My‑re stepped out from the Academy of the Eye building. She needed some fresh air and away from judgmental stares from people trying to get her to do something she didn’t want to do. The warm night air blew across her face with a strong, steady breeze, bringing in the fresh smell of seaweed from the nearby lake waters. Insects calling out to prospective mates carried on the air. She proceeded down the road, where lanterns lit the street. My‑re noticed a long section of darkness where several lights were out. That was likely due to the strong wind, but the specter that something loomed in the shadows started to make a lovely home in her gut.
“Don’t be stupid,” My‑re told herself. She took one step toward the darkened section and stopped. “To the nine hells with this.” She then darted off the path and into the coverage of trees. She quickened her stride, but after a short time, the constant call of life at night brought a sense of ease. She slowed her pace. The crunch of old leaves and twigs under her weight had a pleasing feel. Just a pleasant stroll in the woods on a beautiful night. She then noticed that the insects and other noises of life had stopped as if a lever had been pulled. Even the fresh smell of seaweed dissipated. She stopped. The channels of her ears opened up, listening for sounds of a threat. Her breathing slowed to almost nothing. Time stopped. She felt as though something watched her. She could feel her heart pounding hard. Her chest felt hollow. A void of darkness passed overhead. A strong gust of wind followed, almost knocking her off balance. She launched herself, sprinting forward. Her long legs stretched to their utmost. Her muscles pumped hard. She noticed a large creature’s shadow follow her overhead as she ran. Reality distorted. The inky blackness closed fast behind her. She broke from the woods. Something grabbed her shoulder. It stopped her in her tracks. Its strength proved incredible. Instinct took over. Howling, she snapped her knee up full force at her foe, connecting. Its grip released. She focused all her skill and power on devastating kicks at the figure before her.
“I yield! I yield!” shouted Vomarian Fae, the captain of the Unsinkable III.
Focusing, My‑re saw the Shagornan Elf on the ground, rolled up into a ball, holding up one hand in supplication and the other covering his groin. She snapped her head back toward the trees. Nothing. Turning back, the sounds of insects and other nightlife returned. Alastari’s full moon and the multitude of stars without number in the heavens shone brightly, bathing the road in light. Breathing, the smell of fresh seaweed had also returned.
“Why in the nine hells did you knee me?” Vomarian asked, sitting on the road but rocking back and forth in a need for comfort.
“You grabbed me.”
“You charged out of the woods like Ahringol, the god of the dead himself, was chasing you. I reached out only to prevent you from running me over,” Vomarian replied.
“What are you doing out here?” Don’t you have a flying ship to oversee?” My‑re questioned.
“Looking for you, actually.”
“Was I not clear? I’m not going to be your Rirorni interpreter.”
“Lady Greywand has asked me to invite you back to the Stronghold Academy. She has someone she wants you to meet.”
“It’s getting late. Who?”
“I didn’t meet her, but someone important, it seems, who has traveled far. She goes by the name Feriale of the Drakenfell Mountains.”
***
“Stay in the waiting room, and don’t leave until summoned by Lady Greywand,” Vomarian said.
“Aren’t you coming?” My‑re asked.
“No, I was instructed not to come any further,” Vomarian said, closing the door.
Vomarian had brought her to another room much smaller than the previous one within the Stronghold Academy.
My‑re had been here before. Sitting behind a desk with a single large, fat candle lighting the room sat a venerable and meek old man with a fluffy snow-white afro whom she remembered. Jenkins. He knocked his thick spectacles down his crooked nose. Old man Jenkins pushed a piece of paper across the counter with a matching white feathered quill.
“Please fill out the form and return it to me when completed.”
“I did this already,” My‑re replied.
“I heard you were bright, but it seems not intelligent. That was for your prior meeting with Lady Greywand. This is for your current meeting,” Jenkins explained.
My‑re’s eyes narrowed, the door opened, and Lady Sheila Greywand entered.
“Jenkins, there will be no record of this meeting,” Sheila informed, plucked the paper, and held it under the fat candle’s flame until it caught fire. When Sheila dropped it to the desk, the flame hungrily ate the parchment and disintegrated to ash.
“Come, My‑re.”
My‑re followed Sheila through the inner keep, a maze of corridors twisted in all directions. Light from sconces lit what she assumed were priceless works of art and vases filling the nooks and crannies. She expected guards in polished breastplate armor and halberds to line the hallway, but it was just the two of them. They advanced toward an exquisite double door, which opened as they approached. The great oval chamber could fit a multitude of guests at once. Cushioned chairs and oversized sofas furnished the room with dozens of multi-colored pillows. However, all of these were pushed to one side of the chamber. Light from Alastari’s full moon glowed through a gigantic opening high in the ceiling. Sconces lit the chamber.
In the center of the room were three things of note: a sizeable decorative table, a small hand-sized wooden chest sitting on it, and a person.
Staring at My‑re and Sheila with sky-blue eyes stood a well-dressed woman in an elaborately detailed, heavy garment. The dress design had overlapping cloth scales extending from around her waist, covering another longer set going around, concealing her legs. A simple, white floral design decorated the dark blue fabric over a sleeveless and strapless top reaching diagonally toward her right shoulder. Taller and leaner than My‑re, she had a natural beauty with wide-set eyes, high cheekbones, and feminine sensuality. Her straight, golden-sheen blond hair hung to the middle of her back. Her fair facial features had a splattering of freckles across her youthful face. She moved toward them gracefully with the self-confidence of a woman born to nobility.
“My‑re, may I present Feriale of the Drakenfell Mountains,” Sheila said.
My‑re wasn’t sure what to do. She felt out of place, wearing simple work clothing in the presence of two well-dressed women. Feriale focused solely on her. Folding her arms across her chest for security, her eyes darted to Sheila and wished she would be inspired by something, anything. She opened her mouth and hoped something intelligent would come. Nothing. Her brain and tongue failed her, and her stomach churned.
“This is Araminth’s mother,” Sheila continued.
A trap, My‑re thought to herself. Anger quickly overshadowed nervousness. She recognized it as nothing but a ploy to guilt her to go on the search for the person, this Araminth. They didn’t care about her banishment from the Rirorni Empire. They only cared she had a skill they needed and could be discarded when no longer valuable—just an asset to be used.
“Feriale is graciously funding the expedition,” Sheila said, approaching the table with the small, hand-sized chest and opened it. Inside, a multitude of gems of various sizes and colors filled the container, which cascaded down each other at its movement.
My‑re forgot her ire at the sight of the wealth before her. She approached, fixated on the gems’ luster.
“Touch them,” Sheila motioned. “Whatever you want.”
Hesitating, looking at the two women, My‑re’s fingers glided over the stones. They were cool to the touch, almost like ice. She plucked a large, blue sapphire, slightly larger than the tip of her pinky finger. Her rational mind kicked in. Snorting, she said, “I can’t be bought with a mere gem.”
A smile spread across Sheila’s face. “You do not understand. This entire chest is yours.”
Her eyes switched between Sheila, Feriale, and then back to the chest of precious stones.
“The entire chest is mine if I go on the expedition into the Rirorni Empire?” My‑re inquired.
“Yes,” Sheila answered.
“I’m banished. My life is forfeit if I get caught. I’m sorry, but I can’t go,” My‑re said, placed the stone back in the chest, and turned to leave. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Feriale move.
“My‑re, my child is missing.”
The words were not so much heard but felt and spoken directly into her brain. They were strong and powerful. It caused her to stop.
“What in the nine hells was that?” My‑re asked, touching her forehead and rebalancing herself.
“Apologies. It is called mind speak and a method of translating their language,” Sheila added quickly. “It can be jarring the first few dozen times.”
“You’ve got that right. If you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving now. I like this world I’m living in,” My‑re said.
Feriale stepped forward and her presence overshadowed all. “When Araminth vanished, my world stopped. If you can aid in finding my child and return her home, I implore you.”
My‑re blinked several times as the words echoed in her mind. She looked to Sheila, who nodded, and then to Feriale, whose brow furrowed in concern and worry that only a mother could produce. It still wasn’t wise for her to return to the Rirorni Empire. It put her at great risk. However, it might allow her the opportunity to return to Sanaras and let her adoptive family know she had survived the Blood Games Tournament. She could only imagine what her second mother, A’renna, must have gone through when she was banished from the Rirorni Empire. Now, another mother was asking her aid to find a lost child. If she said no, it would be like someone turning their back on A’renna, who raised her when she was captured in the Rirorni War.
“All right, I’ll go,” My‑re said.
“Thank you,” Sheila acknowledged.
Feriale smiled with relief and slightly nodded to My‑re.
My‑re turned to leave but hesitated. She returned to the table, closed the gem-filled chest, and picked up the heavier-than-expected container. “I have a few things I need to buy before we go.”
***
“Even with My‑re as part of the expedition, there is no guarantee they will find Araminth,” Sheila said. “There is concern that some hardship may have befallen her.”
“I am not concerned. Araminth is dragon, and to be dragon is to know hardship,” Feriale replied.
The room then shimmered, and like a curtain dropping from the ceiling, the illusion of the woman Feriale disappeared. In her place, a dragon, over thirty feet long with a deep golden sheen, folded wings, and a long tail, filled a good portion of the room.
Sheila cleared her throat. “There is also the unfathomable possibility that something unspeakable may have befallen her.”
“Lady Sheila Greywand, while I have lost contact with Araminth, it does not mean she has passed to the afterlife. However, if the Rirorni have murdered my child, I will ensure every Rirorni burns, every living thing is put to the flame, and turn their entire nation to ash.”