Chapter 6 #2
“In the wagon on the way here,” Fel explained. “I was inexcusably slow at readying my crossbow when there was a threat, due to my… allowing myself to become… distracted.”
“Oh.” Syla remembered Tibby’s giggle when she and Fel had been close in the wagon.
Syla hadn’t noticed that Fel had been slowed down by anything.
He might not have vaulted out of the wagon as quickly as Vorik, but Vorik was half his age.
Besides, Fel had brought his crossbow to bear and done fine in the fight.
He’d done much more than she had. “It’s all right, Sergeant.
And we all survived. I don’t think any of us were even wounded. ”
“Someone could have been. You could have been, and it’s my duty to protect you.”
“Yes, and you’re doing a great job. Especially since you were supposed to retire last month.” Syla smiled at him.
His expression remained glum. By the eyes of the moon, was he going to chastise himself for taking the time to appreciate Tibby’s feminine assets?
Syla didn’t want him to feel guilty about that.
She had no idea if Fel and Tibby were a good match—they exchanged more vitriolic comments with each other than Syla did with enemies who were trying to kill her—but there was no reason why they couldn’t explore that together.
“Vorik and I were distracted twice last night,” she offered. “Even in emotional and chaotic times, people need each other.”
“I’m a bodyguard, not a normal person. I have duties that I’m sworn to do.” Fel waved to her.
“Well, I’m a queen—though that’s probably debatable at the moment since someone else’s butt is polishing the throne—and I consider myself a person with needs, the same as anyone else.” Syla patted his arm. “You’re doing a good job, Sergeant. I appreciate you.”
“Because you’re complimenting me, I won’t point out that it would be better for the Kingdom if you were distracted by someone less… stormery.”
“Yeah, but would it be better for me?” Syla thought of the lineage of arranged marriages in her family and how few tales there were of any of them being more than civil.
Fel sighed. “Probably not. Even if he’s completely inappropriate for a queen, has slain more Kingdom soldiers than we can count, and was involved in the devastating invasion of our homeland, he… protects you.”
“I’ll let Vorik know of your growing adoration for him.” Syla patted Fel’s arm again, then walked into the front room, the kiln and furnace still radiating heat, and woke Tibby. “Sorry to disturb you when you were probably up all night, but how are things going?”
Tibby sat up and looked blearily around. She found her spectacles folded atop a book and hooked them over her ears. “It will take some time.”
Syla thought of Vorik’s three days. She also thought about how every day that she didn’t challenge Lord Fograth was another day for him to entrench himself as the ruler of the Kingdom.
“A couple more days of work, at least,” Tibby said.
“Oh, days sounds promising.” Syla had envisioned her aunt slaving away like a forge worker for months to craft the artifact.
“Not if it involves sleeping on the floor every night.” Tibby massaged her back.
“Did we get the only spare room?” Embarrassment warmed Syla’s cheeks. Her aunt was thirty years older than she and probably had more need for a mattress.
“Yes, but we all preferred that you were locked away in there anyway. Nobody wanted to hear…” Tibby waved vaguely. “More than we heard.”
Wreylith’s commentary came to mind, and Syla’s cheeks warmed even more. To change the subject, she said, “I’m thinking of taking Vorik and Wreylith to go free Teyla from imprisonment on her estate while you finish here. Fel can keep an eye out for you.”
“Fel is assigned to guard the queen.” He frowned at them from the hallway.
“Yes, but Tibby doesn’t have a dragon or a rider,” Syla said. “She needs protection.”
“You both need someone watching over you,” Fel grumbled, probably thinking of more than external threats.
“It shouldn’t take us long to reach Lake Ferringtar and collect Teyla.” Recalling the two-person-per-dragon problem, Syla added, “Or at least free her and put her on a horse heading away from her father, who was probably part of the plan to keep her locked up while her brother schemes.”
“I doubt she’s in that much danger,” Tibby said, “other than being mortally offended by being imprisoned by her own family.”
“We don’t know what’s being done to moon-marked people. Also, it sounded like Fograth is thinking of forcing Teyla to marry him. And who knows what Relvin is plotting? Regardless, Teyla was here while we were gone. She may know more about what’s been going on behind the scenes.”
“More likely, she knows about what was going on in the library while we were gone. When last I saw her, she was studying the scrolls and tools you two brought back from your desert adventure.”
Syla waved an acknowledgment, but she still felt obligated to get her cousin. “You can have the spare room here while we’re gone. You and Fel. I’m sure his back gets sore from sleeping on the floor too.”
Looking wistful, Fel let his hand stray not to his back but to his hip, and he rotated his torso to alleviate an ongoing ache.
Syla resisted the urge to suggest she could leave liniment from her first-aid kit on the bedside table for them to share. That might prompt baleful glares rather than gratitude.
“As soon as the shielder is working, we’ll take it over to Harvest Island and figure out a way to shoo away the dragons before activating it.
” Syla remembered the report that wyverns and manticores had shown up over there as well as dragons.
Hopefully, whatever they had been up to was finished and wouldn’t be an ongoing threat.
“We’ll have to take the weapons platform with us, I suppose.
I hope Major Hixun is successfully avoiding being captured by the fleet. ”
“As do I.”
Since she’d promised Vorik food, Syla wandered around until she found a small kitchen near the bedrooms in the back.
Tabuvar’s door was shut, so he was presumably still sleeping, but she opened an ice box and found salted meat, cheese, and apples.
Sadly no tarts, cobblers, or other baked goods that she could have delighted Vorik with, but Tabuvar had probably been too busy dodging enforcers rounding up the moon-marked to visit a bakery.
Not certain how ravenous dragon riders were when they woke, Syla grabbed a knife and a log of salami, a brick of cheese, and four apples while making a mental note to send payment for groceries to Tabuvar when she was back in power and had access to the Kingdom coffers.
Right now, she didn’t have any coin at all.
If she needed some along the way, she would have to put an offering urn out with a sign saying she could heal people for donations.
When she reached the door to the spare room, a few faint grunts sounded from within. Was Vorik performing morning exercises? She lifted a hand to knock but sensed Wreylith departing and paused.
Are you going to hunt, or is a threat approaching?
You are preparing to journey across the island while leaving your kin here. I will scout around this small population center to look for trouble before we depart.
Thank you. That’s thoughtful, especially since Tibby will be back here with Fel.
Yes. I will also visit the fishing boat that just sailed into the harbor. I smell stormy sea turtle eggs—I’d forgotten that they lay their clutches this time of year. Do you believe the fishermen will make an appropriate offering to a dragon?
Syla wondered how much of her dragon’s thoughtfulness was motivated by food. I think if you land on their boat in all your large magnificence, they’ll offer you anything you like.
Excellent. That is the appropriate response when a dragon comes near.
The wise response, certainly.
Yes.
The noises inside had subsided, but Syla knocked anyway before entering.
“Syla?” came Vorik’s voice.
“Yes.”
“Come on in.”
She entered with the food in her arms and found Vorik shirtless, barefoot, and upside-down on his hands with his heels against the wall. His tousled hair hung to the floor like a thatch broom.
“Handstand pushups,” he explained to her puzzled expression. “I usually start the day with exercises. Do you think Fel would spar with me?”
“I don’t know. Would it be upside-down sparring?” With daylight flowing through the window and highlighting his physique, Syla paused to admire him.
“Not necessarily, though the riders do sometimes have handstand races through the woods. It’s good for keeping your balance, something that comes in handy while on a dragon.”
“Dragons do like to tilt and roll and dive, don’t they?”
“Often. And those who aren’t bonded have to figure out how to stay on without magic.” He pushed off his hands and landed on his feet.
“They’re brave souls. Apple?”
Vorik accepted all four and, as she sliced pieces of cheese and salami, he juggled them.
First, he tossed and caught two in each hand at the same time, and then he shifted the pattern so that all four flowed through his hands in a large circle.
With his shirt off, the interplay of his relaxed muscles as he practiced was mesmerizing.
“I do enjoy a show while I’m dining,” Syla murmured, starting to wish she’d ignored the dragon tail against the window to stay in bed with Vorik longer.
“I would offer to give you your first lesson, but it sounded like you’ve another quest for us to go on.”
Not surprised that a closed door hadn’t kept him from hearing her conversation, Syla nodded. “I could use some help rescuing Teyla from her family before… while you’re still here.”
Vorik caught the apples and set three on the table before sitting on the bed to look at her. “I haven’t yet decided if I’ll go back to the tribes and put my life in danger in an attempt to lead them to a better future by assuming a position I don’t wish to have.”
Syla smiled sadly as she nibbled at a slice of cheese. “Yeah, you have.”
Vorik opened his mouth, as if he might protest, but then closed it again.
“Your honor and your duty will compel you to,” she added.
“It’s interesting how well you’ve come to know me.”
“You’ve come to know me well too.”
“We’re in… almost the same situation. Except that you’re supposed to rule your people. I’m supposed to ride a dragon, hunt, and follow orders like an obedient soldier.”
“Those are the things you’re comfortable doing, not necessarily that you were meant to do.”
“Meant to do?” Vorik took a bite from the apple and cocked his head. “Like by the gods?”
“I feel them guiding me from time to time.”
“Yes, but you’re special. I’m…” He took another bite, and apple juice dribbled down his chin to land on his pectoral, following its curve before he wiped it clean.
“Sexy and desirable?”
“Well, of course, but the legends don’t mention the gods caring much for such things.”
“You’ll do what’s best for your people, regardless of how the gods feel about it, and I…
I feel compelled to try to do the best for mine.
And also to bop Relvin in the nose and knee Fograth in the groin.
I barely know him, but he took my throne, had Teyla imprisoned, and is hunting down my moon-marked relatives. ”
“His groin deserves the attention of your knee.”
“No doubt.”
“The gods will approve.”
“I think so.” Syla took a piece of salami and sat on the edge of the bed with Vorik, her shoulder leaning against his. “I think they’d approve of you becoming chief too.”
“Jhiton and I wondered if… Well, there have been signs to suggest that you really are blessed, if not being actively helped, by the gods. It’s crossed my mind that they might not be pleased with our people for attacking yours.”
“Since the gods made the shielders to protect humanity, if they still monitor our lowly world, they might be displeased about someone destroying their artifacts.”
“That makes sense. Maybe they’d like it if we could all figure out a way to live in peace and enjoy the protection of the shields.”
“History tells us that was their original intent,” Syla said. “Before some rebellious sorts got squirrelly and left.”
“The rebellious sorts craved freedom from an oppressive regime and departed to find it. Or were exiled because they failed to obey laws.”
Syla bit into one of the crisp, tart apples. “Should I succeed in my goals, I want the regime to not be oppressive.”
“If the current lord remains in charge, oppression seems guaranteed. Especially if he’s hunting down his own people.” Vorik rested his hand on hers, his thumb brushing her moon-mark.
“That’s why I plan to get rid of him and take charge again.”
“Via the knee-groin method?”
“Absolutely. Do you doubt that I can succeed?” Syla asked it lightly, in the same joking tone as the rest of the conversation, but when she met Vorik’s eyes, she realized it was a serious question. She wanted, maybe even needed, him to say he believed in her.
“Not in the least,” he said without hesitation.
“Thank you, Vorik.”
The fisher humans have laid out an entire buffet of stormy-sea-turtle eggs for me! Delicious! Oh, one is bringing up fresh sturgeon too. And fast-fanged shark. Their flesh has an appealing pungent tang to it. It’s one of my favorite foods.
You’re not scaring them into flinging their entire week’s catch at you, are you? Syla asked.
I merely arrived and perched on their wheelhouse while informing them on the appropriateness of making offerings to dragons.
Syla suspected that meant yes, she was scaring the fishermen, and sighed.
They recognized me, Wreylith added, as your ally and said they hope my presence means you’re alive and nearby and will regain the throne soon. None of them like the usurper who has claimed it.
“Well, that’s encouraging,” Syla murmured.
At least the people were behind her.
“Hm?” Vorik asked around a mouthful of apple, a smile curving his lips as he enjoyed it.
“Wreylith is feasting, and then she’ll be ready to go.”
“We should do the same then.” Vorik removed the two unclaimed apples from the table to rest on the bed beside him.
“Are those for juggling?”
“Into my gullet, yes.”