Chapter 17
Madam Kara’s tent was one of restrained finery. It was one large room with one curtain that partitioned off a section. A cot lay within, draped with coloured blankets. A table was in the middle of the room, an assortment of maps, books and scrolls lay on top. There were no chairs. A strange lantern hung in the centre, a pale golden glow illuminating within it. Upon closer inspection Wren realised it was no fire; rather, it seemed like a magic. It was also eerily quiet, as though silencing the busy commotion occurring within the camp. Only the rustle of Madam Kara’s skirt rustling against the worn grass and the jangle of her bracelets filled the air. She swept around the table, then looked at me again with keen interest.
“Where did my darling granddaughter promise to take you?”
“The City of Slaves,” answered Wren. “To find my people.”
A nod was given. No surprise. “She must have seen something promising in your future to risk her people. Then again, she is quite the reckless one.”
“She cares about her people, about their future,” Wren found herself saying.
One eye brow rose faintly, the corner of her rouged mouth twitching. “Indeed, she does. You share that in common. I wonder, however, if you began this journey alone.”
“I did not,” said Wren. “There was someone else but…circumstances separated us.”
“And you do not seek him?” The older woman’s eyes pierced her. “You do not miss him?”
A longing kindled in Wren’s chest, formed with a strong resolution. “I do not have time. Too many are relying on me.”
Madam Kara nodded. What her thoughts were remained unknown, unreadable. She looked away, carefully dissecting the information with consideration. Deciding if Wren was truly worth the risk posed to her people. Wren prayed she came to a positive decision; otherwise, she’d steal a horse and get away before they realised. That being the plan, anyway. The details she’d discern as she went.
She returned her gaze to Wren. “What will you do when you find your people?”
The question baffled Wren. The answer, upon first glance, seemed obvious…and yet, the nature of the question, made Wren pause. The correct answer evaded her. She floundered for a moment, acutely aware of her own sheltered life.
“Return them home?” She replied stupidly.
The second the reply was out she cursed her own idiocy. Madam Kara merely stared, unsatisfied.
“To those who took them, whom hold them now?”
As if there might be multiple parties to deal with. Wren floundered again. She hadn’t really considered what she would do. Irrationally, and in her fit of initial anger, she might’ve snapped kill them. Now, that seemed too rash and she doubted her conviction to follow through. In her naivety, anger followed, a rush of it. Her cheeks flushed. She looked down at her feet, trying to calm herself. Inexplicably, it was Lorca’s face she imagined, his concern over lashing out. As though there were a demon within and that by her rage it would escape. She certainly felt like there was a demon clawing to get out.
Unaware, Wren didn’t notice that Madam Kara was there until she looked up. There was a strange sympathy in her eyes, not anger or pity. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Wren’s face, tucking it neatly behind an ear. The act was motherly. Something Wren’s own mother had never been so inclined to, not in such a tender capacity. As her hand fell away Wren found herself keenly missing, leaning forward after it, as though the hand might return.
She pulled back. “What am I doing?”
“What most young do at your age – leap without hesitation over a cliff,” she said with a sad smile.
Wren met her gaze. “I don’t have wings, though.”
The sadness fell away, became coy. “Don’t you?”
“Last I checked.”
“Hmm,” was all she said. Her gaze flickered behind me.
A second later Wren heard the tent cloth part, someone stepped inside. She turned. Lida, ruddy-faced, wide-eyed.
“The barrier is weakening. Something is probing,” said Lida in a rush. “Sorcha is out cold. We need you.”
Madam Kara nodded and was out the door following Lida in a flash. Awkwardly, Wren followed and broke into a run as they took off into the depths of the camp, then onwards to the fringe. Another group gathered, weapons in hand. A few shot Wren wary glances, as if the trouble was somehow her fault. She ignored them, watching as Madam Kara approached the barrier and held out a hand. Her flattened palm pressed against the barrier which started to shimmer and pulse, patches flickering out. She pulled her hand back, moved back, then slammed her hands together. A deafening bang exploded out from her.
The barrier dissolved.
Screams of panic rose as a shadow suddenly surged overhead. A rush of wind surged downwards, a shadow enveloping them all. It rushed forward, focused. Wren started to look up when the shadow took shape before her. A dragon. Not just any dragon. Lorca. He outstretched his wings and landed with a trot, then stopped. His wings folded at his back as he craned his head over the crowds, searching. He found Wren and let out a low whining noise. She hurried towards him, ignoring the shouts of people. He dropped his head, which she wrapped her arms around, pressing her forehead to his.
“You’re okay.”
You have made friends without me, he grumbled.
She pulled back and stared. “You didn’t leave me much choice. I had to think on my feet.”
He made a grumbling noise, then suddenly lifted his head, looking beyond her. She felt his body stiffen; then, after a beat, he burst into light…and shrank to his human form. Without explanation, he stepped around her. She turned, watched in confusion as he went straight for Madam Kara. She held out one hand, holding her people back. Lorca stopped before her.
He dropped to one knee. “Great Dragon, Inakara.”
“Prince Alfor-Lorcarsi, you live…and in curious company,” she replied with a smile.
Wren hurried to his side. “Inakara?” She looked to Lorca. “My vision. You said what I saw meant-“
“Oh, that little vision? I left it so I might hide my tracks,” explained Inakara.
Wren spun on her. “And you’re human!”
“Wren!” Lorca growled.
Inakara laughed; then, she turned to her people. “Go, it is well. These are old friends of mine. I shall speak on this tonight at the dinner.”
The crowd reluctantly dispelled. Only then Inakara looked at them again, smiling at Lorca.
“You look well.”
“You’re alive and here – why not-“
“With the rest of my kin whom left?” Inakara raised an eyebrow. “My sister, remember. She does not forgive so easily.”
Lorca looked disheartened. “You do not know where they went – do you?”
“No but I am linked. I imagine with effort, I might find them but why would I? My final return was not a happy one. I am the cause of her pain and rightly so,” said Inakara with some effort. “Regardless, my life is to these people. I swore to help them find a home.”
Wren swore that, for a split second, Inakara’s eyes flickered to her. Considering.
Lorca looked around at the camp, as if seeing it properly for the first time. He looked almost jealously over the camp. Did he find the fact that Inakara had found someone to replace his people? With a guarded expression, he looked at Inakara, became aware that she too, was studying him. There was something ancient about Inakara and it suddenly explained the kind of coyness before. Like a parent watching over errant children. Amusement.
If Lorca had any questions as to why she chose these people…or what was her insistence on finding them a home, he gave no indication. Just as Inakara saw no reason to explain. A silent game of sorts was unfurling between them, Wren little more than an onlooker, more confused than ever. She hated it.
“I will house you this night and decide if I shall agree to my granddaughter’s promise,” declared Inakara.
Wren fumed. Before, she’d acted as though she’d agreed…and now after seeing Lorca, she was considering. She turned to leave but half-stopped.
“I’ll have one of my people seek you out to find a caravan to join for the night,” she said.
Then she was gone.
Wren stared at the spot she’d stood for several moments, then spun away with a hiss. She’d liked Inakara at first. Now, she found her frustrating, condescending even. Lorca merely watched her, let her calm down. When she finally did, he walked over.
“Dragons are fickle by nature. They like this game. It’s in their nature,” he said, unsurprised by Inakara’s behaviour.
She sighed. “I hate all this waiting around. I got their bloody scrolls, risked death, just to get their help and now they’re considering following through with the deal.”
“A Dragon’s oath is binding. Sorcha isn’t a dragon, despite what Inakara says. I suspect Sorcha is adopted and her word isn’t like Inakara’s word. If we get hers, it’s law. Be patient and keep calm,” he said. “I know that is hard, especially with her.”
Wren glanced at the camp, uneasy. “And if she says no?”
“Well, we’ll come up with another plan,” he said. “I swore an oath to you, didn’t I?”
After asking around they found Sorcha, whom had survived the arrow removal and was awake. She sat up in a bed, a simple tunic on, a blanket over her legs. A smile stretched her mouth as Wren entered, followed by Lorca. Her gaze fell on him, glittering.
“So, we have two dragons here – how wonderful,” declared Sorcha.
Lorca shifted restlessly. “I am only a Dragonair. Inakara is a true dragon…but not your blood grandmother, is she?”
Sorcha shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m just another stray she took under wing. I don’t even know why she calls me her granddaughter, especially since everyone knows we are not blood. It is simply that she has always called me that.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes. A part of him had hoped that he’d found not one but two dragons. It might’ve eased the burden of his past a little.
“Oh.”
The tent rang with Sorcha’s soft laugh. “Don’t sound so disappointed – I’m not weak, you know. I’m…well, I’m pretty damn tough.”
Wren smiled. “Yes, you are. What are you, anyway?”
Sorcha shrugged. “A freak?” She paused, then looked softly at the fire. “Truthfully, I don’t know. Omi found me on the side of the road one day in the north, near dead and badly injured. She saved me and we realised pretty quickly I had magic. Anyway, I owe her my life.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to our deal?” Wren asked quietly.
“Yes.”
Wren’s eyes snapped to Sorcha, searching. The confidence in her voice made Wren feel a little better. Whenever Sorcha seemed sure of something, it seemed to come about. Yet the idea of placing faith in someone whom she barely knew made Wren uneasy.
“I do wish I had your confidence,” murmured Wren.
The curtain behind them parted, letting a sliver of moonlight spill in. A young woman entered, bowing at Sorcha, then lifting her gaze to Wren and Lorca. She considered them both for a moment.
“Madam Kara has arranged your sleeping arrangements – she noted you would be sleeping separate tents. Is this correct?”
Wren’s cheeks heated and she quickly nodded. “Um, yes.”
She didn’t sneak a look at Lorca, not wanting to see his expression. The woman nodded and gestured for them to follow. They said goodbye to Sorcha and went out. The camp had grown quiet, everyone retiring for the remaining hours to sunrise. Wren felt the lack of sleep catch up with her as she followed the woman to a large tent. She looked to Lorca.
“Go inside. Peter is up and he will show you to your roll.”
Lorca hesitated for a moment, as if reluctant to leave Wren but he slipped in a moment later. Wren continued after the woman. They arrived a minute later at another tent, one much smaller.
“I’m Luiza,” she said. She frowned to herself. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself to your partner. I am…not good with others.”
“It’s okay. Lorca will survive.”
She nodded quickly, eagre to move on. “This is your tent. You will stay with me and the other girls of my family. It’s nothing fancy.”
Wren smiled. “My village is small and remote in the village. Comforts I am not used to.”
Luiza nodded again, unsure what to say and after an awkward pause, stepped into the tent first. Wren followed quietly where two other girls were curled up on a large bed roll. They didn’t stir, not even as Wren curled under the blankets of a roll next to them. Luiza slipped in beside her and rolled over so her back was to Wren. Without much effort, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
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