Dragonoak Page 3

  “Y-yes, well, Gavern's dominion of the sea has affected us all,” the merchant began, voice drowned out by a dozen feet hitting the docks.

  While Tizo gently persuaded the merchant that it was in his best interest to offer us a discount, lest we take our business elsewhere, the rest of us moved the crates and barrels and cages onto the ship and below deck. When Tizo had said we'd be picking up livestock, I'd been expecting a dozen or two chickens, but sure enough, there were a handful of pigs there, too. They squealed as we jostled them around, and I winced in sympathy as I walked backwards along the dock, knowing that they weren't going to enjoy being on the sea.

  Tizo insisted on personally delivering Reis' letters, and luckily for the Eloans, it was too early in the day for any of the crew to be tempted by the prospect of making trouble. We headed back to the ship and waited there, some of the crew sweeping feathers from around their feet and picking them out of their hair, others yelling beneath deck in an effort to shut the unsettled animals up.

  “Hey, get over here, Felheim,” a woman named Cal called from across the deck. I tore my eyes from the endless ocean and did her the favour of looking her way, but didn't go anywhere. She was surrounded by a group of three women, all of them interested in whatever she'd just shared with them. When I didn't move, she didn't risk having me ignore her for a second time, and said, “Heard a rumour about you.”

  I'd never got along with Cal. She was under the impression that she'd win Reis' favour by being aggressively loud-mouthed, and after years, still hadn't figured out that boasting alone wasn't going to earn her any respect.

  “So? I heard you can't swim. You don't see me gossiping about it,” I said, shrugging.

  “Who the hell—” Cal began, and forced herself to stop. Acting defensively was only going to retroactively make it true. “Heard you killed a dragon.”

  I tensed, but not for long. It wasn't the first time I'd heard something of the sort, and making an effort to roll my eyes, I said, “Not everyone in Felheim is a Knight, you know.”

  “Yeah, but,” Cal took a few slow steps towards me. “That healer reckons she knows a necromancer. Now, it obviously ain't the dragon-born, and I can't see whatserface with the axe ever needing that kind of power. Which don't leave us with many options.”

  “She knows a lot of people,” I said, fighting not to avert my gaze. “And if I was a necromancer, why would I bother working a job like this with you?”

  Cal let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, and a few of the others who'd been eavesdropping gave up any notion of subtlety to stare at us, awaiting Cal's reaction. In all my time in Mahon, I'd done what I could to avoid getting into fights; a black-eye instantly healing over wouldn't exactly strengthen my case.

  Cal lifted a hand and slapped me against the side of my arm.

  “You ain't bad, Felheim,” she said, laughing obnoxiously, “Should look into getting a couple of tattoos, though. You still look like you sailed into Mahon by accident.”

  Shrugging her off, I went back to staring out at the ocean, not moving until Tizo returned to the dock. I helped pull in the gangplank, and Tizo whistled as we set off, proud of the bargain she'd managed to strike.

  Back in Port Mahon, there was an air of unease around the docks, interspersed by apprehensive excitement. More ships than usual had gathered, all awaiting whatever retaliation Gavern would subject us to, and when Tizo saw the faces of captains she hadn't spoken with in months, she decided she ought to be defending the port and strengthening her connections.

  “Here, go toss this in the temple, would you?” Tizo asked, once we'd unloaded the cargo, and threw me a pouch of coins left over from the trade. “Let Reis know I delivered their letters, too.”

  I often found myself at the temple, though I'd yet to work out exactly what it was I was hoping to find. The Priests there never lectured anyone, never tried to lure anyone over, as the members of the House of Light in Isin had. Though I supposed that they had the advantage of people being pious here. I would sit and speak with them, sometimes, would listen to their tales of creation, and have them tell me about necromancers. Yet no matter how much respect they spoke of the necromancers with, no matter how much of a blessing they claimed they were, I wouldn't let myself believe it.

  Surely they'd tell a very different tale, once they were face to face with a necromancer.

  My powers hadn't sparked within me, beyond my control, in a long time. Eighteen months had passed, and I still felt drained from the dragon; for weeks I'd been unable to stand properly, and my head had pounded for months, but I'd pushed past some barrier and I was stronger for it. My control was better, and I could almost ignore what I was.

  The temple itself was a stepped pyramid made from sandstone, full of mosaics and murals, doorway flanked by two stone phoenixes, wings outstretched. It was busy at most hours of the day, though never crowded, and residents of Port Mahon drifted in and out, lighting red candles in thanks to Isjin, reflecting on those who'd been lost recently, and what had been gained.

  “Good morning, Rowan,” one of the Priests said warmly as I emptied the coins into the collection box, “You help preserve what Isjin has created. You have our thanks.”

  “It's from Tizo—Captain Tizo,” I said, and the Priest nodded, making a note in the hefty ledger by the box.

  The money would be gathered up and sent to Reis at the end of the week, who would then decide how it was to be divided; how much would go into paying off Mahon's debts, how much would be put towards repairs. I made a round of the temple before leaving, gaze skidding over the murals of the humans Isjin had uplifted to help her manage the world, once her creation grew, and not looking for anything in particular, headed straight back to the hut.

  I'd woken a few minutes before dawn, and breakfast had consisted of a flask of water I'd gulped down while sprinting towards the dock. I only meant to pop back to the hut for something to eat, but Akela's voice boomed from the windows, and I knew I was in for company, too.

  “You're back!” I said, grinning as I stepped through the door.

  A mountain of food was laid out across the table, fruit and bread and jars of honey, but Reis was still trying to write in the face of a late breakfast claiming their workspace.

  “Northwood!” Akela called out through a mouthful of star fruit. “I am worrying that you are being gone all day, but here you are! Come, come. There is plenty to eat, yes?”

  Kouris had joined her at the table, and a clatter over at the counter caused me to look around. My grin didn't fade, but once I saw Katja, there was no real feeling behind it. Glasses in hand, she caught my eye and smiled, wanting to say something but wincing instead. I nodded my head towards her, and hurried to take a seat by Akela.

  I reached for the bread and Reis stopped writing to glower at the food spread out before them, then glowered at the glass of juice Katja set down next to their book. She took a seat next to mine, and without being able to help it, I turned enough for her to notice the slight.

  “I thought you were going to be gone for another few days,” I said to Akela, “How was the job?”

  “Hah! You think that with me on board, any job is taking as long as the captain is expecting? I am hurrying things on quite nicely, you realise,” she said, raising her drink in a toast to herself. “It is not bad. It is not exciting, either, not like the time we are tracking down that right-hand man of Gavern's all the way to Ridgeth. But I am earning enough money, so I am not complaining.”

  “Someone was asking after you this morning,” I said, helping myself to a slice of fruit in each colour. “Even though we were just picking up a few crates.”

  “Honestly, I am not knowing how this town is managing before I am here,” Akela said, sighing as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

  “Oh, right,” I said, turning towards Reis. “Tizo delivered your letters.”

  Reis barely bothered to grunt.

  “Are you planning on working yourself into a watery gr
ave?” Kouris asked. “Close the book and eat something.”

  Reis tried to ignore her, but none of us missed the way they scowled down at the pages of their book. Refusing to close it, they relented enough to look up, stared at each one of us for a few long seconds, as though we were all guilty of something nefarious enough as ensuring they had enough to eat.

  “Look here. Between last month's disaster with some utter moron setting a torch down by a barrel of ale and the lack of trade we've had reaching Mahon, I've somehow gotta figure out how much we're sending off to the Queen this month,” Reis said, readjusting their glasses.

  “Personally, I don't quite understand this whole donation system,” Katja began. “Surely the Queen ought to tax Mahon as she does all other towns. I understand that Canth hasn't been in the best shape for some time, but consistency is the first step towards rigidity.”

  Reis set down their pen, rubbing their temples.

  “Canth ain't Kastelir. We've got our own way of doing things, princess. We like Queen Nasrin, so we act as though we ain't aware that she's giving us special treatment 'cause she's hoping one of us will manage to off Gavern,” Reis said, pushing the book aside and tearing off a chunk of bread. “If we send her a little money now and again, that's gonna help her stay on the throne and keep us in her favour.”

  “Still,” Katja said, unflinching. “It doesn't seem right that a Queen associates with pirates.”

  “You're one of us now,” Reis said, and with a sigh, Katja let the subject drop.

  Kouris set about getting Akela up to speed with all that she'd missed, despite having been gone herself, and I listened as intently as I could, as though it would stop me from feeling Katja's eyes upon me. When I didn't look around of my own volition and clearing her throat didn't earn her my attention, she took to tugging on my sleeve.

  “Isn't Atthis coming over?” I asked, pre-empting whatever she had to say.

  “Uncle's at home. Reading something, or sulking over something,” Katja said, shaking her head a little. “I do wish he'd take a few hours of his day to socialise. Drawing up plan after plan to save Kastelir can't be any good for him.”

  “You should tell him to come by some time. I miss getting to see him,” I said, instantly regretting giving Katja the opportunity to ask why I couldn't simply visit the apartment she shared with Atthis and Akela.

  In that vein, she said, “Speaking of which, dear, I feel as though it's been weeks since I've seen you. Not that you're entirely to blame, of course. Being the only healer in a town of pirates doesn't give me as much free time as I'd like; not that I'm not grateful to be able to help as much as I do.”

  I hummed in some sort of agreement, chewing on a crust as I thought back to the first months we'd spent in Canth. Katja and Atthis hadn't crossed the Uncharted Sea with us. We hadn't known they'd fled Isin until we'd happened across them, days after arriving, and for the first few weeks, Katja and I had been inseparable. She'd talked me through what had happened, had tried to help me understand my powers, and she'd always been willing to listen to me; so long as what I said always came back to necromancy.

  But lately, I could tell how much being away from Kastelir was hurting her. How what had happened seemed to be catching up with her all at once.

  “It's not too hot out yet,” I said, getting to my feet. There were things I wanted to say to her, things I didn't want anyone else listening in on. “Let's go eat on the pier.”

  Katja's face lit up, and she hurried to pick out the rest of our breakfast, piling food on a plate and rushing out after me.

  The waves lapped at the base of the pier, far below my dangling feet, and though I missed the shade of the hut, trading it for privacy was a fair deal.

  Katja placed the plate between us, and as she lowered herself onto the edge of the pier, I said, “Katja, you have to stop telling people I'm a necromancer,” before she had the chance to say anything.

  “Rowan! Why, I've never said such a thing. I may have mentioned that I knew a necromancer, when the topic arose through no initiation of my own, but I'd never mention you by name,” Katja said, covering my hand with hers. When I instinctively pulled it away, she muttered, “Honestly, I don't know why you go to such lengths to hide it, Rowan. You have a gift, a true gift, and yet you insist on squandering it. People would praise you, Rowan. Were you not so scared of what you are, you could truly help Port Mahon; the whole of Canth, even.”

  I picked up a slice of melon and tossed it as far as I could. It sunk into the sea with a silent splash and I said nothing.

  “Sorry. I ought not lecture you, not on this,” Katja said quietly. “None of that is of any concern to me. I simply miss having you as a friend, Rowan.”

  “... we're still friends,” I grumbled, wondering how far I could throw a bunch of grapes.

  “Are we? Because it seems to me as though you are quite intent on avoiding me. I can't recall the last time you visited me at my apartment, and I only wish I knew why it happened so abruptly. We used to be so close, Rowan. We learnt Canthian together, found a way to survive here side by side, and... I miss those days, dear.”

  I pulled my feet up onto the pier, rested my chin on a knee and wondered why I could never bring myself to say the things I wanted to her. Why I always turned away from her instead of telling her what was wrong.

  She had a point. We had been close. In the beginning, I'd been too scared to wander freely amongst the pirates, and I thought we'd only ever have each other.

  “You have to stop pushing me,” I said slowly, head aching as I ground my teeth together. “Just because you'd use my powers in a different way doesn't mean that I should have to... I can't do it, Katja. I can't teach you how to be a necromancer, alright?”

  Katja hadn't taken what had happened to Kastelir well. None of us had, and we all coped in our own ways. Katja's methods involved pushing herself past exhaustion, taking on more than I ever had in my village, until she was barely allowing herself a moment's sleep. I'd tried to intervene, but she'd only said that she could feel herself getting stronger; that she was about to break through the limitations imposed upon her.

  I'd seen her crush bugs with her thumb, convinced she could bring them back to life, if only she tried hard enough.

  But it was my fault. I'd humoured her. I'd helped her hone her powers, I'd sat and told her how it felt to bring someone back to life; how it felt to force death into a creature a thousand times bigger than I was.

  “I'm sorry, Rowan,” Katja managed after a long pause. Glancing at her from the corner of my eye, I moved the plate of fruit from between us, and let her fall against my shoulder. “... I just want to go home. No matter what has become of Kastelir, it cannot be worse than what I have imagined. What I have endured within my dreams. All I want is to return to my country and help rebuild it, no matter what it takes.”

  “Me too,” I murmured, resting my chin atop her head.

  When the dragons came, I'd been fighting for Kastelir for a matter of weeks. Katja had dedicated her entire life keeping her Kingdom together, and I ought to have been more understanding. I ought to have appreciated how hard it was on her.

  We sat like that for a time, watching the ships drift across the horizon, fishing boats slowly heading back to port in time for the midday lull. Two larger ships made port, a red-flagged vessel I recognised as belonging to a crew from Ridgeth, along with one of the few merchant ships that had yet to be scared off by Gavern's antics, but there was a dark mark on the horizon I couldn't account for.

  I leant forward, squinting, entertaining thoughts of Yin Zhou finally playing Mahon a visit, and said, “Do you recognise that ship?” to Katja.

  “I shouldn't say I do!” she said, barely bothering to pay it more than a cursory glance. “You spend far more time at sea than I'm wont to.”

  Katja had a point. In the months that we'd been in Canth, she had refused to set foot on another ship. All the more reason for me to be curious about the one approaching.

>   Once it drew close enough for me to see the colours of its sails, dark greens and navy blues, I bolted to my feet and called out, “Reis!”

  I needn't have bothered. It'd been spotted down at the docks, too, and a fraction of a second after I'd called out, a horn sounded.

  Now that it was spotted, the ship didn't hold back. It hurtled towards the town with a frightening speed, wind acting in its favour, and as it rose over the swell of a wave, the whole world was muted in the prelude to a cannonball hitting the docks. Even this far down the beach, the noise thundered through me, and I seized hold of Katja's arm, pulling her back towards the hut.

  “Who the hell – who the bloody hell – let that sod play around with gun powder?” Reis sounded out through grit teeth. “One ship. One bloody ship against a town. He's taking the piss.”

  Akela and Kouris rushed out of the hut after Reis, ready to charge into town and onto whatever ships were headed out to face Gavern's, and without letting go of Katja, I tried to ease her back into the hut.

  “Stay here,” I said to her, certain I could be brave if I had someone to look after.

  Trembling with fear, Katja shook her head over and over, saying, “N-no, I can help, Rowan. I must...”

  It wasn't the first time Port Mahon had been struck, but that did nothing to stop my surroundings from warping. The ship became a dragon, the cannonball its breath, and the ocean waves churned with fire, rushing ever closer to us. Every thud and crash echoed on between my ears, and the yells of pirates become the screams of citizens begging for help.

  I gripped Katja's hand tight, stopping my own from trembling, and together we sprinted across the beach after Akela and Kouris. A band of pirates charged our way and ran straight past, heading for Reis, asking them what they should do, and I heard Reis yell out, “Fire back, you absolute morons!”