#well I have a vague faction idea but. there are rocks between my ears

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m realizing now that my da world state is just. wow tragic romance huh

[azvolrien]

Anchored Tempest - Chapter Four

I would like to say I was busy or got distracted but I actually just forgot about this. But I’m back on it now.

~~~

           “You’re sure it’s a good idea to take them to the Warren?” asked Ikara, watching dubiously as Una rubbed some of Karash’s healing salve over the welts the bindings had chafed into the dragon’s hide. “I mean… All right, this pair does seem harmless enough, but is everyone else going to believe that?”

           “No, I doubt it very much,” said Karash. “Nirali will be fine right off, and most of the other Memory-Singers should at least hear them out. But the warrior types, and especially the other Windkindred…”

           Ikara gave a small hum of reluctant agreement. “So we keep them a secret until we can get them to the Warren?”

           “No! No. The land between here and the Warren is too populated for there to be any hope of that, and if they’re only seen as some… some shadowy figures lurking in the mountains, people will get scared, someone will do something stupid, and someone – possibly the same someone, possibly our guests – will get hurt as a result.”

           “So… you do want people to know they’re here?”

           Karash folded his arms. “Yes, but… in a controlled way. We take them back to the village first, so a few people can get used to them and see that they aren’t a threat. That way, whatever gossip starts to spread will at least start with the right information. Still, you might have to fend off some of the more hard-line Windkindred.”

           “I’ll be honest,” said Ikara, “I’m not looking forward to explaining this to Tagra. You know what she’s like where the g- where the dragons are concerned.”

           “Mm. In the meantime, it can’t hurt to find out a little more about our guest.” Karash rocked onto his feet, stood, and walked over to crouch near Una. She gave him a friendly, if somewhat wary smile and tied a clean bandage over the worst of the welts on Star’s muzzle.

           “Tell us,” said Karash in slow, careful Orcish, not too taxing for the little Una had picked up so far, “about your name.”

           Una frowned. “My name?”

           “Names are very important to the orcs,” said Karash. “What does yours mean?”

           “Um… Think ‘one’. ‘First’, ‘oldest’.”

           “That sounds more like a cradle-name,” muttered Ikara.

           Karash gave her a stern glance. “And are you?” he asked Una.

           “Is what?”

           “The oldest.”

           Una made a vague well-maybe gesture. “Is oldest… need younger. Is only.”

           “Huh. Is that normal? It’s quite unusual amongst orcs.”

           Una shrugged. “Not normal. Not strange. Just… is.”

           “I see.”

           “Me bringing… is mother… almost death. Parents is… not want danger other.”

           “I don’t even know what she was trying to say there,” said Ikara.

           “Be nice, you didn’t speak much better once. I’m pretty sure she means her birth almost killed her mother, and her parents didn’t want to risk it again.”

           Una nodded firmly.

           “See?” said Karash. “She’ll improve with practice.” He stood up and pointed downhill, along the stream and out of the old charcoal-burners’ camp. “We are going to the village now,” he said, enunciating each word as clearly as he could. “Follow us down the path.” He pointed downwards. “On the ground. Not in the air.”

           Una nodded again and vaulted onto Star’s shoulders, stowing her helmet in a bag tied behind the saddle. Ikara sighed but mounted Tsheer without vocal complaint. Karash loaded the last few bits of their makeshift camp into the panniers and, with a bit of help from Rohone’s trunk, climbed up behind his bond-beast’s head. Rohone gave a relaxed sigh and began to walk down the trail, still hauling the now-empty sledge behind him with effortless strength. Every so often he paused to ram shrubs and small trees with his tusks, widening the trail for Star and Tsheer. Neither of the other beasts seemed happy about being stuck on the ground; they weren’t built for walking, and had to crawl awkwardly along on their taloned feet and the claws at the wrist-joints of their wings. Beside them, Swift River grew broader and lazier; up ahead, the trees thinned out as the hillside levelled out into the wide valley floor. Smoke from the chimneys of Crooked River Village reached their nostrils.

           “Down here,” said Karash. Rohone grunted an acknowledgement and turned off the trail and down into the deep, mossy depression of a small and long-disused quarry. Una slid down from Star’s back and kicked around in the fallen leaves, uncovering the stone-circled scorch mark of an old fire. “The village youngsters have parties down here sometimes,” Karash explained at her curious look. “You and Ikara stay here. I’m going to go and talk to the village. Rohone will make a sound when you can come out.”

           They both nodded. Karash unhooked the sledge from Rohone’s harness, took a deep breath, and rode out of the quarry and towards the village. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; a breeze stirred the long grass in the fields, while the chime of Ragla’s hammer rang out from her forge. A herd of about twenty shaggy goats trotted out to their pasture, driven along by a little boy in a woollen kilt.

           “Hi, Karash!” he said, waving his staff in the air as Rohone plodded closer. Only a few tufts of fur around his shoulders hinted at the cape he would grow as an adult, but his tusks were already half-grown at the corners of his mouth. “I’m herding the goats!”

           “So I see,” said Karash, climbing down from the longtusk’s back. “I know you’ve got a very important job, Rekki, but before you head down to the river, can you do me a favour?”

           “Like what?”

           “Can you go speak to your parents, and tell them that I’d like as many people as possible to gather in the middle of the village? There’s something I need to speak to everyone about.”

           “Yeah, I can do that!”

           “Good. I’ll keep an eye on the goats for you while you do that.”

           “All right. Don’t let them get away!” Rekki shouldered his staff and ran back to his house at the edge of the village. Karash spent a few minutes keeping the very determined goats away from the river until Rekki returned. “They said they’ll gather some people and see you in the meeting-place,” he said with great solemnity.

           “Good work,” said Karash. “I’ll let you get back to your herding now.”

           “The goats will try and go in the river if I don’t watch them,” said Rekki as if confiding a great secret.

           “I noticed,” said Karash. “Go on, now.”

           “Bye, Karash!”

           Karash watched for a few more seconds until certain the goats were behaving, then sighed and made his way to the meeting-place with Rohone walking steadily behind. Rekki’s parents, Ragla and Chanag the smiths, Fireesh the baker, Jari the council spokesman and most of the other adults in Crooked River Village as well as about half of the youngsters were already waiting for them.

           “You’ve been gone for a while,” said Jari. “Where did you and Ikara vanish to?” He looked around. “Come to that, where is Ikara? Didn’t she come back with you?”

           “Yes, she did,” said Karash. “She and Tsheer are down in the old quarry, with… Well, that’s what I need to tell you about.” He climbed onto the stepped base of the story-stone, the better to see over the crowd and to let the crowd see him. “But before I start, I will have your words that you will listen to what I have to say, and not run off with your pitchforks halfway through before you have the whole story.”

           The villagers shared a few doubtful glances, but Jari nodded. “We will listen,” he said.

           “Good.” Karash laid one hand on the story-stone, tracing the carved outline of a dragon with the tip of one claw. “Several days ago, Ikara and Tsheer were flying a routine patrol up near the Grey Watcher when they sighted a creature you would recognise from the songs and the images as a god. A live god, bearing a rider.” A frisson ran through the watching orcs. Jari opened his mouth, but closed it again without speaking.

           Karash went on. “Ikara trailed them south from the Grey Watcher, past the Garden of Bones to the cave on Swift River. There, she and I successfully captured both the god and its rider.”

           “Are- are the Sky Kings returning?” asked Fireesh, tearing a loaf of bread in her claws. The others shushed her, but Karash shook his head.

           “They are not. I spoke with the rider. She and her dragon – the ‘god’, though they are not gods and never were – are here alone, and they say there are very few left in the north. Too few to conquer us again, even if they wanted to.”

           “How do you know you can trust this – this rider?” demanded someone at the back of the crowd.

           “You swore,” said Karash, “that you would listen.” The mutters subsided, if only mostly. “I have been this village’s Memory-Singer for more than ten years now,” he continued. “I know the stories. I can recite the Dirge of Shattered Earth, the Lament of Chains, the Song of the Silenced Voice and many others besides. I and the other Memory-Singers understand the horrors of the Sky Kings’ reign better than anyone else alive; only those who were there to see them in person could know better. So you know that I don’t speak lightly when I say that I believe the newcomers’ account. They are not Sky Kings – they are descendants of a separate faction, as different as Islanders and Mainlanders – and they are not here to take up their whip. They were sent to find the rest of the dragons, if any remain, and take them back to the north.

           “We believe that there may be answers somewhere in the Tempest Spires, beyond the storm. That is why Ikara and I are going to take Una – the rider – and Star – the dragon – to Nirali in the Warren, who knows more about the old powers of the Sky Kings than anyone and may be able to help break through the storm.” Karash folded his hands behind his back. “Any questions?”

           “Several,” said Jari into the stunned silence.

           “Una may be able to answer some herself,” said Karash, and patted Rohone’s leg. “Make some noise, pal.”

           Rohone tossed his head, lashed his trunk from side to side, and let out a trumpet that sent birds scattering from the village roofs. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Jari took his fingers from his ears and looked around.

           Leaves rustled in the forest as if stirred by a sudden gust. A few more birds took flight. Karash’s ears cupped forwards; he pressed one fist over his mouth to hide his smile, and two huge shapes erupted from the trees. Ragla and Chanag grabbed Fireesh’s arms to stop her running back to her house in a panic as Star and Tsheer circled out over the village, the rukh close behind the dragon, and landed in the meeting place to either side of the story-stone.

           “Was the dramatic entrance really necessary?” Karash asked out of the corner of his mouth. Fireesh, still in the smiths’ hold, seemed to be vibrating with terror; the rest of the villagers were outwardly calmer but still rooted in place, every eye fixed on the dragon.

           “Probably not, but it was fun,” said Ikara, propping her forearms across the back of Tsheer’s neck.

           Karash sighed. “Now would be a good time to look friendly,” he said to Una in Balaurin.

           She nodded, took her helmet off again, and climbed down to the ground. The tense crowd relaxed a little when they saw how small she was. Star sat up on her haunches to inspect Jari’s weathervane, but quickly crouched back down at some unspoken word from her rider.

           “My name is Una Falkari Smith,” she said in correct, if somewhat halting Orcish. “This is…” She paused for a moment, frowning, then shook her head and kept going. “This is Star. We are… not danger.”

           “Dangerous,” corrected Ikara from Tsheer’s back.

           “Not dangerous,” repeated Una. “We look for other dragons. If find, take back to north land.” Her Orcish grammar continued to falter and she lapsed back into Balaurin. “Am I just repeating what you’ve already told them?” she asked.

           “Yes, but it’s probably good for them to hear it from you as well,” said Karash. “I might be straining their trust in me a little,” he admitted more quietly. “But nobody’s picked up a spear so – what is she doing?”

           Una turned. Star crawled forwards, her nostrils twitching as she picked some scent out of the village’s usual mixture of fires, livestock and people, and stopped in front of Fireesh, who had ceased shaking and was now completely frozen. Star sniffed again, lowered the tip of her snout close to the ground, and delicately snapped up the pieces of the loaf Fireesh had nervously shredded. She gave a slow blink and stepped carefully back to sit beside the stone once more, a soft croon rumbling in her throat.

           Una rolled her eyes and roughly combed her fingers through her short red hair. “Star say,” she said, in Orcish again, “‘very good bread’.”

           The villagers collectively released the breath they had been holding. Jari gave a nervous laugh. Fireesh moved for the first time in a couple of minutes. “Um. Thank you?”

           “We’ll set out for the Warren the day after tomorrow,” said Ikara, still on Tsheer’s back. She climbed down, gave the rukh’s neck a scratch, and headed for their home. “We’ll need more supplies for the trip, and I want to sleep in my own house for a couple of nights.”

           “Will you be staying with Karash and Ikara?” Jari asked Una with great politeness.

           “Yes, they will,” said Karash when Una just looked blank. “Apart from anything else, we’re the only ones with enough room in our barn for the dragon.” He looked up just as Rekki sprinted into the meeting place, waving his staff in the air. “In the meantime,” said Karash with a sigh, “I think we’re going to have to fish some goats out of the river.”

~~~