Chapter 9 #2
“If we don’t allow dragons in, there might be enough land for hunting, but…
we raise livestock for a reason. There are some wild animals, yes, but I think if you wanted to live here, your people would have to do some animal husbandry.
You’d still have your dragon allies, presumably, and they could take you to the mainlands to hunt. ”
“I… actually don’t know if we would still have our dragon allies.
All along, they’ve been willing to work with us because we always told them…
Well, gaining access to the protected Kingdom islands has long been a goal of our people.
If we said hello to your proposition, we might be saying goodbye to our dragon allies and a huge part of our culture.
” Vorik didn’t release Syla, but he looked grimly out at the land, the cloudy sky growing darker with the approach of twilight.
Even though this was a far better offer than any ruler of the Garden Kingdom had ever made to his people, Vorik felt bleak at the thought of losing so much of what it meant to be a stormer.
Without Agrevlari’s bond, his magical power would dwindle to nothing.
That would be true for all of the bonded dragon riders.
And beyond that admittedly selfish interest, Vorik would miss Agrevlari terribly.
He would miss all of the dragons, even the crusty ones like Ozlemar. Well, maybe not Ozlemar.
“The Freeborn Faction riders aren’t after our islands, and their dragons have stuck with them,” Syla pointed out.
“Some of them have. Some have left.”
“But not all left. In my brief time with a dragon, I’ve learned that what they say they want and will endure doesn’t always match up with what they do. It’s possible Agrevlari likes you for you.”
“I do sing to him and give him smoked salmon. Though I haven’t done that for a while. I’d better see if I can find some delicacies from Castle Island to take back to him.”
“I’ll help you look in the farmhouse stores, though I’m afraid this isn’t the place to find sturgeon caviar.
” Syla shifted in his arms to face Vorik more fully and rested a hand on his chest. “I wouldn’t expect all of your people to agree to live in camps on our islands.
What if we just made it an option? Of course, I would want there to be a formal treaty so that we didn’t allow some of your people in and leave others out to scheme and plan another invasion that the next generation would have to deal with.
” She winced. “Am I naive to consider this at all? When nobody in history has suggested it before? You don’t seem enthused by the idea. Will your people reject it?”
“I think some of them would be interested. And the Freeborn Faction would love a spot under a shield. I could foresee problems though. Our cultures have deviated a lot over the generations.”
“You’ve allowed yourself to be infected with dragonness.”
“Says the person wearing a bright new red tattoo on one hand.”
“I accepted Wreylith’s bond for the good of my people.”
“Oh, I have no doubt. Did she warn you about the clothing incineration during the ceremony and that it’s wise to disrobe beforehand?”
“She didn’t warn me, no. Fortunately, that dress was already damaged from the road—the gargoyle-littered road.”
Vorik brushed hair back from her face, feeling warmth for her.
For her humor and also her willingness to try to find a solution that would benefit his people.
“You’re not naive, I don’t believe, but you’re more gentle and accommodating than those who’ve ruled before you.
I would say it’s possible that someone—or a group of people—would try to take advantage of that, but Wreylith is neither gentle nor accommodating, so I think anyone who challenges you would run up against that.
And you… you certainly have the wherewithal and determination to act for the good of your people if necessary.
” He winced as he remembered the mess at the mine.
“It was only my idea to use the water to cut off access to the shielder,” she said, as if she could read his thoughts. With the event so recent, maybe it was obvious what he was wincing about. “Lord Oyenar was the one who wanted to drown every stormer who would walk into that trap.”
Vorik winced again.
“Sorry, that was blunt. I know you lost friends and your brother, but the stormers have taken so much from me that I couldn’t bring myself to detest Oyenar for desiring that outcome. After Lesva destroyed part of his city and kidnapped his wife, he probably felt justified.”
“War is difficult. We all make choices that we wouldn’t otherwise. If I get an opportunity, I will mention to the tribal leaders that you might be open to allowing stormer camps on some of the islands. Assuming they can offer something in exchange. You’d want that, wouldn’t you?”
She started to shake her head, but he held up a finger.
“If they have to bargain hard and give up something for it… it’ll mean more. They’ll want it more, and maybe there’ll be less plotting later on. Gifts aren’t cherished as much as something that is fought, clawed, and striven for.”
“That’s a fair point, although you cherished the first blackberry cobbler I gave you.”
“Oh, I worked for that cobbler. The thorns scratched up my hands while I was gathering berries, and I had to save your life a couple of times before you had any interest in baking for me.”
“Another fair point.”
“I’m an excellent pointer.”
“I never had to do a lot of negotiating in the temple. I may need more practice.”
“You’ll learn. Especially if you have to deal with our tribes on a regular basis. We’re difficult.”
“Really. I never would have guessed.”
Vorik smiled and contemplated kissing her, but the whinny of a horse drifted across a field to them.
“Someone’s here,” he said.
“It should be Teyla.” Full darkness had fallen, and Syla stepped outside to peer across the field and canal toward the road leading to the farmhouse. “Yes, there’s her carriage, but…”
Vorik joined her outside. “She picked up followers. Enforcers?”
There weren’t any lights burning around the farmhouse or on the road leading to it. He could make out silhouettes—several riders on horses followed behind the carriage—but couldn’t tell if they wore uniforms.
“It’s possible enforcers stole Teyla’s carriage and have already arrested her,” Syla said.
“I’ll check on it,” Vorik said as the horses pulled to a stop at the fence in front of the farmhouse. The carriage door opened, and someone hopped out.
“Syla?” came a distant call.
“Oh, good. That is Teyla.”
Syla didn’t immediately call back though, not until Teyla added, “Are you out here? There’s a fleet captain with me who says she’s in your employ. She has two Royal Protectors with her, or I might not have believed her.”
“It’s Captain Vonla, Your Majesty,” came another familiar voice.
“I’ll be right there,” Syla called back across the field, then lowered her voice to add, “Now that all the farmers in the area know I’m here.”
Vorik snorted, but the parcel of land was so large that he doubted people on neighboring farms had heard the calls. “Your people aren’t being that helpful with your attempt to make a stealthy trip across your island.”
“I think the stealth plan blew up when Wreylith lit an enforcer wagon on fire.”
“Possibly so. Per our previous discussion, it can be challenging to engage in stealth while riding a dragon.”
Syla headed down the road instead of cutting across the field in the dark, and Vorik started after her, but an uneasy sensation crept over him. His instincts told him that he was being watched. Was someone out there spying from the fields? Maybe the calls had been unwise after all.
As Teyla and the captain headed up the road to meet Syla, Vorik stopped and looked all around.
He also looked up, a lifetime of experience reminding him that threats often came from above.
He almost admonished himself since that wasn’t the case on the shielded island, but he scanned the night sky just in case.
The rain had stopped, but the clouds remained dense, so no moon or stars brightened the expanse, but he spotted movement high above.
A dragon flying over the barrier, looking down upon Castle Island.
And was that… a rider? As keen as Vorik’s eyes were, he struggled to make out the dark figures against the dark clouds.
Agrevlari? Are you still near?
I’m not far but not close. The dragons that were meeting on the Island of Eliok are departing, heading to Froha, likely for the great congregation of the tribes. One dragon has chosen a route that carries him over Castle Island. One who is not pleased with either of us.
Ozlemar? Vorik was too far below the dragon to sense him, but the blackness of his scales seemed absolute.
Yes.
Is someone riding him? Was it his imagination or was a cloak flapping behind that rider? It couldn’t be…
Jhiton, Agrevlari said with certainty.
It can’t be. He’s dead. I slid my own blade into his gut an instant before the ceiling collapsed on him. And then the entire mine flooded.
Nonetheless, that is who rides Ozlemar.
Vorik shook his head, unable to believe that even a rider gifted with the magic of a dragon bond could have survived all that.
You already knew that Captain Lesva found a way out of the mine, Agrevlari pointed out.
Yes, but I didn’t drive a sword into her or watch tons of rock drop on her head.
The black dragon continued past without slowing, but Vorik couldn’t believe the trajectory had been accidental. Somehow, Ozlemar had known where Vorik was and had been checking on him. Jhiton had been checking on him.
For a moment, Vorik started to feel relief and even delight that he hadn’t succeeded in killing his brother—he’d never wanted that—but…
if Jhiton was alive, he would be pissed at Vorik.
Very pissed. And if he was heading to the meeting of the tribes, he would add his voice to Lesva’s in explaining in precise detail how Vorik had betrayed him and their people.
Vorik bent and gripped his knees. He felt compelled to fight for the tribe and try to sway his people, but that seemed more of an impossibility than ever.