The Unfinished Land

The Company of Drakes

THE SNAKING GRAY clouds turned black, and a thin silvery rain fell that smelled of a great storm but delivered little moisture. The line of quiet wagons stood in this evening gloom, colors muted, interiors silent. The forest around them looked sick, almost dead.

Reynard wrapped his sleeping blanket around him, tucking it under his arms, enduring the damp to keep away the cold. When sleep was clearly useless, and as dawn turned the tops of the trees rusty brown, he got out of his wrap and walked over to the nearest wagon, then climbed up on the step to peer inside and down its length. The bunks that lined both sides, to a boxy enclosure with a black pipe thrusting through the roof—what might have been a kitchen—were empty, the curtains open as if someone had just climbed out. The other wagons were the same. He seemed alone. There was no sign of Anutha, supposedly under Yuchil’s care. Widsith was gone, as were Kern, Kaiholo, Calybo, and even Valdis—perhaps off taking care of ablutions, though he had his doubts that Eaters needed such. At first he thought no one was with him, but the dancing girl, Calafi, appeared out of nowhere and tugged on his sleeve, looking up at him like a curious cat.

“They have gone!” Reynard said.

“Be not afraid,” the girl said. “They will return after the trod and the woods have been inspected. In this margin, trees have no sense. They are too close to the krater lands.”

“Why do they look sick?”

“Too many changes,” she said. “Around their dwellings, and even in death, Crafters twist rules and churn ways.” She took a deep breath, spread her arms, then smiled. “The trees may not like it, but I do. The air is good here. I like the dreams. Dost thou?”

“I have had few I recall since I arrived,” he said, ignoring his waking vision. He studied her. She studied him back, eyes clear and steady. The girl tugged his sleeve and brought him around again to the lead wagon. “My mistress and teacher have returned,” she said.

“The wagons are empty!”

Calafi smiled and pointed, and he saw the lead wagon was gently creaking with occupants. Now he heard many voices inside, laughing and jesting, he thought, and the canvas sides were pushing out as if from the press of legs and elbows.

“Art thou hungry?” Calafi asked.

“What do you have for breakfast?” Reynard asked, and the girl laughed.

“Light fare,” she said. “Broth and bread and a Traveler’s prayer from long ago, when we began our journeys.”

Yuchil emerged on the seat of the cab and smiled at them, just as Widsith and the others, along with Nikolias, Andalo, Bela, and Sany, returned from the sickly woods. At their rear, following Kern, came Calybo and Valdis, astride their black and shining horses. Even in the morning light, the Eaters seemed to attract shadows, and the Travelers still kept their distance.

“Thine own guardians are near,” the dancing girl said, studying the Eaters with a severe frown.

Valdis descended from her horse and stood by her animal. From the first three wagons, front and rear, climbed down a procession of men and women, young and old, wearing black and purple.

Reynard watched as the silver-haired woman and Andalo and Bela set up a cauldron, and then Nikolias, the tall master of the Travelers, lent them a hand lighting a hot, smokeless fire beneath, using words wrapped in song that seemed to encourage heat. Another group set up a separate fire. Several of the younger men had been hunting and now brought forth small game animals—none familiar to Reynard. These they began to roast. Valdis and Calybo stood aside in tree shadows, not to upset the repast of all the Travelers.

“I hope we have food enough to sate a giant!” Yuchil said.

“I eat less than one would think,” Kern said. She returned his shy smile.

Widsith and Kaiholo joined with Reynard, and helped Anutha, who moved slowly and seemed barely able to withstand her pain.

“What have you learned out there, scout?” Widsith asked her.

“The Travelers have shown me a wonder, and told me what they know. I have seen that the trod is alert,” Anutha said. “And in trade, I have some wonders for you, and for them.” She carried her jingling bag on her belt, and brought it forward with one hand.

Nikolias looked at the bag curiously and said, “The trods tell the tale. The entire island from forest to mountain to the chafing waste is a-twitch. The Sister Queens have lured the Spanish general to their service, and all that remains of his troops—and now they join those forces to claim the entire island for their country of Annwyn.”

“Where is Annwyn?” Reynard asked.

“Far east and north, beyond the chafing waste—beyond the krater lands. Also, beyond the plain of jars whose graves carry dead Crafters.”

Yuchil and two of the warriors helped Anutha to join the group. She trembled all over, and her eyes were bleary yellow. He felt a sharp pang, as if he might be to blame—and perhaps he was.

“Time now to share drakes,” Anutha whispered. “The last harvest of the southwestern shores. Who would be served best? Those who drink will find all their kin protected. The drakes will not attack them, but will defend unto their death.”

Anutha took out a vial and handed it to the Pilgrim. “Thou hast defended Zodiako,” she said, and insisted he take it. “Open, and drink it down.”

Widsith looked aside, as if ashamed at his part in this. But he swallowed the contents of the vial.

“When will his drake arrive and be of use?” Kern asked.

She did not answer, but gave a vial to the giant next. He was astonished. “Take it! Swallow quickly. I do not know how it will react in Anakim flesh.”

He used his outsized hands to remove the stopper, and slugged it back with a wry grimace. Then his eyes opened, and he said, “Not so bad. I like it! Anakim were made to partner with drakes.”

Next she turned to Reynard. “Thou hast served the blunters as well as Zodiako,” she said. He took the vial and held it up to inspect, hoping to delay the moment—but Anutha said, “Knowing from whence it comes doth not make it taste any worse!”

Reynard drank it swiftly. The flavor was intense—sharp and green and then warming, all the way down his throat. He wanted to cough, but clapped his hand over his mouth and did not, though his eyes grew wide.

Kern looked on with sympathy and amusement.

“What color of drake?” Kaiholo asked, as if Reynard or Kern or Widsith could already see their new defenders.

“They have not yet flown,” Anutha said. “But soon! The last nymphs of the season were primed to leave their cocoons when we took these essences.”

All this talk was in low tones and away from the wagons and those setting up the cauldron and fire, as well as away from Calafi—who had returned to the lead wagon.

Anutha said, “I know not which of the Travelers will find drakes of use,” she said. “Other than you.”

And she gave a vial to Kaiholo.

“To defeat the Sister Queens,” he said, and swallowed the liquid.

Nikolias approached them, accompanied by Calafi.

To Reynard’s surprise, more men emerged from the second two wagons, until almost forty gathered in clumps around the path. These spread out behind him, as if expecting trouble and providing a barricade to protect the wagons. They carried long knives with curving blades, and some wore dark metal plates on their chests and in front of their groins, connected by braided cord.

Anutha’s sharply focused expression showed she was near the end of her stamina—but still seeking warriors to equip with drakes. Nikolias avoided her importuning look, but she stepped up to him and said, “Thou hast lineage and worth and have served many of my people,” she said. “And this island.”

Nikolias looked at the offered vial. “None of my Travelers have ever managed drakes,” he said.

“I have one!” Kaiholo said.

“Still to be proven. Not me, however,” Nikolias said.

“Then who is ready and strong enough?”

The lean man turned to speak in a hauntingly familiar tongue to those armed men and women now drawn up around him. Reynard listened closely, but while the tongue was vaguely like Rom, they also, he surmised, spoke in a code known only to themselves. Calafi kept close to him, curious more than protective.

“What should we do?” Reynard asked.

“They are choosing who among them should have drakes,” she said.

“We are protected by trods,” Nikolias said, “but two will accept your gifts.” Nikolias chose Andalo, and Anutha gave him a vial. He examined it, then opened the stopper and swallowed, making a bitter face. Then Nikolias pointed to Calafi, who drew back her lips in a kind of surprised snarl.

“Why me?” she asked.

“Because thou’lt go with the boy, the Pilgrim, and the Eater into the krater lands, and may face Annwyn’s armies.”

Anutha pulled herself free from the men who supported her and walked unsteadily along the path to where Valdis and Calybo stood beside their horses.

“Take these,” she said.

“Valdis should have protection. But not me,” Calybo said. “Thou dost not have many left.”

“Thou speak’st sad truth.” Anutha shook the bag. It did not clink—it was empty. “The last vial goeth to an Eater. Maggie and Maeve said that was essential.” She held up the last vial. Its contents swirled in her shaking hand.

The Travelers drew back a step as Valdis came forward. She took the vial and opened it.

“I am not human,” she said.

“I would not harm thee,” Anutha said. “An Eater can also be protected by a drake.”

And so Valdis put the vial to her lips and drained its contents. Anutha smiled approval. Yuchil and the warriors helped the scout back to the wagon.

In the night, with a low breeze winding through the pass, Yuchil approached Widsith and Reynard.

“Thy scout asketh for thee,” she said, and led them back to the wagon. Inside, the Traveler’s vehicle had room for many people—and a small nook in which Yuchil had laid out blankets and soft bolsters, on which the scout lay with eyes closed, barely breathing.

Widsith knelt beside Anutha and touched her wrist softly. She opened her eyes and sighed, then shuddered. “I trow some knife or arrow was dipped in venom,” she said. “I wish the King of Troy was here. He might have a remedy. The Travelers, I fear, do not.”

Yuchil met Widsith’s look and shook her head. Reynard could not take his eyes from the scout’s pale, heavily lined face.

“I have served Maeve and Dana for many years,” Anutha said. “Along with Maggie, I have led the blunters to their charges along the southwestern shore, and found new grounds they had not known before, for nymphs often rise where none have ventured in years. I have heard many tales of thee, Pilgrim, and thy journeys, in our village, and even from those just beneath the sky, who valued thee as companion.”

Widsith bowed. “I am honored,” he said.

“I have heard from Maeve and from Guldreth herself that great change cometh, and the old ways must adapt. The boy is new. He knoweth not his beginning, and his end is not determined. But you will serve his destiny now more than your own. Guldreth said as much. We had many good talks over the years. Now, she is traveling… I know not where. Perhaps to fetch Hel.” She clasped Widsith’s hand and smiled at him, then closed her eyes.

Yuchil escorted them out of the wagon. Widsith was crying, and Reynard was dismayed until he thought, until he understood, that the difficult ways of Tir Na Nog, the devious rules and strange duties, had appealed to many here, to Widsith, to the Travelers—and to Anutha herself.

And now that was passing, and rapidly.

They returned to the fire and the night.

Yuchil climbed down from the wagon hours later. “The scout is dead,” she said. “The poison hath taken her. She was very strong, and carried out her duty. I wish her spirit to move swiftly and depart this island whilst it still can.”