Dragonoak (32 page)

“I am
telling you, Northwood, I am carrying this all myself,” Akela
insisted, swinging a sack of potatoes big enough to hide a body in
over her shoulder.

“It'll take us
days
to walk back,” I said, half-tempted to see how
far she'd get before buckling. “And if we get a cart, we can get
more food.”

Akela
hummed, carefully picked out slabs of butter like house bricks, and
dropped them into the bag I was holding open.

A flash of gold passed behind the far stalls, and I knew
immediately that it wasn't the armour of the city guards. There was
no way they'd pick me out from the crowd – I wasn't with a pane,
and even if they stumbled across me, I really
was
Felheimish – but I fought back
the urge to hurry out of Eaglestone. The only bags I had were full
of food, I reminded myself. It didn't matter if they wanted to look
through those.

The
soldiers moved towards the outskirts of the market, and I let
Akela's curiosity get the better of me.

“We're
looking for volunteers,” one of them announced to an audience that
was half-listening. People glanced over from their shopping, and
having heard it all before, went back to bartering. “The
restoration of Kastelir isn't an easy process. We're looking for
people willing to help those less fortunate. Your time and
hard-work will, of course, be compensated in the form of food and
shelter.”

It
didn't take much to figure out which people their offer was
directed to.

Akela
grinned, liking this option a lot more than hoping a dragon knocked
another hole in the wall, and held her hand up in the
air.

“Yes?”
the second soldier asked.

A few in
the crowd looked back towards us, hoping Akela was asking the same
question they were mulling over.

“Where
are we signing up?” she asked.

“In
Benkor, five days from now. Groups will be organised and taken into
Kastelir from dawn until dusk,” the soldier called over, and Akela
patted me on the shoulder, grin not yet fading.

The
soldiers didn't seem thrilled by the prospect of dealing with a
barrage of questions, and eager to get back to their previous
patrol, hurried to conclude the announcement. Those who had
listened began to murmur amongst themselves, and I bit back a
smile; I didn't want anyone thinking I was too eager to march into
a wasteland.

Akela
and I kept bumping each other's shoulders as we finished up
shopping, buying a few things we didn't need, and behind us, people
were muttering about the soldiers' announcement, on the verge of
being utterly disinterested by it all.

“Wouldn't wanna be stepping into Kastelir. I hear Prince
Rylan's having all sorts of problems with the Agadians, and that's
not to speak of all the dragons,” one man said. “If they knocked
our wall clean through, imagine what they've done to
Kastelir.”

“Mm,”
his companion agreed. “But those poor sods on the streets would
probably go into the Bloodless Lands, if it meant food and
somewhere to sleep for the night.”

“Maybe.
But you know what everyone says about the Agadian King. Don't pity
the Prince one bit, having to deal with that.”

I
would've spun around and asked them what they meant and how Prince
Rylan was involved in it all, but if I'd been in Felheim these past
few years, I would've known for myself. It was of no matter, I
thought. We had a way into Kastelir and we knew where to go; the
resistance would be able to fill us in better than any marketplace
gossip could.

Arms
full, Akela and I dragged all we'd bought over to the town gates.
Akela puffed as she went, carrying the bulk of our purchases,
already grateful that she wasn't being made to walk
home.

We
waited by the stables, where travelling merchants gathered to
attach their carts back to their horses, looking out for someone
heading in the direction of my village. The first man we asked said
he was passing Briarfeld, a village a handful of miles from my own,
but the people there had often trekked to my room in the
apothecary’s, and I didn't want to risk being recognised. We
thanked the man and went back to waiting.

“What
do
they say about the Agadian King?” I asked Akela, leaning
close.

“Hm.
Well, as I am a proud Kastelirian, I am only able to repeat the
rumours I am hearing,” she said, barely holding back a smirk. “But
they are saying that the King of Agados, he is being very, very
old. And I am not comparing him to Atthis, no! Older than all that!
Centuries, perhaps. Of course, it is only a rumour, so who is able
to say what is true?”

“Centuries old? What do you think?”

“I am
thinking that no one in living memory is remembering the last King,
the last coronation, and I am thinking that no one is ever seeing
him,” Akela said, and with a shrug, added, “It is explaining why
nothing is ever seeming to change, if nothing else,
yes?”

A year
back, Atthis had told me that he expected Agados had found a way to
involve themselves. The assassination of a King had been enough to
draw them out once, so surely the devastation of an entire Kingdom
would do the same. We'd all worked hard putting that possibility
out of our minds, already having more than enough to worry
about.

Two
merchants heading for Ironash allowed us to lug our things into the
back of their cart. They were transporting a range of rugs, which
meant we weren't accompanied by the constant sound of clucking, and
we said our goodbyes on the path winding around the valley. It took
us three trips to carry all of our things to the farm house, and by
the end of it, I'd worked up the sort of sweat that merely existing
in Canth demanded.

Kouris
was behind the house, replacing the parts of the stable that were
worse for wear. She held nails between her lips as she hammered
newly carved planks into place, tearing the old, brittle ones away
with her claws. Kouris had a way of seeming content no matter where
she was, whether that meant threatening pirates in Canth or helping
out around a farm, and I watched her work for a few moments, well
aware she'd heard me approach.

Climbing
onto the hay bales against the stable made me slightly taller than
her, horns notwithstanding, and I draped my arms over her
shoulders, once I had her attention. She smiled at me, a little
puzzled to see me in such high spirits.

“Get
everything you were after?” she asked, pulling a nail from between
her fangs.

“More.
We figured out how to get into Kastelir,” I said, buzzing with
excitement.

Raising
an eyebrow, she said, “I'm not about to carry you over that wall,
yrval.”

Kouris
was far too pleased by the way I rolled my eyes, but I was in no
mood to keep her in suspense as a punishment.

“Oh, it's better than that. We won't have half the army
chasing us!” I told her. “They'll
take
us into Kastelir. They're
looking for volunteers, people to help restore Kastelir. If we can
get to Benkor in a few days, then all we have to do is head for
Orinhal once we're in.”

Kouris
knelt, dropped her hammer onto a hay bale, then wrapped her arms
around my waist, lifting me clean into the air.

“We'll
be allowed to wander in, just like that?” she asked. “It's that
easy?”

“I think
so! Unless you've changed your mind. I mean, you can still carry me
over the wall, if you want.”

Akela
gave Atthis and my father the news, and we spent the evening making
a feast of what we'd brought back from market. Kouris ensured that
our glasses were always full, and we celebrated as though we
weren't fully aware of what awaited us. I was uncomfortable with
the thought of leaving my father alone again, but would never put
him at risk by taking him along, and he didn't once try to make a
place in our plans.

I spent
that night packing. No one had asked what'd been in the bags, and I
wasn't about to bring it up of my own volition, but I took what I
could, hoping I'd start to feel some manner of comfort in having it
close. I left the gauntlets in the top drawer of my cabinet, tucked
the chains between layers of old clothes, and placed the book, the
knife and the box within my bag, hidden under clean
shirts.

My
father knocked at my door as I was fastening the straps of the bag,
and when I grunted in the affirmative, he came in and perched on
the edge of the bed.

“I know you don't want me to leave,” I pre-empted him. “But
I
have
to. And I
know it won't be safe, but that's why I have Kouris and
Akela.”

“That's
not what I was going to say,” he said, leaning forward and placing
a hand on my shoulder. “I just wanted you to know that I'll be
here. That there's a place for you – for you and your friends – no
matter what happens in Kastelir.”

Swaying
to the side, I leant against his knee. Neither of us said anything,
but I stayed like that until I was ready to sleep.

In the
morning, my father saw Atthis, Akela and myself off. Kouris had
gone on ahead with Katja, leading her out of the valley, leaving me
minutes away from having to face her again. Akela said her goodbyes
by slapping my father on the back and Atthis spent far too long
shaking his hand. My father implored him to write, should he find
the time, and I waved as we left, turning back every few minutes to
keep waving, until my father was out of sight.

We
regrouped at the border of the forest.

Wherever
Katja'd been kept, she'd had access to a bed, bath and hairbrush,
and was on the verge of looking like her old self. We'd all been
eager to leave, but once Katja was amongst us, she was the only one
who managed to look cheerful.

“Might I
have permission to speak in your presence once again?” Katja asked,
as though what I'd said to her in the inn had been nothing but a
light-hearted joke.

“No,” I
snapped, eyes fixed on hers, waiting for her to say another word.
Waiting for her to give me a reason to ball my hands into fists, to
lash out against her.

Katja
blinked first, turning her head away with a click of her
tongue.

The trip to Benkor took less time than I'd expected it to.
I'd only approached it from Praxis in the past and hadn't accounted
for how much closer we were. Making the journey on foot made me
feel as though I'd wasted those first twenty-three years of my
life, convinced the rest of the world was out of reach to someone
like me, when I could've
walked
to cities big enough to swallow my village whole
a dozen times over.

Along
the road we stopped to eat but rarely talked, and passing
travellers would look back warily at us, alarmed by the pane,
mouthing to ask if we were alright. I found that my village wasn't
the only one that'd been hollowed out. The plague had spread far
without a healer to temper it, and entire settlements stood
abandoned, doors and windows sealed shut, keeping the putrid air
inside.

But it
was Benkor that had changed more than anywhere I'd yet to see
within Felheim. Trade was controlled more strictly than ever, and
supplies only made their way over from Kastelir through Praxis'
gate. With their way of life disrupted, the Benkorians had fallen
on hard times; shops had been driven out of business and what work
there was left to be done had been squabbled over.

Refugees
from Kastelir hadn't been able to get into Felheim – we'd tried all
we could, pounding on the barricaded gates included – but the city
was cramped with those who'd survived the plague, houses full to
the brim, streets overflowing.

I made
my way to the centre of town without catching anyone's eye. Benkor
reeked of disease more than it ever had, and I wondered if I could
cleanse the entire city with a single burst of what was building up
in my chest. In spite of the poverty riddling the city, there were
more staying behind than offering themselves up to the Kastelirian
restoration project, which should've been my first indication of
what lied beyond the wall.

“Here we
are,” Atthis said, stopping to take it all in. “Remember: we break
off into groups, and under no circumstances do you use your real
names. Understood?”

Aliases
were being employed for the benefit of the others, whose names had
once held some weight within Kastelir, but there was always the
chance that neighbouring villages had whispered the name of the
necromancer who'd deceived them far and wide.

“Understood,” I said, speaking for everyone. “We'll meet up
in Orinhal. No matter how many detours we have to take, that's
where we
have
to
go.”

Akela
wrapped an arm around my shoulders, lugging me off towards the
gathering group of volunteers, and I smiled at Kouris and Atthis,
silently wishing them luck. We were barely a hundred feet away from
Kastelir. If there was ever a time for things to go wrong, this
seemed like it.

Only a
few hours had passed since dawn, and people were still slowly
trickling into the city. Akela and I joined a queue of dozens,
winding around a severe looking column in the centre of the square,
sans any sort of statue atop it. Deciding that it was the perfect
opportunity to mull over how terribly things were going to end, I
couldn't help but picture myself bursting into light, giving us all
away.