Revaramek the Resplendent - Chapter One Hundred Seventeen (Patreon)

Revaramek crossed the desert on foot, with Nyramyn close by his side. Mirelle rode upon his back. While the morning was still relatively cool, he decided walking to the village would be best. He doubted they had seen many dragons before, though it seemed possible they had glimpsed Aylaryl when she visited the desert with Asterbury. Revaramek hoped it would seem less threatening for them to arrive on foot rather than to fly in. While he did not expect the village to be hostile, he did not want to give them reason to feel threatened, either.

Plenty more small oases dotted the desert on the way to the village. All of them had clusters of trees. Some nourished handfruit, others figs and dates, along with yet more Revaramek could not identify. Many had reeds around their banks, but not all. Most of them appeared to be spring fed like the one they had camped at, but others had narrow irrigation channels flowing between them, as if to help ensure they all retained water.

“Just like the book,” Mirelle said, staring at one of the long channels as they passed it by.

“Maybe this is where they finally made it work, with no more storytellers left to ruin it.” Revaramek flattened his ears, snorting. “Or here, the storytellers just focused on the marsh, instead.”

“There have been ruins and things Jekk doesn’t think his people built.” Mirelle shifted on the dragons back, adjusting her straps. “But I guess, they could be other factions.”

“There’s also villages like those Enora owns taverns in.” Revaramek glanced back at his rider. “And Jekk’s people didn’t found those, either. But they came from somewhere.”

“And so did these urd’thin.” Mirelle folded her arms, sighing. “It would be nice, just once in our friendship, if we could have an adventure that only provided answers, instead of just more questions.”

Revaramek rumbled his amusement. “Then where would the adventure be?”

“We could just climb a mountain or something.”

“That’s not an adventure.” The dragon flicked his ears back, grinning. “That’s just exercise.”

“What did she say?” Nyramyn nudged him with her muzzle. “What are you two talking about? Don’t leave me out of the loop.”

Revaramek snorted, tossing his head. “One of you two needs to learn the other’s language soon, because I’m getting awfully tired of translating. It was just a joke about how all our adventures always leave us with more questions than answers.”

“If that’s her concern, maybe we should all just climb a mountain together sometime.”

“That’s what…” Revaramek trailed off, sighing. “Yes, of course, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

As they drew nearer to the village, everyone quieted once more. Drifting columns of smoke hung in the air above dozens of simple buildings. Even at a distance, it was easy to see the urd’thin moving above the village. It was also clear that this particular village surrounded a much larger oasis, which in turn harbored a great deal more vegetation and animal life. A small flock of birds wheeled about in the sky, chasing insects over the water. Enough towering trees surrounded the water to shade much of the village. There were separate groves in other locations, where fruit trees were grown.

Outside the village, beneath flat-canopied acacia trees housed strange livestock, and caged birds. Irritation channels ran from the central oasis out to smaller ponds that formed a misshapen ring around the village. More channels ran from them to ponds in the desert. Clumps of desert grass dotted the sandy ground between channels. A single, older man urd’thin herded creatures resembling small, hunch-backed deer amidst the grasses.

Revaramek doubted he was the first to spot the approaching dragons, but the herder was the first to raise his voice about it. As soon as he saw them, he started shouting, chasing his small herd back into its pen. He closed up the acacia bough gate behind them, as if he thought it might somehow protect them from hungry dragons. Not that Revaramek was especially hungry right now. The herder then took off running across the sands, yelling all the while. Revaramek swiveled his ears, trying to pick out any familiar words. The agitated clatter of urd’thin syllables sounded both familiar, yet alien, as if it were an especially archaic version of a language Revaramek had not yet picked up.

“You get any of that?” The dragon glanced back at his rider.

Mirelle scowled, shaking her head. “Not really. Even back home when the urd’thin get excited they start talking too fast for me to keep up with. If we can get them to talk slowly I might be able to get some of it, assuming there’s similarities in their languages with our urd’thin. Which there very well may not be, though I thought I heard some familiar syllables.”

“I’m sure you’ll get plenty of time to ask them.” Revaramek turned back to the village, suddenly buzzing with activity and shouts. “Because here they come.”

All around the village, urd’thin dropped what they were doing. Some of them pulled knives from leather straps around their bodies. Others snatched up spears, and sprinted for the village outskirts, shouting. More of them grabbed for weapons that looked like a cross between scythes and axes. Some took up slings and pouches of stones. Another group of them grabbed up children and ran for shelters, or guided pups back into their houses.

Revaramek tensed as an ocean of tiny, furry warriors surged through the village, and out into the desert. He counted at least three dozen of them, all armed, male and female alike. There were probably at least twice that many back in the village. There were enough armed urd’thin that he’d have to worry about being overwhelmed if he and Nyra didn’t immediately utilize overwhelming force. And even if they did, there was no telling what the urd’thin might be able to do with their shaping, either. He was fairly certain that the three of them could protect themselves if they had too, but he doubted they’d come away uninjured. Worse, the village might end up decimated.

The dragon forced himself to keep his claws sheathed. Nyramyn hissed, and dropped into a crouch, her wings flared and brushing him. Though he knew Mirelle would know enough not to pull her maul free unless they had no choice, he wasn’t so sure about Nyra. He flicked his wing out just enough to thump her with it, his voice soft, but sharp.

“Fold your wings! Don’t give them any more reason to think they’ve got to defend their home.” To make an example, he tightened his own wings up against his body, and eased his belly down to the sand. “Remember when we met? We don’t want them to assume the worst, either! We only defend ourselves if they leave us no choice.” As he settled into the sand, he glanced back at his rider, an unnerving realization settling into his mind. “Damn it! Mirelle, get down, quickly.”

“Why should I-”

“Because right now you’re presenting yourself to desert urd’thin while ‘astride a great, scaled beast’! That’s never been a very friendly image in their legends! That’s how some the storytellers arrived, remember?”

“Shit!” Mirelle hurried at her straps, tugging them free as quickly as she could. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“I didn’t think of it earlier.” Revaramek hissed through grit teeth. “Besides, you’ve read more of the books than I have, you should have known too!”

“Don’t you shift the blame onto-”

“At least you’re not wearing a robe!”

When Mirelle got herself unbuckled, she slid down off his back and onto the sands, leaving his harness hanging. “Now what?”

“How do urd’thin show submission?”

“How the hell should I know?” Mirelle slapped his shoulder.

“Your tavern hosts them all the time!”

“But they don’t go around…” She waved her hand. “Submitting to each other! I’m just going to kneel down, and bow my head. But I’m staying in reach of my maul.”

As the urd’thin closed in, Nyramyn followed Revaramek’s example, and settled down into the sands. She stretched herself out, and laid her head down, too. Revaramek did the same thing, and Mirelle took a position between them. She knelt and leaned forward, with one hand braced against the sun-warmed sand, and the other ready to yank her maul free of its holsters straps along Revaramek’s side.

The miniature army spread out to surround the group, and had soon encircled them completely. Revaramek’s skin crawled under his scales, dread prickled at the base of all his frills, and his fire glands tingled, begging to be used. Nyra growled low and soft in her throat, and Revaramek did not ask her to stop. The urd’thin should know that while the dragons were submitting, for now, they did have limits. They did not want hostility, or violence, but would match it and exceed if they must.

“Mirelle.” Revaramek spoke without lifting his head. “Say friend, in urd’thin.”

“Sekka.” Mirelle raised her voice just a little. “Sekka! Sekka!”

A few of the urd’thin glanced at each other, but Revaramek couldn’t tell if they were confused because she was calling herself their friend, or just wondering what the hell she was babbling about. For a few long, tense moments, they remained in a stand-off. Each time one of the urd’thin drew a little closer, Revaramek resisted the urge to snarl at them, or bat them away. One made as if to poke at him with a spear, and Revaramek gave a sharp, menacing growl until he backed away.

“I can’t tell if this is working or not.” Mirelle glanced at Revaramek without lifting her head.

“No one’s bleeding, so I’d say it’s working.”

“But we can’t just sit here, staring at each other.”

“No.” Revaramek snorted, blowing sand across the feet of several urd’thin. They chittered and jumped back. One waved a dagger at him. “We can’t. I could try doing something with my spark, but I’m not sure how they’d take it after what happened on that dune. I don’t know if they can sense it in me or not. But I have an idea.”

“I hope you’re planning to share it with the rest of us before you go off half-cocked!”

“If we weren’t in this situation, I should make a joke about being whole-cocked.”

Mirelle snorted. “And if Nyra could understand us I suspect she’d disagree. What’s the damn idea?”

“We can’t do anything more to show we mean no harm, so now we have to try and make contact. I need your help. But first, I’m going to sit up.” Revaramek very slowly eased himself up onto his haunches. Some of the urd’thin near him stepped closer, brandishing their weapons and chattering warnings. “And before you ask, no, I’m not doing so to make another joke about my-”

“Good, then I won’t make a joke about how unimpressed they’ll be. What do you need me to do?”

As urd’thin drew nearer, Nyramyn growled at them again.

Revaramek glanced her way. “Nyra, love, unless I call for help, stay down, and stay quiet.”

“I’m not sure how long I can do that! I don’t want to have to hurt them, but their weapons are making me nervous.”

“I know, I know.” Revaramek switched back into the common tongue. “Mirelle, slowly get up. Show them your hands. I know they can see you’re not armed, but call attention to it anyway.”

Mirelle gave a single nod, and rose to her feet in a slow, fluid motion. While she did so, she stretched her arms out, and held out her empty hands, palms up. “Okay, Rev, now what?”

Revaramek kept his attention on the urd’thin. A few of them moved closer to Mirelle, but others lowered their weapons a bit, glancing amongst themselves. “Sekka! Sekka!” Revaramek still wasn’t sure they knew the word, but if nothing else, at least it made it clear they were trying to communicate. “Mirelle, come to my side, and open up the pouch with rations in it. Get them some hard biscuits or salted mutton or something. Make an offering to them.”

“That’s…actually a pretty good idea.”

“Thank you. Move very slowly.” Revaramek swallowed a few times. Excess fire bile dribbled against the back of his tongue, and left it tingling and with a bitter taste in his mouth. “Don’t give them reason to think you’re going for a weapon.”

Mirelle kept her hands away from her body, and wide open as she moved to the dragon. Several urd’thin followed her closely, now nearly within reach. She made sure they could see her empty hands before she set them against one of the cargo pouches tied around the dragon. After that, every move she made was deliberate and gradual. She eased open one buckle first, then another. Then slowly opened the drawstring.

“That’s good, Mirelle. Let them see you handling my pouch, and…wait, that didn’t come out, right.”

“Not the time, Rev.” Mirelle pulled the bag open, and even let them peer inside before she pushed her hands in. “And if you start making jokes later about my handling your pouch, I’m gonna handle the real thing by twisting it into a knot.”

“I don’t think you can knot it.” Revaramek grinned at her, grateful for the levity to ease the tension rippling beneath his scales.

“I can try!” Mirelle eased out a bundle of food, wrapped in parchment and tied with rope. “Should I just…give them the whole thing?”

“Might as well.”

Mirelle turned away from the dragon, and held the package out in both hands towards the nearest urd’thin. They looked at each other, chattered, and then a female with dark brown fur held her stone knife up towards Mirelle. Revaramek tensed, ready to defend her, but a little of his tension ebbed away when the warrior made a grand show of returning her knife to its sheath strap across her ribs. None of the others put their weapons away, but it was a good start.

The female urd’thin took the package from her, and backed away. The others near Mirelle took a few steps back as well. The brown female crouched down, and set the package in the sand. She tugged at the little ropes until it came undone, exposing a stack of hard biscuits, baked and prepared to withstand the rigors of travel. She lifted one, sniffed at it, then took a bit, crunching it up. Her ears perked, and she held the rest of it out to another urd’thin.

“There’s more where that came from.” Mirelle returned to the pouch, not quite as deliberately as before. “Krel nar! Krel Nar!”

“What does that mean?”

“More food, more food.”

While Mirelle retrieved more packages of food, the brown-furred urd’thin passed some of the biscuits out amongst the other warriors. Revaramek took the opportunity to try and appraise her. Runes cut from iridescent shells were woven into the fur of her neck. Bands of black stone encircled her wrists. Though they might just be decorative, the way she had taken charge seemed to indicate they meant she was an authority figure, a higher-ranking warrior or even chief, perhaps.

The next bundle of food Mirelle opened continued dried and salted mutton. Though the dragons hunted fresh food whenever the opportunity presented itself, they had packed as much preserved food and long-lasting rations as they could, not knowing what may await them in the desert. Mirelle handed the mutton to the brown-furred female, and then pulled out one more similar package. This one was filled with dried fish.

Before long, more warriors than not had taken a bit of something the group provided. Those who had not chittered at their friends, asking for a share. There wasn’t yet enough to go around, but Revaramek hoped the gesture would be as meaningful to the rest of them as actually getting to eat anything. He was hesitant to give up all their rations without knowing when or if they would be replenished, let alone how long they might spend in the desert.

Soon, the brown female tilted her head back and gave a long, feral howl. Revaramek flattened his ears, cringing at the piercing sound. He hadn’t heard any of the marsh urd’thin make that noise, before. It silenced all the warriors, and drew their attention to her, rather than the food, or even the dragons. She spoke to them, gestured at Mirelle and the two dragons, and then to Revaramek’s relief, signaled them to lower their weapons.

All the urd’thin warriors did as she asked, some more begrudgingly than others. Knives were returned to sheaths, spears were lowered, slings draped across shoulders, and so on. The brown furred female approached Mirelle, and said something to her. Mirelle tried to tell them she didn’t understand, and the female held her arm out. She ruffled her own fur, then pointed to Mirelle. Then she drew her knife and gestured at her own arm with it.

“Rev…” Mirelle glanced up at him. “I think she’s asking…why I shaved my fur…”

“You may be mistranslating, there, Mirelle. But they’ve probably never seen humans before.” Revaramek held his foreleg out. “Let her touch you, maybe that will help.”

The movement sent a few more urd’thin scurrying back. A few raised weapons again, only for the brown furred female to chastise them. She pointed at Revaramek’s raised paw, chattering. Soon the more nervous urd’thin lowered their guard, again.

Mirelle held her arm out the same way. “I think I caught something about, claws. Maybe she was telling them your claws aren’t out, so you don’t mean harm?” She tugged her sleeve up to reveal her bare olive skin. “Come on, you can touch me. I have fur, it’s just-”

“Hidden where she can’t see it.” Revaramek chuckled, glancing at Nyra. “I think it’s alright, Nyra. You can sit up, but very slowly.”

Mirelle glared at him. “That’s not the ‘fur’ I was talking about. I was going to say, it’s very fine.”

“Yes, Mirelle, you’ve a fine womanhood, no need to brag.”

“Don’t think I won’t kick you in front of the urd’thin.”

“I’m banking on the fact you’d rather not start a war with our new friends.”

“They’d take my side, anyway.” Mirelle held still as the female urd’thin came forward. She put her hand up against Mirelle’s, smiled, and then tugged on it. Mirelle stared at her. “I…I don’t know…what you want.”

The brown urd’thin released Mirelle’s hand for a moment, only to run her fingers up Mirelle’s arm. She stared at it, as if marveling at how soft the skin was, or how little hair her arms possessed compared to an urd’thin. Then she grasped Mirelle’s hand again, and gave it another few tugs. Mirelle stumbled forward, and the urd’thin crowd parted. The female beckoned the dragons to follow with her other hand, but did not release Mirelle.

“I think she’s inviting us into their village!” Revaramek glanced at Nyra. “Come on. Walk slow, keep your wings and your tail to yourself, and stick close to me.”

“Rev…” Mirelle followed after the smaller creature, doing her best not to yank away or trod into her. “Should I be worried she’s not releasing me?”

“I’ve no idea Mirelle.” When the lead female spoke to the other warriors, her voice held a noticible sort of growing excitement. “Can…you tell what she’s saying?”

Mirelle tilted her head, listening. “I…I think I caught some of it, but…I must be mistranslating.”

“Don’t tell me she plans to have you for dinner?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’m not actually joking, I’m trying to figure out what’s going through her head.”

“Your concern is touching, but…no, I think it was about you.” Mirelle glanced back at her shoulder, a frown etched across her face. “I could have sworn she said something about…gods beast? Or…godbeasts? I know those words in urd’thin, but…the dialect is very different, and plurals are…challenging to begin with, in urd’thin.”

“Mirelle…” Revaramek sharpened his tongue. “There’s a very important difference, there, and you need to figure it out.”

“I’m trying, Rev, but it’s not easy!”

“I’m not sure you understand. They seem more confused by you, than by Nyramyn and I. That tells me they may have seen a dragon before.”

“There’s a lot of dragons in the world, Rev.”

Revaramek took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “True. But there’s only one dragon I can think of, who would have ever been associated with a god.”

“Aylaryl.”

“Enora said she came here, right? At least we know we’re in the right place.”

When they were a little closer, Revaramek had a better look at some of the buildings. Many of them looked to be built of bricks of baked clay, with roofs of thatched reed. Others had walls composed of tanned hides stretched over wooden framework, or mud wattle daubed over lattice. Most homes were rounded, and free standing, though a few were long and rectangular and a few more were built around the base of the largest trees.

The brown-furred urd’thin led them between several of the outer buildings. Nyramyn squeezed up as close to Revaramek as she could get. Her wings brushed him, and Revaramek gave her neck a few reassuring licks. She offered him a quick smile, but watched the crowd of urd’thin surrounding them with uncertainty flickering in her copper-bronze eyes. Nyramyn was still adjusting to seeing so many people, let alone being surrounded by them.

The further they went into the village, the more excited the urd’thin seemed to be to have them there. Warriors sheathed knives and put spears down to come forward and touch their visitors, instead. Little furred hands with soft pads brushed over Revaramek’s scales. Some felt at his spiny tail fins. Others touched Mirelle’s arms, or tugged on her clothes. When some of them came to touch Nyra, she hissed at them.

Revaramek nosed her cheek, keeping his voice soft, and gentle. “I know, I know. But we have to show trust.”

“There’s so many of them!” Nyra pressed up against Rev’s side. “What if they turn against us?”

“Don’t give them reason to. I think they’re friendly, at heart. They’re just curious.”

Before long they found themselves in what appeared to be the village’s central plaza. It was a large, open space on the shores of their oasis, with earth and sand packed hard by uncountable footsteps. In the middle of it were several tall, flat stones, with odd runes carved into the front of them. Some of them looked familiar to the dragon, and he wondered if he had seen Asterbury adorned with such symbols. Trees towered over the shoreline, shading parts of the plaza. Waves gently washed up against the shore, pushed by the wind. Up close, the oasis was much larger than he realized, encompassed on one end by the village.

The plaza they were in looked to serve as both gathering place, and food preparation area. Several fires crackled at the plaza’s edges, with a line of dull-scaled fish hanging above one of them, bathed in the smoke. Meal preparation areas sat temporarily abandoned in the chaos brought by arriving dragons. Various foods covered low tables made from halved logs. Fish sat half-scaled alongside birds yet to be plucked. Piles of dates lay next to slices of hand fruit, and unfamiliar tubers. In another area, some kind of large insects wriggled in a mesh bag, and vegetables waited to be mashed and ground in a large stone mortar.

The brown-furred female walked towards the set of stone pedestals, then paused to turn back to Mirelle, still gripping her hand. She tapped her chest. “Ekki.” She tapped herself again. “Ekki!” Then she pointed to Mirelle, and tilted her head, her ears half-splayed in a quizzical expression.

“I think her name is Ekki.” Revaramek stretched out a single wing to drape it across his mate, to help steady her nervous.

“Rok!” The female nodded a few times, thumping herself once more. “Ekki!” She pointed to Mirelle again, waiting.

“I think she’s asking what your name is!”

Mirelle grimaced. “Yes, Rev, thank you.”

Revaramek smiled. “You’re welcome!”

“My name is…” Mirelle trailed, then scrunched her face. She thumped herself on the chest, mimicking the urd’thin’s gesture. “Mirelle.” She tapped herself again. “Mirelle!”

“Mee-rell.” Ekki nodded, smiled, and then pulled Mirelle after her again.

“Rev, I still have no idea what’s going on.” Mirelle glanced back at him over her shoulder, following the smaller creature.

“I suspect things are going to remain that way for a while.” With his wing still draped over Nyramyn, Revaramek padded behind her, not wanting to let Mirelle out of reach, just in case things went bad. “But I have a feeling she’s about to drag you up on that pedestal.”

“I guessed as much.” Mirelle gave a nervous laugh, brushing black strands out of her eyes. “As long as she doesn’t expect me to give a speech.”

Ekki guided Mirelle up onto the tallest of the stone pedestals in the center of the plaza. Revaramek went to stand alongside them even before Ekki was gesturing at the dragons and pointing to just that spot. He didn’t need to be able to translate her speech to understand she was probably going to tell the tribe they had important visitors. While he normally loved to feel important, this all left him a little unsettled. Between meeting ‘Father’, and being called something akin to a god’s beast, a faint sense of dread had gripped him. He supposed he should have guessed that anything Asterbury might led him too would end up being far more complicated than he expected.

Mirelle stumbled up onto the pedestal, gazing around at a small ocean of curious furry tribesmen. Revaramek lifted his head, looking around the village. By now, more urd’thin were emerging from where they sheltered in their homes and other buildings. Pups came with them, some riding on parents’ shoulders, holding their hands, or hiding behind the elders. Other urd’thin chattered at them, and whatever was being said, it seemed to put them all at ease.

Ekki finally released Mirelle’s hands, only to thrust her arms up into the air. Quiet settled over the tribe as they awaited her words. Revaramek didn’t know enough about their society to know if they had one leader or many, but Ekki certainly commanded their attention. He guessed she was their chief, or whatever they called their ruler.

Silence hung in the air for long moments. When Ekki finally broke it, her words came quick and excited. She spoke so swiftly that Mirelle glanced at Revaramek, and shrugged, helpless. There was no way she was going to be able to catch any of that. Ekki gestured at Mirelle, waved at the dragons, draw a dagger and traced symbols in the air. All the while she spoke. Her voice was strong and filled with excitement that seemed to grow and grow with every word until Revaramek expected her to start vibrating. When she finally stopped talking, she spun around and held her arms to Mirelle, and all the urd’thin turned their eyes to her.

Mirelle gulped and gave them a little wave. “H-hello.”

Chatter broke out across the urd’thin. Some of them waved back to her, others pressed towards the pedestal, calling out questions. More of them came towards the dragons, trying again to touch them. Ekki hopped off the pedestal, waving the crowd back. They parted for her, and made enough room for Revaramek and Nyra. This time they seemed a bit more hesitant to listen, as if they were more interested in a chance to see a human and dragons up close than they were in doing as their chief requested.

Ekki lead them around the shoreline of the oasis. The great crowd of urd’thin followed and surrounded them, ebbing and flowing like a living thing. Dozens of them came to touch Mirelle, to speak to her, to feel her clothes, her skin. As they eased back, more of them came to see the dragons, next. This time there were pups among them, adorable urd’thin children touching his scales, or grabbing at his ears when he lowered his head. Revaramek was thankful to see that Nyramyn had relaxed a little, and did not mind letting the many youths touch her. She smiled at a few pups, nudging a few more out of the way with gentle movements of her head and muzzle.

When Ekki looked back and saw Nyra trying to clear a path for herself so she wouldn’t step on anyone, the brown-furred chief ran back to her. She shooed the crowd away, yapping at the parents who’d let their pups get underfoot. Though Revaramek couldn’t understand her, between her shouted words and her various gestures towards the pups, Nyramyn’s feet, and what looked to be a general indication of size, he was pretty sure she was telling them to stay back before they got squished.

Once the crowd cleared back a bit, they made quicker progress. Before long, they were outside the village proper, and passing by a few pens where strange livestock were kept. Some were shaggy, even in the heat. Others had odd humps on their backs. Revaramek had never seen animals like that, and could not help but wonder how they might taste. Later, he’d have to look them up in the book. Small irrigation ditches carried water form the oasis to lines of crops. There were dates and figs, young hand fruit trees, and myriad other things Revaramek could not identify. One thing was certain, though. This village was thriving. Whatever calamity had befallen Vakaal’s people, in ages past, it had not happened here.

Or perhaps this was where they had escaped too.

Or where it all started over, free of the storytellers at last.

Revaramek wondered just where Ekki was leading them. He assumed at first she was taking them to another part of the village, but once they were past it, she just kept walking and walking. She followed the shoreline of the oasis, and Revaramek gazed across the water. From the ground, the far shoreline looked quite distant, lined with trees and reeds. Fish darted above in the shallows. Further from shore, something larger, and with dark, scaly hide moved through the murky depths. A memory flickered in Revaramek’s mind, of a strange, aquatic creature staring up at him from a purple-black ocean. Now he wondered if the things Asterbury called his cousins were actually descended from whatever beasts dwelled in the deepest reaches of the largest oases.

Up ahead, Revaramek spotted what he assumed to be their destination. Three of the tallest, oldest hand-fruit trees he had yet seen in the desert towered over what looked like some kind of garden. Statues of urd’thin occupied the garden’s center. Wooden lattice held up hide canopies, shading some of the plants there. Drainage canals encircled parts of it, with wooden gates to block or allow the flow of water. The gates were currently shut, and beneath the shade, the earth was muddy. On either side of the statues, clusters of odd-looking flowers with black petals, white spots, and a bright yellow center grew from the muddy ground.

“Look at those, Rev!” Mirelle pointed, drifting away from Ekki for a moment. “Do those look like…well, they kind of look like the sky. The center’s the sun, or maybe the moon, and the speckles are-”

“Stars.” Revaramek shivered, glancing at Nyra. He translated, and she sucked in a breathe. He glanced back at Mirelle. “Do you think it’s Star’s Blessing?”

“I wouldn’t have a clue.” Mirelle walked towards the flowers, growing in the muddy shade. “But it’s the closest thing we’ve seen to a possibility, so far.”

Ekki ran back to get in front of Mirelle, chattering and shooing her away from the flowers.

“Easy, Ekki, she’s not going to step on your garden.” Revaramek cocked his head as Ekki took Mirelle’s hand again, and tugged her away from the plants. “Mirelle, ask her if that’s Star’s blessing or not!”

“I’m not sure I can, Rev.” Mirelle glared at him over her shoulder. “I’ll do my best, but the urd’thin language I know isn’t exactly a word for word match with their dialect.”

“Just ask her!”

“I will, when I get a chance!” Mirelle stumbled a bit when the urd’thin tugged her forward with greater urgency. “I think first we’d better just let her take us wherever she wishes and show us whatever she wants too.”

Revaramek growled his frustration, though he knew Mirelle was right. It didn’t stop him from slipping closer to one of the flower clusters. He stretched his neck over the muddy irrigation ravine that surrounded it, and sniffed at the flowers. The bittersweet scent was unlike any flower he’d ever smelled, before. It left his head swimming and his mind roiling. The scent made his head swim. If the void where the stars dwelled had a scent, that might well be it.

“Mirelle, I think this is-”

“Rev!” Mirelle called back, her voice rising over his. “I think you’re going to want to see this!”

Revaramek grit his teeth. Though he knew Nyra didn’t need a cure immediately, the time they had to help her remained finite. The dragon supposed he was going to have to get used to taking one step forward and two steps back. Asterbury just wasn’t one to make things easy, even when he was trying to help. Assuming he was trying to help, and not just get them to do whatever dirty work he had left.

The dragon followed Mirelle and Ekki through the garden. A pathway lead between areas with flowers, though it was scarcely wide enough for a dragon’s paws. Nyramyn waited for him to go first, then followed behind, at his tail. Just as he was nearing the center of the garden, he realized the other urd’thin were no longer following them. He glanced back over his wings, past Nyra. The crowd that gathered now lingered on the edges of the garden, watching. None but Ekki had entered it. A trickle of cold uncertainty dribbled down the dragon’s spine.

Revaramek stopped for a moment, and looked around. The three hand fruit trees that loomed over the place were all evenly spaced apart, like the points on a perfect triangle. Up ahead, several statues stood amidst a circular clearing, in the middle of the garden. Decorative slabs of silvery rock encircled the area as if to keep the urd’thin at bay. Here and there, an obsidian ridge protruded from the sand, near the silver stones. The statues must have had sacred meaning and were kept off limits to most of the tribe. Mirelle stood, staring at the statues. Ekki gestured back and forth between the tallest statue and Mirelle as if making some kind of connection.

“Mirelle…”

“Revaramek, look at these statues!” Mirelle leaned forward, peering at the tallest statue. It was of a female urd’thin, with unfamiliar emblems woven into the fur where her throat met her chest. Her arms were stretched towards the sky, her head cast back and muzzle wide as if she was shouting at the sun. “I’m pretty sure she says…” She paused, listening to Ekki a moment. “She says…god talker? I don’t think I’m translating quite right but…maybe she’s saying this is a statue of a priestess. But look, at the others.”

Revaramek grunted, and walked closer. Just as he was about to gently grab Mirelle and ease her back from the plaza, he noticed the statues she was talking about. One of them was a male urd’thin, standing behind the female. He stared off into the distance, a gentle smile on his muzzle. Revaramek recognized him in an instant. The third was a pup, sculpted as if he was building little people out of sand. Though Revaramek was certain of the statue’s identity, its face was indistinguishable. It had a head, ears, and a muzzle, but all the fine details were missing, as if scoured away by the sand.

Mirelle went to put her hand on the adult male statue, only for Ekki to swat her hand away and yell at her. Mirelle ignored her, glancing at the dragon. “Doesn’t that one look like-”

“That’s his Father.” Revaramek hissed, his spines flared. “That’s the urd’thin I met atop the dune!”

“But why would they have a statue of him?”

“I can imagine a number of reasons, all of which will terrify me if I think too hard about them.” Revaramek licked his muzzle, shuddering. “This place makes me feel like things are crawling under my scales. Why doesn’t the pup have a face?”

“I’ll try and ask her, if I can get her attention. She’s trying to tell me something but I can’t quite figure it all out.” Mirelle held up her hands, until Ekki went silent. Then she spoke to her in urd’thin, gesturing at the statue, and her own face. Ekki caught on quickly, and Revaramek hoped Mirelle was able to translate her answer. Mirelle pursed her lips, tilting her head. “She says….at least I think she says, that the pup statue represents…” She listened to Ekki again. “A…child…god?”

Revaramek grunted, flattening his spines. He glanced at Nyra. Since no one was translating for her, she had taken to investigating the area, walking around the inside of the circular stone partitions separating the statues from the rest of the garden. “A god-pup. That would be Vakaal.” Revaramek cringed when he spoke the name aloud, half-expecting Ekki to shriek at him for taking her god’s name in vain or something. But she barely even seemed to notice. Which left Revaramek wondering just which name he wasn’t supposed to say. “Why doesn’t he have a face?”

Mirelle did her best to ask the question, again focusing on the statue’s face. She circled a finger around her own face. Ekki made the same gesture, and Mirelle pointed at the statue. Ekki turned and stared at it, then pointed to the faces of the other statues, before doing the same to Mirelle and the dragons.

“She says…the face of the god pup isn’t important, because…she either says, he can be anyone, or…he’s in everyone? Something like that.”

“He walked among them, and they never knew.” Revaramek scratched his neck with a wingtip talon.

“I’m not sure that’s what she said, but something akin to that.”

“Doesn’t matter, Mirelle. Vakaal and his Father lived mortal lives, and even they did not know they were gods. That’s…that’s the lesson, I think, that they’re trying to teach with that statue. That the gods are always among us. He must have…he must have become a story, to them, passed among their tribes. The god pup who set them all free.”

“Rev, is it just me, or are you drifting further from shore?” Mirelle turned towards him, hands on her hips.

“It’s called thinking out loud, Mirelle!” Revaramek snapped his jaws. “What about the other two?”

Ekki thumped a finger few fingers against Mirelle’s chest. “Mee-rell.” She tapped her own chest. “Ekki.”

Revaramek took a few steps towards them. “Yes, we’ve established that part.”

Ekki turned and touched the statue, smiling. “My-Ka.”

“I don’t suppose that means anything to you, Mirelle.”

“She’s telling us who that statue represents.” When Ekki spoke again, Mirelle listened for a moment. “God…talker…My-Ka.”

“God talker? What does that mean?”

“I may be mistranslating. I think she’s trying to say, someone who talks about god? Or…spreads god’s word? Oh! I think she means a Priestess.”

“So it’s a statue of a priestess?”

“I think so. She keeps calling me the same thing.”

“A priestess?” Revaramek cocked his head. “Why does she think you’re a priestess?”

“I’m not sure. I’m still trying to get her to explain that in a way I can understand.”

Revaramek lifted a forepaw, and pointed at the statue of Father. “Ask her if that’s God.”

“Rev, I think that would extremely offensive.”

“Then just ask her who the hell it is!” Revaramek snarled, and then dropped his head. “Sorry, Mirelle, I know you’re trying your best. It’s just…something about this place has me very on edge.”

Mirelle gave the dragon’s head a quick hug. “I know, I know.” She released him and spoke to Ekki, waving at the third statue. When Ekki replied, Mirelle again strained to decipher her dialect. “He doesn’t have a name. But…I think they called him…First Chief? Something about…uniting them and…wait, that can’t be right.” Mirelle pointed at the statue again, then pointed towards the village. She asked a few questions, and Ekki eagerly nodded. Mirelle chewed on her lip. “I may have this wrong, but…I think she said…he brought them here?”

“Here? To this village, or this world?”

Mirelle gave a helpless shrug. “I’m already at the limits of my language with her, Rev. I’d need months, at least, to start studying the differences in their tongue with the urd’thin language I’m used to.”

“Did he bring their ancestors here, or did he bring themhere?”

“Rev, I don’t-”

“It’s a bit of an important distinction, Mirelle. Have they been here as long as we have, or have they only just arrived here in the last decade, or so? Say, in the time since I last saw Asterbury?”

Mirelle pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll try, I’ll try.” She asked Ekki a few questions, but with each one, the female urd’thin looked more and more confused. Her ears flattened back, her muzzle scrunched up, and she finally waved Mirelle off as if she thought the human was speaking nonsense. “Sorry, Rev, I don’t think I can properly quantify that in their tongue. I…” She glanced away, fighting back a laugh. “May have just asked her if ‘she brought her own ancestors to this village today’.”

Revaramek chuckled. “Alright, Mirelle, at least you tried. Ask her why she thinks you’re a priestess.”

Mirelle sighed. “You really need to learn urd’thin.”

“Now you know how I feel, translating you and Nyra for each other all the time!”

“Fair enough.” Mirelle tapped herself, and then asked a question. Ekki responded, and soon they were carrying on a halting, stilted conversation that Revaramek hoped would prove informative. Mirelle finally glanced at the dragon. “Because I came from the sandstorm, riding a god beast. She thinks…that…that dragons were…servants of gods, bent to serve…something about people from before. And now that you’re free, you can serve the gods, again. And since I was riding you…”

“She assumes you work for the gods, too.”

“I think it also has to do with that sandstorm. It sounds like they see such things as…an omen, of sorts.”

“I bet they do.” Revaramek settled onto his haunches, sighing. “So, she thinks you’re a priestess, just like this…Mica. And she thinks Nyra and I serve the gods, who…show themselves as sandstorms? Then that storm wasn’t to hide Father from you and Nyra, it was to show the village he was here. To let them know he’s watching us. Ask her about Star’s Blessing.”

“I’m not sure now is the-”

“Mirelle, please.” Revaramek held up a paw. “Just ask her.”

“I’ll do my best. I may have to get creative. I know the marsh urd’thin word for star, but not for blessing. And I don’t even know if the desert word will be the same.”

Mirelle cleared her throat and her cracked her knuckles. Ekki watched her, then imitated the gesture. Mirelle spoke, and Ekki replied and soon they were going back and forth. Before long, Mirelle was crouched in the sand, scratching out what looked like an image of stars in the sky. Ekki gave an excited squeak and dropped onto all fours, dragging her own claw tips through the sand, creating her own image. Soon Ekki’s image had a single star above rounded homes. A village, perhaps. Lines indicating starlight shining from it, and onto a village below. Mirelle and the urd’thin spoke back and forth, and all at once, Ekki jumped to her feet. She pulled a dagger free and used it to point to the far western horizon.

“Mirelle, please tell me you haven’t gotten us kicked out already.”

“Shut up, Rev.”

Ekki dropped back down, and using her name, scratched out another little village in the sand. She pointed with her blade towards the nearby homes, then tapped the village scribed on the ground. Next to it, she drew the outline of a lake. Then she dragged her knife through the sand, drawing a line. At the end of the line, she draw another little rounded building, and a smaller pond next to it. Then she tapped it, and repeated the same phrase, several times.

“Star’s blessing, she says.” Mirelle pushed herself up to her feet. “At least, that phrase is the consensus we came to. We may have mistranslated each other, but…she says that’s where star’s blessing is.”

Revaramek tilted his head, gazing at the map. Then he looked across the sands, in the direction Ekki pointed. “To the west. Exactly the direction Father told me not to go. I guess that’s how we know she’s telling the truth.”

“Rev!” Nyra lifted her head from nearby. Her ears were flattened back. “Come look at these rocks.”

“Typical Nyra.” Revaramek chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re over here discussing violating orders from a god, and she’s entranced by some rocks.”

“Rev, come here!” Nyra scratched at one of the rocks with a claw. “Do these look familiar to you?”

When Ekki turned and saw Nyra scratching at them, she shrieked and ran across the sand to grab at the dragon’s foreleg. She tried to tug it away, only for Nyra to lift her limb, and smile at the urd’thin hanging from it. “Hello, little furry thing! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to damage your rock garden.”

“Nyra, put her down.” Revaramek laughed as he padded towards his mate, near the circular barriers at the edge of the statuary’s plaza.

“She’s the one hanging from me.” Nyra lowered her front leg again till Ekki’s kicking feet touched the earth. “There you go, little creature. I was only trying to scrape away the dirt from these rocks. I wanted to see if they had markings on them.”

“Why would you care if they had markings on them, Nyra?” Revaramek chuckled, licking his nose. “You can’t read urd’thin any better than I can.”

“I was only curious. They look familiar. And not a good sort of familiar.”

“What are you talking about?”

Revaramek eased up alongside his mate. He gazed down at the rock she was scratching. It was one of many silvery rocks that encircled the plaza. He unsheathed a few claws, digging at the sand around it, and soon realized it was part of a much greater piece of stone, buried in the sand. A partial rune was soon uncovered, on an oddly angled surface. Revaramek’s breath caught, and he glanced at the obsidian ridges he saw earlier, protruding from the ground. They poked up here and there, where the sand was thinner, always the same distance away from the silver rocks.

All at once, it clicked, and Revaramek’s blood ran cold. “Nyra, stop touching that stone! Mirelle, get away from the statues! We’re standing inside a damn gate!”