Draka Chapter 367: The Seeds Had Always Been There (Patreon)

We left for Malyon a little after noon. I let Herald sit on my shoulders. With a look, I silently dared Sandstorm to say anything; she looked right back, silently asking why the hell I was staring at her.

I’d intended to let Maglan sit behind Herald, figuring that as long as he hung on tight to her he’d be fine. To my surprise and Herald’s disappointment, he asked to travel in my arms instead. “I mean it’s, what? Four, five hours up there?” he asked. “And you don’t really get tired, do you?”

“Not really, no,” I agreed. At least not when I was only carrying a human in my arms; that was easy.

“Well, I do. And I’m… I’m kind of scared that I might fall asleep and slip off, alright?” He turned to Herald. “I love you with all my heart, Starlight, and I can’t imagine a better way to spend half a day than to pass it holding you, but I really don’t want to fall off.”

From somewhere behind my head, Herald said, “That would not happen!” Her voice was just a bit petulant. “But fine. I understand.” Then she paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was warmer. “It is nice to see how you trust Draka, at least.”

“It is!” I agreed.

Magland laughed, soft but genuine, and said, “With all respect, Draka, at least half of that is me knowing that Herald would never let you hear the end of it if you dropped me.”

“Good enough for me,” I said, then turned to look over at the other end of the yard, where Sandstorm and Tammy were talking as softly as my cousin could manage. “How are you two doing over there? Ready to go?”

“We have been ready for ages,” Sandstorm complained.

Tammy smiled and nodded. She’d been a little disappointed that I wouldn’t be the one carrying her, but she and Sandstorm liked each other, and she’d gotten over if fast enough. Now she said, “As your lady cousin says, whenever you wish, we can go.”

“Alright, then,” I said, and turned to Mak and Tam, who’d been watching us and listening with silent amusement. “We’ll be a few days, alright? No reason to get worried unless we’re gone for a week or something.”

“Got it,” Tam said. “You all take care of yourselves, alright?”

“You made sure to pack the…” Mak said, directing the question past me to Herald and miming drinking something. “Right?”

“Mak!” Herald squeaked with embarrassed outrage, as Maglan made a sad little choking sound.

Tam laughed at them all. “Listen,” he said, “Mak’s doing you a favor. No one here has any illusions about what you two are planning to get up to, and we all know you. If you forgot your tea, you’re way too responsible to risk anything. A little embarrassment’s worth avoiding a ruined trip, isn’t it?”

“Gods and Mercies, you have yourselves to blame if I just stay up there,” Herald muttered. “Yes. I have it. I made sure.”

“Can we go now, please?” Maglan asked meekly. “And Draka? Do you think you could drop me, after all?”

*

I didn’t drop Maglan. The flight was unremarkable, and we arrived in Malyon with an hour or so of sunlight left, despite going low and slow and taking a break halfway for the humans’ comfort.

Mother saw us, and came up to greet us when we came in over the city. She also saw Herald sitting on my shoulders, hunched over my neck against the wind. She didn’t say anything, but I could tell from her posture that she didn’t like it. Ah, well, I thought. We can’t see eye to eye on everything.

For once I didn’t turn over control to Instinct, nor did she ask for it. It wasn’t like she could do her aerial dance with Mother with two passengers. And perhaps that was why Mother only checked on us before falling in off my right wing, following in silence as we approached the upper city and the preserved library that was Herald and Maglan’s destination.  That, or perhaps she just didn’t trust herself to speak while I had a human on my back.

“Hrrrm,” she said once we were all on the ground in the large burned clearing that she’d made there. “It has been some time since anyone came here. Looking for new books, Herald?”

“Yes, Great Lady,” Herald replied.

“And you brought your mate to help. Him and… you are Tammy, yes? My daughter’s most ardent worshipper, and the one who was so useful in destroying that pesky army recently.”

“I am, Great Lady!” Tammy said proudly. “But I am not here to help search the library.”

“Oh?”

“I need someone to clear all the bones out of my new lair,” I explained. “Respectfully. Tammy will be perfect for the job.”

Mother just wiggled her head in a draconic shrug. “I will choose to believe you. I do not see the point, but it is clearly important to you. How long will you stay?”

“That’s not entirely decided,” I admitted. “Herald and Maglan? A few days. Three or four, maybe five if finding the right books takes long. Tammy? Until she’s done.”

“And Draka and I are going on a flight together!” Sandstorm added, all anticipation and excitement.

Mother’s eyes narrowed curiously. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said, wishing for the moment that I’d handed over control to Instinct after all. I sorely missed her directness and self-confidence, but switching now would look suspicious. “I was hoping you might keep an eye on the humans while we’re away for a day or two. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It is no trouble at all. But where are you going?”

Right. I’d hoped to avoid that conversation. Now, thanks to Sandstorm I was stuck between either lying to Mother or telling her that we’d be potentially pissing off the two adults who’d killed Sandstorm’s father.

“Can this wait until the humans are comfortable?” I asked. I really didn’t want to get into it in front of them. Aside from the perfectly normal fear that any child had of being scolded in front of their friends by their mother, I really didn’t want to possibly put Tammy through me being forced to bow to Mother’s will. She’d probably reframe it in a way that didn’t shake the foundations of her entire worldview, but it was a risk I didn't want to take, and an ordeal I didn’t want her to have to deal with.

Fortunately, Mother was in no hurry. “By all means,” she said. “I can remain here for now. Go. Take Tammy to your lair and get her settled. Then return, and we can take a flight around the ruins and talk.”

More likely she’d get everything out of Sandstorm a few minutes after I’d left, but I wasn’t going to argue. “I’ll see you all in a bit, then,” I told those staying behind, and Tammy said some quick goodbyes. Then we were off.

The flight up to the palace grounds and my new lair took no time at all. Having wings truly was a beautiful thing, and it was getting harder and harder to imagine my life without them. My memories of the two periods where my wings had been too damaged for me to fly were nightmarish; when I thought back on things I’d experienced as a human, I sometimes found myself wondering why I’d ever walked or taken my bike instead of flying. Climbing I understood. That was just fun. But walking? Then I’d see a human and remember that, oh, right, I’d been one of them.

It made me feel almost guilty to see them sometimes — me with my magnificent wings, and them stuck on the ground. I thought back to Darim, to how she’d told me that she’d stood by the shore and watched the seabirds fly, and her unrestrained joy during our few flights together. And I thought back to my own joy, or Conscience’s joy, during this body’s first flight, back when she was still a human in the shape of a dragon. Humans were made to fly, and yet they couldn’t. How terribly cruel.

At least I could share that joy with them. With that in mind I took an extra turn around the bluff on which the high city of Malyon stood, just to give Tammy a few more minutes in the air. And, just as importantly to her, a few more minutes with me.

But Mother was waiting, and I couldn’t spend all day flying around with Tammy. I landed by the stairway that led down to the underground chamber, carefully setting Tammy down so she didn’t topple forward under the weight of her oversized pack.

“You have the rope ladders, yeah?” I asked. “The old ones are dust.”

“I do,” she confirmed. “But, my lady, I was thinking… was there not another entrance? One connected to the palace cellars?”

“Yeah?” I said, inviting her to continue.

“I thought, with all the empty rooms and storehouses there, would it be acceptable to move the remains into the cellars?”

I looked at her silently. Then I sighed. That would save her so much work, and reduce the risk of anything attacking her. Why hadn’t I thought of that? “That’s a good idea, Tammy,” I agreed. “Yeah, let’s do that. Put up the rope ladder at this end of the collapsed hallway anyway, then let’s head over to the palace. We’ll go in that way.”

Tammy didn’t argue, getting out one of the three rope ladders she’d packed and vanishing down the stairwell for a short while. Nor did she question why we’d go to the trouble of heading to the palace and descending into the cellars from there, rather than going up the corridor from the underground chamber. She understood when I showed her the door I’d hidden — which she was sure should be there, but couldn’t see — and how I’d closed the connection between the cellars and my lair.

“I’ll guard this entrance with my life,” she declared piously once we’d entered the grand chamber.

“I know that you will,” I replied. “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, yeah? Come along, now. I’ve cleared an area near my hoard already. Let’s set you up there.”

Taking Tammy to my hoard wasn’t something I’d decided on off-handedly. I knew what it would mean to her, and Mak’s reaction had prepared me for… something. I couldn’t actually know how Tammy would react until it happened. But at least I wasn’t taken completely by surprise when she took a few final, hesitant steps up to the edge of my mat of coins, asked if she might touch it, and, after I gave my permission, broke into tears the moment her palm touched metal.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say between the sobs and sniffles. “I’m sorry, my lady. I should… it’s just…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I told her with gentle patience. Mother was waiting, and we didn’t have time to waste, but this wasn’t something I wanted to rush. “It’s bringing up a lot of emotions, isn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm!” She nodded, the motion quick and jerky, her jaw clenched against another sob. “It’s— it’s the… you hated me! You despised me! And I deserved it! And now… here…”

She gestured at my hoard with her free hand, the other still palm down on the coins, then covered her mouth, sniffling and breathing hard as she fought to control herself.

“You’re the third person I’ve shown my hoard,” I told her, and her whole body quivered. “The third I’ve trusted to keep it safe. The first whom I didn’t consider my sister.”

She’d been fighting her tears up until then. When I told her that, she broke down entirely, falling to her knees and letting everything out as she prostrated herself on my bed of coins. She wasn’t a loud crier. She didn’t howl, or moan, or wail. She wheezed and whimpered, squeaked and sobbed and sniffed and snorted. But that didn’t make her emotional release any less real, or any less complete. Her body shook with the force of it, and when I curled around her, covering her with my wing and hiding her from the world, she groped around and pressed herself against me like a blind thing as she gave me all of her old fear and doubt and shame.

Gods, how I hated Tekeretek and their mercenaries then. Leretem had been a petty, cruel thing, but after I forced her to strip away everything that was rotten, Tammy was good. Ruthless when it came to advancing my interests, perhaps, but I’d seen her with other people, mine or not, and she was kind. She was generous, and considerate. I’d seen her make people laugh! And I had no doubt that Leretem could have been that person, that the seeds had always been there, but instead she’d been turned into a miserable husk of a woman who could only find some small joy in the misery and suffering of those she saw as beneath her.

Perhaps that was all circumstance. Perhaps she’d had a terribly hard life before I met her, and everything that I’d stripped away had been armor, a shell that she’d built around herself to survive in a world that constantly tried to grind her to dust. Perhaps. But I didn’t care. I didn’t need another reason to hate Tekeretek, strictly speaking, but I’d take it.

*

Getting Tammy set up was easy. The temperature down there wasn’t quite as stable as deep inside a mountain, but it couldn’t swing by more than a few degrees. With the passage into the palace cellars open she had access to fresh water and ventilation for cooking fires, and as long as she kept her wits about her — which she swore that she’d do — she could return to the surface to set snares and other traps for the small game that was plentiful there. Satisfied that she’d be able to keep herself alive and somewhat comfortable, I left her to her work.

Sandstorm had crumpled like a soggy takeaway bag. I could see it in how she refused to look at me when I arrived back at the library. Also in how Mother looked at me silently, then blinked her inner eyelids at me in what I hoped was frustration before telling us both, “Come. We will go somewhere private. Herald and her mate will be safe inside.”

She took us down to the edge of the harbor south of the high city, where she or one of the other firebreathers had burned out a clearing large enough for all of us to land. Once we were all on the ground she didn’t waste any time.

“I would ask what you are thinking, but I understand all too well. You, Sandstorm, wish to recover your hoard. That is perfectly understandable. And you, Draka, are far too willing to risk your own safety for those you consider allies.”

“Sandstorm is more than just an ally!” I objected. “She’s my cousin, and my only family besides you and granduncle Indomitable that I’ve met. And she can’t start a new hoard without a piece of her old one.”

“She can,” Mother stated, then swung her head to the side to face Sandstorm. “But I understand your reluctance to do so. I also understand that I am unlikely to stop you without breaking your wings. As I am currently unwilling to do so, I will instead demand a solemn promise out of the both of you. You will both swear to me, on the things most precious to you, that you will not go looking for Sandstorm’s hoard without Indomitable’s company. If he will not go, neither will you. If he is willing to accompany you, then I will not stop you. But I will not let you fly to your deaths. Now swear!”

My whole hide prickled at that currently. I had no doubt that she meant exactly what she said. Our comfort was not more important than our lives, nor was my relationship with her. I fully believed that she’d hurt me as much as she thought necessary to keep me from doing something she saw as suicidal. She probably wouldn’t be happy about it, but she’d do it.

We swore. What the hell else could we do?

“Does that mean that Grandfather is back?” Sandstorm asked afterward.

“He arrived last night, bold as anything. He landed in that same tree as you used before after announcing himself. I can only assume that he considers himself to have leave to come and go as he pleases,” Mother grumbled. “He will be sleeping, but he only has himself to blame if this territory’s rightful owner comes to wake him.”

So that was what we did. The giant tree where Indomitable and Sandstorm had made their nest towered as mighty as ever in the late twilight, and there he was, in all his spiny amber glory. He was sleeping peacefully, his sinuous form coiled into a big spiral with his head at the center and one wing draped over it against the departed sun.

Sandstorm acted just like I’d expected: with not a shred of anything resembling chill or tact. “Grandfather!” she exclaimed. “We need you to come with us across the sea!”

Indomitable woke. He growled, and snorted, and huffed as he thrashed around a bit. Then, once the fog of sleep had lifted and he saw just who it was disturbing him, he asked Sandstorm to repeat herself.

She did, adding on an explanation as to why, exactly, she wanted him to come fly hundreds and hundreds of miles with us when he’d just come back from a journey that took him days. I’d expected him to tell us to sod off, but once Sandstorm was done he just huffed, narrowed his eyes in amusement, and told us, “Why not? Little Draka, does your mother know?” My cousin had left that part out, making it sound like it was all her idea.

“She’s the one who demanded we convince you to come with us,” I admitted.

“Very good. So we do not need to convince her instead. Now let me sleep. It is dark already, and I have no wish to fly through the night. Collect me after sunrise.”

And that was all there was to it. No wheedling or groveling or otherwise trying to talk him into it. He seemed to find the whole thing funny — an interesting distraction at worst.

Sandstorm stayed with her grandfather, claiming that she was tired. Personally, I figured she’d missed the old rascal. I returned to the library to tell Mother that Indomitable had agreed, and to spend what remained of the evening with Herald before I left.

I could only hope that our trip itself would go as smoothly.