Dragonoak Page 24

  “Northwood, please tell me I am hitting my head and you are not really sitting on a dragon in this very moment,” Akela said, and I had no answer for her. I could only beckon her closer, heart in my throat, terrified but trusting. “No, no, this sort of journey, it is not what I am cut out for.”

  Oak lifted his head and I clung on tighter, though I didn't slide back. He inched towards Akela, knocking his nose against her chest, and she looked too startled to fall back.

  “We won't need to find horses at this rate, right?” I said, giddy with how ridiculous it all was. “We'll be at Orinhal in no time.”

  “Northwood, I am certain that even Tizo is coming up with a plan better than this one,” Akela said warily, staring down at Oak when he didn't back off. With a look that said she expected to regret it, Akela lifted her hands and placed them on the sides of Oak's head. His tail twitched but he didn't bare his fangs at her. Humming, Akela tilted her head this way and that, catching her reflection in Oak's eyes. “... ah, what is coming over me? This dragon, he is an overgrown puppy, yes? I am looking at this face and I am thinking, perhaps I am jumping to conclusions.”

  Back to herself, Akela patted Oak on the snout and marched around to his side, chest pushed out. I held out a hand and she climbed onto Oak's back behind me saying, “Sorry, sorry, my scaly friend, I am not meaning to scuff you with my boots,” as she got comfortable.

  “Once we take off,” I whispered,” You can cling to me if you want. I won't tell anyone.”

  Akela laughed heartily, but now that she was on his back, Oak wasn't wasting any time. Wings stretched out, he set off at a run, kicking off the ground with his hind legs. He flung himself in the air, wings beating hard to push him higher, and for a second, I was convinced that he'd crash back into the forest.

  Huffing, Oak pushed through the strain of take-off, seeming to glide higher and higher. My stomach twisted and sunk within me, all of my organs scrambling together as the ground rushed away, and Akela wrapped both arms around my waist, swearing in Agadian, and then in Mesomium, for good measure. I laughed the lump out of my throat, catching my breath, air cooler and cooler around us, and the forest and the wall and Benkor became impossibly small, blurs on a landscape of endless green.

  Oak continued his steady ascent until we were closer to the clouds than the ground, not wanting to risk being dragged back down for a second time. The sight of dragons overhead was far from uncommon in Kastelir, and had anyone craned their neck back to stare at the dark shape cutting across the clouds, they never would've seen anyone on Oak's back.

  His wings joined his body where his shoulder blades were, just above my knees, and I wrapped my hands around the base of one, leaning over the side to see how far we'd come. The ground rushed by as though a map had been pulled from beneath us, and I couldn't remember ever enjoying fear so much. Akela's grasp on my waist loosened, but she kept one hand at my hip, and her startled curses turned to cheers.

  Even on Oak's back, it wasn't a short journey. We were in the sky for so long that I was sure I'd forget how the ground felt beneath my feet, and eventually, my heart settled into a steady rhythm. Hours in and I thought Akela might fall asleep against my back. Oak had a vague idea of where he was headed, in the same way that I did; we both knew to head north-west, towards the centre of Kastelir, and when I thought we were drawing close, I looked out for the ravine cutting through Bosma behind Orinhal.

  It was dark when we arrived. Weeks of travelling had flown by in no more a dozen hours, and we would've headed straight past Orinhal, if not for the fires burning within the city, torches lighting the streets.

  They certainly weren't hiding from the Felheimish.

  I held on tightly to Oak's scales as we descended, giving the city a wide-berth. The wind tore past us and Akela wrapped both arms around me, and we landed along the edge of the ravine, almost a mile from Orinhal. No doubt they'd have people watching the skies for dragons, and I didn't want to frighten the resistance; more than that, I didn't want to risk anything happening to Oak again.

  “We are making it!” Akela declared, light-headed from the journey, and stumbled when she slipped off Oak's back. He swung out his tail, catching her, and Akela took an unsteady step forward, saying, “You are most kind, my Oaky friend. When the others are arriving, we are laughing. Not even Kouris is making the journey so quickly!”

  I swung my leg over and jumped off, having more faith in my feet than Akela's, and stumbled forward as the ground pulled me down. Akela caught me, chuckled, and set me on my course to Oak's side. Lights moved in the distance – members of the resistance brandishing torches as they charged over on horseback – and I pressed my face between his eyes, closing my own.

  “You can't stay with us, Oak. You know why, don't you?” I said, brushing my hand along his snout, fingertips grazing the hole in his jaw that hadn't healed over. “Go to Kyrindval. I think you remember where it is. The pane will look after you. And if you see my brother, make sure you give him a scare, alright?”

  Oak pulled back, staring stubbornly at me, and Akela knocked a fist against one of his horns, saying, “Go! Go! Look, these people, they are on their way, and they are not as pleased to see you as we are.”

  Puffing out a hint of smoke, Oak scampered back, looking between us one last time before picking up speed and launching himself into the sky. With my eyes fixed on him, I forgot about the people charging our way, and felt my stomach leave the ground as he did.

  “Good evening!” Akela called as three riders approached, “If we are arriving at the wrong place, well, this is rather embarrassing! All of you, you are from the resistance, no?”

  They circled us, horses walling us in, and a woman wearing a dragon-bone chest plate and a crudely carved helm stared down at Akela, frowning.

  “Do you want to explain what you're doing out here, close to where a dragon just landed?” she asked, glancing my way to see if I'd be any more cooperative. “—you.”

  Dismounting her horse, she pulled her helm off, pointed at me and said, “You! You.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, pointing back.

  “You...” I said. “You tried to kill me!”

  “Right!” the woman said, far too pleased that I'd recognised her from that night in the forest, when she stood over me with her axe held high. “And you saved me. What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “We came to join the resistance,” I explained, but Akela stood in front of me, arms folded across her chest.

  She didn't have her axe with her, but knew she didn't need it. Not even against three armed soldiers.

  “Excuse me, what is this we are saying? You are trying to kill Northwood? What is she ever doing to you!”

  Placing a hand on Akela's shoulder, I eased her back, saying, “It was a long time ago, and I don't think it was anything personal. She was with the Felheimish, then.”

  The explanation cleared absolutely nothing up for Akela, and she frowned at me more than she did the woman on the horse. Her two companions couldn't make much more sense of the situation, but they backed off, supposing that we were of no threat to them.

  Another rider charged our way, calling out “Ash! Everyone who knows how to slay a dragon is stationed around the perimeter, what way did the—”

  He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Akela fixed her eyes on him, and once he was close, she pulled him clean off his horse. Ash reached for her weapon and I went to pull Akela off him, but she didn't tackle him to the ground. She held him up to her chest and he gripped at her shoulders, grinning, wrapping his arms around her neck when the surprise was too much for him.

  “Goblin! Goblin, you little monster,” Akela said, squeezing him tightly. “You are alright, you really are. You are making us worry so much, I hope you are knowing this.”

  She dropped him to the ground and Goblin gripped the side of her arm, saying, “Commander! We thought... you can imagine what we thought. Where have you been all this time?”

&n
bsp; “That, hm, that is a very long story. I am thinking, while we are telling it, we are putting our feet up and having a drink, yes? Travelling by dragon is strangely exhausting, I feel as if I am the one flying all those miles, and I am wanting to tell you all about Canth before your father is getting the chance to!”

  The method of Akela's arrival went straight over Goblin's head. He clung to her arm tighter, stared up at her desperately, and said, “... m-my father? He's with you?”

  “Pssh,” Akela said, waving a hand. “He is taking the long way, yes, he is finding a horse and galloping all the way here. In two weeks, he is probably turning up, and by then, you are knowing all of the stories worth hearing!”

  Goblin stepped back, bringing a fist to his chest, and I smiled, and not only because I was bearing witness to the good news he was getting. It was a rare day in Kastelir when something beyond reports of another razing reached people's ears, and I let him soak it in before lifting a hand and waving at him.

  “Ah, Northwood, this is—”

  “Galal,” I said. “I know. We've met before.”

  He brought a hand to his forehead; it was all too much for one day, but only in the best sort of way. The last time I'd seen him, Isin had been burning and he'd been desperate for my help. I'd helped pull his husband from the wreckage, helped bring him back.

  “Oh,” he said, rushing over to shake my hand. “Oh!”

  “What is this?” Akela asked, looking to Ash for answers. “Northwood, I am not understanding how you are having time to know so many people.”

  “Your husband, is he... ?” I asked.

  “He's in Orinhal! Come, come, we should be getting back to the city. I take it there's no threat from that dragon?” Goblin asked, taking his horse by the reins. “You said you rode it here, didn't you? The Marshal will need to hear about that.”

  Goblin caught Ash's eye and she nodded.

  The other soldiers rushed back towards Orinhal ahead of us, letting those preparing for an attack know that there was nothing to fear, and the four of us headed towards the city together. It was too dark to see much of the outskirts, but I saw the vague shapes of what were fields where the forest abruptly ended, and though Orinhal hadn't been spared dragon's breath, the wall still stood, patched over and rebuilt in most places.

  The resistance wasn't lacking in numbers. Dozens of soldiers worked the night shift, and once we were through the gate, I saw all that I couldn't from the sky. Orinhal had been razed to the ground, but a new city had been built on its ashes. More than a hundred tents were littered along the outskirts of the city – newcomers, Ash said – and beyond that, much of the forest had been sacrificed to build a maze of streets lined with log cabins.

  Life resounded within the city. Light spilt from windows and people walked arm in arm through the streets. There was even a tavern, serving patrons out on the front patio, celebrating the fact that a dragon hadn't made short work of the city. Orinhal wasn't a make-shift base, a camp; the people had made it their home. The smell of grilled meat wafting out of a restaurant nearly caused me to falter, but Goblin and Ash didn't once break their stride, and Akela nudged me on.

  I smiled at those I passed, feeling welcome already, and Goblin and Ash led us to a tower in the centre of the city. Calling it a tower was fairly generous: it was one of the few original buildings that remained, and all but the first two floors had been destroyed. In its past life, it had been a clock tower, and a clock had been hung over the arching double-doors to commemorate that.

  Ash waited until I was in front of the doors to knock, and Goblin pulled one of them open for me.

  I stepped into a dimly-lit office. The furnishings were sparse, save for half a dozen chairs stacked neatly in the corner, along with a bookcase full of undoubtedly important documents. A desk had been placed in the centre of the room, and a woman who looked like Claire sat behind it.

  She was working with her head bowed, hands placed flat across the desk. She gripped the quill in her left hand, three fingers missing from the other, and she was so used to interruptions that she chose not to acknowledge me.

  Candle-light flickered across her blonde hair, casting shadows across the contours of her face I couldn't quite make out. My hands trembled, light spilling through them, threatening to rush out of me with the force of so much blood thundering through my veins. I took a step forward, aware of every inch of the air I moved through, every fraction of every second that scraped by, and the woman relented and said, “What is it?” in Claire's voice.

  The light shot up my arms, into my eyes.

  The candles couldn't account for such a blinding flash, and the woman – Claire – looked up at me.

  It wasn't true. Couldn't be. I could find my way back to Canth, find my father alive and well. I could slip back into Kastelir without a single problem, and I could bring a dragon back to something resembling life, flying across half a country in a matter of hours, but I couldn't do this. I couldn't step into a room and find Claire, alive, breathing. Living her life, moving through each and every day, existing outside of my memories.

  I rubbed my fingers against my burning eyes, certain she'd fade.

  She didn't.

  I stared at her, breath tangled up in my chest, and saw that as I'd changed, Claire had too. It was her eyes that caught my attention first of all. One was as cold and blue as it had always been, but the other was covered in a milky film, pupil and iris impossible to tell apart. From it, a wave of burns spiralled across her face, covering all but the left side of her jaw, a sliver of her cheek. The burns had changed the shape of her mouth, changed the way shadows fell across her skin, and they spread down her neck, beneath the collar of her shirt, and came back out of her sleeves.

  She rose, clutching the cane rested against the side of her desk. It tapped against the stone floor as she moved close, and then, all was quiet, all was calm. The beating of my heart was muted.

  Our reactions were so slight, so subtle, that it would've been impossible to tell what we were to one another, unless told; and then it was all anyone could hope to see. The signs were there, scrawled all over us, written in an ink that wouldn't fade at the mercy of time or the elements. The words were etched into my skin, as unreadable as all others, but I made sense of them in what I saw reflected in her.

  But the calm faded.

  I was breathing, but not breathing. I was only exhaling, short and sharp, chest stinging with it, vision already blurred...

  “I...” Claire said slowly, as though her jaw had been fused these past two years and she was learning speech all over again. “I thought you were dead.”

  I covered my mouth, turning to the side, breathing loudly enough to deafen myself. All that I'd been put through – all that had been done to me – was nothing compared to this. I was standing in front of Claire, Claire who'd brushed her fingers through my hair, who'd taken me away from my old life, but I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I could only tremble, light claiming my body, heart trying to fold in on itself.

  “Rowan,” she said gently, voice catching in her throat. Her hand came to rest between my shoulder blades, certain to break me. “Rowan, please. It's me.”

  Wrapping my arms around myself, I fell heavily onto my knees, forehead hitting the floor. I'd needed her. I'd needed her when I was in chains, but now that I was in the room with her, I couldn't bring myself to look at her. If I did, if I kept my eyes on her for a moment longer, she'd fade.

  This was another dream, another delusion. Someone – something – was doing this to me.

  Claire knelt by my side, cane clattering on the floor next to her, and I couldn't believe she was there. I couldn't bear what it'd do to me when I came to and she wasn't with me.

  I clutched at my sides, forehead scraping across the stone tiles, and there Claire's hand was, fingers gently brushing across the nape of my neck. I wanted them gone, gone. None of this was real, it couldn't be; but then a funny sort of thought worked its way into my mind. I rememb
ered the time I'd exhausted myself healing the masses in Benkor and had gone to bed without a bite to eat; Claire had brought me bread. She'd barely known me, but she brought me bread.

  That was Claire. This was Claire. This was Claire, she was here, she was here...

  “Claire...” I murmured, turning my head to look at her.

  She nodded, helping to ease me up. Knelt in front of her, I lit up every inch of her skin, and saw how every burn had twisted and gnarled her features. She reached out, placing her hands against my cheeks, wincing when she realised I felt the void left behind by her missing fingers. Not giving her the chance to look away, I threw myself against her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, threatening to never let go.

  Claire's arms wrapped tightly around my back and I sobbed, clutching the back of her shirt.

  “You're alive,” I said, tears soaking her shirt. “You're alive, you're...”

  “Shh, shh,” she said, rocking me. “I'm here, Rowan.”

  I cried until my head pounded and my body ached, light dimming but not fading. Claire didn't say a word about it – didn't say anything as I trembled in her arms – and when I looked up, I found her eyes red and watery.

  “I really did think you were dead,” she whispered. “All this time, Rowan...”

  I brought my hands up, pressing them to the sides of her neck. She closed her eyes as the burns brushed beneath my palms, rough like old, misshapen leather. I ran a thumb across the line of her jaw, and she kept her eyes shut, biting her lower lip. How certain she must've been to believe a necromancer dead.

  “What happened, Claire?” I asked, as though either of us wanted to dredge up the past.

  “I... I realised you were right, Rowan. I couldn't have taken on the dragons myself. I had slain three, and though I was not unharmed, they had not...” Pausing to take a breath, Claire let go to me to gesture at herself. “I tried to find you. Tried to leave the city. But there were still those needing help, and buildings were tumbling all around us. I became trapped underneath one for days. My armour prevented me from being crushed entirely, but the flames were relentless.”