Anara nodded to herself, acknowledging the undercurrent of frustration and desperation in the room. She'd been frustrated and desperate ever since this drought started. She nodded to Gideon when he sat at the table, checking over the list in her mind once more and frowning slightly when she registered that some were missing, but they had no more time to waste. The winds were changing—today would be the last good day to try and cross the seas for months, and Caerel didn't have months to spare. She glanced at the dragons in the room, forehead creasing ever so slightly—this time in envy at the closeness of dragon and rider instead of concern—and leaned forward. Instead of responding immediately, she reached for one of the parchment rolls, and with a flick of her hand flattened the material against the table.
What was revealed was indeed a rarity—one of the few maps on Caerel that extended beyond the island's shores. While maps of the island itself were a common request for a scribe, this one was neither common nor newly printed, a coveted relic in the Council's keeping. The parchment was cracked and yellowed at the edges, the ink slightly faded, even though it was obvious it had been well cared for over the decades, perhaps even centuries. Different colors of ink lined its surface—black for land masses, blue for water currents, red for wind patterns, and different shaded areas to indicate climate. There were several notes, written in different hands and faded to different degrees, tacked onto the heavy parchment in various places. Caerel only took up one small corner of the map, but there were three other islands drawn in the other four corners.
"Perhaps the better question would have been, what are you in particular prepared to do," Anara said, eyes on the map. With the lightest of touches against the paper, she traced a route from the tiny triangle that indicated Draketooth Mountain to the nearest island—Kendrigan—from there to the others, Qiandr and Kullath, and then...off the edge of the map. "Are you prepared to fly for hundreds of miles in hopes of finding something that could help?"
She leaned back into her usual military straight posture, letting the other riders get a better look at the map—and the distances involved. "You know how...precarious the situation is." She nodded to Kaisen in particular. "Dragonriders haven't left Caerel in a hundred years—but no one ever wrote down why that is, why the tradition of staying islandbound started. We know there are other islands out there—possibly even more than the three on this map—and to put things frankly? Desperate times call for desperate measures, and these are desperate times."
Keltor took a deep breath, folding her hands behind her back and looking the riders in the eye. "Little is certain—how long we will be away, what trials we might face, if the other islands will even let us land. I know this is a massive undertaking to ask of you, but I do not hesitate to ask—on my behalf, on the council's, on the behalf of Caerel itself. All I can hope is that you'll accept—because if we leave, we leave in an hour's time."
What was revealed was indeed a rarity—one of the few maps on Caerel that extended beyond the island's shores. While maps of the island itself were a common request for a scribe, this one was neither common nor newly printed, a coveted relic in the Council's keeping. The parchment was cracked and yellowed at the edges, the ink slightly faded, even though it was obvious it had been well cared for over the decades, perhaps even centuries. Different colors of ink lined its surface—black for land masses, blue for water currents, red for wind patterns, and different shaded areas to indicate climate. There were several notes, written in different hands and faded to different degrees, tacked onto the heavy parchment in various places. Caerel only took up one small corner of the map, but there were three other islands drawn in the other four corners.
"Perhaps the better question would have been, what are you in particular prepared to do," Anara said, eyes on the map. With the lightest of touches against the paper, she traced a route from the tiny triangle that indicated Draketooth Mountain to the nearest island—Kendrigan—from there to the others, Qiandr and Kullath, and then...off the edge of the map. "Are you prepared to fly for hundreds of miles in hopes of finding something that could help?"
She leaned back into her usual military straight posture, letting the other riders get a better look at the map—and the distances involved. "You know how...precarious the situation is." She nodded to Kaisen in particular. "Dragonriders haven't left Caerel in a hundred years—but no one ever wrote down why that is, why the tradition of staying islandbound started. We know there are other islands out there—possibly even more than the three on this map—and to put things frankly? Desperate times call for desperate measures, and these are desperate times."
Keltor took a deep breath, folding her hands behind her back and looking the riders in the eye. "Little is certain—how long we will be away, what trials we might face, if the other islands will even let us land. I know this is a massive undertaking to ask of you, but I do not hesitate to ask—on my behalf, on the council's, on the behalf of Caerel itself. All I can hope is that you'll accept—because if we leave, we leave in an hour's time."