Chapter 12 The Mistake
Marton and Cherry are unanimous in their unconcern. Cherry grumbles that one forest is much like the next, and she just wants to get this over with. Marton is over the moon with delight at the possibility of running into more creatures that may or may not try to kill him.
What he says, of course, is, "We should keep searching the Werewood, beyond a doubt. I can practically feel the magic in this place, can't you?" He's smiling as he says it, and I resist the urge to punch him in the stomach.
It seems I'm the only one with qualms over things like imminent mortal danger and risk to human safety.
So when Inobar and Besana return with a wild hog and several rabbits for our morning meal, I resign myself to more lying in attempt to gather information.
Edythe stays away, thankfully, hunting her own breakfast in her wyvern form, the others tell me.
One less person to deceive.
For several minutes while the kills are skinned and spitted, I make casual conversation with the wyverns, discussing the hunting in the air and what relations are like between Dragomira and Lycan—if I should be concerned about running into them in the future.
They tell me that the Lycan mostly keep to themselves—skittish of outsiders.
But that's in the case of Dragomira, who are not prey.
Humans, on the other hand...
I change the subject.
"So...do you all have a permanent camp in the area, or do you live nomadically?
" Did that sound nonchalant? I was aiming for nonchalance.
The wyverns don't seem bothered.
Inobar and Besana exchange a look, and Besana answers.
"The answer...is both. For the most part, we travel on our own, hunting and training, seeing what the world has to offer.
But there is a place..." She trails off, glancing at her partner again.
Inobar picks up where she left off.
"The Trove. It is where many of our kind gather together, staying as long as they like, coming and going as they please.
"
"And is it," I ask, deciding it is okay to betray my interest in the subject, "is it a place for wyverns specifically, or for all Dragomira?
"
Besana smiles gently, looking like she knows exactly what I'm getting at—though I doubt she could discern the real reason for my interest. "It is a place for wyverns and dragons both.
Basilisk and gorgons—and the other, less common of our brethren—they cannot reach the place. Because they cannot fly, you see."
I digest that information. A place that can only be got to by flying.
.. Some place high on a jagged cliff? In a massive tree?
I open my mouth to ask, but Inobar cuts me off with a significant glance at my friends seated nearby.
"It is not information for human ears.
I am sorry."
Right. Because the protectorkin gave up on all humanity when their protection was returned by mistrust and mobs of persecution.
I swallow, nodding. But how can I get the information if they will not say it where humans might overhear?
Would they trust me not to share the information, if I could talk to them alone?
Just then, Edythe swoops down into the grass outside our camp, shifting and dressing in her human clothes before making her way over to us.
As she approaches, she bends to whisper something in Inobar's ear that even my sensitive hearing cannot pick up.
Inobar's eyes light with interest, and his gaze flicks to me.
I try not to stiffen.
Edythe straightens up and gives me a slashing smile.
"Good hunting?" I ask her cursorily.
"Oh, the best. So many interesting tidbits.
..to eat." She winks.
Inobar clears his throat, and Edythe slinks off to take a seat beside Besana, still casting me indecipherable looks as she does so.
Inobar leans forward.
"You say you are bound for Philostia?"
My spine locks, but I answer as pleasantly as I can.
"That's right."
"And you are transporting things of great value across the border?
"
I do not understand the question, and I'm sure it shows in my expression.
"Just my—" I glance at my companions, who watch our conversation apprehensively, "Just my friends.
"
The corner of Inobar's mouth pulls up in a smile, and it does not look kind.
"Tarah, let us speak frankly. You do not know much of our kind—of your own nature—it is clear.
And there is something about all Dragomira that I think you will find highly interesting.
" He leans back, crossing his legs casually beneath the cover of his robes.
"It is in our nature, you must know—you may have noticed, though you never heard it confirmed—that we tend to.
..covet things. To store up and hoard items of great value.
"
He seems to await my reaction, but all I feel is confusion.
Covet things? Store up and hoard items of value?
I have been poor and destitute for as long as I can remember.
I have never had anything valuable, nor have I particularly longed after riches.
Money seemed...unnecessary, though those around me valued it so much.
Inobar continues, "The legends about us sometimes portray us as greedy serpents, squatting atop massive piles of gold in dark and lonely caves.
Do not be confused. That is not what I refer to.
Jewels and riches, that is not the kind of value I mean.
" He smiles again, and his attitude is that of a condescending schoolmaster.
"Do you know what value is, young Tarah?
" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "Value is the place where we dedicate our time and energy.
And it is a different thing for everyone.
Some strive after riches, some after great feats, some after attention and renown.
But often the things we value are more..
.complex. More personal. Nevertheless, what one person values, another may come to view as valuable as well.
Jealousy is a powerful motivator, especially among our kind.
"
I cut him off before he can go any further.
"I assure you, I am not travelling with any secret treasures upon my person.
"
Inobar laughs harshly, and Edyth joins him with her own tinkling giggle.
It is a strange and sinister music, and it makes my stomach drop further.
"Tarah," Inobar wipes at a dry eye as if he has been crying with mirth.
His black eyes sharpen on me. "Dragomira have a singular skill for discovering items of great value.
Things that they know other people would want.
They hoard these things for themselves, guarding them jealously.
That is why it is always interesting to run across a member of our kind.
You never know what sort of treasures they might have about them.
" His eyes go unerringly to Cherry, and everything in me rebels.
No.
When I tense, Inobar gives me a chilling grin, the widest smile I've yet seen on his face.
"There has long been a story circulating throughout this land, of a dragon who had gotten their hands on the Ithymian princess.
Shireen, I believe her name is. It sounds so like Cherry, just a slip of the tongue away.
" He laughs, and I notice that Edythe is smiling at Vakhrin.
"What a treasure that is, and what a treasure the imprudent king offers for her return.
"
A tongue of flame curls up my throat, my dragon form yawning awake beneath my skin.
Inobar raises his hands in a placating gesture when smoke begins wafting from my nostrils.
"Be assured, we are not interested in the promises of treacherous royals.
" Before I can relax too much at this guarantee, Inobar speaks again.
"But as I've said, it is in our nature to covet treasure.
I'm afraid we will be taking the princess off your hands.
"
I am on my feet in an instant, sending the rotisserie spit crashing into the fire.
A corner of my skirt catches aflame, but I ignore it, my eyes fixed on the real danger.
Inobar, Besana, and Edythe are all still seated on their side of the campfire, their eyes intent upon me. As my skirt goes up in flames—my friends making noises of alarm as they climb to their feet behind me—Inobar gives a nod to his companions.
Besana and Edythe shift at the same moment that they spring to their feet, leaping high into the sky to give themselves room as their forms expand, great wings beating at the air hard enough to drive the rest of us into the dirt.
The tatters of my skirt are smothered against the earth, and I regain my footing with my charred dress falling away from my legs in patches.
The two wyverns hover above us for a second, and I take in the fact that Besana's own wyvern form is even large than Edythe's.
Edythe tips forward, extending her long neck towards Cherry.
Vakh meets my eyes, and I do not even have to nod for him to see my Yes.
His manticore form burst from his clothes, and he swings his barbarous tail at the side of Edythe's face the very moment she draws near enough to Cherry for a grab.
His tail takes her in the head with a resounding crash, and Edythe rears back, screeching in pain and rage.
She flies upward several lengths, hovering out of range, and Besana does the same.
Inobar's horrified gaze is fixed on Vakhrin, and I can tell that we were successful in keeping at least one secret.
"Do not do this," I say to Inobar, a last shot at diplomacy.
"You can see that we are not without our own defenses.
Do not make this into a fight."
"Fine," Inobar says, his chest rising and falling roughly as resolution rises in his eyes.
"Surrender the princess to us willingly, and we will not fight you.
"
"I cannot do that," I grit my teeth.
She's mine, I do not say. "But she is of no value to you.
If you do not mean to claim the king's reward, there is no reason to take her.
"
Inobar laughs without humor.
"You do not understand our nature at all, little dragon girl.
This is not a game of rational exchanges.
There is no economy to greed. We take.
What we want. As the Dragomira have always done. "
"That's not..."
"Silence, little fool," Inobar sneers. "If you do not know this truth yet, you will learn it soon.
You will face it in your own ravenous dragon heart, or learn it in the eyes of every Dragomira you meet.
If you live long enough to meet any more of us, that is.
" He regains some of his composure, smoothing the collar of his robes with one shaking hand.
"Tell me truthfully," he says, fathomless eyes on me, "can you not feel your own greed alive in you?
Can you not feel how impossible it is to let your treasure go?
" He flicks a finger at Cherry.
"She is my friend," I snarl.
Inobar huffs amusedly at that.
"Friend. Treasure. Call it what you will, but the value is the same.
That girl is worth a king's ransom. Literally.
It would be a boon to our people, who are forced to live in squalor on the fringes of our own nation.
Surely you would not deny us something that could save us, since you have such a tender, compassionate heart?
" The question is heavy with sarcasm. He already knows what my answer is.
There's no debate in my mind.
I do not know these people, but I know my princess.
I owe my loyalty to her.
I nearly cringe at the possessive jealousy of the thought, but I do not have the luxury of debating my own motivations at the moment.
Inobar's expression flattens out.
"You have made your choice, dragon." With that, he unfastens the clasps on his robes, and the fabric drops from his shoulders, puddling in the dirt at his feet.
His shoulders curve as something dark blue as a bruise moves beneath his skin.
He doubles over, and then the cultured man I've been speaking to is gone.
In his place is the largest, fiercest Dragomira I have ever seen.
Like his companions, his scales are deep blue, but his hide and the membranes of his wings are slashed and pale in places with the scars of bygone battles.
And he is over twice the size that I am in my dragon form.
Feeling nearly too numb to move, I call upon my own protector form, and the shift comes over me in a breath, my small human form replaced by one with sharper senses, bigger, stronger muscles, and killing claws and edges.
For the first time, it does not feel like enough.