Dockside Distillery by j0sh-3000 ~Steampunk Love... - Steam On ❀Steampunk | Dockside, Steampunk art, Distillery [https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/8a/40/138a405e5dad7968e6df7ef759813fa7.jpg]
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Mana leaked from Syra's body before they even reached Rozenfall's station. She stared at out the window at the city with its blossoming treeline and crowded bridges straddling the river. A breeze sprinkled the air in petals and painted the world pink. But the air was sour in her throat and the floor silent and cold under her feet.
"Valen was right," she said, digging her last mana stone from her pocket, "there's nothing here." She flopped to the floor and drained the last sparks from the cleared stone. "We can't stay here long."
"Doesn't look like we have much of a choice," Aidan said, surveying the city from the window. "The Manarail is our only way out, so we're stuck until it leaves."
Petra groaned and stretched a leg against a crate, "So, what? We just sit and wait?"
"Yes. This is Black Thorn Headquarters, remember? Valen specifically told us not to come here."
Petra grumbled and attempted a better slipping position, "I hate hiding."
"What if we have to...relieve ourselves?" Cassius earned himself raised brows as he tried to hide his fidgeting.
"Are you serious?" asked Aidan.
"It has been a long ride."
"Lovely."
Aidan peeked out the window, but only saw guards clustered by the head-end speaking with the engineer. "Alright, hit the bushes and come right back." He slid the door open enough for Cassius to squeeze through.
As Cassius vanished behind the foliage, voices came from beyond the opposite bay door.
"...and make sure all the crates are accounted for this time."
"Shit." Aidan and Syra jumped as the latch unlocked.
"Move. Now." Aidan grabbed their packs and they slipped through the door just before the other flung open.
They scurried into the brush down the hill from the train, catching Cassius bare-bunned.
"What the hell?" Cassius flushed and scrambled to fix himself.
"Sorry, Cas," Syra averted her eyes and crouched behind the bush. "They're checking inventory, so we had to bail."
"How long will that take?"
"I don't know. That car was pretty full. But, as long as we can stay still and quiet, we should be fi—"
The clatter of falling gravel cut her off as her weight shifted backwards. The rocks underfoot gave. Her ankle twisted. And she toppled over, skidding and rolling down the muddy slope towards the street below.
"Damn it." Aidan leapt from the bush and half-ran, half-slid down the hill after her with the twins a few strides behind.
Syra was a slick brown mess by the time she stopped sliding.
"Are you alright?" Aidan skidded down beside her. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Her face looked like a toddler had taken chocolate icing to it. "You look ridiculous."
"Yes, I'm fine." Red shown through the smears of mud and she shoved herself to her feet. But her ankle screamed at any added weight and she almost lost her balance a second time.
"Hang on, now," he hooked an arm around her shoulders. "That foot doesn't look fine. Not the way you're standing on it."
"It's fine. I'll heal." Syra pulled away and hobbled the rest of the way down the hill.
Just perfect. Right when I can't afford to get hurt.
"Let's just find a washroom and get back on the damn train."
"Excuse me, miss!" a voice called from down the street.
Great. Now what?
"Miss? Are you alright?" The man running towards them wore an apron and smelled of pipe smoke. But, his face seemed kind under its premature creases. "You took a nasty spill, there."
"Yes. Just...landed wrong." She held her foot just above the ground.
"Well, that's not good. Best we take a look at it." He sat himself down on the hillside.
"Pardon?"
"Boot." He tapped her calf. "Gotta see what I'm working with."
"'What you're working with?'"
The man looked up at Aidan, "Did she hit her head, too?"
"He wants to see your ankle," said Aidan, keeping a watchful eye on him.
"Oh. Oh! I'm sorry." Syra slipped off her boot with some wincing, "I guess I did get a bit jostled."
He gave her ankle a thorough look-over, but it was already red and starting to swell.
"Pretty bad sprain, you got there. But you look healthy enough, so it should spring back in no time. Just keep off it a while."
"You a medic?" Aidan asked, surprised, as he helped Syra strap the boot back on.
“Bartender,” he said with a chuckle, “but I do know a fine medic. Fixed my shoulder up real nice. He’s a short walk from here, if you’d like me to show ya.”
“No, it’s quite alright, thank you." Aidan offered Syra a hand up, eager to return to the shadows of the nook, "Like you said, she should spring right back.”
“Suit yourself. Just be careful going back up there. Wouldn’t want them guards to catch ya on a lame foot.”
Aidan paused and kept his gaze down, waiting for the man’s next words to decide if actions were necessary.
“It’s alright.” The man softened and took a step back, just in case, “I see folks like you all the time—comin’ and goin’ when patrols are down. A pity, really, but that’s what they get for overchargin’.”
“Then you know we can’t stick around.”
“Certainly. But,” he pointed up the hill where the cars were being unloaded, “you’re not gonna be sneakin’ back on any time soon.”
Damn it, Syra cursed herself and chewed her lip.
Well, we can’t stay here—not in the open. But, the man has a point. Either way we’d have to wait for the car to be emptied—and refilled for that matter—and I'm certainly in no shape to run should things go wrong.
She glanced to Aidan and even he wore the face of reluctant acceptance.
“Can he be quick?” he asked.
“Most good medics are.”
Aidan looked up at the train swarming with crewman, then back down at Syra with her little foot in the air. “Alright, but we don’t have anything to offer him.”
“No one ever does.”
Tanner, as he introduced himself, made a point to keep to the quieter streets and alleys—a feat that earned him some trust. Even with Syra’s healing skills, hobbling on short legs made the walk longer than was comfortable.
“How much farther?” Aidan asked when they passed the square.
“Not much. It’s that building right there.” Tanner motioned to a tall, wide building with steam puffing from its top. “Think you’ll make it?” He grinned down at the mud goblin whose face scrunched in determination to walk for herself.
“I’ll be fine.” Despite the land’s drain on her, Syra forced her body to heal and soon limped unaided.
In looking down at her, Tanner noticed the hoop atop her ear, “So, why would a mage need to sneak on the train? Aren't you people nobility or something?”
Syra looked up, but said nothing.
Too risky. Just keep your mouth shut.
“Got it," Tanner said, sensing her unease. "I used to be a soldier myself once,” he tapped the hole in his own ear, “on my way to my second bar. Got kicked out when I decked my captain in the face.”
“Are you stupid?” Syra gawked up at him, causing him to laugh a tad too loud.
“You know, you Inner Ring folk always ask that.”
"For good reason--it's your captain!"
“Yeah, well, titles don't mean much." The lines at his brow deepened.
"We were out on patrol, one night—standard rounds. And we came across this little boy, all scuffed up and dirty, and he starts begging for food. Now, these kids were nothing new, I’d seen plenty growing up. Unfortunately. But, this one was just starting to lose the baby fat, so he had been thrown away recently. So, I kneel down and ask for his name and where he was from, if he could remember. And then right by the side of my face, a boot comes flying by and nails the kid in the gut. Sends him flying. So, I look up, about to rail on whoever was next to me, and I look, and it’s my own captain. 'Sorry leeches should just die already,’ he says. I swear, my hands never felt so good bleeding.”
“So, you were discharged because you were doing your job?”
“My job was to take the kid to a safehouse and report it, which I did later. I got discharged because I beat the shit out of a commanding officer.”
“But he got discharged, too, right?”
A sick chuckle left his lips, “Nope. ‘Disciplinary Leave’. So, I get the boot for standing up for the kid, and he gets to go back to the streets after six months’ probation. This city really has gone to shit.”
Syra went silent. Never during her time in the cityguard did she see—or even hear—of such things. There was stealing and fighting, yes, but mostly by bored kids or drunk people. And never did a vassal attack a child, especially not one vowed to protect them.
How did I not see this?
“I got booted, too,” Syra said softly and pointed to her earring. "This is just a keepsake."
Tanner raised a brow, “For what? Must’ve been pretty bad for them to kick out a mage.”
“You could say that.” She chewed her words, “They…didn’t like my family.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because she didn’t have one,” Aidan said, taking the opportunity to end the conversation before it got too personal.
Tanner faltered and his eyes fell on her with new sympathy, “A throwaway?”
Syra nodded without a sound.
He stopped and gripped her shoulder, a sad smile on his face. A flurry of words stormed behind his eyes, but he only managed two: “Me too.”
***
Tanner led them to a large distillery that waded into a dredged tributary. Its wheels clunked in the river as its metal trunks spewed steam. Slipping into the alleyway, his rapping on the alley door brought a woman to greet them.
“Well, hello there, Tanner. I was wonderin' when I’d be seeing you again. How’s the bar?”
“Not too bad, not too bad. Same grumblings, as usual.”
“I see.” Sonya paused to give the guests a wandering eye, “And who might these strangers be? Haven’t seen them around here before.”
“They had a bit of a mishap on the train earlier, and one of ‘em hurt her ankle pretty bad. I was hopin’ we could get it looked at.” He stepped aside for her to give Syra a look-about.
Despite Syra's healing attempts, Sonya sucked her teeth at the black bruising swallowed her foot, “Well, that's a right'n'proper mess, ain't it? Best we get it looked at quickly. Come on in, dears. And mind your heads—there're pipes everywhere down here.”
She led them down a hallway and past a large room where workers tended a metal vat.
“Good Lord, what’s that smell?” Cassius covered his nose from the strong, musky odor.
“Arrun oil.” Petra hushed, not liking the look or smell of things.
“Very good!” Sonya turned an impressed grin to her. “This is Rozenfall’s distillery. Many of Tanner’s drinks come from here, but we specialize in Arrun extraction and distillation as the grove is so close by.”
Syra nearly screamed.
Would leaving now be too suspicious?
Farther down the hall, Sonya stopped above a flight of stairs, “Now, I will tell you that he is in a meeting right now, so you might have to wait a while. Is that alright?”
“Sure, sure. Thank you, Sonya.” Tanner said and invited them down the steps to another door.
“Tanner?” Aidan asked, keeping his distance. “Why is a medic holed up in a basement?”
Tanner tapped his ear again, “He wasn’t welcomed, either.”
The long hall of metal pipes brought them to an open room where hot air stirred amidst boilers and hissing valves. Crowded inside were people, mostly farmers and merchants, some soldiers, and a handful of sailors.
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Syra's skin chilled.
We need to leave.
“Are you sure we should be here?” Syra whispered up at Tanner, who seemed quite comfortable with the setting.
“You’ll be fine. We’ll just wait until everyone leaves, and then take care of that foot.”
Tanner kept them to the back wall as to not disturb the gathering, but Syra eyed the group gathered around one man standing atop a make-shift platform.
“Who’s that?” She craned her head for a better view.
“Oh, that’s Marrak—the medic I was talking about. He’s a bit of an activist, too, so these meetings can get a bit tense.”
She froze.
Fuck.
Tanner’s jabbering left her ears and her eyes glued themselves to the tall, black-haired man chatting up the crowd.
“I’m sorry, Tanner,” Aidan leaned in closer, “did you say his name was, Marrak?”
Please say no. Please say no.
“Yes, you’ve heard of him?”
Fuck!
“Just stories. None good.”
“Aw, that’s really too bad. He can be temperamental, but most everyone here seems to believe in him.”
That’s because they don’t know him!
As Marrak turned to face the crowd, his eyes locked onto Syra’s and her face paled.
“We should probably go," Syra forced her polite voice. "We shouldn’t be barging in here, disrupting things over my stupid ankle.”
She turned to leave, but Tanner placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“It’s okay, I promise.” His smile was genuine and Syra felt a wave of pity for the poor fool.
You haven’t been here long, have you?
“I can understand your concern.” He nodded a greeting and Marrak looked away. “His presence and reputation can be quite intimidating, but he truly has a heart for the people.”
You really are stupid!
“If it wasn’t for him, and these people here, I wouldn’t have been able to open my own safehouse.”
Wait, what?
“Safehouse?” she asked.
“I told you I was a throwaway, too, right? Well, when I told Marrak about it—about the captain and the little boy—he managed to scrounge up the money and the people to help build one here, in Rozenfall. One that didn’t have to answer to the whitebacks miles away. I’ve had the upmost respect for him since.”
The group around Marrak dispersed and he stepped to the edge of the platform. All hushed.
“First matter of business,” Marrak’s deep, throaty growl filled the room, “are we all well?”
Heads bobbled, but there were whispers off to the side.
“Problems?” Marrak asked, eyes falling on a small group of farmers still in their work gear.
“No, sir—”
“Yes, there is.” A bold man lifted his head.
“Then speak, so we may address them.” Marrak motioned for him to continue.
“The Arrun groves, sir. Why did you burn them? We barely contained it.”
“I take it you work in the groves?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were there when the flames hit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And were you hurt?”
The man hesitated to gather his thoughts, “N-no, sir. I was not. We were called away for a meeting, and that’s when yo—when the grove was set ablaze.”
“Good. Glad to see everything went accordingly.” Marrak passed an approving eye over the crowd.
“Went accordingly?” asked the man.
“Tell me, were you present at the last meeting?”
“N-no. This is my first.”
“I see. Well, in that case I do apologize for the lack of communication. You see, the patch of trees that was destroyed was diseased. It would have spread if they were not disposed of. So, not only did it save the grove, but it proved to be a successful recruiting tactic, as we had hoped.”
“Is that what Cree was?” A woman called out, “A recruiting tactic?”
“Yes, partly.”
Faces twisted with concern, but Marrak remained confidant, “And, if you would have been there or spoken to someone who was, you would also know that those buildings were empty. Run-down and infested, left to collapse on unsuspecting people. Would you rather them remain a hazard, or be removed to make room for new shops and housing?”
The room said nothing.
“Good. Moving forward, what is our status with Renguard?”
“Strong, sir,” said a soldier near the front. “We should be ready to sail in a few days, but we're still low on headcount.”
“How many?”
"Two stands are willing to fight from Renguard alone, but more are expected to join in the next few days.”
“Only two?” shouted a graying man from the center. “Altaira has ten stands at least!”
“Eight.” A ringless swordsman corrected from the crowd.
"Kaelem?" Syra gasped at the familiar face and Aidan shushed her.
“We only have eight stands. Last winter took one, and the second was dismissed to help recover from the food shortage.”
“That’s a lie!” spat the gray man.
“No, it’s not,” corrected Marrak. “Kaelem was among those let go.”
“Well that’s fine and dandy, but it's still far more than we got! How do you expect us to confront that?”
“You forget who you’re talking to.” Marrak’s eyes narrowed. “Did I not promise to be your trump card?”
“Oh right, ‘cause you’re a dragon! Right, like I’d believe that bullshit.”
Commotion stirred through the crowd, but Marrak stood at ease.
“I’d advise you to watch your tone, old man.” Marrak’s hand raised and the crowd hushed. “Tell me, sir, what is your name?”
“Lauger,” he said with pride.
“Alright, Lauger, why don’t you come up here so I can hear you better. I do not wish to have a misunderstanding.”
Lauger maneuvered to the platform where he was prompted to sit.
“Excellent. Now, Lauger, why don’t you answer me one thing so we can be on the same page.”
A red glow shimmered around Marrak's hand. A subtle flick of long fingers twisted the chair's metal arms around Lauger’s wrists, pinning him down. Surprise and fear flashed across his face and he tugged himself in vain.
“What do you know about Ignis dragons?”
“Nothing, I don’t know nothing!”
“Oh, come now. You must at least know where they live.”
Marrak circled Lauger with a slow pace, his hands tucked behind his back and a wry grin creasing his wide, bronzed face.
“N-north of here," Lauger stuttered, "on Mt. Blackstone.”
“Not bad!” Marrak gave him a nod, “Though the correct answer would have been, inside Mt. Blackstone. But that brings up good point.”
Beads of sweat rolled down Lauger’s flushed face and waves of heat pulsed from Marrak as he closed in on Lauger like prey.
From the back, Petra watched with clenched jaw and balled fists.
“Easy, now.” Cassius whispered, taking Petra’s fist in his hand.
Syra stiffened, face pale and hands shaking. Aidan followed Cassius’ example and held on to Syra’s hand. But she didn’t notice at all. Her eyes remained locked on Marrak’s smile.
He’s...enjoying this.
Marrak raised his index finger to Lauger’s cheek, which reddened and blistered in an instant. Lauger shrieked and jumped from his seat, knocking himself over.
“We’re also exceptionally hard to kill.”
Tension rose as the heat from Marrak faded and Lauger’s painful whine echoed off the metal pipes. Taking a knee, Marrak sat Lauger upright and clasped his burnt cheek with a firm hand, drawing out a muffled squeal.
“Any more questions?”
“N-no, sir!”
Marrak released his cheek and grazed a shimmering finger over the boil, healing it.
“Good.”
Another twitch of a finger freed Lauger from the chair and he stumbled off the platform, startled from the sudden relief of pain.
“Now,” Marrak addressed the mute gathering, “are we all on the same page?”
No one spoke.
“Good. On to the next matter of business.” Marrak scanned his gaze over the crowd. “New recruits!”
A handful of nervous men and women straightened their backs.
“Before we can accept you we must make sure of your loyalty. An understandable request, would you agree?”
Marrak’s eyes cut through the shadows landed right on Syra.
Syra blinked but couldn’t look away. She latched onto Aidan’s hand.
“You, my young lady!” Marrak pointed directly at her, sending all eyes her way. “Where are you from?”
Syra gaped and Tanner stepped forward.
“I’m sorry, sir, she isn’t a recruit. I just brought her for a sprained—”
“Let her speak.” Marrak cut him off, uninterested in excuses.
She hesitated as Marrak weaved through the throng towards her, and Aidan tightened his grip on her hand.
“A-Altaira…sir. But I’m not—”
Whispers sparked through the crowd.
“Another Altairan deserter.” Marrak nodded in satisfaction. “I can see why.”
His hand rose to her ear and caressed her bare piercing. She stiffened and the others stepped forward to her defense. Marrak eyed Aidan’s firm gaze and Petra’s restless hand on her hilt, but his hand remained still.
“Tell me, young lady, what profession caused this?”
Syra swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I was a soldier, sir—a healer.”
“Hmm, one that was relinquished no doubt?”
She gave a curt nod and looked away, “Yes, sir.”
Petra growled low under her breath, seething at her father’s murderer being called ‘sir’.
Marrak turned his gaze to Aidan and the twins, “And your comrades?”
“Just along for the ride.” Cassius spoke calmly.
“I see. Well, a little mage like this one would certainly need protection." His fingers slid down Syra's ear to her neck.
Her hand flew up and slapped him away, and the room held its breath. She bit the inside of her cheek but remained rigid, glaring up into those rusty eyes that soured her stomach.
Marrak withdrew his hand with a long sigh, but then paused.
He sniffed.
His eyes darted from her face to her raised hand. The silver band gleamed around her finger, and the flower engraved on it drew a grin to his face. Hushed murmurs grew from around them.
“That is quite a lovely ring you have.” Marrak announced on purpose. “Do tell me where you got it.”
“It’s an engagement ring.” Aidan stepped forward, revealing the chain about his neck.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Marrak feigned surprise and grabbed Syra’s hand, “two spies!”
“What?” Tanner snarled, spinning to face the guests he brought in.
A clamor ignited through the crowd.
“N-no! That’s not what we—!” Syra stammered and pulled back, but his grip was firm.
“Oh, do hush your mouth!” Marrak snapped. “Do you think me dumb? Look around you! I have ears everywhere, my dear. The Kesh Raza is foolish to send a wyrmling after me, especially one of his!”
Her shock made him laugh and he shoved his face to her ear.
“You smell just like him. Even over the—”
A whoosh and crack jolted them apart as a charged fist sent Marrak stumbling backwards.
The scraping of blades dulled in Syra's ears under the rushing of blood and burning in her hand.
"Suck a toad," she hissed in Draconic.
The riot swarmed in and Syra flung out a barrier, knocking the mob off their feet.
"Run!” She led the others out of the boiler room and into the passageway.
Just before they reached the stairs, Syra stopped at a metal pipe hissing steam.
“What are you doing? Let’s go!” Petra yelled from the top.
Light surrounded the pipe, the pressure from the metal hard against her hands. She strained backwards, pulling the pipe back until metal cracked.
“She’s right there!”
The pounding of boots drew nearer and Syra tugged harder, unhinging the pipe.
“Come on!”
“Syra, let’s go, now!”
One last pull snapped the pipe and sent steam blasting down the hall. The boots stopped, followed by screams of, “Go around!”
Syra darted up the stairs and out the alley door.
Petra slammed the door behind her and yanked the handle clean off, “Just in case.”
They rounded the building and sprinted down the street. Atop the hill, the Manarail gleamed and sounded its warning whistle.
“It’s leaving! Let’s go!” Aidan called out.
“They’re over there!” Behind them, rebels swarmed around a corner.
“Shit, they’re still coming!” cursed Syra.
“Just keep running!”
Easy for you to say, longlegs!
They ducked into another alley but were met by a shimmering wall.
"I got 'em!" called the ringless mage smirking from behind her barrier. "Over he—"
A blast of wind knocked her back as the barrier split and exploded in front of her, the dying shimmers sparking away from the glowing edge of Aidan's sword.
"Definitely have to thank Baba later," he huffed as they ran past the unconcious mage, "this thing is amaz—"
Whizzing made Syra jump as an arrow flew passed her face, followed by a scream. Her stomach shot to her throat as an arrow sunk into Aidan’s shoulder.
“Aidan!”
“It’s okay," he grunted, "just keep going!”
Syra threw up a barrier as arrows came from both behind and above them. But it flickered and cracked and her arms shook.
I can’t keep this up much longer.
They ducked and swerved through the people in the square, and Syra flung baskets, barrels—even food—soaring back into them. But each throw of a glowing hand made her head spin and the others pulled ahead.
As they passed a stable, a blur leapt from an ally and collided with Petra, pulling her to the ground. Aidan and Cassius slowed, but Syra waved them onward.
“Go! I got her!”
The man held Petra’s face to the ground and pulled a knife from his belt. He didn’t see the light that surround Syra’s hands, or himself.
“Get off of her!” Syra's chest burned as she raised her arms in the air, lifting the surprised man up and off of her sister. The burning shot down her arms and she screamed as she heaved him through the air and into a wall.
“Go, I’m coming.” Syra panted as Petra sprung to her feet and ran after the boys.
Syra turned to face the angry mob on shaking legs. She heaved a large water troph and tipped it over, sending water sloshing down the hill towards the rebels. She inhaled deep, and charged her hands.
More.
Boots hit the water.
Little more.
Her chest burned. Her arm hairs stood, and her skin buzzed. Her fingers curled into claws as her hands tensed and trembled.
Now.
She slammed her palms into the puddle and sent the current surging through the water. The rebels screamed. Sparks flew. And their bodies fell, convulsing in the electrified water.
The last whistle broke Syra from her light-headed stupor. Her legs wobbled as she slipped and fumbled and clawed up the muddy slope, and was halfway up when it jolted forward.
“Run!” Aidan called.
“Grab on!” The twins called from the open door, their arms stretched out to her.
She scrambled to the top and sprinted down the track. But she couldn’t gain any distance and it was only picking up speed.
“She’s not going to make it.” Cassius cried.
“Oh, yes, she is. Hold on.” Petra linked arms with Cassius and stepped out of the door, her hand just out of Syra’s reach.
“Grab on!”
Syra’s legs burned and her head spun. She flailed her arm, reaching, but was always an inch away.
“Come on, grab it!”
“I’m trying!”
“Well, try harder!”
The treeline raced towards her.
Last chance.
She forced the rest of her mana into her legs, and jumped. To her surprise, Petra caught a tight hold and yanked her up.
“Pull!” Petra commanded Cassius, who shoved himself back into the car, pulling the two girls along with him.
They collapsed on the floor, panting. Syra crawled away from the door and her legs twitched from exhaustion.
“Get the door.” She huffed and Cassius slammed it shut.
The car was silent except for heavy breathing and Aidan’s groans.
Shit, the arrow!
Syra looked over to see Aidan collapsed on the floor, the bloodied arrow laying next to him.
“Aidan, you alright?”
He didn’t speak. Only moans came out.
“Aidan?” Syra crawled over to him and lifted him up.
Her gut tightened. His face was pale and sweating, and his head wobbled side to side with the rock of the train.
“He’s unconscious!”
“How?” Cassius scooted over and held a hand to Aidan’s cheek. His face fell. “This isn’t good. He’s fading.”
“Fading?” Syra wailed, “But how? It was one arrow!”
“Lift up his shirt.” Petra sat solemn with the arrow in her hand.
“But why—”
“Do it!”
Cassius helped Syra to remove Aidan’s vest and lifted his shirt to reveal the arrow wound. Syra’s stomach turned. Dark veins spread from the gash like vines searching for sunlight.
“What is that?” Syra squirmed.
“It’s poison,” said Petra “from this.” She held up the arrow head.
“Okay…well, then I’ll take care of it.” Syra prepped herself to weave, but Petra put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, it won’t work.”
“What do you mean, it won’t work? Who’s the healer here?”
“You are far too weak to healing anything right now. Plus,” she gripped at the arrow and its shaft split, “this is Arrun poison—I'd know this smell anywhere.”
“B-but he’s human. It shouldn’t even affect him.”
“By the look of those veins, it does. I’ve seen them before. On clanmates who fell to his dragonlances." She scoffed, "How ironic.”
“Can you do something about it?”
“Me?”
“You said you’ve seen it before. Is there are cure? A spell? Tell me how to stop it.”
“You expect me to use magic?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
Petra hesitated and Aidan’s breathing grew shallow and labored.
“Petra, please! If you can do something, please try.” Syra draped herself over Aidan sobbing. “Please, Petra...I don’t know what else to do.” Her voice wisped and cracked. “He’s my mate. I can’t just let him die.”
"He's not your mate," Petra said.
But she watched her sister, the Firstborn, rightful Vayguard to the Montari Clan, sob and weep and beg over a human boy. Normally, it would have disgusted her. But she had seen him sob and weep over her, just the same.
“Move over.” Petra crawled over to them, shoving Syra to the side. “And take off his shirt.”
“What?”
Petra flashed a glare, “Just do it! If it gets to his heart, he’s done.”
They tugged off his shirt and laid him on the car floor.
“Now, I don’t know if this will even help—he is human after all—but I’ll do what I can.”
Petra knelt next to Aidan and slowed her breathing, keeping her eyes closed. She pressed her hands together and lifted them to her lips.
“Niidaɦ.”
At her words, light glimmered between her hands. Inhaling deep, she blew into them, causing them to glow like growing embers. Her eyes slid open and she leaned over Aidan, their gold gleaming in the shadow of the car. Placing one hand on Aidan’s left shoulder, she opened her mouth, and started to sing. A full, clear soprano filled the train car as the long Draconic syllables rolled off her tongue.
When all light goes dim and you grow afraid,
Take my fire and let it light your way
For I’m here,
Anytime I hear your call, I’ll find my way to you
Syra watched on as Petra slid her fingertips down Aidan’s arms, causing light to vein out across his skin.
When the winds are strong and your thoughts churn dark,
Take my wings and let them lift your heart
For I’m here,
Anytime I hear your call, I’ll fly the skies for you
A stroke to the other arm, and light wrapped around and spread towards his chest. In a slow spiral, her fingers traced a circle on Aidan’s chest and the lines of light converged. The thread of light spread outward over his body as Syra and Cassius watched mesmerized as the poison retreated into the light.
She’s a songstress!
When the night is long but the ache remains,
Take my song and let it soothe your pain
For I’m here,
Anytime I hear your call, I’ll sing my song for you
Leaning down, Petra let her lips hover over the wound, and blew. In an instant, the light peeled off his skin and shattered, dissipating into dust and taking the poison with it.
Petra released a deep breath and leaned back, her skin glistening with sweat. She was not as magically inclined as her sister, so any magic she did use took a great deal of energy.
Syra examined Aidan’s chest with shaking hands and watering eyes.
“You did it.”
Petra chuckled between heavy breaths, “Yeah, I guess I did.” She fell back against the car wall, but couldn’t hide the smile on her face.
“Thank you!”
Petra jolted as Syra lowered her head to Petra’s feet, grabbing her ankles, “Uhh…”
“I don’t know how or where you learned that, and right now I don’t care.” Syra’s voice wavered through restrained sobs. “I owe you.”
“I, uh…” Shocked and dumbfounded by Syra’s sudden humility, Petra looked to Cassius who just gave a relieved nod.
“You’re welcome.” Petra gave Syra’s head a light pat.
Syra returned to Aidan’s side, giving him a second look-over before collapsing to the floor. For a moment, the whir of the train and slow breathing took over the train car. Petra’s breath returned and Cassius watched the passing fields and forests through the window. Syra stared across the car into nothing, her cheek pressed to the car floor and her hair clinging to her face and brow.
"The Kesh Raza is foolish to send a wyrmling after me..."
Marrak's words awakened the ache in her hand.
Even his human face was like stone. How am I supposed to fight him full force?