Chapter 14
“Our crops have begun to fail. The dragons are hunting further and further afield, causing tension with the neighbouring lowland kingdom of Araman. We are running out of food, good water – even time. How much longer can I hide what has been done?”
- Excerpt from Queen Evanya’s diary.
Sorcha downed the last of her drink and pushed the cup away. The man at the bar went to refill but she waved him away, swaying a little. With a curt nod he moved on. She twisted in her chair, blinking several times, then studied Wren and Lorca. A beat of silence followed, broken only by the intermittent murmur of the few remaining guests nearby. She opened her mouth to speak. The door behind her opened and her mouth slammed shut, tension shooting into her body. She sat up sharper, turned slowly in her chair to look at the new arrival.
Wren followed her gaze. In the doorway stood a lone woman, tall and well-built, with a red blouse cinched by leather-skin breeches and a long cloak that hung off her broad shoulders. Hawkish brown eyes latched immediately on Sorcha, thin lips compressing into a tight line.
“Sorcha,” said the woman in a low, husky voice.
To Wren’s surprise Sorcha held up her hands and laughed softly. “You found me.”
“Come.”
“But I made friends, Omi!”
Omi’s eyes flickered carefully over Wren and Lorca. “I can see that. We must go. The caravan is departing.”
Sorcha’s shoulders slumped but she didn’t argue as she dragged herself off her stool. With a final apologetic glance at Wren she slunk over to Omi, then murmured something into her ear. Surprise flashed for a brief second over Omi’s face, then another look back, as though in another look, searching. When they returned to Sorcha there was a wariness in Omi’s eyes. She nodded once, then gestured for Sorcha to leave. As soon as the door closed behind her, Omi strode over to the them.
“Speak not of what you saw, understood?”
Wren barely nodded before Omi strode out of the tavern, leaving Wren and Lorca looking at each other, bewildered.
“Well that was strange,” remarked Lorca.
“Yeah it-“ She was cut off as Lorca suddenly let out a hiss of pain.
He doubled over, pressing his forehead onto the bar with a low curse. Pain twisted his face. Wren was reaching for him before she even knew it, touching his back.
“Lorca, what’s wrong?”
Another wave of pain scrunched his face again. Only when it seemed to fade, the tension bleeding from his body, he stood up, shakily and looked to her.
“I-I have to go.”
“Go?” Panic sharpened her voice.
He leant in close, their noses almost touching. She flinched but didn’t pull away, her heart slamming against her ribs. Were it not for the stressed and pained look in his eyes it might’ve looked like he’d kiss her.
“I have to fly,” he let out hoarsely. “Now.”
“Oh,” she managed to get out before he was striding for the door.
Out onto the street she nearly lost sight of Lorca as he darted down a nearby alley way. He tripped, catching himself on a wall. Another tremor of pain tore through his body, sending him staggering onwards. Wren hurried after him. At the end of the alley he stopped and Wren reached out but he spun around, eyes dragon-like, claws drawn. He held a taloned hand, stopping her from getting closer.
“I can’t fight this,” he rasped out. “Go, I’ll find you.”
She didn’t think the alley was big enough for him to shift, let alone enough to take off. He turned away from her and dug his claws into the wall, yanking himself up. With the agility exceeding any Climber he scrambled up the side of the building and vanished over the edge of the building. Seconds later she heard the rush of wind and glimpsed a flash of black, shooting into the sky.
With a deep breath she slumped against the wall. She looked down at her hands, shaking violently, and the soft glowing energy of her skin.
She waited until midnight for Lorca, for any sign he was okay. Then she reluctantly fell asleep in the cot, curling up into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke the next morning, sunlight peeked through the top of the window, a powdery light that danced over her sword that was propped up beside the cot. It was such an unremarkable sword, yet she felt something curiously powerful about it, that she reached out to it.
Never before had she ever considered having a sword. It was useless as a Climber. The problem was, she wasn’t just a Climber anymore. She was really just someone determined to get her family back. War had found her people and she couldn’t ignore it anymore, couldn’t pretend they were untouchable upon the side of those ancient mountains, feared for the beasts that lurked there.
Like the beast whose life was now linked with hers, for better or worse. They had a deal.
With a groan she dragged herself from bed and dressed, then grabbed her sword and went downstairs. There, she bought a small breakfast, had a drink, then asked for the best place to procure a map. She explained to the man behind the bar that her own had become damaged. He didn’t show any care about her reasoning and described a nearby shop that might have what she was after.
Directions in mind she returned to her room, grabbed her sword and headed out. The street stank of something festering in unseen cracks, fermenting in the morning warmth, where no cool breeze might dispel it. Crowds moved feverishly, dismissing the stench, accepting of it, having bigger concerns from the way their eyes darted uneasily about. Suspicion lingered in lined faces, thickened in the low, edged words that darted past her ear. Even as the road widened towards the centre of the city, the buildings taller, cleaner, the folk there better dressed, there seemed to be tension there. A kind of breath held in anticipation.
It made her feel exposed, hunted. She kept her head low, like everyone else, and moved with purpose, never lingering. She cut through a sprawling city square, edged by lower stone buildings with ornate rooms. At the edge where an archway led onto another busy street she paused, her eye catching on a mural next to it, two people gathered before it. After a second, she realised someone was crying. A woman. Wren saw her embraced by a man, protectively, her face twisting to the mural.
“I hate her,” snarled the woman.
“Hush, Mirella!”
“She enslaves her own people and no one does anything. Then she puts her face everywhere, as if we might love her more,” spat the woman, then tore herself from the man’s embrace, looking at him as if he were a demon. “My sister, Ulrich! Your wife.”
“Orvana was a traitor. You best remember that and where we are,” he said coldly, then looked around, saw Wren watching. “Eyes are everywhere.”
Wren lowered her gaze and hurried on, rattled by the man’s cold words. She quickened her advance through the city but she kept hearing snatches of conversation, whispers of slavery, of war. A city on edge, awaiting something but what? To be enslaved, destroyed, what? Shaking her head, she hurried down a wide stone set of steps into a court yard with two story buildings edged around it, the bottom of which served as shops. Signs hung out the front in faded, cracked signs. She scanned for the one she was after, found it at the very end, nestled with one side butting the wall of the city.
Gingerly, she knocked, then pushed the front door open and stepped into the dimly lit shop front. A wave of dust billowed up around her, sending her into a sneezing fit. Her lungs choked on the thick dust for what felt like was an eternity, eyes burning.
“You’re not from here,” commented a rumbling voice.
She squinted through watery eyes and wiped them clear, standing up as her lungs finally drew in clear air. Behind the front bench, which was stacked high on one side with books, was a small, stocky man. His pale green eyes squinted at her, crows’ feet pinching the edge, worn with years.
“No. I’ve come for a map before my partner and I head off again,” she said carefully. “A kingdom map, a full one.”
He stared at her for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. “I might have one. Let me see, aye?”
She waited patiently as he slipped into a back room and rummaged around noisily. When he returned, he held a rolled-up map in hand and set it on the desk, beckoning her closer.
“That’ll be fifteen silver.”
She had no idea if that was expensive, let alone if she was being ripped off, so she paid. As she went to draw back her hand he grabbed it and gasped, looking up sharply. He let go, like she’d burned him.
“Magic,” he hissed. “Ancient magic. Get out.”
Confused as hell she snatched up the map and ran out as fast as she could. On the street she slowed and stashed the map in her bag, then bent her head and slipped into the crowd. A man cursed at her as she bumped into him. He turned but she was already out of reach, hurrying on until she reached the city square. It was busier than before. From one end to the other was crammed with people, all pointed towards the main building at the end, their necks craned upwards. She tried to ignore it and slip through the crowd, darting where gaps appeared. The crowd shifted and she was suddenly penned in. Anxiety crawled into her gut, twisting like a knife. Darkness edged her vision, heart slamming against her ribs. She shoved forward, making a gap. Several people snarled at her. A hand reached for her but she slipped their reach and found a narrow path again at the rear of the crowd.
Soon, the wall was at her side and she used it to navigate around the fringe. Snatches of conversation caught her ear.
“I heard the watchmen saw a dragon! ‘Magin that, Bulby, a real dragon!”
“Bah, a dragon? They’re long gone mate. Ain’t no dragon they saw,” the man, Bulby, said with a snort. “Probably had a bit to drink, you know?”
She stilled and drifted near the two men. The first men turned, insulted, his fleshy arms crossed across his broad chest. “The watchmen canna bloody drink. ‘Sides, I heard it from Daria and her healers. Said one guy got a shock and fell off, broke his leg he did but couldn’t stop rambling ‘bout a bloody dragon!”
Bulby rolled his eyes. “Well, you can bet your arse that the mayor will use this to keep the city happy! Aye, it’ll make everyone forget all about the fact about the slavin’ goin on and the war.”
“Well, see Mayor comin’ now. Bet you he’s gonna go set a bounty and you see the city get all happy ‘bout that! Everyone will get all whippy about a dragon and money.”
The men fell silent, their gazes lifting as the crowd did, right to the balcony overlooking the whole city square. Banners were unfurled, hanging in bright shades of red, like some grand gesture. A man appeared there, clad in red robes, his hood pushed back. Wren couldn’t see his features too clearly but he was bald and that there was a small group of other people lingering close by. Most notably, a woman with snow white hair and she wore a pale white dress, accompanied by a matching white robe. She seemed out of place amongst all the red, gazing serenely out across the square. She raised her hand and an orb of light blossomed in her hand before floating gently before the man. He touched a hand to his chest, then it fell back down by his side.
“Citizens of this fine city, today rumours have arisen of a dragon – today, I would like to confirm this. Upon the orders of our empress, a reward of one thousand gold coins will be awarded to any soul whom delivers the beast dead!”
Shouts erupted like the rolling thunder of an oncoming storm as crowds pushed towards the gates that now freed them. Wren was swept away by the crowds, nearly knocked off her feet and it took all her whits not to be tripped, them trampled over. It was all she could do as she strained to see over the crowd, let alone a direction to go.
When she finally glimpsed an opening, she leapt through it and staggered into an alley way. There, she slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly. The crowds, all those bodies crushing against her, left her shaky and weak. Her heart beat a drum against her ribs, pain lancing through her chest. She pressed her hand to her chest as she dragged in gulps of air, willing herself to calm.
How people lived in cities their whole lives were beyond here. Just over a day was enough for her. She’d always choose the vast mountains and the endless blue skies any day. Even if it meant facing wild storms and vicious beasts. She’d face them all to be free on those mountains with her families.
Finally, she opened her eyes and gasped. Standing in front of her, smiling, was Sorcha. Her eyes glowed gold.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
