Ashes And Spirit (Book 3) (3 page)

Kellinar enjoyed watching the animated conversations among different groups of people as they discussed how far they’d come already and what they hoped to finish before the day was over. People he’d seen dragging at their jobs in the fisheries or the wineries in Trilene, now woke before the sun crested the horizon in the mornings, ate their morning meal by firelight, and then went to work under the glow of orbs set by the Light mages. Other than their mid-day meal, work never stopped until evening when the mages or riders called a halt.

The people of the Mallay, long considered lazy and worthless, would work until they dropped from exhaustion given the chance. The first two weeks had seen just that problem until Belan had the riders and the mages call an end to the day’s work. No longer the downtrodden of the Mallay, the New Sharrens flourished under the chance and hope for a future. Finally they truly had a chance to live instead of only existing.

Kellinar looked around for Taela in the crowd of people moving among the tents. A flutter of unease rippled through him until he spotted her under the shade of the trees abandoned by the students and teachers. Another group gathered around her, sitting on the trampled grass with their meal.

Kellinar felt the push against his shield as a woman laid her head on Taela’s shoulder. Pain spiked through Taela’s mind as the woman’s grief assaulted her emotions. A man quickly led the woman away as he explained the transgression to her.

Taela closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. He started toward her then hesitated though it was hard for him to hold back. Taela and several Spirit mages were instrumental in helping the New Sharrens. The survivors of the villages had joined the Mallay people in their sojourn to New Sharren. So many in both the villages and in the Mallay had suffered the loss of a loved one or several loved ones. The weight of dealing with the emotions showed in the dark circles under Taela’s eyes. Even so, she refused to step away from the New Sharrens. If he went over there now, he would disrupt the group. Especially when he knew his patience was exceedingly thin when it came to anyone who caused his bondmate discomfort for whatever reason. The death of Anevay had made him overly sensitive to any threat of any kind to Taela.

Anevay… Kellinar closed his eyes against the hollow ache that opened in his chest at the thought of her name. Taking several deep breaths, he pushed the pain and the thoughts of his lost bondmate away. He wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. When he opened his eyes, he saw Taela looking at him across the intervening space. Sadness shadowed her face, and she shook her head slightly.

Kellinar turned away. He didn’t care what she said; he didn’t have to face it yet and didn’t see how waiting could possibly make it any worse. He started walking back to where he’d been working, no longer feeling like going among the tents. Kellinar’s stomach rumbled in protest, but he ignored it.

He settled on the ground in the shade against a partially built wall and rested his arms across his knees. Kellinar closed his eyes against the bright sunlight and reached for Shryden, needing the calm presence of his dragon. Shryden filled him with reassurance and love, easing the ache that threatened to come back in a crushing wave.

A light touch on his arm startled him. Kellinar opened his eyes and looked up into the aged and weathered face of an old woman, her long white hair falling over her shoulders. Clarene, her toothless smile was as familiar as the Thieves’ Caves had been. The woman had been around forever it seemed, the longest-lived person in the Mallay, in all of Trilene. She had chastised him when he was a wild child in the alleys, bandaged cuts and bruises, and made sure he got at least one decent meal a day. Later, as a thief, Kellinar made sure she never worried about food, warmth, or clothing.

“You need to eat, Kellinar.” Her voice was still strong and sure even if age had withered her hands and bent her back.

He looked at the stuffed pita wrapped in a thin cloth in her other hand, and his mouth watered. “Thank you, Clarene.” Kellinar reached for the food. As he unwrapped it, she settled slowly to the ground next to him. He glanced at her. “How did you know I was here and that I hadn’t eaten already?” After all, he could have grabbed a pita from one of many tents.

Clarene smiled up at him from where she sat. “I’ve always known, haven’t I?”

Kellinar took a bite, savoring the flavors as he turned that over in his mind. She had always known. Known when a child was in trouble, when a woman was suffering, when a man tried to hide something. Could she use magic? “Clarene,” he paused and finished swallowing, “do you ever wonder how you always know?”

She laughed, her lips spreading wide, exposing her gums. “I never had to wonder, young man. I always known it were magic. ‘Course nothing the likes of what your bondmate or even the mages here can do. I sense things, have since I were a slip of a girl.”

“You could be a mage, Clarene.” Kellinar studied her.

She shook her head and smacked her gums. “None of that nonsense now. I’m much too old for that kind of thing. No, I will stay old Clarene like I always were. Too many years being an old woman for me to want anything else.”

“At least now we know how you have lived so many years despite a life in the Mallay.”

“Oh?” She raised her bushy eyebrows. “Why is that?”

“Magic slows the aging process. Not as much as a dragon bond does, but most mages live to be around a hundred and fifty or so.” Kellinar smiled at her then took another bite of the pita. How close was she to that?

Clarene chuckled. “Well, I’m not likely long for this world then. That’s all right though, I had a longer life than most, and I find I grow tired these last few years. Never thought I’d live this long anyway. Nice long rest sounds about right. I won’t be ruffled at all when the Fates snip my thread from their loom.”

Kellinar shook his head and took another bite. He hoped he could face his time with the same kind of courage when the day came.

Clarene hauled herself to her feet. “You enjoy your lunch, young man. I have others to make sure they get food in their bellies.”

He watched her walk away, mumbling to herself about young people who didn’t seem to know the value of a good meal in the stomach. With a sigh, he took a large bite and chewed it slowly. At least she hadn’t called him Di’shan. He remained where he was and finished the pita she’d brought him.

Abrax bugled a loud welcome that echoed off the half-finished walls and rolled over the grass. In answer, a bell near the recently built city gate clanged. The Traders were here. They’d been expecting them for a couple of days. Namir had sent word when the Traders left Shadereen. Though the gold had offered to Slide them, they refused, preferring their traditional way of traveling.

Kellinar stood and walked through the maze of work toward the gate. When he arrived, the first of the small box-houses on wheels was just coming into sight. Behind it stretched a long line of the little portable houses and covered wagons. A small cloud of dust rose around the approaching group, kicked up into the warm air by the hooves of numerous animals on the trail already worn between New Sharren and Shadereen. A similar trail led north to Calladar. One day, when the city was done, they would work on turning the trail into a proper road.

A loud yodeling call floated toward them. First one and then more as the Traders announced their own arrival. The people of New Sharren gathered around in anticipation. This was the first visit by Traders to their new nation. For the first time, all the wares would be available to everyone. The offerings wouldn’t be segregated according to class.

The thin cloud of dust grew larger as the caravan came closer. Even the dragons roused themselves. The wind from their wings whipped up more dust near the gate as they settled on the half-built wall to better watch.

After a long wait, the slow moving caravan finally arrived. The woman sitting on the driver’s seat of the lead vardo drew rein and scanned first the dragons, and then the people. The bright purple dress with a high collar that she wore was at odds with the way her graying hair was pulled into a severe bun. Her gaze settled on Kellinar and dropped to the pendant hanging around his neck. She briefly inclined her head toward him. “I am Lead Wagon Artlia Shemhon. Where shall we set up?”

“I’m afraid you are asking the wrong person,” Kellinar said. I’m a Guardian of Galdrilene, not the head of this nation.”

Artlia raised an eyebrow. “Who should I ask then?”

“That would be me.” Belan cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I am Belan Kyzen.”

She looked him up and down. In his worn leather pants and sweat-stained linen shirt, he hardly looked like the leader of a nation. “What title would you prefer to be addressed by?”

“No title is necessary. Just Belan is fine.”

Kellinar wondered if her eyebrow was actually attached. Could it really move that high on her head if it was? She stared at Belan for a long moment as if taking his measure, her mouth set in a thin line. “Very well, where should this caravan set up?”

Belan motioned toward the stone bridge arched over the wide stream. “On the other side of the bridge will be fine. It will offer grazing room and water for your animals and allow you plenty of space.”

“As you wish. When we are settled, there are a number of people who have paid to accompany us so that they may settle here. Several families from Markene, one from Las Fane, and two from Dunnus. In addition to the families, we have several men from various places. We will need to negotiate their immigration.” She clucked to the horses, and her wagon moved toward the bridge.

After the lead wagon was across the bridge with the others following, Kellinar looked at Belan. “She’s certainly a warm, congenial woman.”

“The lead wagon is used to dealing with stuffy heads of nations. Once a Trader reaches that rank, they rarely do any actual trading. Their job is to negotiate better trading fees, bring news to high-ranking houses, and keep things flowing smoothly. The lower-ranking wagons are the ones you are used to trading with.” Belan clapped him on the shoulder. “Can you blame her for being sour?”

“I suppose not.” Kellinar ran a hand over his braids and glanced back at the city. “I hadn’t thought of trading fees. What do you plan to charge?”

“For a half-made city with barely enough population?” Belan shook his head. “I won’t charge a lot.”

“Should we charge anything?”

“Are you kidding? That woman would slit my throat if I insulted her by charging nothing. It would be saying that her caravan looked poor and in need of charity.” He sighed. “In order to charge less, I will have to tread carefully. However, I do not intend to make her pay what she likely thinks we will ask. Not yet.”

“If she regularly negotiates for lower trading fees, why would she care?”

“Because the fees she already pays in most places are high and to be able to negotiate them lower is a point of pride.”

Kellinar shook his head, glad again this was Belan’s place. The whole thing sounded convoluted and confusing. “At least your population is increasing. Who would have thought people would want to migrate to a newly formed nation in a precarious position on the border.”

“There are always those looking for something new.” Belan wiped sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “It’s well known we’re lacking in permanent residents with skills in needed areas. Soon, those helping from other nations will leave, and our population will be even lower. Not to mention we have a glut of women with so many men lost in the Battle at Trilene, which explains the number of single men wanting to immigrate.”

“You know the people from Galdrilene will stay as long as you need.”

Belan nodded. “I know. Even so, it would be nice to have a larger population that wants to stay permanently.”

“Kellinar,”
came Shryden’s sending.
“We need to return to Galdrilene.”

Startled, Kellinar glanced toward the blue.
“I thought Maleena was coming here to talk to Taela. Unless…has something happened?”
His gut clenched.
“Is Maleena all right?”
Worry for his pregnant friend crawled through him.

“Maleena is fine, only very uncomfortable,”
Shryden reassured him.
“Another song has been sung and the call answered. An egg is about to hatch. It will be the first Hatching since the battle, the first without Emallya and Bardeck. It’s our duty to be there to welcome the new draclet and its rider. And it’s our duty to be there for our friends.”

Relief washed through Kellinar only to be replaced by another tightening in his gut. He had avoided Galdrilene since the Battle of Trilene. In the few days spent at the Dragon Hold after the battle, he hadn’t set foot in the lair or sleeping quarters once shared by Anevay. When it became unbearable, he and Taela had left for Markene to help with preparing the refugees for their move to New Sharren.

The memory of Anevay—her brilliant smile, her creamed coffee skin, her rich dark eyes—once again crested a wave of pain, crashing over him, threatening to drown him.
“I can’t, Shryden. I can’t go back to Galdrilene, not yet.”

“You have to. You can’t push aside your duties as a Dragon Rider.”

Images of her eyes, wide with pain and shimmering with tears, flashed across his mind.
“I can’t.”
Kellinar pushed past Belan and the gathered crowd of people. He walked through the city with no destination in mind. The anguish was still too fresh, too raw. He refused to face it. They would just have to do without him for this hatching. He welcomed the building anger. It covered the pain, pushed it aside, and kept him from feeling it.