Chapter Fourteen

A Wyvern's Touch

Ezra had an heir.

The Patriarch lingered, even after his private wyndgate grew dark in the Talhavar’s absence.

This . . . changed things.

Though for better or for worse, he wasn’t sure. In truth, the girl’s existence raised as many issues as it solved. The court, of course, would demand answers. Not that he had them, and likely wouldn’t, until he had the opportunity to see the woman in the flesh.

Prying her from the clutches of the Arillian Council would be difficult, regardless of the boy’s assurances to the contrary. Once they realized her value, they would never let her leave. Provided she survived long enough to prove useful to them. Though, even in death the Council might uncover secrets better left untouched. It had been dangerous enough to allow Ezra’s corpse to fall into their hands.

“Curse it,” he muttered.

Only Ezra would spawn an heir half a world away.

The girl needed to be brought to Saeducar, whether or not she was a viable heir. If he could mend her Soul, he would take her under his wing. If not, she could live out her days among her people in comfort. And if she became a risk before reaching these shores, he’d set her ashes to the wind himself.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Are you not relieved? Phina asked, dragging him from his thoughts.

He spared her a glance over his shoulder.

“I am, to a degree,” he said.

He’d kept his expression neutral during his conversation with the Talhavar, though the news had still made his knees weak. The revelation was almost too good to be true. To have survived such a powerful Inheritance at such a low Ascension was nothing short of miraculous. He still couldn’t quite fathom it. If she climbed her way through her Ascensions, she would make a formidable heir indeed.

To a degree? Mraize, you have her heir.

“Not here,” he said, “not yet.”

You know what I mean.

She hopped down from her perch along one of the sofa’s of his study.

What is your plan, then?

He idly scratched behind her ear. “I’ve been asking myself that very question. I will send a delegate, at the very least.”

But who? He wondered.

The Court would never allow him to go himself, nor could he truly ask them to. They’d lost two Arcs already. Any immediate heirs would be out of the question, for they were too valuable and sending someone of low rank might be perceived as an insult by the Council. His brow furrowed in thought. One of the secondary heirs, perhaps? He supposed anyone from his or Leliana’s line would do.

Phina tilted her head, as if reading his thoughts. You intend on keeping the Court in the dark, don’t you?”

“For now, it might be best. At least, as far as the girl is concerned. The Houses are in an uproar as it is. The announcement of an unexpected heir will only make things worse.”

If the girl is fit to be heir, she said.

“Indeed.”

He moved for his desk and set his wyndstone within a locked drawer.

“For now, I will inform the Court of Ezra’s retrieval. The Council has already agreed to return her body. A delegate will be sent to oversee the transit with a small escort of fifth Ascensions,” he said, formulating his plan, “we send someone else to gauge the girl and neither of us will breathe a word of it to anyone else.”

It would have to be someone who’s absence would go unnoticed, at least for a time.

Phina began to purr as a smile edged his lips.

He knew just the woman.

~*~

Crisp wind whipped at Rhydian’s face as he and Tanuzet pierced the cloud belly. He kept close to the saddle, near flush with the oiled leather, until the wyvern burst through the crown with a triumphant roar. He found it difficult to contain his smile, as he often did during their morning flights, yet today's seemed sweeter, somehow. After nearly a week spent grounded at the Kresian base, it was a relief to see Tanuzet back at full strength.

When they’d started off this morning, the world had been gloomy and overcast; her movements stiff. There had been the slightest hesitation when she first took flight, a stiffness that often accompanied the idleness of recovery. She’d flown a few laps unaccompanied above the city, growing stronger and more limber with every pass while he monitored her form from the top of the aviary. In her haste to return to the skies, she’d nearly taken off without him when the time came.

He could hardly blame her.

He’d missed the open air as much as she had. The realm above the clouds was a sight few were privy to. A view he would never tire of, for every moment, every cloud, was unique in its own way.

Rhydian sat back in his saddle, Tanuzet’s wings opening wide as she leveled off and settled into the current. With a contented sigh, he rolled his shoulders, took a moment to ease the tension from his thighs. He’d been eager for escape and while he was certain the day would not be an entirely pleasant one, he’d still enjoy this small moment of peace.

His meeting with the Patriarch had gone far better than he’d anticipated, which in itself had been a mercy. Though, the man’s gaze still haunted him. The power he’d exuded was palpable, even through the wyndgate. Rhydian’s skin prickled at the memory, sending gooseflesh dancing across his arms and down his back.

He shuddered to imagine what it was like to stand in the man’s presence in person. Like the Patriarch, Ezra had been a Puresoul, a vampire who had achieved her Twelfth Ascension, but it wasn’t the same. Her Soul had been Shackled. Smothered. Rhydian had once believed the Council members were the strongest beings alive. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Soon enough, both he and Inerys would stand before the man.

Until then, though, there was much to do.

Their flight to Fort Idar was a short one and as they descended down toward the mountain, Rhydian caught sight of the Veil on the edge of the horizon. His jaw grew tight. He swore never to venture into those wilds again, lest he burn them down.

Below, a horn sounded, announcing their arrival. Tanuzet nickered in response, her clicking echoing across the rocky slopes and fortifications. The high whistling of two stationed wyverns rose in answer, who monitored the pair with keen eyes. Tanuzet banked along one edge of the fortress, her horned head surveying the structure and those within.

The keep itself was perched high on the mountain, backing to a sheer cliff face near its peak. The dark stone of the fort itself matched that of the surrounding rock to such a degree, it could easily be missed by both land and sky. Along the interior, a wide, circular structure with a domed metal roof glinted in the morning light. It stood tall among the surrounding guard towers and training yards, a number of men occupying the outer terrace near the dome itself.

With a quake, the roof split in two and slowly parted to reveal the oversized lift platform within. It was large enough to house four fully grown wyverns at a time with room to spare for riders and equipment. The heavy chains anchoring it in place were impressive, to say the least and, Rhydian knew, required routine maintenance. The lift had to be quick enough to bring wyverns to and from the inner holdings efficiently, in the event of an emergency or swift deployment.

Tanuzet circled back toward the central lift, checking her speed. Wings arched, she touched down upon the landing pad and dropped one shoulder to allow Rhydian to dismount without having to drop the dozen or more feet to the ground. She shifted her weight, her sailfins and spine crest flaring as she shook the moisture from her back. Pleased, she snorted and Rhydian shook his head at her antics.

A man stood on the far side of the platform, waiting until the wyvern was situated before making his approach. His auburn hair was tied back into a rider’s combat braid, much like Rhydian’s own, and worn long down his back. Rhydian recognized him almost immediately, for he’d hand selected Cydan for the Wing dispatched to intercept the Matriarch.

The two clasped each other’s forearm in greeting, giving a nod.

“Master Allair,” he said, “it’s a relief to see you again, ser.”

“And you, Cydan. How are the others?” He asked.

“Recovering. For the most part, at least. And the girl?”

“Alive.”

Given the nature of the circumstances surrounding her, he wasn’t inclined to share specifics.

“A relief, all things considered.”

Rhydian nodded.

“Are you here to recover the body?”

Another nod. “And to check on the injured in person.”

Cydan’s expression turned thoughtful.

“Thylas is recovering well, as is his wyvern. We’re actually planning on releasing the two from the infirmary today. However, the other wyverns weren’t quite as lucky. Both Nevaret and Ephaxus have had their spines fully mended and should make a full recovery given time, but they haven’t taken the news of their partners’ deaths well. We’ve come close to chaining Ephaxus on more than one occasion. Nevaret . . . hardly does more than lay in her cavern. She’s refused food ever since we’ve returned.”

Rhydian’s throat grew tight at the memory of her partner being torn in two. His jaw worked, flexing as it clenched. He should have done more to see his men safe. They all knew the risks involved in such a dangerous mission, but he couldn’t help the feeling their blood was on his hands. As the girl’s might have been. As it still might.

“We lost good conrads that day,” he found himself saying, “I can’t imagine anyone being the same after what happened.”

If Tanuzet were to fall, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Cydan said, the roof above them drawing closed as the lift began its descent into the belly of the mountain.

“How is Ialet?” He asked.

“She’s well,” he said, a faint smile to his lips. “She came away relatively unscathed. Still upset I threw that flash charge without warning her first, though.”

Rhydian chuckled. “I can imagine.”

“She’s been keeping Ephaxus in line, as well as doing her best to coax Nevaret into eating. To little success, I’m afraid. She’s wrapped herself up in her wings and hasn’t shown herself since.”

“Give her time,” Rhydian said. “She needs it.”

“Perhaps you can check on her?” He asked, looking up to Tanuzet, who was silently listening.

She gave a low rumble in response, nudging their emotions with hers. The news didn’t sit well with her either, but she held hope for the others. Though, Rhydian sensed her worry for Nevaret, layered beneath the optimism she projected. Losing Nevaret to her grief was a terrible, yet likely possibility.

“What of Ephaxus? You mentioned needing to chain him?”

“Only to keep him inside the mountain. He’s bent on returning to his duty with or without a partner.”

“I see,” Rhydian said, rubbing his chin a moment.

“You can speak with him yourself. You may be able to talk some sense into him, if not Tanuzet.”

“We’ll see what we can do. His eagerness to return to active duty so soon is worrying. Especially if he’s still on the mend. Did the Sages mention the extent of his recovery?”

“Aside from the broken back, nearly half the dynamic channels bridging his physical core to his spiritual one were severed. He’ll need time to reforge them before he attempts any advanced Techniques.”

These days, spiritual damage was all too familiar.

“Active duty is the last thing he needs,” Rhydian said and Tanuzet rumbled her agreement.

He sensed her sudden consideration and paused, wondering if she’d reached the same solution he had. The two shared a look, her golden eyes bright with curiosity. How likely Ephazus was to agree, though, was another matter.

“Is he well enough to fly?” He asked Cydan.

The man nodded. “He can, so long as you’re not planning on flying across half the continent.”

Rhydian shook his head. “Placing that much of a burden on his physical core would be idiotic. Ayduin and I will be in Kresia for a few more weeks. He can return with Tanuzet and I for the time being and we’ll have him escort us back to the capital at the end of the month.”

“If you’re willing, I can’t imagine he’ll refuse.”

Because you don’t know what we’ll ask of him, Rhydian thought.

Perhaps this was a stupid idea.

Tanuzet watched him, her quiet support clear. If Ephaxus took offense and tried to take a piece out of him in spite, her retribution would be swift. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

The lift eased to a halt before a wide cavern flanking them on all sides. The level was by far the largest, both in ceiling height and in scope. Aside from the injured wyverns from Rhydian’s wing, four additional creatures rested within. He sensed them, more than he saw them, for the long halls and wyvern quarters held more than a single open space.

He stepped off with Cydan at his side while Tanuzet lingered a moment behind them. A slight shiver graced his spine when she reached out with her Awareness to scan their surroundings. Her low nickering carried down the halls, the return whistles carrying a conversation Rhydian wasn’t privy to. He’d always found their vocalizations fascinating. One day, he’d actually have to put effort into learning it. Their tongue was a difficult one to master, given its complexity. There were only a handful of sounds he could make heads or tails of at the best of times. There were the obvious ones, such as the growls, but those tended to be universal across various predators large and small.

They passed through a massive archway and into the main infirmary, where Sages and other physicians went about their tasks. In one of the oversized rooms, he spied Thylas and his mottled gray wyvern speaking with a Sage. The woman scribbled away at her chart while two of her assistants inspected the wyvern’s wings. Another was inspecting her left eye.

Rhydian tipped his head to them as he passed. He would speak to them in person, once the Sages were through. Even in his youth, he made it a point to speak with those he served with. Not that Talhavar were an antisocial lot. They relied on one another as much as they did their wyverns. They weren’t a large Order, but a close one.

Ahead, one of the wyverns stirred within their quarters. Their audible intake of breath was accompanied by a low rumble that terminated in a whistle Rhydian always associated with curiosity. A familiar presence brushed his in greeting, a subtle, respectful touch unlike the intrusions he’d experienced in Kresia.

“Hello Ephaxus,” he said, nearing the archway and projecting his emotions in a similarly friendly fashion.

The wyvern’s arrow-shaped head slithered out from the entrance to his cavern quarters, deep purple tongue flickering. His scales were so pale, they were near bone white, highlighting the eerie, rose-gold of his eyes. In a way, they were almost metallic. There was a dangerous light to them, a desperation lining their depths. No, not desperation, but grief.

“You have my condolences,” Rhydian said, bowing low.

He flared his own grief, the slow pulse coaxing a physical shudder from his own body. Wyverns possessed an almost archaic ability to express emotion and in a way, was an integral part of their language. Encouraging as Tanuzet was, he was certain other wyverns thought him a bumbling fool when attempting to mimic the expressions.

Ephaxus studied him for a moment, considering. He bowed his own head, his dark horns arching gracefully toward the ceiling as his spinal crest flared. Curiously, the deep red membrane ran halfway down his snout, so dark it took a more violet hue toward the base. His wings and sailfins were much the same, lending to his unique appearance. He reminded Rhydian of one of those cave salamanders, though their name escaped him.

His gaze moved to Tanuzet, who gave a low trill. The two conversed in low, clipped tones, Ephaxus’ head inclining, before returning to Rhydian and Cydan. His gaze, as well as his aura, turned intent, expectant.

Rhydian cleared his throat. “If you still find yourself eager to return to your duty, I have a favor to ask.”