Draka

After leaving Herald and her family in the mountain with the villagers we had rescued, I spent the rest of that day flying back and forth across the hills and lower mountains of eastern Mallin. I never saw the slavers or their prisoners. I went up and down valleys and along mountain roads, from the forest in the north to south of the road Herald and I had taken to the abandoned village. I found nothing of interest. I saw some small groups, twos and threes mostly, travelling on the roads. I may have been spotted. I didn’t care, trusting the rumours about a wyvern to cover for me. I didn’t even know what a wyvern was, exactly. A flying lizard of some kind. I wasn’t really interested at the time. I had a righteous anger burning inside me and no way to quench it, and it was killing me.

Late in the day I saw my perhaps-friends on their way to the main road which would lead them north to the city. They seemed to have given up on the idea of leaving the rescued people at their village. I silently wished them well, but I was too embarrassed over how I had left them to want to talk. Instead I continued my fruitless search.

By the time the sun went down behind the mountains a combination of hunger and exhaustion forced me to give up for the day, and I set down in a tall tree a little ways in from the edge of the northern forest. I hadn’t had a proper meal for days, and between the walking, the magic, and the flying I was feeling my hunger worse than I had for weeks. This time I wasn’t worried about whether I’d be able to feed myself, but hunger was still a powerful motivating force and a constant distraction, and I caught myself time and time again looking for prey rather than the people I was searching for. Still, I wanted to force myself to put it off for one more day. It would take the slavers at least another full day to reach the city, and a little less, I guessed, if they were trying to get to the coast. But crossing the farmlands would be hard without looking suspicious. It didn’t make sense to me that they’d risk going to the city, if slavery carried the death penalty. My guess was that Valmik was right, and they’d have a ship on the coast. If I was them I’d go through the forest, where they could cross to the coast under cover. I’d never find them if they were among the trees, but if they had a ship…

I had to go to the coast. It was my last chance, and I couldn’t do it during the day. Flying along the coast in daylight I would be almost guaranteed to be spotted, especially since I’d need to pass the city just in case the slavers had a way to cross the farmland. I estimated that it would take me under an hour to cross to the coast, so I had some time to rest before continuing. I didn’t dare to sleep though. I doubted that the dragon cared enough to wake me before I’d had a full night’s sleep, and if I slept away my last shot I’d never forgive myself.

I gave myself about two hours to rest. I didn’t think much, but when I did I tried to determine what I was looking for. If Valmik was right and there was a ship it would have to be fairly big. And I imagined that it would have to be somewhat hidden, so that other passing ships wouldn’t get suspicious. There would probably need to be some kind of boats to take people to and from land. In pirate movies they always had some kind of big rowboats, but I had no idea what kinds of ships they had here.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing.

After I’d given myself a minimal amount of rest I crossed the forest to the coast. It was a cloudy night, but my shadowsight let me see just fine. I flew low and silent over the trees, and it was an exercise in willpower to keep myself from looking for birds’ nests in the treetops.

The forest continued all the way to the coast. As low as I’d been flying I hadn’t seen where the land gave way to the sea, and I found myself suddenly over open water. Surprised, I wheeled around and landed. The coast here consisted mostly of undulating, forested sandstone cliffs, dropping roughly for dozens of metres in parts to a narrow line of rocky shore, and as I took to the air again and flew a short distance I could see places where the cliffs sloped to the shore. In those places were small fishing villages, their docks and jetties easy to see against the water.

The cool sea air tickled my nose, and even through the hunger, the fatigue, and the lingering anger it was vaguely pleasant. I’d never cared much about beaches or the seaside, but there was something here that calmed me a little. I guessed the feelings came from the dragon, but whether they were hers or my own I still enjoyed them. I’d have to come back here in better times.

For the time being, though, I had a job to do. I didn’t expect the slavers to want to go particularly far north, but since I could move much, much faster than them I decided to start my search several kilometres north of where the forest gave way to farmland. Or pasture, rather, with piles of sleeping sheep and other livestock dotting the landscape.

I didn’t see anything that matched what I was looking for, though I did see some small boats. Fishermen, I assumed, catching fish that came up closer to the surface during the night. Further out I could see larger ships, but they all seemed to be moving, heading toward or away from the city.

I never knew much about sailing ships, but the ones I saw definitely didn’t look like the ones in Pirates of the Caribbean. They were smaller, for one. Only one ship I saw had two masts, most of them having only one, and all of them had at least some oars. Like viking ships, or the ones they used to have in the mediterranean, I thought.

I searched all damn night. I searched around the stony shore. I searched small coves and inlets. I passed by the city, feeling amazed at the size of the harbour there and all the ships that were docked. And I searched sandy beaches, and rocky beaches, and every other kind of shore that there was for all the many kilometres of coast that the slavers could possibly reach in a reasonable time. I found no ship that seemed like a likely candidate, only fishermen, merchant vessels trying to reach the city or get an early start on their journey, and what were clearly military ships with weapons at the front and back, looking like they were on patrol. The cliffs were lined with birds’ nests, and I even saw some seal colonies, which I’d have to remember for the future. It would probably be a bad idea to eat a seal and fall asleep next to the water, but options were always good to have.

I didn’t find what I was searching for. What I did find on my first pass south, which was very interesting, was a large cave in the cliffs near the city of Karakan.

Karakan was built around a river, which flowed out into a natural harbour protected by a long, rocky spit of land. The landscape rose steeply around the river, and much of the city was set on the cliffs that rose high above the water. No more than a hundred metres north of the city’s northern walls there was a large sea cave in the cliffside, wide enough for me to fly inside. On the off chance that someone might be hiding there I decided to have a look. That, or it was a convenient excuse for my curiosity. Or it was the dragon hoping to eat a bat or five. Either way I flew inside.

The stench that hit me before I even got close to the entrance was almost a solid thing. It was, quite simply, a sewer. Deep inside the cave and close to the waterline was a large opening, nearly two metres wide and lined with stone bricks. There were thick, horizontal metal bars set into the stone, close enough to prevent a person from going through if they were insane enough to brave the sludge and the stench. Because that hole was, apparently, the final destination of much of the city’s waste.

For all its disgusting horror, it was also an opportunity. Not one that I intended to act on now, but one which might be invaluable in the future. The cave was pitch black. So was the sewer tunnel.

I had a sneaky way into and out of the city, and I wasn’t going to be able to stay away from Karakan forever. I was pretty sure that I could get across the walls at night undetected if I had to, but however disgusting the idea was, the sewers should remain dark enough for me to use even in the middle of the day. Maybe the sun would get in here a few days a year at sunrise, but that should be it. And I didn’t really touch anything when I was in shadow form. And my sense of smell was gone, too, so that should be fine. I hoped.

It would be fine.

I continued searching the coast until the sky began to lighten, and the horizon took on the faint greens and yellows of pre-dawn. I was out of time. It was a bitter feeling, but all I’d had was hope, righteous anger, and no real expectation of success. I could come back again the next night, maybe, but if I didn’t eat very soon I would probably do something stupid, like steal one of the large birds that many of the forest villages raised. And even if a couple of rabbits could take the edge off the hunger without putting me in a stupor, I had also missed two nights of sleep. First under the mountains, and then again this night, and I was feeling it. My mind kept either drifting or going blank, my eyes were drooping, and I had a tingly, floaty feeling in my whole body telling me that if I relaxed for a single moment it would be lights out.

Besides that I hadn’t seen my hoard for a few days. That was like an itch with only one way to scratch it. I didn’t even have the pouch that Herald had given me, since I’d left that with her in case I needed to shift.

I had to eat, and I had to sleep. I had to face the fact that I had failed. I wouldn’t be able to search anymore, because I was hungry, and tired, and I was afraid of what would happen if I couldn’t resist the dragon anymore. It wasn’t that it ever tried to take over, as such, but it pushed me to do things. It gave me impulses. It made suggestions. For example, my friends had a big, juicy horse with them, one that didn’t even mind my presence. Why not eat Melon? The others might protest, but if we killed Makanna they’d probably be too afraid to do anything. Or, as an option, some of the villagers were old and weak. No one would miss the old lady, right?

Suggestions like that.

I didn’t want to find myself dozing off and then wake up on my way to get an equine snack, so I had to deal with it on my own terms. I needed to have a proper meal, and a proper rest, or I might do something terrible. I wanted to help the rest of the captured villagers, but I could choose between accepting my failure, or failing worse. I hated it, but that was the reality I had to face.

I flew low and close to the cliffs as I headed north toward the edge of the forest, low enough to feel the spray of waves breaking on the rocks. It was refreshing, and helped keep me alert. I could barely keep my eyes open, and every time a splash of water hit me I tried to really feel it. I anticipated each time, watching the waves ahead of me, trying to hear the surge as they hit the rocks and–

The world spun. No, I was spinning. I didn’t have time to be surprised before I plunged into the cold water, my nose and mouth filling immediately as I gasped reflexively. The wave of adrenaline that hit me cleared my mind a little, and I remembered the last time I’d been under water, my first time at the lake, sinking and only barely being able to make it towards the shore. This time I was, in a way, luckier. With my wings still out the next surge of water picked me up and threw me against the rocks. It hurt like hell when I hit them, but I rolled over them and as the water flowed back to the sea I was left in a cleft, able to cough up the water and take a breath.

I started to feel a dull ache in my right wing, right above the middle joint.

What the hell had happened? I’d just been flying along, trying to stay awake, and–

The next wave crashed over me, and I choked and sputtered on salt water. Right. I had to get up, or at least closer to the cliff. I lifted my head, looking around to find which way was sea and which was land. Claws out I fought for any kind of purchase, and slowly made my way across the wet, slimy rocks. Another wave knocked me down, but it knocked me in the right direction. After a few more waves I was curled up by the cliff face, only rarely being hit by the spray of the waves. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but even through the rush of adrenaline I could feel my battered body, and especially my wing, ache.

Nothing felt broken. I hoped to God that nothing was.

I looked around, trying to clear my mind and piece together what had happened. I’d been flying. The cliff had been on my right, and something must have hit me, or–

I looked back the way I had come. There was a break in the cliff there creating a small inlet, free of stones. In that inlet was a boat. I could see what had happened. Behind the boat were some tall rocks, so I wouldn’t have seen it even if I’d been paying attention, especially at the speed I was going. It had a mast, with a rolled up sail – that must be what I had hit – and on the boat were four people, three men of various ages and a middle aged woman. They were all staring at me.