Chapter Twenty-Two

Provisions

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Sleep continued to prove elusive, but for once, Rhydian was glad for it.

In the hours following the twilight patrol’s departure, his wyndstone pulsed from where it rested upon his nightstand. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, for he had been lost to his own errant thoughts. It had been so faint, he may have missed it if he had been asleep. If his presence was needed, surely someone would have sent for him? The hour was late, yes, but that did not mean Mistwatch was idle. The more he thought, the more he realized the only person who might have cause to hail him was Ayduin. She had volunteered for the night’s patrol earlier in the day, after all, taking what would have been Keishara’s place in the rotation.

His nerves pricked in sudden alarm.

Had she found trouble out in the Breadth?

He sat upright, already reaching for the stone, when he paused. The ambient script of the unmarked wyndstone demanded his attention, despite its meager glow while his personal stone remained dormant beside it. Though his initial fear ebbed, a new sort rose in its place. He glanced across the chamber, only to find Tanuzet still curled and cozy upon her nest of pillows. Her rhythmic breathing remained undisturbed, her mind silent and at ease just beyond his own. The sight brought him some measure of comfort. At least one of them had been fortunate enough to find their rest.

Running a hand through his unbound hair, he reluctantly took up the stone. He had no doubt as to who it was, yet it did little to sway his concern. Was the Wardeness having second thoughts?

“My Lady,” he said quietly.

“Firstrider,” came the woman's smooth, honeyed voice, “I hope you’ll forgive the hour?”

“Of course, my Lady.”

“You have my thanks. Given all you’ve been through, you must be exhausted, so I will make this brief. You worry for the safety of the rest of your flight in your absence, no?” She asked in a thoughtful hum.

He hesitated, wondering what response she expected and what response she wanted, so he chose his words carefully.

“Boring as Mistwatch may seem, the past few days have demonstrated just how dangerous it can be. I would rest easier knowing the keep was at full strength.”

“Then you shall have it. Beyond the dyad you lost during your encounter, how many more under your oath will need their positions filled?”

Her concern for Mistwatch caught him off guard. The handling of the keep was something he had expected command to oversee, though he should have anticipated her involvement in that as well. This had all been her operation, after all.

“Three dyads including myself, along with both the head sage and wyvernsage.”

“So few? I suspected more of the medical staff to be involved. You're certain there weren't any additional assistants? No other guards or patrols?”

No other witnesses to silence?

Despite the grim thought, he inwardly thanked his past self for having the foresight to limit any further collateral damage.

“No, my Lady.”

“Impressive,” she said, “Very well. In that case, consider the matter handled. A detachment will arrive three days from now to take the place of those under oath. I suggest you make any and all arrangements you may need in the meantime, firstrider.”

So soon?

Rhydian had planned to depart within the week, but clearly his timeline had been decided for him. Sighing through his nose, he rubbed at his brow with his free hand, thankful the two were not face to face for this conversation. Preparing the keep for a change of command in so short a time would be difficult, but not impossible.

“Of course. The rest of my flight will remain safe and intact, in my absence?”

He knew better than to ask an oath of a sovereign, but he had to know.

“On my honor as High Wardeness.”

“That’s all I can ask for,” he said, “Thank you.”

“As you said, Mistwatch is important. We wouldn’t want it falling into a state of disarray.”

Dread and no small amount of fear coiled in his gut.

“No. We wouldn’t,” he agreed.

He could almost feel the woman’s smile.

“I’m glad the two of us are of the same mind, firstrider. Do get some rest? You have quite the task ahead of you.”

He opened his mouth, but she did not wait for his reply.

The stone grew dull.

Cold.

Alone in the dark, Rhydian stared at the far wall of the chamber without truly seeing anything. All at once, he was weightless and leaden. The remainder of his flight would be safe, reinforced. He should be relieved, shouldn't he?

Of all the possible outcomes he'd conjured during the long, sleepless hours of the past week, this one was the best, regardless of the unspoken threat belying the Wardeness' words. He should be grateful. He was grateful. And yet, he was slowly finding it hard to breathe.

The tips of his fingers began to tingle and slowly, the sensation spread up the length of each arm. He cursed under his breath, knowing full well what was coming, but the vice had already closed in around his chest. His neck prickled as the first wave of heat struck him and beaded with the second as his heart and essence surged. Soon, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He knew the tremors would come next and–

A large, scaly snout pressed into his side.

The bed creaked and Tanuzet’s horned crown scraped the stone ceiling of his open chamber, but he didn’t care. His hand was over his heart, clawing at the muscle as if he could simply reach in and smother the cursed thing himself. The other, he placed upon her snout for support as he leaned into her. He sensed her rysk spark before a cool, continuous breeze danced over the bed.

Breathe.

He had to breathe.

Rhydian closed his eyes and forced himself to count to four. He drew a breath in through his nose for the same count, held it, then gradually released. All the while, Tanuzet offered silent support. Her purrs soft, yet sure. The languid rhythm helped ground him as he counted and held. Counted and released. In truth, he lost track of how many times he’d repeated the technique. Time had a way of escaping him when he fell prey to his anxieties.

A lingering sense of dizziness had him pinching the bridge of his nose.

Safe.

They would be safe.

Now, he supposed all he could do was take the word of the Wardeness and move on.

As she’d said, he had quite the task ahead of him, didn’t he?

~*~

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She looked ridiculous.

“Is this really necessary?” Inerys asked, reaching to undo the long scarf Sorisanna had meticulously wrapped about her neck and lower face.

The sage was quick to swat her gloved hand away.

“Leave it! We need to make sure this will work.”

Grumbling, she was tempted to reach for the comically oversized hat now occupying her brow instead, but thought better of it. The brim alone was over a hand’s span wider than the width of her shoulders with a slight contour that dipped to further shroud her face. For spirits’ sake, she looked like one of those long, flat mushrooms she used to harvest out in the Fringe during the rainy season. Where they had found such a thing was beyond her.

“If I still end up burnt after all this fuss-”

Sorisanna rose a challenging, yet playful brow.

“You’ll what? Bite me? I’ve seen hatchlings with more impressive milk teeth.”

Milk . . .teeth?

She was referring to the wyverns, right?

Her cheeks heated. “I– no.”

Once she was satisfied with the arrangement of the scarf, she laid a hand on Inerys’ shoulder.

“You’ll be fine, I promise. With luck, we won’t need any of this, but if something happens and you’re forced to travel by day, we need to make sure you’re safe.”

Much as she loathed all the extra clothing, it was better than being scorched a second time. She dropped her hands back to her sides without a fight. The gloves had been a welcomed addition, for they had offered some measure of normalcy, but the hat, the scarf, the strangely tinted spectacles, had all shattered the illusion. Even so, she could not deny the practicality of them.

She allowed the sage to bring a portion of the thin, dark fabric up along the bridge of her nose and secure it in place using the spectacles.

“There,” she said, stepping back, “I think that is as good as we’re going to get, short of throwing a sheet over you.”

She stepped aside to allow Inerys a better view of the mirror as she made to retrieve her luminous spheres for this last-minute test of hers. Honestly, it was hard not to laugh openly at her reflection. From head to toe, no amount of exposed skin was spared, save for her cheekbones, perhaps, but those were so thoroughly shrouded by the ridiculous hat, it didn’t matter. What little might have been seen of her face was covered by the oversized black scarf and the tinted, near-insectile eyewear.

Mushroom indeed, she thought to herself.

Her grey-brown clothes weren't helping matters, either.

“Well?”

Inerys turned a slow circle.

“It’s . . . functional?”

“Hmm. It might not be the height of fashion, but I think it will work. I only wish we’d been able to find those earmuffs for you.”

“It’s all right. You’ve done plenty already,” she assured, “It might be for the best. I’ll have to get used to all the changes eventually, seeing as how I’m stuck with them.”

Actively ignoring sounds she once wouldn’t have spared much thought for, if she noticed them at all, required more concentration than she had expected. However, over the last several days, it had grown easier. The terrible grating of fabric on fabric, or boots upon stone, had grown benign, as had the idle, yet incessant breaths of those around her. There were plenty of sounds yet that made her want to bludgeon her head against the nearest wall, but some improvement was better than none at all. If only the same could be said of her heightened sense of smell.

The sage smiled and the warmth of her silent encouragement helped ease the worried knot that had made its home in Inerys’ heart.

“The new developments may feel like burdens to you now, but they may prove themselves to be gifts, should you choose to harness them.”

“I can try,” she said, unsure if she truly had a choice in the matter at all.

If she did not learn to dull her new senses, at the very least, she might cast herself from this mountain just to be rid of them. What possible use she might have for fangs as wild and wicked as her own was a mystery, but she supposed, in a way, they were easier to live with. So long as she stopped prodding at them with her tongue. She’d bitten the poor thing more times than she could count, largely because her cursed fangs had a mind of their own when she slept. They wiggled along her upper jaw as if to tease her and she clamped her mouth tight in an effort to make them stop.

Ayduin’s impatient knock sounded at the door and Sorisanna smoothed back the stray locks that framed her face with a small sigh.

“I suppose that’s our cue,” she said.

Inerys gave an involuntary shudder. She was still coming to terms with the fact she could not walk uncovered in daylight, if at all, yet it was the prospect of climbing upon a wyvern’s back that had her wringing her hands. What if she fell off or was accidentally squished while trying to mount? How would she even make it to the saddle? Her treacherous mind had conjured half a dozen ways she’d die simply trying to dismount.

“Are you coming with us?” She asked, her nerves forcing the question out faster and with more desperation than she intended.

The sage gave her a small, regretful smile.

“I’m afraid not. Ephaxus needs me here until he’s well enough to fly. We’ll join you once you’re well enough to travel more than a few hour's flight, though. I promise.”

She did her best to hide her disappointment. Sorisanna had become an unexpected comfort and while Inerys was on tolerant terms with both Rhydian and Cydan, Ayduin was another matter. She was cold, distant and always appeared to be contemplating how she might rid Inerys of her head. It was difficult to relax, let alone sleep, when it was the woman’s turn to keep an eye on her. Once they departed, they would be seeing far more of one another.

Little by little, the thought of swift and spontaneous combustion became more appealing.

Inerys reached for the pack she’d been allotted and carefully slung it over one shoulder.

“We better not keep them waiting,” she said.

The sage frowned, but nodded. Her trio of golden spheres took to their slow orbit above her head, an insurance, should her cover job prove ineffective.

“Come, we don’t have much daylight left to test this under before you leave.”

She bit her lip. “I won’t catch fire?”

“No,” she promised.

Steeling herself, Inerys stepped into the hall and past Ayduin’s perpetual glare. She felt the woman’s disapproval settle between her shoulders, but chose to ignore it. The past several days had afforded her plenty of time to practice her cycling both before and after her nightly walks, but she still had to measure her breaths as well as her steps if she intended to make it to the cloister without panting like a dog by the end.

Thankfully, Ayduin fell into step behind them without comment. Though, she did appear rather disappointed when Inerys did not ignite and turn to ash on the wind when they emerged from the shadowed safety of the halls. Out of instinct, Inerys squinted and braced herself for the pain, but none came. The tinted spectacles darkened the world around her by several margins and mitigated the worst of the garish light. Slowly, carefully, she released the breath she’d involuntarily held. No pain, no stench of burned flesh . . .

So far so good.

The hint of a smile crept to her lips and she looked to Sorisanna.

“Maybe now, you’ll be more quick to trust me in the future?” She teased.

“I’d argue I owe you more than that,” Inerys said with a light tremor of relief.

“You’ll have plenty of time to contemplate your gratitude once we leave,” Ayduin muttered as she passed them by.

Sorisanna gave Inerys a gentle nudge. “Don’t let her get to you. It’s nothing personal, even if it might feel that way.”

“I’ll . . . do my best.”

Below them, three wyvern’s occupied the cloister grounds with a fourth perched upon the rocky slope above. She recognized both Ephaxus and Tanuzet, though it was easy enough to assume the third was Ayduin’s, given his distinctive coloration. He shone like beaten copper in the late afternoon light, his horns as black as his talons. In contrast, the membranes of his wings were a curious blue-green Inerys could not help but appreciate as she began her descent.

“Is that Cydan’s wyvern?” She asked, her attention shifting to the perched female who blended near-perfectly with the slate grey crags above the others.

“Her name is Inet,” the sage said warmly, “Don’t worry, she’s far friendlier than Vaelor. If he ever steps out of line, she’s just as likely to put him back in his place as Tanuzet.”

“They’re accompanying us?” She guessed.

Rhydian had explained little of his plan and she had intended to press the issue when she next saw him, but that had been days ago. He was busy preparing the keep for their leave, Sorisanna had said. Whatever that entailed.

She nodded. “They, along with Vesryn, from what I understand.”

“The other sage?”

“I’m afraid so. For all the reservations he may have toward you, he’s been the head sage for the Adai side of things for a reason. He’s a good man.”

Inerys wanted to believe her, but their first and only interaction had left its mark. Then again, maybe they could start over? She hadn’t the slightest idea how long her recovery would take, so for all she knew, they would all be stuck together for weeks, if not months. Repairing, or even establishing relations, would likely be in her best interest.

She was nearing the last of the stairs, when a familiar, yet distant pressure built between her temples. She grimaced and pressed a hand to her head. The sensation was similar to when Tanuzet had first spoken to her, though this felt more indirect, somehow, as if a mental conversation was being had that she was not yet privy to. Given Tanuzet’s fixed attention upon Ephaxus, and he to her, it was not hard to guess where it came from.

Rhydian was studying the pair as well, his arms crossed and the set of his jaw tight.

“My answer remains the same,” he said, “you will remain here until Sorisanna deems you well enough to fly unassisted.”

While she did not hear his reply, Ephaxus’ disgruntled growl evidenced his thoughts well enough. His attention strayed to her as she approached at Sorisanna’s side. The heat behind his rose gold eyes was enough to make her pause and consider running back the way she came. Her passenger, who had been relatively quiet the past three days, stirred. She felt its desire to rise to the challenge bleed into her, but she tamped it down.

The pressure in her head intensified, then yielded as Ephaxus opened his mind to hers.

I will benefit from the Wilds as much as the little viper, he said, his low rumble chasing a shiver up her spine.

Tanuzet gave him a warning growl.

Inerys’ brow furrowed. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Not to the one you’re thinking of. We’ll be flying out to the Spirit Wilds,” Rhydian said, his attention dancing between she and Ephaxus, “Which would benefit you both, yes, but Mistwatch is more than capable of treating you until you’re fit to fly again. I will hear no more of it.”

“Don’t worry, Ephaxus, I’ll be here to keep you company,” Sorisanna said, crossing to pat his wing.

The wyvern lowered his head, but did not offer any further protest.

Seemingly satisfied, Rhydian turned to fully face her.

“Are you ready?” He asked, giving her a once over.

Inerys adjusted her pack with a reluctant nod, her gaze flitting to the saddle as Tanuzet lowered to her belly behind him. The climb required to reach it made her palms sweat. The wyvern angled her wing to make the route easier, but it was still dizzying to think about.

“I’m flying with you?” She guessed.

He nodded.

She took a deep breath.

“Please don’t let me fall,” she said, voice fainter than she would have liked.

He stepped onto Tanuzet’s wing and offered his hand.

“I won’t, I promise.”