Dragonoak (14 page)

I
turned, trying to kick my way to the surface. The sun had become a
tiny scrap of light on the surface and the pressure of the water
was too much. The ocean groaned around me, content to hold me
within it so long as I sunk like a stone. I fought with everything
I had left within me to get to the surface, until that too ran
out.

I gulped
down a mouthful of sea water and Akela's hands wrapped around my
wrists. She pulled me to the surface that had never been as far
away as I thought, tugging me back onto the deck as I coughed up
salt from my lungs.

“Northwood
,” she demanded in a shout
of a whisper, doing what she could to not wake Kouris. “What are
you thinking you are doing?”

“I don't
know! I fell,” I said, but she wasn't buying it.

“I am
knowing what an accident looks like, Northwood. Why are you
bringing us here to do such a thing?”

“I
just—I don't know, I don't know,” I murmured, crouching down and
gripping my head. “I think I just wanted to see if I
could...”

Lowering
herself so she was sat opposite me, Akela said, “I... I am a
warrior. I am not knowing how it is best to be talking about these
things. I know you are going through a lot, and it is difficult for
me to know how to help, especially when I cannot be driving an axe
into the problem. But you are talking to me if you need to,
yes?”

No
matter how I tried to fix my eyes on her, my gaze kept skidding
away. Having Akela know what I'd just done – having her understand
it better than I had – made me want to dive back into the ocean and
never surface, but I breathed deep, not wanting to panic. Not
wanting to wake Kouris.

“Please
don't tell Kouris,” I whispered. “She's worried enough already. I
don't even know why I did that, Akela. Honestly.”

“As long
as I am thinking you are safe, I am not saying anything,” Akela
said, frowning. “I am wanting to ask you something. If you are not
wanting to answer, that is okay. If you are not wanting me to ask
it, that is okay, too.”

A dozen
questions sounded in the back of my mind, all of them scathing. If
she didn't ask me now I'd never stop wondering what she was going
to say.

I
nodded, wiping away the water that dripped from my hair.

“When I
am returning to the apartment, you are looking so scared,
Northwood. Are you truly thinking I am hurting you?” Akela asked in
a voice that sounded too frail, too wondering, to be her
own.

My gaze
snapped onto her and I realised that I was being selfish, selfish,
selfish. Of course I wasn't the only one who was hurting, the only
one who'd been affected.

“I-I...”
I stuttered, knowing it would be all the answer she needed, if I
didn't find a way to continue. “Katja said things. She said that
you'd help her because of what I am, because you... because of you
and Queen Kidira. She said you loved her, so of course you'd take
her daughter's side. And after all that she'd... after everything,
I started to believe her. She made sure I did.

“I'm
sorry, Akela. I know that you'd never hurt me, but at the time,
I... I was confused.”

Wiping
her wet hair out of her face, Akela nodded to herself, and claimed
another ale from the basket she'd brought along. She handed me the
last of the cake we'd been picking at all morning – not chocolate,
as per Kouris' request – and I thought that was to be it. I thought
she had nothing more to stay to me.

But a
third of the way into her drink, she said, “I am coming from a very
bad place, Northwood. My village, it is rich. Richer than most
cities in Kastelir, and yet it is... it is a product of Agados,
yes? It is thriving because it is forcing people into roles, and it
is valuing gold over those people.

“When I am born, the doctor, he is looking at me, and saying,
this is a boy. Ridiculous, yes? But my mother and father, everyone
in my village, they are all agreeing with this, no matter what I am
telling them, when I am old enough to tell them such things. At
first, it is only annoying my mother. I am eight, maybe nine, and
she is saying that I am not allowed to be helping her cook anymore;
that it is not for
me
to do.

“My
father, he is not caring. And not in a good way. He is telling me
that I am supposed to fight or hunt or gather wood, and I am liking
all of these things, so why is there a problem? I am trying to
enlist in the army, but suddenly, I am not enough of a boy for
them. Just as I have always been telling them! Secretly, they are
threatened because I am better than them all, and so I am taking my
axe, and I am making firewood of every tree I find. For years, this
is my life.

“There
are not many ways out of Agados. They are not liking it when we
leave, as if we are all possessing secrets to spill. But one day, I
am hearing about a celebration in Kastelir. I am hearing that
diplomats from all over Agados are going, and I am hearing that
each town and village is sending off someone to fight. And so I am
asking if I am allowed to go. My mother, by this point, she is only
ever embarrassed of me. She is not caring if I stay or
leave.

“My
father, I do not even talk with him. I am travelling to Isin, and I
am fighting in the tournaments to celebrate twenty years of
Kastelir. I am taking only a lodging axe and armour that does not
fit, and I am winning every round. The Kings and Queen, they are
taking notice. Queen Kidira, she is asking to speak with me, but I
am not knowing Mesomium. I am patching the words together I do
have, and she is using the ones she knows of my tongue, and she is
very, very patient.

“And
though I am not able to make myself clear, all of the truth, it is
rushing out of me. I am telling her why I came to Kastelir, and I
am realising how afraid I am of going back, and do you know what
Queen Kidira is saying to me? She is saying how strange it is that
settlements along Kastelir's border are speaking Agadian. She is
never telling me I must leave, or that I must be something I am
not.

“Yes,
yes. Lady Kouris, she is right. Her mother, I loved her very much,
for the life she is giving me and the woman she is. For ten years I
am serving her, and for ten years, she is the most important person
in all of Bosma.

“But you
are my friend, Northwood. I am not betraying that when I see how
you are hurting, I am not making a mockery of Queen Kidira like
that.”

My chest
swelled like the sea beneath us as we spoke, and I slid across the
deck, wanting to be at her side.

“So. That means...” I began, running the story through my
head once more, “You're
Agadian
?”

“Ah. My
body, it is born in Agados, but my heart, it is in Kastelir all
along,” Akela said, chuckling. “I am thinking you are the only one
who is believing me about being Kastelirian, Northwood. But see,
see! I am your friend, I am telling you anything. Everything. You
are doing the same for me, yes?”

Wrapping
an arm around one of hers, I rested my head against her shoulder,
hoping it was enough. Hoping she understood.

We
sailed back towards Mahon before the midday sun could do its worse,
and Kouris didn't stir until we made port. She yawned so widely I
thought I might tumble in, then promptly hopped onto the edge of
the pier, pulling me up so we could wave Akela off.

“Glad
you went out?” she asked as we headed back to the hut.

“Glad I
got to see Akela,” I said, and then, making a promise of it, added,
“... Atthis next.”

Revitalised by her nap, Kouris made her way into Mahon to
handle some business for Reis, and I slipped into my room, looking
for a few loose coins I'd been saving. I hadn't been rifling
through the drawers for more than a minute when a knock at the door
garnered my attention. Braver than I had been in weeks, I hurried
over to peer through the inch-thick gap between my door and its
frame, hoping to see Atthis.

I could
get it over and done with in one day, if it was him.

Cane in
hand, Reis made their way over to the door, none too pleased by the
disturbance.

It
wasn't Atthis. It wasn't even someone I recognised.

Two
women stood at the door. One of them was around my age,
black-skinned with red scales tattooed up both of her arms,
gripping a spear in one hand. The other woman, dark in a way that
was similar to the Myrosi people but entirely Canthian in nature,
was easily fifteen years older than she was, and wore a three-point
hat that would've put any of the captains in Mahon to shame. So
much hair spilt out from beneath it that I had trouble
comprehending how she didn't topple backwards.

A bow
and quiver rested on her back, and both of the women were dressed
in the same uniform. They wore too much to belong to Port Mahon,
and their red leather breastplates and high black boots were far
too neat for any pirate.

“Varn
,” Reis said to the woman with
the tattoos running up her arms, halfway between surprised and
unimpressed. “Managed to scurry through Mahon without anyone
sticking a knife in your back, eh?”

“Leave
it out, alright?” Varn huffed back, shoulders up by her ears. “I'm
here on official business. Don't make this any harder than it needs
to be. Trust me, I wanna get out of here as quickly as you want me
gone.”

Reis
chuckled, but I couldn't tell if they were antagonising Varn in a
friendly way or not.

I kept
my eyes fixed on them, ready to dart back the moment they looked
around. Funny how pirates were the least of my problems, these
days. I'd gone this long without running into a Canthian soldier
and had no desire to engage with one now.

“You
must be Atalanta,” Reis said to Varn's companion, offering out
their hand.

“Quite so!” Atalanta said, grasping Reis' hand firmly as she
shook it. “And you need no introduction, Captain. Varn's told
me
plenty
about
you.”

Groaning, Varn splayed a hand across her face and mumbled,
“Didn't want to take this job, didn't want to take this job, but
the Queen said... gods, please don't become friends.”

Endeared
by Varn's apparent distress, Atalanta rolled her eyes fondly and
Reis managed a laugh.

“Now, it
ain't like you to pop in for a chat, Varn. What can I do for the
pair of you?”

Varn
refused to answer. She leant against her spear, purposely looking
away from Reis, and left Atalanta to speak for the both of
them.

“As Varn
said, I'm afraid we're here on official business. Orders from Queen
Nasrin. We're looking for someone.”

“They in
trouble?” Reis asked, voice taking on a serious edge. “We've got an
agreement with the Queen. She doesn't come sniffing around here for
runaways.”

“Oh! No,
no, it isn't anything of the sort,” Atalanta hurried to explain.
“It's quite the opposite, actually. Afraid we don't have a name,
though. Awfully sorry about that.”

“Who you
after, then?” Reis asked. “The Queen wanna give a medal to
whoever's put most of Gavern's men's heads on spikes?”

“Not quite,” Atalanta said, sighing as though it was a
terrible shame, “We
do
have a description, as it happens. A rather...
unique
one at that.
Varn?”

Varn had
done such a good job of pretending not to listen that she really
had stopped listening. Missing her cue to speak, Atalanta was
forced to get her attention by clearing her throat, motioning with
a hand for her to hurry it up. All of Varn's body language screamed
that some monumental task was being asked of her, and with a sigh,
she said, “Alright, alright!” hands thrown in the air.

Reis did
a far better job of remaining patient than I did, and the door
almost creaked open as I tried to get a better look at what Varn
was doing. She rummaged through her bag, and eventually dug out a
scroll, eager to read from it so we realised that she wasn't
speaking her own words.

“We've been sent to find...
a young
woman whose eyes could burn with stars, a Daughter of Isjin from
distant shores
. And no, I'm not kidding
you. It's all written right here. That's what I
have
to say.”

The
moment the words were out of Varn's mouth, I retreated back into my
room. Into the darkest corners, as though shadows could hide the
way my skin glowed; the way my eyes burnt with stars, leaving
trails of light behind.

CHAPTER VI

Reis led
Atalanta and Varn away from the hut to talk with them, and I didn't
attempt to escape. Where could I go? Back into the ocean? Ear to
the wall, I waited for the three of them to return, expecting the
door to be kicked down for the sake of dramatics, but it swung open
on its hinges and Reis' distinctive footfalls filled the
hut.

“It's
just me,” they said, and I pushed the door open inch by inch,
finding Varn and Atalanta were nowhere in sight. “Didn't tell 'em
you're here, of course. If you want 'em to know, you can go ahead
and deliver the news yourself.”