Dayne sat on the edge of the pier. His feet dipped in and out of the gelid water, bobbing with the ebb and flow of the waves. Alina had not told him precisely why she left or where she was going – not that Dayne had expected any less. It was clear she didn't trust him. But still, she had saved him. That had to count for something.
She had left him a 'personal guard' though, which he knew was just a platitude for armoured babysitters. Dayne turned his head to see the two guards standing behind him. Juna and Thuram.
Juna was a tall woman with dark brown hair tied in a braid that ran from the front of her head straight through and down into a ponytail. The sides of her head were shaved smooth, showing the black ink tattoos that spiralled from front to back – the markings of House Vakira. Her cuirass was enamelled with ornate spirals of white, and she held a long ash wood valyna in her fist and carried a short sword at her hip. She bore three black rings on her right arm and two on her left.
Her partner, Thuram, was slightly shorter and looked to have seen about fifty summers. He had fair hair, a thick chest, and eyes that never seemed to blink. The green and gold of his armoured skirts marked him as House Deringal, and the ring tattoos that ran along his left arm marked him as a blade master.
Alina had most certainly not taken any chances. Not that he blamed her. He was curious as to where she had gone, though. She could not have returned to Redstone, not after what she did for him – another thing he had taken from her. He had asked Juna and Thuram, but they weren't exactly a talkative pair. Their names had been all he had managed up to that point, and even that was like drawing blood from a stone, particularly with Juna. He still had not tried ale though. That often loosened lips. He would try it tonight.
Leaning forward, Dayne rested his elbows on his knees. He looked out over the harbour of Stormshold, sheltered within the mountain beneath the city from which it took its name. The fact that this makeshift group of rebels had managed to find enough Craftsmages to build such a stronghold was impressive enough on its own. But keeping it hidden was even more so.
Four boats were moored in the harbour along with a slightly larger ship like the one he had arrived in. Most carried crates of fruit, meat, vegetables, and clothes – supplies necessary for survival. But others carried piles of weapons and armour: arrows, swords, spears, shields.
The ships that carried the weapons and armour were almost always Koraklon ships. Even if it were not for the pale blue markings on the sails, the distinctive carvings of the Oranak Squid – the sigil of house Koraklon – that sat at the prow of the ships made it obvious. Those ships would be coming and going from Ironcreek.
The ships Dayne kept his eye on, though, were the ones that came bearing oranges. Not just any oranges, but oranges bigger than his fist with thick, dimpled skins.
One such ship had come in three hours ago, and the crew were now loosening the moorings to cast off on the return journey. Dayne flicked the hourglass in his head, noting the turnaround time from docking, to unloading, to setting sail once more. It varied slightly, but it was usually around two and a half hours, depending on the crew. The crews seemed to rotate journeys, each taking every second trip. This particular crew always took at least three hours between docking and setting off again. One of the women had a limp in her left leg, which slowed them down.
The reason he paid particular attention to the ships that carried the oranges was because only one place in Valtara grew oranges of that size: the Redstone orchards.
The fragrant aroma of those oranges permeated Dayne's entire childhood. When he was but five summers, one had fallen from a high branch and knocked him unconscious. Dayne let out a laugh as he remembered waking up to Marlin shaking him by the shoulders. It was probably the only time he remembered the steward uttering a curse. But more importantly than nostalgia, if the ship was carrying oranges from the Redstone orchards, that meant it was coming from Skyfell. Which in turn meant Dayne had found a way back to the city. He did not intend on trying to leave Stormshold before Alina returned. He had left her once, and he would not do it again. But old habits died hard, and knowledge was never a bad thing. So, he chalked it off in the ledger that he held in his mind. Charting and assessing each ship, each crewmember, their habits, their ailments, and their strengths. He noted the times the ships arrived, which ships carried what, and where those ships would be going.
As the ship that had brought the oranges pulled away from the harbour and made its way between the two platforms that jutted out into the water, a shadow flickered overhead, sweeping past Dayne, then moving out over the water. Dayne watched as the shadow moved across the undulating waves, changing direction and sweeping back. He lifted his head just in time to see a reddish blur flash past him, the beating of wings drumming in his ear.
The wingbeats slowed, and gasps rang out behind him. Dayne pulled himself to his feet, turning as he did. Before him, just past Juna and Thuram, its neck craned in the air, was a wyvern.
The creature was the size of a large war horse, its tail snaking out behind it. Its body was covered with overlapping red scales that dimmed to a cream colour on its underbelly. The muscles on the wyvern's neck rippled with each movement as it turned its head about. A pair of golden eyes, gleaming with intelligence, surveyed its surroundings. The creature's head and snout were short, with powerful jaws and razor-sharp teeth. A pair of thick forelimbs fanned out into leathery wings that stretched back, connecting with the creature's body.
Dayne stared in amazement. He had not seen a wyvern so close in over a decade, not since he had been exiled. And truthfully, he had never expected to see one again.
The woman who climbed down from the saddle atop the wyvern's back was garbed in black and orange leather armour and a blackened steel helmet in the typical Valtaran style, a sword strapped to her hip. She ran her palm along the creature's jaw, whispering something in its ear. With a gust of wind and beating of wings, the wyvern took off, lifting itself into the air, and up towards the alcoves set into the top of the enormous cavern.
"Dayne Ateres, I heard rumour you had returned." The woman's voice was familiar, a distant memory hazed by time. She strode past Juna and Thuram as though they were not there. The two guards did not even consider protesting. Instead, they gave the woman a slight bow before stepping out of her way, timid as mice. Dayne would have expected no less. She was, after all, a wyvern rider.
"Am I to know who I am talking to?" Dayne asked, raising one eyebrow, doing his best to hide the slight trepidation that sat in his stomach. Even if he had still been a respected member of House Ateres, he would have needed to watch his words around a wyvern rider.
"Have you been gone so long you forgot those you left behind?" The rider placed her hands on either side of her helmet as she spoke, lifting it from her head to reveal a face of bronzed skin, three claw marks running from her forehead, stopping just over her eyes before continuing down to her jawline. Her brown hair was tied back, shaved at the sides, and her eyes shimmered like two pools of blue.
Dayne's heart skipped a beat, a tangible shiver running along his skin. His chest constricted, as though something had hold of his lungs. "Mera…"
"So, you do remember me?" Mera continued to walk towards Dayne, her steps slowing as her eyes took him in.
"Of course I do." Dayne tilted his head, tracing every line on her face. The scars were new. They suited her. As were the small creases at the folds of her eyes. They suited her too. "I…"
"There is no need," Mera said, raising her hand, a soft smile touching her face. "You are alive. That is all that matters."
She walked past him, then removed her leather riding boots and socks before sitting down at the edge of the harbour and letting out a sigh of relief as she dipped her feet into the water. "Are you going to join me?"
Silence hung in the air as Dayne and Mera sat at the edge of the water. It wasn't an uneasy silence, but neither was it one of those effortless, comfortable silences between old friends who were simply content in each other's presence. There were things that needed to be said – a lot of things. Things Dayne didn't know how to say. He closed his eyes, listening to the repetitive swish of the waves as they moved back and forth, building up courage.
"So, you're a wyvern rider now?" he said, opening his eyes once more.
"Clearly."
Dayne smiled. If one thing had not changed, it was Mera's sense of humour. He turned towards her, pulling his feet out of the water and folding them in front of him. "Can I see?"
For a moment, Mera hesitated, her eyes locked on Dayne's, but then she nodded. With practised care, she pulled at the fingertips of the leather gloves that covered her hands, loosening them before sliding them off entirely.
Dayne took Mera's hands into his, a smile touching his face as he looked over the markings of the wyvern rider that had been tattooed onto her skin. Black ink covered each of her fingers, turning to thin lines at the second knuckles, before joining together at the bands of black that ran around each wrist.
"A lot has changed since you left." Mera's voice was soft, but there was a touch of venom in her words, whether she meant it or not.
"It was not my choice."
"You always have a choice."
Dayne held Mera's gaze, unblinking, unyielding. "Not this time."
"You could have told me." Mera lifted her gaze from the water, a chaotic blend of ferocity and sadness in her eyes. "I would have come with you."
"That's why I didn't tell you," Dayne said, pulling his eyes free of Mera's, staring vacantly out at the water. He remembered the night he left with more clarity than any other point in his life. It had been etched into his mind. He remembered standing outside Mera's chambers, his bag strapped across his back, tears welling in his eyes. He had thought about telling her what was happening. Asking her to come with him. But that would have been selfish. He knew well that she would have come with him, just as he would have gone with her if she were in his place. But he hadn't wanted to force that life on her. It wouldn't have been fair.
"Can I have those back?"
It took Dayne a moment longer than it should have to realise he still clasped Mera's hands in his, his thumb tracing the line of ink that ran around her wrist. He had missed the feel of her skin, the touch of her hands on his. "I'm sorry, I…"
A smile curled at the edge of Mera's mouth. "Don't be. This is strange for me too. I never thought I'd lay eyes on you again."
"Nor I, you." Dayne hesitated for a moment. He knew the question he wanted to ask, but he was unsure as to whether he should ask it. "Mera. Do you know where my sister has gone?"
The look on Mera's face changed. She pulled away from him, and her eyes darkened to a stony stare.
Gods dammit, why am I such an idiot?
"It was good to see you, Dayne," she said, replacing her gloves, boots, and socks before pulling herself to her feet. "But I have things that need doing."
Dayne leapt to his feet, catching Mera's arm as she turned to leave. "Mera, if there is something going on that could put Alina in danger, I need to know."
"She will be fine, Dayne. Alina can look after herself."
Dayne held Mera's gaze. "Mera, please."
Mera glanced over her shoulder towards Juna and Thuram, who were feigning disinterest but were clearly trying their best to eavesdrop. She pulled him into a hug, whispering in his ear. "Tonight, in Audin's Rest. I will mark it for you."
Dayne nodded. "I'll just need to get rid of my 'personal guard', first."
As it turned out, both Juna and Thuram were quite fond of ale. So fond, in fact, that while Dayne climbed the rock face of the cavern towards Audin's Rest, they lay face down at the inn table. All it had taken was a pair of silver pieces for the innkeeper to have them carried to a room. They would likely want Dayne's head on a spike when they woke up, but that was a problem for another day.
Gritting his teeth, Dayne swung his arm up, fingers clasping the edge of the rock. Sweat streamed from his brow and stung his eyes. The muscles in his shoulders bunched, screaming in pain. He dared not look down. Heights did not scare him, but only to a point. Any man who dangled on the edge of a two-hundred-foot drop without fear was a man with no sense at all. Resting his sweat-slicked forehead against the rock, Dayne laughed. Not a hearty laugh, or a laugh that built in his chest, but the kind of laugh that could only come from someone who had suddenly realised they were doing something utterly stupid.
"We could have just gone for a drink," Dayne muttered before taking a deep breath and heaving himself up over the ledge onto a narrow lip in the rock. He tilted his head back, exhaling, his breath misting in front of him. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles that had begun to knot. Taking another deep breath, he looked out over the cavern, searching for Mera's marking. Hundreds of Alcoves were set into the walls at the top of Stormshold, each acting as a wyvern's Rest, their home. Most of the alcoves emitted a soft orange light from within, meaning the riders were in the Rests with their wyvern.
It was incredibly dangerous for anyone to creep into a wyvern's Rest – even with permission. They were intelligent creatures but fiercely territorial. It was Dayne's guess that it was Mera's wyvern, Audin, who had given her that scar. Dayne had seen women take much worse wounds to become riders.
As his eyes scanned the rockface, he noticed a small marking in orange paint, a figure eight with three lines through the central axis. It was the symbol his father had used as a sign for the second rebellion, the rebellion that never was.
"All cycles can be broken, my boy," Dayne's father said, his hand tracing along a figure eight roughly drawn with chalk on the wall. "But they do not break on their own, not while good people stand by." His father drew three lines straight through the centre of the coiling shape. "Anything can be broken with enough force of will. Any chains, any bonds or ties—" Arkin Ateres thumped his son in the chest with the palm of his hand, then dropped to one knee. "You see this heart? It is the heart of House Ateres. It beats in you, it beats in me, in your mother, in your sister, and your brother. No matter what happens, you protect them, protect the heart of House Ateres, and together, you will break the chains. Valtara will be free. By blade and by blood."
Pulling himself from his thoughts Dayne looked for a path towards the alcove that sat below the marking. The alcove was on the opposite side of the cavern, a firelight emanating from within. It was too far to sling himself with threads of Air, and he could see only two ways across. Down and back up or skirt the whole way around. Why couldn't she have just pointed it out to him? He let out a sigh, muttering to himself. "I'm not climbing back up this thing."
Letting out a sigh, Dayne lowered himself back down off the ledge.
It took another half hour for Dayne to skirt his way around the cavern to Mera's alcove. He grimaced, pulling his hands free from the split in the rock. His fingertips were cracked and bleeding, as were the pads on his knuckles on the inside of his hands. His back was about two minutes from seizing, and a long gash ran along his shin from where he had lost his grip and cracked his leg on a sharp rock. But he was there.
With one final tensing of his muscles, Dayne swung himself down into the alcove that had been marked with the orange symbol. He pushed the impact of the landing through his bent legs, rolling forward onto his haunches.
Warm breath rolled over his head and face, the smell of saliva and the iron tang of fresh blood filling his nostrils. Dayne's heart pounded as he tilted his head up. It was all he could do to fight his natural reflex to reach for the Spark.
The wyvern, Audin, stood before him. His neck craned downward, his powerful body tensed and ready. The wyvern's red scales shimmered in the light of the fire that illuminated the cave. Dayne didn't dare take his eyes from the creature to see if Mera sat by the fire. The two slits at the end of the wyvern's nose flared, his lips pulling back to expose a row of gleaming white teeth, sharp as fragments of obsidian. The creature's eyes, pools of molten gold, watched Dayne's every move. Weighing him, measuring him.
Dayne didn't move, not even an inch. He kept his eyes fixed on Audin's, matching the tilt of the creature's head. Wyverns were intelligent, they were loyal, and their bonds ran deep. But they were also immensely powerful predators. And Dayne needed to make sure this one didn't see him as prey.
"Audin." Mera's voice rang out through the Rest, rising from beside the fire. "Friend."
The wyvern ignored Mera's call, his eyes narrowing, his snout moving closer to Dayne's face. Bits of torn meat sat wedged between the creature's teeth, blood dripping out over the edge of its lips. If he had already eaten, maybe he wouldn't want dessert.
Dayne swallowed hard as a deep growl began to resonate from the creature's chest. But then, as though finally making a decision, Audin exhaled through his nostrils, blowing warm breath over Dayne's face one more time before turning back towards the fire, his muscles rippling beneath his scaly armour. With one last look towards Dayne, a growl still emanating from his open mouth, Audin curled up by the fire, laying his head down on the rocky ground.
With the wyvern resting, Dayne finally risked a glance towards Mera. A smile crept across the woman's face as she sat there, her legs crossed, the orange firelight flickering shadows across her. "Come, sit."
The Rest was larger than Dayne had anticipated, stretching back over thirty feet into the rock and breaking out into four smaller alcoves. A small fire sat at its centre, a cookpot sitting over it incensing the air with the scent of burned wood and bone broth.
A small table sat against the wall on the right side. Three clay bowls, a ladle, two mugs, two spoons, a small wooden box, and a teapot rested on the table. Dayne wasn't surprised by how sparse and tidy the Rest was. Mera had always been fastidious when it came to those things.
"I trust the climb wasn't too difficult?" Mera stood up, grabbed two of the clay bowls, two spoons, and the ladle, then walked back towards the fire. Dayne could hear the mirth in her voice.
"Fantastic," he replied, sitting down by the fire. "I was only just telling Juna and Thuram that I didn't have enough cuts and bruises."
Mera laughed, setting everything down beside the fire. She reached her hand into her pocket, producing a small tin and tossing it to Dayne.
"What's this for?" he asked, sitting down beside Mera and screwing off the lid of the tin. An immediate waft of antiseptic hit his nostrils. Brimlock sap.
"That's for your hands," Mera responded, a knowing tone in her voice. "And for your leg."
A sudden sharp pain shot through Dayne's shin as he inspected the tin of brimlock sap. He jerked his leg back instinctively. "Gods dammit, Mera!"
"Hold still," Mera sniped, burying a thin needle back through the skin around his shin, a line of catgut tied to its end. "Stop being such a child."
"Agh." Dayne clamped his teeth together, gasping as Mera threaded the needle through the wound. "A little warning, no?"
He had not thought the wound that bad. She probably just wanted to see him wince.
"There, all done," she said with a grin on her face. "Now, you cover that with brimlock and I'll sort the food."
Dayne cursed as he rubbed a thick layer of brimlock sap along the neatly stitched wound on his shin before applying it to his hands and fingers. It stung like a scorpion and smelled worse. He knew he would have to apply more again tomorrow as well, and he didn't look forward to it. It didn't matter how many times he had been cut open and stitched back up, he would never get used to the sharp medicinal smell of brimlock sap. The pain? He felt it, but it was like the embrace of an old friend at this stage. The smell of brimlock sap, however, that sent his stomach spinning into cartwheels every time.
"You were sent by Elyara herself," Dayne said as Mera handed him a spoon and a clay bowl filled to the brim with bone broth.
Mera gave him a flat stare, then slapped the stitches in his shin.
"Fuck! Why?"
Mera shrugged. "Somebody needs to keep you in line."
"Alina has no trouble doing that." Dayne let out a sound not dissimilar to a purr as the warm broth touched his lips. It tasted like home. On cold winter nights, his mother had always made bone broth for Dayne and his siblings while they sat in front of the fire, his father telling old stories.
Mera shifted. "Alina knows what she is doing, Dayne. With you gone…" Mera paused for a moment, her eyes not meeting Dayne's. "With you gone and Baren's thoughts turned towards the empire, things got worse than they had ever been. We stand behind Alina because she is the one who rose to lead us."
Dayne stopped eating. He left the spoon in the bowl, the warmth of the broth heating his lap. "You stand behind Alina?"
Mera must have seen the surprise on Dayne's face, for he could see it now on hers. "She didn't tell you."
"She didn't."
Mera exhaled through her nose, staring into the fire. "Not long after Stormshold was built, the council nominated Alina as its leader. There were others who sought the position, but they did not go against the decision. At least, not openly. She is a strong leader, Dayne."
"Of that, I have no doubt." Dayne swirled the spoon around in his bowl of broth. It all made sense now. Why Alina had not wanted him to make himself known to the council. He was her elder. He would offer a threat to her seniority within House Ateres. "You said things were bad. How bad?"
"They take two-fifths of everything we produce. Many starve. And, as they have since the rebellion, they take all the first-born males from each family, feeding them into the Lorian army." Mera's eyes were wet with tears, glistening in the light from the fire. "All children are tested for their magic at ten summers, not like before." Her eyes held a knowing look as she spoke those words. When Dayne was younger, he had not told anyone of his ability to touch the Spark. His father had warned him not to, as the empire took children who could touch the Spark. He had told Alina and Baren, but they were the only ones. Though he had always suspected Mera had known. It was difficult to be so close to someone and hide such a large piece of yourself. "They are thorough now. Any child found between eleven and eighteen with the ability to use magic is hung in the main plaza of Skyfell, no exceptions."
Dayne's heart bled as Mera spoke, and his throat felt as though it had been rubbed dry.
"Even the wyverns… No more than five years after you left, the wyverns started to die. It was slow at first, but after a while, we would find ten, twelve, fifteen a day lying in pools of their own blood. The empire deny it was them. They blame it on a plague. But it was them, I'm sure of it. Had Alina and a few others not hidden a stash of eggs, and had they not had Stormshold built by Alamant Craftsmages… they would all be gone. All of them." Mera's gaze drifted to Audin, who lay curled up on the other side of the fire, his chest swelling slowly before falling again, moving in a methodical rhythm.
"Mera, I didn't… I couldn't… there was no choice." Dayne searched his mind desperately for the right words. But there were no right words. Some things could not be explained or fixed with words.
Mera pulled herself up on to her knees, bringing the outside of her hand up to rest against Dayne's cheek. "I don't care why you left. I know you well enough to know that there was good reason. All I care about is that you are back. You are back, aren't you?"
A tear burned at the corner of Dayne's eye. "There is nothing but death that will ever take me away again."
Dayne brought his hand up to his face, wrapping his fingers around Mera's. For a moment, everything else faded and there was only him and Mera. His mind drifted to their first kiss, on the cliffs of Ahgar. Mera always had the biggest heart Dayne had ever known. It was a large part of why he had loved her. She had been beautiful – still was – but it was not her beauty that drew him in. Beauty faded with age, yielding to the incessant abrasion of time. It was fleeting. The heart's capacity for love was the true gauge of one's soul. "Mera, I…"
Dayne's mind went blank at the feel of Mera's lips on his. Her fingers brushed the side of his face, reaching back, running through his hair. Dayne's heart beat so hard against his ribs he thought it might break free. He brought his hands up, cupping them to either side of Meera's face. For a brief moment, he pulled away. "Are you sure?"
"Shut up." Meera grabbed Dayne and pulled him in closer, kissing him.
The fire crackled and popped, casting an incandescent glow through the Rest as Dayne and Mera lay there, the warmth kissing their bare skin. Dayne traced his finger along the soft skin of Mera's arm, up towards her shoulder. He brought his hand back down, resting it on her hip as he placed a gentle kiss on her neck.
"Alina has gone to Skyfell," Mera said, a resignation in her voice as she stared into the fire, its flames dancing in the night.
Dayne propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at Mera. "Mera? What is she doing in Skyfell?"
"What do you think she's doing, Dayne? She's going to kill the Inquisitor, force the empire's hand. You wanted another rebellion. She is giving you one."
"Baren would never let her…" A sudden realisation crossed Dayne's mind. "She's going to kill Baren too. I have to stop her, Mera."
"You can't, Dayne."
"He's still my brother, Mera. I have to try."