The Eighth Warden Book 6
Copyright© 2024 by Ivy Veritas
Chapter 11
Risingwind veered left, tilting nearly perpendicular, and Shavala’s stomach practically dropped out of her body. She threw her arms around his neck and gripped tight, hoping desperately that she wouldn’t fall off. The more they flew together, the more safeguards she’d added, with straps on the makeshift saddle to keep her legs tied in place, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the way he moved in the air.
The tree bond helped, giving her a moment of warning any time he was about to adjust course, and the sensation of the air currents through her elder senses allowed her to predict when and why. Without those advantages, she suspected it would be impossible to keep her seat even with the straps. She hoped to train him better in the future, but for now, it seemed, only an elven druid had the skills needed to ride a dragon.
Below them, in the distance, she saw scattered curls of smoke rising up from chimneys. This little village was at the edge of Corec’s lands, near the western border of the Terril Forest—and closer to the forest than any actual human settlement.
Using a combination of words and the tree bond, Shavala managed to relay to Risingwind that she wanted him to circle overhead. As the people below became aware of the strange sight in the sky, a tiny crowd gathered to stare and point. She kept Risingwind up out of arrow range until she was certain no bows were in sight, then directed him to dip lower. Once they were within range of the tree bond, she tried to project reassurance, hoping the villagers would get the idea. Risingwind, though, radiated excitement—he’d seen or sensed someone he recognized.
Shavala had to convince him to land outside the village rather than right in the middle of it. He came down with a jarring thump, and she forced her aching fingers to let go of the rope she’d been gripping. After unbuckling the straps from her legs, she dropped to the ground, swaying with a bit of dizziness now that they’d finally stopped moving.
Zhailai was the first to approach, everyone else holding back at the sight of the dragon. The woman rushed over to scratch Risingwind’s neck. “You rode him?” she exclaimed. “You can fly on him?”
“I’m still getting used to it,” Shavala admitted. “The only way I could think of to keep him out of trouble was to be with him when he flew. Gylvaren told me I could find you here—we checked at the western border camp first.”
Zhailai nodded. “He was busy with his duties, so I offered to come in his place when he received the message. This is the village the dorvasta outsiders abandoned when the dragon came. They’ve been living among some of the other outer villages down south, but returned a few months back once they knew it was safe again. Why are you this far out, though? I wasn’t expecting to see you so near the forest.”
“I need your help, if you’re willing,” Shavala said. She retrieved the staff from the harness she’d rigged for it below Risingwind’s wing. “You’ve used this before, and I need someone I can trust.”
“Oh?”
“Before I left Terevas, I promised Queen Vilisa I’d return to give the tree bond to the rest of the nilvasta, but now Corec is at war with Larso. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back.”
Zhailai tilted her head to the side. “War? Did the soldiers invade again?”
Shavala shook her head. “King Rusol killed Corec’s brother. Corec’s father declared war, and Corec joined him. A lot of our soldiers are gone too, either in Larso or hunting down a group of bandits, so Katrin’s asked me to stay near the keep to help with the scouting. But I don’t want to ignore my promise—it’s unfair to leave only a small number of nilvasta with the tree bond.”
“I haven’t been to Terevas in a while,” Zhailai said. “I wouldn’t mind going again, but I’ve never attempted anything like what you did there. I didn’t even know it was possible until you told me about it, and you’re stronger now than I am.”
“The staff handles most of the work—it’s what it was made for. It knows what to do, but you should examine the bond there first. I changed it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The dorvasta tree bond is too strong. It shouldn’t be allowed to control our actions. For the nilvasta, I changed how it works. It will inform, but it won’t control.”
Zhailai raised an eyebrow. “I won’t mention that part to the elders,” she said.
“Don’t give them the staff either,” Shavala said. “Between the two of us, it might take a year or more to finish the work in Terevas, and when spring comes, I’ll need it back in the free lands again. I’ll take it to the forest someday, but I have too many responsibilities to hand it over just yet.”
“Perhaps I should leave directly from here then, rather than returning home. I don’t have as much sway with the elders as you do. I came on foot, though. Do you think Risingwind can carry two?”
Shavala hid her smile at the other woman’s eagerness. “He’s too small for that, but if you stop at the keep, you can borrow Socks. He’s a good horse and he already knows you. I never have time to ride him these days.”
Zhailai nodded. “I’ll do that. While you’re here, though, there’s someone you should meet.”
The crowd had been inching toward them, not daring enough to move faster under the gaze of the dragon. Zhailai turned and gestured, and an older elven man took a deep breath and approached.
“Shavala, this is Kilaris,” Zhailai said. “He’s the elder here. Kilaris, Shavala is the woman I told you of—a personal friend of Corec Tarwen.”
The man gave Shavala a careful nod. “Druid, welcome to Aulerel. Your timing is auspicious. Zhailai has been informing us of events about which we’ve heard only rumors. I understand this human friend of yours has claimed all the land in this region, stretching as far east as the forest itself.”
Shavala shrugged. “I believe so. I’m not certain of the details.”
“This village is ours, and it has been for centuries,” he said. “Ever since the fall of Meftil. We won’t accept a human claiming our lands. Will you speak to him on our behalf?”
Kilaris failed to mention the decades the place had been abandoned, but it wasn’t Shavala’s job to promote Corec’s claims.
She said, “I won’t get involved one way or another, but if you’d like to write a letter, I’ll see that he gets it. That much I can do. He’s in Larso right now, so his response may be delayed.”
The elder appeared as if he wanted to protest, but then just sighed and nodded. “If that’s your offer, I will accept. Do you think he will be amenable?”
“He’s a reasonable man,” she said. “All I can suggest is to ask him. But I can’t stay long, so if you wish to send a message, please hurry.”
“Then I will go to write it now. Will the trade tongue be acceptable?”
“Trade tongue, Western, or I’ll translate it if you’re more comfortable with our own language.”
He nodded. “I’ll return shortly,” he said before wandering off.
“I apologize for that, but it was important,” Zhailai said. “Perhaps these people would be better protected by falling within Corec’s domain, but they left the forest to seek independence. It’s unlikely they’ll accept any other authority.”
“I doubt Corec will care about a single village this close to the forest, but humans are hard to predict. I don’t want to make any promises.”
Zhailai nodded, then her gaze swung back to Risingwind, who’d settled down a bit now that she’d greeted him and none of the strangers were approaching.
“You know,” she said, “his mother likely came from that brood down in the Table Lands. The stoneborn killed the one who invaded their lands, but I believe there are others still down south. They’d be of breeding age by now too.”
Shavala tilted her head to the side. “You want to find another egg?”
The other woman couldn’t hide the longing in her voice. “If we can use the tree bond to teach the dragons not to harm people, isn’t that a better choice than allowing them to be hunted and killed? The people of Cetos coexist with them. Why can’t we? Dragons won’t like the forest, I suppose, but there’s space in the free lands.”
Shavala nodded. “You’ll need the staff. Once we’ve finished our work, both here and in Terevas, I’ll visit the Table Lands with you.”
Queen Vilisa di’Valla of Terevas nodded in greeting to a pair of new arrivals as they walked past. They gave quick, respectful bows, but didn’t stop to chat. Winter’s Morn was, in elven tradition, a day of quiet reflection at the start of the year. While that tradition had changed over time, for this one day, no one would be attempting to curry favor with her. Instead, the party’s attendees mingled in small groups with friends and family members.
That left Vilisa standing alone. She’d lost touch with most of her old friends over the years as she’d taken on more and more of her mother’s responsibilities, and she hadn’t yet attempted to renew those old friendships. A quiet thought inside her wondered whether it was truly her responsibilities that caused those relationships to change, or whether it was something darker. Melithar’s warnings about the lost spell book echoed in her mind. Had her personality really changed like he’d claimed? She hadn’t felt any different, but she’d witnessed her mother’s behavior shift over time. Could Melithar have been right all along?
While she couldn’t say for certain whether the book had affected her, the impact of the tree bond was more obvious. For any decision she made, she had to risk sensing the reactions of the High Councilors. Sometimes there was no reaction, or it was brief or muted, but other times the sensation was sharp and strong, and not always in line with the public stance the Councilor had presented. And it wasn’t only the nobles. Many of the palace’s functionaries and even some of the servants had received the tree bond during Shavala’s visit, and they too occasionally made their feelings known, even when trying not to. The slight but constant buzz of other minds brushing against hers forced her to consider the ramifications of any action she took.
Tonight, for instance, it had affected her choice of clothing. While the nilvasta remained true to some Winter’s Morn customs, they’d gradually begun to use the quiet of the day to express themselves in other ways. For the well-to-do who could wrangle invitations to the main celebration at the palace, that meant their attire.
Older guests wore something close to traditional clothing—robes of state for the councilors, and suits or ball gowns for everyone else—but were draped with ostentatious amounts of jewels, furs, and other signs of wealth. The younger generations were dressed more garishly, with some in costumes made of fur or feathers, made to resemble some absurd animal, while others wore drab brown and green outfits meant to mimic their dorvasta cousins.
In the past, Vilisa had modeled her Winter’s Morn wear after the older generation, as befitted her role, but this year, she didn’t wish to be seen as part of either group. She’d opted for a simple green gown of local elven silk, with the circlet that marked her station as her only jewelry.
And it seemed she wasn’t the only one affected by the tree bond. Throughout the evening, there’d been occasional embarrassed murmurs as party-goers with the tree bond caught brief flashes of what the people around them really thought of them or their outfits.
For months, everyone had been acting as if nilvasta society would continue along as it always had, but Vilisa was starting to suspect the bond would have a much wider-ranging impact than she’d originally envisioned. It was too late to stop the process now that it had begun, though, and her people would have to learn to adapt. The dorvasta managed just fine with the tree bond. Vilisa just hoped she wouldn’t start desiring to live up the side of a tree.
Looking out across the crowd, she caught sight of several young men sneaking glances at her. Everyone in the room understood the significance of the next few years. She’d just turned a hundred and six. While still too young to marry, now that she was only five years from reaching the age of majority, she was expected to spend time getting to know the young noble sons of her generation. After all, the monarch had to produce an heir.
To her surprise, one of those noble sons decided to break with Winter’s Morn tradition to speak with her ... and not one she would have expected. Ederil di’Yedda, son of the dead traitor Retavin di’Yedda, met Vilisa’s stare straight on. When she didn’t look away, he left his friends behind without a word and strode up the shallow steps to the raised dais where she was standing.
“Exalted,” he said, with a warm smile and an easy bow. “A wonderful celebration you’ve put on for us this evening.” He kept his voice low to match the occasion, but even so, a few of the older attendees looked at him askance for daring to make small talk.
“Thank you, Lord Ederil,” she murmured. “Though Winter’s Morn has never seemed much of a celebration to me.”
He shrugged. “One year ends, another begins, and we’re both alive to see it. A better outcome than either of us might have had. I choose to be optimistic.”
His answer hinted at their parents’ fates, yet Vilisa had a difficult time believing he could be so nonchalant about the matter. She knew he’d received the tree bond, and could even feel a faint echo of his presence, but she didn’t sense any emotions coming through. Did he not care that she’d ordered his father’s execution?
“You might be right,” she said, then decided to be more forward. “I’ll admit, it’s been a relief to have a new voice on the Council. You know what the older members are like, but I feel we’ve made good progress lately.” There. She’d provided an ever-so-slight acknowledgement of the ever-so-slight overtures Ederil had offered since joining the High Council. Anything more would be saying too much.
Out in the crowd, Araline di’Taris stood glaring at the two of them. Araline been betrothed to Ederil before his father’s arrest, and her family hadn’t allowed the relationship to resume despite Ederil himself being free of any suspicion. The more unkind rumors suggested he hadn’t fought the matter all that much. Vilisa was starting to suspect he’d set his sights higher.
“Progress that wouldn’t have been possible without the new opportunities you and your sister have provided,” Ederil said. “I envision close cooperation between our houses in the future.”
This was starting to go well beyond small talk, and was certainly an inappropriate conversation for Winter’s Morn, but more than that, for a brief moment, he’d lost control of his real emotions. Through the tree bond, Vilisa had caught the moment of cunning deceit and murderous intent. He was in full agreement with his father’s machinations, which meant he’d likely been aware of them, and perhaps even an active participant.
His eyes flickered to either side when she didn’t reply immediately, and a bit of panic came through the bond.
“I’m getting ahead of myself,” he said, his voice smooth. “I forgot what day it is. I hope you’ll remember the sentiment, though.”
“Of course,” she said, keeping tight control over her own emotions. “I look forward to continuing this discussion soon.” She allowed a giddy happiness to shine through the bond, without any indication of just where that happiness was coming from.