Chapter 15
“Our hatcheries are empty and the skies no longer sing with the songs of new fledglings. The youngest of our dragons join their elders in hunts further afield. They do not say it, nor do they have to. I know. The dragons are seeking a new home, one without Dragonairs. They do not believe we will survive what comes to us.”
- Excerpt from Queen Evanya’s diary
Sorcha blinked, hers bleeding back to normal. She glanced to the street, the humour fading as a small patrol of city guards stalked past. They paid no attention to Wren or Sorcha. Once gone she sunk into the wall, her eyes closed for a moment.
“Well, today has been interesting,” she remarked, opening her eyes. “How’s yours been?”
Wren didn’t want to waste time chatting. She wanted out of the city, find Lorca and be on their way. With a map, a city in mind, she was finally able to start scrapping together a plan. A shell of one, anyway. Above all, she still didn’t know what to make of the strange Landless girl, whose abilities wigged Wren out.
“Fine. Look, I need to be on my way – it was good to see you.”
She started towards the road but Sorcha grabbed her wrist. Instinct kicked in. Wren spun around, yanking her hand free. Sorcha had her hands up, a peace offering.
“Sorry. I just…I had to find you, okay? You can’t leave.”
Wren started to feel cornered, trapped by more than just the city’s walls.
“Why?”
To her credit, Sorcha looked awkward, exposed. “I need your help.”
Wren started to turn. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Please.”
Sorcha’s broken plea stopped Wren. In that moment, she’d sounded like Wren’s sister, begging to be released as a climber. That shame at having to beg, at being brought so low. With a deep breath, Wren turned but kept her face impassive.
“With what?”
“I had a vision about you, about where you’re from. It was a gift from the goddess, you see, because my friends and I are in a bit of a bind right now. We came here hoping to retrieve something that was stolen but it’s out of our reach. That’s why my people are leaving. They’re giving up,” she said passionately.
With each word Wren felt herself buckle and guilt swarmed her mind. How could she possibly consider helping a stranger when her own people were enduring who knows what? That she’d waste time when she ought to be finding her people, saving them.
“This item is really that valuable?”
Sorcha nodded fiercely. “More than you can know but if you help us, we can take you to the coast ourselves. Help you with what you’re after.”
There was something else in Sorcha’s eyes, something that made Wren sense another agenda. A secondary goal. The problem was, both Lorca and she were strangers in the land. The promise of being escorted to their destination was tempting. It might even mean saving time. Of course, it was just as likely to be a trap. Some way to lure her in, though what Sorcha might gain from Wren and Lorca, she didn’t know. Couldn’t begin to guess, really.
“Take us directly to the city itself – the City of Slaves, as you called it?” Wren ventured.
“If you get what I want, then yes.”
Wren stepped up to Sorcha, squaring off, just like she had against the wyvern. The Landless girl didn’t even flinch as Wren stared her down.
“You better hold up your end,” she said coolly.
Sorcha held her gaze for a moment, then stepped aside, gesturing to follow. With a curt nod, Wren fell into step beside her as they exited the alley. As they did Sorcha’s face changed mid-stride, a seamless shift to a girl with green eyes and long black hair. Catching Wren’s stare, she winked conspiratorially but said nothing. It took control not to ask. The use of magic in front of her was still jarring.
She kept quiet as she followed Sorcha through the streets, thinner now that the crowd had dispersed. Finally, she was able to breathe properly. It felt better not to have a thousand people pressing on her, to have even the stale breeze brush muggily over her skin. It was nothing to the crisp wind of the mountains but it was better than nothing.
As the wall loomed closer, the shadow stretching out over the already gloomy streets, Sorcha quickened her pace and, without warning, ducked down a narrow road. Wren hurried after her, nearly crashing into her as she stopped abruptly. Her face changed once more, returning to her original face. Wren stepped back as Sorcha knocked on an old wooden door. A second later, a door clicked open and a hooded figure peered out at them. They pushed back their hood, revealing a young man, little older than Wren, with cold, harsh features. His stone-grey eyes flickered swiftly to Wren, then back to Sorcha before he stepped aside.
“Omi is going to be pissed,” he remarked with a gravelly voice.
Sorcha snorted. “She already got out of the city. By the time she even realises I’m not in the caravan heading back to camp, it’ll be too late.” She paused in the narrow hallway and looked at him for a second. “I’m glad you’re here, though. Who else?”
“Who else was dumb enough to defy Omi on a few scattered words from you? Just Lida and myself.”
A shadow passed over her face. “Eda didn’t come?”
The man shook his head. “She’s trying to win Omi’s favour to approve her match to Ellia. You can’t blame her for that.”
The look on Sorcha’s face said otherwise, though she remained silent. She seemed disappointed that only two people had answered her call. With a nod, she stepped ahead of him and he fell in behind her. He glanced over at Wren again, then continued on.
They came into a small room, lit by two lamps burning at either end of the room. A wooden table dominates the otherwise small room, where a young girl sits on the other side. Her dark green eyes, fleck with gold, watched them as they entered, lingering finally on Wren.
“Who is she?”
Wren opened her mouth to speak but Sorcha beat her to it.
“This is Wren. A Climber.” Sorcha looked to Wren, waving a hand at the man. “Jed.”
Recognition lit Lida’s sharp face. “One of those mountain people? They never come down this low. How can she be one of them?”
Wren touched Sorcha’s shoulder, silencing her and stepped forward. “My people were taken my slavers.” She glanced at Sorcha. “You knew who I really was.”
Sorcha nodded and turned back to the others. “We couldn’t get into the tower to retrieve the scrolls. With Wren, we can.”
Lida eyed Wren sceptically. “You don’t look like you could do the climb.”
“Enough Lida,” snapped Sorcha. “I need your help, not your attitude.”
Lida blushed angrily and looked down at the table, scowling. To Wren’s surprise Sorcha calmly walked around the table and set a gentle hand on Lida. There was a tenderness in her actions, even a kind of intimacy. Lida dragged her gaze upwards reluctantly, her face softening slowly.
“I saw her in my visions. With her, we can get the scrolls back. It’s why I convinced Omi to talk to Matrona, to get our people to come here. I convinced her that if we came here now that we’d have a way to retrieve the scrolls,” she confessed.
Wren crossed her arms over her chest. “So, you did target me.”
Sorcha’s eyes flickered over to Wren cautiously. “Yes. Does that change things?”
“You uphold your end? No, it doesn’t change things,” said Wren.
Jed clasped his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Great, now we’ve sorted this, can we get down to business?”
There was no moon that night and thick clouds gathered above, the air heavy with the promise of rain. It made Wren anxious. Climbing in the rain was tricky and she liked to avoid it. As a rule, no one climbed during rain as holds become slippery and can loosen up rocks. She’d seen enough people fall to avoid it like the plague. Unfortunately, as she strapped up her wrists in the dark of a nearby alley, she knew there was no turning back. Sorcha stood beside her, a heavy cloak set about her narrow frame, still as death. Her glowing golden eyes were fixed on the highest point of the tower.
“Please don’t fail,” said Sorcha, looking down. Her eyes bled to normal once more.
Wren cracked a dry smile. “If I fail, it means I’ve fallen and I’m dead. I don’t plan on dying tonight.”
Sorcha didn’t look overly assured. The confidence before wavered in the thin light they had from a window above, a pale amber glow cutting across her face. Wren reached out and touched her shoulder, like she did with new Climbers, worried about seeing their first wyvern.
“I’ll be back soon.”
She pulled away and turned to the tower. A low wall, little taller than a one-story home. It was nearly polished smooth but Wren had already scoped out a slightly rougher section earlier. She dug out two small daggers and stepped up to the wall. Reaching up as high as she could she stabbed a dagger into the rough, right in between the seam of two old bricks. It went in only a little but enough that with the other one she stabbed in she could start. She rapidly scrambled up the wall and quietly slid onto the top, then vaulted over and went down silently. There was a small gap between the wall and the tower and a small bush beneath her.
Footsteps sounded off close by. She saw the shadow lurk around the corner and she ducked behind the bush, hunkering close to the wall. Like she was hiding from a wyvern she held her breath and flattened herself into the dark of the wall. She watched the guard stroll past, the glow of his lantern passing briefly over her. As he rounded the corner she exhaled and swiftly moved out from behind the bush, stepping up to the tower. As per her previous inspection the wall looked easy enough to climb, made of rougher stone bricks. The weather had worn away in sections and left the seams in between exposed in parts.
Without wasting time, she dug her foot into the first hold, then reached up and sunk her fingers into the highest hold. Like she’d not been away from the cliffs at all she made swift work climbing upwards on the tower. The ground rapidly fell away from beneath and soon she felt the cold breeze brushing softly against her. She didn’t look down, though once she was most of the way up, she wanted to let go with one hand and look out. She always loved doing that during a climb, scaring the demons out of everyone else, whom thought she’d lost her grip. Only once she dug both hands back into the rock did anyone relax.
She didn’t have time to look around, however and continued her rapid climb upwards. Every so often she had to climb to the sides for holds but managed in rapid time, ascending up to the top window easily. She lingered a little beneath it, straining to hear for anyone. When she heard nothing, she climbed up and with one hand on the window frame, she fished out the dagger from her thigh. She’d never broken into a room before but Jed had showed her how to use her dagger to do it. With care she slid the dagger to the bottom of the window and flicked the latch securing it. Holding her breath, she slowly lifted it up and swung inside, landing softly on both feet.
When no soldiers rushed in to arrest her, she stood and let the blood settle properly in her limbs again. A soft rush thrummed in her chest, a familiar feeling she greatly missed. She let it calm as she looked about the room, seeing chests upon chests stacked high. To one wall was a large bookshelf stuffed with scrolls. She went over to it and scanned for the ones bearing the required seal. Seeing it, she plucked them clear, then grabbed a dozen others as precaution. She spied one on dragons and took that, too. With care, she packed them in her bag and put it back on her back.
She turned to leave but on a nearby side table something caught her eye. Not one drawn to jewels or expensive things, it was a little wooden box. It had no markings but there was a simple lock on it. Something about it tugged at her chest, drawing her over. Curious, she crossed the room and stopped before the table. She waved a hand over it, yanking her hand back sharply as a rush of warmth swept up her arm. As it bled away, she reached for the box again. She didn’t yank her hand away as it warmed; instead, she touched the box and it clicked. The lid lifted open a fraction. She pushed it up the whole way and frowned. Inside, a crown made of thorns, painted black.
Behind her, she heard footsteps grow closer. She shut the box and dropped it into her back, then rushed for the window. Without missing a beat, she swung out onto the side of the tower, carefully tugging the window down. As she dropped out of view, she heard the door inside open. Not one to linger she made a rapid descent, almost to the point of carelessness.
Half way down she heard someone shout from above. She looked up but the window was shut. Someone must’ve realised she’d gotten in somehow.
Panic surged in her chest and she dropped down faster, carelessly descending. Several feet from the bottom she dropped to the ground with a roll and leapt up to the wall quickly. Within a minute she vaulted herself over and took off into a run to the alley.
Sorcha was there in a flash, a horse in hand, along with Lida and Jed on horses too.
“We need to go – now,” said Wren with a gasp of air.
Sorcha swung up into the saddle and Wren leapt up behind her.
“Did you get the scrolls?” Lida asked impatiently.
Wren gestured to her bag. “Yes, but we better go.”
Lida opened her mouth to speak but shouts resounded from the barracks. She nudged her horse and took off into the dark, followed swiftly by Jed, then by Sorcha. They vanished off into the darkness but the shouts started to ring out through the city.
The trouble wasn’t over yet.
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