Unbound

The night found Vess with her aunt, quietly chatting after a long soak in a copper tub that her porters had managed to carry from the wreckage of her manor. Hot water had been hauled up long flights of stairs just for them, but Vess didn't regret the wait. She felt more relaxed now than she had in weeks. Clean and smelling faintly of flowers, her aunt was carefully brushing Vess' dark locks before a long, gilded mirror.

"You rescued quite a bit from your manor, I see."

Verona shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "My attendants insisted. They carried much of it to the wagons even as the place was burning around us. Said a lady should never be without her essentials."

One of the maids posted by the door blew a quiet, satisfied breath through her nose. Aunt Verona smiled indulgently. "Wine?"

"Of course."

More than just the gilded mirror survived their manor's fall. Sumptuous rugs covered the cold floor, each one worth more than Zara's old manor in Haarwatch. There were no windows within the room, but Manalamps were affixed to the walls, bound by sigils and fed by the ambient magic around them. They gave off a calming, buttery glow that could be changed with the turn of a dial.

The largest indulgence, of course, was the large carved bed frame and mattress, upon which they sat. Thick, hand-stitched silken sheets from Jaast were tucked on, along with fluffy, Avum-feather pillows. The headboard was carved to resemble a roaring lion's head, with sapphires set into its eyes.

"Vessilia, where did you meet Felix?"

Vess cursed inwardly. She'd been distracted by the bath and the wine and her appreciation of the room. She had expected an interrogation earlier but it's delay lulled her into a false security. "In the Foglands. He saved me from a pair of Frost Giants."

"His Companion helped."

"The dog? How much help can a hound provide, however intelligent?"

"I think you will be surprised," Vess said, managing to keep her tone even. If Pit wanted to keep his true form hidden, then she was not about to reveal it.

"He's strong then. To help someone he'd never met is not something I'd expect from a wanderer in the wilderness."

"Felix is...unique," Vess said, smiling to herself. When she thought of the man her stomach fluttered in the strangest of ways. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. "He is a good man."

"And you are courting?"

Vess coughed, nearly choking on her wine this time. Aunt Verona only laughed. "You think I'm blind? They way you two look at each other is enough to heat a room."

She blushed, and it was especially embarrassing to see it happen in the mirror in real time. "Yes. We are courting."

“Well, I suppose I must apologize to your father when we rescue him. Sending you across the Continent had some real benefits. Quite the strapping young man, and a king to boot.”

Vess frowned. "He is good and kind and filled with the urge to do what is necessary. His station has no bearing on my affection. I would not turn him away even if he lost all of his power."

Verona nodded firmly, a pleased smile plastered on her face. "Just so."

In the well-lit confines of the Fenwald Forge, Harn struggled beneath the weight of a thick stone as big as him. It wasn’t the first stone he’d moved that day or the largest, but for a moment he feared it would be his last. Yet with a combination of his crutches, his arm strength, and pure tenacious Will, he finally shoved it the last finger span it needed. Gravity took hold, pulling the whole block forward, where it slammed into place with a muffled boom. Panting and exhausted, he collapsed against the side of the now mostly rebuilt furnace.

"Just about ready to light it," he said between large gulps of air.

While the process was taking a while, the forge was starting to look functional. In addition to the single furnace, he’d repaired a single workbench, cleared the quenching troughs, and rescued a mithril anvil from beneath a heap of collapsed masonry.

Harn was thankful for the Eidolons. Time and again, they had provided him with the aid he required, both here and on their journey from the Undermount. As much as his warrior’s pride burned at being slung over Orun’s shoulder like a sack of meal, Harn could appreciate their unflagging loyalty and tremendous strength. Iiana and Eagin were bustling about, lifting the heaviest of debris and sorting it into piles. They were good at it too, with Iiana setting aside any metal that might be worthwhile to melt back down and Eagin manhandling the largest and heaviest blocks of stone and metal without taking a break once.

Voices broke through the quiet. Angry voices.

The doors. Telys and Orun were there, and had been since they’d entered the interior again. Based on the words he could make out, he had a firm idea who had come knocking, too.

After a quick trip through the corridor past the still-locked chambers, Harn swung out into the staging grounds. That maze had gone away now that it wasn’t needed, but the stone blocks retained the evidence of the brutal one-sided battle that had taken place upon it. Vess was quite the monster when she wished to be.

Beyond the laid-stone expanse of the grounds were the remnants of the external doors. Broken from the outside, they were impossible to close again, so the Eidolons decided to guard the entrance themselves. They were there, standing tall before the collected might of thirteen Dragoons.

"You are not allowed," Telys said, clearly repeating herself. She had to crane her neck to even look down on the humans, which seemed to make a few of them angrier for some reason.

"Only Vesilia Dayne, the Colossus, or one of their representatives can allow people within."

"These are the halls of our ancestors," one of them argued. He spoke calmly, while several others in fine armored coats looked ready to bite through stone. "Surely we can investigate them. Lady Dayne is a Dragoon in training herself. She would understand."

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Orun let loose a rumbling hum. "Then ask her."

The Dragoons looked among themselves while the officers' faces twisted as if they’d been told to wade through a sewer. One of them, a slender Half-Elf, thrust the wispy patch of hair on his chin in the Eidolons' direction. "I've had enough of this. Golem, let us pass."

Telys and Orun looked at each other, and Harn chuckled to himself before they even spoke a single word.

"No."

"You will let us access the halls of our ancestors, Golem, or I will have you broken down for parts!" The half-elf looked like a cherry tomato, and a nasty vein across his forehead pulsed. The Eidolons didn't budge.

"Selin, calm down," said one of the Dragoons.

"You don’t tell me to calm down! We're facing inanimate hunks of rock who stand between us and perhaps the only way to fight back against the Hierocracy. Am I being unreasonable? Who is Vesilia Dayne to tell us where and when we can access this place? She was never a true Dragoon, and she never will be. Not with that monster on her shoulder.”

“Monster or not, you know the Daynes. Their family is worth listening to—” another started, before Selin cut her off too.

“They have guided us, sure, and they have led us to ruin. As a result, we now huddle in the backend of nowhere, and the one ray of light that we have in the darkness of our turmoil is denied us. No matter that its secrets could grant us power, or that its treasures could equip us with what we need to really put up a fight.”

Some of the others murmured, though only a few in agreement. The Half-Elf wasn’t done, though. “Preposterous! Unconscionable! I should have known when their leader said he'd kill a god. They're all crazy."

A large, stony hand shot out, stopping only a span away from Selin's slender face. The Half-Elf nearly jumped out of his skin. "What?"

"I have listened to you long enough," Orun said. "You have vented yourselves against us. You are angry, so I have let it go.” He stepped forward, and the Eidolons frame suddenly occupied everyone’s entire vision, as if he were a mountain shaped into the vaguest form of a man. “It ends now. No one speaks ill of the Colossus, for he saved us from an eternity of servitude. You will watch your tongue, or I will remove it."

"Hrm," Harn grunted, maneuvering himself up from behind the Eidolons and into sight of the Dragoons. "This is quite the situation you find yourselves in, eh? Did I hear right? You want in?"

Selin and the other officers nodded, some faster and more eagerly than the others. A few were still shaking and unable to take their eyes off Orun.

"I can make that happen," Harn said. He tilted his head from one side to the other. "But I need help fixing the forge. I need a few good backs, good arms and legs," he said, tapping a crutch against his stump, "so I can get it up and runnin’ again. But if you are coming in, then you are listenin’ to me. None of you are allowed outta my sight unless I say so. Got it?"

"But why would we—?" one baby-faced officer asked.

"You wanna see inside?" Several gave begrudging nods. "Then you'll swear an Oath, right here and now."

Silver light gathered in Harn’s palm, twisting with potential. "Break it, and you'll splinter your foundation and bleed from the eyes and nethers till you die. Still eager?" When none of them backdown, not even the ones that looked ready to faint, Harn grinned. “Swear on it.”

"Well, when you put it that way, how can we refuse?" Selin said, rolling his eyes. But the Half-Elf reached out and grasped the oath, tangling it around his own fist. The other Dragoons soon followed suit, until the silver threads sunk into all of their chests and tugged at Harn like a pack of lead weights.

"Good," Harn grunted. "Let him in, Orun."

"Aye, sir."

Harn met the Dragoons as both Eidolons stepped aside, gazing at each of them in the eye. "Follow me, and be quick about it."

"Thanks again, kid.”

Vess smiled through her weariness. “It is my pleasure. If I had known you needed to unlock sooner, I would have—”

“You helped out when you found out. I should have come to you to begin with." Harn smiled in that lopsided way he had, his scars pulling tight against his rugged face. "Go get some rest. You look ready for it. And don't pay any attention to what those idiots are saying."

"Good night, Harn."

"Night."

Vess hadn't been able to sleep despite being offered relatively sumptuous apartments by her aunt. When Yin had sent word that Harn needed aid opening the armory, she had jumped at the chance. Turns out, the sealed doors in the forge's central structure were storage chambers, filled to the brim with materials and pre-made items. Spears, side swords, shields, and plate armor designed for the ancient Dragoons. They were all enchanted, too, inscribed with sigils that increased their durability and reduced their weight. They were artifacts of legend, but they would serve the soldiers well.

In the material storage, they found sealed barrels of quenching oils and monster blood. Files and hammers and odd hooked rods she wasn’t familiar with, but Harn had just about drooled at the sight of them. And in the back, taking up a vast section of the storage space: high steel, mithril, and a large quantity of orichalcum. Harn wasn't quite up to manipulating orichalcum as well as the other metals, but it was a treasure trove at his disposal, all of which would be useful in the days to come.

She left Harn to his work in the forge. The “idiots” he mentioned watched her go. Though they were sweaty and dirty as they moved metal and charred wood out of the way of the forge, it was clear that they looked down on her. They despised her. Yin as well. She had known that would happen, but she had hoped…she wasn't quite sure what she had hoped. Perhaps that she would have found some proof at this point, more than a few lines in an old book.

Vess walked the halls, investigating some of what she hoped were undiscovered areas, but all of it had been explored. The chanters were busy cleaning the walls, clearly concerned with the murals that covered nearly every single one of them. Dragons made of layered, precious gemstones swooped across vaulted ceilings and over arched doorways, always accompanied by Dragoons on their back. It was clear that they were connected, but the Dragoons had always known that. What they couldn't believe was that the dragon's betrayal was false, a lie made up for who knows what reason. She needed to prove it.

Vess ducked into every door and every chamber she saw. Many of them were still caked in dust and the accumulated grime of centuries. She checked closets and shelves, half-collapsed wardrobes and rotted chests. There was nothing left.

Finally, she circled back, returning once again to the hatchery on the opposite side of the forge. The lights were now on, magical illumination kindled in the entry and central rooms, and through the broken windows she could see Yin. When she entered, he was nestled atop the hollow cradles where Dragon eggs had once rested, waiting to hatch. The Wyrmling was sad—sad in a way that Vess couldn't quite comprehend, though she could feel the very texture of it through their bond. It was heavy and coarse and smelled of salt. It dragged at her like a vast weight pulling her deep into the sea.

"If we had more Dragons, more bonds, would that help our cause?" she asked him, gasping through the vastness of her glimpse into his heart.

"No," he said. Smoke rose in thin tendrils from his snout to collect against the cracked ceiling. "It would only endanger the hatchlings."

Vess clenched her fists. "I will find proof, Yin."

"I believe you, little Dragoon," he said, before blowing a deep sigh that was far too big to come from such a small body. The smoke dissipated. "When you do, we will bring forth the eggs."

Vess's breath caught. "Truly? Are you ready?"

"Not yet. I still require more strength in order to save them. I need my Evolution. Can you assist me?"

"Anything.”

Yin nodded. "Then we begin with the dawn."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!