With naught but each other's company and a tense, pervasive silence between us, we waited for the weather to run its course. The four of us crowded the shallow cellar, bumping feet and elbows just under the floorboards we had paraded upon. It was a thin partition between us and the elements; the wood creaked and wailed under the ceaseless whippings of a blizzard's breath, and the cold crept in regardless, but I was happier here than wandering the streets.
“A pounding like that, wind-drake could have had you any second. You too are more than lucky they didn’t show, and so are we.”
“Is it really that bad?” Cordella asked the man of the house. “I know Chenglei has its problems with the ‘natives’, but they usually mind their own. They look ornery, but they’re usually no more than crows.”
“That used to be the case, but something wicked has gotten into them. I reckon you didn’t have a gander at the rest of the city, or you’d have seen the welts they left"."
“Then what’s the cause of this mess?”
The man rolled his neck, heavy black eyelids dragging across his cheeks. “I wish we knew, but as Aidra said, there’s only one among us who could do anything about it. We’d try her tower, but I’d rather hang than try to march all the way there. We’ve nothing to do but wait.”
If I knew Cordella, she didn’t like the prospect of sitting around in the bushes, and sure enough, I could start to see her squirm. For now, I didn’t see another choice.
As the last of the day's light dribbled through the cracks between earth and wood, the wife silently climbed aloft, nary a footstep under her gentle step before returning with arms full of platters—she had prepared us a meal. "Least we could do is send you out on a full stomach!" she said as she passed the plates around the cramped quarters.
For their lack of food, she had put together a more than meager spread: bread, roasted beef and potato stew, and even a few heavenly-smelling pastries I didn't recall seeing during my scavenging. The only caveat was the temperature. I'd chewed rocks softer than the rolls in my hands, and the stew was lukewarm, though considerably less so than Cordella's reception to it. Discretely, she hovered a finger over top of the bowl and pointed a narrow flame, but instead of evenly heating, the surface bubbled and blackened until it left a film. She gave it one look of disgust before she tipped it toward me.
“Do you think you could take care of this Kaiser?”
“Sorry, but not without a metal bowl. Not unless you like it blackened.”
The tepid broth rolled from her spoon as she stared vacantly at the ceiling. “Ugh. Well, you got your wish. Happy?”
Meanwhile, having solely engorged upon apples and beef for the better part of three weeks, and gruel before that, I greedily downed it as is. Though it lacked any, the hearty broth put the warmth back in my stomach, and the dry sweets covered the taste it left in my mouth. After that, I was more than happy to finish what Cordella hadn’t the gut to. Upon my completion of the first and second feast, I humbly thanked the couple and turned in for the night, stretching out into what little room I had and making the most of the blankets they had provided for us—at least until Cordella tore one from me and wrapping herself in it.
“Tomorrow, we should make for the tower. What say we part at the crack of dawn?”
“What say we don’t?” I grumbled. “What’s at this ‘tower’ that we need to find?”
Cordella shook her head as if I’d spoken gibberish. “What do you think? Information? Maybe a way to help these people? Don’t be dense.”
“And why leave so early?”
“Wyverns are poor of vision and prefer to sleep through the night. It’s our best opportunity if we want to avoid any encounters.”
“On the other hand, I also prefer to sleep through the night. I say what comes tomorrow, we deal with tomorrow. We don’t need to be over-eager in a tense situation.”
Cordella crossed her hands behind her arms. “Fine. Enjoy it while it lasts, because tomorrow we’re getting right back to it.” She settled in the opposite corner with her back turned. “Wyverns or not.”
“Goodnight to you too.”
----------------------------------------
The next day was much the same, shared silence followed by a quiet breakfast at dawn. Cold oats and fruit—a little bland, but better suited for the temperature. Likewise, Cordella left hers untouched, prompting me to pick up the slack. I figured she must have been anxious; we agreed to stay for only a few hours that day, and, if their story was to be believed, we weren’t expected to survive much longer than that. Two bowls clean, I thanked the wife again for her generosity, adding one last apology for the trouble we had caused them.
“Be sure to get yourselves warm before heading out. You’re welcome to take a blanket or two if you need, we have more than enough of them to spare.”
“Oh, that’s very kind, but we can’t possibly—” A sharp knock pulled my head to Cordella, who was still swaddled in hers. She shook her head once. “Just the one, then.”
“Of course, anything to get you where you need to go.”
“Since you mention it, where do you suggest we set our sights? To wait out the rest of this, that is.”
“It’s a good walk from here, but there’s an inn on the west side of town that might take you in even if we can’t.”
“Just don’t buckle their doors,” her husband added.
I grimaced. “Right. We’ll be on our way shortly, then. Just an hour or two is all we need. Thank you again for the hospitality. We owe you more than we could ever give.”
“You don’t owe us anything. Just please be safe.”
I agreed to their terms and helped to remove every trace the two of us had left in our brief intrusion. Bowls and plates stacked and returned to the kitchen, spare blankets dusted and folded save a rugged blue one that Cordella wanted to take with us. All that was left were the packs we carried in, and they wouldn’t stay for long.
Having fasted for two meals, Cordella was ready to go well before I was, but she knew better by now than to try and coax me. She paced and then announced that she needed to use the chamber pot, creaking open the hatch and slipping into the empty house. Strange considering she hadn’t anything to eat or drink, but I didn’t question it.
I had just sat to digest my final meal when, for a moment, the ferocious wind tore through the house, followed by the squeal and click of a broken door. Our generous hosts' heads whipped towards us, and mine to where Cordella was—or had been seated moments ago: her gear was gone, and the next thing I knew, I was scrambling up the steps after her.
The door opened to the brutal cold and a gust that quite near tore the handle from my grip. What started as a few stray flakes had progressed considerably, now billowing and sputtering ice as though for holy retribution. In my clouded field of vision, I could just make out her dark silhouette trudging the stark white.
"Cordella!" I said through my teeth, but the call was lost in the wind. "Dammit. What are you thinking?"
Thin as they were, my clothes weren’t suited for these extreme conditions, but I had no choice but to give her chase. My boots disappeared beneath the precipitate, and, like a grounded bird, I pushed on with short, hopping steps. With each footfall, the powder climbed my pant leg, freezing my aching ankles and dragging me from them. Eventually, my once dry trousers moistened and stuck to my legs from the melted flurry, only to freeze again right after. In ten steps I’d already begun to question my thinking. I longed for the warmth of the bunker, and I cursed the compassion that willed me to endure it.
I followed her steps until they ended at her feet, steadily marching in a line even as the crunch beneath my own threatened to throw her rhythm. Despite her legs' exposure to the elements, they drew an unwavering path in the snow.
"Where are we headed?" It was an honest, albeit disarming attempt to make sense of her motives, one she shrugged off all the same. "I think you've taken the phrase 'cold shoulder' too literally, Cordella. You can't just storm off without telling me."
Eventually, while my head was turned down to keep the snow from my face, I ran into her from behind. She'd suddenly stopped, though she still wouldn't acknowledge me. Regardless of my query, she remained unresponsive—fixated on something in the distance.
"That's enough. Just tell me what's going on!" I finally demanded, a visible puff of breath on her face as I shook her by the shoulders.
"Shush," she hissed. "Keep your voice down."
After a begrudged sigh and a stern look, I peered into the snowfall, seeing faintly the silhouette that approached. "I still don't understand. Who is that?" When she failed to respond, I balled my fists and stepped past her, breaking her line of sight with the robed figure. Through the snowfall, I called to them, after which they stopped abruptly in their path.
Cordella looked at me with pleading eyes. "Stop," she mouthed, but it was too late. The sleet spiraled around us, whipped into a frenzy by the powerful squall that ripped through the village, and no later did the collision of heaven and earth buckle our legs and cause the land to quake. A wyvern had touched down before us.
As the fallen snow rose again from the impact, so to did the devil that caused the crater. It lifted onto two hind legs while its front had only small, clawed protrusions from the tips of its wings. It carried itself like a bird on the snow bank—light and unassuming—but its immensity was staggering. It was larger than any griffin or anything else I’d stood so close to, though it didn't hold a flame to the wyrm that torched Crodmill, and there was none to give its breath the same heat. Mere feet away, I could plainly see the tufts of tiny feathers peeking from between its scales, sprigs of down otherwise unnoticeable from a distance. While others preferred southern climates, these were suited for the chill of Chenglei. This was a wind drake, a species I knew well the name of but never had dealings with in Abdera, and while they may not be able to breathe fire, with its size and propensity to flock, they had no need.
When faced with such a threat, seconds were made excruciating hours. I stood near motionless save my shivering, now no longer caused by the climate, and though a pointless notion, my hand rested on the hilt of my weapon. A stream of white breath seeped from its slanted nostrils while its ancient, layered eyes scanned my person. Its acute sapphire scales seemed to reflect this curiosity, flexing outwards in a wavelike motion, rippling and dazzling as the water's surface would. I didn't know what it saw in us, but I clung to what I presumed to be my last moments, nothing but admiration for the monstrosity that would do me in.
"Well, that is a surprise," an unfamiliar voice resounded from the beast's flank, causing it to cock its head toward the source. "It didn't attack. I'd call that a fortunate turn of events." From behind the azure reptile, the bundled woman strode out, a tender hand raised to the wyvern's savage maw. "Calm, sweet beast."
At first, it reacted as any creature would, whipping its head and flashing a sharp yet toothless beak. A deep grating filled its swollen throat like a mallet against stone, rolling as it grew deeper. Then, the sound stopped, and its pupils dilated. Without warning, it beat its thunderous wings, blasting us with its gale before vanishing into the stirring winter brew.
All were staggered but the stranger among us whose gaze followed the beast until it left no trace. “That big lout was an alpha, if you can believe it, so wherever it fled to, the rest ought to follow." She discarded her hood, revealing the countenance of a well-aged woman. Wrinkles like valleys ran through her pale face, and the white hair that cascaded down her hunched shoulders was a sure sign of many years lived. Meanwhile, my mouth was held permanently agape having watched a wyvern's fury be quelled in one motion.
From behind me, I heard Cordella's slow footsteps, made louder by the crunch of snow underfoot. I turned in time to see the spark of familiarity in her eyes, another cautious step forward as she murmured: "Samara." The name meant nothing to me, though its inflection led to me to believe it should have.
At the sound of her voice, the woman's face gained the glow of a younger soul's, lighting up with such joy that tears ran down her frostbitten cheeks. "Cordella?" she uttered softly, as though unsure of the name that crossed her lips. Without her say-so, the woman lurched and took her in fragile arms, holding her close before Cordella would lightly pull away. "Yes, it's much too bitter cold out here for a warm reunion. Follow me back to my residence so we can better reacquaint ourselves."
Like that, the woman spun and forged ahead, leaving behind her a trail in the white fluff. Before she could tread her heels, I grabbed Cordella's arm. "I'll tell you later," she said under her breath, tugging away and leaving me more perplexed than I was prior.
“Sure you will.”
Lead through the plaza by our new acquaintance, blood returned to the cold and lifeless town starting with a brave few poking out their heads after the ruckus had ended. “That’s her. Thank the lord,” They whispered at our passing, and, little by little, denizens flocked from their homes. The snow, on the other hand, slowed to a dusting. This woman had quite the reputation around here; it seemed I was the only one in the dark.
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Adding to the unfamiliar, Chenglei proved no less daunting here than beyond its gate. Houses hereon were tightly clustered, packed between tens of shops and stands that made Abdera look barren. I’d have been lost without our guide.
“Mind the rubble, you two. The town has been in poor sorts.”
It wasn’t until her mention that I saw the damage the couple had informed us of. A house sheared of its foundation—wood and stone thrown clear across the way, and it was only the first. A twister tore a line through the rows of houses, each dismantled and left half-buried under a fresh layer of snow. At least we were spared from seeing what was underneath.
Eventually, the lot of us came to a paltry dwelling standing along the village outskirts. It was but a fortunate few planks that kept the place aloft, though for how much longer, I hesitated to guess. Without a word, we stepped inside and shut the door, sheltering us from the frigid air and replacing the shrill whistle in my ears with the creaking of a battered old hut standing solemnly against the last of the storm's might.
"Having only just gotten back here, I've not had the time to prepare the old girl for visitors, so I hope you don't mind if she has a few outstanding cobwebs."
'A few cobwebs' was a gross understatement. Just as the outside was, the building's interior was in a state of active decay. Like the funnel-shaped webs that hung from every corner, a thick suspension of dust hung perpetually in the air, filling it with the faint scent of rot and mildew. That, combined with the scattered scraps of paper and worn leather tomes made it look like the building hadn't been lived in for years. For the time being, I breathed through my mouth.
"Regardless, I'm so glad we've found each other, Corda! A day has yet to pass that I didn't long to have your ear—the local 'experts' just don't compare." Upon noticing my apparent discomfort, she addressed me abruptly: "So sorry if I've yet to make your acquaintance. I just never imagined happening upon my dear niece!"
Niece? I glanced at Cordella as the thought passed. She was quick to explain on her behalf, speaking through a larger smile than could fit on her face. "This is the Aunt that I gushed about in our travels! In a way, I guess I've already introduced you, but my words don't do her justice. Samara is owed all that I have. Were it not for her hard work, I wouldn't know a single spell."
From her tales, I knew quite well the admiration she had for her. Funny then how a detail as crucial as her name had slipped from the retelling.
"Oh, she speaks too highly of this old woman—I merely placed the books in front of her while she did the rest. That one always had a knack for magic. Enough about us though, what of this young man you find yourself with?"
"Kaiser Arrowood, ma'am."
In a swift motion, she took my hand and shook it with astounding vigor for a woman of her age. "What a pleasure, Kaiser. I must say, I admire how calmly you faced the alpha. Such a thing takes courage; a lesser man would have run or fainted. Had that been the case, well, this might be a bleak reunion."
I accepted the compliment with a skeptic's grin, uncertain of its validity, and while I didn't think her description of the event accurate, it prompted me to ask how she had done it. No weapon, no glow from her fingers while she cast a spell. A single touch and a few calm words were enough to send it on its way.
A wide grin spread across her face when I voiced my interest. "I see she's told you much about me, but she spared the best parts!"
"I get the same feeling," I said, eyes narrowed at a sheepish Cordella.
"All the more fun for me! You see lad, this old bag is full of tricks. I may appear unassuming, but I serve as the resident Wyverian." She let her proclamation settle, awaiting a reaction, followed by a glum expression when none was offered. "Well, it's a term I coined myself—glad to see it's caught on. Put simply, I study the scaly salamanders, and I've made it my mission to document all that inhabit this region and its mountains. Their behavior, motivations—all fair avenues for exploration."
So she wasn't just the fabled aunt, but the fabled researcher too. That explained my partner's peculiar behavior over the last couple of days, but it also made it all the more mystifying that she would refrain from telling me so. Regardless, I was thankful to have such a knowledgeable ally.
Her attention turned back to her niece. "On the topic of curiosity, I'm sure you're wondering what could bring me back here, just as I am of you. You two didn't come looking for my blessing now, did you?"
“Sam, please...”
“Oh, I kid. But please, go on.”
“I imagine you already know why I’m here. Even as far I roamed, I heard whisper rampant wyverns. I was hoping your study might have some answers, but I never imagined you’d be back here.”
"I should have guessed as much. We're cut from the same cloth, after all! And your friend's interest—what brings you out to the edge of the Earth, Kaiser?"
"I—" the words were lost as I worked to concoct a believable fib.
"Kaiser spotted an undocumented wyvern in the skies over Abdera, but the elites didn't pay him much mind. He's hoping we could find something concrete."
She was faster than I, and better prepared for her Aunt's questions. Her version was short of a few damning details, but the story didn't stray far from the truth; anything more and it would show on both of our faces.
Samara raised a brow at the vagueness of the response but reserved further query. "I see. In any case, I'd love to hear the tale if ever we have the time, but at current, I've been occupied much the same as you kids." She motioned to the doorway behind us. "Here, let me show you what I've concerned myself with over these past weeks."
With the scholarly woman at our helm, we were swept into what appeared to be her study. For as quaint as the abode appeared from the entryway, the next room was nothing if not impressive, walls lined with shelves containing equal volumes and neglected artifacts. This must have been where most of her time was spent. Compared to the den, the study was outright pristine—meticulously organized despite her leave of absence.
"An outsider like yourself is surely aware of the rumors swirling about this town, Kaiser: wyverns flocking like birds, and we're nothing but an endless feast for them. Does that sound about right?"
"So they say," I answered, nose buried in a pile of sketches bearing preternatural resemblance to the beasts they represented.
"Not the least bit of it is true—er, well, not the feast bit. Treacherous though it may seem, and while not altogether free of its perils, my occupation has only taught me how intelligent these beasts are. They steer clear of human affairs, just as I would given the choice, and they'll do you no harm so long as you return the favor. That's normally the case, anyway."
"Then their altered behavior isn't endemic to just the western territories," Cordella muttered, to which her deduction was sadly confirmed.
"Truth is, those infamous lizards of ours are what kept us safe; they're a deterrent for greater threats, and the tittle-tattle you hear from the rats in the streets merely keeps them out of ours. Now, however, they've become less than docile. Erratic even, and I've toiled away trying to ascertain why."
“Any luck?”
“That has yet to be determined. I have my hunches, but nothing firm. Not without a little following up, that is.”
“If it’s help you need, then we might be of service.”
Samara smirked. “I thought you’d had enough toiling, Cordella. ‘Nothing in the dirt but old bones’, least of all mine.”
Cordella’s eyes grew, and she turned to run a hand through her hair. “That’s not the kind of digging I had in mind.”
The old woman laughed and then paused, looking between our faces and searching them with an expression that I couldn't quite pin—hesitance? Still, we listened with rapt attention, patiently awaiting the answers to all of our many questions. “Alas, while I appreciate your new-found tenacity, I fear I’ve taken this inquisition as far as I’m able.”
“How could you mean?” I was compelled to ask after having been snapped out of my trance.
“Who am I fooling? I’m not equipped to continue this line of research, nor have I the years to see it through. As much as it pains me, it’s about time to put these old bones to rest.”
“Sure it is,” Cordella scoffed. “It’s been a while, but for long enough I’ve known you that I can still see through your bluffs. Rest be damned—you’d die before giving up your research. What are you afraid to tell us?”
“Cordella—”
“No, she’s right, dear. I never could sneak one over her head.” She sighed, bending over a bookshelf and producing a folded paper. "If we truly seek knowledge of a similar sort, then I suppose I’m obligated to disclose all that I've found, regardless of how it may trouble me. This is a map of Chenglei's summit, and on it are each of the region's most extensive mines. Recently, I'd caught wind of something driving out miners and stunting the iron trade. With some narrowing down, I've determined the location to be right here."
Her thin finger tapped against the parchment, underneath which a circle was drawn.
“More wind-drakes?”
“Not from the sound it, no. From the description, it’s something I’ve never seen before, and you know that’s a short list. Call it idle supposition, but I theorize whatever waits in its apex may hold influence over the local population."
"Then that's where we need to go next," Cordella said plainly, my name written into her plans by default.
"I was afraid you'd say that. I can't encourage it for fear of what may be in store for you, but it would be unfair for me to stop you. You and I share the impulse to follow our nose, Corda, and were I in any shape to follow the thread, I know I wouldn't be halted by what some old woman had to say. If you truly wish to go in my stead, then I can only ask that you be careful."
Things moved quickly, and at the discussion's abrupt end, I had my share of reservations, alongside a frown spread end to end when none were expressed by my ally. “Really? Just like that?”
She turned to me like she’d forgotten I was there. “Do you have any objection?”
“I don't think it's wise that we tempt fate. We've not the first idea what may be waiting for us in the mine, and I'm not so eager to find answers that I'll sign my life away trying.”
“You’re in your right to be apprehensive, and it’s out of mine to tell you not to be, but I can think of none more capable than the two of you. Cordella's magic is the strongest I know, and I've already witnessed the way you carry yourself in the face of danger, Kaiser. Not many a man would—"
"Respectfully, what you mistook for courage was being scared stiff. You've no reason to think us capable of this, nor do we."
“If I’d had any doubt, I would never have brought this to your attention."
For someone who wasn't trying to convince us, Samara was quick to offer reassurance. I changed my focus, directing my misgivings at the next common thread. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you? You know as well as I that we were seconds from being gutted by that wind drake, surely whatever panicked them will kill us just the same."
"I'm unsure as well," she echoed, "but what choice is there? I came here with a goal, and given the chance to further it, I'll do what I have to."
I was dumbfounded—bewildered to find that neither of them shared my sentiments. "It's worth that much to you that you'd have me follow you to an early grave? All for the chance to satisfy your curiosity?"
"That's what you think this is for?" she growled. "My curiosity isn't what's at stake. The wyverns are tormenting towns, destroying people's livelihoods with more to follow if we can't find out why. Do it for them if not for yourself. If the innocent lives of Crodmill meant anything to you, then there should be no question."
I clenched my teeth, dropping my head to where my hands cradled my brow. She knew exactly what to say to convince me, and for that, I despised her. "Fine," I said under my breath.
Our last moments in Sam's presence were spent scrutinizing the whereabouts of the mine to which we'd carelessly agreed to march: northeast of town, at the mountain's summit. It would be a short journey there, but a brutal climb awaited us, and past that, it was anyone's guess where the tunnels would take us.
"Although I have the utmost faith in your abilities, just as the two of you 'ought, I still bid you great fortune," so went Samara's parting words. However, just as the two of us funneled out the door, she held me back for a spell. "Bring her back to me," she whispered, a pleading tone despite the confidence she boasted.
"You have my word."
I didn't know then what I'd agreed to, or to what Cordella had, but I'd see to it that at least one of us would live to regret it.