed her cheek and took the dusty path up to the empty sheep field.
The sun was starting to set a little later in the day, making it feel earlier than it was. I sat atop a tree stump older than I was, looked down at the village and watched the lights flicker to life behind the windows. A woman circled the village and lit the street lamps while two children rushed down from the hills where they’d been playing, shouting a greeting to me on the way down.
The former Kastelirians had been told everything about the village and its past. About what it had become known for, after I had poisoned the ground it was built upon.
They’d chosen to rename it. Rowanvale, they called it.
In a handful of generations, the villagers would probably think it was named for the forest edging onto it.
The rain fell heavily, refusing to let me take the time to absorb the enormity of the last three years. It hit me all at once, like the sharp, sudden chill from above, and I was soaked to the bone and bleary-eyed before I got to my feet. I scrubbed my face, making out the blur of the trees in the distance, and the darkness they held; I thought back to the wolves lurking within, and how they had once been the most terrifying thing in the world.
I had changed. I was no longer afraid. Not of the wolves and not of becoming one.
I covered my head with my cloak, charged back to my redbrick farmhouse and decided to do the one thing that scared me above all others.
Inside, Akela was singing boisterously in broken Canthian, busy putting the final touches on the stew, and everyone crowded around the table, pleasantly tired. Kouris’ ears twitched at the sight of me, but before she could fuss and fetch me a dry blanket, I let the words tumble out of me.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said. I gripped the hem of my damp shirt, desperate not to tremble from anything but the rain and cold. “I wish Atthis was here. I know Alex and Haru-Taiki need his help running things while we’re gone, but—I’ll tell him later. It’s just…”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, certain my next words would spell the end of everything. Akela took the stew off the heat and stirred it with a wooden spoon.
When I couldn’t speak, Claire said, “Take your time, Rowan.”
I closed my eyes, determined to find the words. I’d taken down dragons. I’d been from Canth to the Bloodless Lands and back and I’d risen half an army. I should’ve been able to do this one simple thing. I should’ve been able to tell the truth. And yet—
I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to share the secret that had bound me to Katja for so long. I didn’t want to take that power away from her.
I didn’t want to, but I did. My thoughts were shaped by hers and were not my own.
She didn’t want to lose her power over me because it was all she had.
It was all she had and I could take that from her.
“The morning the dragons struck Isin,” I began. Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats save for Eden, who gave me the slightest nod of encouragement. “I was out in the city when it happened. I shouldn’t have been. I should’ve still been in bed, sleeping.
“Before that first dragon was sent to Kastelir, we’d been planning to leave. Me, Kouris and Claire. We were going to handle things on our own. And that’s why I thought it’d be okay. That’s why I thought I could trust Katja.”
My eyes flickered towards the ceiling. I wouldn’t be able to speak another word if I took in the breadth of their reactions.
“While everyone was panicking and Claire and Kouris and Akela had gone to track down the dragon the day before, Katja took me down to the crypt beneath the castle. She asked me to bring King Jonas back. And because I thought we were leaving, because I thought that I’d be beyond Kastelir’s reach in a matter of days, I did it.
“I brought him back to life. We took him to Katja’s apartment in the city and she told him he’d been attacked. That we’d escaped and she’d been able to save him. When I found out that we weren’t leaving Kastelir, I went to Katja. I wanted to know what she was planning to do. I thought that she’d want to protect me, but I never reached her. The dragons came and… and King Jonas died again.”
No one breathed a word.
I felt as though hot coals had been dragged across my insides.
I couldn’t look at any of them. I stared at the floor, rain dripping from my hair and running down my nose, and tensed in anticipation of shouting. I was ready for it. I deserved it. I’d promised Claire I wouldn’t do anything to put myself in danger and I’d betrayed that trust so long ago.
Katja had been right to keep it a secret. She’d been right, she’d been right—
“Rowan,” Kidira said. “Breathe.”
My hands curled into trembling fists but Kidira’s sparse words gave me the strength I needed to set my eyes on the others. There was too much crossing their faces to rightly put into words but no one was looking at me as though they no longer knew who I was.
“The world, it is changing! Only three years are passing and I am seeing how different things are becoming. Or how different they have always been!” Akela said, tapping the wooden spoon against the rim of the pan. “Three years ago, King Jonas is dying, and we are convincing ourselves that there is nothing we are doing to help him. That it is over and we are losing him forever. But when I am dying, when the same thing is happening to me, a necromancer is coming to me and I am being saved. If the dragons are not taking Isin, then King Jonas, he is getting to live the life that is stolen from him. I am thinking he is grateful that you are risking so much for him, yes?”
It wasn’t just my fists trembling now. My whole body shook.
“C’mere, yrval,” Kouris said, tugging my wrist to pull me into her lap. “What Katja did to you didn’t stop when Akela got you out of there and it didn’t start in Canth, either. She’d been wearing you down for a long time. We should’ve seen that. Your timing might’ve been awful and Katja definitely had everything to do with that, but your heart was in the right place.”
With that said, Akela decided it was time to serve up dinner.
I ate too quickly, burning my tongue in an effort to warm myself back up. Claire remained silent throughout the meal. I leant back against Kouris, trying not to look her way. I knew I couldn’t handle disappointment scrawled across her features.
But when she finally leant towards me, once the conversation had picked up enough to mask the whisper she spoke in, she said, “I had wondered why you left, that morning. I awoke to an empty bed, afraid regret had driven you from the chambers.”
I laughed. Despite myself, I laughed. I had told people the thing I feared they’d one day discover and they hadn’t cast me out. There were no more secrets rattling through me, no dark corners of my mind that could take everything from me.
The morning would bring another long day of travel, so we didn’t stay up for much longer. Eden claimed Michael’s old room and Akela took my father’s, but Kidira lingered in the kitchen as Claire made her way to my old room. I stayed downstairs, determined to wash the dishes before going to bed.
Kidira offered no help as I cleared the table. By the time I’d fetched a bucket of water from the well she was nowhere to be seen. I assumed she’d joined Akela in bed until I heard voices drift over from the living room.
“I half expected you to get on that ship and return to Canth,” Kidira said.
I clattered two bowls together, letting her know I could hear her. She paid me no heed.
“I’ll admit that it’s tempting, sometimes. Half expected to do the same myself. Don’t like leaving Reis alone like that,” Kouris said. “But I can’t be doing that. Can’t be running away again. There’s too much work to be done. Too much for us to be fixing in the territories and Felheim, too. The pane have the north again but tensions are bound to be running high. We’ve gotta work towards that peace we didn’t quite create with Kastelir.”
“Indeed,” Kidira agreed. She knew the political situation well enough.
For a time, nothing was said.
I finished scrubbing the bowls and Kidira said, “Do you know something, Kouris? And I do have a point in all of this, I promise.”
“What is it?” Kouris asked, a little weary.
“After they executed you – after you were taken to Canth – they sent horns back to the castle, as proof of what had been done to you. I knew they weren’t yours. From the moment I wrapped my hands around them, I knew they had never belonged to you. They were the right sort of shape and size but the grooves and scratches were different. They felt strange under my fingertips. I told Jonas and Atthis as much, but they merely said my grief had deluded me. That I didn’t want them to be your horns.
“But I knew your horns by touch alone. They wanted to place what little we had been given back in the crypt. I had them burnt.”
“Figured they’d be doing something like that,” Kouris said, after a pause.
“Sometimes, when I am not myself – when I give myself over to panic, to stress – I hold out my hands and still feel your horns. That is what I want to hold onto, to bring me back to myself. I remember the first time I let you hold me, and how you lifted me clean off the ground by my waist and buried your face in my neck. I wrapped my arms around your head, hands gripping your horns.
“And so my point is, Kouris, that I did not ever stop loving you. Had I honestly hated you, this all would be so much easier for me. But there it is. I shall never forget the ways in which you have hurt me, but I do not wish to spend the rest of my days bitter and angry. You are a part of my life again. I have to move past this.”
Another pause. Mute understanding flooded the air.
“I never stopped loving you either, Kidira. But you must know that,” Kouris said softly. “And I’ll tell you what. You couldn’t have found anyone better than Akela.”
Kidira hummed in agreement.
“I couldn’t, no.”
They said nothing more, but Kidira did not leave the room straight away. I cleaned out the pan Akela had cooked in and Kidira stepped into the living room, quietly closing the door behind her.
She looked at me. I caught her eye, hands full of cutlery, and she turned away.
She paused at the foot of the stairs and said, “Goodnight, Rowan. Sleep well.”
Back in Thule, all was in order. The sense of victory had yet to drain from the streets and cheer that didn’t suit the weather filled the city. Claire received a warm welcome and no matter how sincere her smile may have been, there was a weariness to it, as well. She was glad to be home but knew that there was no end to the work awaiting her.
Arriving home at night was a small mercy.
Leaving for even a few days had made Alex nervous, but with Haru-Taiki’s help and Atthis’ decades of experience, Felheim hadn’t fallen apart at the seams.
Haru-Taiki flew out to greet me and landed on Charley’s saddle the moment I was on the ground. Covering his eyes with the tips of his fingers, he let out a low, broken chirp and tilted his head curiously.
“Kondo-Kana’s fine. As fine as she can be,” I said, nodding for his benefit. “She’ll make it back to Canth and she’ll forget all about having crossed the ocean in the first place.”
Relieved to hear it, Haru-Taiki accompanied me to the stables. His Mesomium had come along enormously over the last few weeks, thanks to Kondo-Kana’s help, and I was starting to understand all the sweeping gestures of his wings and the chirps he let out.
I asked him about the decorative knives and finely carved pieces of jewellery that had been sent to the castle. While plenty of them were clearly less than authentic, he thought it was certainly worth throwing them into the Phoenix Fire. But perhaps not yet, he added; the phoenixes might not want to be reborn into such a hectic world.
