Chapter 9
“I’m so sorry, sister.”
“Stop reminding me, brother.”
She should have put more energy into her reply, but Ilyshn’ish was too dejected to care about much. She shifted her weight as they waited on the wall for their deliveries to be readied and loaded. Though she wasn’t paying much attention to the goings-on around the trading outpost, everything that she sensed around her was still entering her memory and thus associations started to be made between the collective experiences of her life which could be recalled with perfect clarity.
The Dwarves were loading the sledges with what appeared to be bulky and durable articles: food and furniture and other similar goods. In addition, each sledge had a dozen or so Dwarf passengers. When roughly six of these sledges had been fully loaded, the Undead horses drawing them would head off as a small caravan following the route to Feoh Berkana. Even with the heavy snowfall, there seemed to be enough traffic going back and forth to establish a clear trail.
The more fragile and valuable-looking items had been separated from the rest of the belongings being transported and placed into Infinite Haversacks after being recorded on cargo manifests by Vampire Brides. Having their cargo processed, each Dwarf was then handed a slip of paper and directed to wait for the next caravan. When enough of the magical bags had been filled, a Dragon was sent off with them.
As a whole, the Dwarves appeared to be doing practically none of the real work on the surface.
“For what reason are they helping the Dwarves?” Ilyshn’ish wondered, “There seems to be little benefit to all this. Has some great tribute been delivered for all this assistance being provided?”
“Hm…I’m not exactly sure how things went on the Dwarves’ end,” Hejinmal said, “but what it amounts to is the initiation of cordial diplomatic relations and trade. Though the relationship just started recently, I believe that the objective of the Sorcerous Kingdom is to have the Dwarf Kingdom become their allies.”
“Allies?” Ilyshn’ish scoffed at the notion, “Don’t you mean tributaries? These Dwarves are pitifully weak and offer no benefits aside from gleaning the fruits of their productivity. I assume this to be the case, at least – between the Dwarves and we Frost Dragons with our Quagoa slaves, we would have made far superior allies.”
“It’s a matter of perspective, I suppose,” Hejinmal replied. “Lady Shalltear is not the only powerful being in the Sorcerous Kingdom, and you’ve personally experienced her ire. We are all weak, in their eyes. The Sorcerer King apparently chose the Dwarves because he recognized them for that very productivity you mentioned.”
“So father died because the Dwarves are better crafters?” Ilyshn’ish snorted, “Maybe you had better learn some trade skills, dear brother.”
“Actually sister, about that…I was wondering if you could teach me.”
“I’m not a smith, Hejinmal.”
“To become a Bard, I mean. I thought more on what our parents would say: about strength and pursuing the paths to power. With the forces of the Sorcerous Kingdom being as strong as they are, trying to stand out on those terms seems rather futile…so I thought, ‘why not become something useful’.”
“You really need to stop with that cringing attitude of yours, brother,” Ilyshn’ish narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance. “Start acting like a proper Dragon – you’re not some sort of pet.”
Hejinmal went into a fit of coughing, and the people below scattered away from flecks of spittle that rained down from above. Several Dwarves shouted up angrily at him.
“S-sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, deaf to her words.
Ilyshn’ish rolled her eyes and eyed the pavilion where the bags were being loaded – there still weren’t enough yet. A new caravan of sledges departed, just as another arrived.
“It’s not just that, sister,” Hejinmal resumed speaking. “Bards are masters of knowledge and lore, aren’t they? We are not so different, you and I–”
“I cannot believe I just heard that,” Ilyshn’ish sneered. “Just because we both love to read and learn about the world does not make us alike. We are not like these mortals with their lifespans that are but an insignificant drop in the great ocean of time – who must decide what they must be before the brief flicker of their lives vanishes. You have an eternity to become what you are to be, and an eternity to regret should you embark upon the wrong path.”
“Didn’t you just advise me to learn some trade skills?”
“It was a joke brother,” she sighed. “I am now speaking to you seriously.”
“Then…then…why did you choose to be a Bard?”
“I did not choose: it is what I am,” Ilyshn’ish was growing impatient with his fantastical silliness. “How do you not understand this? Perhaps you’ve shut yourself in with those books for so long that you think you’re a Dwarf? Or perhaps a Quagoa? I will be nice enough, in this case, to remind you that you are a Dragon, brother. We do not grow the same way as those mortals, nor do we perceive and learn about the world the same way. Even the way we understand magic is not the same if what the books in Feoh Berkana say on the subject are not just the ravings of a lunatic.”
“I suppose those books on magic did not make much sense. Even mother decided that they were only useful as a reference. The results are similar, yet their ways are entirely alien to us.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Exactly. If you wish to grasp magic, then you must understand how we – as Dragons – use it naturally. If you wish to fly your own course, then do so with the understanding that you are a Dragon, not one of these puny mortal races. The knowledge that one acquires most certainly helps once you are on your way, but do not pursue these mortal paths; they aren’t suited for our kind, and will only lead you to sorrow and regret.”
“How do you know all this, sister?” Hejinmal said after a brief silence, “Did mother tell you?”
“Some of it,” Ilyshn’ish admitted. “But you should know by now that our kind is not one to be told. I know these things because I have already set out on my path, as has our mother. It is not something you will truly realize until you do. All I can say is what I have already said – all that remains is up to you.”
“All I am right now is incredibly confused.”
“Good. At least those silly pretences no longer have a hold on you. Why else do you think father did not force you to become anything in all the years that you shut yourself away? Why does mother still hold confidence in you despite your current, wretched state? It can take ages to become what you are to be, even when you are seeking it actively – and forcing your hand may ruin it forever. Fortunately – or unfortunately – we Dragons just so happen to live for exactly that long.”
The fresh layer of snow built up on the wall near their feet crumbled away, and the heads of two Vampire Brides popped up. Ilyshn’ish noted the magical bags over their shoulders as they finished scaling the wall – it seemed that there was finally enough to have them fly to Feoh Berkana. She and Hejinmal shook off the snow which had accumulated on them during the wait. The pair of Vampire Brides looked back and forth between them after finishing their task.
“What?” Ilyshn’ish looked down at the two Undead in return.
“Can he fit?”
Ilyshn’ish blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“The broken ventilation shafts leading into the city have been repaired or blocked off entirely in the past few days,” the Vampire Bride explained. “Can this fat one fit into the main access shaft leading down from the trading outpost?”
“Oh. Yes, he left through there the last time – it was a tight squeeze, though.”
“As long as he can fit, it shouldn’t be a problem,” the Vampire Bride said.
“Why are you asking?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“The surface outpost at Feoh Berkana is in poor condition,” the Vampire Bride answered. “We just started using it and it almost collapsed entirely. The ongoing work to clear the rubble and survey the damage has just started, and the road aboveground is clogged with traffic. We’re having air freight delivered directly to the city level instead.”
“So when we arrive, we immediately enter the city from the surface gate…but how does Hejinmal get back out again if all the traffic is going down?”
“Traffic is being directed manually for the time being. There are some...things that need to be delivered outside before you return here as well. The ones at the office on that end will have more specific instructions when you arrive.”
The Vampire Brides looked up expectantly – Ilyshn’ish supposed it was their cue to depart. Hejinmal pushed himself off of the wall, angling down into the valley far below to pick up speed. She shook her head and followed suit.
“Have a safe journey,” the Vampire Brides’ voices followed her swooping descent.
She caught up with Hejinmal within a minute and, after weaving new enchantments over him, they quickly rose high above the mountain passes where the caravans made their way back and forth below. Feoh Berkana, at their current speed, was roughly an hour away to the southwest – sitting at the crossroads between its three satellite cities. Together, they made up the entirety of the once-prosperous Dwarven Kingdom in the Azerlisia Mountains.
“Do they always say that, Hejinmal?”
“Hm?” Her brother looked her way, “Oh, you mean ‘have a safe journey?’ Yes, they always say that when we depart.”
“How peculiar,” Ilyshn’ish murmured. “Why is that?”
“Image…I guess? Something like advertising, or familiarity. I think the word Lady Shalltear used was ‘brando,’ whatever that means.”
“‘Brando’ – I don’t get it.”
“Well, uh…I suppose it’s sort of like this: what they’re doing here is something new, so they want to make as good an impression as possible. All of the mannerisms, professional behaviour, appearance – I believe those Vampire Brides will all have uniforms soon – the offices that they work in…just all one package that portrays the service as something that is warm, reliable and distinctly recognizable.”
“You mean Brand?”
“B-brand?”
“This is what you get for never leaving your room,” Ilyshn’ish said. “You’ve read all the same things that I have, but you don’t have the experience to make sense out of what you read. If you had simply explored the city and referenced all the things that you read about, you would have some understanding as well. Brand is something like you’ve described: it is image – a carefully cultivated reputation attached to whatever symbolism you’ve adopted. Like the sign of a store, or how Dwarf crafters place their mark on finished tools and equipment, conveying a certain sense of quality and reliability for their goods to all who would see and use them.”
“Ah, I see…I do recall reading something like that, but I never made all the connections. I get it now, though.”
“No, you don’t,” Ilyshn’ish told him, “and you won’t until you actually see it for yourself. Even I don’t understand the full meaning, only the hallmarks of it by sifting through the ruins of Feoh Berkana. It is not too late, though. Now that the Dwarves are returning, we will be able to experience this thing as it happens.”
As she spoke, Hejinmal’s flight path started to slowly veer from her own.
“Where are you going?” Ilyshn’ish called after him, “It’s faster this way.”
“We were instructed to follow the roads for this – ah I guess you weren’t there. On top of helping deliver cargo back and forth, we’re supposed to keep an eye out on the road for any sort of trouble and help out if we see it. If it’s too much to handle, we’re to use the message scrolls we’ve been provisioned with to inform the nearest office.”
Ilyshn’ish grudgingly altered her course to match Hejinmal’s. She didn’t know what to think about helping out, though.
“A part of the brand they’re trying to establish, then…” She mused.
“Yes, something like that,” Hejinmal said. “Service, hospitality, friendliness – that sort of thing.”
“Does this hospitality and friendliness apply to Frost Giants?”
“F-Frost Giants?” Hejinmal’s course wobbled about as he whipped his head around wildly, as if trying to look in all directions at once, “Where?”
“Stop panicking, brother,” Ilyshn’ish snapped. “We’re far too high for them to do anything to us – why did you even look up? We’ve passed by three of them so far…ah, there’s number four.”
Crouching against the icy mountainside, within a stand of tall, snow-crowned trees, a large blue-skinned figure wearing a metal cap and a chain shirt over layers of hides observed the caravans making their way through the passes. Its only visible armament was an iron-tipped spear, roughly nine metres in length, lying flat on the snow. It seemed so intent on observing the traffic below that it did not realize that it was being observed from above in return.
“I don’t see anything…” Hejinmal continued to scan the terrain, but they had already long passed over the Frost Giant’s position.
“Are we supposed to do anything about them?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“I-I don’t know,” Hejinmal looked back up at her, “we never received any instructions about that. What can we do anyway? They’re Frost Giants!”
“Kill them?” Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure what the problem was, “They’re pretty easy to pick off when they’re alone like that.”
“You’ve killed Frost Giants before, sister?”
“Pretty regularly. Once a month or so?”
Hejinmal stared at her with his right eye incredulously.
“Mmh…even so,” he finally said, “I don’t think we should. Are they going to cause any trouble?”
“They won’t,” Ilyshn’ish told him. “They’re just scouts watching what’s going on. Those Undead horses…”
“Soul Eaters.”
“Really? Those are Soul Eaters?” Ilyshn’ish peered down at the road – they were much smaller than she expected from what she had read of them. “Anyways, there are six Soul Eaters per caravan and each of them is much stronger than I am. It would probably take a whole tribe of Frost Giants to take even one caravan down…at least if they want to capture everything mostly intact.”
“Well, if they don’t plan on doing anything,” Hejinmal reasoned, “then I don’t see why we should either.”
Hejinmal’s logic was sound: there was really no merit in doing anything. It was a pointless detour, especially if her kin no longer called the Azerlisia range its home. Since the Frost Giants were no longer competitors; they were now someone else’s problem.
“Let’s begin our descent then,” Ilyshn’ish said, “Feoh Berkana should be around the next mountain.”