Chapter 20 #2
Vorik didn’t sheathe his sword, but he did lower it.
Even though more than two-thirds of the people—the Freeborn Faction—were women, some were bonded with dragons, so he dared not underestimate them.
Further, in addition to the two nearby dragons, four more were in the back of the cavern, perched directly on the glowing teal ore. Wait, were they perched? Or roosting?
“Captain Vorik of the Wingborn Tribe,” the speaker said. A handsome woman with weathered bronze skin and two gray braids hanging over her shoulders, she stepped in front of the archers, though she also carried a bow. Captain Atilya.
Vorik hadn’t seen her in years, not since she’d departed to form the faction with others, but she’d been an officer in the Sixteen Talons when he’d first been inducted.
“You remember me, Atilya. I’m honored.” Vorik bowed. “But what a dreadful way you greet visitors.”
“We have to defend those who can no longer defend themselves.” She tilted her head toward the hides. Some elders were visible, doing crafting work with their hands while they observed.
“I’ll wager you don’t get holiday visitors bringing savik-berry pemmican,” Vorik said.
“A treat we’ve had to do without.”
“Dreadful. Here, despite you trying to take my head off, I’ll give you something.”
“Pemmican?”
“Better. I have pears.” Vorik smiled at her, hoping his charm would smooth the way for him to chisel some of that ore out from under a dragon.
“Some of the pears that you’ve stolen from the Garden Kingdom, I presume.” Atilya looked disapproving rather than charmed.
“They’re delicious. And I actually paid for my pears. Admittedly, the farmers who tended the orchard weren’t around, there having recently been an invasion, but I did leave coin.”
Watching but not showing concern for the archers pointing arrows at him, Vorik walked forward and held out a pear, somewhat bruised after being in his pack for two days.
It wasn’t one of the ones he’d picked at the farm on Castle Island—he’d consumed those long ago—but a couple he’d packed back at their headquarters cave.
Atilya looked at the amphora instead of the pear, her gaze flinty. The archers shifted their weight, ready to loose those arrows.
Though Vorik didn’t think he’d ever given the leaders of the Freeborn Faction a reason to want him dead, he couldn’t be certain he hadn’t wronged someone, however inadvertently, along the way. It was also possible their ideology alone might lead them to believe he should be shot.
“What is in that vase,” Atilya asked, “and why did you come here?”
“It’s an amphora, I’m told.”
The flinty gaze did not change.
“I’ve orders to acquire a few items for General Jhiton.”
Atilya looked toward the back of the cavern, at the ore deposits glowing cheerfully, some beneath dragon butts. Was its magical energy pleasant to sit upon?
“Why does General Jhiton want an amphora and teal ore?” Atilya had to be guessing about the ore, but she sounded certain, maybe because there was nothing else here, except the faction itself, that might have drawn a rider on a quest. “His hobbies are slaying people and ensuring the Kingdom will never trust our kind enough to allow us on their shores, not gathering collectibles.”
“It’s possible he’s changed since you knew him.”
“He has not.”
Vorik spread his arms. He had no intention of revealing Jhiton’s plans to these people, not when they had a history of giving stormer information to the Kingdom. As far as he knew, the Kingdom had never come to trust them, but they’d doubtless enjoyed the tidbits they’d received.
“I’m just a lowly captain,” he said. “I’m not privy to Jhiton’s plans.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And yet, he plots and schemes without me. It’s rude, isn’t it?” Vorik tried his smile again, though he doubted he would make headway with Atilya.
One of the archers, a woman in her twenties, giggled. Too bad she didn’t look like she was in charge of anything except perforating intruders with arrows. Atilya turned a cool gaze on her, and the girl wiped the amusement from her face.
Vorik waved the pear at Atilya again. “Try it, Captain. There are no strings attached.”
“It’s Chieftess. We’ve formed a tribe of our own.”
“And you’re in charge?” Vorik looked around, hoping a few others might share equally in the leadership responsibilities, others who might be more inclined to negotiate with him.
“I’ve been elected by my fellow tribe mates.”
“Elected? Goodness, that’s quite democratic.”
“I can prove my capability as a leader as necessary,” Atilya said coolly.
“I don’t doubt it.” Vorik recalled that she’d had a lot of prowess and been bonded with her dragon. Despite her gray hair, she didn’t appear to have lost her fitness.
“No? Captains Lormark and Negg had snide comments the last time we spoke.”
“I am not either of them.”
“No.” Her hackles seemed to lower slightly. “Your only fault that I remember was being your brother’s puppy.”
“He is my superior officer.”
The grunt she made didn’t suggest approval, but she waved to the archers to lower their bows. “We’ll invite Captain Vorik to have the evening meal with us and, if he wants our ore, tell us his brother’s plans.”
“I don’t know them, Chieftess,” Vorik said.
“Perhaps after a few glasses of wine, you’ll remember hearing him mention them.” Atilya smiled at him, then turned away, calling for the preparation of a meal.
Vorik scratched his jaw. Agrevlari, do you think you can dig out some of that ore? Unless Atilya is more successful in getting me drunk than I think she’ll be, we’re going to have to find a way to take it without their help. I can’t tell them the mission, lest they blather to the Kingdom.
Doesn’t the Kingdom already know what you’re up to? Agrevlari shared an image of Syla with him.
That is true, I suppose, though she’s not sending back reports to her military leaders. At least, I assume not, given that they chased her away from their island. Even if I could divulge Jhiton’s intent, telling the truth wouldn’t get me Atilya’s help. She doesn’t approve of our people’s plans.
It does seem that way. I’ll ask these dragons about the ore, but it may behoove you to see if there are other deposits around the mountain.
Can you sense any?
Only the ones in here. Others would be difficult to detect if they’re deep within the rock.
In other words, it would be much easier to take a chunk from here.
There are dragons roosting on it. It might not be that much easier.
What is its appeal? Vorik asked.
I understand it’s warm and tingles. The dragons especially enjoy this hideout in the winter.
I didn’t realize dragons were like the lions sunning themselves on flat rocks.
Tingling magical ore sounds even better than sunny lion perches, Agrevlari said.
“Come, Vorik.” Atilya waved for him and Wise to follow her. “We will treat you to a meal in the hope that you will send savik-berry pemmican this way during the holiday season.”
Why don’t I trust her, Agrevlari?
She’s immune to your charm?
That must be it.
After her poor night’s sleep, Syla dozed as Wreylith flew over the rainforest and toward the mountains.
Her subconscious remained aware enough to keep the magical tendril in place that anchored her to the dragon’s back, and, unlike their younger companion, Wreylith did not sashay or tilt alarmingly, threatening to dislodge Syla.
When she wasn’t dozing, she read the book on her great-great grandmother, the wind of dragon flight tugging at the corners of the pages.
“After sailing off to avoid an arranged marriage with Lord Gerringtor and being captured by pirates, Queen Erasbella had to find a way to cleverly escape while worrying about a further threat: dragons attacking the ship. Dragons, Wreylith. And pirates.” Syla looked at the back of the red dragon’s head.
“These things were not mentioned in any of the other books. They all said Erasbella went dutifully to her arranged marriage without complaint.”
History is recorded in such a way that it pleases the sensibilities of those doing the recording, and unpleasing accountings are sometimes made to disappear.
It is so with dragons as well. I’ve lived long enough to observe supposedly accurate historical tales changing over time with the passing generations.
“I can’t believe she was trying to avoid her marriage. The other texts all suggest she was very proper.”
She properly and soundly seduced the pirate captain and battled the dragons attacking his ship.
“You were there?”
When Wreylith didn’t answer, Syla read on.
“It looks like she went off on adventures even after her marriage and was captured another time by a ship of stormer troops. Against her bodyguard’s advice, Erasbella used the glass lenses of her spectacles— Wreylith, you didn’t tell me she wore spectacles.
Did she read a lot? Spend her youth hunkered in dark rooms in the castle while taxing her eyes?
But she was a warrior. She learned sword-fighting. ”
She did enjoy books.
“But the sword-fighting.”
Do your glass seeing circles preclude learning to wield a blade?
“Not technically, but a lack of athleticism in general makes it difficult, and poor vision doesn’t help anything.” Syla thought of Vorik’s suggestion that she learn to juggle to improve her abilities. Maybe she would try when she had time.
Erasbella did not lack athleticism.
“I guess I knew we weren’t that similar, but I’m excited to learn that she wore spectacles and was a little more like me than I would have guessed from the other history texts I’ve read.
She even seduced an enemy to get out of a jam.
I wonder if it was natural for her, or she was more like me, and a little…
” Syla kept herself from saying awkward. Wreylith might judge her for that.
Eager to learn what had happened next, Syla continued reading, sharing some of the words aloud.
“She used the glass lenses of her spectacles to capture a ray of sunlight through the porthole, directing it into straw and rat droppings that littered her cell. It started a small fire, which she encouraged to spread, though the act endangered the life of her and her bodyguard. The flames burned through the wall of the cell and into the armory on the other side, where black powder for the cannons caught fire and exploded. Though injured by the event, Erasbella and her bodyguard, who cursed the gods for placing her at the queen’s side, escaped, recovered their swords, and fought their way to the deck, the entire ship now in flame.
A great red dragon descended and plucked them up so that they might escape.
It was not the first time that the dragon had been observed in the queen’s presence, even after her marriage.
Despite her various adventures over the years, Queen Erasbella did ultimately marry Lord Gerringtor, birth children, and rule the Kingdom with grace and poise. ”
It is possible that Lord Gerringtor was convinced to act as a very humble and proper mate after witnessing Erasbella flying upon a dragon’s back and wielding a sword, Wreylith said dryly.
“You were there,” Syla said. “You were the red dragon.”
Certainly.
“Why were other dragons attacking that pirate ship in her first adventure? And why did you decide to help Erasbella?”
The pirate captain had earned the loathing of one dragon in particular.
As to the rest, I saw Erasbella battle nobly against the pirates and outmaneuver them more than once.
She did that with many enemies, including stormers and dragon riders.
Over the years, she again and again proved herself worthy.
Wreylith sounded pleased by the memories of the decades-gone queen.
Eventually, we bonded, though her duties mostly kept her on her island instead of flying about with me.
There were, however, occasional adventures when she wasn’t busy with queenly duties or birthing and raising offspring.
She saw that pirate captain more than once.
“Did she actually disappear at sea in a storm later in life?”
She might have, deciding she’d produced a capable heir, arranged to disappear and continue to have adventures until the eventual day of her demise.
“That’s amazing.”
For a puny human, yes.
“Is that when the krendala was made?”
Soon after I met her, yes, by one of the last human crafters with the knowledge and ability to make them.
Syla closed the book, pleased to learn the truth about her ancestor. If it would help her in her quest, she didn’t know, but she was beginning to understand more about Wreylith—and what did and did not impress her. With luck, that might come in useful one day.