Chapter 20 Legends #2
Pushing off the table, Ridan rubbed his eyes until spots danced behind his lids.
His decision to recall the farmers had been met with a lot of questions.
Why would he pull them in when they were going into the lean season?
He’d given them three days to harvest what they could.
What they couldn’t would feed the animals.
There was no way he would risk them so far from the clan, and he didn’t have the warriors to protect them.
The people of the Stone Blade obeyed his commands, but he could see the question in their eyes.
He would have to tell them soon. Was there a way he could tell people who had been raised in relative peace that there was something unimaginable on the horizon?
That the very thing they’d been conditioned to fear was happening?
And that their chief only knew about it because he’d dabbled in that very thing.
Only a few months into his position, and he’d already destroyed the trust they had in him. But what was the alternative? Risking his people being unprepared? No, that was worse.
Not for the first time, he thought of his mother. She never seemed to falter. Her decisions were quick and sure. Chief Restrina never worried if she would be well liked. She did what she thought was right, and their people followed her.
A warm hand laid on his shoulder. Ridan opened his eyes to see Brune looking at him with concern.
His eyebrows were drawn back to the room as he focused on Ridan.
They hadn’t been this close since that night and Ridan had to fight the urge to drop into his arms, let them wrap around him again.
Brune wouldn’t drop him. He’d press Ridan close and give him all the strength he needed.
But Ridan wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t.
How could he when he didn’t know what they were?
Brune hadn’t quite rejected Ridan’s demand for mating, but he hadn’t initiated a courtship, either.
He’d been angry about it. Ridan didn’t need all of that formality.
He wanted Brune, and Brune wanted him. They had something between them, something that transcended the uncertainty of the future.
He didn’t need it, but the longer he thought about it, he realized he wanted it.
Ridan wanted Brune to come to him like his mother had done for his father.
To hold his head high in front of his people and choose Ridan.
Somehow, Brune had known that. He’d known just how important the honor, the tradition, was to Ridan and it only made him want his alpha more.
The tent had gone quiet with Ridan’s indecision. With Brune’s rocky scent in his nose, it made it difficult to bring his mind back to where it needed to be. Taking a final deep breath, he touched Brune’s elbow gently. Just a press of fingers to let him know he was fine.
“How will they free Sinestrus?” Osmond asked from where he’d been playing with one of his daggers, lips pursed in thought. “If they even get to the mountain. How will they let him free? He’s been trapped by Artrax for millennia. It won’t be as simple as opening a door.”
Ridan paused. He hadn’t considered what would happen if Kaldonea got through them.
“Maybe there’s something in the legend?” Brune suggested, looking around the room.
“The legend has been passed down from generation to generation,” Gustall answered with a sigh.
“Details have been lost or changed with time. All we really know is that Artrax, along with a few other dragons, gathered our ancestors to fight Sinestrus in a great battle. In the end, Artrax gave his life to lock Sinestrus away in his final scale. Before leaving, the remaining dragons erected the mountain around the scale to protect it.”
Osmond nodded. “My mother told me it was the land itself that rose up in a mountain to honor Artrax.”
“My father told me it was the Elves,” Henroen said.
Ridan himself had heard several variations to the story. The core story stayed the same, but every family seemed to have their own details to throw in. It was part of what made the legend so fun to repeat around the hearth.
“What about the drawings?” Brune asked hesitantly. “The ones on the mountain. Didn’t your ancestors draw those?”
He had been preoccupied the last time he went up to the Shrieking Cliffs, but he remembered Brune looking at the drawings scrawled along the granite.
“They drew those to tell the story, right? So that it would never be forgotten?”
Gustall shrugged. “Possibly.”
“Why else would you draw something on the wall but to remind the future generations what they fought for?”
He had a point. And if they had done that, then it was likely it was as close to the truth as they could ever get.
Ridan turned to Corric. He still looked wretched, but his eyes met Ridan’s. “Find Halm and Derry. Take them to the cliffs. Get Ms. Learned to see them in person. Maybe he can find something.”
For a moment he thought Corric would fight him, but he nodded, blinking slowly. Sending Corric when he was clearly upset about something was a risk, but Jonen was out with Niklas seeing to the farmers, and he didn’t want him to be alone. Besides, Corric loved riding out to the mountain.
Corric ducked his head in deference before exiting, taking his bitter scent with him. Ridan watched his retreating back and tried not to second guess his decision.
“In the meantime, we need to make sure we have enough sentries out. If Kaldonea is coming, I don’t want to be surprised.” His counselors nodded in agreement.
“And the vulnerable? Should we send them away?”
Gritting his teeth, Ridan shook his head. As much as he would like to send them far away, it wasn’t possible. Lean months were coming for them all. No clan could take in so many mouths to feed. And with no certain date of attack, Ridan had no idea how long they would have to be away.
“Have everyone ready to leave at a moment’s notice and bring the horses in from the far pastures.”
Osmond made a face. “Off the grasses, they’ll eat through our feed quickly.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Ridan spat. “We’ll need them.”
Despite the worry about feed, the group seemed to agree with his logic.
Their horses were not only necessary for their daily lives, but the Stone Blade bred and sold them.
Every clan knew the finest horses were from Stone Blade stock.
They were more than tools or investments.
They kept his clan strong in the eyes of the other Clans.
And Ridan would need every bit of strength.
“We need to send a message to the Strong Leg.”
The entire tent went quiet. Gustall’s eye actually twitched. It was a better reaction than he expected.
“Areine is an ally.”
“Areine is tricky,” Gustall corrected.
He wasn’t wrong. The Strong Leg had prospered under his fellow omega, but there was no shortage of rumors surrounding their leader. Areine was more dangerous than a Snap Jaw during breeding season, but they didn’t have a choice.
“She is,” Ridan acknowledged. “But she’s also strong, and she needs something from us. We can’t afford to look too closely at a helping hand.”
Gustall muttered something like maybe we should but eventually agreed to find someone willing to make the five-day journey.
At best, Areine and her people would take half a month to arrive. That was worrisome.
Their meeting ended with Gustall complaining about a headache and Henroen asking Osmond if he wanted to spar. It was a rather hopeful end to what had been a stressful meeting.
Stepping out into the cool evening air, Ridan took a deep breath. Like they often did, his eyes fell to Artrax’s Mountain. It was still as tall and solid as it had been the last time he looked.
Whatever its origins, that mountain had stood for millennia. All the chiefs before him had basked in its shadow, safe in the knowledge that Sinestrus was locked away. Hidden deep within the mountain they protected.
And now Sinestrus was stirring. Rattling deep in the recesses of his prison, he was on the brink of breaking free. The greatest evil the world has ever known, the magician responsible for poisoning the land and driving the magical folk far across the seas, could be free.
Artrax, the greatest dragon to ever live, could only stop him at the cost of his life. And now it was up to Ridan.
Midday on the mountain was Corric’s favorite time. Of course, the sunsets and sunrises were spectacular riots of color splashed across the sky in so rich a shade it surely must have come from another realm. A place of wonder and awe, where magic is so banal it is considered boring.
It was easy to look at the sky then, to get lost in the beauty of something so unique.
But that’s exactly why Corric didn’t prefer it.
It was easy to love something rare and fleeting, to know you’ll never have it, so you never have to reach for it.
The best you can do is sit back and enjoy a moment's respite.
But noontime was different. It was calm. Simple. Closer to the sun, the mountain always felt bright. Even with the cool air tangling his air and stinging his eyes, it was somehow slower. When his heartbeat in his chest from the exertion of climbing, he could still find it in himself to keep going.
Peace. Corric always found peace on the mountain, surrounded by sheer drops and craggy rock. Even the little scrub bushes made him smile. They reminded him of Jonen’s wild curls.
Corric fell in love on this mountain. Rather, he finally realized he’d been in love on this mountain.
He’d been around fourteen years old and, as he always had, was following Ridan into trouble.
They’d blown off lessons again, ducking around an eagle eyed Osmond as they stole their ponies from the stable and took off.
Ridan had decided they would climb Artrax’s Flank, a particularly sheer rock wall on the eastern side of the mountain.
Chief Restrina had forbidden them from doing it just last week. Which is why they were there.