Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, page 69
With Charley settled in for the night, I made my way back around the castle. The carriage was gone, though Akela remained. She stood in front of the main entrance, hands on her hips, and stared up at the castle.
“You look happy,” I said. Usually, that was stating the obvious around Akela, but there was something different in it. “Did… something happen?”
“It is happening, indeed it is!” Akela announced, all of her teeth showing as she held her arms towards the castle. “I am returning from the coast and I am arriving here, and I am thinking how amazing it is. Not just thinking, no. Appreciating. For a long time, Northwood, I am certain that my life, it is never getting better. I am certain that I do not deserve for it to be better, and that is the way of things.
“But one day, I am taking a chance. And now it is thirteen years! Kastelir takes me in and now Felheim, Felheim is doing the same. I am living in a castle and the people I love, they are all surrounding me,” she said, wrapping an arm around me. “Kidira, Kouris, Sen, Ightham, Atthis, Milly, Eden, Halla, and of course, Northwood! We are having to work hard for this, yes? We are both coming from lands that are not accepting who we are and look! They are losing by not having us.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as I leant into her half-hug.
“Ah, but perhaps I am only tired. Perhaps it is nonsense I am talking and I am needing to fall into bed!”
“It’s not nonsense,” I said, knocking my head against her chest. “It’s what I was thinking. Only a lot more enthusiastic. I wish everyone was as bright and kind as you are, Akela.”
“If only,” Akela said, sighing. “If only people are smart enough and learning from my example.”
We walked together until our paths branched. I promised to spend the next day baking with her and Halla and as Akela headed towards her chambers, whistling as she went, I knew I’d go through the past three years and more if it meant she’d be happy.
I stopped by my father’s chambers on the way back to my own. It took me to a part of the castle I didn’t often see; a few days before I’d left, he’d moved into Atthis’ chambers.
He greeted me with a hug. Over his shoulder, I saw that he’d managed to get fairly settled in. A task I imagined a lot easier, what with Michael occupied in the Old North as a representative for the humans. One of several, thankfully.
Atthis smiled awkwardly, evidently still worried that I might find something in the situation that made me uncomfortable, but the truth was that I hadn’t seen my father so happy before. I didn’t mind the thought of welcoming Goblin into my family, either, even if the recently-returned Ghost was still warming up to me.
“Did everyone get off safely?” Atthis asked. “Varn didn’t frighten too many poor citizens, did she?”
“They’re gone,” I said, nodding. My eyes pricked with tears but I blinked them back. They were only an ocean away. “I think they’re going to do great things for Canth.”
“Wonderful to hear,” my father said. “Tea?”
“I can’t stay for long,” I said, grateful that he never changed. “But there’s something I need to tell you, Atthis.”
And like the others, he listened. His brow creased and his lips drew into a thin, tight line, but he listened. The truth seeped out of me with no more ease than it had the first time, and Atthis perched on the arm of a sofa, nodding his head but not saying anything for a long moment.
He didn’t blame me. Didn’t disown me.
“Much went wrong with Kastelir, from its very first days,” he eventually said. “The fault lies not in what you did but in our leadership. We caused a resistance to grow within our own city, made our people believe that they could only bring about change through assassination.”
I hugged him tightly, bidding them both a good night with a smile on my face.
My heart was light but my stomach churned as I walked straight into Katja.
She was on her way out of her chambers. Two guards were ever stationed at her door, but she didn’t look the part of a prisoner, and she certainly didn’t act it. Despite the late hour, her hair was immaculate and her dress made the rest of the castle look dull.
“Rowan! Hello, dear,” Katja said, smiling brightly. “So very good to have you back with us.”
I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Hi,” I said, waved, and carried on down the corridor.
“Excuse me?” Katja called after me.
I hadn’t been able to say a word to her, despite her constant attempts at conversation, whenever Kondo-Kana wasn’t drifting after me.
“Someone’s in a good mood, I see,” Katja said, uncertain of what to make of it. Her gaze flickered to the side as she attempted to dredge up something to set my nerves on edge, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“Everyone knows about King Jonas. Claire, Kidira, Akela, Kouris and Atthis,” I said, and she opened her mouth but found no words. “We don’t have any secrets anymore, Katja.”
I headed for my chambers. I didn’t look back, didn’t take in her reaction.
I didn’t care.
My heart pounded in my chest, hands unsteady, but the moment I turned the handle to my chamber door, all the warmth in the world rushed out to greet me.
A gold-orange fire burnt in the hearth, complimented by the candles placed on the low table in the centre of the seating area. Kouris and Claire sat together, each leaning against one corner of the sofa, halfway through sharing a story. Claire’s prosthetic leg had been removed for the night and the dragon-bone one, having recently been admired, took pride of place in an armchair. A deck of cards was spread across the table and a warm drink was waiting for me.
“Hi,” I said, closing the door being me. “What are you doing?”
“Certainly not what I ought to be doing,” Claire said, shooting Kouris a cheerfully long-suffering glance. “I ought to be working out which resources I can redirect to the territories as well as finding something to keep my mother occupied that helps her make what small amends she can without allowing her any measure of power, yet Kouris is enticing me into a game of cards.”
“And sharing a tale with her,” Kouris said, beckoning me closer with her claws. “Some people just aren’t appreciating good company when it’s offered to them.”
I took my place on the sofa between them, nestled against Claire’s side, fingers entwined with Kouris’. Resting against Claire made her decision to relent all the easier.
With her arm around me, she shuffled the cards and gestured for Kouris to start her story from the beginning, for my benefit. I closed my eyes as she spoke of lands I’d never visited, of Kingdoms south and west of Canth and Ridgeth, where creatures I couldn’t imagine roamed thick forests and icy plains.
The sound of cards being placed against the table punctuated the pauses and Kouris managed to play with one hand as Claire ran her fingers through my hair, bowing to kiss my forehead, just because she could.
Kouris told me of the adventures she’d had with Reis in those far-off lands, when they were younger than I was now. She spoke of jade cities and nations where the sun never rose in winter, of the land where gunpowder was born and countries with weapons far more dangerous, side by side with art more beautiful than anything Myros had to offer.
She told me we had all the time anyone would ever need to explore the far corners of Bosma, and Claire hummed, saying, “You shall lead us both astray yet, Kouris.”
But in that moment, as close to sleep as I was to Claire and Kouris, there wasn’t anywhere else I wished to be in the entire world. The promise of cities made of polished gold and finely cut emeralds couldn’t have enticed me to open my eyes, to stop listening to the rhythm of Claire’s heart and Kouris’ claws clipping against the table.
The End
By Rowan Northwood
Transcribed by Kouris of Kyrindval and Claire Northwood
EPILOGUE
The wall came down.
Borders shifted. For centuries, Thule stood. From the ruins of Kastelir grew three new countries, and Felheim did not fall. Cities rose and the once great castle crumbled atop its hill, reclaimed by the earth below. Ivy and vines wrapped around columns that no longer stood tall and the nests of birds gathered on slanted windowsills.
But those who brought the light of truth to Felheim did not spend the whole of their lives in its embrace. Bosma was vast, is vast, and in each corner, they found something that made seconds of the years that could so easily have crawled by, agonising.
For the first time in countless lifetimes, I crossed the Wide Waters. I returned to a land never again plagued by dragons and cut my way through the undergrowth bringing life anew to the ruined castle, greens and greys standing vibrant against the sky, against the moon.
I uncovered this book, words lost but not forgotten.
I add what I must.
Far beneath the fallen walls and towers that have long since forgotten how to reach the sun, the Queen rests in the crypt, bones spread far from those of the dragon-born, lost to the sands of Canth. No light makes its way down, but a soft rumbling claims the air. The dragon Oak curls atop Claire’s final resting place, forever sleeping alongside her.
And Rowan rests nowhere.
I add what I must to this book; I must go where she has.
Into the Bloodless Lands that are no more.
To Rowan, there was no silence. She has left this world, taking my fears along with her. Alone for the first time in centuries, she stared into the void and accepted that it was not the end; she emptied herself, offering her blood in exchange for what I had stolen, so many centuries ago.
And to her, the world was peaceful. The world was quiet.
I leave this book for others to find. I leave this book with one final thought:
That as I head to Myros for the final time, lands brimming with all the colour that made Rowan who she was, I come to realise that my life was not so much gall and wormwood after all.
Kondo-Kana
In the Age of the Phoenix, year 428
Endnotes
Your first project should always be a short one, is a quote attributed to every author or artist who’s ever found themselves saddled with a beast of a first project.
Dragonoak didn’t have ambitious roots. It was going to be a 30,000-word short story. I was going to post it to my blog, promptly forget about it, and move onto the next big thing. Here’s how the story was going to go:
Rowan, who wasn’t a necromancer, worked on a small farm in a village in the south of her nameless country. One day a Knight arrived with a handful of soldiers to set up shop. The villagers assumed it was a training base, for there were ever threats of dragons creeping closer. The Knight, Sir Ightham, scouted the village for those who could help her cause, and ended up acquainted with Rowan. There was probably a cool training montage here.
After several weeks, it was dramatically revealed that Sir Ightham was the Kingdom’s most wanted. She set off like a shot, back to the nameless capital, and Rowan chased after her. Sir Ightham revealed the terrible truth about the dragon attacks, Rowan patted her on the back and said chin up; they went to the castle, Sir Ightham stuck a sword through the King, took the throne, and everyone lived happily ever after.
That was it. No Kastelir, Canth, Agados, Myros. No Kouris, Kidira, Akela, Oak, Katja, Ash, Varn, Atalanta, Kondo-Kana, Nasrin, or so many others. There were no pane. There was no necromancy. It was a simple idea without much substance, and that’s all it needed to be. It grew on its own, organically stretching out to cover years, continents and more than half a million words.
I decided to make Rowan a necromancer on a whim, because it sounded cool. Now the entire story, the entire world, revolves around what she can do. Kouris became a pane because, hey, I liked character designs with horns, and now the pane are an established race with a real place in the world. Akela existed because I needed an extra body in a scene and she leapt into my mind, fully-formed, speech pattern already prepared.
My point is: books happen as they happen. They grow. You don’t need to plan every detail. Get a simple starting point and let your own work surprise you.
Dragonoak happened in bits and pieces, over more than four years. I’ve rewritten and reworked it so many times I’ve put at least a million and a half words into it, and at a low estimate, more than seven-thousand hours of real time. Not including time spent thinking and talking about it, naturally. More people than I can count helped shape the book in some way, and I’ll do my best to thank them individually:
Firstly to Grace, the first person to read my very first draft of The Complete History of Kastelir (I’m so sorry), and outright said to me that it could be twice as long and at least twice a good: without you, I probably would’ve let it be and left Dragonoak to rot on my harddrive. To all those who read the early, typo-laden drafts – Lindsey, Tara, Jeff, Molly, Nath, Morgan, Alice – and met me with enthusiasm and support, as well as plenty of ideas to better the story. To the people who kept me motivated with art – Jeff, Nath, Molly, Cécile, Alice – and those who worked on the covers: Molly Gur, Alice Jooren, Cécile J. Zellk. I truly hope these books are judged by their covers!
To Sophie Welsh, who was writing her debut novel Lavender at the same time I was working on TCHoK. It was utterly invaluable to have another author to speak to, going through the same motions as I was. Her own book inspired me endlessly (yes, this is an advertisement! stop reading this and go buy it!) and I’ll openly admit that I pilfered plenty of her Dragonoak related ideas. (A bunch of things in the book were named by her. Some of the months, bitterwillow, Chandaran.) Much of the story has been shaped by her in small, remarkable ways.
To my dad who’s always been super excited about reading my books: thanks! (His favourite characters are Oak, Haru-Taiki and Varn.) To everyone who has read the books, recommended them to friends, spoke about them on social media, or sent me messages: thank you so much. I hope I can keep writing books you’ll enjoy.
And mostly to Elly Beck.
Dragonoak was but a thought in my head when I stumbled across Elly on social media, and she was in my periphery long enough that I really, really wanted her to read the rough drafts of the books. From the moment I sent them her way, I was met with nothing but support, encouragement and praise, and years on, that hasn’t changed. I’ve received no shortage of cheerleading, both verbally and in the form of amazing, thoughtful art, and thanks to the excuse of my books to reach out to her, I’ve stumbled into a world of love and happiness. So to Elly: thank you, with all my love.
And that just about wraps up Rowan’s story in the Dragonoak universe. I’ve other books I plan to write (one about Reis, Kouris, Rán, Yin Zhou, Varn, et al, set prior to the events of the trilogy), but the next book you’ll see from me goes by the title Bitfrost.
It’s a series of journals written by Zaun, a former soldier with a traumatic head injury that necessitates recording things to remember them. It’s set on Metis, a frozen wasteland of a moon, where all the animals have been hunted into extinction, supplies are running low, and even the gods are angry. Keep an eye out for it late ’17 or early ’18. I’m in the refining process as I type this!
Once again, thank you for all your support. I work a full-time job and writing is a hobby to me, second to my reptiles, so it really takes a lot out of me to get these books out there! Such wonderful feedback really makes it all worth it, and I’m incredibly grateful for any reviews or recommendations.
Feel free to drop me a line at farren.books@gmail.com or farren.books on instagram and I’ll see you in Bitfrost.
About the Author
Sam Farren started writing the way many young authors do: they really, really wanted to post some fanfiction. After dabbling in both transformative and original works for many years, they developed a passion for representing lesbian, bisexual, and trans women of all sorts in fantasy worlds. Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood, is the final instalment in the trilogy
Born and raised in the south-east of England, Sam spends their free time hanging out with a pile of snakes and lizards. They work full-time with animals, write in lieu of sleeping, and deeply appreciate any and all support via their published works.
If you've enjoyed this novel, please consider sharing a review or recommendation on social media. Please remember that Dragonoak is a small, independent publication, and has been created with relatively few resources. Dragonoak has been worked on day in, day out, for over four years, and any errors are not for lack of hard work!
Upcoming Titles
Bitfrost
The Shattering of the Spirit-Sword Brackish
Bare Earth
Contact the Author
If you'd like to contact me, learn more about the world of Dragonoak, and keep up to date with future instalments, you can visit my Instagram at Instagram.com/farren.books or email me directly at farren.books@gmail.com.
Sam Farren, Dragonoak: Gall and Wormwood
