Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
Rymar
I t was still dark outside when Zasen and I left. After every attack, Lorsa held a town meeting at daybreak. The time was chosen so those who'd been up all night disposing of bodies would be available, and those who had gotten some sleep would only need to wake up a bit earlier. As the Deputy Mayor, I was expected to be there even earlier.
"I need to say something about Ayla," Zasen mumbled as we headed towards the center of town.
I murmured at that. "I say leave her out of it for now."
"But she knows when they'll be back," he countered. "That's hope. We need something to hope for right now."
"And when will they be back?" I asked.
"Well, she didn't say," he admitted. "Our calendars are different."
I just nodded. "Which means she doesn't know."
"She does," he insisted.
"Zasen," I begged. "She doesn't know our date. If you try to tell the mob this morning that your Mole girl knows, didn't say, and can't tell you? That will get her hurt - or killed."
"So I'm supposed to just ignore what she did?" he snapped.
I ducked my head to rub at my sleep-crusted eyes. "No. You tell them all how she helped Tamin. You make it clear she killed Moles to protect a Dragon child and then tried to heal as many people as she could. Talk her up, but leave the calendar out of it."
"But we all but know when they'll be back," he grumbled again.
Letting out a sigh, I reached over to rub his shoulder. The guy was as sleep-deprived as I was. He just wanted to help Ayla prove herself. I could understand that. I really could, but I also knew how disastrous that would end up.
Because today, people would not be happy. They didn't want stories of hope. They would be looking for vengeance. Too many had lost loved ones last night, and Ayla was little more than a symbol of our enemy. Putting her in the spotlight had to be done carefully.
Thankfully, when the crowd finally showed and the meeting started, the losses were better than I'd feared. Seventeen Dragons had been killed last night. Twelve of those bodies were missing, which meant the Moles had taken them. However, fourteen dead Moles had been left behind.
Then Zasen gave his report. Our defense militia had reacted quickly. The city bells had started ringing before the Moles had even entered town. Those of us tasked with fighting them off had been there to push them back, killing as many as we could, and that included Ayla.
"Who?" someone asked when Zasen used her name.
"That's his Mole bitch!" someone else snapped.
"My informant," Zasen said calmly. "The young woman escaped from the Mole base and has been working hard to master our language. In the process, I've learned that Moles speak English . Yes, the dead language. Ayla does as well, yet she's already near fluent in Vestrian - and she's been more than willing to help me understand exactly how her former captors work."
Okay, now that was a good spin. Calling the men Ayla's captors? Complete brilliance. Looking across the crowd, I could see a few faces looking sympathetic. Not all of them, but it was better than nothing.
"And," Zasen went on, "the attack happened when my neighbor's son was visiting. Out of desperation, we gave Ayla a child's practice crossbow and told her to protect the child."
"She killed him!" someone screamed.
Grunting in annoyance, Zasen turned to the voice. "She killed two Moles in my home. She killed another in the forest while hiding the child. She then killed at least one more by using their guns, and I suspect it was more than that."
"Wait." This time, I recognized the voice. It was Drozel, the tan, green, and black Dragon who'd make the trek with us when we'd found the girl. "So you're saying that helpless little wisp of a girl killed more of the enemy than any of the rest of us?"
"It appears that way," Zasen admitted. "Then again, were they chasing her? Was she fighting to stay free of them? I haven't had the chance to ask, since she was wounded when helping the medics last night."
"Wounded how?" Omden asked, moving beside Drozel.
"A kitchen knife," Zasen explained. "One wielded by a Dragon in mourning."
Jerlis stepped forward on the small stage he used and lifted his hands. "We all act out in grief. That the Mole girl helped shows my willingness to let Zasen convert her is working." Then he turned his eyes on Zasen. "Let us hope you can get more valuable information from her quickly, hm?"
"That's the plan," Zasen agreed.
"Good!" Jerlis said. "Then it appears our latest defense plan is having some success. Fletchers, expect an influx of orders soon. I also suggest everyone should have their weapons checked and repaired. While we've kept the attacks limited to the south side of town, we still do not know when they will be back next."
A few more words were traded. A few more suggestions were called out. Zasen bellowed out that he still needed more volunteers. In the midst of it all, Jerlis managed to slip away. I almost snarled, but I understood. People would have questions for him that he didn't have the answers to. Drozel and Zasen would.
"Hey," I told Zasen, "you got this?"
"Yeah. Go talk to him."
I nodded. "He's already gone, so I'm headed to City Hall."
"Go," Zasen told me as a pair of teen boys walked up. Then he turned his focus to the young men.
I knew he'd try to talk the kids out of volunteering. Zasen preferred seasoned hunters and older warriors. Putting young and brash men onto the front line was all but giving the Moles some easy targets. And yet, Drozel had been running training sessions simply because Lorsa needed more defenders.
Leaving him to that, I followed Jerlis's example and slipped away. Behind me, people would be arranging funerals and memorials. Our community would find those in need and make sure they had meals prepared for them and help with their children. What sucked was that we were all so used to it.
The attacks always happened on the south side of town. That made sense, because the Mole base was to the south of us, so it was the side they reached first. Over the last few decades, it had become the poor side of town because of it.
No one wanted to buy a home where they might have Moles burst through their door. Some couldn't afford anything else. When Zasen had found the house beside the south entrance available, I'd thought he was insane. Instead, we'd gotten twice the space for half the price. That it was beside our friend and his young wife? We'd thought it couldn't be too bad.
It was. All too often, the Moles rushed into Lorsa, killing and taking the bodies of Dragons. Mostly, they hunted the tailed, but some tailless women had been lost as well. It was almost as if the Moles would rather harvest them all and sort it out later.
They were a plague, and one we hadn't been able to stop. We'd tried sentries. They'd been killed first and harvested. We'd tried putting scouts in the forest to let us know when they were coming. They'd also died. Once, we'd had a gate put up across the entrance. The Moles had gone over the walls while burning the thing down.
Their weapons were better. We had bows. They had guns. They always fought at night when our vision was weakest. Knowing how easily Ayla could see in the dark, it made sense. The problem was we simply couldn't find a solution, because we couldn't predict when they were coming back!
Unless Ayla was right.
No, I wouldn't think about that yet. As I jogged up the steps and into the City Hall, I reminded myself that I needed to focus on her actions. By the time I made it to the Mayor's office, I had a good idea of how I was going to convince the grumpy old Dragon.
"Jerlis!" I called out as I swept into the room with my most charming smile plastered on my face.
Like always, the man was seated behind his official desk. "What do you want, Rymar?" he grumbled.
"Have you had tea yet?" I glanced at his desk, spotting a cup at the corner. "Need a refill? Nothing sucks more than these early mornings."
"It's filled," he assured me before pointing to a chair. "Sit, and whatever it is had better be important."
"It's about the girl," I explained. "Jerlis, Zasen was right about her."
"Because she helped a child?" He scoffed.
"A tailed child," I pointed out. "She also saved Zasen. He was overrun with Moles. He said he wasn't sure he would've been able to get away from that many. She showed up with a gun lifted to her shoulder, and he was sure he was done - until she shot them, not him."
"So she missed?" He lifted a red-and-black brow ridge. "She's a Mole, Rymar."
"She's not," I swore. "You see, in these last few weeks, we've learned a lot about her. To start, the Moles abuse their women. They keep literal rods in their homes to beat them with. That base? Evidently, it's a massive underground facility where they all live. Not a military base, Jerlis, but their home."
"Fuck," the mayor breathed.
I nodded. "And they keep order with a corrupted version of religion. You see, the sins of Eve had humans kicked out of the Garden of Eden. The sins of men had humans cast from the face of the Earth. Now, they live underground, and according to their lore, they are the last of the Righteous. Yes, that's what they call themselves - the Righteous."
"Fucking Moles!" Jerlis all but spit at me.
"Mhm," I agreed, aware I now had the upper hand. "And that malnourished girl Zasen found? She was married off to an old man in order to breed more. Raised up as a baby factory. All girls are down there, but Ayla? She fought back. Her only weapon was a fork, but she stabbed it into her husband's arm before the wedding could be finished."
Or so. I was a little murky on some of those details, but I didn't want to give Jerlis anything to use against Ayla later. It was no different than how Zasen had called the Moles her captors. Sometimes, the phrasing mattered more than the reality.
Jerlis gave me a tired look. "You expect me to believe that girl attacked her husband so she could come to us?"
"No, because that's not why she did it," I admitted. "She attacked him because she thought they'd kill her. Instead - and you're going to love this - they hung her out on a chain as a sacrifice to the Dragons."
"Us?"
"Mm..." I made a face at that. "I'm not sure. They might mean the creatures from myths. Then again, Ayla says their descriptions of the surface are jumbled and confusing. It sounds like they mash up anything that might benefit their position into one religious horror. They talk about Dragons - us - and wild men, who I think are Reapers. They also say no human can survive on the surface. She noticed the hypocrisy when she was still a teen."
"And how does any of that help us?" he asked, skipping right past all my good points.
"It helps because Ayla thinks this is paradise. She's convinced this is a place to protect. She's also been telling Zasen everything she can think of. So you know, that's how she practices her Vestrian."
"And?" Jerlis asked. "So how do we stop them?"
"It's more complicated than that," I admitted. "Ayla knows nothing about any of this. She didn't even know she'd been fed Dragon meat until last night, Jerlis. Now that she does? She's pissed about it. She hates that they lied to her, can't stand the idea of children being targeted, and wants to help."
"Then get some information out of her!" he roared, swiping at his desk in his frustration.
I didn't flinch, but I did see a few pages drift to the floor. "First, we have to explain what information we need," I told him, "and there has been a language barrier. But one thing is very clear. That girl hates Moles. She hates them enough to kill them. She hates them so much she picked up a gun and used it on them to keep them from shooting Zasen when he was overrun."
"Just Zasen?"
"I think he was the first one she found to help," I admitted. "Well, besides the little boy, Tamin. But if we can start teaching Ayla how battle, weapons, and tactics work? That will help her know what information we need," I explained.
"No," he growled.
And when a man the size of the Mayor growled, it made an impression. Jerlis was twice as broad as Zasen. Not as muscled, but his frame was gigantic. From the red-and-black pattern of his skin, he'd inherited genes from the ancient gila monsters - and the anger issues to match.
"She needs to know how to defend herself," I pressed. "Adoet saw her on the street and was going to kill her. The girl refused to even protect herself. She needs to learn how to use a bow. That's how she saved the life of the tailed boy. And if she's already learning that much, then discussing battle strategies with her and what the Moles have done to a place she's starting to think of as her home?"
"I don't like it," the mayor grumbled.
I continued as if he hadn't said a thing. "That woman has no clue what she knows. To her, it was everyday life. It's no different than me asking you what spices are in your kitchen. Sure, you might name a few, but if I'm looking to see if you have salt? You might overlook it because it's just so common. And that's why we need to get her into training."
For a long moment, Jerlis stared at me. "So she really saved a tailed boy?"
I nodded slowly. "According to Zasen, she risked her life to do it. She also knew their names."
"The boy's?"
"The hunters," I clarified. "She killed men she knew, Jerlis, and she did it for a child she'd only recently met. She did it because she was so horrified at what the Moles were doing that they needed to die. That terrified little girl killed at least four men, and she doesn't regret it at all because she says they were wrong."
Jerlis pushed out a heavy breath. "So what do you want from me?"
"Officially list her as a refugee," I told him. "If she's attacked, then it's assault. If she's wrong, then so be it. But make it clear she's a refugee who came here for a better life. She wants to become a citizen. Give her that chance, and I think what she'll give us will be priceless."
"So you think this girl's information is that valuable?"
I chuckled. "Zasen does. He says what she knows is worth its weight in gold."
"The Wyvern's gold, maybe," he grumped.
"Or Lorsa's," I replied. "Because if you offer that young lady a little bit of hope, I think she might become a lot more valuable than any of us could've imagined."
The Mayor simply ran his black tongue over the tips of his teeth, thinking hard. "You want her to have access to the town too, hm?"
"With a companion," I assured him. "Don't worry, we plan to keep watch over her, but there's no reason she needs to know that. To Ayla, we're just her new friends."
And a smile finally split the red-and-black man's face. "Do it. And if she can convince the people of Lorsa she's not a threat, then fine. She's a refugee. Becoming a Dragon is going to be much, much harder."
"No shit," I agreed under my breath as I pushed my chair back.
But I'd gotten what I'd come for. Now it was time to leave before he could change his mind. I just hoped Zasen was right about her. Yes, I liked the girl, but I wasn't as convinced she knew anything we could use.
Although she was definitely gold. Very gold. Her hair was much darker than any of the men's who'd been killed last night. I wasn't sure if all the women were that way, or just her. I also didn't think she belonged to the Wyvern. The Dragonfly might have something to say about that, because he'd been spending quite a bit of time smiling at her.
But in my opinion, she didn't belong to either of them. She was her own, and I wanted her to learn that a man should never, ever own her again.