Phoenix Unbound
Page 22
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“Tell us a story, Halani!” one man yelled from his perch on the steps of his wagon.
Another joined him. “Yes! Tell the tale of how Kansi Yuv slew the last draga and gave it to the emperor!”
Halani, who was putting away the recently washed bowls in a chest by one of the wagons, straightened with a groan. “I’ve told that story a hundred times! Wouldn’t you rather hear about the sea maidens of Latchep? Or how Soriya caught lightning in her basket and gave it to men to turn into fire?”
A chorus of “No!” sounded through the camp, followed by a single voice that yelled, “The draga! We want the draga!” It was taken up by the others, who made it a chant until Halani plopped down on a fallen log that had been dragged near the fire as seating.
“Very well,” she said. She smoothed her skirts over her knees and leaned forward. Azarion’s huff of smothered laughter teased Gilene’s ear as the crowd mimicked Halani’s actions. “Golnar was the last great draga that besieged the lands of the Empire, stealing cattle and treasure alike. He burned villages with the fires that spewed from his nostrils, and his wings were so large that, in flight, they blotted out the sun.”
The audience caught their breaths when Halani paused. Gilene did the same, despite knowing the tale.
“Many had tried to kill Golnar,” Halani continued. “But the draga was old and wise and far too clever. If he didn’t kill them, he used his sorcery to escape, back to his hidden cave with its treasures greater than all the wealth of the world.” She raised her arms and spread them wide to encompass an imaginary world before her.
“But one man understood that for all a draga’s many strengths, it had one weakness: a lust for treasure. The great hero Kansi Yuv asked the emperor to have a statue made. That of a beautiful woman cast in gold.”
Several in the crowd chimed in then. “The Sun Maiden.”
Halani scowled. “Who’s supposed to be telling this story?” The group settled down once more, and the storyteller resumed her tale.
“Kansi Yuv planned to use the statue to lure Golnar into a trap and kill him, turning his prize over to the emperor for honor and glory.” Whistles and hoots from the enraptured audience punctuated her words.
“He and his men hid ballistae loaded with spears in a ravine too narrow for a draga to swoop in and carry off its prize. At the bottom, they placed the gold-covered statue.”
“The Sun Maiden!” one child shouted.
Halani nodded. “Given such a name because her gold shone like the sun.
“Kansi Yuv and his men waited for four days in the ravine. Finally, a great shadow passed over them.” Halani stood and spread her arms, tilting right to left in imitation of soaring wings. “And when they looked up, they saw the draga.” She wove in and out of the crowd, her mock flight captivating her audience as if she truly flew above them. “Golnar landed on the edge of the ravine and stared down at the Sun Maiden, suspicious.” Halani halted abruptly. “Remember, what is the draga?”
Several voices tossed out an answer.
“Smart!”
“Clever!”
“Wise!”
Halani snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Exactly. Golnar knew this was strange, likely a trap. Still, he lingered and watched. Why?”
Gilene answered. “Because dragas are greedy.”
Asil joined her. “And lust for treasure.”
Halani nodded. “And the draga couldn’t resist the Sun Maiden. Instead of flying away to safety, he folded his wings and climbed down into the ravine. Kansi Yuv readied the ballistae. Golnar was enormous, with a mouth full of sharp teeth that could snap an ox in half with one bite!” The crowd gasped. “His eyes were as red as the rubies in the Sun Maiden’s hair.”
She stalked through the crowd. “No one made a sound as the draga crept toward the Sun Maiden, his great feet making the earth shake beneath them. He stretched out his claws to snatch up the Maiden and flee. Do you know what happened next?”
One of the children leapt from his father’s lap, waving a toy sword in his fist. “Kansi Yuv shot the draga!”
“Yes! The great spear cleaved the draga’s breast to pierce his heart. Golnar roared, and fire shot from his mouth. He tried to spread his wings and fly, but there was no room. He clawed at the spear in his chest. But the point had gone deep, too deep. He fell to the ground, dead, still reaching for the Sun Maiden.”
Gilene blew out the breath she’d been holding. She spared a quick glance for Azarion. Unlike the others, he didn’t look at all entranced but bleak instead. She could puzzle for days over what thoughts lay behind those enigmatic green eyes and never learn the most inconsequential thing about him. She turned her focus back to Halani.
“Kansi Yuv and his men waited, making certain the draga was dead before they ventured from their hiding places. When they knew for sure the monster no longer lived, they used ropes and pulleys, axes and swords to butcher the corpse and heave it out of the ravine for transport to the capital, a magnificent gift for the emperor and an end to that which had terrorized the countryside for so long.”
Enthusiastic applause and whistles filled the air when she ended the story. “Another, another!” the crowd chanted, clapping their hands even harder.
“Not tonight.” Halani remained unmoved by their disappointed cries. “Besides, there’s always tomorrow night and another story.” She glanced at Hamod, who stepped into the firelight.
“It’s late. We’ve a long day of travel tomorrow. See to your chores and go to bed.” No one argued with the leader’s commands, and soon the group dispersed, filing away to their wagons or the sleeping pallets laid out on the ground beneath the trees.
Gilene left Azarion to seek out Halani. “You’re a born storyteller, though I’ve always found the tale of ‘The Draga and the Sun Maiden’ tragic in a way.”
Halani’s pretty face looked haggard, as if the zest with which she told her tale had drained her. “I hate that story,” she said in a flat voice. “But it’s popular with everyone. Sometimes when times are lean and trade is sparse for the free traders, we’ll travel to a town, and I’ll earn supper for us by telling stories to the crowds in the pubs or in the town squares if the weather is fine. ‘The Draga and the Sun Maiden’ always brings the most coin and the better suppers.”
“You’re a bard then.”
The other woman shook her head. “I play no instrument, and I’m terrible at verse.”
“Your instrument is your voice,” Gilene argued. “You had those people enthralled, though they know the story by heart.”
Halani’s eyes took on the melancholy shadow Gilene had noted when they first spoke. “Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to a spot past Gilene’s shoulder, and her mouth tightened. “My uncle summons me. You’re welcome to stay in the wagon again tonight.”
Gilene glanced back and found Hamod watching them from a short distance. She turned to Halani. “I’ve kept you out of your shelter long enough. Thanks to your poultice, I’m much better and can sleep outside with . . . Valdan.”
Distracted, Halani gave her a quick bow. “Good night then,” she said before striding toward her uncle.
Gilene called after her. “Good night.”
She found Azarion by a pallet under one of the big oaks. Made of layers of blankets and furs, the makeshift bed looked both comfortable and warm and big enough for them to sleep without fighting for the covers. All very enticing except for the fact that she’d have to share it with her captor.
Another joined him. “Yes! Tell the tale of how Kansi Yuv slew the last draga and gave it to the emperor!”
Halani, who was putting away the recently washed bowls in a chest by one of the wagons, straightened with a groan. “I’ve told that story a hundred times! Wouldn’t you rather hear about the sea maidens of Latchep? Or how Soriya caught lightning in her basket and gave it to men to turn into fire?”
A chorus of “No!” sounded through the camp, followed by a single voice that yelled, “The draga! We want the draga!” It was taken up by the others, who made it a chant until Halani plopped down on a fallen log that had been dragged near the fire as seating.
“Very well,” she said. She smoothed her skirts over her knees and leaned forward. Azarion’s huff of smothered laughter teased Gilene’s ear as the crowd mimicked Halani’s actions. “Golnar was the last great draga that besieged the lands of the Empire, stealing cattle and treasure alike. He burned villages with the fires that spewed from his nostrils, and his wings were so large that, in flight, they blotted out the sun.”
The audience caught their breaths when Halani paused. Gilene did the same, despite knowing the tale.
“Many had tried to kill Golnar,” Halani continued. “But the draga was old and wise and far too clever. If he didn’t kill them, he used his sorcery to escape, back to his hidden cave with its treasures greater than all the wealth of the world.” She raised her arms and spread them wide to encompass an imaginary world before her.
“But one man understood that for all a draga’s many strengths, it had one weakness: a lust for treasure. The great hero Kansi Yuv asked the emperor to have a statue made. That of a beautiful woman cast in gold.”
Several in the crowd chimed in then. “The Sun Maiden.”
Halani scowled. “Who’s supposed to be telling this story?” The group settled down once more, and the storyteller resumed her tale.
“Kansi Yuv planned to use the statue to lure Golnar into a trap and kill him, turning his prize over to the emperor for honor and glory.” Whistles and hoots from the enraptured audience punctuated her words.
“He and his men hid ballistae loaded with spears in a ravine too narrow for a draga to swoop in and carry off its prize. At the bottom, they placed the gold-covered statue.”
“The Sun Maiden!” one child shouted.
Halani nodded. “Given such a name because her gold shone like the sun.
“Kansi Yuv and his men waited for four days in the ravine. Finally, a great shadow passed over them.” Halani stood and spread her arms, tilting right to left in imitation of soaring wings. “And when they looked up, they saw the draga.” She wove in and out of the crowd, her mock flight captivating her audience as if she truly flew above them. “Golnar landed on the edge of the ravine and stared down at the Sun Maiden, suspicious.” Halani halted abruptly. “Remember, what is the draga?”
Several voices tossed out an answer.
“Smart!”
“Clever!”
“Wise!”
Halani snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Exactly. Golnar knew this was strange, likely a trap. Still, he lingered and watched. Why?”
Gilene answered. “Because dragas are greedy.”
Asil joined her. “And lust for treasure.”
Halani nodded. “And the draga couldn’t resist the Sun Maiden. Instead of flying away to safety, he folded his wings and climbed down into the ravine. Kansi Yuv readied the ballistae. Golnar was enormous, with a mouth full of sharp teeth that could snap an ox in half with one bite!” The crowd gasped. “His eyes were as red as the rubies in the Sun Maiden’s hair.”
She stalked through the crowd. “No one made a sound as the draga crept toward the Sun Maiden, his great feet making the earth shake beneath them. He stretched out his claws to snatch up the Maiden and flee. Do you know what happened next?”
One of the children leapt from his father’s lap, waving a toy sword in his fist. “Kansi Yuv shot the draga!”
“Yes! The great spear cleaved the draga’s breast to pierce his heart. Golnar roared, and fire shot from his mouth. He tried to spread his wings and fly, but there was no room. He clawed at the spear in his chest. But the point had gone deep, too deep. He fell to the ground, dead, still reaching for the Sun Maiden.”
Gilene blew out the breath she’d been holding. She spared a quick glance for Azarion. Unlike the others, he didn’t look at all entranced but bleak instead. She could puzzle for days over what thoughts lay behind those enigmatic green eyes and never learn the most inconsequential thing about him. She turned her focus back to Halani.
“Kansi Yuv and his men waited, making certain the draga was dead before they ventured from their hiding places. When they knew for sure the monster no longer lived, they used ropes and pulleys, axes and swords to butcher the corpse and heave it out of the ravine for transport to the capital, a magnificent gift for the emperor and an end to that which had terrorized the countryside for so long.”
Enthusiastic applause and whistles filled the air when she ended the story. “Another, another!” the crowd chanted, clapping their hands even harder.
“Not tonight.” Halani remained unmoved by their disappointed cries. “Besides, there’s always tomorrow night and another story.” She glanced at Hamod, who stepped into the firelight.
“It’s late. We’ve a long day of travel tomorrow. See to your chores and go to bed.” No one argued with the leader’s commands, and soon the group dispersed, filing away to their wagons or the sleeping pallets laid out on the ground beneath the trees.
Gilene left Azarion to seek out Halani. “You’re a born storyteller, though I’ve always found the tale of ‘The Draga and the Sun Maiden’ tragic in a way.”
Halani’s pretty face looked haggard, as if the zest with which she told her tale had drained her. “I hate that story,” she said in a flat voice. “But it’s popular with everyone. Sometimes when times are lean and trade is sparse for the free traders, we’ll travel to a town, and I’ll earn supper for us by telling stories to the crowds in the pubs or in the town squares if the weather is fine. ‘The Draga and the Sun Maiden’ always brings the most coin and the better suppers.”
“You’re a bard then.”
The other woman shook her head. “I play no instrument, and I’m terrible at verse.”
“Your instrument is your voice,” Gilene argued. “You had those people enthralled, though they know the story by heart.”
Halani’s eyes took on the melancholy shadow Gilene had noted when they first spoke. “Thank you.” Her gaze shifted to a spot past Gilene’s shoulder, and her mouth tightened. “My uncle summons me. You’re welcome to stay in the wagon again tonight.”
Gilene glanced back and found Hamod watching them from a short distance. She turned to Halani. “I’ve kept you out of your shelter long enough. Thanks to your poultice, I’m much better and can sleep outside with . . . Valdan.”
Distracted, Halani gave her a quick bow. “Good night then,” she said before striding toward her uncle.
Gilene called after her. “Good night.”
She found Azarion by a pallet under one of the big oaks. Made of layers of blankets and furs, the makeshift bed looked both comfortable and warm and big enough for them to sleep without fighting for the covers. All very enticing except for the fact that she’d have to share it with her captor.
