As the group of ogern led me through the encampment, I was distracted from further scheming about Faolin by a growing sense of astonishment at the length of the walk. We'd left the human section behind, something only apparent because of the abrupt end of humans wandering around between the tents. I was surprised to discover the Sylvan seemed to be using the same type of lodgings they'd forced the humans to accept. Several minutes later we even passed out of the range of my ability to overhear the humans' conversations. Yet there was still not the slightest hint of an end to the countless tents scattered between the trees in every direction.
The tents varied in size and shape, but all were covered by a brown cloth that looked similar to the cloak I'd taken from Faolin. Most were either the two-person kind I'd been sharing with Captain Walker or more dome-shaped ones large enough to hold a family, but I also saw a few that looked like barns or hangars made of canvas. These big ones were set up in a clearing, and I heard some weird animal sounds coming from them as we passed. I didn't bother asking my guards about them; they only acknowledged me if they decided I wasn't following them closely enough.
More than what might be hiding inside the tents, what was really starting to intimidate me was the sheer number of them. There had to be thousands of sylvan living out here, and then I had to add in an unknown number of the ogern who served them. I cast a furtive glance around at my guards. They were all as physically impressive as any sylvan was frail. I had yet to see one of these people who looked like less than two hundred pounds of muscle, and they behaved like well-disciplined, professional warriors. Even if they really only had the primitive bladed weapons and bows I'd seen so far (and I knew they had more; they had lots of bewitched items and a least some magic-wielders like Os'tarell), in these numbers they would still pose a severe threat to anyone they ran across except proper military units fully outfitted for combat. Where the devil did they all come from?! They can't have been living out here like Anea this whole time! People would have run into them by pure chance, whether they were visible or not!
Eventually, we reached a large, nearly circular clearing with two concentric rings of tents surrounding a large, slightly-flattened dome. I guessed this was our destination and was proven right as we made a beeline for the central structure. I didn't think this one was just a tent like all the others. It had the same canvas covering, but the material didn't sag between the supporting ribs.
There were many sylvan milling about, and as far as I could tell, none of them were speaking to each other. In fact, since leaving the mess of human conversation behind, the only speech I'd heard was a couple of orders being passed and accepted. There was also a peculiar, dull buzz hanging in the air. It was the same not-sound Anea and I had followed to the two sylvan and Skor back in Pineda, and I had a new guess about what it meant. It was Sylvan telepathy of any kind, not just someone's mind being ripped open. I could tell they were communicating, but I didn't seem able to overhear it unless one of them directed it at me. And judging by their near complete silence, telepathy was the Sylvan's preferred method of communication.
We reached the main entrance of the dome, and I was passed to a different set of ogern guards, this one overseen by a sylvan woman. No words were exchanged and the new group led me without pause into the dome. It was lit by their floating werelights and seemed to be broken up into sections by hanging canvas sheets in place of walls. My earlier apprehension was creeping back up my legs into my gut again. Only the awful memory of having my will stripped away by my collar kept me from trying to escape. Before long, my escorts opened one of the flaps along the walls and began filing into the room. I gulped and steeled my nerves as I followed them in, but I stopped dead at the hateful sight that greeted me!
We were in a room like the one where I'd been interrogated by the Speaker earlier, maybe the same one. That damned chair was right there in a corner, its countless tendrils splayed and waiting to grasp and bind the poor idiot who sat down among them!
"OH HELL NO!!" I shouted, backing straight into the arms of one of the ogern bringing up the rear. He gripped my arms and shoved me forward. I snarled as I stumbled, then twisted my whole body around to wrench free! My fists came up as I dropped into a half crouch on the balls of my feet! I was ready to fight like hell and make another run for it, but then the sylvanni who'd accompanied us into the room spoke up.
"Adrian, peace. Please," she stated, holding one hand up to me and the other to the three ogern who'd also taken fighting stances. Two had drawn short, stiff-looking batons and the other was crouched with his open hands held in front of him and his eyes emitting a dull, ruddy glow. That sight was what really made me hesitate. I didn't know the ogern had magic too. I was reluctant to fight someone who'd gone straight to those powers in a combat situation. I turned to face the sylvanni.
"I am not sitting in that thing!" I spat, jabbing a finger behind me. She made a show of turning her head to look past me for a moment.
"If you can exercise self-control and remain cooperative, you needn't concern yourself with that. Did you not notice the table and benches right here?" In fact, I hadn't noticed the narrow wooden table with cushioned benches until she gestured to them. I glared at her suspiciously, but I unclenched my fists, straightened up, and sank back onto my heels.
"So what's with the fancy torture chair then?"
"Obviously, I took the precaution of having restraints ready should you threaten the Speaker or prove especially unruly. Will you force me to resort to that kind of unpleasantness?" I took a deep breath and tried to release most of the tension in my body with the exhale.
No reason to fight right now. No point to it either with this collar thing on. It did surprise me that the sylvan woman had even bothered to talk me down when she could just turn me into a compliant simpleton instead. Why the reluctance? More special treatment? That thought only further befouled my poor mood, but I took my seat at the table without another word. She sat down across from me and folded her hands in front of her.
We studied each other. She was pale and had long, straight silver hair and dark grey eyes just a shade or two lighter than the black of her pupils. She was wearing a white robe styled like Os'tarell's, but without the scripted trimmings and excess finery. She was very slight, to the point where it looked unhealthy, and her narrow features made her ears all the more prominent. The tips extended almost to the top of her head, and they twitched and moved independently, not unlike a cat's. The overall effect was unsettling, almost disturbing. She continued to passively watch me, and I let it go on for several long uncomfortable minutes before deciding to break the silence.
"Are we waiting for your Speaker?" She pursed her lips, then replied.
"Not... precisely." I noticed then that her voice sounded cracked and scratchy, like she hadn't used it in a long time. She took a breath and continued. "I should say that we were waiting for Speaker Os'tarell, but he has just been waylaid by another critical matter. I've been instructed to proceed on my own." My heart lurched, and I had to stop myself from jumping back to my feet. I glanced around at the ogern guards standing at attention and swallowed against the band around my throat. Fuck it. I can try anyway if this sounds bad. So I asked the obvious question.
"Proceed with what, exactly? Why did you bring me here?"
The sylvanni took another breath before replying. A pained grimace crept across her face as she spoke. "I am to conduct a follow-up on the Speaker's findings from his own examination earlier today. Specifically, I have questions for you about the nature and purpose of your transfigurations. There are a few simple tests I'll need to conduct with you, and of course, I will examine the remnants of the actual transfiguration spell."
I did not like the sound of 'tests' and 'examinations.' I also didn't like my odds against three armed guards, collar notwithstanding. My indecision held me still for a few moments, then I remembered the promise I'd made to Steel and found my resolve again. Whether I could fight my way out of this situation or not was irrelevant. I wasn't just trying to secure my own escape; I was trying to liberate at least him as well. How I'd manage that was still beyond me, so until I came up with a plan, it was wait and listen time again. I hoped I could at least get some useful info from my interrogator this time.
"You know, the last one of you people I met, your Speaker, made it pretty clear he wasn't interested in anything I had to say. Why do you care now?" Even though I'd decided not to try escaping, I wasn't feeling the least bit cooperative after my earlier abuse at their hands. I did not trust them to even keep their promise about letting me go. Why should I help them with anything if they felt so sure they could take whatever they needed from me?
"If I am recalling this correctly, he told you he wanted to be unbiased when he first examined you. Do you not remember that yourself?" I did remember, and that memory made my vision pulse red with barely contained rage. The feeling faded when what she'd just said really registered.
"Wait, you recall? You weren't there, how would you remember anything? Did he... share his memories with you?" I asked with a shudder. She cocked her head slightly.
"Not with me specifically. He shared it with the All, of course. Now-"
"What is the All?" I blurted, then I cringed at the bluntness of my own question. Great job Adrian. Smooth as tree bark there.
"What do you mean... But of course, you are a human. Had not occurred... You truly know nothing of the All?" she asked, bemused.
"Lady, um I mean... What was your name again? If you introduced yourself, I missed it."
"I am Vaa'len."
"Well, Vaa'len, I don't know much about you Sylvan at all. You aren't a forthcoming kind of people." She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then the omnipresent buzzing changed pitch and her gaze hardened.
"We have good reason to keep our secrets from your kind. Humans nearly wiped us out in the past, and you will try to do so again soon. You are here to satisfy our curiosity and ensure our survival, not the reverse." The odd tone dissipated, and Vaa'len blinked rapidly as the white noise returned to its baseline level. She took another breath, then asked, "How long have you been living in these mountains with the dragoness Anea?" I blinked and crossed my arms on the table in front of me. Inside, I was almost overcome with relief! These mountains! I'm not that far from Anea after all! I chased the positive feelings away. I wanted to be in a bad mood right then.
"No."
"What?" she asked, annoyed. "What do you mean, no? You must answer my questions."
"No, I must not." Vaa'len glared at me, her ears flattening against the side of her head, and I found her frustration very amusing. Who exactly had they sent here to question me?
"I need you to answer my questions so I can begin to understand your transfiguration. There is context you can provide that will be difficult to glean otherwise."
"I don't care. I don't like what I've seen of the Sylvan, and I don't like you either. I have no interest in helping you." That off-key note filled the air again, and Vaa'len's uncertainty vanished at once.
"We do not need your cooperation. We could simply take what we need, but that will be a less than pleasant experience for you. Answer our questions, and you may avoid such crude measures." My brow furrowed in suspicion.
"You sound different again," I observed, scrutinizing her eyes, hard and grey as basalt. I had the sense that I was looking at the first in a whole mob of enemies. Those eyes held all the confidence of a woman with an army standing right behind her. "We're not alone, are we?" She smiled coldly.
"You begin to understand. No sylvan is ever alone, and defying one is an insult to All. It will not be tolerated."
"If taking what you want from me was so simple," I stated with feigned confidence. I'd overreached. Now I needed to bluff my way out. "You would have just done it. You wouldn't be asking. Maybe if you worked together, you could get in and out of my mind unscathed, but after what happened to Faolin, you'd rather not try that, would you? I said I have no interest in helping you, but I didn't say you couldn't change that. If you release the humans you're holding hostage, then I would be happy to help you understand why the Veil doesn't work on me." The sylvanni gave a harsh bark of laughter.
"Unacceptable. And the humans here are grateful for our protection. They would not thank us for banishing them."
"Give them the choice then. Both of us and whoever the hell else is part of this conversation know there are some who would leave if they could." There was a significant pause before Vaa'len spoke again.
"What is your relation to the human who tended to you? Perhaps that is what this insolence is truly about? If he is a friend of yours, you should consider his well-being before choosing to act with such defiance again. We have need of you, but we have no need for any other specific human. As proof of this, and of our considerable generosity, it has been decided that when you are released back to your dragon, he may accompany you." I scowled, seething at the low blow and the humiliation of being outplayed.
This... wasn't what I wanted. I'd intended to haggle out an agreement that Vaa'len simply answer my questions about the Sylvan in exchange for my willing cooperation. I hadn't expected them to release even one human prisoner, much less tie me to Steel so quickly. He wouldn't thank me for this, not when the deal was for the two of us alone. With the implicit threat of torture or execution now on the table though, I had no choice. I had to take this offer, even if the information I wanted would probably be more valuable than freeing any single person. He was my friend. I wouldn't allow others, especially my friends, to get caught in the crossfire between the Sylvan and me if I could do something to prevent it.
"Alright," I sighed, then I straightened back up. Even if I was conceding, it wasn't like I'd be walking away with nothing. In a lot of ways, this was better than what I'd wanted. Especially since I had another potential source of information. "That is... acceptable. What guarantee can you give me you'll honor your word?"
"None," she replied. "However, we believe it likely you and the dragoness Anea will commit some misguided act of vengeance upon us regardless of the circumstances of your release. We wish to discourage this, and breaking our word would be antithetical to that end." She paused for a moment. "You will cooperate fully with our efforts to understand your transfiguration?"
"Yes," I agreed, adding: "As long as you don't abuse any of the humans under your thumb, and Steel comes with me when we're done."
"As we have said," Vaa'len finished. Then the discordant ringing faded, and the sylvanni lurched forward in a fit of coughing. I flinched back and watched warily as she recovered control over herself. She looked at me with watery eyes, then blinked them clear, took a deep, raspy breath, and straightened back up.
"If you have any sympathy," she whispered, her voice hoarse and her ears sagging forward. "Please do not make me resort to that again. I am unused to speaking aloud, and speaking so forcefully has greatly irritated my throat." Just then, it occurred to me that Vaa'len had to know both English and her own language and be speaking in hers for this conversation to be possible. Unless I'm still missing something. I wondered why a race that preferred to communicate telepathically bothered with having a language at all, but shelved the question for later as Vaa'len continued. "Now, please tell me how long you have been living with Anea."
"About a month. I'm starting to lose track, but it definitely hasn't been much longer than that." Vaa'len nodded, but a frown also crept across her mouth.
"So, it took less than thirty days for her to perform such a sweeping transfiguration... That is unexpected."
"What exactly are you talking about, 'transfiguration?'" I asked.
"The changes that were made to your body. The reason you can communicate with her at all. Surely she must have told you what she was doing and at least vaguely how. Unless you've simply been her captive."
"Oh, yeah," I answered. "She called it Alteration."
"Hmm," she grunted. "Intriguing. That suggests that dragons view this branch of magic in a distinctly separate way from us." At my blank look, she continued. "I do not mean to delve too deeply into it, but if our theories regarding draconic communication are correct, they speak in ideas primarily, not words. Anea must have gifted you with a hybridized version of that ability, since you seem to hear everyone in your own language. If you hear different terms for the same concept, whoever is speaking must be conveying differing ideas about it." She paused. "It likely merits further investigation, but for now let us return to the subject at hand. I want you to describe everything you know about the enchantments Anea cast upon you."
There wasn't much for me to tell on that subject. I knew what Alterations Anea had made and what they generally did. But I knew little about magic as a whole, so I couldn't provide many of the details Vaa'len was searching for. I was able to give her one piece of meaningful information, but she didn't like it.
"An unguided spell?" she asked, eyes wide, ears straight up and angled right at me. "Are you certain of what you say?"
"It's what Anea told me. Or at least, she said the spell was only guided by her intentions. That's why it could switch from trying to make me obey her to making me like a dragon without her realizing." As I said this, it occurred to me that several ogern and sylvan had given me orders and issued demands since they'd snatched me away from Anea. Yet, I hadn't felt anything like the compulsion to obey that came when she did the same. Another giddy fountain of relief bubbled up through me! She's the only one, or maybe it's just her and other dragons, who can do that to me. I only just noticed Vaa'len snatch her hands off the table and place them in her lap instead. "What?" She was frowning again.
"We had considered this possibility, but it was deemed unlikely for a multitude of reasons. We believed there must be some other explanation. If what you say is true, it is problematic in two ways. Firstly, we had hoped that studying a chimera such as you and learning the method of your creation would allow us to replicate the feat. If your transfiguration was the result of an unguided spell, one cast by a dragon no less, then it is but a lucky accident which would be exceedingly difficult for us to repeat. I doubt there is much to be learned from a study of your biology, which leaves only one remaining avenue of investigation. And there lies the second problem. You believe, well I should say, Anea told you she ended the spells she placed on you?" At my nod, she continued. "Well she did in a way, because the Speaker did not detect any ongoing transfigurations within you. But you do play host to a tangled morass of living enchantments, all of them wound deep into your flesh."
"What?!" I demanded. The ogern all snapped their heads in my direction at the outburst. "But Anea said-"
"I am not here to pass judgment on a dragon. I am here to learn about an unprecedented type of chimera-"
"Stop calling me that!" I spat.
"Stop trying to make me raise my voice," she rasped. "I was not attempting to cause offense. I merely wish to help you understand. Human or not, you can reason, and I believe you have a right to truly understand what has been done to you. Now, from any objective viewpoint, you are a chimera. That is simply what creatures and beings who have undergone an extensive transfiguration are called. However, you are an unprecedented one, at least to my knowledge. There have been a few beings transfigured by dragons with the goal of allowing communication. But you are the first creature of any kind that has been transfigured to subsist primarily on mana. Only the dragons themselves have ever been capable of that, and it is that aspect of your transfiguration we wish to understand." I frowned, confused.
"I thought you were trying to figure out how Anea's spells broke your Veil's hold over me." I knew such an investigation was a waste of time because Anea's spells hadn't been what freed me. I'd been free from the Veil at least since the minute I'd crashed. I hadn't bothered to point this out after they'd threatened Steel to get me to cooperate. My judgment was feigning ignorance of that fact was a safely undetectable way for me to continue to resist.
"You were mistaken, at least regarding me specifically. And broadly speaking, the Sylvan's concerns over the Veil have waned of late. You would be of little interest to us at present if you had not been seen breathing fire, and if the Speaker had not discovered the true extent of your transfigurations. Unfortunately," she muttered, heaving a sigh, "I see little point in proceeding beyond what you have told me. The Speaker may require you to divulge the memory of Anea telling you about her unguided spell, simply to confirm your story. I doubt I could learn anything meaningful by attempting to examine the echoes of her spell, and the risks to you are... are-" Vaa'len's expression faltered, and the discordant ringing of the All returned, louder this time. It left quickly, but unlike before, Vaa'len looked anything but reassured. "The Speaker has summoned us." The ogern showed no reaction, but my heart began beating against my ribs like it was determined to flee on its own, whether the rest of me followed or not. The sylvanni stood and beckoned me toward the door. "Come. We are to meet with the Speaker in the Healers' Ward."
The Healers' Ward consisted of a quarter of the tents in the outer of the two rings surrounding the giant dome where we'd been talking. They were all fairly large, but nothing compared to the central dome. It was just as quiet here as anywhere else in the Sylvan camp, with none of the coughing, pained groans, or gentle words of reassurance and comfort you'd expect from a makeshift hospital in such a rugged setting. It was eerie, just like everything else about the Sylvan. I therefore found the thorough decontamination procedure required for entry highly incongruous.
We washed hands, forearms, and face with warm water and honest to God soap, donned stretchy coverings over boots and hair, a thin white robe over my clothes, and a mask over face and nose, and finally entered through a kind of air lock. It was here I noticed that the canvas of this tent, while the same color as the others, was stiff and made a soft but distinct rustling when it moved. I asked Vaa'len about this while we stood between the inner and outer portals, and she said that this fabric was woven far more tightly than the rest I'd seen to better guard against infection. The injured were more susceptible to illness, she said, and while illness could also be healed, it was safer and easier to prevent it from taking hold in the first place. Then the inner canvas split and drew itself back, and we stepped through.
The interior had a hard white floor and light blue walls and ceiling. These colors reflected the light cast by the Sylvan lamps and seemed to devour shadows, making it much brighter in this tent than any of the others I'd been in. The lamps themselves also weren't free-floating like the rest, but contained in clear spherical containers that could have been glass or crystal. There were only five cots for patients, and it still felt cramped due to the partitions between each cot and the multiple cabinets stacked with strange equipment and instruments arranged wherever they would fit. Three patients were here, and it didn't take long for me to recognize all of them.
One was Tohnaal, and he was the only one who was conscious. He also looked to be in the best shape, but that still left a lot of room for bad. Bandages stained with splotches of red and brown and affixed with crystals dimly glowing various colors were wrapped all over his body. His right arm was suspended in an elevated sling, he had a brace on his neck, and his breathing was weak and had a watery rattle. But his one visible eye was open, and it drifted slowly to us at Vaa'len's shocked gasp. The others were both ogern. One was Skor, his eyes closed, his head swathed in bandages, and his left arm completely gone: amputated at the shoulder. My head started spinning and my stomach threatened to invert when I looked at the third patient. The skin he still had was covered in horrific blisters and barely showed any of its former greenish tones. Everywhere else, I could see muscle, cartilage, and sometimes even blackened bone exposed to the air. This was one of the ogern I'd set alight during the fight after Skor teleported me. How he was still alive was beyond me, but I knew he had to be because of the three sylvan in white robes surrounding him and working to apply salves and bandages to his injuries.
I wanted to run away, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I refused to do either. I stood rooted to the ground and forced myself to watch and remember. This was what it meant to use my fire breath in anger, and I vowed then and there to never forget it. Sure as death and nightfall, no one I did this to ever would.
How long I might have stood there, transfixed by swirling tides of horror and determination, who could say. I was brought back to the present by a tap on my shoulder. It was Vaa'len, who was pointing back to Tohnaal. I followed her finger and finally realized who the last sylvan in this room was. He wasn't one of the injured, and he clearly wasn't a doctor so I'd overlooked him. I doubted this had pleased him. I had the impression Speaker Os'tarell was accustomed to commanding people's attention wherever he was.
"What the hell do you want from me now?" I asked wearily, unable to put any fight into my words. Being here and seeing this had kicked the stuffing out of me. It was a good move, if it had been his intent. My assessment of him rose another notch.
"Already resorting to obscenities? Again?" he asked, then he shook his head. "We have to wonder why a dragon would expend such great effort to have conversation with one as crass as you." I just stared at him, in too black a place to be affected by his baiting. He looked me in the eye for a moment, then continued, gesturing around the tent with his staff. "In any case, we wanted both of you here so you could witness with your own eyes what this opportunity has already cost some among us. And these are only those who still live. Two of the war-packs succumbed to the burns inflicted on them, and Tohnaal has just finished relaying to us the tragic news of Glanaveer's death at the claws of Heyshaan-Aneaserrah. All of this," he said, turning to face Vaa'len instead, "to finally deliver one of the keystones of the dragons' eternal dominion over this world into our hands. And you intend to simply give up your assigned project as fruitless, discard all these sacrifices, after nothing more than a cursory examination?" His voice had that soft, deadly chill I'd heard him use once before. My spine tingled, and I suppressed an urge to edge away from Vaa'len. "You must find yourself more suited to this station than you believed if you already seek to supplant the All's judgment with your own in this matter."
She swallowed audibly, then surprised me by replying aloud in kind. "Your grace, with the greatest respect, I am not so presumptuous as that. I understood my task to be one of study and learning. I was not instructed nor asked to do harm or seek vengeance. As you know, the human claims his transfiguration was the result of an unguided spell, to the best of his knowledge. I do not suspect him of deceit, nor do I believe he was deceived by Anea. He is too ignorant of arcane matters to craft such a lie, and a dragon would be too proud of this accomplishment to hide it if it was something she'd set out to do." The Speaker tapped his staff on the ground, and Vaa'len immediately fell silent, her ears pinning themselves to the sides of her head.
"You misunderstand, Vaa'len. It is not the conclusions you have drawn so far that are being questioned. Our disappointment lies in your decision not to continue with your study."
"Excellency, it is my place to make such a judgment. Knowledge of chimeras and shaping ailments is not widely spread among the Sylvan, which is why it falls to expert-"
"Which is why it falls to Speakers," Os'tarell overrode her, "to consult the All in matters of great import and fine detail. You forget you place Vaa'len. We remind you, you are High Master of Transfiguration due only to succession. The Council has yet to reach consensus regarding your fitness and worthiness to hold a position of such trust. The will of the All is clear, and you will bend to it. You will use every means available to you to understand the method of this human's transfiguration. Whatever the risks, success in this effort may be a decisive factor in the contest to come, and it will be of great personal benefit to all sylvan everywhere."
Vaa'len's cheeks were taking on a vivid flush at the edges of her mask, and when her eyes darted to mine for an instant, I understood why Os'tarell had really called us to him personally. He wanted to dress her down where others could see and hear. He could have done this via their silent telepathy, but he wanted there to be no doubt other sylvan knew he was displeased with her.
"Will into Word," he stated with finality.
Vaa'len drew herself up for just a moment, then she deflated and lowered her eyes to the ground. "Word into Being," she sighed, resigned. Os'tarell nodded once, then turned back to me.
"The dragoness sent a message back with Tohnaal, but it was beaten so boldly into his bones and flesh that it needs not be put into words. Tell us, why is she so desperate to retrieve you immediately? Tohnaal swears the first thing he and Glanaveer did was attempt to assure her that you would be returned, and it was only when they said it could be some ten to twenty days that she attacked. She was furious from the instant you vanished, but the notion of a delay was what triggered her attack. What does this mean to you?"
I tried to keep my face blank while I thought furiously. He wouldn't be asking this if Anea had told them I was supposed to help raise hatchlings that were due any day now. Why hadn't she said that? Was it simple paranoia again? Had she been too enraged to try reasoning with them? Or did she have some reason to fear the Sylvan might hurt her kids?
"Maybe she just didn't like you taking her things," I sneered to buy time. Os'tarell shook his head.
"Dragons are well-known for their contempt of thieves, but they are also renowned for their willingness to hear reason. Only when kin are threatened do they become so ferocious and violent. Whatever else you are to her, you are not her kin." He was creeping closer to the truth on his own, whether he realized it or not. I decided I had to keep Anea's secret for the time being. Maybe revealing her true need for me just hadn't occurred to her, but I couldn't assume that. Especially with someone like Os'tarell calling the shots here.
"No. But..." I swallowed, hesitating. I had an alternative answer for the Speaker, but the thought of sharing it made me cringe as it was something I was unsure of myself. The idea was red meat though. I was sure it would grab the sylvan's attention. I had to distract him. "Of course we aren't family, but we do like each other. We're friends. I think... I think she might even... love me..." I didn't really think this. Anea clearly had affection for me, but we'd never talked about those feelings. I didn't have a clue how deep they went, and my own feelings for her were a complicated mess. Confessing this possible interpretation of our relationship was awkward enough to make my cheeks burn, and I had to force each word out while they seemed to stick to my throat and tongue. The Speaker held my gaze until I dropped it, then I flinched as he laughed his cold laugh.
"She loves you? But of course, it all becomes clear now. Do you not see it?" I swallowed again and shook my head. "You are a surrogate. The dragoness is far from others of her kind, and she is both young and of breeding age. You are a suitable substitute for a mate or hatchlings in the absence of other dragons. Do you love her in turn? Do you appreciate her attention on a personal level? You should not. Doubtless, you are little more to her than an outlet for her maternal instincts to express themselves upon. Mark our words, you will be set aside, perhaps even discarded once she meets another of her own kind she finds attractive. Consider that long and well, and also the notion that we are the only other beings who may understand your condition as a chimera and render aid in the event of... complications."
"What complications?" I asked, trying to ignore everything else he'd just said. "What in God's name did you just tell Vaa'len to do to me?"
"We leave that to her to explain, should the need arise." He paused and looked to the sylvanni, then me once more. "Our business is concluded. Vaa'len, proceed as you see fit, but proceed you shall." He and Vaa'len turned away from each other, but I stayed where I was, looking over the three injured again.
The physicians had continued to work on the burned ogern, ignoring our conversation. His left arm and torso were now swathed in bandages. He let out a quiet groan, and I felt nauseous again. I averted my eyes back to Skor and his missing arm. I recalled how he'd looked, standing proud and triumphant even as a river of blood gushed from the knife wound I'd given him and the stump where his hand had been. The hand that had vanished before I'd gotten my blade into him.
"Wait," I said, earning a hiss of disapproval from Vaa'len and a vaguely irritated glance from Os'tarell. "Sorry, I just- What happened to Skor? How did he lose his hand?" The Speaker didn't even glance at the ogern as he considered my question.
"We... will answer this one question. We believe you may appreciate the serendipity. The anchor Glanaveer and Tohnaal used to send you and the ogern back here was reported to be defective by the ogern himself. He made this claim some days ago. His shaman used that anchor to evacuate their pack from Pineda after they sustained multiple grievous injuries. Several of the pack did not arrive here, nor were they anywhere to be found in the town. They also claimed that many of the injuries their pack displayed had been incurred during the transition. There was doubt over what the pack reported, so Tohnaal and Glanaveer were sent back with the pack leader to retrieve the anchor for examination. Tohnaal credits the ogern with recognizing that you must have entered the dwelling where the anchor had been left and that you might have collected it, not realizing what it was."
He turned to Skor and his face lined behind his cloth mask in what I pictured as an arrogant leer. "And of course, he was more than willing to assume the risk of making the transition with you. It seems the anchor is indeed faulty as his hand and part of his ear were lost somewhere among the other planes. He has brought honor on himself and his pack through his courage, sacrifice, and unusually quick thinking. Waste not your sympathies on him; he has no need of them. Now, be gone. You will not wish to be present if he awakes with a mind to avenge his brothers you burned." A slim hand gripped my arm, and a voice murmured in my ear.
"Come. Now." I let myself be drawn towards the exit, but before I stepped through I found my voice again.
"I'd appreciate it if someone would tell Skor and his people that... It wasn't personal, what I did, and I'm sorry for their suffering. Tell them it was well played." No one responded to me, and I turned to leave. Just as I stepped past the fabric door though, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I looked back and thought I saw Skor's eyes open, but the canvas sealed itself and blocked my view before I could be sure.
We stood in silence for a few seconds in the dim chamber, then the outer canvas split along an invisible seam to release us back into the open air. The sky was reddening with the approach of dusk, and as Vaa'len and I doffed our clean-room garments a bone-deep weariness began seeping through my limbs. I suppressed a groan when the ogern guards formed up around us and began shepherding me back toward the central dome. I was tired. So damned tired. This had already been an intolerably long and eventful day, and more than anything else, I just wanted it to end. Well, why should I get anything at all I want today?
The sylvanni didn't say a word until after we'd returned to the room with the vine-chair and I'd spent several minutes seated at her little table, staring at my hands. I was trying to dismiss the Speaker's theory about Anea's feelings for me. This would have been easier if his barbed words didn't echo some of the doubts whispering non-stop from the back of my own mind.
"Alright," Vaa'len suddenly said, snapping me back to focus. I looked up as she sat back down across from me. "I only see one way to do this. You remember before, you swore to assist my investigation, willingly?" I nodded, a scowl creeping across my face. "And you remember what we promised you in exchange? That your friend will be released with you, when the time comes?" I nodded again. "I need to ask you for something. I need you to swear that if I remove your suppressor, you won't take the opportunity to attack anyone or try to escape." I blinked and leaned back, startled.
"What?" I asked. A quick glance around at the ogern guards showed that Vaa'len's idea had caught them off guard too. They didn't like it, if the hands gripping batons were anything to judge by. The sylvanni took a breath.
"If I am to attempt to replicate Anea's spell, I must understand how she guided and limited it. So, I'll have to study the remaining spells within you. This will require potent magic that could disrupt those spells if I am careless. To avoid that, I will have to use indirect methods to learn those enchantments'... structures is the most descriptive word, I think. If I understand the structure of Anea's spells, I should be able to avoid damaging them with the more intensive rites later. So that is where we will begin. You must be free of other enchantments, particularly those bound to the suppressor you wear. There's no way I know of to tell the difference between them and the spells I need to study through passive observation methods, so for this to work, the suppressor must be physically removed." She looked me right in the eyes. "I know you don't trust any of us. You have no reason to. But I swear this is the least reckless way to pursue this fool's endeavor, and it is in your best interest that we get it right the first time. I must make a serious attempt to divine Anea's method of transfiguring you, and any mistake could pose great danger to you, your kind, and mine." I wanted to say yes just to get it over with and be one step closer to the end of this endless day, but I couldn't pass up the chance to dig for a bit more information.
"Could you please explain what you mean? What enchantments are you talking about, and what exactly could go wrong?"
"As I-" Vaa'len broke off, coughing again. When she regained her composure, she gave me a speculative look, then shook her head slightly and continued in a near whisper. "Apologies. I'm using my voice more today than I have in the past several years. Still we must speak, and I daren't attempt Linking with you. As I understand it, you carry two or three ongoing enchantments. Your sense of aetherial 'hearing' is at once a spell and not a spell. Our best theories hold that draconic communication is related to the mechanisms of spirit and consciousness, as all of these are metaphysical, yet deeply dependent on the flesh. We have studied this effect before, and we understand it well enough. In many ways, our own version of telepathy is superior. The spell we are so interested in is the synthesis magic centered in the mana-sinks along your spine. If it really is the same enchantment dragons carry, or even something different that causes the same effects, then it is a wonder Anea managed to produce it in you. Do you know what it does?"
"Yes. It makes fire-venom." Vaa'len sighed, shaking her head.
"You make it sound so simple. Magic requires a caster's will to shape, drive, and guide it. Or it normally does, outside of the Gifts and other wild magics. Any mage can cast a synthesis spell. We often do so to help fuel other spells, but that is always strenuous. Only dragons can draw energy from the mana of the world effortlessly; so effortlessly in fact, that they largely rely on this Gift in place of food. If there was a single secret to the dragons' boundless strength and their reign beyond all memory over this world, this spell might very well be it." There was a ravenous blaze of passion in Vaa'len's dark eyes, but it faded to a smolder as she continued.
"Unfortunately, studying the spell itself has proven fruitless in the past, when a few dragons allowed us the privilege. We have concluded that it is an emergent phenomenon that only manifests naturally. Our attempts to replicate it with living creatures have proven... unsuccessful. We had all but given up hope of reproducing the effect artificially. Until today. You prove it is indeed possible. I aim to investigate what remains of the transfiguration spell that worked these changes into your body. Perhaps then we can find a way to repeat the feat ourselves. But it is never as simple as that. With you... Hmm... How to explain this?" She paused and thought for a moment. "Do you know of the life-song?"
"No," I answered. Then, remembering what she'd said about my new method of hearing, I added, "At least, what I heard, 'life-song,' doesn't mean anything to me." She frowned, and pinched her lower lip as she thought.
"Then attempting to explain transfiguration and its risks may be a waste of time. Every living thing carries a unique life-song within it. Every part of every part of the body acts according to its notes and chords. Plants, animals, mushrooms and molds, even most diseases have their own life-songs. Change the song, and you may change the creature. This is what transfiguration is devoted to, understanding the life-song of a creature, and learning to re-compose it with new harmonies and melodies woven seamlessly within so the resulting piece is familiar, yet distinct.
"The main difficulties arise in two areas. One is how to cause such changes; the other is controlling their extent. Nature herself solved the first problem long, long ago, and imitating her is often far easier than attempting to work changes in what could seem a more direct way. There are indescribably tiny sort-of-creatures capable of altering the life-song itself. They are normally either benign and undetectable or the cause of some diseases-" A lightbulb snapped on in my head.
"Viruses!?" I exclaimed. "That's what you're talking about, isn't it? Viruses and DNA." She frowned again.
"Yes. Shifters is our word for those things. The agents of transfiguration spells are similar enough to shifters that there is little difference. Life-song is our term for your," she articulated something slowly. I could only assume it was an English word or phrase because it was completely incomprehensible to me. "Well, if you are familiar with those concepts, I trust you can work out the basic mechanics of transfiguration on your own from what I've already said." She was right.
Pieces of information from Anea, my biology courses, and Vaa'len were mingling and fitting together in my mind, forming a picture I didn't like. Anea had 'convinced' my body to change by 'speaking' to it in its own language: the language of genetics. Life-song! I thought with disgust. I wondered if there was any way her spells could one day reveal themselves to be even more invasive. But on the other hand, I also couldn't see how this really changed anything about my situation.
"Ok. So according to you, I really am a mutant. A literal mutant. You're saying Anea infected me with some kind of virus to do all of this to me? That's... disturbing, but I don't see what-" I cut myself off abruptly as another memory flashed before me, and my guts clenched in dread. "Vaa'len," I asked stiffly, "what the hell is a 'shaping ailment?'"
She smiled. It was a sad, pitying smile, accented by her ears stretching sideways out from her head. "And now, we come to the heart of the matter..."
***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Night had fallen when Vaa'len's ogern handed me off to the group of their brethren that arrived to escort me back to the other human prisoners. There was little activity in the camp and even less to see in darkness under the forest canopy, so my thoughts turned inward on the long walk back. Vaa'len had apologized for sending me back to the stockade, but she said it was the All's judgment that I was a flight risk. Therefore I was to stay with the other human troublemakers. I was also wearing the collar again. Vaa'len had removed it for her examination, and I'd meekly allowed it to be replaced afterward.
Vaa'len herself was not someone I feared. She struck me as a career academic, not the type to punish defiance or even consciously hurt anyone. No, what scared me was Os'tarell, and what Vaa'len had become under the influence of 'the All.' I had no trouble believing that people like that wouldn't hesitate to punish my friends to hurt me if they thought that would bring me to heel. Os'tarell in particular seemed the type to do it out of simple spite. The collar fit much looser around my neck now, and I wondered if it could detect submission. The thought might have angered me if I wasn't so damned tired, and if I didn't already have yet another fresh problem to worry about.
Shaping disease. The words kept echoing in my head. Vaa'len had explained that the second main problem with transfiguration or Alteration was the nature of viruses. Left to itself, a virus will multiply until the entirety of its host's body is consumed and destroyed. Natural viruses also had the capability of infecting new hosts, repeating the cycle without end.
To avoid creating a plague, a mage working transfiguration spells typically created a weak virus, or at least something very similar to a weak virus, that healthy subjects would easily defeat before it could spread. They would then use separate spells to conceal the virus from the subject's immune systems to allow it to do its work. Thanks to these safeguards, a shaping virus overrunning and directly destroying the body of a chimera or even infecting a single new host were rare outcomes, even only counting cases where an Alteration spell went wrong. Most of the time, a failed Alteration spell just meant that whatever change was supposed to manifest never appeared.
In my case, though, Anea's spell had gone the other way, changing my body in ways she'd never intended. That meant the virus I carried had grown beyond her original design. There was no telling what it might be capable of if left unchecked.
Shaping diseases were much more insidious than a common sickness like the flu or malaria. Rather than just multiplying endlessly or spreading toxins, they messed with genetic code to create large-scale changes in biology. If they overwhelmed a host, they could cause horrendous mutations. Deadly cancers and organ failure were common enough, but rapid and agonizing bone and muscle growth, the appearance of extra rows of teeth, and loss of dexterity could also happen. Sometimes, a body would reject the changes it was subjected to and start attacking itself, leading to all kinds of additional, potentially deadly symptoms. And then of course, there was always the possibility of insanity if the shaping virus began attacking the brain.
Vaa'len assured me that I shouldn't have to worry about any of this, because Anea had truly ended her spell. My body had very few of these viruses left in it, and they were all dormant. The healing effect she'd placed on me, which forced cells to multiply faster and affect any changes quicker, was also gone. If left alone, I would never be affected by this virus again, and in a few weeks it would be purged from my body. This was why she was so hesitant to do anything that could interfere with the last enchantment Anea had laid on me.
Her final spell served three purposes. First, it stabilized my body against itself, preventing any internal self-correcting mechanisms from recognizing Anea's additions to my genes as foreign and editing them out or attacking the cells carrying them. Second, it put all of her viruses floating around in my body in stasis, preventing them from making further changes. And finally, critically, it prevented any cells in my body that had been mutated to produce those viruses from assembling any new ones. Vaa'len said there were likely around a million of these virus-factory cells scattered among the trillions of normal cells of my body. It would be all but impossible to find and destroy them all.
If she canceled out any part of this spell with her own arcane explorations, I would be in big damned trouble. If she reactivated any samples she took from me without Anea's controlling spells, and the virus was capable of infecting and spreading on its own, it was big trouble for everyone. Such things had happened before, and the resulting abominations were so terrible, even humans still remembered them in our myths and legends. Werewolves, vampires, wendigoes, zombies, and all manner of man-beasts and monsters had sprung from shaping diseases that could infect multiple hosts.
This was what she'd been ordered to risk unleashing by screwing around with what was left of Anea's spell. She would have to reactivate the viruses she extracted from my blood, since they were as good as dead to her in their dormant state. Doing so without effective restraining spells to guide and limit them was an invitation to disaster. That was what Os'tarell was willing to resort to if Vaa'len couldn't find a safer method. Sitting quietly for her without my collar had been an easy decision to make, all that considered.
I'd been surprised to learn the Sylvan had such detailed knowledge of biology, and I'd said as much to Vaa'len. She'd laughed, not unkindly but genuinely amused. She asked how a mage could expect to work changes on the world if she did not understand how the world functioned naturally? Transfiguration, and likely Anea's Alteration, was all about understanding the makeup of living creatures and leveraging the processes of life to the mage's will.
True mages of any school spent the vast majority of their time either meditating and gaining understanding of their areas of focus from the All's vast store of knowledge or performing research and experiments to make new discoveries. Anyone (or at least any sylvan) could learn to cast a spell through practice and rote memorization. But the creation of new spells and other more sophisticated applications of magic was delicate, dangerous work, and best left to those with deep knowledge of the subjects involved. This was why the Colleges were held in such high renown, she'd said, and then her face had fallen, and she'd returned to quietly performing her examination.
I didn't have a clue what she was doing. All I knew was her eyes were glowing a deep violet, and I felt a very mild tingle once in a while. It had been a far cry from the agony her Speaker had put me through. I'd fallen asleep in the end, slumping forward to bang my head on the table. That was when Vaa'len had concluded her study for the night. She was probably off to bed right now, or maybe meditating. As fires began appearing between the tents in the distance, and I noticed the return of human voices all around me, I wished for nothing more than to collapse onto my own cot the second I arrived. I somehow doubted that was in the cards for me.
My escort left me at the gate of the perimeter fence, then they melted away into the darkness shrouding the camp. I made for the dancing fire in the center of the circle. Several people were sitting and standing around it, and I hoped one of them was Steel. Luck was with me. He was right there with two other men and a woman. He shouted and waved me over when he saw me approaching. Before I got there though, movement from my right caught my attention.
The flaps of a tent close to the gate were swaying; someone had just gone in. There was half a shout that fell into several seconds of ominous silence. I stopped and stared in apprehension, then charged for the entrance myself when I heard several loud thuds and muffled grunts of pain from inside! I threw the flaps aside and immediately saw all I needed to see, even in the dim firelight. Two large figures crouching over and pinning a smaller person to the ground while he thrashed helplessly beneath them!
"HEY!!" I shouted, stepping forward and kicking the attacker at the victim's head hard enough to send him crashing through the back of the tent! I whirled to face the second, only to find him backing away from me with his hands held in front of him in a placating gesture. He was jabbering something I couldn't understand, and my stomach lurched toward panic as I wondered if I'd made a mistake. Maybe there was some mitigating circumstance, some good reason for what they'd been doing which the bulky man in front of me was trying to give. I'd never be able to hear his side. But when I glanced back at his scrawny victim coughing and whimpering from the beating, I decided I was glad I couldn't hear the thug's excuses.
"SHUT UP!!" I ordered. "GET OUT, NOW!!" The crystal set in the other man's collar started to glow, and my own collar did the same while cinching back to its necktie grip from earlier today. At this, the man facing me turned and fled. His buddy bowled past me to join him, startling me into a jump that sent me stumbling into the lone cot in this tent. I landed on my back and stared up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling for a moment, my heart pounding away in my chest.
"That was stupid," I muttered to myself. Both of those guys had been bigger than me, and the one I'd kicked had probably been creeping up on me while my back was turned. If they hadn't been scared off by the collars lighting up... The chatter all around was growing louder and angrier, and more and more voices were joining the din. I couldn't seem to single out any one voice this time. Trying just made my head throb.
"Thank you," a weak voice wheezed, much closer and more distinct than the rest. "I think... I think they might have finished it this time, if you hadn't stopped them." I looked over and saw the man I'd saved struggling to his knees, one hand massaging his throat. I heaved myself up to help. It was only when he was sitting on the edge of his cot with his face illuminated by the distant fire that I finally recognized him.
"You," I stated, surprised.
"Yes," Faolin agreed, "And you. I wondered when you would decide to come and speak to me." He grimaced and shook his head. "Now despite everything, I find myself grateful toward you." A shadow fell across us before he could continue, and I turned to find the silhouette of a man standing in the entryway. I flinched away from the sight before logic caught up to me, determining this was far more likely to be a person and trick of the light than the Grim that had been haunting me. It also wasn't one of the two thugs I'd run off; this outline was shorter and smaller.
"Captain Walker?" I asked hopefully, standing up. The figure nodded his head and beckoned for me to come out. I took a step forward then stopped and looked back at Faolin. He was edging away from the entrance, avoiding eye contact like Steel was some wild animal he was wary of provoking. "Faolin, you say this isn't the first time you've been attacked," I said. His sharp eyes flicked up to mine. "If you're alone, what's stopping those two from coming back to finish what they started?"
"Fear," he answered. "Little else. Each time some brute has had a go at me, it was the suppressors that saved me. The humans know what the glow means now, and it alone typically dissuades them. But if the monitors aren't watching, or don't care..." he shrugged. "I no longer plan on sleeping tonight, I'll put it that way."
A strong hand landed on my shoulder and tugged, spinning me around. Now that he was close, I could make out that the face did belong to Steel. He had a scowl so deep, the lines etched across his face looked chiseled in. He jerked his head toward the entrance and yanked on my shoulder again, dragging me with him a few steps while he spat something at the sylvan. Faolin responded in kind, and whatever he said made Steel pause. He turned back and said something else, and the two of them descended into a heated argument.
I couldn't say how long they talked. Only that it was too long. My skull felt ready to split open when Steel barked something monosyllabic and abruptly sat cross-legged on the floor. He growled like a wolf snarling and drew a ten-inch tapered stick from inside his jacket. That could only be a shiv. Nervous and completely out of the loop, I remained standing and turned back to the sylvan. Of the two, he could explain what had just happened and what they had apparently agreed to more quickly.
"What-"
"You did not understand a word of what we said, did you?" he asked. I shook my head. "I thought not. You know, I realized you had this problem back when you gave me this." He tapped his left wrist, which was wrapped in a stiff brace not so different from the one Steel wore. "Your friend says you don't know why you can't understand your own tongue anymore, but I think you must. It was Anea's doing."
"Yeah, I know," I muttered darkly. "Did you know she didn't realize she'd done it either?" Faolin shook his head.
"I did not know that, but I did wonder. Well, I've been giving your condition a great deal of thought. I cannot seem to... get you out of my head." I shifted, uncomfortable as I wondered how much he remembered about me from the memories we'd exchanged. "I have an idea about why you cannot understand spoken English." He grabbed the small cushion he was sitting beside on his cot and tossed it to the ground in front of Steel, who picked it up and tore a hole in it with his shiv. "How much did Anea tell you about the way her kind communicate?"
"Not that much," I admitted, suspecting I was being set up. "A sylvanni just told me some more about it an hour ago. Said they send their ideas to each other through some kind of 'aether.'"
"Ah. That is almost correct. You missed a small but crucial detail. Dragons send nothing, or at least nothing more than any other creature. What they do is listen to the aether, in a way. They can sense what any being projects into the mystic mediums when communicating. That's why they can understand everyone. But it also means they do not need their own language. You do, or at least did. And I believe this is where your problem lies." Steel tossed the half shredded pillow back to him, and Faolin deftly caught it out of the air. He pulled out two large wads of cotton stuffing and held them out to me. "Pack this into your ears and cuff your hands over top."
"What?" I asked, caught off guard.
"You heard me. Or at least you understood me. I'll explain the rest if this works." I glanced at Steel doubtfully.
"He wants me to block my ears with that stuff," I translated. He frowned and gave a slow nod while Faolin answered my underlying question, still holding the white fluff out to me.
"He knows. I've already explained this idea to him. He kindly offered to stay, watch, and gut me with that stick if he doesn't like the result." Scowling, I accepted the stuffing and took my time inspecting it.
I saw nothing that suggested it was anything but pillow stuffing, felt nothing but soft cotton fibers when I rolled it between my fingers, and smelled no hint of chemicals or anything remotely unpleasant or unexpected. Finally I shrugged and did as Faolin instructed, packing each wad deep into my ears and pressing them in place with my palms. I couldn't hear anything but the rush of my own blood and of course, the omnipresent storm of distant voices.
"Well? Did it work?" Steel asked, equal parts scornful and curious. I flinched and froze for a second, stunned that something so simple could be the answer. Then a grin broke out on my face and I turned to him.
"Yeah, it worked! Damn it all, it actually worked! I can hear you!" Steel returned a less enthusiastic smile.
"That's uh... That's great?" he offered, more confused than relieved. "By why would- Seriously? Covering your ears lets you understand English again? You shouldn't be able to hear anything. How the heck..?" He trailed off, at a loss for words.
"You are correct, Captain. Adrian cannot hear a thing right now. So he can only hear our speech through the gift Anea gave him." We turned back to Faolin. "And now that I only have to do this once, I'll tell you what I think is going on here. Adrian, one of the things I remember is Anea explaining she Altered your brain to let you understand her." I nodded, a chill racing down my spine. "You also hear her speech as you used to hear other humans. There is no distinction?" I nodded again. "I think the key is in how she Altered your brain. She must have done something to... confuse it? Tangle it? I lack the words in your tongue. In any case, the part that recognizes speech can't tell how you're hearing words, so it wouldn't know if you're hearing the same thing twice over. I think hearing your language through both your ears and Anea's gift makes the words overlap and turn to nonsense before you even have a chance to understand them."
"Like two radios transmitting on the same frequency at the same time," Steel muttered, shaking his head. "And that interference happening in your head?" He winced. "No wonder it hurt when I tried talking-" He cut himself off and blinked. Even in low fire light, I could see the blood draining from his face as he looked me up and down like he was seeing me for the first time. "What in God's name did he mean, your brain was 'Altered?'" I groaned, burying my face in my hands as another wave of exhaustion washed over me. I was so tired, and now I'd have no peace until I told Steel everything Anea had changed inside me and answered all his questions. Was I going to get to sleep at all tonight?
"A fascinating subject, I'm sure," Faolin said, interrupting my self-pitying misery. "But with the greatest respect, I'll ask you to discuss it in your own shelter. I've entertained you for too long already." I felt the stuffing expanding back out of my ears. I tucked it back in place and covered it again as I responded.
"You're kicking us out?" I asked, offended. "I just saved your ungrateful-"
"What you did," he cut me off, "Was break my wrist and curse me to a choice of two hells." He was angry now, his mouth pinched and his ears pinned to his skull. His bitterness hung in the air like a stench. "You also robbed me and forced me to abandon my assigned mission months early with little to show for my efforts. When I saw you'd been captured, I expected you to seek me out sooner or later. If you hadn't just saved my life, I would have taken great satisfaction in turning you away and watching you walk among your people as a pariah. How long would it have taken you to try the solution I came up with on your own, I wonder?"
I was speechless. You attacked me! All that shit was entirely on you!! He continued, oblivious to my outraged glare.
"Stopping those men from killing me repaid your debt to me and then some, so I shared my theory with you to balance the scales. Since I was right, and you can now manage your handicap, we are even and owe each other nothing. So again, I ask you to leave me be. We have no more business suited to this hour." With that, he laid down on his cot, adjusted his mangled pillow under his head, and clasped his hands over his chest.
"Thought you said you wouldn't be sleeping!" I snapped, annoyed at being dismissed by this insolent little man.
"I never said I was going to sleep," he answered. His eyes were still open, staring at the ceiling. "That does not mean I want company. For the last time, leave." I was about to demand he get up and make me when Steel's hand found my shoulder again.
"Not tonight, man. Let's just go," he said. I took a breath, let it out in a long sigh, and nodded. We stood up together and left Faolin's tent, stopping to pull the door flaps back into place in what I felt was an absurd overabundance of courtesy. Most of the other people by the dying fire had gone back to their own tents by now, leaving only two to gawk at me as I walked past with my hands over my ears.
"Hey, Kyle! What the hell's wrong with him now?"
"Headache," I answered for myself. It wasn't even a lie.
"Can't believe that actually works," Steel muttered. "You sure you haven't been faking it?"
"Yah, I'm sure. You think I could fake bawling like that earlier today?" He thought about that until we reached our tent.
"No. That was definitely the most emotional I've ever seen you. So a dragon scrambled your brains?" He asked as we stepped into the tent, leaving the flap open so we weren't in complete darkness. "And now you talk to dragons and skinny elf-people?"
"Don't forget their ogern," I added dryly, sitting down on my cot and unlacing my boots. "And also monsters... sort of." Steel wasn't smiling when I looked up.
"Adrian..." He sighed. "What happened to you out here?" I looked down at my hands for a minute to gather my thoughts. And then I started at the beginning. I told him everything as best as I could remember it, and I answered his questions when he had them. We talked long into the night, until ours were the only voices even I could hear. I got more and more tired as I went on, and eventually started falling asleep mid-sentence. After the third time, Steel decided he'd heard enough for that night, and that it was more important that we get sleep now so we'd be ready for whatever tomorrow brought. I thanked him and immediately laid down and pulled the flap on my side down off the outer wall to let it swing shut. Complete darkness swallowed us when Steel did the same. Yet even as exhausted as I was, sleep remained elusive.
Something about the way the Captain was treating me felt off. He seemed really disturbed by the idea of Anea using Alteration magic on me, and I hadn't even told him about her attempt to brainwash me or my fire lung. Nevermind any of the nightmare fuel Vaa'len had just shared with me. Why should he be so much more worried about it than I was? I was the one who had to live with Anea's Alterations, after all.
His attitude made me a bit suspicious, so there was one large detail I'd decided to leave out of my retelling. I'd said nothing to Steel about Anea's fire nor her eggs. I couldn't say exactly why; something in my gut just told me no good would come from sharing Anea's secret freely. Come to think of it, Steel had accepted the whole idea of dragons too easily in the first place. My eyes opened, though it made no difference in the pitch black tent, and I turned my head towards the sound of Steel's quiet breathing.
You know something, don't you? Everyone had their own secrets. As much as I trusted him, Steel was no exception. I sighed and closed my eyes again, trying to let go of weighty thoughts and let sleep finally take me. Eventually it did. And I dreamed of Anea.
She was curled around two tiny creatures, both indistinct but helpless and afraid. She was skinny and weak and she shivered so hard in the cruel winter winds that her scales rattled on her hide. The snow was piled up around her in great drifts. She hadn't moved in days for fear of what the wolves, bears, and other more ferocious and hideous beasts circling her would do to her babies if she left them. She looked at me, old dry blood staining her muzzle brown as she begged me to hurry back without uttering a word. But I was slowly being dragged away by a choking grip on my throat. Eventually, the falling snow devoured her in blinding white, leaving only me and the ones holding my leash.
They were fighting to pull me in different directions, but it didn't matter who would win. Both were dragging me away from where I belonged toward equally dark forests that reeked of rotting meat and flickered with distant, growing fire. One was Os'tarell, his cold eyes full of sneering laughter and his lips swearing vows of vengeance and conquest. The other was an empty flight suit, so tangled in the leash it wasn't clear whether it or something further beyond was the source of its suffocating efforts. And as I struggled desperately to break free, I fought just as hard to avoid admitting that I knew exactly whose uniform that was.