The rest of the Crimson Vines tribe arrived three days later. Much to the surprise of many in the scouting party, the justicars never attacked again. Perhaps their numbers were too greatly damaged, though Raffey suspected it had to do with Coria being freed. Keelie had already instructed her Swordmasters to begin organizing a siege of the city. She learned much from the scouting party, and once business was finished, she pulled Laurel into a motherly embrace, despite being the younger of the two.
“Oh my dearest firespinner, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know he was your oldest friend in the world. I will make this city and this supposed ‘god’ bleed dry. I can promise you this.”
She did nothing more than put a hand on Sirik’s stoic cheek, not bothering to speak to him, knowing it would be pointless. She honored her agreement, and all of her slaves were freed, and given the option of joining her tribe. Approaching Raffey and Drache’s tents, Raffey was seated silently around an unlit campfire. His leg had been bandaged up and treated but would slow him down for a long while. But he preferred it this way, he needed to feel this pain. He hoped to use it to make him stronger.
Keelie looked down at him, “You’re freed. You may join the tribe if you wish. But I strongly suggest you do not. Kraven had many close ties here, and I cannot, rather, will not, protect you from any who wish revenge upon you. He was not only incredibly strong and well loved, but he was one of the few in our tribe with a genuine good heart. Perhaps you should leave. Today.”
Looking over at Drache, “Much of the same could be said to you, but Laurel insisted that none of it is your fault. You will always be welcomed here, Drachiathoryx Firespinner. If you’d like, you could stay for when I finally slay this god.”
With that, she turned and left. The siege would begin in a few days time, after camp was built. Raffey had no intention of staying that long, and he decided that he’d leave at sunrise. Night was falling, and without so much as a word to anyone, he grabbed his belongings and prepared Dibney to leave. She then laid upon her side, a habit from when she was a wee beetle in his care, and he snuggled up next to her. She’d ensure that none attacked him while he slept.
But as the camp fell silent as all those drifted into slumber, Raffey found no respite. He just stared out, hating that he was always fleeing and running, and always alone.
--
The dragonkin did not sleep, preferring to remain alone in her tent. When the rest of the Crimson Vines arrived, she perceived that their eyes were full of suspicion and hatred, and she could not bring herself to impose on those she had once considered her friends.
She had known that her time with them was fleeting, and she berated herself for letting it get to her anyways.
Having no intention to stay for the battle Keelie was planning to launch against the corrupt monster, Drachiathoryx gave in to her fear and uncertainty and began to pack. By the light of a lantern lit by her own breath, she opened the journals given to her by Peridiath and uncorked her ink, putting the meandering journey and the events in the Vircastorian ruins into words. She wrote neatly, her language clinical, not wanting the dragon whose Visadon she had never seen to be able to read her heart in between the lines.
"Herein lies my accounting of the events of the arena-cavern within the ruins of what is now Old Vircastoria and the Foul Slug-God which calls itself Coria."
Her tail coiled and uncoiled beside her as she expounded on the details of the markings on the walls and how they had not been intuitive to her understanding. She described the trap in the passageway and the nature of the shield that had responded to the touch of blood. The ineffectiveness of her own magic she admitted without hesitation, but did not mention anything about the words said unto her by Coria. Nor did she name her friends or the Blood Vines tribe. This was a last-minute decision, for even though she never expected to see them again, neither did she trust that the information would be safe in Peridiath's hands. She finished off vaguely stating that those she had met in the Kerawac intended to fight this monster, but sadly admitted that she did not think they would win. However, her final note implied that she was likely to know if they won far sooner than others due to "an interesting connection to one who would be there." By which of course she meant Cinder, though the sprite had not yet awakened from his black orb.
And it was perhaps her own selfish desire to know that Laurel was alive that she did take the tiny elemental rather than surreptitiously slip it in the Alufiend's bedroll on her way out.
Once her academic recounting was finished and the travel log safely stowed, Drache turned to the map. It had become a kaleidoscope of different pieces of parchment attached together as the dragoness had wandered beyond the edge of what had been detailed. The various points mentioned in her logs were all accounted for, with others besides, scribbled in with symbols only she would recognize. By no means a cartographer, the added-on landscape was a bit rough, but serviceable. Rolling it carefully, it too went in her pack.
That was when she turned to the ornate journal and sighed heavily. Ink dripped onto the page, the dark blot spreading while she tried to find the words. And when they finally did come, they were much different from the objective observation that she would give to Peri.
"I leave for Pyresia tonight. Behind me lie the ruins of Old Vircastoria and within them, the monster Coria. To think that I felt a moment of pride for stumbling on those old passageways! That will teach me the folly of optimism. For you see, Kraven is dead, slain by Coria's desiccating breath in his attempt to rescue Raffey and I from a spell-shielded pit or else we suffer that fate in his stead. He was brave, living up not at all to his namesake, and a much truer friend than I can ever hope to be. Especially with Coria's words lurking in the back of my thoughts like the stink of carrion. It offered to purge me of my hybridness, to turn me into a full dragon so long as I respond to its Will. It occurs to me that I am weak for considering such a thing, and so I must flee. Perhaps distance will lessen the desire. I shall miss Laurel and Sirik, though I expect they will not miss me."
Beneath that, she began to draw. A vague boxy oval became a face, and the features grew and spread in scratchy lines of dark ink until Kraven's quirky grin looked up at her from the page. Her snout wrinkled in a sniff and her eyes burned, but still she could not cry. If asked, the dragonkin would assume that none of her kind could produce tears.
By the time she put down her pen, it was late into the night and few were stirring in the camp around her. She doused the lantern with a thought and swiftly broke down her tent to add it to the pack against the small of her back. Knowing she wouldn't make very good time in the dark, she planned to simply walk until daybreak and then open her wings.
Her talons were a quiet rustle across the dry grass as she prowled across the open ground.
--
Raffey had seen the light coming from Drache’s tent for a while now, wondering what the woman was up to. He really didn’t know a whole lot about her, but he was concerned for her. She was a bit the opposite of him to the Kvaren. She was an outsider that was loved and accepted, whereas he had merely been tolerated at best. And that was after being a slave.
He could barely make out her shapely silhouette through the thin animal skin tent. He saw her bending and rising, arms moving, and it seemed she was packing. Much like himself, it seemed as if she were planning on leaving quite soon. When he saw the light go out he wondered if she were going to sleep. But then he watched her tear down her tent. He was leaving by first sunlight, she was leaving by moonlight.
He whispered in his native tongue to Dibney, telling her to stay here for the time being, but that he wouldn’t be far. The Keremis rose, trying to be as silent as possible, which was difficult with his injured leg. Moving out into the grasses, he saw her begin to depart. He put himself on an intercept path, until he was close enough for her to hear, “Leavin’ wit’ou’ sayin’ goodbah, tah eenyone?” He then took a more terse stance, crossing his arms, favoring his good leg, “Where ya goin’, Drrrrrrrackuh?”
--
Not expecting to be challenged by a group that largely wanted her gone, or so she thought, the dragonkin dropped into a defensive posture not terribly different from that of a scream raptor, the end of her tail wiggling, her horned head weaving back and forth for a moment to make out Raffey's face in the darkness. She needn't have bothered, recognizing his appalling accent immediately.
Straightening, she adjusted the straps of her pack and make to step around him.
"I have to leave, Raffey. It's time I returned to Pyresia, the sooner the better." She sounded not only determined, but also desperate, not at all like her usual snarky but enthusiastic self.
His eyebrows furrowed, “‘lone? In da mi’’le of da nigh’? Ah taught dey were yah frien’s…” His face showed his genuine displeasure. He never really had friends since he left his desert home, but he knew if he did, he would at least say goodbye. Hell, he’d considered saying goodbye to her, and Sirik, if only in lieu of an apology that he figured neither wanted.
The dragonkin's reptilian eyes closed with a wince as though he had struck a nerve. "They are. Or, they were. I don't know. They hate me for Kraven's death, and I don't blame them." She glanced behind her, not at the camp but back in the direction of the ruins, not remembering, but as though something was actively drawing her there instead of the direction she was traveling. No, running.
He snorted derisively, through his large nose, nearly chuckling at what he felt was her absurdity. “Ah were dah one dat were slow. Ah go’ ‘ur’. Ah slow yah down. Dere dets, dey on meh. Nah on yah. Dey know dis. Is why Keelie tell meh tah go, bu’ nah yah.” He stepped in closer, not comforting or aggressive, just to seem more insistent on his point.
The half-dragon just shook her head, her gaze unfocused, as though his comment was something beside the point. When he stepped forward she turned to the side slightly, not backing down but not pursuaded either.
"It could have happened to anyone, Raffey. It should have happened to me. They don't trust me, and if they do, they shouldn't. Keelie was only willing to let me stay because of Laurel, but if I was any kind of friend to her I would leave."
There was a leathery shifting as her wings gave a shudder.
He stepped in closer, forcing her eyes to meet his own, “Ah mah nah know yah yeh, buh ah know dis. Ah trust yah Drrrrrrackuh. Nah cuss yah’re a frien’, cuss yah deed’n leave meh behin’. Cuss in dat momen’ of deat’, Ah saw yah Drrrrrackuh. An’ I know yah.”
The Keremis was putting a kind of pressure on Drache that she was not used to. Her vertical pupils darted towards his face, full of fear and...hope? In spite of herself, she was growing quite fond of this not-human, and her chest ached at the thought of leaving him behind after being told he trusted her. Perhaps that's exactly why she should do it. Her face twisted painfully in a quiet hiss. "I can't stay here! Even if they can trust me, even if you can, I don't trust myself after what happened back there. I can't stay."
Raffey reached out and touched her arm gently, “Drrrrackuh. Corya, hees meeneeons ahr nah ‘ere. Dey ees fahr awah, an’ dere ees an armeh between yah and dem.”
Her tail gave a twitch at the touch, but she didn't move away, but tilted her snout away. She liked it, but now wasn't the time to say so. Her hot frustration seemed to lose some of its fury for a moment. "You don't understand, Raffey. Coria promised me...things. Things I've always wanted…”
The shock on his face was obvious, his hand on her arm was a bit tighter, just a hint, “Eet lie. Yah saw dat ting. Eet know onleh powah and deestruction. It tell lies. Not’in’ mohr.” He found himself wondering why it promised her anything, and what it would be. And why he never received the same promise.
"I know," she hissed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut the way she had done when trying to sleep these last few nights. "I have told myself that a thousand times, Raffey. But...it's a GOD. It ignored my attack like it was nothing. What if...what if it could really do it? I can't stop thinking about it. I can't sleep. I know that Coria is back there, waiting for me. Just...what if...?"
“Wha’ eef ees meanin’less. Yah alive. Yah ‘ave frien’s. Even eef eet were a Go’, dah price eet give mus’ be ‘igh. Yah deed not’in’ wron’.” His other hand had come up to clasp at her other arm, as if he were holding her right in front of him. “Yah alive. Ees wha’ mattah mos’.”
The only effect Raffey's confidence in Drache had was to completely crumble her composure. Support from someone other than herself was not something she was used to. "I would have given every single one of you to that thing! I would have fed each of you, screaming, into that sickening glob if it hadn't been trying to kill me when it told me what it could offer me! I would have watched you all die and not even been sorry! I can't help it, and it terrifies me, Raffey! I have to get far away from here before the temptation overwhelms me!" Her hand had closed over his, squeezing hard. She made a sound like a sob, but her eyes were dry, a gulp of smoke issuing from her nostrils.
Raffey had no idea what could possibly be so valuable to anyone to have killed the people that were friends. But he chose not to press. Privacy was always valuable. He squeezed her hand in return, before letting go of her completely, as if he were shrugging her off. He turned to look away from her, to the southeast. “Go den.” His voice was cold, distant.
But out of sight of her now, he broke into a wide grin, “Buh ah’m comin’ wit’ yah.” After all, Pyresia was on the way home to the deserts. And she said she wanted to see his sands. This seemed as good a time as any.
Him letting go of her seemed as much a goodbye as anything, and Drache took a step, ready to begin the long trek back to the Ash Peak and the jungle city. "It will be easier this way…what?" She turned back, her scaled face incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous." A half dozen reasons why they shouldn't go together flitted through her mind, but the half-dragon clamped her jaws shut before uttering any of them, realizing that in truth, she wanted him to join her. "Why?"
A smug grin on his face as he looked over his shoulder at her, “Cuss yah promeesed tah show meh Peereesia. An’ ees on mah way ‘ome. Ees jus’ smar’ tah nah travel alone.” And with that, it was decided in the man’s mind. He brought his fingers to his mouth, shoved two from each hand in and whistled shrilly. Dibney was quick to scurry over to him, and Raffey gestured to the saddle, “Aftah yah, Drrrrrackuh.”
The half-dragon had seen the beetle of course, but had yet to be introduced. Beyond that, she had never actually ridden any kind of saddle beast. Somehow a massive insect trundling over to her didn't spark the same uncertainty as it might have before the water elementals. Before Coria.
"It occurs to me that I should mention I'm not a very good rider. But depending on your definition, that could be a lie." Drache glanced at Raffey with a ghost of her usual grin and reached out to pat Dibney on her hard shell.
"Alright, miss. Don't make this hard for me. I'm not having a very good day."
With a hop and a flap of her wings, Drache jumped, trying to avoid using her claws or talons against Dibney's hard carapace. She moved to the back of the saddle. It would have been nice to be in front, but she knew her wings would only be in Raffey's way.
"I'm glad you're coming with me," she admitted before she became too stubborn or self-conscious to do so.
Raffey pulled himself up, smiling, not bothering to say anything more. With a simple, “Hyah,” Dibney started forward, the moon and the Kvaren and Coria, at their backs.
