Draka

Herald gently shook me awake. “Intense experience?” she asked, with only mild concern in her eyes. “You have been out for about a minute.”

“Intense, yeah,” I replied as I got to my feet, luxuriating in the feeling of fullness that came with the Heart. “But it feels so good afterwards. So, how did that look to you?”

“Strange! There was the same wave of silence as when you destroy a Heart with a Nest killer. The interesting thing, of course, was you.”

I preened happily. “Of course.”

“You shine when I look at you with the shadowsight, but I could see the magic clearly. It gathered in you normally, around your heart, like when you use it to move shadows, or when Mak or Kira heals someone. Nothing strange so far. Then it got more and more intense as you absorbed the Heart. Brighter. Bigger, too. And then,” she said with great excitement, “after the Heart vanished, the ball of magic around your heart collapsed on itself!”

“That’s kind of how it feels, too,” I commented.

“Yeah? So it collapsed, and then when the wave of silence came the magic burst outwards into your whole body, filling your whole body with golden light. Not like how it always looks, but like the whole thing was liquid gold, just concentrated magic! Then it vanished, all at once, and you passed out.”

“Huh. It kind of feels like I explode when it happens, so that makes sense, I guess. What does it mean, though?”

“Does it have to mean anything? You feel full, do you not? It looked like it filled you.”

“I mean, yeah. But it’s magic. When magic makes me feel like I’m blowing up I kind of expect it to do something.”

“Filling you with a sense of wellbeing, allowing you to watch and invade the dreams of others, and allowing you to permanently change the way items block light, while also hiding them from sight even when they should be clearly visible. That is nothing to you?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

We took some time to gather whatever loot we could, Herald collecting belts and me sniffing around in the crude dwellings. There wasn’t much to find. We found a handful of badly tarnished eagles and some green peacocks, so it wasn’t nothing, but otherwise it was all corroded metal or shiny rocks. I almost started to feel a little bad about wiping the gremlins out, but finding some old, weathered, yet clearly human bones put an end to that. My guess would be that whoever those people were, and however they got up here, they were the source of the coins and other pieces of worked metal. I hoped that they’d died in some kind of accident, but I doubted it. Damn gremlins.

We emerged from the cave with plenty of daylight left. I took Herald down to one of the forest streams, where it was a little warmer, so that she could wash up, then went to check up on the village.

Progress was as impressive as ever. There was a new cabin, with another well under way. Little green shoots dotted the rows of the garden, which had been given a simple fence, and skins and meat hung to dry by the central fire.

Jekrie told me that they hadn’t had any trouble, as such. Several people had come by since the last time I visited, but two had stood out. Both groups had seemed satisfied with their tale of having been driven south by monsters, but they had also asked if anyone had seen a large, winged lizard in the area.

“Lying did not seem the right course,” Jekrie said, “with none of us skilled at such things, or with Advancements for it. It would look suspicious to be caught in a lie, I thought. So I told them all that aye, we had seen such a creature, and it had flown south, and that was all I could tell them.”

I asked them to describe the visitors and none of them matched the magic archer, which was my greatest concern. “I don’t think you could have done better,” I told them. “Hunters and adventurers have looked for me here before, so I doubt they learned anything new. But I guess I’ll need to remember to be careful flying in and out of here. I’d rather not have to kill anyone if it can be avoided, you know?”

“We know your mercy well, great lady.”

One great thing about Jekrie was that he could say something like that and sound completely honest, with not a bit of simpering or insincere flattery. It was nice.

We hung around the village for the rest of the afternoon, until the sun reached the mountaintops. I mostly just lounged around in the sun, staying out of sight from the forest in case someone came by. Herald, meanwhile, had taken it upon herself to try and teach three interested villagers how to read, Tinir among them. I watched with amusement how she scratched letters in the dirt, telling them the sounds of each and then stringing them together into words. She’d done the same with me only months ago, and she’d done a pretty good job of it. My writing left something to be desired, but she could hardly be blamed for that — I lacked a knuckle on each finger, and I was still relearning how to hold a pen or brush. My letter to the Blossom had taken me ages, and several attempts. But I could read and write again, and it was all thanks to Herald.

Idly I used a claw to scratch my name into the dirt. My old name, my human side’s name, in the latin alphabet. I didn’t feel anything when I saw it. I didn’t identify with it; It was just a word to me. I wiped it out, and instead wrote out my new name, my real name, in the Sarayan alphabet. Dah-ruh-ah-kah-ah, properly connected and with the correct little accent marks on the ahs. Then I added Drakonum before it, like they did here, family name first, and I grinned to myself. Draka of House Drakonum. That felt better. It felt right.

As I admired my work I noticed a little head watching me from around the corner of the longhouse. I looked at the boy out of the corner of my eye for a moment, before slowly turning my head to look at him. At first he barely reacted. Then my shadow reached for him. His eyes went wide, and he vanished behind the house.

“Should we be going?” Herald asked, coming over. Her little group had broken up, and she had her gear next to her, ready to go.

“I guess,” I said, looking up at the setting sun. “Did you see a kid run away around the longhouse?”

“Oh, Trem? Yeah. Was he giving you trouble?”

I looked at her incredulously. “What kind of trouble can a little kid give me, exactly? No, I think he was just curious. Any chance you could find him?”

“Should be easy,” she said, but her tone was doubtful. “I do not know what his mother will think about it, though.”

“Just tell them that if he’s curious, if he’s got any questions or anything, he’s welcome.”

“Yeah, all right. Wait here.”

It took five minutes before Herald returned, looking apologetic. “Next time, perhaps?” she suggested.

“Let me guess. Kid’s terrified?”

“Yeah. And it took me a couple of minutes to convince Madalla, his mother, that it was an invitation and completely voluntary, not a command.”

“All right. Maybe next time.”

I was a little disappointed. I liked kids, and I didn’t exactly get many chances to interact with them. It had been a couple of weeks now since I last saw Lahnie. Maybe I should swing by Pine Hill? But no, it was getting dark, and I couldn’t very dwell drop in there with Herald out of nowhere. They knew Herald, but her randomly dropping by, alone, and asking Lahnie to come outside for a while would look sketchy as all hell.

Someday soon I’d go visit, though. Maybe after the meetings with Zabra and Sempralia.

As we said some quick goodbyes I again saw the kid, Trem, watching me again. This time he stood in the doorway of the longhouse. I raised a hand, claws in, and waved. His eyes went huge and he vanished inside.

Ah, well. I tried.

For the return trip to the city we decided to try something new. One of my concerns had been someone seeing me taking off from or returning to the city with Herald on my back. So why, Herald wondered, couldn't she just Shift when we got close, and remain unseen that way?

Some testing was in order, so we moved back up into a grassy valley in the mountains above the village. Neither of us wanted to be five hundred feet up when we found out that Shifting made it so that Herald couldn’t hold on to me, so we started off on ground level. That worked with absolutely no fuss or drama at all, and then it was just a matter of working our way up from there. I ran around with her Shifted on my back, which worked just fine. I took a low, flying leap, and she didn’t report any trouble. Then I Shifted with her still on me, and she, predictably, fell right through me with a distant yelp of surprise, while I felt like… well, like someone had fallen right through me. Not a pleasant sensation.

That led to Herald wondering what happened when I Shifted in the air, and her special brand of gentle, encouraging disappointment when I confessed that I didn’t really know. I’d only tested it when I was coming in to land. With her cheering me on we did some experiments, and found that while I could Shift just fine, I couldn’t fly while Shifted, instead just falling as though I’d folded my wings. Which was fine as long as I Shifted back in time to recover, but a very low-altitude test with hitting the ground was unpleasant enough that I didn’t want to try the real deal. Still, it was good info.

Then we moved on to flying with her Shifted on my back, and it seemed to Herald that only speed might cause problems. Holding on was no harder than normal, but the faster we went, the more draining it was for her to remain Shifted. Everything we’d learned put together made it simple enough: We’d go straight to the city. I’d slow down as we came in above it and she’d Shift, and then we’d land in the abandoned garden or somewhere equally out of the way. Then I’d Shift on the ground, and we’d make our way back to the inn together.

What we actually did was to fly around like fools for hours, testing how fast I could go before she could barely remain Shifted, or even hold on. It was exhilarating, my own simple pleasure and Herald’s unfailing joy at flying combining to make me never want the night to end.

The night ended, our peace shattered suddenly and quite rudely when magic flared like a beacon in the treetops below. “Dodge!” Herald screamed, seeing the same thing as I, and I took a sharp high-speed turn as a shard of light streaked up at us. She lost her grip with her legs, sliding sideways off my back and only hanging on by her arms around my neck. While moving at high-way speeds, 500 feet off the ground.

Mercies be blessed, the next shot missed, no thanks to me. I didn’t dare do any fancy flying while I tried to wrap all four limbs around her, and just descended while putting distance between us and the archer. We landed and stayed on the ground for a few minutes after that, with me to let go of Herald, and her holding on to me for dear life while alternately laughing or crying hysterically.

“We should… we should probably be more careful,” she hiccuped once she’d calmed down a little.

“Yeah,” I growled. My blood was boiling. “Or find that fucking archer.”

“How about we go home? We can look for them tomorrow?”

I pulled back and really looked at her. She looked seriously rattled, her face still wet with fresh tears despite her brave smile. “Sure,” I said. “No need to rush. Tomorrow. Yeah.”

After that we made our way back to the inn. Carefully.

It was midnight when we got back to the inn, and late morning when we woke up. Mak had been sleeping at a reasonable hour for a human for once, and while my panic hadn’t woken her she apparently had a part of her brain dedicated to keeping track of where I was. Despite Herald’s best efforts not to bother our sister, Mak came down to the cellar as Herald was letting me in. After sleepily opening up the strongroom for me she went back to bed, and Herald went with her. She was apologetic about it, but I shooed her on. I could understand wanting to sleep in a bed. And after being shot at and nearly falling to her death, I could definitely understand her wanting to be near Mak, who was in practice as much of a mother as a sister to her. I knew that she loved me, but our friendship couldn’t replace seventeen years of care and affection.

I mean, I would have liked some company. I’d been shot at, too. But I was a big girl. I could handle it.

Once I woke it didn’t take long for Mak to join me. I’d barely unrolled one of the “romance” stories when there was a knock on the door, and when I unbarred and opened it there was Mak, looking anxious.

“Morning, Mak,” I said, backing up to let her in.

“Good morning, Draka. Would you care to explain why my sister insisted on sleeping with me in my bed last night? She was too embarrassed to tell me.”

“Gods above, let a girl wake up before you ask something like that!” I settled back down on my comfy little nest of pillows and blankets. “Did she tell you anything at all about what we were doing?”

“She told me that you cleared out some gremlins, and that you ate another one of the Hearts. Though she was cagey about it.”

“Well, ask her some more about that, for one thing. But the reason she might have needed some comfort is probably that we got shot at again.”

Mak’s eyes grew large at that. “Neither of you got hurt, did you?”

“No, we’re fine. I’d bet it was the same guy, though. And thank the Mercies we can see magic, because that was the only warning we had. Might have got hit, otherwise.”

“That bastard! And we’re no closer to finding out who it might be. No one seems to know about anyone matching the description.”

“They may just be hanging around the forest,” I suggested. “I don’t see how they could have just happened to be in the right place to take a shot at me twice if they spend any time in the city.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s been a month since the first time! If they spend all day in the forest, watching the sky, that’s one hells of a dedicated hunter. I’d be bored out of my mind!”

“Twice could be a coincidence, I guess. Just doesn’t seem bloody likely. Even if there’s more than one of them, and at least two who can imbue their arrows with magic.”

“They’d have a better chance if they have some way of knowing when you’ll be out of the city.”

I looked at Mak with distaste. “Please don’t say that. I can only think of a few ways for that to happen, and I don’t like any of them.”

“Betrayal, spies, or some kind of strong Advancements,” Mak said, nodding unhappily. “Yeah. Unpleasant, but I don't think we can afford to discount any possibilities.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to do this, but it was necessary. “All right, let’s think about it. Betrayal: there are only a few people who know that I exist. Not all of them know that I’m ever here. I’d say the list is limited to you, Herald, Tam and Val, the cousins, Garal and Lalia, Ardek, Kira, and Barro. Did I miss any?”

“The kids may suspect it,” Mak said, “but they’ve never seen you here as far as I know.”

“All right. Now, out of those, I trust the four of you in the Family implicitly. I’m pretty sure that Ardek can’t try to harm me any more than you could, and I don’t think that Kira wants to, though she might be hiding a grudge, I guess. I have no reason not to trust the Wolves, and they’re rarely here when I leave, but I guess it could be possible that one of them is telling someone when they know that I’m gone. Same goes for Barro, I guess. Do any of them ask about me when I’m gone?”

“Barro mostly talks to Ardek, so you’d have to ask him, but the Wolves ask for you sometimes, yeah. But they’d have to be hiding their intentions from me somehow, and I know all of them. As far as I can tell, any time they ask for you it’s because they want to check in on you, that’s all.”

“And if I can’t trust them, I should have bigger problems than some archer taking shots at me in the forest,” I mused.

“And that. But either way, unless this archer is just waiting in the forest all the time, looking at the sky, they must have some other way of knowing when you’ll be out there. And another thing: they need to not only know to look for you, but they need to be in the right area. The two times you were attacked weren’t in exactly the same place, were they?”

“Nah, I came in from different directions. The actual spots must have been dozens of miles apart.”

“So that means they must have ridiculous speed, luck, or some way of predicting where you’ll fly over. I don’t see them spotting you, then running several miles to be in position before you pass over. But luck, or prediction…”

“Really?” I said incredulously. “That’s some ridiculous luck. That, or basically telling the future. You think an Advancement could do that?”

“I can heal people from lethal injuries. Herald can turn invisible. Tam has luck that borders on the unbelievable, and that’s a minor Advancement. Is it so hard to imagine that a major could let them regularly chance upon or predict where their prey will be?”

“Magic is bullshit, sometimes,” I muttered, and Mak laughed at me.

I couldn’t even bring myself to scowl at her. I knew that I was being unfair and petulant. My own majors let me turn into a literal cloud of shadow and invade people’s dreams. But the difference was that this time, I didn’t benefit. And that, Instinct insisted, was utter bullshit.