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...11 months later, this chapter has an illustration. Dear muffins, I need to stop faffing around drawing non-canon nonsense and focus on the original task :S

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The Foxwood Chronicles
Chapter 27 - Recognition
© eddiew.deviantart.com / eddiew @ FA


“So, as you can see,” Fellirion said quietly, spreading his hands over the map that lay upon the tabletop. “We seem to have a bit of a situation.”

Seated across the table, Feral nodded, as did the square jawed leonin over on his left.

“Yes, you do,” the feline stated, with subtle emphasis. Westley coughed quietly, and glittering amber eyes looked at him for a moment, then seemed to relent. “We do.”

“Thank you, captain, your support is appreciated.”

“Support nothing,” leonin eyebrows drew together, an expression more intimidating for the solidity of the face beneath them. “This is my town, and my command. You want things done, you come to me. I command the men, I decide the operation and the strategy to be used..”

“Captain, it behoves you to remember that this young man outranks you,” Fellirion indicated Westley.

“No, he has authority to requisition my men for the war effort, not to command them on whatever fool mission he sees fit!”

“Believe me, captain, this is no fool mission,” Fellirion told him. “You have seen first hand that Lordenor’s army is both organised and efficient, while that of the Freelands is still milling about deciding which way to go. Princess Irontooth is likely your best chance to put an end to this war – but only if she is free to help. Confined as she is, there is little that she can do.”

“But why would she help us?” a lutrani at the side of the room asked.

“For the same reason that you would not leave a man to drown, even though you did not know him,” the old man said quietly. “You have no need to question Princess Aleana’s motivations. If you must ask such questions, ask them of those who sent the troops that occupy your town. Their motivations are far more suspect than hers.”

“Assuming I believe you,” the leonin rumbled. “What is it you’d be asking of my men?”

“Nothing but a safe way out of Farview.”

The leonin snorted, clearly thinking this unlikely to happen.

“The Southern Dawn's due in tonight,” the lutrani reminded him. “If we can keep the irons off the dock, maybe we could get these away on her?”

Looking thoughtful, the leonin nodded slowly. “Aye, she might at that. All right, we’ll try. You’ll need to be at the north end of the bay an hour after moonrise,” he looked at Fellirion. “How do you plan to get your princess out of her mansion?”

“I fear for that, I must prevail upon you once more. We will need one more thing from your men.”

“What?”

“A diversion.”



This time, Aleana was nowhere near asleep when the tap sounded against her window – in fact she was pacing nervously back and forth in front of the fire, just as she had been for the past two hours. Turning, crossing swiftly and quietly to the window, she opened it hastily.

“Oi, watch it!”

Stifling a scream, Aleana jumped backwards as the sciurel glared at her, clinging to the drainpipe beside the window.

“Nearly ‘ad me off this thing, you did!”

“I was expecting the raven!” Aleana hissed, holding a hand over her heart and glancing over her shoulder to where the brigadier was still asleep.

“Yeah, well,” the sciurel shrugged. “He wouldn’t ‘ave been able to carry the rope,” he went on, handing her one end. “Now be a good girl and tie that round something solid?”

“Pardon me?” Stomach tightening as the implication dawned on her, Aleana leaned over the windowsill, looking at the three floor drop. A cool wind had sprung up, gusting her hair behind her as she peered down into the shadows. “You want me to climb down?”

Sounds of disturbance were coming from the other side of the mansion. An alarm trumpet was sounding sporadically, and there were many footfalls echoing through the dark streets all around.

“Sorry, luv, short on time, can't stop to chat. Make your choice, out or in.” With that, the sciurel swiftly descended the drainpipe into the darkness, rejoining a group of people concealed in the ground level shadows.

Aleana rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Brigadier!” trying to keep her voice low, she prodded the lutrani with her toe as she tied the rope to the corner of the heavy oak bed. “Brig Riv!” He sat up, instantly alert, gaze moving from the open window to the rope.

“Jam the door, we’re leaving.”

“Yes, Princess.” Without hesitation, the lutrani shoved a heavy chair under the door handle as Aleana tugged experimentally on the rope. It seemed secure, which was slightly regrettable as now there was no valid reason not to climb down it. The drop from the windowsill seemed an awfully long way, and there seemed to be movement in the shadows below.

“I should go first,” the brigadier put his hand on her shoulder.

“That would be a problem,” Aleana said.

“Why, Princess?”

“Because I need you to lift me over this windowsill otherwise I shall not have the courage,” she admitted, feeling herself flush.

“Understood,” the lutrani nodded. Without preamble, he did exactly that, so that Aleana suddenly found herself clinging to the rope, her shoulders level with the windowsill, and the brigadier’s grip firm on her arms. “Grasp the rope with your feet,” he instructed.

“I am trying!” Aleana snapped as the line snaked and twisted, seemingly trying its best to stay out of her grasp, her boots skidding across the unyielding stone wall. “I cannot...” she stifled a shout as she felt herself slip an inch downwards, clinging to the brigadier with desperate strength. “Pull me up!”

But the lutrani shook his head. “Calm down,” he told her gently. “You aren't heavy, and I won’t let you fall. Relax. Breathe. That’s right,” he smiled as Aleana paused, staying quite still as she realised he wasn’t going to lose his grip on her. Don't underestimate the strength in those furry limbs, she noted. “Now, look at me, and feel for the rope. Take your time. No rush.”

“Right,” nodding, Aleana did as instructed, fighting the instinct to scramble back up into the relative safety of the room. Carefully... slowly... “Got it!”

“Good! Now, take your right hand, and grip the rope.”

Ah, yes, Aleana realised. Now came the hardest part. It wasn’t particularly easy to let go of the lutrani in favour of the rope, but since the alternative was remaining captive, and most likely never being able to inform her father of what was happening, it was clearly something she was just going to have to do. She did it.

“Take your time,” the brigadier said again, slowly loosening his grip as Aleana clung to the braided line with both hands. “Use your legs, go slow, and don’t slide. Feet, left hand, right hand. Imagine you're a caterpillar.”

Slowly, although it seemed altogether too fast, Aleana began to inch her way downwards. Grip with hands, move feet... grip with feet, move left hand... then right. Repeat. And repeat. The rough strands of the rope bit into her hands. And repeat. Her knees were level with a window now, the curtains mercifully closed, but allowing enough light through to silhouette her nicely. Time to move faster. Left hand, right hand, feet. Left hand, right hand, feet. Left hand, feet... wait, no, that wasn’t right...

The gust of wind was as sudden and unexpected as the slip that followed it. Grabbing desperately to regain her hold, Aleana had barely opened her mouth to scream before her impending plummet was arrested by something. Someone in fact, she realised as both she and whoever was behind her tumbled backwards onto the grass – which had fortunately been only four feet beneath her feet.

“Ouch,” Aleana announced, looking up at the dark sky for a moment, shaken but unhurt. Recovering enough of her wits to sit up, she hastily moved off the young man who had broken her fall. “I am sorry, are you...?” As he stood, his face came into the light from the window behind them, his russet hair and unusual ears instantly recognisable. “You!”

Feral blinked, found himself pointing at the girl who had fallen on him, and stopped. “Princess Irontooth?”

“Yes. You are?”

“Feral Foxwood.”

“You came here for me?”

“Um, yes. Uncle Felli said that...”

“Felli?” Aleana interrupted him.

“Fellirion.”

“Fellirion? Fellirion Forester sent you?”

“Well, yes, I suppose...”

“Uncle?” Aleana backtracked. “He’s you’re uncle?”

“Sort of; great uncle.”

“Then why did you not say you so earlier and save us both the trouble?” Aleana hissed, feeling both embarrassed and angry.

Feral thought that was a tad unfair. “Why didn’t you?” he countered. “Princess,” he added belatedly.

“Because... because...” one finger raised, Aleana hesitated.

“Because her highness does not reveal her identity to passing strangers about whom we know nothing,” the brigadier finished as his boots hit the ground, his descent having been both swift and silent.

“Yes,” Aleana agreed, folding her arms and looking imperiously at Feral. “Precisely.”

A chuckle sounded from the shadows to the left. “Much as I appreciate the irony,” the sciurel said as he moved into the light. “We need to move.”

“I concur,” the lutrani nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows. “Given the distraction you seem to have provided for the guards, I assume you have an escape route in mind?”

“Sort of,” Archer shrugged.

“Define sort of?” the brigadier narrowed his eyes.

“Run that way,” the sciurel pointed. “Before the guards come back.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, the brigadier thought, but it was forced to admit that it seemed both sensible and effective. At the edge of the mansion grounds, they collected a leonin, the lupari they had met before, and a human man and woman, all of whom were hastily introduced before continuing on into the dark streets, guided by a lutrani who seemed to appear from nowhere when they were looking the other way.

The soldiers assigned to patrol the streets thereabouts seemed to be quite well occupied, judging by the fact that there were none whatsoever.



Lit only by the stars and moon, the rocky prominence at the southern tip of the bay was almost indistinguishable against the tar black ocean as the waves battered the shore. Two ships lay moored in the shallows, lights extinguished and running dark lest they be spotted in the night. Smuggling in or out of an occupied town was no easy task, nor one to be undertaken by a faint hearted captain.

The northmost ship, furthest from the town, was significantly the largest, the silhouette she cast against the night sky imposing.

“Three masts and four decks,” their lutrani guide said, sounding rather proud. “One of the better ships we turned out.”

“We?” Feral queried.

“Farview shipyard was one of the best! Was. Until the Irons burnt it.”

“Heathens,” the brigadier muttered, and their guide nodded in agreement.

“Hello, Feral.”

“Uncle Felli!” Feral spun on the spot as the old man appeared from the shadows to clasp his hand warmly. “Distraction worked then?” he grinned.

“Naturally,” Fellirion smiled. “I must say your people pulled off the job admirably,” he nodded to the lutrani. “Right on schedule, five different spots. I don't think they'll work out what's going on until after dawn.”

“Which ain't that far away,” their guide commented. “Let's get you into the longboat and out to the Southern Dawn before...”

“I cannot,” Aleana interrupted and the lutrani stopped to stare at her in bafflement.

“You can’t?” Fellirion raised his eyebrows.

“Master Forester, please speak with me?” Putting her hand on the old man’s elbow, Aleana drew him a short way along the beach.

“No, sir, I cannot,” Aleana said softly, placing her back to the confused group by the longboat. “I – I think that there is a greater problem than we once believed.”

“Ah,” Ferllirion nodded gravely. “Your letter.”

“Yes,” the young woman nodded. “Master Forester... about three weeks ago, my brothers engaged in an argument during a council session, which culminated in my brother Tiernach accusing my brother Kaja of treason, and having him put under guard. The kingdom, under Tiernach, is now in a state approaching martial law. Since then, I have initiated a jailbreak, been chased by a dragon, believed that Kaja was dead, discovered he is not, and made my way here with the intent to inform my father of these events.”

Fellirion blinked at her. Then frowned.

“I see,” he said quietly. “Well, yes, I suppose that does explain the situation.”

“It does?”

“Not really,” Fellirion sighed, looking suddenly tired. “Or at least, it doesn’t explain the why, only the what. But, in the end, I suppose knowledge of the latter is at least an improvement.”

“Then you understand that I have to stay here in order to find my father.”

“No.” Shaking his head, Fellirion held up his hand to forestall her. “You father must be told, I agree, but it is important that you board that ship and travel to safety. You are at great risk here, my dear, as I think you have already learned this night. Your soldiers are no longer trustworthy, and should you encounter them again you may not make such a fortuitous escape – nor be treated so gracefully as you have been this night.”

“I cannot ignore my duty to the kingdom,” Aleana stated.

“And you shall not,” Fellirion told her. “I will ride in your place. I travel faster than you will, I can locate...”

“Uncle Felli, no!”

Fellirion turned as Feral ran up to him. “My boy, your hearing is impressive, but it does not behove you to eavesdrop on conversations.”

“I don’t care! You can’t go now! Not when... when...”

Regarding the half-race for a moment, Fellirion smiled sadly. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Feral’s shoulder. “I know, Feral. I know. And I’m sorry that I must leave you so soon, but if you have overheard what has been said, as evidently you have,” one white eyebrow twitched and Feral gave a sheepish smile. “Then you understand that we are quite clearly at a crucial moment in the course of this war. If we do nothing, then Tiernach will, I have no doubt, ultimately attain total control of Lordenor behind his father’s back. You know what he can do. You know what will happen if he is allowed to continue, because of what you have seen already. If he now commands the full power of Lordenor...”

Feral looked down at the ground, unable to meet the old man’s piercing blue eyes.

“But...I... then I’ll come with you!” he said, looking up.

“No,” shaking his head, the old man’s face was firm. “You will take the dragon's ward to Sanctuary. Tallow knows the way, she will be able to guide the ship.”

“Then I’ll give it to her and...”

“I think we know,” Fellirion’s eyebrow twitched again. “That that won’t work.”

Feral eyed his forearm, which the silvery metal had once again wrapped itself firmly around.

“I'm sorry, lad, you can't give it away, even if you want to – and you cannot allow it to stay here. Bluntly, it can be taken from your dead body. And besides,” the old man smiled. “I can think of few people more qualified to keep Princess Aleana safe.”

Aleana frowned at this, but said nothing, not wishing to interrupt their dialogue. Evidently the old man was trying to make the young man feel better, and she was willing to let the slide – this time. As if she needed an unlikely youth to look after her!

“But...”

“I will find you again,” the hand on Feral’s shoulder squeezed reassuringly. “Once I have played my part here, I will find you. I promise. Travel to Sanctuary, obtain the aid of the magi, and remain safe.”

Feral bowed his head, his ears visibly drooping as Fellirion gave his shoulder a little shake.

“Come on,” the old man said softly, leading Feral and Aleana to the rest of the group who were mostly already seated.

“Master Forester, are you quite sure I should...” Westley began, standing with his toes on the edge of the surf and a worried expression.

“Yes,” the old man reassured him, ushering him onboard the already heavily laden craft bobbing in the shallows. “Oh, and Princess Aleana?”

“Yes?” the young woman looked up from where she was sandwiched awkwardly between the brigadier and Cassanya.

“From here on, you are Lady Alanna. You understand why.”

“Yes,” Aleana nodded, repeated the modified name to herself several times as the brigadier bowed his head in acknowledgement of Fellirion's wisdom.

“What's the other ship?” Feral asked as he followed Westley and Aleana, his gaze out towards the dark waters.

“That old wreck? That's Kelpdeep's ship, calls it the Kittywake, though that ain't what it says on the prow.”

“Really...” Fellirion paused, his hands on the rope that moored the rowboat to the shore. “In that case that's where you're going.”

The lutrani stared at him – as did everyone else on the crowded craft.

“Sir... they're just smugglers in a run down wreck!” the lutrani oarsman protested. “They're not even supposed to be there, should have gone an hour ago. Disorganised rabble. The Southern Dawn is top of the line and half her crew is ex-military, they know what they're doing. You want your friends there safe...”

“The Kittywake,” Fellirion said firmly, interrupting the slew of recommendations. “Trust me,” he looked meaningfully at Feral.

For a moment, Feral considered asking further about this unexpected change of plans, but something in the old man's calm blue gaze told him the judgement was quite sound.

“The Kittywake,” he echoed. “Please.”

The lutrani sighed. “Well if that ain't the oddest decision of the day. Still, why should I care, my job's just to get you out of Farview. We'll try the Kittywake then – if'n Kelpdeep'll take you, then good luck with her. If she won't, for gawds sake take my advice!”

“She'll take them,” Fellirion reassured, unwinding the mooring rope and tossing it to Archer at the prow of the little boat.

“Well come on, grab an oar! I can't shift this weight on my own!” the lutrani turned to glare over his shoulder. He looked approvingly at the brigadier as he answered the request, grasping his oar with sturdy arms and confident poise. “Ready? Heave!”

Fellirion waved cheerily to Feral, as if watching him glide away over the dark waters were no more significant than a quick fishing trip downriver.

“Kittywake,” he mused quietly to himself, turning as the boat was lost in the night, locating his horse standing nearby. “Well, that is interesting, isn't it old girl? Best ship in the dock, so we've heard. More an anchorage, I would have said, but I think its close enough, eh?”



It was possible, Feral mused, that their lutrani guide and oarsman had a point. The Kittywake was... well, in a word, shabby. Flakes of varnish peeled off the wooden hull even as barnacles crept upwards from below the waterline. There was a noteworthy gap in the gunwale above them, and indeed as their guide had said, the plate on the vessel's prow started with an N and then became indecipherable.

Still, Fellirion had said...

“This my new crew?” a lutrani woman leaned out through the gap in the rail as the longboat pulled up along side.

“Crew?” the oarsman queried.

“No then. What in seven fathoms you want then?”

“Passengers.”

“Passengers?”

“Passengers. Chuck that ladder down, Kelpdeep.”

“Capt'n Kelpdeep to you, ya bucket o' bilgewater!” the female lutrani roared, her accent thick but her tone softer than might be expected for her choice of words. Feral suspected this wasn't the first contact between her and their helpful guide, although the exchange once again impressed on him just how large a ratio of lutrani skippers there seemed to be, whatever the colour of the water they sailed on. This particular captain seemed to be a little greyer of colour than many, though the softness of her voice and brightness of her eyes suggested she was no older than her thirties.

“Captain Kelpdeep,” the oarsman repeated, standing and making a half bow.

“An' you lot best be paying!” Captain Kelpdeep shouted, turning away from the rail for a moment.

“Don't say anything,” their guide advised as the rope ladder swished down from above. “Easier to apologise after than explain before.”

“Right...” Feral eyed the ladder which hung near him the back of the boat. Archer prodded him in the ribs.

“Get on with it,” the sciurel urged. “Be lucky if we've more than an hour to dawn, need to be on that deck and away by then!”

“Right,” Feral nodded, managing to grab the swaying ladder.

The Kittywake – or the N-something as the nameplate implied – didn't look much better from the deck than it did from the waterline. The planks underfoot were worn and raw, the caulking cracked and flaking, and there were several conspicuous rips in the sails that had been patched with rough thread. As for the crew... it wasn't that they looked dangerous, or rough, just... run down. And short on numbers, Feral thought, finding only three within sight. Two more lutrani, both greying around the muzzle and frayed around the seams, and one small sciurel, currently perched aloft in the crow's nest.

“Well,” the lutrani captain commented, eyeing him. “You're one of my more unique pieces of cargo now, ain't you, boy?”

“I'm not a boy!” Feral protested, feeling rather tired of people calling him such.

“Hey, boy, everything ok?” Cassanya emerged onto the deck behind him and he suppressed a sigh.

“Sure y'are,” captain Kelpdeep told him, a light laugh in her voice. “But there ain't no shame in that. Ah, t'was but yesterday when I looked not a lot different to yourself. Well, maybe a little,” she corrected with a smile. “Oh and don't you look like the serious one,” she went on, eyeing the brigadier as he appeared over the edge of the deck. “But I reckon you've more'n a mite of the water about you. Good, we're short handed and if the oaf's brought me passengers instead o' crew, you'll be pulling both duties. That or we can sit here dead in the water until the Irons come to blow us to splinters.”

“Where do you need me?” the brigadier asked, turning to assist Aleana – now the Lady Alanna, Feral corrected himself mentally – over the rail.

“The lads know their work, but their arms ain't what they used to be,” she nodded to the two aging lutrani at the back of the ship, whom Feral would later learn to be twin brothers named Reef and Shoal, though he would never be quite sure which was which. “If you know your sails, lend them a hand where they need it. If you don't, you best tell me now.”

Brigadier Riverthorn gave a curt smile. “Ma'am...”

“Capt'n!”

“Captain,” the brigadier amended smoothly. “I can name twenty seven ships on which I've served, from light frigates to heavy cruisers. I know my gaffs from my gin-poles.”

The captain eyed him for a moment, then looked past him as Westley hauled himself over the rail. “Well you're the best o' the bunch so far,” she declared, looking back to the brigadier as the young man weaved unsteadily across the gently swaying deck. “You and you,” she pointed at Cassanya and Balthor as the latter appeared at the top of the ladder. “You've four thick arms between you, pull whatever ropes I or my boys tell you to.”

Cassanya glanced at Feral, then the tatty rigging that hung overhead.

“Please,” Feral said quietly. “Uncle Felli said...”

The leonin sighed, nodding.

Tallow, apparently, looked as unlikely as Feral, Westley, or Aleana to make competent deck hands. Archer, coming up last however...

“Perfect! A spare lookout!” the captain said cheerily. “Get yourself aloft and relieve Jenna, poor girl's been up there since dusk. Couldn't bring her down while we're in hostile waters. And you!” she leaned out over the rail, glaring at the lutrani left in the longboat. “Next time I bring you rum, at a fair risk to my own neck I might add, you try a bit harder when I ask for a few deckhands!”

Peering over the side, Feral had time to see the lutrani salute before he bent to the oars, turning the much lighter little craft back to shore.

“Well what's your story?” the captain folded her arms. “No, wait, I don't want to know. You're running from a town in occupied territory. Where's me money?”

“Where's your crew?” Archer countered, half way up the rigging.

“I've got all I need right here!” Kelpdeep shot back.

“Bilge! You limped in four hands short cos no idiot wanted to sign up. You got paid for the rum?”

“O' course I did, I'd never let it off the deck without seeing some silver first,” the captain answered, then winced at her mistake.

“So all you really want is to get away and load up again?” Feral asked, catching the sciurel's line of thinking.

“Shut up!” the lutrani captain pulled her wide brimmed hat down over her ears.

“How about we crew you to safe harbour and call it quits?” Archer grinned.

“I hate you all!” Kelpdeep shouted.

“The lass there 'as your directions,” Archer nodded at Tallow.

The lutrani captain gnawed her lower lip, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

“It's not a regular port, but we do have a brewery...” Tallow said softly, walking up to her.

“You do?” Kelpdeep opened one eye.

“We do. My superiors would be very grateful for your assistance, I'm sure we could come to an agreement of cargo for payment. Beers, wines, or spirits, take your pick.”

“That, my girl,” the lutrani smiled. “Is my language.” She leaned closer to Tallow, whispering. “You get this lot to crew the ship proper, I get you where you're going, and you get me a dozen barrels of the good stuff?”

“I'm sure something can be agreed,” Tallow said quietly.

“Can you find me more crew?”

“I'm really not sure.”

“But you can fill the hold with the spice of life?”

“Er, yes,” Tallow hesitated over the unfamiliar term.

“I can live with that.”

Tallow flinched as the lutrani leaned forwards suddenly – then blushed as the captain kissed her nose.

“And you can't break a deal agreed with a kiss,” Kelpdeep stated. “Now be out me way, girl. We've an hour of darkness and barely more than that of tide. Reef! Shoal! Get on it!”



&quot;Are you ok?”

Aleana looked up from the rail, away from the glittering black water beyond, finding Feral standing beside her, the lanterns at his back casting shadows of his ears across his face. Somewhere nearby, she could sense the brigadier watching them, alert but apparently perceiving no threat in the curious young man. This came as something as a relief, since she felt in no condition for a confrontation.

“Pardon me?” she asked, realising she had completely lost track of what it was the half-race had asked had said.

“I asked if you’re ok,” Feral smiled kindly.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Aleana felt herself flush. “I often feel... less than ideal for the first few hours on the water. I will adapt.”

“Ah. I know the feeling.”

“You seem to be fine...”

Feral nodded. “Grew up by the sea, was on and off boats all my life. Sometimes used to help the fishermen sort their catch – I was only five the first time they took me out, a friend of my mother agreed to look after me.” Ruefully, the half-race brushed a hand through his thick russet hair, leaving it even scruffier than it already was. “I was hanging over the rail for most of that afternoon, to be honest, and don’t really remember much more than people checking on me, but after that it never quite seemed so bad.”

“You must live in a good town. They sound like friendly people.”

“They were. Town doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Doesn’t exist? What happened?”

For a moment, Feral didn’t answer, his gaze running out to the dark horizon. “A dragon. A dragon ridden by someone working for Tiernach Irontooth.”

Aleana closed her eyes, turning her face away. When she spoke, her voice was a hushed whisper. “I didn’t know. Dear gods, Feral, I had no idea! When did it happen?”

“Just before summersend. There would have been a festival in three days time.”

“That was... just before the Fortitude talks... Minister Goldwood spoke about villages that had been attacked, ships sunk, but... We have been manipulated for a long time. All of it, Tier must have been planning everything for months, maybe years in advance, and I never even suspected! How could I have been so blind? Feral, I am so sorry. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to stop my brother. Everything.”

Feral watched her carefully as she spoke, weighing up her words and tone, not totally sure what to make of her. On the one hand, Fellirion clearly had faith in this princess of the enemy state, and she spoke with earnestness and passion... but on the other, she still referred to Prince Tiernach as her brother. How far would she really go? When the end came, what was she capable of doing to ensure that her promises were carried out?

“Could you kill him if you had to?”

Feral knew it was a mistake as soon as the ill-thought words were past his lips. Aleana went so white that the brigadier had taken three paces towards her before she waved him away. Visibly shaking she looked back at Feral, her lips tight. “How dare you ask me that... how dare you ask if I could... could...”

Looking away, Feral closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s ok. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I could either. I just...” but he didn’t know what he just, and lapsed into silence.

A hint of colour returned to Aleana’s cheeks as she watched the half-race study the dark horizon. Abruptly she turned on her heel, striding away from him towards the mid deck.

“Stop following me!”

The brigadier did so, more through surprise at the vehemence in Aleana’s voice than at the request itself. He watched her disappear below decks, probably heading for her cabin. Glancing back, he found Feral had been following his gaze, his expression regretful. Silently, the lutrani walked over to join the half-race at the rail, looking out over the dark water.

“She won’t thank you for that question, my friend,” the brigadier said softly.

“I’m sorry,” Feral sighed. “I didn’t mean to...”

The lutrani chuckled grimly. “Maybe not in your heart – but your head knew it needed to be asked.” Involuntarily, his grip on the wood tightened.

“You’ve thought the same?” the half-race asked quietly.

“I am bound by oath and duty to protect the house of , whether or not they rule Lordenor,” the brigadier stated.

“That’s... not really an answer.”

the brigadier eyed him for a moment, studying his face. “No, I guess it isn’t. Dark times, my friend. Dark times have overtaken us. Brother against sister, son against father, and yet all are those I have sworn to serve! I am faced with two options, neither of which is wholly wrong, neither of which is wholly right, and each of which excludes the other. Every soldier in the kingdom must face this dilemma. I can only hope that they choose wisely, and do not regret their choice.”

“What will you do?” Feral asked, looking up at the taller lutrani.

“I? I shall protect Pri–” he chuckled quietly. “Lady Alanna, I should say. If necessary, I will protect her with my life, because in her I see one of the few rays of hope that may yet pierce the darkness that grows upon us. And you, young friend – I heard your words to the lady, but I don’t understand why you are here, now. I have seen you fight like a soldier of many seasons and you speak well, yet I do not see the makings of an warrior nor a diplomat in you.”

“No,” Feral shook his head. “I'm no warrior – and I don't bear any illusions I could stop any of this from happening. I just want to get my sister back from her. Him. Them,” he corrected himself.

“Her?”

“The dragon rider,” Feral explained. “I... I saw her again, not long ago. I think her name is Katrina.”

To his surprise, the brigadier let out a short, barking laugh. “I’m sorry, my friend,” the lutrani apologised. “But I should have known. I wondered why her rise to general of the army had been sponsored by Prince Tiernach.”

“General?”

“Oh yes. Ambitious woman, no respect for authority, she smelled of trouble from the day of her first promotion, but... one does not oppose a request from royalty, whatever one’s personal feelings in the matter. I assumed she meant something to the prince, and such is a privilege of royal blood. I followed her rise through the ranks, more through curiosity about the prince’s motivation than anything. Now it seems... quite clear. Had I but known...”

“You’d have stopped her?”

“I’d have tried. Gods know I would have tried, if only I had seen what was going on sooner!” the lutrani’s fingers tightened spasmodically on the rail again. “Ah, but there lies the penalty of being merely mortal. The penalty of having only hindsight, not foresight. I am sorry that you have paid that penalty, my friend. You did not deserve such a thing.” He looked at Feral for several seconds before continuing. “I know the lady assured you of such, but you have my word that I will do all in my power to rein in our errant prince, and his pet general. I will not permit them to destroy the house of Irontooth, nor the kingdom of Lordenor, nor the Freelands. If that is your goal as well, then we are allies.”

Feral shook the lutrani’s hand as he offered it.

“I am however, curious as to whether you have any plans in the matter,” he admitted.

“Yes,” Tallow stated, making them both jump. “I’m sorry, I heard you talking...”

“No problem, my lady,” the brigadier gave a stately bow in greeting as she moved to stand on Feral's other side. “May I ask what course of action it is that you intend to take?”

“Sanctuary,” Tallow said.

“The magic island?”

“Something like that,” Tallow smiled. “Perhaps better thought of as a library with workshops and beaches. In any case, it will be our destination for now. There we can take rest and council.”

“I have heard of the council of the magi,” the brigadier mused. “Prince Tiernach used to speak of them as masters of great wisdom and power – while he spoke of his time of study at all.”

“What did he say about it?” Tallow asked, curious.

“When he would say anything, only that he believed the path to progress was knowledge, not military force. That reason and logic could build an empire while an army could only destroy one.”

“That... doesn't sound like someone who would send a dragon to destroy cities,” Feral suggested.

“No,” the lutrani agreed, eyeing the waves below. To the east, a faint glow announced that dawn would soon be upon them. “No it doesn't. Perhaps now you see why none of us anticipated his recent actions.” the brigadier sighed. “He wasn't always as he is this day. Times past I have struggled to find a kinder soul than the prince. I have seen him defend the poor and weak, establish institutes to protect the vulnerable, lend his council to those who had neither status nor money, only a need of his insight.“

“What would change a person so much?” Tallow wondered.

The lutrani could only shake his head. “Will the magi help us?” he asked.

“I hope so. Light knows we have enough need, but the order as a whole stands by its neutrality. We do not take sides in conflict, we do not adjust the balance of power. Centuries pass, empires rise, and empires fall, histories unfold, and the order watches and records. When the order interacts with those outside, it is with everyone, as equals, not to one faction in a war; they share knowledge that can benefit all and elevate no one. But...” she hesitated in what Feral suspected was a memorised speech. “It has been a very long time since anyone threw a dragon into the mix. I'm sorry, Brigadier, I really don't know what their decision will be.”

The brigadier nodded silently, then looked towards the mid deck. “I should go below. My place is with Lady Alanna.” With that, he retreated, leaving Feral alone with Tallow.

“Hi,” he said quietly now that there was nobody between them.

“Hi. We haven’t had much time to talk, are you all right?”

“Fine. Did you get what you needed at the magefort?”

Shivering convulsively, Tallow drew her cloak tighter about her. “I’m not sure. We got the book, but I’m not sure how much use it is. It’s mostly about the dragon clans.”

“The clans?”

“Yes. You see,” Tallow adopted the expression which Feral was coming to recognise as her teaching face. “There is not just one race of dragons, but four distinct subspecies, which are referred to as the clans. Each clan is powerful in magic, each the same basic creature, but each has power over a different elemental aspect, leading to the clans of fire, earth, air, and water. I hoped this book would tell us more, but,” she sighed, producing an ancient looking book from a satchel. “There’s a lot of information here, and most of it seems to be encrypted,” opening it at a leather marker, she showed Feral a page of unrecognisable characters.

“That’s no language I know, and I don’t recognise the symbols,” Tallow said, sounding quite irritated. “It’s ridiculous! Surely the point of a book is to record and pass on information, not to hide it?”

“Unless it’s just personal storage,” Feral suggested. “Maybe the author didn’t want anyone else to be able to read it.”

“Why not just remember?” Tallow asked. Feral thought this answered a lot of things about her, but didn't pass comment. ”Anyway that’s really not the way it’s supposed to be done,” she shook her head, then passed a hand over her eyes. “Goodness I’m tired. I think I’ll find somewhere to get some sleep.”

“All right,” Feral nodded. “Do you mind if I borrow that?” he gestured to the book.

Tallow hesitated. “You will look after it, won’t you?”

Feral laughed. “Of course. I’m not that useless.”

Smiling, Tallow handed it to him. “Make sure your hands are clean when you read it, please,” she said, and Feral nodded, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. “Good night.”

“G’night.” Glancing down at the book as she left, Feral found his fingers tracing the design on the front – a number of interlocking scales. The inside of the front cover had been delicately worked, an intricate picture of a dragon among several trees, some of which appeared to be on fire. Flicking through the pages, he wondered if there were any more illustrations. There were. Another dragon – probably not surprising he supposed – this one appeared to be swimming. Somehow Feral hadn’t expected dragons to be able to swim, but since Tallow had assured him there were those with power over water, it seemed to make sense.

About two thirds of the way through, an illustration of not one, but four dragons, drawn woven together in a circle, tails and necks intertwined. How strange, Feral thought. Even stranger was the realisation that the text to the side was quite readable.

As storm over water, they stir up the waves
As rain upon fire, they douse the flames
As flame upon earth, they scorch the ground
As mountain in storm, they fear not the wind
As breath upon candle, they fan the flame
As smoke from the embers, they rise to the clouds
As sand under river, they guide and unite
As rain upon forest, they bring strength and life
For ever the four, are locked in this way
The strength of the one, the weakness of three
For beyond this world, and beyond control
Is strength of all, yet weakness of none

Very strange, Feral concluded, feeling none the wiser. He should show it to Tallow some time, he decided, then continued flicking pages. A dragon in flight, in a cave with trailing plants hanging down from the roof, and inside the back cover, a dragon that seemed to be doing nothing special at all, just sitting while several people looked up at it.

Looking up himself as he heard footsteps, Feral received a cheery salute from one of the twin lutrani crewmen – possibly Reef, but maybe Shoal. Feral smiled back, then eyed the book once more, trying to suppress a yawn and failing. Perhaps it was time to follow Tallow’s example and seek a bunk below deck.