Dormancy, p.12
Dormancy, page 12
part #1 of Khrysaor's Name Series
“I’m sorry. For before, I mean. That I injured you by mistake,” said Koh, his heart fallen to the pit of his stomach. Ice gripped his chest, and he shifted his shoulders uncomfortably to shake off the feeling. “It wasn’t my intent. I… couldn’t control Khrysaor.”
“It’s alright,” said Pywel. He placed a hand on his cheek, running fingertips over the bandage secured there. Two days had passed since he’d inflicted such wounds, and still Koh couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that weighed down his shoulders.
“I know you say that, but I still feel… responsible. I promise I’ll do everything I can to control the power I’ve been given.”
“You’ll figure it eventually,” said Pywel. “I mean, they say the ancient kings were given the power of the gods. If Glyn Pendragon could avoid giving in to the will of the dragon, then so can Koh Pendragon.”
“… Thank you, Pywel,” said Koh.
“For what? I’ve done nothing but cause trouble for you. I’ve had to hide my face as we travel so we aren’t accosted by angry townsfolk, I’ve disrespected your goals, and I… I made you save me, at the banquet. I’ve done you nothing of benefit.”
“You’ve been alright, truly. I don’t think any of us actually mind it anymore. You’ve made an honest effort to learn and be better than the person you were on the banquet. None of us can fault you for that.”
“Haven’t got much choice,” the young lord laughed. “…But I appreciate it.”
“Pywel,” said Brunhild across the room.
“Yes, master Covey?”
“Jus’ Brun.”
“… Yes, Brunhild?”
Brunhild narrowed her eyes.
“Eh, close enough. Anywho, what is it you plan to do once this business is all said and done with and it’s all over? Once we kill the white dragon and all. Will you head back to Pedryvan?”
“I don’t think so. Truly I have no idea what I’ll do. I have no home, no profession aside from my lordship, and no friends or allies left after the banquet. I may just try and open a shop, or travel with what coin I have left. A shop sounds… nice. But I never learned any manner of trade. I haven’t got the faintest idea what sort of things I would sell.”
“I’m certain you could be employed here in Caer Sidi, as some… I don’t know. Assistant to the queen, maybe,” said Koh. “You could handle finances or some such. Nobles learn mathematics, don’t they?”
“I would rather not,” he said. “I think I’ve seen enough of aristocracy for the rest of my days.”
“And well enough for it!” Taliesin’s voice sounded out from the door. Koh looked back over his shoulder and relaxed at the sight of him standing in the door frame. He couldn’t help a smile.
“You’re back!” Said Koh.
“Have been for a while. Didn’t want to interrupt your moment.” Taliesin entered the room and tossed his towel down onto his bed, then walked over to Koh. He reached down and lifted him from under his shoulders, carried him across the room, and tossed him onto their bed. “Now it’s time for all of us to get some rest. Come morning, we’ll see the queen and discuss the details of our passage to Tero-Brun. It would be a shame if we looked as shite as we have for the past week for Her Majesty.”
Koh stretched out fully, arms above his head and toes splayed out away from him, his back arching as he grumbled and relaxed with a mighty sigh.
“Goodnight, Brun. Night, Pywel.” Koh muttered, curling up under the sheets.
“Night,” Brunhild said, crawling into bed.
“… Goodnight, master Pendragon,” said Pywel, tucking himself in gently.
Taliesin swept over to the candles illuminating the room and smothered them with the bell beside them on the table. Light retreated from the room, shadow engulfing Koh’s vision. He could see faint light through the window from the streetlamps of Caer Sidi and hear vague chatter through the walls, and watched as the shadowy figure of Taliesin settled down beside him underneath the sheets. Koh nuzzled into Taliesin’s chest, burying his face in the other man’s clothes.
“Do you think we’ll make it?” He whispered.
“… Aye, I do,” said Taliesin, draping his arm over Koh’s small frame. “What’s on your mind.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to learn to control the power of Khrysaor. I feel it inside my chest, in my heart. It burns and struggles to break free. It’s like a beast I haven’t yet tamed, with a will entirely its own. It wants things I don’t. It wants to fight. I don’t.”
“If you were a wild beast trapped in a cage, would you want to stay trapped?”
“No,” Koh admitted quietly.
“Oy, lovebirds,” Brunhild said. “Go to bed over there. Like you said, Tal, we’ve got a meeting first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, shut up. Don’t use my words against me!”
“She has a point,” Koh chuckled.
Taliesin groaned, a smile on his lips. “Alright, alright. I concede. G’night, Brun.”
“G’night, you bastard.”
“Quit teasing each other and go to bed,” said Koh, perking up from where he sat.
“You too, stinky,” said Brun, pulling her sheets up over her shoulders. “Take your own advice.”
“I can’t see in this light, but if you’ve stuck your tongue out at me, I’ll—”
“Please, would all three of you stop arguing in whispers? I’m trying to get some actual rest, here,” Pywel interjected.
“We’ll just argue like normal, then,” Taliesin joked, and the three of them burst into laughter.
The noble rolled over and pulled his sheets up over his head until their laughter faded, and the room fell silent with the rest of the city.
16
A feeling of deep unrest woke Koh. The sun had just begun to filter in through the blinds, casting odd shadows onto the beds. Pywel and Brunhild both snored soundly. Taliesin, curled around Koh, did not sleep much longer. Koh’s stomach churned and his head spun.
After a few minutes of consideration and fighting back his nausea, he wearily pulled himself from bed. He stumbled to the wastebasket, leaned over it, and emptied his stomach.
Taliesin woke as he left the bed, still tucked beneath the sheets. He looked up to Koh, concern writ into the creases of his face.
“Are you alright?” Asked the trader.
“Quite,” Koh said shakily, still leaning over the basket. The foul smell, acidic and sharp, almost made him heave again, but nothing remained in his stomach to expel. “We should get going soon. Something’s amiss.”
“I’ll trust your instinct,” said Taliesin, pulling himself out from under the sheets and going to his pack to pull out a pair of clothes presentable enough to wear in court. The same pair he wore during the banquet, when the two of them first met.
“Aye, sleepyheads,” said Taliesin, loud enough to wake Pywel and Brunhild. “Get up. We’ve got to get going. Koh says Khrysaor’s acting up. Means something’s gone off track.”
Bruhild sighed, then pulled herself out of bed already clothed.
“When the hells did you wake up and get dressed?” Asked Taliesin.
“I bathed before I slept. Might as well have slept in my day clothes, too,” she shrugged. “Means I’m more prepared than the three of you, at least.”
“Fair enough,” said Taliesin, shrugging on his coat as he moved to Pywel’s bedside. He leaned down to shake the young lord awake. “Get up, Pywel. We’ve got places to be.”
“Eugh,” the young lord groaned, rolling over in bed. “We’ve got plenty of time. Let me sleep longer, pa…”
Brunhild snorted. “He thinks you’re his pa!”
“Get up, Pywel,” he said, and pulled the sheets off of the young lord, who curled up immediately in the cold. He didn’t wear socks – odd, Koh thought, for winter sleepwear. Different strokes for different folks, he supposed.
“Alright,” said Koh, voice wavering as he stood beside the wastebasket. “We’ve got to get going if we want to make it on time. Khrysaor’s spirit is… restless this morning. Something is upsetting it, and it’s trying to tell me. The sooner we go, the better.”
Pywel quickly changed into court clothes and grabbed his pack. Taliesin helped keep Koh steady while he dressed. Once the four of them had prepared, they departed for the palace.
They approached the main gate hesitantly, Koh still leaning heavily on Taliesin. The guards from the day before were stationed there, holding their pikes at attention again. As the party approached, the captain waved meekly.
“We’ve arrived prior to nine,” Taliesin declared. “Now open the gate for us.”
“We… will, I promise,” stammered Captain Wesley. “But there has been a minor complication. Somehow, the ambassador from Dúin was informed of your visitation, and requested to see you. He has… arrived early, so he might oversee the negotiations himself.”
“Damn it,” Koh hissed under his breath. “Can’t tell the queen of the events in Lyon.”
“Shh,” Brunhild placed a hand on top of his head and he silenced himself.
“That’s fine,” said Taliesin. “We won’t be there for much other than trade negotiations.”
“If… that is the case, then follow me,” the captain said, turning to open the gate and allow the party into the palace courtyard.
Frost clung to the cobblestones and slicked them, while ice pointed down in deadly spears from the edge of every rooftop. The plants in the flowerbeds had all died at the beginning of the winter, and none remained. Only the tall, half-bare hedges remained around the palace courtyard, and hardy weeds grew up between the stones underfoot, brave in the face of the frost.
Dawn light shimmered across the courtyard, reflecting in the palace windows and turning each a shade of morning orange, bright and difficult to look at. Their arched metal frames, ornate and beautiful, had been covered delicately in frost, and their panes fogged from the heat within. Koh squinted to try and see within and divined nothing.
Deep panic rose in Koh’s chest again, his stomach churning once more. The hair along the back of his neck stood on end. As they entered the palace halls through heavy oak doors, the voices of other meetings and gatherings of nobles sounded through the halls as they walked, from different rooms and corridors, disorienting Koh. His head spun and his eyes ached something awful as the captain led them through the hallways.
After minutes of passing through seemingly endless identical corridors, they came to a grandiose double door, engraved with images of dragons and murals of battle, stained a dark shade of red-brown. The marks of many hands had been worn onto its smooth finish over many years. Two voices, one male, one female, sounded from within. The captain pushed the door open softly, and the voices both silenced at the sound.
On the furthest side of the room stood the now-Queen of Ochren. She was gentle and fair-faced, like her father before her. She had olive skin and brown, curling waves of hair supported the crown she wore. A silken red dress accented in gold and black draped across her figure as she stood on the far side of the chamber, just before her late father’s throne. Her face betrayed little emotion as she looked on, chin held high and hands folded before her. She struck a regal figure, postured tall and perfect.
Standing opposite to her, the ambassador watched. He appeared younger than Koh by a few years, and about as tall as the smith. Long, straight, white hair hung down to his waist, bangs tucked behind his pointed ears and split slightly to one side. His fair form looked only twenty years of age, thin and lithe. His ears had been pierced with dangling gold jewelry. His eyes swirled with opalescent shades, situated in a sea of pale, dull, colorless skin. His gaze bit like the winter itself, and he stared directly at Koh with great scrutiny. He wore long cotton robes dyed light blue and deep purple, trimmed similarly with silver jewelry. A mantle of gold covered his shoulders, sculpted in a pattern reminiscent of scales.
Koh had never seen a pale-skinned Aos Si before. The idea of it didn’t sit right with him, and he shifted uncomfortably under the ambassador’s piercing gaze.
“—Ah,” Koh held his breath.
The pale man lifted his chin at Koh in obvious distain. He should not have come here; the sight of the pale figure standing in the room’s center sent shivers up Koh’s spine. He regretted this meeting already, mere moments after having entered the room. The air chilled around him, and he felt his skin tearing itself already to allow scales to form. Koh quickly clasped his hands behind his back to hide the forming red scales, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he tried to hold back Khrysaor’s fury. The dragon struggled against him, enraged by the mere sight of the Aos Si.
He scoffed and crossed his arms indignantly. For a split second, Koh believed he saw white scales outlined faintly against bleached skin, and stifled a gasp.
“There is never a dull moment in your nation, is there, Aeronwen? First, your father dies unexpectedly, along with near every other noble in Ochren, and then a tradesman insists to meet with you in the midst of foreign negotiation. As if the lives of the men in Caer Sidi are more important than your borders. Surely, you couldn’t let this opportunity pass, could you?”
Koh scowled. He didn’t like the way this man spoke in the slightest. He seemed too arrogant – too haughty for his own good. His words carried teeth with them. Each one bit deep into Koh and his self-conscious, and left him wishing he could shy away from that piercing ice-white gaze.
“I believe,” the ambassador spat. “That our negotiations are well and over. I had believed for a moment you and I could come to some manner of agreement, but I have no interest in dealing with you any longer.”
“Why?” Koh interrupted before the queen could speak. She blinked, offended that this common man would interrupt the proceedings. It didn’t make sense that this man would cut short negotiations simply because Aeronwen chose to take another brief meeting.
“… I believe I am in the presence of one who would not allow negotiations to occur,” the man drawled, his voice low and smooth, his tone sly. Koh refused to trust him. Almost unconsciously, Koh stepped forward, an evenness to his gait that did not come naturally, and he felt the growl of the red dragon rise in his throat.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” He hissed.
“Master Pendragon!” The queen snapped, standing up straight. His next step faltered with his bad leg. “I must ask you not to antagonize the ambassador.
“Pendragon, is it?” The ambassador chuckled lowly. Koh felt a shiver travel up his spine. Yes, he knew that voice. He’d never forget it. “What an odd coincidence. You know, I am often referred to as Fensalir, by those subjects who will not use my first name.”
Koh looked between the ambassador and the queen, and flexed his fingers, feeling nails sharpen into talons, feeling his flesh crack and tighten around his bones as it turned into thick, armor-plated scale. He bit his lower lip, holding back a snide comment.
“Oh?” The prince raised a brow. “Has the cat got your tongue? Go ahead, bow to me. Refer to me by name, if it suits you. You may call me Prince Versa: the one who has offered your country a chance to stay in one piece in the wake of all this turmoil.”
Koh glared up at Versa, a fire igniting in his eye. He did not bow.
“Master Pendragon, I will have you and your company well and removed if you do not show the ambassador respect, as he has been so kind to offer a treaty in these trying times,” Aeronwen said.
Koh grit his teeth and dropped slowly to one knee, glaring all the while at the prince. He swallowed hard. Versa leaned down to whisper in Koh’s ear, then.
“How poetic, that I should appear to offer respite after all the nobles in your country have… mysteriously died, isn’t it?”
Koh growled deep in his chest and throat, and could hold himself back no longer. He reached up in a flash to grab the prince’s arm and yank his sleeve back away from it.
“Koh--!” Taliesin called. “Keep your hands off of the prince of Dúin!”
“It’s him!” Koh shouted, raising Versa’s hand for all to see. His own red-clad claws held up Versa’s hand, sleek and clawed, and covered in white scale. The prince’s downfall was the same as Koh’s – both dragons shifted in one another’s presence “He’s Llamrei!”
“Clever, clever boy,” Versa’s laughter rolled out across the room, echoing in the meeting chamber. Several guards stationed around the room held up their pikes, ready to strike either Koh or Versa, though it didn’t appear as if they could choose.
“What is going on, master Uffren?” Aeronwen asked, shooting a look to Taliesin.
“That bastard—” Taliesin hissed. “Your Majesty, your ambassador is the dragon that destroyed the palace at Lyon.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said. “There are no dragons. Lyon’s incident was the doing of an arsonist.”
“Yes, don’t be absurd, Pendragon,” Versa said. He wrenched his hand from Koh’s grasp. The prince sneered and turned to leave, robes flowing behind him as he swept up the stairs.
As he passed Taliesin, the fur trader pulled a knife and grabbed Versa by the arm, holding him close and pushing the blade to his throat.
“Guards,” Aeronwen called coldly. “Please, arrest Koh Pendragon and company for treason, assaulting the Dúin ambassador, and for interrupting peace negotiations.”
Each guard raised their weapons. Two charged Koh, pikes across his chest, one under each arm as they forced him to his knees. Another two took Brunhild, who held her chin high even as they forced her to the ground. Pywel shrieked as the guards seized him. Taliesin only held his blade tighter to Versa’s neck. A bead of blood ran out from underneath its point.
“Koh, is it?” Versa said. “It’s good to finally have a name to the face aside from Pendragon.”
“Quiet, you bastard. I could cut your throat here and now.”
“And you won’t,” Versa purred, unfazed.
“Convince me,” Taliesin whispered in the man’s ear lowly, three palace guards standing ready to take him down the moment the ambassador escaped. “Why shouldn’t I?”
