Return of the Exile

14 Over the Ocean

The sun tinted the eastern horizon before Linsha finally stirred and glanced over her shoulder at Callista. In spite of the tension, the smoke smudges, the dirt, and the blood the courtesan still looked lovely. She met Linsha’s eye and gave a nervous giggle. Linsha started to chuckle, and a moment later both women howled with laughter in a great, freshening release of tension, fear, and pain. They laughed so hard tears came to their eyes, and their faces turned red with emotion. Sirenfal cocked her head to listen.

“Sirenfal, that was magnificent!” Linsha gasped. “I have never seen a sight so beautiful as you sweeping over that palace. How did you get out of the cave so quickly?”

The dragon slowed her flight and angled her wings to catch a rising sea breeze so she could glide for a while. Her face had an expression of glowing joy. “The liquid you gave me… I don’t know what it was. I have never had a feeling like that. I heard you come into the cave and talk to me, but I couldn’t move or speak.” She snorted a hot spurt of air. “That priest put something in my water yesterday morning and forced me to drink it. I felt paralyzed. It was awful. I wanted to answer you, but I couldn’t. Then you gave me that liquid.

My head started to buzz! My heart beat faster, and suddenly I was awake—gloriously and mightily awake. I broke the chain holding me and came to look for you.”

“Thank Kiri-Jolith you did,” Linsha said gratefully. “Thank Afec for that liquid.” She twisted around to Callista and asked, “What happened to him? How was he killed?”

The merriment died from Callista’s blue eyes and she sighed at the memories. “When Sirenfal flew overhead, one of the Akeelawasee guards tried to pull us inside the palace. Afec fought him. He told me to run to you and get away. He fought the big guard to keep him away from me.” She wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. “Why would he do that? Why would he sacrifice himself for us?”

Linsha did not reply at first. Afec had been an unexpected gift in a foreign world, a friend and an ally. She thought back over the time she had spent with the old Damjatt, his hidden intelligence, his quiet manner, and his determination to help them get free. Thinking of him reminded her of the sack Afec had pushed into her hands. What could be so important? She pulled open the drawstrings and lifted out an ancient book bound in leather and tied with silken cords.

“By the gods!” she breathed. “It’s the text the priests were reading that mentioned Amarrel, the Warrior Cleric. He stole it! Why would he give this to me?”

Callista tried to shrug while keeping a tight grip on the dragon. “What did he say to you? Didn’t he speak Amarrel’s name?”

Linsha dredged her memory for the words she had scarcely heard. “He said Ariakan is not Amarrel.”

“Didn’t Lord Ariakan convince the Brutes he was?”

“Yes,” Linsha replied. She had to shout to be heard over the roar of the wind. “But if he wasn’t… who is?”

It was all too big a puzzle to worry about now. They still had to find their way home. Linsha tucked the book carefully away in its bag and said a silent prayer of farewell. She pulled out the ends of the knotted blue rope belt around her waist and admired its handiwork. Afec would never be forgotten in her lifetime. “At least he won’t have to suffer Lanther’s wrath,” she added at last.

The courtesan shifted carefully behind her. “Lanther.” She chuckled. “I assume he did not have the wedding night he was hoping for.”

“I’d say not.”

“Good. So, do you think your Tarmak marriage is legally binding in Ansalon?”

“I don’t think so, or I am going to have some explaining to do.” A pang of hunger in her stomach diverted her attention to a subject more pressing. “What supplies do we have? Were you able to bring anything?”

Callista showed her a single waterskin and a small bag of food she had kept concealed under her clothes during their escape. It wasn’t much, and it would have to be carefully rationed, but with some self-discipline and a stop or two along the islands that bordered the Blood Sea of Istar, they might be able to make it.

The women talked a little more before they settled down on the warm, broad shoulders of the dragon and took turns trying to sleep. Sirenfal flew on, the open sea before her and a rosy dawn on her left.

Linsha was the first to awaken hours later. She opened her eyes and stared blearily at the world around her, wondering why the sky was moving at such an odd angle. Something was changing—rapidly downward. She sat up, suddenly alert and worried for Sirenfal. Below her the sea rushed up to meet them, and as far as she could see there was nothing but water in gently rolling waves.

“Sirenfal?” she called worriedly.

“I’m sorry, Linsha. I have to rest. My wings aren’t accustomed to flying anymore,” the dragon told her. She had to struggle to maintain her controlled flight while she dropped toward the water, and there was a wheeze in her breath Linsha had not noticed before.

“Rest? Rest where?” Linsha said incredulously.

“Well, down there. I can’t swim like a bronze, but I can float. I just need to rest my wings.”

There was no time to answer. Linsha had just a moment to steady the sleeping courtesan as the dragon braced her legs in front of her. Her wings tilted to brake her speed, and she touched down on the surface like a huge swan. Warm water sprayed out in her wake; a wave washed over Linsha’s legs. Callista came awake with a scream and grabbed Linsha’s waist. Then they were down, settling in the sea, while Sirenfal’s wings spread out on the water like outriggers to help hold her bulk on the surface. A sigh of relief whistled out her long nose.

Linsha peeled Callista’s fingers off her waist. “We’re safe on the dragon,” she said as much to reassure Callista as herself. She felt the waves gently rock the exhausted dragon. “You can take off this way, can’t you?” she asked after a while.

“If not, you can get off and push,” came the brass’s drowsy retort. She curved her neck and pulled her head down just like a swan and let herself float. “We’re in the southern current,” she told Linsha. “We’re still moving toward home.”

The dragon fell quiet, and Linsha decided to let her rest. Remarkably, Callista had survived the entire landing and still sat upright on the dragon’s broad back. Linsha debated about trying to sleep again, but she was wide awake now. She looked at the sun still shining hot in the west. She looked at the dragon and the waves, and without a second thought she gave in to impulse. Her clothes flew off, and she dove into the warm water.

With lazy strokes she swam beside the dragon, diving around her and splashing like a child to wash the stink of the Tarmaks off her body. Eventually she stopped to rest against Sirenfal’s wing.

“Where did you learn to swim like that?”

She glanced up to see Callista staring down at the waves in suspicion and fear. Her blond hair had been tied back in a pony tail, and her face and arms were still smudged with soot and dirt and smeared with blood.

“My brother taught me the strokes, but Crucible taught me to enjoy the water,” Linsha said. “Why don’t you join me?”

A grimace marred the courtesan’s lovely features. “I can’t swim,” she admitted. She blinked and stared down at Linsha. “Where did you get that key? I don’t remember seeing that before.”

Linsha’s fingers touched the scales and the key hanging on the gold chain. “It was a gift from Lanther.”

“A key?” Callista said dryly.

“It’s supposed to be the key to the chamber where the eggs are being kept.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I’m willing to take the key back to the Missing City and try it.”

“Who is Crucible?” Sirenfal’s tired voice asked.

“He was my friend,” Linsha replied.

“Tell me about him.”

Linsha climbed up to the dragon’s back, pulled her grubby clothes on, and sat in the warm breeze to drip-dry. “It’s a long story,” she sighed.

“We have the time,” Callista pointed out. “I haven’t heard the whole story either.”

So while the dragon rested, rocking gently on the waves, Linsha told them both about Crucible and Lord Bight, Iyesta, Lanther, Sir Remmik, and the fall of the Missing City. She hadn’t meant for her tale to be anything more than a quick, cool assessment of the bronze dragon, but once started the story came out in full passionate detail. Neither Callista nor Sirenfal interrupted her once. They listened avidly to the end, when Linsha told Sirenfal of her meeting with Lanther and his promise of the eggs.

When she finally stopped and stared silently at the darkening sky, Callista said, “Gods of all, Linsha, I had no idea.”

A faint glint of tears shone in the corners of Linsha’s eyes, and she whisked it away before anyone noticed. “Yes, I hadn’t realized what a tale it becomes when you put it all together.” She retrieved the water bag and took a small swallow to ease her dry throat.

“Do you know if Crucible is alive?”

She shook her head. “He was badly wounded by the Abyssal Lance. I don’t know if he survived it.”

Through her knees Linsha felt a faint shudder run through the brass dragon at the reminder of the Lance. The old black wound made by the splinters of the Lance lay close to Sirenfal’s neck ridge almost under Linsha’s seat. The scales around the scar looked warped and discolored, and the flesh that she could see beneath them felt hard and hot to the touch.

“Are you all right?” she asked the dragon.

Sirenfal’s wings rose and flapped slowly in the wind to dry. “I am just weary. I will fly for a while and rest again. One thing I should know: Where do you want to go? What about Kern or Nordmaar? We must try to avoid Malys at all costs.”

No one disagreed. The huge red dragon, Malys, was the largest and the most dangerous dragon in the world. She could and gladly would eat a young brass like Sirenfal for a snack. Her realm lay to the south and west in the region now called the Desolation that formed the southern border of the Blood Sea of Istar. To avoid her, Linsha knew Sirenfal would have to fly due south, skirting the Blood Sea, then swing southwest around Silvanesti. That way was longer and spent much time over open water, but it would stay clear of Malystryx. Or she could fly far to the west and come south between the realms of Khellendros, Malys, and Sable. Neither way looked inviting.

“I know it’s a long way to go, but I need to go to Iyesta’s realm, the Plains of Dust. Where do you want to go?”

“As far as I can.” The dragon fell quiet and did not speak again for a long while. She paddled around into the wind, lifted her wings to finish drying them, then said, “Hold on!”

They did, and the dragon stretched out her neck and flapped her wings with all her might. As she pumped her wings, her body moved slowly forward and rose laboriously, streaming water behind her.

Linsha and Callista clung to her back and willed her into the air.

Her belly cleared the water, then her back feet, and finally her tail. At last she was airborne. Sirenfal rose to a comfortable altitude and settled into a strong, steady beat that carried them south over the undulating leagues of the Courrain Ocean. The sun settled in the west, burning a golden path across the sea before it sank and left the sky to the brilliant swaths of stars in their strange constellations.

With little else to do but hold on, Linsha let her thoughts wander. She was delighted to be free of Lanther and the island of the Tarmaks, but so much still preyed on her mind, and she’d barely time to assimilate everything that had happened. As far as she could tell, she and Callista had been on the island about three weeks, which meant they had been gone from the Plains for well over a month and a half. Who knew what had happened on the Plains in that length of time? Or what had happened to Varia, Crucible, Falaius, Leonidas, and the defenders of the Plains? Her time in the Akeelawasee had been almost worse than fetters, yet it had given her a badly needed chance to rest and recover from the war. She had learned much about the Tarmak and had improved her skill with the language. She had met Afec, a Damjatt of inestimable qualities, and she had found Sirenfal.

Of course she had also been forced to fight the Emperor’s daughter, marry the Akkad-Dar, and kill at least one Tarmak guard. She’d probably made an implacable enemy of Lanther, but on the other side of the coin Sirenfal had burned the Tarmak fleet. With winter settling in to the southern Plains, it could be half a year or more before the Tarmaks rebuilt their ships and sailed again for the Missing City. A great deal could happen in the span of six months; many things could be accomplished. Would she be alive to see it? What should she do next?

Callista must have been thinking along the same vein, for she said, “What are we going to do when we get back?”

Linsha turned her head to the courtesan, surprised by the similarities of their thoughts. “You’re optimistic. We haven’t even seen dry land yet.”

“I know.” Callista sighed. Her teeth were chattering, and she was shivering in the cool night air. “But planning ahead takes my mind off the more immediate possibilities, like freezing, drowning, dying of thirst, being eaten by Malys…” Her voice fell to a slight murmur that only Linsha could hear. “I can see well enough that Sirenfal is not well. I saw many dragons come and go in Iyesta’s realm, and I have never known one to look as ill as this one. Will she survive the journey?”

Linsha listened to Sirenfal’s wheezing exhalations and felt the struggle in the wing muscles near her legs. “I don’t know,” she answered.

“Then we’ll hope for the best,” Callista said. “That’s why we left Ithin’carthia in the first place. So what do we do when get to the Missing City? Obviously I can’t go back to work there as long as the Tarmaks are in control.”

A picture of Callista with a dagger in her hand facing the warrior surfaced in Linsha’s mind, and she smiled at the memory. “You could join the militia—what’s left of it. Where did you learn to cut throats like that?”

“In the militia. Well, from my father really. He was a captain in Iyesta’s militia. He never married my mother, but he cared for me and taught me a few things about fighting and self-defense, and he left some coins for me when he died. I thought about joining the militia because of him.” She shrugged. “But I decided staying in bed late was much better than getting out early, so I followed my mother’s profession.”

“Are you sure you want to go back to the city? There are other places you could go.”

“I know. Perhaps I will. Meanwhile, maybe I could help you?”

Linsha rubbed her temples where a dull ache still lurked in her skull from the priest’s magic and the lack of food. “You would be welcome,” she said. She knew what she was up against. She would take help from anyone willing to offer, especially someone with Callista’s courage. “First though, you should know, that women who befriend me and help me usually end up dead.”

She heard the courtesan’s gasp even over the noise of the dragon’s flight. “What do you mean by that?” Callista asked.

“I just wanted you to be aware. Women I like tend to die, just like the men I like tend to be rogues, liars, and general bastards.”

“Or bastard generals,” Callista said, trying a light tone. “It’s just your profession, and the circumstances. I’m sure if you were a seamstress in a quiet little village, your friends would live to a ripe old age. And your man would still be a rogue. I’ll take my chances.”

Linsha felt a warm rush of relief and gratitude. She hadn’t planned to ask the courtesan for any more assistance, for she had already done far more for Linsha than expected or hoped for. But since Callista offered—and was still willing to risk her life—she wouldn’t say no. “If you’re serious, the first thing I want to do is find Varia.”

“Oh, she’s probably in the Tarmak headquarters. When Lanther gave me his instructions to take care of you. I also heard him tell an officer to take the owl and keep it alive until he came back or the man would die a slow and brutal death.”

“That sounds like Lanther. Good! Varia first, then Crucible. We’ll have to ride up to Duntollik to find the remnants of Wanderer’s tribe and a shaman named Danian.”

She thought she heard the faintest sigh behind her, but Callista agreed willingly enough. For someone who liked to loll in bed past dawn, the courtesan was as game as any newly knighted Solamnic.

“You really fell for him, didn’t you?” Callista asked after a moment of silence. “A dragon and a man. That will not be easy.”

Linsha twisted around to face the courtesan, but her eyes gazed far away to a dark horizon. “I met an elf once. Gilthanas. He was a friend of my grandparents who fell in love with a Kagonesti elf. When he found out she was really a silver dragon, he was furious and hurt, and he drove her away. He told me years later that his pride pushed Silvara away because he had been too proud to admit how deeply he loved her and how deeply her lie had wounded him. He was wandering through the world on the edge of insanity trying to find her. I don’t want to end like that. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life regretting that single moment of pride and anger on the battlefield.” Her eyes focused again on Callista. “Do you believe it’s possible to have a relationship with a dragon?”

The girl patted Sirenfal’s scaly back. “Why not? Most dragonriders are connected to their dragons in ways far deeper and more subtle than most humans are with each other. You have the advantage of being a woman drawn to a dragon who spends much of his time as a man. There could be… advantages.”

Linsha hardly knew what to say. She realized she was deeply attached to Crucible and for years she had been attracted to Lord Bight. But the revelation that they were one and the same had stunned her beyond rational thought. All she could accept now was that she missed Crucible fiercely and she was furious at Lord Bight for lying to her. How could she reconcile the two? And would it matter if she did? She didn’t know with any certainty how he felt about her. Perhaps it didn’t matter one whit to him what she felt for him. After all she was only human. Perhaps this was just another instance of her wretched luck with men.

“Of course it won’t be easy for him either,” Callista pointed out. “If he loves you, he will have to watch you grow old and die much sooner than he will.”

“Or he could die the day after you return,” Sirenfal interjected, entering the conversation for the first time. She tipped her head around so they could see the glow of her eyes. “Take what you are given and let the future work itself out. You worry that he is a dragon? Perhaps that is an insurmountable problem. For most people it would be. But the Tarmaks did not call you the Drathkin’kela for your skill with a sword or your green eyes. We have joined our thoughts, and I have felt a power in you, a sympathy for dragons many humans do not have. If Crucible is willing, a relationship between the two of you could be very beneficial.”

Behind the dragon’s words, Linsha heard the echo of another dragon’s voice. The bond formed between a dragon and a human is worth the effort to forge it. Iyesta had told her that in a vision, but she hadn’t explained any further or tried to discuss the difficulties of a human-dragon bonding.

More than anyone else, Linsha wished she could talk to her brother, Ulin, at that moment. He was the only one in the family who would understand. He had been a dragon mage and had formed a deep friendship with a gold dragon named Sunrise. If there was anyone who could help her sort this out, it would be him. But he was gods knew where, and all she could do was find Crucible—if he was still alive—and try to work this out for herself. If he was dead… there would be nothing to do but grieve.

“I need to rest again,” Sirenfal told her two riders. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Linsha said. “You are the one doing all the work.”

She and Callista held fast as the dragon banked down and landed in the sea again. Sirenfal spread her wings, tucked in her head, and was immediately asleep. The women shared a little water and ate some dried bread, then Linsha kept watch while Callista slept. The courtesan had finally relaxed a little on dragonback and was able to sleep for a time.

When the crescent moon rose late in the night, Linsha woke Callista for her turn at watch, then she leaned against Sirenfal’s warm neck and tried to sleep. The waves were a little rougher that night and the air was a little colder, a sign that they were moving closer to the southern seas and the approach of winter. But how much closer? How far had they come already? They were certainly flying faster than the Tarmak ship had sailed, and even with Sirenfal’s numerous rests, they would arrive at the Plains faster than two weeks. But how much faster? Could they get to land before the food and water ran out? And what about food for Sirenfal? She was already skin and bones, and she did not have any strength in reserve. Maybe she could eat fish. As for that, she was a dragon with a powerful breath weapon. Maybe she would be willing to use her hot breath to cook a few fish for her riders.

On that hopeful thought, Linsha fell quietly asleep.

Sirenfal was not enthusiastic about eating fish. Fish were, she said, not one of her favorite meals. But she was hungry and knew she needed all the strength she could muster. She flew as low over the water as she dared until they found a school of some sort of silver fish swimming in a shimmering cloud just below the surface of the water. Sirenfal shot a short, boiling hot jet of air into the middle of the school and waited for the dead fish to float to the surface before she landed and began to feed on the precooked catch. Linsha pulled two fish out of the water that looked particularly well done and, using Callista’s dagger, gutted their breakfast and cut it into serving pieces.

Even Sirenfal admitted the idea had been a good one.

They were still eating their breakfast when Callista grabbed Linsha’s arm so hard that she dropped her fish.

“Look! What is that?”

The courtesan cried in such alarm that Linsha did not complain about the dropped food or the bruises that would likely appear on her arm. She looked to see what had disturbed her friend so badly and saw a gray fin slice through the water about a dragon’s length away from Sirenfal. For one joyful heartbeat she thought the fin belonged to a dolphin, one of Crucible’s favorite water companions, then she looked at it more carefully and saw the straighter line of the dorsal fin and the menacing movement of the creature in the water, and she recognized it as something very different.

“It’s a shark,” she said in disgust. “It was probably drawn here by the dead fish.”

Callista actually squealed with dismay. “I hate those things.”

Sirenfal cast a baleful eye on the shark. She nudged a few fish in the direction of the predator, luring it closer. The shark took the bait. The dragon’s head flashed down. There was a big splash, a swirl of blood, and the dragon’s head came up with an eight foot shark dangling from her mouth. She spat it aside.

“That’ll teach it to steal our breakfast,” Linsha said dryly.

The food helped the dragon and enabled her to fly most of the morning. She rested again around noon for several hours and flew on until sunset when the wind shifted and stiffened to a strong headwind. Clouds drifted overhead, obscuring the setting sun and bringing on an early dusk. Although the clouds did not bring rain, the wind brought a choppy sea and waves higher than Sirenfal liked. Like a half submerged wreck, she wallowed and rolled on the waves and spent most of the night trying to keep her body facing the fast moving waves so they did not roll over her. Neither she nor the women got much sleep.

When daylight came Sirenfal forced herself into the air and continued the journey. But Linsha could see her flying was a real struggle. Her wings did not beat as well and the wheeze in her breathing was worse. Most frightening of all, the wound caused by the Abyssal Lance was red and swelling. Linsha knew she had not been the cause of the redness and irritation, because she had made a determined effort to avoid sitting on the spot or bumping it. Something underneath the skin was festering.

“Sirenfal!” she called. “We need to turn further west to find the Blood Sea islands. Surely we are close to Karthay.”

“I don’t know,” came back the dragon’s exhausted reply. “I don’t know where we are. The wind comes from the west. I don’t know if I can fly against it, but I will try.”

She veered more westerly and flew doggedly on against the wind. The sky was overcast and the air cool. The sea below had turned to shades of gray and green, streaked with foamy white from the tops of the waves.

Linsha wished she had more than a thin tunic between herself and the wind, but all she could do was huddle down with Callista as close to the warm dragon as they could. While they flew, Linsha scanned the sea from horizon to horizon in search of land or even a ship, but all she saw were endless leagues of empty rolling sea.

Hours later, it was Callista, looking far to the right, who spotted the small island. Urgently she tugged Linsha’s arm and pointed to the dark smudge barely seen against the clouds and water. Linsha breathed a silent prayer of thanks and told Sirenfal.

The dragon needed no urging. Wingsore and breathing in jagged gasps, she dropped down toward the island that from above looked like a mere scrap of land. She didn’t care how small it was. It was land that didn’t rock or roll or try to swamp her. Weary beyond measure, she came down heavily on a strip of beach and waited just long enough for her riders to slide off.

Linsha and Callista ducked out of her way and stood aside to watch as she found a patch of sand to the leeward of a large dune and began to dig. Sand flew in all directions. With the last of her strength, Sirenfal dug a crater in the sand just large enough to hold her curled body. Tucking in her wings, she crawled into her nest, curled tightly around herself, and dropped into an exhausted sleep.

The two women looked at each other. It took them only a short walk to reach the other side of the island and a slightly longer walk to come to the end of the island. It was little more than a scrap of land with a cove, a slight beach, some dunes, and some rocks. That was all. No habitation or shelter. No food and no water.