Chapter Eleven #3
Sitting up on his haunches, he looked like a dog begging for a scrap, but he was no dog.
His intelligence was far beyond any beast I had ever spoken with, including ravens or monkeys.
Pigs were also quite smart, but nothing in comparison to this icy blue wyrmling.
He had not been lying when he said dragons hatched with great intelligence.
And he grew smarter with each passing sun.
The more exposure to the world he had, the smarter he seemed, picking up new words rapidly.
Now it was akin to conversing with one of the royal twins.
In a season or two, his wisdom would dwarf all of ours, I was sure.
What would happen then, only the goddess knew.
Does the goddess forbid it for dragons?
I rubbed at my sleepy eyes, the terror of that night vision easing. No, she knows that the beasts who eat meat require it for their survival. She expects higher beings such as elves, humans, and dwarves to exhibit more gracious examples. That did not make sense. I am tired.
The goddess seems wise. I will keep eating what I catch. You may eat grass like the ponies.
I smiled and handed him the bloody squirrel, which he then took to the meager fire to eat. Right next to Smuta’s sleeping form. I did not know if he did such things on purpose to rankle the female, but I had suspicions…
“You look ready to tumble,” Smuta said to my left, shaking me from my memories of last night.
“I had a bizarre dream that woke me last night,” I confessed, Newt plodding along a path beside the lake that showed signs of heavy use. We were close to the settlement of Lettle Curve.
“As did I! I dreamt I was chewing on sticks. Crunchy sticks. Damnedest dream I ever had. Do I look like a beaver?” she asked me, and I quickly shook my head. “Stupid dreams. Don’t make no sense at all.”
“No, they do not,” I rushed to agree. This was the most she had spoken to me since Jaculi joined us. I genuinely liked her and wished to keep her as a friend. “I dreamt I was falling from the moons last night.”
She looked over at me as we rode along, her pony keeping pace with mine as Asdren and the others brought up the rear. My tracking skills had me in the lead, but a child could have noted the torn-up path around the lake.
“Maybe it was the herbs you cooked those turnips in. I told you they tasted like arse.”
“Perhaps.” I doubted that the subtle prairie sage I had stewed the freshly dug field turnips in had caused our dreams. I caught a soft whiff of freshly hewn lumber.
The pine scent of rough-cut boards was out of place.
I brought Newt to a halt, my gaze darting about.
The wind brought with it the distinct stink of boiled lace beetle, a protective finish rubbed into soft woods after being cut to protect the wood while in transit.
“Show yourself!” I barked as the others in my party came to a quick halt.
“Chirp, there ain’t nothing or no one for miles,” Asdren said from the rear.
“There is someone nearby who smells of a lumberyard.” I reached back for my bow and had an arrow nocked in seconds.
A thin elven woman stepped out of a large tangle of brambles.
The dwarves gasped in shock at her appearance.
Her hood was down, revealing long, pointed ears and black hair shorn short on the side but worn long down the middle.
Her skin was warm bronze with a black moth tattoo on her right cheek.
She wore muted tans, browns, and dark greens to match the colors of the environment.
Boots of soft kid leather and twin daggers on her hip.
Her dark brown eyes flew to me after a quick assessment of the dwarves.
“Do you know the song that the moon willow sings to the dusk?” she asked me.
“Yes, it sings of the frost touching the elder woods.”
I lowered my bow and returned my arrow to its quiver.
She nodded. “Your nose is commendable. Follow me. We have things to discuss in private.” She gave the dwarves a fast glance, turned away and melted back into the blackberry brambles, disappearing from sight as if she were a mirage.
Knowing who this person was, or more precisely what this person was, I slid off Newt to find my traveling companions wearing expressions of distrust aimed at the blackberry bush.
“This is a contact from the king,” I explained, jerking my thumb at the brambles. “I will speak with her then return. Please rest the ponies and yourselves.”
Not a one of the Sable Legion said a word.
They merely nodded, but Asdren’s blue eyes were narrowed.
I spun from his assessing stare and melted into the brambles, low to the ground, following the small path my contact had created.
She sat in the middle of the massive thorn bush, plucking small berries from the bushes. I knelt in front of her.
“Pine Outrider, I have a verbal message from our Shadow Master,” she confided, her lips now stained bluish-black from the berries. “I have been here for three days. You are late.”
“We ran into some trouble in the mines. Rockslides.” She stared hard at me. “Apologies for the wait.” She said nothing, just ate more berries. “Verbal is good. What does he say?” I rested on one knee, my elbow on the other.
“You are to ride onto Lettle Curve, where you will take possession of your horse. A contact that is trusted mentioned a half-elf privateer established in the harbor town of Quinn’s Quay. This could be the elf we seek.”
“Possibly, but I would assume there are many half-breeds sailing the Stormhold.”
“True, piracy is a calling for those unwanted in their own communities.” I could only nod in agreement while trying to pull up a person that I knew of in the elevated city of Quinn’s Quay.
I had never traveled that far north before, so how I could know of someone there seemed questionable.
“You are to ride hard for the town overlooking the Stormhold. Your horse and fresh provisions are waiting for you in Lettle Curve. I have a down payment for the dwarves whose services are no longer required.”
“Wait. No, I…” I rushed to whisper. She cocked a thin brow. “I hoped they might ride with me to find the elf in question.”
“No, they are not. They will slow you down.”
“But they’re…” I glanced back to where the dwarves waited but saw only brambles. My eyes left the thorny tangle to touch on my contact. “They’ve been good companions.”
“And will be well compensated for their escort through the tunnels. That is where their involvement ends.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek.
She tipped her head, thick black hair tumbling into a wary eye.
“Is there a reason you seem reluctant to carry out your instructions from the Shadow Master?”
“No. No, I just…” How could I explain to this spy that I had grown fond of the band of mercenaries? Especially fond of the leader. “I shall do as bidden by our master.”
“As it should be. You will leave Lettle Curve before the sun rises on the morrow. Ride hard and true, stop only long enough to rest your horse. The king and our master grow edgy and worrisome about this elf they seek. Rumors are filtering in that he may have docked, unloaded his stolen goods, and then set sail. If that is the case, we will have a much harder time finding him, so time is of the essence.” She passed me a small bag of coins, which I shoved into a leather pouch on my belt.
“You should wear this as well.” She removed a slim copper ring from her finger.
“It has the mark of the moth clan on it. If you run into clans on the plains, that will give you safe passage.”
“I understand.” I slid the ring onto my pinkie finger and bowed my head to her. “May Sofriel, the wind god, bless you as you journey forth.”
Her dark eyes flared at the blessing of the tundra clans. “May he bless your mission as well,” she softly replied. “I am surprised you know of my people’s gods and our bless—”
A rustle behind us pulled our attention from each other. Jaculi appeared, wriggling through the tangled briars, golden eyes shining as he found me first.
“By Sofriel,” the young woman whispered. “Is that a…”
“Yes, it is.”
Why do you hide in the thorns with this female? Is she stealing you? I will eat her eyes if you but command it.
No, she is not stealing me. We are talking, that is all.
I do not trust her. He climbed up my back, claws digging into my leather armor, until he sat on my shoulder with his tail curled around my neck.
The spy maiden gaped openly then touched her brow and began whispering what sounded like prayers in tundra speak.
I pet his scaly back to calm him as if he were a distressed cat.
“You are more than a whisper in a gilded ear. You are a wyrmwarden. Blessed among those who walked the plains as their bonded wyrms flew above. I have heard tales…never…may I present your wyrm a small offering?”
Tell her if it is meat, then yes. If not, I will decide once I see it.
“He would be honored for any offering you present,” I said instead as I scowled at the dragonling.
That is not my wording.
Your wording was rude.
Not rude. Honest. Oh, that is a pretty stone! Tell her I accept it.
I glanced down to see a round gem of darkest green lying on the dirt. My contact was nowhere to be seen, but her gift to Jaculi glimmered in the thin beams of sunlight breaking through the brambles.
Jaculi leapt from my shoulder, tail lashing in delight, as he curled around the offered gemstone, tucking it into his belly as a cat might a ball of yarn.
As he played with the gem, I took a moment to try to realign my thoughts and feelings.
Leaving Asdren behind felt wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong.
Yet those were my instructions. I had to obey the orders sent down to me.
“Let us leave these berries before a bear wanders in,” I whispered over the clump of sadness in my throat. Jaculi grabbed his gem in a clawed foot and tucked it into my shirt. I removed it with care before dropping it in with the bag of coins.
You may hold my horde as we build it. I trust you and only you.
Thank you for your trust. How large of a horde do you think will fit in my shirt? We crawled out of the berries. Asdren and the others were seated beside a pile of rocks cleared from the roadway over time.
Just the seeds of one.
With that, he took to the air, using the warm currents to lift him skyward as I straightened, dusted my knees, and locked eyes with Asdren. I could not judge what he was thinking at the moment.
“We are to ride to Lettle Curve as planned,” I told them and then moved to Newt, who was dozing while standing.
I ran a hand over his nose as the others mumbled amongst themselves.
I knew I should tell them that once we reached the settlement, our time together was at an end.
They had done the job they had been hired to do and had done it well.
They had gotten me through the Iron Gates and into Grommveldir, through the tunnels, and out the other side.
They would be paid handsomely. They would leave, and I would ride off to complete my mission.
There the friendships would end. As it should. Perhaps it should never have started…
“You elves sure to find the oddest places to have meetings,” Asdren said from behind me, his voice shaking me from my worries.
I glanced back at him. He seemed stiff in the shoulders as well as the set of his hairy jaw.
His eyes told me he knew what kind of meeting had taken place off the road.
He was not a stupid man. He waited a moment or two for me to speak.
When I said nothing, he spoke up. “Whenever you get on your pony, we can head off. A bath and a soft bed would do wonders for my aching back.”
“I am ready,” I softly replied, unable to say more. I rode away from the berry bush with a gem the size of a plum in my pocket and an ache in my breast.