POCHA
Surely the food was strange—unfamiliar fruits garnished with sweet-tasting flower petals, bread rolls baked into the shape of roses, somehow, and steeped in butter and honey, and fried eggs so large, she shuddered to think what sort of creature had laid them, though they tasted delicious.
But far stranger than the food was the company.
“Yeah, they bake each layer individually, then fuse it together with honey. It’s amazing,” she was saying to Lure, explaining the rolls.
The Oracle smiled. “It’s sort of a dread pirate thing,” she said. “And lots of face cream.”
Everyone exchanged nods and tentative smiles.
“Bo and Kitty showed up yesterday,” the Oracle explained.
“Everyone here seems to need some help from me and all of you are bound together with Essa and Charlie in one way or another, so I thought it might work well if we all put our heads together. Let’s start with Kitty and Bo, since they arrived first,” the Oracle turned her attention to the newcomers.
“Hiya,” the blonde said.
“Kitty came to ask about a cure for vampyrism,” the Oracle said.
Looking at the Admite woman more closely, Pocha did notice her enlarged incisors and the perfect, luminous quality of her skin.
“I hit the books after we talked yesterday,” the Oracle went on.
“It turns out, there is a supposed cure for vampyrism—drinking dragon’s blood.
Which explains why, traditionally, Skrathan have never had a problem with becoming vampyres.
Who knew? And coincidentally, some dragon riders just showed up.
See how the stars align for us! Maybe they’d offer you a sip of dragon blood, who knows?
You all can work that out amongst yourselves. ”
Pocha exchanged a glance with the woman the Oracle had called Kitty.
She wasn’t sure how Razune would feel about giving up some of her blood, and she wasn’t about to ask her—not now.
She and the other dragons were still outside Umsir, helping the Oracle’s warrior priestesses bury the dead and search for survivors following the battle.
“As an interesting side note, I ran across something else,” the Oracle continued.
“Becoming a vampyre has actually been known to reverse blindness in some people. Now, the vision it restores isn’t exactly normal vision.
It’s sort of strange and shadowy. But it’s better than nothing, apparently.
Again, that’s something for the two of you to work out together. ”
The woman, Kitty, seemed stricken as she looked to her companion—the one the Oracle had called Bo—and the two leaned together and whispered.
“Now, Pocha and Lure,” the Oracle went on.
“The two of you had several requests. First, you needed rescuing from that mean ol’ witch.
We took care of that—although she’ll be back.
I’ve seen that in my scrying. And you had some friends who she’d placed in a magical slumber.
The healers are working on awakening them. It shouldn’t be long now.”
A priestess stepped forward and whispered into her ear. The Oracle’s eyes lit up.
“Oh, apparently they’re awake now. Let’s bring them in.”
The doors at the far end of the room opened, and there were Rohree and Clua, each clad in a simple green tunic and each leaning heavily on a priestess at least three times their size.
Pocha shot to her feet.
“Oh, my…” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t believe it…”
They’d dragged these two down roads, through forests, and across mountains like a couple pieces of luggage.
She’d defended them. Washed them. Sang to them—all with little hope they’d ever recover, but without a single thought of leaving them behind.
Seeing them awake and on their feet again was almost too much to bear.
Clua turned her steely eyes on the Oracle.
“Thank you,” she said in a hoarse voice.
And Rohree nodded, bowing so low her antlers nearly touched the floor.
Whether in the presence of the hallowed Oracle or not, Pocha couldn’t bear the formality.
She rushed over and embraced both her friends, nearly bowling them both over in the process.
Fortunately, Lure appeared, too, wrapping them all in a strong, steadying embrace.
“Aw,” the Oracle smiled, watching them all in a bunch.
“The healers said we’ve been unconscious for over a month?” Clua asked.
“Yes. We have a lot to catch you up on,” Pocha said.
Rohree unslung a bag from her shoulder. “These are still sealed,” she said. “You didn’t read them?”
A satchel had been found with Rohree when she’d fallen. They’d kept it with her all this time, assuming it contained her personal effects. With everything else going on, Pocha had never given the bag much thought.
“Read what?” Pocha asked.
“Gods!” Clua grumbled. “This was correspondence Rohree stole from the Witch. At great risk to herself, I might add.”
Pocha and Lure exchanged a glance.
“That might explain why the Witch has been relentlessly pursuing us ever since,” Lure said wryly.
“Well, let’s open them,” the Oracle said, sounding excited.
They eased the Clua and Rohree into chairs, dumped the scrolls onto the table, and began cracking wax seals and scanning letters.
“Hmm. This looks like a request for supplies,” Lure said. “Boring.”
“This is a tally of golenae and Lacunae stationed near Iyafelt. Two hundred and fifty-three golenae and six hundred and ten Lacunae…” Clua muttered.
Pocha opened hers and frowned. “I can’t read this,” she said. “It’s written in some sort of runes I’m not familiar with…”
“May I have a look?” the Oracle asked. She reached for the scroll, and for the first time, Pocha noticed a faintly glowing, star-shaped marking on the palm of her hand. It was the only remotely magical thing she’d noticed about their host so far.
The Oracle scanned the scroll, her lips pursed in thought.
“Hmm. It’s written in Krahgun, one of the languages of the Void,” she said. “We have several very interesting books in our library written in Krahgun and I’ve been working on learning it. Let’s see if I can translate…”
Everyone leaned in, curious to heard what the Oracle would say. She scanned the words for a long time, looking more grave by the moment.
“Well?” Lure said finally.
“It’s about the Sylph Lord,” the Oracle said, her eyes ticking from line to line. “This… this is…” she shook her head.
“What?” Pocha asked with rising impatience, for the Oracle’s expression was alarming her.
The Oracle dropped the scroll onto the table. “We need to scry. Now. Come on.”
“Why?” Lure asked.
“What’s going on?” Clua pressed, as they all followed the Oracle into an adjoining room.
“Close those curtains,” the Oracle commanded. “Light the torches.”
A pair of priestesses appeared seemingly from nowhere and did as the Oracle commanded. Everyone else gathered around the large scrying basin as the Oracle leaned over it, waving one glowing palm over its dark, still waters. Instantly, the pool came to life, shapes moving in its depths.
Pocha’s parents had raised her to distrust Void magick, and she had always found scrying a little scary.
And yet, try as she might, she found her gaze drawn now to the shapes looming and shifting beneath the surface of the pool.
She saw only writhing, amorphous figures, like wisps of dark smoke, but the Oracle must’ve seen something else, for she gasped.
“What?” Clua demanded, red-faced with impatience.
“Is it Essa?” Rohree asked, taking Clua’s hand for reassurance.
“The letter said the Gray Brothers owe allegiance to the Sylph,” the Oracle muttered, still staring into the water.
“Kortoi has been clearing the way for their conquest of Maethalia. In the letter, they were discussing when the Sylph Lord should come with his armada to capture Issastar and Charcain.”
Pocha’s mouth fell open. “Essa is there... isn’t she?”
“Charlie’s there, too,” Kitty said.
Lure frowned at her. “Wait. Charlie is alive?”
“We must warn Essa,” Pocha said. “When are the Sylph coming?”
The Oracle lifted her gaze from the black water to meet Pocha’s eye, her expression grim.
“They’re already there.”