Hyeon sat on his throne, dressed in his royal robes of gold and jade green. Finally, after several more days in the infirmary, the healers had declared that he could return to ruling in full capacity. Nari, however, still needed more time to recover. So here he was, his first day of officially ruling without her by his side.
His advisors were gathered around, several aides with writing boards waiting to take down whatever the Emperor said. He cleared his throat and began.
“I have discussed the events of the coronation day with my chief tinkers and alchemists, and they agree that the weapons used were not of any design that we have seen before. As such, we have two options for who my attackers could be. Either they sailed in from the Western Isles, or they came from beyond the Barrier Mountains.” He let the words ring for a moment while the advisors turned and murmured to one another. “Yes, the attackers could have been Engineers.”
“You, Eminence, if I may, how likely is it that they came from beyond the mountains? Didn’t all the Engineers die after the Purge?”
Hyeon shook his head. “We currently have no way to answer that. They left and we chased them only as far as the slopes of the mountains. We were too hurt to do more than that.”
“So it’s a possibility that they’ve established a base of operations out of our sight and are preparing to strike?”
The Emperor nodded. “Exactly. Which is why I have called you all here. The Western Isles still pose a threat, especially since there’s been hints of discontent. I plan to sail for the Spires and then the Isles within the week to personally check on these reports. But before I leave, we must find some way to calm the people and prepare for such an attack.” He slammed his fist down on the armrest of the throne. “No, we can’t just stop there. We need to finish the job that our ancestors started. The Engineers are a dangerous cult and I will stop at nothing until we best them and get back the secrets they’ve stolen. They will be ours, their leadership crushed like a skull under the foot of a dragon!”
The tall man with the dragonfly-shaped brooch to the left nodded. “Excellent, my liege. I will support this.”
“But what to do? That is the question.” Hyeon gestured to his advisors. “I will take ideas now.”
“We must remove the mountains! They cannot be allowed to hide any longer!”
“What about an explosive? We could shoot it over the mountains and be protected from the blast.”
A short man in the back cleared his throat, and all the advisors fell silent. “Your Majesty, I feel that we must not be too hasty in this endeavour. I recommend we train and dispatch scouting parties over the peaks to find where exactly the Engineers are holed up, if they are even still in proximity of this city. In the meantime, we must begin construction of defenses. The city wall is not sufficient.”
“Thank you, Lord Altingborough.” Hyeon looked around. “I find this to be the most sound idea. Are there any objections to this plan?” None of the advisors uttered a word. “Very well, we shall move forward with this. Duke Leming, I want a detailed proposal of resource expenditure and curriculum in my hand by moonrise. The rest of you, spread the word that we are going to strike back against the enemy who has hit us. Make no mention of the Engineers as of yet. I fear that the name still holds my subjects in the grip of fear at its utterance.”
“A wise decision, Emperor.” Lord Altingborough unstopped his hip flask and swallowed a small taste of the liquid. “I shall alert my person force that they may be called upon for service to their empire.”
“See to it. Captain Westing, do the same for all the royal guards. Leave enough here to be sufficiently certain of security, and put the others into the program. In fact, take volunteers from willing and able members of the community. This could be their chance to show their loyalty to me.”
“Yes sir.”
Hyeon smiled. “The Engineers won’t know what hit them. We shall ride in and crush them like the insignificant insects they are.” He glanced up. “This meeting is finished. Go about your duties and have an aide report to me what you have accomplished.” He stood from the throne and turned to leave.
“My lord?”
Hyeon stopped. “Yes?”
“Have you any idea how long you will be away? This empire needs a strong head now more than over.”
“I leave Empress Nari in charge in my absence. She is more than qualified to reign in my absence.” Hyeon swept out of the audience chamber and down the hall, cloak billowing behind him. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he let his shoulders slump. Being in meetings was exhausting. All the political games and democracy and everything. He needed time to adjust and practice leading. Better to command a ship first, build up his confidence before he took the helm of war preparations. The empire was vast, many different cultures blended together. Perhaps seeing some of the more obscure ones would help him see how much he actually did know. He continued down the hall back to his quarters. First order of business, he needed to get out of these robes for a little while. They were too stiff, too new for his liking. Then he’d go visit Nari and tell her the news. She’d be back up on her feet by the time he left. Probably. And if not, she could give orders from her bed. If anyone could do that, it was her.
The priestess at the door lit up when she saw Astala hurrying up the lane. “Astala! How wonderful to see you.”
Astala smiled. “The goddess does not wait for any one person, even a priestess.”
“Go right inside. Senior Priestess Laurel is expecting you.” Astala walked slowly through the door and into the meeting house. She breathed in the fresh-smelling air and closed her eyes. This was a place where she belonged.
The benches were subtly curved, ringing the center of the room. Tapestries hung all around, stars embroidered on their surfaces. White trees with blue-grey leaves grew in ceramic pots all around the room, tops pointing up to the glass ceiling. The windows made up a dome, the top of which sat on a hinge so it could be opened to let the moonlight in when night had come. Around the edge of the dome, windows depicted the phases of the moon for each of the twenty-eight days. Sunlight currently streamed in through them, each piece of glass outlined in brightness. Underneath the hinged top window, a pedestal sat on the floor in the center of the benches. It held a crown, silver with light-blue gems set into it. The sides were smooth and curved, but the top tapered into a series of spikes, the tallest of which sat in the middle. Currently, the sunlight from the windows above didn’t quite align with the pedestal, so the crown remained in darkness. But when the meeting reached its crux, Yukima would allow her servant in the sky to illuminate her crown, a reminder of her ever-watchful presence.
Astoria would have been skeptical. But Astala loved it. She just needed to find Senior Priestess Laurel before the meeting began. Chances were she was in the back room, preparing the moonstones. They wouldn’t glow unless they were spark-charged beforehand.
Astala adjusted her braids and rubber her moonbeam, offering a whispered prayer of thanksgiving for the people of the town before she turned to the door that led to the back.
Senior Priestess Laurel was waiting for her when she entered. “Astala! You mustn’t be so late to our services! It is unbecoming of a priestess, even an apprentice!”
Astala bowed her head. “Apologies, Senior Priestess. I was visiting the graveyard and lost track of time.”
“Again? I appreciate the respect and time you give to our dead, but you cannot help them now. They are in Yukima’s hands. You are better suited to serving those of her children who still walk on this plane of existence.”
“Yes, Senior Priestess.”
Laurel’s face softened. “You must know, it brings me great joy to see someone as young as you taking such pride in her duty. I am very proud of you, my child. I just want to direct your zeal and effort to the place where it will bless the most lives.”
“Thank you.” Astala bowed her head again. “I’ll strive to be more prompt about my timing.”
“Now that’s exactly what I like to hear from an apprentice Priestess.” Laurel smiled. “Now help me with these moonstones. These three just refuse to recharge.”
Astala placed her hand on the stones and closed her eyes, murmuring a prayer of success. She opened her eyes and stared at the stones. “These need to be washed again. There’s something in these two that is keeping them from recharging. And this one just needs an especially concentrated beam.”
Laurel raised her eyebrows. “That is a talent I rarely see in one so young. You are special, Astala.”
Those words hit with more force than she’d expected. Not different, not normal. Special. Maybe one day, when she decided to commit, Astoria could be special too. But Astala already was. It was a great day to be her.
Astala helped Laurel wash the two stones in hot water, scrubbing at two particularly notorious spots on each rock. They gleamed with a different kind of shine when clean. Laurel placed the two next to the others in the sunlight on the windowsill. Astala held up the last tricky stone to the light and looked closely at its surface. It had a large imperfection on one of the sides, hard to see but definitely there. Astala placed the stone on the windowsill in the center of the others and turned it so the light glanced off the imperfection at the right angle and into the rest of the stone. The three started to glow faintly.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Good work, apprentice. Now, would you go back into the meeting chamber and open the top? I know it’s not night, but I want today to be extra special.”
“Of course, Senior Priestess.” Astala went back through the door to the chamber with the glass dome and pulled on a set of ropes near the doorway. Slowly, the top of the dome inched up and open, the glass parting to let the light in.
Senior Priestess Laurel reappeared when the chamber had filled about halfway. “Welcome everyone, and thank you for coming. For the next few minutes, I would like to have a time for silent prayer and meditation. Priestess Astala will come around and hand you a moonstone. Since this is a daytime service, they have been charged to a lesser extent by Yukima’s servant, the sun.”
The doors to the street outside closed, the only noise now coming in from the ceiling and the occasional loud thump from the unloading of goods outside. Astala took the woven basket of moonstones from Senior Priestess Laurel and started making her rounds, outer ring first. There were less people here than last time, and much less than the time before that. Where did everyone go? Did they not wish Yukima’s blessing on everything they did?
After each man, woman, and child above ten had a stone, Astala set the woven basket on a table near the doorway to the back. She took one herself before sitting on the end of the bench and closing her eyes. She rubbed the stone with her left hand and her moonbeam with her right, head tilted back and feeling the sunlight as it came through the glass. The dome dulled the light a little, for good reason. The moon’s glow was perfect, soft and gentle, like Astala imagined the goddess herself would be like. It felt like a hug when the moon hung full in the sky. That was the best part of the mooncycle, when she would stay out on a balcony or porch and stare up into the sky. Being a little tired the next day didn’t matter. It was worth it.
The sun was too brash, too hot. He burned bright in the sky, giving people light while also giving them reason to hope for night to come. But Yukima forgave him each night because he tried his utmost best to please the moon goddess. A story for all, right there in the sky every time they looked up. Very poetic, in her opinion.
Senior Priestess Laurel tapped lightly on the pedestal in the center of the room, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. “Thank you for your silence and thoughts. And thank you for your prayers on behalf of our priestesses and priests here.” She unrolled a thin scroll with a crescent moon set into the end of the bronze. “This our prayer to thee, Oh great Goddess of the Sky, the Plane, and the Great Beyond. That thy face may shine upon us as we look up to thee…” Senior Priestess Laurel continued with the prayer, seeming to read off of the scroll even though Astala knew Laurel could recite it by heart. Even the tricky words and phrases.
As the Senior Priestess concluded with the prayers, the sun came into alignment with the open window directly overhead. The crown on the pedestal lit up, gemstones refracting the light in all different directions. “As this Crown splits the light from above and redirects it, so too must we take any available light that we receive from the great Goddess and share it with those around us. This is our duty, to share the joy we receive with the world.”
The people on the benches raised their moonstones up to the light, which bent different ways as it came through the dome. Shafts of sunlight hit each bench, people flocking to them and holding up their stones. As each one hit the light, it flared with brilliant inner light, like a signal fire on a mountain or a lighthouse on a dangerous coast. For all the sun’s heat, Astala decided she loved him as well as the moon. Yukima was balance, but there had to be extremes for there to be balance…
The light from above flickered, like the sun had suddenly become a fire that the great winds were blowing on. Senior Priestess Laurel looked up with an expression of uncertainty, the feeling echoed on the faces of many of those in attendance. Some set down their stones and stood to leave.
“Wait! This is a trial, a test from Yukima herself. We must remain true and pray through the darkness, knowing that on the other side light must prevail once more!”
Astala looked up at the sky. Thick smoke to the east, thinning enough to let the sun through by the time it reached them. That much smoke could only come from a fire the size of a town…
Apprentice Priestess Astala rose and deposited her moonstone in the woven basket without holding it up to the light. Senior Priestess Laurel turned to look at her. “My apologies, Senior Priestess, but I must go.”
“Child, we’re in the middle of a service. You cannot just up and leave. You are an instrument in Yukima’s hands to help these people. She cannot very well play the song of redeeming love through you if you are not here.”
Astala barely heard the words as she rushed out the door to the street. She had to get away from here, see what was burning more clearly. The commoners on the street moved out of the way as they saw a priestess running full tilt towards the Spire. She would miss that feeling. But for now, she couldn’t afford to worry about that.
The hill to the west of town, at the start of the Spire, afforded her just enough view to make out what was going on. The coastal town burned against the clear ocean behind it, multiple buildings sending up tall flames. The tallest of the flames danced right in the center. The dockmaster’s office. The same building she’d buzzed on dragonback just hours before.
Astala pulled off her wig and threw it to the ground, moonbeam glimmering as it fell. She raked her fingers through her frizzy red hair, letting it back out to its normal length. Forget what other people would think. She couldn’t go back anyway.
Dragons were attracted to fire. It seemed that something, in the back of their minds, recognized fire and associated it with other dragons. After all, back when the puny humans had first figured out fire, they were of no significant threat to any respectable dragon. And if they were, well, survival of the fittest.
That no longer held true. Humans could take down any dragon if they flew too close. But dragons still were drawn to it like dragonflies to a lantern. And they would all die if they got too close. Especially those who depended on their riders. She knew all too well what happened when someone flew a little too close to the town’s defenses.
Astoria pulled a large whistle from her pack and blew into it as hard as she could, making a screeching noise that Swampmist would hear. Maybe if Astoria could get her attention before the dragon flew too far, she’d fly back and stay out of danger. Maybe. Spires knew it was hard to pull a dragon away from fire.
The dragons inside the Spire would be safe, out of view of the fire. They’d smell it, but that wouldn’t be enough to get them all the way out and across the Spire-land. But she’d let Swampmist fly on her own while she’d gone down into town. Astoria regretted that decision now.
She blew on the whistle again and again, but no cry from her dragon echoed in return. Astoria lifted to whistle one final time while stuffing the wig on the ground back into her bag. Louder. It had to be louder…
Sharp claws dug into her shoulders, piercing through her robes and drawing a little blood. Astoria’s feet abruptly left the ground, and her face went straight into a tree as the dragon above her. Spitting out needles and sap, she wiped the blood off her forehead from several cuts. She’d have time to dress those later. Why hadn’t her dragon landed and let her mount up like always?
She looked up at the scaly beast and recoiled in fear. No saddle, no bags. A wild dragon. It must have heard her whistle and thought she was a little dragon. At least it had picked her up instead of eating her straight away. She had a little time to plan how to avoid a sudden and fiery death, either from the town fire or from the dragon’s breath.
First things first, she couldn’t afford to be called out. Chances are the people in the coastal town didn’t know her face, even if they knew of her reputation. She pulled the moonbeam from the wig in her bag and braided it into her hair, almost dropping it twice. But now she had a passable disguise.
The dragon swooped down towards the burning town, eyes wide and fixed on the dockmaster’s office. Astoria pulled out her knife from the uniform in her bag. If she timed it right, she could get the dragon to let go of her over the shallows. She’d survive that fall with minimal injuries and then try to find her own dragon and free her if necessary. Steady, steady, now! She stabbed the knife into the skin around one of the dragon’s claws, withdrawing and repeating the motion on the other side. The wild dragon bellowed in pain and withdrew its talons from her. Now she fell, faster and faster. A rider couldn’t be afraid of a little falling. But fear of death was normal, and it started crawling up her throat as she fell. She’d hit the water and go under, sinking like a stone until she hit the bottom. Her ears would pop, but she’d splash her way to the surface. And then she’d start her hunt.
The coldness of the water surprised her when she hit, salty spray immediately flooding her eyes and nose. She gagged and inhaled by reflex, water coursing into her lungs. Down she went, down, down into the darkness, the water pulling her heat and life away. She had to get back to the surface. Her ears popped and rang as her feet hit the sandy bottom. Where had her shoes gone? She pushed the thought aside and stroked with all her might, willing herself up to the surface. Astala would have said a prayer and received a breath of fresh air underwater. But Astala wasn’t here. Astoria was. And the dragon rider would die if she didn’t try harder and get herself out of this mess.
Astoria kicked and kicked, her robes dragging her down. Her eyes started to dim, but she continued on. Just a little… farther. She breached the surface, spitting up all the water from her lungs as she coughed and sputtered. So much water, so much salt. Her eyes and throat burned, but she forced herself to forget them and look around. Ships. Big ships, everywhere she looked. But why were ships of this size in the harbor? The docks weren’t equipped to handle something that big.
Her eyes fell upon the flag of the lead ship. Crossed sword and spear. Raiders. Now the fire made sense. She kicked to the shore, chest heaving as she tried to get all the water out of her lungs. Each breath felt like someone was kicking her in the chest.
When the sand came up to meet her feet, she started walking, pulling her coughing body and her soaked robes and her water-filled bag along until the water met the beach and she could fall down on her hands and knees. Snot and saliva and saltwater all mixed as she hacked up her insides. Everything told her to lay down on the sand and give up.
But she couldn’t just lay down. She had a mission and a friend to save. Up. Up! She brought her knee forward, pushing up on it until she stood at the waterline, bare toes sinking in the sand. Onward she pushed herself, the heat from the burning buildings already starting to dry the salt on her skin.
Two of the ships were leaving, pulling up their huge hulking anchors and setting sail for who knew where. But the last ship remained, crew members loading crates and barrels into it. She’d just walk right past and find her dragon before the outer defenders of the town shot her down.
A meaty hand clamped down on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She whirled around, looking up at the man. He had a crooked nose and two eyes that seemed small for his head. “Hey McKinley, they missed one!”
Astoria tried to shake off the man’s grasp, but he shook her around until she gave up. A man in a longcoat and a black hat walked over. “Well, well, well, looks like they did. Won’t the kaptain be happy when we turn up with another to add to the haul.” He pointed to the ship. “Get her onboard the Revenge. We sail as soon as these last two crates are up and away.”
The man with the broken nose nodded and started towards the steep gangway to the ship, pulling Astoria along with him despite her best attempts to dig her heels into the sand and stop their progress. Eventually he stopped and turned to her, backhanding her across the face. She tasted blood, her split lip burning as the salt from the water seeped into it. “Stop playing games and get on the ship.” Astoria reached into her bag and wrapped her hand around the hilt of her dagger. One slash and she could be back on her way to finding her dragon.
The man anticipated her move. As her hand left the bag, he grabbed her wrist and wrenched the dagger from her grasp. With one swift move, he brought the hilt down on her head. Her vision blackened and her senses deserted her as her body fell limp. Oh Swampmist, I’m so sorry.