Chapter 7 Seven

“By the ancestors,” the older Dwarf gasped as he raised his hands to cover his mouth. He stared at Ryn’s hands, “That mark….. that’s impossible!” He looked at Ryn in shock.

“Do you have any idea what you’re carrying on your skin?” Ryn pulled his hand back, heart beating fast as he covered the marks on his hand.

“That is the symbol of the Old Blood, the mark of the Dragon King.”

“I don’t know what that is, I got this injury from an ambush.”

“Ambush?” both Dwarves eyes widen as they realized what he meant. The older Dwarf was stunned, shaking his head slowly,

“Whatever happened in that ambush has awoken a destiny most of us thought had been buried a thousand years ago.” He signalled with his head for Ryn to climb up even though he was now wary.

“Get in, quickly. If the Spires or the King’s Law see that, this forest will be the least of your worries.”

The dwarf gave a short whistle as the wheels of the caravan began to move once more. The younger one looked towards Ryn and pointed to himself, “Elias.” Ryn looked at him and nodded his head. “Ryn.”

“Best to stay tucked in, lad,” the dwarf muttered, keeping his eyes on the road. “The spirits out here have a way of whispering secrets to those who shouldn’t be listening.” He handed him a woolen blanket that smelled like the underground tunnels.

Ryn settled into a side of the caravan filled with sacks, the movement of the wagon gently pushing him towards the sleep he had been fighting.

The smell was something Ryn couldn’t name. His chest was heaving, reminding him of the ruins of the burnt mines he always hid in when he was a kid. The heat wrapped around him, making it hard for him to breathe or swallow.

“Weak.” That voice, it was in his head.

Ryn’s eyes snapped open. Elias, the younger dwarf looking a little wide eyed sat across from him, staring at Ryn’s hands. The mark on his wrist had spread down to his elbows and they were glowing lightly, an effect of the fear he felt in the dream.

Ryn sat up, the sleep had cleared from his eyes.

The only sound he could hear was of the old dwarf’s whistling and the movement of the caravan. Elias reached into a wooden crate and pulled out an apple. He smiled as he handed it over to Ryn.

“Eat,” he said. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Ryn caught it with his left hand and took a bite.

“So you’re from the academy,” Elias said.

The older dwarf stopped his whistling in a bid to listen in on their conversation but Ryn didn’t want to talk.

“You don’t have to say anything,”

Ryn felt guilty and so he let it all out starting from his life at the academy to the ambush in Black ridge.

“I need to report to the Palace,” Ryn concluded.

As the sun began to set, the white walls of Aetheria appeared but they were still distant.

“We’ll be at the gates by moonrise,” the older dwarf announced.

“Once we’re in, we’ll pull up by the merchant stables. It’s crowded enough that a boy in a dusty cloak can slip away without too many prying eyes.”

He turned slightly to look at Ryn, “Just… keep that hand out of view, understood?” Ryn nodded, pulling the cloak tighter around his shoulders. He looked at the city and felt dread but Ryn was determined. He was returning to the kingdom not in the way he expected but he understood what needed to be done.

“Thank you,” Ryn whispered.

“Don’t thank us yet,” the dwarf replied, his voice softening. “The city is a forest of it’s own, lad and they’re full of different kinds of predators.”

Elias pulled out a box, handing over some bandages to Ryn. He understood without having to be told, gently wrapping the bandages around his wrist to cover the marks on his wrist.

As soon as the caravan rolled past the stony entryway of Aetheria’s main gates, everything felt different. Compared to Oakhaven where Ryn grew up and the Argent Order where the academy is located, everywhere looked rich. Ryn could smell roasted meats, expensive perfumes and dusty people.

The dwarves moved their caravan with ease around the streets, pulling to a stop in the middle of the merchant stables. As the old dwarf pulled the reins to bring the horses to a halt, Ryn climbed out. His legs felt strangely steady despite how he had been sitting in one position for the rest of the journey.

He reached into his satchel, and pulled out one of the dragon bars he kept, holding it out to the dwarf.

“For the ride….. and the silence,” Ryn said.

The Old dwarf looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise. With a shake of his head, he pushed Ryn’s hand away.

“Keep your gold, boy. You’re going to need it more than we do. Just stay out of trouble.”

Ryn nodded, pulling the hood of his cloak lower over his face until his eyes were covered. He turned away from the stables, intending to find someone, maybe a street vendor or a stable hand to ask for directions to the lower districts.

He had spent his life dreaming of walking these streets but now that he was here, he found it hard to enjoy the scenery.

He found a group of merchants, standing near a water trough. He moved closer to them but before he could speak,

“Did you see him?” one merchant asked.

They were whispering in hushed voices which made Ryn curious. He moved a few steps closer to them, hiding in the shadows of a parked wagon to listen.

“Through the North gate, earlier today. It was the Prince.”

Ryn’s breath hitched. Drakon had survived and he had made it back hours before him but the only question he had was how?