Incite, page 29
Taking choking breaths, she reaches up at the descending beige dragon.
Forty-Four
With an overabundance of laughter, Stirling and Eve stumble out of the alehouse. Teetering to one side, Eve plops herself onto the bench just outside the door below the window. Stirling nearly misses the bench and falls beside her.
Checking back through the window, Eve stifles her giggles by putting her finger to her lips with a, “Shh.” Stirling nods in a snickering agreement. She grabs him by the wrist and tugs him along lifting him back to his unsteady feet.
She breathes in the night air as they exit the village and begin the trek through the undulating hip-height grass filled with twinkling fireflies. “There’s something refreshing about the cool air on your skin.” The subtle breeze pushes Stirling’s bangs across his forehead. He closes his eyes as he walks, the chill prickling his fevered skin. Eve runs her palms across the tips of the waist-high blades of grass. “I think your house is coming around nicely.”
Stirling rolls his entire head before looking over at her. “It’s a skeletal box. There’s no actual walls yet.”
Eve squints through the dark at his house. “Well, I like your stone foundation, it will be a nice porch to watch the days pass by from.”
Curls flop back and forth as Stirling shakes his head, laughing. “Thanks, I guess. Don’t worry you’ll be rid of me soon; it shouldn’t be much longer.”
Eve pouts. “I’ve gotten so used to you being there though. It’ll be so quiet without you.”
“Trust me, that place will never be quiet.” Stirling pauses as they near his home to listen to the faint voices and laughter spilling from the window of the alehouse. “Also, you can literally see my house from there. I’ll still be hanging out most of the days anyway. Unless I leave for a competition.”
“Good,” Eve states as she climbs the stairs of his porch. “You’re really part of this family now.” She takes hold of one of the wooden frames and spins a full circle around it to face Stirling again. Her doll eyes match the light color of the timber, “Do you ever think of them? Your family back home I mean?”
“All the time,” Stirling says without hesitation.
Her face falls, the moonlight making her skin ebony. “What is it you think, exactly?” She inquires, hugging the wooden beam.
Stirling leans his shoulder against the next frame. “I wonder how they are. What they are doing. If they are okay. Sometimes I see things that remind me of my friend.” Stirling pauses and smiles at the memory of Amiria. “I guess a lot of things remind me of her.”
Eve purses her lips as Stirling loses his thoughts to another girl. “Do you miss them?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Do you think you would ever be able to bring them here?” She steps around the frame to be beside him.
“If I could, I would.” Stirling stares off into the prairie he had traveled over to get here.
She watches him, wishing one day he will look at her like he does the horizon when he thinks of her. “Tag.” Eve taps Stirling’s shoulder, knocking his mind back to the present.
A goofy grin slaps across his face as if he was never thinking of his past.
“Come here!” He reaches for Eve who leaps backward just out of range.
Giggling, she takes cover by placing the wooden structure between them. Stirling bounces on his toes as he tries to guess which direction, she will run in. Eve feints to run in the direction of the center of the home then changes to leaping down the patio stairs. Stirling falls for her deception, then leaps into the grass after her. Fireflies scatter into the air like shooting stars swirling around the moving planets as the two young friends run through the night.
Forty-Five
Biting her glove to keep her from screaming out in pain, Amiria was finally able to remove her armor and change into her casual cotehardie and tights. Even with her arm still resting in a sling, she has her double scabbard on her back. One-handed or not she will still put up a fight if the encounters result in it.
She passed town after town traveling at night for weeks, afraid to be seen by residents until she was certain she was out of Uviktiland and entered a new kingdom. What caught her attention about this city, in particular, is the peculiar-looking dragons with four legs loping around enormous stables built outside the city walls. The idea that any foreign nation would possess dragons had never occurred to her. She had grown up believing wyverns were the only species of dragon and they resided in the Isles. This revelation is the evidence she needed to secure the fact she had long left Uviktiland.
Was Ignis from here? she wonders as she lands Taika near the stables. Curious looks are thrown at her from the stable men when she leaps from Taika’s back and ties her to the metal post held down by stone blocks.
“Pardon me? Pardon me?” She waves her good arm approaching a group of men in riding gear who appear to be on break at the city stables. “Can you understand me?”
The men’s conversation dies as they take in the girl seeking their attention. One of them steps forward. “You talk kind of strange, but otherwise yes, I can understand you. I’m guessing you’re not from here.”
She stares blankly. They can understand her. How is that possible? She has to be on the other side of the world, this shouldn’t be possible.
“Are you all right, sweetheart? Is that your husband’s?” He points at Taika. “A woman should never be riding a dragon, it’s not safe. Is that how you injured yourself?”
Husband? A woman should never—what? Amiria shakes her head confused. What is he going on about? “Sir, I am perfectly capable of flying a dragon.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed if you fell off. That’s why women don’t fly.”
Excuse me? Amiria bites her tongue growing impatient, she tries to remain formal. “My injuries are none of your concern. I’m here because I am requiring information. I’m looking for my friend—”
Another one of the guys in the back snickers. “I can be your friend for the night.”
She continues as if she didn’t hear him. “He is tall with curly blondish brown hair.”
“I prefer my girls in dresses.” The man beside him commentates.
She glances down at her cotehardie and tights, then eyes the men, irritated, “Are you going to give me suitable information on the whereabouts of my missing friend or are you going to continue to waste my time with useless banter about my appearance.”
“Calm down. No one likes a woman who nags.” The man in front looks Amiria up and down, “You have to agree, trousers are no garment for a woman.”
Maybe it’s the lack of food and rest that has made her irritable, but she has lost patience in trying to negotiate. Why try to be formal if it is not reciprocated, but there is a language anyone can understand.
A sly grin sneaks across his face. “I truly prefer my girls in nothing.”
Her arm shoots out snagging the collar of the man’s shirt and pulls him to her eye level, “Now I’m going to ask you one more time, who can help me find my missing friend?”
“Wench,” the man spits, his face close enough to Amiria’s she can feel the spray from his words.
This isn’t Wyverna, she doesn’t have to uphold her appearance anymore. What did acting properly get her anyway, pushed aside? Picked on? Used? Amiria rears her head back and slams her forehead forward, not stopping even after she crashes into the man’s nose. She’s not holding back as she breaks through who she used to be.
His head whips back as his hands instinctively reach up to hold his nose gushing with blood. Shocked at her actions she releases her grip on his collar dropping him to the patchy grass to ball up in agony.
“Uh.” She holds her hand up at shoulder height.
The men stare horrified. Their eyes dart back and forth between her and their companion. “Y-y-you can’t do that,” one stammers.
“I mean...” Amiria brings back the Winged Rider in her. “Are you going to tell the guard you’re scared of an injured girl?” With their friend sitting up staunching the blood from his nose they shake their head in unison. “Now if you can’t help me. Tell me who can.”
A trembling hand from the group points in the direction of a few cluttered buildings, “Th-the girls who hang out by the management shop seem to be in the know of the whole city. They will be your best bet.”
“Thank you.” Setting off, Amiria stops beside the bleeding man, “I’m sorry about your—” She waves her hand around her nose. He spits blood on the grass between her shoes in response. “Okay, I might have deserved that.” She pulls her lips into a tight line. “Thanks again.”
Without looking back at the man, she assaulted, Amiria strolls across the stable grounds to a group of several young girls in their later teens sitting on a circle of benches. They pause mid-conversation and all turn to Amiria who desperately wants to recoil but holds herself firmly in place.
“Can we help you?” a girl with black hair says.
“I’m looking for a friend,” Amiria starts. “I was told you know a lot about what is happening in this city.”
“You were told right, and not just this city. We know all the racers who stop by here. So, we always know who's, who,” a girl with braided hair brags.
“Tell us,”The girl with black hair who appears as their group leader says, “What is your friend's name? What does she look like?”
“His name is Stirling Bakere. He is tall with muddy blonde hair and wild curls. He would be accompanied by an orange dragon,” Amiria describes.
The group of girls exchanges glances. “What are you getting at? What’s your ploy?”
“What?” Amiria raises an eyebrow, confused. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“We don’t know a Stirling Bakere, but we do know a Stirling of Patu who matches your description. Even if we did know where he is, we wouldn’t give that information out to a crazed fan.”
“CRAZED FAN!” Amira blurts. “I don’t know who this Stirling of Patu is. I’m looking for my friend Stirling Bakere!”
The girl with the braids rolls her eyes as if Amiria hadn’t fooled her. “Stirling of Patu got second in the elite marathon during his first annual games. There is no one in Tallfallya or any of these Kingdoms who hasn’t heard his name.”
“I heard he’s almost as handsome as Quilan,” a blonde girl adds.
“You heard? You don’t know what he looks like?” Amiria makes eye contact checking each one of them.
The girl with black hair flips her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I did see him once. At the race last month.” She frowns, “But both him and Quilan never came to meet fans, so I only saw him from afar.”
Amiria blinks slowly, “Quilan? Fans?” She pinches the brim of her nose. I am so confused.”
The girls lean into one another and whisper, “Is there something wrong with her like up here.” One points to her head. “She talks funny.”
“I talk funny? Nevermind.” Amiria waves her hand not wanting to get into the discussion of her accent. “Is there someone here, who has met this Stirling of Patu?”
“Not that we know of. I heard he’s shy and has only competed in a couple of races after the Skylit Endeavor. There is a painting of the elite team displayed inside the racer shop.” The girl with the braids tells her.
Amiria nods thanks and walks up the steps to the shop. Pushing through the door she halts just inside the threshold of a store littered from wall to wall with merchandise. Half of the store is dedicated to fans with racer-themed attire from capes, tunics, ribbons, and hoods sitting folded on tables. Toy goggles for children sit by pretend riding gear made of stiffened fabric instead of leather on shelves.
The other half is where the owner of this racing shop, leans against an extravagant display of professional-grade gear for those who are serious about the sport.
“May I help you, miss? I’m Jarin. Welcome to my shop,” he tells the bewildered girl standing aimlessly in his doorway.
“Uh,” Amiria starts as she stares at the detailed painting hung on the opposing wall of six men with silhouettes of uniquely colored dragons behind each of them.
The placement of the six racers must be for a deliberate reason, that Amiria is sure of. A pale blond-haired boy with beautiful feminine features stands with his shoulders in front of everyone else. His emotionless eyes stare straight through her. Each racer stands with one of their shoulders behind the person in front. On the farthest right of the group stands a curly-haired boy with a goofy grin. The silhouette of an orange dragon with feathered wings painted behind him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she blurts.
“Excuse me?” Jarin cocks his head.
“That boy at the end. What’s his name?” She struggles to keep her disbelief at bay as she points at the painting.
“Look, kid. I run a shop, so either purchase something or get out. This isn't a show for young girls to swoon over elite racers,” he says disgruntled.
“Swoon?” she repeats with a raise of her lip. “I’m not swooning. I’m searching for my friend, and I believe it might be him.”
“Yeah, you and every other girl in this kingdom. Don’t play this old man as a fool. Buy something or get out. I have a family to feed,” Jarin tells her.
Amiria mutters under her breath about how rude the shopkeeper is then speaks up, “Fine. Do you have any maps of this, Tallfallya?”
“Over there rolled up on the shelf.” He points.
Picking up one of the maps Amiria unrolls it and frowns. Her fingernails dig into the cheap canvas. Restraining herself from crumpling up the parchment she says, “Sir, I can’t read this.”
“That sounds like a personal problem,” Jarin responds.
Anger is boiling up in Amiria as she points out, “There aren’t many town names on here anyway.”
“That’s because it only has major cities and towns on it. Don’t need to waste ink with villages. Racing cities and stable locations are what’s important.” He shrugs.
Amiria digs a handful of coins out of her purse hanging from her harness. “Fine, how much is the map?”
Jarin leans forward, eyeing the coins in her palm. “I don’t accept foreign currency.”
“Perfect,” Amiria bites, tossing the map back on the shelf.
“Don’t take your problems out on my merchandise.” Jarin strains, fed up with this girl who will not be purchasing anything.
“My apologies sir. Do you know where the village of Patu is?” Amiria tones down her frustration.
“Nope, not a clue. Never even heard of it until Stirling. Now, I’m not answering any more questions for free. I think it’s time for you to leave.”
The group of girls glances over as Amiria leaps down the steps. Her only clue is the village of Patu. A village, Amiria takes from these few encounters, is a place no one knows where it is.
Spotting a new person, she puts on a friendly smile and cradles her injured arm, “Pardon me, do you know where Patu is?”
The person with sympathy in their eyes as they look at a fragile little girl shakes their head apologetically. “I’m not sure. Isn’t that where the racer Stirling is from?”
“Sorry to bother you, thank you,” she says sweetly before moving on to the next person.
Forty-Six
Ealdian Dietrich’s broad shoulders hunch as he grips the railing of his balcony overlooking Lumierna. The purple robes pulled taught against his muscular back flow loosely forward the light silken fabric billows in the breeze that is climbing up the side of the castle.
Behind him in his private chambers, his crown lies discarded on his nightstand beside his unkempt bed. There has been no further news on his recognizance team. It was a mistake to send an entire platoon of Winged Riders to Uviktiland, too many of them now know the failure of the mission. He should have kept it small to start with. He shouldn’t have sent her, should have only sent those who are disposable.
Every Winged Rider but two were ordered to return home. He can’t say for sure they are his two best, but he knows they will get the job done. Out of Unit Laura, they have the most motivation. One will search until he is no longer breathing. The other is there to keep the young man’s mind in check.
Knocking can be heard from his chamber door. He tenses, he is the king, why isn’t he allowed a moment's peace? He should be granted a day to himself. He hasn’t had any time to grieve. No one, not a single person in this kingdom understands the grief he is experiencing. Not even the field marshall.
He never appreciated Amiria, her gifts, her beauty. She was just his tool, his replacement. It’s his own fault he didn’t make backups. If you’re a Winged Rider, you should always take the possibility of death into account. The Gautiers. The obedient Gautiers are strategic. Their entire existence is to serve this kingdom, to serve him. They have enough to fill their positions and the Field Marshal’s. There is one positive outcome of this disastrous news. The Rey lineage has finally come to an end.
The knocking persists. King Dietrich drums his fingers on the stone railing.
“Ealdian?” Queen Oriana calls through the locked door. “Ealdian? Your children and I are going down for lunch, are you going to join us?”
A robin lands on the railing beside his hand. He watches the bird tilt its head from side to side to observe its surroundings.
“Ealdian? Are you okay?”
He doesn’t respond as he remains invested in the bird. Beautiful creatures they are. That is why some deserve to be placed in cages. Their beauty and their songs need to be put on display for everyone to see, like a painting, or a theatrical act. What is a bird's song if no one is around to hear it?
“Ealdian!”
“STOP KNOCKING ON MY DOOR!” He shouts, whipping around to face the room. Spooked by the outburst, the robin flees into the air. King Dietrich turns in time to watch it disappear over the city. He grinds his teeth, that woman is nothing but a nuisance.
