Over the next week, Holt and Ash attended to the sick and injured who had contracted the blight. Holt made a point of visiting the hospitals by night, led by tired physicians. They cured who they could and left to regain their strength while the moon still shone. When the morning came, those lucky few would awake to find themselves cured.
Holt preferred it that way, at least for now. The quiet of the night made it less terrible to pass by those beyond his aid. As they adapted this habit, he and Ash became creatures of the night which suited them just fine.
Their duties done, they would fly east to Cleanse and Forge in peace. After Brode’s pyre had burnt out, there seemed little left for them to do in the city. Talia had her hands full, and they would only get in the way. The bustle of the kitchens, which had once felt comforting, now only reminded Holt of what he’d lost: his father, his naivety, his childish notions of riders, dragons and war.
They favored sitting atop a small hill some miles inland of the eastern bank, where the land started its gradual rise toward the mountains of the Red Range.
This night was cold and clear, the moon still bright though waning fast. Over a week since the full moon, the volume of lunar motes swirling past Ash’s core was much reduced. In another week’s time, Holt imagined it would become a trickle.
Holt gathered that their power would wax and wane with the moon. While they would indeed be stronger at night, Holt would have to take advantage of the most opportune times each month to Forge.
By Cleansing fastidiously each day, the time needed to clear impurities shortened. Holt focused now on Forging, encouraging Ash to sit in peace and regulate his own heart so they might keep better control over the beating of the bond. Of the two techniques, Holt still found Forging to be harder. Controlling his breath was entirely under his will but settling his heart or rising it as needed and maintaining it for a length of time was another matter.
Yet days of work and mote after mote Forged onto Ash’s core had started to bear fruit. The pulsing ball of light had solidified further, taking the shape of a denser orb as the backdrop darkened. It took no great leap of imagination to know what form Ash’s core would develop into given more time and effort.
Holt blinked as the first rays of dawn creeped through his eyelids. He opened his eyes for the first time in hours and drank in the crimson sky to the east. Northeast, beyond the Red Range, lay the Kingdom of Risalia. Brenin to the southeast. Beyond that Holt had little true knowledge, only some maps Talia had had her stewards fetch him. There were the Free Cities. Athra lay in the fertile heartland of the old republic. Mithras controlling the Southern Strait and ruling the seas. Coedhen nestled within the Fae Forest. And further east still an endless grass sea. Or so the maps said.
To the north lay the Province of Fornheim, and beyond that the great Skarl Empire. South across the sea lay the Searing Sands and the Jade Jungle of which Holt had only heard of in song.
“Which way should we go?”
“It would make sense to travel to the closest flight first,” said Ash.
“It would but which one is closest? The Storm Peaks alone are deep inside the Skarl Empire. He thought the fire flight would be in the southern jungles. For the Frost Elder, we’ll have to travel north.”
“North and north until the mountains are made of ice,” Ash said, recalling what the Life Elder had told them.
“It’s all a bit vague,” Holt said. Their maps would help navigate human realms but the Wild flights were not conveniently marked.
“And who knows where the mystics are,” said Ash.
“Somewhere east, I think. At least that was the direction Rake said he was heading.”
“I should like to find Master Rake.”
“Me too.”
At once, Ash lifted his head, his ears pricked. “I hear dragons approaching.”
“Probably just some emeralds back from a hunt.”
“They are diving right for us.”
Holt jumped to his feet. He spotted the approaching dragons, diving from the east – one frost blue and one a dark stormy gray. Holt crested out magically and sensed they were far stronger than he or Talia yet nothing on the power of Silas Silverstrike. They were at Champion rank.
The two Champions circled overheard then landed, one on either side. A slight woman, with bronzed skin and long black hair. Her companion was a giant of a man with red hair and beard.
“Hail, Ascendant,” said the woman in an accent Holt could not place. “We did not expect to come across one of the Feorlen Order so far from the Crag.”
Holt stifled a sigh. “How much do you know of what’s happened here?” “I will have to wash out my ears,” said the giant man. His accent was of
the far north, perhaps from the Skarl Empire. “The tone of your voice leaves much to be desired, Ascendant. Have the Feorlen riders forgotten how to address their superiors?”
“The Feorlen Order is gone,” Holt said. “I can explain to you what happened, or you can fly to find the burnt remains of the Crag for yourself.” The Champions’ eyes popped. Their dragons growled low, then their attention turned to Ash and the predictable roars of disgust and gnashing of
teeth ensued.
“He is blind?” said the man.
“Who are you?” the woman snapped.
“My name is Holt Cook, and this is my dragon, Ash.”
Both dragons loosened their jaws and gathered their breaths with no sign of slowing down. Until a sudden wave of power washed over them all. Holt felt it as a warm breeze, but it seemed to affect the two visiting dragons profoundly. Both cancelled their magic and bowed so low so quickly it seemed they wished to flatten themselves like pancakes onto the grass.
Both Champions looked to their dragons in alarm. “What has gotten—” the man began. “What? Here?”
“This close to a city?” whispered the woman. She rounded on her companion. “Sigfrid, if a wild flight has invaded human territory—”
“The Honored Elder of Life and his emerald flight saved this city from the scourge incursion,” Holt said. “We and everyone here are under his protection. As I said, I can explain all that has happened.”
The Champions looked to each other. The woman bit her lip; the man, Sigfrid, gulped.
“We would speak to your Commander Denna, insolent boy,” the woman said.
“Commander Denna is dead.”
“Lord Silverstrike then,” said Sigfrid. “He was sent to oversee your response to the rising, though we lack a report from him too.”
“Lord Silverstrike is also dead.”
Sigfrid’s face turned as red as his hair. “Then whoever is the most senior rider now!”
Holt considered this question and decided it would be better not to push the Champions further. “She is in the city. Currently in the palace. I can take you there—”
“No,” said Sigfrid. “We go no further until we understand the situation.
Bring her to us by the authority of the Paragons of Falcaer Fortress.” Ash rumbled with laughter. “They aren’t going to like this either.”
“Very well,” Holt said. He bowed to each of them in turn then set off to fetch Talia.
By the time they returned to the hill east of the city, the morning sun dominated the sky and Ash’s core had all but dried of free-floating lunar motes. Ash and Pyra landed side by side, and Holt and Talia dismounted to greet their guests. Neither Sigfrid nor his companion approached.
“Another Ascendant?” Sigfrid said. “Maria, let’s make a note that the Feorlen branch feels it is suitable to waste Order time.”
“There is no need for hostilities,” Talia said. “As I’m sure Holt has tried to explain, the Feorlen branch was destroyed by betrayal. I was the only survivor.”
“Your name, girl?” Maria asked. “Talia.”
“So Ascendant Talia, you’re telling us that your entire branch fell to scourge forces and no one thought to send word to Falcaer?”
“There were many mitigating circumstances.” She told their tale in brief, which Holt regretted did not capture the measure of their toil or suffering but he doubted the Champions cared. Given their expressions it would be lucky if they believed it.
Sigfrid blinked rapidly.
Maria recovered first. “You killed Lord Silverstrike?” “Yes—”
“Impossible,” said Sigfrid. “No Ascendant can defeat a Lord.”
“That’s hardly the point,” said Holt. “Didn’t you hear? Silas betrayed the Order. And there is far worse out there. That’s the news you need to take back to Falcaer and then to every other Order Hall.”
“Holt…” Talia moaned but he pressed on.
“You can sense the wild dragons out there,” he said. “You can certainly feel the West Warden nearby even if the Life Elder is too far out. It sounds incredible but that’s because it is. You’d see the truth of it if you flew to the Crag but that will only waste time.”
Sigfrid pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away.
Maria stepped closer. “Very well, Ascendants. I am prepared to believe your tale for now. There are mystics back at Falcaer who will discern the truth of your words in any case. You will come with us now if your branch has really been destroyed.”
Neither Holt nor Talia moved. “That’s an order,” Maria said.
“I cannot follow,” Talia said, and Holt noted she had dropped any honorific for the rider, as a monarch would. “I am no longer a part of the Order.”
“And I never officially joined,” said Holt.
Maria focused on Holt first. “Of course. Well, a Champion is here before you now. Swear the oath to me.”
“I won’t be joining.”
It was Talia rather than the Champions who rounded on him first, though her tone was level. “Is this truly what you’ve decided?”
He nodded. “I told you what the Elder said. This is what Ash and I must do.”
Sigfrid found his voice and rushed forward. “You must swear the oath, boy. Bad enough that a thief should go unpunished but there is no alternative.”
“You can let me go,” said Holt.
Sigfrid scowled and dropped his voice. “You may think yourself safe here as our dragons will answer to this wild emerald, but my blade bites just as deep as their teeth. If you refuse to join the Order, then you declare yourself a rogue rider, boy, and shall suffer the full justice of Falcaer here and now.”
“No, he won’t suffer your justice,” said Talia. “Not while he is under the protection of the monarch.”
“Your King Leofric has no say over rider business,” Sigfrid said.
“But this is not rider business,” said Talia. “Holt has not taken the oath.
That makes him subject still to the laws of the realm, as a regular citizen.” “Fool girl,” Maria said. “Your court will declare him in breach of rank
and banish him. He’ll be nameless. Your King Leofric will not oppose that.” “My brother may not have,” Talia said, “but Holt is not yet banished
under my rule.”
The Champions’ expressions passed from frustration to confusion. “Speak plainly, girl,” Sigfrid said.
“Sigfrid…” Maria said slowly, a look of dawning comprehension bulging her eyes. “Her name sounded familiar to me. Talia… Talia…”
“Agravain,” Talia supplied for her.
Sigfrid also caught up to his companion’s realization. “The royal that Denna let in?”
“That’s right,” said Talia. “My brother was murdered during the recent troubles. And my uncle has gone missing. The curia elected me to inherit in his place. So, I say again, as Holt has refused to join the Order this makes him one of my citizens. And I say he is under my protection. The Order would not wish to act in direct defiance of a monarch, would they? I doubt the courts of Brenin, Risalia or the assemblies of the Free Cities would be pleased to hear that the Order openly defied my rule; especially when frustration with the Order grows in every realm.”
It was a fine bit of legalese, and all Sigfrid could do was point a long finger at Talia.
“You are the queen here, now?”
“Well, I am yet to have my coronation, but for all intents and purposes I am the queen.”
Sigfrid barked in laughter. “Very well. Very well!” He strode off for his blue dragon.
Maria lingered. “You are correct, Talia Agravain. But I anticipate as much trouble from the rulers accepting your ascension to the throne as we face in letting this boy go free. There are reasons why things are as they are.”
“We’re implementing some changes here,” Talia said.
Maria smiled, though it was far from pleasant. “Outside of Feorlen, your friend will remain a rogue rider. No other court will dare to offer him refuge as you do.” She then turned and marched toward her storm dragon.
“Will you report everything you’ve heard to the Order?” Talia called after them. “About Silas, about the dragon called Sovereign who controls the scourge against us.”
They both laughed.
“We will report all we’ve heard and seen to the Paragons,” Sigfrid said. “That a thief has escaped with a damaged dragon and an oath breaker now sits on Feorlen’s throne. And that she killed the great Silas Silverstrike as well.”
“Please, listen,” Talia urged. “The incursion we faced was better coordinated than anything the Order has encountered before. Worse is coming. This was only the beginning.”
“Of course,” Sigfrid said. “What else could it be? An evil dragon leading the scourge, controlling minds from afar. A blind dragon with the power to cure the blight and what next? Flying pigs? Perhaps a goose that lays golden eggs?”
Maria did not follow immediately but gave Talia a final withering look. “Good luck to you, Talia Agravain. I hope for your sake and for Feorlen you made the right choice.” With that, she too took off.
Holt watched them fly east. So, he would have trouble in other lands.
What was unexpected about that?
“Thanks for sticking up for me there,” he said. “Good thing everyone forgot about my banishment.”
“Yes indeed,” she said, not quite meeting his eye. “Well it’s done now. It was inevitable the Order would find out. The only thing left to decide is when you’ll go.”
Holt considered it. What were they waiting for now? “We can leave tomorrow.”
“You can stay as long as you like,” she hastened to say. “Tomorrow,” Holt said firmly. “Better just to go, I think.”
Talia nodded. “That may be for the best. I’d like to say goodbye properly. Don’t you dare slink off in the night.”
“I won’t. I’ll wait for you here tomorrow at dusk.”
