"WELL, THIS CHANGES THINGS," AESON said. The small dragon was still curled up in Calen's lap. It twisted and turned as it slept, nuzzling its head into his leg. It was hard to believe that it could ever become anything like the creatures of legend. Calen had never seen one himself – the empire's dragons hadn't been seen south of the Darkwood since long before he was born – but it was said that they could grow as large as ships, with teeth as long and as sharp as swords. Their fire could burn entire cities to the ground and turn nations to dust. It was hard to see that in those curious, lavender eyes. It took a moment to register what Aeson had said.
"What do you mean?" Calen replied, looking up from the small creature slumbering in his lap.
"You cannot go chasing after your friend, Calen. Not now."
"I—"
There was a firm, immovable look on Aeson's face. "Calen, my sons and I risked our lives to bring that egg across the ocean from Valacia. That dragon – and now you – are more important than you may ever know. We need to get you to Belduar. It is the safest place right now. The empire cannot find out that you exist. An egg is one thing, but a Draleid is another thing entirely. You can't just go traipsing off across the continent. What do you think will happen if you show up at Gisa or Falstide with a dragon?"
Calen's voice was stuck in his throat. He couldn't just leave Rist.
Abandon him. It was his fault the empire had Rist. He never should have left him.
"We can go after Rist, but not now. We must get to Belduar, and we must keep you safe. You saw what the empire did to your village – to your family."
A shiver ran up Calen's spine.
"This might not have been your cause, Calen, but it is now. You are part of this. You said you wanted revenge for what they did. You will not get that revenge if a knife is slipped into your back while you go chasing the wind."
Dann's voice was probably the last one that Calen expected to hear. "He's right, Calen." There was a solemn look in his eyes. "Not that I want to
admit it, but what can we do if we go after Rist? We wouldn't know the first place to look, and even if we found him, what good are we against a Fade?
Against the empire? What could we even do?"
Calen gazed at the dragon curled up in his lap. The feeling that had been scratching at the back of his consciousness did not stir. The small dragon just yawned in its sleep, revealing rows of small, razor-sharp teeth.
"Calen." He turned his gaze from the sleeping dragon to Therin, who was staring straight at him. "You are a Draleid now. To be a Draleid is one of the most sacred callings in all of Epheria. Your soul is now bound to that creature by a magic older than the mountains and the skies. For nearly three thousand years, the Draleid and The Order were the protectors of the free peoples of Epheria, until they were betrayed by the man who now calls himself Emperor, and his followers. You do not understand yet what it is to be a Draleid, but you can be taught. Come with us to Belduar and help us right the wrongs that have ravaged these lands."
Calen's heart sank low in his chest. He never asked to become a Draleid.
He was happy in The Glade. He sighed heavily. It felt like the weight of a mountain was on his shoulders. He was only fooling himself, thinking that he had a choice to make. All his options had been taken from him. They were right, he couldn't go after Rist. What good would it do? He would never find him. Even if, by some divine intervention, he managed to find him, he didn't stand a chance against a Fade. Calen let his head droop. He gazed over at the small creature that had just changed his life even further.
And then there is you. "Okay," he sighed. "To Belduar."
"It is decided, then," Aeson said. "Erik, Dahlen, will you saddle the horses? We will get moving as soon as they are ready. There is no point in dallying. The sun will be up soon, and it is best that we are already clear of the woods by then."
It took three days of riding before the outline of Midhaven came into view.
Its multitude of towers pierced upwards into the sky, with the near twilight sun bouncing off their red slate rooves. Calen had never seen Midhaven, but travelling storytellers often told of its picturesque white walls and sprawling city streets.
The massive towers had walls as thick as Calen's arm was long, with wide open platforms on each side – landing towers for the dragons of old.
That was what the storytellers said, though Calen had a feeling that they
may have been making their own truths to suit their tales. It was yet another question he could ask Therin.
Calen glanced over at the elf, who rode only a couple of feet in front of him. He didn't look old – forty summers, maybe – but then again, Calen had never seen another elf. He didn't know what an old elf would look like.
Aeson had said that Therin was a mage since long before the title was claimed by the Circle of Magii in Berona. That meant Therin was at least four hundred years old. That couldn't be possible.
Calen squinted his eyes as he examined Therin more closely. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Therin's neck snapped around. He stared straight back at Calen, who nearly leapt out of the saddle. Calen twisted his head to the north, pretending that he had been gazing out at the Lodhar Mountains.
"I think you and I were thinking the same thing," Dann said as he pulled his horse up alongside Calen's, before whispering. "He seems in good shape for a walking sack of bones."
Calen glimpsed back at Therin. He could have sworn he saw the elf throw an unimpressed look towards Dann before turning back to the landscape in front of him.
The journey had been longer than expected. Aeson had decided that it was best for them to stay clear of the roads and villages. Not only would the empire be searching for them along the roads, but it was also difficult not to draw attention when Calen had a baby dragon riding on the front of his saddle. It was worth taking the extra time. Calen didn't fancy running into any more imperial soldiers anytime soon.
The dragon didn't move much as they travelled. It mostly slept, curled up at the front of the saddle at the nape of the horse's neck, only waking for food.
Calen had no idea what dragons ate, but he soon found out that the answer was anything that used to have – or still had – a heartbeat. It didn't eat too much at once. A few chunks of rabbit meat a few times a day seemed to keep it happy, but Aeson said that would change as it grew. It was already starting to look bigger. Aeson also said that it would probably sleep for most of the first week or so as it started to grow, but that would change once it got hungrier. Calen was not sure where Aeson's knowledge of dragons came from, but it seemed to have no end.
To his left, Calen saw the foothills of the Lodhar Mountains creeping away into the distance. From the maps that his father used to show him, he knew that the mountain city of Belduar lay just over that ridge. He never thought he would see it with his own eyes. The city of legend that withstood siege after siege and repelled imperial armies time and again, through dragonfire and catapults.
The world just didn't seem like the same place anymore. Everything had changed. Only a few weeks ago, he had spent his days helping his father in the forge, drinking mead in The Gilded Dragon with Rist and Dann, and pining after Anya Gritten. He didn't suppose he would ever see her again, nor anyone from The Glade, for that matter. The smell of honeysuckle drifted through the back of his mind as he remembered dancing with her that night. It was a memory he would hold on to.
He looked down at the small dragon curled up at the nape of the horse's neck, then at his companions. All of that seemed inconsequential now. It wasn't something that he asked for, but it had found him.
The idea of leaving Rist, abandoning him, still clung to Calen's conscience. They would find him as soon as they were able. They just couldn't do it right now. I will come for you.
Aeson's informant in Camylin had mentioned some troubling rumours of a Lorian blockade at Belduar. After a bit of discussion, they decided that only Aeson and Erik would venture into Midhaven. If they couldn't find any reliable information, Dahlen would scout the northern plains between the forest and Belduar. Between them, they would know for sure by the end of the day. Taking an elf or a dragon into Midhaven was not an option, so Calen and Therin were left to set up camp for the night.
"Okay, we will see you all in a few hours. Stay within the tree line and don't go wandering. Dahlen, scout only. Do not engage." Aeson nodded at Erik, and both of them broke off into a gallop towards Midhaven, their black mantles billowing in the wind as they rode.
"I will be back as quickly as I can," Dahlen said as he turned north, towards the plains. He and Calen hadn't really talked since Dahlen came back without Rist. Everyone else had noticed the atmosphere between them, whether or not it was spoken about. Calen knew it was mostly his fault, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure if he was angry at Dahlen, or at himself.
He had left Rist just like Dahlen did. Just like he wasn't there for Haem.
Just like he couldn't help his family. Not now…
"You know," Calen said to Dann, trying to pull himself out of his own thoughts, "you can go with them. Neither of us have ever been this far from The Glade, and before Camylin, you had never even seen a city. I would go if not for…" Calen gestured towards the sleeping dragon that lay curled up on the saddle.
"No."
Calen raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Calen, we just lost Rist. We have no idea where he is, and it's killing me that we can't just go and get him. I'm not letting you out of my sight. We're in this together. Plus, if anything happened to you, Rist would never let me live it down, and he's already a bit of an ass as it is."
Calen couldn't help but laugh. Dann did always have a way with words.
The journey through the forest would have been a silent one, were it not for his ramblings.
"Where do dragons come from?"
"Why do elves have pointy ears?"
Or Calen's personal favourite: "Can mages use magic to make people taller?"
Therin did not answer a single question. The elf seemed a bit lost in thought, but Calen was sure he saw an amused smirk more than once.
Therin's silence didn't deter Dann, even in the slightest. "You'll answer, eventually. I know you will. I'm like a weed – I'll grow on you."
Calen shook his head and laughed to himself as Dann continued.
"Can you grow a beard? I heard Elves can't grow beards."
This is going to be a long night.
"Here, this spot will do fine," Therin said as they entered a small clearing of level ground. The forest wasn't as dense as Ölm. The air was lighter, with a sweet twinge of fresh pine leaves. The warm orange glow of the setting sun sprayed through the tall, slender pine trees to create a criss-cross of shadows along the ground.
"Okay, while you two set up, I'll see if I can catch anything before the sun goes down completely," Dann said, grabbing his bow from the saddle of his horse.
"Well, thank the gods for that," Therin said with a sigh when Dann was out of earshot. "Does he ever stop talking?"
The change in Therin's demeanour caught Calen off-guard. He struggled to stifle a laugh as he dismounted. "Wait, why did you not just answer his
questions?"
The look of disbelief on Therin's face answered Calen's question. "Can elves grow beards?"
"Okay, okay. I understand." Calen laughed. "He can be a bit much, but he means well."
"I'm sure." Therin chucked his saddlebags to the ground, then fished out a bowl and a flask of water for his horse.
Calen shifted his attention to the dragon. It still lay curled up on the saddle of his horse, its white scales a stark contrast to the dark green and mottled brown canvas of the forest. The feeling at the back of his mind when the egg hatched had only grown more noticeable over the past few days. It slept most of the time, but as soon as its eyes opened, Calen knew.
Whenever it was hungry, he just knew. It was just… there.
Just as he had done each time they had stopped for the night, Calen slipped his hands under the sleeping creature's belly. Being careful not to wake it, he scooped it up and off the horse's back, and lay it down on a set of blankets he'd folded on the ground. The spines and horns that framed its face and ran down its back were small and rounded, but Aeson and Therin had insisted they would lengthen and sharpen.
"Therin… Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," Therin said. The elf had just finished piling a mound of wood for the fire and was dragging a log out from under a bush to use as a seat. He moved the log into place, then dropped himself down onto it.
"What was it you wanted to ask?"
Before Calen could answer, the elf waved his hand, and the pile of wood erupted in a plume of roaring flames. I don't think I'm ever going to getused to that.
"I…" The elf's magic had taken Calen out of his train of thought.
"Sorry," Calen said, shaking his head. "How do you and Aeson know so much about dragons?"
It was not the burning question that he wanted to ask, but it was a start.
The elf paused for a moment. "To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't asked more questions already, but I suppose you've had enough to process."
Therin shuffled in his seat. "When someone is connected to the Spark, they age differently than other people. I have lived to see entire nations rise and fall and cities burned to ash, only to be rebuilt and razed once more. Many lifetimes. A long time ago, when The Order was at the height of its power,
dragons roamed all over these lands. From the walls of Eselthyr to the towers of Ilnaen; from the Rolling Mountains of Valtara to the Sea of Stone.
"In this time, I was the Elven Ambassador to The Order. I counted many of the Draleid among my closest friends. I have had more than one lifetime to learn of dragons, my boy." Therin looked down at the dragon that had now crawled back up onto Calen's lap. "Though until the other night, I never thought I would see one again. At least, not one that I would be happy to see. As for Aeson, that is a story for another time."
Calen nodded. "My father, you—" The sound of footsteps drew Calen's attention. Dann strolled into camp, two rabbits slung over his shoulder, already skinned and ready to cook. Calen sighed to himself, letting his question hold in the wind. He turned his head towards the fire and let his mind get lost in the chaos of the flames.
"There wasn't much choice, I'm afraid," Dann said. He knelt in front of the fire, preparing the spit. A pang of hunger washed over Calen, from almost nowhere. Then he felt it. He looked down. The dragon was awake. It tossed its sleepy head from side to side, making a short, metallic chirping noise as it lifted itself to its feet.
"Holy shit. The thing's awake again!" Dann yelped and fell backwards onto the ground.
"You are such a baby," Calen said. He ran his hand down the back of the dragon's neck. The scales had much the same texture as a coarse stone, but were a lot softer than Calen initially thought they would be.
"A baby?" Dann scoffed. "That thing wakes up every time I bring food back into the camp. It nearly took my hand off last night!"
"Well, learn your lesson then."
As if to back Calen up, the dragon stood up straight, fanned its wings out, and let out a high-pitched screech towards Dann. Even at the size of a small dog, it looked fearsome.
"Oh, fuck off!" Dann cut the leg off one of the rabbits and tossed it on the ground in front of the dragon. It screeched again, then shook its head from side to side as it tore into the meat. "Little savage…" muttered Dann.
Calen saw Therin smirking out of the corner of his eye.
Calen coughed as he choked down a lump of stale bread, following it up with a draught from his waterskin.
Rabbit meat and stale bread was becoming a staple of his diet. It was better than nothing, which is what Calen would be eating if he had been out there on his own. "Therin, why Belduar?"
"Belduar has been a thorn in the empire's side since the fall of The Order.
It was the only independent city of men in all Epheria that withstood Fane's advances. The king of Belduar, Arthur Bryne, is by all accounts a good man. He is a friend of mine and Aeson's and probably one of the few people who we can trust right now. Arthur is the one who sent Aeson to Valacia in search of the egg. Well, I suppose he is not an egg anymore."
Therin gestured towards the dragon. It now lay contently at Calen's feet, its tongue flicking back and forth as it picked pieces of meat from its mouth.
He.
"At Belduar," he continued, "we will find sanctuary. A place to rest without having to look over our shoulders, and then we can decide what is next."
"I see," Calen said. "And then? When can we search for Rist?"
Therin sighed. "I don't know, Calen. That is the truth. Rist can touch the Spark. That much we know. That is probably why the Fade took him, and if that is the case, then he will be on his way to the High Tower. But to guess the reasons a Fade would do anything is like trying to catch the wind in your hands. They serve the traitor god, Efialtir, and in doing so, their interests align with Fane Mortem. Beyond that, I know as much as you do."
Calen looked at Dann, who was staring absently into the fire. His chest rose and fell in heavy sweeps. Therin must have noticed. "If there is one thing that the emperor appreciates, it is the power of magic. Rist will be safe.
They will want to train him, recruit him – not kill him. That means we have time. I told you that I don't know when we can search for him, and that is the truth, but we will search for him. That, I promise you."
The conversation left a sour taste in Calen's mouth. Everything Therin said made sense, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. They sat in silence. The only sound was the snapping and crackling of the wood as it was consumed by the flames.
Dann's eyes darted from side to side at the clip-clop sound of horse hooves approaching the campsite.
"No," Therin said when Dann reached for his bow. Dann shot him a questioning look, but Therin did not respond. After a few tense moments, Aeson and Erik strode into the clearing. The light from the fire illuminated
their faces. "What news?" Therin tossed Aeson a hunk of now-cold rabbit meat as he hopped down off his horse.
"Not good," Aeson replied as he sank his teeth into the meat. "The talk in the taverns is that a Lorian force began a blockade of Belduar not more than four days ago. The numbers range from two thousand to fifty thousand strong, depending on who you ask. I'd wager somewhere closer to ten thousand."
Erik dropped himself down beside Calen, his eyes transfixed on the now-sleeping dragon. "That really is all it does, isn't it?" he laughed. "Eat, sleep, eat, sleep."
"More or less," Calen replied. "But your father said that will change in a few days. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing."
"Have you thought of a name?"
"A name? What do you mean?"
"I mean a name. As in, what are you going to call him?"
The thought of naming it – him – hadn't even crossed Calen's mind. It had not dawned on him that he would be the one to choose the dragon's name. "I wouldn't have the slightest idea. What do you call a dragon?"
"Don't look at me," Erik said. "Maybe ask Therin or my dad. I'm sure they might have an idea." Calen nodded, his mind already pondering it.
What kind of names do dragons have?
"How about 'lazy pile of scales?'" said Dann. He poked at the sleeping dragon with a small stick, almost leaping out of his skin when it gave a short shriek in response, its eyes never opening. Both Calen and Erik threw their heads back in laughter.
Aeson sat himself down on a log beside the fire. "Dahlen has not returned yet?"
"He has not," Therin answered.
Aeson shifted uncomfortably. "I see. I thought he would have returned sooner than us."
"I wasn't far behind you, in fairness."
Calen twisted his head around, a frown setting into his face as Dahlen dismounted from his horse. He couldn't help it. Every time he looked at Dahlen, a ball of anger knotted in his chest.
"The news isn't good, I'm afraid," Dahlen said. "There is a blockade.
The campfires are spread for miles. I would say maybe ten or eleven thousand men. Difficult to tell from that distance at night, but I wouldn't
think I'm far off. They must have been signalled when they found our ship at sea. There is no other way they would have gotten here so fast. Is there any of that left for me?" He gestured towards the rabbit leg that the dragon had half-devoured. Dann tossed him the last scrap that had been resting by the fire. Dahlen thanked him as he sat down beside Erik.
"We know," Aeson said. "That was the talk in the city. We just needed you to confirm." There was a pensive look on the warrior's face.
"How did they know we were going to Belduar?" Dann said, leaning forward.
"Maybe they don't," Aeson replied. "The empire has tried to take Belduar more times than I can count. This could simply be another attempt.
But it is more likely that Farda has worked out where we are going."
"What now?" Dahlen asked as he stripped the bone clean of meat.
Aeson did not speak but looked at Therin, who shifted uncomfortably.
"I do not know, old friend. It would not be my choice."
"Choices are not something we have many of right now," Aeson said.
Therin furrowed his brow. Calen had not seen him take it from anywhere, but Therin flipped a small silver knife between the fingers of his right hand as he stared into the fire. "Okay."
The reluctance in Therin's voice was difficult for Calen to ignore. "Can someone please explain what is going on?"
The towers of Midhaven were even more impressive from up close. Ella weaved her way through the passing strangers who shuffled about the city.
Her eyes moved between the path ahead of her and the skies above her. If the towers were any higher, they might pierce the clouds.
Their colouring was striking. Whatever had been done to cast the stone in such a white hue, she did not know, but the way the orange glow of the rising sun bounced off the buildings created such a soothing, warm light in the city streets. It was almost as if whoever built the city had painted it instead of constructed it. It was a masterpiece on a canvas of stone. When she saw it from a distance, it was spectacular enough, with the red slate rooves striking against the snow-white buildings. But up close… it was breath-taking.
"Oh! Sorry!" Ella dragged her eyes from the sky and swerved out of the way of an on-rushing peddler.
"Fool girl!" he shouted back, shaking his hand at her as he dragged a small cart behind him, filled with odd bits and trinkets.
"Maybe we should keep our eyes ahead of us instead of in the clouds?"
Rhett said, laughter touching the edge of his words.
Ella smiled, a slight blush spreading on her cheeks. He always did that to her, no matter where they were. It was his eyes, she thought. Or it could be his smile.
Rhett narrowed his eyes. "Stop looking at me like that." He laughed.
The merchant who brought them to Midhaven gave them the name of an inn that was "both cheap and cheerful." The Golden Bow. Not that Ella was in any rush to find it. She could have wandered the streets all day without a care in the world. They weren't as busy as the streets in Camylin, but that was probably because the day had barely even begun. Even then, as the morning sun sprayed down over the cobbled stone streets, Ella could almost feel the day's excitement in the air.
The magical plethora of aromas that wafted through the air added an entirely different dimension to the city. Midhaven was famous for four things: its high towers, white walls, flowers, and bakeries. The first two made it a visual spectacle; the second two allowed you to float around the streets on the waves of aroma.
Her eyes almost jumped out of her head as she passed the window of the largest bakery she had ever seen in her life. It was at least ten times the size of Madame Gourna's in Milltown. There was everything she could think of.
Loaves, cakes, tarts, pies – the list went on and on. It pained her to continue walking.
Rhett wanted to get to the inn first and make sure that there was room.
Summer was one of the busiest seasons in Illyanara for travellers and merchants, but in Midhaven especially, as it was commonly used as a midway point for all travel in the province. "There, up ahead. By the butchers."
Sure enough, about twenty feet ahead, on the right-hand side, was the butcher. Next-door, a large sign hung over the building with 'The Golden Bow' printed above the intricately painted image of a bow in gold and silver.
Just as the merchant had promised, the inn was a lovely little place. It was smaller than the inn in Camylin but had a much nicer atmosphere, and there wasn't mould growing on the walls, which was a positive. The
innkeeper was an upbeat fellow, slightly plump with a balding head and a beaming smile. His bleached white apron was immaculate; not a speck of dirt could be seen from top to bottom. That definitely won't last the day. To Ella's pleasant surprise, not only did they have rooms available, but the room that he offered them was so lovely and quaint. A comfy-looking double bed lay nestled into a nook at the far end, just below a slanted wooden roof. A small antique mirror hung on the wall in front of an ornate wooden desk. Perfect.
Ella threw herself onto the bed, closing her eyes as she sunk into the soft mattress. She exhaled contently, then let her eyes open again. Rhett stood two feet away with a letter in his hand and a concerned look on his face.
"I have something to show you."