Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 53

Chapter 11 – The Dragon's Child

"The dark pulse of magic pounded against corroded veins, throwing vestigial light over the gaping abyss of the shattered city, rent stone and broken men. Born to the shell of a human laid the soul of the only agent powerful enough to challenge the gods themselves; the small and the great alike took notice as it slithered through the crowd to the pedestal.

It spoke of hope in the coming years, of power, prosperity and peace if the heros would but bend their knee and give up this foolishness that they had undertaken. Not a single voice rose from the huddled masses, they cowered behind their chosen edifices, praying silently they would be spared the righteous anger of the creature.

"We fear nothing!" The hero lied boldly. "There is no knee strong enough to bear the weight of a dragon's claw and no god who will not stand behind us this night to see to it they don't have to." Steel flashed in the gaping maw of darkness and in those ruins, in that night, and with those words, the fate of thousands was sealed.

Their voices still linger on the whispering wind, awaiting merciful oblivion."

Final Recorded Words of Dame Amaranth Lestigien in the City of Colesmith – Estan Free States

"The Last Angels of Isira"

~Felicia~

The embankment rolled down smoothly around a wide swath of fallow land with several buildings arrayed behind it with lazy winding stair cases that lead to doors on what would have been considered the second story to it. Far beyond the buildings was a hill crowned by an opulent home in a style Felicia had never seen before, near the road sat a village built in roughly the same fashion with squat architecture and oddly curved roof work that looked as though it was made of rolled metal.

To the plains walker, the very idea of such buildings existing was ludicrous, however most northerners had no idea what kind of damage a thunder quake could do. She was the one being ridiculous; she'd seen villages and cities before, there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary if one discounted the heavy gouging of Sarah's wagon tracks in the dirt.

That was until Felicia saw what appeared to be a trading post alongside the road and a string of barricades and armed militia men guarding the approach. There were dozens of caravan workers backed up along the road with their wagons being rifled through by the militia and, much to Felicia's surprise, a gaggle of random men at arms who'd set up some kind of camp beside the trading post.

Felicia slowed to a halt when she saw the entire mess laid out before her. Something about this seemed fundamentally off, it made the hair on her neck stand at firm attention and for a moment she had an instinctual urge to tear through the field rather than risk whatever was going on near the village.

It was an urge brought on by years and years of uneasy tension with the northern 'civilized' world and its attempts to civilize the plains and while Felicia wasn't part of the warrior caste, she knew the stories– she knew that this looked like some kind of bid to suppress people's travel. That alone was enough to terrify her.

She glanced back at her passenger who'd been quiet for the last several hours, even more so than usual. Lostariel had been sleeping but the moment Felicia looked back her eyes were darting back, bleary and unfocused. A moment later she wiped her mouth and seemed to find herself, though still groggy. In her travel clothes she looked more like a civilian than she'd ever seen the killer look– she looked normal. It didn't hurt that her leather vest accented her form.

"Morning." Felicia said as she passed the water skin back. It was a tiredness they both shared, but only Lostariel had the ability to deal with during waking hours; she could sleep all she wanted while Felicia guided the horse down the trail. At least she'd gotten comfortable enough with the animal to do so.

After the pale northerner downed more than her share of water she passed it back, blinked a few times and looked around with new focus. "Why're we– Oh." She cut herself off, peering down the road. "I see."

Felicia eyed the gathered warily. "Yeah."

They went quiet for some time, watching the line move forward one cart at a time. Some of the caravans continued on past the village, some stopped to trade and a few had guards disembark and join the camp beside the trading post. Throughout it all the guards didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to welcome or turn anyone away and yet Felicia felt something watching them. Someone or something.

Something.

As though they might be heard, she looked to her companion. "What do you think?"

Lostariel gave the land another sweep left and right before she wrinkled her nose in that way she did when something didn't sit well with her. It was an affectation Felicia had gotten to see a lot during their arguing and training sessions, it was a face she'd come to think of as cute if not for how cold the voice that followed it usually was. This time was no different. "If the tracks follow the road we continue."

Felicia wound the reins around her arm with a sigh. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"It isn't," the assassin said as she rested her chin on Felicia's shoulder. Her purple eye was fixed on the girl and something in her smirk said she approved of Felicia's reasoning. "What would you suggest instead?"

"We could go around? Double back maybe, and see if we can't find another trail?"

"We'd spend more time than we have to catch up to Sarah, we might lose her in the process."

"But what if something happens?"

"If you allow it to, you've not been paying attention to my training." The assassin sighed lightly, pressed her cheek to Felicia's. "We'll be fine."

Felicia was less than convinced, she shifted her weight uneasily. They'd come a long way since leaving the last trading post and in the weeks of training that had followed her confidence had been building– her movements were more deliberate and considered, her grasp of body mechanics and the way in which people carried themselves had also grown, but when faced with her first real challenge she had doubts. Serious gaping doubts.

None the less, if either of them stood a chance at finding Sarah they needed to actually catch up to her. If that meant diving head long into the potential for danger, then that was just going to be what it took. She nudged the horse on.

It took the guards another good while to finish up with the caravans in front of them and with every step closer Felicia's body wound tighter and tighter, wondering, waiting. She and Lostariel could handle themselves but against several heavily armed men they didn't stand a chance. Lostariel's number one rule had even been specifically that; you stand no chance against one, do not engage on their terms.

This was anything but engaging on their own terms.

"Where are you headed?" The guard said as he strode towards them. His companions were searching through the wagon in front of them, rifling through crates of blankets and other cloth supplies. "Just the two of you?"

"Estan," Lostariel supplied. "Yes, just the two of us." She sounded nothing like herself; innocent and open. Warm even. "We're going to visit our uncle."

"Estan, huh?" The guard reached for their packs on the horse's flank and by reflex Felicia pivoted the animal away. "Hey now–"

"He's skittish, don't mind him." Lostariel continued with a flicker of annoyance directed at Felicia. "Something spooked him up the road." She prodded Felicia's ribs. "Anna just got him back under control."

"Wh- Oh, yeah. Yeah, one of those rabbit things. . . .darted right past us!"

The guard made another lurch for their packs and this time Felicia held her ground, watching him and his compatriots from either edge of her vision. He was polite and casual but Lostariel's training had the young plains walker watching more than just his manner; the small movements he made said he was looking for something.

Then he paused at something he found.

He stepped back and was all smiles and politeness again. "Well, you ladies have a good trip and be wary of the roads, those rabbits can get a might unsettling when they attack en masse." He waved them on.

Felicia did her best to hide her discovery hoping that she'd not tipped her hand and quietly, careful not to draw any attention, she edged around the caravans and continued on, perfectly content to move on. Even so, they drew a lot of attention from the gruff men and caravan guards as well. Some of it was attention she was familiar with; the kind that hinted at what they would do given time with her and no chance of getting caught, and some of it- she almost hoped- was understanding of just who and what Lostariel was.

At least that knowledge would have kept them safe even as it painted a big target on them.

Lostariel gripped her shoulder firmly. "We need supplies."

"But– why? What do we need that we can't get later on? From the next town or whatever. . ."

A beat. "You're afraid."

"You aren't?" She frowned. "Stupid question, but this place is wrong– we're going to get hurt here."

Lostariel's purple gaze swept the quaint little village, her thin lips turned downward but it was clear she'd made up her mind. She flicked her head towards the trading post and quietly pulled her blades from the pockets in her leathers, sliding them upwards for easier access in an emergency.

When they dismounted Felicia plucked the elder's kukri from her packs and slung the other bag with her old chainmail in it on the off chance she could finally get rid of it. They got plenty of looks, some subtle some not so subtle, and when they approached the trading house doors some burly soldier slapped Lostariel's ass with a thick resounding smack.

The assassin didn't react, she didn't even flinch as they stepped into the deep hall where they earned a few more looks and, in Felicia's mind, the anticipation of greedy merchants ready to turn a quick coin. In the intervening time she managed to get rid of her armor for a few loaves of trail biscuits and wound up spending far more than necessary on food with the merchants claiming the flow of caravans draining their stocks increased their value. It was only because of Lostariel that she went along with the price gouging and only because of her the young plainswalker didn't raise objection when some drunkard tried to feel her up.

When they were done with their trading and 'safely' outside Felicia spoke up. "Why?" At least she hoped it came out that way, she was laden with the food stuffs and somehow had managed to wind up with a bundle pressed against her mouth.

"Because drawing attention to yourself is how you get killed." Lostariel said flatly as they rounded the building towards the hitching posts. "Do you know what a mongoose is?"

"No, but what–"

"A mongoose hunts snakes in the grass, it follows them to their burrows and kills them. It doesn't make its intentions or itself known until the last possible moment; this is how it survives, technique enables it to kill those things more dangerous than itself but skill allows it to survive to the moment of truth." The short woman took one of the packs Felicia had been struggling with, slung it and continued on. "A very important distinction– technique will win you a battle, but skill is how you win wars."

"There's more to life than fighting, Lo–"

"Stop."

Felicia did.

"Notice something?" Lostariel hooked her thumbs into her belt and eyed her protoge.

Felicia was about to argue, about to tell her how pig headed she was being, but before the words could touch her lips she noticed immediately what was wrong: the row of hitching posts, nearly a dozen in total, was completely devoid of animal. Her own horse included. Tied to the post in place of her reins was a slip of paper with a crudely drawn picture of a shield with a star on it, the same painting she'd seen on the guards' shields looking back.

Her heart clenched tight in her chest and started to tremble at the possibility her animal had been taken. It was a replaceable creature but in the grand scheme of things it meant she had failed in some manner, that she'd thrown herself to the mercies of the 'civilized' world and been taken for all she was worth. On the plains losing a horse was a common occurrence, but having it taken from you? That was unthinkable. Unforgivable.

"We should leave," Lostariel murmured and snatched a couple other bundles. "We can clear town before–"

"No." Felicia turned. "No, that's not all right–"

"Don't be stupid."

"That was my horse!" She spun on her companion, even knowing full well what she was capable of Felicia didn't spare drop of her irritation and anger. "You wouldn't understand but he has our things in his pack, too, or have you forgotten?"

Lostariel's usual casual indifference was glacial, as though irritated that her apprentice would speak to her in such a manner. "We have bigger problems, or have you forgotten?"

"Sarah? Really? You–"

"I am. Come, we can ambush someone in the night and–"

"No!" Felicia threw her packs down against the hitching post and started off with note in hand and a fire in her heart. "I'm not some petty criminal, he's my animal, gods dammit."

"Suit yourself."

That stalled her, she looked back to see Lostariel picking up one of the smaller bags and starting off towards the road. "He- Hey!"

"Not interested!"

"Hey!" Felicia called out again, her courage quickly leaving her as she watched the powerful woman stroll towards the perimeter fencing. She didn't even look back once.

Felicia almost started after her, she was subconsciously running after her mentor for the strength and security she could provide, but then it occurred to her; what good would come of it? What would she gain by running after yet another person who seemed intent on doing their own thing and leaving her in the dust?

No, no she needed to do this herself and when she had her horse back– surely it was just some misunderstanding or something– she'd be back on the road and if she was really lucky she'd get ahead of Lostariel. Yes, that was how it was going to have to be. . .

She started with the nearest person who didn't look immediately creepy and asked for directions which landed her in front of a small house with a built in jail like the one in Laleah. Unlike that village's holding pen, however, this building actually looked somehow official with polished wood, fine carpeting and accents that cast gleaming light over the interior from crystal glow lamps fixed in recessed pockets in the roof. It was vaguely surreal but between the trophies mounted on the wall– mostly animals Felicia had never seen– and the collection of fine art punctuating them, Felicia immediately got the impression someone owned this place.

Between the front door and the 'office' that itself acted as a buffer in front of the jail cells in the rear of the room was a rather sizable raised podium with a man standing behind it, reading through a book. They looked to one another as Felicia entered and immediately she recognized him as the man who'd inspected their goods earlier.

"Oh, hello again." He smiled. "Something I can do for you?" With those words he closed his book and set it aside.

"Uh y- yes. My horse. . ."

"Ah! Right, yes. Your horse. . ." He gave her a light smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Your horse was caught loitering outside the trade house, somehow it untied itself from the hitching post and wandered off into old man Son's farm where it ate a bunch of apples. He was getting ready to kill it before I happened along." He chuckled. "Caused quite a stir."

Felicia paused, wary and unsure of what to say to the obvious bold faced lie. If Lostariel was there she'd have called him on it right then and there, but she was better than that, she could tip toe around it, couldn't she? She dampened her lips and put on a smile every bit as fake as his. "I guess I must've been skipping meals, did he want me to pay for his lost crops or something?"

The man eyed her. "Well now I guess that depends, do you have the coin to?"

"I'm sure I could raise it."

"I bet you could too." He steepled his fingers. "Tell you what, he's a cranky old man but I think I can deal with him if you want. He'll want an apology but a couple silvers and I'm sure it'll be okay."

Felicia relaxed slightly, "O- of course. Sure, that'd be great if you could make that happen." Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought and like Lostariel had said; putting on an air was helping her already. They had no idea what the two of them were up to, nor were they going to arrest either of them for anything.

Everything was fine.

"Great!" He got up from behind his podium and stepped down, sliding around Felicia and holding the door open for her. "Right this way then, miss. . .?"

"Uh, F- Fal. . . in. . .a."

"Huh. Now that's an uncommon name fitting an uncommon woman, isn't it?" The guard gave her a dry smile as he lead her around the building towards a yellow barn. He continued talking as they walked by and yet with every step Felicia became more and more acutely aware of where she was in relation to everything else around her, that prickling sense of danger and uncertainty bristling her with the promise of danger as yet undefined. It was a skill she'd picked up working with Lostariel and right now it was at the same level she felt when Lostariel was hiding in the shadows; she might not have known the danger was there nor where it was going to come from but she'd opened her senses to it in hopes that she'd be able to pick up on it before it sprung on her.

She almost did it, too.

Almost.

"Say, where's your sister? I suspect he'll want to talk to her, too."

"She's. . . .she left."

"Left?" He stopped and looked to her. She started to walk past but he grabbed her shoulder, held her there. "What do you mean left?"

Felicia didn't resist at first, simply turning to look up at him with an empty expression. "She wanted to get away from here and uh–" it then occurred to her that she'd forgotten the excuse Lostariel had given for their traveling. "Well, you know. . ."

"No. I don't. Why don't you tell me?" The man loomed a little closer. "Where is she?"

Felicia eased back, reached for the kukri on her belt. She didn't even realize what was going on before she felt him punch her in the mouth.

"Where is she?!" She heard him say from some distant part of her consciousness.

The teenager's vision swam and from around her she thought she heard the shuffling of other feet, several sets of them. She yanked weakly on her captor's arm but it was too late. She had nowhere to go. Panic surged through her veins as she tried to turn away, to grab for her weapon and to kick off all at the same time; flailing. She was wrong. She was wrong!

Hands grabbed at her clothing. At her blouse, her hair. Her throat. Her legs. She was off the ground and someone was stuffing a rag over her mouth to contain her scream for help. They all had rough hands, uncaring for anything but what they held tightly. The young guard was muttering orders and soon Felicia found her hands bound over her head, her vision was slowly coming back to normal and she saw older men in guards uniforms around her. Her brown eyes flit from face to face but she found no kindness or patience. Just a kind of grim determination.

Lostariel's teachings hadn't taught her how to deal with this and her first instinct, to thrash and scream, took over. But for every attempt she made a set of hands was there holding her tight, keeping her from acting out. In another instant she was hauled to her feet in front of the young man who grabbed a hand full of her hair and wrenched her head back.