Chapter 9 #2
“Yes, of course. But if you would, at your earliest convenience, ask—you said Colonel Mosworth was in charge, right? Please ask him to come see me. I’m the logical choice to find a replacement shielder, especially if…
” Syla took a bracing breath. “I may be the only person left alive who knows where they all are.”
“That is something we’re all keenly aware of and concerned about, Your Highness. It’s why you must stay here under our protection. You’ll have to talk to my superiors and figure out who you can trust enough to provide with maps to the shielders.”
“There’s more involved than following a map. You must also have a moon-mark and the inherent magic to open the doors that seal the chambers.” Syla held up the back of her hand.
“You’ve other relatives with moon-marks.”
Yes, her Aunt Tibby, for one… She’d almost mentioned Tibby as the engineer she wanted to bring in, but… If the lieutenant knew she was an agricultural engineer, he might balk.
“Do you know where any of them are?” Syla asked.
“We will.” Lonx nodded and assigned four of his men to accompany her to her room and guard the door from the hallway. He also sent one to stand outside her windows.
Her earlier thought that she might escape her room evaporated. Some of the royal suites had secret doors leading down to the tunnels, but, as far as she knew, hers did not.
Fel tramped after the men and walked into her room with her, but he looked like he only intended to make sure she was all right before taking a break. Syla held up a finger to request he wait, then closed the door so they were alone.
“Fel.” Even though it was morally questionable, she hoped her lingering healing magic would make him feel compelled to do as she wished, not what the soldiers thought was best for her.
Not what he thought was best for her. “I need you to get me out of here. I can’t sit here in my room, being protected. ”
Fel took a long, slow breath as he regarded her, and a muscle ticked in his cheek. Was he struggling with himself? Trying to fight away the magic that her healing had left behind?
She waited, hoping the magic would win out.
He scowled, straightened his spine, and said, “You’re the last of the royal Moonmarks.
The lieutenant is doing exactly what makes sense, and Colonel Mosworth will do the same.
You won’t talk him into something else. You need to be protected.
As you yourself pointed out, you know where the shielders are and have the power to reach and activate them. ”
“That’s exactly why I can’t stay here. I need to find Aunt Tibby and bring her to check the shielder under the castle. And if it’s not repairable, we’ll need to locate another to bring back.”
Syla tried not to think about how hard that might be. The local governments of those other islands would not approve. Yes, the queen ruled over them all, but… there now wasn’t a queen. There was only Princess Syla, the healer who’d avoided all things political and governmental for her whole life.
“I can find her,” Fel said, “and, if she survived, bring her here.”
Syla paused. Was there any reason that wouldn’t work? The thought of being prisoner here, having other people run off and do her bidding, rankled, but…
“I will find her,” Fel said earnestly, his tense face relaxing. Maybe he felt he’d found a way to obey what the magic wanted him to do while keeping her safe.
Reluctantly, Syla admitted that he had. And she had to be reasonable, not hare off on a self-appointed mission that would happen to allow her to avoid staying here to tidy a horrible and unappealing mess.
“All right, but rest for a time and get something to eat first, please. And be careful.” Syla wrote down the address of the farm where Tibby lived, though she had no idea if her aunt had remained home after the attack. With luck, the rural location outside the city hadn’t been targeted by dragons.
“I’m always careful.” Fel gave her an aggrieved look.
“Are you sure?” Syla managed a slight smile. “You’ve a lot of old injuries that suggest a possibly reckless youth.”
“What they should suggest is that I’ve guarded a lot of reckless youths.” His face was glum. Was he thinking even now about how close he’d been to his retirement?
“I suppose I could have guessed that. Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” He sighed, waved the piece of paper with the address, then again said, “I’ll find her.”
“Thank you.”
After he departed, Syla paced her room.
As late as it was, she should have slept, and yawns did plague her, but she was too agitated for rest. Besides, after the horrors of the day, her dreams would all be nightmares.
She wished she could do something and started to second-guess sending Fel away.
If Tibby was out on the farm or in any of the agricultural buildings when Fel arrived, he might not find her.
It was also possible that she wouldn’t remember him and come when he called.
She also might have been attacked and be injured or dead.
With a moon-mark of her own, she would be a target.
Syla groaned and eyed her pack, wishing she’d tried harder to talk Fel into taking her. She untied the flap, debating if she should remove anything or… perhaps add to it in case she yet ended up going on a journey.
As she poked around, her fingers brushed the hard, glass-like wings of the dragon figurine. She pulled it out, and its magic warmed her hand. Surprised, she almost dropped it. It hadn’t done that before. She’d sensed its magic but couldn’t remember the figurine ever being warm to the touch.
Uneasy, she set it aside.
As she rubbed her palm on her dress, she thought of the strange Captain Vorik and his ploy, or whatever it had been.
Was he truly waiting nearby in case she changed her mind and showed up?
Maybe she should have sent the troops to check the lighthouse.
But if his dragon was with him, he would be dangerous, and more people could end up killed.
Even without his dragon, he was dangerous.
She recalled the amazing speed and strength with which he’d fought. It hadn’t seemed… human.
She picked up the figurine, intending to set it back on its shelf, but its magic intensified.
She dropped it, pulling her hand back. Goosebumps rose all along her arms. Was it her imagination, or could she see the figurine radiating power? In all the years she’d had it, she’d never noticed anything like this from it.
“Are you more active right now because dragons are nearby?” Syla wondered.
Of course, it did not answer. But when she reached out and touched it again, an image came to mind. Or… was it a vision?
In her mind’s eye, she saw a great red-scaled dragon flying through a night sky brightened by stars and a half moon. Then, the perspective shifted, and she witnessed the world through the eyes of that dragon, the dark waves of the sea far below. How strange.
It—no, somehow Syla knew that the dragon was a she—was flying miles out to sea, but lights were visible on the shoreline of a distant island.
Castle Island. Syla recognized its contours even though far fewer lanterns burned in the streets and houses than usual. Many of those homes had been destroyed.
As the dragon continued on, Syla saw the lighthouse that Vorik had mentioned. It was quite distant, but the creature’s keen eyes had no trouble spotting another dragon perched atop it.
Beauteous Wreylith, a male telepathic voice said. Was… it speaking to the red dragon? Your presence honors me. Do you wish to go on a hunt?
There is a human on your back, the red dragon said, and you have been scurrying around doing his bidding. I have no interest in hunting with a dragon who is a peon for humans.
I am not a peon. I can fly free whenever I wish. It is only because I seek access to the delicious prey sheltered on these islands that I am assisting with the human scheme.
And because you’ll do whatever that rider wishes. He is less pathetic than many of his kind, but to lend him your power and let him be your master… It is disgraceful.
Captain Vorik is not my master, most beauteous Wreylith. We work together as a team. You’re looking lovely flying out there under the silvery moon with the starlight gleaming on your wings. I would enjoy hunting with you and showing you my prowess. I am a powerful dragon, not a peon.
Hush, Agrevlari. A feeling of startled suspicion came from the red dragon. We are monitored.
Syla sensed the dragon looking straight toward the castle, straight at her.
Still in her room, she stumbled back, removing her hand from the figurine. Her heart hammered. What was this artifact that had allowed her to witness a private conversation between two dragons?
Maybe it hadn’t been real, simply her imagination, but enough magic flowed through her veins that she recognized it at play. That had been—
Who dares spy upon a dragon? the female’s voice boomed into Syla’s mind.
She wanted to quail and maybe to hide under the bed, but dragons respected power and bravery, so she dared not show weakness. But should she tell the truth? Or lie?
No, dragons reputedly didn’t respect liars or lie themselves as part of their way. Besides, couldn’t dragons read the thoughts of men? Was this one not, even now, communicating telepathically with her? Speaking words straight into her mind?
I am Princess Syla, and I inherited this figurine from my father. I did not realize it had the ability to communicate with dragons.
To spy upon dragons. The female sounded furious.
Abruptly reminded that the sky shield was down, and the building her room was in would not protect her from a dragon, Syla groped for a conciliatory response.
It was inadvertent spying. I wasn’t aware that this artifact could allow that. Please forgive my transgression. I would not intentionally disturb your kind. Syla stopped, realizing she sounded obsequious and that a dragon wouldn’t respect that.
The silence that followed worried her. What if the female dragon was now flying toward the castle? Intending to end her for her presumption?
Syla rubbed her face. To have survived everything else this night only to be snapped in two by a dragon who wasn’t even involved in the conflict…
I’m a healer, she added on the off chance that it might matter. If you’ve any wounds or know anyone in need of my services, I would be happy to offer them at no cost. As a means of apologizing for my inadvertent intrusion.
“Obsequious, Syla,” she groaned to herself. “You sound even more obsequious.”
A healer capable of effectively treating dragons? The female’s telepathic voice sounded closer now—maybe she was on the way to kill Syla. It takes magic to heal a dragon in a way that nature and time cannot, and humans are generally pathetic and inept.
I am moon-marked. In case the dragon didn’t know or care what that meant, Syla added, My ancestors were blessed by the gods before their kind left this realm.
Those of us with the moon-mark have the ability to use magic in some way or another.
She didn’t mention the shielders. They already had far too much attention from dragons.
I am a healer and have used my power on many beings in addition to humans.
Dogs, cats, horses, a gerbil… She didn’t mention those.
Hm.
Syla scratched her jaw. What did that mean?
I recently battled a storm yeti and inadvertently stepped in a basilisk den. I have a wound.
I… I could take a look. By the eyes of the moon, Syla hadn’t expected the dragon to actually be in need of her services. Could she truly use her magic on a dragon?
If you are able to heal my injury, you may live. Did the dragon sound even closer? Was she coming to pick up Syla?
That’s very generous. What if I, uhm, fail?
There is a transgression that must be accounted for.
Does that mean you’ll kill me?
I shall make it swift with little pain. Despite being called a wild dragon, I am more civilized than many of my brethren.
Good to know.
The dragon didn’t answer.
Syla swallowed and stared at the figurine, feeling betrayed by her father’s gewgaw. He’d loved her. He surely hadn’t meant to leave her something that could offend dragons. He must not have known.
Since he’d passed, she could never ask him.
“Unless the dragon kills me and I meet my father in the afterlife,” she said, jumping when a shadow flew across her window.
The red dragon had arrived.