The cold sea air stung Urla Pelasius’s face as their ship, Teranus, navigated the narrow fjord leading to the Faltari village port of Yerida.
The passage was wide enough for two vessels to maneuver, cautiously. Sheer walls of rock shot up on either side of the channel. The captain of their ship claimed the sea floor descended at a similar angle, plunging near straight down into the depths of icy water, both sides of the channel meeting somewhere hundreds of feet below.
This knowledge did not ease Urla’s mind much, as the captain brought their Attican vessel within a dozen feet of the cliff face while passing a Taikan vessel at a similar distance, with that ship brushing just as close against the opposing wall.
Urla braced herself, gripping the taffrail with warrior’s strength, waiting for the inevitable crunch of wooden hull against unforgiving stone below, or else the splintering of hull against hull, should the Taikan ship draw too close.
But a few moments later, they had the channel to themselves once more.
“Ha!” cried Captain Sentius, grinning at her madly. “It does me good to see a warrior of such renown under such distress.”
Urla glowered. “I don’t trust the sea. Never will.”
“Never trust the sea,” said the captain. “That’s wisdom. Trust the seaman!”
“Both are equally dangerous, in my experience.”
“Aye, that we are! Ha!”
Urla was relieved she hadn’t offended him. Clearly, the Attican captain was a fine navigator, but in her mind, the sea would never be anything but a cruel and flighty wench. It would take all it could, then take more, and leave daughters to be raised by uncles, mentored by their father’s old friends.
Consul General Campos, on the other hand, was entirely unperturbed by the precarious passage. He stood at the prow of the ship with Ruan and three other youths from the Fjuriin academies, one other boy, and two girls. All recently come of age. Like Ruan, they were sons and daughters of Attican lord houses, though none belonged to noteworthy families.
“All of them will not manage a bond on this journey,” Campos had explained to Urla, before they’d traveled again through the godblade portal, from the palace to the northernmost port in the empire and set sail for Faltara. “But our empire is at the cusp of greatness for the first time in generations. The Dragon Lords still hold much sway, and our wise Emperor must balance the scales. Attica needs Dragonmounts loyal, first and foremost, to the empire, not to the traditions of their lord houses. Now, more than ever.”
Of course, Emperor Athanasius had not been so straightforward when he’d blessed the company that would make the journey to Faltara for the Festival of the Fading Sun. But Urla had sensed they were carefully chosen, either by Campos, or perhaps, the emperor himself. Two from each of the major Attican noble academies.
“Why now more than ever?” Urla had asked Campos.
But her mentor had merely shrugged.
Now, the ship reached a bend in the fjord, and the narrow cliff walls opened up to a small inland bay, set into a glacial valley. In the distance, a towering range of mountains loomed, nearby foothills rising into stark peaks that dominated the inland horizon. The first dusting of snow clung to the precipices of the tallest ones. There would be no snow in Attica—even the mountains—for another two months at least, and the lowlands would only see snow a once or twice, most winters.
The walls of the fjord eased to green slopes, though it would be a toil to climb, except near the center of the bay where the thick foliage and snowpines were stripped away to make room for a quaint village. Even the buildings themselves were rugged, longhouses built primarily at one level, crudely carved out of entire logs of bone-white socha. A fort wall of logs encircled the village, each trunk carved to a sharp spike at the top. Urla could only imagine what beasts must roam such a wild place.
She marveled at how any people would choose such a harsh land to inhabit, but the warrior in her admired the savagery. It reminded her of their own barbaric rituals in the academies and legion training camps. The greatest test of a soldier’s mettle, save for battle itself, was to throw them in the heart of the wilds, and let them prove their valor.
Though, these exercises typically lasted a week at most.
Here, it was just life. Crude and harsh, by choice.
A dozen ships had already laid anchor in the bay, all forced close together.
Urla spotted a Chardonian banner—a forest green field with three silver lances jutting from a lone tower—and tensed.
The Chardonians had long been sworn enemies of the empire. Most good Atticans prayed for the day they would invade the bastards.
“This is neutral ground,” said Captain Sentius. “Don’t worry.”
Urla kept her true thoughts to herself. There’s no such thing as neutral ground, and if this is the source of our dragon eggs, then, it is treacherous ground, indeed, should the right people discover what trade Campos conducts here.
Campos gesticulated widely, as all the youths, including her son, marveled at the strange civilization here at the northern edge of the world.
A tall soldier with wavy blond hair approached her. Lord Captain Adrius Rykus, father of the female representative from Ruan’s school, a dark-haired girl with piercing green eyes. Urla had pieced together the man was of Valucian decent, one of the hero traitors who’d ensured Attican victory. He’d married a true-blood Attican spy during the Valucian Uprising, and together, they had eventually helped quash the rebellion. The wife had not joined them on the journey, but Urla guessed their daughter, Ava, took after their mother. She looked more Attican than her father, save for the green eyes.
Rykus strode straight to where Urla stood. Except for meals, Urla had largely kept to herself during the short voyage, and her privacy had been blessedly respected until now.
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The first-blood Attican man stood straight and offered her a salute of equals, pounding a fist to his chest.
Urla stood tall and reciprocated. Technically, their station was equal, though a small part of her resented this truth. It would not have been so in her father’s generation. No Valucian would have become captain, no matter who he married.
Sailors scrambled across the decks of Teranus to ready the longboats. Most of the crew had been operating oars below, the only way to navigate the fjord with the necessary precision. Sentius deftly maneuvered around an anchored vessel, barking orders, which were echoed below by one of his mates.
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? This journey?” Rykus asked.
Urla nodded, waiting for him to answer his own question.
“Has the entire lottery always been rigged?”
“The allocation of dragons was always rigged,” said Urla. “Long before Good Emperor Vitruvian introduced the lottery.”
“Well noted,” said Rykus. “I shan’t complain about my daughter’s being chosen as part of the leveling of power.”
Ava Rykus was intelligent, that had been clear at once, but Urla had to confess she was surprised the girl had been chosen, considering the girl’s… condition. Though Urla supposed two good legs wasn’t strictly necessary on dragon back.
Urla shrugged. “Don’t get your hopes up, Captain. It’s the law of the land that few children will ever bond.”
Just like a first-blood lord to feel special at the first hint of attention shown by the emperor.
Rykus shot her an unabashed grin. “Let alone twice in succeeding generations, right?”
Urla’s stomach tightened, though she let the tension slip before it rose to her face. She loathed verbal sparring. Put her in a ring with a pair of spears, or better yet, a war hammer, and see how Rykus would fare.
Longboats ferried goods from other vessels. Their own ship drifted now, slowly making their way to the far end of the bay. It was a vulnerable position, one Urla guessed was mandated for the sake of peace. The Attican vessel could easily be trapped here should something go awry.
“I’m sorry about your lord husband’s death,” Rykus said. “He flew magnificently.”
“You saw him?”
“My company fought in the battle. His fall shook the troops mightily. Riders are one thing, but a dragonfall is rare against a barbaric foe like Siga. Many of the troops feared it was a bad omen.”
“Not you?”
“We won the battle, didn’t we? And the rebellion was crushed only weeks later. No, Lady Captain, I’ve fought on both sides of Dragonmounts. A single dragonfall never turns the tide. One is unlucky. Two is a tragedy. It takes three to turn a battle. The heathen Valucians had dragons too, long ago, you may recall.”
“Not since the First Age,” said Urla. “And it’s not properly Fjuriin to recount such times. It was not Valucia’s path.”
“I recount them only as Attican. As one of the honored Blood Traitors. It was right for the ancient Valucian mounts to fall. And certainly, I am honored to see Attica reclaim its rightful place over our soil. Only now, do the isles feel like home.”
“Certainly, my mistake.”
“You’re right, of course, Lady Captain. I should have been clearer in my words. In truth, though my visage might betray me, my line traces back to the Golden Age when Attican blood was far more widespread. Tainted blood, yes. But we kept the Fjuriin ways. All the more reason it would be a glorious honor for my own daughter to become a Dragonmount of Attica.”
Urla met his gaze. The curious man glanced over at his daughter proudly. Supporting herself on a sleek black cane, Ava was chatting with Ruan and the girl from the Skymount Academy.
“She must be quite brilliant,” said Urla, “to be admitted to the Fjuriin Academy as a second-blood.”
“Very,” said Rykus proudly. “Ava certainly takes after her mother. Though my daughter tells me your son is top of the class.”
“Does she?”
“They’re friends,” said Rykus. “Our children. Did you know that? Sorry, I know it’s a sensitive matter after war and tragedy, but my wife and I could hardly contain our excitement when Ava informed us that she had befriended the son of a Dragonmount. I was thrilled to tell her I fought beneath the shadow of that dragon’s wings. Er, sorry.”
Urla shook her head, remaining composed as ever. “No need. You honor my husband and our family with your words. Thank you. And your wife, she’s…”
“Home. She’s been ill for… a long time now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We don’t choose our lot. We merely make the most of it. How’s that for properly Fjuriin?”
Urla smiled at the man. It took great skill and charisma to rise to become captain as a first-blood, she couldn’t deny him that.
The ship came to a stop, and Campos led the youths to the quarterdeck, where their parents and a retinue of Campos house guards gathered.
Urla moved closer to her son as Campos began a series of instructions. Ruan stood beside Ava, and so Rykus, too, remained near.
The children whispered back and forth intermittently. Urla couldn’t determine whether the two shared an attraction, or were only friends, as Rykus suggested. Before Urla left for war, she would have known.
Two years, she mused. When I left, he wouldn’t look a pretty girl in the eyes, let alone hold an animated conversation.
Ava was pretty, Urla had to admit, save for the unsettling eyes. She had light brown skin and properly dark and wavy Attican hair. But those bright green eyes stood out like a wart on her face.
A pity, Urla thought. If the girl’d taken dark eyes and her mother’s name, she might have had hope of forming a greater house.
Urla had seen enough to know the girl stood little chance at actually gaining a dragon on this venture. If she had to guess, it was a political maneuver, whether Rykus, or perhaps the Valucian archduke himself.
“What do you mean?” asked Lady Thenius, the Skymount girl’s mother.
“No weapons?” Rykus chimed in, flabbergasted.
Urla was jolted from her thoughts, as General Campos handed off his sword belt to his man-servant, Baro. He withdrew two more daggers from another belt wrapped tight on his chest, and traded his Attican sigils for a plain cloak the color of everwinter needles.
“No weapons of war,” said Campos. “The policy is strictly enforced by the local magistrates, er, chieftains. An exception can be made for spears, but even then, Faltans are interested only in short spears for hunting, no lances, and even these will be handed over to local chieftains on shore.”
“You expect me to go ashore with my only daughter, to a foreign shore teeming with barbaric Valgs and Chardonians, with no weapons of any sort?” Rykus was red in the face, and Urla was embarrassed for him.
Typical first-blood lapse in restraint.
Campos smiled enduringly. “Yes, if you want your daughter to have any chance at a bond, that’s precisely what I expect of you, Captain Rykus. But if you’d both prefer to stay aboard…”
Ava flushed but said nothing, in proper Fjuriin fashion.
Rykus crossed his arms. He’d already traded his seafaring clothes for armor to go ashore. “Well, you might have warned us sooner at least, Lord Consul. Only to save time, of course.”
Campos drew closer to the man and patted him on the shoulder. “Ah, I don’t fret about your time, in the least. I care only about the emperor’s time, and the time of the select youths he ordered me to bring ashore. I don’t need you to escort your brilliant daughter, need I remind you. You’re accompaniment is a privilege, not a right.”
Rykus and one of the other armored parents hastened below deck to change. One of Urla’s servants took her own weapons, but her focus was on the instructions Campos was passing along to her son and the other youths.
“Faltara is neutral ground. This is the only time each year that trade is permitted and foreigners are permitted on these shores. I needn’t have to remind you how important it is that we maintain cordial relations, considering the nature of our voyage. If a Chardonian bastard tries to provoke you, you walk away. If a Valgish hothead bears a hidden weapon, you walk away and report it to a Faltari chieftain. And if a Beirusian courtesan invites you for a Journey Amongst the Stars, well, best hope your parents aren’t watching and your purse is full, because she’s not asking to go for an evening stroll. Ha!”
The youths all laughed in spite of themselves, then, glanced around nervously.
Urla smirked at her son’s flushed cheeks. Perhaps he was not quite the man grown he portrayed.
Surely by now, he’d…
Then, she caught the glance at Ava.
Mother’s intuition hasn’t entirely lapsed since you’ve been to war.
“All right, it’s time to go ashore!” Campos announced.