Draygon Inferno | Book 2 | ✔️

Chapter Four

Now, seeing the destiny growing before Siobhan, he wondered if it was the Goddess herself who'd plucked him from the sea's and placed him in the hallowed halls of Draygon. He was there when her mother died. When a fire nearly claimed her life, Elias was there to free her from the ashes covered in snow she created. Elias was there when someone framed for her father's murder. Every significant event in her life, Elias was there. It pained him to leave her behind as she was finally going to clear her name and return to Draygon, but Elias knew whoever framed her wouldn't go quietly.

She'd need an army and Elias was hell bent on getting her one. His eyes cast toward Ardorn, watching the sand dunes grow larger the closer they came. Last time he saw Eloy, the young heir was chasing Siobhan's brother Cion around one of Draygon's many courtyards, both covered in mud. His twin sister Emilia played the part of diplomat far better than the boy born three minutes earlier, earning him the right to rule Ardorn. Emilia eagerly joined Siobhan for her lessons, fascinated with Draygon lore, often more eager than Siobhan who'd rather sneak off and join the boys. Elias didn't know what to expect now that the boy had come of age and was set to take over the rule.

When he left the High Mages in Raiven they warned the unity between Draygon and Ardorn was no longer strong. All Elias could do was hope Eloy remembered his kinship with the Draygon heirs. If there was any who'd believe Siobhan didn't assassinate her father, it would be Eloy.

Elias sighed and turned away from the oncoming Ardorn shores and descended below deck to gather his things. There was only one way to find his answers at that point. He only hoped his journey wouldn't be in vain.

***

The thick sandstone archway curved over the canal feeding into the largest Ardornian island. Ross gasped as he tilted his head back to peer up at the orange stone chipped away with wind and time. Elias also couldn't help but marvel at the construction of the archway. Ardornians didn't use magic to aid them. Their hands, including the faded carvings of their ancient language engraved into the stone, built everything. Despite the fact the archway stood high enough to clear the tip of the ships masts with significant room to spare, the stones were still massive and dwarfed the ship in their shadows as they drifted underneath.

"You do know how to read and speak Ardornian, right?"

Elias nodded without looking to Ross. Aquantians understood any language, it was a gift given to them by the sea. It was as if the waves themselves appeared in their ears and translated the words. Siobhan had struggled with learning Ardornian as a child and had often questioned why Elias could speak it as fluently as any language. Learning wasn't her specialty, she was far too impatient for it, and learning a language she'd only use once a year wasn't high on her list of priorities. The only time Siobhan enjoyed his lectures was when she found personal benefit in the session.

Ross leaned over the ship, looking into the canal water. "Are those Aquantians?"

"Aye. They're controlling the ship and guiding them down the canal. At this point the captain and crew do nothing but stow their sails and ready to dock, Aquantians do all the work."

"I thought Aquantians who live in service of others can't be in the water?"

"They aren't in service of the Ardornians. It's a trade. There's a sizeable Aquantian nest not far from the big island since the waters are warmer here. In exchange for no ships or swimmers going to that patch of water, the Aquantians help with traveling the canal to the port and getting waters through the aqueducts to the cities."

Ross shook his head. "They could've just built the port on the ocean like other civilizations."

"They do on the smaller islands. On the big island the shores are far too rocky for there to be a proper port. It took a lot of Aquantian aid to build this canal." Elias leaned down to grab his satchel waiting by his feet. He tossed the strap over his head, adjusting the satchel to rest against his back.