Chapter 27
It took the peacekeepers who’d cried out from the boardwalk longer than it should have to reach the far side of the island.
Maybe they’d wanted to make sure the dragons were truly gone before arriving.
By the time the gnome captain, several of his troops, and two golems came into view, the scents of baking bread were wafting into the air.
Given that the dough was not only black from the squid ink addition but glowing from whatever magic the luminescent yeast had instilled into it before their passing, it smelled surprisingly good.
Rylana wouldn’t dare ask for a sample though.
She wanted the whole loaf to be set on the offering pedestal in front of the troll-god statues.
“What happened here?” Captain Laridon glanced at the rubble from the destroyed temple but gave the fallen pillar a much longer look. It had stopped glowing and sparking and lay quiescent.
“Earthquake,” Rylana said.
“Either that or it fell over in fear at the arrival of dragons,” Sylin said.
“It would never,” the captain said. “The great magic of our pillars is made to defend against dragons—against anyone who comes within Tranquility’s borders to enact violence.”
“It also defends against those who try to stop those who want to enact violence.” Rylana shook her hand. Though the beam had mostly struck her bow, the nimbus of its power had left her fingers numb.
Sylin looked toward the road, then headed to the beach instead of commenting further on the pillar. She probably wanted to fold up her net in case she needed to use it again someday.
“It should not have struck my bookkeeper and partner, Rylana,” Jildarin said from the oven. He was monitoring the bread diligently as it baked. “She sought only to defend herself against a vengeful female dragon who interrupted our important quest.”
“The pillars will strike anyone who raises a weapon—or a fang or claw—within Tranquility’s borders. This island is a jewel of our great city, so I will order a repair team out as soon as it is safe to do so.” Captain Laridon arched his eyebrows as he considered the oven and the troll temple.
“We hope this works and it will be soon,” Rylana said. “The curse is disruptive to everyone. It’s even interfering with the dragons’ ability to hunt.”
“Tragic,” Laridon muttered.
“Hello again, Sergeant Falcon,” came the elf captain’s dry voice from the road.
Rylana swore and spun about to warn Sylin. Thankfully, she’d already disappeared. She could sense an elf coming from miles away.
Captain Tassani looked from Rylana and her bow to the oven, the scent of baking bread unmissable, and finally to the offering platform. Either Sylin or Jildarin had fully cleared it of dirt.
“Hello, Captain,” Rylana said. “You and Captain Laridon missed the dragons.”
“That’s disappointing,” Tassani said.
The gnome captain shook his head, not appearing disappointed in the least, merely daunted as he continued to survey the damage.
“Are you and the peacekeepers here to detain us again?” Rylana asked, though maybe she shouldn’t have brought that up. At the moment, nobody was eyeing her menacingly while waving handcuffs.
“Actually, after getting your intentions from the dwarf baker, we found a troll shaman to see if she could help.” Tassani nodded back along the road, and a gray-skinned troll with braids of white hair walked into view, clattering a little, thanks to no fewer than twenty necklaces she wore.
They featured beads, finger bones, shells, and other quirky items. The troll strode straight toward the newly revealed temple, carrying a scepter with what looked like a fossilized egg mounted to the top.
“Lord Dragon,” the shaman rumbled as she climbed down into the temple without remarking on whether she’d known about it or was surprised by its revelation. “I will bless the sacred bread.” Ignoring Rylana, she stood beside the oven, raised her arms, and sang in her native tongue.
The bread seemed to glow brighter. And did the troll-god statues in the temple also start to glow? Or was that just the sun coming out from behind a cloud and shining vibrantly upon the ancient stone? Probably.
“My senses tell me that the dragons have departed the area completely.” Tassani gazed toward the southern end of the lake.
“I regret that we arrived too late for me to assist you in battling them. From what I saw, they were determined to stop this for some reason.” He extended a hand toward the oven, though it drifted back toward Rylana.
“Actually, they seemed intent on stopping you. I suppose you were the one shooting arrows at them.”
She wondered how he’d seen all that through the trees.
This part of the island wasn’t visible from the boardwalk or the shoreline where the city sprawled, but she knew elves had other ways of sensing things.
Magical ways. She suspected they would have long since caught Sylin if she weren’t an elf herself, also possessing magical ways.
“Only because they were trying to kill me,” Rylana said. “I don’t think the two sisters cared at all about the curse.”
They hadn’t even acknowledged it. Only Jildarin’s mother had been mildly affronted by the curse.
“Kill you?” Tassani asked. “Why? Because you fought against their kind during the war? Many of those who’ve recently moved to Tranquility did so. I’ve not seen dragons risk the ire of the pillars to attack them.”
“I’m special.”
Tassani’s eyebrows drifted up. “I wouldn’t presume to deny that statement, but it does invite a further explanation.”
Rylana didn’t owe the elf captain anything, and it wasn’t any of his business, but he didn’t seem inclined to loathe her or be overly suspicious of her—unlike the rest of the pointy-eared inhabitants of the enclave.
It might be a good idea to cultivate at least one non-hostile relationship with the local elves.
“It’s because the female dragons in Jildarin’s clan think he should be mating with his own kind, not spending time with humans.” Rylana waved to herself. “We’re not, you know, mating, but they think we are. At the least, they’ve decided I’m a distraction.”
“And… thus you should be slain?” His eyebrows climbed higher.
“They really want Jildarin to get busy with his own kind and make babies. Hatchlings.”
When Tassani mouthed, “Get busy,” Rylana decided it probably wasn’t an elven term.
“I don’t know what led them to believe I’m that much of a threat,” Rylana said. “It’s not like I’m a great beauty, and I’m certainly not going to seduce a dragon.” She grimaced as she remembered her failed attempt to kiss Jildarin the night she’d been under the influence of his soup.
“No?” Tassani smiled and waved at her clothes.
Rylana braced herself for a comment about her short hair or her soldier-ish look.
“Dragons like warriors,” was what he said. “Since they’re natural predators, they’re drawn to those who, ah, what is the human term? Kick ass.”
“I don’t do that,” she murmured.
“Shoot ass?” Tassani pointed at her bow.
“That is in my wheelhouse, yes. Though I usually aim for the eyes, especially when we’re talking about dragons. They don’t have a lot of vulnerable spots. Especially not on their posteriors.”
“I’ve observed that as well.” Tassani winked at her.
Rylana didn’t know how to respond. It almost seemed like he was flirting, but that had to be in her imagination.
Jildarin withdrew the bread from the oven—funny how even shape-shifted dragons didn’t need hot mitts—and placed it on the offering pedestal beneath the statues.
The troll shaman took a couple of steps, knelt before it, and renewed her singing as the fresh bread wafted delectable scents toward the noses of those statues.
His duty done, Jildarin climbed out of the sunken temple to stand beside Rylana.
“My partner is fearless when battling dragons and other threats,” he said, proving he’d been listening to the conversation.
“I believe you.” Tassani nodded to him, then looked around. “I suspect that I’m not needed here. I will report to my people that the curse should be lifted soon.”
“I don’t think that’s a certainty. The aquatic yeast that we collected and the liberty that was taken with the recipe…” Rylana looked to Jildarin, wondering if he believed the bread was close enough in spirit to what the trolls—and hopefully the troll gods—considered sacred to satisfy them.
“The bread baked into an excellent loaf,” Jildarin stated. “I did not, however, presume to taste it and determine if it’s palatable.”
“You didn’t even stick your tongue out to lick it a couple of times?” Rylana asked.
“I did not.”
“It’s glowing,” Tassani said. “The bread, that is. Not your tongue, Lord Dragon.”
“I assumed,” Jildarin said. “Dragon tongues do not glow.”
“If they did, you truly would have difficulty keeping female dragons away,” Tassani said with a smirk.
Jildarin looked sourly at him.
“Never mind. I will leave now to deliver my report. I will inform my people that you both played a role in lifting the curse.” Tassani bowed to them both, then headed off to talk to the gnome captain before departing.
“Do you think that means the elves will look kindly upon me and stop trying to drag me away to question about my friends?” Rylana asked, though she had only one friend that their people found objectionable.
“I should have told him that Sylin also helped, but, in case he didn’t know she was here, I didn’t want to mention her name.
I think she would prefer it if they forgot about her altogether. ”
“That may be unlikely. I do think the elves may be pleased that we assisted, however.”
“I know having elves pleased with you is of paramount importance.”
Jildarin, who hadn’t shown that he was overly worried about anyone’s opinion of him, considered that. “I do like when people are pleased by my food. You know that my goal is to prove to all who taste it that dragons can appreciate and perform the arts.”
“Especially culinary arts.”
“Precisely.”
“If you want to ensure the elves are pleased, you’d better perfect the coffee-mushroom dish.”
“I will do so.”
The troll shaman finished singing and lowered her arms. The purple-glowing loaf lay below the carved stone hands of the statues, managing to look delicious despite the color, but Rylana had no way to determine if the gods themselves were pleased.
Unless the pair came to life and actually ate the bread, how would one know?
“I guess we’ll have to see if the city returns to normal,” she said when the shaman ambled away without giving them any information.
“To know that the curse has been lifted?” Jildarin asked.
“Yeah.”
“The blue glow that was coming from this area has dissipated.” He waved toward their portion of the island and pointed at the temple.
Rylana considered the air around them, trying to tell if that was true. By night, the glow had been obvious, but it was harder to detect during the day. She’d stopped noticing it long before the dragons had shown up.
“It is also no longer beaming up from your castle,” Jildarin added.
Rylana squinted across the water in that direction. “You’re certain?”
“I am. Dragons have superior eyesight.”
“Mine isn’t half-bad when it comes to shooting adversaries, but seeing different hues of light when the bright sun is out… That’s harder.”
Jildarin gazed at her through his eyelashes. It was what she thought of as his bedroom look—his lair look—even though she knew he didn’t have thoughts of recreational mating in mind.
“You struck Loxvonla in the shoulder before the pillar knocked your weapon away.” His tone was approving, and he smiled slightly.
“Did I? It got chaotic there, and her magical attack knocked the wind out of me, so I didn’t see my arrow land.”
“It grazed her here.” Jildarin touched his shoulder. “Then ricocheted into the trees. If she didn’t possess the magical armor of a dragon, it would have landed more solidly. You faced her fearlessly.” He smiled again and nodded.
“I didn’t want you distracted while you were cradling that dough.”
“Yes. They are the distraction.” Jildarin flicked a hand dismissively toward the sky, though all the dragons had thankfully disappeared. “Now that our duty is done, let us return to the diner.”
As they headed for the road, the area clearing of people, Rylana looked back toward the offering pedestal.
The loaf of bread continued to glow. She wondered if a raccoon would ultimately get it or if the troll gods, once all the witnesses had departed, would take a physical form so that they could eat it themselves.
Who knew what was possible when it came to the gods?