Fen watched Rosalea and Ulric sleeping. Yesterday Ulric had gotten most of the details right about Dyran, and she was a little impressed, considering she had to infer that no shape shifter had been there themselves. She looked up at the blue moon, tonight, one of the brown masses on the fight of it was glittering extra bright. There was a shape that looked a little like a pinwheel in the glittering surface.
She got up and gingerly moved away from where Rosalea was curled on her side next to her. She needed a walk to clear her head and the anxiety that she felt. As she looked up at the moon, she supposed she had not howled like a wolf since she had last seen the rest of her family. Gods, are you there?
It was sometimes a topic of debate among humans whether there were Gods or just God. Most temples defaulted to the safest idea, that there were Gods, and that way if there were multiples, no one got left out. Fen knew it to be Gods in plural though. Before she had become Rosalea’s liana, they had spoken to her. One had been difficult to endure, the voice sounding like many voices, and like even though the touch was meant to be gentle, there was no way to hold back enough of the power and force to actually be gentle.
But there had been a second voice, a male’s, that had been gentle and easy to interact with. He had answered many of Fen’s questions and that was how she known Nadia’s history. It was how she had found out about the visions, both remembered and forgotten, and had an understanding that Rosalea would have to eventually leave Myraduil.
But after she had become Rosalea’s liana, she could not feel the Gods, and they had not spoken to her. Why had she been abandoned? How was she to guide her liana? Why had they instead decided to just attack? Should she have tried to stop Rosalea from thwarting their obvious attempt to leave nothing behind her?
Had Kaylar wronged them?
He was the one dragon’s name she knew outside the one that had taken her sister. He was the only dragon the mystics spoke positively of in any way; after all, he had brought balance to magic under the tutelage of Gods.
Please, Gods, if you are out there, speak to me. I know I am not meant to go back to my home, but I see no other path forward.
She stared up at the moon, but the only thing that answered her was the breeze whispering through the trees and her brown fur.
***
It had been a couple of days. They were still walking along the road, getting off of it when other travelers came near so that there would be no cause for eyes to meet, and it felt like they were getting closer to the border.
They passed near a town that Rosalea did not even try to go into because it had an obvious wall all around it lined with thick briars. Ulric noticed her looking at it, “There is not peace between us and the Myraduilians, but there is also not peace between Dyran and Myraduil.”
Rosalea looked over Nira at him. “I thought you told me in history that Dyran and Myraduil were like Iesha and Urye. Myra and Dyra were twin sisters who somehow founded countries.”
Ulric smiled, “And Ieshans and Uryans famously get along.”
Rosalea huffed, “Fair, but… I understand why we do not get along with the people of Myraduil. They are terribly afraid of our magic. What could two peoples that look just like each other and have all the same magics have against one another?”
“In that way, they are not quite identical,” Ulric explained and then paused with a hiss as stepped on a bit of uneven ground and his ankle rolled.
Nira stopped immediately. Rosalea raised her brows at him, “I thought we were over this yesterday. You should not go until you are completely exhausted. What good does that do?”
“I am fine; I am much tougher than this.”
“Yes, you spent all your toughness on not dying after being stabbed, shot, and clocked with a stone.”
He sighed, “It is humiliating to be led around on Nira like I am a child on a pony.”
Rosalea shrugged, impassive. “Then I guess do not get stabbed and have to go days without healing and barely survive again.”
Ulric grumbled and shakily climbed up on Nira. Rosalea continued to lead her along the road.
I am glad he has defaulted to teaching me again. Chiding him for over extending himself is odd, but I like it a little. It made Rosalea feel even more grown up in some ways. Once Ulric was settled, she said, “Why do Dyrans and Myraduilians dislike each other?”
Ulric seemed relieved to go back to lecturing Rosalea; it was a small way to reclaim his honor since he clearly knew a lot more than she did. “The legend is that a dragon favored Myra over her sister, and they made a unique bond. It was the very first time dragons and humans had ever gotten along. Legends say they were once much more wild and less magical. Think of them more like a big terrifying beast than a being of sage judgment and wisdom with terrible magical might second only to the Gods themselves.”
Rosalea could never imagine measured, logical, pushy Kaylar as anything else. Did he even know how to roar or snarl? She did not think she had even ever seen him bare his teeth. “I see. And it changed after Myra?”
“Yes. Dyra did not wish to be outdone, so she turned her focus to the forest gods. As we talked about yesterday, forest gods like to have domains. They change and nurture an area to make the best environment they can, or what suits them best… I am not sure, actually. But you can see how that behavior might put them at odds with dragons.”
Rosalea nodded, “Dragons do the same thing, but with focus on people and livestock.”
Ulric nodded. “So they are similar, but opposite in how they view the world, and therefore they do not get along. Dyran also has a lot of elves that do not like dragons and are more aligned to the Mystic way of thinking.”
Rosalea looked at Fen, who seemed and felt like she was distracted. Fen had said that was what the forest gods called themselves. “I see, so you are saying this is less a problem of whether or not two groups of humans can get along, and more a problem of influences from allies.”
“If only you had been this attentive of a listener when you were little,” Ulric sassed her a little.
Rosalea grinned, “I guess the secret was for me to take you on pony rides, and then I pay attention.”
Ulric huffed.
There was silence for a while as they skirted the far edges of the town, keeping off the road and avoiding farms. “I had wondered why you were wandering aimlessly when I was tracking you. I guess the prophecy really does not offer much of where you were supposed to go or what you were specifically doing,” Ulric said. “I guess I thought the One would be born knowing.”
“I am afraid not,” Rosalea answered with a slight smile. “It would have been so much easier if I had. I probably would have gotten started on it sooner, and you all would have treated me a lot differently because I could have told you.”
Ulric sighed. “Have you chosen which you fight for? I guess it is probably for the Uryans? Especially after how the Ieshans treated you… showed our true colors, I suppose.”
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“No, Ulric,” Rosalea answered softly. “I do not think I really got to know the Ieshans. The council is corrupt, but I have met other Ieshans that were good.” Yelena.
“All the same, you are supposed to pick a side. The reason we have hunted the Uryans like we have is trying to stop them from having you born among them. We wanted to stop the Uryan One from destroying us. They have been hunting us for the same reason.”
Rosalea found herself feeling a different kind of anxiety about this whole quest. She had a hard time comprehending the amount of bloodshed over this prophecy. I have spent all my time focused on fighting to finish this so I can see my family again. I want to be Lio’s mother. I never wanted to leave it for anyone else, even someone I love as much as Genya.
She breathed out slowly as she became lost in her thoughts. Ulric being here reminded her that the scope had always been bigger than that. Can it really be that I will destroy an entire race? That I will be solely responsible for the death of Ulric, Nerric, Nashota, and Yelena if I chose to fight against the Ieshans? Or if I fight for the Ieshans, I will slay instead the Uryan people, people like Taigan and Rhainnon? Is that what I am to do, destroy?
“What will you think of me, if I fail?” she asked Ulric, looking up at him. He frowned. “What if I never can choose a side?”
Ulric let out a slow tense breath himself. “If the Gods require you to choose one, you must choose.”
Rosalea tried to think through it more. In her heart, she believed that Ieshan magic was evil. The ability to compel, to erase, to falsify was terrible. Uryans healed. On the other hand, the ability to talk with all animals and to understand them was an Ieshan ability, and it was Rosalea’s favorite magic. Ieshans were sophisticated with their castles and libraries and ruling family. Their defenses were not for the few, but for the many.
But, her limited exposure to Uryan culture made her feel they were much close to the land and their communities were tightly knit and the care everyone showed for one another was admirable.
“I do not think I can choose.”
Ulric adjusted, “Were the Uryans cruel to you?”
“Not more than the Ieshans,” Rosalea countered. “Also, no. They imprisoned me in their camp for a year and left me on my own. I spent a lot of time learning to weave baskets and to practice magic with their liana. A lady blamed me for the death of her son, and I learned, like you did, not to mess with a Uryan lady with a rock.” Ulric grimaced. “But, there Uryans who were kind to me, and who I enjoyed. The time I spent with the Uryans was more limited, and they did feel less destructive than the time I spent with Ieshans, but I just know more Ieshans than Uryans, and I cannot wish them ill.”
Ulric made a musing sound, and then was silent for a while. “I am biased in what I hope you will say. Our family was destroyed by Uryans, from the very beginning of Ieshans and Uryans.” Rosalea looked at him from the sides of her eyes, so he hurriedly continued before she interjected, “But, I think you should consider the idea that if you cannot succeed, then another One must be called. If you meet the requirements to become the One, is Lio different?”
Rosalea’s mouth went a little dry. If I do not succeed, it will pass to someone else? She especially did not like the idea of that someone being Lio.
Ulric sighed, and perhaps sensing that Rosalea could not handle more of this conversation right this moment, changed the subject abruptly, “Fen called you Nadia, why?” he asked suddenly, changing the subject.
Fen answered, showing she was paying at least half attention to the conversation. “I call her Nadia because that is the name her mother gave her. It is her true and proper name.”
Ulric bowed his head.
Rosalea took a guess at why his expression seemed chastised. “It was not as though Lindir told you my name before she died.”
“No, she did not. Any evidence of the lives you had lived together had been burned by the fire Gaiden started,” Ulric said a little flatly.
Rosalea frowned a little. She had not realized that Gaiden had been the source of that fire. Hadn’t he and Lindir built that home together? It seemed incredibly harsh to burn it.
Ulric veered away from that subject, “You seem to have a lot of your memories?”
“I think so. God-magic touched me, and that seemed to clear quite a lot of the Ieshan handiwork from me.”
Ulric huffed, feeling either guilty or called out, Rosalea guessed. “Did you spend all your time with… Kaylar, was it? The dragon near Mire?”
Roesalea was quite happy to change the subject away from gloomy prophecies and Ieshan crimes against her to what she could remember of her life outside of the Ieshans’ grasp.
That evening, as they were getting prepared to rest, they came upon what was clearly a merchant caravan camped off the otherside of the road. Rosalea led Nira off the path, while Ulric tried not to look embarrassed.
“Hey!” called one of the men who was stirring a cauldron-sized pot over a fire.
Rosalea tensed immediately. There are at least eight wagons here, so that means at least what? Thirty people? Rosalea looked up and met his eyes, hoping they were far enough away that he would not recognize her outright for what she was.
“Whoa, hey, a beast woman!” the man called. There wasn’t hostility in his tone, but several other people moving around the camp tending to horses and mending wagons all paused and looked at her.
“Wow! Those eyes are stunning, they practically glow in the dark.”
Rosalea remained tense, standing still, not saying anything, but she had let go of Nira’s lead. The mare stood still next to her. She was ready to use her magic, but the man instead smiled and beckoned to her. “Do not be afraid of us! We’re not afraid of you! We got plenty of food, you got some coin? It’s gettin’ late, and lately we’re finding groups are better near the border.”
Rosalea looked up to Ulric, but he seemed to be leaving it up to her how she wanted to handle it. Well, they cannot rob us, but they might be able to make a try to trick or imprison us. Rosalea looked at the wagons and all the people she could see - none of them were in chains, none of them seemed to be slaves. “We’re poor travelers, but I can give ya a few coins for a good, warm meal,” she said, trying to match his speech.
“For a pretty girl like you, just a few coins. Is your companion hurt?”
“My cousin,” Rosalea said readily, “He’s recoverin’ from an injury.” She slowly moved nearer. Ulric guided Nira alongside her with his knees.
The man nodded his head sagely. They were near him now, and he was looking into her eyes. “Surpisingly pretty. You ain’t a demon though, right? I never saw a beast person in person before.”
Ulric answered, “Isn’t it true that all women have a little of the devil in ‘em?” Rosalea made a shocked face that was only half-faked. The man chuckled. Ulric reached into a pocket that was definitely empty, but seemed to pull five coppers from it that he summoned from earth storage.
“Perfect! More’n enough for a bowl of stew, some bread, a tiny bit o’ butter, and our finest weather-mage cleaned water.”
“So, you’ve had trouble at the border?” Ulric fished as he slid off Nira, favoring the ankle that he had rolled. Rosalea didn’t realize it was hurting him that much and resolved to heal him later.
“There’s been a dragon or somethin’ terrorizing some place further east of here, and so they’re checkin’ everyone that crosses between countries.” Rosalea frowned a little, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. The man read her look. “You headin’ into Dyran?”
“Yes. We’re planning to trade with elves,” Ulric answered. Rosalea noticed he was also trying to bring his speech down to the way their host spoke.
The man grinned, “Well! Never tried to trade with elves directly before, they’ve got a fearsome reputation, you know!” Ulric smiled and nodded. Rosalea did the same. “Still! I have traded with people who’ve traded with elves! You got any coins for any other wares? Buy somethin’, and you can spend the night with us in peace from bandits on the road!”
Ulric graciously nodded. “Please!”
Now several merchants took interest in them. It put Rosalea at ease, however. If they were interested in selling something to them, then she felt it lowered the chances that they were interested in something more nefarious. Unless they are the bandits he is referencing, and I missed the implications of his threat entirely.
Fen stayed close to her. Several people ogled the wolf, but none of them commented. As they unpacked some of the wares they thought Rosalea or Ulric could buy, a rather large dog growled at them from beneath a wagon, clearly scared of Fen. The wolf crouched down, wagging her tail, looking friendly, and Rosalea reassured, “We will not do anything to you! We are friends!”
That lured the shaggy dog out, and Rosalea realized it looked a bit like a wolf and a hound. It sniffed at Fen, who patiently sniffed back.
The “wares” didn’t seem special to Rosalea in any particular way, but considering how she and Ulric dressed, she supposed they looked poor. What marked them as elven was that the wood of the bowls and spoons was beautiful. Some of it was a natural purple wood, apparently from trees that could only grow in the south. There were a few flowery, twisting carvings on each bowl, but they were too smooth. “I don’t see any tool marks,” Rosalea said.
“Shaped by magic! It is a specialty of the elves you know. They grow these trees on their shoulders, shows whose king around camp,” the merchant relayed as Rosalea ran her fingers over the bowl.
She could not help but smile. They were beautiful. Ulric surprised her by buying several things. He gave her a purple heart bowl with little roses carved into it, a hair stick carved of an ebony wood, and a dagger with an ironwood hilt.
This was how the merchants learned that attempting to rob them would not help - Ulric summoned his coins visibly from nowhere, and there was a short lesson on earth storage.
They gave them a place to rest for the night on the other side of the caravan from the road. It felt safe, and Rosalea was looking forward to breakfast the next morning. They stayed up late listening to stories.
Rosalea surreptitiously healed Ulric’s ankle, and she graciously accepted his gifts. He seemed happier and lighter than she had seen him be… literally ever before.
They were about one day’s travel from the border.