There was, instead, just a small weak cook fire that was barely alight a little way off, with my god-Uncle, the mage, Montfre, and Abioye huddled around it. My awkward, sleep-filled movements must have alerted them that I was up, as Abioye was already rising from his boulder seat, waving a hand as he bounded towards me.
“Narissea!” he said, his pinched face breaking into relief. But he was limping, I saw, and he was holding one arm a little awkwardly against his chest. As he jogged the meters between us, I suddenly smelled the sharp, astringent tang of rock-ease, a stubborn mountain plant that our people used to treat and soothe wounds.
My people who were no longer here! I thought, as Abioye lurched to a standstill in front of me, before gently raising both arms (wincing a little over one of them) to lightly touch my shoulders, as if scared that I might break with anything more forceful than that.
“Nari? Thank the stars!” Tamin arrived next, already fumbling at his makeshift woven grass belt for water and pouches of herbs. “I have something to ease your headaches, it might help—” the older man was saying, his voice tripping a little as he tried to quell the fears that were etched so clearly across his face.
“No, really – I’m fine.” I waved Tamin’s efforts away, before accepting his offering of the waterskin. “But thank you, I am glad to see you three are safe.”
“Kinda safe,” Montfre amended darkly, stalking towards us much more slowly than the others. Looking across at the strange-looking young man with his platinum-white hair and eyes that flashed, I could see just how much his mighty magics had cost him. His face looked lined with worries, as if the protective blue shell he had summoned had taken a decade or so from his life. Who knows – maybe it had?
I followed Montfre’s dark look around us and knew that he was referring to the fact that us four were alone. Completely alone.
“Where are the others?” I asked in a worried whisper. “My Daza? The Red Hounds?” Where was Ymmen? I asked – although the worry I felt for him was weaker than the worry I had for my warband, for at least I could feel the dragon’s presence in my mind.
Montfre shared a dark look with Abioye before turning away to stalk back to the faltering fire. “They’re gone, Little Nari,” my god-Uncle Tamin said as gently as possible. “They left after the battle. It was…” Tamin appeared lost for words as he spread his hands out in front of him, shaking his head.
“The dragons went berserk,” Abioye said seriously, looking down at the grit floor for a moment. “They drove off Inyene and her mechanical dragons – with several of them falling in the process—”
“No!” I felt the torment at such a loss. Some of those creatures, I had known thanks to the Stone Crown, were hundreds of years old. What a loss to the world!
“Yes, I am afraid.” Abioye nodded slowly, finally raising his eyes to look at mine, and they were intense and bright. “Some of the wild dragons died, but they managed to swarm and destroy or scatter Inyene’s forces. But their losses sent them mad, I would say – they caught and ate some of the ponies, and scattered our few supplies, chasing and roaring at every human they could see…”
Was that my fault? I wondered at the order that I had given to Lady Red and her cohort, delivered with the power of the Stone Crown’s authority.
“None of them directly attacked us – but I don’t know how it would have gone if Ymmen hadn’t landed in their midst, roaring and challenging them all until they flew back east to the Plains,” he said.
So… As soon as the wild dragons had fulfilled my command, they had been released? I wondered. Which had allowed them to remember their anger at being so controlled…
And then, I realized that it was probably only Ymmen’s courage that had stopped the other dragons from killing us all…
I nodded. “The wild dragons had given us three days to get out of the Plains,” I added morosely. “I guess they were making their point that we weren’t welcome.” That I wasn’t welcome, I clarified.
“The Red Hounds took what they could and abandoned us.” Abioye’s voice became tight with rage, and I heard a distant snort of anger from Montfre, as he had overheard our conversation and obviously had never expected any better from the mercenaries.
“And our Daza said that they could not risk their lives, knowing that they had made enemies not only with the metal queen, but also with the wild dragons of the Plains!” Tamin burst out, his face distraught. I could tell how much that decision to abandon the quest must have hurt and torn at him. Even though he had given a large chunk of his life to traveling and learning the ways of Torvald, it had always been for the benefit of our people, so that he could return every year with practical advice on how to negotiate and trade with our much more powerful neighbor in the Middle Kingdom.
“Uncle – if you have to go back, I will understand—” I started, my voice quiet.
“Bah!” Tamin barked indignantly. His eyes were shining with tears, but his face was screwed with determination. “I would never abandon you, Little Niece!” he said hotly, before he took a deep breath and added, “and besides, I think that I could only handle a moon of working with Imanu Naroba before we would end up throwing pots at each other!”
“Ha!” I laughed, despite myself as my own tears welled up. It was but a little joke, but it helped.
“And of course, I could never leave,” Abioye added in a quieter voice, making me look up at him quickly. His large eyes were wide and looking into the middle distance, along the Pass towards the west. I wondered if he meant that he could not leave his sister out there somewhere, regathering and scheming more terrors, or if he meant leaving our small expedition…
Abioye’s eyes flickered to meet mine. “Leave you, I mean—”
I don’t want to leave you, either— The thought caught me by surprise, making the ‘beast of my heart leap in my chest’ as the Daza say. But why should I feel so…fluttery? It was the same promise that Uncle would make, without a second’s hesitation. A simple pledge of loyalty, that was all.
So why did it seem like there was more in Abioye’s eyes?
I opened my mouth to thank him for his dedication, to tell him I felt the same—but Montfre’s rising voice met me. He had finally given up on the fire, stamping it out instead and gathering his cloak around him as he strode purposefully back towards us.
“Our destinies are tied together now, in this,” he said, somewhat enigmatically, and I was reminded of the strange dragon voice I had heard in my dreams. That had talked about destinies too, hadn’t it?
“And, of course, I remain with you,” Ymmen assured me, breathing the hot ash of his thoughts into my mind as he suddenly appeared to my eyes as well – swooping down into the Pass and over us, from where he had clearly been perched on some distant crag.
Thank you, I thought towards him as he landed a little farther west of our singular tent and meager supplies. But even despite his apparently encouraging words, I could sense the deep uncertainty – and yes, even shame – that he felt over what I had done in using the Stone Crown.