The Dragon's Kiss

Chapter 245 TWENTY SIX: Stories Of The North

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Kel shielded her eyes, squinting into the setting sun.

The barren cliffs around her looked like they were on fire, bathed in the scarlet rays. Though she had long lost sight of the Empire's caravan, she continued to stare out to the west.

She and Calix had decided to travel north through the main portion of Serin's territory before cutting across the northern edge of what used to be Mevani. It wasn't the fastest route, but as Calix explained several times to her using various maps, it was the most efficient.

"If you keep staring after them, I'll be forced to think you've changed your mind and want to go back."

Calix seated himself next to her near the cliff's edge. Behind him, their horses whinnied contentedly as they stood staked to a single scraggly tree.

"Are you sure you haven't changed your mind?" Kel's voice bounced jokingly in a frail attempt to hide her nerves.

The Emperor looked as if he were about to tease her but paused and slowly shook his head.

"No," he replied simply. "And I won't."

Kel nodded.

The sun had finally disappeared below the horizon, leaving a dim red glow in its wake.

"What do you think we'll find there?" she asked. "In the White Mountains?"

"I've never been particularly concerned with that place," Calix shrugged. "I suppose now we know for a fact that people still live there."

"Felion," Kel whispered the name she had only heard about in history books. "The continent's fifth kingdom."

"Though it sounds more like a mountain village," Calix snorted. "Just another ancient tribe hiding themselves away from the world."

Kel knew the disdain on his tongue when he uttered those words was because he was already well experienced with a different ancient tribe hiding themselves away--Subterra.

"Why do you think Itzae went there?" Kel wondered.

Itzae was also originally from Subterra, but that had not deterred him from seeking another obscure tribe.

"Knowing him, he probably went to pursue dragons or some other crazy fantasy of his," Calix replied, shaking his head.

Kel froze.

".. Did you say dragons??" she demanded.

"Ah, I guess our star pupil wasn't paying enough attention in her studies," Calix teased, patting her on the head.

"Stop that," Kel frowned, brushing his hand away. "What do you mean, dragons? Surely, Itzae didn't believe in something as foolish as dragons."

"Why not?" Calix quipped. "You're proof enough that they exist, aren't you?"

"No, that's-"

Kel bit her lip, considering his question.

She did have strange powers. According to all the old legends she heard in Serin and Subterra, that was because her ancestor had been blessed by the dragons.

But something like that could never be proven. Nobody had seen a dragon in the last thousand years of properly recorded history, so how could she simply take an old legend for fact?

"Sure, maybe they all died over a thousand years ago," she finally settled.

"All I know are the stories Itzae told me," Calix looked back toward the red horizon. "The ones that he said were common among people in the North."

As they huddled together next to a fire later, Calix recited one of the stories he'd learned from Itzae.

The story originated from a long-extinct group of traveling merchants. According to the story, they did much of their business with the Felion people, bringing food and other goods to them particularly during the harsh winter months.

During the spring, the merchants would wait at the base of the White Mountains. A group of men dressed in white robes would descend to put in an order for massive quantities of goods. Afterward, the merchants would leave, spending the summer selling and trading goods, and eventually returning to the mountains in the north with crates of the requested goods.

It took a dozen oxen and four large carts to carry the goods. Often, due to the heavy load, the merchants wouldn't reach the mountains again until the leaves--freshly unfurled when they left-- had already begun to turn orange and red.

The same group of men dressed in thick white robes would meet them again at the base of the mountains, a small wooden chest of gold ready for payment as Felion had no currency of their own. 

Once they had received payment, the merchants would unload the crates, there at the mountain base, and depart on their way, only coming back once spring had settled across the North.

Among the merchants was greatly speculated how the group of white-robed men moved the crates up the mountain. Perhaps, they opened the crates and each took a small load up, repeating the trek until all the goods had been moved.

Or they had pack animals that they would load the goods onto, mountain goats or some other agile creature that could safely traverse the rocky terrain.

The only thing they knew for certain, due to one of the merchants once returning to the base in search of his lost hat, is that the crates disappeared before the sun rose on the next day.

While all of the merchants wondered about how the large crates were moved so quickly, none were curious enough to investigate the matter beyond fireside speculation.

Except for one man.

His name was Telos, and he had been taken in by the merchant group after running away from home as a child. The work was difficult and weather often too hot or too cold, but his life as a traveling merchant was better than remaining in a small dusty house, never knowing when his father would next be consumed by a fit of rage.

Year after year, his curiosity about the strange Felion people grew stronger until one crisp autumn morning, he found he could no longer contain it.

"I must discover their secret!" He declared to his comrades. "I shall die of curiosity if I spend another year wondering!"

"It's better not to mess with these sorts of things," the older merchants always chided him. "Curiosity is something we cannot afford in this business."

Still, Telos snuck back to the White Mountains after the group had deposited their goods and received their pay. He hid himself among a rocky alcove and kept his eyes glued to the stack of large crates. 

The men in white had seated themselves near the stack and chattered quietly among themselves. Despite how Telos strained his ears, he could not understand them.

He remained diligently observing for the night, his company clicking their tongues and shaking their heads when they noticed his absence. They didn't have long to miss him, however, as the man came blundering into their camp screeching at the top of his lungs before dawn the next morning.

"Birds!" Telos yelled as he stormed into the circle of tents.

"Giant birds with men sitting on their backs!"