Fifteen

In Which Daystar and Emberlace depart for the Cinderstrand.

A/N: Normally, I write novels to some sort of soundtrack. I'll find a song or composer and listen to the music to give me musical context. Dragonhatched has been somewhat difficult to write because I can't quite find the right music for it. This song, The Wilder Sun by Jon Hopkins, is the only piece I've found yet that fits perfectly, and it acts as the soundtrack to Daystar and Emberlace's departure from Ebon Reach in this chapter.

Prince Daystar and Princess Emberlace set off from the castle of Ebon Reach with great pomp and fanfare. After some argument over clothing, Daystar finally managed to convince the barons that they should dress simply, and both he and Emberlace wore dark blue, Daystar with a long woolen robe over his usual clothes, and Emberlace once again in long, full skirts and ruffled sleeves. She braided her hair over her shoulder, and wore a single small diamond on her forehead. Daystar wore no sign of his rank except his father’s signet, and the Lord Baron of Deepnight had commented casually that they looked shabby for representatives of their kingdom. 

“I have not the patience to waste on frivolous extravagance when my people are dying,” Emberlace retorted to the baron’s comments, silencing him. Ravenglen dramatically hugged both of them as they left, tears streaming down his cheeks, and Daystar resisted the urge to be sick.

Both nights since they’d been captured were marked by ever more violent attacks by the dragons. Every major village or city in Deepnight was burning, and now peasants fled to the city of Ebon Reach for refuge as fire descended on their homes as well.

“Their plight is why I do this,” he told Emberlace the night before they departed as he stared out the window. The horizon was lit in places by burning fields, washing out the stars. “If it was merely Ravenglen and the nobles, I would tell them to go jump off a tower.”

“Do you think we will succeed?” Emberlace asked him quietly, hugging herself.

“I honestly have no idea. But for the sake of our people, we must try. If I do not return, it will fall to you to be queen.”

“I will never rule with Ravenglen.”

“I do not expect you to. Work with Dawncaster. Overthrow his reign.”

Now they turned away from Ravenglen’s false words of encouragement and blessing to join their escort: a young guard and another man and woman. Daystar broke into a wide smile as he saw Jonathan and Bess. The two bowed as the prince and princess approached, and Daystar clasped Jonathan’s arm as Emberlace threw her arms around Bess and greeted her happily.

“How did you end up here?” Daystar asked Jonathan under his breath.

“The person who hired us said you needed people you could trust,” Jonathan replied. “And they don’t trust the guards, apparently.”

“Just as well.”

Daystar mounted as Jonathan lifted Emberlace up onto her sidesaddle. The princess swayed a little as she caught her balance and hooked her knee around the saddlehorn.

No one spoke as they left the great castle gates and crossed the bridge over the Wanderstep River into the city. The people lined the streets in silence, backing away as Jonathan cleared the way ahead with a pale blue flag of parlay in his stirrup, and closing in after Bess and the young guard bearing their colors passed at the rear of the small procession. The weight of their silence was more than the sound of the customary cheering that usually accompanied a royal procession, and Daystar looked out among them, catching their worried eyes as he rode. The entire city lined their path out in reverent silence, and the whole city remained unnaturally still.

Caravans of refugees slipped to a halt as they took to the road beside the river, drawing aside to make room for them and watching them go in the same eerie silence that overcame Ebon Reach. Mediators and a few Fervents fell to their knees and turned their faces to the sky as the prince and princess passed, knowing what the flag of parley meant, and Daystar was grateful for their prayers.

The silence continued around them as they traveled on, extending even to the small inns where they stayed. Jonathan and Bess spoke to the innkeepers, who dealt with the party in gentle silence that pervaded even into the common room and the small houses clustered around the way houses.

“Why do they not speak?” Emberlace whispered to Daystar as the second day stretched on without a sound beyond the wind and the rush of the river.

“They know the flag of parley means that we are going to the dragons. Their silence is out of respect for the gravity of the task; they believe it will bring a blessing upon the mission.”

“It’s unnerving,” Emberlace commented.

Daystar couldn’t resist grinning at her. “Now you know how I felt.”

She smacked him gently on the arm.

***

They reached the Cinderstrand on the third day and followed the Wanderstep River up into the mountains. Snow already dusted the passes and the tops of the mountains, and they bundled themselves in cloaks against the cold, camping for the night at the crossroads between the Split Mountain Pass and the Cinderstrand Road. The road to the dragon hold was flanked by pillars of stone as high as those in the throne room of Ebon Reach, the road many times as wide as the pass and paved with layers of finely cracked stone. Pine trees grew out of the rocky slopes above the road, gangly and undeterred by the hostile stone.

Another flight of dragons passed over their camp before they lay down to sleep, and they watched the creatures go.

“What is your plan?” Jonathan asked Daystar as they sat staring into the fire.

“I’m going to sue for peace. We’ve spent too much time thinking about how to renew the contract rather than reestablish an alliance with the dragons.”

Daystar looked up at Jonathan. “I must go alone once we near the dragons. If I do not return, you must get back to Lady Dawncaster at all costs.”

“Your parties have never returned, then?”

“Not a man of them,” Daystar said soberly. “We don’t know why, but I intend to give you the best chance of bringing some kind of news back to Lady Dawncaster and her agents.”

“And if you are successful?”

“Then I’ll be in a position to ask for a lift back, or at least for a message to be taken to you.”

“What are you bargaining with that makes you think they’ll listen?” Bess asked shrewdly.

Daystar leaned his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his hair, letting his hand slide over his face, and the others drew closer, expressions growing grim.

“Myself.”

Bess’s mouth dropped open. “Yourself? But you’re the heir apparent again; you’re too valuable.”

“That’s exactly it, Bess. I’m valuable. Second to the kingdom itself, I’m the most valuable thing I’ve got to bargain with.”

“And Emberlace?” Bess inquired, shifting closer to the other woman.

“As far as I am concerned, she is my heir. If I do not return, she will take my place on the throne of Upper Vale.”

Jonathan eyed him keenly. “You don’t expect to return.”

Daystar took a deep breath, looking up at Emberlace, relieved to see the understanding in her eyes. “I don’t. Someone needs to take responsibility for breaking our contract, and it might as well be me, since I am the heir of those who committed the infringement in the first place.”

“And if the kingdom falls apart without you?” Bess demanded. “I’ve heard the people speak of you, the way you hold the barons in check.”

“The kingdom is falling apart with me. The people can bear the foolishness of the barons, and it will eventually destroy itself. The dragons are an external threat that we cannot survive.”

Bess and Jonathan looked at each other. “If so…” Jonathan ruminated, “Perhaps we should part ways here. This is the edge of the dragon’s territory, and we can wait here until you return or we get some kind of word of you. Please try to bargain for a message of your fate to be sent back.”

Daystar nodded. “I will.”

They lay awake in silence for a long time that night, seeing the shadows of the returning dragons sweep across the stars as the wing beats faded into the distance. Daystar’s dreams were troubled, full of darkness punctuated by bright flashes of light, and he woke with a searing headache that subsided even as he sat up, gripping his head.

The campfire was burned down to embers, and the sun was just stretching its rays above the mountains. Daystar rose and shook out his clothes and bedroll with the others. All of them moved in silence; there was nothing particular to say, and beyond polite ‘good morning,’ conversation would have seemed forced.

Jonathan and Bess moved to cut branches and make a more permanent camp as Daystar packed his saddlebags to continue on alone. He heard a sharp grunt and turned to see Emberlace saddling her horse.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Coming with you,” she replied briskly, stepping to tighten the girth as the horse looked back at her in confusion before deciding that her clumsy work wasn’t hurting or uncomfortable and placidly waiting while she gently figured out the bridle.

“You can’t,” Daystar protested. “I’m going to make peace, and someone is going to have to rule when I’m gone. It should be you.”

“I’m not a queen, Daystar,” Emberlace said darkly. “Dawncaster will do fine ruling; she can handle the barons.”

“Listen-”

“No.” She turned, holding her horse by the bridle. “You can’t just ask me to sit here and watch you ride away to die, and tell me to go on living without you because I’m not sure that I can.” Tears brimmed up in her eyes, and Emberlace fought them back, biting her lip ferociously. “You’re part of me, and I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t there.”

“You would go on,” Daystar reassured her.

Emberlace shook her head. “You saw me as a different person from anyone else, and I am a different person than I have ever been, and all of that is built around you, and I don’t think I can continue to be her if you’re not there.”

“I’m probably going to die. If you come with me, you’ll die too.”

“That’s a journey I’m willing to take.” Emberlace lifted her chin, and Daystar saw something like despair behind her eyes as the tears finally fell. “Don’t you remember who my father is? I have no one back in Ebon Reach. I’ve never remembered really having anyone besides my nurse who ever truly cared for me, and she’s dead. I don’t know. Maybe I love you because there’s never been anyone else for me to love. Do you remember what I told you, Daystar, why I didn’t kill you? I didn’t kill you because you were kind. That’s all it took because no one, no one has been good to me in a long time. Almost longer than I can even remember. If you walk away, you walk away and leave me without anyone at all in this world, completely bereft of the only person whoever possibly gave me anything good to hold onto, anything that I loved or looked forward to or felt any sort of protectiveness towards. If I watch you die, if I know you die, if I do not die with you, I will die soon after you because I will have absolutely nothing.”

Daystar stared at her, tears brimming in his own eyes as she trembled and cried, leaning on the horse for some sort of support. “I…just don’t want to bring you to your death, Emberlace. I don’t want to be the reason that you life is cut off.”

“My life was cut off a long time ago.”

“Only one person should have to die here.”

“And that person should be you? I can understand why you think that, but I have no intention of letting you go alone. If you think I’m going back to Ebon Reach, you’re mad, and if you forbid me from following you, well, I think you know how well that will go over with me.

“You’re not stopping me from coming with you.”

Daystar’s heart cracked a little as he looked at her, finally scooping her up into his arms and letting her cry wretchedly on her shoulder, burying his face in her hair as he began to cry with her, wondering what it must feel like to be more certain of death then life because death would at least leave you with the one person you cared for. He could hardly imagine life being a worse fate than death, but if that was how she felt, he certainly could not stop her.

“Come, then,” he told her, squeezing her slender waist. “But not to die, alright? We’re going to come out of this alive if we can.”

Jonathan and Bess stayed back to let them have their moments together, and only joined them again as they broke apart. Bess and Emberlace hugged each other tightly, swaying as they cried into each other’s shoulders and pulling away slowly, trying to laugh past their tears.

“You look awful,” Bess told Emberlace bluntly. “Maybe you can scare the dragons with those lovely red eyes of yours.”

Emberlace managed a laugh after that and reached out to hesitantly brush Jonathan’s shoulder with a hand. He caught her fingers and bowed over her hand a little gracelessly. “My lady. Best of luck to you.”

A cold wind blew in over the camp as they mounted and turned their horses onto the Cinderstrand Road. The pines bowed against the gusts, and Daystar bowed his head against the biting cold, his fingers growing numb on the pole of the parley flag braced in his stirrup. Emberlace carried their colors, and they grappled with the flags a little as the wind snapped them.

They saw no living thing besides a few birds and squirrels for the entire day, though Daystar felt as if something constantly watched them. Shadows that were not clouds fell across the road, stones tumbled from ledges, and they sometimes heard a far-off roar or the thud of wing beats. The country grew wilder as the road wound up through the mountains, following the Wanderstep as it wound down through the mountains. Late in the day, Daystar spotted a tower in the distance and reined in, staring at it. It towered in the midst of a high valley on a massive rock. A winding road cut into the rocks let up to it, and pine trees clustered around the base. An outcropping on the side of the rock hung over the river, and another small tower sat atop it. The building was obviously human sized, almost friendly-looking, with white marble and a red roof like the terracotta used in Far Haven.

“Do you think it might be safe to stop there for the night?” Emberlace asked, shuddering against the wind.

“We can at least shelter near it,” Daystar replied, urging his horse down the road.

They walked their horses up the steep incline, noting the grooves in the road for their mounts to hang onto. From time to time during the day, the horses had showed nervousness, rolling their eyes and side-stepping, but here they seemed calm, and Daystar took it as a good sign.

The tower seemed in good condition, with all the glass still in the windows and the door firmly closed. He knocked twice before gently pressing the latch, and it swung open under his touch. A musty smell drifted out, and he pressed cautiously into the dim room, wishing for a candle. A switch on the wall caught his eye, and he flipped it, blinking as energy lights hung into the ceiling came on.

The room was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it seemed to be some kind of parlor. A large fireplace sat on one side, flanked by rotted-out husks of chairs and couches. The door on the other side of the room was shut and locked. The side of the room without the fireplace looked bare and abandoned, and Daystar had the feeling that whoever had lived here moved away long ago. Nothing remained to bring a personal touch to the room.

“Looks safe enough,” Daystar said to Emberlace.

She swept the room once with her eyes and nodded, taking his horse’s reins from him. “I’ll rub them down while you start a fire.

Daystar tracked back out into the fading light to gather enough firewood to last them through the night, which promised to be cold. Returning with a large armload, he cleared the dusty grate and coaxed a blaze to life, slowly warming the stone room. They carefully pulled faded curtains over the windows and turned out the energy lights to keep their presence in the tower quiet.

“Do you think a Dragonhatched might have lived here?” Emberlace asked.

“Could be.” The tower was in between the crossroads and the dragon holds according to what maps they had of the Cinderstrand.

“I wonder why they left.”

“They wanted some human company?” Daystar shrugged. “Maybe the sickness took the last of them.”

Daystar and Emberlace ate in relative silence and bedded down next to the fire while the horses huddled on the other side of the dilapidated furniture.

“This could be the last night we’re alive,” Emberlace commented.

“Yeah.” Daystar stared up the thick beams in the ceiling, wondering vaguely what death felt like. “You can still stay here, or go back.”

“I’ve come this far.” Emberlace shifted, resting her head on his shoulder as they huddled for warmth. “Did you notice there were no tracks on the floor? I’d think the emissaries would have stopped here to shelter too.”

“Maybe they were too nervous.” Daystar replied.

“Seems strange, though.” She looked up at him. “Maybe the dragons wanted us to come here.”

“Why would they want that?”

Emberlace shrugged. “Maybe because they’re accepting our mission?”

“I suppose we can hope.”

***

The next day was dull and chilly, and the horses danced nervously along the trail. The feeling of being watched bored holes in Daystar’s back, and he had to stop himself from spinning around to check what was behind him. Emberlace fidgeted in her saddle, fussing with the reins and nearly losing her balance as she struggled to manage her horse. They finally left the animals as the dragon holds came into sight, leading them down into a small copse and tying them loosely enough to pull free. Upon some contemplation, they left both banners with the horses, suspecting their arrival was already known.

The dragon holds were a series of caves set into towering stone cliffs. The jagged land was burned out all around the area, scorch marks set into the cliff face. Not a dragon was to be seen on the ground or in the air, but Daystar and Emberlace could hear them rumbling inside their caves. The largest was a yawning hole in the ground, edges smoothed and carved, flanked with pillars like the ones on either side of the road.

Daystar and Emberlace gripped each other’s hands securely and made their way down into the cave mouth.