Unbound

Chapter Seven Hundred And Fifty Four – 754

Chapter Seven Hundred And Fifty Four – 754

"Aren't you going to open it?" Evie asked.

"I will. I'm just…taking it in." Harn gestured to the planters around his door.

His modest home in the Scale District had been fairly nondescript when he'd left. But now it was a riot of color. The lintels were painted white, the door a bright crimson, with golden flowers scrawled across its panels. The first shoots and buds of spring sprouted to either side of his door and alongside his window sills in small wooden boxes.

"She's been hard at work," Evie said, flicking one of the green sprouts.

“Yes.” Harn worked his tongue, working spit into his mouth, but his throat was still so dry. "Yes, she has."

He reached for the door latch, but it opened first—and there she stood, beautiful with auburn hair flowing down her back, wearing a thick apron over a sensible blouse and trousers. Her hands were covered in blood, and a butcher's cleaver was in her grip. It clattered to the ground.

"Harn," she whispered. "Oh, blind gods, you’re home!"

When he recalled the moment later, Harn didn't remember moving. Yet suddenly he was there, in the threshold of his house, holding Palin tight. He squeezed, half afraid he would crush her and half that she would slip away. She clung just as desperately.

“I was gone a while,” he muttered into her hair.

Palin sniffed and pushed him to arm’s length. "Just a little bit. But you're back, and that’s all that matters."

Harn wasn't much for words. Never had been. He preferred actions over platitudes…but now he cursed his stilted tongue. "I'm sorry,” he managed through his tight throat.

Palin's nose crinkled. "For what?"

"Not all of me got back."

Palin furrowed her brow and looked at him, following his gesture to look at his legs. Below the knee, the prosthetics gleamed silver-crimson. They looked like armor more than natural legs, but the color stood out against his other armor.

"They're made of arcanite," he said. "Designed it myself after I…I lost them."

"Oh, you foolish man. I don't care if you've lost your legs. I still have you.” She gathered him close again, and Harn let her, leaning into the embrace with a relief he hadn’t expected.

All this time worryin’ and she…

“And you too, Evie," Palin said, reaching for the kid as she tried to slink away down his steps. "Come here."

"Oh, I can go," Evie said. "This is just, you know—I'm hungry, so I'm just gonna get a meal—"

"Evie Aren, come here."

Much to Harn’s surprise, the girl walked right back up until Palin could gather her into an embrace, squeezing her tight against their shoulders. “Neither of you are going anywhere. Not until you’ve had some lunch.”

"And this," Beef said, "is where all the cool stuff is made. There's the Forge here, and that’s the Alchemical Lab, and there's the Glyphworks."

“Ah.” Archie followed behind him, and as far as Beef could tell, was either absorbing all of his words or not paying attention at all. Beef still didn't really have a good read on the guy. But at least Orun and Telys were interested.

"The Glyphworks," Orun said. "Is this where the mage can augment our sigaldry?"

Beef shrugged. "I mean, yeah, that's what the Glyphworks is for. They do all that kind of stuff, array work and things. But the Glyphmaster is hurt—that’s Atar. You haven’t met him yet…and I heard he got injured." Beef hesitated. “I don’t know that he’ll be able to help for a while.”

"Unfortunate," Orun said. "Perhaps we can see what we can do to help."

"I dunno how. Unless you can conjure meat onto his burning bones," Archie said.

“A troublesome problem,” Telys said, caressing her chin.

"From what everyone was telling me, I don't know how that guy's still alive,” Archie added. He looked around and gestured vaguely at the stairs. “Can we go look at the Shadowgates again?"

Beef frowned. "You want to go back down there now? Our rooms are down there, and it’s boring inside the Temple.”

“Not to me.”

“Eh, you can go look at those later. But I gotta warn you, Karys and Felix don’t like us poking around the Seal areas. Especially now. The attack and all that. Best to be safe, you know?"

"Absolutely. Sure, yeah, be safe.” Archie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Love it.”

“I mean, aren't you excited to see this place?" Beef asked.

"I am," Archie said, "I really am. I guess I was just expecting more.”

“More what?”

“More life? This place is quiet, like a tomb. I kind of got used to city living out in Birchstone. Before that, well, before that I've always been more comfortable surrounded by people.”

"Oh, there's a whole city out here. Elderthrone proper, right this way!" Beef led Archie and the Eidolons down the steps from the Crafting Halls and into the Eye. They passed through the thin crowds that were hiring the Halls for projects or hoping to catch the Autarch’s eye. Beef didn't really know who did what in that place, but he did see a few people from the Crafting Halls signing up new apprentices.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Maybe I should learn how to forge. The thought was a brief one, but Beef found it compelling. Might be useful. I can already design and sorta build Manaships, plus all my new constructs…might be useful to know how to build more things.

I agree, Hallow intoned from within his Spirit. New disciplines could prove a mighty boon.

I’ll talk to Harn about it later, then.

Beyond the main hall was another set of wide stairs, these cut into the curve of the cliff face itself. Enormous statues of monsters supported buttresses to hold a high roof aloft, keeping the worst of the weather at bay even if the sides were entirely open to the elements. Beef always found those to be particularly neat, especially the ones that looked like nightmare medieval robots. He’d heard the stories, but part of him regretted not getting to fight an Arcid.

“Behold!” he said, holding his hands out. Golden sunlight filtered across Elderthrone, painting hundreds of buildings with a buttery brush while a warm breeze rifled through his fur. "It's not built into a mountain or full of dwarves, but I think it's pretty neat."

“Huh.” Archie smiled, and Beef caught a whiff of genuine joy from his Spirit. "Yeah, it’s nice. I don't see a lot of walls, though. How does it stay safe from monsters?”

“Not usually a problem around here. We’ve got patrols of the Legion happening all the time, not to mention the Henaari and Frost Giant subjugation squads.”

“Subjugation squads?”

“They hunt the monsters if too many start showing up, and they yank stuff outta the nearby Domains. Metals, mostly.”

“Hm. Birchstone broke up a lot of their districts by giant walls and gates, so this all feels a bit exposed. I only see the one outer wall, and—is that more housing out there?"

Beef squinted. “Yeah, that’s new. Same as that thing on the hill…what is that?”

"That is the school," said a familiar voice, and Beef turned to find Isla striding toward them.

"Hello, Beef."

"Isla, hi. I heard..." Beef swallowed. "I heard you got attacked. You're okay?"

She smiled at him. "I am. Thank you for asking."

Beef was surprised to feel a sense of relief. He hadn't left on good terms with the Chanter, but looking at her now, with everything that had gone on in the past few weeks…his concerns felt a little silly.

"Have you gotten lunch yet?" he asked.

Isla seemed surprised. "No, I have not."

"You can come with us. I still want to show Archie the Scale District, and they've got a lot of good places down there. I... have a lot I would like to tell you.”

The Chanter smiled up at him. "I would be happy to join you."

Together, they all walked down the Temple steps and into Elderthrone.

Spring had well and truly arrived in Nagast.

Plants had begun to sprout, with new shoots peeking from beneath the winter-gray soil, and the smell of new life permeated the air. Vess breathed it in, enjoying the differences between here and Pax’Vrell. Mostly, however, she enjoyed watching the Hatchlings soar above her.

There were rooms aplenty available for their Hatchlings within Felix's Temple, but they preferred the open sky. And, truth be told, so did Vess. Yin had brought them up to the top of the city, where none but the highest-ranking folk of Elderthrone wandered. A number of Chanters had been there already, some walking the gardens and others tending to the new growths. Now, however, they were all watching her Hatchlings.

The tiny Dragons cavorted in the air, tumbling over one another as they flew beside the trunk of the Spirit Tree. Yin stood outside the Bastion of Atlantes, and Vess joined him once her meeting had concluded.

“They have transformed these grounds well,” Yin said, nodding at the rows of fruit trees. “I did not expect the Chanters to be tending them, however.”

“It is a new development, according to Zara. She’s rounding up the dissenters, and all the rest seem eager to appear…content.”

Yin snorted, and smoke shot from his nostrils. “Good to hear. I have not known Zara or Mauvim that long, but I do not imagine the dissenters will get off lightly.”

“I hope not. Those blind to the larger threat must have their eyes opened; we cannot afford to be divided. Not now.”

Vess’ eyes drifted to the Bastion, clinging to the landscape like an anchor. It had been built by the combined efforts of the people of Elderthrone, each of them putting a piece of their talents into its design. Legion, Chanter, Henaari, Risi, and countless others. In Vess’ opinion, it stood as a symbol of what they so desperately needed—the promise that Felix seemed intent on delivering, one way or another.

Unity.

She tried not to think about him or the danger she knew he was headed into. He was strong, stronger than anyone she'd ever known—if anyone could handle a nation at war all alone, it was him.

"Hmm, I have missed this place," Yin said from her side. He laid down along the flat stones outside a tall hedge maze, his head pillowed on his forelegs. "I did not expect that to be true, either."

"It is nice to be home again," she agreed.

Vess had enjoyed her time with her father and the streets of Pax’Vrell a great deal, but Elderthrone had come to mean much to her. Not to mention, it was a better place to rear the Hatchlings. It offered more space, it was farther away from the threat of Amaranth…and it distanced them from the Dragoons. That she had to consider that facet saddened her, but Vess could not afford to shy away from hard truths. She still did not trust the Marshal or his captains—she couldn't afford to, not when it came to the future of the Dragons.

The decision to come to Nagast had been a simple one, made far easier by the Spirit Tree itself. The Atlantes Anima above them had quite a few properties that made it a great place for the Hatchlings to grow. Namely, its Swell The Green Wilds aura that it had active at all times. Beneath that benevolent power, crops, herbs, fish, birds, anything that grew or flourished in the wilderness was given a boost to their hardiness and fecundity. That included, she hoped, Dragons.

First, however, she needed permission.

Vess approached the Tree and placed a cautious hand on the exposed root beside the Bastion. She immediately felt a resonance from the Tree as the wind rustled through its boughs. "The Hatchlings wish to fly in your branches and dwell beneath your influence, Atlantes Anima. Will you allow it?"

Its response sent a thrill through her. They weren't words, but she'd had enough experience with her affinity to know when emotions were being transmitted, no matter how alien.

"Thank you," she said. She lifted the crimson Hatchling from her head, and it hissed inquisitively. "Go, the Tree welcomes you all."

The Hatchling flew off, hesitant at first, then gaining confidence as it ascended, and the wind caught its legs and caressed its scales. Soon, it was followed by the others, and they shot upward in a fluttering, amorphous group, flying nearly out of sight through the newly budding leaves like a flock of colorful songbirds.

"A good place for them," Yin agreed, bowing his antlered head to the tree. "I thank you as well, Atlantes."

An emotion that was almost amusement flowed through them, but it was too ponderous, or perhaps that was simply how trees expressed themselves, slow and careful, like roots burrowing into earth.

It felt like spring.